Jinpuddin

🤍

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ TWENTY-THREE

𓄲  "Don't," Jungkook spits, moving to wipe his hands on a nearby towel, "I don't need to hear it." He bunches the fabric up between clenched fists in an attempt to channel his emotions onto the unsuspecting rag. 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children)

⧽ word count ⋮ 7.3k average reading time ⋮ 40 minutes

── [ ✉️ ] Oh, um, more lore in this one. Like, a possible name drop of a certain someone. I don't know how to feel about my writing in this one. It feels repetitive, I found out that there's only so many times you can write the motions of opening a present without going in circles. Anyway, things are about to actually get serious I'm so fucking scared (excuse my French), okay, yes, I love you ladies. Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3

series masterlist | last chapter | next part

chapter 23 — "Give and Take"

There were a handful of profanities waiting on the tip of Jungkook's tongue right now — funny, considering he rarely cursed. Then again, he rarely found himself cock-blocked by his five-year-old son. It wasn't his fault, of course, but Jungkook still mourns the press of your lips against his, a reality that now seemed thousands of miles away.

"Santa— Is it you?" 

Cassian was half-awake at best. On rare occasions he would sleep walk, leaving Jungkook to patiently follow him up and down the stairs a couple of times as he tries to guide him back to bed without waking the boy entirely. He hopes that isn't the case tonight — God have mercy on him and this creaking house if he had to be walked like a dog on a leash behind a sleep-dazed Cassian. 

Luckily, that does not seem to be the case for a moment later his son pries his heavy eyes open fully, adjusting to the kitchen lights slowly. Jungkook exhales a relieved breath as he turns back to you — well, where you had been standing a second ago. You'd already torn yourself from his grasp, and when he peers down, Jungkook finds his empty hands staring back at him as they clutch weakly at the air. 

"Hi sweetie," your voice is coated in sugar and it makes his head whip in your direction. He finds you crouched in front of his son, the same hands that should've been resting on the back of his neck by now, instead cradling Cassian's small face. The corner of his lip tugs into a frown but he says nothing when approaching the two of you. 

Cassian stifles a yawn as he glances around the kitchen. "I thought I heard something," he says, clearly disappointed that what he came down to find was not Santa. Their eyes meet and for a second Jungkook fears that his son might start asking question he has no answers to — thankfully you're faster. 

"It was probably just the wind, old houses make noise sometimes," you tell him with a smile. 

He accepts that with a sleepy nod, his gaze wandering back and forth between you and Jungkook once more as his brows furrow across his forehead. "What are you and daddy doing in the kitchen? It's night." He points an accusing finger to the window where the moon can be seen beyond the glass. 

Taking another step forward, Jungkook closes the distance between you and his son. "We were just getting some water," he says, hoping that the simple explanation would be enough to put a lid on the child's curiosity. 

"Hm…" Cassian hums, blinking slowly like it made perfect sense. 

Not wanting to give his son room for further prying, Jungkook hauls him into his arms. "Alright, back to bed," he announces without leaving air for argument. Cassian's tiny body goes pliant in his embrace within seconds, his head becoming a warm and comforting weight where it lolls forward to rest on his shoulder. 

You, too, rise to back to your full height, fingers reaching up to brush a strand of hair from the boy's face. The gesture was mindless and you probably thought nothing of it — but Jungkook's heart did. It squeezes hard in his chest and he has to pry his eyes away until your touch no longer lingers right under his nose. 

"Goodnight sweetie," you say when taking a small step back, to which Cassian mumbles a tired response. It still makes your lips stretch into a grin and Jungkook hates himself for wishing that the affection had been directed at him and not his son. 

He shoves the dangerous thoughts aside as he adjusts his grip on the small child. Then he gives you a quiet nod, not trusting himself to speak. His attention strays by the necklace around your neck before he turns to leave — the gold glinting softly under the kitchen lights where it rests against your skin, the taste of you a permanent mark on his tongue. 

His parents' house is quiet when he makes his way up the stairs. He does not glance back to see if you've followed, but when the steps don't creak behind him, he figures that you hadn't. 

"Daddy?" 

Cassian's voice is a drowsy murmur against his chest, barely audible despite the reigning silence. "Yes?" Jungkook hums when he walks through the door his son had left ajar, heading toward the lower bunk where the younger slept. 

It takes him a moment to respond and Jungkook uses the delay to tuck him in, arranging the duvet carefully over his smaller frame. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he waits his son out. 

Rubbing his fist over his eyes, Cassian makes a sound that told Jungkook he was thinking intently about something. Finally his lips part, "Do you always hug nanny like that?" 

The room drops ten degrees and suddenly he wishes that his son had been sleep walking after all. He shifts just enough for the mattress to groan and Jungkook almost does the same. At the very least, the kid had thought his father's busted attempt at a kiss to be nothing but a hug — which was more than he could've prayed for. 

"Well you see…" he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, silently thanking the darkness of the bedroom for hiding the flush on his cheeks. "Grown-ups hug," shrugging, he tries to appear indifferent, "Just like how I hug your nana and papa." 

"But papa and nana is your mommy and daddy," the boy quickly counters, "Nanny is just nanny." 

"Right," Jungkook drags his palm down the line of his face, "Nanny is just nanny." He thinks of something else to say, something that will either bore the child or have him fall asleep in an instant. Unfortunately he's at his wits end and Cassian's eyes aren't growing any heavier as they await his response. 

"Sometimes people need hugs, even if they're not family." The words are pulled out of him in a most unsure way but he deems the answer good enough. 

His son frowns, "Is nanny sad?" Concern has crept its way onto his tired expression. Try as he might — and try he did — Jungkook could not for the life of him figure out what you had done to make the usually introverted and quiet boy so enamored with you. 

"No," he shakes his head, "Nanny is fine." The last thing he needed was any talk of what his child had witnessed to be taking place at the breakfast table in the morning. 

Silence settles over the bedroom both of his children share. In the distance the faint ticking of whatever nonsense-trinket-clock his mother had found at a flea market, can be heard. Jungkook remains seated on the edge of his son's mattress, making sure not to move a fin and disrupt the possibility of the latter falling into a deep slumber. 

Minutes pass — how many? he has no idea. But the fact that his back was beginning to hurt from the hunched over position he sat in was telling enough. He listens for the faint hum of breaths, trying to gauge if the kid was any closer to sleep. 

"Daddy…?"

Never mind, Jungkook sighs. He shifts enough to face him better, or as best as one could given the looming shadows of the night. "Yes?" he quires, hoping that whatever came next would be brief. 

Cassian hesitates, had it been any lighter he might've caught the sight of him chewing up his bottom lip. Instead he is faced with quiet darkness — until his son finally speaks again. "Are you sad?" 

The question has him glancing down at his lap, where his hands rest idly on top of his knees. He turns one of them, bending his thumb slightly. "No," his tone is certain, almost too sure of itself, he softens it before adding, "I'm fine." 

When there's no response Jungkook turns fully toward the small boy. He leans forward, reaching the same hand up to brush the soft, slightly curly ends of his hair back. "I'm happy," it's not a lie, but he doesn't know if it's the full truth either. 

Cassian tilts his head into his father's palm, "You are?" 

Jungkook hums, then he bends down to press a gentle kiss to his son's forehead. "Of course, I have you and your sister," he murmurs against the soft skin of the boy's temple before pulling back a fraction. 

"Okay," Cassian seems content with that as he snuggles a little deeper into the duvet. "Promise—" he's' interrupted by a yawn, "You tell me if you're sad." After a moment he says, "I'll make you feel better. We can hug." 

Often times Jungkook found himself wondering what he might have done in a past life to deserve his own children. If he stopped to think about it for too long he knows that he will only deem himself unworthy of their unconditional love. So he doesn't. Instead he presses another chaste kiss to Cassian's forehead. 

"I will," he promises, so quietly that it would have only been audible if you listened close. The moonlight bleeds onto the young boy's face, his dark lashes fluttering as his father's answer registers — then they grow heavy. Jungkook stays a moment longer, watching as Cassian's body sinks further into the matters. 

His lips part, "I really thought Santa was in the kitchen," he sighs. Despite being upset over the missed opportunity to meet the white-bearded man, exhaustion was quickly winning out and a few seconds later, soft snores fill the space between them, signaling that he had passed out at last. 

With a final brush to his son's forehead, then his cheek, Jungkook rises from the bed — nearly hitting his head on the top bunk where his daughter slept. Making sure to watch his step, he manages to exit the room without waking anyone, sliding the door shut behind him with a muted click. 

The study he had offered to sleep in was far from comfortable. Jungkook thought that perhaps he had become somewhat picky when it came to having his bedding done. Still, he settles onto the tiny spare bed, grimacing at how the stiff mattress dug into his back before turning to his side. He's greeted with the sight of books. Books stacked on top of more books that crowd the old shelves. 

Brows furrowing together, he studies the nonsensical order in which the titles were structured. His father had always been somewhat of a character. He'd probably lose track of his right arm if it hadn't been attached to his torso. So the chaos on his bookshelves should come as no surprise. It still makes Jungkook's fingers itch where they tap restlessly against the covers. 

Forcing his eyes shut with a sharp inhale through his nose, he tries to think about anything else. The darkness behind his eyelids feel like a clean slate, no mess, no nothing. His sanctuary lasts for about ten seconds before images of you flood his vision. He tries to shake them at first, not that it ever worked. 

Jungkook figures that there was no harm in imagining your face rather than the chaotic bookshelves in front of him, if only for a little while. So he lets it be his last thought before succumbing to sleep that night. 

It had been three-hundred and sixty five days since the last time he spent Christmas at his parents house. It had been different back then, a year ago the holiday seemed bleak. The carols were too loud, the animated movies only a messy flicker of color in front of his tired eyes. He'd tried to smile for his children as they opened their gifts — it ended with his mother stepping in to do what he couldn't, as if to add onto the list of his failures. 

His guilt consumed him during the weeks that followed. For a long time it was all Jungkook felt. 

Christmas is different today as well, but he finds that he doesn't mind it. Rayne and Cassian are perched on the floor, the younger riffling through the mountain of presents excitedly as Jungkook and his parents watch from the couch. You sit beside them, there's still adequate space on the soft cushion next to him, but you had insisted on staying by the kids' side. 

The sun had just broken the horizon and a few pale streaks of yellow managed to pierce through the windows, basking the three of you in their warm hues. Jungkook didn't have to force a smile on his lips today — that was nice. 

"Hm…" Cassian scratches his chin thoughtfully, "This one." He reaches out to grab one of the neatly wrapped packages, turning it over in his hands as the struggles to read the card attached to it, probably thrown off by the cursive hand writing. 

You lean forward, peering over his shoulder with a hum. "To Rayne from Nana and Papa," you nod when pointing to the card, letting him follow the tip of your finger as you read. When you're done you sit back to let him extend the gift to his sister who took it with careful hands. 

The sound of paper ripping fills the living room and his mother shifts eagerly in her seat as she watches her grandchild open the first gift of the day. Rayne's fingers are gentle where they undo the red wrapping. Her eyes soften around the edges when they land on the contents inside. 

"Thank you," she says when holding up the set of purple pajamas. The shirt has flowers sewn onto it, scattered across the sleeves and the chest piece — Jungkook recognizes the patterns as his mother's touch in an instant, similar to the stitches she would do whenever she mended his broken clothes when he was little. 

"Now, I didn't make the entire thing because there wasn't enough time. But I thought the flowers could be a nice personal touch for—" his mother is cut off mid sentence as Rayne wraps her arms around her. Having already gotten up from her spot on the floor, she now clung to her grandmother tightly. 

"Thank you, nana," she says, the words muffled against the woman's shoulder. 

"Hey now," his father suddenly clears his throat, drawing attention toward himself, "I paid for it." 

The corner of Rayne's lip twitches and she goes to hug him as well, letting her grandfather place a kiss to her forehead. 

Jungkook watches the exchange quietly, his gaze drifting over to you without meaning for it to. But you're not looking at him, no, you sit entirely captivated by the sight of Rayne and her grandparents. The smile on your face reminds him of a time since long lost and the strange flutter in his chest doesn't help ease the situation. 

Rayne reclaims her spot beside her brother on the floor and the present unwrapping continues. Jungkook is mostly oblivious to what is being said as he regards the scene with half-lidded eyes. Gifts are passed back and forth, Cassian receives a similar pajama set from his grandparents, the dinosaur Jungkook had seen you pick out at the store. 

The majority of things from the humongous pile were all Jungkook's doing. Rayne especially was hard to decide on appropriate presents for, so he'd tried to compensate by getting them a large spread instead. 

"Thank you, daddy!" His son crashes into his arms, the box of shiny toy cars that he still cradles gets squished between them, but he doesn't mind. Placing a kiss on the crown of his head, he then leans back as Cassian returns to shuffle through the steadily shrinking mountain. 

Rayne gets a book from her grandfather — the palette of makeup that Jungkook has little knowledge on from you. He recalls the hot and stuffy air of the mall as you dragged him up and down the aisles, discussing different brands that seemed indifferent to him. Though his daughter pauses when the gift registers. 

Her brows furrow before softening again, finger tracing the edge of the plastic cover as she reads the name under her breath. Then she turns to you, who'd been watching her whilst chewing on your nail — a nervous habit of yours Jungkook had realized. 

"I wasn't sure about the colors— So if you want another palette we can go and have it changed but I thought that you might like your own since—" 

"Thank you." Rayne interrupts you halfway through your ramble, dark eyes meeting yours as she smiles, an awkward but sincere smile that Jungkook rarely saw. "The colors are perfect," she then adds, her attention lingering by the purple shade, "I love it." 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, nodding as your posture relaxes again. The moment is short-lived, mostly because her brother was far too eager to continue. He'd already grabbed another, rectangular shaped present and was now reading the card to the best of his abilities. 

Rayne leans in to help out, her face going through a handful of expressions before she turns to you. "It's for you," she announces as she turns back to where you had just gotten comfortable again, "From father." 

Jungkook blinks, immediately pulled from his thoughts as his attention snaps toward the gift his son was now handing you with a beaming grin. He recognizes the wrapping in an instant, the one he had spent a ridiculous amount of time choosing only to settle on a dark green with red dots. 

You accept it with a tiny frown, surprised almost, at least so he thinks. He doesn't know why he feels nervous all of a sudden and he hopes no one notices the way he shifts in his seat, hands locking together across his lap as he bites his cheek. It shouldn't be any different from last night, except today he has an audience. 

Your fingers linger on the card he'd written, was it not enough? Should he have said something else — maybe he should say something right now? 

The paper rips before he can and Jungkook exhales through his nose as he watches you open the present he'd gotten for you. It takes less than a minute but it's enough time for him to rethink the entire thing and he can feel sweat beading on his forehead. 

You, however, have not looked up from the box in your lap and when the wrapping comes off your brows shoot high on your forehead. A soft breath escapes you, then a small chuckle and his heart does a weird little skip against his ribcage. 

"How did you know?" You ask when opening the cardboard lid. 

The corner of his lip twitches and he shrugs, "A hunch." It was admittedly more than a hunch, not that he would ever confess to that — the grin you wear is well enough to have his head spin. 

"Well go on, show us!" His mother squeals on her end of the couch, leaning forward for enough for Jaejoon to place a hand on her shoulder to prevent an unnecessary fall. 

Doing as she says, you hold up the box to display the shoes inside. Sneakers, not anything extravagant — unless you peeked at the price tag, though Jungkook had been smart enough to remove that. 

Your worn out excuse of footwear had bothered him since your first day, even when he'd refrained from making any comments on their state. With the current weather that itch had become almost impossible not to scratch, and your displeased grimace whenever snow managed to wet your socks was enough to have him make up his mind. He'd taken the liberty of checking for your size when arriving back home last week, taking a mental note of the color and going with something similar for these. 

"Thank you," you say, and he can tell you mean it. For a second it looks as though you might just get up and hug him like the children had done. He tries not to appear disappointed when all you give is a smile. "Seriously, these are great," your gaze stays with him a moment longer, making him nod slowly. 

"You needed a new pair," he says, his voice a lot hoarser than he'd like for it to be. His parents seem to approve of the message as well, though not more than his son who was taking a very close look for himself. 

Cassian points excitedly to the window, "We can play outside and you can wear them later!" 

You agree to his suggestion enthusiastically and Jungkook allows himself to relax back against the couch with a sigh. His eyes wander toward the snow outside, the idea of spending time getting cold and wet does make his nose scrunch, but he keeps quiet as he watches the slowly rising sun. In fact he was so focused on it that he nearly missed the way you leaned forward to whisper into the young boy's ear, pointing subtly toward one of the presents under the tree. 

Without further questioning, Cassian turns to grab it and with your help he reads the card easily. "To Jungkook, from nanny," and as if it weren't obvious enough, he holds it out toward his father, "It's for you daddy!" 

Jungkook blinks dumbfoundedly as he stares down at the present held out before him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a present for Christmas, no less one wrapped in shiny red with a green bow on top.

It's light in his palms and he glances over to find you with your arms hugging your legs, bottom lip bit in anticipation. Clearing his throat, he turns back to carefully undo the neat bow. He tries not to picture your own hands instead of his as he peels the wrapper apart, tries not to think about how you might have looked when you sat down to prepare this gift for him. 

The living room is awfully quiet, save for the rustle of paper as he finally strips the box bare. He barely glances at the brand name, it didn't matter where it was purchased, as long as it was from you. Pausing for a second, his gaze flickers up to meet yours one last time before removing the lid. 

Inside is a tie. Not like the ones he'd usually wear, the sleek black and navy ones that blended in with the rest of his wardrobe. No, this one is a deep red, it reminds him of a rich wine. He runs the pads of his fingers across the smooth fabric, the texture feels no different from the ones he already owns, this one might even be softer. 

"I figured you could use a little more color," you say and Jungkook looks over to see you smiling. 

The corner of his mouth curves upward as he takes in the sight of the tie once more. He imagines when he could wear it — proudly to the office — or perhaps only for you. Any other day he might've tried to pry those thoughts from his mind, tell himself that there was no point in dwelling on things he knows he shouldn't want. But right now, he lets himself think of what it would be like to take you to dinner, to spend time with you outside of his house, out in the real world. 

"I definitely could," he muses as he traps the fabric between two fingers, "Thank you." 

Sometimes Jungkook finds himself wanting to kiss you for no apparent reason all. This is one of those times. He wishes his family was elsewhere, despite the sacred holiday and the presents that have yet to be opened, he wishes to be with you and only you. 

The fantasy is quickly interrupted by his father who leans closer to take a look for himself. "This one will suit you nicely, son," he says, turning to you with a pleasant grin, "You have good taste, dear." 

The flustered giggle you emit makes his heart thunder in his chest, not quite the same way it had on your couch almost a week ago, it's fiercer now. "I'm glad," you hum when placing your chin on one knee. Jungkook feels your attention on him, it makes him warm, a nice kind of warm that he clings onto even as the conversation shifts and Cassian goes back to giving out more gifts. 

The next fifteen minutes or so are spent with the children opening the rest of their presents — his parents opening their own which he had gotten them. An electrical whisk for his mother, something she had insisted on not needing though he didn't see why not since she spent more time baking than anything. A chess board for his father, under the guise of them playing together in the future, which the man seemed very eager about. Jungkook often found that it was easier to express himself through materialistic resources — words never came out right for him anyway. 

Soon there was only one lonesome package left under the tree. The shape makes him frown, it wasn't soft, nor was it square or rectangular. Rayne picks it up, having taken over the role of reading the cards out loud rather than having her younger sibling struggle. 

She turns the lumpy present in her hands, its wrapping was different from all the others, a pale blue with reindeer on. Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second before she gets her expression under control again and clears her throat. "To Cassian, from… Santa." 

Her brother's head whips in her direction at that and for a little while he sits completely frozen on the floor. Then he's scrambling over to his sister, practically tearing the gift from her hands as he checks the card for himself. "Santa?!" He sounds disbelieving as he scans the room, like he was expecting the man himself to walk in at any given moment. 

"Well go on, open it," Rayne urges, clearly invested too, even if she tried not to show it. Cassian wastes no time in getting to work, tearing the paper with less care than he had previously. 

Jungkook frowns as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He runs through his own list in his head, but he couldn't for the life of him remember using that wrapper — and he certainly wouldn't have wrapped it like that. When glancing toward his mother and father, he finds them looking just as confused yet intrigued as himself. 

It's not until he looks over at you and sees the grin you're fighting off that it clicks. 

Cassian's ear piercing shriek pulls him back toward his son who'd already finished breaking through the paper that now lay scattered around him. "I told you! I told you!" he says as he holds up the box of rainbow colored crayons to his sister, "I knew Santa would read my list!" 

"What are those?" Jaejoon inquires as he squints behind his glasses. 

"Rainbow crayons!" The boy says, stumbling to his feet as he plops down in his grandfather's lap. "Look! Only Santa can make these, that's why I put them on my list." 

Ye-seo leans forward as she, too, studies the crayons closely, her face lighting up into a grin that matches her grandson's. "Why, you must have been a really good boy this year for Santa to give you something so special," she says as she pinches one of his cheeks lovingly. 

Jungkook regards them for a moment longer as he tries to piece together where you had managed to get that. Then he remembers the run-in with that Namjoon at the store. He'd just come back after acquiring the gifts he intended to give you, already tired and sick of the crowded mall to find another man chatting with you like one would an old friend. 

The encounter had left a bitter taste in his mouth which he tried to rationalize over and over on his way home to little avail. He thinks he might vaguely remember you holding a colorful box of something, though he'd been too caught up on the stranger in front of him to pay it any mind. 

When he turns to where you sit on the floor you meet his gaze, your head tilted to the side and a knowing look on your face. He mouths a quiet 'thank you' under his breath to which you nod. 

The air inside the living room feels warmer after that and Jungkook's chest feels warmer than it had in a long time. 

Tradition on Christmas Day includes an endless marathon of animated movies that Jungkook couldn't care less for. The dialogue and soundtracks were imprinted into his head by now and sometimes he found himself begrudgingly muttering them in real time as whatever film on-screen played. 

The kids' channel offered a variety throughout the entire morning and afternoon. It was one of the rare times in which he'd let the children spend time in front of the TV and if they had it their way, it would be a good couple of hours. 

Lady and the Tramp had already started by the time Jaejoon got the remote control in his hand and Cassian had bounced up on the couch, claiming what little space remained on the cushion alongside his sister. The sofa wasn't spacious per se, it allowed for a family of four — five if two of them were small enough to be counted as a half. That left you, still sitting on the floor as everyone else huddled up on the soft cushions. 

"Dear, come up here and join us," his mother says as she beckons you over, clearly not having thought over how that was supposed to work. 

You glance up, brows scrunching together as your gaze trails over the already crammed couch. "Oh— I'm fine here," you say, flashing Ye-Seo a small smile. 

"You can sit here," Jungkook barely registers the fact that he's on his feet, towering over everyone in the room as he gestures awkwardly to the spot he'd just been occupying. 

It doesn't fully sink in until he realizes that everyone had gone painfully quiet — even the movie playing on the TV had faded into background noise. He clears his throat, refusing to back down as he steps aside to offer up his seat for you. 

You blink, eyes darting between him and the available spot on the sofa. "No—" shaking your head, "It's alright I can see well from here." 

"I insist."

He knows that he's pressing the matter more than what could be considered appropriate in front of his parents and children, but he can't come to terms with you sitting on the floor while he lounged on the comfortable piece of furniture. 

Jaejoon finally shifts slightly, "Alright," he says as he hauls Cassian up into his arms, easily maneuvering the boy to sit on his wife's lap. "You too kid, come here," he pats his thigh for Rayne who raises a brow but shuffles over without protest. 

Jungkook watches the entire scene with his lips pressed into a firm line as his father easily solves the problem for him in a much simpler and more dignified manner. He glances to the extra space on the sofa, his mouth running dry as you murmur out a shy 'thanks' and slide onto the cushion, fitting in easily next to his family. 

He waits a second before joining you, careful not to brush up too close, which was nearly impossible. His thigh ends up pressed against yours, the warmth of your body radiating through the layers of clothes, straight into his own. 

"I love the girl dog," Cassian says as he points to the TV, content to be in his grandmother's gentle embrace. 

Rayne scoffs, "Her name is Lady, not the girl dog." 

"Lady doesn't sound like a real name," her brother retorts with a scrunch of his nose.

His sister looks ready to argue but Jaejoon diffuses the tension with a pat to her arm. "Such an insignificant detail to get hung up on, let us just enjoy the movie, hm?" he says in a cheerful voice. It does make the two of them settle down again and the topic shifts to the cruel Siamese cats instead. 

Jungkook is hardly paying them any mind. He's far too preoccupied noticing each part of you that connects to him. Your joint hips, the way his knee occasionally bumps against yours when he tries to get comfortable — always to no avail. His hands are clasped together on his lap, thumbs twiddling restlessly with one another. 

The movie is lost on him and he doesn't try to tune in. You are though, eyes moving in tune with the different scenes that play out, humming along softly to whatever song was playing. It makes him frown. Jungkook wants you to look at him, doesn't have any idea why, he just does. 

One of his palms move across his thigh, the edge of his hand resting just a breath from yours. Everyone is preoccupied, there's no harm in letting his pinky brush against the expanse of your leg, he thinks. 

The touch is light, a barely-there caress of his finger but you still tense up beside him, your gaze meeting his without turning your head. For a very short moment he believes that you might swat him away, perhaps read his innocent attempt at contact wrong and think him perverted. 

But you simply turn back to the film, forcing Jungkook to swallow down the disappointment building in his throat. He shifts his attention to the animation on screen, it fails to immerse him, not when you sit just beside him — and he doesn't move his hand. 

It's somewhere between the Tramp and the Lady's first meeting that he feels the subtle brush of skin against his own. His shoulders stiffen and upon glancing down, he sees your pinky resting against his own. You're still not looking at him, but the corner of your lip twitches and he knows it has nothing to do with the movie. 

Lady and the Tramp wrapped up a while ago and a new movie which he did not know the name of had began playing, though Cassian and Rayne were now more invested in their presents than anything. His parents had made their way to the kitchen in order to prepare the large breakfast you were to have. Jungkook joined them, he figured he would be of more use out there anyway. 

His mother was already fussing over being behind schedule, even as his father tries to reason with her by saying that it was not yet ten in the morning. 

"Oh for goodness sake, don't just stand there — go on, set the table!" Ye-seo ushers her husband through the doorway, his hands filled with plates and glasses. 

Jungkook for his part, remains silent as he slices two oranges to go along as sides. The knife wasn't as sharpened as he'd like but he made no comment on it to his mother who was now frantically stirring porridge on the stove. "Will you pass me the ginger, sweetie?" she asks without glancing up. 

Knowing better than to make her wait, Jungkook abandons the fruits he'd been cutting with a nod. The pantry was a complete mess compared to the comforts of his own home and it takes him a good minute to find it as he scours the shelves. "Top left," she calls out when he took too long. 

Finally spotting the small jar, he grabs it and heads over. His mother hums out a 'thank you' as she adds a generous amount into the pot. In the distance, the echoes of Cassian's giggles can be heard, the sound is soon followed by the familiar tune of your own laughter. Without thinking, Jungkook turns his head toward the source, trying to catch a glimpse of you in the living room. 

The knife lies loose in his grip now, passively resting there as he listens to your muffled conversation in the distance. His heart does this weird leap in his chest and he tries to brush it off as quickly as it had came. 

"She's quite lovely." 

His mother's hummed comment makes Jungkook pause and he nearly gives himself whiplash when turning to back to the cutting board where the forgotten oranges lay. "Hm?" he tries to feign nonchalance as he angles the blade once more. 

"Your nanny," she continues as she stirs the porridge, "She takes good care of Cassian and Rayne." 

Jaejoon had chosen that exact moment to return, instantly tuning in to the topic as he walks up beside his wife. "She does," he agrees when placing a hand on Ye-Seo's waist, "Got her life figured out too. That's some impressive work ethic at her age, not to mention that she studies full time." 

Jungkook nods, his gaze trained to the orange he slices thinly. He takes comfort in the repeated motion as he guides the knife slowly, the thud of it hitting the wooden board ringing loud in his ears. Suddenly, his mother speaks up: 

"Is she not a bit too young for you?" 

The sudden inquiry makes him freeze, fingers curling tighter around the knife's handle. "What?" His response comes out short and colder than he'd like but he cannot help the frown that etches its way onto his face, nor the way his jaw clenches when she continues without missing a beat. 

"I mean—" she shrugs, "She's a lovely girl there's no doubt about that. But she's only twenty." 

His next swallow goes down his throat thickly, he's sure they notice. "I think what your mother is trying to say," his father interjects as he shifts uncomfortably next to Ye-Seo, "Is that there are complications when it comes to certain… age differences." 

The words bring out a bitter taste in Jungkook's mouth and he has to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying something he would end up regretting. He scoffs, grabbing another orange even when he'd already cut plenty as he forces the blade through it with more force than necessary. It was insulting of them to think that the matter hadn't kept him up for weeks now. That he hadn't even taken your age into consideration when it had in fact been on his mind for far too long. 

"I assure you there is nothing to worry about," he grinds out, "Our relationship is nothing of the sort." The lie comes easily but he makes a point of not looking up from the cutting board — he knows that his mother will see right through him if he does — part of him fears that she already has. 

In the living room the TV is still going, a dramatized sound effect from whatever movie you and the children were watching fills the dense air between him and his parents. Jungkook wills his gaze to remain on the task in front of him, even when it longs to find you. 

Ye-Seo huffs under her breath, "You take your own mother for a fool?" She means to come across as scolding but her tone is far too soft for it to ever be. Giving the porridge another stir, she turns to face him fully — his father had gone quiet next to her. 

Jungkook can feel her eyes on him though he makes no move to meet them as he mindlessly cuts away at the orange in uneven slices.

"You may have your own kids now, but you are still my son." She inhales a quiet breath, "I haven't seen you look at anyone like that since— since…" 

There's no need for her to finish her sentence. He knows who she speaks of and it makes his lips twist into a grimace. Yet, the longer he lets the thought sit with him, the more dangerous it becomes. Jungkook hadn't allowed himself closeness for a long time, for his sake and for the children. You were never meant to be any different. 

And Jungkook knows that he's being selfish. He knows that each time he kisses you he lures you deeper into a false reality that he for some reason allows himself to cling to. What he doesn't like is that his mother knows this too. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." It's a pathetic excuse that shames him to the core but he utters it anyway — hoping to bury the entire conversation. 

Ye-Seo stops stirring the porridge entirely, her expression growing almost solemn as she says, "I just want for you to be happy." But could she not see that was trying? That he had been trying for so long now — wasn't that enough? 

"I'm worried about you," she then adds, "After everything that happened with Yelena, I—" 

The knife makes a deafening sound against the tiled counter top when Jungkook slams it down, startling his mother into aborting whatever she was about to say next. He turns to his parents with his chest tied up into knots, teeth grinding against each other with an intensity that borders on painful. 

"Son…" His father finally speaks in a low, cautious voice, like one would a frightened animal. He's got a hand on his wife's hip, the other on her shoulder as he hugs her close. The pity on his face makes everything worse — so does the weak attempt at comfort that he tries to provide. 

"Don't," Jungkook spits, moving to wipe his hands on a nearby towel, "I don't need to hear it." He bunches the fabric up between clenched fists in an attempt to channel his emotions onto the unsuspecting rag. 

His mother untangles herself from her husband's embrace, taking a couple of steps in his direction. "Sweetie," her fingers caress his tense forearm, "Your father and I only mean well. What happened between you it's…" She trails off, hesitation flickering across her features before she says, "It's still affecting you." 

Jungkook knows she's right, knows they both want what's best for him. That's what stings the most. He was tired of being pitied. The month that followed at work had been torture enough. The lingering glances from his employees. The apologetic smiles and the condolences. His parents had undoubtedly been the worst — not that he ever told them. It was enough that he was hurting, he hadn't needed his mother and father's feelings on his conscience. 

"I'm fine," he turns his head in the direction of the living room as the sound of approaching footsteps reaches his ears. "Don't bring her up again," he tells them both as Cassian comes barreling through the doorway with you and Rayne in tow. 

Both his parents fall silent at that and Jungkook turns his back on them as his son comes up to show what he had drawn with his new rainbow crayons. "Daddy! Daddy! Look what I made!" Discarding the towel on the counter, he crouches down to come eye-level with the boy and as Cassian eagerly points to different parts of the painting, Jungkook glances up to peer at you subtly. 

You're smiling from ear to ear, oblivious to the conversation that had taken place in your absence. The necklace he'd given you last night sits prettily around your neck, its golden hues shimmering softly under the kitchen lights — a constant reminder of his affections, the ones he cannot bring himself say out loud — he hates himself for his own incapability. 

The uncomfortable twist of guilt in his chest returns as he regards the serene expression you wear. His parents had been right, he thinks. 

Jungkook was taking more than he could offer in return — a selfish man he was. 

── [ ✉️ ] Okay... Peeking out from behind my hands very nervously right now. Hopefully the quality wasn't horrible, it was even harder to write this from Jungkook's POV which I did not expect so I honestly don't know how to feel. Hopefully it is okay?

© All rights reserved @merakoo 2026.

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ TWENTY-ONE

𓄲 His fingers flex on top of yours, "Curious," he says after another open-mouthed kiss to the column of your throat. Teeth closing around your skin, he pulls the tender flesh past his lips and bites down. "He seems like a decent guy," letting go, he soothes the sting with his tongue, "How do you know him?" 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children) highkey jealous!jungkook a very messy attempt at an anatomy lesson (I tried okay) very suggestive dryhumping sloppy sloppy kissing jungkook is on some bullshit in this one marking!

⧽ word count ⋮ 9k average reading time ⋮ 45 minutes

── [ ✉️ ] I kind of hate this, but I also love it? Some parts irk me, others fuel me, I'm torn okay. Anyway, Jungkook decided around 80% of the plot in this one, he was behind the wheel and I was tied up in the back. When I said no more porn I didn't mean it literally okay, this isn't sex but fuck it is close. Oh and HW would not be HW if OC as a med student did not use Jungkook's glorious body for an anatomy lesson. Okay, let me know what you think, and if it was horrible then don't come for me please. Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3

series masterlist | last chapter | next part

chapter 21 — "Heartbeat"

You had not imagined finding yourself back at the large mall a mere week after picking out Rayne's birthday present. No less could you have ever thought that your return here would be in search of Christmas gifts for the two children. Had it been busy last week, then it was undoubtedly worse today. With only five days to spare before the day itself, people were resorting to violently elbowing each other toward the shelves to snag the last items for themselves.

Without the firm grip Jungkook keeps on your hand as he weaves through the crowd you're pretty sure you would've been trampled to the ground by now. He'd come to pick you up around noon after dropping Rayne and Cassian off at their grandparents' as he suggested that you do the shopping together — and you had not been one to decline. 

When you thought about it, you don't think you had ever been outside with Jungkook — unless you chose to count the multiple car rides, which you didn't. Though the crowded mall wasn't exactly a romantic scene. Sweat and pungent women's perfume make the hot air uncomfortably sticky, you've bumped shoulders with at least a handful strangers already, apologizing with a quick bow of your head before Jungkook pulls you forward. 

"Didn't think it was going to be this packed," he mutters when steering clear of a group of teenage girls, at least half of them letting their eyes linger on his bypassing frame. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he stood out in his dress pants and the tight fitted, navy fleece — which seemed to be the only garment he possessed that wasn't a button up. 

You snort, fingers lacing a little tighter between his. "Christmas is next Thursday, we're not the only ones on a last minute run." 

He doesn't say anything in response to that but judging by his tense posture — this was not his ideal setting. His eyes dart around the crammed room you stand in, its high walls make each conversation echo loudly and in the distance the piercing scream of a discontent child rings out. A fountain sits in the middle of the bottom floor, water rippling from the top, the sound would have probably been soothing, had you been able to hear it. 

Jungkook spots the escalators ahead and starts tugging you in their direction, cutting through the mass of people like a man on a mission. When you reach them he steps aside, allowing you on first before taking his spot behind you. 

Turning around to face him, you lean against the railing as the moving stairs take you to the second floor. "May I remind you that this was your idea?" The teasing lilt to your voice has him frowning and Jungkook makes a clicking noise with his tongue as he averts his gaze, studying his surroundings like he expects them to suddenly charge at him with knifes. 

"I'm starting to regret it," he sighs whilst running an inked hand through his dark hair. A loose strand falls across his forehead and you reach out to push it back. The action feels natural, domestic almost. He doesn't stop you, gaze trailing the path your finger takes closely. 

Standing one step higher makes you tower over him and Jungkook tilts his head back to peer at you through his lashes. The sigh he lets out fans across the lower half of your face warmly and you resist a small smile. "We'll be in and out, thirty minutes tops." You tell him the lie in full confidence, knowing very well that the long lines would probably amount to that time alone. 

But he doesn't question it, simply nodding as you step off the escalator and take in the array of stores on the new floor. To the left you spot a pop of color that screams 'Toy's' and you immediately move toward it — only to be stopped by Jungkook's tug to your hand. 

Confused, you send him a glance over your shoulder. "Let's split up," he says, "I have somewhere to go." When the puzzled look you wear doesn't ease up he lets his thumb brush across your knuckles, "I won't be long." 

Dumbfounded, you finally bring yourself to nod. "Yeah— Uh, sure." 

Jungkook hums, jerking his chin in the direction of the toy store you had been headed toward. "I'll meet you there when I'm done." Then he lets go of your hand and takes a step back, clearly waiting for you to move first. 

You hesitate for a second before mutely agreeing and spinning on your heel. Part of you wants to check if he was still standing where you had left him but you decide against it, focusing on making it to your desired destination without getting overrun by the hoard of people. 

The air inside the toy store itself is even hotter than that of the mall outside, and as expected, the space is filled to the brim with parents, all in search of presents for their children. Somewhere in the distance a Christmas carol plays through a crappy speaker, barely heard over the ambience around you. Slowly you begin making your way down the many aisles, scanning the options available as you chew on your bottom lip. 

An older man shoves past you suddenly, causing you to stumble on your feet. By the time you've regained your balance he's disappeared around a corner, not to be seen again. "Bastard," you grumble as you pull yourself together. 

You go over the mental list you had made of Cassian's wishes. When passing by a shelf of stuffed animals your eyes instinctively scan for a dinosaur one, he hadn't specified which he would like, so you figured that the green stegosaurus would work. Turning it over in your hands, you inspect it closely before nodding to yourself. 

As you wander through the store, your mind loops back to Jungkook with a frown. Where had he gone — and why couldn't you tag along? The answer was written before you in bold and yet you dared not entertain the idea that he might be getting something for you. 

Teeth sinking further into the skin of your lip, you ponder on what to get him. You could hardly afford anything on the pricier side, what would he even want? Jungkook revealed so little about himself, making your decision nearly impossible. 

Up ahead, there's a section dedicated to shiny toy cars and you slow down when walking past it. Cassian had mentioned wanting something like that as well. Your fingers hesitate over a blue one, just about to reach for it when a patch of color catches your attention. Turning toward another shelf further down the aisle, you find what you hadn't thought existed until now. 

Rainbow crayons. 

The toy car is abandoned entirely as you head for it, gaze locked on the small jar as you swerve through the crowd. In fact you're so focused on getting to the damned crayons that your surroundings completely fade into background noise. It's not until you have it clutched between both hands that you finally exhale a breath. 

Tilting the box in your palms, you study it with a pleased smile, Cassian would be overjoyed. And the price tag wasn't half as outrageous as you had feared — though it pushed your budget enough to exclude the shiny, plastic car from the equation. 

"Lovely lady, is that you?" 

A familiar voice pulls your attention from the colorful crayons and you glance up in time to see Namjoon gently stepping around another woman as he approaches. He's dressed in denim on denim, which, was an interesting fashion choice that you chose not to comment on. The pale blue fabric contrasts the bleached ends of his hair well though and he offers you a warm smile when coming to a halt before you. 

"It would appear so," you hum as you find yourself reciprocating the greeting. Had it not been for his memorable face, you think you might've had trouble recalling who he was. Your thoughts had admittedly been quite preoccupied with the Jeon family — the brief encounter with Namjoon was quickly shoveled to the back of your mind. 

You're surprised he even approached you to begin with, though grateful nonetheless. "Think I picked the worst day to come out here," he says when throwing a pointed glance around the crowded store. 

"I reckon it'll only worsen the closer to Christmas we get," you shrug, knowing very well that both prices and customers would skyrocket by the 24th. 

Namjoon nods, then his gaze drops to the rainbow colored crayons you still clutch, not to mention the stegosaurus shoved under your arm. His brows arch a little higher on his forehead and his eyes quickly snap up to yours, the questions stirring behind them. "You got kids?" he suddenly asks and you could've sworn your heart plummeted to your stomach. 

"O-Oh, no, no—" shaking your head, you busy yourself by fiddling with the plastic jar between your fingers, hoping he won't catch on to your flustered expression. "No. No, I don't," you exhale a quiet breath, "I um, I babysit two, well, I'm their nanny I suppose." A strained cough later, you add, "They're not mine." 

Your words come out a jumbled mess but they seem to make perfect sense to Namjoon, whose shoulders relax a fraction. "Ah, I see," he says with a lopsided grin, "It's really kind of you. I don't think I've heard of a nanny who buys presents for the kids."

You want to object by saying that they weren't just kids to you. Rayne and Cassian were special, really special. Regardless of you spending the holidays with them or not — it would feel wrong not to get them something. It's during said thought process that you realize Namjoon was scouring for gifts inside a toy store as well. 

Lifting your gaze, you meet his quietly, "And you?" You tilt your chin in the direction of the doll he was holding, having just noticed its long, brown hair and purple dress. 

Namjoon shakes his head, "No. This one's for my niece." He holds up the doll with a tilt of his lips. "Though I can't say that my family isn't hot on my heels about the matter," heaving a sigh, he continues in a somewhat sarcastic tone, "Thirty-three years old and I'm beyond my prime it seems." 

His blunt admission makes you pause, eyes widening a fraction as you blink. Thirty-three? That would make him three years older than Jungkook and— Actually, you didn't want to think about the rest. 

Your awkward chuckle is what fills the short silence as you think of something else to say. It wasn't that you disliked talking to him, quite the contrary. But Namjoon had this natural charm around him that made you want to impress him — for whatever reason. 

"You don't seem like a last minute type of guy," you finally muse, nail flicking idly against the plastic lid of the jar in your hands. 

Namjoon hums, "I'm not," he says when running his fingers through his short hair. "I was out with my mother the other week— Oh yeah, we bumped into you back then too, how silly is that?" His lips stretch into a wide grin that has dimples dent into the soft skin of his cheeks and you swallow. "Anyway, me and my brother, Jin, ended up buying duplicates for his daughter," he sighs, "It was a whole mess. Long story short, the coin toss ended with me having to go out and find something else for her. " 

He adjusts his grip on the doll, regarding it with a thoughtful look. "She likes to play with her stuffed toys, I'm hoping this will do the trick as well." 

"I'm sure it will," you say, "How old is she?" 

Namjoon's lips part, the answer waiting on his tongue when he suddenly goes silent. Frowning, you're just about to ask the matter when a cologne you recognize all too well invades the space between you. 

Jungkook's presence is felt before it's seen, the quiet loom of his shadow as it creeps up beside you, blocking off half the aisle with little care. He's holding not one but two bags, both from brands you recognize to be high end. Though that's not what catches your attention — not really. No, it was the brooding expression glued to his face, dark eyes lingering on Namjoon's friendly ones. 

"Oh— That was quick," you hum, suddenly feeling awkward as you stand between the two men. 

Next to you, Jungkook simply nods. Gaze briefly straying from where they had been fixed to Namjoon as he sends you a glance. "It was," he agrees lowly. 

Shifting on your feet, you clutch the jar of crayons a little tighter. "Uh, right. Jungkook this is Namjoon," gesturing vaguely to the man in front of you, "Namjoon, this is Jungkook." 

Unfazed by the fact that the hot store seemed to have turned a good couple of degrees colder, Namjoon extends a warm hand. "Hey," he says in a light voice, "Nice to meet you." 

Jungkook regards his outstretched palm with a scrutinizing look that he quickly masks again. After moment's deliberate hesitation he reaches out to take the offered hand as the former gives it a firm shake. He does not greet him back, but his features have schooled themselves into a weak attempt at something more relaxed. 

"The boyfriend I presume?" Namjoon asks, his smile doesn't waver but his gaze is calculating when the darts between you and Jungkook. 

Boyfriend. The label slices through you like a knife, twisting your stomach in all directions and you nearly chuckle at the absurdness of the question. But Jungkook hasn't moved an inch beside you, apart from withdrawing his hand the second he got the chance. His jaw is clenched hard enough for the muscle in his cheek to strain and you rush to clear your throat. 

"No he's uh— I'm the nanny to his children," you hurriedly explain, hoping he wouldn't catch on to how tightly the stegosaurs was squeezed against your side. 

Your answer has confusion striking his features as Namjoon lets his attention shift between the two of you. Perhaps he found it strange that you would be out Christmas shopping with your supposed boss — you wouldn't blame him. 

But if he had any opinions, he kept them to himself as he flashed you another smile. "Ah, my apologies" he says, though doesn't actually sound regretful as he his eyes settle on you. Or perhaps you were imagining things…

Namjoon is quick to effortlessly move the conversation forward, smoothing over the small bump like it was nothing. "My mother won't stop raving about you," he says, his now-free hand finding its way to his jean pocket as he takes on a more casual stance. 

The giggle that slips past your lips is lighthearted, all ready feeling more at ease. "She's still going on about dinner?" You wonder, grateful for the subject change. 

He hums, "That's putting it lightly." Namjoon shakes his head, "I told her you must be busy during the holidays and to not fret so much." 

You're about to suggest setting up a date around New Years when the sudden weight on your waist steals your voice. Jungkook's hand is firm where it rests on your hip, and if you had somehow managed to forget about his presence — this was certainly a stark reminder. 

"She is," He says, tone flat and devoid of any emotion. Your elbow nearly jabs him in the side when he tugs you closer, the plushie squished between you until it was unrecognizable. Jungkook doesn't seem to notice — he's too busy sizing Namjoon up with his eyes alone as they peer at him with quiet intensity. 

You send the other a small smile, fingers curling hard around the box of crayons as you pray this entire conversation be over as quickly as possible. "Yeah uh, Christmas is quite busy for me," you say, offering him an apologetic look. 

"Of course," Namjoon shrugs, like it was no matter, "I'm sure we'll find time." The corner of his lip twitches into a lazy grin, just enough to show off his white teeth. "Well then," He gives a dramatic bow and you resist another giggle, "I hope to run into you soon again, lovely lady." 

With that he takes his leave, quickly disappearing through the crowd of people as he heads for the register. You're left standing by the art supplies with Jungkook attached to your hip — literally. He has yet to say anything and when you turn your head, you find him staring after Namjoon's retreating figure silently. 

His hand is firm on your hip and it seems he's got no intentions of letting go in any near future. "Are you done here?" He asks when finally tearing his gaze back to yours, his voice has softened back into the one you've become so accustomed to and you exhale a relieved breath. 

"Yeah," you say, allowing him to lead you through the store, never once letting go of you. 

For the next hour you wait in more lines than you do any actual shopping. After securing the two presents you were to give Cassian, you had spotted a makeup store not far off, quickly pulling Jungkook in it's direction. He had made no verbal complaints, only looking very puzzled as you went through the different sections of the store. 

"Do you think she would like the blue- or pink-themed one?" You had asked him when holding up two eyeshadow palettes in front of him. He had studied them both closely, the frown on his face deepening tenfold as he grumbled the options to himself. 

Finally he had croaked out a quiet 'Pink?' to which you had playfully shoved his arm and called him stereotypical. From that point on he'd let you lead the way through the rest of the store, linked together by the lock of your hands, Jungkook followed you like a shadow. 

Since your brief encounter with Namjoon, he had been even quieter than usual, you had tried to brush it off as something that had to do with the hot and over-crowded mall but even the car ride home was void of conversation. 

He made no comments about the gifts you had bought, no further inquiries about Namjoon, which you were quite grateful for. And when the engine cuts as you roll up to the tall building you call home, Jungkook wordlessly gets out as he rounds the car to hold your door open before you can even attempt to do so yourself. 

He retrieves the presents from the trunk, slamming it shut with a little more force then necessary as he turns and heads for your apartment complex, leaving you to scramble after him. 

Despite you insisting that you would be fine, Jungkook still carries your bags up the stairs and to the third floor. He assures you that it's no mind and a small part of you can't help but wonder if he was merely trying to prolong his departure — in either case, you were not complaining. 

Soon you find yourself on your doorstep, the sound of a rusty key jamming inside its lock as you twist it open. Jungkook hasn't said a word since holding the entrance door open for you and when you turn to face him, he regards you quietly. It feels wrong to just tell him goodbye and send him on his way even when that was probably what was expected of you. 

Your fingers hesitate over the door handle, tongue pressing against the roof of your mouth as you swallow thickly. "Do you…" Tapping quietly on the cool metal, you blurt out the rest of your sentence, "Would you like to come inside?" 

For a second you think he might reject the offer, say that he was late to picking the kids up from their grandparents' and leave. But actually Jungkook nods, his expression betraying nothing of what he thought. So without pondering the idea further, you push the door open with your shoulder. 

This was not the first time Jungkook had been to your apartment yet it feels like a whole new experience when you make your way down the hall that leads to the living room. You weren't a messy person by any standards but your flat certainly doesn't compare to that of his large and spotless house. "Just uh, make yourself at home," you say, gesturing vaguely toward the couch. 

Doing as he's told, Jungkook takes a seat on the cushion, looking very much out of place on the mundane piece of furniture as he takes in his surroundings. You realize that his previous visits here had been very short lived and it wasn't until now that he'd actually gotten to stop and properly look around. 

The mess of old mugs on the coffee table make you cringe and you scurry over to collect them clumsily. "Can I get you anything to drink?" you ask when straightening back up. 

Jungkook's gaze flickers up to meet yours, "Water will be fine," he says. 

Nodding, you turn on your heel as you dart for the kitchen, eager to escape his line of sight for a moment. You don't know why you were so nervous about having him here. Placing the dirty mugs in the sink, you mull over the feelings stirring inside your chest. You had been alone with Jungkook multiple times before, hell, your entire day had been spent in his presence at the mall. 

What made this any different? 

The still air maybe, or the fact that you no longer had the distraction of crowded stores or the children hovering around you. Or maybe it was because whenever you and him found yourselves completely alone — you always seemed to cross dangerous boundaries. 

You think of last night. The drinks you had shared in the shadows of his study, tucked away from the rest of the world. You think of the way his lips had felt on your neck, his hands on your thighs when he placed you on his desk and the caress to your back as he held you close. You think of the reluctant shower you'd taken when arriving back home, grieving the scent of him on your body as it washed away under the hot steam.

"Enough," you mutter when pulling a cabinet open. The memories of yesterday are pushed to the back of your mind as you turn on the faucet and fill two glasses. 

Jungkook is still lounging on the couch when you return to the living room. One hand is stroking the armrest beside him idly but his eyes lift upon your arrival. Your feet move soundlessly across the floor as you approach, handing him one of the glasses which he takes with a murmured thank you. 

For a little while the two of you simply exist together in the small space of your apartment, with you having yet to take a seat as you sip on your water. Jungkook does the same, his gaze fixed on you over the rim of his glass. It's not until he leans over to set the drink down that his attention shifts to the textbook thrown across the coffee table. 

He studies it for a moment, inked fingers brushing across its cover as he picks it up. "Oh, yeah…" rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly, you nod toward the book, "I have this big exam tomorrow, was doing some last minute studying this morning." 

Jungkook hums as he reclines back against the cushion, flicking the pages open with his thumb as he skims them aimlessly. When he turns back to you, it's with a cocked brow, "Are you prepared?" 

The question has the water slipping down your throat as you blink dumbfoundedly in his direction. "I mean, I think so…?" You knew that you hadn't given your studies enough attention during the course of the last two weeks, the man before you was partly to blame for that. "It's a lot of material but I've revised it all at least once," you then say whilst adjusting your grip on the glass. 

He doesn't respond right away, still skimming the page he'd landed on before finally closing the book and tucking it between himself and the armrest to his left. "Alright," he muses, "Then show me." 

Had it not been for the deathly hold you kept on your glass of water, it would've kissed the floor the same way your jaw currently was. "What—?" you splutter, thinking you might've misheard him somehow. But Jungkook simply folds his arms across his chests as he flings both legs up on the foot of the L-shaped couch. It was then you realized that he was being completely serious. 

"I wouldn't even know where to start—" shaking you head, you try to brush the idea off again, "And there's so much, I'll bore you." Not only was the prospect of potentially boring him on your mind, but so was the thought of wasting the little alone time with him on something as mundane as studying. 

Unfortunately, Jungkook isn't letting up. His stare could've probably coerced just about anyone into compliance and you were no different. 

The sound of your glass hitting the coffee table echoes off the four walls that surround you. "Can I at least go grab my notes?" 

That was how you found yourself next to Jungkook on your couch, in your living room, in your apartment — alone. You sit curled up beside him, eyes fixed to the notes in your hands, supported by your thighs as you read them over again and again — your brain never actually picking up the words so messily scribbled down. 

As you quickly revised, Jungkook took his time flipping through your textbook. After prying a chapter number out of you he was now reading the material closely, eyes squinting slightly in the absence of his glasses. 

You gnaw on your bottom lip when sneaking a glance at him, gaze fleeing back to your notes when he suddenly looks your way. Another two minutes pass in tense silence where you repeat the scribbled key words like a mantra. 

Then the notebook is suddenly snatched from your grasp as Jungkook's tattooed hand closes around its edge. He's put the class material aside and is now scanning the pages you've written for himself. When you attempt to retrieve the essential guide, he simply pulls it out of reach. "Time's up," he says. 

You almost fling yourself over him to get your notes back, only to realize how stupid that would look — and how close you were already sat. His cologne, always lingering in the back of your mind, infiltrates your nostrils with your next inhale. His arm is warm where it rests against your own, his head tilted just enough for you to meet one of his dark eyes as he studies you. 

"Well?" He prompts when folding his arms back over his chest and sinking back against the cushion. His expression is expectant, even more so than your stern no-nonsense professors and you feel yourself beginning to sweat under the sudden attention. "Start simple," he then says and you nod. 

Clearing your throat, you mentally go over the notes once more. The exam was your biggest one yet, focusing on both the human lungs and heart. "I— Um, the heart…" you begin, hands fiddling awkwardly with one another, "It's the body's most vital organ as it provides oxygen to our cells and maintains our blood pressure." 

Jungkook hums, never once taking his eyes off of you. "Where's it located?" 

You roll your eyes at that, "Oh come on. You know here." 

But he only shrugs, "What if I don't?" You were no fool to what he was trying to do here. Acting completely clueless to pull as much information from you as possible. It would be a lie to say that it didn't amuse you, if only a little — because Jungkook was far from stupid, though getting to experience him like this, even if it was only pretend, fueled something in you. 

"It's located in your chest, just behind your sternum, in front of your spine — though it's positioned slightly to your left." Reaching out, you point to where his heart would be beating just under the tight fleece he wears. 

Jungkook's gaze tracks the path of your hand, humming softly to show that he was following along. "How?" He then asks, tilting his head a fraction to the side, "How does it give me oxygen." 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, "Well, to explain that you first need to know how the heart is built." There's brief hesitation where you search his face for clues, but he's just watching you, wordlessly urging you to keep going. 

The next breath you take comes easier, some of the tension draining from your shoulders as you hone in on one of the things you were most passionate about — the human body. "The heart is made up of four chambers and they all serve different purposes," you explain, "The atria are the two chambers at the top of your heart, and the ventricles sit at the bottom." 

Your finger points to where you think each one would be, approximately at least. Jungkook lets you without complaint, his chest rising and falling slowly with each breath he takes. "You're quite a hands-on teacher," he then muses, causing you to forget your next sentence as you huff exasperatedly. 

"I'm just trying to show what I mean…" You mutter, quickly withdrawing your hand from his torso when you realize how long you'd let your touch linger. 

Jungkook eyes you for a moment without speaking until he abruptly leans forward. You barely have time to ask the matter as he reaches behind him, grabbing the back of his shirt as he tugs it over his head in one swift motion. 

"What are you—?" 

The spluttered question falls flat as he tosses his shirt over the armrest on the other side of him. He raises a brow at your perplexed and slightly flabbergast expression, the corner of his lip twitching before he forces it back into something more neutral. "Giving you access," he says when leaning back against the couch to get comfortable again. 

Your brain short circuits as your attention falls on his naked chest — the one you'd only had the privilege of seeing on one previous occasion. And now he was suddenly offering himself up as revision material? 

Finally pulling yourself together, you shift in your seat as you turn to get a better view. "Right," you clear your throat, "Like I was saying…" 

"The atria and the ventricles?" he finishes for you. 

"Yes, that." Fumbling to gather your bearings, you will your mind to focus on where his heart would be and not the distracting sight of bare skin. "The uh, the chambers can be divided into left and right." You're hesitant to reach out again, more so for your own sake than his, but in the end you do — finger pointing to his chest where you had felt the steady drumming of his heart. 

"The right atrium receives oxygen poor blood through the vena cava. There are two of them, one superior and one inferior and they both work slightly different…" You trail off, eyes flickering up to meet his, only to find Jungkook already watching you intently through dark lashes. 

"How so?" He asks. 

"Well, the superior one delivers blood from your upper body, such as your head, throat, chest and even your arms." Gesturing vaguely in the direction of his painted arm, you then continue in the same breath, "The vena cava inferior transports blood from your lower body, that blood travels through your veins but to defy gravity and actually make it back to your heart they rely on different mechanisms to help them." 

Your hand slides down to his forearm, gently pushing it back against the upper one as you try not to linger on the way his bicep contracts at the motion. "When your muscles are in movement they squeeze your veins, forcing the blood upward and with the help of one-way valves that open and close, the oxygen poor blood is ensured to not run back down again." 

Jungkook lets you manhandle his arm back and forth a couple of times, more than what was actually necessary for the explanation but he makes no move to stop you either. "And if I'm not moving?" He wonders, brows furrowing slightly on his forehead, "Then what happens?" 

"You also have your respiratory pump," you hum, recalling the revised material a lot easier now. "When you breathe your diaphragm moves," abandoning his arm, your palm comes to rest on the center on his torso, just below his chest at the base of his ribcage, "It creates a suction effect in your chest cavity which draws blood upward." 

Under your hand, Jungkook's chest expands as he takes a deep breath, like he was testing the theory out for himself. "Makes sense," he muses on his exhale. 

You nod, debating on pulling back entirely but instead deciding to just let your touch return to his heart instead. "Right so, the right atrium then delivers the oxygen poor blood to the right ventricle which in turn sends that blood to your lungs in order to enrich it with oxygen again. That part is a little confusing to explain as the functions of the veins and arteries trade places." 

The corner of Jungkook's lip twitches, "I'm sure I can keep up." 

Heat crawls up your neck at the confidence in his voice and it makes you waver for a split second before you clear your throat. "The uh, transportation of oxygen poor blood to the lungs is not done with veins rather the pulmonary artery. When you inhale your lungs become full of oxygen which is given to your blood through diffusion. This is possible thanks to the capillaries which are walls thin enough to let the exchange happen. It is the same way oxygen is exchanged everywhere throughout your body." 

You pause to make sure that he was following along, shyly lifting your gaze from where it had been glued to his chest. Jungkook is regarding you quietly, he's made no attempt to interrupt you and the look in his eyes made your stomach flutter in a way it certainly shouldn't when you were revising anatomy. 

"The er— exchange itself then fills our lungs with carbon dioxide which is what we then go on to exhale. Moving on, the oxygen rich blood is transported back to your left atrium through the pulmonary vein. That chamber in turn pumps the blood to your left ventricle which sends it out to the rest of your body." 

By the time you're done explaining the basics of the heart itself you're left with your own hammering in your chest — and that was without going into any detail on the different conditions such as heart attacks. 

Jungkook hums in understanding, nodding once like you had made perfect sense. The silence between you stretches long and awkward for nearly ten seconds after that and you fumble for something to fill it with, ultimately landing on rambling more information stored at the top of your head. 

"Further more, an adult heart, when relaxed should beat anywhere between sixty to a hundred beats per minute, anything above that can indicate high blood pressure." A quick glance at his toned arms and the whisper of muscle on his stomach has you continuing, "Though fit individuals may sometimes have a lower resting heart rate, somewhere around forty to fifty beats per minute." 

Jungkook cocks a brow at that, his gaze landing on the hand you still kept over his chest. You barely have time to register what he was doing before the warmth of his palm presses down across your fingers, bringing you closer to his beating heart. 

"What's your diagnosis, doc?" He asks when tilting his head to the side. 

Completely thrown off balance, it takes you a moment to understand what he meant and you quickly distract yourself by trying to count the slow and steady beats his heart gives. Your apartment is silent, save for your joint breaths and the soft creak of the couch when you shift on the cushion. The rhythmic thumping under your hand never falters, its calm and steady beating almost pisses you off — how was it so easy for him to remain unaffected as he sat shirtless in your living room? 

When you think a minute might've passed you gingerly pry yourself free of his grip. "Well, it's impossible to say since I can't time it properly right now — but I'd say it's normal." 

Jungkook seems satisfied with your answer. He doesn't say anything for a while, leaving you to rethink the entire interaction as you gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Then he suddenly turns, twisting himself just enough to face you better and a second later his fingers dip beneath the neckline of your shirt, hot palm finding your heart as he presses it against your skin. 

You want to ask what he was doing, like it wasn't obvious enough. But you can't seem to get a single word out, forced to sit there as Jungkook feels the embarrassingly rapid beating of the traitorous organ in your chest. You toy with the idea of holding your breath forcing your heart into submission but ultimately decide against it as Jungkook's dark eyes meet yours. 

"Yours is beating fast," he notes, hand still present against your chest. 

The huff that escapes you falls somewhere between a laugh and a strained plea. "Yeah uh— There's explanations for that as well," you tell him, immediately regretting it when his expression lights up with interest. 

"Such as?" 

"Well there's many… Norepinephrine, sudden adrenaline surges and involuntarily fight-or-flight responses. They all cause your heart to beat faster." You ramble on as you avoid his gaze, finding the armrest behind him most intriguing. 

Jungkook hums, "Why now?" 

You have half a mind to tell him off. He was not stupid but neither were you, and you knew when someone was pushing your buttons. Still, the only response you can manage is a weak scoff and a pathetic excuse, "You took your shirt off…" 

The fleece lays discarded to his left, but Jungkook pays it no mind. His fingers move absently across your skin, tracing small, messy patterns there. Eyes darting back and forth between his hand under your shirt and your face, like he was considering something. "And if you took yours off? My heart would beat faster, yes?" 

You're certain he can feel the beat your heart skips in your ribcage, the hitch in your breath as his proposal registers. You tell yourself that you were past the terms of modesty since long — Jungkook had seen you in less, and still, this conversation makes you want to hide just as much as it makes you want to kiss him. 

"Well—" you begin with a slight stutter, "Not necessarily, you'd need to be attracted to the person you're seeing." 

At that he leans closer, his attention dropping to the faint outline of his knuckles through your shirt as he presses his index and middle finger over your heart. Then he lifts gaze, "I am," he calmly states. His free hand finds the line of your jaw, fingers closing around it on a soft embrace when he leans in to press his lips against yours. 

You sit there like a stature for a good three seconds, trying to piece together what he'd just initiated before leaning in as you invite his tongue inside your mouth with a breathless gasp. The kiss is soft, it feels like him, scarily familiar in a way you should've never let it become. 

His fingers slip out of your shirt, curling into your hip as Jungkook tugs you onto his lap like he was moving air. Both hands settle on your waist and your own palms brace themselves on his shoulders without having to be told as you kiss him harder, all thoughts of studying flying out the window in favor of the man on your couch. 

He toys with the hem of your sweater, tugging on the fabric just enough to pull your attention away from the lock of your lips. Despite the heat that smooths itself over your cheeks you still manage to maintain eye contact as you lean back enough to pull the garment over your head, tossing it to the floor just like you usually would when getting undressed after a long day. 

Jungkook's gaze roams your chest unapologetically, lashes fluttering softly as he runs the pad of his thumb up your side. His hands slide to your back, tracing your naked spine as he pulls you closer and you let him steal your breath with another kiss. 

Your hips move on their own, grinding down against him through the layers of clothes you wear — to which he responds by digging his fingers into your skin, pulling you down on him harder. The air inside your living room grows hot, outside your window the sun begins its slow descent down the horizon, basking you in all shades orange. 

Last night had yet to leave your mind and judging by the way Jungkook hardens under you within the minute, it hadn't left his either. The sound of his groan vibrates on your lips, low and filled with desire he does nothing to hide.

Only when his fingers wrap around your wrists as he guides it across his collarbone do you pull back an inch. He says nothing when he moves your palm to rest flat over his chest, right above the now frantic beating of his heart. You feel it clearly, the quick thump-thump-thump as it slams against his ribcage from within. 

When you meet his eyes you find them entirely swallowed by the black pools of his pupils, dazed with all the things he never said out loud. "Do you feel that?" he whispers, breath warm against your face. His fingers lock around yours as he presses your hand impossibly close, letting you experience the undeniable evidence of his pure want. 

You nod, just a slow tilt of your chin which Jungkook mimics with one of his own. "Good," he says, but he doesn't let you go when he leans in to pick up the kiss he'd broken with renewed hunger. 

Your other hand loosens its hold on his shoulders, sliding to the nape of his neck as he tips his head back to let your tongue slip inside his mouth. The ends of his hair slip between your fingers, fitting perfectly in your grasp when you curl the digits around them. Having previously lost their rhythm, your hips return to their slow grind against him. 

Jungkook leans back from the kiss, lips pressing against the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the side of your neck as he showers you in affection. "Who was that?" he asks against you, the hand not currently keeping your own caged to his chest, grips your hip. When all he receives is a slightly confused hum from you, he adds in a lower voice, "Your friend," making sure to accentuate the latter.

Your body grows tense on top of his, brows pinching together across your forehead as you attempt to pull back enough to look at him — but Jungkook is not letting you go. His arm slides around your waist, keeping you perched on his lap as his lips stay latched on to your neck. 

"Namjoon?" You finally splutter, fingers twiddling a strand of his dark hair between them. 

Jungkook sighs out a small 'mm' between kisses, "That's his name?" He phrases it like a question even though you both know it isn't. 

"Yes," you murmur, glancing down to where your hands lay locked over his heart. "Why are you asking?" 

His fingers flex on top of yours, "Curious," he says after another open-mouthed kiss to the column of your throat. Teeth closing around your skin, he pulls the tender flesh past his lips and bites down. "He seems like a decent guy," letting go, he soothes the sting with his tongue, "How do you know him?" 

Your brain short circuits as you try to make sense of what he was saying all the while he continues to lick and nip at your throat. "Uh, I've met his mom twice — by chance. Him once before," you say as you try to recall your past encounters with Namjoon, even when that was the last thing on your mind right now. 

The answer has Jungkook humming noncommittally, the arm looped around you flexing slightly as he tugs you closer. His hips lift up to meet yours that had gone still, wordlessly urging you to move again. 

You comply as you grind down on him, slower this time. "What matter is it anyway?" you huff, tilting your head to the side when his kisses trail back up your jaw, then your cheek. 

Jungkook exhales through his nose, he nudges your palm flat against his chest, reminding you of the way his heart was currently beating like a dumbbell. "None," he says as his lips cover yours. 

Your next kiss is laced with the emotions that had been left brewing since last night. Each roll of your hips sends a shudder through you, soft gasps spilling right into his waiting mouth. His hands return to your waist, guiding you back and forth over the bulge in his dress pants. 

The subject of Namjoon is dropped just as quickly as it had surfaced and for that you're glad. All you can focus on his how Jungkook feels under you, against you, so close yet nowhere near enough. He hadn't asked about the boyfriend thing, hadn't brought up your dismissal of such a label being used on the two of you. Then again, you weren't an item to begin with. 

Your fingers return to his dark hair, running through the strands like property signed in your name. His jaw goes slack when you tug on a few locks, a strained noise ripping from his throat as his hips jerk up to meet yours in a messy attempt at creating more friction. The sofa creaks under your joint weight, the slick sounds of lips and saliva smearing together mixed with your heavy breaths filling your living room. 

The two of you would've probably kept going for a lot longer, had it not been for the sudden, ear-piercing ring that cuts through the hot air. Jungkook's grip on your hips loosen, his mouth slowing down against yours as he exhales. 

"Ignore it," you moan against him, not wanting the moment to end because someone — God knows who — though probably Daehyun, decided to be a cock-blocker. But the shrill of your landline won't stop and you're forced to make the hard decision of tearing yourself off Jungkook's lap as you storm over to the device on your desk. 

Fingers curling around the phone, you rip it from its designated spot as you press to accept the call. "Daehyun, I swear to God if this is—" 

"Oh, there's a familiar voice." 

Namjoon's chuckle makes you pause mid scolding, brows shooting high on your forehead. "Uh, sorry. I thought you were someone else," you quickly apologize, pulling your swollen bottom lip between your teeth as embarrassment floods you from head to toe. 

"It's no mind," he says, "I've been calling around, going through everyone with your name in the phone book. Though since I never caught your last name I was going on the first. Turns out there's quite a few of you in the area." Namjoon's tone is lighthearted, a stark contrast to the conversation you had just been having about him. 

"Well, you found me at last," you muse, finger tapping softly against the back of the phone. Somewhere in the distance a floorboard creaks and a second later Jungkook's arms slide around you from behind. He's put his shirt back on, the soft fleece biting into your back when his chest molds against you. 

"I'm glad I did," Namjoon says and you were certain that Jungkook could hear his voice on the other end of the line. His head was lowered enough for it to, the tip of his nose skimming along the side of your neck as he inhales deeply, a sound you hope won't pick up on the receiver. 

But Namjoon doesn't seem to be catching on as he continues, "I was calling about that dinner. I made the mistake of mentioning our run-in to my mother earlier and her nagging has only gotten worse." He clears his throat, "So uh, you don't happen to be free sometime after Christmas?" 

It was the first time you had ever heard Namjoon appear even remotely hesitant. He was all charming smiles and confident conversation. The question was almost endearing, though Jungkook's arms, locked around your stomach makes your thoughts stray from the man on the phone as your heart races. 

"After Christmas?" you echo, biting down on your tongue when a pair of wet lips meet the spot just below your ear. "I'll have to check my calendar but uh…" Another kiss to the juncture where your neck and shoulder meets has you suppressing a shiver. "Could I maybe get back to you on that?"

"Of course," Namjoon says, "Should be a lot easier now that my number is in your register." His laughter is something you're unable to reciprocate as Jungkook continues his assault to your bare skin, placing hot, messy kisses all over you with no intent of slowing down. 

When the short call comes to a close you exhale a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. For a few long seconds you stand there, staring at the wall as Jungkook drags his lips across the slope of your shoulder. 

Placing the phone back onto the machine, you twist in his arms as you turn to face him, causing him to finally pull his mouth back. He did not have to ask who had been on the other end and you did not have to tell him. The previous desire in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by something softer as he studies you in the warm afternoon sun. 

"Sorry about that," you murmur, fingers picking at a loose thread on his shirt before flattening the fabric out again. 

Jungkook only shakes his head, hands clasped over the small of your back. "Don't apologize to me," he says, brows furrowing across his forehead for a second, then relaxing again. Your close proximity did not fluster you as much as it had only minutes ago — though it still made fire burn hot in your veins. Should you kiss him again? Would he want you to? Maybe you— 

"I should be heading out." Oh. You can't hide the flash of disappointment when it strikes your features, he must notice it too for he lifts one hand to cradle your cheek. "Told my parents I'd be picking the children up at five." 

"Right, no of course." Shaking your head, you take a small step back in an attempt to put some much needed distance between the two of you, and allowing him to take his leave — only for him to stop you. 

Jungkook's hand is firm on the low of your back when he reels you in, foreheads meeting as his lips hover a breath from your own — just shy of a kiss which he dares claim a second later. There's no tongue this time, no heat, just the gentle press of his mouth to yours. When he pulls back he does so carefully. 

His thumb brushes the high of your cheek, "You'll do good on your exam," he says, the corner of his lip lifting at the flustered purse of your own. 

"I'm not so sure about that" you huff, feigning indifference as you try to play it down again. 

Jungkook hums, "I am." He leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, then he lets his hands drop back to his sides as he steps back. Your gaze trails after his retreating figure when he heads down the hall, slipping on his coat and shoes methodically, the flutter in your stomach having yet to die down. 

With one hand wrapped around the door handle he turns to glance at you over his shoulder, dark eyes meet yours just like they had so many times this afternoon before he steps out. 

Your apartment is awfully silent after his leave, goosebumps rising on your naked arms in his absence. With a begrudging sigh you turn to snatch you discarded shirt off the floor, pulling it over your head as you stumble toward the bathroom with the means of washing up. 

The bright, white lights blind you when you flick them on and it takes you a moment to adjust. Twisting the faucet, you lean down to soak your face in cold water, scrubbing away the remnants of the heated kisses you and Jungkook had shared. 

Part of you wonders what would've happened if you hadn't been interrupted. Would it be like last night? Maybe. You dared not think about it for too long. 

You pat your face dry with the nearest hand towel, blinking at your tousled reflection in the small mirror. Admittedly, you had looked better. But as you lean closer to inspect the swollen state of your lips, your attention catches on something entirely different. Craning your neck to the side, your eyes widen as they drink in the hint of bruising to your skin. 

Your fingers reach for the faint mark, knowing it would darken overnight. The bathroom light flickers above you but you ignore it as you trace the outline where Jungkook's mouth had once been — remembering what his teeth had felt like when they sunk into your skin. 

── [ ✉️ ] Okay yeah, he was hot in this one I think. Doing way too much with the heart stuff, I did not plan for him to do that it was his own decision I need everyone to be onboard with this okay? Anyway anyway, hope this was okay, it was very all over the place yet nowhere at all? Not sure how to feel but I hope when we get to the next two chapters things will actually make sense.

© All rights reserved @merakoo 2026.

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ TWENTY

𓄲 Your fingers find his hair, curling around the black strands and tugging on them in the way that would always have him groaning against you. This time is no different, even when he tries to force the sound back, teeth finding the tender skin where your neck meets your shoulder as he bites down in hopes of salvation. 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children) alcohol consumption and what do you know, there's porn: unprotected sex (pullout method) they indulge in a quickie kissing kissing hungry!jungkook blowjob (he cums down her throat)

⧽ word count ⋮ 11.5k average reading time ⋮ 1 hour

── [ ✉️ ] This is like, so cute and so nasty. Ok well, it's not that nasty, I know what you ladies are up reading at night so don't try and fool me. But in the means of HW it is nasty, let's just say it like that. Jungkook is actually so hungry for her, by all means, but he's also a little awkward around her, love that. I also don't have any more porn planned for the series, it could change of course, but I wouldn't place my bets (the drabbles though...) Hm, yes. Cassian and Rayne are here too, because it wouldn't be HW without them. Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3

series masterlist | last chapter | next part

chapter 20 — "Be Quiet"

Opening your textbook that Saturday morning felt like stepping into a world long forgotten. You had been so caught up in Rayne's birthday preparations, then there had been the dance — and Jungkook. It shamed you to admit that your studies had taken a backseat in favor of the Jeon family. With your final exam coming up before Christmas you were now paying the price of your ignorance

It didn't help that Daehyun had chosen the exact moment you sat down to get some work done to give you a call. An hour and a half later and you were still on the phone with him as he went on about his latest attempt at romance, which, given his track record, did not bode well. 

"But I don't think he's ready for anything serious—" your friend sighs on the other end of the line, "I mean, he's only been taking me to hotels as of now. I haven't even gotten to see his place and he's been to mine multiple times." 

Clutching a highlighter in your free hand, you underline a third paragraph on the page in front of you, not actually bothering to read the words written. "Mhm," you hum, frowning slightly when his statement actually registers, "Wait, he hasn't introduced you to anyone yet?" Tilting the phone slightly, you nudge it to your ear with the help of your shoulder. 

Daehyun makes an offended noise, "No," he mutters begrudgingly. "And here I thought someone his age would at least have the balls to make a move on me outside of the bedroom." 

You pause, highlighter pressing against the paper as the yellow color continues to bleed onto it. "How old is he again?" 

There's a dramatic beat of silence before Daehyun scoffs, "Twenty-seven!" You can vividly imagine him throwing a hand in the air as he gestures wildly to a play-pretend audience. "Can you believe it?" He sounds as though he's ready to go on another rant only to be stopped by the disapproving click of your tongue.

"Dae…" You exhale, brows furrowing deep on your forehead. 

"What?" He retorts defensively, "I don't want to hear anything from you, Ms I've got a thing for my boss who's thirty." 

You cringe at that, fingers curling a little tighter around the highlighter as you stare at the wall in front of you. "It's not like that— And you're making it sound weird!" Pursing your lips, you roll the thick pen between your index and middle finger, "Besides, I do not have 'a thing' for him." The truth was that you had more than a thing for Jungkook, but admitting that to Daehyun of all people felt like a death sentence. 

It was easy to forget that Jungkook actually paid you to see his children. That each day spent at the Jeon house was a transaction and should have stayed that way. Your free hand traces the corner of the open page. Falling in love with both Cassian and Rayne had never been part of the plan — least of all had the intimate moments you shared with their father been. Now you feared you were in far too deep to ever be rescued, the worst part was that even if such an opportunity did presented itself — you knew you wouldn't take it. 

There's rustling on the other side of the line as Daehyun shifts to get comfortable, likely laying in bed with his phone cord wrapped around himself. "Hey, I ain't say there was anything wrong with it. I'm just stating the facts of your situation and judging by what you've told me, he sounds a great deal better than whatever dude I let stick it up my ass." 

"Okay— Okay, I didn't need any explicit details about your sex life, Dae." Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to force the picture of your friend from your mind. Unfortunately in doing so, you manage to open a door you had not intended to. Images of Jungkook instead flood your vision, images of his lips, parted and red, hovering just inches from your own. 

The afternoon you had spent together all those weeks ago, the quiet intimacy of his chest pressed against yours, his hands on your body, his mouth on— 

"Say," Daehyun drawls, "Is he more man than my recent fuck?" 

His question startles you from your thoughts and you blink. "What?" you huff, confusion lacing your words, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

Your friend heaves a breath, like the answer was written in front of you. "I mean, has he made a move on you?"

Made a move? Jungkook? You swallow the lump that sits in your throat, hoping the crappy landline won't pick up on it. Memories of all the stolen moments between you return. The way he'd kissed you for the first time in his study that night over a month ago — pulling away like he'd committed a crime. You think of all the touches he'd let linger after your shared afternoon together, the caresses to your waist, the kisses to your neck, lips… 

You knew that keeping whatever it was the two of you had going on a secret from the children was important. But Daehyun was not someone you had to keep things from, so why did it feel so difficult to tell him? Perhaps it was because telling him would mean confirming that it had actually happened, that it was real and not just a figment of your imagination or a fantasy you had conjured during late nights alone in bed. 

"Well he…" Your index finger finds the cord that ties your phone to its machine and you toy with it idly. "He's been pretty clear I guess," you murmur, almost shyly as heat crawls to your face. 

Daehyun could've easily made a back flip on his end of the phone, but if you had to guess, he'd simply shot up straight from whatever position he'd been lounging in. "No way!" he practically shouts, the excitement radiating off of him, "How far have you gone?" 

The chair creaks under your weight as you shift on it awkwardly. While it wasn't uncommon for Daehyun to share all about his sexual endeavors, you had never been on the giving end of the exchange between you. 

Your silence seems to do the job though because a moment later you hear him snicker on the other side the line. "You dirty little minx," he practically squeals, "Tell me everything!" 

You're thankful for the distance between you at the moment. The last thing you needed was him cooing at your flustered expression or the way you chewed on your bottom lip. "I don't know what there's to say…" Shrugging, you put the highlighter down, finger tapping softly against it as you ponder an answer that would satisfy him without leading to more prying. 

"What is there not to say?" Daehyun is radiating on his end, the sound of his mattress groaning loudly as he shifts on top of it. "What was he like? Was he good?" The teasing lilt to his voice is unmistakable and it has you tightening your grip on the phone, hard enough for it to crack. 

"Yeah," the admission leaves you in a breathless whisper, "Like…really good." And he had been. You don't think you had ever felt touch like his before, it was like he knew exactly when and where to linger, how to move, how to breathe with you. Shaking your head, you try to brush past the unwelcome visions of his head between your legs. 

Daehyun, however, is far from finished with this conversation as it just took a most interesting turn. "What did I tell you? Guys his age know what they're doing. So tell me—" 

Your friend is just about to pry further when the device in your hand suddenly beeps loudly, effectively pulling your attention toward the familiar sequence of numbers that had appeared on the screen, signaling you of a different caller. "Dae, I might have to call you back," you say when going over the numbers a second time. 

There's a short pause before Daehyun's speaks, "Wait what—?" The confusion only lasts a second though, "Oh. Is it him? It has to be, why else would you hang up on your beautiful best fr—" 

"Okay, bye!" 

The relief that floods you by ending the ongoing call with Daehyun quickly evaporates as you realize that you would be answering the man who's abilities in bed you had just been discussing. A small grimace tugs at your features and you blink twice when bringing the phone back to your ear, pressing a button on the machine to allow the lines to connect. 

For a while all you hear is the static, bruising noise coming from the other end and you clear your throat awkwardly to greet him, "Hello?" 

You and Jungkook had spoke very little when he returned home last night. Having put Cassian to bed by eight, just as instructed, you met the pair by the front door as Jungkook stepped inside. He'd been carrying a sleeping Rayne in his arms, the look on his face serene as he regarded his daughter. 

When you had asked how the night went he'd simply smiled — a smile so rare for someone like him. Then he'd told you that he would be taking her to bed. He thanked you for your help but his eyes never strayed from the girl in his arms. Once he began climbing the stairs you'd decided that it was best you take your leave and give him the rest of the night alone with his sleeping children. 

So to accept a call from him, on a Saturday no less, was rather unexpected. "Good afternoon," Jungkook's voice startles you slightly and you turn in your seat to peer at the clock over by the couch. It was already nearing 1pm, how long had you and Daehyun been on the phone? 

"Yes… Afternoon," You hum, gaze flickering to the discarded highlighter, laying across your open textbook. Without its cap on the ink was running dry and you glance around in search for the missing piece. 

On the other end of the line there's a pause before Jungkook continues, "I'm aware that it's your day off," he says, "But I have to leave for the office, rather unexpectedly. If you're busy I understand, I'm sure I can make arrangements with their grandparents or—" 

"I'm free." 

The response pours out of you in a second, cutting him off mid-sentence as your fingers curl around the phone a little tighter. You were actually busy, but as you close up your textbook you knew that your mind was made up. 

You can hear his exhale through the static of the phone — he sounds relieved. "That's good," he then says, "I would come pick you up myself, I just cannot leave the children at home." 

"Oh, I'm just fine taking the bus, no worries." you assure him, finally finding the cap of your highlighter as you seal it in place with a click. 

Jungkook is quiet for some time, until he finally asks, "Will you at least let me pay the bus fare?" 

His suggestion makes you freeze from where you had been leaning over to stuff the yellow pen back in the jar that held the rest. Brows scrunching together, "You already pay me enough," you tell him when rising to your feet, "I'll be there in half an hour." 

He doesn't argue with you on the matter, sighing on his end, giving in with a soft 'Alright' before allowing you to disconnect the call. 

You don't hesitate as you gather your things, trying to keep the excitement in your chest at bay as the lock twists, sealing your front door and leaving you to scurry down the stairs. 

The buses were not as lenient during the weekends, rather than every fifteen minutes they ran every thirty, making your trip to the Jeon house slightly longer than usual. You've brought your study material — this time without fear of Jungkook stumbling across it. You figured you should at least try to revise for the upcoming exam. 

Snow stubbornly clings to your sneakers as you walk down the pavement. It smears even further when you attempt to brush it off with the opposite foot, white clumps quickly melting through the fabric and soaking into your socks. "Stupid shoes," you mutter when pushing the gate to the Jeon estate open, still trudging forward with your head bowed. 

In fact, you were so caught up in the disappointment of your cold and wet feet that you don't bother glancing up when heading toward the steps of the front porch. Perhaps had you been a little more attentive you would have noticed the obstacle of another person before you crashed into them. 

Forehead slamming against something hard, you tumble back with a small 'oof', already reaching up to soothe the throb in your temple. "Are you okay?" The sound of Jungkook's voice makes your head spin even more so than the impact of his shoulder where it had smacked across your face. His fingers brush against your wrist as he guides your chilly hand away to assess the damage himself. 

Upon further inspection, and a slight clearing of your rattled mind, you realize that he'd been outside even before your arrival. Had it not been for the white layer that dusts his dark hair and the coat he wears — then the faint redness to his nose was a dead giveaway. 

"I'm fine," shrugging nonchalantly, you raise him a brow, "What are you doing out here?" 

Jungkook blinks once, lips parting as he lets his touch fall from your arms and takes a small step back. "I was just leaving," jerking his chin in the direction of his car, you follow his line of sight. Upon turning back to the thick and fluffy snow that layers his shoulders, not to mention the rosy tint to his cheeks, his lie becomes blatant. 

"I never got to thank you for yesterday," he then says, frowning when you shake your head dismissively, obviously offended that you would brush his gratitude off. "I'm serious," he presses, "What you did for Rayne, it meant a lot to her — to me. Thank you." 

His leaps seal together in a thin line after that as he regards you expectantly. You know that you should probably say something, fill the silence that had followed his words. But your mind was slow to even comprehend the weight of what he'd just told you. Inhaling a lungful of cold air, you give him a small but genuine smile. 

"It meant a lot to me as well," you say, "I'm glad." 

The distant rustle of tree branches swaying in the afternoon breeze is all that can be heard. A few birds — the ones who hadn't fled for warmer climates — chirp above, their song carrying through the wind. Jungkook's gaze lingers on a raven, sitting on a lower twig that extends from the trunk. 

"I should get going," he murmurs when turning back to you. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, he clears his throat swiftly, "The children are in the living room," he says, "Door's unlocked." 

You nod, fingers clasped together and you move forward as you attempt to step past him — only for Jungkook to do the same. Your face pulls into a sheepish expression and you quickly try to correct yourself by going in the other direction. Unfortunately he seems to have the same idea and you end up chest to chest a second time. 

"Sorry," you chuckle as you come to a stop. Jungkook does the same, hands returning to your elbows as his fingers curl around your arms through the thick material of your coat. He gently steers you to the right, allowing you to step around each other without more fuss. 

Thanking him under your breath, you quickly head up the stairs as he walks to his car. When climbing the three steps you have to force yourself not to turn back around and steal one final glance at him. You do a decent job, making it all the way to the front door with one hand wrapped around it — only to immediately whip your head over your shoulder as Jungkook suddenly calls out. 

He's standing by the driver's door, a clenched fist resting atop its roof. "I was just—" His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, chapped by the cold air. "Well, Cassian has been asking but I think both children would like it if—" His jaw clenches as he struggles through the sentence. 

You stand frozen by the door, fingers nearly slipping from the metal handle. New snow falls and though you're shielded by the slanted roof that extends over the front porch — Jungkook isn't. Flakes catch on his dark brows where they pinch together. He sighs, averting his gaze before quickly forcing it back. 

He looks like he's working up courage — the awkward roll of his shoulders and the stiffness in his posture. It reminds you of that one time in third grade when, Mike, your desk mate, had shyly asked you to the school dance with him. He had been all nervous glances and stuttered words but it had been the highlight of your year. 

Jungkook looks much like him right now, and had you not been so anxious to hear the rest of what he had to say, you would've probably found it rather endearing. 

Finally he gathers his bearings, palm flattening against the roof of his car. "I was just wondering if you would like to spend Christmas with us, the children, me." The question hangs between you for only a second, barely enough for you to fully process it until he starts talking again: 

"I mean, Cassian would really appreciate it. We usually spend it at their grandparents' but if you have plans I understand. Just thought I should ask so that I could give him an answer to—" 

"I would love to." 

The smile stretches to your ears and you don't even attempt to hide it. Your parents were set to be out of your hometown for the holidays, only returning back before new years which was when you planned to see them. This would mark your first Christmas away from home — not having to spend it alone but rather with the children, and Jungkook, made your heart flutter in your chest. 

By his car, Jungkook exhales a breath. His frame morphs from tense to relaxed and when he catches the sight of your beaming grin, the corner of his own lip twitches. He nods, a subtle tilt of his chin. Then he opens the car door and gets inside, letting it fall shut after him. 

You turn back to the door, gripping the knob with newfound excitement as you prepare to step inside. 

The children are in the living room, just as Jungkook had promised. Rayne sits on one of the sofas, comfortably reclined back with a book in her lap. She lifts her gaze upon your arrival, though doesn't say anything — but her brother does. 

"Nanny!" 

Cassian, who'd been in the middle of smearing crayons across the papers scattered on the coffee table, perks up when he finds you in the doorway. The drawings are all but forgotten about as he jumps to his feet, hurrying over on short legs as he tugs you into a hug that would've probably knocked you off your feet, had he been a little taller. 

"Hi, sweetie." It's instinctive, the way your arms loop around his tiny body to reciprocate the embrace. His face nuzzles against your stomach, a content smile plastered on his lips. "What have you been up to today?" 

The young boy immediately perks up at the inquiry, big, brown eyes meeting yours as he reaches for your sleeve. "I'll show you," he says as he tugs you over to the coffee table where the two of you sink to the floor beside one another. 

He moves with purpose as he shoves the crayons aside, organizing the multiple drawings before you to line them up. "This one," he points to one of the images. The lines are a wobbly and uneven, the colors scribbled messily together but you still thought you could make out two stick figures that resembled a little boy and a woman. "That's you and me when we played hide and seek in the garden." 

Upon further inspection you can find what appears to be trees in the background. Their leaves consist of oranges and yellows, meant to resemble the last of autumn that still clung to nature that afternoon. "I remember," you hum, tracing the corner of the paper slowly, "You were counting too fast."

"Was not," Cassian interjects with a small pout. 

From there he goes on to present the array of drawings, all representing different parts of the family, some including you, others not. He finally lands on one that makes you pause. It's a painting with all four of you, the only one of its kind. But that's not what catches your attention, no, it's the large pine tree in the middle. It's decorated with colorful lights, and beneath it lay square boxes. 

Cassian goes quiet, milk teeth locking around his bottom lip. "That's us on Christmas," he gestures vaguely to the drawing, "Daddy was going to ask you to come." He hesitates, stealing a quick peek at you through the corner of his eye. 

"He did," you muse, plucking the painting with careful fingers as you take a closer look. The picture shows you and the young boy holding hands, his sister and father are doing the same. "I told him I would love to come." 

The look of pure joy that lit up Cassian's face was like that of the sun's rays in summer. He flashes you all of his teeth — save for the small gap on his bottom row. "You will come?" he repeats, like he had to double check to make sure you were being truthful. When you nod in confirmation he wiggles on the spot, "Hooray!" 

"Our nana makes the best cookies and papa always lets me help put the lights on the tree!" It sounds as though he's already planning for the entire day, he rambles on about presents, food and different games you're going to be playing. You can all but match his grin as you listen to him excitedly talk. 

Allowing yourself a glance in Rayne's direction has your eyes meeting for a split second before she promptly turns back to the book in her lap, pretending like she'd been reading all along. Guilt knots in your stomach, perhaps she did not want you to come. Christmas was for family after all and though you had been invited you couldn't help but feel like maybe you were intruding on something you shouldn't. 

"I actually bumped into him right outside," You muse, attempting to brush the unease aside with simple conversation. That only makes the young girl tense, her grip on the novel tightening. 

"That's weird," She says, not taking her gaze off the page, "Father left long before you came, he said he was late for a meeting." 

You fall quiet at that — in fact the entire living room does. It's not broken until you let out an awkward chuckle that does little to play up the mood. So instead you turn to her younger brother, picking up the smile that had faded ever so slightly. "What did you ask Santa for?" you wonder, trying to steer the conversation away from Jungkook's odd behavior. 

Cassian hums thoughtfully, "A dinosaur and a car figurine, oh and new crayons, the ones with rainbow colors!" 

"Rainbow?" you cock a brow at that, "There's a rainbow colored crayon?" You don't think you had ever heard of anything like that but he eagerly nods as he jumps into explanation. 

"Yes," Cassian points to his existing crayons, scattered across the coffee table, "It's a special. Only Santa makes it, that's why I put it on my list so I can have one." 

Across the table Rayne scoffs, she's put the book down and is now watching her brother with a narrowed gaze. "Santa isn't real, he can't make you a rainbow crayon," she states at as a matter-of-factly, one hand tucking her ponytail down her shoulder. 

"Well that's not true," you say when you notice the solemn look on the young boy's face, "Santa is just as real as you and me." 

"How do you know that?" Cassian asks as he peers up at you through dark lashes. 

You shrug, "Because I've met him of course." 

His eyes go wide as saucers at that, lips parting in a quiet gasp to which he quickly swallows with a squeal. "Really? You've really met Santa?" On the couch opposite you, Rayne scoffs under her breath but you ignore her. 

"Sure have," you say, "He was creeping 'round downstairs, very loudly might I add, he even woke me up from my sleep. So I quietly crept down the stairs, and do you know what I saw?" 

Cassian leans closer, shaking his head mutely and you bite back a giggle. "I saw a big man, with a white beard and red clothes — eating my cookies! Can you believe it?" You wave a hand aimlessly, "I was furious of course, I told him that those were mine and that I had been saving them for the morning." 

"What did he say? What did he say?" He asks, fingers clawing at his own knees as he tries to contain his excitement. 

Humming out a soft breath, you continue, "Well he said that he needed the cookies. You see Santa gets real hungry going to each house on Christmas Eve. He promised me that I would get a special gift in return, as a thank you for the treats." Leaning back against the edge of the couch, you stretch your legs out in front of you. "The next morning when I woke up there was a big present under the tree, can you guess who it was from?" 

"Santa!" Cassian looks overjoyed at the story, his earlier gripe with his sister quickly fading at the thought of meeting the white-bearded man himself some day. "Do you think I will see him?" 

"Without a doubt," you promise him as you ruffle his dark hair. Looking back the man in your kitchen had likely been your dad, geared up in his costume and snacking away on your cookies. But your sleep-addled, six year old brain had been unable to piece that together and the moment was allowed to live on as such until you turned thirteen and your old pops had the audacity to ruin it. But seeing the excitement in Cassian's eyes was more than enough to mend the broken memory.

He goes back to drawing shortly after, this time depicting images of Santa himself, his sleigh and his reindeer — to the best of his abilities of course. You sit back comfortably on the floor, content to watch him work, even though you should probably pull out the textbooks you had brought with you and get some studying done. 

The idea has been tossed back and forth in your mind for a good five minutes without you coming to a decision when Rayne suddenly clears her throat. "Nanny?" she asks, her voice loud in the reigning silence. You immediately perk up at being addressed, a quiet 'hm?' passing your lips. She hesitates, fingers curling around a page in her book as she fiddles with it. A couple of seconds pass where she doesn't speak, then she wills herself to meet your gaze. 

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Out of every question you'd been expecting, this one had been at the very bottom of your list. It stuns you entirely and for a while you simply stare at her. "Boyfriend—?" you splutter, disguising your cough with an awkward huff. 

Rayne nods, she sits perfectly still on the cushion, her eyes tracking you up and down like she was trying to figure something out. Cassian had stopped drawing and was now watching you as well, a faint frown on his face. "You're…" she pauses, "You're pretty. You know how to do the pretty things with my hair and stuff." Rayne gestures vaguely between you as she references back to last night. 

The compliment warms your chest, and cheeks, making you rub the back of your neck sheepishly. "Ah, thank you, sweetie." Pursing your lips, you then shake your head. "I don't have a boyfriend." The admission feels a little stiff but you try not to let it show as you carry on with a soft chuckle. 

Rayne seems satisfied with that answer, her attention lingers a moment longer before it returns to her book — only to be torn from the pages as Cassian suddenly exclaims, "You don't have a boyfriend?" He appears genuinely conflicted by this information, it didn't make sense at all to him.

"But nanny, you're cute. Why don't you have one?" His bottom lip is stuck out into a pout, cupids bow arched in a frown as he studies you closely. When you simply shrug the gears seem to turn even faster in his tiny head. "I know—" He then says and you feel your heart drop to your stomach at what that might mean. 

Cassian twists his body toward you, chest puffing up to appear bigger as he puts on a bright smile. "I can be your boyfriend!" 

You hope he doesn't catch the relieved exhale you let out, shaking your head as a giggle erupts between you. Before you can answer him though, Rayne butts in, "You can't do that, silly. Nanny is a grown-up." 

This only brings back her younger brother's previous confusion and he begins chewing on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "Okay…" he murmurs, fingers picking at a lock of hair, "Then I will be your boyfriend when I'm a grown-up." He gives himself a reaffirming nod, like the decision had just been finalized and you couldn't find it in you to argue against it. 

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," you hum as you give his cheek a gentle pat. You thought you could hear Rayne grumble something under her breath but she refrains from saying anything else as she goes back to her book. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the living room. You finally pulled out your textbook, flicking it open on the page where you had left off at home. Cassian was greatly interested in all the pictures, pointing at different parts of the human lungs as he asked questions.

As it turns out, he was a great study-buddy. You could dump all sorts of information on him, explaining and then re-explaining things in simpler terms as you went through the notes you had taken. He listened with fascinated eyes and though you were sure he probably understood about half of what you told him, it was a good way for you to revise the material.

By dinner time you all cooked together, even Rayne helped taste-test the sauce you had made — only for her brother to spill some on his shirt when he tried snatching the spoon from her.

Jungkook did not arrive back home until you had tucked them both into bed. You were halfway through Cassian's third bedtime story and he had just drifted off when the sound of the front door unlocking could be heard. You listened to the sound of footsteps as he climbed the stairs, for a second they almost made you believe that he was headed for Cassian's room. They had stopped just outside his closed door, a dark silhouette filling the light beneath the crack. Then they had faded again, another door creaking before closing softly — his study presumably.

You had stayed by Cassian's bed a little longer than needed, taking your time when putting the books back on their shelf, tucking him in once, then once more for good measure. 

Finally you head out into the hall, your eyes immediately drifting to the door which you knew you would find Jungkook behind — feet leading you there on their own. The picture of him out in the snow earlier today still lingers fresh in your mind. As does the nervous stutter to his speech and you half expect to find him in a similar state now. 

The door to Jungkook's study is agonizingly loud upon being pushed open. You allow yourself a sparse couple of inches, just enough to poke your head inside and inform him of your departure. Shadows swallow almost the entirety of the room and had it not been for the lamp on his desk, casting a soft halo across the papers he sifts through — it would have been pitch black. 

Jungkook sits in his chair, glasses low on the bridge of his nose, which he scrunches when lifting a finger to push them further up. He has yet to notice you, too lost in the corporate world that seems to consume him entirely. 

He does not look at all like he had this afternoon. Perhaps it was the wear of the long day that had weighed down his otherwise youthful appearance. He still looked handsome of course — but there was something else that clung to the air around him right now. 

You clear your throat, tongue pressing against the roof of your mouth when his eyes meet yours from across the small room. "The children are asleep…" He knows that already, the house had been basked in silence since his return home after all. 

He nods but his attention doesn't return to the files in front of him like you had expected for it to. Instead he regards you quietly, the way that always makes you wonder what he was thinking about. He would not tell you, of course, he rarely did. Another tense five seconds pass where neither of you speak. Your fingers have began tapping idly against the doorknob as a means to distract yourself. 

"Cassian spilled sauce on his shirt during dinner. He didn't want me telling you but I thought I should in case the stain doesn't come off," a breath later you add, "Though I soaked it in cold water so it should be fine." You were rambling nonsense but said nonsense was better than the strange and awkward silence that had found its way between you. 

Jungkook simply repeats his previous motion, tilting his chin in acknowledgement as he traces the edge of the paper in front of him. You notice that the liquor is sealed within its cabinet, waiting behind closed doors to be drank — he hadn't reached for it tonight. 

"Do you want a glass?" 

The sudden question makes you pause, gaze flitting back to the man before you. Jungkook is watching you with an expectant look, having let go of the pages to place his hands on the armrests of his chair. He must have noticed your wandering eyes but the offer still takes you by surprise. 

"I…" Your throat feels dry and for a moment the thought of something to take the edge off didn't seem like such a bad idea. Though one glance at the clock above the cabinet makes you rethink. "I shouldn't. I mean—" shaking your head, "Last bus leaves in a little bit. I better be on my way." 

His brows draw together at that and for a split second Jungkook looks almost disappointed. He quickly masks it again, schooling his features into their default wear. But when he opens his mouth to speak, the words that spill from his lips are not what you had expected: "You're leaving already?" 

The cough lodges itself halfway up your throat, fingers curling a little harder around the doorknob as you sway on unsteady feet despite being stone cold sober. Was he asking you to stay? Your next breath comes out in a short puff and you have to shove the confusing thoughts aside to focus on giving him a proper response. 

"Well— No, I mean," swallowing thickly, "I have some time to spare…" 

Jungkook's chair squeaks against the floorboards when he rises to his feet and you watch with wide and unblinking eyes as he makes his way over to the liquor cabinet. Taking it as your cue to actually step inside, you do so, letting the door fall shut behind you soundlessly. 

"Any requests?" He asks when he unhooks both glass doors, swinging them open to showcase the bottles inside. 

Your feet carry you over to stand beside him — close enough to feel the heat of his body that radiates from him like a furnace. Scanning the options presented before you whilst chewing on your lip, you go over the labels once, twice. Jungkook's taste matched him perfectly, all expensive brands, half of which you did not dare attempt to pronounce. Their amber shades stare back at you daringly. 

He must notice your hesitation, for a moment later he reaches for the one bottle you recognized — the whiskey. His arm brushes yours when he retrieves it, and it somehow sends a jolt of electricity through you despite the touch being mundane in comparison to how intimate you had been. 

Jungkook doesn't linger on the brief caress as he grabs two glasses in his free hand, turning to place them onto his desk with a soft clink. And after busying yourself with shutting the cabinet doors, you join him by the table — looking on as he pushes the sleeves of his button up to his elbows, exposing the tattoos you'd spent so long tracing. The memory makes your chest hot even though the alcohol had yet to touch your lips. 

His shirt is generously unbuttoned, revealing the faint outline of his chest when he leans forward to pour the whiskey. "You don't drink often I take it?" He asks without lifting his gaze from the glasses which he filled to about a quarter. 

"No," you hum, "Not really…" Aside from the drinks you and Daehyun went out to grab after rough exams, your experience with any kind of liquor was very sparse. Your attention lingers on the amber liquid that swirls within the glasses, glimmering softly under the glow of his desk lamp. 

Jungkook hands you one of them and you take it with a quiet 'Thanks' as you try not to think about the way your fingers ended up nudging. He nods as he takes a sip of his drink and you find yourself doing the same — cringing slightly as the burn scratches down your throat. You hadn't drank since last time you found yourself in here, back then your emotions had been high enough to cancel out the strong and invasive flavor of the whiskey. 

Stillness clings to the air between you, with only the faint ticking of the clock on the wall to fill the silence. You distract yourself with another small sip, only to immediately regret it as your nose scrunches. Jungkook catches the flicker of distaste, cocking a brow as he brings his own glass to his lips. 

"What do you kids drink then?" He wonders before swallowing more liquor. 

You shrug, free hand caressing the mahogany wood of his table as you perch yourself on its edge. "I don't know, cheap booze— beer mostly." The splinters creak under your weight but you ignore it as you shift to get comfortable — or as comfortable as you could get with him standing so close. 

Jungkook hums, "Do you like it?" His eyes never stray from where they had come to settle on yours, shielded by his dark lashes, it looked almost as though he was trying to guess your answer before you could give it. 

Shaking your head, you let the pad of your thumb stroke the bottom of your glass. "God, no. I only drink when I'm out." Tilting your gaze from the drink you hold and up to his hooded eyes, you ask, "Do you?" 

He mimics you with a shake of his own head, "No," he says, following it with another long sip. The glasses, still perched over the bridge of his nose, reflect in the dim lights and you become almost entranced by the subtle flicker. "Do you go out often?" He then wonders, and you tried to figure out why he was asking so many questions all of a sudden. 

"Rarely" you admit, trying to keep your tone indifferent as you sip on the whiskey, "Why?" 

Jungkook gives a noncommittal roll of his shoulders. "Kids your age love to party, no?" He delivers it casually but the statement still makes you frown as you clutch your glass a little tighter. 

"Are you calling me a kid?" You can't help the edge of defensiveness that sneaks its way into your voice as you eye him warily. "Or are you implying that there is something wrong with me not partying?" 

For a long moment he says nothing, simply regarding you over the rim of his own glass. He doesn't bring it up for another taste, doesn't lower it either. The corner of his lip twitches, "Neither," he says. 

You huff at the almost taunting response, turning your head in an act of pettiness. It works because a second later the floor creaks as Jungkook takes a step closer. The hand that isn't currently nursing his drink finds a crease in your jeans, fingers pinching the fabric as he smooths it out again — like the sight bothered him. 

"Good." You're still not looking at him, eyes fixed to the clock on the wall as it counts down the seconds until you're forced to part from him. "I'm not a kid. And I enjoy myself just fine whenever I so please," you add before silencing yourself with another sip of the whiskey. 

Jungkook hums, having let go of your jeans entirely, his magnifying touch disappears before it returns, this time to the hot skin of your face — heated by the alcohol and his proximity. His thumb strokes the line of your jaw as he gently guides you to look at him again. "I know," he says. 

Whatever offense still lingered from his previous comment ebbs away when your eyes meet his and your shoulders slump as your hold on the glass loosens. 

"How much longer until your bus leaves?" He asks, fingers warm against your feverish skin. 

You swallow, wondering if the liquor was finally taking effect or if he'd been looking at you like that all along. "Twenty minutes," you murmur, "But I need five to get to the stop." 

He doesn't respond right away, only watching you intently, like he was considering something. "That's fifteen minutes then," his thumb finds your bottom lip, the caress he gives it is light — teasing almost. "Will you enjoy yourself with me for those fifteen?" 

The innuendo hidden beneath the almost whispered words is clear and it makes your heart pound hard against your ribcage. Without answering you bring the glass to your lips, praying that the ill-tasting whiskey might give you the same courage you had inhabited on that sunny afternoon. 

Jungkook regards you intently, his fingers lingering on your jaw, tilting your head back to have the liquor slide down your throat easier. Through the corner of your eye you can make out the path his other hand takes as it discards the glass which he'd barely touched. Then he steps impossibly close, gaze dropping to your half-finished drink before gently taking it from your grasp. 

"You didn't answer my question," He murmurs upon setting the glass down alongside his own. There's a barely noticeable crease etched between his dark brows, as though your lack of response troubled him. It makes you smile, an easy smile that feels silly compared to the storm in your chest. 

Only when you realize where you are and what time it is does your face fall. Your mind wanders to Cassian and Rayne in their rooms. "But the children—" 

"Are asleep," Jungkook finishes for you, his palm coming to rest against your cheek. This was different from last time. No raised voices, no big living room to let you catch your breath — only the hard surface of his desk under you, and the warmth of his body but an inch from your own. 

He's so close that the slightly uneven exhales he releases fan across your face. His eyes are dazed with something beyond the desire you had noted in them on that day. Was he seeing something beyond just the intimacy of two people? You almost dared to hope… 

Jungkook swallows and you trace the bob of his Adam's apple. "I'll beg if I have to," He rasps, thumb pressing lightly against your cheekbone. 

That single line undoes the last of your hesitation and without giving yourself time to think it over, you close the remaining distance to press your lips against his. Your eyes fall shut as you let yourself linger in darkness, focusing only on the way his mouth parts against yours without being told. 

His hand is careful where it cradles your face, the other claiming your waist as he tugs you dangerously close to the edge of the desk. Jungkook always kissed you sweetly — there was never any sloppy meshes of tongues or uncomfortable clashes of teeth. But tonight time is against you, the clock ticks faster somewhere in the distance, reminding you of your eventual departure. 

"We need to hurry," you breathe against him, shuddering when he pulls back to rest his forehead to yours, the glasses he had yet to take off bumping against your nose. 

Through lidded eyes you can make out the subtle clench of his jaw, the nod he pairs with a rough exhale. He straightens up, the hand on your face falling to your waist as he mirrors the other. Then he casts a glance toward the clock on the wall, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. 

For a moment you think he might just step away, press a chaste kiss to your temple with the promise of finding time another day. But when Jungkook turns back to you, his usually brown eyes are almost black with desire, brows pinched with determination you rarely saw in him. 

His palms burn through the jeans you wear when they hook under your thighs, hoisting you from your spot on the very edge of the table and up against his chest. Your legs wrap awkwardly around his hips, arms looping behind his neck as your lips find his jaw, lavishing it in soft kisses. 

The chair he'd been lounging on just minutes prior is kicked aside as Jungkook steps into its spot. He shifts your weight onto one arm, the other blindly swiping away the papers he'd been working on. They scatter in all directions, mixing together in an unorganized mess, though Jungkook doesn't seem to care for it as he cranes his neck to find your lips. 

He sets you down on the now-cleared surface of his desk, you land with a soft thud right in the center, legs falling open to accommodate him between them. His tongue tastes like the whiskey you shared when it slides past your lips, and you welcome him eagerly with a sighed moan. Jungkook's hands — having returned to your hips — give a firm squeeze that startles you just as much as it spurs you on. 

His lips hover above your own, saliva smearing together in the aftermath of your kiss. He lifts one hand, knuckles brushing your chin ever so carefully as he closes your open mouth with a simple nudge. "Need you to stay quiet," he whispers, nose brushing along your cheek, "Unfortunately." 

You nod, even when it takes everything in you not to force your lips back together. Running the risk of waking the children was not something you'd had to be mindful of last time. And as much as the idea of startling them from sleep terrified you, it also made your stomach coil tight with heat. Judging by the way Jungkook was kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing the column of your throat, he must feel the same. 

Your fingers find his hair, curling around the black strands and tugging on them in the way that would always have him groaning against you. This time is no different, even when he tries to force the sound back, teeth finding the tender skin where your neck meets your shoulder as he bites down in hopes of salvation. 

His hands are clumsy when they find the zipper of your jeans, hooking around it before tugging it open — leaving you to squirm on top of the mahogany as you help him slide the denim down your legs. The air of his study is chilly from a window being left open too long but Jungkook's touch warms your naked skin in a heart beat as his palms move up and down your thighs. 

It's not until he feels you reach for the buckle of his belt that he finally tears himself from your neck. Ragged breaths leave his reddened lips and he stares at you with thinly veiled impatience that matches the frantic movement of your fingers, currently undoing the clunky piece of metal. It falls apart in your grasp as it unlocks the last barrier between you. 

Jungkook's hands are everywhere all at once, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt to feel up your sides, hovering just shy at the edge of your bra. All the while you focus on getting his pants out of the way. 

You make the mistake of glancing toward the clock once more, eyes widening at the rapid speed the minute handle seems to be moving at. "Eleven minutes," you murmur as your fingers hook around the waistband of his dress pants.

The words have barely left your lips as Jungkook slams his own back on them, stealing your next exhale with a kiss that felt unlike any of the others you had previously shared. The mask he wore with pride slipped just enough to let his teeth trap your bottom lip, eliciting a soft squeal from you which he tries to silence with his mouth. 

He swats your at hands, dismissing them from their feeble attempts at getting him undressed. The buckle of his belt hits the edge of the desk, dangerously close to one of your knees, as he shoves his pants down enough to free himself of their captivity. One hand on your hip, the other wraps around his cock, a shaky sigh following the rough stroke he gives himself. 

Without warning he curls a finger around the lining of your panties, tearing them down to rest at the crook of your knees and leaving you bare — the sudden intrusion of cold air makes you gasp against his lips. 

"Sorry," Jungkook whispers, fingers brushing over your exposed cunt as he tries to soothe the chill with warm touch. His thumb is not as precise as it had been that afternoon when it finds your clit. He's quick, almost rough rather than slow and calculated as he rubs you in small circles, making you instinctively arch against the heel of his hand. 

His index finger teases your fluttering hole — like he debated on pushing it in — but time was against you, he knew that, and the idea is dropped again as Jungkook pulls his hand away entirely. 

You trap the whine that builds in your throat by sealing your lips together. The disappointment of his absence disappears the second you feel his cock, hot and heavy as it bumps against your barely stimulated clit — it sends sparks through you, hips immediately rocking against him as you urge him closer. 

The hands you kept in his hair had since long gone slack around the dark locks. Only when he gently grabs hold of your elbows, guiding your palms to rest flat against the table did you realize that you had been holding onto him all along. Jungkook moves methodically as he has you brace yourself on top the desk, fingers tracing your forearms reverently as his eyes follow the goosebumps that ripple across your skin. 

Once he's satisfied he lifts his gaze to meet yours, waiting for you to give him the permission he desperately seeks. You give it to him with a nod — a quiet dip of your chin as your fingernails dig into the mahogany wood beneath you. 

He surges forward, lips crashing onto yours just as his cock breaches you. The lack of foreplay makes the stretch burn and you cry out into his mouth. Jungkook doesn't wait, there is no time for that tonight and his hips meet yours in one harsh thrust that has your arms nearly giving out from where they hold you upright. 

You're saved by the feeling of his hands — firm on your hips one second — behind your back the next. He slips them under your shirt, fingers tracing the end of your spine as he continues to fuck into you relentlessly. The pace is nothing like the one he'd set that afternoon in his bedroom, it's not slow and tender but fast and ruthless. 

It stuns you, if only for a moment. This side of him was something you don't think even your wildest of imagination could have ever conjured, but God if it didn't make you clench around him, hard. 

His tongue is warm and wet against your own, stringed together by a mix of saliva and desire, he kisses you in a way you didn't think he was capable of. But Jungkook seems determined to prove you wrong as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. 

The distant ticking of the clock fades into background noise as the creak of his table and the sound of skin meeting skin fills his study. Each thrust makes your thighs jump, heat jolting through your stomach as you moan openly against him. 

His glasses occasionally bump against your forehead, it's never enough to hurt but still bothersome. You reach up to push them back over his head, aiming to get them out of the way when Jungkook's fingers suddenly brush against yours. One hand has left your back as he grabs at the glasses clumsily, tearing them off completely as he discards them onto the desk with a clatter. 

Then he's back to kissing you, lips molding together like an unbreakable seal as his tongue finds yours. Cock twitching inside of you, his need pulses through you just as yours does him, and the arm you once held raised, loops around the back of his neck instead as you pull him closer. 

His body is looming over yours, forcing you to tilt back as your chests brush. Your nails dig into his nape, clawing their way to the ends of his hair and the groan Jungkook emits vibrates through you. His hips meet yours in a particularly hard jerk, causing the forgotten bottle of whiskey to topple over and hit the desk with a loud clang. 

"Shit—" Jungkook hisses as he tears himself from the kiss, one hand reaching for the bottle but it was already rolling for the edge. A second later it tips and falls, embracing the floor with a sound so deafening it makes you both wince. 

Abandoning his mission, Jungkook's palm plants itself against the mahogany as his forehead meets yours. The giggle you're unable to bite back fans across his parted lips, the ridicule of your situation quickly catching up. He doesn't seem quite as amused and he quiets you with another bruising kiss. 

The pace he picks up matches his previous, perhaps even more so. Each roll of his hips feel punishing, whether that was directed to your or himself — you did not know. The glasses of whiskey, still placed on the table, rattle and clink together in tandem with the way he moves. The tip of his cock catches on your clit when he pulls back enough to slip out entirely, leaving you aching and clenching around nothing before shoving himself back inside with one unforgiving thrust. 

Your body jolts when the hand, previously braced against the desk moves between your legs, thumb finding your clit easily. There was an underlying sense of urgency in the way he touches you, coaxing your orgasm to come faster as time slips between your fingers and you have to distract yourself with multiple kisses to his jaw and throat so to not let out the sounds that beg to be released. 

The familiar heat pools low in your stomach, and he makes a strained noise when his insistent flick against your clit makes you clench around his cock. "Jungkook I'm—" The breathless admission barely makes it past your lips when he suddenly freezes inside of you. His relentless pace goes from a hundred to zero in a split second and you tilt your head back, confused. 

Then you hear the faint creak coming from somewhere down the hall. It could have easily been the house settling, a gust of wind that tugged at the old wood, but it could also be the tell tale sign of a door being pushed open. 

"Do you think—?" 

Your question is cut short by Jungkook's hand where it clamps over your mouth. The table you sit perched on is now still, the glasses now longer bumping into each other and Jungkook's cock, nestled deep inside you, is unmoving. 

His eyes are fixed on the door behind you, chest heaving with each breath he takes, you notice the sheen layer of sweat that clings to his forehead and what little of his chest you can see. The two of you listen intently for another long minute, the silence stretches thick and heavy — filled with dread. 

When two minutes have passed Jungkook's thumb resumes its touch to your sensitive clit. It's slower this time, taunting circles that has you squirming on top of his desk, making it creak softly. He's yet to take his hand off your mouth, adamant about keeping you quiet even when he continues to draw your orgasm closer. 

"It's fine," he finally grunts, "Probably just the house." Part of you says not to believe him, to demand you abort this entire ordeal to not risk waking the children. But when he moves again, pushing himself even deeper as his head tips toward his chest, you can't find it in you to make him stop. 

The clock on the wall is an insistent reminder and it only spurs Jungkook on as he snaps forward, forcing the whiskey glasses together as the desk rattles. The momentary panic fades back into arousal as he applies more pressure to your swollen clit. Your thighs hug his hips, pulling him closer when you feel your climax approach. 

You give up on warning him as you let go of the table entirely, your arm joining the other around his neck, clinging to him like light in darkness. Jungkook releases your mouth and meets your lips in another kiss, teeth clashing together in a way he hadn't allowed last time. The hand he keeps on your back is the only thing holding you up as it counters each harsh thrust of his. 

A moment later you feel yourself clench around him, cunt fluttering repeatedly as you cum on his cock with a muffled cry into his mouth. Jungkook's touch to your clit doesn't let up and he drinks each sound of yours with greed, tongue lapping at your bottom lip as you pant against him. 

"Shh," he murmurs as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, his pace slowing as he feels your legs go limp. When you squirm at his touch he draws his hand back from your clit, letting it join the other as he caresses the line of your spine beneath your shirt. The kiss has softened too, morphed into something that reminds you of how he would always kiss you. 

For a while you let yourself get lost in it, the remnants of your climax clouding your mind to anything that wasn't the feeling of his lips pressed to yours. 

When you part for air you find him already looking at you. His face is flushed the same shade of red it had been on that afternoon, sweat glistening on his temple as it ran down his sides. Without thinking you reach up to brush a few dark strands from his forehead, pushing them out of the way only for the stubborn locks to fall back to his brow bone. 

You shift atop the table, wincing at the way your cunt wraps around his still-hard cock despite being spent. Jungkook catches the flicker of discomfort and he gently pulls out as his hands find your hips, fingers rubbing soothing patterns into your flesh. Your gaze drops to his slacks, the open belt no longer holding them up and then to the sight of him — flushed pink and slick with your joint arousal. 

"Switch with me," you croak, causing him to frown. He looks like he's about to ask what you had meant but you're already scooting off the table, feet finding the ground, albeit unsteadily. The warmth of his hands on your waist as he assures you won't fall makes your heart beat faster — a reaction you try to ignore as you gingerly pull your panties back up. 

When you see that he still hasn't moved, simply watching you with the same eyes he had been since you stepped inside his study, you point to the table. "Switch," you half-command, not really expecting much to come out of it, but to your surprise Jungkook nods as he trades places with you, leaning back against the desk, still holding onto your hips. 

It takes everything in you to swat his hands away but your desire wins out. He looks almost offended, puzzled even, but realization dawns across his features when you sink to your knees before him — coming face to face with his aching cock. 

"You don't have to," he begins, but you shut him up by wrapping one hand around the base, reveling at finally getting to feel him like this. You think you would be content to just watch him, studying the slight curve, the veins that climb along him and the pink flush to his tip for forever, but one glance toward the clock has you jumping into action. 

Silently, you bet with yourself on whether you'd be able to accomplish desired results within three minutes, though his sharp intake of breath when your thumb rubs across the slit makes you hopeful.

Adjusting your grip, you let your palm glide across his cock, tracing the thicker vein that protrudes just beneath the head. The way he twitches in your grasp makes heat coil in your gut despite your recent orgasm. A bead of precum beads at the tip, glistening under the soft glow of the lamp behind him and you immediately lean forward to taste him. 

Giving blowjobs wasn't exactly an area you were skilled in. There had been an instance or two in the past where whatever dude you had accompanied home after a night out had begged for you to do so. The act was never something you did out of your own pleasure, more so obligation, but wrapping your lips around Jungkook felt nothing like those drunken nights. 

He tastes salty but not bad, and perhaps you were just high on the feeling, but you find yourself craving more as you take him deeper in your mouth. 

Turning your gaze up to meet his, you find him peering down at you through his lashes. His lips are parted, brows scrunched together but for once it wasn't that signature frown of his. Through the corner of your eye you catch the inked hand that curls around the table's edge, his knuckles pale from the deadly grip he keeps on the wood. 

You hum, pulling off of him with a final lick as you sit back on your knees. "You can touch me, you know." 

The simple permission seems to undo something in him as Jungkook tips his head back with a groan he's unable to muffle. "Jesus—" he gasps, "Don't say that." But his fingers are already at the top of your head, short nails digging into your scalp as he forces you back down on his cock, much to your delight. 

His hold is firm, but never rough, he doesn't attempt to control the pace you set, but he keeps you down — not letting you part from him for even a second. Your lips stretch wide around him, breath hitching when he hits the back of your throat. Hand stroking what you can't fit in your mouth, the other keeps you steady by gripping his thigh. 

Tears brim on your waterline when his hips suddenly jerk forward and your nails dig into his leg — causing him to twitch on your tongue at the sharp sting. His breath has grown heavy and you watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he inhales and exhales through parted lips. 

You can tell that he's close when the hand on top of your head eases up, allowing you room to pull off. His cock thrusts weakly into your mouth — like he was holding back from doing more. Your response is to take him deeper, blinking away the tears that blurred your vision. Nails still digging into his thigh, you let your teeth carefully drag across him when you go down. 

The subtle action makes him jolt, "Fuck," he spits the curse out, his free hand slamming against the table behind him. "I'm gonna—" cutting himself off with another curse, he lets go of your head entirely, "Shit— You have to pull off."

Had it not been for the slight tremble to his fingers when you force his hand back atop your head, you would have almost been a little offended by the idea. Yet you say nothing, tongue flattening against his tip before sliding him back into your mouth, repeating the soft scrape of teeth against him. 

Jungkook's hips push forward, so much so that you nearly lose your balance. His cock twitches up into the roof of your mouth before he's cumming onto your tongue with a sharp hiss. The weight of his palm on top of your head holds you in place and you let him spill down your throat without complaint, humming gratefully as the taste of him coats your senses. 

Once he's limp in your grasp, you sit back, gaze tracing the string of saliva that connects you to him. Jungkook is panting above you, head tilted back to where you can't make out his face, though the flush that creeps up his neck is enough evidence. 

Licking your lips, you carefully climb to your feet, ignoring the ache in your entire lower half as you heave a breath. Your hands move on autopilot when you tuck him back into his pants, not bothering with the belt as Jungkook's knuckles gently grace your chin. 

You manage to catch a brief glimpse of the dazed look in his eyes before he seals you both in a kiss. This one is slower than all the ones you had shared tonight, he doesn't cringe when sliding his tongue across yours, tasting himself on you with a hum. 

The air inside the study is no longer cold, the silence of the house no longer imposing. In fact you think you could have stayed like this for a long while. But the clock on the wall ultimately calls to your attention and when you turn your head you find that time was up. "My jeans—" you scramble off of him, already in search of the missing garment, tossed somewhere on the floor. 

Jungkook's fingers curl around your wrist, halting your movements as he pulls you back to his chest. His breath is hot against your parted lips as he tilts his head down, nose brushing the corner of your mouth. "Stay, just five more minutes," he murmurs when his other hand finds your waist. 

"But the bus, I'll miss it," you argue, though admittedly, you did not want to go. 

He shakes his head, thumb stroking across your palm. "I'll pay for a cab," he says as he leans to press a kiss to your forehead, "I don't want you on a bus tonight, not after this." 

You want to reject the offer, tell him that it wasn't necessary. But his persistence and the gentle touch to your skin makes you cave. With a silent nod you agree to five more minutes in his arms before you head out into the cold December night. 

── [ ✉️ ] Hey there... So what did we think? In terms of like, the porn, I feel like this was slightly different from how I did it last time. I hope it's still nice to read of course. Anyone figured out what he likes yet? (Blatant hint, the teeth during the blowjob) but anyway! Hm, it's always a struggle trying to find out what to say here, but to put it like this: the next three chapters are going to be fun.

© All rights reserved @merakoo 2026.

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ TWENTY

𓄲 Your fingers find his hair, curling around the black strands and tugging on them in the way that would always have him groaning against you. This time is no different, even when he tries to force the sound back, teeth finding the tender skin where your neck meets your shoulder as he bites down in hopes of salvation. 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children) alcohol consumption and what do you know, there's porn: unprotected sex (pullout method) they indulge in a quickie kissing kissing hungry!jungkook blowjob (he cums down her throat)

⧽ word count ⋮ 11.5k average reading time ⋮ 1 hour

── [ ✉️ ] This is like, so cute and so nasty. Ok well, it's not that nasty, I know what you ladies are up reading at night so don't try and fool me. But in the means of HW it is nasty, let's just say it like that. Jungkook is actually so hungry for her, by all means, but he's also a little awkward around her, love that. I also don't have any more porn planned for the series, it could change of course, but I wouldn't place my bets (the drabbles though...) Hm, yes. Cassian and Rayne are here too, because it wouldn't be HW without them. Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3

series masterlist | last chapter | next part

chapter 20 — "Be Quiet"

Opening your textbook that Saturday morning felt like stepping into a world long forgotten. You had been so caught up in Rayne's birthday preparations, then there had been the dance — and Jungkook. It shamed you to admit that your studies had taken a backseat in favor of the Jeon family. With your final exam coming up before Christmas you were now paying the price of your ignorance

It didn't help that Daehyun had chosen the exact moment you sat down to get some work done to give you a call. An hour and a half later and you were still on the phone with him as he went on about his latest attempt at romance, which, given his track record, did not bode well. 

"But I don't think he's ready for anything serious—" your friend sighs on the other end of the line, "I mean, he's only been taking me to hotels as of now. I haven't even gotten to see his place and he's been to mine multiple times." 

Clutching a highlighter in your free hand, you underline a third paragraph on the page in front of you, not actually bothering to read the words written. "Mhm," you hum, frowning slightly when his statement actually registers, "Wait, he hasn't introduced you to anyone yet?" Tilting the phone slightly, you nudge it to your ear with the help of your shoulder. 

Daehyun makes an offended noise, "No," he mutters begrudgingly. "And here I thought someone his age would at least have the balls to make a move on me outside of the bedroom." 

You pause, highlighter pressing against the paper as the yellow color continues to bleed onto it. "How old is he again?" 

There's a dramatic beat of silence before Daehyun scoffs, "Twenty-seven!" You can vividly imagine him throwing a hand in the air as he gestures wildly to a play-pretend audience. "Can you believe it?" He sounds as though he's ready to go on another rant only to be stopped by the disapproving click of your tongue.

"Dae…" You exhale, brows furrowing deep on your forehead. 

"What?" He retorts defensively, "I don't want to hear anything from you, Ms I've got a thing for my boss who's thirty." 

You cringe at that, fingers curling a little tighter around the highlighter as you stare at the wall in front of you. "It's not like that— And you're making it sound weird!" Pursing your lips, you roll the thick pen between your index and middle finger, "Besides, I do not have 'a thing' for him." The truth was that you had more than a thing for Jungkook, but admitting that to Daehyun of all people felt like a death sentence. 

It was easy to forget that Jungkook actually paid you to see his children. That each day spent at the Jeon house was a transaction and should have stayed that way. Your free hand traces the corner of the open page. Falling in love with both Cassian and Rayne had never been part of the plan — least of all had the intimate moments you shared with their father been. Now you feared you were in far too deep to ever be rescued, the worst part was that even if such an opportunity did presented itself — you knew you wouldn't take it. 

There's rustling on the other side of the line as Daehyun shifts to get comfortable, likely laying in bed with his phone cord wrapped around himself. "Hey, I ain't say there was anything wrong with it. I'm just stating the facts of your situation and judging by what you've told me, he sounds a great deal better than whatever dude I let stick it up my ass." 

"Okay— Okay, I didn't need any explicit details about your sex life, Dae." Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to force the picture of your friend from your mind. Unfortunately in doing so, you manage to open a door you had not intended to. Images of Jungkook instead flood your vision, images of his lips, parted and red, hovering just inches from your own. 

The afternoon you had spent together all those weeks ago, the quiet intimacy of his chest pressed against yours, his hands on your body, his mouth on— 

"Say," Daehyun drawls, "Is he more man than my recent fuck?" 

His question startles you from your thoughts and you blink. "What?" you huff, confusion lacing your words, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

Your friend heaves a breath, like the answer was written in front of you. "I mean, has he made a move on you?"

Made a move? Jungkook? You swallow the lump that sits in your throat, hoping the crappy landline won't pick up on it. Memories of all the stolen moments between you return. The way he'd kissed you for the first time in his study that night over a month ago — pulling away like he'd committed a crime. You think of all the touches he'd let linger after your shared afternoon together, the caresses to your waist, the kisses to your neck, lips… 

You knew that keeping whatever it was the two of you had going on a secret from the children was important. But Daehyun was not someone you had to keep things from, so why did it feel so difficult to tell him? Perhaps it was because telling him would mean confirming that it had actually happened, that it was real and not just a figment of your imagination or a fantasy you had conjured during late nights alone in bed. 

"Well he…" Your index finger finds the cord that ties your phone to its machine and you toy with it idly. "He's been pretty clear I guess," you murmur, almost shyly as heat crawls to your face. 

Daehyun could've easily made a back flip on his end of the phone, but if you had to guess, he'd simply shot up straight from whatever position he'd been lounging in. "No way!" he practically shouts, the excitement radiating off of him, "How far have you gone?" 

The chair creaks under your weight as you shift on it awkwardly. While it wasn't uncommon for Daehyun to share all about his sexual endeavors, you had never been on the giving end of the exchange between you. 

Your silence seems to do the job though because a moment later you hear him snicker on the other side the line. "You dirty little minx," he practically squeals, "Tell me everything!" 

You're thankful for the distance between you at the moment. The last thing you needed was him cooing at your flustered expression or the way you chewed on your bottom lip. "I don't know what there's to say…" Shrugging, you put the highlighter down, finger tapping softly against it as you ponder an answer that would satisfy him without leading to more prying. 

"What is there not to say?" Daehyun is radiating on his end, the sound of his mattress groaning loudly as he shifts on top of it. "What was he like? Was he good?" The teasing lilt to his voice is unmistakable and it has you tightening your grip on the phone, hard enough for it to crack. 

"Yeah," the admission leaves you in a breathless whisper, "Like…really good." And he had been. You don't think you had ever felt touch like his before, it was like he knew exactly when and where to linger, how to move, how to breathe with you. Shaking your head, you try to brush past the unwelcome visions of his head between your legs. 

Daehyun, however, is far from finished with this conversation as it just took a most interesting turn. "What did I tell you? Guys his age know what they're doing. So tell me—" 

Your friend is just about to pry further when the device in your hand suddenly beeps loudly, effectively pulling your attention toward the familiar sequence of numbers that had appeared on the screen, signaling you of a different caller. "Dae, I might have to call you back," you say when going over the numbers a second time. 

There's a short pause before Daehyun's speaks, "Wait what—?" The confusion only lasts a second though, "Oh. Is it him? It has to be, why else would you hang up on your beautiful best fr—" 

"Okay, bye!" 

The relief that floods you by ending the ongoing call with Daehyun quickly evaporates as you realize that you would be answering the man who's abilities in bed you had just been discussing. A small grimace tugs at your features and you blink twice when bringing the phone back to your ear, pressing a button on the machine to allow the lines to connect. 

For a while all you hear is the static, bruising noise coming from the other end and you clear your throat awkwardly to greet him, "Hello?" 

You and Jungkook had spoke very little when he returned home last night. Having put Cassian to bed by eight, just as instructed, you met the pair by the front door as Jungkook stepped inside. He'd been carrying a sleeping Rayne in his arms, the look on his face serene as he regarded his daughter. 

When you had asked how the night went he'd simply smiled — a smile so rare for someone like him. Then he'd told you that he would be taking her to bed. He thanked you for your help but his eyes never strayed from the girl in his arms. Once he began climbing the stairs you'd decided that it was best you take your leave and give him the rest of the night alone with his sleeping children. 

So to accept a call from him, on a Saturday no less, was rather unexpected. "Good afternoon," Jungkook's voice startles you slightly and you turn in your seat to peer at the clock over by the couch. It was already nearing 1pm, how long had you and Daehyun been on the phone? 

"Yes… Afternoon," You hum, gaze flickering to the discarded highlighter, laying across your open textbook. Without its cap on the ink was running dry and you glance around in search for the missing piece. 

On the other end of the line there's a pause before Jungkook continues, "I'm aware that it's your day off," he says, "But I have to leave for the office, rather unexpectedly. If you're busy I understand, I'm sure I can make arrangements with their grandparents or—" 

"I'm free." 

The response pours out of you in a second, cutting him off mid-sentence as your fingers curl around the phone a little tighter. You were actually busy, but as you close up your textbook you knew that your mind was made up. 

You can hear his exhale through the static of the phone — he sounds relieved. "That's good," he then says, "I would come pick you up myself, I just cannot leave the children at home." 

"Oh, I'm just fine taking the bus, no worries." you assure him, finally finding the cap of your highlighter as you seal it in place with a click. 

Jungkook is quiet for some time, until he finally asks, "Will you at least let me pay the bus fare?" 

His suggestion makes you freeze from where you had been leaning over to stuff the yellow pen back in the jar that held the rest. Brows scrunching together, "You already pay me enough," you tell him when rising to your feet, "I'll be there in half an hour." 

He doesn't argue with you on the matter, sighing on his end, giving in with a soft 'Alright' before allowing you to disconnect the call. 

You don't hesitate as you gather your things, trying to keep the excitement in your chest at bay as the lock twists, sealing your front door and leaving you to scurry down the stairs. 

The buses were not as lenient during the weekends, rather than every fifteen minutes they ran every thirty, making your trip to the Jeon house slightly longer than usual. You've brought your study material — this time without fear of Jungkook stumbling across it. You figured you should at least try to revise for the upcoming exam. 

Snow stubbornly clings to your sneakers as you walk down the pavement. It smears even further when you attempt to brush it off with the opposite foot, white clumps quickly melting through the fabric and soaking into your socks. "Stupid shoes," you mutter when pushing the gate to the Jeon estate open, still trudging forward with your head bowed. 

In fact, you were so caught up in the disappointment of your cold and wet feet that you don't bother glancing up when heading toward the steps of the front porch. Perhaps had you been a little more attentive you would have noticed the obstacle of another person before you crashed into them. 

Forehead slamming against something hard, you tumble back with a small 'oof', already reaching up to soothe the throb in your temple. "Are you okay?" The sound of Jungkook's voice makes your head spin even more so than the impact of his shoulder where it had smacked across your face. His fingers brush against your wrist as he guides your chilly hand away to assess the damage himself. 

Upon further inspection, and a slight clearing of your rattled mind, you realize that he'd been outside even before your arrival. Had it not been for the white layer that dusts his dark hair and the coat he wears — then the faint redness to his nose was a dead giveaway. 

"I'm fine," shrugging nonchalantly, you raise him a brow, "What are you doing out here?" 

Jungkook blinks once, lips parting as he lets his touch fall from your arms and takes a small step back. "I was just leaving," jerking his chin in the direction of his car, you follow his line of sight. Upon turning back to the thick and fluffy snow that layers his shoulders, not to mention the rosy tint to his cheeks, his lie becomes blatant. 

"I never got to thank you for yesterday," he then says, frowning when you shake your head dismissively, obviously offended that you would brush his gratitude off. "I'm serious," he presses, "What you did for Rayne, it meant a lot to her — to me. Thank you." 

His leaps seal together in a thin line after that as he regards you expectantly. You know that you should probably say something, fill the silence that had followed his words. But your mind was slow to even comprehend the weight of what he'd just told you. Inhaling a lungful of cold air, you give him a small but genuine smile. 

"It meant a lot to me as well," you say, "I'm glad." 

The distant rustle of tree branches swaying in the afternoon breeze is all that can be heard. A few birds — the ones who hadn't fled for warmer climates — chirp above, their song carrying through the wind. Jungkook's gaze lingers on a raven, sitting on a lower twig that extends from the trunk. 

"I should get going," he murmurs when turning back to you. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, he clears his throat swiftly, "The children are in the living room," he says, "Door's unlocked." 

You nod, fingers clasped together and you move forward as you attempt to step past him — only for Jungkook to do the same. Your face pulls into a sheepish expression and you quickly try to correct yourself by going in the other direction. Unfortunately he seems to have the same idea and you end up chest to chest a second time. 

"Sorry," you chuckle as you come to a stop. Jungkook does the same, hands returning to your elbows as his fingers curl around your arms through the thick material of your coat. He gently steers you to the right, allowing you to step around each other without more fuss. 

Thanking him under your breath, you quickly head up the stairs as he walks to his car. When climbing the three steps you have to force yourself not to turn back around and steal one final glance at him. You do a decent job, making it all the way to the front door with one hand wrapped around it — only to immediately whip your head over your shoulder as Jungkook suddenly calls out. 

He's standing by the driver's door, a clenched fist resting atop its roof. "I was just—" His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, chapped by the cold air. "Well, Cassian has been asking but I think both children would like it if—" His jaw clenches as he struggles through the sentence. 

You stand frozen by the door, fingers nearly slipping from the metal handle. New snow falls and though you're shielded by the slanted roof that extends over the front porch — Jungkook isn't. Flakes catch on his dark brows where they pinch together. He sighs, averting his gaze before quickly forcing it back. 

He looks like he's working up courage — the awkward roll of his shoulders and the stiffness in his posture. It reminds you of that one time in third grade when, Mike, your desk mate, had shyly asked you to the school dance with him. He had been all nervous glances and stuttered words but it had been the highlight of your year. 

Jungkook looks much like him right now, and had you not been so anxious to hear the rest of what he had to say, you would've probably found it rather endearing. 

Finally he gathers his bearings, palm flattening against the roof of his car. "I was just wondering if you would like to spend Christmas with us, the children, me." The question hangs between you for only a second, barely enough for you to fully process it until he starts talking again: 

"I mean, Cassian would really appreciate it. We usually spend it at their grandparents' but if you have plans I understand. Just thought I should ask so that I could give him an answer to—" 

"I would love to." 

The smile stretches to your ears and you don't even attempt to hide it. Your parents were set to be out of your hometown for the holidays, only returning back before new years which was when you planned to see them. This would mark your first Christmas away from home — not having to spend it alone but rather with the children, and Jungkook, made your heart flutter in your chest. 

By his car, Jungkook exhales a breath. His frame morphs from tense to relaxed and when he catches the sight of your beaming grin, the corner of his own lip twitches. He nods, a subtle tilt of his chin. Then he opens the car door and gets inside, letting it fall shut after him. 

You turn back to the door, gripping the knob with newfound excitement as you prepare to step inside. 

The children are in the living room, just as Jungkook had promised. Rayne sits on one of the sofas, comfortably reclined back with a book in her lap. She lifts her gaze upon your arrival, though doesn't say anything — but her brother does. 

"Nanny!" 

Cassian, who'd been in the middle of smearing crayons across the papers scattered on the coffee table, perks up when he finds you in the doorway. The drawings are all but forgotten about as he jumps to his feet, hurrying over on short legs as he tugs you into a hug that would've probably knocked you off your feet, had he been a little taller. 

"Hi, sweetie." It's instinctive, the way your arms loop around his tiny body to reciprocate the embrace. His face nuzzles against your stomach, a content smile plastered on his lips. "What have you been up to today?" 

The young boy immediately perks up at the inquiry, big, brown eyes meeting yours as he reaches for your sleeve. "I'll show you," he says as he tugs you over to the coffee table where the two of you sink to the floor beside one another. 

He moves with purpose as he shoves the crayons aside, organizing the multiple drawings before you to line them up. "This one," he points to one of the images. The lines are a wobbly and uneven, the colors scribbled messily together but you still thought you could make out two stick figures that resembled a little boy and a woman. "That's you and me when we played hide and seek in the garden." 

Upon further inspection you can find what appears to be trees in the background. Their leaves consist of oranges and yellows, meant to resemble the last of autumn that still clung to nature that afternoon. "I remember," you hum, tracing the corner of the paper slowly, "You were counting too fast."

"Was not," Cassian interjects with a small pout. 

From there he goes on to present the array of drawings, all representing different parts of the family, some including you, others not. He finally lands on one that makes you pause. It's a painting with all four of you, the only one of its kind. But that's not what catches your attention, no, it's the large pine tree in the middle. It's decorated with colorful lights, and beneath it lay square boxes. 

Cassian goes quiet, milk teeth locking around his bottom lip. "That's us on Christmas," he gestures vaguely to the drawing, "Daddy was going to ask you to come." He hesitates, stealing a quick peek at you through the corner of his eye. 

"He did," you muse, plucking the painting with careful fingers as you take a closer look. The picture shows you and the young boy holding hands, his sister and father are doing the same. "I told him I would love to come." 

The look of pure joy that lit up Cassian's face was like that of the sun's rays in summer. He flashes you all of his teeth — save for the small gap on his bottom row. "You will come?" he repeats, like he had to double check to make sure you were being truthful. When you nod in confirmation he wiggles on the spot, "Hooray!" 

"Our nana makes the best cookies and papa always lets me help put the lights on the tree!" It sounds as though he's already planning for the entire day, he rambles on about presents, food and different games you're going to be playing. You can all but match his grin as you listen to him excitedly talk. 

Allowing yourself a glance in Rayne's direction has your eyes meeting for a split second before she promptly turns back to the book in her lap, pretending like she'd been reading all along. Guilt knots in your stomach, perhaps she did not want you to come. Christmas was for family after all and though you had been invited you couldn't help but feel like maybe you were intruding on something you shouldn't. 

"I actually bumped into him right outside," You muse, attempting to brush the unease aside with simple conversation. That only makes the young girl tense, her grip on the novel tightening. 

"That's weird," She says, not taking her gaze off the page, "Father left long before you came, he said he was late for a meeting." 

You fall quiet at that — in fact the entire living room does. It's not broken until you let out an awkward chuckle that does little to play up the mood. So instead you turn to her younger brother, picking up the smile that had faded ever so slightly. "What did you ask Santa for?" you wonder, trying to steer the conversation away from Jungkook's odd behavior. 

Cassian hums thoughtfully, "A dinosaur and a car figurine, oh and new crayons, the ones with rainbow colors!" 

"Rainbow?" you cock a brow at that, "There's a rainbow colored crayon?" You don't think you had ever heard of anything like that but he eagerly nods as he jumps into explanation. 

"Yes," Cassian points to his existing crayons, scattered across the coffee table, "It's a special. Only Santa makes it, that's why I put it on my list so I can have one." 

Across the table Rayne scoffs, she's put the book down and is now watching her brother with a narrowed gaze. "Santa isn't real, he can't make you a rainbow crayon," she states at as a matter-of-factly, one hand tucking her ponytail down her shoulder. 

"Well that's not true," you say when you notice the solemn look on the young boy's face, "Santa is just as real as you and me." 

"How do you know that?" Cassian asks as he peers up at you through dark lashes. 

You shrug, "Because I've met him of course." 

His eyes go wide as saucers at that, lips parting in a quiet gasp to which he quickly swallows with a squeal. "Really? You've really met Santa?" On the couch opposite you, Rayne scoffs under her breath but you ignore her. 

"Sure have," you say, "He was creeping 'round downstairs, very loudly might I add, he even woke me up from my sleep. So I quietly crept down the stairs, and do you know what I saw?" 

Cassian leans closer, shaking his head mutely and you bite back a giggle. "I saw a big man, with a white beard and red clothes — eating my cookies! Can you believe it?" You wave a hand aimlessly, "I was furious of course, I told him that those were mine and that I had been saving them for the morning." 

"What did he say? What did he say?" He asks, fingers clawing at his own knees as he tries to contain his excitement. 

Humming out a soft breath, you continue, "Well he said that he needed the cookies. You see Santa gets real hungry going to each house on Christmas Eve. He promised me that I would get a special gift in return, as a thank you for the treats." Leaning back against the edge of the couch, you stretch your legs out in front of you. "The next morning when I woke up there was a big present under the tree, can you guess who it was from?" 

"Santa!" Cassian looks overjoyed at the story, his earlier gripe with his sister quickly fading at the thought of meeting the white-bearded man himself some day. "Do you think I will see him?" 

"Without a doubt," you promise him as you ruffle his dark hair. Looking back the man in your kitchen had likely been your dad, geared up in his costume and snacking away on your cookies. But your sleep-addled, six year old brain had been unable to piece that together and the moment was allowed to live on as such until you turned thirteen and your old pops had the audacity to ruin it. But seeing the excitement in Cassian's eyes was more than enough to mend the broken memory.

He goes back to drawing shortly after, this time depicting images of Santa himself, his sleigh and his reindeer — to the best of his abilities of course. You sit back comfortably on the floor, content to watch him work, even though you should probably pull out the textbooks you had brought with you and get some studying done. 

The idea has been tossed back and forth in your mind for a good five minutes without you coming to a decision when Rayne suddenly clears her throat. "Nanny?" she asks, her voice loud in the reigning silence. You immediately perk up at being addressed, a quiet 'hm?' passing your lips. She hesitates, fingers curling around a page in her book as she fiddles with it. A couple of seconds pass where she doesn't speak, then she wills herself to meet your gaze. 

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Out of every question you'd been expecting, this one had been at the very bottom of your list. It stuns you entirely and for a while you simply stare at her. "Boyfriend—?" you splutter, disguising your cough with an awkward huff. 

Rayne nods, she sits perfectly still on the cushion, her eyes tracking you up and down like she was trying to figure something out. Cassian had stopped drawing and was now watching you as well, a faint frown on his face. "You're…" she pauses, "You're pretty. You know how to do the pretty things with my hair and stuff." Rayne gestures vaguely between you as she references back to last night. 

The compliment warms your chest, and cheeks, making you rub the back of your neck sheepishly. "Ah, thank you, sweetie." Pursing your lips, you then shake your head. "I don't have a boyfriend." The admission feels a little stiff but you try not to let it show as you carry on with a soft chuckle. 

Rayne seems satisfied with that answer, her attention lingers a moment longer before it returns to her book — only to be torn from the pages as Cassian suddenly exclaims, "You don't have a boyfriend?" He appears genuinely conflicted by this information, it didn't make sense at all to him.

"But nanny, you're cute. Why don't you have one?" His bottom lip is stuck out into a pout, cupids bow arched in a frown as he studies you closely. When you simply shrug the gears seem to turn even faster in his tiny head. "I know—" He then says and you feel your heart drop to your stomach at what that might mean. 

Cassian twists his body toward you, chest puffing up to appear bigger as he puts on a bright smile. "I can be your boyfriend!" 

You hope he doesn't catch the relieved exhale you let out, shaking your head as a giggle erupts between you. Before you can answer him though, Rayne butts in, "You can't do that, silly. Nanny is a grown-up." 

This only brings back her younger brother's previous confusion and he begins chewing on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "Okay…" he murmurs, fingers picking at a lock of hair, "Then I will be your boyfriend when I'm a grown-up." He gives himself a reaffirming nod, like the decision had just been finalized and you couldn't find it in you to argue against it. 

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," you hum as you give his cheek a gentle pat. You thought you could hear Rayne grumble something under her breath but she refrains from saying anything else as she goes back to her book. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the living room. You finally pulled out your textbook, flicking it open on the page where you had left off at home. Cassian was greatly interested in all the pictures, pointing at different parts of the human lungs as he asked questions.

As it turns out, he was a great study-buddy. You could dump all sorts of information on him, explaining and then re-explaining things in simpler terms as you went through the notes you had taken. He listened with fascinated eyes and though you were sure he probably understood about half of what you told him, it was a good way for you to revise the material.

By dinner time you all cooked together, even Rayne helped taste-test the sauce you had made — only for her brother to spill some on his shirt when he tried snatching the spoon from her.

Jungkook did not arrive back home until you had tucked them both into bed. You were halfway through Cassian's third bedtime story and he had just drifted off when the sound of the front door unlocking could be heard. You listened to the sound of footsteps as he climbed the stairs, for a second they almost made you believe that he was headed for Cassian's room. They had stopped just outside his closed door, a dark silhouette filling the light beneath the crack. Then they had faded again, another door creaking before closing softly — his study presumably.

You had stayed by Cassian's bed a little longer than needed, taking your time when putting the books back on their shelf, tucking him in once, then once more for good measure. 

Finally you head out into the hall, your eyes immediately drifting to the door which you knew you would find Jungkook behind — feet leading you there on their own. The picture of him out in the snow earlier today still lingers fresh in your mind. As does the nervous stutter to his speech and you half expect to find him in a similar state now. 

The door to Jungkook's study is agonizingly loud upon being pushed open. You allow yourself a sparse couple of inches, just enough to poke your head inside and inform him of your departure. Shadows swallow almost the entirety of the room and had it not been for the lamp on his desk, casting a soft halo across the papers he sifts through — it would have been pitch black. 

Jungkook sits in his chair, glasses low on the bridge of his nose, which he scrunches when lifting a finger to push them further up. He has yet to notice you, too lost in the corporate world that seems to consume him entirely. 

He does not look at all like he had this afternoon. Perhaps it was the wear of the long day that had weighed down his otherwise youthful appearance. He still looked handsome of course — but there was something else that clung to the air around him right now. 

You clear your throat, tongue pressing against the roof of your mouth when his eyes meet yours from across the small room. "The children are asleep…" He knows that already, the house had been basked in silence since his return home after all. 

He nods but his attention doesn't return to the files in front of him like you had expected for it to. Instead he regards you quietly, the way that always makes you wonder what he was thinking about. He would not tell you, of course, he rarely did. Another tense five seconds pass where neither of you speak. Your fingers have began tapping idly against the doorknob as a means to distract yourself. 

"Cassian spilled sauce on his shirt during dinner. He didn't want me telling you but I thought I should in case the stain doesn't come off," a breath later you add, "Though I soaked it in cold water so it should be fine." You were rambling nonsense but said nonsense was better than the strange and awkward silence that had found its way between you. 

Jungkook simply repeats his previous motion, tilting his chin in acknowledgement as he traces the edge of the paper in front of him. You notice that the liquor is sealed within its cabinet, waiting behind closed doors to be drank — he hadn't reached for it tonight. 

"Do you want a glass?" 

The sudden question makes you pause, gaze flitting back to the man before you. Jungkook is watching you with an expectant look, having let go of the pages to place his hands on the armrests of his chair. He must have noticed your wandering eyes but the offer still takes you by surprise. 

"I…" Your throat feels dry and for a moment the thought of something to take the edge off didn't seem like such a bad idea. Though one glance at the clock above the cabinet makes you rethink. "I shouldn't. I mean—" shaking your head, "Last bus leaves in a little bit. I better be on my way." 

His brows draw together at that and for a split second Jungkook looks almost disappointed. He quickly masks it again, schooling his features into their default wear. But when he opens his mouth to speak, the words that spill from his lips are not what you had expected: "You're leaving already?" 

The cough lodges itself halfway up your throat, fingers curling a little harder around the doorknob as you sway on unsteady feet despite being stone cold sober. Was he asking you to stay? Your next breath comes out in a short puff and you have to shove the confusing thoughts aside to focus on giving him a proper response. 

"Well— No, I mean," swallowing thickly, "I have some time to spare…" 

Jungkook's chair squeaks against the floorboards when he rises to his feet and you watch with wide and unblinking eyes as he makes his way over to the liquor cabinet. Taking it as your cue to actually step inside, you do so, letting the door fall shut behind you soundlessly. 

"Any requests?" He asks when he unhooks both glass doors, swinging them open to showcase the bottles inside. 

Your feet carry you over to stand beside him — close enough to feel the heat of his body that radiates from him like a furnace. Scanning the options presented before you whilst chewing on your lip, you go over the labels once, twice. Jungkook's taste matched him perfectly, all expensive brands, half of which you did not dare attempt to pronounce. Their amber shades stare back at you daringly. 

He must notice your hesitation, for a moment later he reaches for the one bottle you recognized — the whiskey. His arm brushes yours when he retrieves it, and it somehow sends a jolt of electricity through you despite the touch being mundane in comparison to how intimate you had been. 

Jungkook doesn't linger on the brief caress as he grabs two glasses in his free hand, turning to place them onto his desk with a soft clink. And after busying yourself with shutting the cabinet doors, you join him by the table — looking on as he pushes the sleeves of his button up to his elbows, exposing the tattoos you'd spent so long tracing. The memory makes your chest hot even though the alcohol had yet to touch your lips. 

His shirt is generously unbuttoned, revealing the faint outline of his chest when he leans forward to pour the whiskey. "You don't drink often I take it?" He asks without lifting his gaze from the glasses which he filled to about a quarter. 

"No," you hum, "Not really…" Aside from the drinks you and Daehyun went out to grab after rough exams, your experience with any kind of liquor was very sparse. Your attention lingers on the amber liquid that swirls within the glasses, glimmering softly under the glow of his desk lamp. 

Jungkook hands you one of them and you take it with a quiet 'Thanks' as you try not to think about the way your fingers ended up nudging. He nods as he takes a sip of his drink and you find yourself doing the same — cringing slightly as the burn scratches down your throat. You hadn't drank since last time you found yourself in here, back then your emotions had been high enough to cancel out the strong and invasive flavor of the whiskey. 

Stillness clings to the air between you, with only the faint ticking of the clock on the wall to fill the silence. You distract yourself with another small sip, only to immediately regret it as your nose scrunches. Jungkook catches the flicker of distaste, cocking a brow as he brings his own glass to his lips. 

"What do you kids drink then?" He wonders before swallowing more liquor. 

You shrug, free hand caressing the mahogany wood of his table as you perch yourself on its edge. "I don't know, cheap booze— beer mostly." The splinters creak under your weight but you ignore it as you shift to get comfortable — or as comfortable as you could get with him standing so close. 

Jungkook hums, "Do you like it?" His eyes never stray from where they had come to settle on yours, shielded by his dark lashes, it looked almost as though he was trying to guess your answer before you could give it. 

Shaking your head, you let the pad of your thumb stroke the bottom of your glass. "God, no. I only drink when I'm out." Tilting your gaze from the drink you hold and up to his hooded eyes, you ask, "Do you?" 

He mimics you with a shake of his own head, "No," he says, following it with another long sip. The glasses, still perched over the bridge of his nose, reflect in the dim lights and you become almost entranced by the subtle flicker. "Do you go out often?" He then wonders, and you tried to figure out why he was asking so many questions all of a sudden. 

"Rarely" you admit, trying to keep your tone indifferent as you sip on the whiskey, "Why?" 

Jungkook gives a noncommittal roll of his shoulders. "Kids your age love to party, no?" He delivers it casually but the statement still makes you frown as you clutch your glass a little tighter. 

"Are you calling me a kid?" You can't help the edge of defensiveness that sneaks its way into your voice as you eye him warily. "Or are you implying that there is something wrong with me not partying?" 

For a long moment he says nothing, simply regarding you over the rim of his own glass. He doesn't bring it up for another taste, doesn't lower it either. The corner of his lip twitches, "Neither," he says. 

You huff at the almost taunting response, turning your head in an act of pettiness. It works because a second later the floor creaks as Jungkook takes a step closer. The hand that isn't currently nursing his drink finds a crease in your jeans, fingers pinching the fabric as he smooths it out again — like the sight bothered him. 

"Good." You're still not looking at him, eyes fixed to the clock on the wall as it counts down the seconds until you're forced to part from him. "I'm not a kid. And I enjoy myself just fine whenever I so please," you add before silencing yourself with another sip of the whiskey. 

Jungkook hums, having let go of your jeans entirely, his magnifying touch disappears before it returns, this time to the hot skin of your face — heated by the alcohol and his proximity. His thumb strokes the line of your jaw as he gently guides you to look at him again. "I know," he says. 

Whatever offense still lingered from his previous comment ebbs away when your eyes meet his and your shoulders slump as your hold on the glass loosens. 

"How much longer until your bus leaves?" He asks, fingers warm against your feverish skin. 

You swallow, wondering if the liquor was finally taking effect or if he'd been looking at you like that all along. "Twenty minutes," you murmur, "But I need five to get to the stop." 

He doesn't respond right away, only watching you intently, like he was considering something. "That's fifteen minutes then," his thumb finds your bottom lip, the caress he gives it is light — teasing almost. "Will you enjoy yourself with me for those fifteen?" 

The innuendo hidden beneath the almost whispered words is clear and it makes your heart pound hard against your ribcage. Without answering you bring the glass to your lips, praying that the ill-tasting whiskey might give you the same courage you had inhabited on that sunny afternoon. 

Jungkook regards you intently, his fingers lingering on your jaw, tilting your head back to have the liquor slide down your throat easier. Through the corner of your eye you can make out the path his other hand takes as it discards the glass which he'd barely touched. Then he steps impossibly close, gaze dropping to your half-finished drink before gently taking it from your grasp. 

"You didn't answer my question," He murmurs upon setting the glass down alongside his own. There's a barely noticeable crease etched between his dark brows, as though your lack of response troubled him. It makes you smile, an easy smile that feels silly compared to the storm in your chest. 

Only when you realize where you are and what time it is does your face fall. Your mind wanders to Cassian and Rayne in their rooms. "But the children—" 

"Are asleep," Jungkook finishes for you, his palm coming to rest against your cheek. This was different from last time. No raised voices, no big living room to let you catch your breath — only the hard surface of his desk under you, and the warmth of his body but an inch from your own. 

He's so close that the slightly uneven exhales he releases fan across your face. His eyes are dazed with something beyond the desire you had noted in them on that day. Was he seeing something beyond just the intimacy of two people? You almost dared to hope… 

Jungkook swallows and you trace the bob of his Adam's apple. "I'll beg if I have to," He rasps, thumb pressing lightly against your cheekbone. 

That single line undoes the last of your hesitation and without giving yourself time to think it over, you close the remaining distance to press your lips against his. Your eyes fall shut as you let yourself linger in darkness, focusing only on the way his mouth parts against yours without being told. 

His hand is careful where it cradles your face, the other claiming your waist as he tugs you dangerously close to the edge of the desk. Jungkook always kissed you sweetly — there was never any sloppy meshes of tongues or uncomfortable clashes of teeth. But tonight time is against you, the clock ticks faster somewhere in the distance, reminding you of your eventual departure. 

"We need to hurry," you breathe against him, shuddering when he pulls back to rest his forehead to yours, the glasses he had yet to take off bumping against your nose. 

Through lidded eyes you can make out the subtle clench of his jaw, the nod he pairs with a rough exhale. He straightens up, the hand on your face falling to your waist as he mirrors the other. Then he casts a glance toward the clock on the wall, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. 

For a moment you think he might just step away, press a chaste kiss to your temple with the promise of finding time another day. But when Jungkook turns back to you, his usually brown eyes are almost black with desire, brows pinched with determination you rarely saw in him. 

His palms burn through the jeans you wear when they hook under your thighs, hoisting you from your spot on the very edge of the table and up against his chest. Your legs wrap awkwardly around his hips, arms looping behind his neck as your lips find his jaw, lavishing it in soft kisses. 

The chair he'd been lounging on just minutes prior is kicked aside as Jungkook steps into its spot. He shifts your weight onto one arm, the other blindly swiping away the papers he'd been working on. They scatter in all directions, mixing together in an unorganized mess, though Jungkook doesn't seem to care for it as he cranes his neck to find your lips. 

He sets you down on the now-cleared surface of his desk, you land with a soft thud right in the center, legs falling open to accommodate him between them. His tongue tastes like the whiskey you shared when it slides past your lips, and you welcome him eagerly with a sighed moan. Jungkook's hands — having returned to your hips — give a firm squeeze that startles you just as much as it spurs you on. 

His lips hover above your own, saliva smearing together in the aftermath of your kiss. He lifts one hand, knuckles brushing your chin ever so carefully as he closes your open mouth with a simple nudge. "Need you to stay quiet," he whispers, nose brushing along your cheek, "Unfortunately." 

You nod, even when it takes everything in you not to force your lips back together. Running the risk of waking the children was not something you'd had to be mindful of last time. And as much as the idea of startling them from sleep terrified you, it also made your stomach coil tight with heat. Judging by the way Jungkook was kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing the column of your throat, he must feel the same. 

Your fingers find his hair, curling around the black strands and tugging on them in the way that would always have him groaning against you. This time is no different, even when he tries to force the sound back, teeth finding the tender skin where your neck meets your shoulder as he bites down in hopes of salvation. 

His hands are clumsy when they find the zipper of your jeans, hooking around it before tugging it open — leaving you to squirm on top of the mahogany as you help him slide the denim down your legs. The air of his study is chilly from a window being left open too long but Jungkook's touch warms your naked skin in a heart beat as his palms move up and down your thighs. 

It's not until he feels you reach for the buckle of his belt that he finally tears himself from your neck. Ragged breaths leave his reddened lips and he stares at you with thinly veiled impatience that matches the frantic movement of your fingers, currently undoing the clunky piece of metal. It falls apart in your grasp as it unlocks the last barrier between you. 

Jungkook's hands are everywhere all at once, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt to feel up your sides, hovering just shy at the edge of your bra. All the while you focus on getting his pants out of the way. 

You make the mistake of glancing toward the clock once more, eyes widening at the rapid speed the minute handle seems to be moving at. "Eleven minutes," you murmur as your fingers hook around the waistband of his dress pants.

The words have barely left your lips as Jungkook slams his own back on them, stealing your next exhale with a kiss that felt unlike any of the others you had previously shared. The mask he wore with pride slipped just enough to let his teeth trap your bottom lip, eliciting a soft squeal from you which he tries to silence with his mouth. 

He swats your at hands, dismissing them from their feeble attempts at getting him undressed. The buckle of his belt hits the edge of the desk, dangerously close to one of your knees, as he shoves his pants down enough to free himself of their captivity. One hand on your hip, the other wraps around his cock, a shaky sigh following the rough stroke he gives himself. 

Without warning he curls a finger around the lining of your panties, tearing them down to rest at the crook of your knees and leaving you bare — the sudden intrusion of cold air makes you gasp against his lips. 

"Sorry," Jungkook whispers, fingers brushing over your exposed cunt as he tries to soothe the chill with warm touch. His thumb is not as precise as it had been that afternoon when it finds your clit. He's quick, almost rough rather than slow and calculated as he rubs you in small circles, making you instinctively arch against the heel of his hand. 

His index finger teases your fluttering hole — like he debated on pushing it in — but time was against you, he knew that, and the idea is dropped again as Jungkook pulls his hand away entirely. 

You trap the whine that builds in your throat by sealing your lips together. The disappointment of his absence disappears the second you feel his cock, hot and heavy as it bumps against your barely stimulated clit — it sends sparks through you, hips immediately rocking against him as you urge him closer. 

The hands you kept in his hair had since long gone slack around the dark locks. Only when he gently grabs hold of your elbows, guiding your palms to rest flat against the table did you realize that you had been holding onto him all along. Jungkook moves methodically as he has you brace yourself on top the desk, fingers tracing your forearms reverently as his eyes follow the goosebumps that ripple across your skin. 

Once he's satisfied he lifts his gaze to meet yours, waiting for you to give him the permission he desperately seeks. You give it to him with a nod — a quiet dip of your chin as your fingernails dig into the mahogany wood beneath you. 

He surges forward, lips crashing onto yours just as his cock breaches you. The lack of foreplay makes the stretch burn and you cry out into his mouth. Jungkook doesn't wait, there is no time for that tonight and his hips meet yours in one harsh thrust that has your arms nearly giving out from where they hold you upright. 

You're saved by the feeling of his hands — firm on your hips one second — behind your back the next. He slips them under your shirt, fingers tracing the end of your spine as he continues to fuck into you relentlessly. The pace is nothing like the one he'd set that afternoon in his bedroom, it's not slow and tender but fast and ruthless. 

It stuns you, if only for a moment. This side of him was something you don't think even your wildest of imagination could have ever conjured, but God if it didn't make you clench around him, hard. 

His tongue is warm and wet against your own, stringed together by a mix of saliva and desire, he kisses you in a way you didn't think he was capable of. But Jungkook seems determined to prove you wrong as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. 

The distant ticking of the clock fades into background noise as the creak of his table and the sound of skin meeting skin fills his study. Each thrust makes your thighs jump, heat jolting through your stomach as you moan openly against him. 

His glasses occasionally bump against your forehead, it's never enough to hurt but still bothersome. You reach up to push them back over his head, aiming to get them out of the way when Jungkook's fingers suddenly brush against yours. One hand has left your back as he grabs at the glasses clumsily, tearing them off completely as he discards them onto the desk with a clatter. 

Then he's back to kissing you, lips molding together like an unbreakable seal as his tongue finds yours. Cock twitching inside of you, his need pulses through you just as yours does him, and the arm you once held raised, loops around the back of his neck instead as you pull him closer. 

His body is looming over yours, forcing you to tilt back as your chests brush. Your nails dig into his nape, clawing their way to the ends of his hair and the groan Jungkook emits vibrates through you. His hips meet yours in a particularly hard jerk, causing the forgotten bottle of whiskey to topple over and hit the desk with a loud clang. 

"Shit—" Jungkook hisses as he tears himself from the kiss, one hand reaching for the bottle but it was already rolling for the edge. A second later it tips and falls, embracing the floor with a sound so deafening it makes you both wince. 

Abandoning his mission, Jungkook's palm plants itself against the mahogany as his forehead meets yours. The giggle you're unable to bite back fans across his parted lips, the ridicule of your situation quickly catching up. He doesn't seem quite as amused and he quiets you with another bruising kiss. 

The pace he picks up matches his previous, perhaps even more so. Each roll of his hips feel punishing, whether that was directed to your or himself — you did not know. The glasses of whiskey, still placed on the table, rattle and clink together in tandem with the way he moves. The tip of his cock catches on your clit when he pulls back enough to slip out entirely, leaving you aching and clenching around nothing before shoving himself back inside with one unforgiving thrust. 

Your body jolts when the hand, previously braced against the desk moves between your legs, thumb finding your clit easily. There was an underlying sense of urgency in the way he touches you, coaxing your orgasm to come faster as time slips between your fingers and you have to distract yourself with multiple kisses to his jaw and throat so to not let out the sounds that beg to be released. 

The familiar heat pools low in your stomach, and he makes a strained noise when his insistent flick against your clit makes you clench around his cock. "Jungkook I'm—" The breathless admission barely makes it past your lips when he suddenly freezes inside of you. His relentless pace goes from a hundred to zero in a split second and you tilt your head back, confused. 

Then you hear the faint creak coming from somewhere down the hall. It could have easily been the house settling, a gust of wind that tugged at the old wood, but it could also be the tell tale sign of a door being pushed open. 

"Do you think—?" 

Your question is cut short by Jungkook's hand where it clamps over your mouth. The table you sit perched on is now still, the glasses now longer bumping into each other and Jungkook's cock, nestled deep inside you, is unmoving. 

His eyes are fixed on the door behind you, chest heaving with each breath he takes, you notice the sheen layer of sweat that clings to his forehead and what little of his chest you can see. The two of you listen intently for another long minute, the silence stretches thick and heavy — filled with dread. 

When two minutes have passed Jungkook's thumb resumes its touch to your sensitive clit. It's slower this time, taunting circles that has you squirming on top of his desk, making it creak softly. He's yet to take his hand off your mouth, adamant about keeping you quiet even when he continues to draw your orgasm closer. 

"It's fine," he finally grunts, "Probably just the house." Part of you says not to believe him, to demand you abort this entire ordeal to not risk waking the children. But when he moves again, pushing himself even deeper as his head tips toward his chest, you can't find it in you to make him stop. 

The clock on the wall is an insistent reminder and it only spurs Jungkook on as he snaps forward, forcing the whiskey glasses together as the desk rattles. The momentary panic fades back into arousal as he applies more pressure to your swollen clit. Your thighs hug his hips, pulling him closer when you feel your climax approach. 

You give up on warning him as you let go of the table entirely, your arm joining the other around his neck, clinging to him like light in darkness. Jungkook releases your mouth and meets your lips in another kiss, teeth clashing together in a way he hadn't allowed last time. The hand he keeps on your back is the only thing holding you up as it counters each harsh thrust of his. 

A moment later you feel yourself clench around him, cunt fluttering repeatedly as you cum on his cock with a muffled cry into his mouth. Jungkook's touch to your clit doesn't let up and he drinks each sound of yours with greed, tongue lapping at your bottom lip as you pant against him. 

"Shh," he murmurs as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, his pace slowing as he feels your legs go limp. When you squirm at his touch he draws his hand back from your clit, letting it join the other as he caresses the line of your spine beneath your shirt. The kiss has softened too, morphed into something that reminds you of how he would always kiss you. 

For a while you let yourself get lost in it, the remnants of your climax clouding your mind to anything that wasn't the feeling of his lips pressed to yours. 

When you part for air you find him already looking at you. His face is flushed the same shade of red it had been on that afternoon, sweat glistening on his temple as it ran down his sides. Without thinking you reach up to brush a few dark strands from his forehead, pushing them out of the way only for the stubborn locks to fall back to his brow bone. 

You shift atop the table, wincing at the way your cunt wraps around his still-hard cock despite being spent. Jungkook catches the flicker of discomfort and he gently pulls out as his hands find your hips, fingers rubbing soothing patterns into your flesh. Your gaze drops to his slacks, the open belt no longer holding them up and then to the sight of him — flushed pink and slick with your joint arousal. 

"Switch with me," you croak, causing him to frown. He looks like he's about to ask what you had meant but you're already scooting off the table, feet finding the ground, albeit unsteadily. The warmth of his hands on your waist as he assures you won't fall makes your heart beat faster — a reaction you try to ignore as you gingerly pull your panties back up. 

When you see that he still hasn't moved, simply watching you with the same eyes he had been since you stepped inside his study, you point to the table. "Switch," you half-command, not really expecting much to come out of it, but to your surprise Jungkook nods as he trades places with you, leaning back against the desk, still holding onto your hips. 

It takes everything in you to swat his hands away but your desire wins out. He looks almost offended, puzzled even, but realization dawns across his features when you sink to your knees before him — coming face to face with his aching cock. 

"You don't have to," he begins, but you shut him up by wrapping one hand around the base, reveling at finally getting to feel him like this. You think you would be content to just watch him, studying the slight curve, the veins that climb along him and the pink flush to his tip for forever, but one glance toward the clock has you jumping into action. 

Silently, you bet with yourself on whether you'd be able to accomplish desired results within three minutes, though his sharp intake of breath when your thumb rubs across the slit makes you hopeful.

Adjusting your grip, you let your palm glide across his cock, tracing the thicker vein that protrudes just beneath the head. The way he twitches in your grasp makes heat coil in your gut despite your recent orgasm. A bead of precum beads at the tip, glistening under the soft glow of the lamp behind him and you immediately lean forward to taste him. 

Giving blowjobs wasn't exactly an area you were skilled in. There had been an instance or two in the past where whatever dude you had accompanied home after a night out had begged for you to do so. The act was never something you did out of your own pleasure, more so obligation, but wrapping your lips around Jungkook felt nothing like those drunken nights. 

He tastes salty but not bad, and perhaps you were just high on the feeling, but you find yourself craving more as you take him deeper in your mouth. 

Turning your gaze up to meet his, you find him peering down at you through his lashes. His lips are parted, brows scrunched together but for once it wasn't that signature frown of his. Through the corner of your eye you catch the inked hand that curls around the table's edge, his knuckles pale from the deadly grip he keeps on the wood. 

You hum, pulling off of him with a final lick as you sit back on your knees. "You can touch me, you know." 

The simple permission seems to undo something in him as Jungkook tips his head back with a groan he's unable to muffle. "Jesus—" he gasps, "Don't say that." But his fingers are already at the top of your head, short nails digging into your scalp as he forces you back down on his cock, much to your delight. 

His hold is firm, but never rough, he doesn't attempt to control the pace you set, but he keeps you down — not letting you part from him for even a second. Your lips stretch wide around him, breath hitching when he hits the back of your throat. Hand stroking what you can't fit in your mouth, the other keeps you steady by gripping his thigh. 

Tears brim on your waterline when his hips suddenly jerk forward and your nails dig into his leg — causing him to twitch on your tongue at the sharp sting. His breath has grown heavy and you watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he inhales and exhales through parted lips. 

You can tell that he's close when the hand on top of your head eases up, allowing you room to pull off. His cock thrusts weakly into your mouth — like he was holding back from doing more. Your response is to take him deeper, blinking away the tears that blurred your vision. Nails still digging into his thigh, you let your teeth carefully drag across him when you go down. 

The subtle action makes him jolt, "Fuck," he spits the curse out, his free hand slamming against the table behind him. "I'm gonna—" cutting himself off with another curse, he lets go of your head entirely, "Shit— You have to pull off."

Had it not been for the slight tremble to his fingers when you force his hand back atop your head, you would have almost been a little offended by the idea. Yet you say nothing, tongue flattening against his tip before sliding him back into your mouth, repeating the soft scrape of teeth against him. 

Jungkook's hips push forward, so much so that you nearly lose your balance. His cock twitches up into the roof of your mouth before he's cumming onto your tongue with a sharp hiss. The weight of his palm on top of your head holds you in place and you let him spill down your throat without complaint, humming gratefully as the taste of him coats your senses. 

Once he's limp in your grasp, you sit back, gaze tracing the string of saliva that connects you to him. Jungkook is panting above you, head tilted back to where you can't make out his face, though the flush that creeps up his neck is enough evidence. 

Licking your lips, you carefully climb to your feet, ignoring the ache in your entire lower half as you heave a breath. Your hands move on autopilot when you tuck him back into his pants, not bothering with the belt as Jungkook's knuckles gently grace your chin. 

You manage to catch a brief glimpse of the dazed look in his eyes before he seals you both in a kiss. This one is slower than all the ones you had shared tonight, he doesn't cringe when sliding his tongue across yours, tasting himself on you with a hum. 

The air inside the study is no longer cold, the silence of the house no longer imposing. In fact you think you could have stayed like this for a long while. But the clock on the wall ultimately calls to your attention and when you turn your head you find that time was up. "My jeans—" you scramble off of him, already in search of the missing garment, tossed somewhere on the floor. 

Jungkook's fingers curl around your wrist, halting your movements as he pulls you back to his chest. His breath is hot against your parted lips as he tilts his head down, nose brushing the corner of your mouth. "Stay, just five more minutes," he murmurs when his other hand finds your waist. 

"But the bus, I'll miss it," you argue, though admittedly, you did not want to go. 

He shakes his head, thumb stroking across your palm. "I'll pay for a cab," he says as he leans to press a kiss to your forehead, "I don't want you on a bus tonight, not after this." 

You want to reject the offer, tell him that it wasn't necessary. But his persistence and the gentle touch to your skin makes you cave. With a silent nod you agree to five more minutes in his arms before you head out into the cold December night. 

── [ ✉️ ] Hey there... So what did we think? In terms of like, the porn, I feel like this was slightly different from how I did it last time. I hope it's still nice to read of course. Anyone figured out what he likes yet? (Blatant hint, the teeth during the blowjob) but anyway! Hm, it's always a struggle trying to find out what to say here, but to put it like this: the next three chapters are going to be fun.

© All rights reserved @merakoo 2026.

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ NINETEEN

𓄲 "I like it," she says as she her hand drop back to rest against her leg. When you don't immediately respond enthusiastically she turns to you with a frown. "What?" she murmurs, "Why are you looking at me like that?" 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children)

⧽ word count ⋮ 9.7k average reading time ⋮ 55 minutes

── [ ✉️ ] Oh so like, this one actually hit me right in the heart to write. When I told you ladies that the upcoming chapter were going to be very Rayne focused I was more so hinting at this specific one. Each moment is precious to me and one of the scenes here have been rooted in my brain since late February. May this cure your longing for girlhood and daddy issues. I'll be thoroughly disappointed if no one gets at least a little emotional... Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3

series masterlist | last chapter | next part

chapter 19 — "Dancing Queen"

Rays of orange and pink caress the naked tree branches just outside — the setting sun spilling through the curtains that had been left pulled back to let the last light in. A glowing halo wraps around her head as Rayne shifts on the edge of the bed, her back turned to the window and the beautiful sky. 

It was no later than four-thirty pm but as winter break would commence the following Monday there was little for the children to do in terms of school work. Thus you had managed to pull the elder aside for some much needed alone time — for today was the big day — the one you had spent the last few preparing for. 

After her birthday party last weekend, Rayne had reluctantly agreed to attend the dance with her father. Though you had only caught a glimpse of their conversation upstairs last Saturday, you knew that it was all Jungkook's doing. The pair had actually spent some time practicing together, with you and Cassian watching subtly from the kitchen as they did. 

Friday afternoon was now coming to a close and the seven pm mark crept closer for each passing minute. Rayne's shadow engulfs you where you sit perched on the floor, making it easier to peer up at her through the blinding rays. She wears a solemn expression, her eyes set on the purple dress hanging on the handle of her closet. 

"Is this really necessary?" 

Her voice is a begrudging drawl of lazy tongue that fills the silence along with the faint shuffle as you stifle through your duffel bag. Choosing to respond with only a brief, "Mhm", you go on to pull out all of the necessities you had brought along: hot rollers, an assortment of brushes and a palette of bold eyeshadows. 

And perhaps you were being a little selfish. But growing up an only child you had always begged your parents for a younger sister. Someone to share clothes and bracelets with, to gossip about boys and to laugh late into the night with — to care for her in all the ways you thought a big sister should. 

Suppose a small part of you was taking advantage of the brief opportunity that had presented itself within Rayne. 

You go about placing all the items in order on the floor, nudging a brush to line up straight with the others before glancing up at the skeptical girl. "This is merely standard procedure, you know." Gesturing toward the lineup of beauty products, you send her a lopsided smile. 

There's a moment of quietness where Rayne simply frowns. Her fingers pick idly at the seams of her jeans as her eyes flicker between the eyeshadow and the hot rollers. "I don't know…" she murmurs, her tone uncharacteristically soft, "I don't—", shrugging dismissively, she avoids your gaze, "I don't do all that stuff." She nods pointedly toward the shimmer you had just fished out of your bag, her nose scrunching. 

You pause, the round plastic box clutched tightly in your hand as you pull the flesh of your cheek between your teeth. Chewing on the raw and tender skin, you let your attention fall to the items you had just hauled out onto the floor. There was nothing extravagant about them, no high-end brands — in fact most of it had been purchased at the drug store and the hot rollers were second hand. 

Brows pinching together, you study the array of brushes. They all got the job done and the longer the silence stretched between you the more obvious it became that the question of quality wasn't the issue here. 

"You mean to tell me you don't dress up or anything?" Tilting your head to the side, you regard her closely. 

Rayne clears her throat as she shifts her weight on the bed, shoving her hands under her thighs. "No," she mutters under her breath, sending you a small glance through the corner of her eye before scoffing, "What? Am I supposed to?" The inquiry comes out defensive as her gaze narrows into something guarded. 

Gnawing softly at your cheek, hesitating at the tone she'd used. It wasn't a requirement per se. Rayne was only eight after all but you still vividly remember sneaking into your mom's vanity at that age — rummaging through her makeup, smearing bold lipstick onto your lips and slapping all kinds of powder onto your face. 

"Well…" you start, forehead creasing slightly as you stare out at nothing in particular, "No." Shaking your head softly, you then tilt it back to peer up at her, squinting slightly against the afternoon sun, "I thought it would be a fun thing for us to do together, you know, girl to girl." 

Her eyes widen at that, only for a moment before sharpening with suspicion again as her fingers curl around the fabric of her jeans. 

"I know that your dad does your hair from time to time," you add after a short pause, "Though your brother tells me that he doesn't do a very good job for the most part." 

Rayne actually makes a small sound that could have almost been mistaken for a laugh — the corner of her lip twitching into something just shy of an actual smile. "No," she agrees quietly. "He makes the braids uneven," a small roll of her eye follows, "And it always falls apart by lunch." 

The giggle that bubbles from your chest is carefree, as warm as the setting sun outside and you wished she would find it in herself to share it with you. "See?" you muse, tapping the hot rollers in front of you with a grin, "Boys have no idea what they're doing." Cocking her a brow, you add, "Us girls need to stick together you see." 

She nods thoughtfully, hands still curled tight around her pants but her gaze has drifted to the eyeshadow palette next to your knee. Beneath the reluctance there was something akin to longing, barely there but still visible if you looked hard enough. 

The longer you thought about it the more you came to realize that you and Rayne were not so different after all. Growing up in the absence of her mother with only a father and brother who knew as much about being a woman as a fish did walking on land. 

Perhaps you weren't the only one wishing for a sister. 

"What do you say we give this a go?" Gesturing toward the array of items scattered across the floor, you glance up at her with a hopeful smile. 

A long moment of silence passes until Rayne finally nods, a slow tilt of her head that hints at no enthusiasm but fills you with excitement nonetheless. 

Rayne's usually quiet bedroom had never been so lively before. The tidy space had become a mess by this point, brushes and empty plastic packaging leaving a trail to where the two of you sat on the floor. A record player — one you had found within the depths of her closet moments ago — was playing a CD of ABBA, the melody singing through the air. 

"Feel the beat from the tambourine," you hum softly, fingers carding through a dark strand of her hair as you reach for another roller. 

Having taken out the ponytail that she always wore, you realized just how long Rayne's hair actually was. The dark black was a stark contrast to her warm, honey tinted skin and it reached all the way to her elbows when allowed to flow freely. She had insisted that this wasn't needed and that she should be just fine leaving her hair untouched but you forced her down in front of the mirror. 

Placing a bobby pin between your lips, you continue to hum along quietly to the song. "You can dance, you can jive," Twisting the lock of hair up around the warm plastic roller, you pluck the pin to fasten it in place. The rollers were thankfully not hot to the touch but you were still carefully to not hurt her. 

Rayne, for her part, sat perfectly still. Her legs were crossed and she rests one hand on each knee as she gazes at her reflection in the mirror. Whenever you looked up your eyes met — you would send her a smile which she did not reciprocate, but she did not look uncomfortable either so you counted the win anyway. 

"How much longer?" She asks when you fasten another roller. Her shoulders flexed as she adjusted herself — her straightened back serving as a ridicule to your hunched over one. 

Pausing, you lean back to asses your work thus far. "Not long," you note, counting the rollers you had left under your breath, "Five more." 

She heaved a sigh at that, but nodded slowly as she allowed you to continue. This was likely the most tedious part of it all but you trusted that the results would be worth it in the end. 

As you stuck the bobby pin into the final roll you took a second to scan the product of your hard work. "Alright, you'll need to keep them in for a while," you tell her when stuffing the remaining pins back into their small box. 

"They're uncomfortable," Rayne complains, her voice bordering on a whine that was most unlikely of her. Though she doesn't actually look displeased when you catch her face in the mirror. She reaches a small hand up to touch carefully at the roller holding her fringe, lips pursed in contemplation. "Are you sure this will work?" she asks. 

You nod, perhaps a little too quickly, "Positive."

The record player jammed slightly between song shifts but a moment later a new tune filled the bedroom, one you did not recognize but still tried to hum along to. "Okay, let's move to the next step while we wait," you declare when reaching for the makeup palette beside you. 

Rayne cocks a brow as she follows the movement with her eyes, their earlier reluctance now replaced with curiosity. "What's it for?" She points to the variety of colors, all divided into square sections. 

"It's for your eyelids," you explain when scooting over to sit in front of her, crossing your legs as you get comfortable. Opening the clear lid, you show her the different options, ranging from bright blues to deep greens, bold yellows, oranges and much more. "Take your pick!" 

She hesitates when the decision is so suddenly pushed into her lap, swallowing audibly when leaning forward for a closer look. Teeth closing around her bottom lip, Rayne studies the different colors closely, some had clearly been used more than others, you were a woman of habit after all. 

After a minute's of intense thinking she lifts one finger and points it toward the soft lilac one. "That one," she says with a dismissive shrug, feigning nonchalance as she turns her attention to the floor. 

The corner of your mouth threatens you with a smile and you quickly hide it by turning to grab a fluffy brush from your bag. "That one is perfect," you say when dipping the bristles into the color, swirling them around to gather the powder onto them. 

Rayne follows the action closely through hooded eyes, pretending not to pay as close attention as she was, though the fact that she had stopped picking at her jeans were a tell tale sign. "Not too much," she murmurs, a last attempt at remarking the entire situation. 

"Not too much," you echo, dusting the brush by tapping it against the edge of the palette. Once that was done you straightened up as you held the brush between pinched fingers, "Okay, close your eyes." 

After throwing you another skeptical look she does as she's told, her lashes fluttering slightly when she lets her eyes fall shut. In the distance, the music playing fades out as the track jumps to play another song — leaving the two of you in silence as you brush the brush to one of her eyes. 

Your touch is careful so to not accidentally poke the corner of her eye with the bristles when you drag them over her closed lid. The warmth of her steady exhales fans across your chin when you lean forward to see better as you dab the lilac powder onto her.

The CD comes to life again but the new melody becomes background noise for all that exists in this moment is you and Rayne. She sits perfectly still and had it not been for the twitch of her brow when you move from one eye to the other one could have easily mistaken her for a statue. The muted purple goes on easily, covering the faint outlines of veins that lay across her lids. 

"Keep them closed," you hum when pulling back to dip the brush back into the palette to retrieve more color. Swiveling the fine strands in the lilac once, you bring a steady hand back to apply the second layer — going over it twice made it stick better — something you had picked up during your late teens. 

Rayne doesn't flinch when the soft bristles return to her lids and though the corner of her lip twitches, she says nothing as she allows you to continue. 

Your heart clenches in your chest the setting sun no longer keeping you warm but rather the girl in front of you. "It's turning out beautiful" the acknowledgement is no louder than the song playing from her desk but given your proximity she definitely heard it. 

"It better be," Rayne huffs, even then there was amusement in her voice, the kind that makes you smile without meaning to. And perhaps it was a little selfish for you to linger even the brush no longer held any color and the layer had been spread evenly by your skilled hands — but you wished to linger in the moment. 

You wondered if she'd ever had this done to her before. The simple gesture of applying soft purple to her eyelids and having someone run their fingers through her long hair. Judging by her initial reluctance you decide that she hasn't. It makes you sad, a lot sadder than you thought it would. 

"Okay," finally sitting back, you tap the brush against the edge of the palette before closing it completely, "You can open them now." 

Rayne does just that, lashes fluttering against her cheeks when she blinks, letting her eyes adjust to the sudden invasion of light. Scooting to the side, you allow her room to behold herself in the full body mirror in front of her which she does after some hesitation. 

Her palms are braced on her knees when she tilts forward, just enough to catch sight of the purple that now coats her lids. She studies the result intently, tracking her own reflection the same way you remember doing by your mother's vanity all those years ago. Then she slowly lifts one hand, the tip of her index finger lightly touching the corner of her eye. 

For a second you're worried that she's going to react negatively. Perhaps she would reject the entire idea again, demand you wash it off and refuse to attend the dance all together. But Rayne simply nods once, a careful tilt of her head that betrays nothing but her quiet approval. 

"I like it," she says as she her hand drop back to rest against her leg. When you don't immediately respond enthusiastically she turns to you with a frown. "What?" she murmurs, "Why are you looking at me like that?" 

You shrug, "Like what?" Despite your attempt at indifference you could not fight off the grin that curved into your cheeks. It was impossible not to be enamored with her in this moment for she looked so unlike the Rayne you thought you knew. 

The crease between her brow deepens and her gaze narrows on you, "Like… I don't know—" she scoffs, "All weird." 

Your lips stretched wider at that as you hum, "I just think you look pretty." 

She turns her head away when the words register but you still caught the flush that crept its way to her face as she clears her throat. "You're ridiculous," she says, nudging one of the rollers in her hair absently to distract herself from the conversation taking place. 

Part of you wants to argue that you were being perfectly serious, the other however, is simply content watching her with the same cheesy grin as she tried to play the compliment off. 

The rest of the late afternoon is spent in similar fashion. The disc you had stuffed into the CD player came to an end and the tracks looped back to the beginning as it started over. Neither of you commented on it, and Rayne actually started humming along to a few of the familiar songs — though you pretended not to notice as you smiled to yourself. 

You were now in the midst of painting her nails in shimmering purple, one tiny hand resting in your own bigger one as you swipe the brush over her nail bed. The sharp smell of acetone prickled at your nose as it clung to the air between you, but it did nothing to deter your precision as you worked. 

Outside the sun had completely set and your only source of light was the lamp, usually placed on her desk, that now stood beside you both on the floor. Its warm yellow hues makes the purple appear almost brownish though you knew you had read the bottle correctly. 

Rayne sits quietly, her posture never once faltering as she keeps herself ramrod straight. You had given up the pretense of that since long, favoring comfort as you hunched over her hand. She didn't speak, you didn't either — it wasn't awkward nor tense as it so often would be whenever the two of you were alone, and you even dared hope that things might actually take a turn for the better from this point forward.

You had just finished applying an even layer of purple to her ring finger when a sudden voice cut through Dancing Queen's second run on the CD player. "Are you almost finished? We need to leave soon—" The door is cracked open enough for Jungkook's frame to squeeze through, his gaze falling on the scene in front of him as his brows raise on his forehead. 

Though he barely gets to finish his sentence before you're on your feet. "Out!" you shrill, already rushing over, nail polish forgotten about as your hands shove at his chest. 

The force you use is enough to make him stumble backward a step and Jungkook frowns as he redirects his attention to you rather than his daughter — who had turned her head to glance at you both over her shoulder. 

"You're not allowed in here right now," you say as you usher him back over the threshold he'd dare to cross. His confusion visibly mounts with each passing moment but you ignore it as you shield Rayne from his line of sight dramatically. 

Jungkook exhales a sharp breath, "I— What?" His dark eyes find yours, immediately trapping you in place and you feel your heart stutter in your chest when you take in his attire. His hair was neatly combed and styled, as it usually was, but the black tuxedo he wears catches you off guard. Sure you were quite accustomed to Jungkook dressing adequately, the button ups and the dress pants… But this was different. 

Your palms are still braced on his chest, the slightly erratic thumping of what could only be his own heart, beating against your right one. He's yet to utter a single word since you so blatantly pushed him out of his daughter's room and you realize that he was waiting patiently for an explanation. 

"You can't be here," pulling back a fraction, you peer at him with determination, "This is a girl thing — besides, it'll ruin the effect if you see her before I'm done." 

Jungkook cocks a sharp brow, hands twitching by his sides like he was fighting the urge to reach out. "A girl thing?" he repeats in a low drawl, gaze flickering over your shoulder to which you quickly follow up by stepping to the side and blocking him again. 

"Yes," you tilt your chin, fingers flattening out the crease your previous roughing up had caused to his tux, "Boys won't understand." 

The disbelief on his face grows at that but you allow him no room to speak as you usher him out into the hallway. "Go!" Your command seems to break through the haze and Jungkook blinks once as his attention snaps back to you. His lips part, perhaps to inquire further on the matter though he ultimately seems to decide against it. 

He nods, throwing a glance toward the watch around his wrist before exhaling through his nose. "Thirty minutes," he grunts, then he turns on his heel as he heads down the hall, presumably to wait downstairs now that he'd been banished from his daughter's bedroom. 

Once he's out of sight you turn back to Rayne with a sigh, letting the door fall shut behind you. "What did I tell you?" Walking over and plopping back on the floor in front of her, you pick up the nail polish as you silently ask for her hand. "Boys don't know the first thing about stuff like this," you muse when dipping the brush into the polish. 

Rayne, who'd been watching the interaction silently, said nothing. But you thought you could see the edges of her mouth twitching slightly. 

An hour and a half had passed since the two of you first sat down to get started — but you could now finally say that you were finished. Rayne stands in front of the full body mirror, the purple dress falling around her small frame rather elegantly. The sparkly midsection glimmers under the warm glow of the lamp — which had been moved back to its home on her desk. 

Her hair, free from the hot rollers at last, now flows in gorgeous waves down her back as you run your fingers through the dark locks carefully. "What do you think?" you ask when parting her hair and moving it over both of her shoulders, letting it spill down her chest where it curled in place neatly. 

Rayne remains quiet for a moment. The purple shadow you had placed on her lids did its job in highlighting her dark brown eyes and she blinks slowly as she regards her reflection in the glass. Her cheeks are dusted in warm pink — an addition you had added which made it hard to tell if she was actually blushing or not. 

Her fingers find a wavy strand which she curls around the digit slowly. "Pretty," she murmurs in a voice so quiet it barely sounded like her at all. Though the CD player had been cut off when she went to change and you heard the soft admission clearly in the silence of her bedroom. 

If you had been able to pry your gaze away from her, you're sure you would've caught the beaming smile on your lips in the mirror. Pretty wasn't enough to even begin to cover it. Rayne was always beautiful — there had never been any doubt about that — but tonight she looks out of this world. You can't help but feel a small swell of pride in your chest at the accomplishment. 

"You are." Hands coming to rest on her shoulders, you both continue to regard the finish product of your lengthy session together a moment longer. Both her brother and father were probably waiting rather impatiently at this point, Cassian had been particularly downcast when he'd learned that he wasn't allowed to enter his sister's room. But you were in no rush. 

"Oh," you suddenly perk up, "I almost forgot." Letting go of her, you quickly head over to crouch by your discarded bag on the floor. It takes some rummaging, you weren't exactly organized, but your fingers eventually closed around a familiar tube. 

Holding it up for her to see, you grin triumphantly. "The finishing touch," you hum when walking back to Rayne who was watching you with a frown. The cheap brand name had since long been smudged, intelligible by this point but the lipstick itself still did its job. 

You twist it open, spinning the bottom a few times to get the product out before showing her the soft pink. "Alright." Leaning down slightly, you reach out with your unoccupied hand to gently cup her jaw. "This will only take a second," you assure her, even though the young girl made no attempts at protesting. 

Her lips part slightly as you carefully apply the cosmetic on top of them, spreading the color in an even layer — smudging away any excess with the help of your thumb. "Go like this," you say, smacking your own lips together when returning the cap onto the tube and sealing it once more. 

Rayne follows your lead, blending the pink slightly in the process. Her gaze flickers between herself in the mirror before returning to you. She doesn't comment on the shade but she also doesn't wipe it off again, which was a success you think. 

"Lipstick fades pretty quickly," you say, "So I think it's best that you bring this one with you." Nodding toward the small purse you had allowed her to borrow for tonight, you then place the tube in her hand, closing her fist around with softly. 

She tenses at that, brows pinching together as she sends you a conflicted look. "Really?" Rayne asks, the tender disbelief in her voice makes your chest clench and you quickly nod. 

"Sure!" you smile, giving her shoulder a tiny squeeze, "If you like it you can keep it, I have plenty more at home." That was a lie. You only had this and a bold red which you reserved for special occasions that rarely came. But the flicker of hope within her dark eyes as they turned to the lipstick in her hand was more than enough for you to willingly make the sacrifice. 

Rayne hums, thumb tracing the bottom of the tube reverently. "Thank you," she says, and your breath nearly caught in your throat. It was the first time you'd heard her utter those words in a way that actually sounded sincere. The expression of gratitude takes you by surprise, though she doesn't seem to notice as she continues to study her freshly painted lips in the mirror. 

"Of course," you exhale when managing to get a half-hearted grip on yourself again. One glance at the clock on her desk though, makes you realize that time was quickly running out and you spring into action once more. "I'll go downstairs and get your dad and brother, don't come down until I tell you to, okay?" 

She gives you a questioning look but obeys with a soft nod, slowly heading over to grab the purse waiting for her on the bed. 

You find both Jungkook and Cassian waiting in the living room. The younger was restlessly skipping around while his father leaned against the fireplace with his hands buried in his pockets. They both glanced up at your arrival, heads snapping in your direction like they had been counting down the seconds themselves. 

"Nanny!" Cassian exclaims as he scurries over, fingers wrapping around the sleeve of your shirt tightly, "Is she done? Is she done?" When you nod he makes a squealing noise, waving his father over as he tries to contain his excitement. 

Jungkook pushes himself off the mantle, joining you a moment later. If he was nervous about the evening then he did not show it — his face resembling a detached mask of indifference, even as you guide them back into the hallway. "Let's wait for her by the stairs," you say, fighting to keep the smirk from your lips. 

It takes a while to get Cassian to settle down, the boy looked ready to leap upstairs and you held onto both of his shoulders firmly so to not ruin the surprise. When he finally calms enough to at least stay rooted to the spot you turn your attention to the upper floor. 

"Okay, you can come down!" Your voice bounces off the pale walls and is shortly followed by faint shuffling above before silence returns. Jungkook stands beside you, his posture just as rigid as that of his daughter, his nonchalance betrayed only by the way he moved to absently fiddle the black silk around his neck. 

Another moment passes — the seconds stretching for what felt like an eternity — until Rayne finally appears at the top of the stairs. 

The air inside the Jeon estate shifted in an instant, the anticipation that had been building finally reaching its climax as both her brother and father turn their heads in her direction.

But you're not looking at her. No, your gaze is fixed on Jungkook — who's fingers had gone slack around the tie he'd been adjusting, the action seemingly forgotten as he takes in the sight of his daughter on top of the staircase. 

Mesmerized. That was the best way to describe the look in his eyes as they tracked Rayne's careful descent down the steps. The ever present crease between his brows let up, giving way to something much softer — younger. His Adam's apple bobs with his next swallow, lips parted in a silent exhale that looks like its been punched from his lungs. 

Rayne avoids making eye contact with all of you, keeping her head bowed as her fingers clutch the banister — the purple shimmer on her nails sparkling under the light of the chandelier. 

"Wow," Cassian sounds awestruck, "She looks like a real princess, daddy!" He tugs on the sleeve of his father's tux but Jungkook pays the small boy no mind — he has yet to look away from his daughter. 

Finally he gives a barely noticeable tilt of his chin. "Yes," he whispers hoarsely, "She does." He regards her almost longingly, as though he was seeing something for the first time. And when Rayne reaches the bottom step, he's there, one large hand outstretched, his palm open for her taking. 

She hesitates, glancing at Jungkook's hand like it was a foreign object before she finally lets go of the banister as her much tinier one is placed in his hold. His fingers close around her own and he guides her off the last step, much like a gentleman. 

Her younger brother can no longer hold himself back as he frees himself from your grasp. His arms wrap around Rayne with surprising force, catching both his sister and father of guard, though he is none the wiser as he lets his cheek press against hers. 

"My sister is a princess!" He says proudly, the words muffled against her hair. 

Rayne finally unfreezes from the sudden embrace and she lifts the hand currently clutching your purse to give her brother an awkward pat on the back. 

Jungkook has yet to let go of her, or tear his gaze from her for that matter. You didn't think he would anytime soon and your heart warmed at the thought. "Okay, okay," gently prying Cassian away from his sister, you haul him back against you, "They're going to be late of you don't let her go soon." 

He pouts slightly but gives a solemn tilt of his head. "I wish we could go too," he then whines, craning his neck to peer up at you with hopeful eyes. 

You simply shake your head, stroking his hair back, "We'll just have our own dance at home, how about that?" The proposal does seem to put his mind at ease and Cassian gives up on harassing his sister for the moment. 

"Alright," Jungkook has cleared his throat, still looking slightly dazed as he jerks his chin in the direction of the front door. "Shoes and coat on," he instructs as he lets go of Rayne's hand. She complies without question, the frills of her dress swaying slightly as she heads over to the shoe rack. 

Lingering by the stairs, you wrap your arms around Cassian as you watch them both pull on their shoes, freezing when you suddenly remember yourself. "Wait!" The blurted exclamation slices through the air, making three heads turn your way as the entire family sends you a confused look. But before any of them can ask you've released Cassian, already halfway up the steps to the second floor. 

You move on autopilot, barreling through the door to Rayne's bedroom as you fall to your knees beside the duffel bag you had brought. God, you really had to start organizing your things, it took way longer than it should for you to find the cool surface of your camera. An older model that you had gotten for your eighteenth birthday after much pleading with your father — a treasured possession of yours. 

With the heavy weight of it placed on your hands, you rush back downstairs, finding everyone exactly where you'd left them, all with puzzled expressions. Jungkook is the first to notice the camera you're clutching, brows furrowing as he opens his mouth to speak — only to be dismissed by the wave of your hand. 

"Stand a little closer," you say when stepping forward, closing one eye as you bring the camera to the other. 

The pair hesitates, the young girl sending her father a quick glance before turning her gaze toward the floor. It's not until Jungkook places a hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her to his side that a smile finds its way to your lips, "Perfect." 

"Big smiles," you chirp, peering at them through the camera as you angle it to capture them clearly. They both frown at the same time, their expressions perfectly mirroring the other and you resist the giggle that bubbles in your chest. "Come on!" Your encouragement seems to have some effect as they both force two awkward smiles onto their lips. 

You snap the photo quickly, not wanting to let the precious moment slip between your fingers. The camera flashes brightly and when it's over you tilt it to peer at the results. They look nothing short of perfect — textbook gorgeous yet there was something truly ethereal about them. 

Next to you, Cassian as already jumping on his feet as he tries to catch a glimpse himself. "Let me see, let me see," he says impatiently. 

Meanwhile Jungkook and Rayne have separated, the former clearing his throat as he reaches for their respective coats. They slip them on silently, avoiding each other's gazes as the sound of clothes rustling fills the hallway. 

Once they're both fully dressed Cassian runs up to hug them both goodbye. "Have fun," you tell them when placing the camera down on the dresser. They nod in unison, in sync with seemingly every action. "Make sure he sleeps by eight," Jungkook says as he sends his son a pointed glance. 

"I've got it," you hum, arms wrapping around the tiny boy a second time when he returns to stand with you. 

His father appears satisfied with that as he unlocks the front door, letting Rayne step out first before joining her. It shuts behind them with a soft click, leaving the behind a silent house and excitement that slowly fades into something more serene. 

"Nanny," Cassian says, twisting in your embrace as he peers at you through dark lashes, "Can we take a photo too?" 

Jungkook came to the swift conclusion that he disliked the children's school just as much during the evening as he did in the day time — in fact as he and Rayne steps out of the car, he thinks this might be worse. 

The ride here, though short, had been spent in silence for the most part. Jungkook had mulled over the dimming headlights that he would need to get fixed sooner rather than later. He'd been pushing the matter back on his agenda as he dreaded the awful and inevitable meeting with Mr. Williams, a man in his late fifties who had a thing for both Jungkook and his car it seemed. 

If he had his way, Jungkook would probably ignore the problem for another couple of weeks as he drowned himself in work and holiday preparations. But with the cold and dark winter season the malfunctioning lights were becoming an apparent issue that he could no longer bring himself to dismiss. 

Tomorrow, he tells himself as he shoves the keys into the pocket of his tux — the garment far too restricting for his liking, though he did not let it show. There were other matters on his mind right now, like the sound of conversation that floats around him, impossible to block out. 

This dance was something he would avoid if he could help it. Only you had been insistent, Jungkook almost groans at the recollection of that night. He should've shot it down again, argued that Rayne would not want to go and spare himself the awkward two hours of interacting with parents whom he knew nothing about. But he found it impossible to deny you, for whatever infuriating reason. 

Up ahead the entrance had been lit up. The doors were held open on hatches, a red carpet that felt more like a dare than an invitation rolled out on the ground. He scanned the area briefly, noting the array of fathers, all leading their daughters' by the hand as they headed inside. His throat goes dry at the thought of having to plower through mundane small talk with them. 

A chilly breeze draws past, reminding him of the harsh December month and the coats they had left behind in the car. His attention is instinctively drawn to Rayne. She stands beside him, arms folded tightly across her chest as she, too, eyes the entrance with reluctance. 

Her hair is picked up by the wind, a few strands gluing to her face, though she makes no attempt at pushing them away. Jungkook studies her silently, he could not remember the last time he saw her dressed in anything other than the plain sweaters and pants she had him purchase for her — if ever. 

He did not care much for how his children chose to dress themselves, long as it was appropriate. Yet there was no denying that his daughter looked absolutely breathtaking tonight. He doesn't know what it is you've done, doesn't linger on the matter either. All he knows is that she was the prettiest girl he had ever laid his eyes on. 

Rayne startles slightly when Jungkook loops his arm around hers, gaze flickering up to meet his in a way that makes his heart ache terribly in his chest. She glances toward the entrance and back at him, "We can still turn back…", she murmurs. 

He finds himself frowning at that. Her hesitation dims the flicker of warmth just as quickly as it had come. It would be easy to nod, to take her home and leave it at that — but his tongue disagrees before his mind can catch up. "No," he says, tightening his grip on her arm, "I want to dance with my beautiful daughter." 

She blinks up at him slowly, lips parting before pressing shut again. Though she doesn't respond, she still clings to him in a way she usually wouldn't as she lets him lead her inside. Jungkook decides then that this night would be worth the painful social interaction that waits beyond those doors and that he would endure it as long as it meant making her happy. 

It's hot inside the school, suffocatingly so. Bodies crowd the hallway, purple lights leading them all the way until to a much more open area. Judging by the tables and chairs pushed against its four walls this had to be the cafeteria. Balloons in all shades lilac are stuck to the ceiling and the pillars that held it up. Lanterns in the same color occupy the tables, next to a few of them large bowls filled with what he presumes to be punch sits. 

In the center of the room is a makeshift dance floor, already filled with fathers and their daughters. It was barely past seven yet music was already playing and a good dozen pairs had already taken to dancing. Above, a large chandelier hangs, its soft yellow glow contrasting the purple theme of the entire ordeal. 

Next to him Rayne shifts awkwardly, her eyes swiping across the room quietly as she chews on her bottom lip. Jungkook tries to think of something to say that would soothe her nerves, perhaps his own as well, but before he gets the chance to, the bruising noise of microphone sparking echoes through the room — a slightly hoarse yet cheerful voice follows a second later. 

"Hello everyone! We welcome you to Oakridge Preparatory's thirty-fifth annual Daddy Daughter dance!" 

Jungkook glances over to the improvised stage across the room. A wooden structure that makes him question how they had even gotten it inside in the first place — perhaps it had been built on the spot. His gaze drifts to the old woman standing on top of it, immediately recognizing her as the principal — Mrs. Fig. 

He'd met her briefly when enrolling Cassian, the encounter had been stale and unpleasant — she talked too much for his liking but right now he wishes she would go on a while longer so to prolong the inevitable. 

Mrs. Fig adjusts the round glasses that sit on the bridge of her nose before continuing: "We've prepared music seeing as the band couldn't make it this year…" she trails off before clearing her throat, "There's punch as well, please help yourselves and remember to have fun!" 

With that she disconnects the mic sending another jarring jolt of electricity through the room, cutting the speech far too short for Jungkook's liking. The music is turned up a moment later, a song he recognizes, Every Breath You Take he thinks it might be called. 

Pairs of fathers and their daughters start filling out the dance floor, easily falling into step so naturally in the way Jungkook knows he will never be able to replicate. His hesitation lasts only a second, then he's moving forward, legs carrying him with determination he didn't even realize he had. 

Rayne stumbles beside him before catching up, brows furrowed deeply as she glances up at him. "What are you doing?" she asks as she lets him lead her through the crowd of people. 

Jungkook shrugs, "Dancing." He comes to a halt when he finds a spot he deems suitable, forcing his shoulders to relax as he guides her hands to his forearms. She allows it, albeit reluctantly, skeptical eyes swiveling around the room once more before finding their way back to him. "Just like we practiced," he says as he begins to move. 

They had spent long nights in the living room, awkwardly stumbling over each other's feet and Jungkook mentally cursing himself for actually preparing for this evening. Their latest attempt yesterday had been pathetic, he hadn't said that of course, but he'd thought it. Right now? Everything seemed to click into place. 

He didn't consider himself a good dancer — never had. Ten years ago he wouldn't even have entertained the idea of doing something like this. And yet, as he watches his daughter under the warm lights, yellows and purples mixing onto her face, the small furrow of concentration etched to her features, he cannot imagine himself to be anywhere else. 

The tip of her shoe accidentally nudges his and Rayne glances up at him sheepishly. Jungkook simply shrugs, pulling her along as he twirls her in his arms. The purple dress you had gotten her sways around her legs, Cassian had been right in saying that she looks like a princess, he thinks. 

The room around them fades until all he can see is her. His daughter. Dark brown hair falls unevenly down her shoulders, the soft pink that dusts her round cheeks and the way she bites her lip as she focuses on getting her steps right. 

Rayne had always reminded him of her mother — the woman he'd spent years loving. And though Jungkook doesn't blame himself for what happened, he hates himself for the mistakes he's made with his daughter, he probably will for the rest of his life. 

She had her mother's face but she was undoubtedly him in every other sense. Sometimes he found himself frightened by the stark similarities they shared. He did not know how to handle them, how to handle her. But he vows there and then to try his best, for Rayne. 

The evening passes relatively calmly. Dancing was not as bad as he'd initially thought and after a few songs they found themselves by one of the tables serving fruit punch. Rayne stayed close to his side, and though she did not know it, her presence comforted him just as much as his probably did her. 

There were a few others before them, two fathers chatting happily with one another, though Jungkook would rather sink through the ground than have to engage in their conversation. He's content to stand quietly beside his daughter, keeping their arms looped together despite the risk of them getting separated was slim. 

Just as the others clear out and Jungkook reaches for the ladle in the punch, a voice he recognizes with dread pierces the comfortable silence he and Rayne shared. 

"Mr Jeon!" 

He doesn't have to turn to know who it is, he does anyway, just to be polite. Ms Song approaches their table with a smile too wide, too friendly, it doesn't feel genuine. You would never smile like that. Jungkook shakes the thought as quickly as it had come, fingers curling a little tighter around the cold metal handle. 

"It's so nice to see you here," She says when tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The dress she wears feels far from appropriate for a setting like this, low cut and figure framing in a way none of the other teachers' were. 

Jungkook gives a small tilt of his head and has half a mind to ask what she was doing here. Last he recalled she did not have Rayne in any subject. But Ms Song is already turning to his daughter, leaning down to come eye level with her, in turn making her chest spill out of her tight dress and Jungkook averts his gaze with a quiet scoff. 

"You must be Cassian's big sister," she says as she extends a hand, "I'm his homeroom teacher." 

Rayne eyes her outstretched hand warily but ends up taking it. Ms Song shakes it gently before letting go and straightening back up, seemingly unfazed by their lack of response. She turns back to Jungkook, and he feels awfully distracted by the vibrant color on her lips. 

"I honestly didn't expect to see you tonight, but it's such a nice surprise." Her tone is light, a pitch too high, betraying her obvious interest in conversing with him. 

Jungkook tries to think of an excuse to have them both leave before she gets the chance to bombard him with prying questions about his life, though the cup he holds in one hand and the ladle filled with punch keeps him rooted to the spot. 

Ms Song is not oblivious to this, unfortunately, and she nods in the bowl's direction. "I heard the punch is supposed to be good," she says as she flashes him an expectant smile. 

Pressing his lips into a firm line and biting down on his tongue, Jungkook fills the cup before handing it to Rayne who takes it with a small 'thanks'. Then he reaches for another, repeating the process, all the while Ms Song's invasive eyes continue to linger. He extends it toward her without a word, ignoring the way she leaves her fingers on top of his a moment longer than necessary when she takes it. 

"Thank you," she hums as she brings the cup to her lips, letting them wrap around its rim and taking a sip. Her lashes flutter when she bats them at him and Jungkook wonders if it's given her a headache yet — one could hope. 

She lowers the cup and it looks as though she's about to say something else when the sound of another man's voice suddenly interrupts her. "Ms Song!" He's weaving through the crowd, the hair on his head a mess. Jungkook doesn't recognize him but judging by his lack of a child, he thinks he must be another teacher. 

"The music is doing that thing again, it keeps breaking up and Mr. Brown doesn't know how to fix it…" He trails off when he notices both Jungkook and Rayne, giving a polite nod before turning his attention back to the woman between them. 

Ms Song heaves a sigh, the subtle roll of her eyes not going him unnoticed as she sends Jungkook an apologetic glance. "I'll be right there," she calls out, painted nails digging into the cup. "I hope to see you around tonight," her voice has an uncomfortable lilt to it and Jungkook responds only with a small hum. 

The second she takes her leave he feels his shoulders slump, exhaustion washing over him as a result of the brief yet painful encounter. He silently decides to thank whatever mighty power above had caused the interruption and steered her away from him. 

"She likes you."

Rayne's blunt remark pulls him from his thought and he turns to her with a frown. "She does?" He questions back, caught off guard by how observant she was being. 

His daughter simply nods, still sipping on her fruit punch as her gaze travels across the room. "Girls do that when they like someone," she explains after another gulp, "They make excuses to talk about stuff with you, even when they don't actually have anything important to say." 

He feels his forehead crease even further as he considers her response. Making excuses to talk to him? His mind immediately wanders to you and he tries to think of any instance in which you had done the same. 

He remembers the awkward conversations you had steered him onto whenever you were alone, usually in the kitchen after the children had gone to bed. Jungkook never found them to be insignificant, he quite liked hearing you talk. 

"You don't like her do you?" Rayne asks, she's watching him over the rim of her cup, distracting herself with small sips. It was unusual of her to ask questions like that — especially regarding a topic such as this. 

Jungkook shakes his head, "No," he muses. He did not like Ms Song, perhaps ten years ago he would've, she seemed like the type he went for back then. But he is not the same man he was a decade ago, and for that he was thankful. 

"Is it because you like nanny?" 

His heart might as well have sank to the bottom of the ocean when her words registered. For the first time since the two of them left home, the silence that lingered felt anything but comfortable. He briefly consider just outright ignoring her, to pretend like he hadn't heard the uttered words in the first place — but he knows he cannot. 

He turns to her, avoiding looking her in the eye as he takes the half finished cup of fruit punch from her hands. Rayne doesn't protest, wiping her lips with the back of her hand as she watches him. 

Bringing the cup to his face, he peers down at the liquid that swirls inside — taunting him into delivering the answer waiting on his tongue. Jungkook inhales through his nose, the sweet scent of fruit filling his senses, it's almost too sweet. 

"Yes." 

It's all he says before bringing the cup to his lips as he takes a long sip. He prays that his daughter won't catch the tremble to his fingers, the white knuckled grip he holds on the innocent plastic cup — hard enough for it to crack. 

But Rayne says nothing, letting her gaze return to the crowded room as she watches her peers dance with their fathers. Despite the music — now playing smoothly again thanks to Ms Song — it's quiet where the two of them stand. 

Jungkook busies himself with the fruit punch for as long as he can, which isn't long at all seeing as he was downing the sickeningly sweet drink in big gulps. Once the cup is empty he's left staring at it like it held all the answers to the mysteries of the universe. 

Beside him, Rayne shifts her weight from one foot to the other and when he dares to drag his attention over to her, he finds his daughter opening the purse that rests by her side, held together by a thin strap. She reaches a hand inside, pulling it back a moment later, this time cradling a small, black tube. 

He studies her as Rayne twists the cap off, spinning its bottom a few times. It's only when the soft pink appears that Jungkook realizes it was a lipstick she held. Her lips part and she applies it carefully onto them — once she's done she smacks them together before repeating her earlier ministrations and sealing the tube again. 

"Where did you get that?" He asks, his voice coming out hoarser than he had intended for it to. Jungkook bought everything she asked for — which wasn't a lot. He would've known of a lipstick in her possession. 

Rayne hums, placing the cosmetic back into the purse before sealing it tight. "Nanny gave it to me," she pauses before adding, "She said I could keep it." 

Jungkook nods slowly, his eyes lingering on the purse a second longer as he recalls the way you had shoved him out of his daughter's bedroom earlier that afternoon — the frantic look on your face as you kept him from stealing as much as a glance at his own child. 

He turns back to the fruit punch, filling the cup once more despite the drink tasting horrendous. Though he had spent a good half an hour trying to figure out why he wasn't allowed in her bedroom during the process of her getting ready, he'd later come to the conclusion that he would forever remain clueless. 

Must be some of that girl stuff you were talking about, he thinks to himself as he takes a small sip. 

By nine pm the dance came to a close as tired children clung to their dads who carried them out of the building. Despite the event being a brief two hours — Jungkook already knows he would rather take a twelve hour day at the office. He does not think he's ever felt as drained as he did when he got into the drivers seat to pull out of the parking lot. 

After their conversation by the fruit punch, Rayne had not mentioned you again, nor had she brought up the confession he had made without thinking his answer through even once. In fact she had asked to dance again — taking him by surprise but Jungkook had not denied her as he offered his hand. 

Their second try out on the floor had gone even smoother. No more stiff shoulders or stepping on toes. Rayne had even smiled as he twirled her around, a shy, barely-there curl of her lips but Jungkook had caught it under the dim lights and he treasured it close to his heart. 

The late Friday night left the streets nearly vacant and as he drove the car to a stop by a red light, he glanced at Rayne in the rear view mirror. 

Her lipstick was smudged from an additional two cups of fruit punch, the waves in her hair diffused as a result of her hands running through the strands. She hadn't spoken a word since he'd turned on the engine and Jungkook understood why when he caught sight of her shut eyes. Head propped up against the window at an awkward angle, Rayne slept soundly in the backseat. 

She would rarely — if ever — doze off during car rides. He thinks the night must've left her twice as exhausted as him. 

The light ahead turns green pulling Jungkook's attention to the road. His fingers drum softly against the wheel and the hand he keeps on the clutch reaches up to shut the radio off. 

Rayne had yet to wake by the time he pulled up in their driveway and he sits silently with her for a minute or two before forcing himself out into the cold. The December air is harsh and unforgiving as he quickly rounds the car to carefully pull her door open. Thankfully secured by her seat belt, Rayne's head simply lolls to her shoulder when she's robbed of her makeshift pillow. 

Jungkook moves efficiently, leaning over her to unbuckle the leather that held her in place before draping both his and her coat over her bare shoulders. Then he lifts her from the seat slowly, trying his best not to jostle his sleeping daughter as he knocked the car door shut with his foot. 

He can't remember the last time he'd carried Rayne in his arms. It had to have been years for she was not nearly as affectionate as her younger brother. The weight of her in his arms and the warmth of her body still makes his heart beat a little faster — the same way it had when he'd first gotten to hold her that day at the hospital eight years ago. He leans down to bury his nose in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her — his daughter. 

When he rounds the front of the car he pauses, the headlights give a weak flicker before going dark again and Jungkook sighs. Tomorrow, he tells himself before heading for the front door. 

── [ ✉️ ] So like, surprise Jungkook POV ahah... I feel like a lot of people were expecting OC and Cassian to tag along for the dance but I felt like that moment specifically needed to remain between Jungkook and Rayne alone, especially given what she asked later, cough... Anyway, please let me know what you thought, I would love love to hear it <3

© All rights reserved @merakoo 2026.

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ EIGHTEEN

𓄲 The ponytail no longer held all of her hair, with a strand coming undone as it framed her face. Jungkook reaches up, inked fingers catching the dark lock as he lets it run between them. "I must have been out of my mind back then," He says as he tucks the loose strand behind her ear, "Because I'm looking at her right now." 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children)

⧽ word count ⋮ 6.8k average reading time ⋮ 35 minutes

── [ ✉️ ] Writing fluff is something I struggle with a lot and though I wouldn't call this over the top, tooth rotting fluff, it was still challenging for me to capture the scenes in the light that I wanted to. I hope it will be an enjoyable read for you ladies nonetheless. Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3

series masterlist | last chapter | next part

chapter 18 — "Birthday Girl"

"Nanny!" Cassian calls out from behind you, "Help me put this one up!" He scurries around one of the couches, nearly tripping over the garland he carries in his tiny hands. It was made out of colorful triangles, reds, blues, yellows and purples — each one printed with bold, white letters that spell out 'Happy Birthday'. You had gotten it at the store yesterday, among other props that were now scattered around the living room

Letting go of the balloon you had just finished tying, you turn to him with an arched brow. "Where do you want it?" You ask to which he points toward the fireplace. Following his line of sight, you note that the garland would indeed do good there. "Alright," You hum, already heading over to grab the roll of tape sitting on the coffee table, "Hand it over." 

You and Cassian had spent the past hour decorating the entire living room to the best of your abilities. Between using up all your lung capacity to blow balloons — most of which Cassian had let fly across the room again with giddy laughter — you had been placing all kinds of party-themed accessories around the beige furniture. 

It was important that the house looked as festive as possible, Cassian had said. And you were doing your best to live up to his expectations as you went about placing colorful streamers across the coffee table. 

The party hat perched on top of his head perfectly matched the rainbow cone on your own, held together by an elastic string that looped under your chin. They were part of the young boy's elaborate plan to a successful birthday party and he had two more prepared for the others when they arrived home. 

Jungkook had taken Rayne to see the children's grandparents around noon, giving you and her younger brother the early afternoon to make means of any necessary preparations. You had spent a good half an hour in front of the mirror in his bedroom, trying on different bow ties for him. 

Cassian insisted on wearing such, even though you told him that he'd look just fine with the light blue button up you had chosen. But he'd been adamant in his choice of wardrobe and there was no changing his mind. "I'm going to be handsome, just like Daddy," He'd said with a beaming smile. 

So there you stood, swapping navy blue for bright yellow, trying on a deep red and even black before finally coming to a unanimous decision on white. It contrasted his big brown eyes well, matching the set of teeth which he showed off with a shy grin. 

"Do you think they will like it?" Cassian quietly wonders as he fiddles with the tie around his neck. He was sat on the kitchen counter, watching with a small pout as you prepared the cake that had been cooling in the fridge since last night. 

"I reckon they will," You hum when reaching over to grab the purple candles on stand by. Sticking one of them into the cake, you add with a twitch of your lip, "I think you look dashing." 

The tips of his ears turn a bright shade of pink and Cassian averts his gaze as his cheeks puff out. Though he doesn't give a verbal response, the flush creeping up his neck before blooming across his face tells you that the compliment meant a great deal to him. 

Beyond that, a comfortable silence settles over the two of you. It wouldn't be long until Jungkook arrived back home with Rayne, ready for the celebration you and her brother had been setting up for the past two hours. In the meantime you occupy yourself with counting the candles you placed on the cake. 

Eight of them, all surrounding the letters you carefully iced. You and Jungkook had made it together last night — well, you had made it while he supervised. 

The Jeon house had been quiet, with both children asleep in their respective bedrooms, you had been whisking batter until late evening hours. After claiming that he knew little about baking, Jungkook took his spot by the kitchen island as he leaned against its counter — his gaze lingered on your frame a lot longer than it should. 

"Do you bake often?" He asked, keeping his voice low as he studied you a little too closely for comfort. 

You shrugged, teeth pulling on your bottom lip when you cracked an egg into the bowl, whisking it together with the sugar. "From time to time," You said when reaching for the soy milk that was substituting any dairy for Cassian, "It's more of a hobby I suppose." 

Jungkook hummed his agreement at that and through the corner of your eye you caught his gaze, dark yet undeniably soft around its edges. His arms were folded across his chest, head tilted a degree to the side like whatever held his attention did so wholeheartedly. 

It was impossible not to feel the weight of his eyes where they settled over you. "What?" You chuckled when the moment had grown so prolonged that you could no longer refrain from speaking on it. "Is there something on my face?" You asked, turning your head away as you reached a hand up to feel around for any abnormalities — though the course of action was more so used to shield the bashful expression you wore. 

"No," Jungkook said, and wether he picked up on your flustered state or not as he stepped closer was hard to tell. Even so, he made no comment on it. His arms unfolded from their resting place across his torso, they hung limp by his sides when he came to a halt beside you. His gaze dropped to the batter you mixed and the corner of his lip pulled into something unreadable. 

Then his attention had shifted to your face, to the awkward reality of his proximity that you tried in vain to hide. "Nothing at all." He mused, looking almost thoughtful where he stood. You watched as his fingers twitched against the outskirt of his thigh, curling into a loose fist before he brought his hand to your cheek. 

You had wondered if he felt the heat seeping through your skin — proof of how little control you seemed to harbor over your own blood pressure whenever he was around. 

"I just enjoy looking at you I suppose." He confessed quietly, brows furrowed as he regarded you. 

The words sounded so simple coming from his lips — but you knew it had taken him much to say. There was tension in his jaw, like he prepared himself for you to reject the advances he made. It wasn't like you ever had before yet he seemed to fear that you suddenly would. 

Though you'd been unable to conjure a proper response to his confession you had not dared slip away from the touch to your cheek, so you lingered in it as you exposed a shy smile to him. 

The moment seemed to last an eternity and yet when it came to a close as Jungkook stepped back — it had not seemed like nearly enough. His gaze returned to the forgotten cake mixture as his hands found their way to the pockets of his dress pants, wordlessly urging you to continue. 

From there you had been baking in silence, having followed the recipe as best as you could with Jungkook reading over your shoulder the entire time, warm breath fanning across your shoulder. 

As the sugary smell filled the kitchen and the cake rose in the oven — you'd realized that this was something you could easily become attached to — and that perhaps you already were. 

The sound of a key rattling its lock pulls you from the memory of last night and you glance up just in time to see Cassian jumping off the counter. "They're home!" He squeals, already headed for the hallway where the front door being pushed open could be heard. Quickly stuffing the cake back into the fridge, you head over to join the others. 

Having scurried off ahead of you, Cassian was already by his father and sister who had just stepped over the threshold. The chilly December air hits you first, the cold which they had brought inside with them now lingers and you inhale the frosty scent of winter. Snow still clings stubbornly their coats, though quickly melting into the fabric and leaving it damp. 

"Daddy! Daddy!" Cassian paws at his father's pants as he tries to grab his attention, "Me and nanny put up all the decorations, come look!" He eagerly attempts to tug his father along, uncaring for the fact that the man had yet to as much as get his shoes off. 

Jungkook remains unbothered by his son's enthusiasm as he sets the bag he'd been carrying down to instead haul the small child into his arms. "You're dressed up," He hums when fiddling with the bow tie around Cassian's neck, to which the latter nods quickly. 

"Nanny helped me pick it," He points proudly toward the accessory, "So I can be handsome just like you." 

The corner of Jungkook's lip twitches at that — not quite a smile, but close — his eyes find yours over Cassian's shoulder. "Handsome, hm?" He huffs, the comment his son had made lingering between you a moment longer. 

Clearing your throat, albeit loud in the quiet hallway, you pry your attention over to Rayne who stood beside him. She was dressed in a white blouse, its buttons done up to her chin. The plain jeans that had been paired with the top were held up by a small, black leather belt — its silver buckle glinting under the soft chandelier above. 

Her gaze is fixed to the floor, the frown on her face not matching that of a birthday girl. She does not turn to glance at neither her brother nor father. The bag Jungkook had been holding, which you presumed to contain gifts from her grandparents was left untouched even as she shed herself of both her coat and shoes. 

"Happy birthday!" You tell her excitedly, giving her a big smile in the hopes of it being reciprocated. It never is and Rayne only nods mutely in response. 

Having set her little sibling down again, Jungkook was now unbuttoning his own coat methodically. "Rayne, you don't ignore someone when they're speaking to you," He grunts, one hand landing firmly on her shoulder as he gives her a nudge in your direction. 

His daughter finally peels her eyes from the floor, turning them up toward you as she sends you a calculating look. "Thank you," She finally says, her voice low and unenthusiastic. 

Jungkook doesn't seem all too pleased with the response but wisely chooses not to push her further as he instead lets himself focus on the festive hats you and Cassian were wearing. He cocks a brow in its direction, silently demanding an explanation for the rainbow shaped cones on your heads. 

"Oh," Reaching up to instinctively adjust the hat, you chuckle lightly, "Cassian thought they would be a fun addition." 

Next to his father, the boy in questions nods, "Yes! There is one for you and Rayne, daddy." He's already back to tugging on his father's clothes, this time succeeding in his mission to steer Jungkook to the living room as he stumbles gingerly after his son. 

Rayne lingers by the shoe rack a moment longer, picking quietly at the sleeves of her shirt without making eye contact. The sound of Cassian's and Jungkook's retreating footsteps can be heard down the hall but she makes no move to follow them, and neither do you. 

"Did you have a good time with your grandparents?" You ask when peering into the bag her father had left by the door. It contained what looked like knitted sweaters — deep blues and greens — something she could easily wear during the colder season. 

Beside you, Rayne shrugs dismissively, not paying the presents much mind. "It was fine," She says as she lets her gaze wander across the hallway. When it finally lands on you there's no hostility in it, left is a quiet emptiness that you don't know how to fill. "We should probably go inside," She plainly states as she tucks her ponytail over one shoulder and heads down the same way her father and brother had disappeared. 

Cassian had self-proclaimed himself as both organizer and director of the entire birthday party — it was important that the event be named a party. That being said, you did not know if he actually wanted to celebrate his sister on her day, or if he was simply thrilled by the idea of spending his Saturday doing something other than studying in the library. 

Upon entering the living room he'd ordered that you take a seat next to his father while he hopped up beside Rayne on the couch opposite you. "You have to wear your hats!" He'd said as he nudged his sister with his elbow, pointing to the two rainbow shaped cones on the coffee table. 

Jungkook huffed, though didn't move to grab the hat his son had ordered for him to. But when the frown on Cassian's face doubled in its intensity, his features twisted into something akin to conflicted hesitation. 

With a resigned exhale that sounded an awful lot like defeat at a battle field, Jungkook leans forward to grab one of the hats that you and the young boy had prepared for them. He turns the plastic in his large hands, its rainbow colored pattern contrasting the ink on his fingers and the navy blue button up he wears. 

He said nothing when placing the cone on top of his head though the crease between his brows spoke for itself. Securing the thin band under his chin, Jungkook's lip tugs into a displeased grimace that he tries his best to hide — but you don't miss it. 

It was impossible not to laugh really — and a quiet giggle bubbled in your chest as you turned in your seat to get a better look at him. He appears strangely out of place with the childlike party hat on, and the bright colors do little to match the dark expression he sends you in return. Besides, the fact that the hat was sitting crooked on top of his head didn't exactly aid his case.

Jungkook raises a brow at you and it felt almost like a challenge, daring you to voice your opinion on his appearance. Perhaps you would have been inclined to, had it only been the two of you — but his son's eager smile on the other side of the coffee table makes you bite your tongue. 

"Wait," You say, reaching out to adjust the hat he wears with gentle hands. You try not to let yourself linger on the way his eyes followed the movement as you straightened the cone on top of his dark hair, fingers sliding under his chin to adjust the elastic rubber band that kept it in place, "There. All better." 

His gaze meets yours then — and you find him a lot closer than you had anticipated. Close enough to where if you leaned forward an inch or two, your noses would be sure to touch. You suddenly become acutely aware of the warmth his thigh provides where it presses against your own. 

But Jungkook makes no move to sit back, even when the spacious couch allows it. And he doesn't point out the fact that you had yet to let go of the elastic band that looped under his chin, your fingers idly brushing the sharp edge of his jaw as your attention lingered on his dark eyes. 

Cassian's giddy voice slices through the air and brutally startles you both from your trance. "Now we're all ready for the party!" He exclaims, thankfully oblivious to the way you had jumped from your seat as you scrambled to put more than an adequate amount of distance between yourself and his father. 

When glancing over to the sofa opposite you, you find that Rayne had already slipped on her hat as well, an expression of indifference masking her features as she regards her dad silently. 

Jungkook himself was clearing his throat lowly, gaze pointed to the table in front of him as he loosened the tie around his neck with rather jerky movements. And perhaps you were simply deluding yourself into seeing things that did not exist — but you could have sworn that the flush creeping up the back of his neck was real. 

"Presents!" Cassian turns to the small pile sitting on the coffee table, organized by none other than himself, "Which one do you want to open first?" He at least has the decency to ask his sister, though his hands were already reaching for a small, green package. 

Rayne merely shrugs, her eyes drifting over the selection before her with little interest. "I'll do that one," She says when pointing to the soft and awkward lump of brown that stands out among the clean-cut and rectangular presents with expensive looking wrapper. Her brother raises her a brow but doesn't question her choice as he hands it over.

You were admittedly not the best gift-wrapper, smoothing out edges and folding paper corners was not something you did for the fun of it. Most of the time you would have the store prepare it for you — but you felt that a personal touch was needed for this one, even if said touch was rather… unfortunate looking. 

Thankfully Rayne doesn't seem too bothered by the tape stuck in random places to keep the wrapper together. She tore it carefully but the sound of paper ripping was still deafening in the living room. 

Next to her, Cassian looked ready to crawl onto her lap to get a better look. His eyes were wide and his lips parted in anticipation as his brows rose and fell on his forehead with each breath he took. For a second it seems like he might urge her to hurry up, but one look from his father silences him with a pout. 

Jungkook, too, was watching his daughter unwrap the present you had gotten for her with interest that he didn't attempt to hide. His fingers were tapping his knee slowly, a rhythmical movement that appears involuntary as his gaze lingers on the wrapper that Rayne was piling onto the coffee table, careful not to let anything fall. 

She comes to a halt when the brown paper had been torn enough for her to uncover what was actually inside. You hold your breath as you gauge her reaction, teeth anxiously gnawing at your bottom lip when watching the surprise that strikes her features before they morph back into something unreadable. 

"What is it?" Cassian asks as he leans impossibly close, fingers curling around the edge of the cushion he sits on. 

Rayne remains silent, palm sliding across the purple fabric in front of her carefully. "A dress…" She finally murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. It was hard to tell if she actually liked it or not and her lack of enthusiasm made you waver as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

"I wasn't sure of your size.. So if it's an ill fit we can always go and get it exchanged," You say when rubbing one of your arms awkwardly. The quiet nod she gives you is far from comforting and you were almost certain she hated the gift. 

Next to you, Jungkook finally speaks up — his eyes have yet to leave his daughter, their attention hovering by the dress in her lap. "Hold it up," He says with a hum, leaning back against the couch as he studies the garment expectantly. 

Rayne does as she's told without objections, if not for the quiet sigh that slips past her lips. She stands from the sofa, fingers hooking around the shoulder straps of the purple dress as she holds it up for her father to see. 

The glitter that adorns the chest piece sparkles under the warm glow of the living room light, and the frills that flow seamlessly all the way to her feet sway gently as Rayne adjusts her grip on the garment. No one uttered as much as a word for ten long, painful seconds — even Cassian had gone quiet beside his big sister as the shimmer of the dress reflected in his big eyes. 

Jungkook exhales as he tilts his head to the side, letting his gaze drag up and down the lilac piece before it flickered to his daughter — almost like he was trying to picture her in it. 

"That looks like a princess dress," Cassian says, unable to keep his hands to himself as he reaches out to touch the frills carefully. "Will you wear it to the dance?" He then asks when peering up at her. 

Rayne's entire body goes rigid at the mention of the Daddy-Daughter dance, her lips pressing into a thin line as she avoids looking anyone in the eye. Suddenly the gift you had given her feels like more like a demand than the kind gesture you had been intending for it to be. 

Her brother doesn't seem to understand that the innocent question had struck a nerve, and he frowns as he awaits his answer. 

"It's pretty," Jungkook says as he leans forward, elbows bracing themselves on his knees. Rayne looks up at the sound of her father's voice, her wary gaze meeting his. "Don't you agree?" He then prompts as he nods toward the dress she still holds. 

It takes her a moment but in the end she gives a tiny tilt of her head. She seems intent to have the interaction end there but when Jungkook's eyes continue to linger expectantly she clears her throat softly. "Thank you, nanny," She says in a voice that sounds too small coming from her. 

The rest of the present opening went by rather smoothy with the other gifts all being from Jungkook. Pencils accompanied by a brand new notebook, a handful of novels, most of which you hadn't read up until your high school years. She smiled politely at each item, thanking her father before handing them over to Cassian who seemed all the more eager to explore the array of gifts. 

You wondered when Jungkook had found the time to purchase all of this — only two nights ago he claimed to have no idea what he was to get her. A small huff almost makes it past your lips, each gift seemed to align perfectly with what she would like and for a split second you wondered if the dress you picked had been too daring of a move. 

When the coffee table was covered in torn wrappers and each present piled neatly on the couch beside her, Cassian declared that it was time to move on with the celebration — more specifically the cake. 

"I'll show Rayne where she's going to sit," He says as he jumps from his seat, already extending a hand to his sister as he tugs her along toward the dining room. 

That left you and Jungkook seated on opposite ends of the same couch, staring blankly at the wrapping paper scattered across the table. You had barely spoken a word to the other since last night, and that was becoming painfully obvious right now. In an attempt to fill the awkward silence you reach forward to start cleaning up the mess that gift opening had left behind. 

"I'll do it," Jungkook grunts when grabbing some of the discarded paper, crushing it in his palm as he clears the table. He's not looking at you, too preoccupied with the task at hand to spare you a glance, which you're somewhat thankful for. 

The sofa announces your departure with a soft creak when you rise to your feet, hands clasped in front of you with little purpose. "I'm uh… I'll get you a trash bag," Pointing a thumb over your shoulder you then turn quickly on your heel as you head for the kitchen — already missing Cassian's loud and distracting giggles. 

"We need something to light the candles with," You said to no one in particular really as you rummaged through one of the many kitchen drawers. The cake had been pulled out from the fridge, now sat on the marble island behind you — awaiting only its lit candles before it was ready to be brought to the dining room. 

The hand on your hip startles you from your search and you just about manage to save yourself from slamming your head against the cabinet above. "You're looking in the wrong one," Jungkook murmurs, his voice coming in against your ear as nothing but a quiet whisper. 

He must have joined you in the kitchen once he finished cleaning up the aftermath of Rayne's gift unwrapping — but his arrival had slipped past you unnoticed — until now. 

Without waiting for you to respond, Jungkook leans over to open the drawer next to the one you had been picking through, the hand not on your hip curling around the silver handle, though not before brushing your elbow in a caress that could have easily been written off as accidental. 

"Here," He says when grabbing the box of matchsticks. There was nothing that betrayed any discomfort in him at your close proximity as Jungkook hands you the small box. He doesn't comment on the fact that your fingers brush his a moment longer, or that you had yet to close the previous drawer. 

Somewhere in the distance, Cassian's loud voice can be heard as he chats excitedly with his sister in the dining room. Despite the fact that Jungkook's frame covers your own where he stands — you still feel strangely exposed in the spacious kitchen, painfully aware of the consequences that would follow if one of the kids decided to appear at this very moment. 

"Thanks," You mumble, fist closing around the box as you push the drawer shut with a little more force than necessary. It's not until you turn around that Jungkook finally takes a step back, throwing a glance over his shoulder and toward the adjacent dining area, as though he shared your thoughts. 

When there was no sign of either children, he relaxes as he exhales through his nose. 

You, on the other hand, are already back to the cake — fingers moving with less coordination than normal as you strike a match. The flame takes to life on your third try, by that point your palms were already clammy and your heart beating erratically in your chest. 

Jungkook leans against the kitchen island, closer than he should, you think, as he folds his arms across his chest. The stick burns out by the time you reach the fifth candle and you fumble for another one when Cassian suddenly appears in the doorway. 

"Is it almost ready?" He asks in a hushed whisper, eagerly padding closer to peek over the kitchen island's edge, which he barely reaches over. 

Nodding, you hum an 'almost' as you strike the second match. Perhaps you had underestimated the tremble to your fingers, or maybe it was the awkward angle in which you tried to light the stick — but the flame ends up catching on your finger rather than the candle. 

The hiss slips past your unguarded lips and you nearly end up dropping the match all together as the sudden sting registers painfully. 

Jungkook's hand clasping around your wrist burns almost hotter than the fire and your first instinct is to pull away from his grasp. You hadn't seen him move from his spot by the marble counter top but now he was right beside you, chest brushing against your arm when he reaches out to take the match from your scalded fingers as he puts the flame out. 

Blinking in surprise, you crane your neck to meet his gaze. His brows are pinched together with barely concealed worry, dark eyes flitting between your hand and face. "Are you alright?" He rasps, his voice uncharacteristically hoarse as his thumb rubs the skin of your wrist gently. 

It takes a moment for his question to click and when it finally does you give a small jerk of your chin. "I'm fine, it's just a small burn," You murmur, gingerly trying to free yourself of his grip. 

Cassian had quickly made his way around the island and was now standing by your side. "Nanny!" He gasps a little too dramatically, "Are you hurt?" His wide eyes are fixed to the hand his father still cradles, bottom lip jutted out into a pout. 

Jungkook finally seems to realize that his son was present and he lets you go as he clears his throat, stepping back enough for your bodies to no longer touch. He picks up the discarded box of matches, muttering something about doing it himself as he avoids Cassian's gaze. 

"I'm fine, it was just—" You start only to be cut short by the young boy's frantic shake of his head as he grabs your sleeve and starts pulling you toward the sink. 

"Don't worry," He says when standing on his tip toes to reach the faucet, "I will help you. Daddy always says to put it in cold water." 

"Lukewarm water, Cassian." Jungkook mutters gruffly as he lights the remaining candles on the cake, "Not cold." 

The boy frowns at that but ultimately nods as he tries to adjust the temperature for you. His hand is tiny in comparison to your own when he grabs your wrist clumsily, guiding your injured finger under the running stream. "There, nanny," He says, "Do you feel better now?" 

You nod, giving him a small smile which he returns with one of his own. "I do, thank you, sweetie. I'm lucky to have you around, aren't I?" 

Cassian's chest puffs out proudly and he opens his mouth to say something else, only for his father to interject, "Why don't you go keep your sister company? We'll be done here in a minute." His voice had reverted back to the same authoritative one he would use whenever something was non-negotiable. 

His son seems to realize this as well and he lets your hand go reluctantly. "Okay…" He murmurs, sending you one last look of concern before heading back to the dining room, leaving you alone with Jungkook in the kitchen once more. 

You let the water run over your finger for another minute. The burn had already faded but it was a cheap excuse to not face Jungkook who had surely finished lighting the candles by now. 

"He's cute," You hum when reaching to turn the faucet off before drying your hands on the towel that hangs by the oven. Jungkook says nothing and when you turn you find him hovering over the cake silently. His shoulders carry that familiar tension that seemed to be apart of him and his palms are braced against the cool marble surface. 

Walking over to stand beside him, you let your gaze fall on the cake as well — admiring your creation for a moment with a satisfied nod. The eight candles around her name were now lit, the flames flickering slightly as they ate away at the purple wax. 

"I reckon we should hurry before they melt into the cake," You say, pausing as you await a response that never comes. 

Finally Jungkook heaves a breath, reaching for the baked goods as he gestures for you to walk ahead of him into the dining room. 

Rayne had very polite declined both your and Cassian's offer to sing for her, leaving the latter quite disappointed as he sank back in his chair. Though his spirits were quickly lifted once the cake was placed on the table — the same table you and him had spent so long decorating to fit the theme of the party. 

"Make a wish," You had said as she blew out the candles. Seconds later Cassian had started prying her for details on said wish to which you told him that revealing it would make it lose its effect. 

He'd frowned then, "But how will the people who makes the wishes come true know if she told me?" 

When you had explained that those people knew everything he stiffened, wide eyes searching yours with worry. Rayne muttered something about wishes not being real, only for Jungkook to quickly shoot her down so to not ruin the experience for her younger brother. You had then helped her cut the first slice and the four of you shared the meal in comfortable silence. 

The birthday party — though rather small — was still a success in your book. 

After eating you and Cassian had stayed in the kitchen to clean up. Having the young boy by your side as you did the dishes was starting to become a habit. His presence was distracting, much so that you hadn't noticed both Rayne and Jungkook's departure until you finished drying off the last plate. 

Leaving Cassian on the couch in the living room, you promised to return after a trip upstairs to fetch the deck of cards Rayne kept in her bedroom. 

The steps groan and creak loudly under your weight when you climb them. One hand resting on the banister and nothing but the upcoming game on your mind, you made your way down the hall leisurely before stopping dead in your tracks at the sound of quiet conversation — coming from the room you had been headed toward. 

Hesitating for only a second, you then carefully approach the source of your newfound curiosity. 

You hadn't meant to eavesdrop, not really anyway, but the door to Rayne's bedroom had been left ajar and the murmured voices coming from inside pulls you closer like a dog on a leash. Stopping just out of sight, you manage to peer through the slivered crack the door allows, both your ears and eyes straining to catch what was going on inside. 

Rayne sits on the edge of her bed, shoulders slumped inward and her hands resting limply in her lap. Her brows are pulled together with something heavy, lips pursed as she lingers in silence. 

Jungkook is perched on one knee on the floor before her. His back is turned to you, the expression he wears is impossible to make out, but it was undoubtedly his voice that you had heard. It's soft, a lot softer than you think you'd ever heard it before — he spoke slowly, almost like one would in the presence of a frightened animal. 

"Is there a reason why?" He asks, hands resting on top of his knee as he awaits his daughter's answer. 

It takes Rayne a moment to respond. At first she merely shrugs, turning her head in the direction of the window as she stares at the setting sun outside. The crease on her forehead deepens and she exhales a short breath. "I just don't want to," She murmurs, her tone indifferent, had it not been for the way she cracked on the last syllable. 

Her gaze shifts toward the door, like she was just noticing it not being fully closed. For a moment you think she might've caught sight of you and your heart jumps to your throat as you fall back silently. But then she simply turns her attention to her intertwined fingers where they rest on top of her legs. 

"It's next Friday," She then adds lowly, "Aren't you busy?" 

She was using the same excuse she had been using on you in the library two days ago, offering both of them a quick exit without ever actually addressing it. But Jungkook doesn't take her bait as he instead shakes his head slowly. "No," He says without missing a beat, and you watch as his hands uncurl from his knee to find hers. 

Her hands are tiny in his palms but Rayne doesn't pull back from the contact. When she lifts her dark eyes to meet his they're guarded and the frown on her face has yet to ease up — almost like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

"I can't dance," She blurts, the admission coming out almost defensively as she sends her father a calculating glance — in that moment she looked just like Jungkook. Even her jaw clenched in the same way his did, the way that always had you wondering whether he was in actual pain or not. 

Jungkook exhales, thumbs rubbing over the back of her hands slowly. "Neither can I," He admits in the same soft tone he'd been using all this time. You see him tilt his head back just enough to peer up at her where she sits — to which Rayne turns her nose the other way with a conflicted expression. 

"We have to practice," He muses, as his thumbs moves to her wrists, fingers encircling them gently. 

"Practice…" Rayne mutters, like the idea only ridiculed the situation further. Her gaze shifts to the purple dress laying beside her on the mattress. The lilac shimmers were highlighted in the setting sun, their sparkles reflecting the half of her face still visible to you. 

Jungkook loosens the hold on her wrist when Rayne lifts her hand toward the dress. Her fingers are careful, hovering just shy of the lace frills before caressing them reverently. 

"It's pretty isn't it?" Jungkook says as he follows the movement. 

You long to see his face, your feet inching you closer to the threshold before stopping yourself as you realize what kind of moment you would be intruding on if you made your presence known — so you keep quiet, trying to picture the serene expression he might bear. 

Rayne nods slowly, her fingers curling around the long skirt. "It is," She quietly agrees and the two single words are enough to make your heart swell in your chest. The frown that had sewn her brows together was finally easing, and she straightened up a fraction as she continued to regard the garment next to her. 

Jungkook waits patiently, never rushing her to speak as he instead turns his attention back to her hand that he still cradles between his own, allowing the back of his fingers to run along her open palm. 

A minute passes, maybe even longer — it was hard to tell when the moment sucked you in so completely. Not until Rayne turns her attention back to her father is the silence broken again. "Do you think I'll look as pretty as her?" She asks, almost solemnly. 

Whoever it was she was speaking of did not need to be addressed by name — for Jungkook's shoulders tensed as soon as the words were uttered. It was brief, almost nonexistent and had you not been watching his back so intently you would have probably missed the tense beat that lasted only a second. 

He relaxes again with a sigh, his thumb pressing against the inside of her wrist gently. "Mm," Jungkook hums, "Prettier." 

Rayne immediately shakes her head, the crease on her forehead returning as her lips tug into something displeased. "That can't be," She huffs, averting her gaze to the window, "I thought you said she was the prettiest girl in the world." She almost sounds ready to argue if it came down to it. 

Jungkook sits quietly on the floor for a while, his head lowers slightly like he was considering something. When he picks it back up again he does so slowly, large hands squeezing around hers gently. 

The ponytail no longer held all of her hair, with a strand coming undone as it framed her face. Jungkook reaches up, inked fingers catching the dark lock as he lets it run between them. "I must have been out of my mind back then," He says as he tucks the loose strand behind her ear, "Because I'm looking at her right now." 

Rayne's eyes flicker back toward Jungkook and she actually manages a small smile, just enough to reveal tiny dents in her cheeks that you had never seen before and you feel your heart stutter at the sight. 

Jungkook lets his hand drop back to cover hers as he gives it a squeeze and whatever he says next becomes muffled as you close the door once more — deciding to return them their privacy. 

The second it shuts behind you however, a squeaky voice startles you. "Nanny," Cassian is standing by your side with a hopeful grin, for a second you worried that he might've caught you intruding on his father and sister, though thankfully there seems to be other things on his mind. 

"Do you think I can have another slice of cake?" 

── [ ✉️ ] Yes, happy birthday Rayne, I love you so much my daughter who I created and treasure like my own. Please come talk to me about the chapter, unless you hated it, then please don't tell me that because I will get quite sad... Okay, love you ladies endlessly <3

© All rights reserved @merakoo 2026.

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ SIXTEEN

𓄲 His next exhale puffs down the side of your neck, his voice closer than it had been since he'd left the bed. "I don't regret what happened," He murmurs, palms splaying over your waist as he toys with the hem of your shirt absently. "I hope you don't either," His lips brush the line of your jaw in a silent caress. 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children) suggestive (?) a few kisses, for good measure

⧽ word count ⋮ 6.3k average reading time ⋮ 35 minutes

── [ ✉️ ] So, I don't know how much I like my writing in this one. I also skimmed it so if it sounds cringe (?) and you find words such as 'though' rather than 'touch' that is because Ellipsus refuses to tell me when my sentences don't make sense.. Uh yeah. Hm, very much Jungkook & OC in this one, and by that I mean only them. But the children will return next week, I miss them <3 Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3

series masterlist | last chapter | next part

chapter 16 — "tainted skin"

"What about this one?" 

The pad of your finger brushes along the soft swirl of a rose. The red ink has since long sunk into his skin, its once bright hue now a muted memory. You regard the individual petals, hoping for them to magically unravel and tell you a secret or two about the man beneath you. 

Sprawled comfortably on top of his chest, you had spent the past ten minutes tracing each illustration adorning Jungkook's arm. There were more than you could count, some blending with one another — others appearing to have been colored over a past one, possibly covering for a mistake he never intended to make. 

Jungkook hums out a quiet breath where he lays against the pillows. After providing you with water and cleaning you off with a damp towel, he'd returned to bed, unbothered by how quickly you had crawled on top of him to study the tattoos that wrapped around his forearm and bicep. 

Your persistent questions never seemed to bore him, which only made you want to ask more. Right now he's following your line of sight, gaze lingering on the faded rose you were caressing. "That one?" He huffs, "Got it in 76' at some rundown studio after a night out." 

His hand, resting firmly on your naked hip, squeezes you gently. "Thought it was edgy I suppose," He trails off before continuing in a low rasp, "Or perhaps I entertained the idea that mother would scold me less if she found out it was a rose rather than a skull." 

You crack a smile at that, tilting your head enough to squint at him through the warm hues of orange. "She didn't like you getting tattoos?" 

Jungkook's brows furrow, jaw tightening before he relaxes it again. "She still doesn't," He affirms with a quiet grunt. The muscle under your fingers tenses when he flexes his arm, pulling your attention from his face and back to the designs painting his skin. "Though she came to accept them," He shrugs, feigning indifference, but you saw the way his eyes lingered on the red petals. 

For a moment you choose to listen to the steady breaths he draws, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath you — it reminds you of a sleeping cat. The smell of sex still clings to the warm afternoon air, but neither you nor Jungkook had brought up what happened yet. You find that you don't want to, not right now at least. 

Your palm flattens out against his arm, sliding across his bicep slowly before reaching his shoulder. "Would you ever get another one?" The question is a whisper on your lips and you keep your gaze on the tips of your fingers where they caress the ink bleeding onto his chest. 

Jungkook inhales a deep, slow breath, his torso expanding beneath you until he lets it go again. The remnants of his exhale flutters across the lower half of your face. "I don't know," He says, the corner of his mouth tugging into a frown, "Maybe…" 

He flexes the inked hand resting on the mattress. "I would like the children's names I think." After a short pause he adds, "Though I don't exactly have much space left." 

You hum, letting your featherlight touch move over his naked chest, all the way along his collarbone before dipping down to rest above the thumping of his heart. "What about here?" You write out both of their names with the help of your index finger, spelling them across his chest clumsily, "I think your mom would approve of that one." 

When nothing but stillness follows the proposal you glance up to find Jungkook watching you through half-lidded eyes. He wears a serene expression, something so unfamiliar to see on his otherwise tense face. It's a nice change, you think. 

The hand he keeps on your hip brushes along your waist in a wordless agreement and he hums. His touch moves to your back, trailing up your spine before sliding back down again. He repeats the motion a handful of times, the slowly setting sun outside painting your naked bodies. 

Another minute passes where you're content to just watch one another. Your fingers busy themselves by drawing lazy patterns across his chest. Slowly they creep up the line of his throat, past his Adam's apple until they find the sharp edge of his jaw. The skin there is rougher and you let the pad of your thumb drag across the faint stubble. 

"Do you think you'd grow it out?" 

Jungkook's eyes, which had fallen shut during your ministrations, cracked open enough to peer at you. He cocks a brow, gaze following the path your fingers take. A soft breath escapes him, "No." 

"No?" You press, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "Why not? I think it looks sexy." 

At that he averts his gaze, clearing his throat softly before shaking his head slowly. "No," He echoes, hand returning to your hip, "It makes me look old." 

"I would argue that you are old," You hum, unable to keep from teasing him, if only a little. 

He doesn't verbally respond to that, instead giving your waist a firm squeeze as he settles back against the pillows. He lets you continue to run your fingers across his jaw, not stopping you when you reach the soft flesh of his bottom lip. 

You had always found Jungkook to be quite handsome. But when studying him up close like this you realized that he was downright gorgeous, it was almost unfair. Without the crease between his brows or the tension to his face — he looked angelic. 

Your index finger slides along his lip, pausing when the faint scar just below it catches your eye. "What's that?" You murmur, stroking across the tiny, almost invisible discoloration on his skin, so small you could have easily missed it, had you not been paying attention.

Jungkook exhales, tongue prodding at the tissue from inside his mouth, almost absently. "I used to have a piercing there, a long time ago." He explains it like it was the most casual thing in the world, clearly oblivious to the gawking look you send him. 

"Seriously?" You lean forward, already inspecting the faint scar closely. 

"Mhm," He tilts his head back to give you a clearer view, "A ring." 

"And it didn't hurt?" The questions were pouring out of you in an endless stream as you peek at the tiny hole. It was the faintest hue of pink that marred him, appearing to have been healed since long.

"No," He murmurs silently, lifting one hand to push his dark hair from his forehead. You follow the movement, frowning softly when he cocks a brow. "Used to have one here as well," Jungkook explains and it is when he points to the arch of his eyebrow that you see a similar scar seared into the skin there. 

You're reaching out to touch before you can stop yourself, thumb pressing against the mark like it could somehow show you a locked memory. "Woah," Exhaling softly, you try to picture him with glinting silver adorning his face, briefly wondering what it would feel like to kiss his lips and feel the metal there. 

"What kind of guy did you use to be, huh?" You drawl when leaning back to prop your chin on folded arms. As much as you were just trying to poke harmless fun at him, you could not deny the curiosity swirling deep within your chest. Sometimes Jungkook spoke as though he had lived a whole other life before this — in a way, you suppose he had. 

But he only scoffs, dark eyes flickering over to a spot on the wall. The tension seeps back into his shoulders, jaw clenching in tune with the crease pulling across his forehead. "Not someone I'm proud of," He simply says, and judging by the tone he used, it was obvious you wouldn't get more than that. 

Still, you prod, head tilting to the side as a lazy smile tugs at your lips. "Why, it can't be that bad?" It was hard to picture Jungkook as anything but the man you had gotten to know during the past month and a half. You imagine him in a tattoo shop, loud music blaring from the speakers as he lets someone paint his arm. What would he wear? Was his hair longer? 

Jungkook doesn't give you any intel, nor does he respond to your previous inquiry. His hand caresses your hip one final time, the other coming up to rest against your cheek. "I'll make us something to eat," He murmurs, lips brushing your forehead softly as he presses a chaste kiss to the spot. 

The mattress shifts under his weight, rising slightly when he gets up, leaving you stranded on the bed as you awkwardly push yourself to sit straighter. "I trust you'll find your way to the bathroom if you want to shower." He says when pulling on his boxers and dress pants. 

Once he's clothed from the waist down he pauses, dark gaze finding yours. His expression is impossible to read, like it so often was. Just as you think he's about to leave without another word Jungkook surprises you by instead taking a step in your direction. 

He crosses the distance separating you in two quick strides, leaning down enough for his nose to brush yours. Breath hitching in your throat, you let your eyes flutter when he leans in close enough for your lips to touch. 

The kiss is slow, the absence of both tongue and teeth making it feel almost tender. Your fingers curl around the sheets you sit on and you lean in to the warmth of him. 

When he pulls back it's with reluctance, the pad of his thumb lingering on your chin a moment longer. "I'll leave you to it," He says, hand sliding down your arm before he detaches himself from you completely. The bedroom door is left ajar after his departure and you listen to the sound of his retreating footsteps. 

The shower should have helped. 

Hot water cascading down your naked body, steam curling around you in a protective embrace — just you and the thoughts you couldn't keep at bay. They were loud in Jungkook's absence. 

Being wrapped in his arms for nearly an hour had made you forget about what the two of you had actually done. The line you had crossed which you would never be able to come back from. 

When you close your eyes and step under the stream you can still see the look on his face. The need written onto his every feature, the natural flush creeping down his neck and the way his hair clung to his sweaty forehead. Through the sound of water splashing against the tiled floor you could hear the echoes of his voice, the low groans which had reverberated against your skin — so close. 

With a shudder you reach out and twist the shower to an icy cold, attempting to block out the sudden heat blooming deep inside your gut at the vivid image. It doesn't work and you're left a shivering mess before finally giving up and adjusting the temperature to something endurable. 

You knew that whatever conversation might await you downstairs would be far from pleasant. So you stay under the water for as long as possible, trying to prolong the inevitable. 

Would he tell you that it was all a mistake just like he had the kiss? Your fingers curl around the shower handle, nails digging into the heel of your hand at the thought of another rejection from him — you don't think you could handle it. 

Because this time it wasn't only a kiss. It was something much more intimate, you had shared a piece of yourself so vulnerable that you did not know what would become of you if he decided to crush it in his palm. 

Letting go of the shower handle to reach for the bottle of soap, the tips of your fingers hesitate just short of it. Everything in here smelled like him. Even the towel which you had grabbed fresh from the linen cabinet had his scent on it. That intoxicating aroma that did nothing but remind you of how it had felt to have his lips on your body, his hands holding you down against the mattress— 

Your scrub yourself roughly, attempting to wash the memory away before it ate you alive. Only, all it seemed to do was tangle you further into its web. The soap is laced with everything that reminds you of him — Jungkook is everywhere without ever intending to be. It's frustrating just as much as it is dangerous. 

By the looks of it, you would be standing under the water until it turned cold — stuck in an endless loop of trying to bury a memory you did not want to let go of in the first place. At this rate, Jungkook might as well climb the stairs in search of you — and you found that you did not want that. Thus, you cut the stream and step out barefoot onto the bright tiles. 

Your clothes don't feel the same on your body when descending down the stairs. From pulling the fabric over your legs and slipping your shirt back in place. The fabric clings too tight, rubbing against your skin uncomfortably with each step you take. Fingers trailing along the banister, you let them tap restlessly onto the wood. 

The smell of freshly made food wafts through the air once you reach the bottom of the staircase. It leads you through the hallway and into the kitchen, feet carrying you without thought. 

By the time you reach the archway your heart is pounding in your ears, your breath coming in short, jagged pants. Wiping your clammy hands against your thighs, you force yourself to cross the threshold — you were going to have to face this moment sooner or later, better to get it over with right away. 

Jungkook's naked back is what greets you first. He stands by the stove, seemingly unaware of your presence for the time being. It was reassuring and you take the moment to study him when approaching the kitchen island. Leaning your elbows on the cool marble, you use the cold to ground yourself as you watch him move about. 

His hands are occupied with pushing around the meat sizzling in the pan, the muscle in his forearm stretching when he uses a pair of tongs to turn the beef. It was a domestic sight. For a brief while you could almost imagine this to be your new reality. Coming down to see him like this, hair unkempt and half-dressed, cooking for you. 

However that small bubble was quickly burst when Jungkook's voice suddenly breaks the silence. "Was your shower… Alright?" He asks, the question tumbling off his tongue rather awkwardly, almost as though he were making the words up on the spot. 

It catches you off guard, if only for a second. Jungkook was not one to insinuate conversation like this. His inquiry felt almost like an afterthought, as though whatever he was currently thinking of had somehow managed to make its way past his lips without him meaning for it to. 

When he turns his head to send you a glance over his shoulder, your gazes cross paths — though not for long. Jungkook's eyes dip to the shirt you wear. Your attempts at drying off had been meek, your hands distracted by thoughts of the man before you setting the entire ordeal up for failure from the start. The cotton around you is darkened in places, especially around your neckline where the fabric sticks to you like glue. 

"Yeah," Hands fiddling mindlessly with one another, you realize that perhaps you ought to straighten up again. "The shower was alright," You hum as you plaster a faint smile onto your face. 

Jungkook doesn't respond more than a slow tilt of his head. His gaze have yet to stray from the glistening skin of your neck and collarbone, eyes trailing along the modest cut of your shirt. You recognize that look as something you had seen not long ago, when he'd let himself get so close. It makes your stomach flutter in ways you shouldn't allow it to, and the beating of your heart only grows louder for each passing moment. 

At last, he finally tears himself from your shirt. His eyes shift back to yours, there's something almost bashful swirling within their dark depths — but it is gone just as quickly when Jungkook clears his throat and turns back to the meat cooking on the stove. 

You stand by the kitchen island a moment longer, fingers tracing the cool marble with an audible sigh. Then you pad over to where he stands, coming to a halt so close that your elbow might just brush his. And though you never turn to fully look at him, you could still sense the way he tensed beside you before forcing himself to relax. 

"Need help with anything?" You ask when peering down at the various side dishes he had prepared to go along with the meat. It all smelled really good and you had to stop your itching fingers from reaching out and trying some of it. 

Jungkook cocks a brow when stealing a glance at you from the corner of his eye. "I'm almost done," He replies gruffly, turning the nearly cooked beef in the pan to accentuate the statement. 

You huff, resting your hands against the counter top. "So you deem me useless?" 

He lets out a low chuckle at that, raw and real — the rare sound so addicting to your ears. His free hand finds your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt absently. The touch is mundane, simple, and somehow it manages to set your skin aflame. 

"Won't you let me do this for you?" He questions back, like the thought of you offering to help was somehow a blow to his attempt at cooking you a meal. Yet his tone is playful, perhaps he didn't mind at all. 

Deciding to humor him, you nod with an exaggerated groan. "Fine," Gaze flitting over to the kitchen island, you hum, "I'll go set the table then." 

You're reluctant to move from your spot, content with having his hand on your hip. Jungkook seems to share that idea for his grip tightens before he loosens it again. He withdraws his fingers a moment later, letting them skim down your thigh before his arm falls back to his side again. 

The sound of silverware clinking against porcelain is all that can be heard inside the kitchen. You had sat down by the marble island to eat, the meal shared quietly between you. Your stools are pushed close together, closer than necessary but neither of you pull back when a knee is accidentally bumped against the other. 

Jungkook puts additional food onto your plate whenever he sees it running low. Wordlessly placing more rice in front of you, another piece of beef or nudging one of the side dishes in your direction. He doesn't ask before doing so and you don't stop him. 

In the beginning you had found his silence unbearable, like this endless void that you had been tasked to fill with mindless conversation. Sometimes you still felt that way — it was impossible not to. But right now, you didn't mind it. Even when he was quiet he spoke to you. 

An arm brushing yours, a quick glance your way or the glass of water he slid closer to you. You realized that it was his own way of communicating. And so you never called him out on the small, simple actions. 

Instead you use the moment to study him closely. Jungkook was very expressive without meaning to. His brows would furrow as he chewed, sometimes he looked almost frustrated despite clearly enjoying the food, it was quite endearing. He'd lick his top lip between bites, not always, but often enough for you to notice the habit. 

His fingers were always busy, whether it was handling his utensils, reaching for his glass or wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. He sat straight in his chair too, making you subconsciously try to mimic his posture — only to fall back into the hunched position you had been in for the past ten minutes. 

Occasionally you would let your gaze dip to his naked chest, roaming the muscle which flexed each time he shifted as much as an inch. Memories of your hands sliding across the same patches of skin come rushing back and you have to shove them down before they got too vivid. 

"So…" You clear your throat into your fist after swallowing down the fifth piece of beef he'd piled onto your plate. Ever since the two of you sat down to eat, you had pondered on how to bring up the topic smoothly. Throwing the word 'sex' out in the middle of your meal made you sweat anxiously, almost more than the actual ordeal of doing it had. 

In the end you opt for a safer, albeit more vague route. "We should probably… Talk." It wasn't the first time those same words had been uttered today and considering that your last conversation is what landed you here, this one scared you. 

Jungkook does not appear as nervous when he takes another bite, slowly placing his fork down on the edge of his plate. He reaches for his glass, taking a long slow sip and you watch intently as his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. 

"We should," He agrees, setting his glass back down before turning in his seat. The new position allows you a clear view of the same tattoos you had spent so much time tracing only an hour ago. 

You blink slowly, registering the fact that he was actually taking the bait you'd hesitantly thrown out, something you hadn't expected him to do in the first place — and thus you hadn't planned the conversation further than that. 

The version of yourself from earlier this afternoon would have probably spoken her mind by now. She seemed to know what she wanted. Hell, she even voiced her desires out loud. 

This version of you is shy. 

The heat between you had simmered down into something quieter, a slowly burning candle instead of a roaring fire. Clarity of what happened upstairs sits heavy on your shoulders and it makes you hesitate. 

Should you tell him that it was a mistake, even when you did not believe it to be? Would it make you feel at ease to hide behind the idea that this had not been real rather than admitting that it had been everything… Perhaps. Still, you remember the tear Jungkook's words had ripped in your chest when he dismissed your first kiss as nothing but that, a mistake. 

You couldn't bring yourself to do it. 

Beside you, Jungkook sits quietly. His expression is indifferent when he regards you, dark eyes dragging up and down your frame multiple times without finding rest. You wondered if he really was as unbothered by all of this as he tried to appear? 

Both his hands are clasped together over his parted legs — and it is then you notice his fingers. Without the distraction of either the silverware or his glass, they were now tapping rhythmically against one another. You had never seen him do that before, then again, Jungkook rarely took his hands out of his pockets to begin with. 

After another tense moment he's the one to finally sigh. "My children," He begins in a low voice, "Their means of well being exceeds anything else." 

The crease that forms between his brows becomes prominent under the soft kitchen lights. His naked shoulders were drawn up, the flesh of his cheek caught between his teeth as he chewed on it. "I will not let what happened between you and me affect them." 

You nod, gaze dropping to your own hands, currently resting on the marble counter top. "I understand." It would be selfish to think that you could possibly barge in and demand something from him when he already had his arms and heart full. 

When you steal a glance at him through your lashes, you find Jungkook watching you with a conflicted look on his face. "Introducing something like this to them—" He shakes his head, running his restless fingers through his hair. "They're not ready for that." There's a short pause where you're almost inclined to believe that he wants to say more. 

He never does. 

Shifting in your seat, you rub at your wrist — idly fiddling with the beads of the bracelet resting there, the gift from Cassian. You had slipped it back on after your shower, thinking that in some twisted sense, it might protect you. Or maybe it just made you feel closer to the young boy even in his absence. 

Jungkook's eyes follows the movement, his brows furrowing even deeper as he studies the handmade bracelet adorning your wrist. He never comments on it but his heavy gaze remains. 

Another, 'I understand' sits waiting on your tongue — but did you really? Those were his children, their lives and well being were his responsibility. For all the time you had spent with the two of them, you were still not their parent and you never would be. The weight on his back was not yours to carry, so why did you want to try anyway?

"I love Rayne and Cassian." 

Your quiet admission slips out into the warm air and you watch as Jungkook's next exhale catches on his tongue — dark eyes snapping to yours instantly. There's something calculating in the look he sends you, like he was picking you apart with the means of uncovering deceit. He won't find any, you know that he won't for you don't think you'd ever been so certain about anything in your life before. 

And it was easy to say. It was easy to say because the children were easy to love. Cassian's warm and giddy laughter, tiny arms wrapping around your middle when he went in for a tight hug. Rayne's quick witted responses that always seemed to have you smiling. 

Jungkook nods slowly, his gaze drifting across the room before landing on you. He doesn't say anything, but the edges around his sharp eyes have softened into something gentle. 

The silence however, was starting to get to you. The need for reassurance wells up inside your chest like a beast provoked. "It's okay, you know…" Picking at your nails restlessly, you avoid looking at his face, "I mean we didn't—" 

"We had sex." 

His voice is chilling, barely above a murmur. It was the first time any of you had brought it up, the first time you had actually put a label to what happened. It feels scary because now you don't know what comes next. 

Jungkook inhales a deep breath, and though you were no longer meeting his gaze, you knew that his hadn't strayed. "It— It cannot change things, not around the children." There's finality in the way he says it, the same tone he uses whenever he drew a line — he would not discuss this further. 

The sigh that leaves your lips brings your shoulder with it, your chest deflating like a sad balloon. Even so, there's a strange sense of understanding. You knew just as well as he did that it would be selfish to push the boundaries he'd set. To not think of the children who you loved so dearly.

"I want the best for them as well." For some reason that hurts to say, even when you know that you mean it. Burying this moment of shared intimacy as far back in your mind as possible was the reasonable thing to do, and you would, as long as it meant protecting the fragile peace you had found with his kids. 

Silence holds you still for a long while after that. There's still food left but neither of you reach for it. You don't think you could stomach another bite. Jungkook isn't looking at you anymore — that was the worst part, you think. The muscles in his jaw are clenched tight, preventing him from saying things he shouldn't. 

You stand then, grabbing both plates before rounding the kitchen island. The porcelain is smooth, it could have easily slipped from your loose grasp, had you not been paying attention when placing them down in the sink. 

The tips of your fingers were just shy of brushing the handle to turn the faucet on when a dark shadow appears behind you. 

Jungkook's hands are warm and solid as they settle on your hips. The touch is familiar, comfortable even — for a second you almost lean into it, just barely catching yourself in time to feel his naked chest brush against your backside. 

His next exhale puffs down the side of your neck, his voice closer than it had been since he'd left the bed. "I don't regret what happened," He murmurs, palms splaying over your waist as he toys with the hem of your shirt absently. "I hope you don't either," His lips brush the line of your jaw in a silent caress. 

Abandoning the idea of washing the dishes entirely, you allow him to guide you to face him, your lower back pressing against the hard edge of the sink. His eyes are half lidded, laced with the means of his admission. 

"I don't regret it," You whisper, sucking in a sharp breath when his nose bumps against yours. 

He doesn't respond with actual words, but the soft press of his mouth to yours was enough to convey what was on his mind.

This kiss would be the first you shared since the ones passed between you in bed and Jungkook was just as gentle as he had been all day — only this time there was an undercurrent of something else. His tongue finds yours, hesitant in the beginning, as though he was trying to prove himself through the simple action alone. 

His hands tighten around your hips, holding you in place as he crowds you to the sink. It was contradicting every word that had been uttered since you sat down to eat, where both of you know that you should pull back yet neither of you can bring yourself to do just that. 

You would allow yourself to have this, just this one kiss. 

Jungkook parts from you a moment later, reluctantly placing a last peck to your lips before resting his forehead against yours. You couldn't make out his expression from this close, left to feel only his warm breath on your face. 

"Let me get dressed," He says when lifting a hand to cradle your cheek, thumb dragging across the skin there tenderly, "I'd like to drive you home, if you'll allow me." 

The leather seats of Jungkook's car were a warm contrast to the cold November air when you climbed into the passenger seat half an hour later. By now the sun had fully disappeared behind the horizon, leaving the yellow flicker of the street lights to lead the way. 

Jungkook hadn't said much since heading back upstairs to get dressed and comb his hair back. His clothes were now neatly in place, though he had skipped the coat entirely for the sake of the comfortable temperature inside the vehicle. He looks much different from the man you had seen today and there's familiarity in the composed way he holds himself now. 

You study the length of his forearm when he pulls out of the driveway, gaze trailing along the tattoos reaching all the way past his knuckles and onto his fingers where they slide across the wheel. 

A few minutes pass in silence. The streets are nearly vacant despite it being no later than six thirty and you drive past house after house. Jungkook doesn't need to ask your address anymore, knowing where to take a left without you having to point it out. 

It's not until you come to a stop by a red light that he finally speaks. "Principles of Internal Medicine?" His voice is gruff from disuse, inked hand wrapped around the clutch as he sends you a questioning look through the corner of his eye. 

It takes you a moment to realize that he was referring to the book he had found — the one that had played such a big part in the events leading you here. You clear your throat, nodding awkwardly as you force yourself to study the blaring red above, wishing it would turn green. "Yeah…" You murmur, "It's study material." 

Part of you wonders if bringing the topic up would somehow undo the progress you had made earlier this afternoon. Perhaps he would realize just how grave a mistake this had all been when reminded of the lie you had told him. But Jungkook simply hums, the sound low and almost comforting. 

"Med school?" He asks when putting the car in motion as the light shifts. 

Nodding, you turn to gaze out through the window, watching the houses disappear one by one as they became replaced with tall apartment complexes. "I'm in my first year," You say, shrugging like it was no matter, when in reality, it couldn't be further from it. 

Jungkook makes a right turn, shifting the car's gear when falling smoothly into the new lane. "That's good," He muses, sending you a glance through the corner of his eye, "Do you like it?" 

You pause at that, pursing your lips as you thought of how to answer him. In the end you realized that you were tired of lying. "I do. It's my biggest dream." You shyly admit, picking at the seams of your pants gingerly. 

In the driver's seat Jungkook is quiet for a while, his attention is fixed on the changing scenery in front of him. When you stop by another red light he sighs, "It's nice, having a dream you can chase, it gives you purpose." 

Nails dragging along the fabric clinging to your legs, you frown — not quite sure what to make of that. Jungkook doesn't seem intent on explaining himself further, his focus was on the road, fingers drumming softly against the wheel. 

"Did you go to university?" You then ask, turning your head to look at him properly. 

The lines on his face hardened slightly at your question, the corner of his mouth tugging downward just enough for it to be noticeable under the street lights that reflected through the windows. "No," He simply says, stepping on the gas lightly when the sign ahead flickers to green. 

That surprises you. Jungkook took his own children's education very seriously, you had always imagined him to be at the top of his classes. But he hadn't gone to university at all…? Despite curiosity clawing at you impatiently, you don't continue to prod, choosing to leave the subject alone as the familiar neighborhood you called home floats into vision. 

The car comes to a stop just outside the entrance leading you inside. You weren't entirely sure that one was even allowed to park here, but before you can voice your concern, the door to the driver's side shuts and Jungkook is gone. 

He rounds the car in a few strides, opening your own door for you, which felt almost a little cheesy — though you don't comment on it when accepting his extended hand and climbing out. 

You stand there for a moment, watching a few by-passers who paid you little mind. Jungkook has yet to let go of your hand, you don't acknowledge it. His palm his the warmth that the cold evening lacks and you want to hold on to it, just a little longer. 

"I would follow you to the door but…" He jerks his chin in the direction of his car, "I'm not so sure I'm allowed to park here." 

The giggle bubbling from your chest is enough to have a nearby lady walking her dog pause, but neither of you spare her a glance. Jungkook's gaze lingers on yours as he watches the grin you're unable to keep from your face. His lip twitches into something that could've almost been mistaken for a small smile, had you not known better. 

"I'm sure I'll make it from here," You assure him, eyes dropping to the way his thumb stroked your knuckles. 

Jungkook nods slowly, still holding onto you when he should've let go already. The crease between his brows had eased up and under the gentle glow of the street lights he looks younger — reminiscent of a time you had never experienced with him. 

He sighs, nodding to himself as he lets his hand drop. "Goodnight then," He says, and for a second you could've sworn he wanted to close the distance again. 

Your laughter has ebbed out into a small smile. You didn't want the night to end, it feels like it had barely started before getting robbed from your grasp again. Yet you take a small step back, sending him a timid wave, "Goodnight." 

Turning to walk inside, you try to ignore the weight of his gaze on your back when you fumble with your keys, unlocking the heavy door that would take you into the large building. 

With your fingers wrapped around the handle, you dare steal a final glance over your shoulder. 

Jungkook is leaned against the side of his car, arms folded across his chest where he regards you from across the pavement. It was impossible to make out his expression from this far away — but you would like to imagine that he was smiling too. 

── [ ✉️ ] If you caught a spelling mistake actually let me know, like, but in private so to not ruin my sexy mysterious and prolific image of course... Yes, please share your thoughts with me, I love to read them <3

© All rights reserved @merakoo 2026.

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ SIXTEEN

𓄲 His next exhale puffs down the side of your neck, his voice closer than it had been since he'd left the bed. "I don't regret what happened," He murmurs, palms splaying over your waist as he toys with the hem of your shirt absently. "I hope you don't either," His lips brush the line of your jaw in a silent caress. 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children) suggestive (?) a few kisses, for good measure

⧽ word count ⋮ 6.3k average reading time ⋮ 35 minutes

── [ ✉️ ] So, I don't know how much I like my writing in this one. I also skimmed it so if it sounds cringe (?) and you find words such as 'though' rather than 'touch' that is because Ellipsus refuses to tell me when my sentences don't make sense.. Uh yeah. Hm, very much Jungkook & OC in this one, and by that I mean only them. But the children will return next week, I miss them <3 Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3

series masterlist | last chapter | next part

chapter 16 — "tainted skin"

"What about this one?" 

The pad of your finger brushes along the soft swirl of a rose. The red ink has since long sunk into his skin, its once bright hue now a muted memory. You regard the individual petals, hoping for them to magically unravel and tell you a secret or two about the man beneath you. 

Sprawled comfortably on top of his chest, you had spent the past ten minutes tracing each illustration adorning Jungkook's arm. There were more than you could count, some blending with one another — others appearing to have been colored over a past one, possibly covering for a mistake he never intended to make. 

Jungkook hums out a quiet breath where he lays against the pillows. After providing you with water and cleaning you off with a damp towel, he'd returned to bed, unbothered by how quickly you had crawled on top of him to study the tattoos that wrapped around his forearm and bicep. 

Your persistent questions never seemed to bore him, which only made you want to ask more. Right now he's following your line of sight, gaze lingering on the faded rose you were caressing. "That one?" He huffs, "Got it in 76' at some rundown studio after a night out." 

His hand, resting firmly on your naked hip, squeezes you gently. "Thought it was edgy I suppose," He trails off before continuing in a low rasp, "Or perhaps I entertained the idea that mother would scold me less if she found out it was a rose rather than a skull." 

You crack a smile at that, tilting your head enough to squint at him through the warm hues of orange. "She didn't like you getting tattoos?" 

Jungkook's brows furrow, jaw tightening before he relaxes it again. "She still doesn't," He affirms with a quiet grunt. The muscle under your fingers tenses when he flexes his arm, pulling your attention from his face and back to the designs painting his skin. "Though she came to accept them," He shrugs, feigning indifference, but you saw the way his eyes lingered on the red petals. 

For a moment you choose to listen to the steady breaths he draws, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath you — it reminds you of a sleeping cat. The smell of sex still clings to the warm afternoon air, but neither you nor Jungkook had brought up what happened yet. You find that you don't want to, not right now at least. 

Your palm flattens out against his arm, sliding across his bicep slowly before reaching his shoulder. "Would you ever get another one?" The question is a whisper on your lips and you keep your gaze on the tips of your fingers where they caress the ink bleeding onto his chest. 

Jungkook inhales a deep, slow breath, his torso expanding beneath you until he lets it go again. The remnants of his exhale flutters across the lower half of your face. "I don't know," He says, the corner of his mouth tugging into a frown, "Maybe…" 

He flexes the inked hand resting on the mattress. "I would like the children's names I think." After a short pause he adds, "Though I don't exactly have much space left." 

You hum, letting your featherlight touch move over his naked chest, all the way along his collarbone before dipping down to rest above the thumping of his heart. "What about here?" You write out both of their names with the help of your index finger, spelling them across his chest clumsily, "I think your mom would approve of that one." 

When nothing but stillness follows the proposal you glance up to find Jungkook watching you through half-lidded eyes. He wears a serene expression, something so unfamiliar to see on his otherwise tense face. It's a nice change, you think. 

The hand he keeps on your hip brushes along your waist in a wordless agreement and he hums. His touch moves to your back, trailing up your spine before sliding back down again. He repeats the motion a handful of times, the slowly setting sun outside painting your naked bodies. 

Another minute passes where you're content to just watch one another. Your fingers busy themselves by drawing lazy patterns across his chest. Slowly they creep up the line of his throat, past his Adam's apple until they find the sharp edge of his jaw. The skin there is rougher and you let the pad of your thumb drag across the faint stubble. 

"Do you think you'd grow it out?" 

Jungkook's eyes, which had fallen shut during your ministrations, cracked open enough to peer at you. He cocks a brow, gaze following the path your fingers take. A soft breath escapes him, "No." 

"No?" You press, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "Why not? I think it looks sexy." 

At that he averts his gaze, clearing his throat softly before shaking his head slowly. "No," He echoes, hand returning to your hip, "It makes me look old." 

"I would argue that you are old," You hum, unable to keep from teasing him, if only a little. 

He doesn't verbally respond to that, instead giving your waist a firm squeeze as he settles back against the pillows. He lets you continue to run your fingers across his jaw, not stopping you when you reach the soft flesh of his bottom lip. 

You had always found Jungkook to be quite handsome. But when studying him up close like this you realized that he was downright gorgeous, it was almost unfair. Without the crease between his brows or the tension to his face — he looked angelic. 

Your index finger slides along his lip, pausing when the faint scar just below it catches your eye. "What's that?" You murmur, stroking across the tiny, almost invisible discoloration on his skin, so small you could have easily missed it, had you not been paying attention.

Jungkook exhales, tongue prodding at the tissue from inside his mouth, almost absently. "I used to have a piercing there, a long time ago." He explains it like it was the most casual thing in the world, clearly oblivious to the gawking look you send him. 

"Seriously?" You lean forward, already inspecting the faint scar closely. 

"Mhm," He tilts his head back to give you a clearer view, "A ring." 

"And it didn't hurt?" The questions were pouring out of you in an endless stream as you peek at the tiny hole. It was the faintest hue of pink that marred him, appearing to have been healed since long.

"No," He murmurs silently, lifting one hand to push his dark hair from his forehead. You follow the movement, frowning softly when he cocks a brow. "Used to have one here as well," Jungkook explains and it is when he points to the arch of his eyebrow that you see a similar scar seared into the skin there. 

You're reaching out to touch before you can stop yourself, thumb pressing against the mark like it could somehow show you a locked memory. "Woah," Exhaling softly, you try to picture him with glinting silver adorning his face, briefly wondering what it would feel like to kiss his lips and feel the metal there. 

"What kind of guy did you use to be, huh?" You drawl when leaning back to prop your chin on folded arms. As much as you were just trying to poke harmless fun at him, you could not deny the curiosity swirling deep within your chest. Sometimes Jungkook spoke as though he had lived a whole other life before this — in a way, you suppose he had. 

But he only scoffs, dark eyes flickering over to a spot on the wall. The tension seeps back into his shoulders, jaw clenching in tune with the crease pulling across his forehead. "Not someone I'm proud of," He simply says, and judging by the tone he used, it was obvious you wouldn't get more than that. 

Still, you prod, head tilting to the side as a lazy smile tugs at your lips. "Why, it can't be that bad?" It was hard to picture Jungkook as anything but the man you had gotten to know during the past month and a half. You imagine him in a tattoo shop, loud music blaring from the speakers as he lets someone paint his arm. What would he wear? Was his hair longer? 

Jungkook doesn't give you any intel, nor does he respond to your previous inquiry. His hand caresses your hip one final time, the other coming up to rest against your cheek. "I'll make us something to eat," He murmurs, lips brushing your forehead softly as he presses a chaste kiss to the spot. 

The mattress shifts under his weight, rising slightly when he gets up, leaving you stranded on the bed as you awkwardly push yourself to sit straighter. "I trust you'll find your way to the bathroom if you want to shower." He says when pulling on his boxers and dress pants. 

Once he's clothed from the waist down he pauses, dark gaze finding yours. His expression is impossible to read, like it so often was. Just as you think he's about to leave without another word Jungkook surprises you by instead taking a step in your direction. 

He crosses the distance separating you in two quick strides, leaning down enough for his nose to brush yours. Breath hitching in your throat, you let your eyes flutter when he leans in close enough for your lips to touch. 

The kiss is slow, the absence of both tongue and teeth making it feel almost tender. Your fingers curl around the sheets you sit on and you lean in to the warmth of him. 

When he pulls back it's with reluctance, the pad of his thumb lingering on your chin a moment longer. "I'll leave you to it," He says, hand sliding down your arm before he detaches himself from you completely. The bedroom door is left ajar after his departure and you listen to the sound of his retreating footsteps. 

The shower should have helped. 

Hot water cascading down your naked body, steam curling around you in a protective embrace — just you and the thoughts you couldn't keep at bay. They were loud in Jungkook's absence. 

Being wrapped in his arms for nearly an hour had made you forget about what the two of you had actually done. The line you had crossed which you would never be able to come back from. 

When you close your eyes and step under the stream you can still see the look on his face. The need written onto his every feature, the natural flush creeping down his neck and the way his hair clung to his sweaty forehead. Through the sound of water splashing against the tiled floor you could hear the echoes of his voice, the low groans which had reverberated against your skin — so close. 

With a shudder you reach out and twist the shower to an icy cold, attempting to block out the sudden heat blooming deep inside your gut at the vivid image. It doesn't work and you're left a shivering mess before finally giving up and adjusting the temperature to something endurable. 

You knew that whatever conversation might await you downstairs would be far from pleasant. So you stay under the water for as long as possible, trying to prolong the inevitable. 

Would he tell you that it was all a mistake just like he had the kiss? Your fingers curl around the shower handle, nails digging into the heel of your hand at the thought of another rejection from him — you don't think you could handle it. 

Because this time it wasn't only a kiss. It was something much more intimate, you had shared a piece of yourself so vulnerable that you did not know what would become of you if he decided to crush it in his palm. 

Letting go of the shower handle to reach for the bottle of soap, the tips of your fingers hesitate just short of it. Everything in here smelled like him. Even the towel which you had grabbed fresh from the linen cabinet had his scent on it. That intoxicating aroma that did nothing but remind you of how it had felt to have his lips on your body, his hands holding you down against the mattress— 

Your scrub yourself roughly, attempting to wash the memory away before it ate you alive. Only, all it seemed to do was tangle you further into its web. The soap is laced with everything that reminds you of him — Jungkook is everywhere without ever intending to be. It's frustrating just as much as it is dangerous. 

By the looks of it, you would be standing under the water until it turned cold — stuck in an endless loop of trying to bury a memory you did not want to let go of in the first place. At this rate, Jungkook might as well climb the stairs in search of you — and you found that you did not want that. Thus, you cut the stream and step out barefoot onto the bright tiles. 

Your clothes don't feel the same on your body when descending down the stairs. From pulling the fabric over your legs and slipping your shirt back in place. The fabric clings too tight, rubbing against your skin uncomfortably with each step you take. Fingers trailing along the banister, you let them tap restlessly onto the wood. 

The smell of freshly made food wafts through the air once you reach the bottom of the staircase. It leads you through the hallway and into the kitchen, feet carrying you without thought. 

By the time you reach the archway your heart is pounding in your ears, your breath coming in short, jagged pants. Wiping your clammy hands against your thighs, you force yourself to cross the threshold — you were going to have to face this moment sooner or later, better to get it over with right away. 

Jungkook's naked back is what greets you first. He stands by the stove, seemingly unaware of your presence for the time being. It was reassuring and you take the moment to study him when approaching the kitchen island. Leaning your elbows on the cool marble, you use the cold to ground yourself as you watch him move about. 

His hands are occupied with pushing around the meat sizzling in the pan, the muscle in his forearm stretching when he uses a pair of tongs to turn the beef. It was a domestic sight. For a brief while you could almost imagine this to be your new reality. Coming down to see him like this, hair unkempt and half-dressed, cooking for you. 

However that small bubble was quickly burst when Jungkook's voice suddenly breaks the silence. "Was your shower… Alright?" He asks, the question tumbling off his tongue rather awkwardly, almost as though he were making the words up on the spot. 

It catches you off guard, if only for a second. Jungkook was not one to insinuate conversation like this. His inquiry felt almost like an afterthought, as though whatever he was currently thinking of had somehow managed to make its way past his lips without him meaning for it to. 

When he turns his head to send you a glance over his shoulder, your gazes cross paths — though not for long. Jungkook's eyes dip to the shirt you wear. Your attempts at drying off had been meek, your hands distracted by thoughts of the man before you setting the entire ordeal up for failure from the start. The cotton around you is darkened in places, especially around your neckline where the fabric sticks to you like glue. 

"Yeah," Hands fiddling mindlessly with one another, you realize that perhaps you ought to straighten up again. "The shower was alright," You hum as you plaster a faint smile onto your face. 

Jungkook doesn't respond more than a slow tilt of his head. His gaze have yet to stray from the glistening skin of your neck and collarbone, eyes trailing along the modest cut of your shirt. You recognize that look as something you had seen not long ago, when he'd let himself get so close. It makes your stomach flutter in ways you shouldn't allow it to, and the beating of your heart only grows louder for each passing moment. 

At last, he finally tears himself from your shirt. His eyes shift back to yours, there's something almost bashful swirling within their dark depths — but it is gone just as quickly when Jungkook clears his throat and turns back to the meat cooking on the stove. 

You stand by the kitchen island a moment longer, fingers tracing the cool marble with an audible sigh. Then you pad over to where he stands, coming to a halt so close that your elbow might just brush his. And though you never turn to fully look at him, you could still sense the way he tensed beside you before forcing himself to relax. 

"Need help with anything?" You ask when peering down at the various side dishes he had prepared to go along with the meat. It all smelled really good and you had to stop your itching fingers from reaching out and trying some of it. 

Jungkook cocks a brow when stealing a glance at you from the corner of his eye. "I'm almost done," He replies gruffly, turning the nearly cooked beef in the pan to accentuate the statement. 

You huff, resting your hands against the counter top. "So you deem me useless?" 

He lets out a low chuckle at that, raw and real — the rare sound so addicting to your ears. His free hand finds your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt absently. The touch is mundane, simple, and somehow it manages to set your skin aflame. 

"Won't you let me do this for you?" He questions back, like the thought of you offering to help was somehow a blow to his attempt at cooking you a meal. Yet his tone is playful, perhaps he didn't mind at all. 

Deciding to humor him, you nod with an exaggerated groan. "Fine," Gaze flitting over to the kitchen island, you hum, "I'll go set the table then." 

You're reluctant to move from your spot, content with having his hand on your hip. Jungkook seems to share that idea for his grip tightens before he loosens it again. He withdraws his fingers a moment later, letting them skim down your thigh before his arm falls back to his side again. 

The sound of silverware clinking against porcelain is all that can be heard inside the kitchen. You had sat down by the marble island to eat, the meal shared quietly between you. Your stools are pushed close together, closer than necessary but neither of you pull back when a knee is accidentally bumped against the other. 

Jungkook puts additional food onto your plate whenever he sees it running low. Wordlessly placing more rice in front of you, another piece of beef or nudging one of the side dishes in your direction. He doesn't ask before doing so and you don't stop him. 

In the beginning you had found his silence unbearable, like this endless void that you had been tasked to fill with mindless conversation. Sometimes you still felt that way — it was impossible not to. But right now, you didn't mind it. Even when he was quiet he spoke to you. 

An arm brushing yours, a quick glance your way or the glass of water he slid closer to you. You realized that it was his own way of communicating. And so you never called him out on the small, simple actions. 

Instead you use the moment to study him closely. Jungkook was very expressive without meaning to. His brows would furrow as he chewed, sometimes he looked almost frustrated despite clearly enjoying the food, it was quite endearing. He'd lick his top lip between bites, not always, but often enough for you to notice the habit. 

His fingers were always busy, whether it was handling his utensils, reaching for his glass or wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. He sat straight in his chair too, making you subconsciously try to mimic his posture — only to fall back into the hunched position you had been in for the past ten minutes. 

Occasionally you would let your gaze dip to his naked chest, roaming the muscle which flexed each time he shifted as much as an inch. Memories of your hands sliding across the same patches of skin come rushing back and you have to shove them down before they got too vivid. 

"So…" You clear your throat into your fist after swallowing down the fifth piece of beef he'd piled onto your plate. Ever since the two of you sat down to eat, you had pondered on how to bring up the topic smoothly. Throwing the word 'sex' out in the middle of your meal made you sweat anxiously, almost more than the actual ordeal of doing it had. 

In the end you opt for a safer, albeit more vague route. "We should probably… Talk." It wasn't the first time those same words had been uttered today and considering that your last conversation is what landed you here, this one scared you. 

Jungkook does not appear as nervous when he takes another bite, slowly placing his fork down on the edge of his plate. He reaches for his glass, taking a long slow sip and you watch intently as his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. 

"We should," He agrees, setting his glass back down before turning in his seat. The new position allows you a clear view of the same tattoos you had spent so much time tracing only an hour ago. 

You blink slowly, registering the fact that he was actually taking the bait you'd hesitantly thrown out, something you hadn't expected him to do in the first place — and thus you hadn't planned the conversation further than that. 

The version of yourself from earlier this afternoon would have probably spoken her mind by now. She seemed to know what she wanted. Hell, she even voiced her desires out loud. 

This version of you is shy. 

The heat between you had simmered down into something quieter, a slowly burning candle instead of a roaring fire. Clarity of what happened upstairs sits heavy on your shoulders and it makes you hesitate. 

Should you tell him that it was a mistake, even when you did not believe it to be? Would it make you feel at ease to hide behind the idea that this had not been real rather than admitting that it had been everything… Perhaps. Still, you remember the tear Jungkook's words had ripped in your chest when he dismissed your first kiss as nothing but that, a mistake. 

You couldn't bring yourself to do it. 

Beside you, Jungkook sits quietly. His expression is indifferent when he regards you, dark eyes dragging up and down your frame multiple times without finding rest. You wondered if he really was as unbothered by all of this as he tried to appear? 

Both his hands are clasped together over his parted legs — and it is then you notice his fingers. Without the distraction of either the silverware or his glass, they were now tapping rhythmically against one another. You had never seen him do that before, then again, Jungkook rarely took his hands out of his pockets to begin with. 

After another tense moment he's the one to finally sigh. "My children," He begins in a low voice, "Their means of well being exceeds anything else." 

The crease that forms between his brows becomes prominent under the soft kitchen lights. His naked shoulders were drawn up, the flesh of his cheek caught between his teeth as he chewed on it. "I will not let what happened between you and me affect them." 

You nod, gaze dropping to your own hands, currently resting on the marble counter top. "I understand." It would be selfish to think that you could possibly barge in and demand something from him when he already had his arms and heart full. 

When you steal a glance at him through your lashes, you find Jungkook watching you with a conflicted look on his face. "Introducing something like this to them—" He shakes his head, running his restless fingers through his hair. "They're not ready for that." There's a short pause where you're almost inclined to believe that he wants to say more. 

He never does. 

Shifting in your seat, you rub at your wrist — idly fiddling with the beads of the bracelet resting there, the gift from Cassian. You had slipped it back on after your shower, thinking that in some twisted sense, it might protect you. Or maybe it just made you feel closer to the young boy even in his absence. 

Jungkook's eyes follows the movement, his brows furrowing even deeper as he studies the handmade bracelet adorning your wrist. He never comments on it but his heavy gaze remains. 

Another, 'I understand' sits waiting on your tongue — but did you really? Those were his children, their lives and well being were his responsibility. For all the time you had spent with the two of them, you were still not their parent and you never would be. The weight on his back was not yours to carry, so why did you want to try anyway?

"I love Rayne and Cassian." 

Your quiet admission slips out into the warm air and you watch as Jungkook's next exhale catches on his tongue — dark eyes snapping to yours instantly. There's something calculating in the look he sends you, like he was picking you apart with the means of uncovering deceit. He won't find any, you know that he won't for you don't think you'd ever been so certain about anything in your life before. 

And it was easy to say. It was easy to say because the children were easy to love. Cassian's warm and giddy laughter, tiny arms wrapping around your middle when he went in for a tight hug. Rayne's quick witted responses that always seemed to have you smiling. 

Jungkook nods slowly, his gaze drifting across the room before landing on you. He doesn't say anything, but the edges around his sharp eyes have softened into something gentle. 

The silence however, was starting to get to you. The need for reassurance wells up inside your chest like a beast provoked. "It's okay, you know…" Picking at your nails restlessly, you avoid looking at his face, "I mean we didn't—" 

"We had sex." 

His voice is chilling, barely above a murmur. It was the first time any of you had brought it up, the first time you had actually put a label to what happened. It feels scary because now you don't know what comes next. 

Jungkook inhales a deep breath, and though you were no longer meeting his gaze, you knew that his hadn't strayed. "It— It cannot change things, not around the children." There's finality in the way he says it, the same tone he uses whenever he drew a line — he would not discuss this further. 

The sigh that leaves your lips brings your shoulder with it, your chest deflating like a sad balloon. Even so, there's a strange sense of understanding. You knew just as well as he did that it would be selfish to push the boundaries he'd set. To not think of the children who you loved so dearly.

"I want the best for them as well." For some reason that hurts to say, even when you know that you mean it. Burying this moment of shared intimacy as far back in your mind as possible was the reasonable thing to do, and you would, as long as it meant protecting the fragile peace you had found with his kids. 

Silence holds you still for a long while after that. There's still food left but neither of you reach for it. You don't think you could stomach another bite. Jungkook isn't looking at you anymore — that was the worst part, you think. The muscles in his jaw are clenched tight, preventing him from saying things he shouldn't. 

You stand then, grabbing both plates before rounding the kitchen island. The porcelain is smooth, it could have easily slipped from your loose grasp, had you not been paying attention when placing them down in the sink. 

The tips of your fingers were just shy of brushing the handle to turn the faucet on when a dark shadow appears behind you. 

Jungkook's hands are warm and solid as they settle on your hips. The touch is familiar, comfortable even — for a second you almost lean into it, just barely catching yourself in time to feel his naked chest brush against your backside. 

His next exhale puffs down the side of your neck, his voice closer than it had been since he'd left the bed. "I don't regret what happened," He murmurs, palms splaying over your waist as he toys with the hem of your shirt absently. "I hope you don't either," His lips brush the line of your jaw in a silent caress. 

Abandoning the idea of washing the dishes entirely, you allow him to guide you to face him, your lower back pressing against the hard edge of the sink. His eyes are half lidded, laced with the means of his admission. 

"I don't regret it," You whisper, sucking in a sharp breath when his nose bumps against yours. 

He doesn't respond with actual words, but the soft press of his mouth to yours was enough to convey what was on his mind.

This kiss would be the first you shared since the ones passed between you in bed and Jungkook was just as gentle as he had been all day — only this time there was an undercurrent of something else. His tongue finds yours, hesitant in the beginning, as though he was trying to prove himself through the simple action alone. 

His hands tighten around your hips, holding you in place as he crowds you to the sink. It was contradicting every word that had been uttered since you sat down to eat, where both of you know that you should pull back yet neither of you can bring yourself to do just that. 

You would allow yourself to have this, just this one kiss. 

Jungkook parts from you a moment later, reluctantly placing a last peck to your lips before resting his forehead against yours. You couldn't make out his expression from this close, left to feel only his warm breath on your face. 

"Let me get dressed," He says when lifting a hand to cradle your cheek, thumb dragging across the skin there tenderly, "I'd like to drive you home, if you'll allow me." 

The leather seats of Jungkook's car were a warm contrast to the cold November air when you climbed into the passenger seat half an hour later. By now the sun had fully disappeared behind the horizon, leaving the yellow flicker of the street lights to lead the way. 

Jungkook hadn't said much since heading back upstairs to get dressed and comb his hair back. His clothes were now neatly in place, though he had skipped the coat entirely for the sake of the comfortable temperature inside the vehicle. He looks much different from the man you had seen today and there's familiarity in the composed way he holds himself now. 

You study the length of his forearm when he pulls out of the driveway, gaze trailing along the tattoos reaching all the way past his knuckles and onto his fingers where they slide across the wheel. 

A few minutes pass in silence. The streets are nearly vacant despite it being no later than six thirty and you drive past house after house. Jungkook doesn't need to ask your address anymore, knowing where to take a left without you having to point it out. 

It's not until you come to a stop by a red light that he finally speaks. "Principles of Internal Medicine?" His voice is gruff from disuse, inked hand wrapped around the clutch as he sends you a questioning look through the corner of his eye. 

It takes you a moment to realize that he was referring to the book he had found — the one that had played such a big part in the events leading you here. You clear your throat, nodding awkwardly as you force yourself to study the blaring red above, wishing it would turn green. "Yeah…" You murmur, "It's study material." 

Part of you wonders if bringing the topic up would somehow undo the progress you had made earlier this afternoon. Perhaps he would realize just how grave a mistake this had all been when reminded of the lie you had told him. But Jungkook simply hums, the sound low and almost comforting. 

"Med school?" He asks when putting the car in motion as the light shifts. 

Nodding, you turn to gaze out through the window, watching the houses disappear one by one as they became replaced with tall apartment complexes. "I'm in my first year," You say, shrugging like it was no matter, when in reality, it couldn't be further from it. 

Jungkook makes a right turn, shifting the car's gear when falling smoothly into the new lane. "That's good," He muses, sending you a glance through the corner of his eye, "Do you like it?" 

You pause at that, pursing your lips as you thought of how to answer him. In the end you realized that you were tired of lying. "I do. It's my biggest dream." You shyly admit, picking at the seams of your pants gingerly. 

In the driver's seat Jungkook is quiet for a while, his attention is fixed on the changing scenery in front of him. When you stop by another red light he sighs, "It's nice, having a dream you can chase, it gives you purpose." 

Nails dragging along the fabric clinging to your legs, you frown — not quite sure what to make of that. Jungkook doesn't seem intent on explaining himself further, his focus was on the road, fingers drumming softly against the wheel. 

"Did you go to university?" You then ask, turning your head to look at him properly. 

The lines on his face hardened slightly at your question, the corner of his mouth tugging downward just enough for it to be noticeable under the street lights that reflected through the windows. "No," He simply says, stepping on the gas lightly when the sign ahead flickers to green. 

That surprises you. Jungkook took his own children's education very seriously, you had always imagined him to be at the top of his classes. But he hadn't gone to university at all…? Despite curiosity clawing at you impatiently, you don't continue to prod, choosing to leave the subject alone as the familiar neighborhood you called home floats into vision. 

The car comes to a stop just outside the entrance leading you inside. You weren't entirely sure that one was even allowed to park here, but before you can voice your concern, the door to the driver's side shuts and Jungkook is gone. 

He rounds the car in a few strides, opening your own door for you, which felt almost a little cheesy — though you don't comment on it when accepting his extended hand and climbing out. 

You stand there for a moment, watching a few by-passers who paid you little mind. Jungkook has yet to let go of your hand, you don't acknowledge it. His palm his the warmth that the cold evening lacks and you want to hold on to it, just a little longer. 

"I would follow you to the door but…" He jerks his chin in the direction of his car, "I'm not so sure I'm allowed to park here." 

The giggle bubbling from your chest is enough to have a nearby lady walking her dog pause, but neither of you spare her a glance. Jungkook's gaze lingers on yours as he watches the grin you're unable to keep from your face. His lip twitches into something that could've almost been mistaken for a small smile, had you not known better. 

"I'm sure I'll make it from here," You assure him, eyes dropping to the way his thumb stroked your knuckles. 

Jungkook nods slowly, still holding onto you when he should've let go already. The crease between his brows had eased up and under the gentle glow of the street lights he looks younger — reminiscent of a time you had never experienced with him. 

He sighs, nodding to himself as he lets his hand drop. "Goodnight then," He says, and for a second you could've sworn he wanted to close the distance again. 

Your laughter has ebbed out into a small smile. You didn't want the night to end, it feels like it had barely started before getting robbed from your grasp again. Yet you take a small step back, sending him a timid wave, "Goodnight." 

Turning to walk inside, you try to ignore the weight of his gaze on your back when you fumble with your keys, unlocking the heavy door that would take you into the large building. 

With your fingers wrapped around the handle, you dare steal a final glance over your shoulder. 

Jungkook is leaned against the side of his car, arms folded across his chest where he regards you from across the pavement. It was impossible to make out his expression from this far away — but you would like to imagine that he was smiling too. 

── [ ✉️ ] If you caught a spelling mistake actually let me know, like, but in private so to not ruin my sexy mysterious and prolific image of course... Yes, please share your thoughts with me, I love to read them <3

© All rights reserved @merakoo 2026.

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ FIFTEEN

𓄲 Jungkook inhales sharply, chin lifting just enough for his dark eyes to peer right into yours. "God," His breath is hot and uneven when it fans across your face, "Please— Don't do this to me." He sounds like he's in pain and if that wasn't the most beautiful thing you had ever heard… 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children) porn: kissing (lot of it) breast play yearner!jungkook (big time) kisses all over her body cunnilingus orgasm denial unprotected sex (pullout method) mentions of birth control hair pulling (kinda, jk receiving)

⧽ word count ⋮ 11.4k average reading time ⋮ 50 minutes

── [ ✉️ ] Oh my god. No like, oh my god. This has probably aged me at least a decade, I can feel my bones cracking and my back bending. Finally, you ladies have been waiting, very patiently might I add. Anyway, this is exactly how I like my porn, I don't know if it's any different than the usual on here? I went for an Anthony Bridgerton style approach on Jungkook's part, hope that reflects well. I would also like to mention that this chapter could have never been possible without Cora & Moody who helped me read this over and point out any mistakes/support me when I needed it the most. Either way, there's a long build up and an even long sex scene, so please enjoy and return with your thoughts. I'll be catching up on sleep now and going celibate <3 Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3

series masterlist | last chapter | next part

chapter 15 — "crumbling resolve"

It was ten to three when you climb the few steps leading up the front porch that next day. Good on time for once, you thought with a small hum. Adjusting the coat that sits snug around your torso, you attempt to flatten out the creases that dent into the fabric. 

Fingers brushing along your cheek, you feel around your face for any abnormalities, a zit that you might've missed when checking the mirror this morning — half worried that you'd accidentally grown a uni brow. 

You don't know why you feel nervous about today. Coming over to see to the children was never a difficult task, even with their very difficult father around. Rayne's words from last night had repeated themselves over and over in your head all day, you think that might be the reason. 

"Father is acting strange around you." 

Your curled fist hesitates just shy of the wood, so close to a knock that never comes. Glancing toward the windows, you hope to find Cassian peeking through a curtain, the way he'd taken a liking to doing as of late — but there is no movement from inside. 

The sound of your knuckles rapping against the door echo across the front yard. Somewhere in the distance trees rustle as birds take off from their naked branches. The sky is a pale gray and you gaze up at it when you wait to be let inside. Time moves agonizingly slow and after a full minute you almost consider knocking again only to be interrupted as the front door finally unlocks. 

Jungkook stands on the other side but he doesn't look quite like himself. His hair, usually laying neat atop his head, fell unevenly down the sides of his face. There are dark circles under his eyes, like whatever sleep he'd managed last night hadn't been enough. 

Despite that he's still dressed accordingly. Though the button up sits looser on his chest today, the cufflinks are already undone, as are the first two buttons around the collar. In other words, Jungkook did not look like he would be heading to the office any time soon, which meant you'd have to spend the afternoon with him in the house as you tended to the children. 

"Hi," You smile, raising one hand in an awkward wave that he doesn't reciprocate. Letting your arm drop back to your side, you duck your head when stepping past him and over the threshold. 

It hadn't been particularly cold on your way here but the Jeon house still greets you with warmth. Shedding yourself of your coat, you're surprised when Jungkook suddenly reaches out to take it off your hands. He doesn't look at you as he does, swiftly turning his back on you to hang it beside his own. 

It is then you notice that both Rayne and Cassian's coats are missing — and that the house was awfully devoid of the younger's giddy laughter. 

"Where are the children?" You ask when glancing up and down the hall with a small frown, trying to catch sight of them around a corner or on the stairs. They're nowhere to be found. 

Jungkook exhales a deep sigh as he brushes past you. "They're at their grandparents house," He grunts when heading through the archway leading into the living room. He doesn't wait for you to follow, doesn't even glance over his shoulder to make sure you are. 

"Grandparents?" You stumble after him, still looking both left and right, half expecting them to be jumping out at any moment, but they never do. "Oh I wasn't aware… Did you leave a message? I must've missed—"

"I didn't." 

Jungkook cuts you off. He's come to a halt in the middle of the room, his body turned enough to hide the expression on his face. Then he gestures toward the sofa closest to you, wordlessly demanding you sit. 

Your gaze flickers between him and the couch, but Jungkook remains silent as he waits for you to move. Forcing your feet to drag along the carpet, you make your way over to sink down on the soft cushion, fingers curling around it to anchor yourself when you stare up at him.

Somewhere in the distance the old clock sounds. You count each tick and when fifteen of them have passed Jungkook finally pulls himself over to the large windows looking out over the back yard. 

He slides his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, the nonchalant stance contradicting the tense air that surrounds you. His eyes are set on the trees outside as he studies them intently. For a moment you could almost believe that he'd forgotten about your presence entirely. 

Another thirty ticks on the clock go by until you finally manage to clear your throat. "Why?" The single word drags across your tongue like sandpaper and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

Jungkook's response is not instant. He inhales deeply, then holds it before letting go slowly, his attention still held by the trees beyond the glass. "So that we can talk.", He says as a matter-of-factly. 

Your stomach twists. Talk. To talk is what you had been wanting to do for the past week but he had warded off your every attempt. And now he wants to talk? Your lips pull into a grimace which you're thankful he doesn't see. You were not so sure that you and Jungkook had the same idea of what talking might involve — and the fact that he doesn't elaborate beyond the statement sends your thoughts spiraling. 

By this point the blood circulation in your fingers were starting to get dire as your grip on the sofa grows hard enough to possibly tear. "Listen," Your voice is shaky and strained when you open your mouth to speak, "If you're going to fire me then just go ahead with it because I—"

"I'm not—" Jungkook lifts a hand to drag down his face, eyes squeezing shut and you hear him mutter a quiet 'Jesus' under his breath before he turns to you fully. "I'm not going to fire you, alright?" 

He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, you imagine him biting down on the flesh hard. Letting his hand drop into his pocket again, he leans back against the window behind him. "I just thought…" He trails off, gaze sweeping across the room and you tried to recall a moment in which you'd seen him act so… uncertain before, only to find none. 

"I thought we should talk." 

You nod slowly, fingers uncurling from the couch to come and rest atop your lap. "Yeah… Sure, we can talk." He makes it sound so simple when you know the truth to be the furthest thing from it. Yet all you can do is anxiously wait for him to get whatever it was he had to say off his chest. 

Jungkook finally clears his throat, chin dipping toward the floor before he picks it up again, like he struggled with whatever he was about to say next. "I've been acting rather undignified as of late." He huffs, forearms flexing as his hands shift within the confines of his pockets. 

That was… Not what you had expected when he said he wanted to talk. For many days now you had been forced to live with the uncomfortable reality of Jungkook's distance. The dismissive and fleeting conversations all leaving the impression that he wanted as little to do with you as possible after uncovering your lie. 

You let your gaze drop to intertwined fingers resting on your lap. His unexpected approach to the conversation had caught you off guard and you do the first thing that comes to mind — to reassure him. "It's okay—" You've barely gotten the words out when he speaks again. 

"No. No it's not." Jungkook shakes his head, nose wrinkling in distaste that seems directed at himself rather than you. "I should have spoken to you properly right away." 

He pushes himself off the window, the sound of his footsteps filling the silent air as he walks over to the couch opposite you. The cushion gives way under his weight when he sits down. Hands slipping out of his pockets, he clasps them together over his bent knees when he leans forward. 

"It wasn't right," Gesturing vaguely in your direction, "Blowing you off like I did. It's not something I'm proud of." Despite the weight of his admission Jungkook's eyes are locked on yours — searching for something he doesn't seem to find. 

"I understand why you did it." And you did. In fact you're almost certain you would have reacted the same if it had been you. Even though you were unable to wrap your head around just why it had been so important to him, the principle of being honest was still something you had cast aside for your own gain. 

You exhale a quiet breath, "I should have been truthful from the beginning." 

Jungkook nods slowly, "You should have." The words settle over you heavily and a second later he manages a deep sigh, "Trust is…" He trails off, gaze now fixed to the floor, "It's sacred to me." 

All the guilt you had been in constant battle with comes rushing back and you're barely able to croak out a weak, "I'm sorry," 

This time Jungkook actually glances up at you, "I know you are." He continues after a short pause, "I see you with the children, I see them with you." You watch as he swallows, adam's apple straining against the column of his throat. "My own prejudice was getting in the way of their needs and I don't like it." 

His brows pinch together momentarily but he forces his gaze to stay with yours. He shifts slightly in his seat and you find yourself doing the same. The distance between you, though no more than a coffee table, seems far right now. 

Finally, Jungkook inhales slowly through his nose. "Cassian thinks highly of you." His lips part like he wants to say more, "And I— I suppose I do too." 

Your brows raise just slightly at that — eyes widening a fraction when you blink in surprise. "I'm…" You fumble for words, palms slick with sweat where they clasp together across your lap. This really wasn't what you had expected of him and you half expect to have him snap his fingers in your face to wake you. 

But Jungkook's own hands remain tightly locked with one another. He inhales sharply, obviously sensing your confusion. "What I'm trying to relay here is an apology." His gaze drops to the floor only for him to pick it up again. "And to ask of you to look past my recent behavior in favor of the children." 

His words are somewhat strained but no less sincere. The admission settles between you for a long moment and Jungkook's eyes drift to his interlocked hands as he stares them down. You can make out the line of tension where it clings to his jaw, the firm press of his lips and you knew this wait was torturing him. 

Straightening up, you manage to find your voice, soft with relief. "Of course," You say, watching the way his fingers move restlessly. "I have so much love for both Cassian and Rayne, that will never change."

Jungkook visibly relaxes at that, his shoulders slumping as he nods slowly. And while it was true that you held the children in high regard, there was another reason you were willing to put this entire mess behind you — perhaps one you should keep to yourself, only you can't. 

"I'll look past it in favor of you as well," Your soft hum is no louder than a whisper but he hears you, oh he hears you. 

His once relaxed posture vanishes in an instant and his body snaps into something tense and rigid. The attention he'd been giving his hands shift back to you in a split second as he regards you through narrowed brows — features stringing together a guarded expression that makes the fragile air crackle. 

Backed against a wall by your own words, you squirm uncomfortably in your seat. "I mean I…" You murmur awkwardly as you bring a hand up to rub at the goosebumps that prickle your neck. "I see how much you care for them both and I… Well I care about you." 

Jungkook's gaze narrows further and he shakes his head. "You shouldn't." His tone has twisted itself into something colder — more distant and you can't help but frown. 

Spending as much time in his home as you had meant seeing much more than you know he wants you to. The tears, the anger and the hurt — all the things he must feel but never speak on for the sake of protecting his kids. 

And though you were not a parent you could only imagine how difficult it must be to raise two children on your own, especially ones as young as Rayne and Cassian. 

It had been easy for your heart to open itself for them both and for as long as you'd tried to deny it — Jungkook had found his own place there. You think it was the way he remained gentle despite everything that had first made you pause. The caring nature he tried so hard to cover with indifference had tugged at something deep inside of you.

The affections you held for Jungkook were never part of the plan, but you could no longer push them aside like this. 

"Why not?" You know that you're pushing more than you should now, but when had you not? Even when you notice the muscle in his jaw twitching do you continue, "You have been nothing but generous, in more ways than I deserve, I mean I lied and you still—" 

You're cut short when Jungkook rises from the couch abruptly. He shoves an inked hand through his dark hair, gritting a single word out that has you silenced, "Don't." 

He turns his back on you, walking over to the cold fireplace to stare at the old clock sitting on the mantle. For a long moment neither of you speak and time itself seems to slow down there in the living room. 

You study his form, gaze dragging over the stiffness that seems to etch itself deep into his bones, even so, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than he was admitting. 

The conversation that had started out so good, almost too good, was now back to where you and Jungkook had always been — distant. You would be lying if you said it didn't bother you. 

"So that's it then?" 

Your voice is almost unrecognizable when it pierces the air. Low, drained from its previous insistence in face of his dismissal. "I'll just be seeing to the children?" Not us? The second part never makes it out, it doesn't have to, Jungkook knows just as well as you do. 

Shoving one hand into his pocket, he lets the other run across the mantle with reverent touch. Then he tilts his head just enough to send you a sharp glance over his shoulder, "You will be doing the job that I pay you to." He pauses, "Is that not what we both want and benefit from?" 

For some reason that frustrates you. Could he really act like nothing had happened? Had the shared moment of intimacy in his study truly been such a fleeting thing for him that he could just cast it aside like yesterday's paper? 

His gaze pins you to your spot on the sofa but it cannot contain the words waiting on your tongue. "Yes but—-" Brows drawing together, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth before releasing it, "You know that's not all." You can only meet his eyes for so long before looking away again, "That night…" 

You never finish the sentence but the implication remains. It was the first time either of you had brought it up since the day after, when he had clearly labeled the kiss as nothing but a mistake. The memory sits between you, an uninvited guest that neither of you could bring yourself to greet. 

Jungkook turns his head away again, "That night was a mistake." He echoes his past self, fingers trembling slightly where they brush the mantle. "I overstepped when I shouldn't have and for that I will apologize." 

The matter was slipping from your grasp once more but you feared if you let it go now, you would never get it back. Instead you push yourself to your feet, ignoring the awkward bend to your knees as they threaten to give out. "I don't want an apology," Holding your chin high, you force yourself to look at him, even when he didn't return the favor. 

Though he visibly stiffens, he makes no attempt to respond — but his grip on the mantle has tightened enough for his knuckles to turn pale. 

"I don't feel sorry for what happened." Your voice wavers but you don't let it stop you from taking a small step forward. 

Jungkook's muscles pull taut at your approach and he shakes his head, his reply coming out a quiet mutter, "Well you should." 

You want to scoff at that, frustration intertwining with the confusion. "That is for me to decide." The sound of your footsteps seem to echo when you attempt to close the distance between you. 

"Stop." Jungkook's head snaps your way, his eyes widened with something beyond the mask of stoicism he always wears — something almost panicked. 

Your head tells you to listen, to do as he says and stop whatever this fragile peace was before you ruin it. But your heart makes you take another step in his direction as you press the matter further, "Why?" 

This time he physically recoils and you can clearly see the way his chest rises with his next inhale as Jungkook presses himself back against the fireplace. "Jesus!" He barks out, his tone taking on a pitch higher than normal. His hands are clawing at the mantle behind him. "Just stay there— Please. God, don't come any closer," He warns. 

That is what finally gets through to you. Like an ice bucket being dumped over you, the chilling cold slicing through you hard enough to make you freeze in your tracks. It feels like confirmation to all the things you prayed to not be true and you wonder if he can see the guilt on your face when you take a step back. 

You had never heard him speak with such dread before — like you were the sole purpose of all his pain. He's heaving shaky breaths, face drained of its color and it makes your stomach coil uncomfortably. 

"Do you regret it so terribly?" You whisper hoarsely between swallows, "That you cannot even stand my presence?" You feared his answer more than you had anything before. 

"Yes!" Jungkook says, he sounds almost relieved as the word leaves his lips. Then he's pushing himself off the fireplace, his body angling itself in your direction. "In fact my regret consumes me." He gestures to himself with the jerk of his hand. 

He delivers the statement with so much conviction that you almost want to fold in on yourself as you peer down at your feet. Though Jungkook doesn't seem to notice. No, he's too caught up in whatever storm currently raging inside of him. 

He pushes his fingers through his hair, the strands were now falling freely down the sides of his face, shielding his forehead from view. Then he exhales slowly, his voice dropping lower, his next admission barely audible despite the tense silence. "But not more than the thought of you does." 

You lift your gaze, blinking slowly as you let his words register. "What?" The whisper is followed by the furrow of your brows, "I don't understand…" 

Your continued confusion only spurs him on further as Jungkook inhales sharply, sucking up all the air in the room with him. "Can't you see?" He spits, appearing almost conflicted where he stands, "The torment you put me through simply by existing near me?" 

It's like being caught in a trap. The way your limbs lock up and your blood rushes through your veins — heart pounding hard enough to drown out the sound of Jungkook's groan when he drags a hand down his face. 

The floorboards creak under his weight when he suddenly takes a step forward only to stop himself mid-stride. His hands clench into fists by his sides as he bites down on his cheek. "I try so hard to do what is right for my children but you make it extremely difficult for me to keep my composure." 

The living room had gone so silent you could probably hear a pin drop without having to strain your ears. Through the haze his words were putting you through, you manage a weak splutter, "Me?" 

"Yes, you!" 

He sounds disbelieving, like he was trying to explain why the grass was green and the sky blue — only you could not seem to wrap your head around what he was saying. He kept contradicting himself, one second he wants you as far away from him as possible, the next he's blaming you for something he'd made you believe was no matter to him. 

"But I thought you said it was a mistake?" 

Jungkook actually chuckles at that. It's strained and breathy, pulled from somewhere deep inside his chest as he throws his head back. He looked almost frantic and when his eyes met yours again their pupils were large enough to swallow them whole. 

"The mistake was me thinking I could let myself indulge once without being plagued by my own selfish desire for days to come." 

His chest is rising and falling rapidly by the time he finishes. Strands of dark hair stick to his forehead which was now covered in a thin layer of sweat that glistens on his skin — and you can all but stare at him with parted lips. 

His jaw is clenched tight as though he was holding himself back from saying more than he should — in the end he still fails. "Yes, I regret it," He drawls, mocking himself, "I regret ever letting myself experience what it could feel like when I knew that once would never be enough." 

The last air is punched out of your lungs in one exhale. "I…" You fumble for a response despite having barely given yourself time to let his admission sink in. 

Jungkook seems to have realized how far he'd let himself spiral. He's staring down at the floor, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. His shoulders slump and he shakes his head slowly. "So please," He sounds defeated, "Don't prolong my misery and leave before I decide my self restraint useless." 

For a long moment the two of you stand in silence. Outside the world continues to move the way it always had, but inside the Jeon house — time came to a stop. 

The rational part of you vouches for you to take the exit he offers you, to hurry out the door and have this conversation become just another mistake neither of you ever speak on again. The other part of you — the one you could never deny, can only think of one thing and it is then realization crashes down on you. 

He was just as miserable as you were — if not more. 

Perhaps it is that feeling that brings you together and forces you to cross the invisible border as you take a small hesitant step in his direction. 

"I don't regret what happened." 

He doesn't tell you to stop this time, doesn't move away even when you come to a halt before him, so close that your chest nearly brushes his. It gives you the courage you need to will the next words into existence. 

"My one regret is that it only happened once." 

Jungkook inhales sharply, chin lifting just enough for his dark eyes to peer right into yours. "God," His breath is hot and uneven when it fans across your face, "Please— Don't do this to me." He sounds like he's in pain and if that wasn't the most beautiful thing you had ever heard… 

You bite your lip like it could stop you from asking the one thing on your mind. Jungkook's attention is immediately drawn to the small action and his eyes darken with something unforgiving. 

"Would you do it again?" 

He squeezes his eyes shut at that, hands trembling by his sides. "I shouldn't." He grinds out but doesn't sound at all convinced by his own words. 

If you could take another step forward you would, you think you'd merge yourself with him if possible. Instead you let out the breath you had been holding. "But would you?" 

Jungkook lets his eyes flutter open and when he does, the desire filling them to the brim becomes impossible to miss. He lets his gaze drop to your lips, his own parting when he feels your warm exhale on them. 

The wait feels eternal and for all of it the only thing you can think of is the answer you so desperately want to hear. 

Then the distance between you vanishes and Jungkook's face becomes the only thing you can see. His nose nudges yours, the soft, barely there touch making you shiver. He swallows thickly and you know that he's made up his mind. 

"Yes," The breathless whisper is the last thing you hear before his lips press against yours. 

It feels nothing like it had that night in the study, when the world around you seemed small and the taste of whisky mixed on your tongues. No, this time you were stripped of the liquor's boundaries and all you knew was him. 

For all the torment his words had carried, Jungkook still kisses you gently. His tongue is not demanding when it seeks entrance into your mouth, perhaps because he knows you will let him without doubt. 

The touch of his knuckles where they graze your jaw grounds you in the moment and you lean in to the soft skin of his hands when he cups your face, bringing you closer than you both know he should. 

It lasts forever yet not nearly long enough and then he's pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. His eyes are half lidded, his gaze meeting yours through dark lashes. This is where you had to stop, you know that, he knows that, and yet— 

"One more," Jungkook rasps, the need seeping through into his voice. 

Pushing the dangerous flutter in your chest aside, you swallow, responding in a breathless whisper. "You shouldn't." The reminder feels harsh, you force yourself to utter it anyway. 

Jungkook is silent for a moment, thumb stroking your jaw reverently. His eyes drop to your mouth, tongue flicking out to swipe across his bottom lip, "I know. God I know." 

Then he's kissing you, this time deeper, insistent on convey something he could not express with words alone — you respond the only way you can, by parting your lips and inviting him closer. 

His hands, previously cradling your face are now moving down your body. His touch is respectful, never more than a simple caress to your arms, sides, waist and hips, but Jungkook makes sure not to miss a single inch. And the need he's worked so hard to contain slips through for each brush of his fingers. 

The room around you shrinks, leaving only the two of you standing in its middle. Each breath you take is him, his scent, his taste — and somehow it's not enough. 

"Shouldn't be doing this," Jungkook's incoherent murmur doesn't stop him from kissing you, "You're way too young. Children's nanny. Shouldn't." Yet he keeps you close, hands holding onto your hips with no intent of letting go, lips moving almost fervently against your own. 

Your huffed exhale becomes his inhale when you mutter, "I think I prefer you quiet." 

He chuckles at that, an actual laugh that vibrates in his chest. Still, his full attention shifts to the kiss you share rather than the thoughts still lingering around you like dark clouds. 

Your joint feet stumble across the floor, his hands on your hips guiding you backward carefully until you're pressed against the nearest wall. The hard and cold surface provides a chilling contrast to the heat of Jungkook's body as it envelops yours and your arms loop around his neck to bring his warmth closer. 

His lips move on top of yours, saliva smearing between you without neither of you caring. Occasionally his teeth graze the tender flesh, never quite biting down but enough to make you shiver involutionary. 

The sudden warmth of his hands draws your attention to where they slip beneath the hem of your shirt — the rough pads of his fingers rubbing gentle circles onto your naked skin. In spite of the hungry kiss you share, his touch never moves higher, palms smoothing over the curve of your waist softly. 

You, on the other hand, are not as patient. Nails dragging across the nape of his neck, making him groan into your mouth. Hands sliding to the collar of his shirt, fingers hooking around the already loose fabric — serving as evidence to his previous frustrations. 

Your fingers move with little to no coordination when you reach for the buttons of his shirt, fiddling with them in a half-hearted attempt getting them open. He lets you undo one, then two, before his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you from gaining access to what you seek. 

"Not here," He grunts, lips moving from yours to instead brush your forehead, "Not like this." Thumb pressing against your racing pulse, he drags it across the inside of your wrist, pulling back enough to study the delicate skin there. 

When his gaze returns to yours and reads the confused frown on your face, he nearly smiles. "If I'm going to do this then I want to do it properly." 

You want to ask what he means by that but you're cut short when he suddenly grips the back of your thighs. Feet lifting from the ground a second later, you find yourself pressed against his chest as Jungkook slides one arm under your knees, the other going behind your back to keep you steady. Behind you, the living room disappears and the hallway greets you instead. 

"What are you—?" Your question is swallowed by a noise of surprise as Jungkook starts climbing the stairs. Scoffing out a short breath, you cling to his shoulders even when you know he won't let you fall. "You could've at least let me walk on my own," You mutter under your breath. 

Jungkook huffs and you feel him shake his head as you make your way upstairs. "It's not like this is the first time," He drawls and you could just about see the ghost of a smirk on his lips. 

Though he was right you still felt like this was different. The hallway upstairs does not look the same way it had when he'd last carried you down this path. He moves with determined strides, eyes fixed on the door to his bedroom, left slightly ajar. Pushing it open with the nudge of his shoulder, he brings you inside. 

The mattress dips under your weight as Jungkook carefully sets you down on the edge of the bed. This would not be the first time you found yourself sat here but it was definitely under different circumstances. Back then he'd stood on the other side of the room, with his gaze averted and his jaw clenched — now Jungkook's face was inches from yours, his breath hot against your parted lips. 

He doesn't move to join you though he remains close, like putting even an inch of distance between the two of you would physically hurt him. His hands brace themselves on either side of your legs, caging you in on the bed. 

His eyes are darkened with everything he fights so hard to keep in — only you don't want him to and that need claws at you. 

Open mouth brushing yours, his voice comes out low when he asks, "Are you sure you want this?" 

You can't tell if he's referring to you or himself but it doesn't matter. The nod you give him is but a subtle tilt of your head that brings your faces even closer. 

"Yes." 

Jungkook's nose nudges yours before dragging across your cheek in a silent caress. The touch feels loaded with all the things he cannot bring himself to say out loud. "Yes?" He echoes, lips moving against your skin, "I need you to be certain. I don't know if—" He swallows, "Don't know if I'll be able to stop." 

The admission makes heat coil deep inside your gut, stoking a fire you never hoped to be put out. Because you don't want him to stop, not for anything. Your next words are a mere whisper, "I want this. I want you." 

You can feel the shudder that runs through him at your words, the sharp exhale and the way his eyes squeeze shut. And Jungkook is on his knees before you in an instant. Forehead pressed against your stomach, the hands once bracketing you in moving to grip your hips firmly as he inhales deeply. 

He stays like that for a moment, grounding himself. From where you sit, you can only see the black mess that his hair had become and you move without thinking, running your fingers through the dark strands that are surprisingly soft. His breath hitches against you, shoulders tensing before relaxing again. 

Then he's moving, pulling back enough to reach for the button of your jeans. His hands work with determination as he undoes it before pulling the zipper down in one swift motion. 

You lift your hips without having to be told, allowing him to slide the fabric down your legs. Once you're bare he tosses them aside, letting them fall to the floor in a crumpled mess he would probably never allow under normal circumstances. 

His lips are on your skin in an instant like he could not imagine himself anywhere else. Jungkook kisses your knee first, hands caressing your calves gently, thumbs rubbing absent circles. 

Each open-mouthed press leaves goosebumps in their wake as he moves down your calf slowly. His fingers hook around the lining of your socks, tugging them off one by one. He pays extra attention to the ankle you had previously injured, cradling it gently in his open palm and you have to fight to keep still. 

He kisses every part of skin he can access, lips trailing back up over your knee before finding the flesh of your inner thigh. His breath is blazing hot against your body, tongue just shy of claiming a taste of you. 

Your hand is back in his hair, unable to keep away as you wordlessly try to tug him closer to where you want him the most. 

Jungkook lets himself be pulled along until he realizes where you're headed. He doesn't lift his face from where it presses against your thigh, but his fingers curl around your wrist, halting your movements gently. 

He exhales onto you. "Let me at least pretend to be a gentleman about this." He murmurs, lips brushing your leg softly. The sound of his voice reverberates through the room, going straight to your foggy mind. 

The hold you have on his hair loosens as Jungkook's lips continue their slow and tedious path along your inner thigh. His hands move up and down your legs, desperate in their attempt to feel every part of you that he can. 

In the end, his own demand for more wins out and his nose skims across the waistband of your panties. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, stomach fluttering with anticipation as you stare down at him with wide eyes. 

Jungkook inhales deeply against you, fingers sinking into your thighs. Then he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your cunt through the fabric of your underwear. A low groan rips from his throat and it vibrates right onto your pussy despite the thin cotton separating you. 

You were used to guys going straight for the kill. The sound of clothes being torn in a frenzy followed by desperate and immature, messy touches. But Jungkook doesn't appear to be in any rush. His tongue presses flat against you, hot and wet, uncaring for the barrier between you as he makes out with you like a man starved. 

His hands move from your thighs, slow and precise in their path to your hips. The squeak you emit bounces off the bedroom walls when he tugs you closer. It's mere background noise to the man currently between your legs, it was very clear that there was but one thing on his mind. 

The tip of his nose pokes at your clit, your thighs immediately tensing around him as the sensation makes your cunt flutter around nothing. The majority of your previous experience came from guys who could care less for the act of eating pussy and the few who reluctantly offered never delivered. But you're pretty sure it would be near impossible to tear Jungkook from where he's pressed to you right now.

You wonder if he could even breathe, doesn't look like he's even thinking about that right now — your brief concern washes away when his teeth move your panties to the side. He doesn't pause to stare like you'd expected and dives right back instead. 

It feels even better like this, with nothing keeping his eager mouth from your crying cunt. His tongue moves with purpose, circling your clit once, twice, until your legs are clenched tight around both sides of his face — then he goes deeper. 

The moan escaping you doesn't feel practiced for once, it's raw and unintentional, it's you. Fingers curling back into his hair, you pull him closer wanting — no, needing — to feel him. Your hips, unable to remain still despite Jungkook's grip on them, grind weakly onto his face, chasing the orgasm that had been building since he first put his mouth to you. 

Heat coils in your stomach and each time your clit rubs over the ridge of his nose you find yourself closer to the inevitable edge that your body screams for you to push over. But before you can do that Jungkook suddenly stops. The fervent strokes of his tongue slow to something languid. 

He presses a final kiss to your denied cunt, inhaling a lungful of air and letting it go again. "Forgive me for being selfish," His voice is hoarse, "But I can't let you do that yet." 

A protest sits waiting, though never makes it out when he pulls back. 

He has to crane his neck to peer up at you and when he does you're met with the frenzied look in his eyes. Soft pants leave his parted lips, the evidence of what he had done to you clinging to the lower half of his face in a mess of spit and arousal. Jungkook doesn't wipe himself clean — only letting his tongue catch a final taste from his bottom lip. 

You swallow, gaze meeting his, unable to look away. He looks… Starving. And you had a feeling you were about to become his next meal — for better or worse. 

He makes his way up your body, eyes never straying from yours. He's close enough for his glistening chin to brush against your shirt. The pace he moves at is torturously slow and you're almost certain he can hear the erratic beating of your heart when he passes the curve of your chest. 

The second he reaches your face he doesn't hesitate to lock your lips in a kiss letting you taste yourself on his tongue when he slides it inside your mouth. The way his mouth moves over yours perfectly matches the way it had been trying to devour you whole not even a minute ago — you can feel the desire that radiates off him in harsh waves. 

You barely notice it when he climbs to his feet again, keeping your lips pressed together as he shifts his body. Only when the warmth of his hands leave your hips does he pull back enough to let cool air flow between you. He's towering over you now, knuckles brushing the line of your jaw like he was treating a piece of fine china. 

Lifting your gaze enough to meet his, you see him already watching you with something dangerously close to devotion. He doesn't say anything, doesn't have to. The hot air and the uneven rise and fall of your chests speak for themselves. 

Your attention drifts lower, his shirt, always ironed to perfection was rumpled in places and his dress pants do little to conceal his own desire. It makes your stomach flutter knowing that he was just as affected as you were by this. 

Without thinking you reach out, fingers brushing against the cold metal of his belt buckle. Stealing a glance in his direction you find his jaw clenched, like he wanted to say something but held back. He makes no move to stop you though and with that you undo his belt with a soft clink. 

Sucking your bottom lip into your mouth, you let your palm glide across the outline of him through his pants, his body heat escaping through the restricting fabric. Jungkook lets out a shaky exhale above you, peering up at him through your lashes reveals the column of his throat beautifully exposed as he tips his head back. 

Spurred on by his reaction you shift your attention back to where your fingers are toying with the button holding his dress pants together. You've just about managed to get it open when Jungkook's hands suddenly return to your body — this time your shoulders. 

His touch is gentle — as it always was — when he guides you to lie back. The mattress hugs your back a second later, head falling against the pillow as Jungkook lifts your legs over the edge and onto the bed. 

The new position pulls your focus away from where it had been fixed though the brief disappointment is quickly replaced with newfound excitement as Jungkook crawls on top of you. 

You catch but a small glimpse of his face before he leans down to kiss you again. By this point you'd lost track of how many times his lips had met yours, all you knew was that there hadn't been enough. Jungkook seems to share that thought for his tongue drags across your bottom lip just the way it had that night in the study — wordlessly asking for more than he already had. 

A small tug to the hem of your shirt pulls you from the feeling of his mouth against your own and your eyes flutter open to see him hovering just a breath away. "Can I take this off?" He asks, and even though his gaze was filled to the brim with all the things you were sure he wanted to do, there was still a softened edge that waited patiently for your response. 

Nodding as best as you can given the way it made your head spin more than it already was, you loop an arm around his neck to lift yourself up. Jungkook isn't late to catch on as he effortlessly pulls the sweater you're wearing over your head, letting you fall back onto the mattress when he slides it down your arms. 

When the garment has been tossed to the floor and you lay beneath him in nothing but the plain underwear you had chosen that morning, he finally pauses. The want and the need is still present in every fiber of his body, as it is yours — only it seems to have been channeled into something different now. 

His fingers are burning hot to the touch when they find your collarbone. The caress is featherlight, not nearly enough, but you can't bring yourself to ask for more. Not when Jungkook regards you like he was seeing something for the first time, the pad of his thumb stroking down the valley of your breasts reverently. 

Then he leans down, not to kiss your lips, but the soft skin of your chest. He takes his time tasting you, eyes half-lidded as he exhales through his nose. A shiver runs down your spine as his palm snakes under your body, brushing along your back before hooking a finger around the clasp of your bra. 

"This too?" 

His voice is gruff, dark gaze barely managing to find yours through his own haze. The question amuses you, given he had went down on you just moments prior, only Jungkook is perfectly serious in his inquiry. "Yes please," Comes your breathless response. 

With your permission as guidance, he snaps the restraint hiding you from view. Your bra comes off easily, joining the rest of your clothes in their pile on the floor. 

This time his own urges seem to overpower the need to stop and admire as Jungkook goes straight for your now exposed chest. Lips wrapping around one of your nipples, he sucks it into his mouth greedily and you gasp in surprise. If he notices then he doesn't comment on it, far too busy laving his tongue over the peak as he makes it harden. 

Staring up at the ceiling with unfocused eyes, you let the quiet moans spill free when Jungkook drags his teeth over your nipple, the sensation making your neglected cunt throb with unfulfilled demand. 

Bringing his hand up to your other breast, Jungkook lets his palm envelop the tender flesh. His thumb mimics the motion of his tongue, leaving you squirming under him, not knowing if you want to beg for more or less. 

It's when he suddenly pinches the hardened bud between his fingers that your body decides for you. The shuddering breath forces its way past your lips as heat flares inside your stomach. Arching off the mattress and pushing yourself into his waiting mouth only has Jungkook groaning in satisfaction around your nipple, tongue flattening out against you. 

His free hand finds your waist, easing you back onto the bed carefully as he moves his mouth over to give your other breast the same attention, saliva coated lips leaving a glistening trail in their wake. 

Occasionally his eyes will flicker up to meet yours through his pinched brows, in them you find nothing but a hunger so raw it makes your abdomen clench tight. "You taste…" His words are muffled against your chest and he pulls back enough to rest his forehead against your collarbone, hot breath fanning across your by now very sensitive nipples. 

"…Unlike anything I've ever had." He finishes with a lingering press of his lips to the curve of your breast. 

The mattress creaks when he sits back on his knees currently caging you to the spot. You don't think you had ever seen Jungkook move with such urgency. His fingers are quick on the buttons of his shirt, working them open one by one, though his gaze never strays from yours. 

Each button coming undone reveals another patch of skin and you push yourself up on your elbows to let yourself stare unabashed. When fumbling with one of the last ones, Jungkook's patience wears thin and he opts for ripping the entire thing instead. 

The remaining buttons go flying in all directions, making a clattering sound when they hit the floor. Jungkook pays them no mind, shoulders flexing when he pulls his arms behind his back to rid himself of the shirt entirely. 

You don't know what you had expected — you hadn't exactly allowed yourself to fantasize what he might look like beneath the ironed and perfectly made clothes he wears. Suppose you had caught a glimpse of his biceps through the button up whenever he reached for something on the top shelf — so you shouldn't be all that surprised to find his chest filled out, and yet your throat runs dry. 

Any other day you probably would've been a little more modest with your blatant staring but it was impossible to tear your eyes from him. The lean muscle making up his entire torso has you itching to reach out and touch. And though you were no stranger to his broad shoulders and chest, you still let your gaze drag across the way it narrows down slightly by his waist — eyes lingering on the faint trail of dark curls leading below the waistband of his pants. 

If Jungkook notices your staring then he doesn't comment on it. His hand is back on your hip, smoothing over your skin slowly. Attention flickering over to his inked fingers, it's only then you realize that this was the first time you were seeing his tattoos fully. 

The ones leading up to his elbow are familiar, easy to notice whenever he'd rolled his sleeves up. But the fact that the hand drawn designs continue along his biceps and all the way to his collarbone were news to you. The explosion of ink and color on his skin are a stark contrast to the way he presents himself today and it only adds to the heat building in your stomach. 

Your fingers brush against his arm, tracing a swirl of blue as your eyes follow. Jungkook turns his head enough to follow the motion, a ragged exhale slipping past his lips when the edge of your nail rasps the colored skin there. 

"You can explore them all you want later," He murmurs, free hand already reaching for the belt you had previously unbuckled. Pulling it free from its loops, he discards it alongside your joint clothes on the floor. 

Letting your arm drop back to support your weight, you stay propped on your elbows as you watch him with barely contained need. Jungkook moves with little to no coordination when he pushes at the pants you had already unbuttoned for him — only to suddenly pause. 

Brows furrowing into a confused frown, you regard the conflicted look on his face. "What's wrong?" You whisper, dread creeping into your voice without you meaning for it to. Was he having second thoughts, did he realize that this was actually a terrible idea and didn't want it anymore? 

The absent caress to your waist brings you back to Jungkook, who was watching you silently. His jaw is clenched, lips pressed into a thin line and a prominent crease lining his forehead. "Don't got any condoms," He mutters as he drags his free hand through his hair. 

Oh. You swallow, shifting on the mattress as your gaze flits between him and the pile of clothes on the floor. You probably had a pack at home but it wasn't like you carried them around — especially not at the Jeon house. 

Jungkook leans over to pull the bedside drawer open and you listen to the sound of his fervent rummaging as he searches for protection. The frown tugs its way to his lips and a moment later he's shoving the drawer shut with more force than he'd used on you all day. 

"I'm—" Tongue brushing against the inside of your cheek, you peer up at him hopefully, "I take birth control." 

His eyes find their way back to yours, the tension on his face easing up just a fraction. He nods slowly, fingers still tracing your naked hip. He's quiet for a moment, weighing his options probably. 

Finally he sighs, "You're okay without one? I don't want you saying it just because I—" 

"Yes." You cut him off breathlessly, fingers curling around the sheets as you tilt your chin expectantly. Condom or not, you knew that this is exactly what you want and Jungkook must see it too for he caves with another kiss to your lips a second later. 

When he pulls back it's to hook one finger around the hem of your panties, tugging on them gently, "These off." The tone he uses is filled with the kind of authority that makes you instantly obey, hands already rushing to peel your soaked underwear from your feverish skin. 

The bed feels cold when he climbs off it, leaving you to slide your panties past your legs before tossing them aside. You watch with bated breath as Jungkook sheds himself off his clothes from the waist down, kicking the garments aside carelessly before joining you again. 

His naked body is scorching hot against your own and he steals your attention with his lips on yours. The kiss is messier than the others, his impatience finally seeping through as his self restraint wears down with each passing second. You lean into him, hands sliding along his arms, feeling the muscles ripple under your touch. 

Fresh air spills down your throat when Jungkook moves the kiss from your lips and down your jaw — mouth pressing hot against your throat as his tongue darts out to taste the skin there. 

Your nails run along his shoulders and they tense when another shudder runs through him. His hands are everywhere all at once, caressing your chest, ribs, sides, waist and thighs as he draws shaky breaths from the crook of your neck. 

You follow the movement of his arm when he reaches down between your bodies, watching as he wraps inked fingers around his cock — its flushed tip disappearing into his fist as he jerks himself off messily. 

"Last chance," He murmurs against your throat, teeth just shy of grazing you, "Are you sure about this?" 

The answer comes without you having to think about it, so natural and simple at its core. "Yes." You whisper, hands anchoring themselves on his shoulders as Jungkook pulls back enough to see your face clearly. 

His lips are reddened and wet from the multiple kisses he's pressed to every inch of your body — brown irises swallowed by his dilated pupils. It feels almost wrong to see him like this, hair mussed and cheeks flushed — looking nothing like the man who had first offered you the position as his children's nanny. 

"Are you?" Echoing the question back to him, you hold your breath as you await his response. 

Jungkook nods, slow and certain. The corner of his mouth tugs into something almost resembling a smirk, something you had never seen him wear before. "More than anything," He says as he lets his nose brush over your own. 

Moving to prop himself up on one elbow, Jungkook hovers just inches above you. He's still stroking himself, a small crease between his brows when he glances down at you. The head of his cock nudges your clit, on accident probably, but it still tears a wanton moan from your throat as you cling to him a little tighter.

"Please," You don't even know where the plea is coming from, though you don't stop to think about it. All you know is that you need to feel him closer — and now. 

Jungkook lets out what could have almost been mistaken for a strained chuckle at that, hand sliding down to grip himself at the base where he gives himself a rough squeeze. He ignores your meek attempt for more, appearing to be in no rush as he lets his cock slide against your cunt, the slick sound of your joint arousal deafening in the hot bedroom air. 

His tip catches on your clit a second time before breaching inside of you. He moves slowly, savoring each flutter of your pussy as he eases himself deeper. Once he's sure he won't slip out again his hand leaves to carefully hold you down against the mattress. 

The stretch of his cock burns at first but it's not nearly enough to overshadow the pleasure that ignites inside of you. And the hiss he lets out when he feels you clench around him only makes your head spin as your nails dig into his shoulders. 

When he's finally buried to the hilt he pauses. Cock throbbing in rhythm with your cunt, Jungkook rests his forehead against your shoulder. "Jesus, just—" He cuts himself short with a sharp inhale and you feel him twitch inside of you, "Just stay like this for a moment." 

You let out a soft breath, fingers loosening their grip on him. "Why?" Shifting slightly only makes him tense as he hisses softly. "Been a while?" You hum, half-joking and not really expecting an answer. 

Jungkook groans low in his throat, like it was taking everything in him not to move an inch. "Mm, something like that," He grunts, hand flexing around your hip as he presses himself even closer. 

"Fuck." 

The single word makes the air around you crackle and your next exhale catches on your tongue. You don't think you had ever heard him curse before, Jungkook had always been so proper, put together around you and his children. This felt like seeing a side of him you were never meant to — and it makes your cunt flutter around him. 

He doesn't give you time to respond as he silences you with another kiss. Despite your shared proximity, closer than ever before now, he still kisses you gently. You can still taste the remnants of your own arousal on his lips, something meant for only the two of you to share. 

When he finally moves his pace matches the slow caress of his tongue inside your mouth. Each roll of his hips pulls a strained moan from you — eagerly swallowed by Jungkook as he drinks them like wine. 

This was not the first time you had sex but it felt like the first time you were actually intimate. Even when being rock hard inside of you, Jungkook still fucks you slowly and purposefully. It felt nothing like the drunken hookups with the guys your age, the messy, teeth clashing kisses and the harsh snap of their hips at an uncomfortable angle. 

No, Jungkook was doing it perfectly. 

"Mhn— Been thinking about this," He admits when he feels you clench particularly hard around him. His tongue brushes your bottom lip, letting his teeth graze the plump flesh tenderly. 

His words make your breath hitch and you peer up at him through your lashes when he pulls back enough to see you fully. Dark eyes meet yours, in them you find nothing but sincerity. "For how long?" You whisper, fending off a noise of surprise when he delivers a firm thrust to your throbbing pussy. 

Nose brushing against the side of your face, he exhales slowly against your hot skin. "Longer than my pride will allow me to admit." His voice is strained, laced with something beyond just the way your cunt wraps around his cock so beautifully. "Shouldn't be," He murmurs between quiet pecks to your cheek, "But I can't seem to help myself." 

Something blooms deep inside your chest at that. The idea of him wanting this just as badly as you do — not just because of the fact that you were both naked in his bedroom, when you most certainly shouldn't be — but because this had plagued his thoughts the same way it had yours. It made you long for him dangerously. 

"I've been thinking about it too." His own admission makes you shamelessly voice your own desires out loud, the heavy weight lifting from your heart. "A lot," You add in a breathless whisper. 

Jungkook groans, "S-Shit. Don't say that." He doesn't mean it, you can tell by the way his cock twitches inside of you. His chest rises and falls quickly against your own in spite of the languid pace he keeps, hips rolling against your own like waves crashing against shore. 

"You have no idea what you do to me." 

The words spilling from his parted lips are ones you never thought you would hear. They make heat flare deep in your stomach, the orgasm you had been denied earlier catching up quickly. Your grip on his shoulders, previously loose, grows tight again, nails digging into his skin hard enough to hurt — though it only makes Jungkook pick up his pace. 

"Close?" He rasps, the hand on your hip already moving between your bodies. His thumb brushes your clit, the touch feather light at first before pressing down firmly. You try to nod but it ends up a small tilt of your head as his finger continues its ministrations. 

You try to hold off for as long as you can, desperately wanting to prolong the moment just a little longer. But the way Jungkook fucks himself deep into you with firm and precise snap of his hips, combined with the added pressure to your clit — you know you won't last much longer. 

He pulls out then, not all the way, just enough for only the head of his cock to remain inside of you. His thumb eases up on you, providing momentary relief that feels more like torture before shoving himself back into your glistening cunt in one seamless thrust. 

The cry of his name echoes through the bedroom as your pussy pulsates around him. Nails digging into the apex of his shoulders so hard you're sure to draw blood, you let the feeling of your long awaited orgasm wash over you.

Jungkook's pace doesn't falter and he keeps moving even when your cunt grips him tightly. He's murmuring soft words of reassurance against the shell of your ear, none of which you hear, too focused on the overwhelming sensation coursing through you. His thumb is still pressed against your clit, drawing high pitched sounds from your lips that would have you hiding your face against the pillow any other day. 

Only when the feeling of ecstasy dies down and you're left a panting but satisfied mess does he slow down. He leans back enough to study your face, hips now moving carefully against your sensitive pussy that flutters each time he reaches you just right. 

He looks like he wants to ask if you're okay, the question written across his face as his hand slides back to your waist. Before he can get the chance to, you've already reached for him, fingers brushing the defined edge of his jaw when pulling him in for a kiss that feels more like a desperate press of lips than anything else. 

Caught off guard by the sudden action, he grunts in surprise though quickly melts into it, allowing you to slide your tongue inside his waiting mouth. He tastes like everything you shouldn't allow yourself to have but crave anyway and you're determined to make the most of it. 

His hand abandons your hip to instead prop himself up on both arms as he picks his pace back up — cock still throbbing with need inside of you. Jungkook lets you guide the kiss, inhaling sharply when you pull his bottom lip between your teeth, his hips stuttering for the briefest of seconds until you let go again. 

Each thrust teeters on the thin line between pain and pleasure as your overstimulated cunt begs for reprieve yet continues to suck him in with greed. 

The longer it goes on for the sloppier his thrusts get until Jungkook finally breaks away from the kiss to press his face against the sanctuary of your neck. 

"H-ah," He grunts, "I'm— Need to…" His unfinished sentence trails of into a broken sound, somewhere between a groan and a low whine. He pulls himself out of you, hissing through clenched teeth as one of his hands fly down to desperately wrap around his aching cock. 

You watch with wide eyes as he fucks into his own fist, wishing it was your fingers on him instead. Pushing the thought aside, you reach for his hair, weaving through the dark strands softly before tugging on the ends hard enough for his jaw to fall slack. 

Having given up on all pretense since long, Jungkook doesn't bother hiding the noises spilling freely from his parted lips. He's close enough for you to reach up and pull him back for another kiss — you don't. It was better this way, getting to see every muscle in his face work as he coaxed his own orgasm forward. 

His skin is clammy with sweat, reddened too , the flush creeping down his neck. Pushing back the locks of hair to expose his forehead, you can perfectly see the way his brows pinch together. His eyes are half lidded, hazy with desire and his always clenched jaw is lax — you don't think he's ever looked better. 

"S-Shit," He groans, wrist flicking over the tip of his cock one final time before his hips jerk forward and he cums onto your stomach. It feels dirty in the way he would never usually allow. It's sticky, hot, messy and all over the place — everything you knew he would avoid if he could. 

Perhaps that's what makes it all the better as you arch up against him, fingers curling in his hair and twisting with just enough force to make his trembling arm give in, making him fall flat on top of you with quiet gasp. 

The sound of your jagged breaths fill the steamy bedroom air. Outside the sun was just beginning to set over the horizon, its last warm rays spilling through the half-drawn curtains and over your naked bodies — for a moment the world seems small. 

Jungkook's face is back against your neck as he pants softly. From here you can study the muscles that make up his back, it's easy to let your hands run over the glistening skin, fingers lingering by the nape of his neck to feel him shudder on top of you. 

It's when you feel the tender press his lips against your throat that you know he's come down from his own high. Neither of you speak, the silence between is not the tense one it usually would be — you don't feel like you have to overcompensate his lack of words with ones of your own. 

A moment later Jungkook rolls off of you to lay on his back. For a second the peace is broken and you think he might ask you to leave, or worse, backtrack on everything he'd previously said. You watch him with an uncomfortable lump in your throat, gaze flickering to the pile of your clothes, still sitting on the floor. 

Jungkook's sigh is what pulls your attention toward him again. His eyes are closed and his expression relaxed — though he wasn't asleep. No, his breathing was too even for that. The mattress creaks when you shift on top of it, to get closer or further away, you don't know. 

It doesn't matter when Jungkook makes that decision for you. His arm is slung over your waist the second he feels you move beside him, brows furrowing when he tugs you to his side, letting your body mold against his. 

You try to ignore the way your heart beats just a little faster as you let yourself slump against him, cheek pressing against his chest. He's warm, a lot softer than he looks too. You catch yourself trying to replicate the rise and fall of his torso with each inhale and exhale, as you ponder the question on your mind. 

"Should we—" Trapping your lip between your teeth, you hesitate, "I mean, should we talk? About this?" 

There's silence for a long moment, followed by his soft hum as Jungkook's arm secures its grip around you. Resting his chin atop your head, his fingers move to brush along the expanse of your arm slowly. 

"I think we've talked enough for today." His voice carries the rare hint of amusement that was so refreshing to see in him.

You can only nod, palm pressing flat against his chest, right above his heart to feel its steady thumping. For now this was enough — and that was what mattered. 

── [ ✉️ ] So, thoughts? No like seriously I need to know exactly what you ladies think about this. I have worked my ass off trying to get this right and I pray to God that my efforts paid off and that this was an enjoyable read for you, much love, Ki <3

© All rights reserved @merakoo 2026.

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ THIRTEEN

𓄲 He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth dismissively. The grip he holds on the book tightens with something close to frustration. "What is there to explain?" You don't think you had ever truly seen Jungkook angry, but this, this was pretty damn close, and it scares you. "You deceived me."

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children) arguing, kinda?

⧽ word count ⋮ 5.8k average reading time ⋮ 30 minutes

── [ ✉️ ] Tried out a new writing technique for this and I think I like it? I probably won't end up using it unless I'm feeling burnt out as it kinda takes away the joys but I will not deny that it is efficient. This is also not proof read, I will go back to catch spelling mistakes tomorrow, but I couldn't hold off on giving you ladies this. Anyway, this chapter will likely leave you with more questions than answers, that sucks, I am sorry. Just trust the story to unfold the way it needs to and I hope you can enjoy this chapter ladies <3 Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appriciated <3

series masterlist | last chapter | next part

chapter 13 — "the truth "

The looming shadows of the night curl around you, some threatening to swallow you whole. It's cold, awfully so and your arms do little to keep the heat inside where they wrap around you. Your heart clenches when you think back to the warmth of Jungkook's sofa, the way it had cushioned your tired limbs and for a moment soothed your worries.

You had waited longer than usual for him that evening. Nine pm came and went, the sky outside grown darker and your eyes heavier. Falling into a quiet sleep on the couch had been easy, it happened without you even intending for it to. And when you had finally woke, it had been to the sight of Jungkook hovering just in front of you.

Since his dismissal of your shared kiss you had been doing a lot of thinking. Your thoughts shifted from a mellow reminiscence of the hated moment between you and twisted themselves into something much more distant — something you looked back to with regret.

Jungkook had made it perfectly clear where the line was to be drawn, even when he contradicted his own actions from two nights ago by doing so.

The right thing to do was probably walking away. It would save you both from further complications, you could let the strange feelings you harbor run out in the sand, left to be forgotten. But you needed this job, needed the money, and above all, you could not bear the thought of losing the children. So you swallowed the pill he fed you, even when it scraped your throat uncomfortably on the way down.

When you arrived at the Jeon house this afternoon, it had been with a clear plan in mind — to avoid Jungkook as much as you possibly could. It had been easy, given the fact that the man himself hadn't been around at all, not until he returned home to wake you from your slumber with a gentle shake to your shoulder.

You can still picture the look in his eyes when he knelt on the floor just short of the couch. They held something different, something you couldn't quite recognize. But Jungkook had not spoken on it and for once — you hadn't asked.

He offered to drive you home, you declined. Now you walk down the cold and lonesome street, the late hour and the ache under your feet make the thought of his warm car seem all the more appealing. But you could not afford to let yourself be pulled back into the mess you were trying to sweep up.

The sound of your shoes hitting the ground echo off the sidewalk, filling the silence of the night. You think you might have made it two blocks away when you suddenly come to a halt. The chilling sensation that something was missing striking you. Hand going to your shoulder, your fingers grasp around for the strap of a bag that should be there — only it isn't.

Panic flares inside your chest, snapping through whatever melancholy haze you had been stuck in and you whirl around. In your haste to get out, to hide from Jungkook's lingering gaze and the things neither of you addressed, you had managed to forget your bag.

That wasn't too alarming — had it not been containing something extremely valuable. You were careful with your study material, always making sure to make a pit stop at home whenever you'd had a morning class before coming over to babysit the children. But having missed the first bus today, there simply hadn't been any time.

Your legs move before you can even get another thought through your rattled mind. Picking up into a jog that soon turns into a sprint, you hurry back the same way you had come — praying that you would get to the bag before he did.

The Jeon house floats back into vision less than two minutes later and you barrel through the front gates without any modesty before scurrying up the porch.

Your curled fist does little to mask your urgency when you pound on the door. the wait feels eternal and you try desperately to get your breathing under control as you shift restlessly on your feet. Tongue darting out to wet your dry lips, you peer at the windows and strain your ears for any sound coming from inside.

Soon enough, the lock is undone on the other side and the door swings open to reveal Jungkook.

He's wearing the same frown he always does, but the tension is gone from his shoulders. He looks… Calm. For a moment you're relieved, a small sigh making its way past your lips before you can stop it — he must not have found the bag yet.

"I—" You stumble over your words, trying to explain your sudden return, "I forgot my bag…" Sending him a sheepish smile, you try to steal a glance behind him in search of the most treasured item.

Jungkook's response is not immediate as he continues to regard you for a few seconds longer. There's no trace of surprise on his face, not even a slight raise of his brows when he nods and steps aside.

You do not dwell on the matter as you push past him and inside the hallway, thrilled to find your bag placed by the shoe rack. Quickly snatching it up, you comfort yourself with the feeling of its weigh in your arms. It's not closed and you scold yourself for being so careless, not to mention forgetting it in the first place.

But that didn't mean anything now. It was back safely in your possession and this would all be forgotten about come morning. You move to zip the back up again, a "Thank you" waiting on the tip of your tongue when you suddenly freeze. Peering into the bag for further inspection, you reach a hand down to feel around, the smile falling from your face again.

Jungkook must have noticed your obvious distress for he clears his throat, cutting your search short. "Looking for something?" His voice is a low drawl that sends a shiver down your spine — it was laced with something almost like… Knowing.

Your head jerks in his direction only to find him standing by the dresser. His expression is neutral, almost relaxed, had it not been for the clench of his jaw. Your gaze follows his, down to where his flips through a book lying across the wood. You did not have to see its cover to know that it was yours.

"I…" You hastily begin, though fall short as your breath catches in your throat.

Jungkook hums, picking the book up to turn it in his large hand. He surveys it front to back for a moment, faux interesting playing on his face. "This is yours I take it?" He doesn't have to ask, not when the truth is laid bare between you, but he does anyway, perhaps out of sadistic pleasure.

You could lie, you could make up all kinds of stories to plead your case — but he wouldn't fall for that. Guilt is written across your features, your shoulders slumping in defeat. Nodding slowly, your eyes find a spot on the floor to entertain themselves with rather than meeting his.

The sound of Jungkook's scoff echoes through the hallway and you could almost hear everything you had worked for slip through your fingers. He doesn't say anything and the silence only makes you want to shrink in on yourself.

A tense moment passes, a minute — perhaps two. Then he exhales through his nose. "I should let you go," The floor creaks when he takes a step forward. You nearly wince at those words — the ones you had dreaded to hear from him of all people.

You want to object, to protest, say something that would soften the blow. But Jungkook doesn't let you as he instead continues, "Is lying something you do often?" His voice is never above conversational, his tone isn't harsh and maybe that was what made it sting all the more.

Quickly shaking your head, you lift your gaze from the floor to finally look at him. He's standing in front of you now, any other day it would've made your heart race and your head spin. Right now you just want to throw up. "I can explain—"

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth dismissively. The grip he holds on the book tightens with something close to frustration. "What is there to explain?" You don't think you had ever truly seen Jungkook angry, but this, this was pretty damn close, and it scares you.

"You deceived me."

It's a statement rather than a question and Jungkook doesn't look like he wants to hear anything else regarding the matter. There's disappointment in his eyes, maybe eve resentment — it was hard to tell through the tears that had begun to build. You try to blink them away, inhaling a shaky breath.

"I didn't mean to." Your voice is meek, it doesn't sound like you. But it was still the truth. You had not meant to lie to him. The need for an extra income had been too grave and you had resorted to the only thing you thought might save you. Never did you imagine you could grow so fond of the position, of the children, of their father…

It had been easy to brush past the fact that you didn't meet all of his requirements in the beginning. It had been easy not to think about what it had actually meant, should you ever be found out. This job was only meant to cover what your previous one at the restaurant couldn't, now it had spiraled into something much bigger.

"I just— I didn't think it would be that big of a deal…"

You realize halfway through how terrible that sounds and if you could turn back time to swallow the words again, you would. But what matter was it if you were a high school graduate or not? It wasn't like one needed a degree to watch over a few children. Not to mention you were in school, actively making a future for yourself that didn't involve surviving off of others.

Jungkook doesn't respond to that but you could tell that you struck a nerve with it when he averts his gaze. What was his deal?

Another tense silence passes until he finally bites out a strained, "I should let you go." But it's starting to sound more like a thought than a statement, and for a second you allow yourself a sliver of hope, hope that he might actually let you stay.

He drags a hand down his face, looking purely defeated where he stands. Then he suddenly shoves the book against your chest, like he would rather you take it before he ended up tearing it to shreds himself.

Your hands tremble when you retrieve the means of your study material from him, holding it limply in your grasp, bag still slung over your shoulder, long forgotten about in favor of the conversation taking place.

"Had it not been for the children— And their ridiculous attachment to you," He looks almost as though he wants to point an accusing finger your way, though never does. Instead he sighs, long and hard.

"You lied," He spits the words out like venom, and it stings like the bite of a snake. "That is not something I can forget, nor forgive." His hands curl into fists by his sides, dismissing whatever thought had been on his mind with a rough exhale, like he thought better of it.

He pauses, regarding you with dark and intense eyes, like he was trying to figure you out. "The children like you. Probably a lot more than you deserve." His voice is crude and unforgiving, betraying exactly what he thought of the situation. The guilt blooms in your stomach much like a flower in spring and you fight the urge to look away.

"I just—" He cuts himself off, one hand half raised, an uncharacteristic move on his part, one you're too nervous to dwell further on.

You did not want to lose your position here. Not only because you were in great need of the money that Jungkook had been far from shy with handing out — but because you, too, had become dangerously attached to his children. Confused is what you are. What matter was this to him? What pained him so much so to outright refuse to hire anyone of your status?

Swallowing, you wait as patiently as you can while Jungkook tries to visibly gather his bearings where he stands just a foot away. "I cannot deny that you have done a far better job than the others I've hired…" He grinds the words out bitterly, obviously bothered by said fact now that he had uncovered the truth about you.

His brows are furrowed, jaw clenched tight, making it look like whatever he was about to say next was taking everything in him. "Do not think I'm doing this out of kindness, grace— Whatever your naive mind might conjure." He pauses to inhale, "My children are everything to me." His voice drops lower, "I will not further tear the ruin your lie has caused. But do not take my indifference as anything but my great dislike for what you have done."

He takes a step back, then another — putting a wall of distance between the two of you to run his fingers through his hair. His gaze is averted, like the sight of you pained him greatly, his eyes fixed to a point on the floor and you take it as your cue to leave.

Stuffing the book back into your bag, you make sure to seal it tight this time around, not wanting to make the same mistake twice before flinging it over your shoulder.

Jungkook has his hands buried deep in his pockets. He's still refusing to look at you, even as you open the front door a second time that evening. The cold night air hits your face sharp as a whip and yet it is nothing compared to the cutting words of his.

With one foot over the threshold, you're just about to step out when Jungkook shifts quietly somewhere behind you — drawing your attention back inside as you glance over your shoulder. You find him hovering above the dresser, palms splayed across its wooden surface, his brows furrowed deep enough to make his forehead crease.

He turns his head just enough to send you a look that makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. When he speaks his voice is lower than it had been all night and had it not been for the oppressive silence surrounding you, you might have missed it entirely.

"How old are you really?" He rasps.

Your heart jumps in your chest, the hand you kept around the strap of your bag clenching tighter as you swallow down the lump in your throat. Sweat beads on your forehead and you search for a way to convey an answer to a question so simple — only when it came from him, like this, after all that had happened… You don't know if you could.

"I'm twenty." The words feel thick and heavy on your tongue, "I turn twenty-one in the beginning of next year."

Jungkook lets his head drop back to stare at the dresser, a scoff tearing its way past his lips. "Jesus," He mutters under his breath though makes on further comment. You wonder what he's thinking about. Was he replaying every single interaction between the two of you — did he think about the kiss?

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. A sense of hopelessness washes over you and before you can try to repair some of the damage you've made, Jungkook shakes his head.

"You should go. It's late." He does murmurs, fingers clenching around the edge of the dresser as he stares it down.

For a second you hesitate, swaying awkwardly by the door. But when he doesn't lift his head to as much as meet your gaze, you understand that this was how the night was ending. With a quiet nod that he cannot see, you turn and exit the house, closing the door softly behind you — you do not tell him goodnight this time. 

The weekend passes in a sad blur. Saturday comes and Saturday goes, so does Sunday. Jungkook does not reach out for the entirety of those two days, not that you expect him to — but when Monday comes there is nothing. And so that bleak day passes by in the same fashion as the previous ones. 

By Tuesday your mattress has begun to dent, leaving a suspiciously you-like shape in the middle. The sheets were tangled with your arms and legs, a result of your constant tossing and turning. The curtains drawn to block out what little sunlight might dare to intrude as you huddle in the shadows, hoping to merge with them all together. 

An empty glass of water stands on your bedside table. Your throat is dry, demanding a refill of the fresh and clear liquid but your limbs protest at the thought of being jostled into movement. You're left to stare at the glass, finger tracing its rim as a tired sigh escapes you. 

Many times throughout the last couple of days you had considered actually getting out of bed, to study or clean, do something with yourself. But the idea always seemed so daunting and you resorted to dreamless naps that stretched for hours. It was better than facing the sad reality you found yourself living in. 

When arriving home last Friday, you had spent the entire night by your landline, sitting in front of the machine as you waited for something to happen. Nothing ever came through and since then you had been avoiding it. 

So when it sparks to life just outside your open bedroom door — you shoot upright in bed. Your back wails in agony, limbs aching from disuse but you push the pain aside as you strain your ears to catch the sound of the all too familiar ring tone. 

It echoes through your small apartment and you're on your feet in an instant. Blanket tossed aside, you rush barefoot across the floor, skidding to a halt beside the desk you normally use for your studies. Your eyes are bleary when met with the harsh light outside of your dark bedroom, and you squint down toward the numbers displayed on the screen. 

Your heart drops with disappointment just as much as it lifts with relief when you read the number, not belonging to Jungkook, rather your friend. Fingers curling around the telephone, you bring it to your ear with a groggy, "Yes, hello?" 

Daehyun's voice is a cheerful squeak on the other end of the line, much contradictory of your own. "Mornin' sunshine!" He speaks excitedly and you can already imagine him beaming at nothing in particular where he twirls the phone cord between a finger. "What are we up to today?" He asks, sounding much like he had great things planned if he hears a 'nothing'. 

You should lie, tell him that you're busy with studies or that you're headed over to watch the children. You want to lie. But after last Friday, lying was the last thing you could bring yourself to do. So you sigh, the sound carrying all the exhaustion that weighs you down. "I don't know. I'm just getting out of bed, might revise a bit." 

"Just getting out of bed? That's unlike you." Daehyun scoffs, the disbelief evident in his voice. He knew all too well how adamant you were about your studies, so to hear that you were slacking off, on a weekday at that? He probably couldn't believe his ears. 

You exhale, not feeling like going into particular detail about what had been keeping you chained to your bed for the past few days. "Well I just didn't feel like it I suppose." You thought you did good in masking the dread to your voice, but Daehyun is quick to pick up on it. 

"Hey?" He says, his tone suddenly softened into an edge you hadn't heard since he comforted you after you nearly flunked your first exam." Is something wrong?" 

"No— No, everything is fine." Shrugging him, you roll your shoulders even though he couldn't see it. 

Only Daehyun wasn't one to give up, especially not when you — his self proclaimed best friend — was feeling down. "Come on, let's go out for coffee. I'll meet you outside?" He sounds hopeful and you knew deep down that he was only trying to help as best as he could. 

Glancing down at the same clothes you had been living in for days now, all wrinkled and bunched up in places, then to your toes that flexed awkwardly on the floor — you realized that getting out of your apartment might be the thing you need. 

"Alright fine, give me an hour." 

Daehyun makes an excited noise on the other end of the phone, "It's a date!" 

The sun is out despite the cold and dark month of November, making most of the cafés downtown a hotspot. Majority of them had opened up their outside seating area, despite the unconventional time of year. Yet the rounded tables were crowded, conversation floating in and out around you as everyone discussed their own dilemmas.

Going outside had actually been a good idea. It made everything seem so small and insignificant and when you overhear a woman talking about her husband's affair, you realize that perhaps your own problems were not something to berate yourself over. Perspective was a fascinating thing.

Daehyun sits opposite you, a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose even when being very clearly out of season. He's leaned back in his seat, blonde hair occasionally getting picked up by the breeze. "So?" He hums, taking a sip of his coffee before setting it down on its accompanying plate.

You peer down at your own drink, watching the latte that swirls within the white porcelain. "So?" Shrugging, you let your shoulders slump as your hands rest on your lap. Daehyun had tried his best to cheer you up with dramatic stories of his latest fling, not taking offense to your lack of enthusiasm when you responded.

The guy he told you about actually seemed decent, which would be a first. Your friend had a bad habit of getting acquainted with the wrong kind of men. But you couldn't deny that there was a different kind of light to his eyes whenever he spoke of this guy, Jun, you think he said his name was.

By now the conversation had dulled, and for once Daehyun appeared more interested in prodding at your life rather than retelling his own. "You didn't sound too good over the phone," He murmurs, fingers dragging across the edge of his plate.

You attempt a half hearted smile, "Yeah. It's just been a lot lately I suppose."

He raises a brow at that, "Work?"

Right on the money, you think. Daehyun could easily fool just about anyone. He was so engrossed in his own adventures and still scarily attentive to yours. When you nod, he frowns enough for a small crease to appear on his otherwise smooth forehead. "What happened?" Suspicion creeps its way into his voice, "Did he do something?"

Your shared interest in men also meant that Daehyun was well versed in all kinds of assholes out there, having experienced many of them firsthand. But Jungkook wasn't like that, no, this was a different kind of problem.

Shaking your head, you sigh. "No. It's my own doing." You purse your lips, debating on how much to tell him before finally deciding that keeping everything in would do more harm than good. "I just… I made a mistake." The word tastes bitter on your tongue, mistake, it had been his saying, and now it was yours.

"That doesn't sound like you at all," Daehyun says, a futile attempt at easing your mood.

You swallow, "Well, you know about my uh, financial situation." You cringe at the admission, not exactly one for talking about money like this, or your problems at all for that matter. Daehyun knew, he had been the shoulder for you to lean on when making ends meet seemed impossible.

He had offered to cover your expenses on multiple occasions. Money to him wasn't the same as it was to you. Leeching off of his parents made him eligible to a great deal of founds — though he preferred to call it support from loved ones. When you had declined he suggested you ask your parents, but you could not find it in yourself to burden them with that. This was your dream, and you would chase it yourself.

Daehyun nods, awfully quiet for once as he waits for you to continue.

"When I first saw the job offer I didn't think much of it. The pay seemed unreal and the position was easy enough. Watching a few kids isn't exactly some unobtainable art." You scoff, fingers curling around the handle of your cup, though never bringing it to your lips.

"It's just, he had this peculiar requirement," Sending Daehyun a brief glance before dipping it back down to the coffee, "No high school graduates."

Your friend huffs at that, "What kind of requirement is that?" He says when folding his arms across his chest. "Pretty sure high school students and graduates are the target audience for a job like that."

You hum, "My thoughts exactly… I thought the requirement wasn't too important. I mean, I pass for a few years older don't I?" Gesturing vaguely to yourself as you recall the many instances to back up the statement. "So I thought I'd just leave that detail out, i needed the money, you know."

Heaving a quiet breath that somehow morphs into a groan, you avoid his gaze. "Let's just say that the lie caught up to me. And now I don't know if I'm keeping the job or not."

Daehyun is silent for a long while, studying you with a deep frown, his own coffee completely forgotten about. "What did he say? Did you talk?"

You scoff, if only talking was what could be used to describe your last conversation. "Not much," Pausing, you think back to Jungkook's words, the barely contained frustration and the vulnerable admission about Cassian and Rayne. "He did say that his children are very attached to me. He cares for his children a lot you see, I think he might keep me around for their sake if anything."

On the opposite side of the table, Daehyun nods thoughtfully. "Their kids are every parent's Achilles heel, this man shouldn't be any different." He taps his finger against the point of his elbow, "He say anything else since?"

Shaking your head, you sigh. "Not one call." And for every hour that passed, your fear that there never would be only grew.

You watch the way your soaked bedsheets twirl together, spinning rapidly behind the glass as water and detergent splashes against the window. They had been in dire need of a wash considering the fact you had been inhabiting them for the past three days, and you regard the familiar motion of the laundry machine with tired eyes.

The laundromat is nearly vacant, save for another elder woman who went about her business. A soft, jazz-like tune plays from one of the speakers in the corner, the sound muted over the sounds of the machines going.

Seated on one of the benches, you stretch your legs out with a tired sigh. You could use this time do to something useful, perhaps get some grocery shopping done or study for a bit — and yet you've glued yourself to the spot with no intention of getting up.

While your conversation with Daehyun had made you feel somewhat better, the lingering pit in your stomach wouldn't close. You worried for the future, if you didn't hear from him soon you would need to start hunting for a new job, the thought alone made you want to groan.

Jungkook hadn't reached out all weekend, hadn't asked you to stop by the house yesterday or today for that matter. Had Daehyun been correct about the children being his weak spot, then he should've called by now, right? Or did principle overrule the love for his own kids? Perhaps this was his way of firing you.

Heaving a breath, you continue to study your bedsheets like they would somehow unfold and reveal answers to undo the damage made. But of course, nothing comes.

It's the timid, slightly strained voice, coming from your right that finally manages to pull you from your thoughts. "Excuse me," She says, and you glance up to find the old woman who had arrived a little later than you, standing just shy of the bench you occupy.

She's dressed in a knitted shirt and a skirt that reaches all the way to the floor, gray hair tied together messily. "Would you mind telling me how to start the machine?" She asks, a sheepish smile on her wrinkled lips.

You nod, already rising from your seat, thankful for the temporary distraction. "Of course." Following her over to where she had already placed her laundry inside, she gestures toward the array of buttons used to power the machine.

"Here," You hum, pressing the round, slightly larger one, "This one starts it, and if you need to stop the program, just press this one." You inform as you point to a red button just below. The old woman nods gratefully, placing a wrinkled hand on your arm as she gives it a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you," She says, and you can tell by the sincerity in her voice that she means it. "My son is usually around the help me, but he's out of town on business." She explains when you make your way back to take a seat on the bench.

"Ah, I see." Sending her a small smile, "You must have a very kind son then."

The lady nods once more, a soft laugh spilling past her lips. "Oh yes. He's a gentleman, always here to help his old mother." She pauses, her eyes lingering on the running machines for a moment before she speaks again, "I'm sure your parents are real proud too, having raised such a lovely lady."

The corner of your lip tugs at that, and you shyly avert your gaze when thinking back to your own mother and father, waiting just a city over. They were the ones who'd encouraged you to chase your dreams and take the step of moving out here. You nod, "I hope so."

The remaining time spent waiting for your laundry to finish wasn't half as bad when you had company. You learn that the older woman is called Mabel and that her sixty-third birthday was coming up in a couple of weeks. She tells you stories of her son, boasting about the company he works for and how driven he is.

When the time comes for you to leave, you find that you don't want to. So you stay, waiting for Mabel's machine to finish as well before helping her carry her things until you had to part ways. She thanks you over and over, promising to invite you over for dinner sometime to which you gratefully accept.

It was nice to think about something other than Jungkook, to take your mind off things and learn about another person's life rather than mulling over your own. Perhaps going out a little more, even if just to the laundromat was what you had needed all along.

Your chest feels lighter when you arrive back home that night, the stillness of your apartment no longer feels suffocating as you let the front door close behind you. Kicking your shoes off by the coat hanger, you're just walking through your living room to make your bed with the freshly washed sheets when your landline suddenly rings out.

The sound breaks the silence and you freeze mid step. The bag holding your bed sheets slips from your shoulder, landing on the floor with a thud as you regard the familiar sequence of numbers displaying on the small screen.

You hesitate for a long moment. Why bother calling now? Part of you argues against picking up, to just let it ring and have him leave a voicemail if what he had to say was important.

But curiosity wins you over in the end and you reach for the telephone with shaky fingers, bringing it to your ear as the line connects.

Nothing but an eerie silence follows at first, the distant and familiar bruising noise the landlines always made roaring in your ear as you wait for him to say something. Finally, after what feels like forever, you hear him clear his throat on the other end of the line.

"The children are asking for you." His voice is gruff, he sounds exhausted, like he hadn't slept in days. He doesn't mention your last conversation, his one no longer holding the same resentment that had made your stomach twist three days ago. A moment later he adds, "I've made excuses for your absence. It's not working anymore."

You purse your lips, trying to sound neutral when you speak, "I see." You remain cautious, unsure of how much to say, of how much you want to say — and you have no idea what to expect from this phone call. "What did you tell them?"

Jungkook exhales on the other side, "That you've been ill." He makes a noise of frustration and you imagine him running his fingers through his hair. The sound of a floorboard creaks somewhere in the distance, giving away the fact that he was pacing. "They want to see you." He doesn't sound happy about it, you could tell.

"I want to see them too." The admission comes out quietly, you're not sure if it was even appropriate to say given what had happened, but you can't keep yourself from uttering those words — you longed to see Cassian and Rayne again.

Jungkook is quiet for a long while, and at some point you wonder if the line had gone dead, but then he hums. "I figured." He exhales, "Come by tomorrow then. Cassian says he has something to show you."

You nod eagerly, unable to keep the excitement from seeping through when you respond, "I will." Then you pause, fingers tapping against the telephone you cradle to your ear, "Should we… Should we talk?"

He doesn't respond to that, though you thought you could hear him mutter something under his breath. Perhaps he was considering the idea after all, but then he declines the offer again. "It's late—" He cuts himself off mid sentence, and after heaving a sigh he grunts out a gruff, "Goodnight."

The call cuts after that and you're left in silence again.

── [ ✉️ ] Thoughts, ahah? Hm, next one will carry on with the tension. But the porn... It's creeping up on us. Yes, anyway, come talk to me about your thoughts on this, theories, whatever your beautiful minds conjure, I love to hear it all <3

© All rights reserved @merakoo 2026.

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ ELEVEN

𓄲 He takes a sip, lips pressing against the rim and you remember how they had felt against your own. When he brings the glass back down to the armrest, he cocks his head to the side, dark eyes boring through yours with the same desire they had last night — like he wanted this just as badly as you did. 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children) dissecting lungs (not very graphic) tension kinda touches on angst but not by a lot

⧽ word count ⋮ 6.1k average reading time ⋮ 35 minutes

── [ ✉️ ] Right, this is the part where I go on another self pity journey about not being satisfied with my writing. Does it sound repetitive? Please tell me if it does. Am I going crazy from reading and writing the same thing over and over or are you seeing it too and is it horrible? Okay enough. Next chapter is going to be so much fun, can't tell you why though. Love you ladies, please try to enjoy my attempt at them handling their feelings.

series masterlist | last chapter | next part

chapter 11 — "checkmate"

You had this rather unfortunate habit of landing yourself in quite compromised predicaments. It had followed you around for as long as you could remember — sticking to you like a curse you would never able to rid yourself of. 

One of the first instances you could trace back to would be the raincoat incident in elementary school. The brand new, bright yellow coat your mother had bought for you was a most treasured item in your wardrobe. You wore it even on sunny days, earning yourself a few stares from the other kids. 

So when the first signs of the precious garment aging manifested in the seams coming undone — you had simply ignored it. That day was a rainy one and you had worn your yellow raincoat like usual. And though you did notice that the coat seemed to weigh heavier the longer you were out, it never crossed your mind that something was the matter. 

Upon stepping inside for lunch, you had undressed with the others. Kicking your rubber boots off, you then moved to undo the coat sitting snug around your torso — only something wasn't quite right. It had done it's job in keeping your dry as you played, except the water hadn't slid off its surface but ran in between the layers of the garment — creating a new home inside your coat as it inflated the yellow rubber. 

This dam came to a dramatic burst the second you had opened the coat — thus flooding not only you, but the entire hallway with rain water. 

History continued to repeat itself for nearly two decades. That one time your car broke down ten miles from the nearest gas station, or when you had a water leak that ruined your entire flat, and the one below — not the mention the plate of food you had dropped onto a customer when working a late shift at the restaurant. 

But kissing Jungkook in his study last night was, without a doubt, the most bizarre thing you had yet to do. The memory lives vivid in your mind, in fact it had been playing on loop like a broken record — forcing you to experience the feeling of his hands on you, his lips pressed against your own, over and over. 

Sleep became an unobtainable privilege and you could feel the effects of your night spent tossing in bed when you stood under the fluorescent lights of your classroom. The white robe you wear is blinding, the latex around your fingers too tight and you could feel a headache building behind your eyes. 

"What about you?" 

The voice of Daehyun is far too loud to be considered conversational, as usual. He had a naturally high pitch to each syllable, his words coming out fast and jumbled for the most part. You had struggled to understand him for the first two weeks of the semester, sometimes you still did. 

"Huh?" Your response is a huff, your gaze barely meeting his as you keep it fixed on the pair of lungs, sitting on the table in front of you. The scalpel feels heavy in your palm when you adjust your grip on it. 

Beside you, Daehyun scoffs, "Were you even listening?" He doesn't wait for an answer, probably doesn't expect one as he jumps straight into whatever it was he'd been discussing; something about the new bar he'd been spending the last weekend at.

Daehyun was your friend, you think. He had slumped down with an exasperated sigh in the seat next to your own during your first seminar, turning to you with a lopsided grin and immediately falling into easy conversation as though you had known each other since diapers. 

He would wait for you after class, never once rushing you when you gathered your stuff as he rambled on about whatever topic crossed his mind. You would commute together, fighting over available seats on the buss and sharing celebration drinks at his flat after exams. 

"You're not listening are you?" Daehyun cuts himself short to send you a petulant pout when he notices your distant expression.

"No, I'm sorry." You send him a sheepish smile, turning your attention to the scalpel in your hand as you turn it slowly, "What were you saying?"

Nothing but silence follows the inquiry and after a moment you glance up to find Daehyun already watching you with a frown. His lips were pursed, the jewelry around his eyebrow glinting under the bright lights when he arched it. "Something's up," He states as a matter-of-factly. 

You scoff, feigning ignorance. "What is that supposed to mean?" 

Daehyun was many things — easily fooled — was unfortunately not one of them. Folding his arms across his chest, he leans against the table, something that would probably earn him a scolding, had your professor been looking. "It means, there's something you're not telling me." 

He pouts, "We're supposed to share everything with each other. Just like how I told you about the guy from two weeks ago that—"

"Okay! I get it!" You quickly brush him off. Daehyun did a fantastic job at telling you all the details of whatever raunchy hookup he'd indulged in during his weekend, sparing you no details about the kinds of activities they had gotten up to in the bedroom. 

With a huff, he takes a step closer. "Come on, swear I won't spread it." His voice drops low enough for only the two of you to hear — not that your classmates were eavesdropping, they all looked for too busy dissecting their own sets of lungs, which is what you should be doing right now. 

The corner of your lip tugs at his words and you roll your eyes softly when making the first incision. The flesh parts easily, a pungent smell which you had learned not to cringe at, following shortly after. "It's nothing," You murmur, not exactly wanting to go into detail about the heated kiss with Jungkook as you dissected a pair of lungs. 

But you should've known Daehyun would not let the matter go that easily. He hums under his breath, eyes darting around the classroom as if to check for prying ears. "It doesn't look like nothing to me. You've been gnawing on your lip since you first walked in, thing's about to be bleedin' real soon if you don't give it a rest." 

You have half a mind to tell him that he was the one who should be giving this entire conversation a rest, but you hold your tongue, focusing on the line of the scalpel. "My life is about as interesting as the back of your milk carton, there's nothing to talk about." 

Daehyun was well versed in how mundane your days looked. Between classes and work, all you did was study — save for the few times he managed to drag you out for drinks to chat some guys up. It still doesn't stop him from picking you apart in the same manner you were unfolding the lungs in front of you. 

"Oh I'm aware. All you do is study and work—" He interrupts himself mid sentence, brows raising high on his forehead like he'd just come to a great revelation. His lips pull into a smirk you knew meant no good and Daehyun cocks his head to the side, "Work?" He echoes his own words, "You work for that rich guy, yeah?" 

You scoff, putting the scalpel aside to open the fragile flesh and peer inside the set of lungs. "He's not 'that rich guy' and I only babysit his children." You had withheld as much information about your new job from your friend as you could — and for good reason. Daehyun had a habit of reading into things when he shouldn't, especially your very boring life. 

"Babysitting his children, I remember you tellin' me about them." He says thoughtfully, uncurling his arms from his torso as he moves to rest his hands on the table instead. "What about him? How's he?" 

Shrugging, you opt for a vague response. "He's nice." 

That only seems to spur Daehyun on further. His smirk widens, fingers tapping restlessly against the sterile table. "Nice? As in, nice to look at?" You could hear the glee in his voice, the smugness that he did a terrible job at hiding when he leans forward to peer at the lungs you were currently dissecting. 

The only response he manages to gauge from you is the fact you had yet to meet his gaze, which was probably more than enough leverage for him to keep going. "Nice to… Kiss?" 

You actually flinch at that, nearly flinging the scalpel off the table in the process. "Dae!" Your hiss is loud enough to have heads turn your way as your classmates send you a few disgruntled looks before resuming their work. Glancing both left and right, you exhale sharply. 

"Don't say stuff like that," You murmur, suddenly feeling hot. The worst part was that he was right. Jungkook had been nice to kiss — better than nice. The memory of last night had kept you awake, but not for the reasons it should. All you had been able to think about was how good it had felt, how desired he'd made you feel with just a simple press of his lips and a lingering touch to your thigh. 

Shaking your head, you promptly turn back to your shared assignment; one trembling hand reaching for the discarded scalpel. "It's not like that," You huff, because it wasn't, "Besides, he's like ten years older than me."

"So?" Daehyun drawls, clearly having too much fun teasing you in a way he thought was innocent. "Older men are better in all the right ways, take it from someone who knows." He sends you a sly wink and you have to force the image of your friend engaging in such obscene acts from your head. 

"Dae…" You begin, heaving a silent breath. 

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "Tch. I'm just sayin'." Gesturing to nothing in particular with a lazy hand, he drawls: "They've got way more experience than any guy you'll meet at a bar downtown. Plus they know how to have good sex, none of that rough, sleazy stuff you know?" 

"Okay! I get the picture!" You say, growing desperate to escape this entire conversation all together. Daehyun thankfully seems to get the hint and goes quiet, though not before sending you another smirk that communicates just what he thought of the matter. 

You go back to your work, watching the cut the scalpel makes as you try to push the thoughts of Jungkook aside. 

The silence of your apartment feels oppressive when you step through the front door. Without the noise of people surrounding you and Daehyun's nagging voice a distant memory — you're left with nothing but the lingering thoughts of last night, the same thoughts you had been running from all day. 

Thankfully your noon class had wrapped up earlier, giving you just enough time to hurry home and drop your things off before heading over to the Jeon house. The idea of facing Jungkook again terrifies you a lot more than you want to admit, you hadn't quite accepted that you were actually about to do just that. Part of you still lived in the blissful denial that the press of his lips against yours had been nothing but a figment of your imagination. 

That fantasy is ripped from beneath your feet the second you pass your landline. There was a message flashing across its tiny screen, a missed call. Freezing mid-step, you turn to the device with an audible swallow. It could be anyone, you tell yourself. But who had any business trying to reach you if not the man who'd turned your world upside down not even twenty four hours ago? 

One trembling finger reaches out and you press the button with dread. 

The machine comes to life with a small beep, reading out the details of the message. It repeats the same numbers you had spent way too long memorizing. "Left a message at eleven thirty five, Fourteenth November." It's followed by a crackling sound, deafening to your ears. 

Then Jungkook's voice echoes through your living room, the low drawl of his tongue sending a shiver down your spine despite coming from a recording. 

"I have a meeting at two thirty." No greeting, straight to the point. You glance toward the time, it reads two fifteen. "The children will be in the library when you arrive." After a moment's of silence he then adds: "I'll leave a spare key in the flower pot next to the door, let yourself in." 

Your heart sinks in your chest as the voice note comes to an end, the machine barking out a devastating "no new messages." The silence returns and you're left standing by your landline like an idiot. 

He didn't want to see you. 

Did he regret last night? He must. You regret it too, don't you? He was doing the right thing by creating unspoken distance. It was better to just sweep the memory under the rug and pretend it had never happened. 

Jungkook could have easily fired you for it, even when he was the one who kissed you first, even when he was the one who crossed the line before you did. You can still envision the look of desire in his eyes when he leaned in, you can still embody the feeling of his tongue inside your mouth, deep inside where it shouldn't be. 

You should be grateful that he was kind enough to let you keep the position, even when it meant jeopardizing something fragile. 

The key was hidden in the pot by the front door, just like he'd promised it would be. You had to dig through a thin layer of dirt to find it, when you did, your fingernails were rimmed with dark soil that left a grimy feeling on your — despite the cold November air — sweaty palms. 

Upon stepping over the threshold, you're greeted with the same hallway you had fled from not even a full day ago. You can still recall the sound of your footsteps on the stairs when you scurried down them. The way you had so hastily thrown on your shoes and coat, not bothering to button it up despite the chilly night as you made a beeline across the front porch and through the gate. 

Today, the house looks just the way it had yesterday. The bright walls are the same, the carpet soft under your feet and the chandelier casting a warm glow over your head. The only thing that had changed was you — and the jumbled mess you called feelings. 

You make your way upstairs quietly, heading straight for the library where the children wait. They had no idea what had happened after the lights had gone out, so why did it feel like they did? Had they heard something, seen something? Perhaps you were growing paranoid. It was only natural given the rather awkward situation you found yourself in. 

Cassian and Rayne are seated by the only desk in the small library, their feet not quite reaching the ground as their legs swing back and forth. Their designated homework time wasn't for another hour — perhaps Jungkook had sent them here before leaving? 

"Nanny!" Cassian is the first to look up from his textbook, a bright smile already playing on his lips. It was such a stark contrast from last night. The image of his tear streaked face is still engraved into your mind, his sobs and hiccups cutting like knives through your chest whenever you thought back to them. 

But none of that seems to linger today. Cassian was his usual, giddy self — the boy you had grown so accustomed to seeing almost every day. He hops off his chair, rushing over to envelop you in a tight hug, even when his head barely nudges your waist. 

You reach down, wrapping an arm around him to reciprocate the warm greeting. "You're in a good mood," You hum, fingers threading through the mess of his hair, "How was school?" 

Cassian hums into the fabric of your shirt, "Good! Me and Mateo played hide and seek, but we made a new rule…" He continues to ramble on about his day, pausing to add in details, hardly catching his breath as you walk over to the desk once more. You listen intently, nodding and humming, asking questions whenever you could. 

Rayne makes a comment about his 'childish' antics but doesn't sound very upset. She, too, seemed relieved that her brother was feeling better than he had last night, even if she never voiced it.

That afternoon was the first where neither of the children focused on their studies, rather the conversation with you. It ranged from mundane topics to recent books Rayne had read before shifting over to what you were having for dinner. And as you sat between them, smiling and laughing along to whatever attempt at a joke Cassian made, you suddenly realized just how close you had come to losing all of this. 

Guilt roots itself deep in your bones, spreading through your veins like a disease. The kids were both oblivious to what had transpired between you and their father behind closed doors last night — yet you still want to crawl out of your skin whenever Cassian looks up at you with his big and innocent eyes or when you caught Rayne trying to hide a smile. 

Jungkook had put an end to what was about to spiral into an even bigger mistake last night when he'd pulled away. Cutting off a kiss wasn't the only thing he was capable of doing — but cutting you out of the children's lives completely. 

It was strange. You had only been working as their nanny for a brief month and a half, yet you find yourself utterly in love with the two little humans currently sat on either side of you. If Jungkook hadn't stopped you last night… There was no saying what it could have meant for the quiet sanctuary you had found with his children — and you were not ready for that. 

No matter how good his touch had felt or how hot the fire of his lips against yours had burned, it would mean nothing if the price was losing the kids. 

You allow yourself to forget, if only for a couple of hours. Cooking dinner with the children and listening to them wording their way through their mandarin textbooks brought back a semblance of normalcy that you hadn't felt since stepping inside Jungkook's office last night. You clung to the sliver of hope that things may actually return to how they had been before, if only you let yourself pray hard enough.

The house has gone quiet by the time you close the door to Rayne's bedroom shortly after eight thirty. When you do, all the thoughts you had been keeping at bay come rushing back. The laughter has died down, replaced by the children's soft snores as they rest under the covers of their warm beds and you were alone once more. 

You walk down the hall, feet dragging you slower than usual. Upon passing Jungkook's study, you pause. The shut door taunts you with its presence and though you knew the wood could not speak — for a moment it felt like it did. There was an unexplainable pull that roped you closer, a siren's call intended to drown you under the surface. 

Your fingers hover above the cool handle where you hesitate. Jungkook was not home, he wouldn't be for at least a half an hour. You should turn away, head down the stairs and wait for him in the living room just like you always did. But the strange tug within your chest is stronger than any rational thought you might've had. 

The door falls open with a soft creak, the darkness of Jungkook's study inviting you inside. 

Stepping over the threshold makes your heart pound in your chest and you let yourself be guided by the sliver of light spilling in from the hallway when you approach the same desk you had been perched on yesterday. 

You flick on the lamp sitting atop the table; it casts the room in a warm glow that feels far more hostile than it once had. Letting your gaze trail across the area, you drink in every little detail you might have missed on previous occasions. 

The chair holds no sign of Jungkook having ever sat in it. It's pushed against the desk, the same one that had held your weight. The mahogany surface is clean, you wonder if he'd wiped it down after you left. There are no papers in sight, no pencils on the verge of toppling over the edge. Everything was in perfect order — too perfect. 

Your hand slides across the table as you round it, halting only when you reach the chair. The black leather glares back at you and for a second you see Jungkook. He's sitting on it, legs spread apart and one hand resting on his thigh. The other holds a glass of whiskey, fingers curled loosely around it. 

He takes a sip, lips pressing against the rim and you remember how they had felt against your own. When he brings the glass back down to the armrest, he cocks his head to the side, dark eyes boring through yours with the same desire they had last night — like he wanted this just as badly as you did. 

Then he raises his other hand, beckoning you over with one finger — and you comply. His body is hot when you step between his spread legs, your hands trembling before you manage to place them atop his shoulders. Jungkook tilts his head back to have your gazes to meet. 

His lips are parted enough for a silent breath to escape through them. You wonder if he's going to ask of you to kiss him again. You would do it, you know you would. But Jungkook doesn't ask, he only watches you with dark, hungry eyes that will never get sated — neither of you will. 

Your fingers dig into the apex of his shoulders, hard. He doesn't flinch, if anything he seems to relish in the touch. A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, it rises and falls for each breath he takes. You want to ask him what could possibly be so amusing. Why did he laugh? Why did he— 

Jungkook is gone. 

The chair before you is empty, just like it had been all along. You blink once, then twice. Your fingers are clenched into the backrest of the leather chair and you yank your hands away with a quiet gasp. 

Your head whips in every direction, but the study is vacant — you're accompanied only by looming shadows and the memories of last night. Those memories had been far too vivid. Swallowing, you press a hand over your racing heart, forcing yourself to calm down before you ended up doing something you shouldn't. 

To your left, the liquor cabinet stands. You don't know why your attention shifts over to it, why the sight of those bottles seemed to draw you in. Moving as quietly as you can, you tip toe over. 

The glass is cold beneath the tips of your fingers. You make no move to open it, the last time you as much as touched alcohol, you had made what could have been the biggest mistake of your life. No, you only watch — eyes trailing over the array of bottles, all neatly lined up on the shelves. 

There's one that catches your attention, one that you recognize with dread so grave it makes your stomach churn. It's almost empty, only a few sad droplets cling to the bottom of the bottle. Why not throw it away? It was as good as finished anyway. Jungkook did not seem like the person to keep things around when they served no purpose. 

But he had kept the whiskey bottle. And as much as it scares you — it also lights a small flicker of hope deep within the darkness of your chest. What had happened last night affected him too. 

Your soft exhale fogs the glass but you're barely paying it any attention. Time seems to slow down as you stand in front of the cabinet, the silence of the house settling over you like a thick blanket — you remain wrapped in its embrace for a long while. 

It's the sound of keys twisting a lock that finally pulls you from your thoughts. Your heart slams against your ribs, only this time it is for an entirely different reason. 

You're moving in a second, frantically wiping at the stained glass with your sleeve as you listen to the front door open, followed by the tell tale sound of clothes rustling. Then you scurry out of his study, breath caught in your throat when you attempt to shut the door as quietly as possible. 

What was he doing back already? Jungkook would usually keep you waiting until nine before returning from work — had you really been caught up in his office for that long? Jesus. You shake your head, realizing that you were still upstairs and not waiting for him in the living room like you always did. 

It was too late for that now, the least you could do was pretend that you hadn't been snooping around inside his study before he'd arrived. 

The steps groan under your weight when you make your way down the staircase, one shaky hand braced on the railing to steady yourself. Part of you wants to retreat back up, to hide somewhere in the shadows and then slip out quietly when he wasn't watching — the other urges you to just get down there and see it through. 

When you reach the bottom step, you hesitate, foot hovering mid air as your gaze falls on Jungkook. 

He's knelt down on one knee, working his shoelaces open with practiced ease. You can't see his face from here, and you thank the heavens above for that. He's already rid himself of his coat, now hanging next to your own and the children's. You trace the line of his shoulders, watching how they move when he pulls his shoes off. 

For a moment far too prolonged, you linger on the last step, knuckles white from the tight grip you keep on the banister. Jungkook eventually finishes undoing his shoes, standing to his full height with an exhale that you catch from all the way down the hall. 

He lifts his head just enough to catch sight of you, brows furrowing across his forehead as he does. Neither of you speak and the distance between you feels more palpable than ever. His hands flex by his sides before he shoves them into the pockets of his pants, the silver buckle on his belt glinting under the chandelier. 

"Hi." 

Your greeting is a breathless whisper and it sounds pathetic leaving your lips. Jungkook gives a short nod in return, his gaze drifting down your tense frame before finding its way back to your face. You wonder if he can see the worry that has etched its way onto your every feature. 

Beyond the small tilt of his head, he makes no further attempt at conversation. His silence makes sweat bead on your forehead, sliding down the side of your temple in dramatic fascination. He doesn't look upset and if he was, you couldn't tell. Neither of you move and the tension form last night bubbles to the surface all over again. 

Should you bring it up? Suppose you did owe him an apology for kissing him so shamelessly when he'd already pulled away once… But then again, Jungkook hadn't stopped you. You study him for a moment longer, from the rigidness to his shoulders, the crease between his brows and the tight line of his lips — pressed firmly together. 

He had wanted it just as badly as you did, he must have. But the longer you stand in complete silence, the longer his gaze lingers on your own without an ounce of the desire you had seen the night before — you begin to reconsider it all. 

You clear your throat, fingers still anchoring themselves against the banister when you speak. "You're back early." Because that didn't sound at all suspicious, and Jungkook surely wouldn't be able to piece together that you'd been keeping track of his schedule.

He shifts his stance where he stands by the front door, hands stubbornly hidden within the confines of his pockets. "Thought I'd relieve you of your work a little earlier tonight", He grunts, taking a couple of steps forward. 

"Oh— No, I really don't mind," You frown, already shaking your head in protest. "The children are lovely. I love looking after them." You send him a small smile that falters when you realize that Jungkook wasn't stopping — and that he was approaching you. "And uh— We've been having a lot of fun today, Rayne was telling me about this new book she read, it's a science fiction one about—" 

You suck in a quiet breath when he comes to a halt in front of you where you linger on the bottom step of the staircase. His dark eyes flicker toward the hand that clutches the railing, undoubtedly noting the ironclad grip you keep on the wood. "Aren't you tired?" He asks when his gaze returns to meet yours. 

His cologne prickles your nose, the familiar scent doing little in keeping the memories of last night at bay. Was he wearing more than usual today? You find yourself inhaling once more, lips parting as you stare at him for a ridiculously long time. The collar of his shirt, ironed to perfection, hugs his neck, and you fixate on the prominent vein that climbs along his throat. 

"Tired?" You echo, blinking twice when you remembered that he was still waiting for a response. Slowly shaking your head, you offer an awkward smile. "No, I'm fine." You were exhausted. What little rest you had gotten during the night in addition to your two hour noon-class and then an entire afternoon spent with the kids left you running on fumes.

But Jungkook's presence, so dangerously close to your own… You knew that sleep would elude you tonight as well. 

"I can make you something to eat." The proposal slips from your tongue without permission and you want to swallow it down the second it leaves you. 

Jungkook doesn't respond right away, and for a moment you think he might reject the offer entirely. Then he exhales through his nose, close enough for the hot puff of air to slap across your face mockingly. "If you must," Is all he says before brushing past you and heading for the second floor. 

The curt response stings but the brief hurt is quickly replaced with a semblance of panic as you realize he's climbing the stairs. "Where are you going?" You whirl around, eyes wide as you watch after his retreating from. 

He pauses, turning just enough to send you a glance over his shoulder. "I have some work to finish up." He doesn't elaborate further, he doesn't have to. You already knew that he was headed for his study. Anxiously you worry that he would notice your presence in there. Perhaps you had nudged a pencil too hard, left his chair slightly out of place… But you bite your tongue, watching him go with your pulse racing through your veins. 

The meat sizzles in the pan as you push it around with the help of a spatula. Each movement you make is lazy, your mind someplace far away even when you should be paying attention to the food cooking on the stove. Since your stiff encounter in the hallway, Jungkook had been cooped up in his study with no signs of returning downstairs anytime soon. 

Every now and again you think you hear him move around up there. Whether it be the creak of a floorboard or a soft thud, though what he was doing remains a mystery. 

You take your time plating the rice and freshly cooked meat, garnishing it to the best of your abilities. Once you're finished you stand there, plate in your hands and a frown on your face. You were in the midst of a heated debate with yourself on whether to go upstairs or not when the sound of approaching footsteps catches your attention. 

There was no need for you to turn around, you already knew who it was. But you do so anyway and what greets you is the sight of Jungkook, hovering in the doorway. 

He'd unbuttoned his shirt, rolled up the sleeves to get comfortable — only it made you most uncomfortable. Arms folded across his chest, he regards you without a word. You wish he would say something, fill the agonizing silence with anything other than what was undoubtedly on both of your minds. 

Jungkook merely sighs, nodding in the direction of the plate you're holding before walking up to the kitchen island to take a seat on one of the accompanying stools. Then he waits — you swallow, realizing that it was your move next. It feels almost like playing a game of chess. One wrong move and you could never go back, only the stakes were higher than they'd ever been. 

The plate makes a clinking sound when you set it down on the marble counter top. Sliding a fork and knife his way, you retake your place on the other side of the island. Jungkook doesn't glance up when grabbing the cutlery you had provided. He begins to eat with slow, at ease movements. 

He doesn't comment on the food, no more than the slight raise of his brows at least. He doesn't ask you to leave either, seemingly unbothered by the idea of you watching him eat. Jungkook had mastered the art of appearing unaffected by whatever situation you seemed to land yourselves in. 

You can't help but wonder what went on inside his head. Did his heart race the same way yours had almost all day? Did he, too, think about the kiss — did it make his stomach coil tight the way it did yours? 

Finally you become unable to stand the prolonged silence that seemed to have grown a repeating pattern between the two of you. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you clear your throat with some reluctance. The action is enough for Jungkook to finally look up from his plate. He's got the fork halfway to his parted lips, a barely there frown tugging on his brows. 

"Should we…" You trail off, rubbing at the back of your neck awkwardly, "I mean, don't you think we should talk about last night?" 

The words might as well have been pried out of you with pliers. Your tongue feels like cement, blood rushing hot through your body. 

Jungkook remains impassive for a long moment, the food forgotten about as his eyes fixate on yours. Then he shakes his head, a quiet huff passing his lips. 

"What is there to talk about?" 

What was there not to talk about? You fold your arms across your chest, taking a smell step forward as you near the edge of the kitchen island. "There's a lot to talk about. I mean we—" 

"We made a mistake." 

Jungkook's voice is low and sharp — the tone he used sends a shiver down your spine and you freeze as the words register. The air around you, once hot and filled with tension no one dared speak on, now feels cold and detached. 

The worst part? He wasn't wrong, far from it. You had both crossed a line you could never come back from last night. Jungkook had moved one piece in a direction he shouldn't have and you had followed in his footsteps — now you were at checkmate, tied together with no escape. 

A mistake. 

You had known all along the truth to that word. Yet it hurts all the more coming from him with such finality. There was only one thing left for you to do in order to save the last piece of your dignity: accept and move on. 

With a shaky exhale, you nod once as you straighten up. "Right," You say, swallowing back the things you couldn't trust yourself to utter out loud. Jungkook, for his part, has gone back to eating his dinner — his indifference only fueling the dread deep inside your gut. 

"I should head home." Without glancing back at him, you turn and make for the door, feet moving you across the floor too quickly to mask your unease. Behind you, Jungkook doesn't look up, nor does he respond when you deliver a clipped, "Goodnight." 

From exiting the kitchen to slipping on both your shoes and coat to then stumbling out of the house — no more than half a minute could have passed. Only when the front door closes behind you do you allow your shoulders to slump, whatever semblance of control you had clung to all day shattering into a million pieces. 

The first tear slides down your cheek silently — with only the dark night bearing your witness. 

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ TEN

𓄲 The glass has just about brushed his bottom lip when you stop him. Fingers covering the drink he'd been distracting himself with ever since you walked into the room. Jungkook finally lifts his eyes, confusion swirling within their bottomless depths. "You don't get to decide that." 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children) crying drinking kissing (on the mouth!!) suggestive (?)

⧽ word count ⋮ 7k average reading time ⋮ 40 minutes

── [ ✉️ ] You ladies have been waiting for this one. Okay so, they touch tongues, woah. They touch more than just tongues but I won't get into that. Anyway, things will be escalating from here (naturally) but I'll be doing it my way, so there's no point in theorising a smut scene in the next chapter. Anyway, go read read, I love you ladies <3 Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appriciated <3

series masterlist | last chapter | next part

chapter 10 — "whiskey tears"

The crying had been going on for at least half an hour. If crying was even the right word to use. Cassian's wails sounded more like helpless screams as they tore their way from his throat. He gasps for air between the loud sobs, his pleas getting lost somewhere in the endless sea of his tears. 

Through the closed bedroom door you listened to the hushed murmur of Jungkook's voice. He'd been in there for a good while now — trying and failing to calm his son down as the little boy continues to hysterically cry. 

You don't know where it had come from, what could have possibly triggered such a violent reaction from the normally sweet and agreeable Cassian. Jungkook, who had come home a couple of hours earlier, had been putting the children to bed as you cleaned up after dinner when the first shrilling scream pierced the air. 

Dishes abandoned, you rushed up the stairs to find Rayne lingering just short of her brother's closed bedroom door. She wore a solemn look, tiny brows furrowed together and her arms folded across her chest where she stood in only her pajamas. She did not seem surprised by Cassian's sudden outburst when she turned to you. 

"He'll calm down eventually," Her voice was even — betraying none of her true feelings. Then she had thrown a final glance over her shoulder, "Goodnight," She hummed before disappearing into her own room, the door falling shut with a simple click behind her. 

Pacing the long hall back and forth — you listen to Cassian's continued cries as he yells what appeared to be incoherent nonsense,for the most part — though you thought you caught a certain word between the broken sobs. 

"You know I can't do that," Jungkook murmurs shortly after. He sounds exhausted, clearly worn out from trying to soothe a distressed Cassian. You wondered how much longer he would be able to keep this up. At this rate the young boy might as well be crying for the entire night. 

He'd been quiet all afternoon — responding to your questions about his day with mumbled shrugs and brief nods. You had noted the behavior as uncharacteristic, thought that perhaps he'd had a rough time at school or that he'd simply just been tired. Even dinner had been a struggle for him, and Cassian usually ate without complaint. 

While his sudden and unusual shift in mood did worry you — it never inclined you to believe that the night would end in you listening to his heartbroken sobs. 

The floorboards groan in protest when you cross the hall, feet moving hesitantly over the floor as you approach the sealed bedroom door. You consider knocking, fist raised before you halt — through the wood you can hear the continued weeping, Cassian sounds to be choking on his own tears. 

That was enough. Without giving yourself space to think, you twist the doorknob and step over the threshold. 

The sight that greets you is nothing short of gut wrenching. Cast in looming shadows is the usually warm bedroom. Evidence of Cassian's tantrum lay scattered across the floor in the form of socks — carelessly ripped from tiny feet — his precious teddy bear thrown aside like it meant nothing. 

Jungkook stands by the window, the moonlight casting a pale halo around him. In his arms, the source of your aching heart. 

Cassian squirms in his father's embrace, legs kicking and arms flailing as he tries to free himself of the hold kept on him. "Let me go!" He screams, fresh, hot tears spilling down his puffy cheeks and you were sure he was experiencing a pounding headache by now. 

Jungkook for his part, remains indifferent — if anything, his grip tightens on the small boy as he keeps him from fleeing. "Shh," He tries to soothe, his jaw is clenched tight and had it not been for the loud sobs spilling from his son's lips — you would have probably heard his teeth grind. 

"Let me go—" Cassian continues to weep, his movements faltering due to the exertion, "I want mommy!" 

You freeze in the doorway, one hand still wrapped around the knob. Your throat feels dry and you swallow back whatever meek attempt at consolation had waited on your tongue. Silently, you look on as Jungkook continues to try and calm his son down — it was impossible to tell wether he was hurt by Cassian's words or not. 

"I cannot bring her here and you know that," Jungkook's tone grows sharp, not quite frustrated but teetering on the edge of hurt. His hand is splayed across the tiny boy's back, palm stroking his skin up and down through the fabric of his pajamas. The touch seems to do little in aiding his son through the emotions currently overwhelming him.

You creep forward, moving slow enough to not startle either of them. Not until you're within reach do you announce your presence with a clearing of your throat. 

Jungkook turns just enough to send you a glance over his shoulder. His expression is torn between stoicism and something you don't think you'd ever seen on him before, something worn and beat.

Cassian has yet to notice you, or perhaps he was simply disregarding your presence all together. "Mommy— I want mommy!" He continues to weep, "I want her to come back!" 

The crease between Jungkook's brows deepen at that, a strained exhale making its way through his nose when he averts his gaze. The pats he deliver to his son's back are robotic, like he was acting on autopilot. 

"Give him to me," You don't know what unnamed force compels you to utter those words — nor can you understand why your hands are already reaching for the squirming boy when you should be turning to leave. 

Jungkook hesitates, you can see the thoughts as they collide with one another inside his head. His eyes jump between you and Cassian, going back and forth a handful of times before he comes to a decision. 

With an exhausted sigh he relents, turning fully as he transfers his crying son into your arms. 

Cassian is heavier than you'd anticipated. His body is a warm, solid weight when he comes to rest against your chest. He struggles, head shaking and legs thrashing, "No! No I don't want—" He cuts himself off with another choked sob, tears streaming freely down his face. 

But you refuse to let go, arms wrapping around him in a hug so tight you feared you might restrict his airways. A minute passes, then another. No one moves and eventually Cassian's cries morph into quick gasps as he exhaustion catches up with him. 

Jungkook takes a step back, his hands limp by his sides. His eyes are dark, much darker than the night lingering just outside the window when he peers down at you. It looks as though he wants to say something — but when his son lets his head fall against your shoulder, he turns away — like the sight pained him. 

He heaves a breath, fingers curling into fists before he gives a short nod. With a final brush through Cassian's hair, he takes his leave — shutting the door behind him with a barely audible thud.

You're left standing in the middle of the dark room with a small boy held in your arms. You remain silent, letting the sound of his sobs fill the thick air as Cassian continues to gasp and cry his heart out against your shoulder. 

Salty tears soak their way into the cotton of your shirt but you don't mind. Your hand moves on its own accord, mimicking that of Jungkook's a few moments prior as you stroke his back. You can feel his tiny body heave for every breath he takes, each one just as strained as the last. 

You let your gaze drag across the room, from the books neatly stacked into their bookshelf — to the homework piled onto his desk. Everything is in perfect order, everything but the sobbing child wrapped in your embrace. 

Minutes pass, minutes filled with nothing but his pain. You don't say anything, too afraid to break whatever trance he was in and somehow make it worsen all over again. So you wait him out, hand rubbing gentle circles onto his back as you hum quietly to yourself. 

After a while his cries turn into sniffles. Cassian has yet to lift his face from where it remains buried against your shoulder. You feel his nose scrunch when he draws in a shaky breath. His tiny fingers had found their way to your sleeves, curling around the fabric tightly with no intent of letting go. 

Sinking down onto the soft mattress of his bed, you manage to keep a firm hold on his trembling frame. Cassian allows you to maneuver him without protest, splaying his legs out across your lap, stilling clinging to you fiercely.

"You know… I think we're missing something," You murmur, fingers stroking through his dark curls absently. He finally lifts his head at that, a small frown plastered onto his face — accompanied with a pout. His cheeks are wet with the remnants of his tears, snot sliding down to kiss his cupids bow. 

Nodding in the direction of his discarded teddy bear, you loosen your hold enough for him to free himself, if he should so wish. 

Cassian follows your line of sight, his brows furrowing deeper. For a moment it looks as though he might just turn his head and forget about the abandoned plushie — but then he carefully shuffles from your lap, moving across the floor on unsteady, bare feet. 

He clutches the teddy with a white-knuckled grip, turning it over in his hands like he was assessing it before making his way back over to the bed. He crawls up beside you, his smaller frame fitting against yours like the missing piece of a puzzle, body sagging when you wrap an arm around his shoulder.

"Are you ready to talk about what made you sad?" 

Your words are barely above a whisper, yet they echo like church bells over the two of you. Cassian stiffens noticeably under the weight of your arm, thumbs digging into the stuffing of the teddy's stomach. "I already talked about it," He whines, clearly upset that you would ask further questions. 

Pursing your lips, you ponder his short response. Suppose he had a point. "Alright," You hum, hand sliding down to rest against the pointy tip of his elbow, "Then let's talk about something that makes you happy." 

There's a long pause after that where Cassian sits silently beside you. He's got his bottom lip trapped between two rows of teeth. Casting a sidelong glance in your direction, he peers at you through dark, wet lashes, "Something that makes me happy?" 

"Mhm," You nod, giving his arm a squeeze, "You miss your mom, don't you? I miss my mom too." 

"You do?" 

"Yeah. All the time." 

Cassian turns to look at you fully this time, his eyes wide and filled with something akin to curiosity. You can only offer, what you attempt to be, a warm smile in return. 

Moving from home to pursue your studies — and a possible career — meant having to part ways with the woman who raised you. Often times would you find yourself missing the home cooked meals only she knew how to make, the scent of her perfume when she pulled you in for a hug or her consistent nagging on keeping your room clean. 

Love was in the little things — and you realized far too late that you had taken them for granted. 

"When I miss my mom—" Wrapping your arms around him a second time that night, you pull Cassian back onto your lap, "I like to think about the things that make me happy." 

Cassian does not say anything for a while, fingers picking at the seams of his plushie, appearing to be deep in thought. The tears have dried fully on his cheeks, leaving pale tracks in their wake. He brings a hand up to wipe the snot from his nose with the back of his sleeve — seemingly uncaring of the mess, if only this once. 

His shoulders slump when his hand finally drops again. "I don't know what makes me happy," He confesses, his voice hoarse from the endless screaming and crying. 

Those words strike harder than you let yourself show, if not for the way you instinctively go to hug him a fraction tighter. "There must be something," A soft murmur, "Something that makes you happy." You pause, "Would you like me to go first?" 

He nods, head moving just enough for you to feel the brush of his cheek against your chest. 

Straightening up, you peer out into the shadows, the hand on his back resuming its gentle strokes up and down. "My mom's voice makes me happy. When I was little she would sing to me before bed." 

The memory is savored in your mind and if you closed your eyes you could still remember the quiet hum of the lullabies she sang. Thunder scared you terribly as a child, the loud roars that rattled frail glass windows and the flash of lightning that followed. On those nights she would make sure to pull you into her arms, letting the simple melody overpower the mean storm raging outside as she rocked you back and forth. 

Cassian huffs, his lips pushing themselves into a pout as he fiddles with the teddy. He scrunches his stuffed nose with visible discomfort, living evidence of his previous distress. "Mom is bad at singing," He doesn't sound actually upset when he shrugs, "She tried sometimes but it sounded really bad…" 

You smile, patting his back slowly. "There must be something else she's really good at," You prompt, watching as the corner of Cassian's lip twitches. 

"Yeah," He exhales, sinking further into your embrace, "Mommy made the best cookies. She put a lot of sprinkles on," He giggles, "But we had to promise not to tell daddy. It was our secret she said." His gaze lingers on the teddy bear, a content sigh slipping past his lips as he recalls the fond memory. 

Arching a brow, you peer down at him. "Cookies with sprinkles, huh? That does sound really delicious." 

"Yeah! They are the best!" 

He's practically beaming by this point, rearranging the plushie in his own lap before getting comfortable himself. For a short moment he's silent — when he speaks again his voice is lower, though still holding onto something content. "Mommy used to brush my hair every morning. Now daddy does it, and that's good too. Sometimes he uses his special hair stuff on it, it smells really nice." 

There's a brief pause before he adds, "But Rayne says daddy can't make her braids as pretty as mommy could…" Though you couldn't make out his expression clearly through the dim moonlight, you would guess that he was frowning — his grip on the teddy had gone completely limp. 

You can't stop the image from surfacing in your mind. That of Jungkook struggling his way through making a simple braid, pink hair tie wrapped around his inked wrist and a brush in hand. You clearly envision the concentrated look across his features, the much characteristic clench of his jaw as he tries to be as gentle as he can with his daughter. 

"I think your dad is trying his best," You say, fingers moving to brush through Cassian's dark locks. 

"I suppose," He mumbles, though looks far from convinced with his father's hair-braiding abilities, "He's still not good at it." 

All you can muster is a faint chuckle as you hug him a little tighter. It was hard not to love Cassian, he was like the sun on rainy days — and you hoped that his rays would forever continue to shine. Letting your chin rest atop his head, your hand moves to caress his arm instead. 

Whatever had happened between Jungkook and their mother, you did not know. And for as much as you longed to find all the answers — tonight you would be content with seeing Cassian smile at least once before he fell asleep. 

You turn your face just enough to let his soft hair brush against your cheek, feeling his body grow heavy in your lap. "Tell me another happy memory you have with your mom," You murmur, blinking slowly as you settle in to listen to more of his stories. 

Cassian ends up falling asleep in your embrace twenty minutes later. His words began to slur as he recalled the things he'd done with his mother — sleepy yawns interrupting his sentences even as he did his best to fight them off. Eventually his head slumped against your shoulder, his grip on the teddy bear going lax as sleep pulled him under. 

You sat there in silence for a while, happy to listen to the soft sound of his even breaths — no longer strained by the sobs that had been wracking through his body. Now he's completely still, his once tear streaked face relaxed and his lips parted slightly. 

Carefully you shift, moving slowly to not jostle him as you place Cassian down against his pillow. He goes easily, making a content sound when you pull the thick blanket over his tiny frame. 

Your hand brushes his cheek, feeling warm skin under your palm. His head lolls into your touch, eyes moving beneath closed lids as his lashes flutter. He never wakes, clearly exhausted after nearly an hour of crying his heart out. 

And though he slept peacefully now — you knew that the reason for his tears had not vanished. But for tonight, he was sleeping soundly, suppose that was more than you could ask for. Leaning down, you let your lips brush against his forehead in a wordless goodnight. 

The bed creaks under your weight when you rise to your feet. Once you're sure he won't startle himself from sleep, you slip out of the room — shutting the door behind you gently. 

Outside the hallway runs long and silent, except it's not the stillness of night that surrounds you, but something far heavier. You glance toward the room you knew belonged to Jungkook, the one he inhabited rather than the locked door down the hall. 

Pursing your lips, you had just considered approaching when the light, streaming through the crack beneath the door to his study, caught your attention. Of course, you hum, legs already moving in its direction. 

You raise your fist, hovering it a breath from the wood as you will yourself to just knock. You were probably the last person whose face he wished to see right now but you cannot bring yourself to leave — not until you've made sure he's alright, or, decent at least. 

The back of your hand taps against the door, once, twice. Then you wait. For a long moment nothing but silence follows, thick and suffocating in its intensity. Seconds pass before a low grunt can be heard on the other side of the barrier separating you, "Come in."

Twisting the handle, you let the door slide open with an audible creak — foot hesitating over the threshold before finally daring to enter. 

You had been inside Jungkook's study only a handful of times. Usually you would poke your head in to announce that dinner was ready whenever he worked from home — on a rare occasion you'd stop by to inquire about one of the children's needs. Though it had never been like this, never when the rest of the house slept and the storm of Cassian's tears had just blown over. 

The room is basked in shadows, save for the yellow glow radiating from the lamp on his desk — the desk which Jungkook is currently sat behind. 

Despite having arrived home hours ago he's still dressed in work attire. The, for once light blue rather than black, button up sits tight over his chest — cufflinks undone to free his wrists, the fabric bunched around his elbows. The tie hugging his neck had been loosened, his collar uncharacteristically wrinkled. 

He does not lift his gaze to meet yours, not even as the door closes behind you. There's a glass in his hand, a murky, amber-like liquid swirling within its depths. Your attention darts toward the opened bottle of whiskey sitting on the table — his choice of reprieve. 

You were no stranger to the bottles within the glass cabinet, they had caught your eye the first time you had dared step foot inside his study and it had made you wonder just how often he turned to them for comfort. 

Stopping just shy of his desk, you watch as he brings the glass to his lips and takes a small sip — his expression indifferent even as the liquor undoubtedly burns his throat. 

"He asleep?" 

Jungkook's voice had always held a rough edge, each syllable slightly strained when he spoke. Tonight that is all the more evident. He sounds worn — exhausted beyond the means of insufficient rest. 

You nod, letting your gaze linger on the glass he nurses between his inked fingers. "Properly knocked out," Humming, you let your hand trace the edge of the table, "Don't think he'll wake during the night." 

On the other side of the desk, Jungkook heaves a quiet breath that somehow rings loud in your ears. "That's good," Is all he says before reaching for the bottle and refilling his glass despite not having finished what it already held. 

There's a moment where you think he might actually bring up what weighed so heavily between the two of you — that he might address the cause of his son's distress. But of course, he did not, instead opting for another sip of his drink. 

The sound of your footsteps echo within his study as you round the table separating you. Jungkook makes no comment when you pause to re-arrange the papers on his desk, creating enough space for you to perch yourself atop the mahogany wood. 

Only when you've settled into your new spot does he cock a brow in your direction, dark eyes finding yours over the rim of the glass pressed to his lips. You shrug, feigning indifference as your legs begin a slow, back and forth sway — careful to keep your feet from touching either one of his spread thighs. 

"Does he cry for her like that often?" You did not have to specify who you were talking about, her name — though still unknown to you — lingered around you like a dark, heavy cloud. 

Jungkook's jaw clenches, the glass hitting the table with a sharp thud when he sets it down. Then he leans back in his chair, eyes set on something behind you as his hands caress the armrests. "He's five," Jungkook states, his tone never rising above its low drawl, "It'd be concerning if he didn't." 

You purse your lips, glancing down toward your legs where they swing. Part of you wants to argue that the way he cried was concerning enough — not to mention the fact that Jungkook had clearly struggled to calm the young boy. 

"How long has it been?" You ask, trying to hide the curiosity that attempts to claw its way from your throat. 

His response is short, "Little over a year." 

A year. A year was a long time for a five-year-old, longer than any adult could comprehend. A year was also long enough for him to settle into a new routine and — with the help of his father — find stability again. This was the first time you'd seen either of the children cry like this and it worried you. 

Jungkook is already reaching for the glass again and this time he doesn't lower it after taking a swig. "It was a lot worse in the beginning. Kid wouldn't sleep until he passed out from exhaustion," He grunts between sips. The alcohol seemed to have loosened his tongue — but the natural tension to his shoulders had yet to give way. 

"He's confused," He then adds, regarding the whiskey in his glass like an intriguing artifact, "That's not his fault." 

You lean forward, hands sliding from your lap to curl around the edges of the desk you sit on. In the act of doing so, you manage to nudge a discarded pencil out of place. It rolls across the mahogany surface, approaching the edge where it would tip and fall with rapid speed. You don't have time to reach out — but Jungkook does. 

His fingers close around the pencil, catching it just as it threatens to tumble onto the floor. Fist closing around it, Jungkook holds it for a second before placing it back in its spot, that being the gap between your thigh and hand. He straightens the pen and you half expect him to remark on your clumsiness. He doesn't — and he doesn't move his hand back to the armrest either. 

The warmth of his skin feels like an imposter where his fingers rest just inches from your own and you're forced to drag your gaze back to the expression of indifference he wears — like this did not make his heart race the way it did yours. 

"Does he know what happened?" You murmur, shifting your attention back to the conversation you'd been having just a moment ago. Jungkook doesn't respond — it was enough to let you know that the answer was no. "You should tell him, it might help him cope." 

Whatever may have happened between him and the children's mother it was enough to impact them to to this day. No matter his feelings on the matter you felt the kids had a right to know the truth about their own mother — even if it meant exposing something ugly. 

Jungkook's grip on the glass tightens, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "They are not ready for that," He says, bringing the glass to his lips as he takes another sip. There was an edge of finality to his words as though he was drawing a line for the discussion to end right here. 

But of course, you did not listen. 

"So you plan on waiting until they're ready," You lean forward, unable to stop the frown that paints your face. "They might never be, how will you know when—" 

"You," Jungkook's voice is sharper than it had been all night — reminding you of the one he would use whenever he scolded the kids. He interrupts you without shame, dark eyes shifting back to yours as he holds your gaze with piercing intensity. 

"I won't deny that you've been good with the children, nor will I deny the fact that they've both grown fond of you, incredibly so." His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth, the corner of his lip twitching into something that resembled a scowl, "But you have no business sticking your nose where it does not belong." 

He averts his focus back to the whiskey, savoring another long sip like it could help drown out the noise of your conversation. 

You swallow, throat suddenly feeling dry and for a split second you considered grabbing the abandoned bottle sitting beside you on the desk. Head tilting toward the floor, you regard the rhythmic sway of your legs, exhaling a quiet sigh through your nose. The last thing you want is for him to see just how badly his words affect you. 

The silence that settles over the study imposes on you from every angle, gnawing at your bones as the night outside darkens by the minute. You thought you could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his attention making shivers crawl up your spine — but you did not dare steal a glance to confirm it. 

Though you only had the children's well-being in mind — it was hard not to prod at the matter of their mother. Even then, you knew that there was a line of professionalism to not be crossed, and you had pushed further than you should tonight, a lot further — so why can't find it in you to stop? 

"And you?" The question slips from your tongue a mere whisper. Jungkook hears it, how could he not when only silence accompanies you? 

"What about me?" He murmurs over the rim of his glass and when you finally lift your gaze, you find him already watching you intently. There was a defined crease between his dark brows, a few strand of his once styled hair falling across his forehead — accentuating the late hour and the exhaustion that this evening had left within him. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip and you shift on the spot before turning just enough to face him properly. 

"Does it make you feel anything?" You pause, legs stilling mid-swing where they dangle from the edge of his desk. Fingers curling a little tighter around the mahogany wood, you gauge his expression before adding, "Her, I mean."

Jungkook exhales through his nose, his gaze fixed on the bend of your knee — inches from where his hand rests against the table's surface. Dark eyes flicker up to meet yours, his response is guarded and short — pinky nearly brushing the expanse of your thigh, "No."

His answer makes you frown. Regardless of his own personal feelings toward the woman, she was still the mother of his children. Even a man like Jungkook himself would be unable to deny said fact. 

"You must feel something," You don't even realize that you're leaning forward, still holding onto the desk like it could save you from falling into territory you most definitely shouldn't be exploring. 

Jungkook remains where he is, arching one single brow as he studies you closely — too close. "Why do you bother?" He grunts, his eyes boring through your own like he was searching for answers to your overflowing curiosity. He won't find them, you know he won't — for you haven't either. 

Suppose the closest answer you would ever be able to give were the weird feelings you seemed to harbor for the man of indifference, sitting before you. They were complicated in the sense that you could not tell where they began and ended — Jungkook intrigues you just as much as he confuses you. 

And perhaps it is the lines of exhaustion written into his features, the loneliness that clings to him like a second skin, that makes you feel. Was it sympathy? Pity? You did not think it was. Whatever you felt for Jungkook ran far deeper and you weren't quite sure you were ready to venture into those depths yet. 

"I care." 

Your heart beats a little faster when the admission leaves you — like shackles coming undone from your wrists. You inhale, hands releasing their hold on the desk as you draw them back to your lap, fingers intertwining with one another. 

The chair creaks beneath his weight when Jungkook sits up a little straighter. He's not looking at you as he, too, pulls his hand back from the table. He runs it through his hair, a flicker of something conflicted shadowing his expression before vanishing just as quickly. 

"You shouldn't," He scoffs bitterly, raising the glass for another sip. 

His curt response doesn't sit well with your racing heart. You did not think you had ever felt frustrated with Jungkook, not like this at least. He may be the father of the children you were assigned to care for — and though you would not argue with him on how to raise his own kids as you kept within the bounds of professionalism — that line still worked both ways. He was not allowed to tell you what you should feel. 

The glass has just about brushed his bottom lip when you stop him. Fingers covering the drink he'd been distracting himself with ever since you walked into the room. Jungkook finally lifts his eyes, confusion swirling within their bottomless depths. 

"You don't get to decide that." 

You barely recognize your own voice, it seems he doesn't either because he lets you rob him of the glass he'd been cradling so dearly. Your hand trembles but you ignore it as you down what was left of his drink. The alcohol burns when it slides down your throat, stoking the fire already flaming inside your chest, warming you from within. 

Setting the glass down with an audible clink, you reach up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand — not taking your eyes off of him as you do. 

Jungkook regards you quietly. If he was upset he makes good work of not letting it show. Instead he allows his gaze to drag across your body in a way he never had before, like he was seeing something new, perhaps fixating on a detail he'd previously missed. You're not oblivious to the lingering glance he gives your legs. 

"No?" His voice is gruff, almost strained. It's only when he pulls his attention from your thighs and over to your eyes that your close proximity dawns over the horizon. You hadn't realized just how much you'd leaned forward to snatch the drink from him — or that you hadn't straightened back up again. 

You can't help the way your tongue sneaks out to swipe across your bottom lip, your body responding before you can. The subtle action is enough to redirect Jungkook's dark gaze and you follow his eyes as they drift toward your mouth. 

"No," You whisper, swallowing when you felt your heart beat its way up your throat. 

He doesn't say anything after that — and though Jungkook had always been a quiet man, you were almost inclined to believe that he was at a loss for words. His own lips, previously pressed into a thin line, were now parted as well. He lets a quiet exhale escape through them, his breath meeting yours in something unspoken. 

A million thoughts race through your head, half of them screaming for you to flee before you end up doing something you would live to regret. The other half? They plead for something far more sinful — but it is not you who give in. 

Jungkook has leaned closer, so close that the next breath you take might just be his. Those dark and intense eyes, half hidden behind his lashes, are all you see. They flutter when he exhales and you find your own doing the same. 

You watch the temptation that strikes through his gaze, perfectly able to pinpoint to exact moment he comes to a decision — and a second later Jungkook presses his lips against yours. 

He's warm. Gentle in a way that contradicts the sharp and jagged edges you had grown so accustomed to. His nose brushes the side of your own, foreheads close enough to touch. For a while it's just that — a quiet stillness where you remain locked together. Then he moves. 

It's but a soft press of his mouth against your own before you feel his tongue trace your bottom lip with reverence. He's careful, like one wrong move would shatter the fragility of the moment. 

You meet him halfway, lips parting in compliance. Only, Jungkook doesn't take it any further. Before you know it he's pulled back. 

The air between you is still hot with the remnants of what had just transpired. You hold your breath — heart thundering in your chest as you regard him with a dumbfounded expression. 

"I'm sorry," He's quick to apologize, trying to bury what he'd done like he was covering for a crime. His jaw is clenched tight, his gaze turned to a point over your shoulder, where he could escape the reality sitting in front of him. 

Disappointment. That's the first feeling you're able to name. The next one? Longing. 

You chase after him, hand sliding around the nape of his neck as you pull your faces back together. Breaths meeting a second time, your noses close enough to nudge against one another. "I'm not," You murmur, not giving either of you time to register the meaning behind those words as you seal his silence with another kiss. 

This one is not careful, it's not the same soft press of lips locked together. It's rough, too rough for the tender emotions you want to convey. But when your lips part once more — Jungkook doesn't pull back. 

His tongue is hot when it slides inside your waiting mouth. One of his hands has found its way to your face, thumb brushing the line of your jaw. The other claims your thigh, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you toward the edge of the desk. 

You can taste the whiskey on him, that sweet almost tangy flavor that makes your head spin — or perhaps it was the way his teeth graze your top lip, like he wanted to bite down on it. 

The hand you kept on his neck crept its way to his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands you had been itching to feel for so long now. Jungkook sighs into your mouth when you give them an experimental tug, the soft sound threatening your body into arching toward him. 

His head tips back enough to deepen the kiss, hand abandoning its place on your jaw in order to wrap around your hip as he gives it a squeeze. Every part of your body he touches sets your skin ablaze even through the layer of clothes separating you. 

The chair creaks when he rises to his feet — never once breaking apart from the heated kiss. Your legs fall open without having to be told, easily accommodating him between them as Jungkook's chest brushes yours. 

This was perhaps breaking every part of the professionalism you had worked so hard to keep since setting foot inside the Jeon house. It should scare you — perhaps it did. Perhaps the fear is what made your arms loop around his neck and pull him even closer, exhaling a soft breath that borders on a moan. 

If anything, Jungkook was crossing the line he'd drawn himself — the one he'd been hellbent on never erasing. That made him just as bad as you, did it not? 

But the way he kisses you now, letting his tongue brush against yours like nothing else mattered, you could almost believe it to be true. His hand on your thigh shifts, brushing along its expanse in a way that makes you wonder if this had been on his mind for just as long as it had yours. 

The moment seems to last forever in the shadows of his study — with his children asleep down the hall. It feels forbidden but not wrong, no, it feels right. 

Jungkook breaks the kiss with a sharp inhale, his forehead coming to rest against yours. For a while, nothing but the sound of your soft breaths fill the hot air around you. Slowly peeling your eyes open, you find his dark ones staring back at you. He's so close that you can count each lash, they fall gently across the high of his cheek when he blinks. 

Then he's gone — large hands disappearing from your body as he takes a quick step back, robbing you of his warmth. "Jesus," Jungkook groans, dragging a palm down his face roughly. His hair, once laying neat across his head, was now a mess from your fingers running through the strands and pulling on them. 

You sit breathless on the edge of the table, trying to calm your racing heart as the reality of what you had just done dawned on you. 

"I shouldn't have—" He begins but cuts himself short with another ragged inhale. Shoving a mean hand through the same hair you had just been toying with, Jungkook takes another step back, nearly hitting the window behind him. 

Shifting on the desk, you chew on your bottom lip, "Maybe—" 

"No," He interrupts, shaking his head as his fingers come to rub at his jaw. Frustration rolls off of him in waves, impossible to ignore even if you tried. His office suddenly feels small, the shadows darker and the gravity of your situation present. 

"You should go," He doesn't look at you when he utters the words and you could see the way his hand balled into a tight fist. You knew that there was no use in objecting. Staying here for even a second longer would only do more harm than good. 

Scooting off the table, you come to stand on legs that feel like jelly. Adrenaline still pumps through your veins, your heart hot and heavy in your chest when you turn to leave. Jungkook doesn't attempt to speak, would he end up saying something he didn't mean? Or worse — something he did. 

When reaching the door, you pause. Fingers curled around the handle, you throw a glance over your shoulder, a mistake probably. Jungkook still isn't looking at you, he hasn't moved from his spot by the window and it doesn't seem like he has any plans to. 

You swallow, forcing yourself to say something — anything that could change how this night would end. "This doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want for it to." 

If you don't want to. 

Why does a part of you wish he did? 

You linger in the doorway a moment too long, waiting, hoping for him to respond. Jungkook doesn't, and he doesn't bid you goodnight either. 

The door to his study shuts behind you a second later and you immediately slump against it. Head tipping back, you allow yourself to exhale the breath you had been holding in. You imagine him doing the same on the other side. 

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ NINE

𓄲  Though your attention is fixed on his attire rather than what was happening on the TV. The black dress pants he wears are a familiar sight, as is the button up and the tie — loosened around his neck. The cufflinks are undone, his sleeves bunched up to his elbows, doing a most taunting job at displaying the tattoos that crawl their way along his skin.  "Do you like them?" He suddenly asks, his tone indifferent. 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children) unnamed tension between reader & jungkook

⧽ word count ⋮ 5.9k average reading time ⋮ 30 minutes

── [ ✉️ ] This chapter is, hm, it's the foreplay in a way. Next chapter is the climax, so think of this as the leading act that's going to take us down this imaginary and heated road. And uh, if that made no sense then just enjoy the chapter and we can meet on the other side! Slightly worried about the quality of this chapter (?) Let's pray I'm being delusional. Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appriciated <3

series masterlist | last chapter | next part

chapter 09 — "dirty dancing"

The October air — clinging to the remnants of warmth and the last rays of the sun — eventually froze into a chilly cold as November rolled around. The trees lost their final leaves and the world went from orange, to a dull brown in a matter of weeks. Morning light broke the sky later and darkness intruded by five in the afternoon. 

Halloween passed in regular fashion, with children crowding the streets as they went trick or treating. You had asked Jungkook if you could take Rayne and Cassian but due to the elder feeling unwell, any plans of dressing the kids up in scary costumes diminished into nothing again. 

Perhaps that was for the best. Your mid term exams were coming up. Whenever you weren't at the Jeon estate, your time was spent crouched over your desk as you revised the human anatomy until your head pounded and your eyes bled. Though your efforts paid off and you ended up passing without much trouble. 

Your ankle healed just like you knew it would. It took nearly three weeks until you were able to walk normally on both feet without pain — but the reward was unlike anything else. Now you were looking forward to playing with the children normally, no longer a slave to whatever chair or couch in sight. 

You had also taken it upon yourself to quit the few evenings spent working at the restaurant just below your apartment. Due to your unforeseen injury you had ended up missing a great deal of the sparse shifts you had — and Jungkook paid you enough to no longer be reliant on a second source of income. 

It was only around four-thirty but the sun had already began it's slow descent down the horizon. Upstairs the children were occupied with their studies and you had left only to get them something to snack on as they worked. 

The kitchen is silent — just as the rest of the house was during homework time. Jungkook had left for work just as you arrived an hour prior. Your knuckle had been a breath away from knocking when the door had swung open as a fully-suited Jungkook stumbled out. 

Your joint bodies nearly collided over the threshold and you just about managed to save yourself from an even more embarrassing ordeal as you pulled back. Jungkook had muttered an apology, bowing his head and mentioning something about the children being in their rooms. Then he'd brushed past you and headed over to his car without another word. 

There was no saying when he would be back — during the past week or so he'd been working far longer than usual. You thought about asking if there was anything going on with his business, though figured it might not be your place. So you kept silent, pouring your attention on the children instead — that was why you were here after all. 

The sound of your footsteps seem to echo throughout the house when you enter the kitchen. You had grown accustomed to the way things were organized by now. You knew which drawer held the cutlery — well versed in where he kept big and small plates, the bowls belonging on an entirely separate shelf. 

Though there is something else that catches your eye upon rounding the marble kitchen island. Stuck to the surface of the fridge was an anomaly so tiny that you could have almost missed it, had it not been for the stark and contrasting color against the grey steel. 

Your fingers brush against its sharp edge — picking it from the fridge, you cradle the small sticky note in your palm. The green paper appears brighter under the kitchen light and your thumb strokes over the cursive letters written down. Without meaning to, the corner of your lip tugs into a quiet smile as you read the message he'd left, the handwriting so familiar and so undoubtedly his: 

"Children's dinner is on the top shelf. There's some for you as well." 

It had been about two weeks since you and Jungkook introduced this new tradition of leaving small notes for each other around the house. They easily stuck to any surface and written down were little reminders of things that needed to be done. His were always short and simple, cutting straight to the point in that clean cursive that you had been having trouble deciphering at first. 

You, on the other hand, tried to be a little more whimsy with yours — often leaving tiny doodles in the corner and finishing off with an exclamation mark. Jungkook never commented on your attempts at something artistic — though he did not complain about it either. 

Folding the note up, you tuck it safely into the back pocket of your jeans, not because you intended to keep it or anything… It was simply in case you forgot. Better to keep it on hand so you could check again, right? 

The children were grateful when you brought them the freshly cut apples and pears, quickly setting their homework aside for a moment to indulge in the simple snack. 

"What are you working on?" 

Pulling out a chair, you take a seat next to Rayne. She had what appeared to be a novel, placed out in front of her. Even as she chewed on a slice of apple, her brows furrowed in tune with the way her eyes tracked the words on the page. "Mm," She hums, not bothering with more of a response. 

Half a minute later she turns the page, licking the tip of her finger in a way you had not seen any child do before. Her attention briefly turns to the apple as she finishes it down. "Homework," She states simply — already reaching for another slice as she competes with her brother for the bigger one. 

"Hey— I wanted that!" Cassian whines as he attempts to snatch the fruit from his sister's grasp, much to no avail. 

Nudging the plate in his direction, you give him a small smile. "There's plenty more for you to have," You say when handing him a slice of pear instead. 

The children did not often bicker with one another, at least not in the same fashion siblings usually did — you would be lying if you said it wasn't nice to seem them argue like this, even if it was over something as petty as a slice of fruit. 

Cassian seems content enough to eat what he was offered and quiets down again. You turn back to Rayne, folding your arms across the table as you lean forward to peek at the open pages. "Homework you said", Nodding toward the book, "That doesn't look like homework to me." 

One thing you had learned about Rayne during these past weeks was that she needed quite the bit of push-back in order to draw an actual response from her. 

It wasn't that she did not enjoy answering your pestering questions — for her eyes would light up with a spark they otherwise wouldn't when she got to talk about the books she had been reading. No, you had found that she simply needed more than a little nudge to actually open up about the things she liked. 

"It is homework," Rayne bites back, though doesn't actually sound upset. "Mrs Mae told us to write down something we like about our favorite book." She picks the book up, tucking the bookmark between the two current pages before closing it to show off its cover, "I'm re-reading it so that I can write a good summary." 

Your brows raise high on your forehead, "I see." It wasn't the idea of the assignment that surprised you — rather the book she had chosen. You point to the cover, one you recognized all too well from your high school years. "Frankenstein?" 

Rayne nods, the corner of her lip pulling into a tiny grin. "Yeah," She says, one small finger tracing the engravings on the spine. "It's my favorite," And you could tell that it was by the way she cradled it so carefully, gaze clinging to the title like she never wanted to look away. 

"What is it you like about it?" You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. 

"Haven't you read it? It's a classic," She huffs, arching a brow your way. 

You nod, "I have. But I'd like to hear your thoughts on it — think of it as practice for your summary." 

Rayne hesitates, bottom lip jutting out in an unconscious pout as she considers the idea. "Well…" She begins, drawing her words out slowly as she thought long and hard about her answer. "I like the creature. I don't think he's evil, not the way people see him." 

Her finger traces the edge of the book, "He's just misunderstood. It's not his fault that he is the way he is — Victor made him that way." Her brows furrow as her expression morphs into something more conflicted, "It must be scary to wake up and not know anything. I would be scared I think." 

"Do you think the creature is scared?" You wonder, tilting your head to the side as you regard her. Cassian had stopped paying attention to his own homework, he was now munching quietly on the remaining slices of fruit as he listens to his sister. 

Rayne nods, she didn't have to think about her response for long. "I know he is," There's sorrow in her voice when she speaks, like the thought of a fictional being still made her ache deep inside. "He's not a monster but he thinks he is. Victor made him, he should teach him kind things — but he leaves him because he thinks he's made a monster." 

She shakes her head, fingers curling a little tighter around the book's spine. "They're wrong, they're all wrong. The creature is a human — just like Victor. He's made from human flesh, he was just born differently…" 

You remain silent for a long moment, astonished by the empathy she holds for something so commonly portrayed as horrific by other people. "Do you think things could have turned out differently if Victor was kind to the creature?" 

"Yes," Rayne says, "The creature only knows that he is bad because it is how he was treated ever since he was born. But if Victor told him that he was kind, then I think he would be." She hums quietly, nodding to herself as she fiddles with the bookmark. 

"Would you say it's important to be kind then? Even if you're scared?" 

She doesn't answer right away but you could see that she was considering your words carefully. The crease between her brows grows before it lessens and finally she nods with a quiet hum. "Yes. I think kindness can fix anything." Her eyes are glossed over with what looked to be unshed tears. You don't ask her about them — you don't pry even when you want to. 

Instead you give her shoulder a gentle pat, picking the book from her hands to open it on the page she had bookmarked. "I think your summary will turn out great," You hum, placing the book back down in front of her with a small tap. 

Rayne nods mutely, inhaling sharply before turning her attention back to the pages she'd been so immersed in a few minutes prior. 

You wrapped up their study session half an hour earlier that day — neither of the children objected, which was a first. They followed you downstairs, waiting patiently on the stools next to the kitchen island when you heated up the food Jungkook had prepared — by now you knew perfectly well how to work their expensive microwave. 

Just like his note had promised, there was an additional box left on the top shelf for you as well. "Will you be eating with us, nanny?" Cassian had asked when he saw you grab three plates rather than two. 

"Mhm," You hum, pulling the drawer open to grab forks and knives for you all, "Your dad made some food for me as well." 

Through the corner of your eye, you thought you could see Rayne mumble something under her breath, though what she said had been too quiet for you to catch. You brush it off, focusing on plating dinner for the children before tackling your own serving. 

You ate in silence for the most part. It wasn't uncomfortable, in fact it had become somewhat of a routine during meal times. Dining in each other's presence seemed more than enough for the children and the idea warmed your chest. 

"Anything fun happening at school this week?" You ask between bites, barely glancing up from your plate as you move your food around. Jungkook's cooking was not bad, quite the contrary. He paid just as much attention to detail when it came to his meals as he did everything else in his life.

On the opposite side of the kitchen island Cassian shrugs. "Not really," He says, shoving a piece of broccoli past his lips as he chews slowly. Rayne shakes her head beside him, a non-verbal response that she seemed particularly fond of. 

You hum, dropping the subject all together again when neither appeared interested in the conversation. The kids didn't share much about their days. Cassian would occasionally mention a game he'd played during their break with his friends or repeat a silly joke he'd heard. 

Rayne never contributed. It was obvious that she had little to say, if anything at all. You want to ask about her friends — though you already knew the answer. She did not have many, possibly none. Try as you might, but you couldn't warp your head around why. She was a really sweet girl once you got to know her. 

The thought of her sitting alone during the lunch hour and walking herself to class everyday made something uncomfortable twist deep inside your gut. Perhaps you should tell Jungkook — perhaps he already knew. The situation continued to weigh heavy on your mind for the rest of your shared meal. 

When dinner came to an end you helped the children wash up before bed. This too, had become part of a routine that seemed more than normal by this point. You would go about fluffing up their pillows, laying out pajamas on their beds and drawing the curtains as the kids brushed their teeth in the bathroom. 

Once they were done you came to inspect their hard work. Rayne did well but more than often would you have to send Cassian back for a second round of brushing, 'And don't forget your tongue!' you would call out after him. 

After a few bumps on the road, both children were finally tucked into bed. Cassian gratefully accepted a kiss on the forehead while Rayne settled for a small hug and a soft smile. Closing the door to her room gently, you pause in order to throw a glance down the hall. 

The locked door at the far end still intrigued you, often you would catch your gaze wandering in its direction — wondering what had Jungkook keeping it under such strict supervision. In the end you knew that you would be none the wiser, unless he chose to share its secrets with you. 

When making your way back downstairs, you go on to tidy up the mess that dinner had left behind. Cleaning gave you time to think — for better or worse. And as you turn on the faucet, getting ready to wash the plates and boxes you had ate from — your mind starts to wander. 

It would be a blatant lie to say that Jungkook did not inhabit most of your thoughts as of late. He would appear when you least expected him to. Worst of all was the fact that you were unable to pinpoint exactly what about him you were so stuck up on. Which part of him had your brain become so strangely fascinated with — and why? 

He paid you to take care of his children. That was all. That was the only way you should think of him, the only way you should let yourself see him. So why is your mind conjuring these strange images out of things that do not and most certainly should not exist? 

Often do you find yourself comparing him to the guys you would meet at the bars downtown. That had been your first mistake. The last thing you should do was think of Jungkook in the same light you had thought of those flirty, wasted young-adults — least of all the ones you had been romantic with. 

Jungkook did not belong in that category of your life and he never would. 

And yet, you continue to picture him in their place. Those useless conversations over the loud music, the drunken confessions about how hot you look, the invasive touches and sleazy pickup lines. You erase them — all too easily replacing the 20-something guys' crooked smirks with Jungkook's dark eyes and quiet demeanor.

You imagine lingering glances, brief touches that somehow feel like more than they truly are. And sometimes — when your thoughts spiraled far beyond your control — did you dare think about what it could be like to meet him elsewhere. Would things look different, would he let his gaze linger on you with something other than cold indifference? Would he— 

Shaking your head abruptly, you pry the the thoughts aside as you finish scrubbing the last plate. It's set to dry with the rest and you instead turn to the fridge as you pull it open and rummage through it for ingredients. 

You had at least one good hour and a half before Jungkook was to return home — in the meantime, you cooked a simple meal which you then transferred to one of the boxes you had just finished cleaning out. It wasn't much, not by any means, though you hoped it would still be enjoyable after a long day of work. 

Once the lid is in place comes your favorite part. Fishing out the stack of pink sticky notes from your jean pocket — you search the area for a pencil. Finding a discarded one on the hallway dresser just outside the kitchen, you swivel back toward the counter before putting the ink onto the paper. 

Your handwriting is nowhere near as neat as Jungkook's, still, you cannot keep the smile from your face when you scribble down a short but sweet message: 

"Food was delicious! Thought I'd return the favour, I hope it's to your liking :)" 

You waste a couple of minutes on drawing stars, a tiny sun in the upper corner and some clouds to accompany it. Suppose it was a little excessive but you felt it gave the little note a personal touch. When you're done you stick it onto the lid before stuffing the now prepped box back into the neatly organised fridge. 

Silence was no stranger within the Jeon house — it lives in each room, clinging to the walls and settling over the furniture like it had always belonged. But you were no stranger to the Jeon house either. The dense and quiet air did not bother you, at least not for the most part. Usually you could tell yourself that the children were asleep upstairs — that would be enough to soothe your worrisome mind. 

Tonight things feel different. And as the evening hours passed by slowly, you couldn't shake the lonely feeling creeping its way up your spine. Each creak and groan of the house as it settled made you jump — and the wind hurling outside reminded you of a shrilling scream. 

To calm your sudden nerves, you opt for reading. The couch is familiar when you settle down on it, and yet it feels too big when you stretch your limbs out across the cushion. The book you cradle in your hands was the first thing you had found, its title insignificant when you hastily opened it and began to read. 

The words on the paper do their best in pulling you away from the silent house, distracting you as they paint vivid images of dwindling rivers and tall pine trees. It works for a brief moment — but each time the wind knocks a little too loud against the windows, your focus is disrupted again. 

A particularly loud snap in the old wood jolts you from the page entirely. With your heart in your throat you glance both left and right, finding nothing but a vacant, boring living room. 

Your gaze returns to the vintage clock above the fireplace. Only a handful of minutes had passed since last you had checked — even when it felt far longer. And by eight thirty you could no longer bear the deafening silence that seemed to crowd you. 

The book is tossed onto the coffee table carelessly. Instead your attention zeroes in on the remote control, laying so innocently atop the table's sleek surface. You turn the device over in your hands, fingers brushing over the variety of buttons in front of you. 

Truth to be told, the big, chunky box that was the TV had intrigued you for weeks now. It was the kind of luxury that you could not afford in your own home — of course, the Jeon estate housed one — and who were you not to take advantage of that? 

What little knowledge you had on Television came from the few times you would stop in front of the ones displayed in shopping windows or at the café just outside your school. They would broadcast the news for the most part — though sometimes music would be shown as well, singing and dancing — you liked that. 

This however, this was different. Your gaze scans the assortment of buttons, trying your hardest to decipher each one of them in order to find the one that would power on the TV. In the end you settle for a red one — it sticks out among the rest, that had to mean something, right? 

Pointing the remote toward the chunky, black box, you press the button. 

It takes a moment. In fact it takes quite a while for something to happen — in the meantime you had already managed to press an additional three buttons to try and coax a reaction from the device. Alas, the TV turns on in the end. A grainy image floods the screen — no, a moving image. 

Entranced by the sight in front of you, the remote control falls from your grasp as you lean forward. The movie playing on screen wasn't one you had recalled seeing before, as you frequently treated yourself to the cinema whenever time would allow it. You quickly guess that it was a rom-com, given the cheesy dialogue and over exaggerated sound effects. 

Curling up on the sofa — you bring your arms around your legs before resting your chin atop your knees. The movie was a welcome distraction as it easily filled the silence that had been haunting you since putting the children to bed. You find yourself getting lost in the premise, quickly catching on despite having missed the first half of it. 

Another half an hour passes — this time in a blur. When the clock strikes nine, you can hear the front door unlocking, followed by the thud of heavy steps against the hallway floor. Jungkook was home — which meant this was your cue to leave. You should be getting up and shutting the TV off, and yet for some reason, you don't move. 

The movie was reaching its final act and you wanted to stick around for the end, at least, that's what you told yourself. 

Your gaze has yet to stray from the grainy images on screen — still curled up in the same position you had been for the past thirty minutes. You don't move, even as you listen to the sound of heavy footsteps against the carpet down the hall, signaling Jungkook's approach. 

He pauses in the doorway, you thought you could see his dark, imposing figure through the corner of your eye. His presence is all the more palpable when he'd been on your mind for the greater part of the day — and not for reasons he should be. 

You swallow, arms hugging your legs a little tighter. Could he tell what you so desperately tried to hide? You hoped not. "How was work?" Clearing your throat, you try to feign nonchalance when you greet him, still not giving him the courtesy of meeting his gaze. 

To your left, Jungkook shifts where he stands, the soft, almost inaudible sound slices through your ears. "It was alright," His voice is a low rasp — he sounds tired, but then again, he often did when he arrived back home after a long day. You knew that commenting on it would do more harm than good, so you keep quiet, your attention still tuned in on the TV. 

A minute passes, perhaps two — you couldn't tell. But when the cushion suddenly dips, your body locks up. It takes you about half a second to realize that Jungkook had just taken the seat beside you on the couch. The additional weight and the closeness of his body makes the once large sofa seem incredibly small — and hot. 

"What are you watching?" He grunts, though doesn't sound particularly interested in hearing your answer. 

You peer at him as best as you can without making it obvious, eyes trailing over his figure where he leans back against the couch. His legs are spread out and his arms have come to rest across the back of the couch. 

"Just some silly romance movie," You huff, trying to downplay the corny film as you chew on the inside of your cheek. 

Though your attention is fixed on his attire rather than what was happening on the TV. The black dress pants he wears are a familiar sight, as is the button up and the tie — loosened around his neck. The cufflinks are undone, his sleeves bunched up to his elbows, doing a most taunting job at displaying the tattoos that crawl their way along his skin. 

"Do you like them?" He suddenly asks, his tone indifferent. 

Did you— What? Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly like a fish out of water. Gaze darting between his face and the sleeve full of tattoos — was he seriously asking you about that? Should you answer him honestly, or would that give off the wrong impression? 

Your attention lingers for a moment too long on the symbols splayed across his knuckles, then over to the flower that crept its way up the side of his hand… 

Jungkook turns his head just enough for his dark eyes to meet yours. His brows furrow across his forehead when he catches the look on your face. The corner of his lip twitching with something unspoken before he nods toward the TV. "Do you like them?" He repeats, his voice never rising above its default low tune. 

You follow his gaze toward the chunky box, watching as the man on screen confesses his love in front of the female lead. Oh. "The movies—?" You splutter, feeling slightly ridiculous at having misinterpreted his innocent question like that. 

He nods, tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip. "Romance," He then clarifies, "Do you like it?" His attention is no longer on the movie but on you, regarding you with quiet intensity. 

"I…" Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your fingers curl around the fabric of your pants when you give a half-hearted shrug, "Well I suppose I do— I mean, doesn't everyone?" You thought romance to be quite enjoyable. It was cheesy enough for people to make fun of it, even when they all secretly longed for the very same thing themselves. 

Jungkook doesn't give a verbal response as he turns back to the TV screen — caught up in watching the couple, who were now kissing each other passionately as a soft violin played in the background. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, the slight crease between his dark brows giving nothing away — it bothers you more than you'd ever want to admit. 

"Do you like them?" You bring yourself to ask the question back, turning just enough to face him rather than the movie, arms still snug around your legs when you hook your chin over your knees a second time. 

It takes him a moment to answer, but after a prolonged silence he nods slowly. "I do," He muses, and you're taken aback by the quiet admission. You hadn't pegged him for a cheesy rom-com enthusiast — then again — there was so much you had yet to uncover about him. 

Cocking your head to the side, a smug grin tugs its way across your lips. "Do you have a favorite?" There was some intent behind the question sure, but most of all you were curious — a man like him? Being into romance?

Jungkook remains motionless where he sits, arms still stretched out behind him. His frown deepens and he appears almost conflicted, "I didn't know having a favorite was a requirement. Is it not enough to simply enjoy the movies?" He mutters gruffly, seemingly uninterested in probing the matter further. 

"No…" Your voice ebbs out into a sigh as you regard him with a puzzled frown, "But come on, there must be at least one you like a little extra?" 

His fingers tap against the backrest of the couch, dark eyes fixed on something you had yet to find. After a moment's of long and tedious silence he finally rolls his shoulders enough to mimic a shrug, "Dirty Dancing is good I suppose." He grumbles the words out like they physically pained him — and if you had to guess, they did. 

"Really?" Brows shooting high on your forehead, you gape at him, "You're not just saying that are you?" 

He scoffs at that, his jaw clenching when he turns his head the other way. "Why?" He says it like an accusation, "Somethin' wrong with that?" 

You can't help the giggle that bubbles in your chest when met with his immediate defensiveness. One hand coming up to cover your mouth, your arms uncurl around your legs as you attempt to sit up a little straighter. "Seriously?" Leaning to the side, you attempt to catch a glimpse of the expression he wears — but Jungkook keeps his head stubbornly turned away. 

Pursing your lips, you slump back against the sofa, your hand falling to your lap when the laughter fades away. "It's not wrong at all," You murmur — and it truly wasn't. It was just… So strange, you could hardly picture the same brooding man currently sat next to you, indulging himself in something like Dirty Dancing. 

You still remember how scandalized you'd felt when leaving the cinema upon its premier. The erotic dances, the lingering glances, hot touches and— 

"I like it too," Sending him a small but genuine smile, you try to smooth over the little bump you'd accidentally created, "We could watch it sometime." You regret the proposal the second it leaves your lips, your better judgment already scolding you. 

But Jungkook appears indifferent where he sits. His gaze had returned to the TV, his gaze flickering over the black screen where the credits had begun to roll. Only then did you realize how much time had passed and that you should probably get going sooner rather than later. 

"Well I—" Rising to your feet, your hands occupy themselves with brushing off imaginary dust from your jeans, "—Should get going. It's late." 

Jungkook glances up at you through his dark lashes, though says nothing as he gives a soft grunt in return. You clear your throat, nodding before turning and heading out of the living room on light feet. 

The hallway stretches on longer than usual tonight — or maybe you were simply in a rush to get out of the front door before your previous conversation had the chance to catch up to you. Of course, you never truly had such luck. 

You've got your shoes halfway, fingers clumsily fiddling with the stubborn laces when you hear the sound of a floorboard creaking somewhere in the distance. Jungkook's steps are slower than your own, determined in his approach. 

He comes to a halt a few feet away, close enough to where you could clearly pick up on each breath he took — far enough for the intoxicating scent of his cologne to not reach you. With his arms folded across his chest, he leans against the wall, his shoulders pulled into a rigid line that still somehow betrays the exhaustion simmering beneath the surface. 

The silence stretches thick and uncomfortable until you finally pull yourself to your feet after tightening the shoelaces. You reach for your coat, moving slow as to not make another clumsy mistake. 

"I uh…" Your throat feels dry and you could not understand why your heart was trying to claw its way out of your ribcage whenever he was around."I left you something to eat in the fridge," You say, jutting your chin in the direction of the kitchen.

Jungkook gives but a small tilt of his head in acknowledgement, his eyes tracking the movement of your arms when you loop them through your coat. You fiddle with the buttons, fingers moving hastily over each one of them. His gaze weighs heavy on you and the moment seems to drag on with painful deliberation. 

"Alright," You huff when finally fastening the last button, turning to face him with a tight-lipped smile, "I'll see you tomorrow then…?" What an utterly ridiculous question, of course you were to see him tomorrow. 

But he only hums, and before you can even blink, he's taking a step forward — and then another. Your eyes widen to a comical size, limbs locking up when he suddenly comes close enough for your chests to touch. 

Confused and perhaps a little breathless, you glance up at him with a puzzled frown. Jungkook, on the other hand, simply ignores the look on your face as he leans forward. He reaches past you, his arm brushing against your shoulder in the process — and all you can think of is how warm his skin feels even through the layers of clothes separating you. 

It's the sound of a lock being freed from its cage that finally makes you understand what he was trying to do. Gingerly you step aside as you allow him to open the front door for you — perhaps he was similarly eager for you to take your leave. 

The scent of his perfume is stronger now, its pungent smell radiating off of him in harsh waves before crashing against you like sea to shore. You can't help but inhale, if only just to swallow down another breath of air into your lungs. His arm is outstretched where he keeps the door open for you, his jaw clenched with something he refused to name. 

You clear your throat, ducking your head when brushing past him. The November air is chilly — even more so when it was the heat of Jungkook's body so close to your own that you were leaving behind. 

"Goodnight then," You smile, raising a hesitant hand to give him a tiny wave. 

Jungkook does not reciprocate it but he nods — and if you listened close enough, you thought you could hear him utter a quiet 'Goodnight' under his breath before closing the door behind him again. 

[writesvani]

dear me | 15

lawyer! jungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TWs: miscarriage, grief, jealousy, emotional neglect, depression symptoms, infertility themes, complicated friendships, relationship tension, insecurity, intrusive thoughts, emotional dependence, bitterness, anxiety, subtle resentment, loss of identity, fear of bad news, social anxiety, subtle romantic tension, emotional discomfort, emotional vulnerability, relationship issues, fear of emotional distance, miscommunication, strained relationship, emotional intensity

comment HERE for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter (pending...)

wc: 7,8k // date: 2nd of December 2025

CHAPTER FIFTEEN — WE'RE STILL US happy reading my gummies...

a/n: yippie!!! chapter 15 of dear me is finally here. before you dive into the mess that is the actual chapter, you can join my discord server by clicking HERE and we can scream, cry, and discuss the fic in real time!

alright, why is this chapter one of my absolute faves, you ask? well, reason numero uno: nina’s introspection — you’re gonna have so many conflicted feelings about her grief and yes, that was 100% intentional. reason numero dos: we finally have all of our beloved cast together and i am living for the group dynamics. and reason numero tres: jungkook and oc… i’m not spilling the tea, but let’s just say i am personally losing my mind over it.

also a huge thank you to my beautiful beta reader @risky-peaches for helping me edit and for putting up with my hours‑long yapping about dear me. i love you, you saint.

i am DYING to hear your thoughts, comments, asks, screams, and emotional breakdowns over this chapter so please, don’t hold back. go forth and enjoy, my lovely dear me enthusiasts.

The coffee is bitter no matter how much sugar Nina dumps into it.

She doesn’t get the luxury of drinking coffee every morning—at least, not anymore. Most days, it’s the green juice. Kale, spinach, celery, whatever her nutritionist claims will strengthen her immune system, restore balance, help her body “recover.”

Something to make her better.

Stronger.

More resilient.

But Sunday mornings… she still fights for those.

Sunday mornings are for coffee.

Her hands wrap around the mug, soaking in the warmth. Thin ribbons of steam curl around her fingers, ghosting over her skin as if trying to coax her back into herself. She brings the mug to her lips again.

Still bitter.

She adds another spoon of sugar, stirs, tastes—but the sweetness sits on top of the bitterness like a bandage on a wound that refuses to close.

It tastes wrong.

Artificial.

Plastic.

She shifts in her seat, the couch rubbing faintly beneath her, and glances toward the phone resting perfectly parallel to the table’s edge. She picks it up, opens TikTok, and feels the familiar sting tighten in her chest.

It’s almost cruel, she thinks, the way the algorithm refuses to change. Video after video, babies laughing, toddlers babbling, chubby hands reaching for parents who beam like the world never broke them.

A living, breathing slideshow of everything she’ll never have. Everything she lost.

And she watches.

Every day.

She lets the punishment wash over her, lets the ache carve its little place in her ribs, lets the fantasy take shape.

A family she was supposed to build.

A life she was supposed to meet.

A child she was supposed to hold.

But she scrolls anyway, because it’s the only place where the dream still exists.

She hears him before she sees him — the faint rustle of clothes, drawers sliding open, the quiet splash of water. And underneath it all, the soft hum of Jungkook’s voice.

It used to calm her.

It used to mean safety.

A rhythm she could rely on.

Now it thuds against her skull like a reminder she didn’t ask for. His presence — once grounding — sits too close to the places inside her she’s trying desperately not to touch.

He stops humming.

She hears the pad of his feet against the wooden floor, the familiar shuffle she could recognize even in her sleep.

“Morning,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips.

“Morning, baby,” she answers, forcing her smile to hold its shape. Her throat tightens around the word.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear — gentle, careful, the way he always is with her — and settles beside her. His thigh brushes hers. The couch dips under his weight. The air changes.

She nods toward the extra mug on the coffee table. “Made some for you.”

“Oooh, we’re having some caffeine today,” he teases, eyebrows lifting.

She lets out a small laugh, even though it scrapes down her chest. It’s okay. He’s joking. He knows why she avoids coffee now. He’s not being careless.

He’s just being Jungkook.

His warmth bleeds into her side.

Into her clothes.

Into her skin.

And when his arm drapes around her shoulders, she stiffens before she can help it — just for a split second — then forces herself to melt into him. Her head finds his shoulder like muscle memory, like obligation.

“You got any plans today?” she asks, drawing slow, meaningless patterns on his thigh.

Anything to keep her hands busy.

Anything to keep her grounded.

“Not really…” he says, blowing on his coffee before taking a sip. “Why?”

“I was thinking about inviting Yoongi and Y/N over,” she murmurs, watching him instead of her mug.

Just to see.

Just to check.

Just to confirm she isn’t crazy.

Jungkook hums, a low sound in his chest.

Not tense.

Not startled.

But not neutral either.

“Maybe they’re working today,” he says, eyes drifting to the window.

Her stomach drops at the casualness in his voice.

Too casual.

“It’s Sunday, Jungkook,” she reminds him, her tone soft, yet still sharpened at the edges. “I know Yoongi’s off. And she’s probably off too.”

She watches his jaw work once — barely noticeable, unless you’re looking for it.

And she is.

She always is.

Sometimes Nina wonders if Jungkook feels something toward Y/N, even though she knows he doesn’t.

It’s a sick thought, one she hates herself for the moment it even brushes against her mind. But it eats at her insides anyway, rotting quietly in the corners she refuses to look at too closely.

Because... She is her friend too. She loves her. They used to be inseparable — sleepovers, inside jokes, shared lip gloss, shared heartbreaks.

And when Nina and Jungkook moved away, she always thought she’d get that back once they returned. That things would fall into place again. That her friend would still be hers in that soft, familiar way.

But Jungkook… Jungkook took her.

Not on purpose.

Not maliciously.

But he did.

Selfishly, effortlessly — he pulled Y/N into his orbit and never let her drift back.

And yeah, she was Jungkook’s friend first.

But she was Nina’s as well.

Nina deserves her too.

Sometimes it feels like he’s guarding her from Nina. Like he’s keeping a part of himself — and a part of Y/N — carefully tucked away, curated, distant. A private world Nina isn’t invited into. A world she can only watch from the outside, pretending she doesn’t notice the door shut in her face.

It makes her nauseous if she thinks too long about it.

And Nina has done plenty of thinking.

Back in high school, in uni, when Jungkook was devastated the first time he stopped speaking to his best friend. Nina had been sad too, but he had been… destroyed. Quietly destroyed. The kind of heartbreak you can’t scream about.

And now, being back home, he gets her again.

But Nina... Nina doesn’t.

Not in the same way. Not alone. Not fully.

He always gets her alone.

The thought sours like acid in her stomach and she forces it down, forces herself to breathe through it, to swallow the jealousy she has no right feeling.

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing a kiss to the side of her head as if he can’t feel her body stiffen before melting again. “I’ll call her and see if she’s free today.”

“I’ll call—” Nina blurts, too quickly. She clears her throat. “I mean, I can call her too.”

Her friend.

Her friend too.

She needs to remind herself of that.

She sees Jungkook’s fingers twitch on her shoulder — a tiny reaction, almost nothing, but big enough for her to catch.

“Sure,” he says, smiling softly. “Whatever you want.”

“I was thinking about also inviting Leah, Vicky and Nick,” she says, her voice drifting off like she’s trying to sound casual about it.

“Oh, yes. That sounds good.” Jungkook stretches his legs out, reaching for his mug again. “I figured Jungwoo would join us too since he’s already downstairs.”

“Do you think Vicky would come? Does she still hate us?” Nina asks, sipping her coffee even though the taste turns her stomach.

“I don’t know…” he sighs, brows furrowing. “She has mixed feelings, I think. But her anger is more directed at me.”

“I hope she’s gonna come,” Nina murmurs.

And she truly, painfully means it.

Because she wants to fix things, desperately. With Vicky, with Y/n… with everyone she somehow lost along the way.

She needs people in her life again.

People who aren’t Jungkook or her brother or her coworkers politely asking how her weekend was. She needs real friends. She needs to be chosen for once.

Wanted.

Kept.

She fucking craves it.

“Nick knows, right?” she asks, voice quieter. They both know what she’s referring to.

“Yeah,” Jungkook gulps. “Jungwoo told him… but Nick didn’t say anything to the rest of them.” He hesitates, eyes flickering away. “She knows too.”

Nina turns her head toward him slowly.

It doesn’t surprise her, not really. But it still lands like a punch to the ribs. Because Nina wanted to tell Y/N. She wanted to say it.

It’s her loss.

The baby grew inside her.

The baby died inside her.

And sure, it’s Jungkook’s grief too — but he’ll never know what it’s like to feel a life flicker out inside your own body.

To carry that emptiness around afterward.

She wanted to share that truth with her friend.

Woman to woman.

But Jungkook took that from her too.

Like always, he takes and takes and takes what she wants and repackages it into something he can control. Makes decisions for both of them. Speaks before she can. Moves before she even knows she needs to.

She’s fucking sick of it.

Her throat tightens with the familiar urge — to yell, to explode, to make him feel even an ounce of how she shakes every night before falling asleep. To make him hurt the way she does.

But she doesn’t.

Not this time.

She swallows the anger like burning alcohol, letting it settle deep inside where the rest of it lives.

“Okay,” she finally says, the word brittle but steady.

She leans back into his hug, even though the warmth feels like a weight she didn’t consent to carrying.

Nina’s gonna be okay.

She has to be.

They stay like that, curled up on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder, both taking small sips from their mugs. The TV hums in front of them—a news segment about the weather—but neither is really paying attention.

“Wanna watch an episode of Grey’s?” Jungkook asks, eyes flicking to her with that careful, observant look she hates. The kind that makes her feel like she’s under a microscope, every word, sigh, and gesture being analyzed.

She swallows the lump in her throat and offers a genuine smile. “Sure. We need to catch up before the newest season drops anyway.”

He smirks, teasing. “Oh, they’re making season fifty-four too.”

“Ugh, shut up,” she nudges his ribs with her elbow, laughing. “It’s an amazing show no matter how many seasons it has.”

“It stopped being great after Lexie and Mark died. Totally unwatchable after Derek,” he says, crossing his arms, a faux pout on his lips.

“You’re only saying that because you’re giving Derek Shepherd core,” she shoots back.

“No way!” he protests, mock scandal in his voice.

“Oh, you so do,” she smirks.

“Well then, you’re clearly Meredith,” he counters with a grin.

“Nooo,” she teases, wagging a finger. “Not the ‘pick me, choose me’ final boss. I’d rather be Addie.”

He leans closer, playful suspicion in his eyes. “Is that a way of saying you’d cheat on me with my best friend?”

“Totally. I’d get down and dirty with Y/N,” she says, lips twitching in a grin.

“Woah, ouch…” he feigns pain, leaning back dramatically. “Maybe we shouldn’t hang out with her today. I feel genuinely threatened.”

“You can’t delay destiny,” Nina says matter-of-factly, poking him lightly.

“Should I be scared?” he asks, narrowing his eyes in mock concern.

“That depends on you,” she says, sticking out her tongue.

Before she knows it he’s tickling her sides, and she’s laughing uncontrollably, throwing her head back against his shoulder.

For the first time in what feels like forever, she feels like a real person again—and it’s everything she could’ve asked for.

“Oh my God, this is—fucking delicious,” Haeun practically moans, stabbing at her breakfast like it’s the only thing keeping her alive.

The morning light from your kitchen catches her skin, throwing lazy golden patterns across her cheeks.

Namjoon nods beside her, mouth full, half-swallowing before he adds, “Seriously… I see why mom keeps you around.”

“Guys, these are just regular eggs and bacon. Not Quiche Lorraine,” you mumble, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed, trying to play it cool.

“Quiche Lo—what?” Namjoon wiggles his eyebrows at you, clearly intrigued but also confused, stuffing another forkful into his mouth.

Haeun smacks his shoulder lightly. “Quiche Lorraine, idiot.”

“Yeah, I got that part,” Namjoon says, chewing thoughtfully. “But… what is it, though?”

Haeun rolls her eyes. “He’s literally uncultured, girl. Like, actually.”

You sigh, dramatically waving your hands. “It’s French. Well… technically a tart. Eggs, cream, bacon, cheese, sometimes veggies—”

“Oh, so it’s just a fancy omelette?” Namjoon cuts in, eyes wide like he’s cracked the code of the universe.

Haeun snorts, nearly choking on her food.

“What?” you gasp, shocked at the audacity of that statement. “No. It is not just a fancy omelette.”

“Really?” he smirks, tilting his head. “Do elaborate then…”

You scrape the back of your head with your nails, caught somewhere between amusement and embarrassment. “I won’t. I tend to get all nerdy and—”

“Just tell him,” Haeun cuts in, voice dripping with impatience, flicking his forehead lightly. “Or this idiot is never gonna let it go.”

“True,” Namjoon nods solemnly. “I can be very persuasive…”

“Oh my God, ew,” Haeun grimaces.

“I didn’t even say anything bad!” he protests, leaning back like a wounded puppy.

“No, you were literally—” Haeun huffs, cutting him off.

“Okay, okay!” you laugh, waving your hands. “Let’s just… breathe. Sooo. Quiche Lorraine…”

“Yes, yes, I’m all ears,” Namjoon says, practically bouncing in his seat, excitement spilling from him.

“Of course you are, idiot,” Haeun mutters, smirking.

You lean back, hands resting in your lap and let a warm smile spread across your face. “Okay, so making Quiche Lorraine… it’s actually really satisfying. You start with the crust—cold, buttery, and you press it into the pan. It’s… kind of magical, honestly.”

Namjoon leans forward, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, wait—why does it have to be cold? Can’t I just, like— use room temperature butter?”

You laugh softly, tilting your head. “You could, but the crust won’t be as flaky. Cold butter is the secret, trust me. It’s the difference between… meh and amazing.”

Haeun snorts, elbowing Namjoon. “Look at you, asking the ‘meh’ questions again. You’re ruining her moment.”

Namjoon frowns but grins. “Hey! I just… I need to understand! What about the eggs? Do I just… pour them in?”

You lift your hands, soft and patient, demonstrating with invisible motions. “Yes, but you whisk them first with cream. It makes the filling silky and smooth, like… golden custard. Then you mix in the bacon and cheese before pouring it into the crust. It’s… kind of like building layers of happiness.”

Haeun laughs, leaning back. “Layers of happiness… Yo, Joon. Maybe you should try making it, see if it sticks.”

Namjoon groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Shut up!”

You just smile, tilting your head, gentle and amused. “Honestly, the best part is watching it bake—how it puffs and browns in the oven. You can smell the bacon, the cream… it’s like the whole kitchen smiles at you. And then the first bite… oh, it’s heaven.”

You realize you’ve been talking for way too long the moment the silence hits you. Both of them are frozen mid-chew, mouths parted, heads tilted like confused puppies.

“Oh my—” you choke on a laugh, heat blooming under your skin, “I got a bit… carried away.”

“Shut up, lovingly,” Haeun says, waving her fork at you. “You’re just—”

“Cute,” Namjoon finishes, voice dropping into a soft, accidental whisper. “You’re cute. It’s cute how you talk about cooking.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, your teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way you didn’t mean to be noticeable.

“You get all… passionate,” he says, shoulders lifting. Eyes glued to you like he genuinely can’t help it. “It’s endearing, honestly.”

Your pulse hums so loud you almost check your neck for a speaker. Your fingers twitch in your lap. Swimming in attention feels foreign but delicious.

“No, guys, come on,” you wave them off, horribly flustered, “I mean— it’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Haeun echoes, scandalized. “If people were half as passionate about their jobs as you are when you talk about eggs and butter, the world would be cured of depression.”

“I definitely agree,” Namjoon adds, shifting in his chair like he wants a better angle to look at you from. His gaze lingers.

Warm.

Heavy.

Intentional.

You swallow, glance back at him— and that warm thing under your ribs expands so suddenly you almost combust.

“Wow.” You breathe. “Thank you, guys. I feel like I’m being glazed.”

“You deserve glazing,” Namjoon says, lips twitching.

“Not again, asshole,” Haeun groans.

“If you two keep bickering I’m never inviting you over for breakfast again,” you warn, rolling your eyes even though you’re smiling. You know, you just know you’re secretly growing to love them both.

“That is a cruel and unusual punishment,” Namjoon says, clutching his chest dramatically.

“She’s gonna cook for us at Mom’s anyway,” Haeun mutters, scrunching her nose.

“True,” you nod, “but I’d revoke friend privileges.”

“You would not,” she gasps, genuinely horrified.

“I so would,” you shoot back, leaning forward, chin tilted in challenge.

“See?” Namjoon jabs a finger in her direction. “This is all because of you.”

“Me?” she sputters. “You’re the one being stupid and tossing around dumb suggestive lines!”

“I am not— you’re imagining it,” he argues back.

You glance toward your phone on the counter, the screen glowing faintly. You reach for it while Haeun and Namjoon continue chirping at each other in the background.

A missed call from Nina.

Your stomach tightens—small, slow, unavoidable. You haven’t talked to her alone in a while.

Not without Jungkook.

Not without Yoongi.

Not without the buffer of noise.

You shift in your seat, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Is it urgent?

Is she okay?

Did something happen to her— or to Jungkook?

“Guys,” you say, clearing your throat and lifting the phone. “A friend called. I need to call her back.”

“Oh yeah, go,” Haeun says immediately. “We’re chill.”

You nod, push back your chair, and slip into your bedroom. The moment the door clicks shut, it’s like the silence grows teeth.

You stare at Nina’s name on your screen longer than necessary.

It’s just Nina.

Your Nina.

Familiar, warm, someone who used to feel like a hug.

No reason to be nervous—except you are.

You hit the call button anyway, press the phone to your ear, and pace until your thigh bumps the edge of the bed. You sit.

She answers on the third ring.

“Hello,” Nina says, voice soft, hesitant in a way that makes something sink in your chest.

“Hey! Nina, what’s up?” you respond way too cheerfully, and mentally slap yourself. What if something is wrong? What if you’re—God—laughing while she’s crying?

“Ah—are you busy?” she asks quickly. “Tell me if you are, I really don’t want to bother you.”

“What? No, no, not at all,” you say, waving your hand like she can see you. “I just have some friends over for breakfast.”

“Ooh, nice,” she says, her voice perking up a little. You smile without meaning to.

“I’m just home… bored as fuck,” she sighs.

“Yep. Sundays can be so fucking boring,” you agree.

“True… I used to do yoga every Sunday before we moved, but now I’m too lazy even for that.”

“I get it. Trust me, I can’t remember the last time I went on a proper walk, let alone did something productive with my body.”

You hear her breathe out a soft laugh.

Familiar.

A version of her you haven’t had alone in a long time.

The kind that makes your chest ache a little.

“Real,” she laughs into the phone. “Speaking of activities—are you free today?”

“When exactly?” You switch the phone to your other ear, your back hitting the mattress.

“Maybe this afternoon? We were thinking about having a barbeque at our place. Yoongi’s coming. Jungwoo will be there too.”

“Well if Jungwoo’s there, Nick will be there for sure,” you say, smiling.

“Yes! I invited all your siblings too. They’re coming. Vicky needed some persuasion but Leah worked her magic.”

“Oh God, I wish I was there to witness that,” you laugh, imagining the scene.

“Yeah…” she drifts, then perks up again. “So—are you free?”

You can practically hear the excitement bubbling in her voice, soft and genuine. It melts away the weird tension you had earlier. You smile without meaning to.

“Technically yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“I kind of promised Namjoon and Haeun I’d spend the day with them,” you mumble, rubbing your ankle against the bed in a nervous little rhythm.

“Ooh, new people,” she teases. “Is Namjoon maybe boyfriend material?”

“No—I mean, ye— I don’t know. He’s… interesting,” you ramble, feeling your cheeks warm.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, “do you have a crush?”

“What? No! Oh my God—Nina—” you whisper-yell, glancing toward the door. “He’s—They’re literally in the kitchen. They’re the friends I’m having over,” you hiss.

You can hear her absolutely wheezing on the other end.

“Stop laughing,” you whine, chewing anxiously at your thumb. “I hate you.”

“Okay, okay,” she giggles, calming down. “Sorry. But also, no I’m not.”

You sigh with a smile.

“Listen,” she says, voice softening, “you can bring them here if you want. That way you get to come and spend the day with them. Plus it’s gonna be so fun.”

And honestly?

It… doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all.

Sure, when you met Namjoon and Haeun, you imagined keeping them to yourself for a bit—your little discovery, your new pocket of comfort.

But the more, the merrier… right?

They’ll meet Yoongi.

Your siblings.

Nina.

And… Jungkook.

Your chest warms at the thought—nervous, excited, confusing.

It’s good. It sounds amazing.

“Girl, you there?” Nina asks.

“Yes—yes,” you say, snapping back into your body. “That actually sounds like a great idea. I’ll ask them.”

“Okay, great!” she exclaims. “Let me know the details.”

“Sure, sure,” you mumble, nodding even though she can’t see it. “I’ll text you.”

“Okay. Love you, mwah,” she sings.

“Love you too,” you say softly.

The line cuts.

You blink once, twice, three times… and a small smile slowly tugs at your lips.

Okay.

If they say yes, this could go either horribly wrong—depending on how much Yoongi and Vicky decide to judge them for being rich—or incredibly right. Depending on how quickly Jungkook and Nina fall in love with them for being two of the nicest humans on the planet.

You march back to the kitchen.

Namjoon and Haeun are slouched over the counter like corpses, heads down, arms limp.

“What happened to you two?” you ask, eyes wide.

“Food. So much food,” Haeun groans dramatically into the marble.

“You’re feeding us to death,” Namjoon says, weakly waving a hand from his chair, his other hand clutching his stomach.

“You two are—” you start, your voice cracking as you laugh. “God.”

“Is your friend okay?” Haeun asks, lifting her head like it weighs fifteen kilos.

“Yes! She invited me to a barbecue today and said I should invite you guys too,” you say, settling into your spot at the table.

“Barbecue?”

Namjoon’s head snaps up like someone just offered him eternal life. His eyes gleam. He visibly swallows.

“I thought you ate too much,” you tease, tapping your chin.

“Girl.”

Haeun straightens herself like she’s about to make a political announcement. She points at her stomach.

“Look at this.”

“You pregnant?” you smirk.

“No,” she scoffs, flipping her hair. “What I’m trying to say is… there is always space for barbecue here.”

“Always,” Namjoon echoes, nodding solemnly. “I love meat.”

“Of course you do, honey,” Haeun says, patting his shoulder.

He rolls his eyes and brushes her hand off, muttering under his breath.

You didn’t expect to be this nervous about introducing Namjoon and Haeun to the rest of your group. Not until you’re quite literally standing on Jungkook’s front porch, staring at the door like it’s gates to hell.

Namjoon and Haeun hover beside you, both confused, watching your leg bounce like it’s trying to detach and run away without you.

“Are you gonna ring, or…?” Haeun whispers, glancing sideways at you.

“Yes,” you say, fixing your hair. Then you fix it again. “Yeah. I will. It’s just… I haven’t introduced anyone new to them in a while, you know?”

“If it helps,” Namjoon says, offering a small, warm smile, “I promise we’ll behave like civilized humans.”

“No, I know that, I just—” you start, but the thoughts crumble before they reach your mouth.

A gentle squeeze touches your shoulder. Haeun’s eyes soften.

“I get it. You’re bringing new people into your old group. And old people into your new group. That can feel… a lot.”

You swallow. “Yeah. Exactly that.”

“It’ll be okay,” she reassures, voice warm but steady. “We’ll make sure it is.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, returning the smile.

You ring the doorbell.

Immediately—immediately—you hear heavy, loud footsteps thundering toward the entrance. Someone is sprinting like they’ve been training for this moment their whole life.

The door swings open.

“Miss me, old ass?” Vicky announces, smirking like she rehearsed it.

“Shut it, child,” you hiss, pulling her into a hug anyway. “Didn’t know you took ownership of Jungkook’s house.”

“Duh. That’s the price he had to pay for me to show up to this weird-ass get-toge—”

She stops mid-sentence, eyes sliding past you.

Her gaze lands on Haeun.

“Oh… well hey there,” Vicky says, head tilting, expression doing something suspiciously dangerous.

Haeun smiles politely, offering her hand. “Hi. Haeun. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Haeun,” Vicky says, shaking her hand a second too long.

You glance at Namjoon, who looks just as confused as you—right until you both catch it. The faint flush blooming across Vicky’s cheeks.

Oh.

Oh wow.

You look back at Haeun. She looks… completely unfazed. Almost bored, honestly.

“I’m Vicky, her sister,” Vicky says, nodding toward you. “And obviously the cooler sibling.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey,” you shoot back.

Vicky turns to Namjoon next. “Oh—hi. Namjoon, right? The architect guy.” She extends her hand again.

“That’s me,” he says, shaking it. “How do you know?”

“Well, my sister might’ve mentioned you once or—”

“Okay, okay!” you interrupt, shoving past her with urgency only siblings understand. You hook two fingers into Namjoon’s sleeve and tug Haeun forward too. “We’re not standing in the doorway all day. Let’s go. People to meet, food to eat, social disasters to prevent.”

You stumble into the house with them, Vicky trailing behind.

You shoot her a side-eye.

She’s already looking at you.

Smug.

Triumphant.

Like she just claimed the first point in a game you didn’t realize started.

Little sister: one.

Big sister: zero.

You march through the house with purpose, practically buzzing, until you finally push open the back door. The second you step outside, the smell hits you—grilled spices, smoky warmth, fresh air. Conversations mingle in the background, the kind of chatter that feels like home.

Jungkook is stationed at the grill, flipping what you assume is beef while Nina and Leah hover behind him like starving vultures. Yoongi is slouched in a garden chair, phone in hand, an unimpressed expression carved permanently into his face. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he finally looks up.

His eyes meet yours. His lip curls into that familiar, tiny smile that always dissolves your tension.

“Hey,” you say, beelining toward him first—your voice loud enough for the entire yard to turn toward you, but you don't care. You bend down and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Yo,” Yoongi says, nodding toward Namjoon and Haeun. “Bring your new entourage over.”

“Guys,” you say, straightening up, “This is Yoongi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Namjoon says, giving him a firm handshake.

“Wassup,” Haeun says, holding her fingers up in a peace sign.

“So these are the people you’ve replaced me with,” Yoongi deadpans, staring at you like you’ve betrayed his bloodline.

“She couldn’t resist,” Haeun shrugs. “We’re simply way too cool.”

“As if,” Yoongi mutters. “Nobody’s beating the original.”

“Damn, bro,” Namjoon grins. “Who told you you’re the original?”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m the original,” a voice cuts in from behind.

Jungkook joins the circle, wearing a tiny smile as he wipes his hands on a towel.

“You are delusional, my friend,” you say, wetting your lip.

“Well, I’ve been here the longest,” Jungkook says with a shrug, gesturing vaguely between the two of you.

“I’m Jungkook, by the way.”

“Namjoon,” Namjoon replies with a polite smile. “And I’m pretty sure friendships are measured by quality, not time.”

Jungkook raises a brow, unimpressed. “Good thing we’ve got quality, then.”

“Oh my god can you all stop this testosterone peacocking for five seconds?” Nina groans. “I’m genuinely repulsed.”

“Why?” Yoongi asks. “It’s giving the function a little flavor.”

“She’s right, it’s weird,” Vicky says. “It’s like watching wild animals circle a watering hole.”

“Oh my god—stop acting weird,” you say, looking directly at Jungkook. “It genuinely feels like you’re walking around pissing on me to mark territory.”

Jungkook freezes, ears reddening. “Sorry,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck. “Just thought I was being funny.”

“Aren’t you a little comedian,” Yoongi mutters around a cigarette he’s trying to light.

“Elite comedy, honestly,” Vicky chimes in.

Jungkook sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Okay, man, let’s start over.” He takes a breath. “I’m Jungkook and I’m—”

He doesn’t even get to finish.

A thud.

“Stop pushing me, bro!” Jungwoo’s voice booms from inside the house.

Everyone’s heads whip toward the back door just in time to see Jungwoo and Nick wrestling a massive wooden table through the frame—badly.

Horribly.

Terribly.

The table bangs against the doorframe again, and you swear the house physically groans.

“I’m not pushing you,” Nick snaps, red-faced and sweaty, “You’re pulling at a weird angle!”

Jungwoo looks genuinely offended. “I’m literally pulling in a straight line, Nicholas. A LINE. THAT IS STRAIGHT.”

“That’s not straight,” Nick scoffs. “You’ve never done a single straight thing in your life.”

“Wow,” Jungwoo gasps, “Low blow! And homophobic.”

“It’s literally not.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Oh my god.”

Nina bursts out laughing. “They’re gonna dent the house.”

“They’re gonna dent our house,” Jungkook corrects, completely monotone.

Leah raises a brow. “Should we help them?”

“No,” Vicky says immediately. “This is natural selection.”

Namjoon squints at the ongoing disaster. “They could just… turn it sideways?”

“They could,” Nina agrees, “but they won’t.”

“You’re supposed to lift, not drag!” Jungwoo yells.

“I am lifting!” Nick protests.

“You’re lifting with your back!”

“It’s the same thing!”

“It’s literally not!”

Jungkook clears his throat loudly, trying to get back the attention he lost. “Anyway, as I was saying—”

“Jungkook, shut the fuck up!” Jungwoo shouts, frustrated.

Jungkook jumps back. “Hey—the fuck did I do?”

“You’re standing there, yapping, instead of helping!” Jungwoo hisses, glaring over his shoulder at Jungkook as he and Nick finally manage to wedge the table through the doorframe.

“We are not taking the chairs out too,” Nick pants, shoving the table leg forward. “Move your stupid ass.”

“Fine,” Jungkook grits out, shooting an apologetic look at Namjoon and Haeun. “I swear I’ll be a proper host when I’m done babysitting these two.”

“I can help,” Namjoon offers, ever polite.

“No, no—please, you’re the guest,” Jungkook says automatically, immediately cutting his eyes toward Yoongi.

“Don’t even look at me,” Yoongi says, flicking ash from his cigarette. “My back hurts just watching them.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook mutters, already storming back inside.

“The meat is gonna burn,” Vicky sing-songs, pointing at the grill.

“Fuck—okay, I’ll take over,” you say, brushing past her.

You step in front of the grill and… yup. Some pieces are basically charcoal. You sigh, scraping them off and adding a fresh batch. Behind you, you can hear Haeun and Namjoon settling in with the others, laughter blending smoothly with the warm air.

Good. Not a disaster. Yet.

“Damn, thank you,” Nina says as she joins you, brushing her hair behind her ear. “If you didn’t step in, we’d be eating ash in fifteen minutes.”

“You’re lucky you have a professional chef here,” you grin, flipping a steak.

“No,” Nina says gently, smiling at you. “I’m lucky I have you here.”

You snort. “You’re gonna make me blush.”

“Is it working?”

“Absolutely.”

She nudges your arm with hers, eyes drifting toward Haeun and Namjoon. “I like them. They seem… really sweet.”

“They are,” you say, warmth creeping into your chest. “They’re really good people.”

“I’m glad you have them,” Nina murmurs. “I mean— I’m glad you have people who care about you.”

You pause, turning slightly to look at her. She looks almost shy about saying it.

“You have people too, you know,” you say softly. “You’re not… doing all this alone.”

She swallows. “I— yeah. Thank you.”

“Seriously,” you say, lowering the heat on the grill. “You can talk to me. When things get… heavy.”

“I don’t want to annoy you,” she whispers. “You have enough going on.”

“Honey,” you laugh under your breath, “this isn’t a competition for who’s more miserable. I’m here whenever.”

She nods, a small exhale leaving her. “I’m here for you too. Always. You know that, right?”

You meet her eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. The grill crackles, kids shout somewhere down the street, your groups’ laughter swells behind you. Nina stands beside you with her arms folded, shoulder brushing yours every so often like a quiet reminder.

We’re still us.

It feels… nice.

She bumps your shoulder, leaning in just enough to murmur, “This is totally off topic, but… look.” Her eyes flick toward Namjoon. “He’s checking you out.”

“No he’s not,” you say, glancing over, trying to sound casual but failing.

“He so is,” she insists, smirking.

When you finally meet his gaze, something shifts. Namjoon tilts his head, a faint smile playing on his lips, then starts taking small, deliberate steps toward you and Nina. You feel your chest tighten, heat rising, as your eyes dart between Nina and the grill.

“Damn,” he says, stopping just close enough to make your stomach flutter. “I don’t know if you look better in the kitchen… or behind the grill.”

“Make up your mind, then,” you retort, pushing a grin onto your face, trying to sound confident even though your pulse is racing.

Namjoon leans just a little closer, resting an elbow on the edge of the grill as if it’s completely natural. His eyes meet yours, lingering a fraction too long. “You know,” he says, voice low but teasing. “I think I like this… you in charge of the meat. It’s… impressive.”

You laugh softly, trying to play it cool while your fingers twitch on the spatula. “Impressive, huh? That a compliment or a warning?”

“Definitely a compliment,” he says, the faint curve of his smile making your chest warm.

Nina nudges your side with her elbow, almost imperceptibly, a sly little grin on her face. Her eyes say everything: Go on, show him.

“Don’t encourage him,” you murmur under your breath, though your smile betrays you.

“I can’t help it,” Nina whispers back, her gaze flicking between you and Namjoon. “He’s cute. You’re cute. You two are… perfect.”

Namjoon tilts his head, noticing the subtle exchange. “I guess I’ll take encouragement wherever I can get it,” he says smoothly, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. “Careful, I might start thinking you’re flirting.”

“And if I am?” he asks, voice dropping a notch, playful but sincere.

You glance at Nina, who’s biting her lip to suppress a giggle, silently cheering you on. “Then I might have to let it slide,” You say.

You try to focus back on the meat, flipping a skewer a little too quickly, sending a wisp of smoke up. Namjoon’s eyes catch it, soft concern flashing again. “Careful… wouldn’t want you to inhale that. I’d have to rescue you.”

“You’d rescue me?” you tease lightly, pretending to wipe your hands.

“I might,” he says, almost a whisper. His gaze lingering a beat too long, taking in the curve of your shoulder, the way your hair catches the sunlight. The small movements that make you… You.

Nina nudges your side.

You can’t help the tiny laugh that escapes. When you look back at Namjoon, the soft intensity in his eyes makes the grill feel hotter than the flames themselves. “Alright, Mr. Perceptive,” you murmur. “I’ll try not to inhale it again. But only if you promise to keep watching.”

“I’ll keep watch,” he replies. Smirk returning, tone teasing but almost protective. “Just don’t make me jealous of the grill.”

Standing for a long period of time does two things to you — one: you become very dehydrated, and two: you need to pee.

Badly.

So, the second the last piece of meat was grilled, you slipped into the house like a fugitive. Brain empty except for one primal instinct: bathroom. Now.

By the time you finish your business, you feel reborn — bladder no longer threatening to rupture, sanity restored. You wash your hands, check the mirror to make sure you haven’t sweated off your dignity, sniff your shirt and—ugh. Smoke. But hey, at least it’s a socially acceptable smell today.

You yank the bathroom door open a little too fast—

“Ouch.”

You slam straight into a human wall.

A very solid, very muscular human wall.

Jungkook’s hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around your wrist with perfect reflexes before gravity can bully you. “Woah—careful,” he says, laughing as you stumble back into balance.

“Watch where you’re going,” you shoot back, rubbing your shoulder where you collided with Mount Jeon.

“Hey, you’re the one sprinting out of the bathroom,” he counters.

“Mhm. Right. Totally my fault.” You narrow your eyes dramatically.

“You’re making me feel guilty now,” he says, shoving you lightly, like the human equivalent of poking a plush toy.

“Good. Mission accomplished.”

“You do that with all your friends?” he asks, raising a brow.

“Nah,” you shrug. “Just the most annoying ones.”

“Okay—ouch.” He clutches his chest dramatically. “Speaking of your friends… Haeun and Namjoon are—okay.”

A beat.

“I like them.”

“Good,” you say, half teasing, half not. “You’re my best friend. I need your approval.”

“Damn, don’t depend on my judgement. We’ll both be screwed.”

“I’m already screwed.”

“So pessimistic,” he says, nudging your shoulder.

“Ah, what can I say? I’ve been reading a lot of cheap psychology books.”

He winces. “Stop. That sounds like a crime.”

“I like punishing myself.”

“Judge, she’s a masochist,” he declares, looking up like he’s addressing the ceiling courtroom.

“Hey—you’re the lawyer,” you say, lightly slapping his arm. “Aren’t you supposed to defend me?”

“To each their own,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes, but your pulse is still a little fast — not from the near fall, but from the way he caught you so instinctively, so gently.

And the way he still hasn’t let go of your wrist.

Not until you notice… and pull back first.

Silence stretches around you so suddenly it feels physical — like the hallway itself inhales and forgets to exhale. The world narrows to the echo of distant footsteps, the hum of lights, and the ghost of his touch burning on your wrist. The air feels too still, too aware of both of you, curling tight around your ribs.

You become hyper‑aware of yourself — of how close you’re standing, of the sharp beat of your pulse, of the sting where his skin met yours. Jungkook goes quiet all at once. His shoulders tense, his jaw works, and the fingers at his side twitch like he’s arguing with himself.

You slap his elbow lightly. “What’s up with you now? Suddenly all silent and broody…” You try to tease, but your voice sounds too careful. “What’s with the mood swings?”

“It’s nothing.”

His response is too quick, too sharp. He stares at a spot just past your shoulder. “I’m just… you know. Same old shit.”

“Nina? Are you guys okay?” you ask gently, stepping closer before you even think about it.

“Yeah, I just—” he exhales through his nose, fingers rubbing at the inside of his palm. “I remembered something from this morning randomly. She was awfully quiet.”

“Quiet? I talked to her literally minutes ago. And this morning too — she seemed fine.”

“Yeah. Fine with you.”, he scoffs, a bitter little sound. “But with me… something’s still changing between us.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, brushing your hair back as you study him.

“It’s like we stopped fighting, you know?”, his voice drops. “We argue all the time, and lately we both just… don’t have the energy anymore.”

You hum, thinking. “Is she aware you feel like this?”

“Yeah. I mean she has to know, right?” He gestures vaguely. “After everything we went through… she knows me. She knows how our relationship works.”

“Are you sure?” you ask carefully. “You can’t expect her to just know what’s going on in your head. You should talk to her. Reassure her.”

He rolls his eyes, a weak laugh slipping out. “God, you sound like a therapist. Wasn’t expecting this to turn into a session.”

Your patience thins.

Because no matter how hard you try to understand him, no matter how much space you give him to talk… he keeps getting defensive.

Keeps correcting you.

Keeps turning everything into a debate instead of doing any real self‑reflection.

You inhale, grounding yourself.

“Jungkook, I love you. I want to help, but—” you start, breath catching, “I’m not… I’m not a wall. You can’t expect me to just listen without saying anything. I have thoughts too… feelings too.”

“I know,” he says quickly, a little too quickly. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s not that.” You shake your head. “It’s just… you can’t be that blunt all the time. You need to pick your words. God knows I try to. But sometimes… you hurt me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” You soften. “But you get defensive when I tell you something you don’t want to hear. I’ve been patient, really… but I want to be your friend, not someone you take your frustrations out on.”

“Fuck…” he mutters, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “Words just… come out sometimes. I don’t mean it—”

“I know, I know, Kook,” you cut in, touching his shoulder gently.

“I’ll work on it,” he adds, urgency in his voice. “Just… promise me you’ll tell me if I screw up?”

“Okay,” you say. “If you promise you’ll actually listen and try to change.”

“I will. I swear. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Good.” You let out a small breath. “I care about you, Kook.”

“I care about you too,” he says softly. “You’re… my person, or something. I don’t want to hurt you or lose you again.”

“I don’t want that either.”

“Good.”

You both pause, a small, grounding silence.

Then he shifts, a spark in his eyes. “I was thinking… about something.”

“Yeah? What?”

“Tattoos,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, eyes flicking to the floor for a second before meeting yours again, a little sheepish.

“Tattoos? Like your tattoos?” You tilt your head, eyebrow raised, amusement curling at your lips. “Really random topic change, Jungkook.”

He shrugs, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Can’t keep the vibes down for too long,” he says, voice lighter now, teasing. “I mean, tattoos in general.”

You nod, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, letting the light catch the color in your eyes. “I like tattoos,” you say, a small grin tugging at your lips.

He hesitates, then lowers his voice just enough that it feels like a secret between the two of you. “Would you… uh… want to do friendship tattoos?”

You laugh, head tilting back slightly, the sound soft and easy. “Damn, dude. We wanted to do that in high school.”

“You remember?” he says, grinning, that familiar spark of mischief in his eyes. “You chickened out in the end.”

“Shut up! I did not. And I’m not chickening out now either,” you shoot back, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

“So?” He leans in a little, grin widening, gaze playful but steady. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” you say, nudging him again, smirk in place. “I’m in.”

He nods, satisfaction written across his face. “We’re gonna have those tattoos forever. Till we die. So think carefully.”

“Dumbass, it’s not like I’m putting your ugly face on mine,” you tease, rolling your eyes.

“I am not ugly!” he protests, hands flaring out as if to defend himself, cheeks warming.

“Whatever,” you mutter, smirking. “As long as it’s not your face, I’m down.”

“Good. Because I have an idea,” he says, leaning back, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“An idea? Tell me,” you press, curiosity sparking in your tone.

“You’ll see when we get to the parlor,” he says, smug, brushing his fingers through his hair. “If you don’t like it, we’ll do something else.”

“Ugh, fine,” you sigh, nudging him lightly again. “We should get outside anyway. People are probably looking for us.”

“True,” he says, letting a small laugh escape, stomach audibly growling. “Plus I’m hungry.”

“Same.” The floorboards creak softly under your feet, the faint scent of barbecue already making you giddy. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” he calls softly, and you stop mid-step, turning your head fully toward him.

“Huh?” you ask, confused.

“You forgot something,” he says, tilting his head slightly, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips.

Your brow lifts, playful curiosity in your gaze. “What did I forget?”

Slowly, deliberately, he lifts his hand. His pinky extends toward you, the skin soft but firm. You notice the subtle tilt of his head, the faint curve of his lips, the way his eyes soften as they hold yours. For a moment, the world narrows until it’s only him, his hand, the space between you.

“You forgot to seal the deal,” he whispers, voice barely more than a breath.

A laugh escapes you, shaky and warm. Without thinking, your pinky curls around his. The touch is feather-light, electric in its simplicity. You feel his hand’s subtle warmth, the gentle pressure, the quiet reassurance that somehow, everything is okay.

You stare at him, really see him—the faint crease of his brow, the quiet intensity in his eyes, the way his shoulder relaxes now that your pinky is locked with his.

It’s intimate, delicate, and a little ridiculous, but it feels monumental.

Like the hallway has been holding its breath just for this, like time itself has paused to watch.

“Sealed,” he whispers, and the word lingers, soft and infinite.

“Sealed,” you echo, letting your chest fill with the quiet joy of the moment.

Your fingers remain intertwined for a heartbeat longer, and when you finally pull away, the warmth of his pinky still lingers.

taglist pt. 1: @lovingkoalaface @santiiagopopegarcia @jadaocon1 @asyr97 @gukieater @themwordsblog @whatevevrerr @amarawayne @tititania @guwol @reallygenerouskoala @bgfdcvbnjk @kyljjk @whoa-jo @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @upo1313 @polnaraffsrack @tatzzz-25 @orphicepiphany @coletaehyung @bjoriis @epiphany-n @kimyishin @eegyo @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @parkinglot-nights @mar-lo-pap @evrsncenewyork @jjeonjjk7 @minghaosimp @cerulean1riz @anumita-2007 @vantelover1306 @vynmin @nadzzzblog @jnghs @lachimolalajeon @joonwater @choijay-07 @notsevenwithyou @mononoaware16 @sky-23s-world @kookietkk @auroresce @sadgirlroo @arcadiaem @kokoandkookie @nakyra2

[writesvani]

dear me | 14

lawyer! jungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TWs: hangovers, alcohol, anxiety, self-doubt, loneliness, emotional conflict, strained friendships, uncomfortable introspection

comment HERE for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter (pending...)

wc: 5,6k // date: 9th of October 2025

CHAPTER FOURTEEN — TO BE SELFISH happy reading my gummies...

AN: okay everyone. whew. remember me? maybe you do, maybe you don’t, but SOMEONE has to, right? anyway, hi!! i’ve been missing for a month (or more, who’s counting?) and yes, i’m alive. this chapter is literally proof that your favorite law-school zombie is still breathing and apparently writing.

if you’re wondering how i am—i’m good!! happy, healthy, surviving on coffee, and only three more exams away from officially being done with my first year of law school. yaaay vani, clap for me.

so, i wasn’t planning on writing today. at all. i was deep in roman private law (specifically obligational law in the roman empire—fancy, right?) and then…bam. inspiration hit. words started blooming in my brain like chaotic little weeds, and suddenly dear me demanded my attention. so here we are. mwah.

as for the next chapter…don’t expect a note goal or any weird contest vibes. i don’t know when it’ll come, but it WILL. patience, my precious friends, patience. also, once you finish this chapter, there’s a part two of this author’s note. read it. please. it’s mandatory.

love ya lots, vani!

It hurts. Skull throbbing, eyes barely clinging to consciousness, mouth dry and practically begging for just a sip of water. It fucking hurts. His head—the kind of hangover that feels like it’s been personally designed to punish him—won’t quit. And he’s gotten older, which apparently means hangovers come heavier, sharper, more real. And he can’t handle it. Not today. Not this.

Yoongi’s always been good at handling things. Always. But apparently “things” don’t include a pounding skull and a dry throat that screams murder at the sight of sunlight. His body feels foreign, like it’s rebelling against his mind, which is already trying to sort out the abstract horrors of adulthood. And while he drifts somewhere between consciousness and full-blown regret, his eyes peek open. Sunlight spills through the window glass in uneven slices, warm and golden, and he realizes: he should feel irritated, but instead, it’s the warmth.

The warmth of a hand, soft against his belly. The warmth of a body curled against him from behind. He freezes. Heart thrumming, brain spinning in both awe and panic.

What the hell…?

Slowly, hesitantly, Yoongi turns his head.

And oh. Oh. Fuck.

Oh, what the actual fuck.

Hesitant. So hesitant an outsider might mistake it for softness, Yoongi slowly turns his head. And oh. Oh fuck. Oh, what the actual fuck? His eyes widen, panic dripping down his features like a relentless rainstorm. His body moves on its own, as if it refuses to obey his mind. He springs from the bed, frantically searching for his clothes. And then he notices—he’s still wearing them.

He exhales, a sharp, ragged sound. Relief, or the closest thing to it in his hungover haze. He sinks onto the edge of the bed, rubbing at his temple, grinding his teeth, but the headache doesn’t relent. He’s still dizzy, still foggy, still utterly unsure how he ended up in this situation.

He’s so fucked.

A body on the bed stirs, shifting with a languid yawn so loud it practically shreds his eardrums. “You coming back to sleep?” the voice asks. Yoongi doesn’t respond. Or tries not to. Really, desperately tries not to. He’s always been good at ignoring things.

Always.

“I asked you something,” the voice nudges him with a foot. Yoongi simply glances over his shoulder, silent, glaring.

Quiet.

He’s always quiet. Maybe it’s not a flaw. Maybe it’s the only thing keeping him sane. Because if he talks—if Yoongi really talks—it could be catastrophic. The secrets he carries, buried deep inside, could unravel more than just his own life. So he stays quiet. Quiet around others. Even quieter around himself.

“Stop ignoring me, asshole,” the voice snaps, and Yoongi jerks his head in that direction.

“What the hell happened last night? Did we…? I mean… what?” His words stumble over themselves, his features cracking in that combination of hangover panic and utter confusion.

“Relax,” Jimin says, sitting up and rubbing at his temple, still half-languid. “Nothing happened. We just… fell asleep.”

“I know, but what? How? I don’t… I don’t understand.” Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, feeling his brain crawl back from the fog.

“Okay,” Jimin mumbles, squinting at him. “So basically, I had a day off yesterday. Stopped by to see how my favorite colleague, Alex, was doing.”

“Okay… and?” Yoongi prompts, eyebrows knit.

“And you were there, sitting at the bar, drinking yourself into oblivion. So naturally, I had to drink myself into oblivion with you.”

“I literally highly dislike you. Why would I drink with you?” Yoongi mutters, a grimace tugging at his lips.

“I don’t know, dude. Anyway… we ended up at your place, playing fucking Monopoly like we’re twelve,” Jimin gestures at the chaotic board sprawled across Yoongi’s floor, dice and hotel pieces scattered like casualties. “And after that… we just fell asleep.”

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay… okay, so nothing happened.”

“Of course not. You were drunk—way more than I was. I would never.”

“Okay, good. Actually, great,” Yoongi mutters, letting himself relax slightly.

“Yeah. Great,” Jimin echoes, lounging back.

“I mean… you’re Y/n’s ex and all, so don’t get me wrong, but… and I also really dislike you, like I already said,” Yoongi blurts, feeling heat rise to his ears.

“Hmm,” Jimin hums thoughtfully, one brow cocked. “Like… you dislike my looks or my personality?”

Yoongi shoots him a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

“What? I know most people can’t handle this level of awesomeness, but saying I’m ugly is criminal.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi hisses, but Jimin isn’t stopping.

“And personally? I think you’re pretty hot.”

“Jimin—”

“And yes, I’m Y/n’s ex, but c’mon… we were together in high school.”

“Jimin!”

“And also—why did you even—”

“JIMIN!” Yoongi finally shouts, voice echoing through the apartment. He runs a hand over his face, exhaling sharply.

Okay.

Breathe.

Don’t die from embarrassment right now.

“Yes? What?” Jimin asks innocently, like this is a casual Tuesday.

“I think you should go home,” Yoongi says softly, eyes catching a faint glimmer of exasperation and something unreadable beneath it. “And forget about our… friendly bonding last night.”

“Really?” Jimin asks, tilting his head, still somehow charmingly oblivious.

“Yeah. Really.”

“Okay,” Jimin says with a shrug, finally moving toward the door, the faintest smirk lingering.

Yoongi sits back, rubbing his temple again, shaking his head. Why is life like this? he thinks. Why does he have to be like this? And somewhere deep in the fog of hangover misery, he can’t help but think it’s slightly—terrifyingly—funny.

But as funny as it is… as funny as Yoongi feels it was, for a moment, it felt peaceful. Waking up next to a body. Feeling warmth pressed against him. Hearing someone call him back to bed. He hasn’t done that in a long while. Hasn’t let himself live like that—simple, unguarded, wanted. Sure, ideally, that someone shouldn't be Jimin. Couldn’t be Jimin. But selfishly—for just a fleeting second—Yoongi felt that he needed this. Needed someone.

Yet Yoongi doesn’t get the luxury of selfishness. Doesn’t get to play that card. Not when every single person in his life—probably oblivious to it—is just a little selfish. Jungkook. Nina. Even you. Everyone dear to him, in their own way, carries it. He understands it. Everyone had survived things that could tear life apart. People, families, hearts. Each of you, in your own way, carry scars that weight you down. But even through it all, everyone is just a little selfish. Concerned with your needs, your wants, your survival. Everyone who claims to put others first… maybe they do, maybe they don’t. That is how Yoongi sees it.

And yet, everyone deserves that selfishness. For the sacrifices you all made, for the pain endured. For the losses carried quietly in your hearts. But Yoongi? He can’t. He can’t be selfish. Not truly. Not in the way that matters. Because Yoongi hasn’t… sacrificed anything.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

But deep down… he knows.

He knows.

And despite all his reasoning, he knows.

He knows that maybe, just maybe, he has already given more than anyone else can see. And that realization—a quiet, bitter pulse in his chest—is the closest thing to a truth he has ever let himself hold.

You wake up in your bed alone.

Sunlight grazes your cheekbones, the sheets curling around you like they’re asking if you’re coming back. And maybe you should. Sleep sounds perfect. But today isn’t a sleep day. Today has plans. Real plans. Plans that don’t involve your usual routine, the one that somehow feels both comforting and suffocating. Excitement hits you like a tidal wave.

You leap out of bed, a gibberish mess of limbs and thoughts, heading straight for your closet. What do you wear? What screams “shopping spree,” but not like a rich shopping spree—well, wait, Haeun’s rich. And her brother. Maybe old money vibes? You don’t have any old money clothes. Fuck. Later. Clothes later. Right now, you need to brush your teeth, shower, do your makeup. Yeah, that’s the priority.

You get ready, eventually pulling on the cutest outfit you can find. You glance at yourself in the mirror and—holy shit—you actually look like a happy person. Excited, alive, ready. You squeal. Maybe it’s the thrill of buying new clothes. Maybe it’s the fact you’re doing something new for the first time in forever.

Your phone pings. Haeun’s here. Okay, shoes on, bag slung over your shoulder. And then it rings. Damn, she’s impatient. You answer, balancing your phone with your shoulder while tugging your jacket into place.

“Hey, girly, I’ll be down in a sec,” you say.

“Girly what?” Jungkook’s voice, dripping with mockery, fills your ear.

You groan. “Shit, Kook. Thought it was a friend. Didn’t even look. Just answered.”

“You’re… impressively dumb, even for you.”

“Thanks, I try. But don’t distract me—I’m about to become a professional shopper.”

“Of course. Don’t let me ruin your retail therapy.”

“Yeah, you’re totally ruining my life with your voice, really. Anyway, why did you call?” You wiggle your key between your fingers, trying not to roll your eyes too obviously.

There’s a pause. Then, “It’s… nothing. Just—Nina and I had a fight.”

Your chest twists a little. You’re supposed to be excited, happy. Now you just feel that familiar tug of worry. “Oh… that sucks. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just… I don’t know how long we’ll be like this,” he says.

“Mm, ‘like this,’ meaning snapping at each other and pretending life is normal?” You smirk into the phone, trying to lighten the mood for both of you.

“Exactly. Pretend everything’s fine while it’s a dumpster fire inside. You get me, right?” His voice softens, and it hits you—he’s really struggling.

“I get you. Totally.” You step out of the building and adjust your bag. “But Kook, you don’t have to carry all of it alone.”

“I know, I just… I wish I could fix it. Fix her. Fix everything. But I can’t.” His voice is quiet, almost cracking.

You feel that familiar pit in your stomach. All your excitement from five minutes ago vanishes. “Hey… you’re not failing anyone. You’re doing the best you can. That’s enough.”

“And I really want to be there for her. I do. But it’s… it’s a lot.”

“Yeah, I get that,” you say, glancing toward Haeun waving at you from the car. You wave back, forcing a small smile. “Listen… just breathe. And maybe survive the day? That’s all I ask.”

You slide into the passenger seat, bag sliding onto the floor, seatbelt clicking into place. Haeun gives you a small smile. “Hey!” she says cheerfully, but you’re still fumbling with your phone.

“Kook, I’m in the car now,” you start, trying to keep your voice calm, “so I really need to—”

“No, listen! I just… it’s like every time I try to say something to her, she shuts me down. She—ugh! I don’t even know if she remembers what happened yesterday, or last week, or… everything!”

You glance at Haeun, who’s pretending to buckle something but clearly notices the tension, the way your hands grip the phone like it’s a lifeline. You want to tell Jungkook to chill, to save it for later, but part of you still wants to listen, to hear him out.

“I know, I get it,” you say, forcing a calm tone, “I just… I’m kind of already out, and Haeun’s—we're going shopping, remember? We’re—uh, we’re leaving now. Can we talk after? Like… properly?”

“No! You don’t get it! I can’t wait! I just need to tell someone. Please, you’re the only one who—ugh!”

You let out a breath, leaning back against the seat. God, he really does not know when to quit. But you want to help him. You do. Damn it.

Haeun finally speaks up, curiosity lacing her voice. “Your friend’s really… passionate, huh?”

You blink at her, slightly embarrassed. “Uh… yeah. You could say that.” You try to shift your bag so you can place your phone down, but Jungkook keeps going.

“—and it’s not like I haven’t tried! I’ve tried talking, I’ve tried giving her space, I’ve tried everything! I just… I can’t fix it by myself!”

You squeeze your eyes shut for a second, torn between wanting to dive into the conversation and wanting to live your day. “Kook, I want to help, I really do. But shopping waits, sunlight waits… can we pause this? Please?”

“I can’t just pause!” he yells softly, and you know he doesn’t mean to yell, it’s just frustration spilling over.

Haeun lets out a small, amused laugh from the driver’s seat. “Okay… I think I get it now. She’s torn between helping someone and, like… having fun today,” she whispers to herself.

You finally sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Kook… I—look, I really need to go. We can talk later, okay?”

There’s a long pause on the other end. Then a quiet, begrudging, “Fine.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, relief washing over you. You click the call off and drop your phone onto your lap.

Haeun leans back, eyebrows raised. “Wait… are you always like this with this friend of yours?”

You glance at her, confused. “Like… what do you mean?”

“Well,” she says, smirking, “do you always… put him before, like… yourself?”

You blink. “What? No… I mean, sometimes. But I also—”

“Because just now,” she continues, “you literally told him like million times you had to go, and he just kept talking. And you didn’t hang up. You just… let him keep going.”

You stare out the window, fiddling with your seatbelt, trying to make sense of it. “Wait… is that… bad?”

Haeun shrugs, playful but pointed. “No, it’s not bad. I mean… it’s just… you know, you’re allowed to put your life before your friends. You’re allowed to go shopping, or go outside, or—whatever. You don’t always have to listen to him ramble about his problems.”

You bite your lip, thinking. Huh.

You exhale, a small laugh escaping you. “Okay… yeah. Point taken.”

She smirks. “Hell yeah. Good.”

“So,” you start, trying to smooth over the weird silence that lingered after your conversation, “where’s your brother?”

Haeun perks up, her smile turning soft — the kind of smile only people with siblings know how to wear. “Didn’t you say he’s coming with us?” you ask.

“Yeah, he is!” she says, practically bouncing in her seat. “We’re picking him up right about…” she glances through the windshield dramatically, “…now!”

You laugh, right as the car slows to a stop at the curb. A tall guy stands on the sidewalk, checking his watch like it owes him answers.

“You’re late,” he says the moment he opens the door, sliding into the backseat and shutting it with way too much force.

“Namjoon, I swear to God,” Haeun snaps, rolling her eyes. “If you slam my door like that again, you’re walking to the mall.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender, scratching the back of his neck. “My bad, didn’t mean to. Car doors just… sound better when they’re angry.”

You snort before you can stop yourself. His eyes flick toward you, and suddenly you’re aware of the warmth creeping up your neck.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft but sure. “Sorry for making a first impression like that.” He offers his hand across the seat. “I’m Namjoon.”

“Y/N,” you reply, shaking his hand with a small laugh, “And we’ve already met. At your mom’s place... I work for her.”

“Oh, shit, fuck I’m so sorry, I’m really bad at remembering faces,” he says, embarassed, “And I definitely should have remembered a face like that.”

Your neck flushes, “No, no, don’t even worry about it. And about the impression part, trust me, this is nothing compared to the chaos I deal with at home.”

“Oh?” Haeun chimes in, turning down the radio. “You’ve got siblings too?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling at the thought. “Two sisters and a brother.”

Namjoon lets out a low whistle. “Damn, that’s a lot.” His eyes widen immediately. “Wait— I mean, that’s great! I’m just— I can barely survive one sister, that’s all.”

“Hey, asshole, I’m still here—and driving, by the way—so go ahead, try offending me one more time. I dare you,” Haeun says, eyes still on the road.

“Drama queen,” Namjoon singsongs from the backseat, sprawling like he owns the car. “So,” he turns to you, “what’s life like with three siblings?”

“Dramatic as well,” you say, grinning. “Annoying. Overbearing. Privacy? Barely exists. But also… really fucking cool.” Your voice softens a little. “Can’t imagine life without them.”

“See, baby bro?” Haeun says, tossing him a look through the mirror. “You also can’t imagine life without me.”

“In your dreams,” Namjoon mutters. Then, leaning forward slightly, he adds, “Also, I’m trying to talk to her—so could you, like, be civilized for five minutes?”

“Fine,” Haeun sighs, smirking. “You two have your little car moment. I’ll just drive.”

You snort. “So,” you turn toward him, “what’s your story, Namjoon?”

“I don’t have one,” he says, smiling, shoulders shrugging lazily. “I’m just a guy in a car.”

“Oh, come on,” you press, eyes narrowing playfully. “Everyone’s got a story.”

He chuckles, lifting his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. What do you wanna know?”

You hum, pretending to think. “What do you do for work?”

“I’m an architect.”

You blink, impressed. “Oh, cool—so you like, draw buildings and stuff?”

He laughs, a quiet, warm sound. “Something like that, yeah. If you’re interested, I can show you sometime.”

“Really? I am actually.”

His brow quirks, lips tugging into a teasing smirk. “You’re what?”

“Interested,” you blurt out—then quickly add, “I mean, in architecture. Your job. Not—you. Well, not like that, I just meant—”

He bites back a grin, watching you flounder. “Sure. Architecture.”

Before you can dig yourself deeper, Haeun’s voice cuts in, too chipper for her own good. “Alright, guys, we’re here!”

Namjoon’s the first one to unbuckle his seatbelt, already halfway out of the car before it even stops moving. Typical younger brother energy. Haeun and you follow right after, doors shutting almost in sync as the three of you start walking toward the mall.

He’s a few feet ahead, head bent over his phone, thumbs moving fast—probably texting someone important. Or maybe just checking the weather like a normal person, who knows. You and Haeun, on the other hand, walk elbows interlocked like two girls about to take over the world.

“Your brother’s pretty cool,” you whisper, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder.

“Yeah, I noticed you thought so,” she whispers back, her grin turning absolutely feral. “By the way you guys kept excessively flirting.”

You nearly trip over your own feet. “We were not flirting! We were just—talking. Getting to know each other!”

“Sure,” she hums. “Keep telling yourself that. You were totally flirting with my brother. And honestly, I’d find that disgusting if it wasn’t also so entertaining to watch.”

“What—Haeun!” you hiss, your face burning.

“No, I’m serious! It’s kind of wild realizing your siblings have lives where you’re not the main character,” she says, shaking her head in mock disbelief. “Like—my brother liking someone? That’s character development. I’m proud of him.”

You groan. “I wasn’t flirting with your brother.”

“Mhm.”

“I wasn’t!”

Right then, Namjoon turns around, lifting his hand toward the glass doors ahead. “You guys are too slow. Hurry up!”

You both laugh, jogging the last few steps until you catch up, still giggling like teenagers sneaking into a club.

Inside, the cool air of the mall hits your skin, the noise of chatter and footsteps filling your ears. Namjoon glances back at you—just a small look, but it’s warm, curious, like he actually wants to know more about you. And Haeun looks at you the same way she did earlier in the car—like you’re not just company for the day. Like you’re her friend.

And for a split second, you feel it—this lightness, this bubble of joy in your chest that you haven’t felt in what feels like forever.

You and Haeun are actually going to be friends.

You were totally flirting with her brother.

And, for a moment there, you forgot about Jungkook.

And it feels good.

“Oh my God,” Haeun gasps, dragging you toward Sephora with all the energy of someone running late for a concert. “We have to go in. My setting powder is basically begging for a new home.”

“And I need the Rare Beauty blush,” you call after her, scanning the glossy displays, your eyes catching the shimmer of highlighters like tiny stars trapped in plastic.

Haeun pauses mid-step, looking back with a devilish grin. “Okay, let’s split up. You get Rare Beauty, I’m hitting Huda Beauty. Deal?”

“Deal,” you say, already feeling the familiar rush of excitement that comes from the simple joy of hunting for makeup. Your bag swings against your hip as you step closer to the blush section, eyes trained like a sniper.

To your surprise, Namjoon follows. He doesn’t hover awkwardly; he just… walks beside you, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, casually surveying the shelves as if he belongs here.

“Damn, sorry for making you come with us,” you mutter, your voice a bit low, almost sheepish, like you’re apologizing for existing.

He shrugs, barely noticing. “It’s fine. I knew her first stop would be Sephora anyway. Makes sense.”

You hum, eyes flicking to him for a fraction of a second. “You two spend a lot of time together?” You glance at him, noticing the faint curve of his lips, the easy way he shifts his weight.

“Not really. We’re both working adults. Life gets in the way,” he says, calm.

You catch a softness in his eyes, though, a quiet warmth you didn’t expect.

“But she’s still my sister. Doesn’t matter how much time passes—we’ll always be close.”

You nod, feeling a little tug in your chest. “Yeah. Siblings are like your first best friends, right?”

He bumps your shoulder lightly, sleeves brushing. Neither of you moves away. It’s odd how comfortable it feels.

“So,” he says, leaning in just a fraction, a teasing lilt in his voice, “what do you do for fun when you aren’t cooking for my mom—or, you know, letting my sister, who is a stranger to you, by the way, drag you on a random shopping spree?”

You scoff, mock offense spreading across your face. “First of all, she’s not a stranger! We met yesterday.”

“Damn, okay,” he says, rolling his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitch upward. “Didn’t know you two were that close.”

“Yes, we are,” you answer firmly, eyes finally landing on the blush you’ve been hunting. It’s the exact shade you imagined—pretty, warm, perfect. You pick it up and roll it between your fingers, watching the subtle shimmer catch the light.

“Okay,” he says, still smirking, “but you still haven’t answered my question.”

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, pretending to be deep in thought. “Right. Well… I usually hang out with Jungkook or Yoongi. They’re my best friends.”

He raises an eyebrow and does a dramatic wipe of the imaginary sweat from his forehead. “For a second there, I thought one of them was your boyfriend. Scared me shitless.”

You grin, teetering on teasing. “What if one of them was?”

He leans back, tilting his head, lips curling into a small, playful smirk. “Well… I’d be respectful. Step aside. But, uh… I’d be really, really disappointed. You’re really cool. Really… pretty. And I wouldn’t be able to ask you out.”

You blink, a little caught off guard. The blush suddenly feels warmer on your cheeks—though you convince yourself it’s just the lighting.

“Are you—” you start, raising an eyebrow, “I mean… are you going to ask me out?”

“Yes,” he says, calm as if this isn’t a question that could break hearts. “But not right now. We just met. You deserve someone who actually tries. Not someone who barges into Sephora and scares you with his presence.”

Huh.

This guy.

This guy.

The audacity.

The casual confidence.

The subtle charm that doesn’t scream romance but still makes your pulse pick up.

“Is that… okay?” he asks softly, tilting his head, lips twitching like he’s unsure for the first time.

“Yes,” you whisper, letting the weight of the day’s excitement settle into your chest. “It’s more than okay.”

Haeun’s voice calls from across the aisle, waving a glittery Huda Beauty palette like she’s just conquered a treasure trove. “Girl! Found my shade! Come look!”

You glance back at Namjoon. He watches you with a slight tilt of his head, hands casually in his pockets, and you feel a quiet connection in the easy way he observes without pushing.

“Alright,” he says, nodding toward Haeun, “Go. I can handle being alone for a few minutes.”

You and Haeun continue your shopping spree, arms linked like you’ve known each other for years. The two of you move in sync, giggling every few steps, bags already dangling from your wrists. Behind you, Namjoon trails along with the patience of a saint and the energy of a lost golden retriever.

You glance back at him, smiling at how utterly out of place he looks surrounded by pastel storefronts and the faint scent of perfume and pretzels.

Haeun notices the grin tugging at your lips and nudges your waist. “Don’t laugh,” she whispers dramatically. “He’s trying so hard not to look miserable right now.”

You snort quietly, biting back a laugh just as Namjoon stops abruptly in front of a tech store.

“Wait, guys, I need to go in here!” he says, already halfway through the sliding doors.

Haeun tilts her head, blinking once before breaking into a grin. “Aww, baby needs a new computer for playing games?”

You burst out laughing, the sound echoing slightly off the tiled floors.

Namjoon turns around, unimpressed. “What, no. I need a new laptop for my projects. Jesus,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Haeun drawls. “You ‘need’ a new laptop, and I ‘need’ another lip gloss.”

“Okay, fine,” she sighs dramatically. “We’ll go with you.”

But he waves both of you off. “No, seriously, you don’t have to. It’s gonna take a while. Go grab something to eat. I’ll text you when I’m done.”

“You sure?” you ask, glancing between him and the glittering display of gadgets.

“Positive.” He gives you that small half-smile that feels almost too genuine. “Go before I shoo you away.”

“Fine,” you and Haeun say at the same time, rolling your eyes in perfect synchronization as you turn toward the food court.

You end up with Chinese food — comfort food, really — the kind that smells like soy sauce and nostalgia. Steam rises from your plate, fogging the cheap plastic water cup beside it.

“I bet he’s gonna buy something for gaming,” Haeun mumbles, poking at her noodles.

You smile. “He plays a lot?”

“Only when he’s stressed,” she says, shrugging. “So yeah, he does.”

You tilt your head, curious. “Are you stressed a lot, too?”

“Hmm…” She chews for a moment, thoughtful. “Maybe? I mean, our dad’s definitely giving me a run for my money in that department.” She exhales, a little laugh escaping, but her shoulders droop.

“Are you close with him? Ms. Kim rarely talks about him,” you ask carefully.

“We used to be,” she says after a pause. “But lately… he’s a person I don’t even recognize anymore. And yeah, Mom has every right not to talk about him. Divorce does shit like that.”

You nod, softly. “Yeah. I get that. How are you putting up with him now?”

She scratches the back of her head, groaning. “As good as I can, I guess. But that’s not even the only thing I’m putting up with.”

Then she suddenly freezes, eyes widening. “Oh my God, I’m totally trauma-dumping on you right now. I’m literally that friend you were on the phone with today. Please stop me before I embarrass myself further.”

Her face turns pink, and you can’t help but laugh. “Hey, don’t worry about it! I’m the one who started this topic. And for the record—Jungkook wasn’t trauma-dumping, it’s just that we—”

“Yeah, yeah,” she interrupts, smirking. “Besties for life, right?”

“Yes!” you say, grinning. “So pretend I’m your bestie for life and tell me everything.”

She points a chopstick at you dramatically. “First of all, I can sense telepathically that we are indeed gonna be besties for life.”

You laugh, covering your mouth. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“And second…” She leans closer, lowering her voice. “It’s my ex. He won’t leave me alone.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait—like, stalking you?” you whisper, a little too loudly.

Her eyes nearly pop out of her head. “No! God, no. He just keeps calling me. Constantly. And he cheated on me!”

You gape, chopsticks midair. “Oh my God. Ew.”

“Right?” she groans, dragging her hand down her face. “Men are a disease.”

You nod gravely. “An incurable one.”

Haeun breaks into a laugh, the sound bubbling through the air like relief. “You get it. You actually get it.”

“So… what’s your story? With your besties-for-life guy?” Haeun asks, leaning forward, curious, elbows on the table.

You twirl a noodle lazily around your chopsticks, thinking for a second. “Oh girl… it’s way too complicated,” you say, waving your hand like you’re brushing away an invisible storm.

“Oh, I’m all ears, baby,” she says, tilting her head with a smirk, taking a dainty sip of water.

“Well… if you really wanna know,” you start, a small smile tugging at your lips, “we’ve been friends since forever. Like, practically grew up together. But after high school… we kinda had a falling out. He moved away, I got busy, life happened. And now he’s back, and we’ve been… reconnecting, I guess.”

Haeun whistles softly. “Really? That long? Geez. How do you even drift apart after all those years?”

You shrug, chewing thoughtfully. “Life just… has a way of doing that, doesn’t it? College, work, different cities… it’s like slipping between cracks without noticing.”

She frowns, poking at her noodles. “Huh. That sucks. But what’s he like now?”

“Well…” you hesitate, chewing for a second, “He’s… him. And, uh… him and his fiancée? They’ve been having some problems lately. But I think they’ll work through it.”

Haeun hums, her expression softening. “Huh.”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Nothing, nothing,” she says quickly.

“No, seriously. That funny look? You can’t just tease me like that.”

“Well… it’s just kinda funny,” she admits, eyes glinting, “that he’s suddenly back in your life right when there’s drama with his fiancée.”

You wave your hand dismissively, cheeks heating a little. “It’s not like that, I promise. I’m just… reconnecting. It has nothing to do with their problems.”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “I’m just saying, timing is interesting, that’s all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” you murmur, smiling faintly. “But the whole thing with their problems started before we got close again, so…” You gesture vaguely with your chopsticks.

Haeun leans back, giving you a look somewhere between teasing and serious. “Okay, okay… but,” she pauses, tapping her chopsticks on her cup, “I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

“Just… as someone who’s had a friendship like yours,” she starts, voice softer now, “not lifelong, but long enough… don’t be the friend who’s only there when it’s convenient. Got it?”

You nod slowly, words catching in your throat for a second. “Okay. Thank you,” you whisper.

Haeun grins, nudging you lightly with her elbow. “Good. And seriously… keep an eye on him. Besties-for-life are dangerous sometimes.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but your chest feels lighter. Somehow, between noodles and confessions, it feels… easier to breathe.

The apartment is quiet, shadows stretching long across the floor as night settles in. Yoongi sinks into the couch, letting the weight of the day press down on him, though it’s nothing compared to the weight he carried this morning.

He thinks back to the sun slanting through the blinds, the sharp ache of a hangover, and Jimin’s voice—loud, teasing, impossibly familiar. The way Jimin had sprawled across his bed, the absurdity of the Monopoly mess, the ridiculous conversations that somehow left his head spinning more than the alcohol ever could.

And yet… even amidst the chaos, the headache, the panic, there was a thread of something else. Comfort, maybe. Or warmth. A tiny selfish flicker in him had wanted it—wanted to let someone in, even if just for a second.

Yoongi exhales slowly, letting the apartment swallow him whole. He shouldn’t. He can’t indulge in this. He’s never been one to take care of himself first; he’s never been allowed to. But tonight, in the quiet, he allows the memory to linger. The way Jimin had nudged him, spoken over him, made the morning less terrible. The way it had felt… not wrong.

He picks up his phone, thumb hovering over Jimin’s name.

Just a message.

One.

Nothing else.

“You home or working night shift?” he types.

It’s harmless.

Casual.

And yet, it makes him feel alive in a way he rarely permits. When the reply comes, brisk, indifferent, friendly—it’s enough to make him grin softly, despite the guilt prickling at his ribs.

For tonight, he lets himself be selfish. He lets himself replay the morning, let it linger, let it exist without apology. And in that small, stolen selfishness, Yoongi feels something he rarely admits: he feels… human.

AN pt.2 : okay, listen up everyone. this chapter? not a y/n and jungkook centric chapter. and guess what? it shouldn’t be. THIS IS MY OPTIMUS PRIME. i just unleashed a full-on CATALYST, a chain of events that’s going to DEFINE most of this series. jesus.

yoongi. jimin. yoongi. beginning and end. connecting threads you didn’t even know were there. y/n. namjoon. haeun. friendships growing. flirting happening. namjoon OFFICIALLY stepping onto the love-interest stage. a bond of a lifetime starting with haeun. it’s all happening. i mean, there is A LOT of foreshadowing here, and i’m not kidding, do not skim during the yoongi parts. they’re ESSENTIAL. they’re NEEDED. they’re… just wow.

ugh. guys. just… ugh. pay attention. it’s messy. it’s chaotic. it’s perfect. and also… maybe scream a little while you read.

taglist: taglist: @lovingkoalaface @santiiagopopegarcia @jadaocon1 @asyr97 @gukieater @themwordsblog @whatevevrerr @amarawayne @tititania @guwol @reallygenerouskoala @bgfdcvbnjk @kyljjk @whoa-jo @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @upo1313 @polnaraffsrack @tatzzz-25 @orphicepiphany @coletaehyung @bjoriis @epiphany-n @kimyishin @eegyo @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @parkinglot-nights @mar-lo-pap @evrsncenewyork @jjeonjjk7 @minghaosimp @cerulean1riz @anumita-2007 @vantelover1306 @vynmin @nadzzzblog @jnghs @lachimolalajeon @joonwater @choijay-07 @notsevenwithyou @mononoaware16 @sky-23s-world @kookietkk @auroresce @sadgirlroo @arcadiaem @kokoandkookie @nakyra2 @kissyfacekoo @butterymin @kokoandkookie @park-littlecrane

[writesvani]

dear me | 09

lawyer! jungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: sexual tension, emotional tension, alcohol consumption, conflicted feelings for a taken friend, stage anxiety, performance stress, emotional repression, romantic confusion, angst, unresolved feelings, subtle jealousy, explicit language

comment HERE for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter (pending...)

wc: 6,6k // date: 13th of May 2025

CHAPTER NINE — PLAY IT AGAIN happy reading my gummies...

AN: hey guys, it’s been 2 weeks without “dear me,” but we’re so back, baby. anyways, writing this chapter was really hard for me. like, REALLY hard. i’ve been stuck in a writer's block pit and i swear, i kept deleting and rewriting scenes (i’m pretty sure this chapter has like 8 versions in my drafts, don’t even ask). BUT i’ve finally settled with this one, so here we are.

now, time to meet some new characters. what do we think of them, huh? yay or nay? also, i gave you SO MANY easter eggs in this chapter. like, half of it is just foreshadowing or clearly hinting at something and i’m LOWKEY excited to see your comments and asks about it.

anyways, goal for this chapter is 450 because i KNOW we can hit it and also because i like having a bit more time to finish chapters. so yeah, let’s do this. love you guys, now go read and tell me everything you think.

It’s kind of ridiculous, honestly—the way Jeon Jungkook blends into a room and owns it at the same time. Like some kind of paradox. Earlier today, he looked like he belonged to the sunlight—the warm kind, the kind that makes old bookstores feel like home. Curled into his booth with an espresso and that soft, quiet stare. He looked small. Touchable.

But now?

Now he looks like a warning sign. Shoulders squared, head tilted like he knows something you don’t, lips curved in that maddening smirk of his. The neon lights of The House flicker against his sharp jaw, casting shadows that feel deliberate. Calculated. Dangerous.

You’re following behind him, mildly regretting the decision to show up early. It’s barely 9 p.m. and the place is already humming—bands tuning up, neon signs buzzing, and Alex... perched on a bar stool like he owns the air.

You’re going to need a drink. Immediately.

Jungkook walks up like it’s his goddamn stage. Alex looks up, face splitting into a grin.

“Well, shit,” he says, tossing his pen aside. “Didn’t think you’d actually show, big boy.”

Jungkook shrugs, already half in a chair. “I don’t back out of dares.”

You glance at the paper Alex was scribbling on and let out a half-laugh. “Are you—are you seriously doing sudoku right now?”

Alex deadpans, “Gotta keep the brain sharp, sweetheart.”

You snort. “You’re so full of it. You not working tonight?”

“Please. I’m off-duty. I came to get drunk and take Jungkook’s money.”

“You wish,” Jungkook mutters, grinning. “So who’s behind the bar?” he asks.

Alex leans back dramatically. “New guy. But he’s decent. You might know him—same age as you two.”

You raise a brow. “Then just say his name? What is this cryptic scavenger hunt?”

“I’m setting the vibe,” Alex says. “Anyway, name’s Park Jimin.”

You blink. Jungkook goes still for half a second.

Park. Fucking. Jimin.

This is exactly why you hate small towns.

This is why you should’ve stayed away. Should’ve packed up your life, lit a match to the past, and never looked back. Because small towns come with reunions you never asked for. The kind that smell like stale beer, too-loud music, and people who were never villains—just unnecessary plot twists you never wanted to reread.

So when Park Jimin strolls out from the back closet door of The House—the one they keep the good booze in because the bar’s too damn small—you already feel your molars grinding.

You don’t hate him. But God, does his presence itch.

“Well, well,” he says, slipping a bottle of Belvedere into the fridge. His eyes lock on yours, glittering with the same mischief that used to make you roll yours in high school. “Familiar faces just follow me, huh?”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He grins like it’s personal. “Missed me much?”

“Yeah. Like a rash.”

“Oof. Still bitter about prom?”

“I’m not bitter about prom.”

“You totally are.” He leans on the bar like he’s settling in. “Sorry again for dumping you right before, though. Heard you had to go with Yoongi. Brutal.”

“Hey, hey, hey—” Alex interrupts next to you, throwing a hand in the air. “Don’t slander my boy Yoongs like that. That man is class.”

Jimin ignores him. Of course he does.

“Thought your bestie would take you,” he adds, eyes still on you, “but I guess his girlfriend matched his aesthetic better.”

The blood in your ears roars. You open your mouth, but Jungkook beats you to it.

“What’s your problem?” he says, voice low and sharp. The tension in his jaw could crack diamonds.

Jimin looks at him for the first time. Smirks. “Relax, bro. I’m just messing with my ex. No harm done.”

You’re about to fire back when he adds, casual as hell, “Heard you got engaged to your high school sweetheart though. Congrats, man. Seriously.”

And just like that, the air goes from hot to hostile. Your throat tightens.

This motherfucker always knew where to cut.

Jungkook’s expression falters for a moment. You catch it—just the twitch of his jaw, the flicker behind his eyes. You think he might say something—thank him, tell him off, maybe even laugh it off.

Instead, he shifts.

His face evens out into that lazy, cool disinterest he wears so well. Like nothing ever touches him.

“One Jack Daniels,” he says, tone smooth, eyes bored. “Two cubes of ice. And for my friend—” he gestures toward you without even looking, “One Long Island Iced Tea. Add extra lemon juice and, uh, don’t be shy with the tequila.”

Jimin blinks. “What?”

Jungkook shrugs, rolling his shoulders like he’s stretching before a fight. “That’s our order. You do still make drinks, right? Or are you just here to be irrelevant all over again?”

You almost choke on a laugh. Almost.

Jimin wets his lips, and for a moment you see the flicker of something crack behind his eyes. But he recovers. Plasters on that wide, gleaming smile—the one you used to fall for. The one you now recognize as plastic.

“Of course,” he says, voice all sugar and sawdust. “Coming right up.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzes against the bar top. You glance over just as the screen lights up — Nina. Of course. She and Yoongi are supposed to be showing up any minute now.

When Jungkook had called her earlier to tell her about the bet with Alex — how he was playing drums tonight — she was thrilled. Or, well, "ecstatic," in his words. You weren’t on speaker, so you couldn’t hear her exact reaction. But you can imagine it. Sweet and supportive and all the things you know Nina to be.

He’d invited her immediately, of course. And she’d dragged Yoongi into the plan too — not that you minded. You might’ve casually begged Yoongi to show up so you wouldn’t have to third-wheel your way through the night like some tragic side character.

Jungkook picks up his phone with a low grunt, muttering, “She’s gonna call me in like, two seconds.”

You nod as he stands, watching his silhouette disappear toward the front door.

Alex elbows you, hard. “So… what I’m gathering here is, Jimin is your ex?”

You sigh. “Wow. Incredible deduction, detective. Really cracked the case there.”

He snorts. “So he’s that ex? The one who bailed on you before prom?”

You shoot him a look. “What gave it away, the tension in the room or the mild death wish I had five minutes ago?”

Alex grins. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Jimin brings it out in me.”

“Sure, blame the man.”

“I am blaming the man,” you say, then pause, brow furrowing. “He’s just… irritating.”

“He was acting weird with Jungkook though. And Yoongi too, back when he was mentioned. What's his deal with them?”

You shrug. “Honestly? No clue. Even when I dated him, he’d pretend they didn’t exist in public. It was weird then, and it’s still weird now.”

Alex hums, nursing his drink. “Damn, I thought he’s cool. He gives me bad vibes now.”

“You give me bad vibes.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me,” he grins.

“Sooo… love,” Jimin drawls, and you know — you just know — he’s talking to you.

You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to stay facing Alex, but his voice is like a needle in your spine. When you glance over, he’s not even trying to hide the smug look on his face. He’s pouring white rum into a shaker like it’s the most casual thing in the world, the glint in his eyes almost daring you to respond.

You roll your eyes. God, he’s insufferable. Always was. Still, you can’t lie — black hair, pretty lips, annoyingly symmetrical face… Park Jimin has no right still looking that good.

Not that you’d ever say it aloud. Your friends would kill you on the spot.

“What?” you snap.

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just wanted to see if you’d still turn when I call you love.”

“You’re fucked in the head.”

He grins, unbothered. “You know whose head I also fucked?”

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Peak comedy. Is there a two-drink minimum for this set or what?”

“No joke. Just facts.”

“Yeah, okay, we had sex. Ages ago. You want a medal?”

He leans in slightly. “Didn’t think the first time was that forgettable.”

“It only means something if the person means something,” you say coolly.

That hits. His smile slips just a bit — before morphing into something darker.

“Then maybe you should’ve picked one of your friends. Wonder who would’ve been more desperate—gloom-and-doom Yoongi or Mr. Marrying-The-Preppy-Girl.”

You tense. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

He just shrugs again, shaking the cocktail like nothing’s wrong. “Touchy.”

“I don’t know what your problem is with them—hell, with me—but you’re acting like a damn parasite.”

“I don’t have a problem with you,” he says easily, pouring the drink. “You’re not pathetic. They are. I’m just trying to open your eyes.”

“Dude,” Alex hisses, his tone sharp, “I get there's history here, but you really need to back off. She’s a customer.”

Jimin doesn’t even flinch, still focused on mixing the drinks with practiced ease. “I get it, I do,” he smirks, eyes flicking to you. “But she knows exactly what I’m talking about. She knows why we broke up, after all.”

You clench your jaw, fighting the urge to snap. “Jimin, drop it. It was a high school breakup. Seriously, who cares? I got over it in two weeks.”

He leans in slightly, that dangerous edge to his smile. “You ever think I might’ve been right?”

“No,” you reply coldly, voice tight. “Because you weren’t.”

Jimin’s smile widens, but it’s all sharp edges now. “Sure, love. Whatever helps you keep your little fairytale. I’ll drop it—for now.” He slides the drink toward you, his gaze lingering just a second too long.

When Jungkook walks back into The House, the change in him is immediate. Whatever easy charm he left with is gone — replaced by stormy eyes and a jaw so tight you’re afraid he might crack a bone or two. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, a tell you’ve come to recognize: something went wrong.

“Took you long enough,” Jimin taunts, just as Jungkook drops into the seat next to you without a word. It’s not his usual controlled fall — it’s heavy, careless.

“Your ice melted,” Jimin adds, gesturing toward the untouched whiskey glass, voice dipped in mock concern.

Jungkook barely glances at it. “Right. Shame,” he mutters.

Alex leans forward slightly, brow creasing. “Everything cool, man?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Peachy. Don’t worry about it.”

But you do. You worry the second you see the way his knuckles whiten as he grips the edge of the bar. You want to ask, but his expression shuts that down. Whatever it is, it’s not meant for public display.

So you shift gears. “When are Nina and Yoongi getting here?”

“Nina’s not coming,” he says flatly, not even looking at you.

“What?” That doesn’t make sense. She was practically bouncing off the walls earlier, excited to watch him drum again, or at least that’s what Jungkook said.

“She’s… feeling under the weather.”

A cold excuse. Paper thin.

You blink. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” he says, then adds, too casually, “Just not in the mood to go out.”

Something’s off. Way off.

“And Yoongi?”

“He’ll be here later,” Jungkook says, voice tightening as he rubs the back of his neck — another tell.

Then, of course, Jimin can’t help himself.

“Damn,” he drawls, grinning like the devil. “Your little fiancée bailed on your big night?”

Jungkook flinches.

It’s subtle, but it’s there — a flicker of pain behind the guarded eyes.

“Jimin,” you hiss, eyes flashing as you shoot him a death glare. “Enough.”

But he’s already walking off, smug and self-satisfied, whistling like he didn’t just stick a knife into something raw.

And Jungkook?

He doesn’t say a word.

He just stares straight ahead.

A few awkward minutes pass — the silence only interrupted by the distant sound of opening bands testing mics and tuning guitars. No one dares break the uneasy stillness. Alex is hunched over a sudoku, casually sipping his beer like it’s any other night. Jungkook nurses his half-melted whiskey, the kind of lukewarm drink that probably tastes like piss by now. Even Jimin’s gone quiet, absent of any snark, polishing glasses with the focus of someone who knows he went too far.

You stare blankly at your phone, Instagram Reels flickering past without meaning. You couldn’t name a single thing you’ve watched.

Because all you can feel is him.

The tension radiating off Jungkook is impossible to ignore — like he’s one sharp breath away from detonating. But instead, he just… sits there. Bottled up. Unmoving. Unwell.

“Kook,” you whisper, soft enough that only he hears. “What happened?”

He exhales through his nose. “Nothing, really. I don’t wanna dump shit on you.”

“C’mon.” You bump your shoulder gently against his. “Spill.”

He hesitates. Then, quietly: “Nina just thinks… since I’m working tomorrow, I shouldn’t be out tonight.”

You frown. That doesn’t sound like Nina. Not from what you know.

“And?” you ask.

“And she thinks… this is an unnecessary distraction.”

You blink. “This as in what?”

“As in me drumming tonight.”

Your eyebrows knit tighter. “A distraction from what?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “I don’t get it either. She just said she needs sleep and can’t make it.”

You let that settle for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Kook. But… wasn’t she excited earlier? Like, really excited?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice thinning. “But… something changed. I don’t know what. She just—changed her mind.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Kook,” you say gently, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. “She’s probably just annoyed about something and taking it out on you. It’ll pass. It usually does, right?”

“Yeah… probably,” he mutters. “I just thought she’d come. I haven’t played in forever. Kinda wanted her here, that’s all.”

“I get it,” you nod. Wanted her here. It shouldn’t hit the way it does, but it does. You take a sip of your drink, trying to shake it off. “But hey—Yoongi’s coming. Alex is here. I’m here.”

He glances at you, manages a small smile. It looks practiced, not real. “At least I’ll have a chill crowd when I completely bomb.”

“You wish,” you nudge him. “If you bomb, I’ll be the first one to laugh in your face.”

“You’re all heart,” he says with a light chuckle, and it feels better—easier—than anything he’s said since he walked in.

“Hey!” Jimin suddenly appears in front of you both like he’s been summoned by drama. “Not everyone here’s so supportive. I’ve got front-row seats to his downfall.”

Jungkook laughs for real this time. “Yeah, well, good thing I never valued your opinion.”

“That’s rude.”

“That’s accurate.”

You roll your eyes, pointing at Jimin. “Alright, enough out of you. Go make us another round. Alex too. And fine, you can pour yourself something if it’ll keep you from eavesdropping.”

Jimin clutches his chest like you just proposed. “Wow. Buying me a drink now? And here I thought you were over me.”

You smirk. “Don’t push your luck. I’m just trying to keep the vibe from completely crashing.”

Jimin gives you a playful salute and walks off. And for the first time in what feels like forever, Jungkook’s shoulders drop a little. He still looks sad, but at least now he doesn’t look like he’s gonna snap in half.

When Jimin slides your drinks over, Alex actually wheezes — like, full-on wheezes — before his face turns red with excitement. “As soon as I get Jungkook’s money,” he adds dramatically, “you’re the first one I’m buying one for.”

“You could just split the money with me,” you reply, smirking over your glass.

Next to you, Jungkook groans and slumps forward, burying his face in his hands. “I swear to god, I’m gonna die. I’m not even gonna be good. I haven’t done this in so long.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex waves him off. “Spare us the dramatics, Kook. The kids you’ll be playing with should be here any minute.”

“The kids I’ll be—what?”

“Well, yeah,” Alex shrugs. “You’re playing drums, right? No offense, man, but I don’t think the crowd’s dying for a solo drum recital. You need a full sound. Guitar, bass, maybe even keys. You know how these things go.”

Jungkook stares at him, horrified. “Oh my god. I didn’t even think about that. Who am I playing with?”

“That band I told you about this morning, remember?” Alex says casually.

“Wait—don’t they already have a drummer?”

“Yeah, they do,” Alex grins. “But I talked to Jack. Asked if he’d let you jump in for a song, and he said sure. Super chill guy.”

Jungkook rubs his forehead with both hands, muttering something under his breath. You can't tell if it’s relief or panic—or both.

“Hey,” you nudge him gently, “you’ll be fine. You could probably play in your sleep.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll have to,” he mutters, then downs the rest of his drink.

The door of The House creaks open, and like a domino effect, all four of you—Alex, Jungkook, even Jimin, and you—snap your heads toward it, expecting to finally see the teenage band roll in.

But no. Not even close.

Instead, it’s Yoongi. He steps inside in a massive black hoodie and matching sweatpants, a bandana pushing his hair off his forehead. He pauses when he sees all your eyes locked on him, confusion already creeping into his features.

“What?” he frowns. “Did I miss it? You already played, man?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Nah, not yet.” Jungkook gestures toward the bar. “Keep the whiskey flowing.”

Jimin groans under his breath, clearly annoyed—by Jungkook’s request, by Yoongi’s sudden presence, by existence in general.

Yoongi raises a brow as he takes the seat next to Alex. “Did all of you just... stare at me when I walked in?”

“Sorry, man,” Alex chuckles. “We thought the band Kook’s playing with showed up.”

“The high schoolers?” Yoongi asks, settling in.

“Yeah,” you say. “I mentioned them earlier when we texted.”

Yoongi hums. “Heard they’re good. Can I get a dirty martini?” His voice is calm until his eyes meet Jimin’s.

He stiffens. Jimin rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they stay in his head.

“Why the hell not,” Jimin mutters, stomping off to make the drink.

Yoongi watches him walk away, his jaw tightening.

“What are you doing here?” he calls after him.

“Working. Thought that was obvious,” Jimin bites back, slamming the finished martini in front of him with no ceremony.

Yoongi goes quiet. You and Jungkook exchange a subtle glance.

You lean toward Yoongi, voice low. “Okay, I knew you two weren’t exactly besties, but this feels like next-level passive-aggressive.”

“He deserves it,” Yoongi grits out.

You blink. “Sure, but… I wasn’t expecting you to be more pissed than I am to see him.”

“He’s just—” Yoongi exhales, “annoying.”

“That’s something even I agree with,” Jungkook mutters, sipping his drink.

“What are you even wearing, dude?” Jimin asks, eyeing Yoongi’s oversized hoodie and sweats like they’re a disgrace to the earth. “Who the hell comes to a club dressed like that?”

Yoongi doesn’t even flinch. “Me.”

Jimin scoffs, dramatic as ever. “Right. Is that because you’re, what—edgy? Quirky? Too cool to try?”

“No,” Yoongi says flatly. “It’s because this place isn’t a club, it’s practically a dive bar, and I literally grew up here. But hey—props to you for trying so hard. Must be tough being the new guy.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, jaw twitching just slightly. “Cute. Did you rehearse that one in the mirror or does it just come naturally when you’re being a dick?”

Yoongi smirks, unbothered. “Naturally. But thanks for noticing.”

“Well, everyone’s getting along just great,” Alex mutters, lips pressed tight around the rim of his beer.

“I’m just glad someone finally matches Jimin’s talent for being a pain in the ass,” Jungkook says, spinning one of his rings absentmindedly with his thumb.

Your eyes drift to his hands. Just for a second. Just because they’re moving. But then you really look. His fingers—long, slender, tanned just enough—move with ease, like they know how to pull attention. His skin looks soft, but there’s something sharp in the way his knuckles flex. Something wicked. Something you shouldn’t be noticing.

Your stomach twists.

You blink, hard, like that'll reset your brain.

Jungkook is your friend. Your best friend. Engaged to your other friend. This isn’t supposed to be happening. You’re not supposed to be looking at his hands like this.

And worse—worse than anything—Jimin saw it. Of course he fucking did. You hear his quiet, condescending chuckle, and a wave of shame burns through your cheeks.

“Nice rings, Jungkook,” Jimin says, too casually. His eyes never leave Jungkook’s face, but you can feel the smirk meant for you. “They really suit your fingers.”

Jungkook frowns, caught off guard. “Uh… thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Jimin replies smoothly, already turning on his heel as someone calls his name from across the bar.

You watch him go, teeth clenched.

Fuck you, Park Jimin.

You’d almost been grateful for his silence. But no—he just had to say something.

Finally—finally—after what feels like an eternity and three Long Islands too deep, the door creaks open and in stumble four high schoolers, breathless, disheveled, and looking like they lost half their souls on the way here.

Alex shoots up with a dramatic yell. “Here they come. My children.”

“Fucking hell, Mina, I told you we’d be late,” the tall brunette groans, dragging a black gig bag over his shoulder as he wipes sweat off his brow.

“Chill, dude. We’re not late—we’re on at eleven,” the girl—who you assume is Mina (probably because she’s the only girl)—retorts, hoisting a keyboard bag like it’s a sack of bricks but somehow not tripping over it.

“Can you two not? Just tonight, please?” the third kid huffs, his pale skin glowing under the lights, striking blue eyes shooting them both a glare.

Trailing quietly behind them is the fourth member—carrying only a pair of drumsticks. That’s Jack. Definitely Jack. His shoulders are hunched, cheeks tinged pink as he scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the chaos in front of him.

“Hey, Alex,” the blue-eyed boy says, grinning as he high-fives the older man.

“Yo, Dan. What’s up.”

“Sorry we’re late, bro. Mina took two hours doing her eyeliner.”

“Ha! See!” the brunette jumps in. “I’m not the only one who thought it was excessive.”

“It’s called getting ready,” Mina snaps, turning on him. “Sorry I wasn’t born a man so I could just throw on a clean shirt and be socially acceptable. It’s not my fault people expect women to look like magazine covers.”

“Why do you turn everything into feminist propaganda?” Ace mutters, and you can’t help the smirk that tugs at your lips.

“I’m not. I’m just stating facts.”

They’re so deep into their bickering that they don’t even notice the rest of you at the bar—except for Jack and Dan, who gravitate toward Alex like they're clinging to stability.

“So, this is JK, guys,” Alex says, nodding toward Jungkook.

That shuts everyone up.

“The Jeon Jungkook?” the brunette—Ace, you think—says, eyes wide, posture straightening in an instant.

You nudge Jungkook’s shoulder. “Uhm, wow, Jungkook. Didn’t know I was in the presence of royalty.”

Jungkook laughs under his breath. “Uh… yeah?” He glances at Ace, unsure.

Mina squeals—an actual, honest-to-god squeal. Dan flushes bright red. And Jack stammers, “Whoa. You’re kind of a legend around here. Total honor to meet you, sir.”

“Please don’t call me sir,” Jungkook says, flustered. “I’m not that old. And—legend?”

“Yeah, bro—I mean, sir—I mean Jungkook,” Jack stammers. “Everyone knows about you. I can’t believe I’m letting you borrow my sticks tonight.”

“Thanks for the sticks in advance, Jack,” Jungkook says, his cheeks tinged pink—part whiskey, part unexpected attention. “But I’m just gonna warn you—I might disappoint you guys.”

“No way,” Jack fires back instantly.

“Not a chance,” Mina adds, shaking her head.

Jungkook laughs, easing into their energy. He falls into effortless banter with the kids, talking about their setlist, throwing out ideas, asking their opinions on which song he should play.

You don’t interrupt. You just watch him.

He finally looks relaxed, like the tension in his shoulders has melted off without anyone noticing. His face is lit up with a soft smile, his hands moving as he animatedly explains why Smells Like Teen Spirit should absolutely make the list. The kids groan dramatically, arguing that while it’s a classic, it’s way too basic for a comeback gig after ten years.

“It’s a banger!” Jungkook insists, brows raised.

“And that’s the problem!” Ace argues. “We want iconic, not expected.”

Yoongi, from his seat nearby, chimes in lazily, “Nirvana is iconic. Can’t be basic if it’s legendary.”

Mina turns to him, eyes sharp but playful. “With all due respect, Sir—we need something more iconic.”

“How is that song not the 'most' iconic?” Yoongi repeats, deadpan.

“It is,” Mina sighs, “but we need like—iconic with a twist.”

You laugh, quietly. The whole exchange is ridiculous but so full of life. Your gaze finds its way back to Jungkook—still laughing, still animated, bangs falling in his eyes, youth catching the edge of his expression.

You’re not sure what it is—the presence of the kids, the memory of what The House used to mean, or just the anticipation of playing again—but something about him tonight feels different. No—familiar.

He looks alive.

He looks like himself.

So you lean into it. You let yourself feel it. Let yourself miss him in the way that hurts but also heals.

Because this… this version of him—the one glowing with purpose and ease—this is the version you’ve missed the most.

“Don’t you guys want to drop off your instruments and have a drink?” Jimin asks from behind the bar, voice light, expression even lighter.

You stiffen, blinking twice. Park Jimin… smiling? And not the condescending, I-know-something-you-don’t smile, but a real one. It’s disorienting—like waking up in a parallel universe. For a second, you brace yourself for a backhanded comment, a jab hidden behind sugar-coated words.

But it never comes.

He actually looks like he likes the kids.

“Uh, yeah—we totally forgot,” Daniel says, still a little breathless as he adjusts the strap on his shoulder.

“Give us a sec, JK,” Ace calls over his shoulder, clapping Jungkook’s arm before the four teenagers vanish backstage, a trail of youthful energy and secondhand adrenaline left in their wake.

The bar quiets just enough for a breath to settle.

“Are you excited?” you ask, leaning closer to Jungkook.

His gaze lingers on the now-empty hallway where the kids disappeared. His features are soft, loose, almost vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen in years.

“Actually… yeah. I am,” he admits, lips parting in surprise at his own words. “I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just the kids—”

“The tasteless kids,” Yoongi deadpans, slumped in his chair like a tired philosopher. “How the hell does that girl say there’s something more iconic than Nirvana?”

Alex raises his beer solemnly. “Blasphemy. Absolute blasphemy.”

Jungkook just rolls his eyes, used to their noise. “Anyway,” he says, “like I was saying… I think I’m genuinely looking forward to playing.”

The words hang in the air for a second too long, warm and raw. And before you even realize it, your hand is in his hair, ruffling the soft strands. His cheeks flush—alcohol or affection, you can’t tell.

“Aw, look at my bestie getting all giddy,” you tease, trying to sound casual, but something inside you aches at how happy he looks. “Seriously, Kook, that’s fucking amazing. Now I can’t wait to see you up there.”

“Don’t be too excited,” he laughs, brushing a hand over his face. “There’s still a good chance I shit my pants from nerves.”

“Wasn’t your whole goal to fail?” Yoongi asks, blinking like he’s doing mental math. “So you don’t have to give Alex the money?”

Alex waves a dismissive hand, the gold ring on his pinky flashing under the low amber lights. “No one ever plays to fail. Not in music, not in life. I, my friend, am simply operating within the mystical corridors of Jungkook’s subconscious. Planting seeds. Psychological warfare.”

“You, my friend,” you shoot back, “are drunk.”

“Maybe,” Alex replies, tipping his beer with a grin that says definitely.

“You so are,” Jungkook adds, eyes glinting.

Alex leans closer, mock-sincere. “Don’t worry. I’ll still be sober enough to take my money when you owe it to me.”

There’s laughter again, warm and alive, and for a moment you forget the heaviness. Forget the time. Forget the past. Because Jungkook is here, sitting next to you, eyes sparkling, stomach twisting with nerves in the most beautiful, human way.

And for the first time in a long while—he wants to be seen.

The kids return in a pack—energy buzzing around them like static, cheeks flushed from the excitement and maybe just a bit of nerves. They spill into the empty bar stools like they own the place, all happy—the kind that comes with knowing tonight matters.

Ace claps his hands together, flops onto a stool, and shouts toward the bar, “Alright, Jimin! Hit me with a Coca-Cola—I’m fucking thirsty!”

Jimin, unfazed, quirks an eyebrow. “Watch your mouth, rockstar,” he says, already reaching for the glasses.

The others chime in, each echoing Ace’s order like it’s part of a ritual. Coke all around.

“When are you guys on?” you ask casually, turning to Mina as she sips from her drink. Her eyes are bright beneath the dim bar lights, and you blink. Damn, her eyeliner’s sharp enough to kill. It makes her look fierce. Electric.

“In about twenty minutes,” she says, voice calm, a soft smile curving her lips like she’s done this a thousand times before. “Jk’s opening on drums—Jack takes over after he finishes the first song.”

You nod, picturing it. Jungkook behind the kit again. The lights. The sound. The pulse of something being reborn.

“Oi, Mina!” Daniel calls from the other end of the bar, half-lounging over his stool. “Quit flirting with Jungkook’s bestie and finish your drink—we’re up soon!”

Mina groans and rolls her eyes, but her grin gives her away. “I’m not flirting,” she mutters as she raises her glass. “I’m being polite.”

You smirk, and she clinks her glass against yours anyway.

There’s a hum in the air now. Something about the way the kids shift in their seats, glance at the clock, tap their fingers to an invisible beat. A collective breath held, waiting to be released the moment they step on stage.

And through it all, Jungkook’s knee bounces beneath the table, his fingers twitching like they already hear the opening riff in his head.

The bar dims a little more, lights overhead shifting to a deep red hue. A hush rolls through the room—not complete silence, but that charged pause just before something erupts. The kind of silence that makes your skin prickle.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Mina says, swinging her keyboard bag over her shoulder as she hops off the stool. The others follow, a quiet intensity settling over their faces like masks. The joking, the teasing, the sugary buzz of Coca-Cola—all of it vanishes in the electric stillness of the pre-show moment.

Jungkook gets up too, a small crease between his brows, lips pressed together in a thin line. You nudge his arm gently as he passes by.

“You’ve got this, bestie,” you whisper.

He glances back at you. A smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes—those big, dark eyes—are filled with something you haven’t seen in a while.

Fear.

But also: fire.

He doesn’t say anything. Just nods.

On stage, Jack claps him on the shoulder before handing him the sticks. The kids do a final check—Mina tapping her keys, Dan tuning his bass, Ace slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder. The room starts to buzz again, people murmuring, turning toward the stage, phones raised. Someone yells out a “WOOO!” and Alex, leaning against the side wall, grins like a proud dad.

Mina steps up to the mic. “Hey guys,” she says, her voice steady. “We’re The Strangers, and tonight… we’re doing something a little old school.” She glances at Jungkook. “Featuring a local legend.”

There’s light applause, a couple surprised whistles.

And then—Jungkook lifts the sticks.

He taps the hi-hat four times. It begins.

But then.

Crash.

The beat stumbles. His right hand slips, hitting the rim instead of the snare. The rhythm trips over itself, chaotic and jarring. Ace freezes mid-riff. Mina slams her palm on the keys too early. Dan completely misses the bass cue.

A mess. A beautiful, terrible mess.

A few people in the crowd gasp. One laughs. You wince.

Jungkook, mortified, pauses for half a second—half a second that feels like a lifetime—before whispering, “Shit,” under his breath.

Jack starts to step forward, like he’s ready to take over immediately.

But Jungkook throws up a hand.

“No,” he mutters to the mic, half to himself, half to the crowd. “I got it.”

And this time—he counts again. One, two, three, four—

This time, it hits. Hard. Toxicity intro comes alive—feral, gritty, raw. Ace slams into the opening riff with vengeance, Mina’s synths howling underneath, Dan’s bass like thunder rumbling through the floor. And Jungkook—Jungkook comes back. You can see it in his shoulders, in the way his hair whips around his face. There’s rage and release in every strike of the snare, redemption in the crash cymbals.

The crowd erupts.

Jungkook plays like he’s possessed now, blood rushing, all hesitation gone. His whole body moves with the rhythm, with the madness of it. His face glistens with sweat. He grins—really grins—like he’s high on the beat.

And you? You can’t look away.

This, this is the Jungkook you remember.

A little off at first. But once he finds the groove—

He becomes it.

The crowd is losing their minds.

Phones are raised, heads are banging, and even Jimin—cool, collected, snarky Jimin—is nodding behind the bar with an impressed smirk. Ace and Dan are completely synced, locking in their parts with the kind of chaotic grace that makes you feel like the song might fall apart at any moment, but never does. Mina’s eyes are closed, fingers dancing across the keys, mouth moving along to lyrics.

And Jungkook—

God.

His hair sticks to his forehead in messy strands, and there’s a flush creeping down his neck, veins flexing on his forearms every time he slams into the snare. He looks like he’s burning up—like every part of him is charged. The black t-shirt he’s wearing is soaked down the back, clinging to him like a second skin, and when he tilts his head back in rhythm, biting his lip and closing his eyes—

You feel it.

In your chest. In your throat.

Oh God.

You shouldn’t be thinking this. He’s your best friend. He’s taken. He’s Jungkook. But you’re human and he’s—he’s just so magnetic up there. Confident. Wild. Beautiful.

It rattles something in you.

You look away for a second, shaking your head as if that’ll snap you out of it. But then you hear the bridge hit—Mina’s synths wailing, Ace’s guitar almost screaming—and you glance back.

He’s looking at you.

Just for a second.

Not long enough for anyone else to notice. But long enough for you to feel your heartbeat quicken like it’s trying to keep up with the tempo of his drums.

Long enough to wonder if he knows what he’s doing to you.

And then, just as quickly, it’s over.

The final notes ring out, loud and proud, and Jungkook hammers the crash cymbals like punctuation marks. The sound reverberates through the bar, into your ribs, your skin. Everyone’s screaming and clapping and whistling. Alex is on his feet, yelling something you can’t even hear. Jimin throws a towel toward the stage.

But you?

You’re frozen.

Emotion crashes into you like a wave—unexpected, heavy, cold. It’s not about attraction anymore. It’s not even about the performance. It’s the moment. The way Jungkook looked up, eyes shining, chest heaving, smiling like he hadn’t smiled in years.

It’s the way he came back to life in front of you.

And you realize, achingly, that this is what you’ve missed all along.

Not the friendship. Not the ease. Not the safety.

You missed him. That version of him. The one who lets himself feel joy without guilt. The one who belongs somewhere.

And for some reason, that breaks your heart.

Because he’s not yours to keep.

Not really.

Jungkook jumps off the stage like he’s weightless, flushed and glowing, his chest heaving as if he’s just run a marathon and won. The crowd still buzzes with leftover energy, but he’s already moving toward you—wild-eyed and breathless.

Before you can react, he wraps you in a hug, tight and full-bodied, arms locking around you like you’re the one anchoring him to the ground. You barely have time to think before you’re melting into it, laughing as your arms wind around his back.

“Holy shit,” he gasps into your ear, voice cracking with joy. “Did you see that? I didn’t tank it! I came back! I actually pulled it off!”

“You did, Kook, you killed it out there.”

He pulls back just enough to grab your face between both hands, calloused palms cradling your cheeks. His eyes are shining—shining—with something raw and real and so reminiscent of the boy he used to be, your chest squeezes tight.

“I thought I was gonna choke after that first beat,” he breathes, grin splitting his face. “But then I looked at the kids. And I looked at you. And it felt like I was supposed to be right there.”

Your heart stutters. “You looked like yourself up there.”

His expression shifts—just for a moment—and then his forehead drops to yours.

The contact is light. Barely there.

But it crackles.

It’s intimate and fleeting and charged, his breath brushing your lips, and your entire body locks up. You should move. You should really move. But you don’t. Neither does he.

You both just breathe.

And in that breath, something slips.

Not love.

Not lust.

But something terrifyingly in between.

“I should do this more often,” he murmurs, still forehead-to-forehead with you, eyes fluttering shut for half a second. “Feel like this.”

You don’t know what to say. You don’t want to say anything that might break the moment. That might remind either of you that he’s not yours to lean into like this. Never was.

But then the room reminds you for you.

A cheer goes up. Someone shouts his name. Laughter rings out.

And when he opens his eyes and sees how close you are, the spell breaks.

He steps back, a breath catching like it hurts. His hands fall slowly from your face as if letting go costs something.

You say nothing.

Neither does he.

Instead, you both turn—wordlessly—and slide onto the barstools beside each other.

Jungkook drums his fingers against the wood, still jittery with leftover adrenaline, while you pretend to focus on the drink Jimin sets in front of you.

Your shoulder brushes his.

He doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

But the silence between you is deafening.

Your chest feels too tight. Your throat too full.

And for a second—just a second—you wonder what would’ve happened if you told him everything when you were younger.

You wonder what it would feel like if it were you he could come back to.

But you don’t ask.

And he doesn’t offer.

So you both just sit there—shoulder to shoulder, forehead memory still warm—and pretend nothing happened at all.

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @santiiagopopegarcia @jadaocon1 @asyr97 @gukieater @themwordsblog @whatevevrerr @amarawayne @tititania @guwol @reallygenerouskoala @bgfdcvbnjk @kyljjk @whoa-jo @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @upo1313 @polnaraffsrack @tatzzz-25 @orphicepiphany @coletaehyung @bjoriis @epiphany-n @kimyishin @eegyo @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @parkinglot-nights @mar-lo-pap @evrsncenewyork @jjeonjjk7 @minghaosimp @cerulean1riz @anumita-2007 @vantelover1306 @vynmin @nadzzzblog @jnghs @lachimolalajeon @joonwater @choijay-07 @notsevenwithyou @mononoaware16 @sky-23s-world @auroresce @sadgirlroo @arcadiaem @kokoandkookie @nakyra2 @kissyfacekoo @butterymin

[writesvani]

dear me | 08

lawyer! jeonjungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: death of a loved one, grief, childhood trauma, emotional vulnerability, mentions of smoking, mentions of hospitals, funeral themes, themes of loss, nostalgia, emotional dependency, performance anxiety, fear of failure, complicated parent-child relationship

comment here for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter (pending...)

wc: 6,3k // date: 28th of April

CHAPTER EIGHT — Fifteen Years and a Pinky; happy reading my gummies...

AN: hi gummies, how are you? here’s the ch 08. now, i know i told you this chapter is supposed to be 9k long and you may be surprised that it’s only 6.3k, but—listen. this chapter was originally supposed to include the night at the house too, but when i reread it i realized that three (3!!!) separate scenes would be like throwing your feelings into a blender and then stepping on it. and because the scene before the house night is raw (like steak tartare levels of raw) i didn’t want to ruin the flow. so here we are. soft. emotional. holding pinkies and sobbing.

this chapter is a bit heavy and personal for me, so if you’re thinking about sending hate asks or comments... respectfully, go touch grass. and maybe hug your grandma too while you're at it.

anyways, note goal for this chapter is 420 notes. if we hit it, you get chapter 9 which is lowkey spicey but not really but like... i sprinkled some ✨specs✨ of something in there okay. patience is a virtue, babes. see you soon.

The music at The House is doing exactly what it’s supposed to — vibing in the background like a low, steady heartbeat, not blasting your eardrums into oblivion like most places would. It's early, but a few brave locals are already perched at the bar, clutching their coffees like lifelines and pretending to be scandalized by Alex’s latest story. Honestly, half the chaos is in the fact that it’s barely 9 a.m. and he’s already causing a scene.

You can’t help but love mornings like this. Especially when the playlist is this good — Jezebel by Sade melts through the speakers, smooth and rich, and you bob your head to the beat as you sip your espresso like you’re in some cheap movie.

You and Jungkook had smartly claimed a booth instead of the bar. The bar is for nights when you need bad decisions and worse tequila. The booth? That’s strictly reserved for existential crises over coffee. Classy.

It’s almost funny how most people don’t even realize The House runs in the mornings too — it’s like an unspoken VIP pass to a secret world. Mornings here feel untouched, sacred, like you’re living inside a memory.

The place hasn’t changed.

The boy next to you — sprawled out, looking entirely too comfortable for someone with a cappuccino in hand — hasn’t either.

But you? Him? You’re not the same kids who used to think the world owed you something.

And maybe that’s the magic of it.

Or maybe it’s just the espresso talking.

“Vicky literally wanted to murder me yesterday,” Jungkook sighs, taking a small sip of his coffee.

“I think she did,” you agree, leaning back in your seat like the weight of the whole performance exhausted you. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you made it out alive.”

“She gave me a death glare that could’ve set the entire room on fire,” he says, laughing under his breath. “I think my soul left my body for a second.”

“She’s just... passionate,” you say, trying not to snicker.

“Passionate about hating me?”

You shrug, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Well, maybe don’t exist so loudly next time.”

Jungkook presses a hand to his heart, pretending to be wounded. “Brutal. Betrayed by my own favorite.”

You smile into your coffee cup, trying to hide the way your heart trips over itself at his words.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, and you hear a loud crack echo from his neck. He winces, rubbing the spot.

"Jesus," he mutters, "I don’t know if I’m just getting old or what, but my neck’s been killing me lately. Like, constantly."

You snort into your coffee. "Join the club. For me, it’s the shoulders. Doesn’t even matter how I sleep—on my side, my back, curled up like a shrimp—bam, wake up feeling like someone beat me up in my dreams."

He chuckles under his breath, nudging your foot under the table. "We’re literally falling apart and it’s not even noon."

"Speak for yourself. I’m thriving. Pain is my lifestyle choice now," you say, dramatically stretching your arms and instantly regretting it when a sharp pinch runs through your shoulder.

"Yeah," Jungkook smirks, raising an eyebrow. "Looks like you're thriving real hard over there.”

"So, Mr. Neck Pain," you tease, swirling your coffee, "what’s next now that you’re all settled back in town?"

Jungkook groans, slouching deeper into the booth. "Ugh, don’t even ask. Nina’s on this mission to redecorate my mom’s house. I can barely keep up with everything anymore."

"Redecorate?" you blink.

"Yeah, why?" he asks, eyeing you curiously.

You shrug, playing it off. "Nothing. I just always thought you loved that house the way it was."

"I do," he says, running a hand through his hair, "but we want it to be, you know, a good place if we ever start a family."

Your brows knit together, something tugging at your chest. "But we—I mean, you—grew up there. It's already a good place."

He smiles a little sadly. "True. But you know how Nina is—she loves the latest trends, new aesthetics, all that HGTV bullshit."

You force a chuckle, but your heart isn't in it. "Yeah... I know." You pause, tracing the rim of your cup. "I just thought… there were too many good memories there for you to change it."

Jungkook’s expression softens, and he leans forward, elbows resting on the table. "We're not tearing it down, just giving it a facelift. Besides..." he trails off for a second, choosing his words carefully, "there were a lot of bad memories there too, you know."

You gulp, regret washing over you in waves.

As much as you loved that house, the memories, the time you spent there with Jungkook, you know better now. When you left, he stayed. They all stayed behind. In there.

"Shit, Kook, I’m sorry," you mumble, your voice quieter than you intend. "I wasn’t thinking."

Jungkook glances at you, his expression neutral, but you can see the tiredness in his eyes. "It’s okay," he says, but it doesn’t sound as reassuring as it should. "Really. You didn’t say anything wrong."

You shake your head, frustration bubbling up. "Still... I always run my mouth before thinking."

"It’s fine," he repeats, more firmly this time, though it doesn't quite ease the tension between you. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply like he’s been holding his breath for too long. He seems like he wants to move on, but you can tell the weight of the conversation hasn’t shifted for him.

There’s a pause as he stares down at his coffee cup, swirling the contents absentmindedly. "Speaking of the devil… He called me last night."

Your stomach sinks, a tight knot forming in your chest. "How does he even know you’re back in town?"

Jungkook shrugs, looking like he’s trying to make light of it, but the slight crease in his brow gives him away. "Maybe a neighbor mentioned something. You know how it is. Small town, everyone talks."

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "He said he misses me. Wants to see me."

You take a breath, your heart pounding a little faster than usual. "Kook..." Your voice softens, and you try to hold his gaze, willing him to understand. "You don’t have to go see him. You don’t owe him anything."

His eyes dart to yours, but they don’t hold the same certainty you’re used to. There’s a flicker of something there—maybe guilt, maybe doubt. "I know," he says, the words thick with hesitation. "But he’s still my dad."

You lean forward, putting your hands on the table as if grounding yourself, trying to find the right words. "Jungkook, I get that. I do. But look at what he did to you. To your family. You don’t owe him a damn thing. Not after everything he’s done."

A flash of pain crosses his face, but he quickly masks it with a forced shrug. "Maybe he’s changed." His voice is small now, as if he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You feel a pang in your chest as you watch him. His words sound like a plea, a hope that hasn’t faded, despite everything. "Maybe," you say, your voice quieter than before. "But... Kook, you’ve given him so many chances. How many more does he need to mess up before you stop waiting for him to change?"

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he stares at the table, his jaw clenched. His hands are folded together, knuckles white from the pressure. The silence stretches between you like a tension-filled rope, and you hate how long it lingers.

Finally, he lets out a long, slow breath, his voice almost inaudible. "I just... I don’t know. Part of me keeps thinking that maybe one day, he’ll realize what he lost. That he’ll finally see everything I’ve done for myself. But I’m still his son, you know? I still want him to be proud of me."

Your heart aches for him, and you find yourself reaching across the table without thinking, your hand brushing against his. "Kook..." You pause, unsure how to say what you want. "You don’t need his approval. You never have. You’ve made your own path, your own life. You don’t need him to recognize that."

He meets your eyes then, and for a moment, the world outside fades into the background. He’s so tired, and it’s not just the physical exhaustion. It’s the emotional weight he carries, the years of longing for something from his father that he may never get. "I don’t know if I can just let it go," he admits quietly.

You squeeze his hand, offering him a small but sincere smile. "I know it is. But you’ve been carrying this for so long. You deserve peace, Kook. You deserve to stop wondering if he’s going to come around."

He nods slowly, but the doubt still lingers in his eyes. "I’m just... not ready to give up on him yet. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to let go. But not now."

You nod in understanding, even though you wish he didn’t feel this way. You’re not sure if he’ll ever let go of the hope that his father might change, but you’ll be here for him—whether he wants to see his dad or not.

Because even if he can’t yet walk away from that, you’ll be the one to catch him if he falls.

"So..." Jungkook leans back, stretching like he’s trying to shake off the whole conversation. "You want another coffee or what?"

You huff out a laugh, sensing the way he’s desperate to change the subject. You’ll let him. For now.

"Sure. Let’s drown our trauma in caffeine," you say, clapping your hands once.

"Aki!" you yell across the room like a drunk girl at a party.

Alex's head snaps up from behind the bar, his expression pure chaos. "I KNOW you are not hollering at me from across the damn room at 9 AM!"

You press your palms together in mock prayer, batting your lashes at him.

He points a threatening finger your way, but he's already stomping toward the coffee machine. "You better be glad you're cute. And that you called me Aki. Otherwise? I'd be filing a noise complaint on your ass."

Jungkook cackles next to you, throwing his arm over the back of the booth lazily. "Don’t blame her. She’s been a menace since birth."

"And YOU!" Alex spins dramatically toward Jungkook. "Mr. Ex-Drummer-Wannabe over there—you even THINK about ordering like that and I’m dragging you out by your sad little hair bun."

"I cut my hair," Jungkook defends, laughing so hard he almost spills his cappuccino.

"Good. One less handle for me to grab when I throw hands," Alex fires back without missing a beat.

You’re crying with laughter now, doubled over in the booth as Alex aggressively slams the espresso shots into the machine like he’s personally offended by your existence.

"Two coffees! Extra espresso! And a prayer for your broken souls!" he yells over the sound of the steamer.

You wipe a tear from your eye. Jungkook’s cheeks are flushed pink from laughing.

The tension between you? Gone. Completely obliterated by the unholy spirit of Alex at 9 in the morning.

When Alex brings over your coffees, he doesn’t just drop them off and head back to the bar like a normal person. No, of course not. Alex being Alex means he slams the mugs down with a dramatic flourish, making a few drops slosh over the rims—and then, without so much as a warning, slides right into the booth beside you like he owns the damn place.

You blink at him. "Aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know, working?" you deadpan, scooting over an inch, not that it does anything to deter him.

"Babe, I am working," Alex says, fake-fanning himself like he’s starring in some bad soap opera. "Quality customer service. Mingling with the clientele. Boosting morale." He flashes you a smile so wide it’s practically criminal.

"You call this customer service?" you snort, narrowing your eyes.

"I call this excellence," he corrects, snapping his fingers in the air.

Jungkook leans back, grinning. "Remind me again why George hasn't kicked your ass to the curb yet?"

"Because," Alex says, stretching out his arms along the back of the booth like a king surveying his kingdom, "nobody else is stupid enough to work as a barista, bartender, waiter, and unofficial therapist at the same time."

"Unofficial therapist," you cough, laughing into your cup.

"I’ve seen things, alright?" Alex says gravely, glancing around the café like someone might overhear. "The shit people cry about at two in the morning over whiskey shots would make your hair fall out."

"You mean like that one girl who thought her cat was psychic and warning her about her cheating boyfriend?" Jungkook grins.

Alex gasps. "That girl was a treasure. And honestly, her cat probably was psychic. Men ain’t shit."

You and Jungkook crack up, nearly spilling your coffees.

"But seriously, why are you still here, Alex? You could probably have an actual desk job by now."

Alex sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Because I love this place. And because I love the poor lost souls who stumble through that door looking like they need either a double shot of espresso or an exorcism."

"You saying you love us?" Jungkook teases, winking.

Alex points straight at you without missing a beat. "Yeah. But I love her more."

He leans his full weight against you, feigning a swoon.

You shove him half-heartedly, laughing. "Jesus Christ, get off me."

"Can’t," Alex hums. "We’re bonded for life now. Future spouses. Bar booth besties. Trauma buddies."

You shake your head, hiding your smile behind your coffee cup. No matter how loud or outrageous Alex could be, moments like this reminded you why you kept coming back to The House. Why it still felt like home, even when everything else around you had changed.

Jungkook watches the two of you with amusement flickering in his eyes. For a second, the weight on his shoulders seems lighter. His smile less forced. You catch the way he lingers, looking around at the chipped wood tables, the battered jukebox, the dusty light pouring through the windows—and you realize it’s not just you clinging to the past.

“So,” you start, drumming your nails against the scratched surface of the table, “anyone interesting playing tonight?”

Alex perks up immediately, a sly smile curling his lips. “Why, you guys thinking about stopping by?”

“Don’t answer my question with a question,” you groan, tossing your head back dramatically against the seat, earning a low chuckle from both Alex and Jungkook.

“Still so easy to rile you up,” Alex teases, nudging your arm with his elbow. "But fine. Yes, there’s someone playing tonight. Some high school senior band. New kids. Pretty decent."

He glances toward Jungkook, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his blue eyes. “You’d love them if you came to watch. Especially the drummer.”

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, his mug pausing halfway to his mouth. “Yeah? They any good?” He phrases it like a question but there's a lightness there—something almost hopeful.

Alex leans back against the booth, arms crossed, grinning. “Real good. Their drummer reminds me a lot of you, actually. It’s crazy."

For a moment, something shifts in the air between them—some old memory or unspoken thing passing by. You catch it, the way Alex's voice softens at the edges, the way his posture straightens just slightly when he says it.

Jungkook doesn’t respond right away. He just hums, a quiet sound, before taking a slow sip of his cappuccino. When he sets the cup down again, there’s a faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You were amazing, you know," Alex says suddenly, voice lower, more serious now as he turns his head, eyes drifting toward the small stage at the front of the café. "Everyone loved seeing you up there."

"I was nothing special," Jungkook mutters, shrugging like he's trying to make himself smaller. He rolls his shoulders, like the memory sits a little too heavy on them.

"You were," Alex insists, almost stubbornly.

You stay quiet, just watching Jungkook carefully, feeling your chest tighten a little.

He was special. He is special. But you know he struggles to see it sometimes.

“Well," Jungkook says after a beat, laughing under his breath, "thank God we have new generations now. I’m way too rusty these days anyway."

"Rusty?" Alex scoffs like it's the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. "You could still kill it. I bet you could pick up a pair of sticks right now and blow everyone’s mind."

Jungkook laughs again, but this time it’s softer, almost bashful, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his coffee cup. "Nah, man. Really. I can’t even remember the last time I touched a drum kit."

"Doesn’t matter," Alex shrugs. "Some things you don’t forget. It’s in you, y’know? Like breathing."

You smile a little into your coffee, feeling something warm bloom in your chest as you watch them.

Because you see it—that flicker of pride, of something almost childlike—lighting up behind Jungkook’s eyes.

No matter how much he tries to brush it off, no matter how much he plays it down…

There’s a part of him that still holds onto that love.

That part hasn’t rusted at all.

“Wanna bet?” Alex leans forward, elbows on the table, a wild grin spreading across his face. “If you come by tonight, get on that stage, and play like you used to, you owe me the fattest tip The House has ever seen. I’m talking, like, a thousand bucks.”

“A thousand?” you splutter, nearly choking on your coffee. Your eyes whip between Jungkook and Alex like you’re watching a live tennis match. “Are you insane?”

Alex just shrugs, looking completely unbothered, like he didn’t just casually ask for a month’s rent.

Jungkook’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, the way it always does when he's considering something reckless.

You can practically see it happening—the slow spark, the glint of mischief flickering to life behind his eyes.

“Yeah?” Jungkook says, voice low, teasing, almost daring. “And what if I suck? What if I’m absolutely terrible?”

Alex grins wider, if that’s even possible. “Then I’ll cover all your drinks. You, anyone you drag in here with you, free tabs for the next three months. No questions asked.”

Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “What if I’m bad on purpose?”

“You can’t be bad on purpose, Jungkook,” Alex says, voice almost affectionate, like he’s stating a universal truth. “You don’t know how. It’s not in your DNA.”

You laugh under your breath because, honestly, Alex isn’t wrong. Jungkook could try his absolute hardest to mess up and somehow still end up being stupidly good at it.

And now you see it happening, right there in front of you—the battle playing out in Jungkook’s head.

Because no matter how calm or grown-up he pretends to be these days, underneath it all, Jeon Jungkook has never met a challenge he didn’t want to destroy.

His fingers tap restlessly against the mug, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. He’s thinking about it. Seriously thinking about it.

For a second, you think he might laugh it off.

For a second, you think he might shake his head and say, “Nah, not tonight.”

But there’s a part of you—quiet, selfish—that hopes he doesn’t.

Because seeing Jungkook now, here, with the stage in the background and the hum of The House around you, feels so strange it almost aches.

Like a part of your life that belonged to someone else entirely.

And yet, it did happen.

Right here, between these old walls and scratched tables and buzzing neon lights—Jungkook was alive once.

So alive, it made your chest hurt just watching him.

You swallow around the lump forming in your throat, forcing a smile onto your lips.

You want to see that Jungkook again.

Just for one night.

Just for a song.

Maybe, just maybe… you’re not the only one who wants that too.

“Okay,” Jungkook says, crossing his arms lazily behind his head, his body slumping back into the booth like he couldn't care less.

You and Alex whip your heads toward him at the same time.

“Okay?” you both blurt out, voices overlapping in pure disbelief.

Alex’s jaw actually drops a little. His whole face lights up like someone just handed him front row tickets to his favorite band.

You swear you see sparkles in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a casual shrug, sipping his coffee like he didn’t just agree to revisit an entire part of himself he’s been quietly avoiding for years. “Game’s on. Don’t get too excited about it.”

You can’t help it.

You squeal.

Loud.

Like a literal teenager seeing her One Direction live.

“Oh my god, you’re really playing tonight?” you practically shout, bouncing in your seat.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you over the rim of his mug, hiding a small grin.

“Yeah. Only for the free drinks though. Because I know I’ll be terrible.”

Alex shoots you a look across the table—the look that screams I'm so winning this bet and you better remember this moment forever.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, pretty boy,” Alex sing-songs, leaning back with a smirk. “I’m getting that one grand tip tonight. You’re gonna play like an angel and you know it.”

Jungkook snorts, setting his coffee down with a loud clink. “Dream about it, Alex. I’m washed up. I’m bad.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Alex says, waving him off. “We’ll see who’s laughing when I’m bathing in bills later.”

You shake your head, heart thudding against your ribs, still trying to wrap your mind around it.

Jungkook is playing tonight.

In this place.

On that stage.

The same one where he used to tear the house down with nothing but drumsticks and a grin.

You steal a glance at him—at the way he tries to act unfazed, too cool to care.

But you see it.

The way his fingers twitch slightly on the table.

The way his knee starts bouncing under it.

He’s excited.

Terrified maybe.

But excited.

And somehow, you feel like you're about to see a version of Jungkook tonight that’s been hiding for a long, long time.

You smile into your coffee cup, letting the warmth seep into your chest.

Tonight’s gonna be special.

You can feel it.

"Alright," Jungkook says, pulling out his wallet and flipping it open with a lazy flick of his wrist.

"You don’t have to pay me yet, you know," Alex grins, lounging back in his seat like he’s the king of the damn world. "Everyone knows I’m winning this anyway, but still—appreciate the enthusiasm."

"Bold of you to assume that," Jungkook mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes with a small smirk. He peels a few bills from his wallet and hands them over. "This is for the coffees. Nothing more. Don’t get your hopes up."

Alex whistles low under his breath, dramatically tucking the money into the pocket of his apron like it’s sacred treasure. "Coffees are on me, but I'm keeping this. Just so you know, when you lose tonight, this is going straight into my ‘Victory Drinks’ fund."

"Dream on," Jungkook says, already pushing his chair back.

You laugh, grabbing your jacket and slinging it over your shoulders. "We’re heading out before you two start slapping each other with money."

"Already?!" Alex pouts dramatically, sticking out his bottom lip like a child about to throw a tantrum. "But this was just starting to get fun!"

"We’ll see you tonight, babe," you tease, leaning in slightly as you adjust your jacket. "Try not to miss us too much."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," Alex calls after you, tossing a mock salute your way as he saunters back behind the bar, already chatting up a new group of customers like the social butterfly he is.

You glance over your shoulder once before stepping outside, the cold air nipping at your cheeks.

The door swings shut behind you, cutting off the warm hum of The House.

And as you and Jungkook walk down the sidewalk, shoulders brushing every few steps, you can’t help but smile to yourself.

"I can’t believe I’ll see you on the stage tonight," you say, your voice soft, almost quiet.

The city moves around you — the low chatter of couples at outdoor tables, the distant barking of a dog, the steady thrum of cars in the background — but right now, it feels like it's just you and Jungkook, walking side by side.

He kicks a small pebble along the sidewalk with the toe of his boot, the rhythm of his steps syncing perfectly with yours.

"Me either," he says, chuckling under his breath. "I’m gonna suck."

He tries to brush it off with a joke, but you catch it — that slight dip in his voice, the way his shoulders curl inward, the way his teeth sink into his lower lip like he’s trying to keep the doubt from slipping out louder.

"Kook," you whisper, reaching out without thinking, your fingers wrapping gently around his elbow, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. "There’s no way in hell you’re gonna suck."

He looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s searching for something — maybe faith, maybe reassurance, maybe just a familiar face who remembers who he used to be.

"I literally bet against myself," he mutters, half-laughing, half-defeated. "I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming."

You shake your head, smiling so much it almost hurts. "I’m with Alex on this one. You’ll be great. You’ll be better than great."

Jungkook scoffs, looking away as a faint blush creeps onto his cheeks. "I’ll embarrass myself," he says, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.

"You could trip and fall flat on your face and people would still cheer for you," you say, bumping your shoulder against his lightly. "You have that thing, you know? That... energy. People just wanna root for you."

He laughs — a real one this time, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep, somewhere maybe he thought he buried a long time ago.

"You’re dangerous," he says, shaking his head, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips now, one he can’t quite hide. "You’re making me think I can actually do this."

"You can actually do this," you say simply.

For a moment, he just stares ahead, the sunlight catching in his hair, painting gold into the brown strands.

And you realize — he’s not scared of being bad.

He’s scared of remembering how much he loved it.

And maybe, deep down, he's scared of wanting it again.

"C'mon, let's go eat something," you say, grabbing a fistful of Jungkook’s jacket like a child dragging their favorite toy behind them.

Your steps turn rushed, half-skipping across the street, and you hear him laugh behind you — that soft, warm laugh that makes your chest bloom.

"Okay, okay, you don’t have to pull me," he chuckles, letting himself be tugged along, the heels of his boots scraping the sidewalk.

"You’re too slow and I’m too hungry," you shoot back, ignoring the string of playful complaints he tosses about you destroying his ‘new, very expensive, limited edition jacket.’

He doesn't actually try to break free though. He just follows, like he always does when it’s you.

You pull him into a small, tucked-away restaurant, the kind where the air smells like fresh bread and melted cheese, where the noise is low and comfortable.

Without even asking, Jungkook lets you choose the table — a cozy little booth by the window.

And somehow, as you both sit down, flipping open the greasy menus, it feels like nothing ever changed.

Not the years that passed. Not the hard things you both carried inside your chests.

Sitting across from him now feels exactly like it did when you were both younger, less guarded, less afraid.

The food comes quickly — baskets of fries and sandwiches stacked high — and you both agree without saying it that tonight's performance is off-limits, at least for now.

It’s a silent pact sealed with the clink of your water glasses.

"So you’re working tomorrow, and what after that?" Jungkook asks, stuffing a fistful of fries into his mouth, looking so casual you almost forget how his nerves had been rattling earlier.

"I think I’m gonna go to the cemetery after," you say lightly, twirling a fry between your fingers.

You don’t say it like it’s heavy.

Because it isn’t anymore.

It’s a routine. Like brushing your teeth. Like calling your mom.

It’s just something you do.

His chewing slows a little. "Nana?" he asks gently, voice dipping lower like he’s trying not to make the air around you heavier.

"Yeah," you smile a little, taking a sip of your drink. "Tomorrow’s the 15-year anniversary. Gotta go and visit her."

You joke about it, the same way you always do when you talk about it out loud. Not because it’s funny.

But because if you don’t laugh about it, it might feel too real. Too much.

Jungkook doesn’t prod.

Doesn’t tilt his head and give you the pity look.

Doesn’t say I’m sorry like everyone else does.

He just nods, tearing off a piece of his sandwich.

Because he knows.

He knows you visit her grave every month like clockwork. Knows you sit by the little marble headstone and tell her everything you can’t tell anyone else.

Knows that, as weird as it sounds, it’s almost comforting now.

Like a monthly check-in with someone who’s still somehow listening.

"It’s weird," you say suddenly, voice quieter, like you’re not sure why you’re even saying it. "Fifteen years sounds like forever. But it still feels like she’s... close. Sometimes."

Jungkook’s eyes lift to meet yours, soft and full of understanding.

"That’s because she is," he says simply.

You just smile, a real one this time. One that makes your nose crinkle.

And Jungkook smiles back, pushing the basket of fries toward you like he’s offering something bigger than food — like he’s offering comfort without making a big deal out of it.

And in that small, simple moment, you’re grateful.

Grateful that some people in your life — no matter how much time passes, no matter how much hurt sneaks in around the edges — always just get it.

"You know," you say, a small smirk playing on your lips, "I think I’m gonna bring her a pack of ciggies tomorrow. She’d be happy."

Jungkook laughs under his breath. "She’d be thrilled. I can already picture her up there in the sky, chanting, 'Smoke one for me!'"

"Literally," you snort, "that’s so her."

"Bring her some coffee too," he adds, nudging your foot gently under the table. "She only ever smoked when she had coffee."

"Maybe you can bring her the coffee," you tease.

His face softens, the teasing moment slipping into something gentler.

"You’d want me to come with you?"

You glance down, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

"Yeah... Only if you want to. No pressure."

"Of course I would," he says instantly. Then his smile fades just a little. "I just didn’t think you’d be comfortable with that. We haven’t gone there together in... ages."

"Yeah..." you trail off, the memory of old visits brushing against your mind like a ghost. Then you pause, the realization creeping up your spine. You lift your head slowly.

"Wait," you say, squinting at him, "are you saying you’ve gone to visit my Nana’s grave... alone?"

The air between you shifts — heavier, thicker.

He gulps. His shoulders tense slightly, but he doesn't back down.

"Yeah," Jungkook admits, voice smaller than before. "Whenever I came back here to visit... I’d stop by and see her too."

You blink at him, stunned.

Your heartbeat violently pulses in your ribcage — not from anger, not even from sadness, but from a fierce, overwhelming surprise.

"You..." you start, then falter. "Why?"

He fiddles with a paper napkin, his fingers slow, deliberate.

His voice is rough when he answers.

"Because you loved her so much. And because she’s the only one I ever trusted to keep an eye on you when..."

There’s a crack in his voice that he doesn’t bother hiding.

It splinters something deep inside you.

"And because..." he clears his throat, like the words are caught there, too heavy to say. "Because I miss her too, you know."

You don’t realize you’re crying until your vision blurs and a tear slides down your cheek.

You wipe it away quickly, embarrassed, but Jungkook just gives you the softest look — patient and understanding — like he knew you would.

"I think," you say, voice shaking despite yourself, "I think she'd be really happy you still visit her."

Jungkook lifts his eyes to meet yours — and for a moment, the busy restaurant, the cold food between you, the people outside — all of it disappears.

"I think she'd be happy about a lot of things," he says quietly.

You don't ask what he means.

You don’t have to.

Instead, you reach across the table and brush your pinky against his — tentative, testing.

He smiles and hooks his pinky around yours without hesitation.

It’s small.

It’s quiet.

But it feels like something sacred.

"Then let’s make her happy tomorrow," you whisper.

"Deal," Jungkook smiles, and you feel a rush of emotions flooding you all at once — a tidal wave you don't even try to fight.

"You know..." you start, gently smiling at him, "I never got to thank you."

His smile falters just a little, confusion slipping onto his face. His eyes lock onto yours — steady, unwavering — and you feel yourself shrink a little under the weight of his gaze.

"For what?" he asks, voice low.

"For being there for me," you say, heart pounding, "when she died."

He shakes his head immediately, brows knitting together.

"Nonsense. You don't thank me for that. Ever."

"I have to, Kook," you whisper, feeling the lump build in your throat.

"No," he insists, voice firm but gentle. "You don't."

But you remember that day like it was yesterday.

You were still in middle school. Barely thirteen.

It was lunchtime, and you sat with your friends, Jungkook included — laughing, pretending everything was normal.

You'd told them how your Nana was sick. How you’d overheard your parents whispering late at night that the doctor said she didn’t have much time left. That it was only a matter of days.

You remembered the way everyone had reassured you.

How they promised she’d pull through.

How they smiled too big and said she was strong. That she would be fine.

You remembered coming home from school that day.

The house had felt... too quiet.

Only Leah and Vicky were there, small and scared, faces pale with something they didn’t fully understand.

Your youngest brother was at the neighbor’s house.

You remembered asking them — what's going on?

You remembered how tiny Vicky’s voice was when she said it.

"Mom said... Nana died."

You remembered standing there, rooted to the floor, unable to breathe.

You remembered the way the world cracked open under your feet.

And you remembered calling Jungkook.

Hands shaking. Voice breaking.

The only person you could think of to call.

He had answered before the first ring even finished.

And he had come over immediately, sneakers barely tied, hair a mess, face open with worry.

No questions. No hesitations.

Just him.

Just Jungkook.

Sitting with you on the cold kitchen floor.

Letting you cry into his chest until your sobs turned into hiccups.

Until your whole body hurt from it.

Until it hurt a little less.

You remember Jungkook holding you, Leah, and Vicky — small arms trying to wrap around all three of you at once.

He was just a kid too.

He loved Nana just as much.

You remember him hiding his own tears, trying so hard to be strong for you.

You remember him picking up your little brother from the neighbor’s house, walking all of you to the corner store, and buying you ice cream — like it could somehow patch up the hole inside your chest.

You remember falling asleep that night with your face buried in his shirt, your sobs wrecking your body until you were too exhausted to cry anymore — and him just holding you through it.

You remember the funeral, too.

How your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

How the world felt too big and too loud and too empty without her.

And how, without saying a single word, Jungkook hooked his pinky around yours — small and trembling — and didn’t let go the entire time.

Back then, it felt like a promise.

Like even when everything else disappeared, he wouldn't.

Now, sitting here with him years later, pinkies still finding each other without thinking, it feels like the same thing.

Maybe it was always the same thing.

"As I said," Jungkook’s voice cuts through your memories, pulling you gently back to him, "nonsense."

His tone is soft but steady, his eyes kind.

"We’re family. I’d always do that."

And without thinking, without meaning to, you tighten your pinky just a little around his.

Just to make sure he’s still there.

"I remember everything, Kook," you whisper, voice shaking.

"And you don’t even realize how much that meant to me."

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches you, the softness in his eyes enough to pull the air from your lungs.

"I’m glad I was there," he finally says, voice thick. "I’m glad you called me."

You smile, watery but real.

"Me too.”

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @santiiagopopegarcia @jadaocon1 @asyr97 @gukieater @themwordsblog @whatevevrerr @amarawayne @tititania @guwol @reallygenerouskoala @bgfdcvbnjk @kyljjk @whoa-jo @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @upo1313 @polnaraffsrack @tatzzz-25 @orphicepiphany @coletaehyung @bjoriis @epiphany-n @kimyishin @eegyo @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @parkinglot-nights @mar-lo-pap @evrsncenewyork @jjeonjjk7 @minghaosimp @cerulean1riz @anumita-2007 @vantelover1306 @vynmin @nadzzzblog @jnghs @lachimolalajeon @joonwater @choijay-07 @notsevenwithyou @mononoaware16 @sky-23s-world @auroresce @sadgirlroo @arcadiaem @kokoandkookie @nakyra2 @kissyfacekoo @butterymin