I'm writing novels to publish once they're completed and polished. I'm encouraging everyone who reads to leave a message of what they think, what you liked and didn't, and any mistakes in editing or storytelling. Any input is appreciated!~
『summary』 a drunken hookup between three college freshmen turns into a no-strings-attached arrangement that works right up until it doesn’t. things start to get messy when taehyung begins to fall in love, jungkook refuses to say what he’s feeling, and jimin is still having far too much fun to notice it’s all about to fall apart.
『pairing(s)』 (main) kim taehyung x jeon jungkook, kim taehyung x park jimin x jeon jungkook
『tags』 smut, slow burn romance, angst, college!au, friends with benefits, unhealthy polyamory, verse!taehyung, top!jungkook, bottom!jimin, porn with plot, confused!taehyung, bisexual!jungkook, gay!jimin, homophobia {still a work in progress, additional tags to be added}
『summary』 a drunken hookup between three college freshmen turns into a no-strings-attached arrangement that works right up until it doesn’t. things start to get messy when taehyung begins to fall in love, jungkook refuses to say what he’s feeling, and jimin is still having far too much fun to notice it’s all about to fall apart.
『trigger warnings』 none for this chapter {i'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so i can fix it.}
『note』 i'm so sorry, i had personal issues to take care of. i hope to get back on my writing/upload schedule soon. anyway, i hope you like today's update. let me know what you think.
『word count』 4k
『masterlist』 『taglist』
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Vante Institute of Southern California looked even more imposing than Taehyung had imagined.
It was one thing to scroll through the school’s website and social media, seeing aesthetic images: manicured courtyards in all seasons, the old red-brick buildings with ivory stone trim, cathedral-like archways leading into each hall. It was another thing entirely to be standing in the middle of it all.
Under the palm trees lining the campus center, freshmen spilled across the yard in clusters. Some of them were already walking around as if they belonged here, while others, like Taehyung, looked incredibly overwhelmed. Volunteer upperclassmen stood behind folding tables, waving people along with too much enthusiasm. Somewhere, someone had set up a speaker blasting mindless pop music too loudly.
Taehyung had dreamed of this place for too long for it to feel real. After the grueling essay-writing process, sleepless nights before receiving that acceptance letter, the emotional family conversations, and the guilt of leaving them behind, all of it had led him here. Vante was his dream school, and he was now trying not to be swallowed by the nauseating mix of anxiety and pride.
He stood there with his backpack slung over one shoulder. Beside him, Jimin adjusted his sunglasses and looked out at the crowd.
“Damn,” he said. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“It looks awesome, right?” Taehyung replied, taking in the buildings around him once more.
“Everyone here looks either insecure and terrified or insanely hot.”
Taehyung followed his gaze and studied the different groups of people. The girls stood in colorful clusters around signage and tables, dressed in skirts, sneakers, and oversized university sweatshirts. The boys were gathered away from the stands, goofing off and having their own unserious conversations.
Most of them carried the kind of confidence Taehyung knew nothing about—messy hair, broad shoulders, jewelry catching the sunlight, long legs in loose jeans, hands absently messing with their name cards. He couldn’t read any of them from this far away, and he knew Jimin was thinking the same thing as he started walking forward, dragging him by the arm.
“You can’t be serious,” Taehyung spoke up. “Those can’t be the only two classes you’re putting people in.”
“Just the guys,” Jimin looked down at him and grinned. “And I have to categorize them. Scared men are just not attractive.”
The brunette smiled a little, almost relieved. “Well, I think I fall into the terrified category then.”
“Hmmm….no.”
“No?” Taehyung blinked up at the blonde, taken completely aback.
“No,” Jimin’s expression shifted into something the teen found unreadable, yet too pleased with himself. “You’re in the secret special category.”
Before Taehyung could ask what he meant, Jimin had let go of his arm and started walking ahead. He stared at his roommate’s back in utter confusion, watching as he turned toward one of the volunteer tables. Realizing how awkward he must look standing alone in the middle of the courtyard, Taehyung quickly rushed over, forcing himself to let go of the strange comment.
They stopped in front of a table surrounded by other students. A female volunteer was handing out markers, informing everyone to fill out name cards before orientation started. It was clearly meant to help students get to know each other, and Taehyung didn’t think he needed to make one.
But Jimin took two tags and handed one to Taehyung.
They looked ridiculous, to say the least: large white cardstock with holes punched at the top to make them easy to pin to clothes, with a few blank lines for basic information. The teen glanced around, noticing several freshmen already scribbling on theirs.
The blonde uncapped a marker with his teeth and started filling out his name card.
Park Jimin
Vante School of Liberal Arts
Journalism
He passed the marker to Taehyung once he was finished writing. The brunette stared at his blank tag for a second before writing his information more carefully than necessary.
Kim Taehyung
Vante School of Art & Design
Digital Arts
Taehyung paused, starting to overthink his handwriting. Jimin noticed, grabbed the marker from his hand, and tucked it back into the volunteer’s box. Then he leaned over, grabbed two safety pins, and took Taehyung’s name card from the table.
Before Taehyung could stop him, he closed the distance between them, turning him by the shoulders to face him. Lifting the paper tag to Taehyung’s chest, he started carefully pinning it to his shirt. Taehyung went still on instinct, cheeks flushing pink and acutely aware of how close they were.
Jimin was close enough that Taehyung could see the sweep of his lashes as he looked down, close enough to catch the scent of his cologne. Taehyung couldn’t focus on anything besides the brush of his fingers against his chest through the fabric and, weirdly, the shape of Jimin’s lips while he concentrated.
Attaching the name card was a stupidly small thing to get flustered over. But that didn’t stop Taehyung from feeling it anyway.
“There,” Jimin said as he stepped back and straightened the tag. “Now everyone knows the name of my puppy.”
He lifted his hand as if he were going to pet the brunette’s head playfully.
“Stop,” Taehyung ordered, pushing Jimin’s hand away by the wrist. “You’re being weird.”
Jimin chuckled as he picked up his own name card and started putting it on. “Come on, you know I’m joking around.”
Taehyung didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his attention back toward the students spread across the courtyard. It should’ve been easy to brush Jimin off, but the truth was, he wasn’t entirely sure what the blonde was doing anymore. Some of it was obviously harmless teasing, but some of it wasn’t as easy to file under jokes and move on.
The line between Jimin being friendly and flirty was blurring, so much so that Taehyung had no idea where it actually was and didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t want to assume the wrong thing and make it awkward if Jimin really was only messing around. He didn’t want to feel like a jerk for assuming that the blonde was hitting on him just because he was gay.
Then he would be no better than his parents.
“Alright,” the volunteer’s voice cut into Taehyung’s thoughts, grabbing his attention immediately. “You boys will be placed in group seven, so just head over to Bangtan Hall. The tour should start soon, alright?”
“Thank you,” Taehyung said, bowing his head before following Jimin as the two crossed the campus center.
Their orientation group wasn’t huge, only about twenty students total, but more were slowly joining the crowd. An upperclassman in a university T-shirt was smiling too brightly at as many students as she could; it seemed excessive for nine in the morning.
Beside her, another volunteer was trying to get everyone’s attention so he could start his introduction. However, Taehyung was focused on something else entirely.
Past Jimin and on the other side of the small crowd, he caught sight of a black leather jacket and a head of messy black hair. Taehyung’s stomach tightened; he had no business recognizing it so quickly.
The boy from the convenience store stood with three other guys, looking as if he would rather be anywhere but here. Even from this distance, he still carried the same emotional disconnect Taehyung had noticed the night before. His shoulders were slouched, and his expression was unreadable.
There was no cigarette smoke or convenience store glow to make him appear alluring this time. All he had was a name card clipped to his chest that Taehyung was too far away to read. But it didn’t matter. The brunette knew immediately it was him.
And apparently, so did Jimin.
“Oh…my…God,” he gasped. “Is that…?”
Taehyung turned his attention back to the building in front of them. “Don’t.”
“That is absolutely him. And look, he has hot friends.” Jimin grabbed the brunette by the arm and started jumping giddily. “This day just got so much more interesting.”
Taehyung followed his gaze despite himself. Of the four, one was a smidge taller than the others, with broad shoulders, a muscular frame, and short, light-brown hair. Another guy, thinner and more model-like, had longer jet-black hair and a rocker style.
The fourth boy was mostly blocked by the one from the convenience store. Taehyung caught glimpses of his bright, friendly smile as he joked with his friends. However, he would frequently look around the courtyard as if he were searching for someone.
“No,” Taehyung said quietly.
Jimin’s gaze tore away from the group, looking offended. “No what?”
“Whatever you’re thinking…just no.”
“I just wanna say hi.”
Jimin started moving towards the group before Taehyung had the chance to argue. With his social anxiety, the brunette knew he would have no choice but to follow.
And he did.
“Jimin,” he said under his breath, almost panicked.
He matched Jimin’s pace even as his stomach tightened. The alternative was participating in orientation alone after already counting on the blonde’s company. He kept hoping Jimin would change his mind at the last second and save him from the embarrassment.
But the closer they got, the more Taehyung could feel his nerves sharpening. Last night’s interaction still loomed over him, mixing with the strange, unsettling pull he hadn’t managed to shake. He hated how the black-haired teen could make him feel this on edge before even knowing his name or having a proper conversation with him.
Jimin slowed just enough to make their approach feel more casual.
“Hey,” he greeted, lifting his hand in a small wave.
The group looked over almost at once, the boy from the convenience store turning his head last. Taehyung had a feeling he had recognized Jimin’s overly cheery voice and hesitated to look. And the second those doe-eyes landed on the brunette, his expression changed just enough for Taehyung to know he was right.
Taehyung seized the moment to get a glimpse at the name card pinned to the stranger’s shirt.
Jeon Jungkook
Vante School of Business
WBB
His eyes flicked back up and made the mistake of being stuck on Jungkook’s face. Heat rushed up his neck, and his chest tightened. Jungkook’s presence hit him in that same disorienting way it had the previous night.
Taehyung didn’t know why the black-haired teen made him feel so off-balance; all he knew was that it was humiliating. His thoughts kept tripping over themselves, and he was suddenly too self-conscious about how he looked and acted around him. Maybe it was because Jungkook had already embarrassed him last night, but he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t already feeling this way before getting called out.
He snapped his gaze away once he realized Jimin was already talking to the group. He’d completely missed everyone introducing themselves. To catch up, he took a peek at the others’ name tags.
Beside Jungkook stood the taller guy. Up close, he had a soft, angular face and narrow, dark brown eyes that were sharp and captivating. He wore a plain white tank top, showcasing warm, tanned muscles. Even if he looked like a jock, he carried this aura that made him seem very intelligent.
Kim Namjoon
Vante School of Liberal Arts
English
Right next to him, in a blue graphic tee and silver chains hanging off his black pants, stood the grungy model. Dark, heavy-lidded eyes were half-hidden beneath his bangs. Even though he dressed like he had a distant, brooding demeanor, his soft, perfectly symmetrical features made him look almost ethereal.
Kim Seokjin
Vante School of Business
BCA
The fourth guy wasn’t wearing a name card at all. He held his phone and kept glancing toward the student center.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Jimin said to Jungkook with a grin. “Did fate bring us back together?”
Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed, that same annoyed expression from last night returning. “No,” he replied flattly.
Jimin pouted, though he couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. “Aww, how can someone so hot be this cold?”
Before Jungkook could answer, Seokjin looked between the two of them, interest sparking across his face. “Hold on,” he said. “Are these the two kids from the convenience store?”
The black-haired teen didn’t respond, but a slight twitch of his nose and the way his eyes flicked away from the blonde for a moment in embarrassment gave him away.
Namjoon laughed. “Oh my God, they are.”
Jungkook immediately looked uncomfortable as the guys laughed. Taehyung almost felt bad, but then he remembered he hated him for…some reason.
“Wait a damn minute,” Jimin lit up. “You were talking about me? I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be,” Jungkook snapped.
His response drew a collective sort of yikes from the group without anyone actually saying it. Namjoon gave an open, delighted wince. Seokjin elbowed him in the ribs to get him to stop, but his own mouth twitched, hiding amusement behind sympathy. The other boy gave Jungkook a brief look that clearly said “damn” before flicking his attention back to Jimin to see how he’d taken it.
Predictably, the blonde looked more charmed than hurt. Taehyung stayed silent at the edge of the circle, standing awkwardly still. It was like he thought that if he didn’t move, he wouldn’t get noticed, his eyes trained somewhere safely neutral so as not to get called out again.
But things don’t always work out the way you want them to.
Namjoon’s grin turned wicked as he pointed at Taehyung. “So this must be the weird, freaky boyfriend then?”
Taehyung choked on absolutely nothing. His body became hot with mortification.
“No! That’s not—”
The words tangled as soon as they started to come out. Taehyung’s mouth kept moving anyway, trying to catch up with the panic in his chest and only making it worse. Jimin chuckled, taking sick pleasure in his discomfort every time he tried to clarify their relationship.
“Now freaky? I don’t know, but I’ll let you know when I figure that out,” he teased, wrapping an arm around the brunette’s waist. “But he’s not weird once you get to know him.”
“Jimin,” Taehyung hissed, horrified.
Jimin laughed incredibly loudly before finally taking pity on him. “I’m sorry. This is Taehyung, he’s my roommate.”
Namjoon still looked entertained, but his expression softened. “Roommates, huh? Less fun, but okay.”
Seokjin ignored the other two picking on the poor kid and greeted Taehyung like a normal person. He smiled before shrinking back into himself, wanting the ground to swallow him whole. Fortunately, the topic changed quickly.
“Sorry, guys,” the fourth guy, whose name Taehyung still hadn’t caught, interrupted. “My girlfriend is here.”
“Oh, come on, Jungwon,” Namjoon whined, grabbing his shirt just as he was about to walk away. “The stupid assembly is about to start. Why can’t you just meet up with her later?”
Jungwon opened his mouth to respond, but Jimin interrupted. “You have a girlfriend, Wonnie?”
The nickname, which came out of nowhere, clearly made the teen uncomfortable. “Umm…yeah?”
“Tied down before the year even starts,” Namjoon mumbled under his breath, earning an unintentional snort from Seokjin.
“Yeah, couldn’t be me. I love being a free spirit,” Jimin added. “You should try it sometime, Mister Yang.”
“Whatever,” Jungwon huffed, removing Namjoon’s hand from his shirt. “I’m gonna go find her so we can join the nextgroup.”
He glared at the two guys who were meant to be his friends, flipping off Namjoon specifically before walking away. The others chuckled and kept poking fun at him.
Taehyung was still keeping to himself, just recovering from the earlier “boyfriend” comment. He made the mistake of glancing toward Jungkook and noticed that the teen was already staring at him. His stomach dropped, and he quickly looked away, too fast to seem natural.
He forced himself to pay attention to whatever Seokjin was saying. Something about orientation, the assembly, or the tours scheduled afterward: Taehyung couldn’t really tell; the words were hard to grasp when he was suddenly so aware of Jungkook’s eyes on him.
Trying not to look again, Taehyung did so anyway and found Jungkook’s gaze returning to his in short intervals. He never stared long enough for the others to notice, but just enough to make the brunette uncomfortable. It felt like Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing and was now just intently studying him for the sole purpose of messing with him.
“Taehyung,” Seokjin said, snapping the teen’s attention back to him. “Are you okay?”
Taehyung opened his mouth automatically, ready to deny whatever Seokjin thought he’d noticed. In doing so, he made the mistake of glancing back at Jungkook first.
He caught the faintest pull at one corner of Jungkook’s mouth—a small, quick smirk, mean in the quietest possible way. Taehyung’s face went hot with humiliation and irritation. That stupid face solidified what he’d been thinking.
Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing, purposefully giving him little looks just to mess with him.
And Taehyung only felt more ridiculous for letting it work.
“I just…” he started, then faltered as he searched for any excuse. His eyes dropped to the name card pinned to Jungkook’s shirt, then flicked toward Seokjin’s. “I was wondering what the acronyms on your tags mean.
Seokjin looked down. “These?”
Taehyung nodded, trying very hard not to focus on Jungkook and keep his pulse from climbing into his throat.
“Mine stand for Business of Cinematic Arts,” the raven-haired boy smiled as he tapped the letters on his tag.
“Is that real?” Jimin asked. “It kind of sounds fake.”
“I asked the same thing,” Namjoon laughed, patting his friend on the shoulder.
“It’s not fake,” Seokjin argued.
Taehyung nodded along as if it made perfect sense to him. In all honesty, he barely absorbed half of what was said; something about the business side of film production and marketing. He was just glad he’d managed to save himself with that excuse.
He looked over at Jungkook, the natural next thing to do. Clearing his throat, he prepared to ask him as well. “And yours?”
Jungkook’s expression shifted slightly; he looked almost impressed, as if he hadn’t expected the brunette to address him directly without stumbling first. It was the first time a hint of genuine interest in the situation surfaced, and it only intimidated Taehyung further.
Before Jungkook could answer, however, someone shouted across the lawn.
“Jimin!”
The whole group turned toward the voice. Another student was jogging across the grass, waving one arm over his head to draw attention. Taehyung noticed Jimin’s face light up instantly.
“Hoseok?” he called, taking a few steps toward the boy.
The second the newcomer got close enough for Jimin to confirm his identity, Jimin screamed and laughed as he sprinted to meet him. They grabbed each other by the shoulders, as if making sure the other was real, then pulled into a rough hug. They looked like two kids losing their minds at recess, too excited and breathless to form actual words.
After a few more seconds of celebrating their reunion, Jimin pulled away.
“I didn’t know I would get the chance to see you today.”
“Me either,” Hoseok admitted. “I knew we applied to the same school, but I didn’t think we would actually run into each other.”
As the two of them approached the rest of the group, Taehyung could finally read the boy’s name card.
Jung Hoseok
Vante School of Performance Arts
Dance
His major suited him somehow. He had the same kind of friendly charm as Jimin. His hair was a vibrant, warm orange-red, with curtain bangs falling loosely across his forehead. He had large, expressive eyes that crinkled at the outer corners when he smiled.
By the time they reached the group, the others were watching in amusement. Namjoon looked entertained by their childishness. Seokjin, though amused, also seemed a little overwhelmed by their energy. And Jungkook—
Taehyung stopped himself.
“Okay, introductions,” Jimin said once he was back with them. He pointed at each person as he named them. “This is Namjoon, Seokjin, Jungkook, and my new roommate Taehyung. Guys, this is my friend from high school, Hoseok.”
“Just a friend?” Hoseok teased, lightly pushing the blonde.
“Hey, don’t go spreading those kinds of rumors.”
Hoseok laughed. “You are the rumor.”
Jimin rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as both Namjoon and Seokjin laughed at him. He smirked, trying to pinch Hoseok’s side sneakily, but was caught and pushed away again.
Taehyung started to feel a little uncomfortable and out of place. He envied how easily Hoseok and Jimin could settle into the group. Or maybe they just found a group of guys who didn’t care that their energies didn’t match entirely with theirs.
“Oh, right,” Jimin said, turning to his friend and snapping his fingers as if he’d just remembered something. “Have you heard from Yoongi yet?”
Hoseok’s smile wavered. “I don’t think he’s going to show at all today.”
“Why?” Jimin frowned.
Taehyung watched as Hoseok made a face that said the answer was obvious. Jimin groaned and rolled his eyes, promising to text him later to check in.
After that, the group’s energy grew even livelier. Jimin and Hoseok started catching up on their summers while Namjoon and Seokjin chimed in. Taehyung stayed quiet, waiting for the perfect time to join in, but the conversation kept moving without ever really needing him.
Every now and then, Jimin would glance back at him, but only for a moment before getting pulled right back into what the other guys were saying.
Beside him, Jungkook started flicking his lighter, the small clicking hitting Taehyung’s nerves like a pin dropping in a silent room. It shouldn’t have stood out the way it did in this courtyard full of noise and people, but somehow the lighter kept cutting through all of it. The metal snapping open and shut felt impossible to tune out.
Click. Pause. Snap.
Click. Pause. Snap.
At first, it grated on him, the sound getting under his skin. He thought surely Jungkook could tell by now that he was getting overstimulated. But the longer it went on, the irritation softened as the sound settled into a steady pattern amid the chaos around him.
It gave Taehyung’s anxious mind something to lock onto. He was barely even listening to the conversation anymore, just focusing on the quiet little rhythm in Jungkook’s hand.
Eventually, the volunteer called for the group to head inside.
The crowd of students began moving towards the building’s doors as orientation was about to start. Jimin was still so wrapped up in his conversation with Hoseok that he didn’t realize he was leaving Taehyung behind, despite promising the day before he wouldn’t.
He tried not to get overly sensitive and forced himself to be okay with it. If Jimin hadn’t offered to stay by his side, he would’ve attended alone anyway.
He let himself fall back a few steps, putting space between himself and the rest of the group. He’d barely talked to them and figured they wouldn’t realize if he drifted away. Behind Jimin and Hoseok, Seokjin and Namjoon were following close behind.
He realized he didn’t see Jungkook in front of him and stopped walking.
Glancing to the side, he found the black-haired boy right there, stopping with him. Jungkook’s mouth pulled at one corner as he tried to hide an amused grin. It was like he was really getting off on making Taehyung as unsettled as possible.
For one stupid second, Taehyung forgot why he was upset with Jimin. There was something about Jungkook that made it hard to think straight when he was this close. Something so frustratingly alluring.
And Taehyung hated how easily it affected him.
“You plan on staying out here all day?” Jungkook asked.
“Uhh, n-no…”
Jungkook turned away and started heading for the entrance, still wearing that half-smirk. Taehyung stood there for a beat longer, his pulse acting strange again, before that magnetic pull drew him into following.
『summary』 a drunken hookup between three college freshmen turns into a no-strings-attached arrangement that works right up until it doesn’t. things start to get messy when taehyung begins to fall in love, jungkook refuses to say what he’s feeling, and jimin is still having far too much fun to notice it’s all about to fall apart.
『trigger warnings』 none for this chapter {i'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so i can fix it.}
『note』 just to make it clear, my goal is to post updates for this fic every other week (sooner if i've been working extra hard). this way i can work on both of my current ongoing fics. hope you can understand and let me know your thoughts :)
『word count』 4.2k
『masterlist』 『taglist』
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By the time Jimin pulled in front of the convenience store, Taehyung was even more exhausted than he had been when he first arrived at the apartment complex earlier. After a few hours of being dragged from store to store for groceries and household essentials, he didn’t know how he’d managed to keep up and not pass out.
“This is the last stop,” Jimin said as he shut off the engine. “I promise. I just need to grab a couple of things.”
Taehyung stepped out of the car, taking in the sight of the worn-down shop. The sidewalk was cracked and uneven, the windows covered in faded, peeling ads. This did not look like the kind of place he would’ve expected Jimin to shop.
The blonde grabbed Taehyung by the arm and pulled him toward the front door before he could ask any questions. “The snacks here are cheap; you’ll want to grab a bunch.”
He followed Jimin inside, the little bell over the door jingling as they stepped in. The store was colder than he expected, the air conditioner humming loudly overhead. The aisles were cramped and dusty, nothing like the bright, clean ones in the stores Jimin had taken him to earlier.
Taehyung glanced over at the blonde, expecting some kind of explanation, but Jimin was already halfway down the main aisle, clearly unconcerned. He lifted his hand and waved the brunette off without turning around.
“I won’t be long,” he said.
Then he disappeared around a shelf, heading toward the back of the store.
Taehyung stood there for a second longer before moving deeper into the store on his own. Despite the state of the shop, the snacks looked really tempting. He scanned the chip rack for a moment, picking out a couple of items before moving to the candy section.
Balancing the snacks in his arms, he decided to go searching for Jimin.
Taehyung eventually found him in the back of the store by the refrigerators, browsing the small alcohol section. Jimin stood in front of the glass doors with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a pack of hard seltzer tucked beneath his arm. The brunette stopped so abruptly that his sneakers squeaked against the floor.
“What are you doing?” he asked quietly, hurrying over to Jimin’s side a second later.
Jimin glanced at him, calm as ever. “Looking for drinks.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know,” he replied, mouth twitching into a smug smile.
He turned and started walking towards the front of the store. Taehyung stayed planted where he was for a second, too dumbfounded to move. He tried and failed to understand how someone could be so calm while doing something illegal.
Taehyung shifted his weight, the plastic crinkling softly in his hands as he looked down at the snacks he’d picked out and then back towards the front of the store. For a moment, he genuinely considered putting everything back and waiting in the car for Jimin to finish buying his alcohol.
It was the smartest and safest thing to do. If something went wrong, Taehyung could at least say he hadn’t been involved. That’s what his parents would’ve wanted him to do. Though if it were up to them, he wouldn’t have ended up in a situation like this at all.
But the thought of Jimin getting into trouble while he sat outside pretending not to know him made him feel guilty. After how kind and considerate the blonde had been towards him, could he really abandon him? With a quiet, frustrated sigh, Taehyung tightened his grip on his snacks and followed after him.
He caught up near the middle of the aisle, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Aren’t you only eighteen?”
“Almost nineteen,” Jimin said at a perfectly normal volume. “My birthday’s in October.”
“Then—”
“Oh,” he added, as if he’d just remembered something useful. “Now that you mention it, I should probably start finding a party planner before it’s too late.”
Taehyung just stared in disbelief. That was somehow the part Jimin chose to worry about. Not the alcohol. Not the fact that they were underage. Not the possibility that this could go very badly, very fast. He was worried about a birthday party planner.
The teen’s pulse kicked up as he glanced instinctively around them, convinced every person in the store had to be hearing the two. “Jimin.”
“Relax.”
“How am I supposed to relax?”
Jimin shifted the case under his arm and leaned slightly closer. “By trusting me.”
That sentiment did not help Taehyung in the slightest. He opened his mouth to say so, but a voice at the counter caught his attention first.
“A pack of Reds.”
Taehyung’s eyes shifted past Jimin toward the register.
A guy was leaning against the counter, placing a bottle of whiskey between himself and the clerk. Taehyung could only see his back, but that was enough to make him look twice. He wore a black leather jacket, sleeves pushed up far enough to expose that one of his arms was covered in tattoos.
Taehyung didn’t know why he noticed the stranger’s jeans hanging loose at his waist, belted in a way that drew attention to the narrowness of his hips. He didn’t know why he noticed the way the guy’s black hair fell messily at the nape of his neck. He didn’t know why, even from behind, there was something strangely arresting about him.
The clerk set the pack of cigarettes on the counter and glanced at the whiskey, then up at the customer. “Got ID?”
The stranger let out a quiet breath through his nose, clearly annoyed with the inconvenience. Without saying anything, he reached into his pocket for his wallet and handed over his ID with a loose, impatient flick of his wrist.
The clerk took it and looked from the card to the customer’s face, then back down again. For a second, nothing happened. But the pause dragged on just a little too long for comfort.
Taehyung felt the subtle change in the air almost immediately. He watched the clerk’s eyes narrow, angling the card beneath the light as he studied it closely. Across from him, the guy didn’t move, too relaxed for what was about to happen.
The clerk finally looked up.
“This is fake.”
“It’s not fake,” the customer firmly objected.
A short, humorless snort left the clerk as he held the ID up. “You think I’m stupid?”
The guy said nothing in response.
Taehyung’s grip tightened around the snacks in his arms, his anxiety skyrocketing with every passing second.
“I see this garbage every week,” the clerk ranted. “You kids come in here all the time thinking I was born yesterday.”
That finally seemed to put a little tension into the stranger’s body. Not enough to make him take off running, but enough to notice that his shoulders had stiffened and his fingers flexed against the counter.
“Forget it,” he said, like it was no longer worth the effort. “Just give it back if you’re not going to accept it.”
The black-haired boy reached over the counter to grab his ID from the clerk, but the clerk pulled it away just out of reach. “Give it back?”
“You heard me.”
Taehyung took a small step back without even realizing it. Beside him, Jimin still hadn’t budged, watching the situation unfold in front of him, unbothered. The brunette could feel his pulse climbing into his throat with his flaring nerves.
“No,” the clerk snapped, dragging both the cigarettes and whiskey out of the customer’s reach. “You don’t get to come in here with a fake ID and then talk to me like that.”
“Trust me, man. You don’t wanna do this,” the guy replied, still holding an intimidating tone and aggressive stance.
The clerk jabbed a finger toward the phone behind the register. “Keep threatening me, and I’ll call the cops.”
A cold wave of panic rushed through Taehyung so fast it left him light-headed, his eyes flying toward Jimin. If the police showed up, they were all screwed. His mouth went dry just as he was about to say they should leave.
But before he could get the words out, Jimin finally moved.
“Hey, Jake,” he spoke up cheerfully, stepping toward the counter like he wasn’t interrupting something very serious. The way he said the clerk’s name made it clear he was very familiar with him. “He’s with me.”
The clerk turned to look at Jimin, hand hovering over the phone. The guy at the counter also looked over, confused and surprised. Taehyung stood behind them, feeling like his brain was lagging, not fully understanding his roommate’s plan.
Jimin placed his drinks on the counter like it was the most normal thing in the world. Then, with a wide smile, he turned around and rushed toward the brunette. He caught Taehyung by the wrist and tugged him forward until he was standing beside him at the counter.
Close enough now that the stranger’s shoulder was only inches away from his. The two of them looked at each other at the same time. Up close, he was even more striking than Taehyung had realized.
His dark brown eyes were large and doe-like. There was a slight fullness beneath them, making them look softer and harder to look away from. He had a round face with warm, honey-toned, clear skin.
Taehyung’s attention was drawn straight to the silver piercings on his bottom lip. More metal flashed as his eyes trailed back up the stranger’s face, taking in the eyebrow piercing and several earrings in both ears. Strands of his black hair fell just barely over his eyes.
The stranger’s expression changed as he turned back toward the clerk, annoyance settling into his features. Heat rushed hot into Taehyung’s face. He looked back at the counter immediately, embarrassed by how long he had been standing there and staring like a complete idiot.
“You again,” Jake, the clerk, teased Jimin.
The blonde leaned over the counter with a coy smile and heavy-lidded eyes. “Miss me?” he flirted shamelessly.
Jake snorted under his breath, already reaching for the teen’s items to start ringing them up. “Does your daddy know what you’re doing in my store?”
“No,” Jimin responded brightly, then he lowered his voice. “But I’m sure it wouldn’t go great for you either if he found out. Hmmm?”
“You’re nothing but trouble,” the clerk gave a disbelieving shake of his head.
“You know you liked that about me.”
“‘Liked’ is the keyword,” Jake shot back.
Jimin rolled his eyes, the mood finally softening after the tense exchange just minutes before. Taehyung stood there in awkward silence, eyes darting between them, relieved they knew each other well enough to keep him from going to jail.
“Sorry about my friend,” Jimin said, tipping his head toward the black-haired boy standing beside Taehyung. “He’s cute, but he’s got no manners.”
Taehyung peeked over at the stranger, noticing he didn’t react. He had no other choice but to go along with the story if he wanted his things.
“So he’s a friend of yours?” Jake gave the boy a quick once-over.
“Something like that,” Jimin said smugly.
He turned and spotted the snacks still clutched awkwardly in Taehung’s hands.
“TaeTae, put those up here, too. I’m paying.”
Taehyung blinked. “Y-you don’t have to—”
“I know,” the blonde interrupted, grabbing his roommate’s arm and guiding him towards the counter. “Do it anyway.”
Jake watched as Taehyung stepped forward and placed his snacks on the counter. His eyes moved from the brunette to the blonde, then down at the pile of junk food. A small, knowing smile crept onto his lips.
“Is this your new boyfriend, Minnie?”
Taehyung went still as the clerk quickly glanced up at him.
Jimin let out an amused laugh. “Who? Him?” he pointed at the brunette beside him with his thumb.
“Hmm…no. He’s too nervous-looking.” Jake tilted his head, reconsidering. His smile turned mischievous and playful as he looked directly at Taehyung this time. “Boy toy, then?”
“N-No! I’m not—” Taehyung replied too quickly; he could feel his face turning bright red. “We’re not—”
His words tangled up, and he couldn’t respond properly, causing Jimin to laugh even harder. Mortified, he found himself glancing sideways, searching for the stranger’s reaction. He was so panicked, he didn’t even know why he cared what the guy thought.
“Oh my God,” Jake cut in. “Look at him. He’s blushing.”
“I am not.”
“You are,” Jimin said. “You’re so cute.”
Taehyung self-consciously crossed his arms over his chest. “Can you just pay? I wanna go home,” he mumbled.
The blonde grinned as he slid his card across the counter. Beside Taehyung, the stranger grabbed the cigarettes and the paper bag with the whiskey the second they were within reach. He said nothing as he walked toward the door, as if he couldn’t leave fast enough. The brunette caught himself staring after him and quickly snapped his attention back to the counter.
Jake chuckled to himself as he started running the teen’s credit card. “So…not your boyfriend.”
“Not currently,” Jimin replied, leaning over and bumping his shoulder against his roommate teasingly.
“Jimin,” Taehyung said, horrified.
Jimin laughed at the look on his face, then turned back to the clerk. “I’m joking. He’s my new roommate, actually. Very shy, be nice to him.”
Jake’s eyes flicked over Taehyung as he handed the card back to Jimin. “What did you do to become so unlucky? Trouble follows Minnie no matter where he goes, you know?”
The blonde leaned over the counter and swung his arm, attempting to hit the clerk playfully. Jake chuckled before sliding the paper bags over and telling the two teens to hurry and leave his store. They grabbed their items and quickly thanked him before making their way to the door.
Outside, the evening air was warm beneath the faint buzzing of the flickering red sign. Taehyung could finally feel his pulse start to settle, breathing easier knowing he wouldn’t end up in jail his first night in a new state.
Jimin nudged him with his elbow. “I told you to relax.”
Taehyung rolled his eyes, though he was glad he trusted him. “You’re insufferable.”
The blonde only grinned wider and kept walking.
A few feet from the entrance, the stranger stood beneath the store awning, leaning against the brick wall and typing on his phone. He had already lit up a cigarette and had it dangling precariously from his lower lip. The ember brightened as he drew from it, taking a long, slow drag that sent smoke curling past his face.
Out here, the guy looked completely exhausted, like the world had worn him down and left him with no patience for anyone else. His black hair was now a bit messier as he ran his free hand through it. His eyes looked heavy in a way that made him seem slightly older than he was.
That was probably the reason he thought he could get away with the fake ID.
Jimin practically skipped over to him, leaning in until he was caught in the stranger’s line of sight. When the guy looked up from his phone with a cocked eyebrow, the blonde smiled brightly.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said.
The black-haired boy side-eyed Taehyung, who stood awkwardly frozen by the shop door, then stared back at Jimin.
“For what?” he asked, clearly uninterested in the teen.
If Jimin wanted gratitude, he’d have to work a lot harder for it.
The teen laughed. “For saving you from getting arrested.”
The stranger grabbed the cigarette between his fingers, took another long drag, exhaled away from Jimin, then turned back to his phone. “I didn’t ask for your saving.”
“Wooooow,” Jimin said, dramatically putting a hand to his chest, the smile on his lips never fading. “I can’t even get a thank you anyway?”
The annoyance on the stranger’s face began to intensify as the blonde refused to back off. He sighed deeply and loudly, shoving his cellphone into his pocket and flicking his cigarette onto the ground. He leaned down to pick up his brown paper bag.
“Thanks,” he said flatly.
He then turned to walk away from the teen.
“Oh, come on,” Jimin called after him. “That was barely polite.”
But the stranger didn’t bother to look back or respond, clearly finished with the conversation. The blonde teen, however, apparently decided they weren’t done speaking. He caught up to him and grabbed him by the arm.
It happened so fast.
The black-haired boy whipped around with a harshness that made Taehyung’s stomach drop. He pushed Jimin off him and raised his arm, fist balled up like he was about to swing. Taehyung rushed to his roommate’s side and pulled him away.
“Stop!” the brunette pleaded.
To his surprise, Jimin didn’t even flinch. If anything, the teen’s smile widened.
“It’s okay, TaeTae,” he said, still holding the aggressive guy’s gaze with an infuriating ease. “I like a man who isn’t afraid to be a little rough sometimes.”
The stranger looked genuinely caught off guard, unsure what to say in response to the bold teen. His arm lowered slowly, his gaze shifting between the two. His expression changed, like the unexpected response from Jimin had given him a moment to calm down.
Taehyung should’ve stopped eyeing the boy so closely, but he couldn’t. It was the smaller details that he didn’t notice before that snagged his attention now. His eyes fell onto the stranger’s rosy-pink lips, small yet full and naturally pouty, with a small beauty mark just beneath his bottom lip.
Once Taehyung noticed the contrast between the softness of his cheeks and the clean, sharp line of his jaw, it became harder to look anywhere else.
He had this strange aura about him, too. Something cool and distant that made him feel harder to read than anyone Taehyung had met in a long time. Like there was something in him that stayed just out of reach on purpose, that detachment felt almost dangerous. It should have made him easier to dismiss and avoid.
But for someone like the people-pleasing, timid brunette, it made him feel almost helplessly drawn to him.
The stranger glanced at Jimin again, then immediately looked away like he hated having to say what came next. “...Sorry,” he muttered awkwardly. “And…thank you…I guess.”
“Now, was that so hard?” Jimin said, looking pleased.
For a second, the mood seemed to loosen around them. Taehyung could only stand there, his pulse refusing to slow, his attention still caught on the same details of the stranger that he should have stopped noticing by now.
“And you,” the guy added, his eyes finally settling on Taehyung again, “you always stare at people like this?”
Taehyung’s stomach dropped. His face went hot, and the longer his silence stretched, the more humiliated he felt at being called out directly. He could feel the weight of the stranger’s attention fixed on him, and now, suddenly, he didn’t know what to do with himself. His grip tightened on the paper bag as his eyes darted anywhere else.
He tried to recover and act as close to normal as possible, but all he managed was a flustered, “I-I wasn’t staring.”
The stranger lifted his brows, his intense eyes still on Taehyung, dark and unreadable. “So what, then? You got a problem?”
He took a step closer. The brunette immediately felt more intimidated and tried to create distance. He had no idea what he was supposed to say. That he’d gotten distracted? That he hadn’t even realized he was staring for so long?
“N-no, I just…” Taehyung swallowed, then found the courage to continue. “You almost hit my friend, a-and I was just keeping an eye on you, is all.”
“Well, knock it off,” the black-haired boy responded. “Or next time your staring problem is really going to freak someone out.”
“I wasn’t—”
But the stranger smirked slightly as he shook his head, turning around without listening to another word
He started to walk away, hands in his pockets, without bothering to look back at the other teens. It was almost like he’d already forgotten they existed or decided they weren’t worth a second thought. For a moment, neither Taehyung nor Jimin said anything.
Then Taehyung let out a breath. “Wow,” he muttered. “That guy was kind of a jerk.”
Beside him, Jimin let out a soft, delighted laugh.
“What?” The brunette looked over, confused and curious.
Jimin was still watching the stranger disappear down the sidewalk, grinning as if he’d just found something unexpectedly entertaining. “I think I’m in love.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“Oh, I’m very serious,” the blonde finally turned to face his stunned roommate, a look of absolute conviction on his face. “That guy is incredibly attractive. And that was the hottest thing that’s happened to me all week.”
Taehyung looked at him in open disbelief, like he’d lost his mind. Part of him was annoyed that Jimin could laugh off being treated like that, like he had no sense of self-preservation at all. He couldn’t understand how he could stand there smiling, as if he were just charmed instead of disrespected.
The other part of him was harder to sit with. The fact that he understood what Jimin meant made him even more upset. Because beneath all the irritation, the sting of the stranger’s attitude, and the embarrassment of being called out, there was still that same frustrating pull Taehyung couldn’t explain.
And now, with Jimin standing here calling the guy “attractive” and “hot”, the brunette was left with one large, uncomfortable knot he didn’t know what to do with.
“He was awful,” he insisted, though the force behind it felt less like certainty and more like defensiveness.
Taehyung let out a quiet breath and turned away, shaking his head and wanting to abandon the argument before Jimin could drag it somewhere even more ridiculous. He looked far too entertained to be reasoned with anyway. There was no point in fighting, especially with someone who clearly wanted to romanticize the whole thing.
His eyes drifted back toward the sidewalk, just in time to catch the stranger vanish around a corner. Taehyung frowned after him, a dissatisfied feeling tightening in his chest. He wasn’t sure what exactly was causing it. Was it just the lingering anger that was leaving a sour taste, or was it because the night seemed oddly emptier after the encounter?
“He was still awful.” Taehyung muttered a bit sulkily, crossing his arms over his chest.
That only made Jimin laugh again.
“Wow,” he said, amused. “He really got under your skin, huh?”
Taehyung snapped his attention back toward the blonde. “He did not.”
Jimin laughed even harder. “Then why are you pouting?”
“I’m not!” he said, louder than he intended.
“You are, and it’s adorable,” the blonde teased, stepping toward Taehyung and squeezing his cheeks with his free hand.
The brunette swatted him away, face warming as he pulled back. He shot Jimin a glare that was supposed to say “stop that”, only making him look more flustered. He drew in a quick breath, trying to gather himself before continuing.
“That’s not it at all,” he said, his defense coming out as scrambled as he felt. “I just think he was an asshole.”
“Mm-hm.”
“A-and annoying.”
“Sure.”
“And rude.”
“Very rude,” Jimin agreed, though the amusement in his voice made it obvious he wasn’t taking Taehyung seriously at all.
Taehyung scowled. “Why are you acting like that?”
Jimin’s smirk softened into a more knowing smile. He placed his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder as he looked him over. “For someone you think is such a jerk, you seem pretty interested in him.”
Heat rushed up Taehyung’s neck so quickly it made him dizzy. “I-I’m not interested in him!”
The blonde lifted a brow and chuckled. “The guy’s already gone, and he is still on your mind.”
Taehyung opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately cut off.
“We’re still talking about him because of you, you know?”
“I’m not—”
The argument died there. Taehyung no longer trusted himself to keep talking without seeming embarrassed or insecure. Jimin laughed, catching the teen by the arm and steering him toward the car.
“Okay, okay,” he said, waving the whole thing off. “If you’re not interested, then that just means I can have him.”
Taehyung stumbled half a step before falling into pace beside him. “Jimin,” he chastised.
“He’s literally my type,” the blonde insisted. “I’ve got to see him again.”
“You don’t even know if he likes guys.”
Jimin opened the passenger side door and glanced over with effortless confidence.
“He doesn’t have to like guys,” he replied. “He just needs to love having a good time.”
For a second, the brunette could only stand there, that comment pressing on his mind. Back home, attraction and sexuality had always felt more fixed, more clearly defined. Men love women, and women love men. And you also couldn’t have sex before marriage.
Anything else was wrong.
Taehyung wasn’t sure he understood Jimin’s take. It felt complicated and not at the same time. Could you really have sex with someone, anyone, without loving them? Without even really knowing them?
His gaze slipped back down the sidewalk before he could stop himself, searching one last time, even though he already knew the stranger was gone.
『summary』 when kim y/n, the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her induction to the family legacy, she’s only looking for a distraction from her rapidly increasing anxiety. instead, she finds jeon jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war. their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden. but in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. as tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start? a re-interpretation of romeo and juliet.
『pairing(s)』 jeon jungkook x fem!reader
『tags』 18+, smut, dark romance, angst, smoking, drinking, violence, sexual assault, death of a family member, swearing, dubcon/noncon, blood/gore, mutilation, emesis, domestic abuse, mentions of past child abuse, suicidal thoughts, breast/nipple play, oral, fingering, praise/worshipping kink, inexperienced/virgin!reader, guided orgasm, squirting, handjob, ruined orgasm, finger sucking, non-penetrative sex/dry humping, hair pulling, spanking, mutual orgasm {still a work in progress, additional tags to be added}
『taglist』
i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii. ix. x.
xi. xii. xiii. xiv. xv. xvi. xvii. xviii. xix. xx.
『summary』 when kim y/n, the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her induction to the family legacy, she’s only looking for a distraction from her rapidly increasing anxiety. instead, she finds jeon jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war. their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden. but in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. as tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start? a re-interpretation of romeo and juliet.
『trigger warnings』 breast play, oral (female receiving), fingering, hand job, penetrative sex, inexperienced!reader, loss of virginity, praise/worshipping kink, (very) light hair pulling, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, mutual orgasm [most of this chapter is smut, read at your own risk] {i'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so i can fix it.}
『note』 based on the new writing schedule i'm trying to stick to, this update was supposed to be posted yesterday. however, because the chapter is 5k+ words long, i needed the extra day to finish and edit the entire thing. hope you enjoy and let me know what you think :D
『word count』 5.4k
『masterlist』 『taglist』
Y/N
Jungkook didn’t answer me right away. His eyes were still glued to the ceiling, like he couldn’t look at me and say what was wrong at the same time. For a moment, I thought he might shut me down and pull away again. But then his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, exhaling hard through his nose.
“I think…” He stopped, the words coming out as if they were already wearing him out before he even started. “I think there’s a mole in the Montagues.”
“Why do you think that?”
His jaw flexed. “Because Yoongi knows too much.”
Jungkook finally looked at me, catching my confused expression, but only for a second before his gaze drifted away again.
“Remember when we first met at the gala?”
My mind flashed back to that night so fast. The glittering lights, the slow classical music, the dizzying rush of nerves I hadn’t been able to calm, no matter how many times I was told how important that night was.
And then Jungkook appeared in the middle of all that glimmering gold and white. He approached me and silenced all the noise in my head. He was something dangerous I was told to stay away from, but couldn’t.
Even now, after everything that’s happened since, that night still lives rent-free in my head. I still remember the way he held me as we danced, the way my pulse thumped wildly, the feeling that something in my life had shifted the second our eyes met.
At my small nod, Jungkook’s mouth tightened. “I wasn’t just there to crash your party; I was there looking for information on your family. I ended up in Yoongi’s room and stole a journal.
“At first I thought it was just going to be dirt and secrets on him,” he continued. “Something useful we can use against him or your father. But when we started going through it…”
“What did you find?” I coaxed him to resume, hoping he wouldn’t retreat.
“There was so much on us, Y/N. Shit that he shouldn’t know unless somebody’s been feeding it to him.”
I kept my hand on his face to help keep him calm and grounded, but I couldn’t help my own chest from tightening as I listened. I could hear in his voice how long this had been gnawing at him, how deeply it had gotten under his skin. Not knowing who around you you can trust can wear on you.
“And now I can’t stop thinking that someone on our side is selling us out.”
My fingers lightly brushed his cheek. “Do you have any idea who it could be?”
Jungkook let out a tired breath and shook his head. “Not even one. I don’t even know where the hell to start.”
I watched his eyes flick across the ceiling as if he were running through the names and faces in his head. I could feel his frustration as he hit dead end after dead end. At the same time, I could feel the helplessness emanating from him, knowing something dangerous was coming and that he was stuck one step behind it all.
“I’m also stressed about your family,” he said after a beat of silence. “About how Namjoon is looking for you,”
“But…we knew that was going to happen, right?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Jungkook sighed. “But apparently, Mayor Hoseok gave the green light for the police department to do whatever it takes to search for you. Yoongi never plays by the rules, but now he doesn’t have to pretend to. The mayor gave him free rein and access to more resources; there’s no reason to be careful anymore.”
“What do you mean he doesn’t play by the rules?”
Jungkook scoffed under his breath, but there was no humor in it. It almost felt like he didn’t believe me for a second, like I must’ve known what he was referring to. But I’m sure I didn’t have to waste my breath defending myself; he was smart enough to remember how sheltered I was before meeting him.
“Yoongi’s been leading a bunch of illegal raids all over the South End. Kicking in doors and tearing through establishments looking for anyone who might be Montague gang members.” His mouth twisted. “...My father got caught in one of them and was attacked.”
My stomach dropped. “Jungkook…that’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. “
The bite in his voice caught me off guard, and Jungkook noticed right away. He turned toward me, the irritation in his expression faltering when he saw I’d been stunned. He didn’t apologize. Instead, gently grabbed my hand from where it rested on his cheek and kissed my palm.
I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my mouth from the tenderness he still showed me through the discomfort of opening up to me.
“He was a piece of shit father. Karma just took a while to catch up with him.” Jungkook paused, as if he realized how much he hated himself for how easily that had come out. “He’s in bad shape. Serious enough that everyone’s acting as if he might die.”
I didn’t need him to say it; I could hear his answer before I even asked. It was there in the bitterness of his voice, the way his face hardened when he talked about his father. There was no conflict in him, no grief, no guilt—just resentment.
And having to bring that man up was like reopening a wound that never healed right in the first place.
“...You don’t want to see him, do you?” I asked softly.
Jungkook’s laugh was quiet and snarky. “No.” He ran his hand through his hair as he thought for a moment before continuing. “But my mother and cousin keep pressuring me to go. They want me to help him get the care he needs. They want me to be there in case this is it, but I just…”
His voice snagged, and he shut his eyes for a second. “I just can’t bring myself to do it.”
I brushed my thumb over his cheek again, and when he opened his eyes again, they looked shinier.
“I miss my grandfather,” Jungkook said, so quietly it almost sounded like he was ashamed to admit it. “When shit gets hard like this, I miss him the most. He would’ve known what to do. Or at least he would’ve made me feel like there was a way through it.”
A humorless little breath left him. “Everybody always looks at me like I’m supposed to have the next answer, the next move. And most of the time, I feel like I’m just drowning and trying my damn hardest to not bring anyone down with me.”
My heart aches as I listen to the rawness in his voice. I move closer, continuing to caress his cheek to comfort him, so he knows I am still here for him and that I am listening.
“I just wish…” he stopped and swallowed, his lashes lowering. “I wish I could be with you without all of this hanging over us.”
His words cracked something inside me. Because even now, with everything else clawing at him, he was still worried about us. Thinking about the version of what we could really have if our worlds were kinder.
Jungkook scoffed, glancing around the motel room with obvious disgust. “I wish I could take you somewhere better than this. Somewhere that wasn’t just the first place I could hide you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do,” he cut in, his voice sounding despairing. “Because you deserve so much better than this, Y/N. Better than anything I can ever give you.”
The sadness in his voice nearly undid me.
Jungkook laughed again, this time sounding more wrecked. He shut his eyes and shook his head, like he was losing the fight to keep it together. “I wish loving you didn’t feel like one more thing that I’ll lose.”
With those words, I felt my whole chest cave in.
Jungkook looked so tired. Not just exhausted from the stress, but worn down by the pain that had been eating at him for a long time. Somewhere along the way, he’d convinced himself that loving me and losing me were always going to come hand in hand.
Before I could even think about it, both of my hands were on his face, forcing him to look at me. “You’re not gonna lose me. I won’t let you.”
We both chuckled, and the expression on his face began to change slightly. He suddenly looked warmer, less reserved and evasive. Not because everything was suddenly fixed, but because letting me in had taken some of the weight off his chest. I think some part of him was relieved that I was still here with him, even after unloading his baggage.
“I love you, Angel.”
My body stilled. Jungkook had said it before, and I remember I couldn’t say it back. Not because I hadn’t felt it, but because I was scared of admitting it so soon. I’d felt it growing inside me for a while, and now it was too significant to ignore.
With the way Jungkook was looking at me now—worn down and baring his heart, trusting me not to break it—there was no way I couldn’t do the same.
“I…” My voice caught, throat tightened. “I love you, Jungkook.”
He stared back at me with glossy eyes, and a tear fell onto my wrist as he slowly blinked. He smiled softly, a quiet, almost disbelieving smile, as if hearing me say it back mattered to him so much more than anything.
“I love you,” I wiped the tear streak with my thumb and smiled back. “You’ve saved me in more ways than you’ve realized. I would rather die than go back to life before you.”
I leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose, and a quiet laugh escaped him. When I pulled back, I watched as his gaze dropped slowly, lingering on my lips with a charged silence. Like two magnets, our faces pulled together close until our lips were connected.
His kiss was soft and tender, as if he were savoring the words between us. I kissed him back just as gently, letting myself melt into the sweetness and warmth that was him. His hand slid to my waist, fingers tightening just slightly to draw my body in closer. I quickly do the same, fingers snaking to the back of his neck and into his hair.
Jungkook pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze soft, but the intensity behind it begging for more. A small smile tugged at my mouth as I closed my eyes and leaned into him once more. My lips press to his again for another tender kiss as my answer. His body relaxed slightly, knowing he didn’t have to be afraid of needing me.
He breaks the kiss again, his lips hovering over mine for a moment as our foreheads pressed together. I opened my eyes and was met with his still shut tightly, breathing me in deeply, like he was restraining himself from taking more. The weight of his fingers gently traced the curve of my waist.
“Hearing you say that,” Jungkook mutters with an almost pained smile, “makes me want to kiss you all over…make you mine.”
My hand slides from his neck to his jaw, and I gently place it on his chin. I tilted his head slightly to the side, dragging my nose teasingly against his cheek. I bring my lips to his ear and let out a low, amused hum in response.
“I’m already yours,” I whispered.
Jungkook groaned, pressing into me until my back was flat against the mattress and he was above me. His lips quickly found their way back to mine, a little hungrier than before. A moan slipped out as his tongue slid into my mouth, my hands trailing up his waist, thumbs brushing his abs.
He pressed unhurried kisses along my jawline, his breath warming my skin. His lips moved to my neck, and I shivered as they brushed the sensitive spot just below my ear. A breathy moan escaped me as he sucked on that particular spot, my hands flying to the back of his head to pull him even closer.
I can feel a mischievous grin against my skin as Jungkook’s hand slides up my side until he reaches the edge of the blanket, tugging it down slowly. His fingers found the hem of my shirt and fidgeted with the fabric for a moment.
“Can I…?” Jungkook whispers against my skin.
I nodded, biting my lip in anticipation. “Please.”
I lifted off the bed slightly to help him pull my shirt off, his eyes falling onto my breasts spilling free. His lips quickly latched onto my neck again, this time pressing open-mouthed kisses in a trail that led straight to them.
He cupped one breast in his palm, thumb circling the bud before lowering his mouth. His tongue flicked out as he teased the nipple, and my body jerked at the sensation. I found myself accidentally grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling his face from my chest.
The sight of his devilish grin as he stared back at me, eyes full of lust, tongue still out like a dog in heat, sent a pooling heat between my legs. I loosened my grip and kept eye contact as he swirled his tongue around my nipple.
My ragged breaths turned into sharp gasps as Jungkook took the bud between his lips. I throw my head back, silently cursing him out. He alternated between suckling gently and lightly tugging with his teeth. I arched into his touch, his other hand beginning to fondle my other breast.
The sensations build slowly, his hot mouth insistent on drawing out every soft moan. He kneaded my soft flesh, rolling my nipple between his fingers. All I could manage was tangling my hands in his hair and pulling.
Jungkook hummed in approval; the vibration sends sparks straight through me. I clenched my thighs together, whimpering softly, silently begging for more. Jungkook’s lips let go of my breast, but before I could whine and complain, he flattened his tongue and flicked it over the peak.
Once.
And then again.
He held eye contact, the desire behind it driving me delirious.
Flick.
Flick.
Flick.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Jungkook,” I cried out. “Stop teasing me already.”
Jungkook chuckled. “Tell me what you want, Angel,” he said, swiping his tongue over my sensitive nipple once more.
“I want—”
Flick.
I gasped.
“What do you want?”
“You,” I spat out feverishly. “I want you.”
He trailed kisses down toward the underside of my breast, then across my ribs, ghosting over my stomach. I feel his hands slide along my sides and catch the edge of the blanket, pulling it off of me and exposing the rest of my body. It was then that he noticed I was just in a pair of black lacey panties.
The ones I’d put on just for him before we fled the apartment.
“You hid under the blanket like this?” Jungkook smirked, eyes darkening with hunger. “Naughty girl.”
His thumbs traced the line of my hipbone and then hooked onto the waistband of my panties, not yet pulling them down. His mouth followed the path his fingers had taken, kissing the skin just at the edge of the fabric as he positioned his body between my thighs.
My legs parted instinctively, exposing my damp panties to Jungkook and the cool air. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to the inside of one of my thighs, then gave the same amount of attention to the other. Just before his lips left my skin, he nipped teasingly.
I flinched, my hips lifting off the bed, not realizing I was positioning my pussy closer to his face. He didn’t waste a second diving in, his mouth hot against the damp cloth. My fingers immediately clench the sheet, knuckles white as a drawn-out moan fills the room.
Jungkook’s tongue dragged along my slit, slow and deliberate. It was like he was savoring the taste of me before he’d properly started. His hands slid under my thighs, lifting me just enough to press his mouth more firmly against me. The wet heat of his breath seeped through the fabric, the lace clinging to me as his tongue worked in teasing strokes against my clit.
Growing extremely impatient and restless, I start to peel the panties down. Jungkook lifted his head so I could catch sight of his grin as he took over and slid them the rest of the way off. The cool air hit my exposed pussy, and I instinctively started to close my legs. Jungkook was quick to stop me, spreading them back open and leaning in close.
He didn’t dive back in right away, his breath teasing my folds, already slick with anticipation. The first proper lick of his tongue against my bare pussy made my back arch off the bed. His tongue parted my folds gently, one long, teasing stroke along the entire slit.
Jungkook dipped back down for another slow drag of his tongue, flattening it against my clit before swirling in frustratingly lazy circles. A guttural whine ripped from me, my hips rocking to meet his face in a desperate plea.
“That’s it,” he groaned against my wetness. “I wanna hear you moan for me.”
His tongue began to move in tighter, more relentless circles now against my clit. I rocked my hips into his face with zero shame, my hands shooting up to tangle in his hair to keep him planted there. His grip on my thighs tightened, fingers digging into me as he devoured me.
Licking me. Sucking me.
His tongue fucked into me in shallow, teasing strokes before pulling back to focus on my clit again.
“You taste so fucking good,” Jungkook rasped, his voice rough with tremendous need.
His words sent a wave of heat through me, my thighs quivering around his head. His tongue worked faster, lips sealing around my clit as he sucked hard. I gasp at the sudden ache, and he was quick to soothe it with a wet kiss.
“Jungkook—ah!...I-I think I’m—”
I couldn’t speak properly, my voice breaking and the words dissolving with every fast flick over my clit. My fingers claw into Jungkook’s scalp, hips thrusting up to meet his mouth. I was trembling, the exquisite pleasure building inside me, and I felt so good.
So close.
Then I started to feel his finger tracing my entrance, quickly becoming slick with my arousal. Jungkook slowed his pace down, and I whined in complaint as his mouth left my clit. But soon after, he pressed the tip of his finger inside me.
Jungkook watched my face carefully, looking for any sign of discomfort. I whimpered, the first knuckle already stretching me in a way that felt so good. He let me adjust to his finger before pumping it excruciatingly slow. His finger curled slightly, stroking the inner walls of my pussy, and I gasp at the spark it ignites.
“Shhh,” he soothed. “It’s okay. You’re doing so good, Angel.”
His mouth found its way back to my clit, his tongue flicking the bud before sucking it between his lips. The dual sensation had my vision start to blur at the edges. I could feel how slick I was as he slid in and out of me so easily, his finger crooked just right to hit that one sweet spot that had my toes curling.
Then he added a second digit, my breath hitching as he stretched me wider. I clench around him, my muscles resisting at first before melting into the burning intrusion. My hips jerked against his hand as I moaned loudly, begging to be brought to the edge.
His thumb replaced his mouth on my clit, rubbing in steady circles as he crawled up my body. His lips crashed into mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth and letting me taste myself on him. The flavor was intoxicating; the salty-sweet musk only fuels the fire inside me.
I moaned into the kiss, my hands roaming down his chest as our tongues tangled. My fingers fumbled at the waistband of his sweatpants, overwhelming desire turning me clumsy. Jungkook groans into my mouth, breaking the kiss to trail his lips to my neck.
“You drive me crazy,” he breathed against my pulse point, then kissed the sensitive skin.
I tugged his sweatpants down, freeing his cock. It sprang out, pre-cum already glistening on the tip. I wrapped my fingers around his shaft, stroking from base to tip, thumb swiping over the slick head. Even with a slow and clumsy hand, I can feel him throbbing in my palm.
Jungkook hissed in pleasure, his mouth leaving my skin. He pressed his forehead into the crook of my neck as his hips twitched and pushed into my grip. I bit my lip, loving the way he tensed under my touch.
“Fuuuuck,” Jungkook growled.
His voice sent a thrill through me as his mouth returned to my neck. His fingers started to move faster and more uncoordinated inside me, and I thrust into his hand instinctively, pleasure coiling tighter. My body clenched around him, the room filled with loud, needy moans that would’ve made me feel embarrassed if I weren’t in complete euphoria.
Jungkook’s teeth graze my skin as he lets out a low growl, his tongue immediately soothing the mark. My strokes grew bolder, and my grip tightened on his cock. He rocks into my fist, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
I could feel his cock start to twitch in my palm as he moved with each stroke. His mouth sucked harder, the twinges of pain sending jolts of electricity through me. I let out pleading cries, moans that begged for a release.
But then, suddenly, he pulled out his fingers and gently stilled my hand. Jungkook wrapped his fingers around my wrist and urged me to let him go.
“Wait,” he whispers, voice thick with self-restraint. “I need…Can I please fuck you, Y/N?”
My heart pounded, a rush of nerves and excitement flooding me. I was already aching for him, my body set ablaze just from his touches and kisses. He looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered. I nodded without hesitation, wanting him more than I’d ever wanted anything.
“Yes,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper because of the butterflies.
A smile broke across his face, and he kissed me deeply, pouring his gratitude into it. Then he pulled back and slid out of bed. I watched as he tugged his sweatpants down and kicked them aside. His body is all lean muscle when I finally got to admire him fully nude for the first time, cheeks flushing as if I wasn’t also bare in front of him.
Jungkook turned to the nightstand and reached for his wallet, which he’d tossed there earlier. He pulled a foil packet from it and started to tear it open with his teeth. I bit down on my lip as he rolled the condom down his shaft and then climbed back onto the bed.
His eyes burned into mine, dark and wild like a man on the verge of losing control. He settled between my legs, his hand caressing my thigh, the return of his touch warming me instantly. He leaned down, capturing my lips in a slow, sensual kiss, his tongue tracing mine as he positioned himself at my entrance.
“Are you sure you want this?” he murmured against my mouth.
“Yes…I want you, Jungkook.”
Without wasting another second, the head of his cock nudged my incredibly slick folds. The moment Jungkook pushed inside me, my entire world narrowed to just the stretch of him. He pressed forward carefully, inch by inch, filling me as my back began to arch off the bed.
My nails dug into his shoulders, his name tearing from my lips in a breathless gasp. A sharp, burning ache flared through my core, my thighs trembling around his waist. He paused immediately, only halfway buried in my virgin pussy, his forehead resting against mine.
“Easy, Angel…just breathe,” he cooed.
I take a couple of deep breaths as instructed before letting him give me the rest of him. His cock was fully seated inside me now, the sting making my eyes water. But beneath the discomfort, there was this deep fullness that was overwhelming and intoxicating.
His hips rolled experimentally in a careful, shallow thrust, my breath immediately hitching.
“Are you okay, Y/N?” Jungkook whispered, voice edged with concern but dripping in desire.
I nodded, exhaling shakily. “Yes…j-just go slow, please.”
He smiled softly, brushing a kiss to my lips. “Of course.”
With that, he pulled back slowly, the drag of his thick length sending sparks to every nerve ending. He pulled out almost entirely before easing forward again, finding a gentle rhythm as he continued. My moans started to feel involuntary as pleasure bloomed low in my belly, each thrust building delicious friction.
My legs wrapped around his waist. I cried out louder as I drew him closer, the sound raw and needy. He captured my mouth and swallowed my moans with hungry kisses, his own moans vibrating into me as he tried to hide them. My cunt clenched around him instinctively, causing Jungkook to pull back and let out a strangled groan.
“God, Angel, you feel incredible,” he praised, head lolling back and his eyes squeezing shut.
“Jungkook—” His name spilled from my lips, my voice breaking on a moan.
He shifted his body slightly, the new angle had his cock hitting that sweetspot that made my vision go white for a second. My legs tightened around his waist and pushed him deeper, his cock buried inside me to the hilt, his balls pressed against my ass.
“Right there?” he asked with a sinful chuckle.
Jungkook adjusted his hips to target that spot again, driving into me a bit harder. The steady in-and-out of his cock, filling and claiming me, drove me wild. Tears pricked my eyes from the overwhelming emotions, from the way he makes me feel whole and complete, even as he broke me open.
Our bodies moved in sync as the room filled with obscene sounds: the wet squelch of his cock plunging into my soaked cunt, our mingled moans, the creak of the bed. His fingers dug into my ass as he tilted my pelvis up, the head of his dick nudging my cervix with amazing pressure.
“Such a good girl…taking me so well…”
Both of our moans spilled out in tandem, the room filling with the wet sounds of our joining skin. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air, making my mind go hazy as I approached my own release.
Jungkook slipped a hand between our bodies, fingers finding my clit and rubbing in tight circles. The peak grew incredibly near with each relentless stroke. I knew I wouldn’t be able to last much longer. As the familiar ache coiled low in my stomach, I tried to remember to relax my muscles and just allow myself to reach climax.
“Jungkook, don’t stop,” I gasped, nails raking his shoulders. “I’m…I’m gonna cum.”
“Yeah?” he purred, his voice sounding like he was holding back a wicked smile. “You gonna cum?”
I nodded violently in response, the delicious pressure becoming too much for me to handle.
“Cum for me,” Jungkook demanded lustfully. “Let me feel you.”
The orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, a loud cry ripping from my throat. My body convulsed as surges of ecstasy ran rapidly through me. Juices gushed out as my pussy pulsed wildly around his cock, soaking his balls and the sheets.
His lips returned to mine as he kissed me through it, groaning into my mouth as my cunt milked him desperately through powerful spasms. He continued to thrust into me, drawing out my release until I was quivering.
Jungkook slowed to a near stop, cock still buried deep as he watched me come down. He was still hard and pulsing inside my heat, my sensitive walls fluttering around his length. As the aftershocks faded, he peppered soft kisses along my jaw.
“You came so hard, my beautiful Angel,” he murmurs against my skin. “How do you feel? Are you alright?”
“I feel amazing,” I pant, a lazy smile curving my lips as I squeeze around him deliberately. “I want to keep going.”
His eyes darkened, and a hungry grin flashed across his face. “Good.”
Jungkook sat up and, with effortless strength, lifted me with him. I gasped as his cock slid even deeper into my pussy while he maneuvered us. I ended up pulled into his lap, my legs wrapping around his waist. We’re even closer now than before, our chests pressed together. His arms encircled me, holding me steady while I adjusted to this new angle.
“’Cause I can’t get enough of you,” he said, voice velvety, before dipping his head to the base of my neck.
His lips latched on, sucking gently, drawing a breathy moan from me. Without thinking, I rocked against him, the angle making his cock drag against that sensitive spot inside of me. An intense moan escaped me at the return of that amazing pleasure, hands flying to his shoulders for balance.
Jungkook captured my mouth in a sloppy kiss, swallowing every one of my needy cries. In the rush of passion, I bit down on his lower lip and drew out a growl, his fingers digging into my skin at the sudden pain.
“Fuck…you’re incredible.”
“Oh, God!” I moan, throwing my head back as I arched against his chest. “Can you please make me feel like this forever?”
“Anything for you,” Jungkook vowed.
His lips quickly found my bouncing breasts. He caught a nipple between his teeth, tugging gently before soothing it with his tongue. My nails accidentally scratched him while moving desperately on his cock. A groan escaped him, muffled against my flesh as he sucks harder.
Pleasure rebuilds swiftly, my second climax simmering just beneath the surface. My thoughts whirled as I became an inconsolable mess: his possessive hold on me, his cock claiming me, the way my body craved him. Every thrust deepened our connection.
“You’re close again, aren’t you?” Jungkook asked, lifting his head to meet my gaze.
I whimpered in response, the coil in my core tightens unbearably. My body grew tired and weak, and I embarrassingly begged Jungkook to take over. He readjusted just slightly so he could thrust up into me, grinding against that sweetspot repeatedly.
“Cum with me, Angel,” he rasped, his voice strained as he approached his own release. “Let me feel you cum all over my cock again.”
His command pushed me over the edge. My second orgasm erupted out of me like a storm. The walls of my pussy clenched around his thick shaft in rhythmic pulses, and the sounds of my wailing and the wet slaps of our bodies filled the room.
My vision blurred, stars bursting behind my eyelids as I arched into him, my breasts and nipples rubbing deliciously against his chest. His hands gripped my ass tightly as he pulled me down onto him harder. The emotional floodgates opened, as did the physical ones; tears of pure bliss slipped down my cheeks.
Jungkook followed instantly, a choked moan breaking free as he lost the last thread of his restraint. His hips bucked one final time as my climax dragged him with me. My sensitive pussy could feel the hot spurts against the thin latex of the condom. Our bodies shuddered together as he emptied himself, each twitch of his release syncing with my aftershocks.
We rode it out together, my legs trembling around his waist as every last drop of pleasure was drawn out. He held me tight in his arms, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other stroked my back in soothing circles. Our moans dissolved into shared gasps and ragged breaths.
He pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to my lips before gently lowering us back down onto the bed. His forehead rested against mine for a moment, eyes filled with awe as he brushed away a tear with his thumb.
『summary』 a drunken hookup between three college freshmen turns into a no-strings-attached arrangement that works right up until it doesn’t. things start to get messy when taehyung begins to fall in love, jungkook refuses to say what he’s feeling, and jimin is still having far too much fun to notice it’s all about to fall apart.
『trigger warnings』 slight homophobia {i'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so i can fix it.}
『note』 kind of a short chapter, but i didn’t want to include a page break for the next scene and then have to cut it short when it got good. thank you for reading, and let me know what you think!~
『word count』 2.8k
『masterlist』 『taglist』
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Something in the air shifted after his mother stepped out. The room felt lighter without her looming over it.
He stayed where he was for a moment, listening to the low murmur of voices outside. Nothing made him feel more like a child than being left in his room while his parents stepped outside for a secret discussion.
But if Jimin noticed the awkwardness of being left alone while people he had just met whispered about him, he didn’t show it. He sat in the closet, refolding pajama bottoms and neatly putting them away in the dresser. Taehyung decided to ignore his parents and join him, dragging over a suitcase so they could unpack together.
“Did you bring hangers with you?” Jimin asked.
“Yeah,” Taehyung murmured. “I think they’re still in the car, though.”
Jimin glanced up at him and flashed a grin. “Perfect. We need to make sure you hang up all your good shirts.”
“My…good shirts?”
He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. As far as Taehyung knew, all of his shirts were nice shirts. He owned plain T-shirts, a few tank tops, some sweaters, and maybe two white button-downs in case he needed to dress up for presentations. But all of his shirts still looked almost-new with no holes or stains.
Jimin’s grin only widened. “Yeah, like nice shirts. The kind you’ll wear to look good at parties.”
“Oh,” Taehyung chuckled nervously, feeling dumb for not picking up what Jimin was saying the first time. “I don’t plan on going to parties.”
His answer didn’t seem to discourage the blonde from persuading him in the slightest.
“You won’t even come with me to some?” he asked, sounding more wounded than serious. “I promise I won’t drag you out every single time, but partying with my roommate is definitely on my college bucket list.”
Taehyung hesitated, not sure what to make of that. Parties were not really his thing. Or at least, he couldn’t imagine them ever being his thing. They sounded exhausting; full of strangers and loud noise, with too many chances to say the wrong thing and make a fool of yourself.
But being included in Jimin’s plans so casually did something strange to him. The blonde spoke as if there was always going to be a place for Taehyung beside him. The idea of being wanted by someone was hard to turn down, especially when the alternative was being alone.
Even if parties didn’t sound like they would be his thing, and trying to socialize felt like torture, loneliness was a whole lot worse.
“Fine,” he said at last. “But I don’t have any nice shirts.”
Jimin’s face lit up, clapping and celebrating to himself. “That’s alright, I’ll dress you myself.”
“Huh?” Taehyung’s cheeks start to flush.
“Mmhmm,” Jimin hummed, like there was nothing strange about what he said. “Like a little doll.”
“H-hey!”
The blonde couldn’t help but laugh at his shy new roommate. He leaned over, trying to pinch Taehyung’s cheek, only to get his hand slapped away. Laughing even harder, Jimin stood up and stepped over the now-empty suitcase.
Taehyung could still feel the heat in his face, refusing to settle. From where he sat on the closet floor, his gaze followed Jimin as he crossed the room. Catching himself staring for a bit too long, he looked away fast, suddenly very interested in the pajama shirt in his lap that needed folding.
He wasn’t sure why he felt so embarrassed, only that there was a knot in his stomach now.
Jimin settled onto the edge of the bed and reached for the duffel bag. “Did you forget anything?” he asked without glancing up.
“I don’t think so.”
“How about food?”
“...Yeah, I guess.” Taehyung hesitated. Of course he needed groceries; food wouldn’t have survived the twelve-hour road trip here.
“That’s what I thought,” Jimin said smugly, tossing the bag over by Taehyung’s feet. “I have an errand to run anyway, so I’ll take you after your parents leave.”
“Okay.”
“Good.” Jimin closed up the second suitcase that was still sitting on the bed, half-full. He wheeled it into the closet and took back his spot next to Taehyung. “Because we’ll probably be too busy the rest of the week to find the time to go.”
Taehyung frowned, looking up from the duffel bag. “Busy how?”
“Well, orientation’s tomorrow, remember?” Jimin asked, then continued. “Then the school’s doing, like, two full days of icebreaker activities or whatever you want to call them.”
How had he almost forgotten? It was freshman week, full of fun events and informative assemblies leading up to the first official day of the semester. The idea was to reduce students’ anxiety and introduce them to campus culture.
But events like the club fair, the ice cream social, and the food truck festival were designed to foster community and encourage socializing. Taehyung knew he would be pulled out of his comfort zone.
“I think I’m just going to the tours and workshops,” the brown-haired teen admitted, noticing the blonde crane his head from the corner of his eye.
“Seriously!” Jimin sounded shocked, but Taehyung couldn’t understand why; he thought he’d made it clear already.
Taehyung let out a small breath. “I’ve already told you. I’m not good with people.”
Silence settled between them as they continued to fold and organize the clothes. Taehyung half-expected Jimin to laugh it off or brush past it the way he had before. Instead, he just stayed quiet, looking as if he were lost in thought, which made Taehyung feel more vulnerable and exposed.
This was exactly why he did not do well with others—too quiet at the wrong times, too awkward the rest of the time, always feeling a half step behind everyone else socially. He could never explain it.
“But,” Jimin finally broke the tension, “you’re good with me now, right?”
Taehyung looked up, stunned.
Jimin’s expression had softened, the teasing still there but muted. He looked more sincere, like he wasn’t trying to win an argument. Like he wanted to comfort him and coax out a genuine yes.
“I mean…” Taehyung started to answer, then stopped himself.
Because he was, wasn’t he?”
Or at the very least, he seemed to be doing better with Jimin than he usually did with someone new. Probably better than he should’ve been, honestly. The two of them were opposites. Jimin was loud and bold; Taehyung was quiet and careful. Jimin was an affectionate ball of sunshine, impossible to ignore.
By all logic, he should’ve been overwhelming. But instead, Taehyung found himself answering him, smiling at the things he said. He didn’t feel as strange or awkward when he was around Jimin.
“See?” Jimin smirked.
Taehyung looked back down at the shirt in his lap, embarrassed, smoothing the fabric between his fingers. “So what? I’m not gonna get along with everyone.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Jimin chuckled. “You don’t have to charm a whole crowd, Taehyung. I want you to come with me.”
“And then what?”
“Then…you’ll stay with me the whole time.” The blonde smiled as if it were obvious. “I promise I’ll be by your side the whole time. Unless you tell me to fuck off.”
That last part made Taehyung huff a laugh despite himself.
“And,” Jimin continued, lifting his right hand and resting his left over his heart, “I’ll even compromise with you.”
“Compromise?”
“Yeah,” The blonde teen leaned forward slightly. “I’ll go to all the boring school stuff with you, too. Even the painfully mind-numbing ones.”
Taehyung couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his mouth. “You make it sound so awful.”
“Because for me, it probably will be,” he replied. “But for you, I’m willing to suffer.”
Taehyung rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t ignore the warmth that bloomed in his chest. The idea still made him nervous, but Jimin sounded so sure, so unbothered by the thought of sticking beside him over the next few days, that saying no felt harder than it should have.
“…Okay,” he said finally.
Jimin grinned. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Before Taehyung could even think of a response, Jimin leaned in close and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
The kiss was light and fleeting, more celebratory than anything else. Just a peck; it was over almost as soon as it happened. A kiss that didn’t mean anything at all.
So why couldn’t Taehyung move?
Jimin was already on his feet, laughing under his breath as he picked up a stack of jeans to put on the shelf. “Good boy,” he said, like he hadn’t just knocked the thoughts clean out of Taehyung’s head. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”
Good…boy?
His body grew hot, a blush slowly spread across the side of his face where his roommate’s mouth had been, followed by a tight, confused twist low in his abdomen. It was nothing. Just Jimin being Jimin; too friendly, too teasing, too comfortable with someone he barely knew.
And Taehyung knew this. He did. But he wasn’t used to it, and the strange, flustered feeling that came over him afterward was more difficult to ignore than he wanted it to be.
Then his father’s voice came from the hall.
“Taehyung?”
The spell broke all at once, and he straightened up. “Yeah?”
“Come out here a minute.”
He quickly made his way out of the bedroom and back down the hall towards his parents’ whispering voices. The kitchen was sleek, with new stainless steel appliances and marble counters, similar to the bathroom vanity. White leather stools were tucked under a wide island, and his parents were waiting just beside it.
Taehyung stopped a few feet away from them. “What is it?”
Neither of them answered right away. His mom had her hands clasped tightly in front of her, exchanging a look with his dad. He stood beside her with his arms crossed, his mouth set in a flat line. Their expressions told Taehyung everything he needed to know.
This conversation was not gonna go well.
His mother spoke first. “Honey, we’re just a little worried.”
“About what?”
Again, that look passed between them.
“We’re just not sure about…this.”
“About him,” his father corrected.
Taehyung’s chest tightened. “Jimin? What about him?”
“He’s gay,” his father didn’t bother softening his tone.
For a moment, Taehyung just stared blankly back at his father.
It wasn’t exactly surprising. Jimin hadn’t said it outright, but it wasn’t like he was trying to hide it either. Still, memories of Jimin’s touch and enthusiastic kindness circled his mind like puzzle pieces sliding into place. And that meaningless kiss? Jimin’s sexuality shouldn’t change what it was, so why did Taehyung suddenly feel…odd?
His mother looked at him more closely. “Did you not notice?”
Taehyung blinked, pulling back into himself. “I mean… he didn’t say anything.” He shifted his weight, suddenly too aware of the bedroom down the hall and Jimin just out of sight.
Jimin was very expressive, touchy, and confident in himself in a way that, gay or not, would’ve rubbed Taehyung’s family the wrong way no matter what. Hearing his father speak so disapprovingly and seeing his mother troubled made Taehyung feel even more uncomfortable.
The teen gathered his courage to stand up for his new roommate. “But it shouldn’t really matter, right? Jimin is a good person.” The words came out quieter than he intended, but he pushed them out regardless.
His father frowned. “You barely even know him.”
Taehyung looked down, his fingers curling against his palm. His parents were not the kind of people who went around spewing hatred. They were polite, churchgoing people who would try to call themselves tolerant.
But Taehyung knew tolerance had limits. And he also knew their fears weren’t just about Jimin. It was about everything unpredictable and beyond the boundaries of their own views. About the world pulling Taehyung in directions they did not understand and in ways they had never prepared for.
His mother stepped in before the silence grew worse. “It’s not that he’s gay, really,” she said gently, trying to smooth things over. “He just doesn’t seem like the kind of roommate we pictured for you.”
“What does that mean?”
She hesitated. “You two are very different. Jimin comes from a completely different background than you do. He seems very social, very…” She searched for the word.
“Confident?” Taehyung asked, irritation creeping in.
His father let out a short breath. “A degenerate sounds more like it.”
Taehyung’s head snapped up. “How could you say that? You only met him twenty minutes ago.”
“And in those twenty minutes, I found a dildo in the bathroom,” he said loudly, earning him a slap to the arm by his wife. “Trust me, you’re not safe around that pervert.”
Mortified, Taehyung dropped his gaze. He didn’t know what embarrassed him more: the fact that his dad said “dildo” so loudly, or that he was picturing it before he realized he was doing it.
His mother’s voice softened again, trying to gather the conversation back into something less humiliating. “Honey, we’re just worried you won’t be comfortable here.”
Taehyung could feel something inside him start to fray. He was tired. Tired from the drive, from the move, from this uncomfortable conversation. Tired of trying to take the soft approach in convincing his parents that what they were saying was just wrong.
“Then what would make you comfortable?” he challenged quietly.
Neither of them answered.
Taehyung looked between them. “Because it’s starting to feel like the only thing that would really make you happy is if I went back home.”
His mother blinked. “Tae—”
“No, I’m serious.” His voice was still soft, but it had started to shake. “You’ve been passive-aggressive leading up to today, and now you’re just blaming it on Jimin and the apartment.”
His father furrowed his brows. “That’s not—”
“I know you didn’t want me going to school here in the first place,” he continued, words tumbling out. “You didn’t want me living in California. You never wanted me this far from home. You won’t…” He stopped himself before he said something he might regret, swallowing hard. “You’ve been uncomfortable with my choices from the start.”
He had heard and understood everything. Every careful question on the drive, every long pause, every little attempt to make him second-guess the move without actually asking him to. Like his parents had been hoping, all the way up until today, that he might still change his mind and choose another school. One that was closer. Something that fit the life they were comfortable with.
But this was his dream school.
He didn’t want to feel like he had to apologize for wanting something bigger, for wanting to navigate his own way through young adulthood without his mother hovering over him or his father’s stubbornness dictating his life.
And while he understood that his parents knew him best, knew the kind of person he was, knew his comforts and needs, Taehyung wanted them to give him the chance to figure those things out for himself. He wanted to leave home without them making him feel guilty for wanting to grow beyond it. He wanted to step outside of all that and learn who he was on his own.
“I just want you two to trust me,” he said, quieter now. “And support me.”
Guilt flickered across his mother’s face. “We do love and support you.”
Taehyung nodded faintly, but her response didn’t comfort him at all. Their love had never really been in question. It was everything else that was hurting him. The doubt, the micromanaging, the way they kept trying to steer him back toward whatever version of himself felt normal and safest to them.
He knew they meant well. But sometimes it felt like they loved him best when he stayed inside the lines they had drawn for him.
“Then please let me do this,” he said, barely above a murmur. “Let me go to school here, and let me live with Jimin.”
The silence dragged as Taehyung waited for one of them to speak. He wanted them to reassure him that they had actually heard and understood his feelings. He wanted them to apologize and let this go.
But neither of them did.
His mother looked sad, and his father remained stubborn. Taehyung felt foolish for thinking this conversation would ever go the way he wanted.
The defensive heat in his chest cooled into resignation. That old instinct rose. To stop pushing before he pushed too hard. To be good. To make things easier for others.
He dropped his gaze and started fidgeting with his fingers. “Look,” he said, softer now, “if I’m uncomfortable here, or I’m just not happy, then I’ll come home.”
His mother let out a slow breath, and some of the tension in her shoulders finally eased.
“I just really want to go to school here and…” He glanced toward the bedroom and then back at them. “I trust Jimin, and I want to live here and give him a chance.”
That seemed to land, or at least settle over them in a way his earlier words hadn’t.
His mother reached for his arm, squeezing gently. “We’re just worried about you, honey.”
“I know,” Taehyung said.
And he did. That was what made it so hard to speak his mind.
『summary』 when kim y/n, the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her induction to the family legacy, she’s only looking for a distraction from her rapidly increasing anxiety. instead, she finds jeon jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war. their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden. but in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. as tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start? a re-interpretation of romeo and juliet.
『trigger warnings』 none for this chapter {i'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so i can fix it.}
『note』 i've removed the gifs from all previous chapters just to make things look cleaner and aesthetically pleasing. hope you enjoy this update~
『word count』 3.2k
『masterlist』 『taglist』
Jungkook
I shouldn’t have brought her here.
I had been agonizing over this decision the whole drive, and the reality of it only got worse once I pushed through the side door and stepped inside the warehouse. This part of the city wasn’t safe for Y/N on a good day, never mind when we were being hunted. There are too many eyes, too many people who could no longer be trusted. If anyone recognized the girl sitting in my passenger seat, we’d have another problem to deal with.
Cutting through the main floor, I booked it straight to my office. A couple of guys glanced my way, but I didn’t stop to talk to any of them. One look at my face would make it clear that it was best not to slow me down. I didn’t need questions or chitchat right now; I needed five minutes to grab what I came here for and get the hell out.
I shoved open my office door and stepped inside, the floor groaning beneath my feet. The space looked just as I’d left it earlier, which should’ve been reassuring. It meant I knew exactly where the files I needed were and that I could quickly make it back to Y/N before anyone even sensed her.
But it wasn’t exactly that easy, however.
Moving quickly, I yanked open the top drawer of my desk and found that Yoongi’s journal and notes were gone. I frantically checked the other drawers, hoping I had just misplaced them in my exhaustion, but they were nowhere to be found. I rifled through the messy stacks of payroll sheets and invoices, irritation rising hotter with each passing second.
“Come on,” I muttered.
I checked every spot on the desk again. Then a third time, because I’d apparently lost my fucking mind. I moved over to the filing cabinets, thinking that maybe Taehyung had touched them and was too stupid to remember where the fuck he found them. I was on my hands and knees, crawling around on the floor and checking under the furniture.
A hard, ugly pulse beat in my temple as I dug into my pocket and pulled out my phone.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
I quickly dialed Taehyung’s number and set the phone on speaker, tossing it onto the desk as I kept searching. Fortunately, he answered on the second ring.
“Jungkook, is everything okay?” he asked, voice worried.
I didn’t have time for niceties. “Did you take the damn files from my desk?”
There was a moment of silence before Taehyung replied. “What files?”
“Yoongi’s journal? The notes Jimin made? Don’t play with me right now.”
“I-I’m not,” he said, sounding genuinely confused. “I haven’t been to the warehouse today. I was taking care of the last-minute relocations, remember?”
I stared at the mess I had made in desperation, jaw locked so tight it ached. “Then where the fuck are they?” I muttered.
“How the hell would I know? Don’t get mad at me,” Taehyung shot back.
I swore under my breath. I didn’t have time for this. I didn’t come here to interrogate every one of my men to find out where the files have ended up. We needed to get the hell out of here before this place started feeling like a trap. If there really was a mole in the Montagues, this warehouse was the last place I wanted to linger.
I needed Yoongi’s journal. I needed Jimin’s notes. I needed somewhere private to go through all of it by myself, somewhere I could go through every name, every pattern, every detail to catch whoever was selling us out.
And every extra second spent here was another possibility for me and Y/N to get caught.
“Did you ask Jimin?” Taehyung asked, cutting into my silent panic.
I froze.
Of course. My assistant would probably know what happened to the files.
“No,” I said, the word coming out a little sheepishly.
“Well, maybe start there next time before biting my head off.”
I exhaled hard through my nose and dragged a hand over my mouth. “Fine,” I said, approaching the desk and reaching for my phone. “I’ll give him a call.”
“Wait, hold on a sec,” Taehyung rushed out, trying to catch me before I hung up.
“Hmm.”
“I’m going to meet you at the warehouse. Just wait for me, yeah?”
Every muscle in my body went rigid. No. Absolutely not. If Taehyung pulled into the lot and happened to glance inside my car, everything would detonate in my face. Y/N didn’t belong here. Not in my car. Not anywhere near me. I didn’t want to have to face the many questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
“I can’t,” I said too quickly.
Taehyung went quiet; his shuffling on the other end stopped. I started to pace across the office, my free hand rubbing the back of my neck. Come on, think.
“I’m in a rush, actually,” I added, forcing my voice to sound flatter and casual. “Nowhere is safe anymore. Not with that mole problem. I only came by to grab the files.”
“Okay…?”
Taehyung knew me too well. He knew exactly what I sounded like when I was pissed off, when I was tired, and even when I was hiding something. But for some reason, he didn’t call me out on it immediately.
“I’ll call you later,” I said, rushing off the phone before he had the chance to ask what was actually wrong.
I ended the call before he could say anything else. A long sigh left me as the office went dead silent around me. I didn’t let myself dwell on how badly that call ended. Instead, I went straight to pulling up Jimin’s contact. Placing the ringing phone up to my ear, I continued to pace the office.
The phone rang and rang, but Jimin never picked up. I tried again and waited, growing more impatient by the second. Still no answer. By the third call and going straight to voicemail again, I had to hold myself back from throwing my phone across the room.
By the fourth and fifth calls, I was already toward the office door.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
Jimin was usually the first person to answer my calls, so his silence didn’t sit right with me. I stopped dialing and just bolted for the exit. If he wasn’t going to answer, I’d just go to his house and find him. I needed to know where those damn files went, and I also needed to make sure he was all right.
I practically slammed into the door and was immediately hit by the blistering cold air. I didn’t have time to wince in pain and kept going. My eyes landed on my car, and my stomach dropped faster than ever before. Jimin was standing by the passenger door, speaking to Y/N through a slightly cracked window.
No.
No, no, no.
I was moving before the thought had even finished forming. My feet hit the pavement hard as I crossed the lot, the cold air slicing into my lungs. Jimin looked up at the sound of me rushing over, his face shifting from mild surprise to instant alarm.
“Jungkook—”
“Get the hell away from her!” I shouted.
My hand closed around his arm just above the elbow, and I yanked him back from the car harder than I meant to, dragging him two steps with me before I stopped. He sucked in a sharp breath and twisted to look at me, his whole body gone rigid.
“I-I thought you left for the day, a-and was confused when I saw your car parked out here.” Jimin stammered. “T-then…I looked in and saw her…Y/N—”
Jimin knowing her identity sent me into a deeper panic. Just a minute ago, I had feared that something had happened to him. That he’d gotten hurt. Now, I wanted to be the one to hurt him for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. My grip tightened on his arm, and I brought my fist up to punch him.
“Jungkook, stop.” Y/N’s voice from the open window held me back. “We were just talking.”
Only because she told me to, I let Jimin go. He looked visibly shaken and scared, eyes wide as he rubbed his arm. Still, he forced himself to speak.
“Jungkook, do you understand how bad this is?” he said, voice thin and hurried. “She’s missing. People are looking for her. If anyone sees her with you—”
He paused, swallowing hard before finishing.
“She is Kim Namjoon’s daughter—your enemy’s daughter. If they see you dragging her around, people aren’t going to assume it’s innocent. They’re going to say you took her. They’re going to call it kidnapping.”
The lot went still around us as Jimin’s chest rose and fell too fast, his panicked face pale under the dying security lights. He wasn’t trying to argue with me about Y/N; he wasn’t even trying to accuse me of something nefarious. He was just scared.
I looked past him and saw that Y/N was still leaning against the cracked window, apprehension and worry etched across her face. Jimin’s warning had started to make her feel guilty, regretful even. Like she still thought everything that was going wrong was her fault.
My jaw tightened.
It wasn’t. Not ever.
“Just stay out of my business. Okay, Park?”
“B-but boss—”
“Where are the files?” I cut in, realizing what mattered most in this moment if Y/N and I wanted to get moving.
He blinked. “W-what?”
“The files,” I snapped impatiently. “The journal and notes from my desk.”
Jimin let out a small, startled “oh” before swinging his backpack off his shoulder and hurrying to unzip it. He crouched and started digging through it clumsily. I watched him pull out some of his belongings as he searched his messy bag: loose crumpled papers, a charger, and a couple of worn notebooks.
“I took them to keep working on the names like we talked about,” he explained as he finally pulled the journal and notes free. “I thought if I had a little more time, I could maybe find something useful on the victims.”
He stood up and held them out for me to see. I took the files from him immediately and tucked them under my arm.
“I’m sorry. I know I should’ve asked first, but I’ve been waiting for you to tell me when to start digging. I thought I could do some investigating before you even noticed they were gone.”
“Don’t worry about the names right now.”
Jimin’s eyebrows pulled together, clearly taken aback. “Why?”
“I need this stuff right now,” I said. “There are bigger problems than finding blackmail.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
I couldn’t answer him. Even as his eyes stayed on me, uncertain and searching, waiting for something more than the scraps I was giving him. Taehyung and I had already agreed that this matter would stay between us. No one, not even Jimin, was to get involved. It was the only way to protect the other members of the Montagues.
I exhaled through my nose and tried to get a grip on myself before I made this worse than it already was. “Don’t worry about it. Just know that I’m taking care of everything, okay?”
“But Jungkook—”
“I’m serious. I need you to step back from this ‘blackmail’ thing until I say otherwise.”
Jimin hesitated, clearly unhappy. “So what am I supposed to do now?”
“I’ll give you something else to do once I can,” I told him, and sidestepped him to start making my way back to Y/N in the car. I only took a few steps before I remembered something else.
“Oh, and by the way,” I turned back around. “I don’t want you telling anyone you saw Y/N at all. Got it?”
He went very still before slowly nodding. “O-okay.”
“Not a word about her,” I reiterated. “Not to anyone. Not even Taehyung. Because when he finds out, I want it to come from me.”
✦✦✦
The motel bathroom was barely bigger than a closet. The warm white light was too dim, making the room look ugly and tired. Water stains had dried on the mirror above the sink, and the faucet handles needed a little extra elbow grease just to stop the water from running.
Beyond the door and through the thin walls, bursts of static crackled from the TV every time Y/N changed the channel, until she finally just turned it off. She was probably too anxious as she waited for me to exit the bathroom. She’d been silent the entire drive here, so I’m sure she’s had a lot to think about.
I braced one hand against the counter, staring at my reflection in the mirror as droplets of water slid down my face. I looked like a wreck, with shadows under my eyes and my hair a wild mess from constantly running my hands through it.
“Jesus,” I muttered.
I took off my tank top, used it to dry my face, then stepped out of the bathroom and tossed it into the corner. The motel room had a stale scent to it, and the dusty air didn’t help. The heater humming under the window sounded like it might give out any second.
Y/N was lying on the bed, already under the covers, staring blankly at the ceiling. I crossed the room to the small table by the wall. My fingers brushed over Yoongi’s journal and the accompanying notes as I debated whether to work on this now or start in the morning.
“So,” Y/N started quietly, “I’m not the only one you’re keeping in the dark.”
Her words caught me off guard. I turned to look at her, noticing she hadn’t even flinched from her spot. For a moment, I wondered if I had even heard her correctly, or maybe I imagined it entirely.
“What?”
Y/N lulled her head to the side so she could meet my eyes. “You didn’t want to tell Jimin what was going on either.”
I just stared at her for a beat before letting out a sigh. I walked over to the bed and sat on the mattress, kicking my shoes. Then I swung my legs up and lay down beside her on top of the sheets.
“Jimin didn’t need to know,” I said.
She was quiet long enough that I thought she’d let it go. Instead, she rolled onto her side and propped herself on her elbow so she could see me better.
“Maybe not,” Y/N said softly. “But that’s not the point of what I’m trying to say.”
I turned my head to look at her as she spoke, our faces just inches apart. The motel lamp washed her in a golden glow, her eyes softened as she searched my face for a clue to what I was thinking.
In that moment, everything else slipped away, and all that was left was her. Her hand came up and rested on my cheek, and she smiled at me with open adoration.
“What is weighing on you so heavily that you think you need to do it alone?” she whispered, her thumb brushing gently against my skin.
The question hit me harder than expected. She wasn’t entirely wrong; both Taehyung and I were trying to figure this out together, but my cousin wasn’t the type of person I could lean on when I felt overwhelmed.
I’d been carrying it all alone for so long—not just the Montague Mole, but everything going on in my life. The unethical searches for Y/N. The bar attack. My strained family relationships. The desire for normalcy that grows with each passing day. And here Y/N was continuously worrying about me, while I kept everything locked inside because I didn’t know what else to do.
“I get why you might not want to tell me,” Y/N continued, “but why won’t you even tell your own assistant what’s going on?”
I frowned slightly. “How do you know he’s my assistant?”
Y/N chuckled as a memory flashed in her mind. “Jimin told me…after I pointed a gun at him.”
I let out a dry, disbelieving laugh that slipped out before I could stop it. I shook my head once and rubbed a hand over my chin, imagining for myself what she would’ve looked like aiming a pistol at a man like a badass.
“Did you really do that?” I asked.
“Yeah…I felt really bad. He’s a nice guy.”
“Hey!” I whined, pretending to be jealous.
Y/N rolled her eyes and lightly tapped my cheek, giggling.
The sound of her laugh loosened something in my chest, and for a second, I remembered how easy it was to breathe when I’m around her.
Y/N drew in a small breath. “I know you said you don’t want to drag me into it to protect me, and I understand that. I do.” Her finger traced along my jaw as she chose her words carefully. “But watching you walk around looking exhausted, holding everything together by yourself, and refusing to let anyone in…that doesn’t make me feel protected.”
I didn’t move.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, then she continued. “I feel helpless, actually. You take care of me so well, but how am I supposed to return the favor? I can never do even a fraction of what you do for me because you won’t be honest with me.”
My chest ached with a bruised kind of hurt. I hated that I’d made Y/N feel that way. Hated that in trying to shield her from all the rot in my life, I’d only handed her a different kind of pain. I’ve tried opening up to her once before, just barely scratching the surface, and I’ve avoided ever bringing it up again.
“I’m not only asking because I’m curious, Jungkook,” her voice dropped lower, like she was trying not to get emotional. “I’m asking because if I matter to you the way you say I do, then I don’t want you to hide every ugly truth from me.”
My gaze slipped from hers up to the stained ceiling. I swallowed, suddenly too aware of how close she was, how earnest she sounded, how badly I wanted to give in and tell her everything just to prove I love and trust her.
“You say you’re protecting me, but I don’t fully believe that,” she whispered. “I think you’re really just protecting yourself from having to say any of it out loud.”
A quiet, humorless breath left me. She saw right through me; I couldn’t hide behind excuses anymore. Why did you have to fall in love with a woman as smart and caring as Kim Y/N?
After a moment, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
I stayed on my back, still not able to look at her, searching the ceiling for the answers she wanted. But the truth was, it wasn’t that simple. Y/N rubbed her knuckles along my jaw in an attempt to soothe and reassure me.
I leaned into her touch without even realizing it, too tired to keep pretending I didn’t need it.
『summary』 a drunken hookup between three college freshmen turns into a no-strings-attached arrangement that works right up until it doesn’t. things start to get messy when taehyung begins to fall in love, jungkook refuses to say what he’s feeling, and jimin is still having far too much fun to notice it’s all about to fall apart.
『trigger warnings』 implied homophobia {i'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so i can fix it.}
『note』 it will take a few chapters until we get to the spicy stuff, but when we do i'll make it my mission not to disappoint. one thing i’m worried about regarding reader reception is the fact that this fic takes place in america and not korea. even though my other fic on this account takes place in new york, the american setting is made a bigger deal in this story. because i do plan on turning this fic into a full fledged novel later down the line, it was easier to outline this fic already taking place in america and inspired by a real university. while setting is not really that big a deal in a fan fiction in my opinion, i know some readers might not be happy with this decision as maybe it goes against their canons they’re comfortable with. i'm just super excited to write this series and i hope you'll enjoy reading it too. let me know your thoughts as always!~
『word count』 3.5k
『masterlist』 『taglist』
══════════════════
Exhaustion clung to Taehyung in a way that made everything look strangely unreal, three states’ worth of highway later. His shoulders were incredibly stiff, and his eyes were dry by the time they pulled up next to the apartment complex. With his bones feeling like they had been replaced with dust, he stepped out of the car to take in his new home for the time being.
The sun in California seemed brighter than it did in Utah, reflecting off every one of the large apartment windows. The glare washed the building in a pale, expensive sheen that made Taehyung hesitate to take another step. Luxury cars lined the sidewalk, putting the old family car to shame.
This apartment building didn’t look like typical student housing. Taehyung didn’t know what he expected, but it surely wasn’t this. It looked like a really nice hotel. Probably the nicest-looking hotel he might find back home. A place only meant for rich businessmen who wore overpriced suits and had a collection of expensive watches.
“Are you sure this is the address?” His mom stood beside him and shut the passenger door, squinting up at the building.
Taehyung looked down at the email pulled up on his phone for what had to be the fifth time in the last hour. At this point, he knew the address and unit number by heart.
“Yes, I’m sure,” he assured her, brushing his brown hair from his sweaty forehead.
His dad gave a low hum before popping the trunk open. Taehyung knew his parents well enough to understand all the things they weren’t saying. It’s nice, suspiciously nice. How did you come across this rental, again? He had already explained it before. The apartment had popped up on an online student housing forum when he was desperately searching for something affordable.
The listing seemed almost too good to be true, but after a string of expensive and cramped options, it stood out. Taehyung slipped his phone into his pants pocket and made his way toward the back of the car, because if he kept standing in awe and didn’t move his belongings fast enough, his parents might force him to come back home.
Taehyung grabbed the handle of one of his suitcases while his father lifted a box labeled “BATHROOM” in his mother’s neat block handwriting. Another box sat beside it, filled with desk supplies and other miscellaneous items his mom had packed for him despite his insisting he didn’t need them.
“I thought you said this place was affordable.” His mother approached him from behind, grabbing the box before he could try to carry it himself.
“It is,” Taehyung said weakly, grabbing another suitcase and a large duffel from the trunk.
She gave him a look.
The ad stated it was extremely affordable compared to California’s average rent. When Taehyung first discovered the listing and showed it to his parents, they were already talking themselves into circles over tuition, meal plans, and textbooks. How could it have been possible that living off-campus with only one roommate was still more affordable than a dorm? He had stopped understanding the math; he was just relieved when they’d finally said yes.
His dad closed the trunk with a careful thud. “Then let’s get your stuff inside before the landlord changes his mind.”
“Let’s go before I change my mind,” his mom joked.
Taehyung said nothing. The fact that both of them kept saying versions of that all morning meant they were, in fact, not joking.
It hit him then that this was it.
Not the drive. Not the acceptance letter pinned to the refrigerator back home. Not the weeks of shopping for extra sheets and laundry detergent and the perfect reading pillow his mom swore he’d thank her for later. It was this moment right here: standing in front of the apartment with his life divided into suitcases and boxes, while his parents tried not to look too emotional and guilt him back into the car.
He should’ve felt excited. Maybe a normal eighteen-year-old would have. A fresh start in California, attending the university of his dreams after working so hard in school to be awarded several scholarships. All so his parents could comfortably send him away without breaking the bank, without affecting the livelihoods of the rest of his family.
All Taehyung could think about now was how far away his family and Utah suddenly were.
His mom touched his arm gently. “Are you okay?”
Taehyung nodded too quickly. “Yeah.”
She looked at him for a second longer, like she knew that his answer was mostly habit, then smiled in that careful way parents do when they see right through their children.
They made their way toward the main entrance of the complex, where a man greeted them and held the door open. Stepping into the lobby only made things worse for Taehyung, as he knew his parents had only grown more suspicious. The floors were polished, noticeably so, and the brown-haired teen instinctively glanced down at his sneakers, which had accumulated dust and dirt from rest stops and gas stations.
There was the unmistakable smell of citrusy furniture polish, the air conditioner wafting the scent throughout the entryway. There was a sitting area to the side with ornate wooden chairs that seemed more decorative than practical. A wall of small silver mailboxes lined the far wall, and next to it was a small desk intended for another employee of the building. This apartment building didn’t look any less luxurious.
His father let out another one of his skeptical hums.
His mother lowered her voice, though there was no one around to overhear. “Are you sure there wasn’t some sort of mistake?”
Taehyung wanted to laugh, mostly because that would have been easier than admitting their suspicions were valid.
Pushing past his parents, he led them towards the elevator and pressed the floor number. The ride up was cramped with luggage and heavy silence. Taehyung stood wedged in one corner, both hands curled around the handles of his suitcases and a heavy duffle weighing on his shoulder. His mother shifted on her feet anxiously, while his father stared at the glowing ascending numbers and tried hard not to comment on the absurdity again.
When the elevator doors finally slid open, Taehyung stepped out first with a heavy exhale. He ignored the awkwardness and eagerly walked down the hallway, checking each unit number until he found the one that was his.
Here.
He stopped in front of a tall, dark wooden door with numbers “407” in silver, noting that even the front door to his new place was perfect. Taehyung put down one of his suitcases and reached for the knob before remembering he didn’t have a key yet. Right, duh. That would require meeting the roommate. The stranger whose profile picture for his email was just them in sunglasses, smoking a joint with a red solo cup in his hand.
“Should we knock?” His mom asked.
“Let me message him and see if he’s even home.”
Taehyung was about to fish in his pocket for the phone, but the door opened before he could. He barely had the chance to register the sudden movement and a voice saying, “Oh my God, finally,” with such easy warmth. But he only needed a moment for the rest of him to catch up.
Park Jimin looked nothing like the kind of roommate Taehyung would have imagined for himself.
He was pretty. There was no better word to describe him, and Taehyung’s brain latched onto it before he could stop himself. Pretty in a way that was delicate and almost feminine, his cheeks soft and round with a sharp, narrow jawline. He had ash blonde hair that was longer than a typical boy’s haircut, carefully styled to shape his face. Excitement shone in his brown almond eyes, his smile bright and warm.
“You made it,” Jimin said, almost bouncing where he stood before visibly reining himself in. “Hi, I’m Jimin.”
Taehyung adjusted the strap on his duffel bag, desperate to get inside and put it down. “Hello,” he shyly greeted his enthusiastic roommate.
He stuck his hand out for a handshake, only for Jimin to bypass it completely and pull him into a quick, friendly hug. It happened so fast that Taehyung didn’t have time to brace for it, much less return it properly. Jimin stepped back but kept a hand on the other’s shoulder.
“Kim Taehyung, right? It is so great to see you in person finally,” the blonde said, brushing his thumb in slow circles as he spoke. “I’ve been dying to meet you.”
Taehyung let out an awkward little chuckle. He wasn’t used to being greeted with so much affection from a stranger. But there was something unexpectedly nice about how effortless Jimin made it look, how little shame or self-consciousness seemed to live anywhere in him. It was like he had never learned to shrink any part of himself to appease others. Taehyung didn’t really understand why this pleased him, only that it did.
Even his outfit seemed to reflect that same easy certainty. He wore pressed khakis, bright white house slippers, and a cream sweater vest over a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. It was preppy in a polished, expensive way, like he had stepped out of a catalog for rich college kids and somehow made it look effortless. Taehyung was suddenly aware of how underdressed and road-worn he looked standing next to him.
Jimin stepped back and invited everyone in, reaching for the suitcase Taehyung had placed on the ground before he could be stopped.
Taehyung had only received pictures of what the bedroom looked like; Jimin hadn’t shown him the rest of the place. He walked into a wide, open living space with tall windows and tan hardwood floors. The place was already fully furnished with lightly used, if not new, furniture.
A sleek white couch sat across from a large flat-screen mounted on a cream-colored wall, just above a stone mantel with an electric fireplace. The living room was decorated as if they had walked straight into a realtor’s showing; it was too perfect and aesthetically pleasing for Taehyung’s parents to believe someone was actually living here.
“Sorry if it’s a little messy,” Jimin apologized, though it was almost comical, given how awestruck his new arrivals were. “I haven’t had the chance to clean. I had a couple of friends stay over last night.”
Taheyung looked around the apartment again, thoroughly confused by the apology. The place looked immaculate to him. If this was Jimin’s idea of messy, he suddenly understood that they had very different standards of cleanliness.
He noticed his mother’s expression, her smile friendly, but Taehyung knew that look just from her slightly narrowed eyes. It was the one she used when she was trying very hard to be polite to someone she’d already decided she didn’t like. He just hoped she wouldn’t say anything that made Jimin uncomfortable.
“So,” she said, glancing around the apartment before settling her attention back on Jimin, “does that happen often?”
Jimin tilted his head in confusion. “Hm?”
“Friends staying over,” she clarified. “Is there usually a lot of people coming and going?”
Taehyung felt his stomach drop.
“Mom,” he said quietly, wincing with embarrassment. “Please stop.”
“What? I’m just asking a question.” She looked at him with feigned innocence. “I want to make sure you’ll be able to focus on your studies.”
Taehyung knew it came from a good place. His mother loved hard and worried harder. But sometimes it felt like she didn’t know how to care about her children without hovering.
And to Taehyung’s surprise, Jimin started to laugh. He had the kind of smile that reached his eyes. They crinkled and turned upward, forming crescent moons and making it look like his eyes were fully closed. He must’ve been able to read Taehyung’s mom perfectly, finding the situation more endearing than uncomfortable.
“Not at all, Mrs. Kim,” he said readily. “I do tend to make a lot of friends, but don’t worry. It’s not like I’m trying to run a frat house and host parties every night.”
From behind both Taehyung and his mom, his dad gave a short, amused grunt, but anyone who knew him could tell it was meant to hide his scoff. Taehyung chose not to look at him, not wanting to see the distrust on his face. And unfortunately, he was right to feel that way. From what little he does know about the teen, Jimin loves to party.
“I’ll be fine, Mom,” he said, trying to smooth over this awkward silence. “I’ll just keep to myself when Jimin has friends over. I wouldn’t want to bother anyone, so I can just stay out of his way.”
Jimin looks over at Taehyung, his smile softening from its wider grin, registering what the other had said.
“No, don’t say that,” he said, like the statement genuinely bothered him. “I want my friends to be your friends too.”
Taehyung let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “No, it’s okay. I’m not really…” He trailed off, glancing away for a second before finishing more quietly, “I don’t always do great with people.”
His mother, of course, chose that exact moment to jump in.
“Our baby boy’s shy,” she said, her voice warm with affection, but Taehyung found it sickly sweet.
Heat crept up the back of his neck. “Mom!”
Jimin laughed again, never once sounding teasing. “Oh, please. You’ll be fine,” he said, waving their concerns off like they didn’t mean much. “A good-looking guy like you will fit right in.”
Taehyung’s whole body seemed to go warm all at once. He ducked his head, suddenly interested in adjusting the strap of his duffel bag as he tried to hide his shy smile. Jimin had said it so casually, it was as if affection and compliments were as natural to him as breathing. He admired the teen’s confidence and charm, but being on the receiving end made him feel awkward in a way he could not quite explain.
“Come on,” Jimin chirped as he reached for the brunette’s free hand and wrapped his fingers around his wrist gently. “Let me show you to your new room.”
Besides the sudden physical contact, Taehyung was ready to move. He readjusted his grip on the handle of his luggage and allowed himself to be dragged through the apartment. His parents made sure to stay close behind the boys.
“The bathroom’s right here,” the blonde said, pushing open a door off the hallway.
Taehyung only caught a quick glimpse as he passed by, taking in the bright lighting and the marble double vanity. His dad stopped following them and peered inside, his mouth flattening into a slight frown. Taehyung knew that look too: a mix of annoyance and jealousy.
“This one is my room,” Jimin tapped on a large dark wooden door, then took a couple of steps across the hall and pushed open another door. “And this one’s yours.”
Taehyung stepped inside, and any remaining tension inside him eased. He felt relieved and a little excited that the room Jimin promised was actually real. The room was bigger than the one he’d had back home, still simple and bare, waiting for someone to make it theirs.
A full-size bed sat in the middle of the room with the headboard against the back wall. An empty desk and chair were already set up by the large window, with a view of the city streets below. On the opposite side of the room was a walk-in closet without a door. Though it wasn’t too large, he knew he would never be able to fill it.
“Well?” Jimin asked, lingering in the doorway with one hand braced against the frame.
“No, it’s great,” Taehyung said, managing a small smile. “It’s definitely better than a dorm.”
His mother walked toward the desk and carefully set the box she was carrying down. She scanned the room with the same measuring look she’d had since arriving. Jimin pushed off the doorframe and came further inside. He helped Taehyung put all of his bags onto the bed.
“I hope you like the mattress and furniture,” he said, taking a seat on the bed and bouncing playfully. “I didn’t spend too much time shopping around because I wanted to make sure you had them before moving in.”
“You bought this for my son?” Taehyung’s mother questioned incredulously, eyeing the teenager. “Taehyung said it just came with the apartment?”
That’s because that’s what Jimin told him. He originally said he had an apartment with a room available, already prepped for student housing. The blonde insisted Taehyung didn’t need to worry about it, and the brown-haired teen didn’t think to ask more questions.
Jimin spun to face her, his smile beaming. “Technically, yes. A bed and a desk are essential, so I didn’t mind buying them for Taehyung. I didn’t want him to worry about moving large furniture just to live with me. I’m also willing to replace them if he doesn’t like them; it’s not a big deal.”
That earned a small hum of fake approval from Taehyung’s mother as she turned her attention back to the box. Taehyung let out a breath. He understood his parents’ doubts and worries, but he wished his parents trusted him more.
Taehyung himself was a giant ball of anxiety; why would he agree to any of this if he hadn’t done his own research on Jimin and the listing’s legitimacy? He’d checked whatever publicly available records he could find about the apartment and saw that the unit was owned by someone who shared Jimin’s last name. He even stalked Jimin’s social media to confirm he was, in fact, a real college freshman and not a creep.
Jimin began helping Taehyung open his duffel and asked permission to unpack it. The teen nods timidly, fighting a grin from spreading across his face. Taehyung’s mom started opening the box she brought in, pulling out desk organizers and picture frames.
“So,” she said, attempting to sound careful and nonchalant again, “how exactly does an apartment like this have rent so cheap? I mean, Taehyung said it was very reasonable for this area.”
Taehyung briefly closed his eyes for half a second to conceal his eye roll.
“Mom.”
But Jimin didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he looked amused, like he’d been expecting it.
“That’s because my dad owns the unit,” he said. “I told Taehyung too, but he has a few properties here in SoCal.”
Taehyung’s mother paused with one of her son’s sketchbooks halfway out of the box. “He owns it?”
“Mhm.” Jimin casually walked over to the closet and opened a dresser drawer, dropping an armful of socks inside. “He offered to let me stay here while I’m in school, and all I asked for was a roommate.”
The blonde looked up and grinned at Taehyung, causing the eighteen-year-old to turn away and avoid eye contact. He leaned over his luggage, separating his clothes and trying so hard to act normal. Not only was Jimin acting incredibly friendly and comfortable with him, but he was handling his clothes as if they’d known each other longer than ten minutes.
“And the rent?” his mother continued to question.
Jimin shrugged. “He doesn’t really care what I charge for the extra room, as long as I’m learning ‘financial responsibility’ or whatever. I don’t really care about making money; I have enough of it.” He chuckled, not noticing that Taehyung’s mom wasn’t amused.
“I could’ve lived alone, but that sounded kind of depressing. What’s the point of living alone in a place this big? Plus, if I’m going to go to college, I want the full experience. Having a roommate was important to me, and I’m glad it’s Taehyung.”
“Why is that?”
“He seems sweet, quiet, trustworthy…” Jimin answered his new roommate’s mother, gaze falling onto a crimson Taehyung. “...and he’s easy on the eyes, so I’d say this living arrangement works out for both of us.”
Taehyung’s mother laughed uncomfortably. Even though Jimin was just teasing and being nice, Taehyung thought his mom was taking him too seriously. Because of where they come from, he hoped his mom wouldn’t say anything to offend the blonde.
A second later, and impeccably timed, Taehyung’s dad appeared in the doorway. He knocked on the wooden frame to get their attention. He looked between the three of them, then settled his eyes on his wife.
“Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“About what?” she asked warily.
“Just…can you come with me? I need help getting the rest of our son’s things from the car.”
She hesitated, clearly not thrilled by the idea of leaving her baby alone in the room just yet. Taehyung could see it in the way her fingers lingered on the lip of the cardboard box.
“I’ll be right back, sweetie,” she told him, like he was a child who needed reassurance.
“Take your time,” Jimin said with a pleasant, innocent voice.
『summary』 when kim y/n, the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her induction to the family legacy, she’s only looking for a distraction from her rapidly increasing anxiety. instead, she finds jeon jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war. their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden. but in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. as tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start? a re-interpretation of romeo and juliet.
『trigger warnings』 none for this chapter {i'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so i can fix it.}
『note』 depression sucks :( hope this chapter doesn't also suck. i'll try to get better i promise, but let me know what you think.
『word count』 4.5k
『masterlist』 『taglist』
Y/N
There was a quiet hum under my skin, a soft buzzing that wouldn’t go away no matter how many slow, deep breaths I took. The faint sting of overstimulation made my legs feel weak in the best way. Leaning over the sink with my palms braced on the counter, I tried to get my heartbeat to slow.
I looked straight at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were still flushed and warm, and my mouth kept doing this annoying thing where it tried to smile for no reason. I looked like an idiot, staring at my dazed self, wondering when I’d become the girl who let herself get this wrecked over a man she hadn’t even known for that long.
I felt like I was floating, stuck somewhere between Jungkook’s lips on my skin and the way he’d looked at me like I was the only thing he wanted. I could still feel the shape of his member as it slid effortlessly between my slit as I pulled down my now extremely soiled shorts.
Tossing them in the hamper, I hoped we’d get the chance to do laundry soon. I really liked those pajama bottoms.
My hand shook a little as I reached for a towel, the aftershocks still running through me. Wetting a corner of the cloth, I dabbed at my inner thighs, cleaning off the rest of the mess. Glancing back up at my reflection, I realized how much I didn’t care about how ridiculous I looked right now.
Because while under this spell, nothing matters to me except how good it feels to be wanted by someone. Someone like Jungkook.
I straightened up and threw the towel into the hamper as well. Reaching for the pair of lacey panties I’d grabbed just before entering the bathroom, I slipped them on quickly and backed away from the mirror. I stood on my tiptoes and turned slightly, checking out the way my butt looked before I decided to parade around the apartment in them.
Taking a couple of calming breaths, I tried to pull myself together and walk out of this bathroom slightly more composed than when I walked in.
I expected Jungkook to be on the couch when I stepped out. Or even on the bed, waiting so we could cuddle the rest of the night to sleep.
Instead, it was like I had walked into a different apartment.
Jungkook was moving around the room fast, like he was being chased. He yanked open drawers with so much force they rattled on their tracks, pulling things out with sharp, impatient movements. His jacket was on, half-zipped, like his thoughts were racing too fast for him to even finish putting it on.
He didn’t even notice me at first.
“Jungkook?” I questioned, my voice soft, my brain still trying to catch up.
He stopped short, as if my voice snapped him out of his haste for a moment. His head turned quickly, eyes locking onto my concerned face. I watched his gaze drop down my body and catch on the lace at my hips and between my legs.
Something dark and hungry flickered across Jungkook’s face, the same wanting and desire I’d been drowning in a few minutes ago. But it vanished just as quickly, gone the second his eyes snapped back up to mine.
Whatever he was feeling got shoved somewhere deep and out of reach.
“Get dressed,” Jungkook said bluntly.
I blinked. “What?”
“Get dressed,” he repeated, the muscles in his face tightening like he didn’t have the patience to soften up, even for me. “Put on your shoes and grab your stuff.”
My throat tightened, and my heartbeat stuttered. The warmth on my skin suddenly felt out of place, like I’d stepped out of a dream and into a nightmare. I just stared at him, frozen. My brain couldn’t bridge the gap between the Jungkook who had been moaning in my ear, begging for me to cum, and the Jungkook standing here now, wound tight and on the verge of snapping.
I felt like I was standing too close to a live wire. I wanted to believe that whatever was happening wasn’t because of me, but no matter what, I’d still be the one who got shocked and burned if I moved wrong.
“Jungkook, what’s going on?” I took a step toward him without thinking. The sight of him like this made my stomach lurch. “Did something—”
“We’re leaving,” he cut in, like it wasn’t up for discussion.
“Leaving?”
Jungkook didn’t clarify; he didn’t even pretend he had the time to. He just turned away like his orders were enough. He started grabbing whatever was important and within reach, moving across the room with fast, sharp steps like he was trying to stay ahead of something I couldn’t see.
For some reason, I still wasn’t moving, even when he instructed me to. I think part of me was waiting for him to calm down, to come back to me with an explanation and an apology.
But now Jungkook was all cold edges and urgency, too irritated to notice how hurt and confused I was. The silence between us felt worse than an argument. At least in an argument, he’d be engaging with me, making me feel like we were in the same room, even through the bickering.
“Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice cut through my thoughts. “I need you to move.”
My body jolted into action. I rushed towards the drawer to grab a clean pair of pants. Something hot flared in my chest; a mix of pain and anger with a dash of humiliation. I didn’t like being talked to like that, but I tried to ignore it. Whatever was happening was bigger than my bruised feelings. Now wasn’t the time to cry about it.
I sat on the edge of the bed as I slipped on the first pair of sweats I could find, tugging them up with shaky hands. My fingers fumbled as I tied the drawstrings while Jungkook kept moving like he was in a race. He tossed my sneakers at my feet and moved on without waiting to see if I put them on.
While I forced my hands to work, lacing up my shoes, Jungkook strode toward the closet. He opened the door so roughly that the hangers inside rattled. He reached in and pulled out a duffel bag, tossing it onto the bed beside me. I stood and followed him to the nearby dresser, the one he’d allowed me to store my clothes in.
He started grabbing my things and shoving them carelessly into the bag. I tried to help, but he was scooping up handfuls of my clothes faster than I could reach in. He didn’t even have any reaction to the few bra and panty sets that I was waiting to surprise him with.
“Jungkook,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady even as my stomach twisted. “Stop.”
He didn’t listen. He didn’t even look at me as he brushed past me.
“Jungkook,” I repeated, louder this time. “Can you please just tell me what’s going on? Don’t you think I’m owed that at the very least?”
He paused mid-step and exhaled hard before turning back to me. “There are police in the area.”
“Police? Why—”
“I don’t know,” he interrupted, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. “I finally answered the fucking phone and found out that my cousin’s been trying to reach me to warn me about it.”
My heart sinks as I remember the many calls I practically begged Jungkook not to answer. “A-are you serious?”
“Yeah,” he said, turning back around and hauling my duffle toward the door. “And now I’m not too sure how much time we have before they’re already outside.”
His words weren’t meant to sound cruel; they weren’t even aimed at me. But they hit me anyway.
I suddenly couldn’t stop seeing it—my hands grabbing his face earlier, pulling him closer, begging him to ignore the phone. I had selfishly kept him from something so important, delaying our escape. I was the reason he hadn’t answered when he should have. Any potential danger we face now is my fault.
And the worst part was the question I couldn’t shake: Did Jungkook blame me too?
“Put a hoodie on or something,” he ordered, his voice a little softer but still urgent. “And don’t forget your phone on the coffee table.”
I picked out one of his thick hoodies from the closet, slipped it on quickly, and rolled up the sleeves. On autopilot, I turned toward the living room and spotted the burner phone. I snatched it up and shoved it into my pocket before meeting Jungkook at the door.
He grabbed the last of his things from the entryway table: wallet, keys, power bank. He also picked up his handgun and, with practiced motion, released the magazine and checked his ammo. Then, with quick clicks, he reassembled the gun, cocked the slide, and slipped the loaded firearm into his jacket pocket.
Jungkook paused and turned to look at me, giving me a once-over before nodding in approval. “Okay.” He slung my duffel bag over his shoulder, along with another and a backpack. “Stay close.”
I bent down and grabbed the last bag, guilty that he was trying to carry everything himself. When I straightened, Jungkook had already opened the door and was scanning the street. When he decided the coast was clear, he reached his hand back for me, and I took it without hesitation.
He dragged me out the door. The street felt too quiet and normal; there were no flashing lights or sirens, but Jungkook’s shoulders were still tense as he led me straight to his car. He let go of me and popped the trunk open, taking the bag from me and tossing it in. I tried to help slide the other bags off his shoulders, but he brushed my hand off the strap.
“Get in the car, I got it.”
I fobeyed without fight, telling myself this wasn’t the real him. The real Jungkook wouldn’t talk to me like this.
Right?
I climbed into the passenger seat and buckled in, heart racing as I tried to shut the door with little force so we wouldn’t draw attention. My effort was pointless when Jungkook slammed the trunk shut, then rounded to the driver's side and got in just as fast and loudly.
Click. Click.
Jungkook locked the doors and started the engine. His gaze flicked to each mirror as he shifted into drive, checking our surroundings one last time before pulling away. It wasn’t until we were turning the corner at the end of the street that he remembered to put his seatbelt on.
I stared out through the windshield, trying to breathe like my chest wasn’t caving in. The phone call Jungkook almost didn’t answer in time kept coming back to me. For the past few nights, I’d wished that he would stop letting work swallow him whole. I wanted him to pay attention to me, to choose me.
And then he finally did. He entertained my advances and gave me some of his clearly precious time. He tried to give me a night with just the two of us. But the second he did, everything started to fall apart. It was like the world had been waiting for him to look away for one second.
While leaving the neighborhood, we passed several police cars with their lights on. Fortunately for us, the officers were busy searching yards with flashlights or speaking with residents. They didn’t seem to care about passing traffic, especially when Jungkook drove like the world had teeth.
His hands stayed locked on the wheel, knuckles pale as he kept checking the mirrors. I watched his jaw flex as he swallowed hard. Over the hum of the engine, I could hear him trying to control his breathing with slow inhales and measured exhales.
I tried to give him a minute to himself, letting the road stretch out in front of us, hoping the adrenaline would settle. But the silence in the car wasn’t calming; it felt too loud. It left too much room for my thoughts to run wild.
Desperate for answers, I started with what felt like the least dangerous question to ask.
“Do you know what the police are doing?” I kept my voice as quiet as I could, careful as if I was stepping onto thin ice.
Jungkook’s eyes stay locked onto the street ahead. “They’re searching for something…” he replied, “...or someone.”
My stomach dropped. “Okay…do you know who? Or what for?”
“No.”
“I-is it me?”
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. For a second, he didn’t answer me at all. It was like he was choosing between being honest with me and comforting me. I found myself fiddling with the phone in my hoodie, realizing this was probably what he meant earlier by “when things don’t go right.”
“I don’t know, Angel,” he said finally.
That somehow sounded worse than yes.
I swallowed, my throat dry. “So…where are we going now?”
Jungkook sighed heavily. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
The car fell silent again, with only the sound of the tires on the road and my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Streetlights strobed across our faces as we drove, each flash catching a different Jungkook. It felt like I’d blinked and lost the man I knew.
I hated it.
I stared out through the windshield, trying to let it go. Jungkook didn’t scare me; he never made me feel unsafe. But this version of him was cold and sharp, kind of like a knife. And knives tend to make me a bit uneasy.
But I knew he was just stressed; he was probably under so much pressure and doing his best to protect me. I told myself he was panicking, don’t hold it against him. Jungkook looked like he hadn’t taken a full breath since we left the apartment.
“Jungkook,” I said quietly, “are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he answered instantly, too quick to be genuine.
I glanced over at him. His eyes stayed glued to the road, shoulders still tense. The car jerked as he made a turn a little too fast, then corrected it immediately, breath hitching as he startled himself.
“Liar,” I murmured, trying to sound teasing instead of accusing. Jungkook gave me no reaction, and that should’ve been my cue to stop.
But I didn’t.
“Is there a reason you can’t just tell me what’s going on inside your head? Or are you just gonna keep me in the dark forever?”
His hands tightened on the wheel, his throat bobbing like he swallowed something bitter. I waited for a response, but I was met with a wall of silence.
“Maybe if you talked about it, you’d feel—”
“Jesus, Y/N,” he snapped, “I can’t even think straight right now. I can’t pay attention to the road when you’re asking me a million questions.”
His words hit hard enough to make my whole body go still.
I stared at him for half a second longer, my brain short-circuiting. I didn’t recognize the tone of his voice. I waited for him to soften and take a moment to realize he’d hurt me.
But he didn’t look over, didn’t even flinch.
“Okay,” I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I turned away because if I kept looking at him, I wouldn’t be able to hold back my tears. My throat burned, my cheeks hot with embarrassment. I closed my eyes, trying to force the sting back down.
I heard my dad’s voice in the way Jungkook said my name, even though I knew he didn’t mean it in the same cruel way. Still, every lesson I’d learned about taking up space at the wrong time, asking for the wrong thing, and being an inconvenience came rushing back.
I don’t know how many minutes passed. Time stretches when your heart is trying not to break. My hands twisted in my lap until my fingers went numb. I pressed my lips together so hard they ached. I was trapped between wanting to disappear and wanting to scream.
Of course Jungkook blamed me. How could he not?
I was the one who pulled his attention away from what mattered most. I was the one who begged him not to answer his cousin’s calls, who demanded he prioritize me. Maybe this wasn’t just him being stressed or panicking. Maybe he also couldn’t say out loud, “You almost put us in danger.”
My stomach twisted as insecurities crept in. Was I too forward? Did I act too eagerly? Shamelessly? Did he regret what happened?
Did he regret me?
“Y/N,” Jungkook finally spoke up.
I didn’t answer. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth or made a sound, I’d break.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”
I could hear how much he meant it, so much so that it hurt. But the apology didn’t erase the sting. My fingers curled tighter in my lap, and I stared harder at the road ahead as if the harsh glare of the streetlights could dry my eyes. The tears pooled anyway, my stubbornness the only thing keeping them from spilling.
“There’s just—” Jungkook stopped and exhaled through his nose like he was fighting for the words he didn’t have. He tried again. “There’s so much going on right now, a-and I feel like I’m suffocating. I’m begging for an end, but I don’t know what I need to do.”
A few more blocks passed, and the silence in the car only got heavier. Jungkook let out a long, exhausted sigh, one that didn’t belong to anger but to defeat. Like he’d reached the end of whatever pride was keeping him upright.
“Do you want me to take you home?” he asked quietly.
The question sliced through me, deeper than his earlier snap. I turned toward him so fast my neck ached. “What?”
Jungkook didn’t look at me. His eyes stayed fixed on the road. “Do you want to go back home?” he repeated, his voice straining under the weight of the words.
Everything in my chest collapsed.
The tears I’d fought finally broke free, hot and sudden. I swiped at my face, but it didn’t help. A sob escaped anyway, loud and humiliating in the small space of the car.
Jungkook’s hand left the wheel and grabbed my thigh with a firm and grounding grip as if he was trying to anchor me. “Y/N—”
“I’m sorry,” I choked out, the words tumbling over themselves. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” he asked, almost desperately.
“For everything. For tonight. For making you feel suffocated. For—” I sucked in a shaking breath. “For begging you not to answer your phone. I’m sorry for being selfish, distracting you when your cousin was trying to warn you.” I swallowed a lump that felt like it might choke me. “If anything happens, it’s my fault.”
“No.” The word came out hard, absolute. “No, it’s not.”
I shook my head, tears blurring the streetlights outside. “You hate me right now. Or maybe you’re starting to regret me after…what we just did. That’s why you’re trying to get rid of me, isn’t it?”
“Angel, stop, I don’t hate you. What are you—?”
“Then why did you snap at me?”
“Because I’m so fucking scared right now,” he said bluntly, his voice cracking like the words physically hurt him. “It has nothing to do with you. I-I’m just…not doing okay.”
I looked at him, still crying and trying to steady my breathing.
“I meant it earlier,” Jungkook said, swallowing hard, his voice roughening. “When I said there’s so much going on, and I don’t even know how to tell you. I’ve been trying to keep everything together without dragging you into my mess because I don’t want you worrying about a thing. That’s why I’ve been on edge. None of this is your fault.
“And I don’t…regret anything. Or whatever it is you said,” he added, like he needed me to hear that clearly. “So don’t you dare apologize for any of it. Especially the sexual stuff because…” I watched his jaw flex for a second before he pushed the words out. “I’m…grateful that you did that, okay? I needed that, probably more than you could’ve known then.”
“Then why are you telling me to go home?” I whispered, sniffling.
“That’s not what I said,” he clarified immediately. “I asked if you wanted to go home.”
“Why would I want that?”
Jungkook squeezed my thigh, gaze flickering to mine for a moment before returning to the road.
“Because,” he said, voice low and careful, like he was forcing himself to stay gentle while everything inside him spun out, “if there’s even a small chance you can go back and make things right with your family, now might be your only window.”
“I don’t want to go back. You told me I could stay with you for as long as I wanted.”
“I know,” he replied. “ And I don’t want you to leave. If it were up to me, I’d never let you go. But I need you to understand the choice you’re making. I can’t pretend I don’t know what choosing me means for you.”
“Jungkook, if I go back, I will lose you.” My throat burned as I spoke.
“You won’t,” he said instantly. I’ll make sure of it.”
“It’s not up to you. It’s my family…my dad—”
“You don’t have to tell him about me,” Jungkook cut in. “About us.”
“You’re not listening to me,” I snapped, fear leaking into my voice. “If I go back, I’ll be on an even tighter leash. I’ll never be able to see you or hear from you again.”
The words poured out of me so fast that I couldn’t stop myself.
“And you can say all you want that you’ll ‘make sure’ of it, but you don’t know my family. You don’t know what Yoongi or Dad will do when I’m back under their control, and I don’t want anything happening to you because I lo—”
I love you.
My throat closed around the words; I couldn’t bring myself to say it just yet. I didn’t know if saying it now would make everything better between us or make everything heavier and more complicated. Through my tears, it seemed Jungkook didn’t even notice what I almost confessed.
He waited a moment before interjecting.
“If you choose to stay with me,” he said, “you’re putting yourself in danger. Do you understand that?”
“I trust you, Jungkook.” I whispered, tears still sliding down my cheeks. “I trust you with my life.”
✦✦✦
Jungkook slowed in front of an old warehouse-looking building and pulled into the small lot. Before I could fully take it in, he was already unbuckling his seat belt. He left the engine running and pushed his door open.
“Stay down,” he ordered, eyes scanning the dark. “I’ll be quick.”
“What are you doing?”
“I just need to grab a few things from my office,” he replied, like it was nothing.
I felt like my heart was trying to crawl out of my chest. Being left alone in this poorly lit parking lot of a creepy building I’ve never seen before just felt too eerie. Jungkook noticed my uneasiness, and I watched his gaze flick towards the space in front of me.
He leaned back into the car, swearing under his breath as he strained himself reaching the glove box. He popped it open and pulled out a gun, a black pistol with a green grip. My stomach dropped the moment he held it out in front of me, grip-first.
“Have you ever shot one before?” Jungkook asked.
“Y-yes,” I managed to squeak. “Yoongi taught me…years ago.”
Something dark flickered across his face at the mention of that name, then vanished. “Good, then you know what to do.”
He pressed the gun into my hand, and my fingers were shaking as I took it from him.
“Don’t leave this car and don’t open the door to anyone. Call me for absolutely anything, you got that? And if you have to protect yourself, don’t be afraid to do so. I’ll take care of the rest if it comes to that.”
I nodded, still full of anxiety.
He brushed his knuckles over my cheek, eyes locked onto mine. “Make sure you lock the door, Angel.”
Then he stood back up and shut his door, walking towards the building and disappearing in the dark. I sat frozen, looking down at the gun in my lap as the interior car light faded above me. I couldn’t help but think the pistol looked…familiar.
It reminded me of the gun Yoongi let me practice with at the range. The memories were fuzzy after all this time, but I can still remember the way my uncle would stand behind me, correcting my posture with gentle hands on my shoulders. The way he’d laugh when I flinched at the sound of the gun firing, telling me to stop being dramatic. The way we celebrated after I finally started to get the hang of it.
My stomach sank.
I didn’t want to think about Yoongi right now. I didn’t want to think about any of my family at all, actually.
I turned my attention back to where Jungkook had disappeared. Seconds passed. Then minutes. Every time headlights swept across the lot and lit up the inside of the car, my spine went rigid and my breath caught as if someone had touched me.
I told myself Jungkook would be right back, to stay calm. But the longer he was gone, the louder my thoughts became.
What if the police followed us here? What if someone saw him leave me in the car? What if the building isn’t empty? Is Jungkook okay?
I gripped the gun tighter, my palms slick with sweat, my heart pounding. My blood turned to ice when a shadow moved in the side mirror. I squinted, not sure if it was real or my imagination, until the shape moved closer.
Three quick taps hit my window.
My breath escaped in a thin, terrified gasp. I whipped around so fast the seat belt dug into my shoulder. I brought the gun up on instinct, my hands shaking as I aimed toward the sound. Adrenaline and anxiety surged so hard I thought I might pass out.
The man’s face that appeared at the window didn’t look much like a threat, at least not in the way I’d braced for. He had an androgynous kind of beauty in a strange, doll-like way, with a sharp jawline and soft, rounded cheeks. His brown hooded eyes widened the second he saw the gun.
He jerked back, and both hands shot up in quick surrender, startled and scared like he didn’t expect me to be armed. His plump lips parted as if he were about to speak, but thought better of it.
I kept the gun trained on him, even as my breath shook and my pulse roared in my ears.
The only thing I could think to say was, “Who the hell are you?”
Star-Crossed is still an on going series and even I’m still not sure how many chapters are left. I currently have 23 chapters posted and am working on chapter 24 right now, with an entire outline for the remainder of the story to still break up into future chapters. I try to update as often as I can but I can tell you there are still probably 15+ chapters to still write.
If you'd like, I can add you to the taglist so you can be notified every time I update. Or if you're not interested in that, I can just PM you when it's finished.
『summary』 when kim y/n, the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her induction to the family legacy, she’s only looking for a distraction from her rapidly increasing anxiety. instead, she finds jeon jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war. their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden. but in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. as tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start? a re-interpretation of romeo and juliet.
『trigger warnings』 finger sucking, oral (male receiving), inexperienced!reader, non-penetrative sex/dry humping, praise/worshipping kink, (very) light hair pulling, (very) light spanking, (very) light breast play, mutual orgasm {i'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so i can fix it.}
『note』 i've been thinking recently of just removing them or creating my own graphics for every chapter (even if it takes extra effort, i'd be willing to do so to get the results i want lol). also, this is my first time ever writing m/f smut in the male pov, so i really hope i did a decent job. let me know what you think :)
『word count』 4.1k
『masterlist』 『taglist』
Jungkook
My cock pulsed hard from the denied release, slick with saliva and aching for attention. I cursed under my breath as I reached for my phone on the coffee table. I should’ve ignored it, let the phone ring itself to death while Y/N’s mouth eagerly drove me over the edge.
But the name that flashed across the screen was like a bucket of ice water, snapping me back to reality. I exhaled through my nose, thumb hovering over the answer button as a frustrated growl escaped me. Are you kidding me? Why now?
I answered before I could talk myself out of it, knowing I would need to speak in Korean so Y/N couldn’t understand.
“Mwon-de,” I snapped into the phone—what is it? The words came out rough and impatient; I couldn’t be bothered to be polite.
On the other end, the caller sucked in a sharp breath. “What is it?!” she echoed in disbelief. “Jungkook, are you seriously talking to me like that? How can you be so disrespectful to your own mother?”
I glanced down at Y/N. Her eyes met mine, lashes heavy and blinking slowly, almost sleepily. Her lips were parted slightly as she was still trying to catch her breath, swollen and still shining. There was something so devastating and ravaging about her like this; flushed and vulnerable, waiting for me patiently.
“I’m hanging up,” I said, cutting my mother off in the middle of her tirade. I wasn’t going to take any of her abuse, especially if she had no real reason to interrupt my night.
“No, don’t!” Her voice pitched up instantly, and her outrage quickly replaced with panic.
I took the thumb of my free hand and brushed the corner of Y/N’s mouth in silent apology. Then I traced my finger lightly along her chin, wiping away the drool left behind from sucking me off. She smiled softly in response, but I knew better. Even while looking dazed and tired, she was feigning sweetness, almost like she was plotting something.
“Please, Jungkook. Listen to me for just a second…it’s about your father—”
“Of course it is,” I cut in bitterly.
Before I could pull back, Y/N caught my hand with a firm grip. She pressed a warm, lingering kiss on the pad of my thumb before letting her lips curl around my finger and teasingly sucking it in her mouth. My breath snagged, electricity sparking low in my stomach, my cock twitching in response.
“H-he’s not doing well…didn’t Taehyung tell you? He’s getting worse—”
“Aishibal…” I muttered under my breath—fuck. She looks so hot, slowly bobbing her head and swirling her tongue on my finger.
“Jungkook?” my mother’s voice sharpened immediately. “Are you even listening to me?”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” I retorted, continuing to speak in Korean so that Y/N wouldn’t ask questions and stop what she was doing.
If she knew I was talking to my mother while she was toying with me like this, she would feel so mortified and apologetic.
“You haven’t come by once,” she blurted out in accusation, taking my flat remark as confirmation to keep going. “You haven’t called to check in. Your father keeps asking for you….”
I could barely hear my mother anymore, my focus splintering as Y/N let go of my finger and shifted closer, her breath ghosting over my exposed length. She maintained her innocent gaze locked onto mine while she flicked out her tongue and leaned in further. She traced a slow, deliberate path along the underside of my shaft, savoring every inch.
A moan caught in my throat as the wet heat of her mouth enveloped the tip, her tongue swirling the same way she had practiced on my thumb a moment ago. It didn’t take long for her to continue sliding down cock, lips stretching around me as she took me in at a glacial pace.
It was torturous, but not nearly as bad as being in this conversation with my mother.
“...you’re his only child. You can’t keep doing this to him.”
“Doing what?” I snapped. “Distancing myself from that psycho?”
“Punishing him,” my mother clarified. “He is your father. That same father who made a mistake. That same father who is now sick and dying.”
“That man made many mistakes, and he never cared to apologize for a single one. Why should I care now?”
“Your father signed himself out of the hospital. He refused to stay, but he's still not okay. He tells me there’s nothing else that can be done, and the doctors already know that we can’t afford the treatment he needs.”
My father is a lot of things, but dumb isn’t one of them. That raid at the Poisoned Chalice hadn’t been for just anything. It was meant to take down anyone who even smelled like Montague. To beat them senseless, then drag them down to jail and slap them with any charge they could get to stick.
And if they couldn’t keep them in cuffs, they were gonna trap them another way. A night at Capulet General will run you up a bill big enough to ruin you. It was a dirty scheme they were running on the lower-income community. They profiled and attacked everyone on sight. And for the innocent folks caught in the crossfire, they tried to force upon them treatment at a price tag designated to have them limping out of the hospital broke and with no means to fight the system.
Y/N’s teeth grazed the underside of cock, just enough pressure to make my hips jerk. A choked sound tore from my throat, and I slapped my hand over my mouth to muffle the groan. I darted my attention back to her, and she just grinned wickedly, eyes wide and innocent, as if she hadn’t just tried to bite me to rush me off the phone.
“I have to go, I’m kind of busy here.” I forced my voice steady.
“Busy?” she repeated, voice cracking around the word, horrified. “After what happened? Jungkook, he is your father!”
“Aish,” I bit out, but it dissolved into a low groan when Y/N hummed around me, the vibration rumbling straight to my balls.
She hollowed her cheeks as she took me in as deep as she could. Her hand joined in as well, fingers wrapping loosely around what her mouth couldn’t fit, stroking in time with her slow bobs. The gentle, teasing pull made me tangle my free hand in her hair, holding on to her while stars burst behind my eyes.
“Are you going to hurry and get to the point?” I growled at my mother by accident as the nails of Y/N’s other hand dug into my thigh.
“I talked to Taehyung about it.” My mother pushed forward, more desperate.
My jaw tightened. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t want to help,” she shot back, and then her voice softened again. “It doesn’t matter anyway, your cousin told me there wasn’t anything he could do. He said I needed to talk to you. He said…he said you’re the only one who can make the call.”
“Eomma,” I warned, my voice dropping low and edged like a sharp knife.
Y/N pulled back immediately, releasing me from her mouth with a soft pop. Her eyes flicked up to my face, filled with confusion and unease, like she’d caught the one word she might understand.
Eomma.
Mom.
I didn’t give her time to spiral, trying to decide if she heard me right. I shook my head and mouthed a silent, “It’s okay”. I took my hand, still tangled in her hair, and brought it to her face, my thumb brushing her cheek in slow, reassuring strokes.
Y/N hesitated, but trusted me enough to continue.
“You are the leader of the Montagues,” she snapped. “You have the medication and can provide the care that could actually save him right now. But you’re being cruel, acting as if you can’t help him when you can. I know you can.”
I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly through my teeth, the irritation curling hot in my chest. I could already tell what my mother was going to say next before she even got it out.
“He is your father.”
Those words were already becoming super annoying to hear, exhausting even. It was like my mother was grinding the same phrase into me, hoping it would finally stick. But those words meant nothing to me anymore, and that was the part she couldn’t understand.
It didn’t surprise me anyway; she always tried to make me love and respect him, even when he didn’t deserve it.
I let out a frustrated groan and rubbed my face aggressively. “You keep saying that like I’m supposed to care.”
“Jungkook, please,” my mother begged. “I’m not asking you to forgive him—or either of us, really. You can be angry at us forever if you want. All I’m asking you to do is help me keep him alive.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. Y/N’s pace was killing me, building that familiar coil in my gut tighter without mercy. Every swirl, every suck pulled me deeper into distraction. My breath was coming in ragged bursts, and I worried it would take away from the seriousness of the conversation.
I could feel the edge creeping closer, my cock pulsing against her tongue. I looked down at Y/N—at her watering eyes, her flushed face, the way her warm mouth wrapped around me—and I felt the distance between this and everything my mother was dragging up.
Two different lives. Two different versions of me.
I had to choose which was most important.
I placed my free hand under her chin and lifted her head, coaxing her to stop so I could focus for a moment.
“I’m not doing it,” I finally replied.
“Y-you can’t just decide that—”
“I can,” I cut in, voice flat and final. “And you already know that. You talked to Taehyung, remember?”
Her breath hitched, outrage and panic tangling together. “S-so that’s it then? Are you just going to let him die without helping him? Without ever even seeing him again?”
I glanced back down, catching Y/N’s eyes for half a second, warm and uncertain. She was still trying to follow a conversation she couldn’t understand. And I was glad she hadn’t a clue; I didn’t want any of my problems spilling onto her already full plate of family issues.
“If he dies,” I started, bringing the phone closer and lowering my voice into a dangerous calm, “that’s not my problem.”
There was a stunned beat of silence before my mother’s voice came back raw. “You’re heartless.”
A humorless breath left me, an almost laugh. “I learned from the best.”
“Jungkook—”
I didn’t let her finish; I just ended the call.
The phone clattered onto the coffee table as I reached down and hauled Y/N up by her arms. “Come here,” I rasped, my voice thick with lust.
She yelped, but it soon turned into laughter as I dragged her onto my lap. Her thighs spread wide to straddle my hips, the heat of her pussy pressed right against my cock, separated only by her thin sleep shorts.
“Is everything alright?” she asked, oblivious to the fact that the flimsy scrap of cotton was doing absolutely nothing to hide how wet she already was, the sweet and musky scent of her flooding my senses.
“Oh, yeah,” I dismissed, wanting to forget that phone call ever happened. “It was just work again, but it’s taken care of now.”
Her eyes studied my face, still deciding whether to push for details. I have no doubt Y/N knew I wasn’t telling her the whole truth; it was just a matter of whether she was willing to let it go.
“Okay,” she replied, voice light and airy as she let out a giggle.
She had grown shy, suddenly aware of how close we actually were. She was anticipating what came next, even though she pretended not to. And for a moment, I too hesitated to move.
Not because I didn’t want her, but because I wanted her too much.
Y/N had drawn the line once already for her own reasons, and we were already toeing past it. Even though she was the one who reached for me first, the one who asked for more, the one who made the choice, I didn’t want to take over. I didn’t want her to feel like she was losing her autonomy just because I wanted to switch things up. It wasn’t fair to her just because my desire was louder than my restraint.
I sat there with my hands on her hips, feeling the warmth of her body pressed up against mine. I could feel the quiet tremor of her breath softening across my hovered lips. Something clicked inside me as I noticed the way she was looking down at me, like she wasn’t afraid of continuing.
Like she was waiting to be claimed.
My grip tightened, and I pulled her in for a kiss, hard and eager, restraint snapping all at once. Y/N melted against my lips, making a small sound that went straight through me. I tasted myself on her tongue, the muscle hot and slippery as it followed my lead.
My shaft, still hard and slick from her mouth, slotted against her folds. She rolled her hips experimentally, the head of my cock nudging her entrance through the cotton. She moaned into my mouth before pulling back to catch her breath, getting a good look at me.
“God, Angel,” I groaned, fingers digging into her hips as I guided her. “You’re incredible.”
Y/N grinned mischievously as she slid her fingers into my hair. She tugged lightly and lured me towards her neck. I swore under my breath before taking one last look at her. She looked like she had been starving for this kind of contact.
And I wanted to feed that hunger as long as she’d let me.
I breathed heavily against her skin, lips trailing hot kisses down her neck and along her collarbone, then back up again. She gasped into my ear as I nipped at the patch of skin just under her jaw, then soothed it with my tongue.
“Jungkook,” she whimpered, one hand fisting harder in my hair and the other clutching my shoulder.
She picked up speed, digging her nails into me as she ground harder, the friction building delicious pressure. I hissed against her throat as her hips rolled in frantic circles, hands sliding down to cup her ass cheeks and grip her hard enough to bruise.
“That’s it, Angel…feel how hard you make me?” I murmured against her throat, my voice husky with arousal. “Keep grinding on me…yeah, just like that…” My words dissolved into a needy groan as she pressed more firmly into me.
I slipped one hand between us, my fingers sinking past the hem of her shorts. I hadn’t noticed until this second that Y/N wasn’t wearing any panties. The thought of her purposefully choosing not to put some on drove me mad. Was she already anticipating something like this happening? For how long?
I captured her mouth and kissed her deeply, tongue delving in to claim her once more. Pressing on her clit with the pads of my fingers, every thrust and roll of her hips allowed me to please her at the pace she set.
Y/N cried out, my name and a string of expletives filling the apartment.
I could feel just how slick she was under her already damp, ruined shorts, how ready she was to take me. I imagined sliding inside her cunt, her tight walls squeezing around my throbbing cock until every last drop of cum was emptied from my balls. The longer I pictured the scene, the more I craved doing just that.
But I fought the urge to shift her on my lap, mindful not to let the head of my cock nudge aside the thin fabric. I wanted to avoid any slip that could push me inside her virgin heat too soon. Too accidental and raw in this rushed frenzy.
“You’re doing so good, Angel…fucking yourself on my cock…”
Y/N arched into me, hips moving desperately. Her pussy continuously dragged over my shaft; the friction and the wet sounds it made were maddening. She rocked faster every time her swollen clit met my fingers, the pressure low in my stomach building relentlessly.
“J-Jungkook,” she whined loudly. “I-I think I’m gonn—ah!” She took several loud, sharp breaths, almost as if she were in pain.
“It’s okay, just relax…I’ve got you, remember?” I tried to soothe and comfort her, just like the last time when she was holding herself back from release. “Let go, Y/N…can you do that for me?”
“Mmhmm,” Y/N whimpered loudly in response.
The phone interrupted us again; it was as if the universe was playing some sick joke.
Y/N’s hands flew to my face before I could react, cupping my cheeks firmly to draw me close. She pressed our foreheads together, her eyes boring into mine with a fierceness that could only come from lust.
“Don’t answer that fucking phone,” she demanded, voice breathy and urgent. Her hips continued to move with insistent need, her grind never faltering.
“Yeah," I nodded eagerly, my breath escaping in a shaky exhale. “I’m all yours.”
Y/N rewarded me with a deeper grind, her thighs squeezing my hips as she rocked even faster as she chased her orgasm. I swallowed hard; the urgent ringing of the phone almost felt like it was growing louder. Or maybe it only felt that way with my pulse thundering in my ears. Either way, her gaze held me captive, daring me to break away, to end it and answer the damn thing.
I gripped her ass tighter, digging into the soft flesh as I started to lift my hips to meet her movements. I kept my thrusts shallow, rubbing desperately along her slit, the ache in my gut building painfully. Her shorts rode up higher, exposing the skin and curve of her ass. I slapped her cheek instinctually, her gasp quickly turning into a moan.
The phone rang with back-to-back calls, but the noise quickly blurred into the background, drowned by Y/N’s rising cries. I could feel her pussy fluttering against me, so close to the edge. I kissed her again, swallowing her moans as the hand on her ass slipped under her shirt.
My fingers traced along the side of her body until they brushed the underside of her breast. I massaged the mound with my palm, my thumb rolling over her pebbled nipple. Y/N bucked her hips in a way that allowed the head of my cock to catch her entrance, pushing intensely against her opening. If it weren’t for the fabric of her shorts separating us, I probably would’ve slipped inside her.
“H-holy shit,” she stuttered, her voice sounding like a strangled whine. “I’m s-so close…so close, Jungkook.”
My heart stopped for a moment, but it was clear Y/N wasn’t nearly as worried as I was. So I pushed the anxiety aside and focused on the intense pleasure building between us.
I removed my fingers from her clit and replaced them with just my thumb, working her bud in relentless circles now to help her reach climax faster. I felt her swell under my touch, my cock throbbing hard between her folds. She began to unravel a little, her hips jerking as the buzzing of my phone kept going.
“Oh God, you’re gonna make me cum so hard…fucking yourself on me like this…so fucking amazing…” I moaned.
“Please…don’t stop,” Y/N begged.
“Are you ready to cum for me, Angel?”
She nodded wildly, moaning uncontrollably as her thrusts turned reckless, her body tensing like a coiled spring.
“That’s my good girl,” I praised, my breath hot and uneven as I continued thrusting up to meet her, the friction sending sparks up my spine. “Now cum for me…cum all over my cock.”
Tension snapped like a wire, and Y/N shattered with a broken moan. Her body seized as her climax hit, back arching and thighs quivering against me. With my cock trapped between us, I felt her pussy clench and pulse against me, her juices soaking through her shorts and onto my shaft, dripping down my balls.
The sight of her—head thrown back, mouth open in ecstasy—along with her needy moans and the feel of her orgasm triggered mine. I grabbed her hips and bucked up against her once, twice, groaning deep as my release tore through me. Thick ropes of cum spilled hot between us, painting her shorts and inner thighs.
We shuddered together, her grinding turning into lazy rocking as she milked every last drop from me. Panting, I pulled her down against my chest, my arms wrapping around her as aftershocks rippled through both of us. The trembling in her thighs started to slow, and it seemed she had finally made the conscious decision to silence her whimpering.
The phone kept ringing relentlessly even as Y/N and I clung together, like it had a personal grudge that was impossible to ignore any longer. I tipped my head back against the couch cushion, my chest rising and falling hard, skin hot all over.
“Jesus,” I laughed breathlessly.
Y/N shifted, starting to sit up and look at me. Her hair was a mess, strands sticking to her sweat-covered forehead, and the rest slightly frizzing. She looked like she was still floating in the afterglow, lips curling into a small, satisfied smile.
“Was that okay?” She asked through heavy-lidded eyes.
“Are you kidding me? That was fucking incredible, was it not?”
Y/N bit her lip as she averted her gaze, her cheeks flushed pink, suddenly shy. Her smile widened as she hummed in agreement, giggling softly before burrowing her face at the base of my neck. I chuckled and wrapped my arms around her tightly, placing kisses along her neck and shoulder as the phone started going off again.
I let out a loud sigh before letting her go, helping her up from my lap. “You should probably go change. You don’t wanna be sleeping in cum-stained pajamas.” I told her.
It came out like it was a simple, practical thing, as if my sprinting thoughts weren’t trying to make it a bigger deal than it was.
“You’re right,” Y/N concurred, reaching down toward the coffee table and grabbing the phone. “You can answer it now.”
We both chuckled as she handed it to me, but the spell of our intimate moment cracked as soon as I read the caller ID.
Taehyung.
I dragged a hand over my face and sat up. I answered without thinking, irritation already spilling into my voice. “Look, Taehyung, if this is about the situation with my father, it’s taken care of. Now stay out of it.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end.
Then his voice came through the line. “What the hell are you talking about?” Disbelief plagued his tone.
“I thought—”
“Forget it, I don’t care what you thought,” he cut in, very clearly annoyed. “I’ve called you like ten times. Why didn’t you answer me?”
My eyes fell on the bathroom door, where I could hear Y/N moving around on the other side. I clenched my jaw, guilt flashing hot and sharp. I had sworn to myself I wasn’t going to let him shoulder all of the weight alone again, and I’d done exactly that.
“I know, I’m really sorry,” I admitted. “I was…busy.”
“You were busy being stupid,” Taehyung snapped. “But we don’t have time to be arguing about this right now.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, tightening my grip on the phone.
“I got word that the police are poking around in your area,” he said. “I was on my way to warn you because you weren’t answering the damn phone. And holy shit, there are so many of them.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“I don’t know if it has anything to do with the Montague mole, but I have a bad feeling about this, Jungkook. I think you need to leave your apartment before they start knocking.”
“A-are you serious?”
“Yes!” Taehyung shouted. “Get the hell out of there now!”
『summary』 when kim y/n, the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her induction to the family legacy, she’s only looking for a distraction from her rapidly increasing anxiety. instead, she finds jeon jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war. their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden. but in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. as tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start? a re-interpretation of romeo and juliet.
『trigger warnings』 guided handjob, guided oral (male receiving), praise/worshipping kink, inexperienced!reader, ruined orgasm {i'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so i can fix it.}
『note』 i'm sorry for two things. 1) for taking forever to get this update posted, i had things i had to take care of in my personal life. and 2) for ending this update the way i did...i didn't really want to drag it out any longer, and i thought it would be best split into two chapters. let me know your thoughts, and i hope you enjoy :D
『word count』 5.1k
『masterlist』 『taglist』
Y/N
Jungkook’s voice hit me the second I stepped out of the bathroom; low, heavy, and foreign.
I froze in the doorway, wearing nothing but a towel, damp hair dripping down my back. His Korean sounded more intimidating than the English he used with me. The way he sounded, domineering and heated, did something unfair to my body, even though I couldn’t understand a single word he said.
He stood in the kitchen, his shoulders tense, pacing as he ranted and fumed into the phone. Something was happening, and it was seriously stressing him out. But somehow, my first thought wasn’t “What’s going on?” It was “God, he sounds so…hot.”
Then Jungkook stopped mid-sentence and looked my way, noticing I was out of the bathroom. He probably realized I was standing there like an idiot, just watching him intently. My face turned red with embarrassment, but I still couldn’t move from where I stood.
For a moment, his whole face softened, and he flashed me a quick, warm smile. It was meant to be a quiet hello, acknowledging my presence even as he was preoccupied. But I wanted to believe I was his only reason to smile after another long, demanding workday.
Jungkook never really told me in detail what he does all day, but I can only imagine it isn’t pleasant or exciting, especially since he’s been coming home later and later over the past few days, absolutely drained and miserable.
I watched his gaze dip, his eyes dragging slowly and deliberately over me, stealing my breath. It lasted only a moment, a heartbeat at most, but I watched him as he tracked the glistening beads of water running down my bare thighs. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the towel tightly, hiding the parts of me that silently begged for him.
His smile fades almost immediately after he takes in the sight of me. His tongue slips out of his mouth for a second, wetting his lips as if he hadn’t realized they’d gone dry. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes still fixed on me. My stomach tightened, and my heart raced, but I quickly realized he was actually staring straight through me, as if he had been dragged back into the phone call.
When he went back to snapping at the caller, I felt our soft, intimate moment vanish in an instant. I took that as my cue to get a move on, feet padding to where my pajamas were folded on the bed, trying to act normal while my repressed arousal pooled between my legs.
It had been over a week since our first and only sexual encounter. I still feel the ghost of Jungkook’s lips all over me, those phantom touches that sent tingles racing up and down my spine. But we hadn’t come close to anything like that since I set that boundary.
And every day since, I couldn’t help but think I’d made the wrong decision.
I thought it was the right choice, something I was supposed to say to keep my heart safe. I thought there was some imaginary rulebook that inexperienced girls like me were meant to follow: don’t love too fast and don’t seem so easy.
I thought loving Jeon Jungkook scared me.
I realize now that I was really scared that moving too fast would ruin things between us. I didn’t want the relationship we so desperately wanted to crash and burn. But the truth was that I wanted the fire to destroy me. I wanted the heat of our love to consume me.
And the truth was settling in painfully now as Jungkook spent less time with me. A few nights ago, I could ignore the longing and desire while we spent meaningful time together. Now, every small touch or lingering gaze felt like it wasn’t enough.
The boundary I’d set to protect myself had started to feel like a punishment.
The towel loosened as I bent down to reach for my shorts, and I hesitated for a second. I looked back to see if Jungkook’s eyes were still on me. Not because I wanted to stay modest and to be careful he didn’t see me naked. If anything, it was the exact opposite.
The pause came from a stupid, aching hope that he would see me. That his eyes would linger a bit longer this time. That he’d hang up the damn phone and cross the space between us. Make that decision for us, but mostly for me. But he wasn’t watching me anymore; his back was turned instead, speaking in a voice more weary and burnt out than before.
I stayed bent over, though, slowly letting the towel slip lower until I had completely stepped out of it. The chilly air cooled my now-boiling skin as I pulled on my sleep shorts, then my shirt. My pulse was loud in my ears as I tried to act like I wasn’t just needlessly standing there bare and riled up for Jungkook.
He said one final thing, a sharp-tongued remark in Korean, and I heard him hang up over my shoulder. I quickly dried my hair with the towel and tossed it aside. I slowly approached him from behind, controlling my breathing to calm my heart. He let out a long, exasperated sigh as he dragged a hand through his hair.
Before either of us knew what I was doing, I wrapped my arms around his waist, hoping to comfort him.
For a moment, he stayed rigid and tense before his body gave in to my touch. His warm, heavy hand came down over mine, brushing his thumb across my knuckles. I rested my cheek against his back, taking a moment to breathe him in. It was pure, instant euphoria after a day spent in withdrawal.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Jungkook responded, turning so he could hug me properly. “Work has just been kicking my ass.”
“I know. You’ve been coming home late the past couple of nights.”
He chuckled, rubbing my back like he was trying to smooth the unease right out of me. When he pulled away, he dipped down with a huge, boyish grin. He then kissed my forehead with a quick, soft peck; it felt like a stamp of reassurance. My chest fluttered, and I swallowed down the urge to lean in for more.
“You’re so adorable,” he cooed, his voice warm and teasing. “Did you miss me?”
“N-no,” I stammered, “I just meant—”
“Aww, really?” His smile widened devilishly. “Because I’ve been missing you.”
Before I could say another word, his hands found my waist with a firm grip. He lifted me clean off the floor as if it were nothing. I let out a startled gasp and instinctively grabbed his shoulders.
“Jungkook!” I squeaked. “Put me down!”
“Uh-uh, I can’t wait to be near you any longer.”
He bounced me once, and the playful jolt made me yelp again. I hooked my legs around him to stay up, and a smug grin spread across his lips. My heart pounded and my core pulsed from being this close to him, but I knew I was being stupid for getting so turned on while Jungkook was just playing around.
“A-are you hungry?” I tried to change the subject to take my mind off my body’s yearning. “I made dinner before my shower.”
“I don’t want food,” he whined like a toddler. “I just want you.”
Jungkook carried me toward the couch, making exaggerated noises as if he were eating me the entire way there. My giggles filled the apartment as he tickled my waist with one hand and held me firmly in place with the other.
He dropped me on the couch cushions, practically tossing me like I weighed nothing. I bounced with a startled laugh and scrambled to sit up. Almost immediately, he had bent down and braced his arms on the couch beside my head, and suddenly our faces were inches from one another.
“Hi,” he murmured, acting like he hadn’t been the one I was talking to for the past couple of minutes.
I gulped. “Hi.”
Jungkook’s eyes dropped down to my lips, slightly parted and inviting. He leaned in, and I tipped my face up a bit, preparing for the taste of him I’d been craving. But before his mouth brushed mine, he dipped lower, and his lips grazed my cheek.
Even with the gentle kisses, I felt jolts of electricity everywhere. I knew I couldn’t contain myself any longer. My hands found Jungkook’s hoodie, bunching the fabric in my fists, not knowing what else to do with all the desire that had been building for days.
I needed him more than he knew, more than he probably wanted me.
“Jungkook,” I breathed, half wanting to tell him, half wanting him to pick up on it himself.
“Hmmm?” He hummed, smiling against my cheek.
And then he started to kiss his way up my cheek again at a purposefully slow pace. I could feel myself slipping into ruin, breaking the rule I’d so stupidly made. I wanted to forget about it, but I knew Jungkook was too good a man. If I wanted him take things further, I had to tell him.
“It’s been so long,” I whispered shyly, still not sure of the approach to take.
“And I thought I was being dramatic,” Jungkook chuckled, his breath warming my ear. “You might’ve been half asleep, but you still asked me to cuddle with you last night when I came home. Don’t you remember?”
I wish I didn’t have to spell it out for him. I didn’t want to sound so desperate and needy. I mean, at this point, I was, but I wish he would save me some grace.
“No, I—”
“Wait,” he interjected.
Jungkook suddenly went still, looking around the living room. His eyes stopped roaming once they landed on his jacket, hung over the back of the nearby armchair. He pulled away, and my hands that were clutching his hoodie fell into my lap. My skin cooled instantly, and I felt my heart crack slightly at the sudden space growing between our bodies.
“I forgot something.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, trying to sound normal even though I was aching more painfully now. “You forgot something…now?”
He didn’t answer me; he just dug into the pockets of his jacket with impatience. It didn’t take long for him to find it and return to my side. He sat beside me on the couch, close enough that our thighs touched, and I tried not to show how this small contact made my stomach flip.
He pulled out a plain white box and handed it to me. I stared at it, confused. The packaging tape was cut, so it was no longer sealed, and whatever was inside slid around freely. When I looked up to meet Jungkook’s eyes, he nodded, giving me the go-ahead to open it.
“What is it?” I asked, even though I would find out in a second when I looked inside. “A phone?”
“A burner phone,” he corrected, taking the now-empty box and setting it aside. “I’ve been waiting for one of my men to get me one. It’s just been so crazy, I only just got my hands on it today.”
It was small, with only half a screen and a keypad. It looked nothing like my own phone, the one I’d left turned off and locked in my car since the day I came running to Jungkook for help. But honestly? It didn’t even matter what the phone looked like. I’d been without one for days, and holding anything that could connect me to someone felt strange. As long as no one from my old life, the people I didn’t want to hear from, could reach me, I was okay.
“Y/N,” his voice gently cut through the silence, as if he didn’t want to spook me.
I looked up to meet his gaze, noticing that his face was no longer playful, but serious with a protective intent. Jungkook reached out to tuck a strand of damp hair behind my ear, knuckles brushing my cheek in the process. I couldn’t help but lean into his touch.
“I know I’ve been coming home to you so late,” he continued, quieter. “And there is so much going on that…that I don’t even know how to begin to tell you.”
My fingers tighten around the phone, but I keep quiet, not wanting to interrupt.
“I’m not trying to scare you or anything,” Jungkook continued, making sure to choose his words carefully. “But I just want you to have a way to call me if you need me or if…things don’t feel right.”
My mouth went dry. “Jungkook…?”
“I need you to promise that if I call you, you’ll answer. This phone needs to be charged and with you at all times.” His hand slid over mine, thumb rubbing across my knuckles. “And if I ever call and tell you to run, don’t argue with me. Just do it.
That demand makes my pulse trip, goosebumps breaking out all over my skin.
“Jungkook…what is happening?” I finally found the courage to ask after swallowing a lump in my throat.
“Just promise me, Angel.”
“....Okay,” I said softly, not really having another choice in the matter. “I promise.”
Jungkook exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for my answer. His shoulder dropped slightly, and the tension from his face slowly melted. He leaned in to kiss my forehead and then pulled back slightly to look at me, eyes warm and smile small.
“Good,” he said, taking the phone from my hand and placing it on the coffee table. “Now let's turn our brains off for a while and relax.”
He reached for the remote and wrapped his arm around me, leaning back and pulling me with him. While he turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, I grabbed the folded blanket draped over the back of the couch. I wrapped myself in it and, with a shiver, quickly got comfortable, nestling my head against Jungkook’s side.
His hand rested on my arm, thumb moving in slow, comforting strokes. The sounds of his steady breathing and heartbeat were enough to try to lull me to sleep. I just felt so safe and content being cuddled up next to him that it was starting to become hard to keep my eyelids open.
The sweet moment didn’t last long before Jungkook’s phone started going off.
He tried to ignore it, but after a few short vibrations, he dug into his pocket to find out what was ruining the mood. I could feel his body tense right under me, his pulse slowly increasing. But he tried to play it cool, placing the phone on the armrest beside him and ignoring the buzzing.
I tilted my face up just enough to look at him. “Everything okay?”
Jungkook didn’t look away from the screen. I watch as his eyes sharpen for half a second, like he was deciding how much to say. His face quickly tensed again, throat bobbing as he swallowed.
“Yeah,” he finally responded. “It’s just my cousin about work stuff.”
I tried to ignore it and pull my mind back to that brief moment of bliss. But every couple of minutes, the phone would keep going off. Sometimes Jungkook would use both hands to type a reply. His constant shifting started to make me feel a bit uncomfortable as I sank lower, ending up half on his stomach.
“Just give him a call.” I bemoned, sitting upright. “You can step outside, and I’ll still be here when you get back.”
“No, it’s fine,” he said with a smile, but it was clearly forced.
“Jungkook—”
“I’m sorry, Angel.”
He leaned in and kissed my cheek, then placed his phone facedown onto the coffee table. He pulled me back against him and kissed me once more, right on the top of my head to seal the deal.
“It really is fine,” he promised. “It can wait. Right now, I just need you.”
My stomach tightened, and my cheeks grew hot, embarrassed that I was turning his innocent words into something sexually charged. The sensation of his hand returning to my arm made my mind go sideways. I could no longer relax this close to him.
Again, I started to think about how long it’s been since he had his hands and mouth all over me, since he made me feel so good I saw stars. I remembered the way he looked at me after my shower, dripping wet and ready to show him just how badly I wanted him to drop my towel and take me.
Jungkook’s phone buzzed again.
He didn’t reach for it, but, as if on cue, his body reflexively stiffened. I peer up at him again, noticing his eyes filled with so much distress as he tried to act normal for me. He bit the inside of his cheek as he bounced his thigh opposite me.
I felt this weird mix of things at once: the urge to comfort him, to distract him, to spice things up. I wanted to climb into his lap and ease the tension from his body, as long as it relieved the pressure for a decent while.
Hana’s dumb voice drifted through my mind.
“If a man is stressed, just give him head. Fixes everything.”
Something lewd and bizarre she’d laughed about while I cringed at during one of the few times I was brave enough to hang out with her now seems like the simplest solution in the world. I wanted to take that next step with Jungkook, but he already knew how inexperienced I was. What if I wasn’t good at it?
But the curiosity burned hot inside of me. I wanted to try to be bold for Jungkook. I wanted to see that worry melt from his face.
I slipped my hand out from under the blanket and rested it innocently on his thigh. My heart started thudding hard against my chest, and my lungs burned from trying to keep my breathing steady. I tried to calm myself before I passed out. I wondered if I should take the time to talk myself out of it.
My fingers flexed against his leg, feeling the solid warmth of him through his pants. Provoked by the intrigue that was louder than the panic, I let my hand slowly drift higher. I felt the subtle outline of his cock beneath his sweats, immediately twitching and stirring just from the contact.
I rubbed him gently, a slow, tentative stroke that made Jungkook go very, very still. He realized exactly what I was trying to do, and his hand had stopped caressing my arm, probably wondering if this was real life right now.
“Y/N…” he said, voice edged with caution. “What are you…?”
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my insecurities at bay before giving him an answer that could end up humiliating me. “I-I wanted to help…I don’t know…you’ve just been so stressed—”
“Angel, no.” Jungkook caught my hand to stop me from massaging his semi-erect member and pulled it away. “You don’t need to do this.”
“...But I want to,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.
Jungkook sat up a little, and I felt forced to do the same. My gaze traveled up his body until I met his eyes, feeling slightly mortified. His expression was etched with concern as he studied mine; my cheeks flooded with heat, but I didn’t want to shy away.
“What?” Jungkook asked, though I was almost certain he’d heard me correctly the first time. “Is this about the phone? I’m sorry, I’ll just turn it off.”
“Please, let me try,” I muttered, choking back the tears of embarrassment and forcing myself steady. “I-I’m not sure how, but I wanna make you feel good. Will you…teach me? P-Please?”
His eyes widen, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it softened into something more conflicted. He shook his head slightly, his thumb brushing my wrist to soothe me. “You don’t have to rush into anything you’re not ready for. I promise I’m more than okay just cuddling you.”
But even as he protested, I could see the darkening look in his eyes: a mix of hunger, hesitation, and fear. And it was even clearer, as the bulge in his pants continued to grow, that desire simmered in him. It was subtle and unspoken, but it mirrored the ache building inside me. Jungkook wanted this, even if he was too sweet to push.
Biting my lip, I pressed on with shy earnestness. “Can I touch you, Jungkook?” There was already no going back at this point; why not just be direct?
Jungkook’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking as he held my stare. For a long moment, he just stared down at me, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as trouble and excitement danced throughout him. The silence that stretched between us was thick with tension while the ball sat squarely in his court.
Then he nodded slowly, his approval sheepish but unmistakable. His grip on my wrist loosened, and for a moment, my brain short-circuited. I wasn’t sure whether it was because I thought it would take much more to sway him or because I wasn’t entirely sure what came next.
I brought my hand back to the front of his sweats, my fingers trembling, feeling the heat radiating from him again. Even if I’d never done this before, curiosity overrode the flutter of uncertainty inside me. I palmed him through the fabric, rubbing in slow, exploratory circles. I marveled at how his cock hardened even more under my touch, becoming more defined, thicker.
Jungkook exhaled sharply, his head tipping back against the couch cushions. “Fuck, Y/N…” his voice was breathy and edged with need.
Emboldened by his reaction, I hooked my fingers into his waistband, heart hammering wildly against my ribs. Jungkook lifted his hips off the couch to help as I eased his pants down just enough to free him. His cock sprang up, heavy and flushed, the tip already glistening with a bead of his arousal. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly watery.
I’d watched porn a few times, and I’d read booksthat contained slight erotica, but I’ve never seen a penis in real life before. And even after spending the last few days thinking intimately about Jungkook, he was bigger than I’d imagined. Looking at his size, I thought for a split second that I was taking on more than I could handle.
“If you’re uncomfortable,” Jungkook whispered, reeling me back in, his hand soothingly brushing my hair, “if you don’t like this, you stop. Got it?”
I nodded; there was no way I was backing out now. Not when the mix of awe and nerves spun rapidly inside me, warming and intensifying the desire low in my stomach. I wrapped my fingers around the tentatively, my grasp light and unsure, moving upward in a slow, hesitant stroke. His skin was hot and soft over the rigid hardness beneath it.
Jungkook’s hand wrapped around mine. “You can grip it a little tighter, you’re not going to hurt me.”
With his hand still guiding me, I tried again, my fingers tightening as I dragged them from base to tip. I watched as more precum welled at the slit. I brushed it with my thumb, seeing it spill over. A low groan escaped him, and the hand resting in my hair reflexively clenched, my breath hitching at the slight pull.
I repeated this action a few more times.
“Like this?” I asked, craving his validation.
“Mmmm, just like that, Angel. Your hand feels so good on me.”
His affirmations sent a thrill through me, warmth pooling between my thighs. I could feel the wetness gathering between my folds as I shifted to kneel on the floor. I wanted a better view of him, and I assumed he wanted one of me, too. Looking him in the eyes, I started to stroke his cock again, pushing through the initial clumsiness and finding a rhythm that Jungkook’s reaction told me he liked.
Firm, but not too tight. Slow, but insistent. Twisting my wrist at the top like I’d read about in those steamy novels. Jungkook’s expression contorted in pleasure as he watched me, ragged breaths falling from his lips. His hips twitched up into my hand almost involuntarily. Precum slicked my palm, easing the glide with each stroke.
“God, you’re killing me…keep going, Angel,” Jungkook groaned, threading his fingers gently through my hair. “Fuck…that’s fucking perfect.”
I leaned in closer, my free hand bracing on his thigh. The musky scent of his arousal filled my senses, intensifying the throbbing at my core. I quickened my pace, my strokes growing more confident, my thumb circling the sensitive head with each upstroke. A deep, throaty moan escaped him, his abs contracting visibly beneath his layers of clothes.
“So fucking hot…” he mumbled, throwing his head back.
Before I could stop myself, I dipped my head lower, my lips brushing his tip. Salty precum coated my tongue as I licked with flat and broad swipes, tasting him for the first time. It felt strange, but the way he shuddered beneath me made it so intimate, so thrilling.
My eyes flicked up to meet his as I placed open-mouthed kisses along his shaft. His head was now tilted to the side, mouth parted as he watched me in awe. His fingers tightened again in my hair, drawing a soft moan from me.
“Oh, shit…Y/N…” his voice cracked with desperation. “You have no idea how perfect you look right now.”
I wanted to please him further; I needed to taste more of him. I took his cock into my mouth, my lips wrapping carefully around his girth. It felt awkward at first; my teeth grazed him accidentally, and I gagged a little when I tried to take in too much.
“Careful,” Jungkook held my head with both hands as he tried to stop me, worried I might hurt myself or push myself too hard.
But I didn’t want to stop.
I tried to ignore the burning stretch of my lips and the protesting of my jaw and just focused on Jungkook: the way he gasped for breath, the way his body writhes under my touch. I hollowed my cheeks as best I could, pressing my tongue flat against the underside of his shaft as I pulled back. Then I sank back down again, attempting to take him in deeper.
Up.
Down.
And again.
Jungkook’s moans were music to my ears; his reactions fueled my enthusiasm, and his words of adoration between gasps and sighs were electrifying. His hands tightened their grip on my head, restraining himself from pushing me further down his length.
“Oh, God…” Jungkook whimpered, hips lifting slightly off the couch to continuously meet me on the way back down. “You suck my cock so perfectly, Angel…like a natural…fuck.”
Overeager, I bobbed my head a little faster, and sucking him more sloppily now. My hand still pumped base of his shaft in tandem, saliva dripping messily down. The fullness in my mouth, the weight of him on my tongue, it was overwhelming. It was intoxicating.
I needed to have more.
When my mouth slid back down his shaft, I carefully pushed myself to take all of him in.
“Just breathe, Angel…relax your throat…” Jungkook instructed hazily.
Yes, Sir.
I focused on my breathing and tried to control my gag reflex, relaxing my throat. I continued to push myself deeper, ignoring the ache in my jaw. When his cock hit the back of my throat, I found myself humming in satisfaction, the vibration ripping my name from Jungkook’s lips in a strangled cry, his body arching.
Up.
Down.
And again.
I slowly picked up the pace as I grew more comfortable. Jolts of heat rushed straight to my pussy, quickly soaking and ruining my pajama shorts.
Jungkook praised me over and over, his voice breaking on gasps. “So fucking amazing…your mouth on me, Angel—god, don’t stop…” he begged in a shaky voice. “Don’t stop…don’t stop…don’t–don’tstopsdon’tstop…”
His moans grew louder, unrestrained; he was completely lost in the moment. His hips moved more insistently, one hand fisting in my hair while the other flew to his side, gripping the couch cushion. His breathy pleas made me feel so powerful, so desired.
“Y/N, I’m—fuck—I’m gonna come…”
I could feel just how close he was. His cock jerked against my palate, swelling and pulsing against my lips with his impending release. My thighs quivered beneath me as the anticipation coiled tighter inside me. I wanted his seed to coat the inside of my mouth. I wanted to taste him, satisfy both him and my own hunger.
Just…a little…more…
The shrill ring of his phone cut through the air like a knife, shattering the moment instantly. I froze and watched Jungkook’s eyes snap open, his body going rigid as he glanced over at it. His cock twitched in my mouth, his climax hovering just out of reach.
“Shit…” he cursed under his breath, hand leaving my hair and reaching for his phone, which continued to ring insistently and relentlessly.
I pulled back, lips leaving Jungkook’s cock with a soft pop, a string of saliva trailing from the tip. I sat up slowly, my knees sore from the hardwood floor. My chest heaved, frustration bubbling up, watching as he fumbled for the phone.
Ignore it. Please, for the love of god, ignore it.
Jungkook let out a loud, frustrated groan before swiping to answer the call. “Mwon-de?” His voice was strained, the post-arousal huskiness making it sound almost comical against the serious tone he forced.
The interruption stung, leaving me aching with nothing but the taste of him on my tongue and a swollen, throbbing need between my legs. I wanted to keep going. I wanted him. Just when I’d finally gotten him to forget all the stress and pressure he was under, just when his cock was begging for release, the outside world barged in and ruined it.
My patience was nonexistent, and I couldn’t just sit here idly, twiddling my thumbs and hoping that the mood wouldn’t be destroyed by whoever or whatever the phone call was about. Jungkook looked just as annoyed and frustrated as I felt, fighting the urge to hang up entirely. But I knew as much that he wouldn’t, not yet anyway.
『summary』 when kim y/n, the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her induction to the family legacy, she’s only looking for a distraction from her rapidly increasing anxiety. instead, she finds jeon jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war. their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden. but in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. as tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start? a re-interpretation of romeo and juliet.
『trigger warnings』 none for this chapter {i'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so i can fix it.}
『note』 shorter update than usual and it focuses more on story/plot setup. it might be considered boring to those that care more about the relationship/smut aspect of the fic, but i promise the next chapter will be catered to you lol. hope you enjoy regardless and let me know what you think :D
『word count』 2.5k
『masterlist』 『taglist』
Jungkook
The last few days and nights didn’t blur together the way they usually did. Since Y/N and I had that serious talk, trying to make sense of what we were, I felt like I was walking on air. A new sense of domestic warmth had entered my life, the kind I didn’t even realize I had been craving for all this time.
Y/N moved through my apartment as if she belonged there once she stopped apologizing for taking up space. She learned the stubborn quirks of my place: the cabinet doors that never closed all the way, the few drawers that would get stuck on the tracks if opened the wrong way, and the way the old pipes rattle when too much water is running.
I had the chance to memorize the way her lips pressed together when she was thinking too hard, or the way she rubbed her fingernails when she was anxious. Y/N wanted to learn how to cook real meals with me, not whatever I usually threw together when I was living alone and couldn’t run out the door fast enough.
She was even happy to watch the mindless TV shows Taehyung mocked me for liking, cuddling up next to me on the couch to keep warm. I would rewind scenes I wasn’t actually paying attention to just to hear her laugh again. Every time she looked at me, she looked like the happiest and most content she had ever seen her.
Nothing explicit has happened since our talk. I’d promised to respect Y/N’s boundaries, and I meant it. But that didn’t mean the wanting disappeared. I was constantly restraining myself around her; the yearning grew intense at times.
It was worse when she would lean into my touch without realizing it, and I stayed extra steady and careful so she always felt in control of what was acceptable. Or when I would kiss her and stop at her cheek, breathe her in, and pull back before it had the chance to turn into something more.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t leave me wound too tight. So I decided to channel my pent-up, hot-blooded restlessness into work.
Which was why, on this particular morning, I was sitting at my desk with Yoongi’s journal and most of Jimin’s notes spread out in front of me, trying to turn the tension into something useful.
The pages were full of names, dates, arrows, and shapes that made my eyes ache; a catalog of patterns and gibberish that had no business fitting together as neatly as they did. And I had Jimin’s marginal annotations to thank for that. It was the kind of meticulous work that never surprises me. He always wanted me to see and recognize his efforts, so he always gave his best.
That’s why I appreciate him more than anyone else who works for me.
I ran my thumb along the edge of one page, intently reading its contents. My leg was bouncing anxiously under the desk, and I was biting the inside of my cheek. I was trying to make sure I understood what I was reading, because if what it said was true, we were fucked.
A knock at my door startled me.
“Come in,” I called.
Jimin stepped inside first, clutching a manila folder to his chest as if protecting it. He looked like someone who had been living on caffeine and determination; his hair was a bit disheveled, his eyes dark with fatigue, and his posture overly upright.
Taehyung followed behind him, his presence opposite the younger’s: relaxed and amused. He shut the door softly and then leaned against the wall, as if settling in for a show. His expression suggested he already knew what Jimin was going to say and would enjoy watching him try to tell me.
Jimin didn’t sit, but he cleared his throat.
“I went through everything I pulled from the journal,” he began, placing the folder on top of the already mounting pile in front of me. “This is the rest of it from my office.”
“Yeah?” I started opening the folder and kept my eyes on the papers.
“Mmhmm,” Jimin hummed eagerly, taking the initiative to sift through the pile in front of me for something specific. “I cross-checked everything against public records and our own sources. Yoongi had a lot of notes on us and our operations, but I have something else you won’t believe.”
Jimin grew flustered as long seconds passed, and he couldn’t find what he was looking for. A quiet huff of a laugh could be heard from Taehyung, and it was met with a sharp glare from the younger. Once he refocused on the desk, his eyes lit up, and his jaw relaxed.
“Here!” he called out, louder than he probably intended. “Look at this.”
He placed a page on top of the file for me to review. I gave Jimin a skeptical look, hesitating to peek at what he found most damning. But he looked so proud of himself that it had to be good.
And damn it, it was.
In front of me was a table, neatly organized in Jimin’s clean handwriting. It listed names, ages, dates, and other miscellaneous facts, along with a short note or two for each. Missing. Dead. Case closed. Evidence lost. Witness recanted. Patterns that never made the news the way they should have.
At the top of the page was a name, circled twice so hard that the pen had almost torn through the page:
Officer Min Yoongi.
“These are not ordinary cases,” Jimin spoke up. “He wrote these names down for a reason.”
“What’s the reason, then?”
Jimin quickly took the seat across from me and leaned in close. “I think—no, believe—that Yoongi has something to do with them. All of them,” he said.
He snatches the page from my hand with a force I’ve never seen him use toward me before. He starts using his index finger to draw circles over the names.
“Some of these people have no ties to the Kims,” the younger continues. “Hell, some of them shouldn’t matter to anyone with power. So why do they matter to someone like Yoongi?”
“Because, moron,” Taehyung pipes up from his corner. “He’s the fucking chief of police. It’s his job to keep track of shit like this.”
“That’s not the point!” Jimin snapped.
“Enough,” I said, voice threatening both of them. “Continue.”
Jimin took a deep breath to calm himself and refocus. “Yes, he is the chief. But this was found in his personal journal, remember? Along with all the information on his Montague investigation?”
“He was investigating us because Namjoon wants us taken down.” I leaned back in my chair, finally putting the pieces together.
“Right!” Jimin replied excitedly. “And if he went so far as to track our takedown—”
“He could’ve been tracking these victims for Namjoon as well,” Taehyung cut in, pushing off the wall and walking toward the desk.
“All caught up now, moron?” Jimin snarked, scrunching his face in a taunting way to provoke Taehyung.
“Shut up,” Taehyung dismisses, snatching the paper from the younger’s hands to get a better look at it.
“How confident are you?” I asked Jimin.
“Confident enough to put it in front of you,” he responded so quickly. “I mean… disappearances written off too fast? Deaths labeled accidental with no believable excuse? Witnesses who suddenly can’t recall?”
“It’s…not nothing, Jungkook.” Taehyung now sounded impressed and on board. He was clearly a different man from the one who first walked in.
Jimin straightened his posture a fraction, pleased by the acknowledgment, even if it wasn’t from me. Taehyung handed the list back to me for another once-over. I had to admit it was all pretty damning, given the minimal context. No wonder Jimin was so proud to present this to me first.
“With a little more time to investigate, if we can prove this is real and tie it to the Kims, we can use this as leverage during the next attack.”
“People panic when their secrets are about to surface,” Taehyung adds. It was obvious to me that he was trying to piggyback on Jimin’s idea to claim credit. “With enough pressure, we could overpower them.”
I looked at the list again. Jimin had carefully done whatever research he could in the time and resources he was given, not to mention the rest of his findings, which were compiled similarly. If there weren’t other things on my mind right now, I would feel guilty about giving him a hard time for taking too long.
There wasn’t a single problem I saw with this plan; that's the simple truth. Information like this was a valuable weapon. And if Yoongi left another weapon lying around, God already knew I was picking this one up, too.
“Okay,” I said. “If you’re right, we’ll use it as leverage.”
Jimin’s entire body reacted as if he'd been holding his breath. His eyes brightened and widened, catching himself from smiling too broadly. He nodded quickly, then tried to push himself up off the chair.
“I’ll start working on gathering more intel right away,” he chirped.
Before Jimin stood up, I raised my hand. “Not right now. You’re going on standby.”
Jimin sank back down and looked at me with bewilderment. “Jungkook—”
“Park,” I said, my voice edged with a tone that made him quiet immediately. “You’ve been on this for days. Take a day or two to rest and come back to me with a head that isn’t running on fumes. I need time to review the rest of your notes anyway.”
His mouth opened, then shut, then opened again, as if he wanted to argue but wouldn’t dare. The need to follow his boss’s orders battled with the desire to keep moving.
“You did an amazing job, Park,” I added with quiet sincerity.
My praise landed, and Jimin’s posture shifted. His shoulders lowered slightly, and a satisfied grin spread across his face. He let out a sigh, nodded once in agreement, and stood back up.
“Okay,” he said tightly. “I’ll go on standby, but I’ll be ready when you tell me to.”
He quickly bowed his head before heading out of my office, the door clicking shut behind him. A heavy silence followed; it was just Taehyung and me, with a mountain of notes to go through. My cousin took the now-empty seat across from me and picked up the page we had been discussing for the past several minutes.
He had a devilish smirk on his face, probably thinking of all the ways we could use this information against Namjoon and the rest of the Kims if we could prove their involvement. But as much as I would like to discuss with him all the fantasies I may have of tearing that family down, a different concern entirely was on my mind.
I moved some of the pages on the desk to retrieve the paper I had been looking at earlier. Looking at it again, now with the notes from the manila folder Jimin delivered, I grew increasingly anxious.
“What’s with you?” Taehyung asked. “This list is a gift, so what’s with the face?”
I didn’t look up at him. “It’s not about the list.”
I flipped a couple of the pages around so he could get a better look—photocopied journal pages with Yoongi's aggressive, rushed handwriting. Taehyung leaned closer, carefully scanning the page's contents.
“Jesus,” Taheyung muttered.
Min Yoongi didn’t have baseless scribbles of notes or theories.
Storage unit numbers that have been broken into recently. Delivery schedules for a couple of our drivers who were detained under the presumption of “bad luck”. Names attached to roles that weren’t supposed to be made public.
“Right?” I said, my voice low. “He has too much information. The kind that shouldn’t exist on paper unless we put it there. The kind that changes so often that even years of investigation wouldn’t keep up.”
“Why wouldn’t Jimin lead with this?” Taehyung nervously chuckled.
“Someone is feeding Yoongi information,” I declared confidently.
The room fell silent between us. I watched as Taehyung’s jaw tightened and his brows furrowed as he looked back down at the pages in front of him. He didn’t argue or even try to smooth it over for my sake. Even he knew that was the only plausible conclusion.
He swallowed hard. “Who do you think it could be?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed.
I felt the pressure of not knowing build up in my chest; I really didn’t have a single clue. I ran through the possible names and faces it could’ve been, but nothing stood out to me—every one of their loyalties I have never had to question.
Taehyung was my only certainty, sitting across from me, eyes sharp and ready to act. He was the only person I trusted without hesitation. He was my cousin, and we grew up together like brothers. If paranoia were going to rot the Montagues from the inside out, it wouldn’t start with him.
And I hoped the feeling was mutual.
“Alright,” Taehyung said. “Then we treat it as the worst-case scenario.”
I sat up straighter, leadership clicking into place like a switch. “If Yoongi had this mapped out, we can’t assume any of our other spots are clean anymore.”
“Storage, plants, safepoints—”
“All of it becomes a liability.”
“What about our homes?” Taehyung worried. “Do we have to relocate everyone? How do we know who to protect?”
The thought hadn’t even occurred to me until just now. Yoongi might have some ideas about where some of our members are camping out; was that why he had the Poisoned Chalice raided? Hoping to take down some of our men at the bar and beat my father into a bloody pulp in the process?
But I was most concerned about Y/N’s safety. If Yoongi found out where I lived, he’d come face-to-face with the niece who wants nothing to do with him. Would he try to put his hands on her, hurt her for running away? I didn’t care if I ended up on Yoongi’s victim list as long as I did everything in my power to protect her first.
I needed space to figure out my next step, run it by Y/N, and then go from there.
“Let’s focus on one thing at a time,” I insisted.
Taehyung pushed the chair back, preparing to move quickly. “I’ll start the relocation. I’ll keep everything hush-hush for now until we get to the bottom of this.”
I nodded. “Yeah, get a head start. I’ll join you in a bit. Let me go over everything one more time to make sure we’re not missing anything.”
Taehyung was halfway to the door when I spoke up again.
“Oh, and Tae?”
He paused with his hand on the knob, looking back at me.
“Send Jongdae to my office.”
His eyebrow lifted questioningly, waiting for me to explain. “Right now?”
『summary』 when kim y/n, the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her induction to the family legacy, she’s only looking for a distraction from her rapidly increasing anxiety. instead, she finds jeon jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war. their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden. but in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. as tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start? a re-interpretation of romeo and juliet.
『trigger warnings』 none for this chapter {i'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so i can fix it.}
『note』 this officially marks the end of act one!! i'm excited and ready for what comes next :D i'm so grateful for those who have stuck around and are very supportive, and for those who are just discovering this fic for the first time. i hope you all had a wonderful holiday season. i definitely took advantage of the break with my family and hope you were able to do the same with those you love. while away, i've been working on something new to bring to the table, but i don't wanna give too much away. i'm gonna figure out a way to reveal it, so please look out for my announcement post (or you can opt into my taglist to be notified of that and all my works/updates). hope you enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think~ <3
『word count』 3.2k
『masterlist』 『taglist』
Y/N
I hadn’t realized how closely I’d been listening for the door until the quiet click finally echoed through the apartment. My shoulders eased; I’d been unconsciously tense waiting for Jungkook to return.
“I’m home,” he called in a singsong from the entryway.
A warm sensation bloomed in my chest at his voice. Not because of the words, but because of how natural it sounded. Like he’d been coming home to me for longer than a single day.
“In the kitchen,” I answered, watching the water start to boil.
I heard his footsteps behind me before I even thought to turn. He approached until the heat of him pressed gently against my back. A moment later, his lips brushed my cheek in a soft, careful kiss—nothing like the fevered ones from the night before.
It was a kiss that felt like love in its quietest form. For a moment, I let myself lean into it. I liked the way he held me from behind, hands resting lightly at my waist, swaying me in a subtle rhythm.
It would’ve been so easy to stay like that—still, adored, pretending last night hadn’t cracked something open between us. Pretending the tightness in my chest was only affection and not nerves.
I couldn’t take it much longer. We needed to talk.
I turned around to face him, ready to start, but the resolve evaporated the instant our eyes met. He looked happier than I’d ever seen him, smiling at me in that familiar, devastating way that made me want to melt.
Heat crept up my neck when his gaze drifted, taking in the new tracksuit I’d put on this morning; a forest green ensemble that accentuated my feminine silhouette moreso than any of his borrowed sweats.
“You look…” Jungkook started, trying to keep from drooling, “...really nice.”
I turned back to the stove, pretending the boiling pot required all my focus. “It’s just something I picked out from the boutique yesterday.”
“Mm,” he hummed and started to step back.
I tried to use that as an opportunity to start talking about what happened yesterday, but he didn’t pick up on it. But it’s honestly my own fault for not just coming out with it more clearly.
“I’m surprised to see you cooking. I’m glad I came back in time before you burned down my apartment,” Jungkook teased.
“Please,” I snorted. “I haven’t even set off the smoke alarm.”
“Yet.” I heard the unzip of his jacket, the soft rustling as he wrestled it off.
I rolled my eyes at his mockery, but couldn’t stop my mouth from tugging into a smile. “I think I can handle instant noodles. Besides, I’d expect someone who claims he can cook to have more in his kitchen.”
“Hey, I never said I was a professional,” he chuckled, “but I’ll go to the grocery store later just for you, junior master chef.”
I turned in time to catch his taunting grin, just before his expression shifted. His steps slowed as he took in the apartment. It looked different from how he left it this morning.
The counters were cleared and wiped down. The laundry was no longer a part of the decor. The bed was made, and the couch cushions were straightened, blankets folded neatly along the back. The faint scent of cleaner and aerosol replaced stale coffee and smoke.
“Y/N,” he said softly, “you didn’t have to do all this.”
I turn my attention back to the stove, adding in the dry noodles and stirring the pot, suddenly hyper-aware of my hands. “I know. I just…” I hesitated, hoping he wouldn’t catch it. “I wanted to.”
It was true, but not the whole truth.
Cleaning gave me something to do—something to focus on besides everything we needed to talk about. The store. The drive. The argument. The making up. I won’t be able to think straight until we sort it out, make sense of what this is, and where it’s going.
There was also the other part of me that harbors the compulsion to be useful. I woke up alone this morning; the space where Jungkook slept was already cold, and a note promising me he’d be back. For a while after reading it, I lay there staring at the ceiling, that old, uncomfortable instinct creeping in.
Be pleasing. Be valuable. Don’t take up space.
Arms slip around my waist gently, careful not to startle me too much. “What’s on your mind, Angel?” His caramel-smooth voice softened everything inside me.
“Mmm…nothing…” I hummed.
“Yeah?”
I tilted my head back, meeting his soft eyes and that tender, patient smile. Concern was carved into every line of his expression. It made me feel guilty for not being able to tell him everything that crowded my thoughts.
I sighed; the words that had been sitting in my chest all morning swirled uselessly on my tongue.
Jungkook seemed to take that as his cue. He gently turned my body around to face him, his hands finding my waist again. And before I could question him, he lifted me onto the kitchen counter in one smooth, effortless motion.
He stood between my knees, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him even through the fabric of my clothes. His presence felt inescapable in the best way. One of his hands settled at my waist, thumb rubbing slow circles absent-mindedly while the other came up to brush a loose strand of hair from my face.
“You’re acting a little weird,” he said lightly. “You’re too quiet.”
“I am not,” I scoffed.
“You are,” Jungkook murmured. He smiled fondly, leaning in just enough that our foreheads nearly touched. “You know you can talk to me. I’m here for you.”
My shoulders sagged a little under the weight of being seen.
“I just..” I started, then stopped. The words tangled themselves up the second I tried to pull them out. Jungkook watched with so much affection, patiently waiting for me to continue.
“I don’t want you to think I’m—” I shook my head. “I didn’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
“Y/N—”
“That’s why I cleaned your house,” I rushed on, suddenly embarrassed by how tight my chest felt. “You’ve already done so much. Letting me stay here, buying me new clothes, taking care of me, being…you.”
“Hey,” Jungkook began to shush me gently, taking my hand in his and craning his head to catch my avoiding eyes. “You’re not taking advantage of me, okay?”
I nodded slowly, a small part of me still not believing him.
“I wouldn’t do any of this if I didn’t want to,” he continued with a calm certainty. “You didn’t ask for anything I wasn’t already willing to give you.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course, Angel.” A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “You don’t owe me anything. Not your time, not your gratitude, not…anything.”
Something in my chest loosened, just enough to allow me to breathe easier.
“For the record, the only thing you are guilty of is taking up space in my head,” he added sheepishly. “I’ve been kind of thinking about you all morning.”
Heat crept into my cheeks; I was ashamed to admit I couldn’t stop thinking about his lips and hands all over me. “M-me too.”
Jungkook smiled, but then deliberately softened it, sensing my embarrassment. His finger skimmed up my arm and down my side, skimming my ribs at a slow and affectionate pace, before landing at my waist again. His touch felt reverent, as if he were memorizing the shape of me.
“It’s not just because of last night. Though that definitely didn’t help my concentration.”
I laughed despite myself, growing more flushed by the second. Jungkook leaned in once again, this time pressing his forehead against mine.
“I’m serious,” he said, his tone shifting. “I kept thinking about how cute you looked while sleeping this morning. The way you smile when you’re trying not to. The way you get quiet when you’re thinking about something that’s bothering you, but your eyes totally give you away.”
“My eyes?”
“They’re very expressive,” Jungkook replied softly. He brought his thumb up to my cheek and brushed just beneath my eye with a feather-light touch. “They don’t hide much from me.”
I watched his expression shift slightly as he admired my face. I wanted to read him just as well as he could read me. The muscles on his face seemed tense even though he was smiling and acting almost carefree. There was also something on his mind.
“So,” he said, finally deciding to vocalize the thought he’d been circling. “What are we?”
Relief hit me so fast it almost made me dizzy, not with fear or panic, but with a quiet gratitude. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted Jungkook to be the one to ask.
“I think to answer that,” I started, carefully choosing my next words, “we need to talk about everything else. What happened at the shop, the drive back, the fight—”
“I know,” Jungkook interrupted gently. “Ask me anything you want to know. For you, I’m an open book.”
“Okay.” I studied him for a moment, pretending my heart wasn’t racing. “So…Jihyo. Who is she?”
“Wow, straight to it, huh?” He chuckled to hide his mortification. “Well…she’s my ex. We were together for a while…then we weren’t.”
“Why?”
“She broke up with me, said there was someone else,” Jungkook said simply. “Just several days ago.”
That caught me off guard. “She did?” And not that long ago, no less.
“Yeah.” He shrugged like it wasn’t that big a deal.
One would imagine a wound so fresh would still hurt. Was there a part of Jungkook still hung up on her, and he was trying to downplay his heartbreak? Was I truly a rebound like Jihyo said? Did he want her back in the slightest?
“No.”
“No?”
“No, I don’t want her back.”
“How did you…?”
“Your eyes, Angel,” Jungkook smirked. “They tell me everything.”
I felt a returning sense of relief at hearing those words, but something still bothered me about what happened.
“Then why were you upset on the drive back?”
“I wasn’t upset, really,” he corrected. “After Jihyo confronted me at the shop, I just needed a little space to think.”
“About…?”
“You,” Jungkook stated honestly. “About whether what I was feeling for you was real. Whether I had any right to act on it.”
I held his gaze with bated breath, pulse quickening.
“I knew I didn’t want to pursue you if I was just trying to replace losing her,” he continued. “A girl like you doesn’t deserve a man like that.”
“Are you?” I asked, trying to hide my trembling voice. “Are you trying to use me to replace her?”
“No,” he said immediately. “I know now that my feelings for you don’t even compare to how I ever felt for Jihyo.”
“So the drive…?”
“I was just trying to figure myself out. And I hated myself once you made me realize I hurt you with my silence, making you think I wanted nothing to do with you,” Jungkook admitted. “It was the total opposite.
There was one more thing I needed to confess to you.
“Umm…about our fight…”
Jungkook went very still, noting my nervous hesitation. His eyes searched mine with attentiveness. I was scared to hurt him, but I forced myself to continue.
“What I said then…I meant it.” I started slowly. “It still terrifies me how much I really need you…or how desperately I wanted you to want me back…and even if it was in a moment of passion, I-I still want my first time to be with you…”
Jungkook watched me intently, waiting for the caveat.
“But,” and here it was, “saying ‘love’ out loud like that…it scared me. It felt too fast for me, a-and I’m afraid that meant something was wrong with me.”
He continued to listen without interrupting, his hands still warm at my waist.
“I’ve never been in love before…and I’m not sure if I’m going about this the right way. My feelings for you are real and strong, but I think I need to go slow,” I finished. “For my sake.”
Jungkook nodded only once. “Okay.”
The simplicity of it nearly undid me. I blinked. “Okay?”
“I know I love you, Y/N.” He declared. “Just because it took me a half-hour car ride to sort out my feelings and to figure it out, that doesn’t mean you’re wrong for wanting to take your time. I don’t need you to rush to meet me there.”
I swallowed hard. “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” Jungkook said without hesitation. “You’re allowed to move at your own pace. I’m okay waiting for your ‘I love you’ when you can for sure, without a doubt, mean it.”
“Jungkook,” I said in awe, chest breaking open after aching this entire time.
“But…” he added quietly, “I also meant what I said yesterday. Do you remember?”
He pulled me into his chest, and I immediately wanted to melt into him. His mouth was so close to the shell of my ear, lips brushing my skin, and breath sending a shiver through me.
“Hmm?” I replied; it was the only sound I could manage.
“You have no clue what you do to me,” Jungkook whispered, voice an almost growl.
One arm snaked around my waist while the other slowly slid up my back until it reached the base of my neck. Jungkook’s fingers sank into my hair as he inhaled deeply, breathing me in like he needed proof I was really here with him.
His body was so close that I got to smell him as well; that familiar and heavy scent of cardamom and cigarettes. It was all too arousing, too intimate, a fragrance too addicting for someone who just asked to take things slow.
My forehead pressed into his throat, and I felt his pulse hammering, relieved that mine wasn’t the only one. We held each other like that for a few quiet seconds, with the world shrinking until it was just the space between us. Jungkook then eased back just enough to look at me, hands staying put.
“I want you, Angel. I will always want you.”
I tipped my chin up without thinking, and before I knew it, he leaned in, his mouth brushing my cheekbone. His lips placed a soft kiss, lingering there a moment too long, making me ache with how careful he was being. He kissed me again, the cool touch of his lip ring against my skin sending sharp shivers through me.
Jungkook then leaned in until his forehead was against mine again. But this time it wasn’t gentle, it was desperate, like he was anchoring himself there so he wouldn’t do something more. Something that would take things further, something he would regret.
He breathed me in again, my own breath hitching when he leaned even harder into me. I watched the muscles in his face and jaw tighten; everything about him right now screamed restraint, the kind that can hurt. Our noses brushed one another, and I was so tempted to capture his lips just to put him out of his misery.
“Was that okay?” Jungkook asked, breath ghosting over my mouth.
The words were gentle, but his voice wasn’t. It was low and strained, threaded with a dangerous need. It was clear he wasn’t asking to be polite. It was more like he needed my approval, not just for the kisses on my cheek, but for the desire that followed.
The sound of it traveled straight through me, down my spine, and settled hot and heavy between my thighs. I nodded without thinking twice about whether this went against the boundary I just set.
“Yes.”
The relief on his face was instant. “Can I kiss you some more?”
Yes. God, yes.
The quiet, helpless whimper I made felt like a betrayal of everything I said just moments before. But I couldn’t take it back even if I wanted to. I leaned my body in, filling the gap Jungkook placed to keep from getting dangerously close.
Jungkook’s surprise didn’t last too long, quickly replaced by a hunger that needed to be satiated. He kissed me like he was still obeying the rules placed, but just barely. His mouth was warm and coaxing, savoring the taste before taking me more fervently.
Heat bloomed low in my stomach as my thighs tightened around his hips. My fingers trail up and curl into his hair, diving into the thick, black waterfall of his mullet. I melt into him, every nerve lighting up all at once.
He pulled back just enough to make me chase the next kiss; the absence of his lips caused an ache low in my stomach. It felt cruel, but only in the best way. My fingers tighten, fisting at the back of Jungkook’s head as I quickly take back his mouth. He exhaled against my lips, a rough and lustful sound that sent even more heat spiraling to my core.
The cool lip ring rolled across my lower lip, followed by the glide of his tongue entering my eager mouth. I tried to hide my moans in his kiss, but he broke away once again. His lips turned up into a proud smirk, but my mind felt too hazy to be embarrassed.
Jungkook’s lips returned, this time placing tender and slow kisses following the line of my cheekbone toward my ear. He paused to graze his teeth over the sensitive skin just below my jaw. My attempt at stifling a moan was futile, and I knew he was enjoying hearing the noises I made for him.
He journeyed lower, taking his time, suckling and nipping whenever he wished to hear me sing for him some more. I was heat-drunk for him, my thighs tightened even harder around his hips until I could feel the button of his jeans meet the seam of my leggings. The unmistakable hard press of him sent a throb through my core.
His fingers knead into my waist as our heavy breathing synchronized. He dragged his lower lip along my collarbone, letting the metal trace an erotic line against my skin. My body leaned into it involuntarily, pushing my breasts against him. I was silently begging him to unzip my top to reveal one of the lacey bras he had bought for me. Would he recognize it, or was he not paying close enough attention at checkout?
You’re such a hypocrite, Kim Y/N. This isn’t slow at all.
But it was hard to care when my thoughts were scattered. All I could feel was Jungkook and the pooling heat in my matching panties. I reveled in the way he was clearly fighting himself for me, holding back from taking too much at once.
And it was getting harder by the second to remember why I’d asked him to.
And then—
“...Do you smell that?” Jungkook asked.
“Huh?” I responded, my mind trying to reel back from the haze. But once his question registered, my eyes widened. “Oh no.”
We both turned just in time to see smoke billowing up from the stove. I jumped off the counter, but Jungkook was quicker to act. He pulled the pot of burnt noodles from the burner, which was now off, and tossed it into the sink.
“What say you now, junior master chef?” He turned to me with a sly grin.
I laughed breathlessly. “That trip to the grocery store sounds good right about now.”
『summary』 when kim y/n, the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her induction to the family legacy, she’s only looking for a distraction from her rapidly increasing anxiety. instead, she finds jeon jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war. their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden. but in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. as tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start? a re-interpretation of romeo and juliet.
『trigger warnings』 none for this chapter {i'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so i can fix it.}
『note』 probably the quickest update i'll ever get out to you lol. things will start to get spicier and more interesting in the upcoming chapters, so stay tuned. as always, feel free to share your thoughts :D
『word count』 3.1k
『masterlist』 『taglist』
Jungkook
Y/N was still trembling faintly when I lifted her off the floor, her body still limp like a wet noodle as her breath stuttered against my neck. I could feel the goosebumps on her skin caused by the chill sneaking through the old window frames.
I make my way carefully through a dimly lit apartment, praying I don’t trip over any of the clutter. I do really need to clean up after myself, especially now that I’m not living alone anymore. Y/N hummed against my skin, too tired to speak, but I could only assume it was another unnecessary apology.
“It’s alright, Angel. Don’t worry about a thing, okay?”
I reach the unmade bed, a mess of rumpled sheets and pillows. I lower Y/N onto the mattress with care, treating her as if she’s fragile porcelain. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked up at me with a soft, content smile. I lean down and kiss her gently on her temple before walking back towards the entryway.
My gaze drifts to the hardwood floor, and a glistening puddle stares back at me. Pride burned through me like fire, the heat pulses low in my stomach. I was Y/N’s first, her only for now, but hopefully her forever. She trusted me enough to give herself over like that, and the evidence of her ecstasy left behind was proof that she was left in good hands.
Kneeling beside the mess, I grab my discarded shirt from nearby. I press the fabric down and wipe the floor, the shirt darkening as it soaks up her bodily fluid. The scent of her slips into my lungs, and it’s almost like I can taste her again; that musky arousal mixed with a sweet tang unique to her untouched pussy.
I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my jaw, taking a deep breath as images of Y/N in that intimate moment flashed in my mind. Her legs shaking around my head, fingers twisting in my hair, the way she grinded against my tongue needily. The way she moaned my name over and over, the feeling of her walls clenching around my fingers as she flooded everything with her release, that first powerful squirt jetting out as she screamed.
My cock stiffens again, throbbing against my jeans. Something primal twists in my chest remembering it, but I force it down. Because my heart pounds with something deeper than lust. I love her. And it wouldn’t be fair to her to push her when she’s reached her limit.
She comes first. In every way.
I hear rustling coming from the bed. Tossing the shirt aside, I turn around to catch Y/N trying to sit up.
“S-sorry,” she whispered, voice bruised and shaky. “I-I didn’t mean to…”
“Stop moving, you’re very clearly still sore,” I said to her, trying to hold back my chuckling. “And stop apologizing, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Y/N’s lips parted as if she wanted to argue, but exhaustion took over, and she sank back into the pillows. I turned my face away from her; I didn’t want her to mistake my grin for making fun of her. She just looked too cute not to act giddy.
I was about to get into bed and spend the rest of the night cuddling, but then I remembered one last thing I needed to take care of. Popping into the bathroom, I grabbed a clean hand towel, and returned to Y/N’s side.
Easing her legs apart, I carefully cleaned the remaining wetness from her leg. I slide it up and gently pat her where she is most sensitive, but she still shudders from the contact. When my eyes land on her face, I notice her watching my hand through heavy-lidded eyes.
“How are you feeling?” I asked and removed the towel.
Y/N’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of red, and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth in embarrassment. But biting her lip couldn’t hold back the shy grin, clearly satisfied.
“Mhmm,” she hummed softly, slowly nodding and pressing her thighs back together.
I carelessly threw the towel over my shoulder and went around to slip into the bed beside her. The cotton sheets feel cool against my skin. I pull the sheets and blanket up around Y/N’s bare shoulders, and she immediately curls into me.
She’s tucked into my side, skin warm beneath my fingertips. Her breathing is becoming steadier as I feel every rise and fall against me. I brush my knuckles along her shoulder and lie still in this quiet happiness that consumes me, the kind that makes my heart feel full.
“Sorry,” Y/N breathed in a barely audible whisper.
“Don’t ever apologize when it comes to your pleasure,” I murmur into her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Especially not with me.”
“Okay,” I feel her nod against me, “I just…I didn’t know it could feel like that.”
“Yeah?” I tease gently. “Is that a good ‘didn’t know’ or a bad one?”
Y/N made a tiny sound, like a tired laugh, and shyly buried her face into me.
“Good…really good…”
I smile and hook a finger gently under her chin, guiding her gaze up to mine. My hand then cradled her cheek, my thumb ghosting over her lips in a tender sweep. Her eyes were trying not to drift shut, fighting sleep to stay in this moment with me.
“Thank you,” I began to whisper, “for trusting me to be your first.”
“Stop,” Y/N giggled nervously, playfully slapping my chest. “I’ve never met another man…period. Never mind feeling safe with one as much as I do you. And I’m happy I put my confidence in you; that was perfect.”
“No, you’re perfect,” I quipped.
Y/N rolled her eyes and tried to turn away from me. I whined in protest, holding her tight to my body so she can’t escape. She giggled in response and lay her head on my chest. I chuckle under my breath, the sound melting into a sigh as my eyes land on the ceiling.
“But seriously,” I say, leaning away from the playfulness and more towards sincerity. “I promise to give you the world. Anything you want and more, all you need to do is ask.”
Her fingers trace slowly and aimlessly over the ink on my ribs. I could feel her eyes slipping shut, eyelashes brushing my skin like butterfly kisses.
“You…” Y/N whispers, voice barely there, “I just want you.”
My chest aches as I hold her close, watching the slow calm wash over her just before she drifts to sleep. A possessive and protective love hits me, and I just know I’m done for.
“Well…I’m yours,” I assure Y/N in a low voice. “Every bit of me is yours.”
I then feel Y/N’s lips curve into a dreamy smile. “...Mine,” she echoed listlessly.
With a final sigh, her eyes fall shut, and any tension she carried completely melts away. She was curled up against my body, as if she’d always been meant to fit there, trusting me completely.
I lay awake for a long time afterward, watching her breathe and guarding her dreams, realizing that it was truly possible to fall even harder for her than I ever intended.
✦✦✦
“...and then, they suddenly had the cash,” Taheyung said, laughing under his breath as we walked down the echoing corridor of the office wing of the warehouse. “Poof. Like magic.”
“Isn’t that like the third one this week?” I questioned, sliding my jacket off. “Funny how everyone suddenly ‘already paid’, but nobody can tell us who collected.”
Taehyung scoffed. “Convenient little amnesia epidemic we’ve got going on.”
I chuckled as we reached my office door. Taehyung turned the rusted knob for me and motioned for me to step inside ahead of him. I flicked the light switch on; harsh florescents buzzed overhead, illuminating dust particles in a room barely used.
Home sweet home.
“How close did they come to getting beaten, anyway?” I asked.
“Close enough that they saw God in my fist, then decided they liked walking better.” Taehyung grinned mischievously.
“Hmm,” I pondered aloud, draping my jacket on the back of my chair before swiveling it around and taking a seat. “Something feels off about it, no?”
“You think it could be the Kims?”
“I don’t think so,” I shook my head. “They wouldn’t waste time doing something so petty; they’d want to hit us where it hurts.”
Taehyung hummed, unconvinced. “No matter what, it still smells like trouble.”
He hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of my desk, as if he was too good to sit in the chair across from me. With legs spread and arms folded, he looked like a smug child doing something their parent wouldn’t approve of. Under different circumstances, I might’ve picked that fight.
But I was lost in thought, wondering if there was even anyone collecting the dues pretending to be a Montague. Maybe it was the shop owners who were secretly convening together and testing boundaries. For a moment longer, neither of us spoke.
Then, Taehyung tilted his head and began to eye me like he was studying my face.
“What? I questioned, confused about what he was trying to learn.
“You know,” he started, voice casual but dangerous with curiosity, “I wasn’t expecting you to show up this early.”
I remained silent, just continued listening to him ramble.
“Guess that’s what happens when you finally break free from that little pole-dancing devil,” Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head in amusing disbelief. “That damn stripper isn’t distracting you anymore?”
Normally, his negative comments about Jihyo would’ve set something off in me. I would’ve probably scowled and warned him to back off, defend her even if she wasn’t a great person. I also don’t condone the shaming of sex workers.
But Jihyo wasn’t the name that echoed in my head anymore.
“She’s not in the picture, no,” I replied simply. “I just feel…I don’t know…like I’m walking on air.”
Taehyung’s grin stretches wide as if Christmas came early. I knew he was about to make some foul remark, and I feel like an idiot for setting it up for him. He leaned forward and clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“Well, you should definitely feel lighter after dropping that hoe,” he cackles at his own joke, then tries to settle down before continuing, “but I’m seriously glad you’re smartening up. Remembering who you are and all.”
Who I am?
If only Taehyung knew who I actually was. He wouldn’t be saying that so proudly if he knew what I’ve done or what I’ve felt. He doesn’t have a clue that while he was sitting here celebrating my return, all I could think about was the daughter of our enemy just across from him.
Y/N.
Waking up to her still tangled in my arms in the morning was the greatest gift to see. She looked so peaceful with her warm breath steady on my skin. I honestly wondered for a second if I was still dreaming, I didn’t dare to break the spell.
It hurt to peel myself away from Y/N. I was slow and careful, but it didn’t take away from the feeling of committing some betrayal. I didn’t want a sliver of cold air touching her, but I didn’t have much of a choice; I had to leave.
Before slipping out of the apartment, I made sure to bring the shopping bags inside from the car. Y/N made it clear yesterday that she would feel more comfortable in her own clothes. Thinking about it now, if I had more time, I would’ve emptied a drawer or two for her to store her new wardrobe.
I also left a note on the nightstand that read:
Had business to take care of this morning. I’ll be back home later. Love you. —J
Now sitting here, pretending to listen to Taehyung ramble about something Montague-related, thinking about the way I signed off with a short declaration of love, I realize there was one thing I hadn’t bothered to discuss with Y/N.
What are we?
We never had the chance to figure it out between the fighting and the writhing. The real, most important question scared me, but I needed to know.
What am I to you?
I didn’t need to think twice about what she was to me, because I knew the answer: Y/N was my soulmate. She had my heart in her hands; I’m not afraid to admit to her that she was my everything. My world starts and ends with her.
Which reminds me…
“Alright,” I cleared my throat and forced myself to sit up straighter, waving a lazy hand to silence my cousin. “Let’s start talking about mapping the next attack on the Kims.”
“Oh.” Taehyung’s brow lifted. “Yeah…no, we can’t yet.”
His words distinguish my good mood.
“What do you mean we can’t?” I snap.
“Relax.” He held up both hands as if to slow me. “I’m not saying no indefinitely…just not yet.”
“That means nothing to me,” I shot back. “Why the delay?”
Taehyung shifted on the desk, sighing like he was annoyed he even had to explain it to me.
“Because Jimin isn’t done with the journal,” he said plainly. “We don’t know everything Yoongi’s been tracking. There’s so much information about the Montagues. He says, based on what he’s read so far, we can’t afford to screw up by rushing into things without preparing.”
I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. Both Jimin and Taehyung weren’t wrong; we have to safeguard and go on the defensive for now. But the longer we wait, the more they get away with. The more Y/N stays under their control.
I couldn’t tell Taehyung that this wasn’t about the war anymore.
I ran a hand through my hair, pulse spiking as irritation settled.
“Where the hell is Jimin?”
“I don’t know,” Taehyung shrugged. “Maybe in one of the backrooms working? I haven’t seen him yet today. I just finished my rounds when I ran into you.”
I dug into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out my phone. If anyone were going to have the power to push things forward, it would be me. I called Jimin, and he answered on the first ring.
“Hey, boss. What’s—”
“What’s taking you so long, Park?” I interjected, skipping all forms of pleasantries and patience.
I could practically hear him stiffen on the other end of the line.
“I-I’m working as fast as I can,” he rushed out. “There’s just a lot here…some of it isn’t even about us. Yoongi’s got notes on other crimes and locations… they don’t even seem related to the Kims, let alone the Montagues. It’s all disorganized, it’s—”
“I don’t care about his side hobbies, just pull what matters. We’re trying to plan another strike, not building a court case here.”
“I know,” Jimin says quietly, clearly avoiding setting me off. “But this stuff could be evidence when we do. Or we could use it against him somehow. I honestly thought this was what you wanted, sir.”
I exhaled hard into the phone, my frustration melting into resignation. Now that Jimin puts it that way, I faintly remember telling him to put together an exposé by scanning and organizing the journal.
Now I feel like a douchebag.
“Just…let me know when it’s all set, Park.”
“Yes, sir.”
There was a thick silence between Taehyung and me after I hung up the phone. I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to relax the tension in my body and slow my pounding heart. After a moment longer, he lets out a long, low whistle.
“Damn,” he smirks, pushing off the desk and taking a few steps away. “Jimin is probably sweating through his clothes right now.”
“Kim Namjoon needs to be taken down and soon,” I growled, not returning the joke.
“Yeah, he does. They all do. And the second we get the full picture, we will.”
Taehyung was about to leave the office, but turned around quickly like he suddenly remembered to tell me something.
“Oh, Jungkook, before I forget…” he thumbed open his phone and began searching for something. “I got a message last night from our guy at City Hall.”
“What did they say?”
“Namjoon and Yoongi went crawling to the mayor.” Taehyung scoffed as he skimmed the message. “Looks like they want state backup because their precious princess is missing.”
My heart stops for a beat, then starts hammering.
Y/N.
“What did Mayor Hoseok say?”
“He shut it down quickly. More than half the city already thinks the Kims rigged the election for him. The last thing he wants right now is to hand over taxpayer money so they can flip Verona upside down.”
I guess you can still find some rationality in corrupt politics.
“However,” Taehyung continued, “he did give Yoongi the green light to use the police department to an even greater extent than he already was. This time with no oversight from Hoseok. Pretty nice of him, huh?”
I stare at the floor for a bit, just thinking about what this means for us going forward. The police will now be searching everywhere. And I know with great certainty, Yoongi wouldn’t hesitate to turn the South End into a war zone.
All because Y/N dared to run. Dared to want a life outside of the family.
“And of course,” Taehyung added lightheartedly to deter from the seriousness of it all, “none of this is useful, really. It’s just an email with no proof, can’t exactly call the feds with this, can ya?”
I didn’t answer.
He chuckles to himself before speaking under his breath. “All over a missing rich girl who probably hopped on her private jet to throw a tantrum in Paris.”
The chair beneath me creaked as I sat forward, elbows propped on my knees. I tuned Taehyung out for the remainder of his ramblings because the truth was, he hadn’t a clue as to what he was talking about.
Y/N wasn’t some spoiled heiress who was throwing a tantrum. She ran for her life. Ran to me. She was scared and hurt, crying in my arms. The images of her that night flash in my brain, and a fire of rage bellows inside me.
Yoongi was already searching, but now Hoseok had permitted him to take whatever he needed, all while he looked the other way.
“Good,” was all I thought, “let them try.”
I was prepared to watch them turn Verona inside out as they searched for Y/N. Because if they ever made it far enough to find her, if they got close enough to even see her, they would learn exactly who they were up against.
Kim Y/N would be the last thing I ever surrendered. I bet my life on it.
『summary』 when kim y/n, the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her induction to the family legacy, she’s only looking for a distraction from her rapidly increasing anxiety. instead, she finds jeon jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war. their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden. but in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. as tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start? a re-interpretation of romeo and juliet.
『trigger warnings』 oral (fem receiving), fingering, praise/worshipping kink, inexperienced!reader, guided orgasm, squirting {i'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so i can fix it.}
『note』 i underestimated how difficult it would be to write this chapter lol. smut with plot is hard guys >_<. anyways, hope you guys enjoy this extra long and extra spicy chapter <3
『word count』 6.4k
『masterlist』 『taglist』
Y/N
“Y/N—” Jungkook’s voice traveled behind me.
The harsh winter wind rushed into my lungs as I wrapped my arms around myself tightly, tilting my chin up to the sky, as if that alone could keep my tears from falling. I didn’t know exactly where I was going; I could only hope I could find my way back to the alley where my car was parked. But it didn’t matter; I just wanted to get away.
Away from that car. Away from Jungkook.
My steps hit the pavement quickly, as if I slowed down even for a second, the humiliation swelling in my chest would finally catch up and crush me. I was infuriated, replaying the silence and the indifference from the last hour. But I wasn’t just angry with Jungkook; I was mostly mad at myself.
I felt so stupid thinking he saw me as anything more. As if our moment alone in the dressing room never happened. As if I imagined every spark, every glance, every brush of breath that made my chest ache in both the best and worst ways.
I feel sick, not from the cold or exhaustion, but from Jungkook. From the way he'd shut down on me, to the air between us turning frigid. I wanted to scream as the mix of embarrassment and rage clawed up my throat. I’m an idiot to care this much; I shouldn’t care at all.
He could chase after his ex and distance himself from me to make it easier to let her back in. What did it matter to me?
Except it did.
“Y/N, please wait.” He called out to me again, shutting his car door more softly than I had, and began chasing after me.
My heart aches at the memory of Jihyo’s voice, her arrogance, her familiarity with him. My eyes sting with tears threatening to spill over at the way clueless and desperate Y/N was left hiding behind a curtain. At the same time, the woman Jungkook used to love flirted shamelessly with him, badmouthing me, and he didn’t utter a word in my defense.
He didn’t even check to see if I was okay afterwards, like he couldn't care less about my feelings.
“Come on, Angel,” He pleaded.
I picked up my pace, hoping he would get the message to leave me the hell alone. I didn’t want to cry over this, over him. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how badly he affected me. I just want to get away and calm down. I wanted to pretend none of this mattered and that the pain in my chest was just indigestion from the diner food.
“Angel!”
He called me again by the nickname he gave me, but with a firmness that indicated his frustration. It was almost as if he thought I was being unreasonable for not immediately melting for him, stopping and listening to whatever explanation he thought he owed me.
I wasn’t going to make things easier for him, lifting him out of whatever guilt he carried. So I didn’t look back, didn’t stop. Because if I did, I knew I’d break. I needed him to feel what it’s like to be shut out, but what I wanted was to scream at him for making me feel this small.
“Just hang on, Y/N,” His voice was clearer as he began to catch up. “Let's just talk…please,”
“Just leave me alone, Jungkook.” My voice trembled but stayed sharp, barely a whisper, though I knew he heard me.
Jungkook’s footsteps sped up, nevertheless. And a second later, his hand wrapped around my arm. Not too harshly or too painfully, just enough to stop me from walking away. Just enough to make my breath catch in my throat.
I hated this. I hated the way my body betrayed me, the way he had this kind of effect on me.
“Angel, please,” he breathed with a strained tone, sounding hurt. He pulled my body closer to his, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver racing up my spine that the cold air can’t compete with. “We can talk about this. Please come home with me.”
And that was all it took. I pulled away, yanking my arm back and whipping around to face Jungkook. All the anger, hurt, and embarrassment snapped all at once inside of me, ready to explode in front of him.
“What?” I demanded, voice shaking despite how hard I tried to keep it steady. “What do you want?”
Jungkook blinked at me, visibly startled, as if he wasn’t expecting me to lash out angrily.
“I asked you, what do you want?” I snapped even louder this time.
“I just want to talk,” he said carefully, his hands trying to reach for my arm again.
“Talk? I let out a hollow laugh. “Now you want to talk?”
I pulled my arms away from him quickly, making him flinch slightly. I stepped back, but he was quick to close the distance.
“Y/N—”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You don’t get to chase after me now. You don’t get to go cold on me and then act like you’re the one that’s hurt when I walk away.”
Jungkook’s jaw tightens, and his brows knit together. “That's not what I was doing.”
“Oh, really?” My voice cracks as the anger continues to rise. “Because it sure felt like it.”
He runs a shaky hand through his hair, biting his lip as he tries to think on his feet quickly.
“Can we please just go back to the apartment? I can explain—”
“I don’t want to go back with you,” I cut him off. “I want you to leave me alone.”
I tried to turn and walk away again, but he quickly grabbed my wrist. “Y/N, please—”
“Why?” I asked. “So you can ignore me again? Treat me like I’m invisible so I can just sit there wondering what I did wrong to you?”
Jungkook opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to find the right words to respond.
“I wasn’t ignoring you,” he said lowly. “And you didn’t do anything wrong either.”
“Then what the hell was that?” I seethed, finding myself taking several intimidating steps towards him.
But Jungkook stayed stiff and frozen like a soldier, eyes never faltering from me, ready to take the verbal abuse from his sergeant.
“Because one minute you’re warm and playful and…God, I actually thought—” My hands shoot to the top of my head, a trembling sigh escapes my lips, and I shake the image out of my head. My throat catches, and I’m forced to swallow the confession. “A-and then the next minute you’re slamming doors and can’t even look at me.”
The tension in Jungkook’s shoulders loosened after I finished. He tilted his head to the side, eyes unable to meet mine, and an attempt at apologizing began stumbling out in pieces.
“No.” I shut him down. “If you are actually sorry, you’d let me leave.” I turn to walk away once more.
“Y/N—”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Go home, Jungkook.” I threw over my shoulder, each word clipped and final.
But with every few steps I put between us, something ugly and anxious unspooled low in my stomach. Jungkook’s silence behind me stretched for way too long. A stupid, choked sound clawed up my throat as a tear broke loose.
I told him to let me go, but the idea of him actually listening to me was that he would just stand there and watch me walk out of his life. How pathetic could I be? Crying because he didn’t chase me?
Then…
“Yes, there is!” Jungkook yelled after me, his voice raw and insistent. The shout cracked through the air so sharply my knees nearly gave out. “Whether you want to hear it or not.”
For a split second, my relief was so intense it hurt, like everything inside me knotted then snapped loose all at once. More tears spilled over before I could stop them, and shaky breaths tore from me.
“Y/N,” His voice softened as he approached me from behind, holding me close to his chest. Jungkook pressed his cheek to mine, and I knew he could feel the warm tears on my frozen skin. “It’s cold out here, Angel. Let’s talk inside.”
My whole body tenses in his arms.
“Don’t call me that.” The words came out brittle and breathless, but there was no denying the anger behind them.
“...Why not?” Jungkook asked carefully, like he was afraid of the answer.
“Because you don’t get to call that like I mean something to you,” I admitted, heart pounding so loudly I could barely hear anything else.
The words ripped out of me before I could think; it didn’t feel like a choice anymore. Jungkook loosened his grip on me, and I took the opportunity to turn and face him. He blinked, stunned, but I was at the point that if I was going to tell him the truth, I might as well look him in the eye.
“I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t affect me,” I said, my voice breaking despite my best effort to keep it steady. “When you act gently with me. When you look at me like that…like I’m worth holding onto.”
Jungkook whispers my name quietly, cautiously. It was like he wanted to stop me, but if I let him, I might not have the strength to tell him again.
“But it confuses me,” I pressed on, curling my hands into fists at my side. “It messes with my head. I know who you are, and I know what people say about you. But I still—” My breath hitched. “I still want to run to you. Even when you push me away.”
I watched him swallow hard, not daring to reach for me. He didn’t speak up, but he wasn’t denying anything either. He just listened, and somehow it made me feel worse.
“You don’t get to call me Angel,” I repeated more firmly. “Not when you don’t understand what the name does to me. What it tries to pull out of me. And I can’t keep feeling that unless it’s mutual. Unless you feel something too. I don’t want to be someone you pity. Or someone you’re using to get over your ex.”
The silence between us tightened, a breath from snapping.
“I want—” I choked on the word, then forced it out. “I want to matter to you because you want me.” Hot tears continue to stream down my face. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t…that I don’t love you.”
There it was. The confession came out ragged, raw, and unbearably honest. Jungkook became slack-jawed, lips parting in disbelief.
“I love you, Jungkook…”
“Y/N I—” He finally tried to speak, but I broke into a sob.
“I love you…and it terrifies me because I hate that you make me feel safe. And seen, and wanted. Because the more I feel it, the more I realize how much I need it. Need you. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do—”
I didn’t get the chance to finish because Jungkook moved in quickly.
His hands cupped my face with desperate certainty, and his lips crashed into mine, swallowing the rest of my confession. A startled sound escaped me, but it melted instantly under the heat of him. I didn’t think, didn’t breathe. I just kissed him back.
All the anger, fear, and aching want I’d been choking on poured straight into the kiss. I felt Jungkook’s fingers slide into my hair, tightening just enough to make my knees weaken. He kissed me harder, deeper, like he’d been holding himself back for so long and had finally snapped.
Is this the right thing to do? After everything that just happened?
Somewhere in the haze, the thin thread of sense I still held tugged at me. But I ignored the thoughts, the truth so humiliating yet simple; I wanted Jungkook to want me since the moment we shared our dance at the gala. So every doubt I held, every reason to stop, blurred into nothing but heat.
“Jungkook…” I sighed against his lips, barely recognizing my own voice as it left me.
He groaned softly in response, like saying his name was the final push he needed. In one effortless motion, Jungkook lifted me off the ground. My legs wrapped around his waist without hesitation, instinct taking over where thought failed.
Without allowing a second to breathe, he carried me back in the direction of the apartment. He walked fast, almost frantic, like he feared I might change my mind if he slowed down. He gripped my thighs tightly, bringing me as close and flush with him as he could, like he couldn’t stand an inch of space left between us.
We traveled as far as the car, and he pinned me against the trunk. My heart pounds wildly in my chest as Jungkook’s mouth continues to devour mine, lips locked in a frantic kiss that tastes of salt and desperation.
“You have no clue what you actually do to me?” Jungkook murmured against my lips, voice low and ragged. His shaky exhale sends a jolt of heat straight to my core. “I’ve been losing my mind for days over you.”
My head tilted back as he laid hot kisses along my jaw, a gravely moan escaping at the dizzying sensation. He slipped a hand beneath my layers, tracing my waist with gentle fingers. My nipples pebble from the rushing chill, and my fingers twist in his hair in response.
“I want you, Angel,” he whispered, lifting his head to press his forehead to mine. He stared straight into my eyes, chest heaving with uneven breaths. “I’ve been wanting you…more than I’ll ever know how to tell you.”
I can feel his erection pressing hard between my legs, a mix of excitement and nerves twists inside me. My pussy thrums with an unfamiliar urgency.
“Inside,” I manage to get out. “Jungkook…take me inside.”
He stilled for a moment, chest rising and falling in sync with mine. I watch a small smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. Then, he tightened his grip beneath my thighs and lifted me again, carrying me toward the front door.
Every step jostled me closer against him, against his hard cock. I found myself winding my arms tightly around his neck and digging my heels into his back, shamelessly grinding against him so needily. Jungkook lets out a groan so guttural, like the action was causing him immense pain.
Through distracting whimpers in his ear, Jungkook scraped the door with his keys, struggling to unlock it. He whispered soothing words, reassuring me that he would take care of me and alleviate the aching.
The lock finally gives with a click, and we tumble inside, the door slamming shut behind us. Jungkook put me down on the ground and crashed his lips into mine once more for another greedy kiss.
Jungkook pulled his hoodie over his head, his t-shirt coming off with it, before turning his attention back towards me. He quickly removed the large jacket that was swallowing me, tossing it as far as possible.
Clumsy, eager hands pull at the edge of my shirt, taking it off in one swift motion. My bare chest was left exposed to Jungkook, the house's draft causing goosebumps on my skin. He smiles wickedly, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he admires my breasts.
I didn’t have the chance to feel self-conscious or close myself off to him. He takes a step closer, his strong frame pressing mine against the wooden door. I gasp softly into his mouth as his mouth crashes down on mine in another fierce, hungry kiss.
Jungkook’s lips devoured me, tongue thrusting past my parted lips to tangle with mine in a demanding rhythm. His teeth grazed over my lower lip just enough to sting. I felt the hard length of his cock straining through his pants against my thigh, hips grinding into mine, holding me immobile as his hands roamed.
One hand slides around my neck, cupping the nape of it, while the other slides up my side, fingers splaying wide over the curve of my waist. Jungkook broke the kiss for a split second to nip at my jawline, his breath hot and ragged against my skin.
I let out a soft and quiet moan before he claimed my mouth once again with even more urgency. His hand trailed higher, fingers brushing the underside of my breasts, teasing the soft swell before cupping it fully in his palm.
Jungkook squeezed my breast, massaging it with a possessive grip. His thumb began circling my hard nipple as he kneaded the firm flesh, then started rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers. I moan against his lips, the kiss then growing sloppier and wetter as his hunger fueled every movement.
I arch into his touch as my mind races, a rush of fear and thrill bubbling up.
I break the kiss just enough to whisper his name, “Jungkook…”
It was supposed to help lead me into an embarrassing confession, to tell a secret I was too shy to share. But it comes out breathy, lost in the haze of the moment. Jungkook doesn’t catch it, but I had to tell him before things go any further.
“J-Jungkook I—ahh…”
“I know,” he murmured against my mouth. “I know, Angel…I’m sorry…” His voice sounds husky with regret.
His kisses trail from my lips to my jaw, each one hot and frantic like he was trying to make up for every second we’d wasted fighting.
“I’m sorry I pushed you away. I didn’t mean any of it,” Jungkook whispered, lips brushing my earlobe lightly. “I’m sorry I made you think you were the only one feeling anything. I should’ve told you I loved you the moment I felt it.”
Before I could speak another word, he kissed down the line of my throat, forcing a ragged sigh out of me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t defend you harder. I shouldn’t have let Jihyo disrespect you. I should’ve shut her down the moment she opened her mouth.”
His apologies pour out of his mouth as he sucks on the tender skin of my neck. Each kiss ignites sparks throughout me, making my toes curl and arousal pooling between my legs. But guilt gnaws at me; he’s misreading my hesitation.
“I’m sorry I made you feel unwanted…worthless. Angel…I’m sorry,” The hand resting at my neck trailed down my spine, coming to rest at my waist. “I’ll show you, Y/N. I’ll show you how sorry I am.”
Jungkook hooked a finger to my waistband, and panic bloomed so fast within me. He didn’t know, and I needed to tell him fast before it was too late. Before either of us regretted crossing this line.
“J-Jungkook, wait—” I stammer, trying to wedge words in as his teeth nip at my collarbone, sending shivers down my spine. My body betrays me, arching into his touch.
“I’ll show you exactly what you mean to me.” With his other hand, he fumbled trying to quickly undo the knot of the sweatpants string, growing a bit impatient and irritated. “I’ll worship you…every part of you…please let me make it up to you. I’ll—”
“I’m a virgin!" I blurted out, voice cracking.
He stops instantly, pulling back from me with wide eyes. The sudden halt leaves me aching and exposed; my face flames with embarrassment as the admission hangs in the air between us. I cringe inwardly, arms instinctively crossing over my chest.
“What?” He whispered, almost as if he didn’t want to believe it.
“I’ve never…done it…,” I confessed. “I’ve never been with anyone before.”
Jungkook’s hands, once clutching me like he couldn’t bear to let go, were hovering like he didn’t know where he was allowed to touch me.
“Y/N…why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
He sounded angry. I opened my mouth to speak, but he shook his head sharply.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, jaw clenching as he pulled both his hands through his hair. “I got carried away, I wasn’t thinking…God…Angel, if I had known, I never would’ve touched you like that.”
“Jungkook—”
“Fuck!” He cursed again, voice rough with frustration, but not at me. “I never wanted you to feel like you had to do anything with me. I never wanted to push you, to be that guy to you. I swear, Y/N, I would rather die than hurt you or make you feel pressured. Let’s just stop right here. I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable.”
Jungkook stepped back further from me, as if he were a danger to me. I can tell his concern is genuine, etched in the furrow of his brow, voice laced with panic. It tugs at my heart, watching him still being caring and attentive even when he’s flustered.
But stopping? No, that’s the last thing I want.
I hesitate, biting my lower lip, mind whirling. The vulnerability of the moment makes my stomach flutter, but when I look at Jungkook, I feel a surge of trust and love that’s deeper than my nerves. I wanted this. With Jungkook, I feel safe.
Swallowing hard, I uncross my arms and reach for his hand.
“I want you,” I whisper.
His eyes snap to mine, stunned.
“I love you, and I trust you,” I reassured. “ You’re the only one I’ve ever felt safe with. I know you’d be slow. Gentle. Careful.”
I took a slow breath in.
“And…I want my first time to be with you.”
Jungkook looked wrecked at first, like I’d handed him a gift that just so happened to be a loaded gun.
“Y/N…” he breathed shakily. “You have no clue how scared I am of wanting you.”
“Then show me.” My voice wavers.
He swallowed hard, the tension in his shoulders crumbling as he cupped my face. His face softens as he draws me in closer, resting his forehead against mine.
“Okay, Angel, we’ll take it easy…your pace,” He promises, waiting for my nod of approval.
The shift in Jungkook was immediate. The wild frenzy dissolves into something tender, deliberate. His kiss returns, soft and exploratory, lips brushing against mine like a caress. I melt into it; the earlier embarrassment fades away as warmth spreads through me.
“This feels right,” I think, sighing as his fingers brush gently against my waist again.
Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, taking another long look at my body under his touch. His gaze locked onto the way my nipples tighten under his heated stare. He doesn’t pounce; instead, he leans down and places slow kisses just under my ear.
“You’re so stunning, Angel,” he said, voice barely above a breath. “You deserve to be touched like you're precious.”
My chest rises and falls in shallow, eager gasps. My thighs press together like I could trap the heat building between them. Jungkook pressed another slow kiss on the sensitive spot next to my ear, and my inhale turned into a quiet, needy sound I immediately tried to swallow.
“That’s what I want…to hear you tell me what feels good.”
His fingers tease just under my breasts. A satisfied hum vibrates through me, and I can feel his grin on my neck. He cups my breast more gently than before, and my skin burns where his hands touch me.
“Every part of you deserves to be adored. You have no idea,” Jungkook murmurs, lips following the line of my neck, “how long I’ve wanted to show you how incredible you are.”
Jungkook places an open-mouth kiss on my collarbone.
“And how beautiful.”
Another kiss.
“And how desired.”
Another.
His words land harder than any touch or kiss. They hit me like a spark, igniting a flutter deep in my core. It makes me feel seen, cherished. It boosted my confidence amid the uncertainty I might still hold on to in this moment. My body was buzzing in a way I didn’t recognize.
A flush spread down my chest as I realized I craved it. Jungkook’s words. His voice claimed me. Saying things I never believed I deserved to hear.
“Don’t stop…saying those things,” I whispered, embarrassed by how needy and pathetic it sounded.
“Oh?” He lifted his gaze to burn into mine, full of awe as if he’d just learned my biggest secret. “You like being praised? You like being told how perfect you are?”
My heart stuttered. I tried to look away, but Jungkook gently guided my chin back to him.
“Hey,” Jungkook said softly, lips brushing mine in a gentle, reassuring peck. “It’s alright. I don’t mind worshiping you like the Angel you are.”
His mouth descended onto me again, kissing my chest without rush or urgency, only devotion. His thumbs circled my nipples, slow at first, then firmer, pinching just enough to make me whimper. The sound was high and needy, sending a jolt straight to my pussy.
“These are gorgeous,” he breathes, his voice vibrating against my skin. “Firm and sensitive…just perfect for my mouth.”
Jungkook leans down and replaces a hand with his mouth, his tongue flicking over one stiff peak before he sucked it between his lips. I let out a soft cry, my fingers tangling in his hair, holding him there like I feared he might stop.
Pleasure lanced through me, sharp and sweet, arching my back off the door. He groaned against my skin, the vibration making me squirm. I whine when his mouth leaves my breast, but his mouth quickly closes around the other nipple. The wet heat of his tongue circled over the sensitive bud, nibbling gently, then sucking hard.
“J-Jungkook…ahh—!” I cry out his name.
His free hand slid down, tracing the curve of my waist, the dip of my hip, before his fingers hooked onto my waistband again. Without hesitation, my hands move on instinct, gathering the string on the pants to untie them for him. My mind was too hazy with need to wait for him to struggle with the knot again.
“Relax, my love,” he breathes against my breast. “You’re doing perfectly, just let me take care of you.”
Jungkook didn’t rush. Every movement of his was measured, designed to make me ache for him. He sinks lower, mouth trailing wet paths across my ribs and my navel. He dragged my pants down my hips, inch by agonizing inch, his knuckles brushing against the soft skin of my thighs.
The fabric pooled around my ankles, and Jungkook helped me step out of them slowly. I pressed my thighs together, shy under the weight of his gaze. I was now completely bare in front of him, my trimmed and neat pussy mere centimeters from his face.
“Your body’s a wonder,” Jungkook says, voice rough with hunger. “You look like a goddess. I’m the luckiest man to touch you.”
The affirmations send more tingling racing to my swollen core, the wetness that continues to gather there surprises me, revealing how responsive I am to him.
Jungkook gets down on his hands and knees before me. I start to tremble, legs quivering as tension builds. What if I don’t know how to react? What if I embarrass myself? Turn him off?
“It’ll be alright, Y/N.” His thumb strokes my inner thigh soothingly. “You still trust me?”
A slow nod was all I could manage.
“Excellent,” Jungkook replied.
I watch as his eyes slowly travel up the curves of my body, lingering on the swell of my breasts, back down to the dip of my waist, then at the soft mound between my thighs.
“Look at you,” he marveled, “so fucking perfect…”
He flashes me a kind, comforting smile, reassuring me that he’s capable of taking care of me. Jungkook nudges my legs apart with a tender pressure. His touch was light, coaxing rather than demanding. I part my legs for him, feeling the cool air against my damp folds.
“That’s it, just like that.” Jungkook settles in closer, his breath warm on my skin as he positions himself. His hands slide up to grip my hips gently, thumbs stroking soothing circles. “God, your pussy looks so inviting…so irresistible.”
He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of my thigh, then another a little higher. His lips linger unhurriedly as he works his way toward my core. I feel my legs tremble once more, the anticipation too much to bear.
When his mouth finally reaches my pussy, he starts easy, pressing feather-light kisses to my outer lips. But soon after, his tongue darts out, and he begins licking a slow line along my slit.
I gasp, jerking forward on instinct. My hands fly to Jungkook’s hair, fingers threading through the jet black strands. Jungkook hums in approval, the vibration making me shudder.
“You taste incredible,” he whispers against me, his words muffled but fervent. “So sweet…so eager…”
Jungkook laps at me gently, his tongue flat and broad as it slides from my entrance to my clit, gathering as much of my arousal as he can. Each stroke is deliberate, worshipful, like he is savouring every drop.
“Oh god—!” I moan in an almost pained cry.
My thoughts scatter as pleasure builds, a slow burn that makes my toes curl against the floor. Jungkook brought his tongue back to the entrance of my cunt, dipping the tip of his tongue with the smallest bit of pressure, before sliding it back to circle my clit.
With my fingernails clawing into his scalp, my hips twitch like I didn’t know whether to pull away or grind against his mouth. He swirls his tongue firmly around the swollen bud, just enough to make my legs start to shake.
Jungkook notices and his hands tighten at my hips. “I’ve got you, Angel,” he pulls back for a moment to look up at me, “lean on me if you need to.”
I shift my weight, and he guides one of my legs up, draping it over his shoulder. The position opens me wider, exposing everything to him. I watch as his eyes darken with even more lust, and I feel the vulnerability within me grow.
But I know just by the way he looks at me, touches me, and tastes me that he wants to cherish me.
He wraps his arm around my thigh to hold me steady and dives back in. With better access, Jungkook captures the sensitive nub between his lips, sucking softly. I sigh shakily, my head falling back against the door, hips bucking into his face. He groans in response, the sound vibrating right through my core.
Jungkook lets go of my clit and slides his tongue back down, pushing it slightly inside to get a deeper taste. A throaty moan escapes me, and I suddenly feel a surge of boldness. It was almost as if something primal had awoken in me, and before I could overthink it, my hips started to grind against his face.
“Yes, that’s it,” he praises between licks, his tongue flattening between my lips. “Fuck my face. Take what you need, Angel.”
I roll my pelvis in needy, erratic circles, smearing my wetness across his lips and chin. My high-pitched moans fill the apartment as if I were a deprived maniac. Jungkook's hand is firmly gripping my waist, guiding but not controlling my movements.
The friction feels electric, his nose bumping my clit with each movement, sending jolts up my spine. I grip his hair tighter, pulling him closer as I ride his tongue. It feels like I’m claiming him, and the thought makes my movements grow bolder and more urgent.
“God, you’re so fucking hot like this,” he idolizes me between my thrusts, his voice hoarse with arousal. “Use my mouth, make it yours.”
His words spur me on, and I chase that release harder. The pleasure swells, intense and unrelenting, like a storm gathering force. He takes his hand and squeezes my ass, the sensation washing over me like liquid fire.
The intensity builds fast, my thighs quivering around his head. But suddenly, sharp twinges start in my pelvis, and a dull ache cuts through the bliss. I freeze mid-thrust, my body tenses, and I pull back and lean against the door. I let out a soft whimper, and my leg starts to slip a bit from his shoulders.
“Are you alright, Y/N?” Jungkook asked, concern filling his tone.
I debated whether to tell him the truth. Even though he knows I’m inexperienced, I’m still embarrassed to ask him if that painful pressure was normal. Out of breath and flushed, I nod and position myself for him to continue for me.
Reluctantly, he took my clit back into his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. I returned to being a loud, whining mess; his name and profanities being the only words I can remember. He takes the hand that was gripping my ass and slips it between my legs. His finger teases my folds and circles my entrance.
“Jungkook—!” His name spilled from my lips like a plea, voice thick with need.
He presses gently against my virgin hole, testing my resistance. He inserts just the tip at first, spreading me gently, the wetness making it slide in easily. I gasp at the foreign pressure, the stretch burning in the best way.
“So tight, so welcoming,” he mutters, then places an open-mouth kiss on my clit. “My incredible girl… you're doing flawlessly.”
The words fuel the craving for his validation, making every lick and thrust feel amplified. I need more, more of him telling me I’m exceptional. His tongue flattens on my clit and moves in firm, relentless strokes. He pumps his finger in my tight pussy, fucking me slow and deep.
The coil of pleasure in my belly tightens, my muscles start to lock, and my breath comes out in ragged gasps. Jungkook continues to hum satisfactorily against me, my walls flutter around his finger, and the tension winds even higher. Waves crash closer, and his free hand continues to grip my thigh, steadying me.
Jungkook carefully adds a second digit, stretching me out a little further. A broken cry tore from my throat, back arching off the door. My pussy pulses in his hand, and his mouth refuses to let up. His tongue lashes against my bundle of nerves, bringing out that painful pressure again.
“Jungkook—!” I loudly whine, not caring if anyone else heard, I just had to know. “W-what is this…feeling? It—ha!”
It was a weird sensation; it hurt, but not really at the same time. It was too much and not enough. A feeling I can only describe as being on the precipice of reaching infinity, a brick wall in the middle of a 100 miles per hour road. There is something greater I just can’t seem to reach.
“Have you never played with yourself?” Jungkook asks with genuine concern. “You’ve never had an orgasm?”
I violently shake my head no, begging for some kind of relief.
“Just relax, Angel. Just focus on the feeling and nothing else.” He urges.
My moans and the squelching sounds of my sopping wet pussy fill the entryway. Jungkook continues to work diligently; sucking and licking and fingering with devoted precision. The pressure builds and builds, the heat becoming too much as he cherishes my cunt.
“That’s it, beautiful,” Jungkook purred. “Let go…cum for me.”
“I-I can’t!” I sobbed, body tensing like a bowstring. I try to close my quivering thighs around his head, but he holds me open. “Jungkook, please—!”
“Shhh, Angel…I know.”
“Oh God, it’s…it’s too much!” I gasp, my hands now bracing against the wall.
“Trust me, baby…just breathe,” Jungkook soothes, “You’re going to cum so hard for me…I’ve got you.”
I follow his direction, breathing deep, trying to ease the tension in my body. The ache soon fades, and I focus on the heat building from his fingers steadily thrusting into me and his mouth worshipping my clit until stars burst behind my eyelids.
My walls clench hard around his fingers, and the one leg still on the ground trembles. Jungkook cups my ass, holding me close and trying to keep me steady. He hums some more words of praise that I can’t hear over my cries, the vibration pushing me over the edge.
The orgasm ripped through me violently and all-consuming. My body convulses as pleasure crashes over me in wave after wave. I scream, my voice raw, as my hips jerk against Jungkook’s mouth. My pussy spasms around his fingers, and then something wet and hot gushes from me.
Jungkook didn’t stop, lapping me through my orgasm as my cunt squirts in hot pulses against his hand and face, soaking us both. His fingers kept moving inside me as he was drawing out every last tremor, drinking me down like he was starved for it.
“Fuck, yes,” he groans, “that’s my good girl.”
I continue to cry out until I’m a shuddering mess. Soon, I’m exhausted against the door and trying to catch my breath. Only then does Jungkook ease back, sliding his coated fingers out of my swollen, dripping pussy. He gives the inside of my thigh delicate kisses before he helps lower my leg.
Panting, my body slumps forward, and my legs give out from under me. I collapse onto my knees, sitting in a puddle of my own making. My skin was flushed and glistening, my pussy still throbbing from the aftershocks of that earth-shattering release.
“That was…everything,” I thought, the ability to form the words escaped me.
Jungkook wraps around me, his arms a safe haven after my unraveling. I nuzzle my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his musky scent mixed with a hint of sweat. He leaves a short trail of gentle kisses on my neck, and I sigh into his shoulder as every inch of my skin still feels like it’s on fire.
“Beautifully done, Angel,” Jungkook brings his lips to my ear in a tender whisper. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
“Jungkook…” His name barely lifted off my tongue, shaky and thinned out with exhaustion. My chest ached with everything I wanted to say in this moment.
God, that was amazing. Thank you for helping me feel so incredible. I’ve never felt so desired in my entire life. I love you so very much, and I regret trying to walk away from you.
And when something finally slipped out, it was the smallest, most unworthy scrap of everything I felt in this moment.
『summary』 when kim y/n, the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her induction to the family legacy, she’s only looking for a distraction from her rapidly increasing anxiety. instead, she finds jeon jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war. their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden. but in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. as tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start? a re-interpretation of romeo and juliet.
『trigger warnings』 none for this chapter {i'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so i can fix it.}
『note』 hiya!~ this was probably one of the hardest chapters to write, because i was stuck in my perfectionist mindset again and wanted this update to be great. this is no joke version 4 after extensive (hopefully decent) editing. next update shouldn't take me too long lol so hopefully i can get that out to you soon :D let me know what you think!
『word count』 3.1k
『masterlist』 『taglist』
Jungkook
It’s my fault. It’s my fucking fault.
My head hurts as I try to keep myself from spiraling. Jihyo’s voice rings sickeningly in my ears like tinnitus. I can still smell her perfume lingering in my nose, a floral scent that once drove me crazy. Now it’s just nauseating.
“So…” Y/N’s voice is soft and careful, like she’s afraid of setting me off. “I don’t think I’m gonna get the dress.”
I blink down at the counter, watching the cashier slide each price tag across the scanner. Beep. Beep. Beep. It echoes in my skull, but my mind won’t let go of the image of her in that dress. The way it hugged her. The way I forgot how to breathe.
“Why’s that?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Because I don’t like the way I feel in it.”
Liar.
I saw the way she glowed under those warm lights, like she’d stepped out of a dream. Mine specifically. And I stood there, frozen and mouth agape like an idiot, too stunned to move, too chickenshit to tell her what I thought.
“That dress looked incredible on you,” I wanted to say now. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t say it sooner.”
Do I also tell her the truth? That I’m the reason our intimate moment was interrupted? That I led Jihyo straight to us?
Say something, you idiot.
“Okay, if that's what you believe.”
Y/N looks up at me, maybe waiting for me to say something more. But I can’t, my throat locks up, and I can’t seem to get another word out. I felt so ashamed that I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her. I should’ve told her how beautiful she looked, how I felt. I should’ve tried to change her mind about the dress.
But it’s like I short-circuit around her; I just can’t express myself properly when I’m around her. I’ve shown her how cowardly I am; a dog that’s all bark and no bite. I tease her flirtatiously, but the moment it starts to get real, I shut down.
She’s all I think about. Every minute. Every hour. It scares me how badly I want her.
I want to murder anyone who has hurt her. I want to burn the world she feels trapped in. Hell, I’ve mutilated a man and convinced myself it was all for her.
I told her about my family. About the Montagues. So why the hell can’t I tell her how she makes me feel?
I begin to feel the tension from my head spreading to my jaw as my credit card slips from my fingers into the cashier's hand. I notice her eyes flick between Juliet and me, like she’s trapped in something she doesn’t want to be part of.
Y/N gently turns away from me, and I sense her retreating behind the quiet politeness she uses when she’s hurting. It guts me. She shouldn't feel the need to hide herself from me.
Just say it. Spill everything. It’ll hurt less once it’s out.
But I can’t, Y/N is already overwhelmed by her own problems. I want to help her, but it feels selfish to unload my shit when she’s barely staying above water.
But Jihyo has no problem being selfish.
The reminder makes the sounds around me seem louder than usual; the register beeps in approval, the printer whirs, and paper tears. I signed the receipt with a trembling, sweaty hand. The boutique felt like a pot of water on a stove, and I was being boiled alive.
I need out.
I hurried through the door before I fainted. The receipt scrunches in my hand as I tuck it into my sweater pocket. I leave the store, the faint jingle of the bell fading as the freezing wind slaps my face, feeling like a harsh punishment.
Suddenly, I feel even more restless. I begin pacing along the sidewalk, running my hands through my hair, resisting the urge to pull it out. The rage, the guilt, the noise; it crashes over me in waves. My pounding heart feels unbearably loud in my ears.
I replay the moment.
Jihyo’s voice still echoed in my mind; every syrupy word, every breathy plea. The way she said she needed me as if it was a favor I owed her. The way she talked about Y/N, the sneer curling in her voice when she said I’ve settled for vanilla shit.
God, the audacity.
Even after the heartbreak she caused, leaving me to pick up the pieces and find the strength to move on, Jihyo still believed she had a claim on me. But the worst part of it all, the part that makes my insides twist in a tangled mess of knots, is that I told her where to find me.
I yanked my phone out of my pocket, gripping it so tight I imagined crushing it in my palms. I opened up the familiar app and stared at that familiar blinking dot: Jihyo’s dot. She didn’t just show up; she tracked me.
And I’m the one who told her to do so in the first place.
The location sharing was meant to be something casual, an easy fix for late-night hook-ups when she wasn’t working at Ecliptica that night. We started the stupid thing months ago, back when the world felt smaller and simpler, and before I realized how shallow our relationship actually was.
I know now that Jihyo never truly loved me; she saw me as an idiot who gave her good sex and would often pay her to do so. Watching her desperate attempts to seduce me into going back to her, listening to her mock Y/N, just provided more proof of that truth.
Looking back, I realize that I always sensed something was amiss about our relationship. I might have also mistaken love for convenience, as I only reached out to her when I was stressed and needed an escape from work. Genuine dates were rare; mostly, it was just sex.
I didn’t want that for me and Y/N.
After Jihyo and I split, I once thought I couldn’t cut her out of my life, hoping she'd come back like she did today. But when I reached the settings and hovered my thumb over the location sharing toggle, I didn’t hesitate at all.
And just like that, her dot vanished, and everything began to quiet down.
The bell above the shop door jingled softly as Y/N stepped outside. For the first time since she stepped out from behind that curtain, I was able to look at her finally. And when my eyes landed on her, I forgot how to breathe all over again.
She’s the only thing I want right now.
I begin to walk over, noticing the hesitation in her faint smile, the one that always catches me off guard and makes my heart flutter. I’ve spent the past few minutes trying to understand my feelings, and now I think I’ve got a better hold of them. Now I need to gather the right words to tell Y/N everything.
She needed to know what truly happened between Jihyo and me; that I was finished with her, with no desire to see her again. That my sudden change in attitude in the store had nothing to do with how I feel about her; I thought she was everything I wanted and still do.
But when I got a closer look at her eyes, that fragile courage withered when I needed it most.
Because how do you confess anything to someone who looks at you like that? Like you’re worth forgiving?
Y/N’s eyes searched mine, soft and uncertain, probably hoping for reassurance. But I can’t give it. Not when remorse is wrapped around my throat like a noose. The weight of fear crushes me, worrying that I’m making the same mistake all over again.
I start to remember what happened the night before. I had felt so hopeless, so lost, deep in a panic attack. But the moment I saw that Y/N made her way back to me, it all seemed to dissipate. This could too if I just reach out a bit further.
So I did.
I took her hand. If I could just touch her, pull her as close as possible, I thought the warmth she carried would bleed into my skin. But the second our fingers touched, it felt wrong. It felt like the spark we had that used to steady me had flickered out.
My pulse quickens, and I tighten my grip without meaning to. The world narrowed to the hollow sound of our footsteps crossing the street. I thought maybe I could force the feeling back if I just held her long enough, but I couldn’t.
I was walking fast, admittedly too fast, dragging her along with me. If I keep moving, I can push through the thick fog in my mind. But every step, every breath, every thought screams the same thing: what if she is just another Jihyo?
The wind stings my face fiercely, but the pain in my chest is much worse. I open the car door for Y/N and take the shopping bags from her. Her scent hits me right before I close the door behind her, throwing me further into insanity.
I catch a whiff of her scent right before I close the door behind her, and it drives me deeper into madness. The shadows of what I once called love creep back in, and the fear of repeating what happened with Jihyo tightens around my chest. It hardens into a thick concrete wall that prevents me from telling Y/N how much I want her.
And I want her so badly.
I want to hold her until the pain in my chest subsides. I want to hear her voice in my ear when the world gets too loud. I want to touch every part of her, memorize her until I can see her with my eyes closed. I want to taste the way she moans my name.
I want to bury myself in her laughter until I forget everything else. I want to be near her, around her, inside her. I want to stop pretending this is something I can keep bottled up, that I can control.
I want her so badly it physically hurts, so much so that I can’t stand the sound of my own heartbeat when it calls for her. It feels like a sickness running through my veins, making me restless, thoughtless, starving.
The wanting burns like a fire beneath my skin; ruthless and consuming. It crackles and spreads with every breath I take, scorching its way up my throat, begging for release. The air feels too thin, but the flames only climb higher. The more it’s held back, the more it tears at me from the inside.
And before I could stop myself, the heat of that fire manifested physically.
I slammed the door harder than I intended after climbing into the car. Y/N flinched next to me, her shoulders jerking like I might hit her. The sight makes my stomach twist into a tight knot.
“Shit,” I mutter. “I’m sorry, Angel. I didn’t mean—”
The apology trails off until I’m silently staring straight ahead, as a thought hits me hard and heavy like a freight train for an agonizingly long moment.
What if Y/N doesn’t want me as much as I want her?
What if she doesn’t feel the same kind of desire that’s been burning me alive since the moment I met her? What if everything I’ve envisioned, all of the chaos in my head, was only mine to feel? What if she doesn’t trust me?
And maybe Y/N shouldn’t. After everything she knows about me, including what she still has to learn, why would she want to be anywhere near me? She deserves someone who can be honest about every part of themselves. Not someone who can’t even control himself long enough to close a damn door properly.
I turn the key, and the engine rumbles to life, beginning what I know will feel like the longest short drive back to my apartment. The vibration travels through the steering wheel and into my hands. I concentrate on the sensation, trying to find a steady calm.
The street outside the window kept moving, but I couldn’t feel the car in motion anymore. Headlights streaked across the windshield in quick white flashes. Soon, every light, color, and sound blurred together until all I could notice was the pounding in my head. My thoughts started to tangle again, and for brief seconds, I could just make out the loudest ones.
Am I too dangerous for Y/N?
Of course I am; every tattoo-covered scar shows I didn’t belong anywhere near her. I was raised to hurt others, but not to feel hurt myself. I’ve spent my whole life distancing myself from people for both my safety and theirs. So what am I supposed to do with someone who radiates sunshine after I’ve been living alone in shadow for so long?
Am I even a good man?
I know that I’m not, but I’m willing to give it a try. Will that be enough? She already looks at me in a way that shows she thinks I’m a better person than I believe. I’m just scared that if I go after that redemption, I might prove her wrong.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, noticing my palms are slick with sweat.
Am I what she deserves?
Am I, Jeon Jungkook, what the Kim Y/N deserves? I know the answer, but I don’t want to say it. She is way out of my league, even if she was too humble to acknowledge it. She deserves someone who will bring her peace and stability, not a temperamental gang leader who could prove to be very harmful to her.
But Y/N is an adult who can decide for herself, right? So I should tell her I love her and let her decide if I’m what she deserves. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple because I’d tell her I’d die for her, but that’s not the entire truth. The full truth is, I’d kill for her. I would scorch the Earth for her. But I’m afraid she would tell me that wasn’t love, but insanity.
My pulse suddenly quickens, and my shallow breathing burns my lungs. My jumbled thoughts remain restless.
I once told myself I didn’t need Y/N to love me back, but did I really mean that? Could I handle her rejection? I was a mess when Jihyo left me. I believed she was the love of my life, the one I was meant to be with. So if I have such strong feelings for Y/N, what makes me think I could ever handle her turning me down?
What Jihyo and I had wasn’t even real, so why do I think I can have something genuine with Y/N now? How can I trust myself to distinguish between them?
The doubt weighed heavily on my chest until I could no longer breathe. I opened my window, trying to mask the sound of my heavy breaths with the breeze. Panic set in quickly, swallowing any ounce of reason I had left. My hands trembled at the wheel, and I can now feel my heartbeat everywhere. The car felt smaller with every tire rotation, and I just needed someone to put me out of my misery.
I fumbled in the center console for the cigarette pack, pulled one out quickly, and brought it to my lips. Within seconds, I was flicking my lighter and lighting the end. I inhaled deeply, as if it were oxygen.
The smoke was rough on my throat, but it stabilized my world again. Each breath slowed me down until the noise in my head faded to a low hum. Inhale, exhale, repeat.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. I was so proud of myself this morning for not needing to smoke anymore, for not needing anything but Y/N. And now, here I was, clinging to the same old vices. It’s funny, actually; the girl who made me forget the smoke is now the reason I need it.
I glance over at her just for a moment. The streetlights trace her in soft gold, and for a second, the world blurs away. Even when she looked upset, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I felt that flutter low in my stomach, the same warm, familiar feeling I was looking for when I reached for her before. The one that makes time freeze and allows me a moment to catch my breath.
I flicked the last of my cigarette out the window, watching the ember die on the road in the side mirror. The smoke escaped my lungs in one long, shaky exhale, and for the first time since our almost kiss, the world stopped rocking beneath me.
All it took was some calming breaths to help me realign my thoughts, rather than drowning in them.
Because once my mind stopped racing long enough to listen to itself, everything snapped into place so simply.
I was afraid to tell Y/N how I felt because I was worried about being wrong. I didn’t want Y/N to be just another Jihyo, another illusion I created to distract myself from the chaos that was my life, another obsession disguised as devotion.
But this wasn’t the same thing; what I felt with Y/N wasn’t like with Jihyo, and I’m sure of it now. With Jihyo, it was loud and fast. I went to her looking for an escape. With Y/N, it’s a soft calm, and everything seems to slow down. She makes me want to stop running. She doesn’t pull me away from my life; she makes me want to confront and fix it.
With Jihyo, I wanted to forget myself. But with Y/N, I want to become someone worthy of her memory.
I don’t just want Y/N, I love her.
And now that the fog was gone, telling her so didn’t feel impossible. I soon began to tap my fingers on the steering wheel, growing anxious with every block we passed. As soon as we get back, I’m gonna sit her down and tell her.
No more choking and cowarding down. Y/N deserved to hear how much she means to me.
I slowed as we approached the familiar corner and turned down my street. But the car hadn’t even rolled to a full stop before Y/N’s hand flew to the handle, quickly jumping out and slamming the door behind her. She starts to walk back up the road, fast.
