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⋆.ೃ࿔*:･she/her. 21.aries. army. jjk simp. minor’s dni — m.list below wattpad ; LivelyPotter

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˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ᥕᥱᥣᥴ᥆꧑ᥱ ₊˚ˑ

— moon struck ; jjk - intro - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 -

— nepenthe ; jjk - intro - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9

— trials of athena ; jjk - intro - teaser - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

— limitless ; jjk ( completed on WP, coming soon )

— grey ; OT7 ( coming soon )

— masochist ; jjk ( coming soon )

— beg ; jjk ( coming soon )

— penpal ; jjk ( coming soon )

— his submissive; jjk ( coming soon )

note ; most of my works are on wattpad, so if you wanna read ahead, feel free to go onto my wattpad to start reading!

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[chimcess]

— The Comeback: the masterlist

"Y/N Y/L/N has always been destined for greatness as a competitive figure skater, her dreams of the Olympics sparkling like the ice beneath her blades. But when a devastating injury sidelines her, those dreams seem to melt away. Just when she feels lost, she unexpectedly meets Jeon Jungkook, a talented NHL hockey player."

Status: Ongoing

01: Homecoming 02: Number 10 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30

[chimcess]

❆ Chapter Two: Number 10 Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Hockey Player!Jungkook, Figure Skater!Reader, Hockey Player!Taehyung, Hockey Player!Jimin, Hockey Player!Namjoon, Hockey Player!Hoseok, Figure Skater!Jin, Coach!Yoongi Genre: Hockey!AU, Figure Skating!AU, Olympic!AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Self-Discovery, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn Word Count: 19k+ Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has always been destined for greatness as a competitive figure skater, her dreams of the Olympics sparkling like the ice beneath her blades. But when a devastating injury sidelines her, those dreams seem to melt away. Just when she feels lost, she unexpectedly meets Jeon Jungkook, a talented NHL hockey player. Warnings: Reader is injured and still using crutches, toxic mom, absent father, parental issues, pining, low self-esteem, reader has anxiety, reader is very stressed out, honestly my girl is just exhausted, self-doubt, insecure, virgin!reader, verbal abuse, parental abuse will be a common theme in these warnings, overbearing friends (but we love them for it), hocky playing, might be some inaccuracies because I've never played and only watch in passing, hang over, honestly everyone is so sweet to our girl (except her mother), stage mom, controlling behavior, awkward humor, bad jokes, Tae is so obnoxious sometimes, horrible self image issues, all Kook wants to do is be nice to her, idiots in like with each other, but mostly Y/N being a complete overthinker, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Aaaaaand we're back. Sorry it's taken a while to update. I've gotten distracted by another series I've been working on. I will be better about making sure I don't lose track of this though. Thanks for reading!

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Fucking hell. My head… Jesus Christ…

I groaned before I even opened my eyes. The pounding wasn’t just behind my temples—it was everywhere, echoing in my jaw, reverberating through my neck, pulsing like my head had its own heartbeat. I squeezed my eyes tighter, like maybe I could just wish the pain away, but that only made it worse. Light crept in through my eyelids, sharp and invasive, like needles made of daylight and shame.

I let out a low, pathetic sound and yanked the pillow over my face. Maybe if I smothered myself gently, I could slide back into unconsciousness. That had to be better than this.

My mouth was dry. Like desert-dry. Cotton-ball, sandpaper, someone-stuffed-a-towel-in-there-while-I-slept dry. My teeth felt... weird. Fuzzy. Like they had grown sweaters overnight.

And then, it hit me.

The kamikazes. The wine. Titanic. Lucy trying to reenact the “I’m flying” scene on top of the coffee table. Mina snorting soda out her nose when I confessed I’d never had a proper date. The entire ridiculous, amazing mess of it.

Right. So this is what a hangover feels like. I wasn’t impressed.

A shrill, persistent beeping cut through the fog like an airhorn through a funeral. I ignored it. It beeped again. And again. It wasn’t going to stop. I whimpered as I flung the pillow aside and cracked one eye open.

Big mistake.

The brightness of the room was criminal. My apartment looked like a war zone. Blankets and pillows were everywhere, a trail of snack wrappers lined the floor like breadcrumbs leading to poor life choices, and there was an actual wine bottle with a straw sticking out of it on the coffee table.

God help me.

I sat up slowly, testing gravity. The sheets were twisted around my legs, the evidence of someone who had clearly tossed and turned all night like a possessed burrito. I peeled myself free, shuffled to the bookshelf, and spotted the source of the beeping.

My phone. I picked it up and squinted at the screen. Twelve missed calls. I didn’t even have to look to know who it was from.

Nine calls yesterday, starting right after I declined the first one. Three more already today. I winced. A part of me felt guilty, but the rest of me was still too hungover to care.

I checked the time. 12:08 p.m. That couldn’t be right.

I stumbled into the kitchen and checked the clock on the stove. Also 12:08. My jaw dropped slightly. I had never in my entire life slept this late. Sleeping past eight usually gave me hives. Sleeping past noon? That was borderline criminal. It felt... indulgent. Wicked, even.

Weirdly, it also felt kind of great.

Still, I wasn’t about to take a call from my mother in this condition. That was a form of self-harm. I set the phone down, started the coffee maker, and dragged myself into the bathroom for a shower. Twenty minutes later—face scrubbed, teeth brushed, hair shoved into a bun—I was feeling mostly human. The caffeine helped. So did the Advil. So did the complete silence.

Time to check on the damage.

I knocked on Mina and Lucy’s door, weakly. Mina opened it like she’d been waiting all morning. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, her skin glowing, and she was already dressed like she was about to go to brunch with the Kardashians.

“Hey, sleepyhead!” she beamed.

I scowled. “That’s just cruel. Please tell me you’re secretly dying inside too.”

“Nope,” she said, far too cheerfully. “I’m blessed with a steel liver and a high tolerance for cheap vodka.”

“I hate you.”

“Most people do,” she said, stepping aside to let me in. “Come on. Lucy’s clinging to her coffee like it’s the last branch before the fall.”

Sure enough, Lucy was slumped over the counter, her cheek mashed against the granite. She lifted her head one centimeter when she heard my voice.

“Mmh.”

“That’s all I get?” I asked.

She blinked at me, slowly. “It hurts to exist.”

Fair.

Mina clapped her hands, far too chipper for the current emotional climate. “Alright, grumpy girls! I know exactly what we need today.”

“Sleep?” I offered.

“Silence?” Lucy tried.

“Grease-fueled breakfast burritos?”

“Nope.” Mina beamed. “Shopping.”

Lucy perked up immediately. “You said shopping?”

“Et tu, Brute?” I muttered.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Lucy said, already reaching for her shoes. “You haven’t even been to the mall yet.”

“I’ve seen malls before,” I said. “They have food courts and bad lighting. It’s not a cultural experience.”

“You wound me,” Mina said, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. “This isn’t just a mall. This is the Mall of America. Four levels. Five hundred stores. An aquarium. An actual roller coaster.”

I stared at her. “You want to drag me through five hundred stores? I’ll be a corpse by dinnertime.”

“Please,” Mina scoffed. “Half of them are for children or tourists. We’ll only go into, like, two hundred.”

“Not helping,” I deadpanned.

“Get dressed,” she said, nudging me back toward my apartment. “It’ll be great cardio. Think of it as physical therapy.”

I sighed, knowing I was outnumbered. “Fine. But I swear, if I see a single pretzel stand, I’m throwing myself into the koi pond.”

Back in my apartment, I threw on a pair of jeans, a flannel, and my most supportive sneakers. I didn’t bother with makeup. If I was going to be emotionally and physically assaulted by capitalism, I was doing it with a clean face and minimal effort.

As I grabbed my purse, my phone buzzed again. I didn’t even read the message. I powered the phone off and shoved it in the drawer. Not today.

Keeping up with Mina was going to be a full-time job.

We took my car—Lucy driving, since I still didn’t know my way around—and Mina declared it had the best trunk space. That made me nervous. Like this was the shopping version of “we need a bigger boat.”

“This,” Mina said, buckling her seatbelt, “is why it’s so great that none of us work traditional jobs. Weekday mall trips. No crowds. All the discounts.”

“Tuesdays are the best,” Lucy said. “Peak performance shopping day.”

Tuesday.

The word hit me like a slap.

I froze in the passenger seat.

Jungkook. The bar. Tonight.

I had looked it up the moment I got home from the airport. Saved the address, noted the parking situation, mapped out the route. Seven minutes away. Easy.

Except it didn’t feel easy now. It felt like a hundred miles. A whole different life. I stared out the window, chewing the inside of my cheek.

I wanted to see him. But I also wanted to crawl under a blanket and pretend I wasn’t the kind of girl who had no idea how to navigate whatever this was. I’d never dated. Never flirted. Never had a boyfriend. The boys I grew up skating with were more interested in eyeliner than eye contact. The rest? Coaches, managers, staff. Off-limits.

Jungkook was different. He had this quiet confidence, this way of seeing me like I wasn’t just my résumé or my rink time. Like I was someone interesting. Someone worth noticing.

What if I screwed it up? What if he wasn’t who I remembered? What if I went tonight, made a fool of myself, and destroyed the one genuinely exciting possibility I’d had in years?

What if he expected me to be someone I wasn’t? Someone experienced. Someone sexy. Someone who didn’t flinch every time someone got too close. What if I disappointed him? What if I disappointed myself?

I felt nauseous.

“Earth to Y/N,” Mina sang, snapping her fingers in front of my face from the passenger seat.

I blinked. “Huh?”

“You okay? You haven’t said a single word since we got on the freeway.”

“Oh.” I fumbled for something to say. “Just thinking.”

She exchanged a glance with Lucy in the rearview mirror. The look said everything—they knew I was full of it, but they didn’t press.

Instead, Mina just looped her arm through mine the second we stepped out of the car and headed toward the massive glass entrance of the mall. I hadn’t even realized we’d parked.

“Easy, Seabiscuit,” I muttered as she tugged me along. “Some of us are still walking with one leg and a half-functioning knee.”

She grinned, slowing her pace just enough. “You’ll be fine. Think of it as a warm-up.”

As we neared the doors, Lucy perked up like she’d just remembered something exciting. “Hey, are you coming out with us tonight?”

“Out?”

“Yeah. Tuesday’s our night,” she said, like that should’ve been obvious.

“I don’t know...” I hedged. The words came out slower, more cautious than I meant.

Mina clutched her chest in mock betrayal. “Come on, Y/N! Taehyung and Jimin would be so excited to see you again.” Her voice pitched up as she clasped her hands together. “And it won’t be the same without you.”

I smiled weakly. “I might already have plans.”

Mina narrowed her eyes like she was trying to read a lie in my expression. “Then we’re definitely finding you a new outfit. Just in case.”

And just like that, my fate was sealed.

We disappeared into the sprawling, multi-level madness of the Mall of America. Store after store. Rack after rack. It was like stepping into another world, one filled with dizzying amounts of fluorescent lighting, pop music, and pushy mannequins in overpriced denim.

Half the time, I didn’t even know where we were. Mina and Lucy, though—they moved with the precision of seasoned hunters. They had a sixth sense for clearance racks and hidden gems, and somehow, they pulled me along like I’d agreed to this willingly.

By the third level, I was holding more bags than I could count. My arms ached. My feet throbbed. I had no idea how it happened—how I’d ended up buying four different tops, a dress I wasn’t sure I could pull off, and a pair of boots Mina swore I “needed.” There was something dangerous about shopping with people who actually thought you deserved nice things.

The mall was exactly what they promised: huge, loud, overwhelming. But there were moments—small ones—where I forgot everything else. Where I laughed at Lucy’s commentary on the store mannequins. Where I actually liked the way I looked in the mirror for the first time in a long while. Where I let myself be just a girl at the mall, not an injured athlete trying to pretend she wasn’t falling apart inside.

I hadn’t touched my phone since that morning. I hadn’t thought about Emily. Or skating. Or the weight of the last six months.

Mina filled every silence with something—jokes, fashion debates, weird questions that came out of nowhere. Lucy followed up with commentary like a one-woman sitcom. All I had to do was keep up, and even that felt optional.

By the time we finally called it quits, the sun had dipped low behind the parking structure and the bags digging into my arms made me feel like I’d just run a marathon. We packed into the elevator like clumsy thieves, arms full of shopping trophies and half-finished iced coffees.

Mina unlocked her door like she was clocking in at a job she loved, already talking about reorganizing her closet before I’d even reached mine.

“Hey—what about tonight?” Lucy called down the hall before I closed my door.

I hesitated. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know soon, okay?”

“No rush. We usually head out around seven.”

I gave her a weak smile. “Sounds good.”

As soon as my door clicked shut behind me, I let go of everything—literally. The bags hit the floor in a heap of rustling tissue paper and overly optimistic purchases. I dropped onto the couch like someone had cut my strings, head falling back, arms limp at my sides.

My knee throbbed, but it was a manageable ache. The kind that told me I hadn’t overdone it—maybe even that I was getting stronger.

I let myself close my eyes for a minute. Just one.

When I opened them again, the clock read 4:25 p.m.

Just enough time.

I picked up my phone, hesitating for a second before powering it on. The screen lit up immediately. Twelve missed calls. Four voicemails. One new text. All from Emily.

I stared at it for a beat, steeling myself, then hit speed dial.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Well, well,” she said, voice sharp and polished. “I guess you’re still alive.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“‘Hi, Mom’? That’s all I get after ignoring my calls all day?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” I said, already tired. “I was busy.”

“Busy with what? You don’t have a job. You don’t have school. You don’t even have skating right now.”

I rubbed the heel of my palm against my eye. “I was out with some friends.”

“You were too busy making friends to update me on your knee?”

“I’m calling you now, aren’t I?”

“A full day later. For all I knew, you missed the appointment.”

“I didn’t. It went fine.”

“I wouldn’t call not being cleared to compete fine, Y/N.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. Hard. “He said I’m healing well. He’s optimistic.”

Emily scoffed. “Well, he would say that. But optimism doesn’t get you a spot at Nationals. That requires action. Discipline. Commitment.”

“I haven’t lost any of that,” I said, the words coming out sharper than I intended.

“You’re not acting like someone who cares about their future.”

“And what does that look like, exactly? Refusing to rest? Pushing myself back onto the ice before I’m ready?”

“You’re twenty-four. This is your prime. You don’t have time to waste.”

“I know that,” I snapped. “I’ve been living it.”

The line went quiet for a moment.

“You’re being dramatic.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “I’m being honest.”

Another pause. Heavier this time.

“Are you finished with your little tantrum?”

I dropped the phone onto the couch and grabbed the nearest throw pillow, pressing it to my face before letting out a long, guttural scream. Three times. I didn’t care if the neighbors heard. I didn’t even care if the building collapsed around me.

It didn’t fix anything. But it let some of the pressure out, like cracking the lid on a soda that’s been shaken too hard.

I stayed like that for a while—still, quiet, my heart pounding in the silence she’d left behind. Even though the call had ended, Emily’s voice still echoed through the room, clipped and clinical and so deeply embedded in my nervous system that I almost expected her to start talking again.

My eyes drifted to the mess on the floor. The shopping bags, the tissue paper spilling out like ribbons, the dress Mina had declared “life-changing,” the boots Lucy insisted were “man-bait.” They were supposed to be fun. They were supposed to be part of tonight—just in case I went out, just in case I saw him.

Just in case I had a life that felt like mine. The phone buzzed in my hand. I stared at it. Another call from her. Of course. I closed my eyes, drew in a breath, and—against my better judgment—answered.

“Yes?” I said quietly.

“Do you think you could manage to fill me in on what the doctor said?” Her tone was sharp, but smug. She knew she’d reeled me back in.

I pressed my fingers to my temple. “I’m off crutches. I’m setting up physical therapy this week. I’m cleared for basic activity—no pivots, no sudden stops, no cutting. He wants a follow-up in April. That’s when we’ll know more about training.”

I kept my voice flat. Short. Bullet points. That’s how she preferred things—concise, efficient, like a coach reviewing footage.

“There,” she said, satisfied. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? You should’ve said all this yesterday. I want that PT appointment scheduled immediately. Maybe once you’re moving again, you’ll feel motivated. And April? Honestly. That’s excessive.”

“It’s what the doctor said.”

“I doubt it. He’s probably being overly cautious. But fine. We’ll be aggressive once you’re cleared. I’ve already started talking to a new coach.”

I froze.

“What?”

“I’ve been in touch with someone new. A coach with the kind of training approach you need now—someone who’ll actually push you.”

“What about Yoongi?” My voice sharpened without my permission. “Why would I need a new coach?”

“Yoongi is soft, Y/N. You’ve outgrown him. He doesn't have the fire to get you back to Olympic level after so much time off.”

My stomach turned. A tight, anxious knot pulled just under my ribs. “Did you fire him?”

“Not yet. But I will if I have to.”

I stood without realizing it, pacing across the room like I could walk off the panic. “You can’t do that. Mom—he’s been with me since I was twelve. He knows me.”

“I know what’s best for your career. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Don’t I?” I snapped. “Don’t you think I should have a say in who coaches me?”

Emily sighed, the way she always did when she thought I was being difficult. “You don’t need to get emotional. This is why I handle the logistics.”

“Maybe I’m tired of not being asked.”

“You’re not thinking clearly. You’ve always been like this when you’re hurt.”

My mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. “You mean like when I was fourteen and had a stress fracture, but you still made me perform at Regionals?”

“That was a strategic decision. And you medaled.”

I stared at the far wall, feeling something inside me slip sideways. “You keep acting like this is about strategy. Like I’m a product. But I’m not. I’m your daughter.”

“Exactly,” she said crisply. “Which is why I care more than anyone. I’m the one who got you here. Don’t forget that.”

My chest burned. I pressed a hand flat against it, like that might help. “Then maybe start acting like it.”

Another pause. Heavy. Tense.

“Are you finished?”

I laughed, but it was brittle and joyless. “You know what? Yeah. I think I am.”

“Y/N—”

“I’m not talking about this anymore,” I said. “Not today. Not until I’m cleared to compete. Right now, none of this matters.”

“We can’t afford to wait—”

“You’re going to have to.”

She was already revving up for another counterattack, but I didn’t give her the chance. I ended the call, set the phone face-down on the coffee table, and walked away like it was made of fire.

My hands were shaking. I could feel the rage thrumming under my skin, not explosive, but steady. Persistent. Like a hum in my bones.

I picked up the same pillow and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a soft thud and landed in a slump. I sank onto the couch and pulled my knees to my chest, pressing my forehead into them.

Of course, the phone started ringing again. I stared at it. Ringing. Again. Ang then again. My jaw clenched so hard it ached. I reached for the phone—and powered it off. The silence that followed was like breaking through the surface of deep water. Shocking. Still.

Tears threatened, burning at the corners of my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. Not yet. Not for her.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love my mother. I did. In my own way. But I was so tired of being something she managed instead of someone she knew. Fifteen years of this—of letting her make every decision, schedule every training session, dictate every moment of my future. I had let her. Because I thought that’s what it meant to be good. To be successful. To be loved.

But I wasn’t sure I could do it anymore.

I pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and walked to the window seat. Curled up in the corner, knees tucked under me, I hugged a pillow tight to my chest and rested my forehead against the cool glass.

Outside, the river moved slowly along its curve, calm and indifferent. Unbothered. Like time existed differently out there—measured not by medals or seasons or recovery timelines, but by the quiet, steady rhythm of water meeting shore.

I breathed in through my nose. Let it out slowly.

By the time the sky turned that moody shade of dusky blue, the anger had drained out of me completely. All that was left was something quieter. A kind of sadness that settled low in my chest and refused to move.

Despair, maybe. Or the beginnings of it.

She hadn’t asked how I was. Not once. Not if I liked living alone, or if I was making friends. Not whether I was sleeping okay, or eating anything other than frozen protein waffles. Nothing about the move, or the adjustment, or if I’d stopped waking up every morning convinced I was already falling behind.

Just the usual questions—when will you train again? How soon until you’re back on the ice? Can we salvage this season?

As if that was all I existed for. Jumps. Spins. Gold medals and press appearances. The choreography of usefulness.

I hugged a pillow tighter to my chest, wishing it felt like something solid. Something that might, just for a second, hug me back.

Outside the window, the last hints of sunlight faded, leaving only the reflections of streetlamps on the river and the soft, muted flicker of headlights. I watched them for longer than I meant to, blinking slowly, mind quiet. Not really thinking. Just... feeling. Letting the ache in my chest take up space for once.

A knock at the door pulled me out of it.

I flinched. Shit. Mina.

I hadn’t even noticed the time. A quick glance at the clock told me it was just after seven. The plan had been to go out. I was supposed to be getting dressed, figuring out what version of myself to wear tonight.

Instead, I padded to the door and pulled it open, every movement heavier than it should’ve been.

Mina stood there in a fitted black dress and heels I wouldn’t survive five minutes in. Her hair was pinned back in soft waves, and her lipstick was the perfect shade of dangerous. She looked beautiful—effortlessly so. And happy. Until she saw me.

Her smile faltered. “Hey... what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing.” I blinked at her, tried to smile. It felt clumsy. Like trying to fake warmth with a burnt-out bulb.

Mina tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “Y/N, come on. I may not have known you that long, but even I can tell when you’ve been crying.”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “Really, it’s nothing.”

She crossed her arms, not budging. “If it were nothing, you’d just tell me. But you’re hiding it, which means it’s something. That’s how friends work, by the way. We notice things.”

I exhaled, slow and shaky. “I’m just... not up for it tonight. That’s all.”

Mina stepped closer. “Then I’ll stay. We can order takeout, watch trashy reality TV, do literally nothing.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Please. Go. You should go. You’ve been looking forward to this all week. Jimin’s probably already there.”

She hesitated. “I see him all the time.”

“I know. But it’s okay. I just need a quiet night.”

She studied me for a beat, and for a second I was sure she was going to argue. But then she softened. “You promise you’ll be okay?”

I nodded. “I promise.”

“Fine,” she said, exhaling. But she didn’t leave. Instead, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me without another word.

I froze. The instinct to pull back kicked in before I could stop it—too tight, too close—but then I exhaled and let myself lean into it. Her hug was warm and firm, not rushed or careful, just there. Steady in a way I hadn’t realized I needed. And it hit me, sharply, how unfamiliar this felt. How rare it was.

When was the last time someone hugged me like that? Not because I won something, or finished a clean program, or needed comforting after a bad skate—but just because?

She pulled back but didn’t let go entirely. Her hands rested on my arms, grounding me. “You don’t have to do everything alone, you know.”

I swallowed. Nodded. Blinked too fast.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said softly. “You can pretend you’re okay until then. But I’ll be back for the full breakdown.”

I smiled, watery but genuine. “Okay.”

She left without needing another word, her heels clicking softly down the hallway. I shut the door behind her and slid the chain into place.

Then I leaned back against it, body sinking slowly to the floor.

Goddamn it, Emily.

She wasn’t even in the same zip code, and she was still managing to pull the strings. Still controlling my thoughts, my emotions, my everything. I hated how easily she got in. How quickly she could dismantle me with a few words, a few carefully placed criticisms wrapped in concern.

I looked at the shopping bags scattered across the floor, some still half-open, tissue paper spilling out like an afterthought. A pair of boots. A slouchy sweater I’d never normally pick for myself. That navy wrap dress Mina had insisted was a “game-changer.” Little things. Things that felt indulgent, yes—but also strangely personal. Things I had chosen. Things I liked.

Things that were mine.

And yet all it took was one phone call with Emily to unravel that sense of ownership. One conversation, and suddenly I was thirteen again—sitting silently in the passenger seat of her SUV, hands curled around the straps of my skate bag, scared to say the wrong thing. Scared she might look at me and see disappointment.

But today, I had said the wrong thing.

I hadn’t just thought the words. I’d spoken them out loud. I'd told her no. Not angrily, not with dramatics—but plainly. Honestly. That terrified me more than anything. Not because I feared what she might do. But because I knew it wouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t hear me. She never did.

Maybe it was distance that made the difference. The physical miles between us. Or maybe it was time—these quiet days away from rinks and routines, away from the pressure of being whoever she needed me to be. Maybe it was Mina and Leera.

Leera, with her sharp laugh and sharper mind. A woman thriving in a world that had tried, more than once, to shrink her. Mina, who radiated energy like she manufactured her own sun, who built her business from the ground up and did it on her terms.

They didn’t wait for permission. They didn’t need anyone to define them. I admired them so much for that, because what had I been doing all these years?

Chasing approval. Trying to live up to an expectation I never helped set. I trained longer. Jumped higher. Skated harder. I collected medals like they were evidence in a trial only Emily was judging. I told myself if I just worked harder, if I got better, if I won bigger—she’d see me. She’d be proud. And maybe, finally, she’d stop looking at me like I was a project halfway to perfection.

Deep down, I knew the truth. Even Olympic gold wouldn’t have been enough, because it had never really been about me.

Yes, I loved skating. Yes, there had been joy in the triumphs, in the beauty of movement and music and flight. But the pressure? The sacrifices? They weren’t mine. They were hers, and I couldn’t do that anymore.

I pushed myself up off the floor, my limbs heavy but sure. Something inside me had shifted. I didn’t have answers. I didn’t have a next step. But for the first time, I wanted to find one. A step that was mine, even if it was small. Even if it was quiet.

Whatever came next—it wasn’t going to be for Emily.

In the kitchen, I opened the freezer and pulled out the pint of Ben & Jerry’s Mina had insisted I needed. “Emergency ice cream,” she’d called it, throwing it into the cart like it was medicine. I’d rolled my eyes at the time.

Standing barefoot on cold tile, spoon in hand, staring into nothing in particular—it felt like the most rational choice I could make. I dug in.

The first bite was numbing. The second—comforting. I didn’t bother with a bowl. Mina would’ve been proud.

I leaned back against the counter and glanced at the clock.

7:53 p.m.

My chest tightened slightly.

Jungkook would be at the bar by now. Or arriving. The thought hit me harder than it should’ve.

I wondered if he’d remember mentioning it to me. If maybe he’d glance at the door once or twice, casually, just to see if I’d show.

Probably not. Guys like him didn’t wait around. He probably had girls lined up without even trying—girls who knew how to play the game, who could flirt without blushing, who wore confidence like perfume and didn’t have a mother in their head critiquing their every move. Girls who didn’t second-guess everything. Girls who didn’t freeze in the middle of a moment because they weren’t sure if they were allowed to want it.

I wasn’t one of those girls.

Still, the thought of never seeing him again left an ache behind. A quiet kind of ache. The kind that hums under your skin and doesn’t really go away, even after you’ve tried to reason it out of existence.

I stood there, spoon in hand, eating my way through the pint until it was nothing but soft, half-melted swirls at the bottom. Then I rinsed it out and dropped it in the sink.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. I curled up on the couch with a blanket and reached for the remote. After a few seconds of scrolling, I landed on The Cutting Edge. Comfort movie. Familiar. Predictable.

Somewhere between the second argument and the first glimpse of choreography, sleep pulled me under.

The rest of the week passed in a strange, blurry haze—like I was watching my life on fast-forward but couldn’t find the remote to slow it down. The days came and went, marked more by weather shifts and coffee refills than anything memorable. I woke up, did my rehab exercises, pretended to text Emily back, and tried not to think too hard about anything.

Mina showed up the next morning, just like she said she would—armed with two lattes, a cinnamon roll big enough to qualify as a cake, and that look in her eye that I’d come to know meant she wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“You promised me a breakdown,” she said as soon as she walked in, kicking off her shoes and settling into my kitchen like she lived here.

“I promised you coffee,” I muttered, accepting the latte.

She smirked. “You promised tomorrow. And guess what? It’s tomorrow.”

Mina had this talent—a gift, really—of making her interrogations feel like casual conversation. She didn’t press too hard. She didn’t push. But somehow, over the course of a few sentences and sips of caffeine, you’d find yourself saying things you hadn’t meant to. Secrets you’d sworn you’d keep. It wasn’t even sneaky. It just felt easy with her. Like breathing.

Unfortunately for her, I’d been breathing around Emily for most of my life. And that meant I was professionally trained in the art of holding everything in.

So we had a friendly little standoff: Mina asked carefully worded questions, and I offered vaguely acceptable answers. She poked, I dodged. She made gentle suggestions; I gave noncommittal shrugs. She brought up “trust” at least three times.

I gave her just enough to keep her from worrying. That I’d had a rough call with my mom. That we’d argued—nothing new there. That I was still figuring out what I wanted, and maybe that wasn’t the worst thing. That sometimes healing isn’t just about your body.

What I didn’t tell her—what I couldn’t bring myself to say—was that I’d stood her up. That I didn’t go to the bar Tuesday night. That I didn’t see Jungkook again.

Because if I told her, she’d ask why. And I didn’t have a good answer. Not one that made me look like someone I wanted to be.

If I did tell her, she’d launch into full Mina Mode—talk about bravery and seizing the moment and how life wasn’t going to wait around for me to feel ready. She’d quote a rom-com, probably Notting Hill, and say something about regret being worse than rejection. And she'd mean it.

But I wasn’t in the mood to be inspired.

I was still mad at myself.

Mad at the way I froze up the second I thought about going. Mad that I let fear win. That I let Emily’s voice echo louder than my own. I’d told myself I was tired. That I needed rest. That I wasn’t in the right headspace. But really, I was scared. Scared of what it would feel like to want something just for me—and then risk not getting it.

Now it was too late. The Jungkook ship had sailed. He’d said Tuesday. He’d given me an opening. And I didn’t take it. I didn’t even try. What stung most wasn’t the idea that I’d never see him again. It was that I hadn’t shown up for myself.

That I’d let the moment slip away, standing frozen on the edge of possibility while the chance disappeared quietly into the night—leaving nothing behind but an aching kind of what-if and a soft, stupid crush I couldn’t seem to shake.

Mina didn’t push again. Maybe she saw something in my face. Maybe she just knew when to let silence do the heavy lifting. She finished her cinnamon roll and told me I needed to get out more. I agreed, even though we both knew I didn’t mean it.

That was the thing about Mina. She never gave up—but she gave space.

So she stood, kissed the top of my head like a sister might, and told me she’d text me later.

And when the door closed behind her, the quiet came rushing back in.

The last few days felt different. Not perfect, not painless—but better. Not like I was suddenly back to who I used to be, but like I was finally brushing up against someone I recognized. A version of myself I hadn’t seen in a long time.

It started with small things. I made it back to the gym—a dusty, underused little room on the first floor of our building that smelled faintly of disinfectant and old ambition. Nothing fancy. A few cardio machines, a weight rack, and a yoga mat that had definitely seen better days. But it was something. A place to move again. A place to feel my body do more than just exist.

Progress was slow. Frustrating, honestly. Ten minutes on the stationary bike felt like a full workout. My knee protested with every step, but not in the sharp, hopeless way it used to. This pain was different—dull, manageable, like the soreness that reminded you your muscles were still in there. Still trying.

I stuck to what Dr. Jeon told me—brace on, pace steady, no sudden movements. But God, it was already getting old. My old routine would’ve crushed this one in the first twenty minutes: Pilates, a five-mile run, three hours on the ice, then back to strength training after lunch. Days that left me wrecked and exhilarated. Days that gave me purpose.

Now? Some stretches. Light weights. A glorified power walk. Still, it was something. And that counted.

Mina and Lucy stopped by the gym once or twice—not to exercise, but to keep me company. They brought iced coffees and gossip, sat on the mats next to me like we were at some wellness retreat instead of a basement-level fitness room with flickering overhead lights. I didn’t say it out loud, but it helped. Just having someone there. No pressure. No judgment. No stopwatch.

I knew I couldn’t rush it. I repeated that to myself like a mantra. But the itch to do more sat just beneath my skin. To push. To get back to the version of me who felt strong.

So, I called a physical therapist.

Malichi was young, easygoing, and had the kind of dry humor that put me at ease without trying too hard. He cracked dumb jokes while adjusting my form, and always seemed to know when to reel me back in just before I overdid it.

“You’ve got two speeds,” he said during our first session, grinning as I scowled through a round of banded leg lifts. “Too slow and way too fast. We’re gonna find the middle.”

I liked him. PT was still going to suck, but at least it wouldn’t suck alone. I’d be seeing him twice a week until April. Lucky him.

Meanwhile, Emily was still a constant presence—without ever actually being present. My inbox filled up with clipped emails, her voicemails bouncing between cold, professional concern and passive-aggressive digs disguised as “constructive input.” She was furious beneath the surface, and I could feel it, even when her words were polite. She hated not having control. Hated that I hadn’t given her one inch of it since that phone call.

And maybe that was why I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Not because I missed her, exactly. But because I was starting to see how much space she’d always taken up in my head.

I was twenty-four years old, and it still felt like I was just now figuring out how to live on my own. I didn’t understand taxes. I barely managed my own schedule. I hadn’t booked a competition or a press appearance in my life—someone else always did that for me. I showed up. I skated. I smiled.

That was my job. And I was good at it. I wasn’t sure who I was without her voice in my ear.

The girl in the mirror felt… plain. Not ugly, just unremarkable. The only thing that ever made me feel different was the body I’d carved from years of training—muscle layered over bone like armor. But even that felt foreign now. Softening. Shifting.

The world had called me beautiful, but only when I was dressed for it. On the ice, with flawless hair and strategic lighting. I didn’t hate it. But it never felt like me.

What I hated—what I was only starting to admit—was the way Emily had coached me off the ice. Every word, every gesture, every smile that wasn’t mine. She dictated everything: what I ate, how I spoke in interviews, when I slept, who I talked to. And I let her.

But this week had been different.

This week, I wore leggings and old T-shirts. I ate snacks for dinner. I took naps at weird hours. And no one told me I was doing it wrong.

Mina might raise an eyebrow now and then, but she never tried to change me. She accepted me exactly as I was—even when I didn’t know who that was yet.

So when I looked at the clock and saw it was almost six, I decided I had time for a quick yoga session before we went out.

The hockey game was tonight—Mina and Lucy had been talking it up for days. Apparently, it was a whole event, not just a game. I was kind of looking forward to it. It’d be nice to see everyone again. Maybe even feel... normal.

I rolled out my mat, shifted the coffee table aside, and let my body fall into familiar movement. The flow of breath and stretch and balance. Yoga had been part of my routine for years, but it hit different now—less about performance, more about presence. Each pose reminded me that I was still here. Still in this body. Still healing.

I was mid-Scorpion when the door burst open.

“Knock knock!” Mina’s voice rang through the apartment like a bell, sharp and cheerful. Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked in, eyes already scanning the room.

She stopped in front of me, tilting her head.

“Has anyone ever told you your laziness is truly disgusting?”

I laughed, lowering my legs and shifting into Child’s Pose. “Some of us weren’t born with magical metabolism and perfect skin, Mina. The rest of us have to try.”

She perched on the arm of the couch, watching as I transitioned into Flying Crow. “That looks like a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

“It’s easier than it looks,” I said between breaths. “Kind of peaceful, actually.”

“You’re deeply unwell,” she muttered.

“I’m almost done,” I promised, easing back to the mat. “Didn’t forget about you.”

“You better not have. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Rude,” she said, already kicking off her heels. “Go shower. I’ll figure out your outfit.”

I groaned, dragging myself to my feet. “Mina, it’s a hockey game. Not fashion week.”

“It’s still an event,” she said, hands on hips. “You’re coming out. You will look cute. And no,” she added, cutting me off before I could protest, “I won’t put you in a cocktail dress.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Promise?”

She smirked. “Mostly.”

I muttered something under my breath but headed for the shower anyway.

She was ridiculous. But she was mine.

“No way, Mina. I’m not wearing that.”

I took a step back like the sparkly T-shirt she was holding might leap off the hanger and attach itself to me against my will. Arms crossed. Voice flat. Unmoved.

Mina just blinked at me, expression somewhere between offended and amused. “Are you kidding me right now?”

I pointed at the shirt. “That thing has rhinestones.”

“It’s a team shirt,” she said, exasperated. “It’s cute. Festive. Fun.”

“It’s bedazzled.”

She held it up higher, inspecting it like I might change my mind if I saw it from another angle. “Lucy and I are both wearing one,” she said, as if that somehow made it better.

“That’s not the argument you think it is.”

Mina narrowed her eyes and thrust the shirt closer. “What exactly is your issue with this? It’s not like it’s covered in glitter. It just has the logo. With a little sparkle.”

I took another half-step back, as if distance alone could help me win this battle. “I don’t do rhinestones. Or sequins. Or things that make me look like a disco ball.”

She didn’t say anything—just stared at me, unblinking.

“What?” I asked, already suspicious.

Still nothing. Just that look.

“Mina,” I said slowly. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Her lips twitched. “Because I have literal photographic proof that you both can and do wear rhinestones. I’ve seen your costumes, Y/N. You’ve basically worn a Swarovski factory on ice.”

“That’s different,” I said quickly. “That’s performance. There are spotlights. Judges. Music. I don’t wear rhinestones in real life. Ever.”

“Okay, well,” she said, shoving the shirt into my hands, “tonight’s not ‘real life.’ It’s Girls’ Night Out, Game Edition.”

I frowned down at the shirt. It was… less offensive than I’d thought. Fitted, soft cotton, with the Red Wings logo in the center—outlined in delicate red crystals. Just enough to catch the light. Still unnecessary, but not as aggressive as it could’ve been.

I sighed. “Fine. But I’m wearing jeans.”

“Obviously.”

“And comfortable shoes. Like, ones I can walk in.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but thought better of it. “Okay.”

“And a hat.”

That made her pause. “A hat?”

“Yup. Baseball cap. Something to offset the sparkle situation.”

Mina groaned, dragging her hand down her face. “You’re ruining the vibe.”

“These are my terms. You want me in rhinestones, I get to negotiate.”

She huffed but nodded. “Fine. Can I at least pick the hat?”

“If you or Lucy have a team cap, I’ll wear that. But I’m not going full glam at a hockey game, Mina. I draw the line at lashes.”

She vanished into her room, muttering something about “fashion heathens,” and came back a minute later holding out a simple red cap. It had the Red Wings logo stitched across the front—no sparkles, no fuss.

“This is the best I can do. It’s Lucy’s. Taehyung gave it to her.”

I took it like it was a precious object. “Perfect. Thank you.”

Mina gave the shirt a wistful glance. “If you’re going to sabotage a perfectly coordinated outfit with that thing, can I please do your makeup? Minimal. I promise.”

I gave her a skeptical look.

She held up both hands. “Swear on my favorite heels.”

I hesitated. “No glitter. No false lashes. No contouring wizardry.”

“Done. You won’t even know it’s there.”

“I better not.”

Mina grinned like she’d just won a court case. “You’re going to look so good.”

I rolled my eyes and turned toward the bathroom. “I already do.”

“You’re damn right you do,” she called after me.

Twenty minutes later, I was dressed and ready—hair still a little damp at the ends but tucked neatly through the back of the Red Wings cap, falling in a low ponytail down my back. The makeup Mina had insisted on was surprisingly understated. True to her word, she kept it simple—just a swipe of mascara, a little eyeliner, and lip gloss that tasted faintly of mint.

It felt nice. Comfortable. Not like I was trying to be someone else. For once, I actually looked like... me. Just a slightly glammed-up version.

Mina had run back to her apartment to finish getting ready and track down Lucy. Meanwhile, I sat on the edge of the couch and laced up my new combat boots, tugging the laces tight and double-knotting them for good measure. Easily my best impulse buy in weeks—soft leather, good tread, no break-in time. They were already giving my Converse a run for their money.

When I knocked on Mina and Lucy’s door a few minutes later, I could hear the familiar chaos unfolding on the other side. Music blasting from somewhere in the back, a hairdryer whirring at full volume, and Mina’s voice rising above it all in a tone that sounded both panicked and bossy.

“Come in, Y/N!” Lucy shouted.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Lucy was balancing on the arm of the couch, zipping up a pair of knee-high black boots like it was the most normal thing in the world. Her hair was done in soft waves, and her lips were already painted a glossy cherry red. She looked completely unbothered.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey! Mina’s almost ready. She claims she needs fifteen more minutes, but I’m betting on five. She’s freakishly efficient when she’s running late.”

As if on cue, the hairdryer cut off mid-whine, and Mina burst out of her room thirty seconds later like she’d been summoned by name. She was fully dressed, makeup flawless, hair curled and pinned back with surgical precision. Not even a trace of rushed energy left on her face. She looked—of course—like she’d spent hours getting ready, not five frantic minutes.

And I had to admit, she wasn’t exaggerating when she said they were wearing the same thing as me. The shirts were clearly part of the same sparkly set—Lucy and Mina in the red versions, mine in white. Theirs had deeper necklines and sleeves that barely qualified as sleeves, but it was definitely a coordinated look. At least they’d had the foresight to bring jackets, slung casually over the backs of dining chairs.

January in Michigan wasn’t exactly crop-top weather, especially in an ice rink. I felt cold just looking at them.

From the waist down, though, we might as well have been triplets—skinny denim and black boots all around. Theirs had heels. Mine didn’t. No regrets.

Mina gave me a once-over and grinned. “Look at us. We’re unintentionally aesthetic.”

“Speak for yourself,” I muttered, adjusting my hat.

Lucy winked. “You look great, Y/N. The hat works.”

“Thank you. I fought hard for it.”

“She did,” Mina admitted, grabbing her coat. “It was a whole diplomatic negotiation. Rhinestones for headgear. A fair compromise.”

“I still say you could’ve worn a little red lipstick,” Mina added, eyeing me as she slipped into her leather jacket.

“Let’s not push our luck.”

She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fine. No more beauty interventions tonight.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Well,” she amended, “none that you’ll notice.”

Lucy snorted. “Shall we?”

Mina threw open the door with a flourish, stepping aside like a maître d’ ushering us into a five-star restaurant instead of the apartment hallway.

“Ladies,” she said, “to the rink.”

We stepped out into the hallway, our laughter still echoing behind us like static warmth. The air outside was biting, sharp enough to make our cheeks sting the moment we hit the curb, but none of us flinched. We were too wrapped up in our own excitement—or maybe just too proud to admit how freezing it actually was.

We ordered an Uber to Little Caesars Arena. It wasn’t far—maybe ten minutes in normal traffic—but walking was out of the question. It was January in Michigan, and the temperature had dipped below “maybe doable” hours ago. Plus, Mina mentioned we might meet up with the guys after the game, depending on how it all went. If the team won, there’d be celebrating. If they lost... well, probably still drinks. Either way, none of us felt like navigating parking or arguing over who was going to be the designated driver.

They had a rhythm to these nights, a system honed by habit. I was just tagging along, a guest in someone else’s tradition, but somehow it didn’t feel that way.

By the time our car pulled up to the arena, the place was buzzing. Packed. Everywhere I looked was a blur of red and white and flashes of green from the opposing team’s fanbase. People in beanies and face paint, scarves with player numbers, kids wrapped in oversized jerseys. There was this pulsing energy in the air—familiar, in a way that caught me off guard. It wasn’t unlike the adrenaline of a competition, that low hum of anticipation before something big.

We moved through the crowd slowly, shoulder to shoulder, the three of us keeping close as we made our way toward the entrance. I started noticing names on the backs of jerseys: Jeon. Park. T. Jeon. It stopped me for a second. I don’t know why it surprised me—of course people wore their names. They were professional athletes, fan favorites.

Still, it was surreal seeing those names on strangers. On kids. On grown men with plastic cups of beer. It made it real in a way I hadn’t felt before.

Once our tickets were scanned, Mina and Lucy linked arms with me and pulled me deeper into the chaos. It was like being swept into a current of red jerseys and foam fingers and the unmistakable scent of stadium nachos.

“There they are,” Mina said, pointing ahead as we finally broke free from the crowd bottlenecking at the escalators.

I followed her gaze and spotted Suho standing near one of the tunnels, talking to a woman I hadn’t seen before. She was tiny and elegant, waving wildly when she saw us.

Before I could even register what was happening, Mina took off at a near sprint.

“Wait—Mina!” I called, but she was already gone, weaving through the crowd like it was second nature. Lucy and I shared a look before jogging after her, laughing under our breath like we were chasing a runaway cart at the grocery store.

By the time we caught up, Mina was wrapped around both of them in a three-person hug that looked more like a reunion scene from a family holiday than a quick hello at a hockey game.

Lucy slipped in easily, wrapping the woman in a warm hug before turning to Suho with a mischievous smirk that suggested some long-running inside joke. He laughed, shaking his head, like this was all part of the usual chaos.

I hovered awkwardly at the edge, unsure if I should step in or wait to be pulled.

Suho turned to me, his smile as easy and genuine as I remembered. “Y/N,” he said, his voice warm. “Glad you made it.”

And then—without hesitation—he pulled me into a hug.

I froze for half a beat, not because I minded, but because I hadn’t expected it. It took me a second longer than it should’ve to hug him back, my brain briefly short-circuiting at the casual intimacy of it all.

“Yeah, uh—good to see you, too, Suho,” I mumbled, awkwardly patting his back before pulling away.

He gestured to the woman beside him. “This is my wife, Yuri.”

I turned to her and immediately felt the need to stand up straighter. Yuri was stunning—not in a showy, flashy kind of way, but in that quiet, Old Hollywood way that made you wonder if she’d stepped off the set of a black-and-white movie. Her features were soft, her hair styled in loose waves that looked like they’d fall apart if you touched them but somehow never did. Her eyes, warm and almond-shaped, reminded me of Mina’s—just a little lighter, a little softer. The family resemblance was obvious, but Yuri had her own gravity.

She smiled as she stepped forward and wrapped me in a hug, too—short, warm, completely genuine.

“Honey, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said. Her voice was smooth, like she’d spent a lifetime hosting dinners and knowing exactly what to say to make someone feel welcome. “Suho and Mina have both told me such lovely things. And Taehyung, of course.”

I blinked, surprised. “Oh—um. Thank you.”

What had they said?

She smiled again, like she knew exactly what I was thinking. “Sit next to me during the game, won’t you? I’d love a chance to get to know you myself, since the rest of my family seems to have already adopted you.”

“Oh—sure,” I stammered. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Perfect.” She linked her arm through Suho’s like it was second nature. “Let’s head in before warm-ups. Suho gets antsy when he misses them.”

He grinned and kissed the top of her head like he’d been doing it for years. No performance. No pageantry. Just muscle memory. Love, distilled.

Mina and Lucy darted ahead, already arguing playfully about snacks—something involving nachos and an aggressive popcorn strategy—while I lingered for just a moment longer, my eyes following Suho and Yuri as they walked ahead, hand in hand.

It wasn’t anything flashy. There were no grand gestures or public displays of affection. Just... ease. The way Suho leaned in when she spoke. The quiet way she smiled up at him. The natural way her fingers found his, without looking.

There was something about it that stuck with me. Not just the love—they obviously had that—but something steadier underneath it. Something that felt like friendship, and history, and the kind of trust that only time could build.

They didn’t just love each other.

They still liked each other.

And maybe that was what I envied most. The simplicity of it. The comfort of knowing someone would reach for your hand, and that your own would already be halfway there.

I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“Y/N! Let’s go!” Mina called over her shoulder, waving me forward with exaggerated urgency.

I snapped out of my thoughts and hurried after her, slipping into the tunnel that opened into the heart of the arena. The moment we stepped inside, the sound hit me like a wave. Loud. Electric. Alive. Fans talking, laughing, shouting from every direction. The game was still half an hour away, but the place was already buzzing with anticipation.

We emerged into the main bowl of the stadium, the rink stretching out below us in all its sharp, glittering brightness. The ice gleamed beneath the overhead lights, impossibly clean, like glass waiting to be broken.

Something twisted in my chest.

It was beautiful. Familiar. And hard to look at.

I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I’d seen a rink from the stands. Usually I was on the other side of the boards, lacing up, blocking out the noise. But from up here, it was different. A stage. A memory.

I felt something ache in my knee—a quiet reminder. I wasn’t out there anymore.

Before the thought could spiral, someone jostled me from behind. I muttered an apology and stumbled down toward our row, letting the crowd pull me forward.

When I reached Mina, I offered a weak smile. “No suite tonight?”

She laughed as she took her seat. “We’ve done it before, but Yuri likes to be in the thick of it. Says it makes her feel like part of the team.”

I had to admit, the view was incredible. We were only a few rows from the glass, right at center ice. Close enough to see every stride, every shift in momentum, every crash against the boards. I settled in between Mina and Yuri, with Suho on the aisle.

“This your first hockey game?” Yuri asked, leaning in slightly.

“Yeah,” I said. “First one in person, anyway.”

“Oh, you’re going to love it,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “It’s fast, it’s messy, and the energy is completely addictive.”

I smiled. There was something about her—genuine and warm and disarming. Like she’d known you forever, even if you’d just met.

Mina turned around in her seat and nudged Lucy. “Snack run?”

Lucy gave a solemn nod. “Popcorn. Nachos. Gatorade for Taehyung. You two want anything?”

“Just water for me,” Yuri replied.

“I’m good,” I added quickly.

Mina narrowed her eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

I was absolutely getting popcorn whether I asked for it or not.

Once they disappeared into the crowd, Yuri turned to me again, folding her hands in her lap. “Mina mentioned you lived in Michigan before?”

“Yeah. I grew up here for a little while. My mom and I moved away after the divorce.”

Her face softened. “That must’ve been difficult.”

I nodded. “It was a lot, but I was pretty young. I think it was harder on my dad. He’s in Washington now, and my mom’s still out in Nevada.”

“Quite the climate change,” she said with a laugh.

“I forgot how cold it gets here. But honestly? I kind of like it. The city, the seasons. It’s big enough to feel alive but small enough that I don’t feel swallowed by it.”

“That’s how Mina always describes it. She says it’s the kind of place where you can breathe.”

I smiled. “Yeah. That’s exactly it.”

“And you’re settling in okay?”

“Better than I expected, honestly. Mina and Lucy have been amazing. Jimin and Taehyung helped me move in—they even assembled my IKEA furniture, which I’m pretty sure qualifies them for sainthood.”

She laughed. “They really are something, aren’t they? Jimin and Leera have been so good for Mina and Tae. You know, as a mother, there’s nothing more comforting than watching your children be loved the way they deserve to be.”

I nodded. “From what I’ve seen, they’re really happy.”

“They are,” she said, and then paused, her smile dimming just slightly. “I just wish my youngest would find something like that.”

I tilted my head. “Jungkook?”

She nodded. “He’s not like the other two. He’s quieter. He keeps to himself. Doesn’t thrive in the spotlight the same way.”

“People expect him to be a certain way, don’t they?” I said quietly. “Because of the name. The job. The attention.”

“They expect a celebrity,” she said, her voice gentle but certain. “But that’s not who he is. He’s a homebody. He’s thoughtful. He’d rather spend a quiet night in than be photographed at some fancy event. And not everyone understands that. Especially not the women he meets.”

I considered that for a moment. “That doesn’t surprise me. The life of a professional athlete isn’t glamorous, not really. The work is exhausting. The pressure’s constant. And the personal part—the real part—usually gets lost in the noise.”

Yuri looked at me then, really looked. Like she was seeing more than I realized I’d offered. After a moment, she smiled again. “It’s refreshing to hear that from someone your age.”

I ducked my head, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “I guess I’ve been around it long enough to know.”

She hesitated, then reached out and gently tapped my knee—the one still wrapped under my jeans, stiff but healing. “Forgive me if this is too forward, but... I’ve admired you for a long time.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

“I’m sure you hear it all the time, but you’re a beautiful skater. Graceful. Powerful. You have that rare thing—presence. I remember watching your last Olympic free skate. Mina cried during Clair de Lune, though she’ll deny it. And Suho made the boys watch it on replay. Twice.”

I laughed, startled and genuinely touched. “That’s... really kind of you. Thank you. Especially now.”

Yuri gave my knee a soft pat, her expression tender. “If it’s meant to be, it will be. I believe that. But even if it isn’t—even if the road ahead doesn’t look like the one you planned—you’ll still find your way.”

Her words hit deeper than I expected, sinking into that quiet part of me I tried not to look at too often. And before I could stop myself, the fear I’d been holding back, tightly wound and buried deep, finally slipped out.

“What if I’m not meant to be on the ice anymore?” My voice was barely above a whisper. “What if I already had my moment and I just... haven’t accepted that it’s over?”

Yuri didn’t blink. She didn’t give me a soft platitude or a well-rehearsed response. She just looked at me with that same calm steadiness, the kind of gaze that came from years of seeing people exactly as they were.

“Then you’ll find the next thing,” she said gently. “The next version of yourself. And it will be just as extraordinary.”

I blinked, caught off guard by how much I needed someone to say that—and how much I believed her when she did.

“I don’t know if I can,” I admitted, the words so raw they felt foreign on my tongue.

Yuri reached out and lifted my chin, her smile slow and sure. “You will. You’re stronger than you realize, Y/N. Most of the remarkable women I know didn’t see their strength until they had no choice but to use it.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just nodded, the lump in my throat growing too tight for words.

Before either of us could say more, Mina and Lucy came clomping down the row, balancing snacks and drinks like circus performers. Mina slid a massive soda into the cupholder beside me and dropped a salted pretzel into my lap like it was a peace offering.

I looked down at the buttery, salt-covered spiral, then up at her with a wry smile. “You’re a menace.”

“Say thank you, menace,” Mina corrected, grinning as she tore open a wrapper around a hot dog. “You looked like you needed carbs and sodium.”

“You’re a bad influence,” I mumbled through a bite. “At this rate, I’ll be a blimp by the time I’m cleared to jump again.”

Mina waved off the comment like it was absurd. “You’re tiny. If anything, this pretzel might save your life. Besides, it’s a hockey game. This is sacred junk food territory.”

“You’ll burn it off with your freakish acrobatic talent,” Lucy added, already halfway through her nachos. “It’s like your body eats physics for breakfast.”

I laughed, and for a moment, I let myself relax. The pretzel was warm, soft in the middle, perfectly salty. The crowd’s energy was rising, a low hum turning into a collective buzz. A sudden roar of cheers echoed across the arena as the players began skating out for warm-ups, and I glanced down at the rink, the lights bouncing off the fresh sheet of ice.

That sound—the scrape of blades, the thud of pucks against the boards, the crackle of movement—sent something humming through my chest. Not quite longing, but close. Something like recognition. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it until it was right in front of me.

Lucy and Mina were already waving and whistling, calling out through cupped hands like they were trying to make themselves heard over the whole stadium. “There’s Jimin! And Taehyung! Look at number six skate—God, I love him,” Mina gushed.

Suho leaned forward, forearms on his knees, watching the players like he was studying film. He didn’t cheer. Didn’t shout. He just watched—quiet, focused, analyzing every move with the calm of someone who understood more than he said.

Yuri nudged me with her elbow, lowering her voice. “You won’t get a word out of him now. He’ll be like this the rest of the night. Afterward, he’ll give the boys a play-by-play like he’s their coach.”

“He’s never played?” I asked, surprised.

“Not once,” she said, smiling. “He’s always loved it, though. When the kids were little, he got obsessed with stats and strategies. Started a betting ring in college, if you can believe it. All math and odds. Got into some trouble with campus security.”

I blinked. “Suho? Quiet, dignified Suho?”

Yuri laughed, a rich, warm sound. “Oh, the stories I could tell you. It’s always the quiet ones, Y/N. They’ve got more going on under the surface than they let on.”

I smiled, turning my gaze back to the rink. Players were moving into drills now, sending pucks flying at the net. My eyes swept the ice—recognizing Taehyung’s long stride, Jimin’s low, smooth turns—and then paused when I caught sight of a figure skating toward the blue line. Fast, clean, low to the ice, stickhandling like the puck was magnetized to his blade.

Number ten. J. Jeon.

He stopped, lined up for a shot, and launched the puck into the top corner of the net with practiced ease. And then he turned. The helmet and face guard obscured most of his features, but the moment I saw him clearly, the breath caught in my throat.

It was him.

It took a full second for my brain to catch up to what my eyes already knew. But once it did, the realization crashed into me like a slap of cold air.

That wasn’t just any player. That was Jungkook. The guy from the airport. The one who’d helped with my bags. Who made me laugh. Who looked at me like I was something unexpected. And now, here he was. In full gear. Warming up for a professional hockey game. Wearing his name on his back.

It all came together—the Tuesday night plans, the way Mina talked about her “other brother,” how she said he was quieter, more private. His name. His eyes. Her eyes. How hadn’t I seen it before?

My Jungkook—if I could even call him that—was Mina’s brother.

Panic bloomed in my chest. My palms went sweaty.

I clamped my mouth shut the second I realized it had fallen open. My jaw clicked as it snapped back into place, and I turned to Mina, doing my best to look like I wasn’t in the middle of a low-key identity crisis. She didn’t notice. Too busy elbowing Lucy, eyes shining as she pointed toward number ten on the ice.

“That’s him,” she said, nodding toward the player skating backward across center ice. “Jungkook. You’ll meet him after the game.”

I made a sound in response. Not a word—just a raw, vaguely human noise that might have meant “cool” or “kill me now.” Hard to say.

Inside, though? I was spiraling.

Because I’d ghosted him.

Not flaked. Not rescheduled. Not offered any excuse. I just... didn’t show. No text. No call. Nothing. One minute we were supposed to meet up, and the next I had vanished like smoke. And now, here I was, standing with his sister, about to be formally introduced like none of that had ever happened.

My fingers tightened around the half-eaten pretzel in my hand. I couldn’t feel my legs. My stomach felt like it had been replaced with a washing machine mid-spin cycle. Part of me wanted to sink into the crowd, duck under the seats and disappear into the concrete underbelly of the arena. The other part—the reckless, traitorous part—was already wondering if he’d remember me.

If he’d been thinking about me.

If he’d cared that I didn’t show up.

Mina, blissfully unaware of the internal meltdown unfolding just a few inches to her right, leaned in. “You’ll have to excuse him if he’s a little... off. He’s been weird lately. Not really himself.”

Yuri nodded, her expression creased with genuine concern. “He usually opens up to me when something’s bothering him, but lately he’s just been... I don’t know. Distant.”

“He’s a total mama’s boy,” Mina added with a casual shrug. “Usually you can read him like a picture book. Lately? Not so much.”

Yuri shot her a look, half scolding, half amused. “Mina Lynn, be nice. You know Jungkook feels things deeply. He doesn’t bounce back the way you or Taehyung do. He carries it all.”

“He’s been carrying something, that’s for sure,” Lucy chimed in, eyes flicking to the ice, where Taehyung executed a smooth turn. “My guess? Girl trouble.”

My heart lurched in my chest like someone had yanked it with a string.

“Why do you say that?” Yuri asked.

I sank lower into my seat, wishing the brim of my hat could somehow collapse over my entire face like a cartoon character.

“He was jumpy at the bar last week,” Lucy said. “Kept looking at the door like he was waiting for someone. Wouldn’t sit still. He was fidgeting with his hair nonstop, and by the end of the night, he was doing that thing where he pinches the bridge of his nose and stares at nothing. Classic broody Jungkook.”

Mina frowned. “I would know if he met someone. He tells me everything.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Lucy said with a smirk. “You’re not omniscient. Maybe he didn’t tell you because it didn’t go the way he hoped.”

Her words echoed in my chest, knocking loose the secret I’d buried: what if it was about me?

What if he’d been waiting for me at the bar?

What if he’d been hurt?

The idea hit like a punch. I shoved it aside, unwilling to let myself fall down that particular rabbit hole. It was too neat, too perfect, too... hopeful. But hope, cruel and persistent, clung like static.

And then Jungkook looked up.

Our eyes met through the glass, and the noise of the arena vanished. The roar of the crowd, the clack of skates, even Mina’s voice—all of it faded into a dense, ringing silence.

His gaze locked on mine. Electric. Steady. Like he knew exactly who I was.

I forgot how to breathe.

Should I wave? Smile? Look away? My limbs wouldn’t cooperate, my body frozen in place while my pulse pounded like a drumbeat in my ears. The air felt too thick to swallow.

Then someone stepped in front of me, and the moment shattered. Sound came crashing back. The crowd, the music, the sharp buzz of an overhead speaker—it all returned in a rush. Jungkook was still looking in our direction, but Taehyung had joined him now, nudging him playfully. Jungkook laughed, shoving him back, but his eyes... his eyes didn’t stray far from mine.

“He’s cute, right?” Mina said suddenly, jarring me back to reality. I jumped, nearly spilling my drink as I blinked up at her.

“What?” I managed, trying for nonchalance and failing spectacularly.

“Jungkook,” she said with a grin. “You think he’s cute.”

“Uh... yeah. Sure,” I said, fumbling for words. “I guess.”

“Don’t ‘I guess’ me, Y/N.” She narrowed her eyes, her grin turning sly. “You’re blushing. Even under that tragic hat.”

I tugged the brim lower, wishing it could hide more than my cheeks. “You’re imagining things.”

“Nope,” she said cheerfully. “I can practically see the butterflies flapping around in your stomach. He’s got you twisted.”

I scoffed, mostly to cover the truth. “Other girls are staring too. You said it yourself—he’s cute. It’s not a crime.”

“Sure,” Mina said, nodding. “But he’s not looking at them.”

That pulled me up short.

I turned slowly, heart lodged in my throat.

Jungkook was still watching. Just a flicker of a glance, a subtle tilt of the head—but enough. Enough to feel it in my bones. His expression shifted when our eyes met again. That same crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Then, without breaking eye contact, he lifted one gloved hand in a wave—small, almost secret, just for me.

I couldn’t help it. I waved back.

My hand trembled.

And I was smiling. Helplessly, stupidly, completely. Like someone had cracked me open and poured sunlight inside.

The buzzer blared—sharp, jarring—and Jungkook skated toward the bench, his strides fluid and purposeful. The rest of the team trailed behind, sticks tapping against the ice, helmets glinting under the overhead lights. But just before Jungkook disappeared into the tunnel, he turned.

And looked straight at me.

My breath caught. Just a second. That’s all it was. But it felt like something opened and closed in my chest, like the moment had hooked into me.

“Ahem.” Mina’s voice was louder than necessary, and I flinched, tearing my eyes away from the ice. When I turned, she was already watching me with a smug little smirk, eyebrows raised like she’d just caught me sneaking out of someone’s bedroom.

“Really subtle,” she whispered, nudging Lucy as she leaned in, and the two of them exchanged a look.

I’d get an ear full from them later.

I ducked behind my drink, hoping it was tall enough to hide behind. My cheeks were on fire. Yuri was talking to me—something about a coffee shop near the bookstore she liked—but it was hard to focus. Everything around me felt loud, too sharp, like someone had cranked the volume on life itself.

The Zamboni swept slowly across the ice, trailing glistening water behind it like a brush over glass. Lights dimmed overhead, throwing the arena into near darkness. Then a pulse of sound hit—hard rock blaring from the speakers, pounding out a rhythm that made my ribs vibrate. On the jumbotron, a montage of last week’s goals lit up the screen, bodies slamming against the boards, fists in the air, helmets flung off in celebration.

The crowd roared, and I couldn’t help but be swept up in it, the excitement crashing over me like waves.

Then the music shifted—louder, sharper, something anthemic and aggressive. A kid skated out onto the freshly smoothed rink, no older than eight, grinning from ear to ear as he planted the team’s flag at center ice like it was a mission from God. The crowd clapped in unison. It was the kind of moment that sent chills up your spine, even if you didn’t know a single thing about hockey.

“Okay, Michigan, on your feet!” the announcer shouted, and like a switch had been flipped, the arena erupted. Everyone stood, stomping and cheering like they were trying to shake the walls. Lucy grabbed my hand and yanked me up with her.

“Here they come: your Michigan Red Wings!”

A foghorn wailed, and the team poured onto the ice like they were shot from a cannon—jerseys flying, blades slicing the rink with brutal precision. It was chaos in motion, and my heart was hammering against my ribs like it was trying to keep up.

“Let’s meet your starting lineup!”

Jimin’s name was called first for defense. A roar went up around us—Mina and Yuri whooped like proud sisters.

Then: “Starting at center... number ten... Jungkook Jeon!”

The sound that followed could’ve lifted the roof off. I swear, I felt it in my teeth.

And maybe I imagined it, or maybe I just wanted to believe it, but in that split-second before lining up with the others, Jungkook’s eyes flicked our way.

No—my way.

The national anthem began, sung by a woman with a haunting voice that carried through the rafters. Jungkook stood at center ice, head slightly bowed, eyes on the flag, but every few seconds, he’d glance over—quick, barely there. But I felt it every time. Like a thread tugging me forward.

When the final note echoed into silence, the players fanned out, readying for face-off.

Jungkook crouched into position, tense and coiled. It was like watching a panther mid-prowl. My breath stalled as the puck dropped.

And the game was on.

Suddenly it was all motion—bodies crashing, pucks slapping, the sharp staccato of skates carving through ice. Mina and Lucy shouted with every pass, every hit, while Yuri surprised me by turning into a tiny coach, yelling strategy like the players could actually hear her from the stands.

Suho sat motionless, his arms crossed, but I saw the twitch in his jaw every time the puck changed hands.

I tried to keep up, clapping and nodding when Mina pointed things out. But my attention kept drifting.

To him.

Jungkook moved like nothing I’d ever seen—fast, sharp, almost too fluid for the violence of the game. It wasn’t soft, not in the slightest. He was like a controlled burn. Raw power, tightly wound.

And then it happened again.

He looked at me.

A quick glance. Barely more than a beat. But it was real. Direct. My stomach flipped like I’d gone down a drop on a roller coaster.

“What the hell is his problem?” Mina said beside me, her voice low and annoyed.

“What?” I said, trying to act casual and failing miserably.

She tilted her chin toward the ice. “Jungkook. He’s totally off tonight.”

My heart thudded uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

“He’s making stupid mistakes. Missed a clean pass, offside twice. He’s distracted.”

I looked back at the rink, just in time to see Jungkook collide hard with the boards. I flinched. So did Mina. The sound echoed.

But before I could really react, Jimin was there, helping him up, giving him a quick shove like get your head back in the game.

Jungkook’s face was tight, jaw clenched. He shook it off and shot up the ice like he was running from something—or toward it.

Seconds later, he had the puck.

He faked left, cut right, and fired off a shot so clean and fast that it stunned the goalie. The puck slammed into the net with a thud, and for a beat, the arena paused.

Then it exploded.

I jumped up, hands in the air, screaming with everyone else, heart in my throat. The energy surged through me like lightning. It wasn’t just watching him score. It was something else entirely. Something electric.

His teammates tackled him in celebration, gloves slapping his helmet—but even through the chaos, Jungkook found me.

That grin—the one he’d given me the first night we met—spread across his face.

It was a little cocky. A little wild. And unmistakably his.

I grinned back, caught up in it, feeling ridiculous and elated and totally alive.

The energy in the arena didn’t dip—not for a second. The score bounced back and forth like a rubber band stretched too tight, snapping between teams, each goal setting off another eruption of cheers or groans. It was relentless. Bodies collided against the glass, sticks clashed like weapons, and the puck zipped across the ice with a kind of ruthless intent.

And Jungkook—he was everywhere.

He wasn’t just skating. He was commanding. Scoring, assisting, checking players so cleanly it looked choreographed. There was this sharpness to him tonight, something fiery, coiled just beneath the surface. He didn’t just play the game.

He took it.

Next to me, Lucy was mid-sentence—something about icing and neutral zones—when suddenly the crowd gasped. Everything shifted.

Taehyung had just been slammed, hard, into the boards.

The hit came out of nowhere—cheap, unnecessary. I didn’t even catch the number of the player who did it. Just the crunch of contact and the way Taehyung’s head snapped back before he crumpled slightly against the glass.

Leera let out a sharp gasp, her hands flying to her mouth.

Yuri erupted. She shot to her feet like a rocket, voice slicing through the sea of boos like it had been building in her chest all night.

“Are you serious, Ref? That’s cross-checking! Are you blind, or just incompetent?”

I blinked. Hard. For a second, I wasn’t sure if I should be laughing or ducking for cover. People in the rows ahead of us actually turned around. One guy raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed.

But Yuri wasn’t embarrassed. Not even a little. Her eyes were locked on the ice, jaw set.

Mina leaned toward me, barely holding in her laughter. “Don’t mess with Mama Bear’s cubs,” she whispered.

I laughed—more from nerves than anything—but I didn’t disagree. Yuri had snapped, and it was kind of amazing to watch. She sat back down eventually, her arms crossed tightly, muttering under her breath about suspension-worthy hits.

“That guy should be in the box,” she said, still fuming. “Total garbage hit. The league’s gonna review that. Mark my words.”

“She’s right,” Lucy added, eyes tracking the puck again. “But Taehyung’s not the type to forget. Just wait.”

And sure enough, we didn’t have to wait long.

Barely a minute left in the period when the same opposing player who’d hit him skated by again, puck on his stick, skating just a little too casual. Taehyung spotted him and moved in fast—silent, deliberate. Then—bam. He slammed into the guy with a precision check that knocked the wind out of the whole section. The crowd roared. I winced, but there was something deeply satisfying about it.

Taehyung scooped the puck before the guy even hit the ice and flew down the rink. One crisp pass to the left, a teammate picked it up, and the puck was in the net before the other team knew what had hit them.

The place exploded.

It was chaos. Mina was yelling, Lucy was on her feet. I was clapping before I even realized it, adrenaline buzzing through me like I’d scored the goal myself. Taehyung didn’t celebrate much—just a quick nod—but the fire in his eyes said everything. That wasn’t just a play.

That was payback.

By the time the third period rolled around, I could hardly sit still. Every time Jungkook took the ice, my heart jumped. He was unstoppable now. His third goal slid into the net like it had always belonged there. A hat trick.

The crowd lost their minds. I could barely hear myself think over the screaming.

But when I turned to Mina, she just rolled her eyes and gave me a dry look.

“What?” I asked, still a little breathless from cheering.

She tilted her head. “He’s showing off.”

I raised a brow. “You mean... playing well?”

“I mean, first period? He was all over the place. Off his game. Now he’s practically leading the league. He doesn’t usually pull a hat trick out of nowhere. He’s good, yeah, but this? This is... weird.”

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a shrug. “Weird.”

But I knew. Or at least—I thought I did.

Every time he’d messed up earlier, he’d glanced in my direction. Like the mistake burned a hole through him, and he was trying to recalibrate. Refocus. I understood that. I’d been there—in skating, in auditions. When I blew a jump or missed a step, I couldn’t stop replaying it in my head until I made up for it. Maybe Jungkook was like that. Maybe he needed the mistake to flip the switch.

Or maybe it was more personal than that.

The final minutes ticked down, the Red Wings holding the lead, and by the time the buzzer sounded, the arena was still buzzing—shouts and laughter and post-game commentary echoing all around us. The team saluted the crowd before skating off toward the tunnel. The lights started to come back on full strength, brighter now, revealing the emptying seats and discarded popcorn boxes. But the energy still lingered, like the game had left its mark on the air itself.

Suho finally blinked, coming back to life. “Good game,” he said with a half-smile, high-fiving Yuri as they both stood.

“Proud of them,” she said simply, eyes still scanning the ice.

We lingered, chatting in that soft, warm haze after something exciting ends. No one seemed in a rush to leave. Eventually, Mina and Lucy filled me in—there was a post-game hangout planned at some local place the guys liked. They’d be going. Yuri and Suho were heading that way too.

Before they left, Yuri surprised me by hugging me—not a polite, surface-level thing, but a real one. Like she’d decided I was in.

“We should grab coffee sometime,” she said as she pulled away, her voice low but genuine.

I didn’t even hesitate. “I’d love that.”

It wasn’t just small talk. I meant it. There was something solid about Yuri. No nonsense. No posturing. 

And then... they were gone.

I sat back in my seat, heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the game. Mina and Lucy were still there beside me, chatting about the bar’s playlist and which players were most fun to go out with, but I was barely hearing them. I was nodding when I was supposed to, giving vague smiles, the occasional “Mm-hmm.”

But my focus was gone. Completely hijacked.

I was scanning the arena like I’d lost something—no, someone. My nerves buzzed under my skin like static. I kept smoothing down my jacket, shifting in my seat like maybe if I got comfortable enough, I’d stop feeling like my insides were tap-dancing.

And then I noticed it.

The way Mina and Lucy kept leaning into each other, whispering, casting glances my way with matching grins. They knew. They definitely knew. And I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to crawl under my seat... or run straight into whatever was coming next.

Somewhere across the arena, I heard it—loud, playful, and entirely unmissable.

“Newbie!”

Taehyung.

My heart jumped before my brain even registered the sound. I turned just in time to see him barreling toward me like a one-man stampede. He didn’t slow down—not even a little—before sweeping me into a hug that lifted my feet clean off the ground.

“Hi, Taehyung,” I wheezed, ribs protesting as he crushed me to his chest.

“Missed you too,” he grinned, finally setting me down with a little bounce like I was made of air.

He stepped back, surveying me with his usual mischievous glint. “Flying solo tonight? What happened to the flyboys?”

“Retired,” I said dryly, brushing hair out of my face. “Hopefully for good.”

He gave a satisfied nod, all dramatic approval. “Excellent. Now I can throw you around without anyone getting jealous.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing despite myself. “Mina doesn’t let you do that?”

“She bites,” he said, deadpan.

“Damn right I do,” Mina chimed in, suddenly appearing beside me with Lucy right on her heels. “You learn survival skills when you grow up with a human golden retriever for a brother.”

“Squirt, you wound me,” Taehyung said, clutching his chest in mock betrayal. Then he messed up her hair with one large hand before she could duck away.

“God, you’re the worst!” she squealed, scrambling behind Jimin, who had just strolled up looking completely unbothered, like this circus was perfectly normal.

Unfazed, Taehyung swept Lucy into a massive hug next, spinning her slightly before planting a loud kiss on her temple. She shrieked with laughter, shoving at him half-heartedly.

And then—he was just there.

Jungkook hovered behind the group, just slightly out of the spotlight, but somehow still the center of it. No gear. No helmet. Just a dark grey long-sleeve tee that clung in all the right places and jeans that looked like they’d seen a few years of good wear. His hair was damp, curling slightly around his forehead, and the scruff I’d noticed at the airport was gone, leaving his jawline sharp and freshly shaven. He looked unreal. Ridiculously good-looking in a quiet way that felt unfair.

And then he looked at me.

My stomach flipped like it had a mind of its own. I dropped my gaze too quickly, cheeks heating, and when I looked back up, he was already stepping closer.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, a little rough around the edges.

“Hey,” I echoed, softer than I intended.

For a moment, it felt like the noise faded, like everything around us had dimmed and the only thing that existed was the space between us. There was something electric about it. Charged. I wanted to say I’m sorry, or I missed you, or maybe just hi, again, but none of it came out. So I just stood there, feeling my pulse skip in my throat.

And then, right on cue, Mina crashed through the silence.

“You two know each other?” she asked, glancing between us with a knowing smirk.

“Sort of,” Jungkook said, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to sound casual.

“We met at the airport,” I added quickly, a little too quickly. I winced. Nice and cool, Y/N.

Mina’s eyes lit up like she’d just won something. I realized, a second too late, that I’d made a mistake. A rookie mistake.

“Ohhh,” she said in a syrupy tone, dragging out the vowel like it was laced with every ounce of teasing she could muster. “So this is your airport crush. Well, I guess I don’t need to do introductions after all!”

I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

“Y/N Y/L/N, meet Jungkook Jeon—my brother,” she added with a flourish, in case I’d somehow missed the fine print on the situation.

Jungkook’s gaze didn’t waver. His lips twitched like he was trying not to laugh, but when he spoke again, his voice had gone softer.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he repeated, and hearing my full name in that voice did something weird to my lungs. Then he held out his hand. “Nice to finally meet you... officially.”

I slipped my hand into his, and it was like touching a live wire.

Warm. Steady. Something underneath it that made me feel like I was being pulled forward without moving.

“Nice to meet you too,” I murmured, not even bothering to hide the smile tugging at my lips. His grip was firm, but not rushed—he held on just a beat longer than he needed to, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

Neither was I.

“Let’s goooo!” Jimin’s voice cut in from across the lobby, dragging us back to the real world. He had Mina piggybacking on him now, her legs swinging like it was just another Tuesday. “We’re heading out. Drinks await!”

Jungkook glanced at me. “You’re coming, right?”

There was something quiet in his voice. Not quite pleading, but definitely hopeful.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, a little breathless. “I’m in.”

We fell into step together, trailing after the others. Jimin was carrying Mina like it was no big deal, and Taehyung had one arm casually slung around Lucy’s shoulders, the two of them laughing at something I couldn’t hear.

The doors swung open ahead of us, and the night air swept in like a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. It was crisp, laced with the scent of cold pavement and distant car exhaust. Instinctively, I crossed my arms over my chest, rubbing my hands over my sleeves as we stepped out into the street.

Jungkook walked beside me, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket, shoulders hunched slightly against the chill. We didn’t talk, not at first. We just walked. The silence wasn’t awkward, though. It was the kind of quiet that felt… shared. Comfortable. Like neither of us wanted to break whatever was stretching between us.

Across the intersection, a neon-green sign glowed against the stone facade of a low-slung building: The Liffey. An old-school Irish pub, all dark wood and warm light, with music spilling out through the open door like a welcome mat. Inside, it was packed. The kind of post-game crowd that buzzed with leftover adrenaline and cheap beer. People clapped the guys on the back as we made our way through, a few of them yelling out congratulations or waving phones in the air.

I stuck close behind the group, trying not to get bumped or trampled, until we reached a quieter corner table tucked away from the noise. It was one of those high-top setups with mismatched chairs and scuffed-up edges, and I was grateful for it—grateful for the bit of space, the lower volume, the chance to breathe.

The group settled instinctively into their usual pairings. Mina curled up next to Jimin, Lucy dropped into the seat beside Taehyung with an ease that came from years of practice. Which left me and Jungkook, standing next to each other in a small awkward pocket of space, unpaired and slightly out of sync.

I pretended to study the beer list scribbled on the chalkboard behind the bar, then slipped into an empty seat. Jungkook followed, dropping into the one beside me. I could feel the warmth radiating off him, even from a few inches away.

A waitress showed up moments later, barely giving us time to open our mouths before Taehyung launched into what sounded like a well-rehearsed order.

I raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Jungkook, who caught my look and leaned in slightly.

“It’s a thing,” he said with a lopsided smile.

“What is?”

“The order,” he explained. “If we win, Tae orders for everyone. If we lose, we each do our own thing.”

I blinked. “That’s oddly specific.”

“Yeah. Well.” He shrugged. “Everyone copes with a loss differently.”

He gestured across the table. “Jimin drowns his in Southern Comfort. Taehyung swears by Captain and Coke. Says the sugar makes him ‘funny again.’”

“Is he not always funny?” I asked, smirking.

“Oh, he thinks he’s hilarious,” Jungkook replied, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But he once tried to reenact a cologne commercial after three of those things and ended up falling through a folding chair.”

I laughed, the image too vivid to resist.

“What about you?” I asked.

Before he could answer, Taehyung piped up from across the table. “Jungkook loves the girly drinks.”

Jungkook let out a groan, shooting him a withering look. “Seriously?”

“One strawberry daiquiri,” Taehyung declared proudly. “One! And he sipped it like it was a damn mimosa at a garden party.”

“It was summer,” Jungkook said, shaking his head. “And it was delicious.”

I raised a brow, fighting a smile. “You don’t strike me as a strawberry daiquiri guy.”

“Don’t let the muscles fool you,” he said, his voice quiet but playful. “I have layers.”

“You’re like an alcoholic parfait,” I said before I could stop myself, and then immediately wished I hadn’t.

But Jungkook laughed—an easy, genuine sound that made something flutter just beneath my ribs.

Meanwhile, Taehyung was still going. “You know he once called it refreshing? Like a damn spa day.”

“Remind me again why I’m still friends with you,” Jungkook muttered, batting away Taehyung’s hand as it reached over to muss his hair.

“You’ve tried to quit me, Kookie. It never sticks.”

Across the table, Mina sighed dramatically. “Can we not start this again? It’s been three hours since your last fake breakup.”

“Three and a half,” Lucy chimed in, sipping her water. “I’m keeping track.”

Just then, the waitress returned with a tray of drinks—pints of Guinness, each topped with a thick, creamy head. She slid one in front of me and I blinked at it like it might bite.

I hesitated. “So… this is the famous Guinness?”

“Never had it?” Taehyung asked, eyes widening like I’d confessed to never seeing snow.

“Nope.”

He gasped in mock horror. “Y/L/N. I expected better from you.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” Mina added, rescuing me. “Don’t listen to him. It’s bitter as hell.”

Taehyung placed a hand over his heart. “It’s smooth. And rich. And sacred.”

“It’s beer,” Jungkook added, a little more practically. “Irish beer.”

“And I’m Irish,” Taehyung said in a terrible accent. “Green as the hills of Galway, lass.”

“You’re a quarter Irish,” Mina cut in, unimpressed. “Maybe. And I think Dad’s side cancels it out.”

“The only part that counts is the part that drinks,” Taehyung declared as he raised his glass.

Lucy joined in with an accent even worse than his. “Shall we raise a glass, boyos?”

Taehyung looked personally offended. “Please never do that again.”

“Oh, I will,” she grinned. “Especially after two of these.”

The conversation buzzed around us like static—snappy, familiar, full of half-teasing jabs and deep belly laughs. Jimin was leaning back in his seat, smirking as he egged Taehyung on about something that had happened in the locker room. Mina, with a warning look and a playful threat, was poised to dump her beer on someone if things got out of hand. It was the kind of chaos that made you feel like you’d stumbled into a sitcom.

And right in the middle of it, Jungkook leaned in again, just slightly. His elbow brushed mine—casual, not deliberate, but somehow very much there—and then he tapped the rim of his glass gently against mine with a soft, “Cheers.”

“Well played tonight, guys,” Lucy chimed in, lifting her glass. “Seriously. That was electric.”

I raised mine in quiet agreement, but as I tilted it to my lips, my gaze met Jungkook’s over the edge of the pint glass. The moment stretched, just for a breath. The pub around us, full of clinking glasses and background laughter, seemed to blur. His eyes held mine, unflinching, and when he took a drink, his throat moved with that effortless kind of grace that somehow made my own feel dry.

The Guinness wasn’t what I expected. Rich, slightly bitter, smooth. It was the kind of flavor that lingered—bold but not overpowering. Like Jungkook’s voice when he wasn’t trying to be heard. Low. Measured. Intimate.

“You like it, Y/L/N?” Taehyung asked, grinning like he already knew the answer.

I set the glass down and nodded. “Surprisingly… yeah.”

“Hope for you yet,” he said, pleased, and winked like he’d converted me to some exclusive club.

The table’s energy kept rolling forward. Talk shifted back to the game—what the cameras didn’t catch, the inside jokes, the minor disasters that made perfect stories. Apparently one of their teammates had forgotten his cup before the first period.

“I’m not kidding,” Taehyung said, leaning forward with a laugh that bounced off the table. “It was like the Canucks knew. The guy took three hits to the family jewels before anyone could figure out what was going on.”

I winced. “Oof.”

“He walked back into the locker room and just lay on the floor. Flat. No words,” Jimin added. “We gave him a moment.”

Everyone laughed—loud, unfiltered, the kind that made strangers glance over and smile without knowing why. Mina and Lucy jumped in next, recounting their run-in with two overly enthusiastic superfans dressed in sequins and team beads. One of them had apparently been keeping stats in a glittery notebook.

“I thought he was going to propose to the mascot,” Mina said.

“He blew a kiss to the goalie,” Lucy added.

I was laughing so hard I nearly choked on my drink. The stories, the rhythm of it all—it felt weirdly effortless, like I’d been part of this group forever. Maybe it was the beer, or maybe it was just them, but there was something about how they included me without making it feel like an effort. No one was posturing. No one was performing. They were just... real.

But even with the warmth of the group around me, I was hyperaware of Jungkook’s arm when it moved—slowly, casually—along the back of my chair.

I stiffened for half a second, unsure if it was intentional. But when his fingers brushed my shoulder lightly, and didn’t move, I realized it was.

My breath hitched. Just a little. Not enough to draw attention, but enough that I noticed. Every time he shifted slightly or leaned in to laugh, the warmth of his arm stayed close. Close enough to make me forget what we were talking about.

And then, as if he felt the shift in my focus, he cleared his throat and turned toward me slightly, pulling his arm back but keeping his eyes on mine.

“So,” he said, quieter than the rest of the table. “You’re the hotshot.”

I blinked. “The what now?”

“Mina’s been hyping up the new girl next door. Olympic skater, total legend, star athlete… no pressure.”

I groaned softly, slumping back in my chair. “She did not.”

“She did,” he said, smiling. “Several times.”

I exhaled a laugh. “I wouldn’t call myself a hotshot. More like... moderately coordinated.”

He chuckled, eyes still fixed on me. “You were on crutches at the airport. I just thought you were clumsy. Turns out, you're an elite athlete.”

I bit my lip, smiling as I picked up my glass again to hide how flustered I felt. “I don’t usually lead with the crutches.”

“I don’t know,” he said, leaning in again, voice just for me. “Kind of made you stand out.”

Something in my chest pulled tight. I felt it—clear as day—that he wasn’t just flirting to pass time. He was really looking. Seeing me.

“Well,” I said, finding a smirk somewhere in the blush creeping up my neck, “if you’re jealous, there’s always figure skating. I can lend you a sparkly costume. Do a little jazz hands.”

“Jazz hands?” He blinked, confused.

“You don’t know jazz hands?” I demonstrated with exaggerated flair.

He frowned. “I think I’m more of a power-slide-into-a-fist-pump kind of guy.”

“Ah yes,” I said. “The gold medal move of champions.”

He grinned, and something about it—soft, amused, unguarded—made my stomach flip. From there, conversation came easy again. We fell into it like we’d done it a hundred times. Music, books, food, weirdly specific YouTube rabbit holes. He told me he played piano. I told him I sang, but only in the shower or when I thought no one was home. We discovered we both had a weird soft spot for sad girl music—Billie Eilish, Amy Winehouse—and neither of us understood the appeal of MGK.

I told him about my favorite childhood coach. He told me about his first time skating on a frozen pond in his neighborhood, how he cracked the ice and ended up waist-deep in freezing water. We laughed, and it wasn’t just surface-level banter—it was comfortable, the kind of connection that sinks its teeth in before you even realize you’re caught.

At some point, I reached for my drink and realized it was empty. I glanced around, blinking at how much the crowd had thinned. The hum of the room had faded to something softer, quieter. Taehyung was leaning back, arm slung loosely around Lucy, who looked half-asleep on his shoulder. Mina was still animated, probably running on pure caffeine and stubbornness, while Jimin watched her with a lazy kind of affection, like he’d long since accepted that she’d never tire before 2 a.m.

I glanced at Jungkook just as he looked at me. Neither of us said anything, but in that small silence, I knew we were both thinking the same thing—we weren’t ready for the night to end. Not yet.

The group was slowly collecting their things near the bar, the energy softening as the post-game glow started to settle. Voices lowered, jackets were shrugged on, and someone—probably Lucy—had already asked the bartender for change to split the bill.

“You guys are heading out tomorrow, right?” Mina asked, her voice casual, but her eyes tracked each of them like she already knew the answer.

Jimin, arms loosely wrapped around her from behind, grinned against her hair. “You know we are, baby.”

“And you’re back Sunday morning?” she pressed, already mentally juggling the next few days.

“Early,” Taehyung groaned, throwing his head back with theatrical agony. “Like, ‘why-does-this-flight-even-exist’ early.”

“We should do something!” Mina perked up, glancing between me and the rest of the group. That spark in her eye—the one that meant she was planning something I’d probably get dragged into—was already there. “All of us.”

“Don’t even think about making me get out of bed before noon,” Taehyung warned, flexing his arms like he needed to prove how heavy they were. “You couldn’t lift me even if you tried.”

“Please,” Lucy snorted. “You’re the first one awake in every hotel room. You’re literally doing push-ups before most of us are conscious.”

Mina nodded solemnly. “He’s the only person I know who stretches like he’s about to do a triathlon... to walk to the hotel breakfast buffet.”

“I have to maintain this physique,” Taehyung shot back, smoothing down the front of his jacket.

“Anyway,” Jimin cut in, “the Winter Carnival kicks off this weekend. Campus Martius should have the outdoor rink set up by now.”

Mina lit up. “Perfect. We could all meet up, skate, get cocoa after—like something out of a rom-com montage.”

My eyes flicked instinctively to Jungkook, who was already watching me.

“Is that okay with you?” he asked, his voice quiet, thoughtful. “I mean, you’re still healing, right? Probably shouldn’t be pushing it.”

There was something about the way he said it—casual, but laced with concern—that made my chest tighten.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, offering a small smile. “Your dad gave me the green light to take it easy. I won’t be doing spins or jumps or anything. Just... slow laps. I think I remember how to glide.”

Jungkook gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered for a second longer, like he was still debating whether to believe me.

“One o’clock?” Mina offered, looking around. “That gives everyone time to sleep in. Even you, Tae.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue. “I guess I could grace the ice with my presence.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like you’re not already planning your entrance.”

Mina gestured to me. “Y/N will probably be home, fed, stretched, and halfway through a yoga flow by the time I’m peeling myself out of bed.”

I grinned. “Old habits.”

We started moving toward the exit. Jimin stepped outside to wave down a cab, and the night air wrapped around us the moment we stepped through the door—cool and quiet, the city humming in the background like a distant lullaby. The air smelled like damp pavement and the last whispers of winter.

One by one, the girls climbed into the back of the cab, crowding together with the ease of people who’d done this a hundred times before. Mina settled in first, Lucy curling up beside her. The door was left open behind them, space enough for one more.

But Jungkook didn’t move. He stayed by the door, one hand resting on the top of the frame, his posture loose but watchful.

I turned toward him. His smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, slow and familiar.

“Feels like we’ve been here before,” he said, eyes lit with something quiet and amused.

“Déjà vu,” I murmured, a smile blooming before I could stop it. “Except this time, I’m not disappearing.”

He looked at me for a second longer, like he was measuring something behind my words.

“You sure?” he asked. Lightly. But I could hear the real question in it.

I nodded. “Pretty sure. You know where I live now.”

That made him smile wider. “Guess you’re out of excuses.”

I was about to reply when he stepped forward, reaching up slowly to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture was gentle, but my breath caught all the same. His fingers grazed the side of my face, warm even in the cold, and for a moment, the city felt still.

“See you Sunday?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” I said, and my voice felt steadier than I expected. “Sunday.”

“Y/N!” Lucy called from the cab, dragging the vowel out in dramatic agony. “Let’s go, lover girl!”

I laughed, but as I turned to climb in, my foot caught on the edge of the curb. I stumbled slightly—nothing dramatic—but before I could catch myself, Jungkook’s hands were already on my arms, steady and sure.

“Déjà vu indeed,” he murmured, helping me back upright.

His hands lingered for a second, sliding gently from my elbows down to my wrists, then curling briefly around my fingers before letting go. It was soft. Intimate. Enough to leave my skin tingling.

“I’ll have to stay close,” he added with a crooked grin, “just in case you fall again.”

I bit my lip, trying not to grin too hard. “I’ll try not to make it a habit.”

“Goodnight, Jungkook!” Mina sang from inside the cab.

“Night, Nana. Lucy,” he replied without looking away from me.

Then, softer: “Y/N.”

I met his gaze one last time. “Night, Jungkook.”

The door clicked shut, and the cab rolled forward, leaving him standing under the pool of amber streetlight, his hands in his jacket pockets, shoulders a little hunched from the cold. Taehyung and Jimin flanked him, already lost in their own banter, but he didn’t take his eyes off the cab until we turned the corner.

I stared out the back window for as long as I could.

The cab had barely pulled away from the curb before Lucy turned toward me, practically bouncing in her seat.

“Oh my God, Y/N,” she said, eyes wide. “I can’t believe Jungkook was your airport baggage claim hottie! How did you not say anything?”

“Seriously,” Mina added, twisting around to face me from the front passenger seat, her eyes sharp with curiosity. “When did you figure it out?”

“And more importantly—do you like him?” Lucy asked, already grinning like she knew the answer.

I opened my mouth, but Lucy was already barreling ahead.

“Because he definitely likes you. That was not subtle.”

“You should’ve seen you two at the bar,” she went on, now directing her words to Mina like I wasn’t sitting right between them. “It was like watching the first ten minutes of a rom-com. All dreamy stares and soft smiles.”

Mina gave an exaggerated sigh. “I know. If he wasn’t my brother, I’d be kind of jealous. That look he gave her when she got in the cab? Please.”

Lucy clutched her chest dramatically. “Ugh. To be young and in love.”

“Oh, please,” I finally cut in, raising both hands like I was trying to hold back a tidal wave. “First of all, Lucy, you’re literally one year older than me. And you’ve been making heart eyes at Taehyung all night.”

“Yeah,” Mina said, glancing back at me with a smirk, “but that’s different. Tae and I have been together for three years. That early-stage, slow-burn, butterfly-stomach kind of thing? That’s its own kind of magic.”

“And right now,” Lucy added, pointing at me like I was exhibit A, “you’re kind of glowing, so...”

“I’m not glowing.”

Mina laughed softly. “You kind of are.”

I groaned, pressing my fingers into my temples. “Okay, just to set the record straight—yes, I figured it out when we got to the bar. Yes, it surprised me. Yes, he’s attractive. But—and this is important—there’s a big difference between attraction and love.”

Lucy tilted her head, unconvinced. “We never said love. Just... interest.”

“And you looked interested,” Mina added, voice warm but teasing. “He did too.”

“I don’t even know him,” I said, trying not to sound panicked. “I don’t know what I’m doing with this stuff. Dating. Flirting. Whatever this is.”

Mina’s tone softened. “You’re putting way too much pressure on yourself.”

“Some people actually like dating,” Lucy said, nudging my leg. “You get to hang out, eat good food, find out if you click. It’s not a test.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” I admitted, my voice a little too tight. “What if I say the wrong thing? What if I mess it up?”

“You don’t have to do anything, Y/N,” Mina said gently. “Just... be who you were tonight. You were relaxed. You were laughing. He liked that.”

“It didn’t feel like a date,” I mumbled.

“Because we were there,” Lucy said with a grin. “But you guys barely acknowledged the rest of us. We might as well have been ghosts.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” she said, one eyebrow raised.

The cab slowed in front of our building, headlights cutting through the dark. Mina reached into her coat pocket and pulled out some cash for the driver.

“Sunday’ll be easy,” she said as we climbed out of the car. “We’ll all be there—Tae, Chim, Lou, me. No pressure. No expectations. Just skating and hanging out. Okay?”

I nodded, though the nerves were still stirring under my skin.

Back upstairs, I went through the motions—face washed, teeth brushed, the same old hoodie tugged over my head. But even in the comfort of my routine, my thoughts refused to settle. As I crawled into bed, Mina’s voice echoed in my head.

Just go with it. See what happens.

It sounded so simple. But to me, it felt like the edge of a cliff.

Still, as I curled beneath the blankets, I found myself thinking about Jungkook. The way he’d looked at me when I stumbled—calm, steady, amused. The warmth of his hands on my arms, the quiet way he said my name. That lopsided smile, like he was letting me in on something no one else knew.

I couldn't get him out of my mind no matter how hard I tried.

Taglist:  @smartkookiee @knightofmidnight @mar-lo-pap @jjeonjjk7 @somewhatjungkook @lovingkoalaface @jimineepaboya @iswearimover5feetall @blissingtaehyung @futuristicenemychaos @kooloveys @jenniebyrubies @8thmuse @beattiestreet @tatzzz-25

[woman-becomer]

tumblr users love reading. you literally stopped for this post just because it has words in it

[interpolationz]

this is one of my favorite bits about tumblr

the users seem to actually prefer text posts to anything else, and treat it as a chore to play a video especially with sound

[lazzarella]

[formerlychalamet]

i'm trying to fight the second one but THE VOICES-

[theseinfernalangels]

Garrick Tavis 🤝 Cassian

Strong men and skilled tacticians with extreme battle prowess being written off as nothing more than dumb gym bros by their fandoms

[yelyahrodrigo]

Six times Xaden Riorson is the funniest character in Fourth Wing

♡ because my boy contains multitudes ♡

1. when he was trolling Vi right from the beginning

2. when he was fucking done with Tynan's shit

"nO, bUt I cAn NaRrAtE" lives rent free in my head

3. when he manages to lighten the mood right before making out with Violet for the first time

4. when he cannot contain his giddiness that he can now bother Violet without having to utter a single word

5. when he decides honesty in the best policy with Mira

6. when he is offended by breakfast

✰ Xaden Riorson, born to be a little shit, forced to be a revolution leader ✰

[jiminsafairy]

daddy of dutty – jungkook (singleDad!Jungkook × singleMom!reader)

summary: jungkook visits you one hot summer day and you cannot let escape the chance of inviting him to your pool

pairing: singleDad!Jungkook × singleMom!reader

wc: ~5.3k

warnings/tags: oral (f and m receiving) unprotected sex,throat fuck, tit play, fingering, dirty talk, slighttt exhibitionism, multiple orgasms, dom!Jungkook, FEELINGS!, bigDick!Jungkook, unprotected sex, single parents au, dilf!Jungkook

a/n: english isn’t my first language, excuse any mistakes!

You’ve been staring at the same paragraph of your manuscript for at least half an hour, but the words refuse to flow. It doesn't help that even with the AC on full blast, the house feels like you’re sitting inside an active volcano.

Deciding you’ve had enough, you save the document and shut down the computer with a heavy sigh. Leaving the office behind, you head straight for your bedroom to throw on a bikini. Grabbing a towel and a cold glass of lemonade, you make your way to the backyard. 

You’re just reaching for the handle when the doorbell chimes, making you pause. Setting the glass down on the counter, you pad barefoot across the cool tile floor, not bothering to grab a cover-up. Whoever it is can deal with the view.

Peering through the peephole, you see Jungkook standing on your porch. You sigh. He looks like a dream. His black t-shirt is plastered to his tattooed arms, that sharp jawline and those big brown eyes make your stomach flip. But you already know the feeling, it’s the same one you get every time you see him at kindergarten pickup.

You’ve known him since the school year started almost one year ago. His son Siwoo, and your son Jiho, are kindergarten besties. 

He was just finishing the divorce when you met him. It was a messy one, from what he’d let slip. Siwoo’s mom isn't around much. You never asked for the details, but you could see the change in him over the months. The shadows under his eyes lightened. His smile came easier. He looked happier now than when you first met him.

It was easy with him.  Surprisingly so. Easier than it ever was with Jiho's father. With Jungkook, you feel seen in a way you haven't felt in years. You bonded over the fact that both of you are raising kids mostly alone. 

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves before swinging the door open, leaning against the frame with a casual smile. “Jungkook? Hey, what's up?”

He blinks. His eyes drag down your body, sticking to the bikini before snapping back to your face. A faint flush creeps up his neck despite the heat. “Oh, uh, hi. Sorry to bother you.” He looks a bit concerned as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’m here because of Siwoo's toy truck,” he says. “I know Jiho has the exact same one in blue, but Siwoo left his red one here last time they played. The one with the monster wheels? I figured I'd swing by before it gets too late.”

You nod, remembering. “Yeah, of course. Come on in. It's brutal out there.” You step aside, gesturing for him to enter. “I think it's still in the living room.”

As you turn to lead the way, you feel the fabric of your bikini riding high on your hips. You know exactly how good your ass looks in this cut, and you sway your hips a little more than necessary, letting him get an eyeful.

“Where’s your little guy?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck as he tries to keep his eyes fixed on the floor instead of your curves.

“With his dad. Weekend rotation.”

He follows you into the living room. You rummage through the toy bin by the couch. Pulling out the truck, you straighten up and hand it to him.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” His gaze flicks down toward your chest before he quickly looks away. He runs a hand through his damp hair and pulls at the collar of his shirt, trying to peel the sticky fabric away from his skin. He exhales a sharp breath, fanning his face with his hand.

“Jungkook, you look like you're melting. I was heading to the pool to cool off. Want to join? I've got some trunks that might fit. I keep a spare pair for my brother, actually.” The words slip out quicker than you intended.

Hesitating, Jungkook glances at the toy in his hand, then back at you. “I... yeah, why not? Siwoo’s at my parents' for the weekend, so I'm free” He sets the truck on the coffee table. “Lead the way.”

Turning on your heel, you head to the bedroom. He follows close behind you.

Stepping inside, the room feels suddenly intimate. It’s spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows letting the afternoon light pour in. But with Jungkook standing there, the space feels tiny. A massive king-sized bed sits right in the center, demanding attention. Having him in here, in your personal space, makes your heart hammer against your ribs. 

Opening the doors to your built-in closet, you search for the drawer where you keep your spares. You dig around until you find the trunks and hand them to him along with a towel.

“Take this. You can change here.” You nod at the room. Your fingers brush against his as he takes the fabric. A spark of electricity shoots up your arm, making you nervous. “I’ll be outside.”

He says something low, maybe a ‘thank you’. You don’t catch it, just hear the soft click of the door closing behind you as you leave.

Heading out to the patio, you dive straight into the pool. The cool water shocks your heated skin. You swim a few laps to clear your head before climbing out. Dropping onto the recliner on your stomach, you close your eyes and let the sun bake your skin.

Minutes later, the door opens and you hear a heavy splash as Jungkook dives in.

You peel one eye open to watch him cut through the water. He moves effortlessly, his powerful arms pulling him forward in long, smooth lines. You almost drool at the sight of his broad back, the muscles shifting and flexing under his wet skin with every stroke.

Then, the sound of him climbing out and the recliner beside you creaking under his weight as he settles down.

“Hey.” You lift your head. “Can you do me a favor?” You pick up the bottle from the floor and hold it out behind you without looking. “My back's starting to itch from the sun.”

Jungkook looks at you, brow furrowed for a second, like he’s deciding exactly what to do next.

“Yeah. Sure,” he says finally, moving closer. He perches on the edge of your recliner, thigh brushing yours as he leans in.

The cap clicks open and a cold splash hits your back. His hands glide over your shoulders, rubbing in the lotion slowly. His fingers drift down your back, stopping at the top of your bikini bottoms, thumb grazing the curve of your ass.

A soft moan slips past your lips before you can stop it. His hands freeze for just a moment, then continue, exploring lightly. After a beat, you glance back over your shoulder.

“Your turn?” you murmur, holding out the bottle.

He looks at you for a moment before handing it back. Then, shifting smoothly, he rolls onto his stomach on the recliner, arms folded under his head, giving you easy access.

Without thinking, you climb onto him, straddling the curve of his hips with a knee on either side of his thighs. The warmth of his skin radiates into yours as you settle slowly, feeling him stiffen beneath you.

“Mmmh. You’ve got a lot of tattoos,” you murmur, letting a line of sunscreen drip down his spine. The swirls of black ink across his back catch your eye, mesmerizing. He hums in response, distracted as your fingers trace the patterns.

“Flip over,” you say, and he lifts his head briefly, reading your expression, before rolling onto his back. His elbows press into the recliner as he adjusts, giving you room. You settle back onto his lap, surprised at the immediate hardness beneath you.

Adding more lotion to your hands, you spread it across his chest. “Did it hurt?” you ask softly, tracing the ink swirling over his pecs.

 “Like hell,” he admits. “But the result was worth it, don’t you think?”

 You press a little closer, brushing against him. “Sure they did,” you murmur.

His gaze follows you as your fingers glide down his stomach, tracing the lines of his abs and slipping into his V-line. You smooth the last of the lotion over his hips, hovering against him.

“Mmmh. Did you get your front?” he murmurs, lowering his tone.

You blink. “Not yet.”

He props up onto his elbows, leaning closer, breath warm against your collarbone. “I should return the favor,” he murmurs with a teasing smile, “since I didn’t take care of that part.”

Startled, you nod, staying straddled over his hips. He pumps more lotion into his hands, warm palms gliding across your stomach slowly, drawing little shivers from you.

“So soft,” he murmurs, fingers brushing the edge of your bikini top.

“I probably should get under here,” he mutters, hooking a finger under the fabric.

“Yeah. Probably,” you murmur.

“Wouldn’t want you to burn.”

His hands push the damp fabric up, letting your tits spill free. You gasp softly as his hands graze your nipples. He rubs lotion between his palms, then spreads it across your chest with long, wide strokes. His large, warm hands cup your tits, kneading slowly, pushing them together, molding them in his palms before letting them bounce back.

“Tell me if I miss a spot,” he says quietly.

“I think you are... fuck,” you moan as his finger suddenly twists your nipple hard. “I think you are covering everything.”

He hums, satisfied with the sound you made. It feels surreal having him touch you like this, the contrast between the polite father you know and the man currently claiming your body making your head spin. The friction of his calloused thumbs dragging over your sensitive nipples sends a shot of pleasure straight to your pussy.

Your head tilts back as his hands roam lower. Over your ribs, along your waist. Then down, cupping your ass in both hands, dragging you forward until your hips grind against him. His cock is hard now, obvious beneath the damp fabric.

You lean in until your lips are barely touching his. “When are you gonna stop pretending this is about sunscreen,” you whisper against his mouth, “and just kiss me already?”

Smiling, Jungkook leans in and your mouths meet. His hands are suddenly everywhere and you moan into his mouth when his hips jerk up under you and you feel his hard cock against your core. Your bikini bottoms are wet, and it’s not because of the water now.

He grinds into you again and SPF is the last thing on either of your minds. The friction of your hard nipples rubbing against his wet skin makes you shiver. Your mouth is on his, but it’s not enough, you want more. All of him. Jungkook’s hands are now tight on your ass, pulling you down against his cock.

“Let's go inside?” you breathe, grinding down again, slower this time. “I wouldn't want to give my neighbors a free show,” you add with a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Unless you want to?”

He meets your eyes. “Inside. I’m not sharing you with anyone.”

Sliding off his lap, you grab his hand and the two of you hurry through the door, still kissing as you walk inside. You don’t really notice much around you until you get to the bedroom.

He pulls your bikini bottoms halfway down before you can take another step. You kick them off while he pushes his swim trunks down. And there he is, hard, thick, dark, and already wet at the tip.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper, looking down. “I bet you’re going to absolutely destroy my pussy with that monster. ”

He smirks. “Tss.” He pushes you back against the wall. “Such a dirty mouth you have. And here I thought you were a good girl.”

“Well,” wrapping your hand around his cock, you stroke him slowly. “Maybe I’m not a good girl,” you challenge, squeezing the base. “Maybe I just want this big fat cock splitting me open.”

You wrap your hand around him, stroking him slowly, feeling him throb and grow even harder in your palm as he bucks into your fist. “Keep talking like that and...”

You stop him with a soft whisper. Getting up on your tiptoes, you bring your mouth close to his. “And what?” you breathe. “You gonna cum in my hand? Or bend me over and fuck me till I can’t even remember my name?

Your hand falls away from his cock as he steps into your space. His broad chest collides with yours, backing you up until your shoulders hit the wall. He puts his hand around your neck.

“You think you’re the one in control, mmh?” he mutters, dragging the heavy head of his cock along your thigh. Grabbing both your wrists, he holds them firmly together. With one hand, he pins them above your head while he leans down to bury his face in your neck. His lips latch onto the sensitive skin right over your pulse, sucking hard enough to bruise. You know it will leave a mark.

He drags his hot mouth lower. He captures your tit, sucking hard on the sensitive bud. You gasp as your head falls back against the wall. His tongue swirls against your nipple, teasing and biting, making your knees go weak. Pinned and exposed, you feel helpless, but it turns you on more than anything. You never thought you'd have Jeon Jungkook eating your tits like this.

“Press your legs together,” he commands. His free hand slides down from your waist to your outer thigh, forcing your legs shut. Lining himself up, he slides the broad head of his dick between your thighs, rubbing right against your slit.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he groans to himself.

You gasp as he humps you. Slow, filthy drags smear your slick all over his shaft. He snaps his hips forward, grinding the hard head of his cock right against your clit. He keeps thrusting, angling his hips so the wet tip bumps against your tight entrance, teasing the opening without sliding in.

“Will you be a good girl now?” he asks against your ear. One hand keeps your wrists pinned high while the other grips your hip, holding you close against his grinding hips. “Answer me, baby.”

“Stop teasing,” you pant, pushing your hips back against him.

“I asked a question,” he scolds, nipping your earlobe.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I'll be good.”

Smirking, Jungkook steps back, letting your wrists go. “That’s better.” He reaches out and his knuckles graze your cheek in a soft caress that makes you shiver. “Now, on your knees.”

Dropping on your knees, the change in perspective makes him look even more massive. You watch, mesmerized, as his large hand wraps around the base of his cock and strokes himself slowly, only to slap the heavy head against your cheek. Then he rubs it slowly over your lips, painting them with his precum.

“Open.” Your lips open and you stick your tongue out, waiting. He rubs the tip along your tongue. “Suck,” he orders. “Show me what that dirty mouth of yours can do.”

You wrap your mouth around the head, sucking hard on the tip before sliding down. It’s thick and you have to drop your jaw to accommodate him. Your lips stretch tight around his girth as you take him deeper, swirling your tongue against the sensitive skin.

“So good,” he mutters, threading fingers into your hair. He starts slowly, testing if you can take his length. "Come on, just a little more," he growls, pushing his hips forward to slide deeper into your throat. "Yeah, that's it."

The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, making you gag. It’s too much. You can’t fit everything in, so you wrap your hand around the base to handle the length you can't swallow.

Jungkook grabs your hair, holding tight, pulling you closer. “You’re taking me so fucking well,” he groans. “So fucking pretty swallowing me down.”

You suck harder in response, bobbing your head slowly. He groans louder as you hollow your cheeks, sucking him deeper as your nails dig into his thighs for balance.

“Such a good girl,” he pants. “Stuffing that pretty mouth full. You love choking on this fat cock, huh?”

You hum around him, making him curse softly. He pushes deeper and holds you there. Your eyes water from the pressure.

Your free hand slides down to cup his balls, massaging them, rolling them in your palm while you bob your head faster. His hips snap forward, fucking your face hard now.

“Shit,” he gasps, breathing hard. “I’m close. I’m gonna use your mouth. I'm gonna cum in it and you’re gonna take it like the good girl you are. Swallow everything. Are you gonna do that for me? Mmh?”

Nodding with your mouth full, you feel his cock pulse on your tongue as hot cum floods your palate. You keep your eyes locked on his, swallowing slowly to make sure he sees you licking him clean.

Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out to show off your work.

“Good girl,” he praises, his thumb wiping a stray drop from your lip before he brings it to his own mouth to lick it off. The sight of him tasting himself on your skin makes your insides clench.

Gripping your waist, he pulls you up from the floor effortlessly to capture your lips in a deep kiss. He walks you backward across the room until your bare back hits the cold glass of the window.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he mutters against your mouth. His lips press hot and moist against your neck as he kisses his way down your body. He stops at your chest, lifts your tits toward his face by cupping them, and then swirls his tongue around your nipple, biting down gently until it hardens against his teeth before trailing lower over your abdomen.

Sinking down before you, he grabs your thighs, lifting one leg to hook over his shoulder. The position spreads you wide open, leaving your pussy completely exposed to his hungry gaze as he presses his hot mouth against you.

“Jungkook!”

He licks your center as his fingers dig into your thighs. “This pussy’s mine now,” he says. “Let me taste it.”

Dragging his tongue up slowly, he latches onto your clit. Your hips jerk against his mouth as your hands scramble for purchase, one clawing his shoulder while the other grabs his hair tight.

“Fuck,” you moan as two fingers slide inside you. He thrusts them deeper, curling them upwards while his tongue circles your clit over and over.

“So wet,” he mutters, his nose brushing against your slick folds as he inhales your scent. “Is that all because of me?”

“Because of you,” you breathe, hands tangling in his hair to hold him there. “Only you.”

He groans against you. “That’s what I like to hear.” Pushing your knee back further, he opens you wider. “Mmmh. All spread and open for me. Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs against your wet skin. You can hear the wet, sloppy sounds of his mouth feasting on you.

Sliding his fingers out slowly, he lets your walls clench after them before slamming them back in deep, adding a third digit to stretch you wide. Your vision becomes blurry when his fingers are inside of you and his mouth is on your clit, and the feeling makes your hips jerk against his face and your heels dig into his back.

“So fucking tight,” he mumbles against your skin as his fingers push deeper. “You like my fingers stretching you out? Taking me deep? I need to stretch you out so you can take my cock later.”

“Yes! God, yes!” you cry out, squirming against him as the edge gets closer.

Grabbing your ass cheek with his free hand, he squeezes the flesh to keep you in place, refusing to let you pull away. His mouth and fingers move faster, harder.

“Cum on my face,” he growls against your twitching entrance. “C’mon baby, do it for me.”

Your hips snap up, locking against his face as you scream, “Fuck! Oh God, Jungkook!” But he refuses to stop, tongue moving faster against your clit while his fingers pump deep inside you. He keeps eating you out until your spasms finally fade and your legs go limp around him. 

You look down at him, seeing his chin slick with your juices as he gently lowers your legs from his shoulders. Guiding your feet back to the floor, he stands up and kisses you. You taste yourself on his tongue as his hands slide to your waist, spinning you around effortlessly.

He said he wouldn't share you, but your room faces the street. Anyone walking by, anyone looking up at the second floor right now, could see your tits smashed against the glass, your body on display for the whole neighborhood. The thought makes your pussy clench.

You almost lose your breath when you feel him, big, thick, and hard again, grinding into your ass. “Think you can take my cock in your pussy now?” he growls, his hands sliding down to grip your hips firmly, pulling you back against him. 

“I-I... fuck, I–,” you whimper. Your heart is racing and your thighs are trembling from anticipation.

He chuckles. “Poor thing. All dumb from how good I’ve been eating you out.”

One hand wraps around the base of his cock and rubs the tip at your tight opening, pushing in slowly. The sharp burn makes your insides clench and drip around him.

“Shit. So big,” you gasp as your body fights to take him. It’s been a while since you had anyone inside you, and you need a second to get used to the stretch.

“Feel how I’m stretching this tight little pussy?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear as he pushes another inch inside. “Gotta open you up nice for me, baby. Can’t just shove it all in, you’d split right open.”

Your hips press back against him instinctively because honestly, you wouldn't even mind. You want him to split you open, destroy you completely.

“God, you’re so tight. So fucking small around me,” he grits out, sliding in another inch to pull your hips back onto him. The stretch stings, but it feels so good. “Taking me inside this tight little pussy.”

You nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the intensity. “Deeper.”

“Can you take more?” he asks.

“Yes,” you pant, pushing back against his hips to force him deeper.

One arm wraps around your waist to hold you steady while his other hand loosely grips the back of your neck. He sinks in deeper until he bottoms out.

“That’s it... fully inside.” He presses a hot kiss to your nape. “Such a good girl. You took me so well.”

But he doesn't move. Instead, he keeps you pinned and stretched full so you can get used to his thickness. You whine, bucking your hips back against him.

He bites down lightly on your shoulder, growling against your skin. “You feel fucking incredible. So hot and tight around me. I could stay buried in here forever.”

Releasing your waist and neck, he grips your forearms, pinning you flat against the cold glass. He starts snapping his hips forward, driving deep.

“Tell me who owns this pussy,” he demands.

“You!” you cry, your palms sliding against the window as he slams into you.

“Only mine?”

“Only yours.”

“That’s right,” he snarls, his hips smacking loudly against your ass cheeks. Your tits are crushed against the cool window with every thrust. The cold glass bites into your nipples, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body. It’s been so long since you felt this full, his cock stretching you in ways you forgot were possible.

You push back against him, feeling your orgasms approach. “God, I’m so close…”

Releasing your forearms, he slides one hand down between your legs to find your clit while the other wraps loosely around your throat, tipping your head back. He thrusts deeper.

“Come on this cock, baby. Let me feel how this tight pussy milks me,” he whispers in your ear as he rubs your clit. The hand on your throat slides down to your breast rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, pinching the sensitive bud, then twists it sharply.

Your body shakes as you hit your peak, hips jerking uncontrollably while your pussy squeezes tight around him. The sudden tightness draws a growl from Jungkook right against your ear before he slides his hand from your clit up to grab your other breast. Pulling you closer to crush your back against his chest, he pinches both nipples hard. 

“Fuck! You're squeezing me so good,” he pants, driving into you one last time before suddenly pulling out.

The sudden emptiness makes you whine. “W-what?”

“I want to see your face when I cum,” he breathes.

Gripping your hips, he hoists you up, pressing your back flat against the cold glass. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively as he drives his cock straight back inside you.

You moan loudly at the new angle, the fullness hitting deeper than before. He starts thrusting, his eyes locked on yours, “That’s it,” he growls, snapping his hips forward to bury himself to the hilt. “God you’re gorgeous.”

He slams into you, each impact rattling the windowpane behind you. You cling to his shoulders, “I’m gonna cum, fuck!” he says, his grip tightening as he pulls you closer to capture your lips. You feel him spilling inside you as he presses soft kisses to your neck.

You stay suspended there for a long moment, breathless, sweat cooling on your skin as the room falls quiet.

Then, he stiffens. His body goes rigid against yours. He pulls back abruptly, eyes wide as he slides out of you. Gently, he lowers you until your feet touch the floor, his hands lingering on your waist to steady you. You look down, catching sight of his cum dripping down your thigh.

“Y/N... I didn’t wear a condom. Shit. I’m so sorry,” he mutters.

You blink, still feeling the heat where he’d been inside you. “It’s okay,” you say gently. “I’m on the pill. And clean.”

His shoulders relax, just a little, letting out a breath of relief. “I haven’t been with anyone since the divorce,” he admits quietly.

There’s an unexpected vulnerability in him that makes your heart soften. “So,” you say with a teasing smile, glancing sideways, “no siblings for our kids.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yet.”

Truth be told, you wouldn't mind. Having a child with him, that is. You think about how gentle he is with Siwoo. He’s patient. Kind. A natural. You wouldn't mind seeing him hold a baby that was half him, half you.

Slowly, he pulls you close and his fingers curl at the small of your back. His other hand cups your face and his thumb brushes your cheek as he leans in. Your bare feet touch the soft carpet as he pushes you down onto the bed, lying next to you. The cool sheets feel good against the heat of his skin. You move between his arms.

“Y/N…” He presses his forehead against yours. “I need to say something. Just…before we go any further.”

“A little late, don’t you think? You were balls deep inside me a minute ago.”

He lets out a soft laugh as his thumb brushes your cheek. “Yeah, well. Apparently that’s when my brain decided to work again.”

He nudges your shoulder playfully, just enough to make you giggle, the tension easing slightly between you.

“ I think I’ve liked you since I’ve met you.” Your touch stops at his words. Your eyes lift to his face .“When I met you, I wasn’t looking for anything. I was trying to get through every day without messing up my kid in the process.” He shifts slightly, like he needs you closer while he says it, his palm resting just under your ribs.

“But you were there. And you were… I don’t know, just you? You just made things lighter, easier. I didn’t know how much I needed that.”

He exhales softly, thumb brushing your jaw once more, almost as if he’s scared you’ll pull away.

“I–I… Jungkook, I…” you stammer. “I feel the same.” You press closer, kissing him softly.

He huffs out a short, breathy laugh, forehead nudging yours like he’s relieved you said it. You nudge him lightly, teasing, but your voice is soft, warm.

“I wanted to… tell you. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. “What… to fuck me?” you tease, laughing softly.

“No!” he groans, then laughs again, running a hand through his hair. “I mean… yes, eventually! But not today. That wasn’t my intention. I wanted to… take you on a date first. Just the two of us. No kids involved. I wanted to tell you about my feelings.”

He shifts slightly closer, thumb brushing along your collarbone.

“But when I saw you in that bikini, damn. I couldn’t resist the invitation.”

You laugh softly as warmth spreads through your chest. “Guess sometimes things just fall into place when they’re meant to. Since we are free for the weekend... maybe you could take me on that date tomorrow.”

He kisses you again. “Tomorrow works,” he murmurs against your lips. “But that leaves us with the rest of today.”

Raising an eyebrow, you slide your hand down his chest, feeling  his heart beating under your palm. “Do you have plans, Jeon?” Your fingers trail lower, tracing the defined lines of his abs until your hand rests flat on his stomach. “Wanna have a sleepover?”

He grins and shifts his hips, pressing the growing length of his cock against your thigh. He is already hard again. “I was thinking,” he whispers, his hand sliding between your legs to find you wet again. “Since the kids are gone... and I already made a mess inside you...” Catching the white fluid dripping onto your thigh, he pushes it back inside you deep with two fingers. 

You moan softly, opening your legs wider for him. “You think you can handle another round?”

“Baby,” he says, lining himself up with your entrance. “I’m just getting started.”

taglist @bammbi-jeon127 @kookdollia @felxvrs

[gukcnt]

BOUND BY VOWS ⭒ M. LIST

your world crumbles when you're forced into a marriage with jeon jungkook, a man whose commanding presence terrifies you, reminding you of your father's cruelty. yet beneath his coldness, jungkook’s unexpected kindness stirs a spark of hope, making you question everything you fear. your life together starts—an emotional journey of two hearts seeking comfort, healing and a chance at love

pairing — dom!jungkook x sub!femreader

genre — arranged marriage au, forced marriage, marriage of convenience, age gap, reader is of age, forbidden love, forced proximity, enemies to friends to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, rich ceo!jungkook, shy!reader, virgin!reader, poor!reader, obsession and possessive love, pining, slow burn, contrast of worlds, romance, drama, lots of angst, smut, fluff

warnings — 18+, explicit sex scenes, mature themes, forced marriage, emotional abuse and trauma, dark aspects, daddy issues, domestic violence references, mental health themes and struggles, smoking and drinking, grief and loss, each chapter contains their individual warnings (reader discretion is advised due to the intense, dark and potentially triggering content)

status — ongoing

taglist — [open]

main masterlist

INDEX

⤷ 01 : a deal for her hand » 6.8k

“you’re getting married. in a week. to jeon jungkook.”

⤷ 02 : forced to say 'i do' » 5.2k

“you’re a monster just like him! i’ll never forgive you or think this is okay. you—you bought me and i'll hate you for it every day for the rest of my life!”

⤷ 03 : strangers under the same roof » 12.3k

“you’ve been through a lot, y/n. i see it in your eyes, but you're still here, still fighting… that’s not weakness. that’s a strength most people don’t have.”

⤷ 04 : an agreement between us » 8.9k

“i married you, y/n because i wanted you, because you made me feel something for the first time in years. i wanted to protect you, to give you everything and now i'm the one paying for your father's lies.”

⤷ 05 : unspoken truths and comfort » 7.2k

“until i saw you that day at your house, when your father brought you to me and you were so… alive, so sweet, even with all the sadness in your eyes. i wanted you.. not just to have you but to make you happy, to give you everything i never had.”

⤷ 06 : healing in his hold » 11.2k

“touch my wife again and you won’t live long enough to regret it. she’s my woman… and you know exactly how possessive i get when someone dares to lay a hand on what’s mine.”

⤷ 07 : soft edges of us » 9.3k

“you’ve been through enough. you don’t have to hide your pain, not from me. if you're hurting or if you need something—tell me. i’m here, i want to be here.”

⤷ 08 : losing ourselves in maldives » 10k

“you’re such a dirty little thing, aren’t you? sitting there watching me jerk off? you wish that i was fucking your pussy instead huh?”

⤷ 09 : another day in paradise » 14.6k

“i’ve never wanted a woman like this never begged on my knees for anyone but you, fuck… i’ve wanted you since the day i saw you.”

⤷ 10 : is it the end of us? » 12.6k

“you’re everything to me, y/n. i’d never hurt you, i’d rather die than do that. just let me explain once just hear me out—”

⤷ 11 : maybe it's really a sad ending » 5.4k

“you don't get to say anything about her or tell me to let her go. she's my everything you don't know what it's like to love her so much that it hurts, only for it to lose it all in a day.”

⤷ 12 : to be released.

EXTRAS

⤷ Q&A with bbv!characters

⤷ teaser

⤷ bbv!jungkook

⤷ moodboard/aesthetic created by some of my lovely readers

© GUKCNT — all rights reserved. | divider by @/enchanthings

[6thsens3]

Almost, Always. || JJK || CH 2

almost, always

chapter 2 - tethered

synopsis: after your best friend of 19 years decided to leave you behind to study abroad, you were left completely devastated. no messages, no calls and no letters. six years later he returns unknowingly - the love you once had for him returning at an instant. but your hopes got shattered when you saw an engagement ring on his finger.

pairings: childhoodbsf!jk x fem reader

genre: fluff, angst, eventual smut, slowburn, second chances (?)

warning: jungkook is a complete idiot in this fic to say the least. this fic will eventually contain smut in the future

chapter wc: 6.8K+

a/n: somehow i literally managed to finish this chapter in one day hello ??? my brain needs rest lmfaooo. not complaining though - im like so invested in this plot rn.

also, once again i'd like to thank each and every one of you who showed support on the first chapter! it genuinely means so much to me.

with that being said, there mightttt still be mistakes here and there because like i said, i wrote this in a day lol... but im also trying to improve myself. i hope all of u enjoy this chapter <3

|CHAPTER 2 - TETHERED|

You dropped your glass, causing it to shatter into a thousand different pieces around your feet. You didn't budge, didn't even make a sound. You couldn't - because, standing a few feet away from you - were him.

Jeon fucking Jungkook.

At the sound of the glass loudly shattering on the floor he turned his head towards the direction - your direction. Your eyes locked and everything suddenly changed. The anger you once had for him slipped away at an instant underneath his gaze.

Every memory you once had of him came crashing back - even ones you thought you had forgotten a long time ago. As if your brain had stored each memory deep in your subconscious, ready to be revealed just by the gaze of his upon you.

Everything around you disappeared into a blur, even the noise. People's chatter faded even before it could properly reach your ear drums. It didn't feel like reality - it felt like one of your silly dreams again.

The moment a girl - a very familiar girl - followed behind him you were reminded of this being reality. His gaze practically tore away from yours to look back at the girl entering the house, his hand sliding towards the small of her back.

Suddenly, everything came crashing down onto you at once - it was the same girl from earlier at the store. The same girl who mentioned meeting her fiance's family for the first time.

It was Jungkook. Jungkook is her fiance.

Realization made you sick - it always had that effect on you. But, somehow, this time it made you feel even worse. Sick couldn't even begin to describe the unsettling feeling within you. Seeing the same white roses you got in her hands - her delicate and soft hands - handing it to Mrs. Jeon with a serene smile on her face, managed to make you turn around and storm towards the nearest exit.

You didn't look back, not like you needed to anyways. Everyone seemed to be occupied by the return of Jungkook with a gorgeous girl at his side to even spare a glance your way.

Your feet moved at it's own pace, the heels you decided to wear clacked against the marble floor with each harsh step you gave. Finally, you made it out the back door - the night air hitting you at an instant. You managed to breathe. With your eyes closed and your hand tightly clutched at your chest, you stood there in complete silence. Well, not entire silence - your heart beating at an uneven rhythm inside of your chest could be heard in your ears somehow.

You accepted that he chose to leave you a long time ago, you were well aware he lived his best life in the States without your face following him around everywhere - but actually seeing him happy and smiling with a girl at his side made you question if you were over him in the first place. Perhaps you used it as an excuse for no one but yourself, used it to think you were over him when in reality everything around you reminded you of him every single fucking day of your life. You were miserable.

"You're wearing it. The dress, I mean."

You jumped at the sudden sound interrupting the conversation you were (mentally) having with yourself, turning around to face none other than Jungkook.

You forgot his voice but somehow you still knew that voice belonged to him.

He changed. A lot. Changed in a way that made you barely even recognize him. Did he even recognize himself whenever he looked in the mirror? Most of the changes were due to puberty - for example his shoulders being broader and his face that were now sculpted into something more defined and manly. The other things were not due to puberty at all but rather choices - the sleeve tattoo you managed to see through his rolled up sleeves, the visible lip ring and his hair that were slightly grown out now. And yet, it somehow made him even more attractive.

He stood there a few feet away from you, head tilted to the side slightly and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants. You knew that look - it was the same look he would give you whenever he demanded an answer from you. You hated how yourself for remembering these things.

"It was the only decent dress in my closet."

Was that too cold? Or too eager? You couldn't tell, you seemed to be too distracted by his eyes looking at you. His eyes took in your appearance slowly - making sure to memorize each detail from top to bottom.

He nodded, looking down at the floor. His tongue darted out to roll over his bottom lip ring - a habit you've never seen before. It made realization cut even deeper into you - you don't know him anymore.

"How are you doing?" Finally, he looked at you again.

How are you doing? That's his question? You thought the answer to that would be obvious - wasn't it? The only person you've labeled as your everything vanished from your life without any proper goodbye and he's asking how you're doing? As if it couldn't be obvious enough.

"Good. Seems like you're doing good too."

It's not like you weren't happy for him - ofcourse you were. But, it's the thought of him moving on like you never existed that made your stomach twist into a million different knots.

Your response made him hum softly, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. He pulled his one hand out of his one pocket and the movement caused you to catch a glimpse of the silver band around his ring finger. A reminder that he now belonged to someone else.

"I've been alright. Just busy," he now used the same hand to push his hair back.

The two of you fell silent. There were so much you wanted to say - to yell to his face - but it wouldn't come out. So, you remained silent, keeping the awkward position your stiff body were currently in.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you could tell he hesitated. Eventually though, he got it out.

"Are you staying for dinner?" His voice sounded unsure and hesitant, as if he's still questioning whether it's appropriate to ask that even after saying it already.

You did plan on staying for dinner, but right now you were debating it. Sitting at a table with your first love and his fiance were not something you would quite enjoy.

"Uh.. I have some unfinished work at home, I'm not really planning on staying for long."

The lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

He raised an eyebrow at that, as if he knew you were lying. The thought made your throat tighten for some odd reason.

"I'm not an idiot, you know? I may not know you anymore but I can still tell when you're lying."

A slight, annoying smirk had now formed on his perfect lips. It made you scoff in response. "You don't know me."

The words slipped out before you could stop them. Something flickered in his eyes and the moment the smirk on his face faltered you immediately regret saying anything at all.

As if by some miracle everything got interrupted by the girl - his fiance - coming out and making her way next to Jungkook. He looked her way with a smile, their hands folding into one at their sides. The sight made your hand grip the fabric of your dress without even realizing it.

When she looked at your face, she seemed to have recognized you from the store earlier. "Oh- wait, it's you! Baby, she's the kind girl I told you about earlier at the store."

Jungkook looked in complete shock now, but he masked it with a smile and by giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"She's an old friend of mine."

The girl being sweet and kind didn't make this situation any easier. You didn't have any reason to hate her - because there was no point in hating her. He chose her and she chose him, it's something you had to accept eventually no matter how you felt.

You forced a smile so good you could've fooled yourself. "I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you.. again."

She gave a soft laugh at that, using her hand to cover her mouth when laughing.

"I'm Anastasia. You're beautiful, by the way." Anastasia then preceded to reach her hand out towards you.

The compliment caught you off guard - as if you didn't believe her. Ofcourse you didn't, she looked like a goddess compared to you. Slowly, you reached your hand in the same direction as hers and then gently connected your hand with hers. Your skin burned - you could feel Jungkook's touch lingering on it.

"You're really gorgeous yourself."

When the handshake broke you noticed Jungkook's gaze on you. He was trying to figure you out - or trying to get used to how much your face have changed since he last saw you.

"Jungkook has been treating me amazing, you really don't have to worry about that part, Mrs. Jeon," Anastasia's sweet voice filled the dining room around the table. You chose not to fully listen to all the questions your parents and Jungkook's family asked them, just because you didn't want to be reminded of them actually being engaged. It still felt like a fever dream.

You used the fork in your one hand to play with a carrot in your plate (which probably had gone cold already). You completely loss your appetite.

Mrs. Jeon smiled brightly at that, reaching out to take Anastasia's hand in her own.

"I'm so glad to hear that, honey. You look even better in person than in the pictures Jungkook send me!"

Mr. Jeon only laughed at his wife's words, clearly used to her outgoing and social personality by now. "You did well, son."

Even though your gaze remained on the untouched plate infront of you, you felt Jungkook stealing glances of you now and then. You didn't blame him - you did change quite alot over the past six year. But he would know that if he stayed.

"Why aren't you eating, sweetie?" your mother's voice interrupted your thoughts. You look up from your plate and saw everyone now staring at you with curiosity.

With a shrug of your shoulders you gave a soft and slightly forced chuckle. "Not really that hungry."

Your father, who's sitting next to your mother, frowned at your response. "You've barely touched your food, buttercup. Are you thinking about work again?"

That just made you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. You weren't in the mood for the sweet talking, not to mention the fact that you're sitting face to face with Jeon Jungkook.

"No, dad. I'm just not hungry."

"Just eat something, Y/N," Jungkook's voice crawled it's way into your ear. That was it - the last straw of tonight. Who was he to tell you what to do? You're practically strangers now, all thanks to because of him. You were nothing to each other anymore.

"You can't tell me what to do, Jungkook."

You snapped back at his words with more anger than necessary. He didn't do anything wrong, all he did was tell you to eat something - but it was the anger you've bottled up inside of you which finally started spilling out once you saw him again.

Everything fell silent, everyone stopped every conversation they were engaged with, and yet, you didn't seem to care. You stared at him - directly into his eyes, as if you're challenging him to reply.

The grip he had on his fork visibly tightened and his jaw clenched in growing anger. It could be annoyance too , you couldn't quite tell.

"All I said was to eat your food."

That made you scoff and roll your eyes. Your patience with him was growing thin.

"And you have no right to tell me that."

His eyes narrowed at that.

"Stop making a problem out of something sm-"

"You left, Jungkook!"

Your voice cut like glass through the walls - and telling by Jungkook's reaction - it cut through him too. Now, everyone looked at you with wide and shocked eyes, as if they're eyeing you as the villain who ruined their perfect dinner.

"You left and you.." You trailed off once you felt a familiar lump form inside of your throat. "You left me. For six entire fucking years. Am I suppose to act as if nothing ever happened?"

He didn't look away from you, in fact, his eyes bored into yours even more now. You wanted to shatter a plate against the floor right now, as if it would make much of a difference.

"You know why I left."

That short and simple answer made your blood boil even more. Did he even care?

"You could've atleast send a text!"

"Would that have changed anything?"

"A lot, actually. But clearly you didn't - no, clearly you still don't care."

That made him shut up. His expression seemed like he just got slapped through the face - which he did, but with the simple truth. No one dared to say anything, they didn't want to make the situation worse than it already was. Jungkook being here made it worse already.

As you got up from your seat, shoving the chair backwards with force, your mother's hand reached out to try and stop you. "Y/N-"

"Don't."

You shrugged her hand off. In truth you couldn't even look your mother's way as well. She knew he would show up, and yet she still invited you. As if everyone, including Jungkook, expected you to move on as if it never even happened.

"Enjoy the rest of your lovely dinner," that was the last thing you said before storming out. You didn't look back - you couldn't, because you knew deep down you'd stop in your tracks if you saw his face again.

You reached your apartment with 6 missed calls and 3 texts from your mother. Turning off your phone and tossing it aside on the kitchen counter, you slumped your way towards the living room and fell back onto the couch. You felt your body slowly sink into the cushions of the couch, your eyes staring straight ahead of you at a blank wall (which only had a TV on it). It's not like you could see anything anyways, you didn't even bother turning the lights on since your plans for the rest of the evening involves drinking an entire bottle of wine and passing out on the couch. And yes, you plan on doing all that in the dark.

You didn't want to think about Jungkook right now, God, you didn't want to think about Jungkook for the past six years. Yet, you'd still find yourself laying in bed late at night, wide awake with Jungkook's face imprinted on your brain. You weren't sure whether it was because of your brain forced you to dream of him, or if it was simply because you still - well, loved him.. in a way.

The thought of still loving Jungkook made you scrunch your nose in utter disgust. You're disgusted in yourself for having love for someone who left you behind as if you meant nothing at all.

If you didn't love him anymore like you claimed, why are you still wearing the dress?

The dress. You should've left it in that trash can earlier, let it rot along with all the mold in there. Without wasting any time, you got up from the couch and moved to your bedroom to take this thing off.

A loud banging sound coming from your front door jumped you right awake. Well, not jump physically - but it did manage to make your eyes jump open in response to the sound. With a loud groan you sat up and you could feel a headache hitting you with force. Enough to make you frown and rub the side of your head in hopes of calming the constant banging in your head. Your eyes caught an empty wine bottle laying completely forgotten next to the couch you were sleeping on, along with an empty glass and chips scattered everywhere on the coffee table.

Before you could even fully process the state you and your apartment were in another two loud bangs got delivered against the outside of your door.

"Fuck - I'm coming!"

Somewhere along the way to the front door you tripped over a pillow laying on the floor, but you managed to keep your balance.

Opening the door you were met with a worried Nayeon. Her expression grew even more concerned when she saw the state she currently saw you in; messy hair, smudged and unwashed make up, clothes that barely fit you and your eyes wincing at the sunlight.

"Okay, what happened?" She sighed.

You, stubborn as ever, shrugged your shoulders as nonchalant as possible (or tried). "What do you mean?"

Nayeon were clearly not fooled at all by your attempt of shrugging literally everything off. She eyed you skeptically, taking you in from head to toe before her eyes moved towards the mess inside of your apartment.

"Do you really want me to explain what I mean?"

With a groan - and because you know you can't hide anything from her - you moved out of the way so she could enter your apartment. As she stepped in you stayed silent, but her eyes said everything. It widened at the mess as she stepped in slowly and carefully, as if she would catch some sort of germ just by entering your apartment.

"Oh my good God, Y/N. You smell like alcohol, you look like a mess and your apartment looks absolutely demolished."

The truth in her words made you roll your eyes and you closed your front door behind her.

"Well, sorry for being human."

"This-" she gestured around the apartment with her pastel blue nails, "- is not human. Tell me what happened. Now."

You opened your mouth to protest against it but she stopped you just in time, "I'm not leaving until I know everything."

After she said that you knew you literally had no other choice but to tell her about Jungkook, because she infact, wouldn't leave until you told her. Not that you wanted her gone - that's not the case at all, but she would push until you told her eventually.

So, you told her everything. From the moment he stepped foot into that house with his fiance up until you stormed out after basically ruining the entire dinner.

Nayeon looked shocked herself to say the least. She did not expect to actually hear that the boy you've been blabbering about ever since you met her would actually show up again. Out of nowhere at that.

"So, wait. Rewind. He has a fucking fiance?" She sounded surprised - well, that made two fo you.

With a nod, you slowly took a sip from your coffee, hoping the caffeine would atleast make your headache (magically) disappear.

"Yeah."

"And he randomly showed up after, what, six years?! The audacity."

"Yup."

Nayeon continued talking, your head fading out her voice as she blabbered something about "you being prettier than his fiance anyways", even though she never saw her before. The talking and nagging just made your head ache even more, and the caffeine didn't seem to be helping either.

"Are you listening? Ugh, whatever. I know what you need," she walked over to the living room coffee table and grabbed a chip from the already opened bag of chips.

You, still standing in the kitchen that was connected to your living room, frowned at that. What more could you possibly need right now? More drama? No, thank you.

"What?"

"You-" she pointed at you with her finger covered in chip crumbs, "- need a date. With a real man, and that real man would be none other than Taehyung."

The familiar name made your frown even deepen. She meant the handsome guy she introduced you to at the grocery store yesterday, who also happens to be her friend. It's not like you didn't find him attractive, he really was - but the thought of sitting face to face alone with another man right after Jungkook returned? It sent a shiver down your spine.

"Nope, no. Never in a million years, Nay. That's your solution? Going on a date?"

Nayeon mentally facepalmed herself and shook her head with a groan. "No, to actually try and move on. I get it, you're still not over Jungkook, that's fair. But just try."

When you didn't reply, looking at her while biting the inside of your cheek, she added, "Please?"

Okay, option one.

You say no. Your life ends up miserable with absolutely no boyfriend by your side for the rest of your life while your first love (possibly your only love) get married and have kids with another woman. Nayeon would throw "I told you so" infront of your face every chance she gets. Now, that alone is something that would make you end up in some kind of mental hospital.

Option two.

You say yes. You have a lovely boyfriend by your side (not Jungkook) who loves you more than anything. Nayeon would be happy and finally won't have to hear drunk confessions about your first love.

Either way, your first and only love ends up marrying someone else and most likely will start a family with her. But, if you were to choose option two, you'd atleast be able to.. move on, in a way.

After a long time of thinking your only two options thoroughly, you found an answer to Nayeon's question.

"One date. If it ends up badly it's going to be on you."

What's the worst that could happen anyway? In the little scenario that you've created in your head just now - nothing bad could possibly happen from this. Right?

Nayeon practically squealed in excitement in response, as if she herself couldn't entirely believe it just yet.

"Oh my God! You're going on a date! We're going to make you look like a badass. Wait- I should let Taehyung know first."

Her excitement made you laugh. Atleast you managed to get in a laugh today - something you didn't quite think you'd be able to do today.

"Okay, let me calm down. I'll go tell Taehyung this extremely and overly exciting news - I'll come over later to pick you an outfit," as she said that she was already making her way towards the front door. "And don't you dare dress up without me! That's a warning."

She gave you one last look as she opened the front door.

"I won't, I promise," you replied with a soft laugh. Then she left, the front door closing shut behind her.

And suddenly, once again, you were left alone with your thoughts and a pounding headache.

You decided to throw out the last bit of coffee you had in the mug into the sink, watching as the liquid slowly disappeared down the hole. Your eyes caught your phone which you had tossed on the counter last night. Perhaps you should turn it on, see if you have any messages from anyone important - and you figured you should answer your mother's messages before she showed up here. And she would smother you in all kinds of questions once she got here.

After turning your phone on you stared as the screen lit up with notification from different apps.

Instagram, Twitter, Messages, Snapchat (you barely use that app), and ofcourse, the amount of missed calls you had. First, you opened the messanger app first.

10+ messages from Nayeon and 4 messages from your mother.

With a sigh, (because you knew what lied ahead), you opened your mother's unread messages first.

|8:10PM|

"Why'd you leave?"

|8:24PM|

"I didn't mean for it to turn out like this, sweat pea. Call me."

|8:30PM|

"Stop being childish, Y/N. You see Jungkook for the first time in six years and this is how you act?"

|8:55PM|

"Text me tomorrow, honey. Sleep well."

You typed a response - barely registering what you wrote - and hit sent. You weren't in the mood for this, you didn't need your mother's constant nagging about why you left or why you acted the way you did last night. If anything, you didn't even feel like answering her at all. You were more than pissed at all of them, actually - they could've atleast told you about Jungkook coming.

Not wanting to think about him more, you closed your mother's messages and checked your missed calls.

Mom: 6 missed calls. (8:25PM)

Nayeon: 2 missed calls. (9:10PM)

Unknown caller ID: 1 missed call. (9:43PM)

Your brain immediately started wondering who the unknown caller might be. Right - you've been getting alot of spam calls recently, you figured it might be that. So, without thinking more about it, you blocked the number.

When you placed your phone back onto the counter your eyes moved across your whole apartment. It really did look bad - you slowly started to believe Nayeon's words of it "not being human." Then your eyes landed on something in the trash can - it was the light pink dress. Good. Leave it there, where it belonged.

Nayeon would probably arrive soon again with all the details and to help you choose an outfit, so you started cleaning your apartment in the meantime.

Nayeon eyed the dress you held up with a gaze so sharp it could cut right through the fabric in your hand.

It had been thirty minutes - thirty minutes of bickering and whining about which dress you'd end up wearing for the casual coffee date with Taehyung. Nayeon seemed to have disliked every dress you showed her so far, and it was practically every dress you owned by now. She would either give you the "it lacks color" or "it lacks fashion."

You knew it was the truth, you were just too stubborn to actually admit it.

You dropped the dress onto the pile of clothes which had formed precisely thirty minutes ago now. "How am I suppose to go on a date with no clothes?" You whined and dropped down onto the bed. Somehow, the song playing softly in the background on your 4-year-old radio that was in your bedroom managed to calm you down a bit.

"That's not the problem, babe. You have clothes, you just don't have clothes with fashion." She casually shrugged and turned back towards the closet - as if by some miracle she'd manage to find something 'hot' or 'sexy'.

"Wow, thanks for calling me lame and boring," you grumbled and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"You're welcome," Nayeon sing-songed in response with a smug smile on her face - you could tell even with her back facing you right now.

"Wait, wait, wait. This has potential."

She turned around with a smirk and in her hand were a white skirt. It wasn't too short - infact, it was the perfect length. The times you have worn it before it reached a few inches above your knees, and it did fit perfectly at your hips. It was decorated with a grey colored bow at the front, giving the skirt a soft and delicate presence.

You hummed softly as you looked at the skirt some more. "That could work."

"Oh, i'm going to make sure Taehyung ends up fucking you on the first date."

You gasped softly at her blunt words, throwing the nearest pillow you could find her way and it ended up hitting her back. She just chuckled, too busy in finding a top to go with the skirt to bother turning around.

As Nayeon forced her entire upper body into your closet - or so it seemed like - the song you were quietly humming to on the radio came to and end. A few seconds passed before another song started playing.

Nostalgia will be the death of you someday - because on the radio, the song you've grown an unique kind of hatred to started playing.

"Can you stop walking so fast?" You managed to get out underneath the heavy breaths you let out. Jungkook frowned when you stopped walking, the strap of your schoolbag started to slide off your shoulder further and further with the way you bended over to catch your breath. As if that would help.

"We're literally going to miss the bus and it would be your fault." He walked closer and tugged the strap of your schoolbag back properly over your shoulder this time.

The both of you now looked at the bus a few feet away from you driving off, leaving the two of you completely stranded with no lift home.

He slowly looked at you, giving you that 'i told you so' look. "Goodluck explaining to my mom why we're late for dinner."

You scoff, standing up straight which made the strap fall off - again. "Actually, if it wasn't for you running around like an idiot we would've made it."

Now walking side by side down the sidewalk, Jungkook rolled his eyes at your stubborn attitude. Ofcourse you wouldn't take fault in something that literally was your fault.

"Sure, Ms. Know it all."

"Glad you're aware of the fact that I know it all."

Both of you fell silent, the sun started setting in a distance which caused an orange-like color to spread across the entire city. Cars occasionally passed the two of you on the road as your journey back home continued (which would easily turn out 30 minutes by foot).

Jungkook kept his gaze ahead of him, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his school uniform and his bag hanging over his one shoulder.

Ofcourse, you looked at him. How could you not? Seeing him - Jungkook - underneath the light of the sun setting made your heart jump loops. The way his hair gently fell infront of his face, his collar were left unbottoned with just a few buttons, and the way his eyes seemed to stick to the sunset visible infront of them - all of it made you fall for him even more. Each passing day with him made it harder to hide the growing love you had for him.

You managed to look away before he could notice your stare on him. Jungkook, who seemed to be completely oblivious with the fact that you stared at him with hearts in your eyes - took his wired earbuds out of his pockets.

It was a silent habit the both of you had grown into over time; sharing his wired earbuds on your way home. Well, normally it would be on the bus, but today was your lucky day of getting the amazing opportunity to walk home.

He silently handed you the one side of the earbuds which you gladly took, gently placing it into your ear. Jungkook copied your movements, placing the other side in his own ear. None of you talked - it was comfortable like this, though. You let the silence speak for the both of you.

The familiar and calm tune filled your eardrums. 'Sparks' by Coldplay was the go-to song you and Jungkook would play whenever you were near a sunset or on your way home from school on the bus. You've become so familiar with the song by now that you can't go a day without listening it together.

Everything made sense with him next to you, the way his shoulder would accidentally brush against yours, the way he'd look your way from time to time to make sure you were still doing okay because he knew you couldn't walk for too long - your feet tend to get sore fast.

He grabbed your hand, which you gladly accepted. Now, the both of you walked hand in hand down the street with the song playing in the background. Whenever he held your hand - in order to keep you safe when walking (his words) - you'd feel.. home. He was your home.

You sat on the bed, the lyrics of the song stabbing into you like a fucking knife. The memory were so vivid, so clear - you felt sick. With Nayeon still not looking your way, you got up from the bed and moved towards the radio to turn it off. The song disappeared the moment you clicked the 'Power off' button and you sighed in relief.

"Why'd you put it off? I was vibing," Nayeon's voice got slightly muffled due to literally being halfway shoved into your closet somehow.

"Uh.. felt like it didn't match the vibe right now."

You hoped she wouldn't ask further into it.

And it seems like she didn't think much of it, because she turned towards you with a white top in her hand. Ofcourse, it matched the skirt well.

"Cute, right?" She smiled and gave one last look of approval towards the top before throwing it next to the skirt she chose earlier.

You laughed softly and hummed in response. "Super cute, Nay."

You stood outside the address Nayeon had texted you before you left. It was a Cafe - it was in a more quiet part of the city and the cafe itself seemed pretty quiet too. Not because it had less customers but rather because of the atmosphere around it. Somehow the thought made you even more nervous.

Today will be the day you actually try and move on - move on from everything you and Jungkook had created together. So, after gaining enough self confidence (thanks to the outfit Nayeon chose) you made your way inside.

The interior of the Cafe matched the outside pretty well and you weren't surprised at how packed it currently was with customers. Almost overwhelmingly so. Not too far from you were Taehyung. He must've noticed you the minute you walked in with the way he's waving at you.

As you walked towards him with a nervous smile you couldn't help but notice his sense of fashion first. It was classy, slightly vintage in a way. It complimented his face really well.

"Y/N, right?" He stood up from his chair to greet you, extending his hand towards yours with the same boxy smile from when you first met him.

You nodded, placing your hand gently in his own. It felt warm - the complete opposite of your cold one. "Yeah, that's right. You must be Taehyung?"

He broke the handshake to gesture towards the coffee infront of you on the table. It was still warm - thank God for that. Caffeine is much needed right now.

"The one and only," he joked softly before the both of you took your seat.

You settled into the chair, placing your white handbag on the table next to your coffee. After that, you decided to take the first sip of the caffeine - and when you did, you melted at the taste.

"Wow, this is like, really good."

Taehyung, who's seated infront of you in his own chair, laughed softly and took a sip from his own coffee which was already halfway done. "Right? I come here quite often. You should totally try the carrot cake here, it's mind-blowingly good."

Gently, you placed the coffee mug back onto the table.

"Carrot cake isn't really my thing but i'll give it a try sometime."

Taehyung's eyes flickered at that, but it quickly got masked when he cleared his throat and lifted the menu.

"Are you hungry? The food here is pretty good."

You nodded at the mention of food, suddenly remembering you haven't eaten anything at all today. Except for the banana this morning.

"Sure. I think I'll just have avo toast or something."

He hummed, still reading the menu and taking in the different options displayed on it. "Yeah, that sounds good. I think I'll take that too."

The waiter came to take your order soon after and took the empty coffee mugs along with her (yes, you finished it in ten minutes).

"I don't usually do this on like, a first date or whatever, but you look pretty today. The color of your top suits your eyes."

The words coming from him sounded genuine, and the look on his face made it obvious that he didn't do it just to impress you. He meant each word.

You chuckled softly at that, a slow smile creeping it's way onto your face. "Thanks. Nayeon kinda picked it out."

"Ofcourse she did," he shook his head with a laugh. You weren't quite sure on how long they've known each other but telling from his response it must've been a while now. "Normally when we go clubbing she'd show up in outfits which seems like it belong in some kind of magazine. It's a talent, really," his tone were laced with a hint of teasing.

He managed to earn a laugh from you at that, because you knew Nayeon well - and you knew she tend to go full on out when it came down to clothes. "That's Nayeon for you."

"Reminds me, why don't you join us sometime when we go clubbing? It's fun and the drinks are pretty affordable."

You cringed as you tried to imagine yourself dancing next to sweaty bodies and to music so loud it could make someone get dizzy. "Dancing. Not really my thing."

"You don't have to dance, you can just sit there and look pretty. The same as you're doing right now."

That made you silent. It's the first time in a long time since you've felt affected by someone's compliment like this. Sure, you'd get compliments here and there - but none that felt genuine. It felt like he meant it.

"Thanks.."

Taehyung must've noticed the way his words made you shift nervously in your seat so he changed the topic of the conversation completely. He started talking about a hike he did with his friend, Namjoon, and almost ended up passing out. The story did make you giggle considering how you couldn't do hikes entirely either.

The doorbell of the Cafe made a high-pitched sound when the doors opened, signaling someone entered the Cafe. You took a quick glance over Taehyung's shoulder at the entrance as he continued talking about the hike and your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

Jungkook walked in, so casually at that. As if he owned the place without even trying to seem like it. He wore a plain black shirt which revealed the sleeve tattoo on his arm perfectly, and it hugged his muscular upper-body in all the right places. Your attention wasn't on the conversation with Taehyung anymore - it was on him. Jeon Jungkook.

You cursed at the universe. Why would he walk at this exact moment? He was the main reason behind this date, after all.

Jungkook made his way towards the counter, his hand reaching into his pocket for his wallet as he scanned the menu displayed on the wall.

"One banana milkshake in a take-away, please."

He now stood there, both hands in his pockets as he waited on his order. Taehyung kept talking but somehow, your brain managed to cut his words out entirely.

Then Jungkook's gaze met yours. Shit.

"Hey, you okay?"

Taehyung's voice ripped your eyes away from Jungkook at an instant, your hands started to shake without even realizing it. You placed it onto your lap, nodding your head slowly in response as you still tried to collect your thoughts.

"Sorry, I was just.." Your words got trailed off when you saw Jungkook taking his order and head towards the exit, but not before he gave you one last glance.

You're not sure what made you do it - bravery? no, not that. Perhaps pure stupidity, yes.

"I just remembered about a work project that needs to be handed in tomorrow. Can we meet up next Friday again?"

You impatiently looked back at the big glass doors, seeing Jungkook pushing them open with one hand. Your leg bounced without even realizing.

Fuck, he's leaving.

"Uh- yeah. Okay.." His voice cracked a bit at the last word but you didn't notice it. Instead, you grabbed your handbag and rushed out.

The moment you stepped foot outside your hair got blown back by the sudden wind - and there he was - Jungkook. Walking down the sidewalk towards a car, which you figured must be his car.

Hesitantly, you took a step forward but stopped yourself.

There was no point in stopping now, you already ditched the date Nayeon begged you to go on.

"Jungkook!"

He stopped at your voice, looking back to see you standing infront of the Cafe. His body turned in your direction, but he didn't move. He stood there - waiting.

"Y/N."

taglist:

@lively-potter @dragonflygurl4 @mar-lo-pap @j0cgr0c @httpsmei @smoljimjim @tatamicc @jksusawife

if you wish to be added just comment, message me or reblog <3

[laughing-with-god]

m. list

author's note: all fics have their own trigger warnings, but in general i write 'yandere' stories. this means obsessive/toxic love, strong language, and sometimes even murder or sexual assault. if any of these topics would be particularly offensive to you, this master list is not for you.

Patreon (exclusive access + beta content)

Ko-fi

🧸- In progress

🕯- Completed

🍂 - Discontinued until further notice

Quarter Quell (🧸)

Every 25 years there is a Quarter Quell edition of the Hunger Games. Quells mark the anniversaries of the districts' defeat by the Capitol, and include special celebrations. The Games involves some sort of twist that makes them even more disastrous or difficult to compete in, or watch.

Yandere Career Jungkook x Tribute Reader

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five (coming soon)

The Unsaid Vow (🧸)

You always knew when you weren’t wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he’s getting closer to a woman at work that you’re certain he’s having an affair with, you’re planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect ‘family’.

Slow Burn Yandere Husband! Jungkook x Reader

Prologue, Part One (on patreon)

Pen Pal (🕯)

As a lonely person, the idea of exchanging letters with someone apart from society was actually quite appealing to you.  In a random act of charity and desperation, you sign up for a pen pal and get paired up with an inmate named Jungkook.  The letters were meant to help him cope with prison life, but little did anyone know it was actually driving him more mad.

Yandere Prisoner! Jungkook x Reader

Part One, Part 1.5, Part Two, Part Three, Epilogue

These Things Take Time (🧸)

There's something wrong with your boyfriend Taehyung. At least, you think it's him.

Yandere Supernatural! Taehyung x Reader

Part One

[6thsens3]

Almost, Always. || JJK || CH 1

almost, always

chapter 1 - 7122

synopsis: after your best friend of 19 years decided to leave you behind to study abroad, you were left completely devastated. no messages, no calls and no letters. six years later he returns unknowingly - the love you once had for him returning at an instant. but your hopes got shattered when you saw an engagement ring on his finger.

pairings: childhoodbsf!jk x fem reader

genre: fluff, angst, eventual smut, slowburn, second chances (?)

warning: jungkook is a complete idiot in this fic to say the least. this fic will eventually contain smut in the future

chapter wc: about 5,880

a/n: oh my godddd thank you so much for the love i got on the teaser! i did not expect it to even reach more than fifty likes lmao.. im so grateful for each and everyone one of you. in return, i've been working on this chapter for two days straight. i hope it reaches your expectations! mwa mwa mwa

|CHAPTER 1 - 7 122|

You've liked Jungkook for 19 years.

19 years and 6 months.

7 122 days.

Not entirely like, you were hundred-percent sure it was love. You didn't know much about that word. Didn't know why people's eyes blossomed with hearts in their depths whenever they talked about the people they loved romantically. But, 3 months after you turned fifteen four years ago, you realized the warm feeling you get whenever you looked at Jungkook weren't platonic at all.

You realized for the past 19 years (your entire life) of knowing him, you didn't just see him as a friend. You saw him as your everything. And suddenly, the word "love" started making sense.

But that's definitely something you wouldn't confess to him. Not because you were embarrassed, but rather because you valued your bond with Jungkook too much to risk it in such a foolish way. You'd hide your feelings forever if it meant seeing his smile forever.

Tonight was no other than any other night. You were sprawled out on your bed with your phone held tightly in one hand. Your finger swiped on the screen whenever you grew bored of the video you were watching, the dim light of your phone screen casted a subtle glow against your face and the light made your eyes wince. The day's events started kicking into your body and you could feel your eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Just as your eyes were ready to close shut and drift yourself off into a deep, needed slumber, your phone's ringtone immediately woke you. The lively melody made you groan in annoyance, but when you saw Jungkook's name flash across the screen you didn't waste any time to answer the phone call.

"Hey," his warm voice filled your ear drums through the speaker. Your hand unknowingly clutched your phone tighter, a habit you had picked up whenever you called him late at night. His voice usually sounded more real at night - not rushed, not slowed, just.. perfect.

"Hi, Kook," your voice filled the quiet and dark bedroom in response. "What's up?"

On the other line of the phone you could hear something shift in the background, but you weren't quite sure what it was. You just shrugged it off.

"Can you come to the park near your house right now?"

You frowned. At this hour? You lifted the phone from your ear to check the time - 10:13PM.

"Can't we just meet up tomorr-"

"No. Please, it's important, I just.."

Silence stretched between the two of you as you patiently waited on him to finish his sentence. The odd silence made you chew on the inside of your cheek nervously.

"Just come."

And he ended the call. He didn't even give you an option of whether you want to go or not, so you basically had no other choice but to leave your warm bed and get dressed in decent clothes.

It took you about ten minutes to arrive at the park. By the time Jungkook noticed you from the swing he's sitting on, he flashed you a quick, soft smile and gestured with his head towards the swing next to him.

You followed his (what felt like a) command, tiredly plopping down with a sigh on the black tire-like material of the swing.

"You look dead," his voice came off as teasing and the slight smirk on his lips didn't go unnoticed by you. It made you scoff slightly in response before rubbing your burning eyes.

"So make it quick," you mumbled and looked his way this time. Something in his expression flickered - something you couldn't quite make out. Jungkook were always good at hiding his emotions, even now.

It was something you admired yet despised so much.

He looked down, his dark eyes taking in the detail of the a light, warm beige colored sand beneath his feet. His shoes dug into the sand in silence - as if he's thinking. Thinking carefully of what to say next.

Your heart jumped. A lump in your throat formed and your eyes unknowingly widened. You could only think of one thing at this very moment; he probably feels the same way towards you. He wants to confess.

God, you were more than ready for that. Have been ready for the past 19 years. So, you waited patiently, your eyes remaining on his figure next to yours. Your ears suddenly felt warm. Well, not just your ears - your entire body.

As the minutes seemed to tick by your patience grew thin and the curiosity only grew within you. The night fell completely silent at that very moment - you couldn't even hear the crickets anymore. You weren't sure whether they disappeared into nothing or if your brain just decided to cut them out, decided to only focus on Jungkook's voice if he were to speak up.

He cleared his throat, his eyes remaining on the sand down at his feet. His shoes were now completely covered in sand - this must be a big deal for him. He only usually did things like that when he grew nervous or anxious.

"Y/N."

Here it comes. The confession you've been waiting for.. basically your entire life. This intimate and quiet moment between the two of you only made you realize how much you actually loved him. The moonlight shining at a perfect angle against his face gave you access to every detail on his face. The faint sweat visible on his face, the mole underneath his bottom lip, his pupils dilating absently. It reminded you of how real this moment felt.

Your eyebrows slightly shot up and your hand gripped the swing tighter. As soon as his mouth opened to speak you bit your bottom lip impatiently.

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

Now he looked at you.

You looked at him.

The only difference is, your eyes were getting watery. His eyes seemed completely normal. Grounded. Emotionless?

You weren't expecting this. You were expecting anything but this. The smile on your face fainted as slow as it came before he dropped this bomb on you. The grip you once had on the swing loosened as the words seemed to sink in deeper and deeper into the raw flesh of your skin.

"For college. I'm going to the States, and.." he trailed off slowly.

You didn't respond - you couldn't respond. The words that formed inside of your mouth couldn't get them out into a sound.

".. I don't think I'll be returning."

Your eyelids slowly opened, the sunlight creeping through the window made your eyes wince in response. Your laptop next to you on your desk - opened but completely forgotten - got hit by your own elbow once you shifted yourself to sit up. Slowly, your mind woke up from it's slumber then realization hit you.

You had that same dream again.

As if your brain is purposely scratching at parts you thought you had buried a long time ago somehwere in the back of your mind. It was cruel - seeing the way your own mind seemed to betray you every chance it got.

Everytime you finally seemed to get a good night's rest, it would be ruined halfway with your brain replaying that specific memory. The last memory you had of him.

It's ironic, really. During the day your mind must be too occupied with work-related topics so your brain waits until night-time to attack.

What's pathetic to you is how even in your dream you can't seem to find a response to his words. As if that was the only correct reaction - even though you knew you should've said something. But, instead, you stayed silent and he left. Completely left you. After millions of promises he had given you to stay by your side for eternity - even if one of you were to die first.

Now it's like he died. Not actually died, but his presence did. And when he did, he took everything with him. His voice, laugh, habits, even his scent. You had forgotten everything about him you once knew so well.

Pushing your heavily overthinking thoughts aside, you closed your work laptop. You've been working overtime at night non-stop just to get a stupid raise your boss mentioned earlier this month. Well, not entirely stupid. It was a much needed raise you wanted, you call it stupid because of the amount of work you put in just for your boss to notice you. It's pathetic, in a way.

Heading for the shower, you grabbed some clean clothes from your closet you had left open for the past week. Not bothering to close it even now, you eventually made your way to the bathroom with a headache slowly forming in your head.

Not even halfway out of the shower your mother decided to call you. She always had the worst timings for things like this.

With a towel wrapped around your wet and naked body you rushed out of the bathroom to grab your phone from your bedroom. You didn't even bother to look back at the wet trail of footprints you left behind you (it's a suprise you didn't slip).

With a sigh you dried off your one hand against the towel around your body and used it to answer the unexpected call from your mother.

"Y/N, sweetie! Why don't you call me anymore?" Your mother's concerned voiced echoed through the speaker of your phone against your ear and it made your eyebrows knit. That is clear evidence of why you don't like answering your mother's calls - she asks too many questions. Though, you knew it was out of love so you didn't really make a scene out of it.

"Hi to you too, mom," you grumbled in response as you made your way to the kitchen a few feet away from your bedroom. "And i've been busy with work. You know that."

"One call a week won't interrupt your busy schedule."

You could practically feel the frown on your mother's face on the other end of the line.

With the phone now rested between your shoulder and ear, you occupied your hands with making yourself a much needed cup of coffee.

"Whatever you say, mom," you said with a soft sigh before adding, "How are things there?"

"Same old, you know the drill by now, sweetie. Your father just started the new medication his doctor gave him yesterday, we just hope it works this time."

That made guilt chew on your insides. Suddenly, you regret not calling them more often when you heard your mother remind you about your dad's ill condition. Before you could reply you accidentally dropped the milk container on the floor. A soft curse managed to escape your mouth as you grabbed a nearby kitchen cloth to clean up the mess you just made.

"Aunt Jeon invited us for dinner tonight. I called to ask you if you'd like to join? Just to.. unwind a bit."

Your mother's voice sounded soft and genuine, it made your heart swell slightly.

Crouched down on the kitchen floor you managed to clean up the splatter of milk that had falllen onto the kitchen tiles.

"Mrs. Jeon? I thought they're on vacation?"

You didn't mind going to dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Jeon - infact, you loved it. Their house always had this certain presence of warmth which managed to take your mind off things a bit. After all, Mrs. Jeon did still see you as her daughter.. even after he left.

Your mother chuckled through the speaker. "They returned five days ago already. Is work taking over your life?" Though her voice sounded teasing, a hint of seriousness could be heard from her tone.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'll be there," you responded to the question she asked a few minutes ago and completely ignored the new question. Your mother wasn't stupid - she knew the truth, but she also knew enough to not push the subject.

"Okay, sweetie. I'll text you details of things you need to get at the shop. Be here at six. I love you."

The call ended just as you muttered "I love you" back. You now stared at a blank phone screen, your face reflecting from it. The bags underneath your eyes that were slightly visible only reminded you of your mother's words.

"Is work taking over your life?"

The words seemed to echo through your mind. Because she was right, it was taking over your life - you chose for it to be that way. You used anything as a distraction from the hole Jungkook had left inside of your chest. It's not like you haven't moved on - you did. Though, even if someone move on, and even if someone bury the memories far away they once had with that person, it never really leaves. It's still there, waiting to be unfold. Unfold by constant reminders of him.

One time you went on a date with a guy, really good guy at that. He was decent - a great job with a clean presence. He cracked one joke - one joke Jungkook had said once in high-school, and you left. Ghosted him after that. You figured the only way you won't be reminded of him was to work. Working yourself until your body begged you to sleep was the only solution.

You removed and deleted everything you once had of him. Gifts, photoframes - which used to be in your bedroom - photos on your phone, clothes which had his scent on. You forgot his laugh, his habits - but one thing stayed clear. And that was his face.

You'd see it every night when you managed to fall asleep, every morning being a reminder of how he left you years ago.

Nayeon, your best friend you made at work, had to find out the hard way about Jungkook. It happened when you got drunk at her place. What was suppose to be a relaxing girls hangout turned into a sobbing mess by the end of the night. The words you kept to yourself for so long finally bubbled out, one by one, in very specific detail. Nayeon listened to every word, comforting you as much as possible. From there on, you've labeled her as your best friend. She's the only person who truly listened after Jungkook left.

You enjoyed your coffee outside on the balcony (yes, with still just a towel on), before heading inside to actually get clothes on.

"No offense, Y/N, but you're twenty-five with no bitches. That's not really a flex," Nayeon's voice spoke up as the both of you browsed through the shop with a shopping cart. Her hand pushed her brown-colored hair back over her shoulder as she grabbed a bag of chips, throwing it into her own cart.

You frowned at that and pursed your lips. "And for what possible reason do I need bitches?" The annoyance behind your voice couldn't be covered - a clear reminder on how the topic of dating made you feel.

A scoff left Nayeon's red tinted lips. "Uhm, hello? To date? Go out? To actually stop working for once?"

Nayeon for sure didn't hesitate to give you the same amount of attitude you were about to give her.

You just shrugged, stopping in front of the section which contained a variety amount of spices. "I don't need a partner in order to go out. Besides, working is not that bad."

Your eyes scanned each spice carefully before grabbing the one named "STEAK SPICE."

A sarcastic hum were left in response by Nayeon and you silently prayed in your head for her to not continue whatever topic this was. You hate to be reminded of the fact that you're spending your weekends at home drinking an entire bottle of wine on your own.

"What happened to that guy you went on a date with anyway?" You casually asked as you pushed your cart to a different section - clearly trying to change the road this conversation were headed to.

Nayeon groaned and rolled her brown eyes. "Don't even remind me! He told me he wanted to keep it 'casual'-" she made quotation marks with her fingers before contuining, "- literally a day after hooking up with me. Who even does that?!"

You quietly chuckled at that. "Atleast you still got something out of it. Don't worry, there's many other guys who.." you thought for a moment before finishing, "Won't keep things casual after hooking up."

She atleast laughed at that, bumping her shoulder playfully with your own. "Yeah, right," she mumbled.

You grabbed a bottle of wine - you figured you'd need alcohol in order to actually make it through dinner tonight.

"I'm gonna go grab a few other things, meet me at the cashier?" Nayeon asked as she grabbed a bottle of wine for herself. You nodded in response before she walked away to a different section on the other side of the store, leaving the scent of her tropical perfume behind.

You figured you'd use this time to get the things you actually needed for the dinner your mom had invited you to earlier. You grabbed a few things - more spice, some basic ingredients you figured Mrs. Jeon could use, and some flowers. It would only be polite to bring flowers in apologies for not seeing them in a while, evidence of how work managed to take up all of your time.

Just as your hand reached out to grab the white roses that were displayed on a table, your movements got interrupted by another hand reaching out for the same flowers. Your hand pulled back and immediately your eyes went to the unknown person's face.

It was a girl. A beautiful girl at that - long silky black hair with feather bangs, smooth pale skin with not even a wrinkle or pimple in sight, her eyes were only complimented even more with the make up style she chose to do. Her fashion seemed foreign - not that your country had a specific fashion type it followed, but rather the different clothing brand's she was wearing gave it away that she was indeed not from around here.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention at all."

Even her voice sounded perfect. It was soft - almost delicate. It matched her face really well.

"I'm not quite from here, so I'm still trying to get used to everything.." She gave a chuckle and you could've sworn it sounded like music. A tune someone could listen to all day.

A reassuring smile flashed across your face and you immediately waved off her apology. "It's nothing. Here," you gently handed her a bouquet of the white roses. As her hand reached out to take it from you, a silver - what seemed like an engagement ring - flashed on her finger underneath the lightning of the shop.

"I hope you're enjoying your stay so far."

You made sure your voice sounded friendly, almost trying to copy the softness of her voice. It was the presence she gave off - the warmth her tone held in the depths of it.

The mysterious girl gave the same smile you gave her earlier, placing the bouquet of white roses into her own shopping cart gently to make sure not to harm any petal. With that action alone you could tell she's soft-hearted.

"It's a beautiful country. It's my fiancé's home country, actually. He just got back after a few years so I'm getting his family flowers to atleast look.. presentable. In a way," she gave an awkward laugh at that.

"Well, I'm sure they will love you. And congratulations on your engagement." You grabbed yourself a bouquet aswell, taking the last one on the table.

"Enjoy your stay," another smile appeared on your face. As if her presence alone could make anyone smile without them even knowing about it.

She thanked you politely before you decided to part ways from her. She sounded sweet - the complete opposite of what people around you normally sounded like.

By the time you finished paying for your own things you met Nayeon outside, who seemed to be busy talking to some random guy you've never seen before. You weren't really surprised - you knew the impact Nayeon had on guys. But somehow it still managed to amaze you just how many people stop to admire her beauty.

Quietly you made your way beside her, clearly not wanting to interrupt whatever conversation they were having. At the sound of your shoes against the pavement you cursed yourself mentally when the both of them looked your way. The last thing you wanted right now was to be introduced to someone you didn't know at all.

"Oh, Y/N! Perfect timing. This is Taehyung, he's one of my co-workers," her manicured fingers gestured towards the man - seemingly named Taehyung - infront of her. You looked at him, your eyes practically taking in every possible detail you could see from where you were standing. He was handsome - absolutely no doubt in that. He seemed to be on Nayeon's level when it came to physical appearance; angelic-like.

"Taehyung, this is Y/N."

His eyes met yours and an awkward smile formed on your face as he seemed to be doing the same thing you did. Your hand quickly moved on it's own to fix a few strands of hair hanging annoyingly over your eyes trying your best to look presentable.

Nayeon leaned your way a bit more. "He's single, by the way," she whispered into your one ear - and he clearly heard it as well with the way his face seemed to turn a shade of red.

You slapped the side of her arm softly and pushed her away using your shoulder. "Nayeon, I swear to God-"

"It's okay. Atleast you're pretty."

His voice sounded like honey - sweet with faint evidence of bitterness beneath it. His lips were now shaped into a boxy smile.

You just chuckled, clutching the shopping bag in your one hand tighter. "Uh, thanks?"

Nayeon practically face palmed herself at your response. It was clear that her way of playing "cupid" were not working. At all.

"Sorry, she's socially awkward and can't talk to guys-"

"Anyways," you interuppted her with an awkward and dry cough, but not without sending a warning glare her way. "I'd love to stay and talk about.. me being socially awkward-" you made sure to punctuate the words 'socially awkward' by gritting it through your clenched teeth, "- but I better get going before I end up late for my dinner plans."

It seemed like Taehyung opened his mouth to reply but Nayeon beat him to it. "Oh, right. I forgot about that. Text me when you get home, okay?"

And there it was again - the soft Nayeon you loved so much. A side (you've noticed) not many get to see.

"Ofcourse. You two have fun."

With one final, tight hug from Nayeon you waved them goodbye and then proceeded to leave towards your car that were parked in the parking lot - just a few feet away from them.

The dinner weren't suppose to start in another two hours, but you really didn't feel like talking to another guy you'd potentially end up ghosting - again.

You promised yourself you wouldn't spend hours trying to choose an outfit (specifically infront of your mirror), but here you are. Two different dress options in hand.. in front of your bedroom body-length mirror.

The grey colored dress in your left hand caught your eye first. The delicate black flower patterns lightly visible on it only caught your attention towards it more. The only problem was the color. It was dull, almost boring - not to mention the fact that old people will definitely think it screams, "hey, i'm a depressed piece of shit who's still trying to figure out her life."

With a (maybe exaggerated) sigh, you threw the grey dress over your shoulder onto your bed. You needed to look good, needed to remind your parents and the Jeon family how 'well' you're doing with your life. How much you're enjoying your twenties. With that in mind, you figured the second white colored dress in your left hand wouldn't be such a great option too. You threw it next to the grey dress and then with a huff you made your way back to your closet.

You grabbed a simple pair of jeans with a beige colored shirt to go with it. It was just dinner, after all - you had absolutely no idea why you're making such a big deal out of it. Probably because you felt like getting dolled up in what felt like ages ago. You wanted to look pretty for once - do your make up, your hair and atleast get a good outfit to go with it. So, still with the jean and shirt thrown over your shoulder (incase you don't find anything else), you opened the other door of the closet which contained all of your dresses.

You scanned each one with a quick glance, taking in the variety of different colors and patterns. The lack of color in your clothes only reminded you how dull you were actually - and it reminded you to go do a shopping spree as soon as possible. Every single dress got thrown out of the closet in hopes of finding a bright colored dress somewhere, anywhere. You can't be lacking that much in fashion after all, right?

Determined to find a colorful dress, you noticed you have thrown almost every dress you own out of the closet, forming a pile of clothes on the floor next to you. You stood there in complete disbelief. You should've took Nayeon's advice a month ago when she ordered you to go shopping with her, but ofcourse, binge-watching Twilight seemed more appealing to you.

As you looked back at the closet a light pink color were slightly peeking out from the back. You don't recall owning anything by that color - let alone a dress of that sort. Curiously you reached out and grabbed the unknown fabric, somehow managing to pull it out from the back of the closet.

The moment your eyes got access to the full dress you froze. Your entire body went cold with realization and your knees felt weak at this very moment.

It was the dress Jungkook gave you as a present on your 19th birthday. Just a few weeks before he decided to vanish.

Your chest felt like it started closing up and you dropped the dress against the floor. You hated the way he still had this impact on you - the way you'd completely shut yourself down at memories or mentions of him. His presence was haunting you, eating you up alive from the inside and you couldn't do anything about it. You tried, God, you tried so incredibly hard to get rid of the effect he still had over you - the power he seemed to be holding over you without even knowing.

You often question if he felt the same? If your laughter and the stupid jokes you used to make haunt him the same way? If it lingers to him like his own shadow?

Your body seemed to be moving on it's own - grabbing the dress harshly from the floor with a tear forming in your one eye. The amount of anger you suddenly felt made this situation even harder.

Absently you threw the dress into the kitchen bin, closing the lid with more force than necessary. You stared at it for a long time, questioning whether you just made the right choice for yourself. You have thrown everything away he once touched or gave you - but you must've forgotten about this one specific item. Yet, the thought of throwing this away, the last thing he ever gave you, made you question your decision even more.

Hesitantly and slowly, you opened the trash can and pulled the dress out. It was exactly still in the same condition from when you recieved it six years ago - no mark and not even a hole. Probably because you've never worn it before.

And then the idea hit you. This would be the perfect dress to wear for a casual dinner, wouldn't it?

Your white car parked slowly in the driveway of Mrs and Mr. Jeon's house. There were a few other cars parked on the property aswell, and it made you question if your mom told you the truth about this dinner. Perhaps they decided to invite some more people, family or even neighbors. You didn't seem to mind it though - luckily you decided to wear a decent dress with your make up and hair done.

Turning the car's engine off by using your key, you opened the car door with a deep breath. Why were you getting nervous all of a sudden? It's just dinner with a bunch of old people - who would most likely ask you about your plans in the future and what you plan to do with your life. No big deal.

As you got out of your car and locked it behind you, you couldn't help but be reminded of how the outside still looked exactly the same from how you used to remember it. The same house where you and Jungkook would run into after school, throwing your belongings on the floor and immediately head towards the living room to play video games. The memory made you smile unknowingly, and for a second, you were relieved you didn't feel anxious for once by the thought of him.

Preparing yourself mentally for all the questions that lies ahead, you started making your way to the front door. Your hand gripped the medium sized purse over your shoulder and everything suddenly felt warm as each possible (bad) scenario rushed through your mind.

Before your hand could knock on the door it swung open, revealing a very smiley Mrs. Jeon.

"Y/N! Oh my, you got so skinny. Have you not been eating?" She suddenly pulled you into a tight hug, but you didn't hesitate to return it.

You chuckled against her shoulder before the hug broke. "Just busy, Mrs. Jeon. Sorry for not calling lately."

She waved it off with a laugh of her own, locking her arm arounds yours in order to pull you further into the house. Immediately you got welcomed by the nostalgia the house held behind it's walls.

"Don't be sorry, sweet pea. I know life tend to get busy sometimes."

You loved that about Mrs. Jeon. She never pushed something out of you - she always made sure to take whatever answer she gets.

"Oh, right. I got you and Mr. Jeon this," you reached out and handed her the white roses.

Her eyes softened at the kind gesture, gently taking it from you and placing a big kiss to your cheek. "You didn't have to, honey. That's very thoughtful of you. I'll go put this in a vase and you can go grab yourself a drink, okay?"

With one last hug she left the entrance of the house and headed to what you remember is the kitchen. Your eyes took in the interior of the house - it still looked the same as before. Everything were placed in the specific spot they once were, just a few changes here and there. You decided to step closer to the wall which had portraits and photoframes on it. You saw one with Jungkook, laughing at a river with this brother and it earned a soft chuckle from you. He looked so young, so innocent - the same Jungkook you once knew.

And then your eyes went to the photo next to that one - a photo of you and Jungkook at a beach when you were six. The smile slowly faded on your face and the nostalgia in your eyes got replaced with pure hurt. The same question flooded your mind once again, "how could he leave you behind after everything?"

Not wanting to spoil the evening even before it started you pushed every thought aside which had Jungkook in them, cleared your throat, and walked away to greet the people.

Greeting the people who decided to show up this evening must've taken some toll on you because you found yourself in the kitchen, pouring your first glass of wine for the evening. With a sigh you took a big sip, letting the bitter taste burn your throat - a feeling you're well familiar with by now.

Just then your mother decided to enter the kitchen with a bunch of gifts in hand. It made you frown, is it someone's birthday or something? Taking another sip of your wine you gently placed the wine glass onto the counter.

"Is it your birthday?" You teased with a smile and a chuckle. Your mother just gave a playful laugh at that and placed the multiple gifts in gift bags somewhere on the dining table. The way she fell silent suddenly made you question the situation even more.

"Not necessarily. Have you eaten something yet, sweetie?" You weren't stupid - you knew she's changing the subject for God knows what reason. But you decided not to push it, you'll find out eventually.

"Uh, not yet." Another sip of wine.

Your mother sent an unpleasant look your way before smacking your shoulder gently from the back. "Go eat something. There's snacks in the living room."

The tone in her voice left no room for debate so with a huff, you grabbed your wine glass and walked towards the living room.

In the living room there weren't alot of people but enough to make you want to go back home. The only people you actually knew were your parents and the Jeons. You walked carefully in order not to engage yourself in any conversation with the unknown faces around you, making your way towards the coffee table which had different snacks on plastic plates. You took a pretzel and then a sip of wine, using the alcohol to calm your mind a bit.

"I can't believe he's finally returning. It's about time, his mother were really starting to miss him.."

Your ears accidentally seemed to have caught the sound of some old lady's voice behind you. You weren't sure what or who they meant, so you remained silent and continued chewing on the pretzels.

Their conversation got cut off with the doorbell ringing but you didn't bother looking towards the direction. Instead, you remained near the coffee table with your wine.

Mrs. Jeon went to open the door, and as soon as it did, she started crying.

Now, ofcourse you would get curious. You look towards the direction (and noticed literally everyone else around you were looking at the front door) and holy shit.

You dropped your glass, causing it to shatter into a thousand different pieces around your feet. You didn't budge, didn't even make a sound. You couldn't - because, standing a few feet away from you - were him.

Jeon fucking Jungkook.

At the sound of the glass loudly shattering on the floor he turned his head towards the direction - your direction. Your eyes locked and everything suddenly changed. The anger you once had for him slipped away at an instant underneath his gaze.

[governments-babygirl]

Wtf is this... this is worse than porn

[lively-potter]

@ahgasegotarmy116 girllll 🤭🤭

[br4tmink]

THE ONLY TOPTIER JUNGKOOK YANDERE FICS!

I’ve read so many jk yandere fics on this app but these are the only ones that have done it for me. The standard for me is that jk’s character is subtle on the surface but deep inside realistically unhinged like he’s on some batshit level crazy to proof he will do anything to have oc. Hope you like these!!

polarity by @darkestcorners

10 seconds by @deepdarkdelights

reaper by @deepdarkdelights

seat of power by @ctrlsht

taking over you by @go1denjeon

tokki by @chaoticpuff17

shameless by @kooktrash

to obtain the flower by @mingshits

quarter quell by @laughing-with-god

[jincapableoflove]

The Grumpy Girlfriend Protection Program | One-shot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre: sunshine bf x grumpy gf, golden retriever! jungkook, black cat! reader, office worker! reader, veterinary student! jungkook, fluff, comedy, thriller, mystery (slight), action, angst.

Summary: Jeon Jungkook has always been the sunshine in every room; warm, kind, and completely oblivious to danger. Luckily, you, his grumpy, overprotective girlfriend have made it your personal mission to keep him safe. But when the threat shifts to you instead, Jungkook proves that even sunshine can scorch, and for you, he’d burn.

Word count: 22.8k+

Warnings: reader is very protective, themes of stalking and obsession, usage of drugs (not reader or jungkook), fight scene, violence, multiple flashback scenes.

MOODBOARD

A/N: hugeeee thanks to my dear friend sy (@btswit7 ) for going through my fic and suggesting edits! ilysm. sorry this took so long for me to write. i swearrr this fic was supposed to be fluffy, cute and around 10k words but I got carried away 😔 (not sorry for that). i might've absolutely butchered the tattoo shop scene pls forgive me (I've never been to a tattoo shop before idk how it works) this is also my first time writing an action scene it prolly sucks but wtv.

The sun hung high in the cloudless sky, casting a golden glow over the city. A gentle breeze drifted through the streets, the warmth of the morning wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, just the right kind of day that practically demanded an escape from the ordinary. And what better way to spend it than sprawled out on a checkered blanket, a basket full of food beside you, and your ever-so-enthusiastic boyfriend, Jungkook, grinning at you like this was the best idea in the world?

That’s right. It was picnic day. After a gruelling week at work, all you wanted was to stay in bed, sleep until the afternoon, have a late lunch, and then (ideally) go right back to sleep. But Jungkook, being the ever-optimistic, early-rising, productivity-loving man that he was, thought weekends were best spent on morning picnic dates at whatever random park he had decided on that week.

There was nothing you hated more than disappointing your sweet boyfriend, so cancelling the picnic dates altogether wasn’t an option. After extensive negotiations (read: you groggily whining while he laughed and refused to budge), you managed to compromise—morning breakfast dates became brunch dates. Because let’s be real, every extra second of sleep counts.

On the way to your picnic, you were stopped by a teenage boy, probably 17 or 18, who practically shoved a clipboard into your faces. With the practised enthusiasm of a seasoned salesman, he introduced himself, flashing a grin as he extended a hand in greeting. Then came the pitch.

“Donations for a local animal shelter,” he announced, voice laced with urgency. A shelter you had never heard of.

“The puppies and bunnies are all sick, sir, and the kittens are underfed,” he continued, his face contorting with the sheer heartbreak of it all. The kind of expression that would probably work on unsuspecting souls. Jungkook, being Jungkook, was already pulling out his wallet. And you were having none of it.

Before he could hand over a single bill, you yanked the wallet straight out of his hands. Jungkook blinked at you, stunned.

“Did you even check if it’s a real shelter?” you asked, unimpressed.

Jungkook glanced at the boy, then back at you. “Looks pretty real to me.” You sighed, taking a look at the "official website" the scammer eagerly pulled up on his phone. One glance was all it took.

“That’s a Wix template, you dumbass,” you deadpanned, shooting Jungkook a look. And to drive your point home, you dialled the actual shelter’s number. A moment of silence.

Then, like clockwork, the boy’s phone started ringing. The scammer stiffened, eyes wide with panic. And then, without as much as another word, he bolted down the street before you could report him to someone.

Jungkook pouted, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket. You rolled your eyes. “I can’t believe you almost fell for that.”

“One of these days,” he muttered, crossing his arms, “you’re gonna stop me from donating to a real shelter.” You snorted, nudging his shoulder as you started walking again. “Yeah, well, until that day comes, I’ll keep saving you from getting scammed by guys who probably spent five minutes on Google slapping together a fake charity.”

Jungkook huffed, kicking a loose pebble down the sidewalk. “He had a clipboard. People with clipboards always seem legit.”

“Oh, right, because clipboards are the universal sign of trustworthiness,” you deadpanned. “Next time, I’ll be sure to scam you with one myself.”

He shot you a playful glare. “I’d see through you in a second.” You smirked. “Would you, though?”

Jungkook opened his mouth, then shut it again, squinting at you like he wasn’t entirely convinced. You just grinned, patting his arm. “Exactly.”

You sit cross-legged on the checkered blanket, arms crossed, watching as Jungkook digs through the picnic basket like a child on Christmas morning. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, pulling out sandwiches, fruit, and what looks like an obnoxiously yellow thermos you don’t remember packing.

You squint. “Did you sneak in banana milk?”

Jungkook pauses, looking entirely unrepentant. “No.” You stare. He stares back. The thermos stares between you, the undeniable evidence of his crime.

Finally, he grins. “Okay, maybe.”

You let out a slow exhale, reaching for one of the sandwiches while he happily pours himself a cup of his beloved banana milk.

“I don’t get how you function sometimes,” you mutter, unwrapping your food.

“I function beautifully,” he corrects, flashing you a smile that’s far too bright for someone who just lied to your face. “You’re just too grumpy to appreciate it.”

You roll your eyes. “Right. Because nothing screams ‘functioning adult’ like getting scammed five minutes before a picnic.” Jungkook gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “I was being charitable!”

“You were being a prime target,” you deadpan. He huffs dramatically, taking an exaggerated bite of his sandwich as if it’s the ultimate form of protest. Cheeks puffed out like a bunny, he mumbles through his mouthful, “You stress too much.”

You raise a brow. “I wonder why.” He ignores your sarcasm, swallowing before continuing, “Maybe if you—” He suddenly stops, mid-thought, his eyes lighting up with a spark of mischief.

Oh no. You’ve seen that look before. It never leads to anything good.

"You should feed me."

You nearly choke on your drink. Coughing, you set your cup down with a thud and blink at him. “What?” Jungkook leans forward, resting his chin in his palm with the most infuriatingly smug expression. “You know,” he drawls, wiggling his eyebrows, “since you like taking care of me so much.”

You stare at him, unamused. Then, without breaking eye contact, you take the smallest, most unimpressive bite of your sandwich—just to spite him.

Jungkook groans, slumping back. “You’re no fun.”

“You knew that when you fell in love with me.”

His lips curve into something thoughtful, eyes flickering over your face like he’s considering something. Then, in one swift motion, he reaches over and swipes a strawberry from your plate, popping it into his mouth before you can react.

You gasp. “Jungkook!”

He grins, entirely unapologetic. “Yeah, but I like a challenge.” Without hesitation, you swat his hand, aiming for another grab. He yelps, laughing too hard for someone who just got smacked, dodging your next attempt with the reflexes of a seasoned strawberry thief.

"Unbelievable," you mutter, shaking your head. "A menace to society."

Jungkook only grins wider. "And yet, you still love me."

And just like that, it’s the both of you, bickering, teasing, him being too soft, and you pretending you don’t secretly like it. Despite everything, you’re glad he dragged you here. Because for all his nonsense, for all the chaos he brings into your life, Jungkook makes the world a little brighter.

You hated Monday mornings with a burning passion. If you walked into work and saw someone being all cheerful and optimistic, you’d have the overwhelming urge to dump ice-cold coffee over their head, just to make their day as miserable as yours. Of course, you wouldn’t actually act on that particular intrusive thought. Not unless you had a sudden desire to get fired.

Every day, it was the same soul-sucking routine. Log into your computer, answer emails, prepare for meetings, and trudge through an endless list of mind-numbing tasks that make you question all your life choices. You were staring blankly at your screen, fingers moving mechanically as you typed up a report when your phone buzzed.

Kook 🐰💜 [11:10 AM]: Miss me yet?

Your fingers pause on the keyboard. Buzz.

Kook 🐰💜[11:10 AM]: Or are you too busy being all serious and grumpy at work? Kook 🐰💜[11:11 AM]: Bet you’re smiling right now, though.

You bite your lip. You are not smiling. Absolutely not.

“Okay, what is that face?”

Jimin’s voice cuts through your concentration like a knife. You snap your head up to find him leaning against your desk, arms crossed, a knowing smirk already in place.

“There is no face,” you say quickly, locking your phone screen and shoving it away. Jimin gasps dramatically. “Oh my God, it’s him, isn’t it?”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “I swear to—”

“Ohhh, it totally is!” Jimin snatches your phone before you can react, scrolling through the notifications like he has every right to be nosy.

If there’s one person who never lets you live in peace, it’s Jimin. Coworker, best friend, professional pain in your ass, he’s all of the above, wrapped in a smug little package. You first met him when you started this job, and somehow, between the forced team projects, shared complaints about the boss, and mutual hatred for monday mornings, you ended up stuck with him for life. Not that you’d ever admit you’re grateful for it.

Unfortunately, he knows it anyway.

“Jimin, I will end you.”

But it’s too late. He’s already grinning like the devil himself. “Look at you. Getting all giddy over a text. My, my, how the mighty have fallen.”

“I’m not giddy.”

“Oh, you absolutely are.” He mimics your earlier expression, clutching his phone to his chest with a dreamy sigh. “Oh, Jungkook, my sweet precious sunshine, text me more. I can’t possibly get through this workday without knowing you’re thinking about me.”

You throw a stapler at him.

He dodges effortlessly, laughing. “Relax, lover girl. It’s cute. Gross, but cute.” You huff, snatching your phone back. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Jimin plops down in the chair next to you, still smirking. “Now tell me, what’s golden boy up to?”

You hesitate. But your phone buzzes again.

Kook 🐰💜 [11:13 AM]: Hey. Don’t overwork yourself. I’ll call you later, okay?

You stare at the screen for a moment, fingers hovering over the keyboard before you eventually settle on a simple reply.

You [11:14 AM: Okay.

…Okay, maybe you are smiling a little.

Jimin sees it immediately. And you already know you’re never going to hear the end of it.

The moment you step into the break room—finally free from Jimin’s relentless smirking, you let out a breath and pull out your phone, scrolling through your recent calls before dialling Jungkook. It barely rings twice before he picks up, his voice warm and teasing, like he already knew you’d call.

“Hey, baby,” he greets smoothly, amusement lacing his tone. “Miss me already?”

You roll your eyes, setting your lunchbox on the table with a thud. “In your dreams, Jeon.”

Flipping open the lid, the rich, savoury aroma of bibimbap immediately washes over you. The vibrant colors of the ingredients are neatly arranged, looking almost too perfect to eat—almost. You can tell Jungkook took his time making it, carefully placing each topping exactly where it should be, ensuring it looked as good as it tasted.

Your heart does something traitorous in your chest, but you ignore it. Jungkook chuckles at your silence, clearly pleased with himself. “I assume this is your way of telling me my cooking is amazing?”

“Not even close,” you say, grabbing your chopsticks. “Jimin wouldn’t shut up about you, so I figured I’d call and annoy you instead.” A deep, rumbling laugh comes through the speaker, the sound sending warmth curling through your stomach. “Mhm. Sure, love. You could’ve just admitted you wanted to hear my voice.”

Your eye twitches. “That’s not—”

“Shh, no need to be shy. I won’t judge.” You groan, tilting your head back against the chair, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you. He’s impossible, and worse, he knows it.

“Whatever,” you mutter. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“Mmm.” There’s some shuffling on his end, followed by the faint rustling of sheets like he’s lying down and getting comfortable. “I was thinking… instead of our usual park picnic, you could come with me to get my sleeve reworked.” That makes you pause, chopsticks hovering mid-air. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice a little more casual. “It’s been a while, and I wanna touch up some parts. Maybe add something new.”

You lean back in your chair, considering it. You’ve seen his tattoos up close plenty of times—traced them absentmindedly, let your fingers follow the inked lines whenever he had an arm wrapped around you. There’s something mesmerizing about them, the way they flow seamlessly over his skin, each design an intricate part of him.

You definitely wouldn’t mind watching the process.

“That’s fine with me,” you say after a beat. Then, under your breath, you mumble, “But if the artist messes up, I’m fighting them.” Jungkook snorts. “Of course you will.” His voice takes on that teasing lilt that makes you want to reach through the phone and flick his forehead. “You’re so cute when you get all protective.”

Your face heats up instantly. “Oh my god, eat your lunch.”

“I will. But only if you say you love me first.” You nearly choke. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His grin is obvious, even through the phone. “Say it, and I’ll go eat.” You huff, glancing around the empty break room just to make sure no one’s around. Then, in the lowest possible whisper, you mumble, “…Love you.”

A beat of silence.

And then, even quieter, “Love your bibimbap too.”

Jungkook hums, unreasonably satisfied. “Love you too, baby. Now go eat before Jimin catches you blushing.” Your eyes widen, and you hang up immediately.

Unfortunately, when you turn around, Jimin is standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking far too smug for your liking.

“So,” he drawls, tilting his head. “How’s Jungkook?” You groan, slamming your head onto the table. You are never going to live this down.

Jimin’s laughter echoes in the room, pure evil.

Jungkook’s apartment is the kind of place that makes it dangerously easy to never leave. It’s cozy with warm lighting, soft blankets draped over the couch, and the faint scent of vanilla and fabric softener lingering in the air. You tell yourself that’s the main reason you always find yourself here instead of your own place, but, if you were being completely honest, there are a few other factors at play.

For one, his snack collection is legendary. His kitchen cabinets are stocked with an endless supply of goodies, including a lifetime’s worth of Twinkies, your weakness. And then there’s Jungkook himself, but you’re not about to admit that. Especially not to him.

Curled up on his couch, you lazily flip through his Netflix, eyes scanning titles without really registering any of them. The ambient noise of the apartment, the hum of the heater, the occasional rustling of pages from Jungkook’s workspace, only adds to the drowsy comfort settling over you. Just as you’re about to give up on finding something to watch, Jungkook suddenly plops down beside you, sketchbook in hand.

The cushion dips under his weight, and you barely manage to suppress a startled flinch. He doesn’t say anything at first, just leans back against the couch with a content sigh, flipping the sketchbook open across his lap. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, curiosity piqued despite yourself. "Okay," he says, grinning as he settles beside you on the couch. His fingers drum against the edge of his sketchbook before he flips it open, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "Wanna see what I’ve been working on?"

You nod, humming in interest. "Mhm. Sure."

The moment the pages spread out before you, your breath catches. Intricate designs fill the book, some half-finished, others shaded to perfection. There are fine, precise lines, bold strokes, and an almost obsessive attention to detail in every drawing. You can tell he's poured hours into this, into crafting something that isn’t just art but a reflection of himself.

"Damn," you murmur, fingertips tracing lightly over the paper. "You did all these?" Jungkook grins, his dimples making an appearance. "Yup," he says, clearly pleased with your reaction.

You take your time flipping through the pages. There’s a sketch of a skeletal hand doing the rock on sign, a detailed microphone showcasing his love for music, lyrics from his favorite songs inked in elegant script, and the word Bulletproof scrawled in a graffiti style, right beneath it, a note written in his unmistakable handwriting: cover-up for eye tattoo. And then, sitting proudly in between these edgy, personal pieces, is a woozy face emoji.

You huff out a small laugh. His tattoo ideas range from deeply meaningful to outright ridiculous.

But then you pause. Nestled between his designs is a rework of his tiger lily tattoo—his birth flower. But entwined around it, curling gracefully between the petals, is another flower. Chrysanthemums.

Your birth flower.

The realization sinks in, slow and warm. Jungkook goes still beside you, barely breathing. You don’t miss the way his fingers twitch, or the way his ears turn bright red when he realizes that you understood. Then, like a man caught in the act he snatches the sketchbook away, snapping it shut so fast you barely have time to process it.

"Aha—! Anyway—" He clears his throat, ears burning. "That one wasn’t, uh—I wasn’t supposed to show you that yet."

Your lips twitch. "Mhm. Jeon, I see what you did there."

"What?" he says too quickly. "It’s just, you know, it looked nice with the lilies." His voice cracks. You arch a brow. "Looks nice? That’s all?" Jungkook nods a little too fast. "Yeah. No big deal."

You don’t believe him for a second.

So, naturally, you lean in, lowering your voice just enough to watch him squirm."You sure about that, baby?"

Jungkook.exe has stopped working.

With a groan, he buries his burning face into your shoulder, mumbling something incoherent against your sweater. You laugh, warmth blooming in your chest, fingers threading absentmindedly through his hair. Yeah. No big deal.

The weekend sun was just beginning to climb when Jungkook pulled up outside your place, the low hum of his car engine a familiar sound by now. You barely had time to lock your door before he leaned over, effortlessly pushing the passenger door open with that usual bright grin of his. “Morning, baby,” he greeted, fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. Without missing a beat, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek—warm, lingering just a second longer than necessary. “You sleep well?”

You slid into the seat, closing the door behind you with a huff, eyes narrowing at him. “No, because someone was blowing up my phone with memes and ‘fun facts’ about toxic tattoo inks at two in the morning.” Jungkook had the audacity to look proud. “I just thought you should know! What if they use cheap ink, huh? Gotta protect this masterpiece.” He gestured vaguely at his arm, where his tattoos peeked out from under the sleeve of his shirt.

You sighed, clicking your seatbelt into place. “Just drive.”

As he shifted gears and pulled onto the road, you let your gaze wander around the car, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne, the faint hum of the engine, and the steady rhythm of the music playing low through the speakers. His hand, warm and absentminded, found its usual place on your thigh like it belonged there, thumb tracing gentle patterns against your skin. It was peaceful. The kind of easy, comfortable silence that only came from knowing someone so well.

But then, something caught your attention.

Your eyes drifted to the backseat, where his sketchbook sat, slightly ajar as if hastily tossed there. A few loose sheets stuck out from the pages, filled with the intricate designs you’d seen before. You reached for it instinctively, but before you could grab it, the scenery outside made you pause.

“...Wait.” Your brows furrowed as you looked out the window. The streets weren’t familiar, the route different from what you expected. You turned back to him. “This isn’t the way to your usual place.” Jungkook hummed, like he’d been waiting for you to notice. “We’re trying a new one today.”

You turned to him, suspicious. “Why?”

His grin widened, full of mischief. “Jin got a job there.” That took you a second to process. “Seokjin?”

“My cousin, yeah.” Jungkook drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, glancing at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “He’s a receptionist now. Lured me in with staff discounts.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “So, let me get this straight—he got a job there yesterday, and today you’re already showing up to cash in?” Jungkook gasped, all faux offense, clutching his chest as if you’d just wounded him. “I would never use my dear cousin like that.”

You gave him a deadpan look.

His lips twitched, the act crumbling instantly. “…Okay, maybe a little,” he admitted, flashing you a boyish grin. “But hey, cheaper tattoos, and I get to support my hyung? Win-win.” You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the amused smile pulling at your lips. “Does he even know we’re coming?”

“He does,” Jungkook replied, his grin not fading. “He actually told me to wait for him before I get started with the consultation.” 

And that’s how you and Jungkook ended up stuck in the lobby of the tattoo shop, waiting for over thirty minutes for Jin to show up.

Jungkook exhaled loudly, rolling his shoulders before pulling out his phone and dialing Jin for the sixth time. His other hand absentmindedly tugged you closer by the wrist, a small, unconscious habit of his whenever he was growing impatient. “Jin said he’d be here soon,” he muttered, eyes flickering to the entrance yet again, as if willing his cousin to walk through the door. “Told me to get comfy and wait.”

You smirked, shifting slightly in your seat. “He did? So, naturally, he’s gonna be late.” Jungkook groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. “He promised, okay? Swore he wouldn’t ditch me this time.”

“That’s cute.” You patted his thigh mockingly. “You still believe him.” Jungkook shot you a halfhearted glare before flicking his gaze to the empty reception area for what had to be the hundredth time. His foot bounced impatiently against the floor, but before he could make another complaint, the sound of a door opening drew both of your attention.

A woman with sleek, silver-dyed hair emerged from one of the back rooms, her sharp gaze scanning the lobby before landing directly on Jungkook. Her expression immediately shifted into a perfected customer-service smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. “What are you here for?”

“Sleeve rework,” he replied casually, rolling his shoulder as if to emphasize the ink beneath his sleeve. “You’re the one getting the sleeve reworked?” she asked smoothly, completely ignoring your presence. “Seokjin’s cousin, right?

Jungkook nodded, his own expression polite but confused. “Yeah, but he isn’t here yet. Jin told me to wai—”

“Oh,” she cut in, her lips curving just slightly, a little too knowing. “Well, that’s okay. I’m sure he would’ve referred you to me anyway. I could start taking care of you now.”

Something about the way she said it made your jaw clench.

Jungkook, oblivious as ever, only hummed. “Uh, I mean… I guess we could start the consultation?”

You didn’t like the way she was looking at him.

As she moved closer, the glow of the overhead light caught on her name tag—Nari. The name meant nothing to you, but something about her demeanor put you on edge.

Jungkook settled into the chair, stretching his arm out as Nari prepped her station. You remained seated across from him, phone in hand, pretending to scroll while keeping a close eye on the exchange. Nari pulled on a pair of gloves, her movements fluid and practiced as she leaned in, examining Jungkook’s inked skin. “Your ink is solid,” she murmured, fingers ghosting over the intricate designs. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”

Jungkook grinned, clearly pleased with the compliment. “Yeah, my old artist was great. Just wanted some refinements, you know?”

“Mm,” Nari hummed in agreement, grabbing a marker to outline a few areas. Her gaze lingered on his arm longer than necessary, her lips curving slightly. “You’re adding new work too, right?”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, just some floral details around the tiger lily.”

That was supposed to be the end of it. But then Nari tilted her head, eyes flickering up to his face before dropping back to his arm, and subtly, but not subtly enough she licked her lips.

“I love doing florals on guys,” she said, voice dipping into something softer. “There’s just something about the contrast, you know?”

Your grip on your phone tightened. Jungkook, completely unaware of the shift in tone, simply lifted his arm to show her the faded edges. “Yeah, I wanted to add some chrysanthe—”

Before he could even finish, Nari reached out, fingers wrapping around his arm, her touch lingering.

“Oh, your skin is so nice,” she murmured, smoothing her fingers over the defined muscle as if she were admiring it rather than prepping it for work. Your eye twitched.

Jungkook blinked, a little startled by the comment but still too polite to pull away. “Uh… thanks?” Nari only smiled, nails grazing his forearm ever so slightly as she adjusted his position. “Good canvas makes all the difference.”

You swore you could hear your patience snapping like a twig. Jungkook looked slightly uncomfortable but still handed over his sketchbook, flipping to the page with his design. “This is what I had in mind for the rework,” he said, tapping the paper.

Nari barely glanced at the intricate details before tilting her head, her gaze flickering back to him instead. “You drew this yourself?”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah.”

“Wow,” she hummed, leaning in slightly, the corner of her lips quirking up. “That’s impressive. Not many clients walk in with this level of detail.” From where you sat, you rested your chin on your hand, unimpressed.

Jungkook offered a small, polite smile. “I just like having a clear idea before I commit.” Nari's smirk deepened. “That’s really attractive,” she mused, fingers skimming the edge of the sketchbook instead of actually turning the page. “A guy who’s artistic and decisive? Rare find.”

You blinked. What.

Jungkook cleared his throat, shifting in his seat like he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “Uh… thanks?” Nari finally flipped to the next page—though at this point, it felt more like a courtesy than genuine interest. “And you did all of these?”

Jungkook nodded again. “Mhm.”

“That’s insane,” she gushed, dragging her fingers over the lines like they were worth framing. “You could easily be a tattoo artist yourself.” Jungkook chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think I have the patience for it.”

“That’s a shame,” Nari sighed, her fingers lingering a little too long on the sketchbook. “With hands like yours, I bet you’d be amazing at it.”

Your expression went flat. Jungkook just coughed into his fist, visibly flustered. “Uh—”

You snapped before you could stop yourself. “If you’re done with the consultation, I think you should get started with the sketching.” Your voice was even, but the words were clipped. “Unless this is just a fan club meeting now.”

That made Nari pause.

Jungkook turned to you, lips twitching as if he was trying not to laugh. Nari dared to send you a sharp glare, like you had just interrupted something sacred. But she grabbed a fineliner anyway, her movements slow and deliberate, as if making a point.

You didn’t waver. Arms crossed, you kept your gaze locked on her hands, watching every unnecessary adjustment she made—each one turning into soft, lingering touches against Jungkook’s skin. It was infuriating, the way her fingers skimmed his arm like she had every right to.

And then she bit her lip.

A coy smile played at the edges of her mouth, subtle but unmistakable. Jungkook, completely oblivious as always, remained relaxed in the chair, only wincing slightly when the cold surface of the fineliner pressed against his skin.

You were far from relaxed.

Shifting in your seat, you clenched your jaw, fingers curling against your arms. Maybe—maybe—she was just a touchy person. Maybe you were overanalyzing this. Maybe it was nothing.

“So,” Nari began, her voice light and conversational, “do all your tattoos have a meaning?” Jungkook, still staring at the ceiling like this was any other consultation, nodded. “Most of them, yeah.”

“What about this one?” She tapped the tiger lily, her fingertips trailing over the ink just a little too leisurely. Jungkook smiled, unaware of the way your patience was fraying. “That one represents passion, confidence… all that stuff. It’s also my birth flower”

Nari hummed, like she was committing that information to memory. “And the chrysanthemums?”

At this, Jungkook hesitated. For the first time, he flicked his gaze toward you, something unreadable passing through his eyes. Your posture stiffened, waiting. He cleared his throat. “They mean a lot to me.”

Nari tilted her head, expectant.

You leaned forward, expectant.

But Jungkook just chuckled lightly before answering, “They’re my girlfriend’s birth flower.” His tone was proud, almost smug, as if relishing the chance to say it out loud. A smirk tugged at your lips. That should be enough to shut this down, enough for her to finally get the message—

Except Nari barely reacted.

If anything, she just hummed again, dragging her eyes across his arm like she hadn’t even heard him. “Hm. Bet they’d look really pretty on you,” she mused, her tone as sweet as syrup. Then, without missing a beat, she added, “Then again, I bet a lot of things do.”

Your head snapped up. Jungkook tensed slightly but played it off with an awkward laugh. “Uh… thanks?”

Oh, hell no.

Maybe it was the way she said it. The way her voice dripped with something just a little too sweet, like she wasn’t just appreciating his tattoos but the person wearing them. Maybe it was the fact that her fingers were still lightly dragging along his forearm, slow and deliberate, like she had every right to touch him like that. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the fact that Jungkook, ever polite, ever oblivious, wasn’t saying anything to stop her. Either way, your patience is officially gone.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, voice smooth but sharp enough to cut. “So, is this your usual customer service?” you asked, tilting your head. “Or is my boyfriend just getting the VIP treatment?”

Nari barely spared you a glance. “Oh, don’t worry. I take very good care of my clients.” Your smile was saccharine, all teeth. “I bet you do.”

Jungkook shifted, fingers gripping the armrest as if bracing himself. “Baby—” You ignored him. “I thought professionalism was a basic requirement for tattoo artists. But I guess it’s optional here, huh?”

Nari’s smirk twitched, but she held her ground. “I’m just making conversation.”

“Right.” You nodded slowly, voice dripping with faux understanding. “Because flirting with your client while his girlfriend is sitting right here is so normal.”

Jungkook, bless his clueless heart, looked between the two of you like he’d just walked into a battlefield with no armor. His lips parted—he should say something, anything, should try to calm you down before things escalated, but the words never came.

Because truth be told, seeing you like this, so protective and so fierce was kind of hot.

Nari’s eyes narrowed, her confidence flickering just a little. “I wasn’t flirting.” You let out a mock gasp, pressing a hand over your chest in exaggerated horror. “Oh, my bad.” Your tone was syrupy, dripping with fake innocence. “I must have misheard when you basically drooled over my boyfriend while I was sitting right here.”

Nari let out a sharp huff, her irritation finally surfacing. She set the fineliner down with a little too much force, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and condescension. “Look, do you want me to finish this or not?”

You opened your mouth, already armed with a sharp retort—

“No.”

Jungkook’s voice cut through the air, calm but unwavering.

Nari blinked. “What?”

Jungkook rolled his shoulder back as he sat up straighter, his usual easygoing expression replaced with something unreadable. “I’ll get it done somewhere else.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Seriously? Just because she’s insecure?”

Oh. That did it. A slow, burning heat unfurled in your chest. The audacity, the sheer nerve to say something like that when she had been the one crossing every possible line. You barely registered standing up, only aware of the way your pulse pounded in your ears as you took a step forward.

“Excuse me?”

But before you could let loose, Jungkook was already moving. His hand found yours, his grip warm and steady as he gently pulled you back. “Let’s go,” he murmured, his voice low but insistent. Nari rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair like she couldn’t care less. “Your loss.” Jungkook didn’t bother responding. He just grabbed his jacket, intertwined his fingers with yours, and led you out of the shop without a single backward glance.

The second the door shut behind you, the tension that had been coiling in your muscles finally snapped.

“I swear—” you started, still fuming, but Jungkook sighed, squeezing your hand in his. “I know, baby,” he said, his voice softer now, the warmth of it cutting right through your frustration. “I know.”

You exhaled sharply. “She was touching you.” Jungkook let out a low chuckle, rubbing his temple. “I literally had no idea she was flirting.”

“You never do.”

That earned you a grin. Jungkook tilted his head slightly, leaning down just enough that his nose nearly brushed yours. His eyes locked onto yours with a familiar fondness. “But you do.” His voice was teasing, but there was something else there too. Something softer. Something that made your breath catch, just a little.

You scowled, but he just wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Jealous?” he teased. You scoffed. 

His smile turned fond. “Cute.” You smacked his chest. “Shut up.” 

Jungkook barely flinched at the hit, his grin only widening. He tightened his hold around your waist, pulling you in until there was hardly any space left between you. “That’s not a no,” he murmured, his voice dipping just enough to make your stomach flutter. You narrowed your eyes, tilting your chin up defiantly. “I wasn’t jealous.”

Jungkook hummed, unconvinced. His fingers skimmed over the small of your back, the touch light but deliberate. “Mhm. Sure.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “She was unprofessional.”

“True.”

“And disrespectful.”

“Very.”

“And her eyeliner was uneven.”

Jungkook snorted, finally breaking into a full laugh. “Okay, now you’re just being mean.” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but the way he was looking at you, like you were the most amusing thing in the world made your face heat up. His laughter faded into something softer, something unbearably fond. “You know you’re cute when you’re all worked up, right?”

You scowled, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I said shut up.” Jungkook grinned, catching your hand with ease before lacing his fingers through yours. “Make me.”

Your breath hitched. His gaze flickered to your lips for the briefest second, and suddenly, the air between you shifted—

“You guys done with the tattoo already?”

A loud, familiar voice shattered the moment like glass hitting the pavement.

Both you and Jungkook turned your heads in unison, only to find Jin standing a few feet away, looking between the two of you with an expression far too amused for your liking. Jungkook groaned, running a hand down his face. “Hyung, seriously?”

Jin blinked. “What? I was just asking.” His gaze flickered over Jungkook’s arm, eyes narrowing as he took in the faint ink lines still marking his skin—the rough sketch of the tattoo, untouched by the needle. His brows furrowed.

“Wait. You didn’t actually get it done?”

Jungkook huffed, crossing his arms. “No. Because the tattooo artist was too busy flirting with me.”

Jin’s face twisted in confusion. “Huh?”

You, still somewhat bristling from the whole ordeal, rolled your eyes. “She was all over him. Barely even looked at his designs before trying to eye-fuck him.” JIn’s jaw dropped. “Wait, are you serious?”

Jungkook nodded, his expression flat. “Dead serious.” Jin winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn. I had no idea she was like that.”

At least he had the decency to look sorry. 

Jin sighed, rubbing his temple dramatically. “Alright, fine. Since I unknowingly threw you both into the lion’s den, I owe you.” He clapped his hands together. “Lunch is on me.” Jungkook raised a brow. “You? Paying for food? Willingly?”

Jin scoffed. “I can be generous, you know.”

You snorted. “That’s new.”

Jin ignored you. “Come on, let’s eat. My treat. Think of it as compensation for the mess I accidentally dropped you into.”

Jungkook hummed, pretending to consider. “I mean… if you’re paying, I’m definitely ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”

Jin rolled his eyes. “As if you wouldn’t do that anyway.”

Jungkook just grinned. “True.”

You laughed, your earlier irritation melting away. “Alright, fine. You’re forgiven. But only if I get to pick the place.” Jin groaned. “Why do I feel like I’m about to regret this?” Jungkook laced his fingers through yours, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Because you probably will.”

Jin sighed but motioned for you both to follow. “Hurry up before I change my mind.” With that, the three of you headed off, leaving the unpleasant encounter behind in favor of good food.

Nari leaned against the counter, arms folded tight as she glared out the shop’s large window. Outside, you stood near the curb, your gaze fixed on Jungkook and Jin as they chatted. You weren’t speaking, just watching with that quiet, unreadable expression. But somehow, that made Nari even angrier.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.

“What is?”

The question came lazily from the man who had just strolled up beside her. He shook out his wrists after finishing with his last client, pulling off his gloves and tossing them into the trash. His attention remained casual, uninterested until Nari gestured toward the window with a sharp tilt of her chin.

“Her.”

His eyes followed her gaze. His posture was still loose, still easygoing until he saw you. For the briefest moment, his entire body went rigid. His casual demeanor cracked, just slightly, before he smoothed it over with a slow smirk.

“Huh.”

Nari, oblivious to the shift, let out a scoff. “She threw a whole fit because I was being nice to her boyfriend. Completely embarrassed me in front of him and acted all possessive, like I was some kind of threat.” She tapped her nails against the counter, still glaring at you through the window. “And now, thanks to her little tantrum, he refuses to get his tattoo done here.”

The man hummed, tilting his head. “Jealous girlfriend type, huh?”

“Exactly.” Nari huffed before turning to him with a slow, calculating smile. “You’re good at handling people, right?” He lifted a brow. “Depends on what you mean by ‘handling.’”

She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Do you think you could… I don’t know, do something about her? Save Jungkook from her?” For a moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze flicked back toward the window, settling this time on Jungkook himself.

And just like that, his smirk thinned.

Jungkook stood beside Jin, hands in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he listened to whatever Jin was rambling about. But every so often, his attention shifted to you. The way his fingers brushed absently over your back, the way his expression softened whenever he glanced your way, like keeping you close was second nature.

The man’s fingers curled into a fist. “Figures,” he muttered under his breath.

Nari frowned. “You know him?” A sharp exhale. A shake of his head. “Not personally. But I know of him.”

She perked up at that, her curiosity piqued. “Oh?”

His tongue ran over his teeth, jaw working as he leaned against the counter. When he spoke again, his smirk had returned but there was nothing amused about it. “Let’s just say… I have unfinished business with her.”

Nari blinked at that, lips parting slightly as she took in the underlying venom in his tone. Then, as if catching on, she let out a slow, delighted hum. “Well then,” she murmured, turning back to the window, watching you through narrowed eyes. “Wouldn’t it be fun to mess with her a little?”

His gaze never left you. He watched as Jungkook reached out, tugging the sleeve of your jacket into place with an unconscious sort of familiarity, the kind that spoke of years spent together.

The kind of familiarity that should have been his.

The corner of his lips lifted, the smirk sharpening into something colder. “Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was smooth and teasing, laced with something far more sinister.

“I’d love to.”

You groggily blink your eyes open, immediately regretting it as the soft glow of the morning filters through your curtains. Too bright. Too early. Too… awake. You bury your face into your pillow, grumbling incoherently, unwilling to leave the comforting warmth of your bed. It’s Sunday. A day meant for sleeping in, doing absolutely nothing, and ignoring all responsibilities.

Then, you feel it—the weight of an arm loosely draped over your waist, the warmth seeping through your thin shirt. Your sleep-addled brain takes a moment to process before it clicks. Jungkook.

Right. He stayed over last night.

A sleepy sigh escapes your lips as you shift slightly, pressing closer to his warmth. His scent lingers on your sheets, wrapping around you like a second blanket. You peek up, still half-asleep, and catch the sight of him lying beside you, propped up on one elbow, his phone held in his free hand. The soft glow of the screen illuminates his face, casting delicate shadows over his sharp jawline. He’s already awake, completely engrossed in whatever he’s scrolling through.

Too awake for your liking.

“Five more minutes,” you mumble sleepily, voice muffled against the pillow. Your words slur together, more of a plea than a statement, as you instinctively nuzzle into Jungkook’s chest, seeking warmth.

A deep chuckle rumbles from him, low and fond, the kind that makes your heart squeeze without permission. His arm tightens around you in response, fingers lazily tracing light circles against your back. “Five more minutes? Baby, you said that like… an hour ago.”

You don’t respond, only snuggling deeper into his embrace, fully intent on ignoring him. Jungkook exhales dramatically, an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. “You’re gonna sleep the whole day away.”

“That’s the plan.”

“You’re literally wasting the morning.”

“Mm,” you hum noncommittally. “Not wasting if I’m warm and comfortable.” Jungkook pokes your cheek, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tries to stir you. “C’mon, let’s go out. We could get breakfast, maybe go on a walk—”

“No.” You blindly swat his hand away.

Jungkook groans, flopping onto his back in frustration. “Why did I fall for someone lazier than me?” You crack one eye open, just enough to see his pout. Smirking, you shift slightly and mumble into the pillow, “Because I’m cute.”

Jungkook huffs. “…I mean, yeah, but that’s not the point.”

Jungkook finally manages to wrangle you out of bed—a feat that takes a ridiculous amount of whining, bribing, and sheer force of will. He practically drags you across the apartment, his grip firm around your wrist, ignoring every single one of your grumbles and half-hearted protests.

“You are,” you mumble as he steers you into the kitchen, “the absolute worst.” Jungkook snorts, already rummaging through the cabinets for coffee beans. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to let you rot in bed for eternity?”

“Yes.”

Jungkook ignores you, expertly working the coffee machine like a man on a mission. You slump against the counter, still half-asleep, head lolling dramatically to the side as you watch him move around like an overly energetic golden retriever. Then, your phone buzzes on the counter. You lazily glance at the screen, skimming the weather forecast—

Rain incoming.

Your spine straightens, sleepiness vanishing in an instant as you whip your phone up to show Jungkook, shoving the screen in his face with an almost evil sort of glee. “Oh no~” you sing-song, tone dripping with faux disappointment. “Looks like we can’t go out.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow as he squints at the screen, reading the forecast. His expression quickly morphs from mild confusion to full-blown horror. “…It wasn’t supposed to rain today,” he says slowly, almost like he can will the reality away.

“Guess we have to stay in.” You sigh dramatically, clutching your chest like it pains you. “Damn. What a shame.”

Jungkook groans, slumping against the counter like his entire soul has left his body. His dreams of a fun, eventful day were shattered. “You’re lying,” he accuses weakly. “This is a personal attack.”

You shake your head, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “I don’t control the weather, baby.”

Jungkook glares. “But if you could, you’d make it rain every day, wouldn’t you?” A smirk tugs at your lips. “Absolutely.”

Jungkook throws his head back with a dramatic, suffering groan, sliding down the counter like a man defeated. You watch him in amusement, lifting the coffee cup he had just made for himself and taking a slow, satisfied sip. The moment the taste hits your tongue, Jungkook’s entire body snaps upright.

He watches, utterly betrayed, as you lower the cup with a pleased hum.

“…Did you just steal my coffee?”

You blink at him, all innocence. “You made this for me, didn’t you?”

Jungkook scoffs, expression scandalized. “No! I made it for me!”

You shrug, taking another sip as you meet his glare with zero remorse. “Tastes great, babe. Thanks.”

Jungkook clutches his chest like you’ve personally wounded him. “You’re the actual worst.”

“And yet,” you hum, leaning against the counter with a satisfied smirk, “here you are, hopelessly in love with me.”

Jungkook stares at you for a long second, lips pursed. Then, without warning, he lunges. You yelp as he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you with ridiculous ease and tossing you over his shoulder.

“JUNGKOOK—”

“NOPE,” he interrupts, already marching towards the living room. “If I can’t have fun outside, I’m gonna make you suffer with me inside.” You kick your feet uselessly, fists pounding against his back as he effortlessly carries you away. “Put me down, you muscle bunny!”

Jungkook only laughs, completely unfazed, before spinning on his heel and tossing you onto the couch like you weigh nothing. You land with a soft ‘oof,’ bouncing slightly against the cushions as he flops down beside you, stretching out like a starfish. “You are so dramatic,” you grumble, attempting to shove him away with your foot.

Jungkook just grins, easily catching your ankle and tugging you closer instead. “And yet, you love me anyway.”

You huff, too lazy to argue.

Before you can protest further, he shifts, rolling onto his side and resting his head comfortably on your lap. His eyes flutter shut almost instantly, his breath evening out as he settles in like he belongs there. At first, you stiffen, but as the seconds pass, your fingers instinctively weave through his soft, dark hair. You barely even realize you’re doing it, the motion coming as naturally as breathing.

Jungkook hums at the feeling, half-conscious, but content. His face is completely relaxed and unguarded in a way that makes your chest ache. He looked so soft like this. So warm. So… safe. And something deep inside you just melts.

Your fingers slow, combing gently through the strands, nails lightly scratching his scalp. A soft scowl tugs at your lips. Because this? This is a version of Jungkook you’d fight the entire world to protect.

Jungkook must feel your gaze because, after a moment, he cracks one eye open and peeks up at you. “You’re staring,” he murmurs, voice still laced with sleep. You blink, quickly masking your expression with a huff. To cover up the warmth creeping up your neck, you flick his forehead. “Just making sure you’re still breathing.”

Jungkook snickers, stretching lazily. “Aww, are you worried about me?”

You cross your arms, unimpressed. “Obviously. You’re fragile.”

Jungkook immediately bursts out laughing, full-bodied and carefree, his entire frame shaking against your lap. “Me? Fragile? Baby, I could bench press you.”

You roll your eyes, completely unfazed. “Yeah, well, I could stab someone for you.”

Jungkook’s laughter dies instantly. His eyes widen slightly, blinking up at you as if processing your words. Then, ever so slowly, a grin spreads across his face.

“…Okay, that’s really hot.”

You scoff, flicking his forehead again. “Pervert.”

Jungkook just smirks, completely shameless. “What can I say? I like my girlfriend a little unhinged.” You roll your eyes, but before you can retort, a deep rumble of thunder echoes outside.

Jungkook groans, throwing an arm over his face. “Great. So we really are stuck inside all day.”

You don’t even bother hiding your glee. “Tragic.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Jungkook shifts, burying his face into your stomach like a sulking puppy. You try to shove him off, but he only clings harder, grumbling nonsense against your his hoodie.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, fingers idly threading through his hair again. Eventually, he shifts, lifting his head to look at you properly. His expression softens laced with something so fond it makes your breath hitch. He doesn’t say anything. Just laces his fingers through yours, absentmindedly tracing patterns against your palm.

Then, suddenly there's a sharp poke to your side and you jolt with a squawk, trying to wiggle away. “Jungkook!” He grins, eyes twinkling with mischief. “If we’re staying in, we should do something.”

You glare at him, still half-prepared to smack him upside the head. “Like what?”

His smirk deepens. “You know exactly what.” For a second, you just stare at him. He stares back.Then, without breaking eye contact—he grabs the game controllers.

Jungkook’s sunshine boyfriend energy disappears the second the race countdown starts. Gone is the sweet, cuddly man who had been wrapped around you like a koala just minutes ago, now, he’s leaning forward, brows furrowed, fully in the zone.

“Loser does the dishes in both apartments,” he announces, rolling his shoulders like he’s prepping for war. You scoff, cracking your knuckles for dramatic effect. “You’re about to regret that.”

The moment Lakitu drops the starting light, Jungkook launches forward like he’s been possessed by the spirit of every pro gamer ever. Meanwhile, you barely get past the first turn without slamming into the barrier. You spam every single item box you can get your hands on, determined to take him down with sheer pettiness if not skill.

Then there’s a miracle. Jungkook is just about to cross the finish line when you hit him with a perfectly timed blue shell.

BOOM.

His character spirals into the air, crashing down just inches from victory. You zoom past him at the last second.

“IN YOUR FACE, JEON.” You throw your arms up like you just won an Olympic gold medal. Jungkook stares at the screen in stunned silence. Then, slowly he turns to you. You suddenly get the feeling you’ve made a terrible mistake.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, cracking his knuckles. “No more playing nice.”

The next race starts and you get absolutely destroyed.

Jungkook goes full demon mode, drifting around corners with terrifying precision, dodging every single attack like he can see the future. He launches red shells, banana peels, lightning bolts— you don’t even know how he’s getting this many power-ups.

It’s a massacre. One round. Two rounds. Three. You lose every single one. By the end, your controller is nearly embedded into your palm from how tightly you’re gripping it. Jungkook, on the other hand, is lounging back against the couch, arms stretched behind his head, smug as hell.

He tilts his head, smirking. “Do you yield?”

You scowl. “I hope you step on a Lego.”

Jungkook just laughs, grabbing your wrist and yanking you into his lap before you can escape. The controllers are discarded, forgotten as you end up tangled together on the couch. His arms snake around your waist, holding you in place as you halfheartedly struggle.

Then—he boops your nose.

You blink. Once. Twice. Then groan, flopping dramatically against his chest. “I take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about you.”

Jungkook only hums, smug and unbothered. “Even though you lost, I still think you’re the cutest.”

You smack his arm. “I will actually fight you.”

“Mm. As long as it’s not in Mario Kart, I like my chances.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzes against the coffee table, the vibration cutting through the comfortable silence. He lazily reaches for it, glancing at the screen. His brows knit together for a second before his face smooths over into a grin.

“Oh, my mom’s planning a family dinner. She wants you to come.”

You, mid-sip of your newly-made coffee, nearly choke.

“…Huh?”

Jungkook tilts his head, amused. “What? You act like this is the first time she’s invited you.”

You pause, tapping your fingers against the cup. His family liked you. You knew that. His mom always sent you home with extra food whenever you visited, and his dad made it a point to tease Jungkook about “finally settling down” whenever you were around. Jungkook leans closer, watching you expectantly. “So? You’ll come?”

You exhale dramatically, pretending to be deep in thought. “…Maybe.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes. “Maybe?”

You smirk. “I’ll go on one condition.”

He leans in even more, suspicious. “What?”

You set your cup down with a slow, deliberate motion. Then you look him dead in the eye. “…Admit that I’m better at games.”

Jungkook snorts. “Not happening.”

You grin. “Then I’m not coming.”

Jungkook blinks. Then, before you can react, he pounces.

“YOU’RE COMING.”

“JUNGKOOK—”

You barely have time to throw your drink onto the table before he tackles you down onto the couch, arms caging you in as he buries his face into your neck. His weight presses you into the cushions, his laughter muffled against your skin.

“You little brat,” he mutters, nuzzling into you. You squirm, but he’s relentless, peppering lazy kisses against your jaw just to distract you.

“Say you’ll come,” he murmurs, voice laced with amusement.

“Say I’m better.”

Jungkook grins against your neck. “Hmm. How about this—you come to dinner, and I’ll let you win next time.” You gasp, shoving at his chest. “Let me win?!”

His laughter shakes both of you, but he doesn’t budge. “I’m trying to be generous, baby.”

“Jungkook, I swear—”

The argument quickly devolves into a mess of tangled limbs and laughter, neither of you backing down. Jungkook is still half on top of you, his arms lazily wrapped around your waist, completely unwilling to let you escape. His warmth seeps into you, making it harder to even think about moving. You sigh, dramatically slumping against the couch cushions. “Fine. I’ll go to dinner.”

Jungkook’s head snaps up instantly. “Really?”

You roll your eyes, poking his cheek. “Yeah, yeah. But I’m expecting VIP treatment.”

Jungkook grins, wide and bright, before leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “Deal.”

Outside, the rain picks up, sheets of water blurring the world beyond the glass. The streetlights flicker, their glow reflecting off the puddles collecting on the pavement. But just beyond the window, Neither of you notice the figure standing on the balcony of the building across the street a dark silhouette barely visible through the downpour.

He watches. He waits.

The overhead lights in your office cast a dim, sterile glow, humming softly in the near silence. The usual buzz of the workplace has long since faded, leaving only the occasional click of your keyboard and the distant sound of the air conditioning whirring. You rub your tired eyes, exhaustion settling deep in your bones as you scroll through the last few emails of the day.

Just as you’re about to tackle the next document in your never-ending pile, your phone vibrates against your desk, the soft buzz cutting through the quiet. You glance at the screen, and a familiar name lights up:

Kook 🐰💜 [6:15 PM]: Still working? Kook 🐰💜 [6:15 PM]: Come over after work?

A small smile tugs at your lips despite the fatigue weighing on you. You reach for your phone, letting your gaze drift to the towering stack of documents beside you before sighing. There’s no way you’re finishing up anytime soon. With a resigned exhale, you type out a response.

You [6:16 PM]: Working overtime. I’ll text when I’m done.

His reply comes almost instantly, as if he’d been waiting for your response.

Kook 🐰💜 [6:16 PM]: It’s late. Want me to pick you up?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a second before you shake your head, rolling your eyes fondly. It wasn’t like you weren’t capable of getting home on your own. The walk to your apartment was barely ten minutes, and you’d done it countless times before without issue. You hated the idea of relying too much on someone else, even if that someone was Jungkook. He was always eager to drop everything for you, to take on your burdens like they were his own, and while a part of you adored that about him, another part resisted it. You never wanted to feel like you needed saving. You could handle yourself.

You [6:16 PM]: I’m fine. My apartment’s nearby, remember?

There’s a brief pause before his next message comes through.

Kook 🐰💜[6:18 PM]: At least text me when you’re home.

You bite back a smile, shaking your head.

You [6:18 PM]: Yes, yes, Mr. Protective. 

A second later, your screen lights up again with a message that’s nothing but a row of emojis. You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head as you set your phone down. Stretching your arms over your head, you glance back at the unfinished work in front of you. The night is far from over, and exhaustion lingers in your limbs, but you push through.

Two hours later, the office is nearly deserted. Rows of empty desks stretch out before you, their monitors dark, abandoned by coworkers who were lucky enough to call it a day. Somewhere in the distance, the faint murmur of a janitor echoes through the halls, a quiet reminder that you’re not entirely alone. Still, the stillness feels heavy, pressing against your shoulders as you rub your tired eyes and blink at your laptop screen.

“Still here?”

The familiar voice startles you, pulling you from your work-induced daze. You look up to see Jimin standing by your desk, a bag slung over his shoulder and an amused expression on his face.

You let out a sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Unfortunately.”

He crosses his arms, leaning casually against the cubicle wall. “Overtime?”

“Yeah.” You stretch your stiff fingers before clicking through your files. “Trying to get ahead of things since I’m taking a day off for Jungkook’s family dinner.”

Jimin raises a brow, clearly holding back a smirk. “You? Taking a day off? Who are you, and what have you done with my workaholic friend?”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “It’s one day, Park.”

“Still. Didn’t think you’d willingly take time off for a boyfriend’s family event.”

You shrug, shifting your attention back to your laptop. “I’m being a supportive partner. And also avoiding Jungkook’s pout if I don’t go.”

Jimin chuckles. “Yeah, that tracks.” He checks his watch, then nods toward the exit. “Well, it’s already past eight. I can drop you off—my car’s in the basement.”

You pause for half a second, tempted. It would be easy, safe. A quick ride home without having to walk through the dark streets alone. But something in you resists. You’ve always prided yourself on being independent, on handling things yourself. You weren’t about to start needing an escort home like some helpless protagonist in a thriller movie. Besides, your apartment wasn’t far, and you could take care of yourself just fine.

You shake your head. “I’ve still got work left. Need to refine a client presentation before tomorrow.”

Jimin frowns, clearly debating whether to push the issue. “You sure? I don’t mind waiting.”

You give him a small, reassuring smile. “Go home, Jimin. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitates for a moment longer before exhaling in defeat. “Alright. Text me when you get home, yeah?”

“I will.”

Satisfied, he ruffles your hair in a way that makes you swat at him, laughing as he dodges your weak attempt at retaliation. “Night, workaholic,” he teases before heading out, his footsteps fading down the hall.

And just like that, you’re alone again, the dim glow of your laptop screen casting long shadows across your desk. 

It’s nearing eleven o'clock by the time you finally leave the office, exhaustion pressing down on your shoulders like a weight you can’t shake. The automatic doors slide shut behind you, sealing the building in eerie silence. Outside, the streets stretch before you, quieter than usual, the world dipped in shades of silver and black under the dim glow of the streetlights.

The scent of rain lingers in the air, damp and heavy, even though the drizzle had stopped hours ago. The pavement glistens under the flickering glow of streetlights, reflecting the distorted shapes of the empty road ahead. A chilly breeze whispers through the deserted streets, curling around your skin like invisible fingers. You shiver, tugging your coat tighter around you, telling yourself it’s just the cold. You exhale slowly, watching your breath fog in the night air, and begin your walk home. It’s not far—barely a ten-minute walk. You’ve done this route countless times before. It should feel familiar. Safe.

But tonight… something feels off.

At first, it’s just a small shift in the air, a faint prickle at the back of your neck that strange, creeping sensation of being watched. It crawls up your spine, makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

You shake it off, adjusting the strap of your bag. You’re just tired. Paranoid. That’s all. The streets are always eerie this late of course they are. There’s no one around, just the distant hum of traffic blocks away, the occasional flicker of a neon sign from a closed shop. But then when you’re halfway home, just as you pass the turn near the old bookstore you hear it.

A faint, subtle sound, a footstep, echoes just a second too late after your own. Your breath catches in your throat as you freeze, and the sound stops too. The silence is suffocating, pressing in from all sides. Slowly, so painfully slowly, you turn to glance behind you. 

Nothing.

Just an empty sidewalk, stretched too long and too dark behind you. The streetlights buzz faintly, their glow flickering, casting strange, distorted shadows on the wet pavement. Your own heartbeat pounds against your ribs, a heavy drumbeat in the stillness. You swallow, trying to shake the feeling creeping under your skin. You’re imagining things. You have to be. The city is full of noises like cars in the distance, leaves rustling, a stray cat darting between alleyways. That’s all it is.

Still… your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag as you push forward, steps quicker now. But the feeling doesn’t go away. It lingers. Pressing against your skin like static, buzzing at the edge of your awareness. You’re not alone.

You almost pull out your phone. Almost. Jungkook would pick up in an instant and he’d tell you to stay on the line, that he was coming to get you. But you don’t.

Because what would you even say? Hey, I think I’m being followed, but I’m not sure, and I don’t want to sound like an idiot? No way. Jungkook would freak out, and you weren’t about to send him into a panic over something that was probably nothing. So instead, you pick up your pace, each step sharper, more urgent. The streetlights above seem dimmer now, their glow barely cutting through the shadows pooling at the edges of the road.

Your building is just a few turns away. You make it past the first one, then the second. Then you hear it again—not just a sound this time, but a shift, a presence. Someone is there. Your heart hammers as you whip around faster this time. 

Nothing.

Your own shadow stretches long on the pavement, its shape warping under the flickering lights. The alleyway to your right is yawning and dark, a gaping mouth of blackness that seems to pull at the edges of your vision. Your pulse is a thunderous roar in your ears.

You’re not imagining this. This is real.

And now, your body knows it too and every instinct is screaming at you to move. So you do.

You rush forward, walking as fast as you can without breaking into a sprint. Your breath quickens, your fingers curling into fists, every nerve in your body on high alert. Just a little further. Just one more turn.

And then finally your apartment building comes into view, looming in the darkness like a beacon. Relief crashes over you so forcefully that you nearly stumble. You don’t turn around again. You don’t want to know if someone is standing there. Watching.

You force yourself to stay calm as you punch in the building’s entry code with unsteady fingers, stepping inside the safety of the lobby. The door shuts behind you with a heavy click, locking out the night.

You practically rush inside, the cool air of the lobby offering little comfort as your fingers tremble over the keypad. Your breath is shallow, coming in uneven gasps as you punch in your passcode. The numbers blur slightly in your vision, whether from exhaustion or the lingering tension clawing at your mind, you’re not sure. The beep of the lock disengaging feels deafening in the stillness. You push the door open, stepping inside so quickly that you nearly stumble over your own feet. The door swings shut behind you with a soft but final click, sealing you in the safety of your apartment. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

For a moment, you just stand there, listening. Nothing but the hum of your refrigerator, the faint creak of the building settling, and the sound of your own breathing, ragged and uneven in the silence. You don’t stop moving until every lock is in place.

Click. Click. Click.

Each one echoes louder than it should, like an affirmation that you are, in fact, secure. That no one followed you. That no one is outside, waiting. Still, the unease gnaws at you, refusing to settle. So, you make your rounds. Checking. Double-checking. Triple-checking.

You pull the curtains shut, firmly, ensuring no sliver of the outside world can seep in. You check the windows next, pressing your fingers against the glass, as if expecting to feel warmth from another presence, a breath on the other side. But there’s nothing. No shadow moving in the darkness, no faint imprint of something or someone having been there.

Finally, with a deep breath, you force yourself to move, shedding your coat, kicking off your shoes with sluggish movements. The exhaustion from the long day crashes down on you all at once, dull and heavy. Your limbs feel leaden as you shuffle toward your bedroom, every step slower than the last.

The warmth of your bed is almost enough to chase away the unease, the mattress soft, inviting and safe a stark contrast to the cold anxiety curling at the edges of your consciousness. You exhale, forcing yourself to relax, letting your body sink into the familiar comfort of your sheets.

But even as your eyes grow heavy, your mind refuses to let go completely. That nagging sense of being watched still lingers. Faint but present. And just before sleep claims you, a final thought slithers through your mind.

What if you weren’t imagining it? What if someone was still out there? Watching. Waiting.

Jungkook drives with effortless ease, one hand lazily gripping the steering wheel while the other taps against the radio in rhythm with the song playing softly through the speakers. The hum of the engine blends with the melody, filling the quiet space between you, neither of you needing to speak. The road stretches ahead, endless and open, disappearing into the horizon. A faint trace of salt lingers in the air, creeping in through the half-open window, a quiet reminder that you’re getting closer to Busan.

You sit in the passenger seat, your gaze flickering between the blur of passing scenery and the man beside you. The steady motion of the car, the warmth of the moment, it all feels oddly soothing. After days of unease, of tension wound so tightly in your body that even sleep felt like a battle, you finally feel yourself exhale.

“Can’t believe you actually agreed to take a day off for me,” Jungkook teases, his grin nothing short of triumphant as he spares you a glance. “Is this what love does to people?”

You roll your eyes, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “One time, Jeon. Don’t get used to it.”

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head like he doesn’t believe you for a second. His smile spreads wide, bright enough to make your chest ache with something unspoken. He reaches over without hesitation, his fingers giving your knee a playful squeeze before returning to the wheel. The touch is fleeting but warm, grounding in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

You should tell him.

The past few days have been unbearable due to the creeping paranoia, the feeling of eyes tracing your every move and the subtle shifts in your apartment that made your skin crawl. It’s like living with a shadow just out of reach, something you can’t see but can feel pressing in from the edges. You don’t scare easily, but this has been different.

Your fingers twitch against your lap. One word. That’s all it would take. Jungkook would listen like he always does. He’d furrow his brows, tilt his head in that concerned way he does, and tell you not to brush it off. He’d probably get all worked up, insist on staying over, refuse to let you out of his sight.

And yet, looking at him now being so carefree, his bunny-like smile tugging at his lips as he taps his fingers against the beat makes you hesitate. He’s happy. Peaceful. This moment is untouched by the weight sitting on your chest, and for once, you don’t want to taint something good.

So you take a slow breath, forcing yourself to relax against the seat. You tell yourself it’s fine. That you’re just being paranoid. That if anything truly happens, you’ll deal with it.

You exhaled slowly, willing yourself to stay in the present, to focus on the soft hum of the radio, the rhythmic tap of Jungkook’s fingers against the steering wheel. But the memory pulled at you, dragging you under before you could stop it—

You had come home after another long day at work. Your shoulders were aching from hours spent hunched over your desk. You had barely registered the familiar scent of your apartment as you pushed the door open, the soft creak echoing into the stillness inside.

Everything had looked normal at first.

Your shoes sat neatly by the entrance, exactly where you had left them. The kitchen counter was cluttered with the remnants of that morning’s rushed breakfast.

But the air had felt… different. Slightly off. As if someone had been there. Your heartbeat had stumbled, picking up speed before you could rationalize it. You had told yourself it was nothing. Just the exhaustion making you paranoid.

And yet, as you had stepped further inside, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The sound was the first thing that struck you. Cheerful, repetitive, out of place.

Your TV was on.

Not just on but playing Mario Kart. The character selection screen looped in the background, the upbeat jingle clashing against the heavy silence that filled your apartment. You hadn’t touched your console in days. Not since you and Jungkook played together last Sunday. Your pulse quickened.

Your eyes flickered to the couch. It had been moved just slightly. Barely an inch out of place, but enough for you to notice.

A slow, creeping unease settled into your bones as you stepped further inside, your movements cautious. Your apartment wasn’t large. There weren’t many places for someone to hide. And yet, your skin prickled with the overwhelming sensation that something or someone had been here.

Your breath hitched as your gaze fell on your bedroom door, slightly ajar. You had closed it that morning. You were sure of it. With measured steps, you pushed the door open fully. And that’s when you saw it.

Your bed—completely in ruins. The sheets were tangled, pillows tossed carelessly, the once-smooth blankets now bunched in the center as if someone had been lying there. Your stomach twisted with unease because this morning, just before leaving for work, you had made your bed. Yet now, the sheets were rumpled, disturbed in a way that sent a chill crawling up your spine. Someone had been here.

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you took a shaky step back, your eyes darting around the room. Everything looked normal aside from the bed, the couch and the TV but the air felt wrong. Tainted. Like someone had occupied this space in your absence.

Your mind raced as you checked the locks. Still in place. No broken windows. No signs of forced entry.

So how— Your breath hitched as a thought struck you. With trembling fingers, you grabbed your phone and immediately dialed Jungkook. He picked up after a few rings, his voice slightly breathless, like he had been running. “Hey, baby. Everything okay?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, gripping the phone tightly. “Yeah,” you lied, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Where are you right now?”

"Still at the clinic," he answered easily. "Was assisting with a surgery on a Pomeranian. Poor guy had a blockage so it took longer than expected." Your stomach dropped.

If Jungkook wasn’t here… then who was?

Your fingers curled around your phone, knuckles whitening as you fought to keep your breathing even. “Got it,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Just checking.” There was a pause. Then, Jungkook’s tone softened. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Another lie. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before he could press further, you ended the call.

The only sound left was the distant loop of Mario Kart, mocking you.

The weight of the memory lingered, suffocating, but the warmth of the car, the low hum of the radio, and Jungkook’s familiar presence slowly pulled you back. You blinked, staring at him.

Jungkook was happily rambling about his mom’s cooking, hands moving animatedly as he drove. “—and she always makes extra, like extra extra, because she knows I eat a lot. But now she’s even more excited since you’re coming—oh! She even tried making those cookies you love—”

His voice was light, full of an excitement you didn’t want to taint. A small part of you wanted to tell him. But another part, the part that didn’t want to see that deep crease of concern on his forehead, didn’t want to take away his peace, told you to keep it to yourself. For now.

You turned your head, looking out the window, watching the scenery blur past. You didn’t notice the way Jungkook’s eyes flickered toward you, his brows knitting together for just a moment before he forced his usual smile back onto his face.

Jungkook pulled into the driveway, parking with practiced ease. You had been here more times than you could count, yet there was always something comforting about stepping into his childhood home like the faint scent of home-cooked meals wafting through the air and the familiar sight of the wind chime swaying gently by the door.  

Jungkook turned to you with a grin, one hand still resting on the steering wheel. “Mom probably made enough food to feed a small army.”  

You chuckled, already knowing that was true. “She always does.”  

Before you could even step out of the car, the front door swung open, revealing his mom waving enthusiastically. “You’re finally here! Hurry, come in before the food gets cold!” His mom pulled you into a hug the second you stepped inside, squeezing you tight.

“You’ve lost weight,” she huffed, pulling back just enough to inspect you with a critical eye. “Are you eating properly?”

Jungkook groaned beside you, already exasperated. “She’s fine, Mom.”

You laughed, but before you could respond, his dad stepped forward with a warm smile, offering a firm handshake. “It’s good to see you again,” he said, his voice as steady and kind as ever.

“It’s good to see you too, Mr. Jeon,” you replied politely. “Mrs. Jeon, thank you for having me—”

Before you could finish, his mom smacked your arm lightly, her expression scandalized. “Yah! How many times do I have to tell you? It’s Mom and Dad.”

Your face heated instantly. “R-Right. Sorry… Mom.”

Jungkook snickered under his breath at your obvious embarrassment, and his mom beamed, clearly pleased. “That’s better,” she said, linking her arm with yours as she led you further inside. “You’re family, sweetheart. No need for formalities.”

The house smelled incredible of rich simmering broth and freshly cooked rice. The warmth of it all settled deep in your chest, making you realize just how much you had missed this. As you stepped into the living room, your gaze landed on a few baby toys scattered near the couch, a soft blanket draped over the armrest. Before you could ask, his mom sighed.

“Junghyun and his wife wanted to come with the twins, but the girls were too fussy today.”

Jungkook pouted dramatically, crossing his arms. “I still haven’t met my nieces.”

His mom shook her head, unimpressed. “You could visit them, you know.”

“I will,” Jungkook mumbled, already defeated. “Just… eventually.”

The dining table was packed with dishes his mom had gone all out, as always. Various side dishes, steaming hot soup, perfectly grilled meat, and a mountain of rice sat invitingly before you. It was a feast, one you had grown familiar with over the years, yet it never failed to impress you. Before you could even reach for anything, Jungkook was already piling food onto your plate, stacking it with precision. “Eat,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You know the rules.”

His mom beamed, clearly pleased. “At least someone in this house listens to me.”

You chuckled, picking up your chopsticks, but the moment was shattered when your phone lit up beside your plate, vibrating with an insistent ping. You glanced down, your stomach twisting into a knot.

Your pulse quickened. The messages came one after the other.

Unknown [1:10 PM]: You think you can stay safe by staying away from here? Unknown [1:10 PM]: You think he’s gonna save you? Unknown [1:10 PM]: I am always watching you, doll.

Your breath hitched. Cold fingers of unease crawled up your spine, but you forced yourself to stay composed. Your hands thankfully didn’t shake as you turned your phone upside down and set it to silent. Jungkook had noticed. His gaze flickered to the screen before you flipped it over, his brows knitting together in quiet concern. He looked like he wanted to ask, but you didn’t give him the chance.

The vibration had caught his parents’ attention too. “Oh dear, is that work?” his mom asked, concern lacing her voice.

“Yeah,” you lied smoothly, forcing a small smile. “Just some messages I need to deal with later.”

You weren’t sure if Jungkook believed you, but he didn’t press. Instead, he reached out under the table, squeezing your knee reassuringly before focusing back on his food. You tried to do the same, pushing down the paranoia clawing at your chest.

Dinner flowed with easy conversation. His parents asked about your work, laughing when Jungkook grumbled about how much time it took away from him. They also teased him relentlessly about how attached he was to you.

“Three years, and he still acts like you’re going to disappear if he looks away,” his dad joked, shaking his head fondly.

You snickered, nudging Jungkook’s foot under the table.

But Jungkook just shrugged, completely unbothered. “Can you blame me?” he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Dinner continued with warmth and laughter, his parents seamlessly shifting the conversation to Jungkook’s studies.

“So, how’s school going?” his dad asked, scooping some more rice onto his plate. “Third year already, huh? Feels like just yesterday you were running around pretending to be a zookeeper.” Jungkook groaned. “Dad.”

His mom chuckled. “What? You were obsessed with animals. You even tried to ‘rescue’ the neighbor’s cat by sneaking it into your room.”

You gasped dramatically, turning to Jungkook. “Wait, I didn’t know about this!”

Jungkook sighed, shoving a bite of food into his mouth like he could physically escape the conversation. “That was years ago.”

His dad laughed. “And now look at you, halfway to becoming a real vet.”

“Not halfway,” Jungkook corrected between bites. “But yeah, it’s been tough. Classes are intense, and the practicals are even harder. Two days ago, I had to assist with a surgery, and let’s just say I wasn’t prepared for how long it would take.”

His mom’s eyes softened with pride. “You’ll be amazing, sweetheart. You’ve always had such a big heart for animals.”

Jungkook ducked his head, ears tinged pink. You smiled, nudging his foot under the table again. “She’s right, you know. You’re going to be an incredible vet.”

Jungkook glanced at you, his bunny-like smile appearing for just a second before he returned to his food. But the warmth of the moment did little to push away the unease creeping up your spine. The phone lay silent beside your plate, but you couldn’t shake the eerie feeling.

Just as the conversation was settling into a warm, familiar rhythm, the front door slammed open with the force of a small explosion.

“The prodigal son returns!”

Jungkook groaned, not even bothering to look. “Why. Are. You. Here.”

Jin strutted in like he was making a grand entrance at an award show, tossing his jacket onto the couch with an unnecessary flourish. “Heard there was food,” he announced before turning to you with a smirk. “And obviously, I had to make sure my dear cousin hasn’t scared you off yet.”

Jungkook scoffed. “You scared me off first.”

Jin ignored him completely, already making a beeline for the dining table. His mom, unfazed by the theatrics, clapped her hands together. “Oh, perfect timing! Sit, eat.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Jin said cheerfully, dropping into the seat beside you. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks like a warrior unsheathing his sword, ready for battle.

“So,” he drawled, nudging you playfully. “Three years and you still haven’t run for the hills? Impressive.”

You smirked, taking a sip of your drink. “I’ve considered it.”

Jungkook gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like you had personally stabbed him. “Betrayal! In my own home!”

“Technically, it’s our home,” his mom corrected.

“Exactly!” Jin said, pointing his chopsticks at Jungkook before shoving a mouthful of rice into his mouth. Jungkook’s dad, ever the composed one, leaned back in his chair and regarded Jin with an amused shake of his head. “So, how’s the tattoo shop? Are you still working reception?”

Jin waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that? I quit.”

Jungkook’s mom sighed, as if she had already seen this coming.

Jungkook’s dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jin, you just started that job.”

“Yeah, and I just quit that job,” Jin said brightly. “But don’t worry—I’ve moved on to better things.”

Jungkook raised a brow. “Should I even ask?”

“I now work at a pastry shop.” Jin declared, as if he had just announced a groundbreaking scientific discovery.

Jungkook blinked. “You?”

“Yes, me.”

Jungkook’s dad sighed. “Jin, you have to start thinking about stability. You can’t keep jumping from one job to another like this.”

Jin only laughed, waving him off like the thought of responsibility was a foreign concept. “Oh, please. Stability is boring. I get bored too fast—I need thrill, excitement, the rush of something new.”

“You sell croissants,” Jungkook deadpanned.

“And I do it with flair,” Jin shot back, popping a piece of fried chicken into his mouth. “Speaking of which, I brought some samples! The head baker said they were too ‘experimental’ for customers, but I figured you guys would appreciate my artistic vision.” He reached into his coat pocket because of course he carried pastries in his coat pocket and plopped two small, questionably green muffins onto the table.

Jungkook recoiled. “What is that?”

Jin grinned. “Matcha and kimchi fusion.”

Jungkook’s dad sighed again. His mom simply patted Jin’s hand, as if she had long since accepted his chaotic ways. Jin wipes his hands dramatically after placing down his abomination of a pastry creation, then immediately turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“So,” he starts, leaning in with the air of someone about to cause chaos. “On a scale of one to dear god, someone save me, how difficult is he to live with?”

You barely have time to react before he fires off another.

“Any plans to upgrade from ‘boyfriend’ status?” Jin asks, voice dripping with faux innocence.

Jungkook chokes so hard on his food that you have to thump his back. His mom gasps in concern, while his dad just continues eating like this is any other Thursday night.

Jin smirks in triumph. “Ah, so is there a wedding?”

Jungkook, still recovering, glares murderously. “You are so not invited to the wedding—”

Jin claps his hands together. “Confirmed!”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. He grabs a spoonful of rice and hurls it straight at Jin. Jin dodges like a seasoned warrior. “Oh, it’s war now.”

A second later, a piece of kimchi smacks Jungkook right in the cheek. Jungkook gapes at Jin. “You did not—”

“Oh, I did.” Jin wiggles his eyebrows before launching another attack. What starts as a petty sibling squabble escalates into all-out warfare. Jungkook lobs a dumpling; Jin retaliates with a piece of radish. Rice goes flying. You duck just in time to avoid getting hit by a rogue piece of tofu.

“Jeon Jungkook!” his mom shrieks, voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. “Kim Seokjin!”

They both freeze mid-throw, like guilty kids caught red-handed.

His dad sighs, a long and tired sigh, the kind that speaks of years of dealing with this exact scenario. He calmly reaches for his drink. “Can we please have one dinner without someone launching food across the table?”

Jungkook and Jin exchange glances.

Then, as if telepathically synchronized, they both lift their chopsticks and point at each other. “He started it.”

You snort. His mom groans. His dad sips his tea in silent resignation.

The night air is crisp, carrying the distant hum of crickets and the occasional rustling of leaves in the trees that line Jungkook’s backyard. The stars above twinkle through gaps in the branches, their light soft and distant. Out here, away from the city’s chaos, everything feels quieter like the world has shrunk to just the two of you. Jungkook slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Sorry about him.”

You chuckle, leaning into his warmth. “I like him. He makes things interesting.”

“Interesting until he’s grilling you.”

“True,” you admit, grinning. “But I can handle him.”

Jungkook huffs a quiet laugh, resting his chin atop your head. You exhale, letting your eyes flutter shut for a moment, savoring the security of his presence. It’s moments like these that make you forget the paranoia and the unease clawing at the edges of your mind.

But it never truly leaves.

The feeling of being watched. The weight of unseen eyes crawling over your skin. The messages you’ve ignored all night. They all linger in your mind. You glance up at Jungkook. He’s still smiling, talking about how his mom packed you extra leftovers. “She thinks you don’t eat enough,” he says fondly, shaking his head.

You should tell him.

The words sit heavy on your tongue, pressing against your teeth. One sentence, and it would all be out in the open.

But you don’t.

Instead, you nod, forcing a small laugh. “She really doesn’t take no for an answer, huh?”

“Never,” Jungkook confirms, squeezing your waist. His touch is warm, grounding. But even that warmth doesn’t reach the cold pit in your stomach.

“Jungkook!” His dad’s voice calls from inside. “Come here for a second.”

Jungkook groans, reluctant to move. “Stay here, I’ll be back,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before disappearing inside.

The moment he’s gone, the silence presses in. You hesitate before pulling out your phone, unlocking it with a swipe of your thumb. The notifications are still there, messages from Unknown piled up like unanswered warnings.

The last one catches your eye.

Unknown [1:10 PM]: I am always watching you, doll.

Your breath stutters.

The phone suddenly feels heavy in your hands, like a weight dragging you down into something inescapable.

No.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, drowning out the gentle chirping of crickets, drowning out reason. A suffocating sense of dread settles in your chest as you stare at the word, doll. There was only one person who ever called you that.

Only one voice that had whispered it against your skin, had laughed it into your ear, had let it drip from his tongue like a slow poison.

Kim Taehyung.

The room was thick with the stench of alcohol and sweat, the air heavy with cigarette smoke that coiled toward the ceiling in lazy spirals. Dim lighting flickered from a dying bulb, casting long, distorted shadows across the stained walls.

Taehyung sat slouched in a tattered armchair, his body sinking into the worn-out fabric. His limbs felt like lead, the weight of intoxication pressing down on him, making his movements sluggish, his thoughts hazy. A half-empty bottle dangled loosely from his fingers, the condensation dripping onto his jeans, but he barely noticed.

Around him, his friends were strewn across the room in various states of intoxication, some laughing at nothing, their voices slurred and senseless, while others lay sprawled out, lost to the world. Taehyung exhaled a slow, heavy breath. Everything felt distant and detached until a stray thought cut through the fog: you.

His lazy smirk faltered. His fingers twitched against the armrest, tightening before relaxing again. His vision blurred at the edges, but the memories were sharp. Unwelcome. Unrelenting. His jaw clenched. He willed himself to push it away, drown it in the haze, let the high carry him somewhere else. But it never worked.

It never did when it came to you. His body was here, slouched in a torn armchair, but his mind was somewhere else. Three years ago.

"I don’t love you anymore."

The scent of espresso and warm pastries was suffocating. The quiet hum of conversation around them felt like static in his ears. But none of it fucking mattered. Not when you were sitting across from him, staring at him like he was nothing.

The words barely registered at first. His mind lagged behind reality like a glitching tape, playing back a version of events where this wasn’t happening.

"What?" His voice was sharp, disbelieving. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Your gaze didn’t waver. "I said I don’t love you."

The words cut. They didn’t hit all at once they sank in slowly, like a blade sliding between ribs.

Taehyung laughed. "Bullshit."

He leaned forward, jaw tight, fingers curling into the edge of the table. "You’re being dramatic. You always do this shit when you want attention."

Your expression didn’t change, but something about it made his stomach turn. You weren’t crying. You weren’t shaking. There was no hesitation or guilt or any of the things he had relied on to keep you in line. This wasn’t like before.

Your voice was flat. "You ruined this, Tae. You ruined me."

His laugh was louder this time, bitter and sharp. "Oh, so I’m the villain now? After everything I did for you?"

"Everything you did to me."

His breath stuttered.

And then you kept going. You fucking kept going.

"You controlled me. You isolated me. You made me feel like I was insane every time I called you out on your bullshit."

His hands curled into fists. "Oh, fuck off—"

"You threatened me, Tae. You threw shit. You punched walls, grabbed me so fucking hard I had bruises for days. And every time, you’d crawl back, begging, saying you didn’t mean it—"

His teeth clenched, fury bubbling beneath his skin. "Because I didn’t!"

"You dangled your own life over my head like a leash."

His blood turned cold, the first sliver of panic slicing through the rage that had consumed him moments ago. He wasn’t winning. The realization struck hard. His grip tightened on the table, nails digging into the cheap wood as if he was bracing for impact. You weren’t supposed to fucking say that. You weren’t supposed to know.

He forced a laugh, but it came out desperate. "And what, you're suddenly a fucking therapist? Psychoanalyzing me like I’m some fucking monster?"

Your voice was quiet, but it sliced straight through him.

"I don’t need to psychoanalyze you, Taehyung. I lived through you."

The air left his lungs. His vision blurred at the edges, rage and panic clashing, drowning him.

All of a sudden, ‘his’ name fell from your lips like a gunshot.

Jungkook? That pathetic little nerd? The one he used to shove into lockers, humiliate just for the fun of it? The same one who flinched if someone raised their voice too loud?

He let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh, but there was nothing funny about this. His hands shook from the effort of holding himself back.

"So that’s what you’ve been doing, huh?" His voice was sharp, venomous. "Nursing him back to health after I fucked him up?"

You exhaled, shaking your head, unimpressed.

Then, he snapped. "You fucked him, didn’t you?"

He spat the words like a curse, like they burned his tongue. Even as he said it, he knew you wouldn’t. You were a self-righteous bitch with all your morals, your bullshit standards. You wouldn’t dare. But the thought of it, the idea of you with him made his head spin, made his vision go dark at the edges.

His voice dropped to a hiss. "That little fucking loser? You let him touch you? You let him—"

His hands ached. He wanted to grab you, to shake you, to make you look at him.

"He’s a pussy, doll." His voice cracked, something wild and desperate bleeding through. "He won’t take care of you like I did."

You scoffed, expression unreadable. "You never took care of me, Tae."

"What the fuck does he have that I don’t?" His voice rose, teetering between fury and desperation. "Tell me."

You just stared at him, and that look—that fucking look—

It was over.

It was fucking over.

Panic clawed at his ribs, lodged itself in his throat, made his vision blur and his hands shake. So he did what he always did when he lost control.

"I’ll kill myself if you leave me."

The words came out fast and sharp, a desperate lifeline thrown into the storm. It had always worked before, always made you hesitate, always made you stay. But this time, you simply exhaled a breath of relief, as if you had finally broken free.

And then, for the first time, you smiled.

"Look at you." Your voice was soft. Almost pitying. "Still trying to manipulate me."

Something inside him snapped.

His vision blurred, his body moved and the next thing he knew, the coffee cup on the table was in pieces, shattered porcelain scattering across the floor.

The café had gone silent.

The whole fucking world had gone silent.

You stood, your chair scraping against the tile. Unbothered.

You walked away. No hesitation. No tears. No fucking remorse.

And for the first time, Taehyung had nothing.

Nothing left to say. Nothing left to hold onto.

The cigarette burned down to the filter, searing his fingers. He didn’t flinch. Taehyung’s jaw clenched, knuckles turning white as his fists curled against the armrest. The high didn’t feel so numbing anymore, just agitating. His skin felt too tight, his thoughts too sharp, too loud.

For almost a year, he had drowned you out with drugs, alcohol, distractions, anything to blur the edges of what you had done to him. To make himself forget the way you walked away without looking back. But the moment he saw you again it all came rushing back.

The obsession. The hunger. The need to undo it all.

You thought you walked away for good?

No. You were always his. Even when you hated him. Even when you ran. And now he was going to take back what was his.

One way or another.

After returning from Busan, you stayed over at Jungkook’s place.

You didn’t want to sleep alone. Not after the messages. The number was blocked now. You hadn’t received anything since. But still… you didn’t feel comfortable going back home yet.

Jungkook hadn’t questioned it. He just smiled and let you in, happy to have you around. But the more time you spent with him, the harder it became to ignore the guilt settling in your chest.

Because Jungkook didn’t know.

You hadn’t told him about the messages. About the unease creeping up your spine every time your phone vibrated. About the name that had resurfaced in the form of a single word:

“Doll.”

It shouldn’t have meant anything. Anyone could use that word. It was common, impersonal.

But not to you.

Not when you could still hear his voice saying it. Not when you remembered how it had dripped from Taehyung’s lips sometimes sweet, sometimes cruel.

“Be good for me, doll.” “You know I only act like this because I love you, doll.” “You’re nothing without me, doll.”

The thought alone made your stomach churn. You weren’t even sure if it was him. Maybe it was just paranoia. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Yeah. It had to be. So you pushed it down, shoved it into the corners of your mind where you didn’t have to look at it. You told yourself you were keeping this from Jungkook to protect him.

But now, as you sit at your office desk, your mind is miles away from the reports in front of you. You tap your pen against the surface, gaze unfocused.

You don’t notice Jimin watching you from across the room until he finally speaks.

“Everything okay between you and Jungkook?”

You blink, snapping out of your daze. “What?”

Jimin leans against your desk, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “You seem off. Thought maybe you two had a fight or something.”

You force a small laugh, shaking your head. “No, nothing like that. Everything’s fine.”

Jimin doesn’t look convinced. His sharp gaze lingers for a second too long, like he’s waiting for you to crack. But he doesn’t press.

And you’re grateful for that.

Lunchtime rolls around when you finally check your phone.

The morning had been filled with client meetings, thankful for the welcome distraction. For a few hours, you managed to keep your mind from spiraling. But the moment your screen lights up with a string of unread messages from an unknown number, reality crashes back in.

Your stomach plummets.

Unknown [10:28 AM]: Did you really think blocking me would make me disappear, doll? Unknown [10:28 AM]: How cute. Almost as cute as you playing house with your little pet. Unknown [10:29 AM]: Speaking of pets… your boyfriend’s been working so hard. Diligently studying to save all those poor, dying animals. Unknown [10:30 AM]: How pathetic. Unknown [10:31 AM]: Wanna see?

Your breath catches.

The next message has three images attached. With shaking fingers, you tap them open.

First image: Jungkook in class, focused, scribbling down notes. Second image: Him in the lab, sleeves rolled up, handling equipment with practiced ease. Third image: Now. Jungkook at lunch, head slightly tilted as he listens to someone, chopsticks resting in his hand.

Your blood turns to ice as your vision tunnels, the world narrowing to a single horrifying realization—Jungkook is right there. Someone… no, not just anyone. It has to be Taehyung. He is near. He is watching. And if he is close enough to take these photos, then he is close enough to do something worse. Your phone nearly slips from your grip as pure, heart-stopping terror crashes into you. Jungkook is in danger. The first message was sent almost an hour ago, which means Taehyung has been near him this whole time. Watching him. Stalking him.

Your first instinct is to call the cops. Your fingers hover over the dial pad, heart hammering until your screen lights up again. As if he had been waiting for you to see his messages.

Unknown [12:01 PM]: I know what you’re thinking, doll. Unknown [12:01 PM]: Call the cops, and I’ll slit your pretty boyfriend’s throat right where he sits.

Your breath locks in your chest, hands trembling so violently you almost drop your phone.

No. No, no, no.

You don’t think you just move.

You bolt out of your office, barely registering Jimin calling after you. His voice is distant, but you can’t stop. You don’t have time. You race to your car, hands fumbling with the keys as you throw yourself into the driver’s seat. The second the engine roars to life, you’re speeding down the street, ignoring every traffic rule, every red light.

There’s only one thought pounding in your skull, louder than the frantic beat of your heart—

Get to Jungkook. Now.

You pull up to Jungkook’s university, barely throwing the car into park before shoving the door open. Your legs feel unsteady as you rush out, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Your hands tremble as you fumble with your phone, fingers slipping as you dial Jungkook’s number again and again. No answer. You try once more, the ringing tone stretching unbearably before it goes to voicemail.

The campus is alive with movement students chatting, laughing and going about their day, blissfully unaware of the sheer terror gripping you. You push through the crowd, scanning faces wildly, your heart pounding against your ribs. Where is Jungkook?

People glance at you, their whispers buzzing at the edge of your hearing, but you don’t care. You try his number again. Still nothing.

A sickening thought slithers into your mind— What if Taehyung already got to him? What if you’re too late?

Finally, your eyes land on him.

Jungkook stands in the courtyard, laughing with a couple of friends, completely oblivious to the danger shadowing him. The world around you blurs as relief crashes over you like a tidal wave.

Alive. Unharmed.

Your knees almost buckle, the tension in your body unravelling just enough for you to let out a sharp, shaky exhale. Your breath stutters as the panic begins to subside, but the urgency still thrums beneath your skin. Then Jungkook sees you.

His laughter dies mid-sentence, his brows knitting together in concern as his eyes rake over your disheveled form. His friends glance at you curiously, but Jungkook is already moving toward you.

"Y/N?" His voice is gentle but urgent. "What’s wrong?"

You shake your head quickly, forcing a weak, unconvincing smile. "It’s nothing," you say, voice tight. "But we need to leave. Now."

Jungkook blinks, his confusion evident. "What? I have an afternoon lecture."

You tighten your grip on his wrist, desperation seeping into your voice. "Jungkook, please. We need to go home."

His brows draw together, concern deepening in his soft gaze. "Why?" His voice remains gentle, but there's a quiet insistence beneath it. "What’s going on?"

When you don’t answer, Jungkook exhales softly before taking your hand, leading you away from the courtyard and into a quieter corner. His touch is firm but never forceful.

"Y/N, talk to me." His voice is barely above a whisper, but there’s an edge of worry to it. "What’s wrong?" His dark eyes search yours, trying to unravel the truth you refuse to say.

You swallow, avoiding his gaze. "It’s nothing, I swear—"

His jaw tightens, his fingers twitching at his sides. "That’s not true."

Jungkook doesn’t raise his voice, but the frustration is clear. He takes a slow step closer, his warmth now suffocating. "You’ve been acting different for weeks. Distant. Jumpy. And now you show up here looking like you’ve seen a ghost and expect me to just go along with it?"

You flinch at the quiet intensity in his words, but still, you don’t answer. Jungkook’s voice rises just a little, but the hurt in it is undeniable. “Do you not trust me?”

You bite your lip, guilt pressing down on your chest like a heavy weight. “Of course I do, Jungkook, it’s just—”

“Then tell me.” His fingers rake through his hair, his brows drawn together, frustration flickering in his dark eyes. But his voice stays soft, laced with something almost pleading.

“I’m not a child, Y/N.”

The words land harder than you expect, sinking deep. Silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken truths and the weight of his quiet disappointment. You know you should tell him. You should warn him. But… you can’t.

Jungkook exhales slowly, his jaw tightening as he watches you struggle with whatever it is you’re refusing to say. His frustration is evident, but his voice remains gentle, laced with quiet insistence.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on,” he says firmly. “If you won’t, I’ll just stay here.”

Your stomach drops. No. He can’t stay here. Not when you know Taehyung is watching. “Jungkook, please,” you whisper, gripping his wrist tighter.

“Then tell me, Y/N.” His gaze softens, but the unwavering determination in his eyes sends a surge of panic through you. You have no choice. You have to tell him something—anything—just to get him to listen.

“Someone’s been watching you,” you admit in a rush, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know who, but it’s not safe.”

Jungkook stiffens. His expression shifts from frustration to shock, then to something unreadable. “Watching me?” he echoes. “Y/N, what—why wouldn’t you tell me earlier?”

You look away, guilt gnawing at you. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s still skeptical, still confused, but he can see the genuine fear in your eyes. And that alone is enough to make him give in.

“Alright,” he finally murmurs. “Let’s go.”

Relief washes over you, but just as you think you’ve convinced him to leave, your phone vibrates. It's another message.

Unknown [12:17 PM]: Ah, there you are, doll. So desperate to save your boyfriend? Cute. But I’m not done playing yet.

Your breath hitches.

Taehyung is watching you right now. Your fingers tighten around your phone as your eyes dart around the campus, paranoia seeping into your every movement.

Jungkook immediately catches the way your face drains of all color. His fingers gently close around your wrist before you can react, his other hand swiftly taking your phone from your grip.

“Jungkook, wait—”

But it’s too late. His eyes scan the message, and you feel his entire body go still. His brows knit together, his lips parting slightly as he rereads the words, processing the threat laced between them.

“Who…” His voice is quiet at first, controlled. Then, a little sharper. “Who the hell is this?”

You swallow hard, panic clawing at your chest. You should’ve been more careful. But now there’s no avoiding it. Jungkook looks up at you, eyes searching. “Y/N,” he says softly, but there’s an undeniable firmness in his tone. “Tell me.”

You take a shaky breath, forcing the words out before you can hesitate.

“I… I think it’s Taehyung.”

Jungkook blinks. For a moment, he just stares at you like you’ve said something completely incomprehensible. Then, he shakes his head, a disbelieving scoff leaving his lips.

“Taehyung?” He lets out a breath, his brows furrowing. “No. That’s impossible. We haven’t seen him in years.”

You can see the way his mind is racing, trying to rationalize it, trying to convince himself that it can’t be true. But then piece by piece it all starts to click. The way you’ve been acting. The paranoia. The half-truths. Everything makes sense now.

Jungkook’s expression shifts, his grip tightening slightly around your phone. He looks at you again, this time with quiet intensity. “Tell me everything.”

You take a deep, unsteady breath and finally let it all out. Every message. Every chilling threat. The way Taehyung has been watching, lurking in the shadows, getting closer and closer. How you’ve been living in constant fear, too terrified to sleep, too paranoid to breathe. How you blocked him, but he always found a way back. The photos of Jungkook the proof showing that Taehyung has been near him all along.

Jungkook doesn’t say a word. He just listens. His hands slowly curl into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening, but his eyes stay locked on you, soft and unwavering. By the time you finish, your throat is tight, and your vision blurs slightly. You blink rapidly, forcing back the tears threatening to spill. You quickly wipe at your eyes before Jungkook can notice.

But he does.

Without a word, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his warmth. You freeze for a second, startled, but then you let yourself sink into the embrace. His arms are strong and steady, anchoring you as if he’s shielding you from everything that’s been haunting you.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice softer than ever. “You don’t have to hold it in, Y/N.”

Your breath shudders. “I-I’m fine,” you whisper, even though your grip on his hoodie tightens. Jungkook shakes his head slightly. “No, you’re not. And that’s okay.” His hand runs up and down your back in slow, soothing motions. “You don’t always have to be strong on your own.”

Something in you cracks at his words. A single tear slips down your cheek, and this time, you don’t wipe it away. Jungkook holds you tighter, his voice firm but gentle. “You should’ve told me sooner.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I was scared.”

“I get that.” He exhales, resting his chin lightly on top of your head. “But you’re not alone in this. I’m here now. And I won’t let him hurt you.”

When you finally pull away, his hands stay on your shoulders, grounding you. Now, you have to decide.

Go to the police? It’s the logical choice, but Taehyung already made it clear what would happen if you did. Jungkook’s life isn’t something you’re willing to gamble with. Confront Taehyung yourself? It’s reckless, dangerous, and probably a mistake. But part of you feels like it’s the only way to put an end to this.

Jungkook watches your face carefully, reading the thoughts swirling in your head. Then, his jaw tightens, his voice steady but firm. “If you think I’m letting you do this alone, you’re out of your mind.”

For the first time in weeks, the suffocating loneliness eases because no matter what happens next, Jungkook is with you. Suddenly your phone vibrates again.

Unknown [12:51 PM]: Such a heartwarming moment. But how far will he go to protect you?

And then another message. A photo.

It’s a picture of you and Jungkook. Right now. 

He’s still here.

"Y/N?" Jungkook’s voice is soft but sharp with concern. "What is it?"

You turn the phone toward him, and the moment he sees the message, his entire body stiffens. His jaw clenches, fingers curling into fists. His voice is low but firm when he speaks.

"We’re leaving. Now."

You don’t argue.

Jungkook grabs your wrist, pulling you through the crowd of students, his grip tight but reassuring. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you scan the area frantically, eyes darting from face to face.

But you don’t see him. He could be anywhere.

Jungkook doesn’t slow down until you reach his car. He unlocks it in a rush, practically shoving you inside before slamming the door shut behind him. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. Only when he locks the doors and exhales a shaky breath does he turn to look at you.

"He’s here, Y/N." His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it.

You swallow hard, gripping your phone. "I know."

Jungkook starts the car. "We’re going home. Then we figure out our next move." You nod, but the unease lingers.

Because Taehyung isn’t done playing yet.

Jungkook paces the length of his living room, fingers running through his hair in frustration. You sit on the couch, gripping your phone tightly, going over every possible option. Jungkook is still talking, still trying to come up with a solid plan but his voice fades into the background as your eyes remain glued to your phone screen.

Unknown [1:37 PM]: Come alone. Midnight. Your apartment. Unknown [1:37 PM]: Don’t make me repeat myself, doll.

Your grip on the phone tightens. Your pulse roars in your ears. If Jungkook sees this, there’s no way he’ll let you go. He’ll insist on coming with you. And that’s exactly what Taehyung wants, a reason to hurt him. Swallowing hard, you quickly lock your phone and shove it into your pocket before Jungkook notices.

“Y/N?”

You snap back to reality to find Jungkook watching you carefully. “Yeah?”

“I was saying…” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe we should stay at a hotel tonight. Just in case. I don’t want you anywhere near that apartment if Taehyung’s been watching you.”

Your stomach churns with guilt, but you shake your head. “No. I think we should just stay and act normal. If we start running now, he’ll know we’re scared.”

Jungkook’s eyes darken. “We are scared, Y/N.”

You force a small, tired smile. “But we can’t let him know that.”

He exhales, clearly frustrated but unable to argue. “Fine. But I’m not letting you out of my sight.” You nod, pretending to agree.

But deep down, you already know that the moment Jungkook falls asleep tonight, you’re leaving. 

Alone.

It’s a little past midnight when you finally slip out of Jungkook’s apartment.

You hesitate at the door, glancing back at his sleeping form. Even in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, you can see the tension on his face. He had been restless for hours, his body stiff with unease, as if sensing that something was wrong.

You had pretended to fall asleep just so he could relax. It worked eventually. But now, as you step out into the cold night, a bitter weight settles in your chest.

Jungkook would never forgive you for this.

But this is the only way.

You move quickly, keeping to the shadows as you make your way to your apartment. The streets are eerily quiet, the distant hum of the city muffled by the pounding of your heart. Every step you take feels heavier like you're walking toward something inevitable.

Suddenly you hear a  second set of footsteps.

You don’t have time to react before a hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your startled gasp.

Before you can struggle, an arm wraps around your waist in a vice-like grip, dragging you off the sidewalk. The world tilts as you're yanked into a dark alleyway. Your pulse hammers against your ribs as you thrash against the hold, but it’s uselessm his grip is unyielding, effortlessly strong.

A low, deep chuckle brushes against your ear, sending a sickening shiver down your spine.

"Took you long enough, doll."

Taehyung had grown impatient waiting for you to show up. Without warning, he forcefully turns you to face him, his grip unrelenting. The sudden contact sends a jolt of fear through you, and seeing him again after all these years feels like being doused in ice water.

Time has changed him, but not enough. His face is still achingly familiar from the sharp jawline, the tattoos that snake up the expanse of his neck to the piercing eyes that burn with something much darker. 

A part of you always knew this day would come. You had told yourself that the way Taehyung left without so much as hurting you was too good to be true, but maybe, just maybe he had realised he was in the wrong and disappeared into the past like a bad dream. But now, standing here with his breath hot against your skin, you realize how foolish you were to think he’d ever let you go.

"You thought I wouldn’t come back for you?" he whispers against your ear, his voice sickeningly soft.

Your breath stutters. You try to shove him away, but he’s faster amd stronger. His grip tightens as he forces you back, slamming you against the cold, unforgiving brick wall of the alley. The impact knocks the air from your lungs, and before you can recover, his fingers press into your jaw, tilting your face up toward him.

The streetlamp above casts a sliver of light over him, illuminating the twisted smile on his lips.

"I gave you everything, and you threw me away for him?"

Resentment drips from every word, his voice cracking with something raw.

"I should’ve taught you a lesson years ago."

Your heart hammers in your chest, panic locking your limbs in place. But before you can even react—

A force rips Taehyung away from you, sending him crashing onto the pavement with a brutal thud.

Jungkook stands over him, breath uneven, fists still clenched from the impact. His usual softness is nowhere to be found—his expression is cold, lethal.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it that makes the air feel heavier.

Taehyung chuckles darkly. “I knew you’d come running.”

Jungkook doesn’t take the bait. His eyes flick to you, scanning for any sign of injury, before settling back on Taehyung with something dangerously close to disgust.

“You don’t get to lay a hand on her,” Jungkook says, his voice steady. “Not now. Not ever.”

Taehyung chuckles again, pushing himself up with an air of arrogance. He rolls his shoulders, cracking his knuckles as if this is all a joke to him.

"You?" He scoffs, eyes glinting with amusement. "Defending her?" His gaze flickers to you, sharp and accusing. "I bet she never even told you what she did to me."

Jungkook doesn’t flinch nor does he hesitate. His voice is calm, unwavering. "She didn’t do anything." He steps forward, eyes locked onto Taehyung like he’s daring him to try again. "I know she’s mine. And I know you’re just a lying, manipulative piece of shit."

Taehyung's smirk vanishes.

In a flash, he lunges.

Jungkook barely dodges, twisting to the side just in time, but Taehyung is relentless. He moves fast, and Jungkook isn’t a fighter he doesn’t have brute force or years of experience throwing punches. But what he does have is speed, quick reflexes and the sheer, unshakable will to protect you.

A fist catches Jungkook’s side, making him stagger back, but he barely registers the pain before Taehyung moves toward you again.

And that’s when Jungkook stops thinking.

His hand finds a broken pipe lying in the dirt. In one swift motion, he grips it tight and swings, slamming it straight into Taehyung’s stomach.

A sharp gasp rips from Taehyung’s throat as he doubles over, coughing violently. But he’s not down. Not yet.

Jungkook doesn’t wait. He reaches for you, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist. His eyes meet yours, urgent and fierce.

"Run."

The pounding of your footsteps echoes against the pavement, your lungs burning as you push yourself to keep running. The night air is thick, every breath heavy with exhaustion and fear.

Behind you, Taehyung is gaining. His ragged breaths cut through the silence, his footsteps unrelenting.

“You think you can run from me?” His voice is sharp, twisted with amusement and fury. A metallic glint catches the dim streetlights indicating he has a knife now.

Panic seizes your chest.

Jungkook’s grip tightens around your wrist. He doesn’t slow, doesn’t hesitate just yanks you sharply to the side. Your vision blurs as he drags you toward a dark, skeletal structure.

A construction site.

You stumble into the half-built building, weaving through stacks of bricks and steel beams. The scent of dust and concrete fills your lungs as you press yourself into the shadows, trying to quiet your frantic breathing.

Jungkook releases you only to crouch down, scanning the ground. His fingers curl around a rusted wrench, heavy in his grip. It’s not much, but it’s something.

“Stay behind me,” he whispers, his voice steady despite the fear you know he must be feeling. Your heart slams against your ribs. Your thoughts are spiralling. You should have been more careful, quieter when slipping out of the house. You can't believe you're the reason Jungkook is in danger, that he is the one standing between you and the threat. It should be you protecting him, not the other way around.

The footsteps slow. Taehyung has followed you inside.

A chilling silence settles over the space.

Then, a low chuckle.

“You can’t hide forever.” His voice is laced with amusement, the scrape of his knife dragging along metal making you flinch. “Come on, Jungkook. You really think you can protect her?”

Jungkook doesn’t move, his stance solid, wrench gripped tightly, shoulders squared. The tension is suffocating, every second stretching unbearably. You don’t dare breathe. Then Taehyung moves. The knife slices through the air.

Jungkook barely dodges, instinct driving his body before his mind catches up. The blade misses him by inches, but there’s no time to think, theres no time to breath, only react.

With everything he has, he swings the wrench. It connects hard against Taehyung’s wrist.

The knife clatters to the ground.

But Jungkook doesn’t stop this time.

His fist collides with Taehyung’s jaw, the impact ringing in the empty construction site. The force of it sends Taehyung staggering back, his body slamming against a stack of bricks. He’s weak now, unsteady, but still smiling like he’s enjoying this.

And then, in a last, desperate attempt, he speaks.

“You really think you’ve changed, Jungkook?” Taehyung breathes, voice laced with mockery. He spits blood onto the dust-covered ground, laughing through the pain. “You’re still the same pathetic kid I used to toy with. Weak. Spineless.”

Jungkook’s breath hitches.

“You’ll never be enough for her.”

The words land heavier than any punch ever could. For a split second, Jungkook falters. The old wounds, the taunts, the bruises, and the humiliation come rushing back. The memories claw at the edges of his mind, threatening to pull him under.

He remembers the way they used to laugh at him, the cruelty in their voices, the way they looked at him like he was nothing. Like he would always be nothing. He was the loser, the punching bag, the boy who never fought back. Every insult had carved itself into his skin, every shove had left something deeper than just bruises. They made him believe it. That he was worthless. That he would never be enough.

And then there was you. You. The only light in the darkness, the only person who had ever looked at him without disgust. He fell so hard, so helplessly in love with you, even though you belonged to Taehyung. It was cruel, really. The way fate played its hand. You were Taehyung’s girlfriend, yet you were the only one who saw Jungkook. The only one who stood up for him when Taehyung and his gang pushed him down. When he was at his lowest, you were there, offering kindness.

But how could you have chosen him? Him? A pathetic loser who had spent years as the butt of every joke, the weakling who was too afraid to fight back. He hears the echoes of their laughter, the mocking whispers that still live inside his head. Maybe they were right. Maybe he really is nothing. Maybe you made a mistake choosing him.

Taehyung’s voice is smooth and insidious, wrapping around him like a noose. The doubt, the shame, the years of self-hatred it all pulls him under, dragging him back to a place he swore he’d never return to. His fists loosen at his sides, his body feels too heavy, like he’s sinking into the past, like he's losing himself all over again.

But then—you.

You, standing behind him. The warmth of your presence, the unwavering belief in your eyes. The way you never once hesitated to love him, to choose him. His heart pounds against his ribs, pushing away the suffocating weight of the past.

No. No.

He is not that boy anymore. He is not weak. And he will not let Taehyung twist his mind, not when he has you to protect.

The hesitation vanishes as Jungkook moves, striking once, then again, each blow fueled by something raw, something deeper than anger—something desperate. His jaw is clenched, muscles taut, as if he is holding back years of something buried deep inside, something he never let himself feel until now. You have never seen him like this. Then another hit. And another.

His knuckles split, blood dripping onto the cold concrete, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Not until Taehyung stops moving.

The only sound left is Jungkook’s ragged breathing. His chest heaves, his hands shaking.

His eyes, dark and unfocused, burn with an intensity you have never seen before. It is not just fear, nor is it just anger. It is something far more terrifying in its certainty, something that does not waver, something that does not break. It is an unrelenting, all-consuming protectiveness, the kind that leaves no room for hesitation, no space for doubt. And the most haunting part of it all—you know he did it for you.

“Jungkook.”

Your voice is sof t but it cuts through the chaos like a blade.

He freezes.

His chest rises and falls in uneven bursts, his knuckles raw and bloodied. His grip on the wrench trembles, muscles locked so tightly you wonder if he even hears you.

Then he looks at you, and in that moment, something inside him fractures. The fury that had burned so fiercely in his eyes splinters, crumbling into something far more fragile: fear. But it is not fear for himself. It is for you. For what could have happened. For what he almost became.

You take a step closer, carefully, like you’re approaching a wounded animal. His breathing is ragged, his body strung so tight it might snap. But he doesn’t move away when you reach for him.

Fingers brushing against his wrist, you gently pry the wrench from his grip. His hand is still trembling when it slips from his grasp, clattering onto the ground.

“It’s over,” you whisper, your voice steady even as your own hands shake. “I’m okay.”

Jungkook swallows hard, his throat working around unspoken words. The wail of sirens cuts through the heavy silence, distant but growing closer. Someone must have heard the commotion and called the police.

Taehyung groans from where he lies sprawled on the ground, too weak to move, too beaten to fight. But you barely spare him a glance.

Jungkook exhales shakily, his entire body trembling with the aftermath of it all. His fists are still clenched, his knuckles still bleeding, but his eyes are different now.

They are not just the eyes of your sweet, oblivious boyfriend anymore.

He steps closer, hesitant, hands hovering over your arms, your waist, checking, searching, needing to convince himself that you’re still here. That you’re real.

“I could’ve lost you,” he breathes, his voice rough, breaking at the edges.

The weight of his words settles deep in your chest.

You reach up, cupping his face, your thumb skimming over the small cut on his cheek. He flinches at the touch, but not from pain he just wasn’t expecting something so gentle.

“But you didn’t,” you murmur.

Jungkook’s breath shudders out of him. His lashes flutter shut for a second, his jaw tightening like he’s holding something in, something overwhelming, something too big to put into words.

Then, in a voice so quiet, so broken, it almost shatters you

“I was so scared.”

And just like that, everything collapses.

The rage, the adrenaline, the fear everything he had forced himself to carry, to bury, it all crumbles in one breath.

You don’t hesitate. You pull him into you, arms wrapping around him, and he clings back just as tightly. His grip is almost desperate, his fingers pressing into your back like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.

Then, suddenly, he tilts his head down, capturing your lips in his.

The kiss is not careful. It’s not soft.

It’s raw. Desperate. Heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.

His lips press against yours with an urgency that steals your breath, like he’s trying to pour everything he feels into this moment. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he wants to lose himself in you, in the feeling of you alive and warm in his arms.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, anchoring him to you, and he sighs into your mouth—a broken, trembling sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

When you finally pull back, foreheads pressed together, Jungkook’s breath is warm against your skin, uneven and ragged.

He’s still shaking.

And you hold him tighter, letting him feel it all.

The flashing red and blue lights spill across the pavement as the police cars screech to a stop.

Jungkook pulls away just enough to look at you, his hands still cradling your waist, like he’s reluctant to break contact. His eyes search yours, and for the first time since this nightmare began, you see something unshakable in them.

Taehyung’s screams cut through the air as he thrashes against the officers, his wrists locked in cold steel. His voice is hoarse, spewing empty threats, venom dripping from every syllable—

“This isn’t over!” he snarls. “You think you can take her from me?”

Jungkook doesn’t react. He doesn’t even spare Taehyung a glance.

Instead, he lifts a hand, brushing his fingers lightly against your cheek, grounding himself in the fact that you’re safe.

His voice, when he finally speaks, is low, steady. A quiet promise.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

And for the first time you believe him.

Because this isn’t the same Jungkook who was oblivious, who used to let things slide, the one who always saw the good in people even when they didn’t deserve it.

This is the Jungkook who stood his ground.

The Jungkook who fought for you.

And if the world ever tried to take you away from him again, he wouldn’t hesitate.

The park is quiet, bathed in the soft glow of late morning light. Birds flit between the branches, their songs blending with the gentle rustling of leaves. A cool breeze brushes against your skin, carrying the scent of freshly baked pastries from the open basket beside you.  

Jungkook sits across from you on the checkered picnic blanket, absently poking at his croissant with a fork. His knuckles are bandaged and a faint bruise lingers on his cheek just below the strip of medical tape.  

You watch him, waiting.  

He hasn’t said much about it. But the way he holds himself now, shoulders squared just a little more, gaze a little steadier it feels different.  

“You know,” you start, plucking a strawberry from the fruit bowl and tossing it into your mouth. “For once, I wasn’t the one saving your ass.”  

Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “Don’t remind me,” he mutters, but there’s a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. “I’m still getting used to it.”  

“You should be proud,” you tell him, shifting onto your knees so you’re closer. “Not just because you fought. But because you didn’t let him win.” 

Jungkook exhales, rolling his jaw like he’s still processing the weight of it. “I used to think…” He hesitates, gaze flickering down to his hands. “That I’d never be the kind of guy who could protect someone. That I’d always be the loser who let things slide.”  

You reach out, fingers curling over his bandaged knuckles, squeezing gently. “You were never a loser, Jungkook.”  

You trace a light touch over the bruise on his cheek. “And if you’re measuring strength by how many fights you win, you’re missing the point.”  

Jungkook’s lips twitch, his fingers tightening around yours. “Oh yeah? And what’s the point, then?”  

“That you were strong even before this,” you murmur. “You didn’t need to throw a punch to prove that. But I think… you finally see it now, don’t you?”  

He doesn’t answer right away, but the tension in his shoulders eases. Then, with a soft chuckle, he tilts his head and smirks. “So what you’re saying is… you’re swooning over me right now.”  

You roll your eyes, but your laugh gives you away. “Unbelievable. One heroic moment and your ego skyrockets.”  

“What can I say?” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I’m basically a knight in shining armor now.”  

You groan. “You’re literally covered in bandages, Jungkook.”  

“Battle scars,” he corrects smugly.  

“You are so—”  

He cuts you off with a kiss.  

His lips taste like the strawberries you were just eating, but there’s something else too, something warmer. The quiet relief of knowing you’re here. That you’re safe. That you chose him, again and again.  

When you finally pull away, Jungkook rests his forehead against yours, exhaling quietly. “I wouldn’t hesitate,” he murmurs. “If it ever happens again. If the world ever tries to take you away from me.”  

Your heart clenches. You press a kiss to his bruised cheek, whispering against his skin. “I know.”  

For a while, you just sit there, basking in the quiet hum of the park, in the way his fingers stay laced with yours. The past still lingers, but it doesn’t hold you down.  

You’re here together.  

And for now, that’s all that matters.

taglist: @iamstilljk @juikmon @smoljimjim @11thenightwemet11 @namelesskeid @theboyzhelicopter @cristinamajadera @talyaaas-blog @nbjch05 @subgoogie @jjkookiee346 @gogogith @lectrice-ios @ziyaexe @mellyyyyyyx @dna-black-and-blue @sparklycheesecakenacho @pelicanpizza @whoa-jo @dillydandydaisy @somehowukook @tititania @purplelanterns @koodollylvr @honeeybunneey @jenniebyrubies @vantelover1306 @mar-lo-pap @whoreformarlenemckinnon @xumyboo @bumblebee041019 @gaebestie @coquitting @ecomidnight @fancypeacepersona @lizzy23-02 @rpwprpwprpwprw @starlight-1010 @piggaloaf @inkdrinkershadowsinger @satisfied18

@pinkpunkdynamite @reallygenerouskoala @amarawayne @minniejim @ennvfv @senaqsstuff @raraluvz @hoseokteardrop @shellyyy177 @lowercaseurself @futuristicenemychaos @missthang600 @aeriblu @morkleeespizzacake @ahgasegotarmy116 @g1rlonth3intern3t @diamonddia-mond @dontcallmeelle @brokebitch-101 @namj00n-ing @elegantdevill1 @somehowukook @prxdajeon @scentedsope @kazuahhh @handsomejin25 @ukndtwme @larajs97 @nikidream24 @taekritimin123 @achurroandbananamilk @annenakamura @solephile @honeymeraki @btsiguess-kpop @magicalnachocreator @viacb97 @likeshatteredrainbowglass @brokebitch-101

lmk ur thots <3

[lively-potter]

I

[buryhny]

barista picks! ☕

these are my fan fic recommendations by AU

wattpad fics will be updated in this list too.

monthly fic recs - updated each month

Jeon Jungkook fics

best friends/childhood friends AU brother's bestfriend/bestfriend's boyfriend AU bodyguard AU boxer/gangster AU ceo AU co-workers AU enemies to lovers AU exes to lovers AU fantasy AU fake dating AU fuckboy/fratboy AU friends with benefits/fuck buddies AU idol/popstar/celeb AU hybrid AU neighbors AU roommates AU strangers to lovers AU soulmates AU single parent AU teacher AU yandere AU other jobs (tattooist/baker/sugar baby/racer etc) AU

Park Jimin fics

best friends/childhood friends AU brother's bestfriend AU ceo AU college AU co-workers AU enemies to lovers AU exes to lovers AU fantasy AU fake dating AU fuckboy AU friends with benefits/fuck buddies AU idol/popstar/celeb AU hybrid AU neighbors AU parents AU single dad AU strangers to lovers AU sugar daddy AU soulmates AU yandere AU other jobs (stripper/racer/doctor/stalker etc) AU

[ahgasegotarmy116]

🌹🌺🤎🐰

😊

I have something that legit checks all those boxes lmao also it's barely edited so yeas...(p.s. they have a four year age gap)

"Do you guys have to go?" a thirteen year old Jungkook looks up at me with teary eyes, watching as his sister and I pack up her car to go away to college. "Don't be so dramatic we won't even be that far away" Jungsoon calls out while placing a few things in the backseat.

"What's wrong with the colleges here?" he asks, ignoring his sister. "This is a really good opportunity for your sister and I. The fact that we both got accepted to our dream school is exactly what we've been working so hard for, Jungkook" I reply and he lets his head fall but nods, now paying more attention to the asphalt we're standing on than me.

"Hey" I say, gaining his attention again as he looks back up at me, this time truly close to tears. "Come here" I say pulling him in for a hug and he gladly accepts it, holding on tighter than I had expected, knocking the air out of my lungs.

"Please don't go Noona" he pleads while starting to shake in my arms. "It's okay little one" I coo while smoothing his hair down. "We'll be back for Thanksgiving, I promise" he nods his head but holds on tighter making me laugh at his clingy behavior.

"I'll try to talk your sister into driving back here for a weekend before then if you'd like?" I offer hoping it'll raise his spirits and it seems to do the trick since he leans back and looks at me with his bright doe eyes, now red and puffy with tears but this time a lot happier.

"Really? You mean it?" he questions excitedly and I nod my head, happy I could give him something that would make him a little less upset.

"Yes bubs I mean it. So hopefully we'll be back in a few weeks okay?" I ask and he nods, excited at the prospects of having us come back sooner.

"Good" I ruffle his hair like I always do. "You know, you probably won't be looking up at me for much longer. I bet by the time thanksgiving rolls around you'll be at least an inch taller" I say smiling down at him, "I can't believe how grown up you're starting to look! I feel like it was just yesterday that I came over to your house for the first time and saw your little head peeking around the corner, too shy to come say hi" I tease and he pouts at the memory.

"Noona I was six" he whines and I laugh, loving how adorable he still is after all these years. "I know I know. Now, one more hug before we push off okay?" pulling him in for another hug, this one is even tighter than before.

"Jungkook you're crushing me" I choke out playfully and he loosens his grip leaning back so he can see me. "I'm sorry I'm just gonna miss you" he says starting to get upset again. "I know little one, I know. I'll miss you too" I say planting a kiss on his forehead. 

"Now I gotta go okay? You're sister is gonna kill me if I don't hurry up already" and as soon as the words leave my mouth she's already honking at me.

"Come on y/n let's go" she says, dragging the last word out. "I'm coming" I yell back and wave to their parents who are standing a bit further away. A couple seconds later Jungsoon is getting out of the car and saying her last goodbye to Jungkook. 

"See you later pipsqueak" she says, punching his shoulder and turning him around by his shoulders to go walk towards their mom and dad before she walks back over to the car and gets into the drivers seat.

"I feel bad for leaving" I admit as she puts her seatbelt on. "Why?" she questions, furrowing her brow before checking all of her mirrors and starting the car. "Because Jungkook's really gonna miss us" I say, looking through the rear view window as she starts backing up.

"Us?" she scoffs, "He's gonna miss you. That boy has been attached to your hip ever since he was little. People even thought that he was your younger brother instead of mine" she straightens the car out and rolling down her window to say goodbye to her parents and Jungkook one last time.

"Bye guys!" she says and the words that you hear loud and clear are Jungkook saying "Bye y/n Noona!" and Jungsoon scoffs again when she looks back over at me. "See?" she says, laughing since he proved her point right away. "And bye Jungsoon Noona" Jungkook says next after his mother had scolded him a bit.

"Take care of each other okay?" Mrs. Jeon says and we both answer 'Okay' in unison before Jungsoon rolls up the window and starts driving away.

"You think he'll be alright?" I ask her as I take one last look at Jungkook who continues to watch us go as we drive down the street. "He'll be fine y/n. He needs to learn how to make friends and hang out with them instead of following you around. It'll do both of you some good" she says and I nod my head, turning back towards the road in front of us.

"Ready for a new adventure?" she says with a playful tone, grinning as she pulls onto the highway. "With you? Always" I reply and we both laugh, turning on some music to accompany us as we make our three hour drive to our brand new adventure...

Five years later...

"Soonie did you invite someone over?" someone knocking on the door to our apartment garners my attention. "Not to my knowledge, no" she calls out leaving my sighing and walking over. I take a peak outside and see a guy with his back turned to me with a motorcycle helmet balanced on his hip.

"Can I help you?" I ask our mystery visitor when I open the door and once he turns around my jaw drops.

"Jungkook?" I question and I see his doe eyes light up once his eyes land on me. "Noona!" he says excitedly, dropping his helmet and picking me up off the ground in a huge hug. "Jungkook, hey Jungkook put me down!" I laugh as I struggle to get out of his hold.

"Sorry Noona" he says, laughing sheepishly and scratching the back of his head. 

"What are you doing here?" I question, laughing at his excited and now shy nature. "I wanted to surprise you!" he says with a shy bunny smile. "Well it definitely worked" I laugh and he smiles in victory.

"How did you even get here?" I ask, looking back down at his helmet, hoping that's not the answer. "Oh! I um, I road my motorcycle here" he says while picking his helmet up off the floor. 

"You road your motorcycle here from home? Jungkook don't you think that's a little dangerous? And since when do you have a motorcycle?" I ask, confused and concerned for his safety.

"Don't worry Noona I was perfectly safe and went the speed limit the entire time. Plus I passed my test with zero mistakes" he says proudly and I can't help but break, losing the battle of scolding him and now just focusing on how happy I am to see him.

"Have you gotten taller since the last time I saw you?" I ask and he laughs while looking down at me, our roles reversed just as I had told him they would be years ago. "Probably" he laughs scanning my body and I realize now that I'm only wearing a baggy t shirt with no bra and shorts, noticing how his eyes linger on my chest for a second making me shy under his gaze.

~~~~~

I've been working on this for a while now but I still have so much more to the story that I haven't written yet 😭

But yeah anyways Best Friend's Younger Brother fic coming out at some point 😂