[bobbyseyesmile]

P A R T VI - does not contain smut

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➻ pairing: badboy!jungkook x fem!reader

➻ authors note: this is NOT a romantic, cute story. please read the warning tags & if you're not into this, don't read it. every person in this story is an adult and into this. ➻ this chapter is shorter than the last ones, i apologise. i’m cooking up something special for part 7 tho heh 🖤

➻ warnings: angst, blackmail, stalking, degradation & humiliation kink, manipulation, cheating, toxic situationship, toxic behavior - MINORS DNI

The next days you’re surviving on three hours of sleep a night- your hands shake badly enough that you nearly spill coffee down the front of your shirt twice before noon. In the morning you find yourself standing outside a classroom you’ve walked into a hundred times before while your brain completely refuses to remember why you’re there in the first place.

“You lost?”

The voice cuts through the thick fog inside your head just enough to make you blink.

Jungkook is standing a few feet away, one hand hooked around the strap of his backpack while he studies you with a faint frown.

“What?” The word leaves you automatically, genuinely confused.

Jungkook’s eyebrows pull together slightly. For a second he just looks at you, then his gaze shifts toward the classroom door.

“We’ve got English.”

Your brain struggles to catch up. English. Right.

You just stare at him and Jungkook stares back. Then something almost resigned crosses his face and he lets out a quiet sigh through his nose.

“Sit next to me,” he says. “I’ll take notes for both of us.” Another sigh leaves him before he closes the distance between you, gently taking hold of your wrist.

“C’mon, princess.” There’s no teasing in his words, no flirtation. Just… patience. The realization feels strangely unsettling.

You let him guide you into the classroom without protest, still feeling vaguely disconnected from your own body while Jungkook leads you toward the back row and drops into a chair. A second later he tugs lightly on your wrist again until you finally sit beside him.

The lecture starts and you remember almost none of it. The only thing you do remember is looking down halfway through class and realizing Jungkook’s notebook is twice as full as everyone else’s.

Because he’d actually been taking notes for both of you.

The botanical gardens are nearly empty by the time you arrive.

Evening has begun settling over the winding paths, painting everything in shades of amber and gold as sunlight filters through the trees in fractured ribbons of light, the kind of scenery people usually describe as peaceful. Couples wander lazily through the distant walkways. A few students occupy benches scattered throughout the gardens. Somewhere nearby, water trickles softly from a stone fountain.

It should feel calming, instead, every step makes your stomach twist tighter. Then you spot Levi.

He looks completely at ease sitting on one of the benches near the center path, one arm draped across the backrest as though he’s simply enjoying the evening rather than waiting for the person he’s been tormenting for weeks. The moment his eyes find yours, a smile spreads slowly across his face.

The kind of smile that makes something instinctive inside you recoil.

“There you are...” The words are spoken lightly, almost affectionately, and somehow that makes them worse.

You stop several feet away because you simply don’t want to sit next to him, not even be in his direct vicinity…

He simply leans back against the bench and looks at you the way someone might admire a painting they already own- the mere thought makes you nauseous.

For a few seconds neither of you speaks, so the silence stretches. Levi seems content to let it, he likes this; he simply likes making you stand there, likes watching you squirm and knowing exactly why you’re here. The realization settles unpleasantly in your stomach.

“Well?” he asks eventually. “Aren’t you going to sit down?”

“No.”

His smile widens. “Still got some fight left in you. That’s cute.”

Your jaw tightens. “I thought we could… talk.”

A laugh escapes him, low, amused. As though you’ve just said something truly entertaining. “Talk,” he repeats, stretching the word, „Sure.“

You hate him. You hate the way he manages to make every ordinary word sound filthy. Hate the way he looks at you and the fact that he knows you came anyway.

“Please, Levi…” you say before pride can stop you.

The change in his expression is immediate. “Oooh, there it is.” Your stomach drops. Levi slowly sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees while studying your face with unsettling concentration.

“I was wondering how long you’d hold out.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” The amusement dancing in his eyes makes your skin crawl. “You’re finally desperate enough to say please.”

Heat floods your face- not ofembarrassment but because he’s enjoying this. Every second of it. Every ounce of your discomfort seems to delight him.

“I came because I want this to stop.”

Levi shoves his lower lip into a fake pout. “As if you’re the victim here.”

The words hit so hard that for a second you genuinely can’t respond. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. There.

That reaction. That was what he wanted.

“You know,” he continues casually, glancing toward the trees, “Marc used to talk about you all the time.”

The mention of Marc feels like someone driving a knife between your ribs. Levi notices immediately; predators always notice where the wound is.

“There-” his voice softens, almost fond. “You make the saddest face whenever I mention him.”

“Levi.”

“No, keep making that face. It’s adorable.”

Your hands curl into fists. “Delete it.”

For the first time, his smile fades. Not because you’ve upset him. Worse. Because he’s bored now. As though you’ve interrupted a conversation he was enjoying.

“You still think that’s what this is about.” The shift in his tone sends a chill down your spine. Levi rises from the bench with unhurried ease, and suddenly the distance between you feels far smaller than it did a moment ago.

Instinctively, you take a step backward and his eyes immediately drop to the movement before he smiles again; slowly, hungrily- and somehow that smile feels far worse than any anger could have.

“You know what I find interesting?” he asks. “All semester you’ve been pretending to be this sweet little thing. The innocent one. The good girl.” He takes a single step forward. “And now look at you.”

Disgust crawls beneath your skin. “You blackmailed me.”

“That’s one way to phrase it.”

“That’s exactly what you’re doing.”

Levi laughs softly. “You make it sound so ugly.”

“It is ugly!”

His gaze drifts over you with slow, deliberate consideration. The look alone makes you feel filthy. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “at first I thought I’d get bored.”

Your stomach tightens when he steps even closer. “But every time I think you’re finally going to break, you surprise me.” His smile returns.

“I just wanted a quick fuck at first but now? Now I think I‘m gonna keep you a bit longer, tugging on that invisible leash a bit more.“

Something cold settles in your chest because suddenly you understand: This isn’t about getting something from you. It never really was. The footage is just a leash. The real prize is watching you panic whenever he pulls it.

Watching you bargain. Watching you beg. Watching you stand in front of him knowing he has power over you.

Levi likes fear, he likes being the reason for it and the realization is somehow more terrifying than the blackmail itself.

“Please.” You hate how small your voice sounds, you hate even more that you’re saying it again.

Levi’s expression changes. Like he’s finally hearing exactly what he wanted. For several long seconds he simply stares at you. Then his smile widens.

“I knew you’d look pretty begging.” And just like that, he turns and walks away.

No deal. No answers. No compromise.

Leaving you standing alone beneath the fading sunlight while nausea churns violently in your stomach and humiliation burns hot behind your ribs.

You remain frozen long after he’s disappeared from view, staring at the path where he’d been standing as evening shadows stretch across the gardens and darkness slowly begins swallowing the last traces of gold.

Several paths away, concealed behind a dense wall of hedges and shrubs, Jungkook watches the space Levi just vacated. At first he’d only followed because something about the situation felt wrong.

First the text message you’d received during class: the way your expression had changed afterward. The fact that you’d spent the rest of the afternoon distracted and anxious before disappearing across campus without telling anyone where you were going.

Individually, none of it meant much. Together, it had been enough to catch his attention.

Now, standing partially hidden among the trees, he finds himself staring at the bench with a growing sense of unease. Because whatever he just witnessed wasn’t an argument between friends- the entire interaction had felt wrong from the beginning.

The way you’d approached this guy and the way you’d kept your distance… Your shoulders had remained tense the entire time. Most of all, it had been the look on your face.

Jungkook has seen people angry, embarrassed, heartbroken, jealous… What he’d seen on your face had been none of those things. It had looked frighteningly close to fear. Fuck.

His gaze drifts toward the path that fucker disappeared down. He hadn’t looked nervous once. Hadn’t looked uncertain. If anything, he’d looked fucking entertained.

And that detail bothers Jungkook more than anything else, because people don’t smile like that unless they think they’ve already won.

The thought follows him into the next morning and into the afternoon. Then into the day after that. By Wednesday he’s asking questions.

Not enough to attract attention, never enough to reveal why he’s interested. Just casual conversations scattered throughout campus, observations disguised as curiosity, names dropped into discussions whenever opportunities present themselves.

The answers begin accumulating slowly: A hesitation here, an uncomfortable laugh there. Expressions shifting the moment Levi’s name enters the conversation. Nobody seems surprised that Jungkook knows who Levi is. What surprises them is that he’d willingly bring him up.

By Thursday the pattern has become impossible to ignore: people don’t merely dislike Levi. They fucking avoid him.

The distinction matters- dislike is simple. Dislike is normal. But this? This feels different.

Every conversation leaves Jungkook with the same impression, as though everyone knows something but nobody wants to be the person who says it out loud. Cowards. Maybe.

Then rumors surface. Stories that don’t quite qualify as accusations. Warnings disguised as fucking jokes. Just enough fragments to suggest a much uglier picture hiding underneath.

And with every new piece, his thoughts return to the botanical gardens; to the way you’d looked standing across from Levi. The desperation in your posture. The expression on your face after he’d walked away.

By the end of the week, Jungkook stops asking whether Levi is a problem. The only question left is how dangerous that fucking problem actually is.

Because that little wanker is hiding something. Jungkook would bet money on it. And judging by the fear he’d seen in your eyes that evening, whatever Levi is hiding somehow leads directly back to you.

He doesn’t know how yet, doesn’t know why, but for the first time since this started, he has a direction.

And somewhere across campus, completely unaware of the attention quietly settling on him, Levi continues moving through life with the confidence of a man convinced he’s untouchable. Idiot.

Jungkook has met plenty of people like that.

None of them enjoyed what happened after he decided to shift his focus on them.

By friday afternoon, Jungkook tells himself he’s only still watching Levi because of you- the lie sounds reasonable enough in his head.

At first, the plan had been simple: figure out why you’d looked terrified in the botanical gardens, why you’d spent the last days moving through life like somebody was holding a knife to your future. And why you’d rather slowly tear yourself apart from the inside than ask for help.

Unfortunately, the more Jungkook learns about Levi, the uglier the picture becomes… On the surface, the guy is exactly what Jungkook expected: a spoiled little prick with too much confidence and not nearly enough substance. He sleeps through half his lectures, spends money he probably doesn’t have, drinks like his liver personally offended him, lies as naturally as breathing, and flirts with anything possessing a pulse and a functioning nervous system. Every interaction feels rehearsed, every smile manufactured, every apology delivered with the polished ease of somebody who has never once meant a fucking word coming out of his mouth.

The problem isn’t who Levi pretends to be- the problem is what keeps slipping through the cracks.

At the end of the week, Jungkook has memorized most of his routine without even meaning to. He knows which coffee shop Levi visits every morning, which campus buildings he cuts through between classes, which parking lot he disappears into whenever he thinks nobody is paying attention, and which groups of people he gravitates toward when he’s looking for an audience.

More importantly, Jungkook has started noticing the people Levi leaves behind: the girls.

There are always girls. Different faces and different conversations but always the same expressions in the end. At first, Jungkook thinks he’s imagining it, but it keeps happening- a flash of discomfort, forced smiles, nervous laughter. Their shoulders tense whenever Levi gets closer while their eyes dart toward exits. Entire conversations that somehow manage to look wrong from fifty feet away.

After a few days coincidences stop being a believable explanation and a cold feeling has settled permanently beneath his ribs.

At a little after four o’clock, he’s parked across from the humanities building with his motorcycle resting beneath him and his helmet balanced beside his leg while students stream through the glass doors in endless waves. His phone vibrates and the contact name immediately softens something inside his chest.

Princess: where are you? weren’t we studying today?

For a moment, Jungkook almost starts the bike. Almost.

The guilt hits instantly because he knows exactly what that message means. You don’t ask where he is because you’re impatient. You ask because you’ve spent the last week looking over your shoulder every five fucking seconds and somewhere along the way you’ve started checking for him without even realizing it. He fucking loves that you want him close and need him, even if you never admit it out loud, but he fucking hates that someone scared you so bad for it to happen.

Then movement near the entrance catches his attention. Levi.

The asshole exits the building while staring at his phone, smiling at something on the screen. He’s not alone.

A girl follows several steps behind him and Jungkook notices the distance immediately- not because it’s dramatic but because it’s deliberate. She’s clutching her bag tightly against her chest like it’s armor. Her shoulders are tense. Her gaze keeps flicking around the parking lot as though she’s searching for witnesses without wanting to admit she needs them. Every instinct Jungkook possesses starts screaming.

Another message appears.

Princess: you’re late.

His jaw tightens.

running late. sorry. be there soon.

The lie sends before he can reconsider it. Then he slips the phone back into his pocket and focuses on the scene unfolding below because something has changed.

The girl says something, something Jungkook can’t hear. Levi can. The smile vanishes from Levi’s face so quickly it almost looks unnatural. Interesting.

Levi takes two slow steps forward and she takes one back, her fingers burying even tighter into her backpack. Jungkook straightens slightly while his own fingers tighten around the edge of the seat.

The girl’s posture grows smaller while Levi’s grows larger. Not physically. Psychologically. Like a fucking predator sensing weakness. Like somebody who knows exactly how much space he occupies in another person’s head.

Levi says something- sharp enough that even from a distance Jungkook sees the reaction: She visibly flinches and Levi laughs. The sound carries across the parking lot. What a fucking annoying sound.

Jungkook’s jaw locks in pure anger. God, he wants to hit him. No warnings, no light punch… Hit him hard enough that he’d spend the next month drinking soup through a straw.

The girl finally shakes her head and Levi shrugs. Then his next words drift clearly across the open space. “You want me to leak it?” The girl visibly freezes.

Jungkook goes completely still, trying to gather even more from the conversation. Levi keeps talking. He‘s still calm and relaxed- like they’re discussing weather forecasts instead of whatever the fuck this is.

“Then get the money.” The girl’s eyes immediately fill with tears. “You have until tomorrow.” Levi checks his watch. “Last warning.”

The realization lands with a sickening certainty- not because Jungkook is slow. But part of him still wanted to be wrong. Blackmail. The little fucking psychopath is blackmailing her.

Not you.

Her. An entirely different girl. Which means this isn’t personal. It’s probably a habit. A routine even…

The girl starts crying and Levi instantly looks annoyed. Actually annoyed. As if her tears are inconveniencing him, as if she’s somehow making his day harder.

“Please,” she says, the word barely carrying across the distance. He rolls his eyes then reaches forward and hooks two fingers beneath her chin. The gesture is small- gentle, even. Which somehow makes it worse because nothing about it feels impulsive or emotional.

It feels practiced, like he’s done this before. Over and over again... The same conversation, the same fear, the same outcome. A hundred fucking times. Something ugly shifts deep inside Jungkook’s chest.

“Tomorrow.” Levi tells her once more. “Or don’t.” Another shrug, another filthy smile.

Another reminder that he genuinely doesn’t give a shit what happens to her afterward. Then he turns around and walks away. Just like he did with you in the botanical garden… Leaving her standing there.

She’s still crying long after he‘s gone. Jungkook can practically feel the fear and desperation radiating off her… after a while, she wipes at her face, turns and walks in the opposite direction where Levi walked off.

For a long moment, Jungkook doesn’t move. Students pass. Cars pull out. Conversations continue. Life keeps moving.

Meanwhile, something cold and deliberate begins assembling itself inside his head. Because now he understands the part that has been bothering him: Levi isn’t just a problem. Because problems have always been simple for Jungkook- problems have solutions.

Levi is a pattern. A system. A parasite that’s figured out exactly how much fear it takes to keep people quiet. And if he’s doing this to random girls on campus, then what the fuck has he been doing to you?

The thought hits hard enough to make Jungkook’s stomach twist. Suddenly all those late-night messages make sense. The panic in your eyes, the exhaustion during the day and at night during tutoring. The way you’d looked like a trapped animal every time Levi’s name came up.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You’d been drowning right in front of him and he’d spent weeks calling you stubborn instead of realizing somebody was holding your head underwater.

His phone vibrates again. Another message from you appears on the screen.

Princess: you better have a damn good excuse.

For a brief second, despite everything, a smile threatens to appear but then it’s gone again. Somewhere across campus, Levi is still walking around like he’s untouchable. Like nobody is paying attention or putting the pieces together.

Fucking idiot.

Jungkook slides his helmet over his head and starts the motorcycle. The engine growls beneath him, low and vicious, while his eyes remain fixed on the corner where Levi disappeared. Whatever secret the bastard is hiding, Jungkook is going to find it.

And if Levi is stupid enough to keep threatening people while believing nobody is watching, then he’s about to discover exactly how dangerous that assumption can be.

By the time Jungkook finally arrives at the sorority house, he’s nearly forty minutes late, which is exactly why the front door swings open before he even has a chance to knock and finds you already standing there with your arms crossed and a look on your face that promises violence.

“You’re late.”

Jungkook glances lazily at his watch before lifting his eyes back to yours. “Observation skills. Nice.”

Your expression immediately darkens. “Actually, I think you should leave.”

A slow grin begins pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Before he can step inside, you plant your palm directly against his forehead and begin pushing with all the determination of someone who has already committed to the bit and refuses to back down now.

Unfortunately, Jeon Jungkook is built like a concrete wall. He doesn’t move. Not even a little.

You keep trying anyway. “I waited.”

The pressure against his forehead increases dramatically, which might have been intimidating if he weren’t actively fighting a laugh.

“Did you?”

“Forty minutes.”

“Sounds… unbearable. Did ya miss me that bad, baby?”

“You’re the worst.”

Jungkook finally catches your wrist before you can shove him again, the movement so effortless it only makes the situation more irritating. One second you’re aggressively attempting to evict him from the premises and the next your finger is trapped between his while he bends slightly at the waist until his face is level with yours.

“Careful, princess.” His voice drops lower, playful amusement curling around every word. “You need me.”

Heat flashes across your face so quickly it feels unfair. “The ego on this man.”

“I’m the tutor.”

“The self-delusion on this man.”

His grin only widens, entirely too pleased with himself. “I seem to remember somebody failing quizzes.”

The offended gasp that leaves you could probably be heard from three rooms away. Jungkook looks delighted.

“You wound me.”

“You wound yourself.”

“I’ll have you know I got a solid seventy-three last week.”

“Congratulations.” The sarcasm practically drips from him. “That’s almost a real grade.”

You make the most angry face you can manage before sticking your tongue out at him like a child. Jungkook blinks. Then blinks again. And suddenly a laugh escapes him. Not the quiet chuckle he usually hides behind a smirk, but a real laugh that lights up his entire face and catches you completely off guard. For a moment, all you can do is stare.

“Cute.”

Your stomach immediately decides to become a problem. “Shut up.”

“No.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“You suck.”

“Like, on that sweet pussy? If you insist.” He gives you a shameless wink and you feel your cheeks heat up. He just keeps smiling.

The worst part is that lately you’ve started noticing every version of that smile: the smug ones, the teasing ones, the rare genuine ones that appear when he forgets himself for a second. Most importantly, you’ve started noticing when they’re directed at you.

Jungkook, unfortunately, notices things too- especially when those things involve you. His eyes narrow slightly. Then the grin returns with renewed strength.

“Aw.”

You immediately know where this is going. “No.”

“She’s blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“Jungkook.”

“Princess.”

A loud groan leaves you before you finally spin around and stomp toward the living room, abandoning the argument before he can make it worse. Behind you, Jungkook follows, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Asshole.

The studying begins surprisingly well- for approximately seven minutes…

Then Jungkook glances down at something you’ve written. Then back at you, back at the paper, then back at you again.

Your eye twitches. “What.” He just remains quiet and it annoys you even more.

“What?” you repeat, more aggressively this time.

Jungkook slowly lowers the page. “This sentence is shit.”

You stare at him, he stares back, neither of you blinks for a few seconds. Finally, you place a hand against your chest.

“Wow.”

“Constructive criticism.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m correct.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It literally is.”

You snatch the paper from his hand but he just grabs it back. You try to get a hold of it again but the page bends alarmingly between you.

“Stop fighting me.”

“Stop being wrong.”

“I’m not wrong.”

A long sigh leaves him, accompanied by the expression of a man attempting to explain basic survival instincts to someone determined to lick a power outlet.

“Princess,” he begins patiently, “you wrote four paragraphs and somehow managed to say absolutely nothing.”

Your jaw drops. “That’s rude.”

“It’s impressive.”

“You are so annoying.”

“You submitted this.”

You immediately launch a highlighter at his head. Without even looking, Jungkook catches it out of the air. Show-off.

“You know,” he says while opening your notebook again, “most students actually try to pass.”

“I am trying.”

“No, you’re improvising.”

“That’s basically the same thing.”

“It absolutely isn’t.”

The next thirty minutes disappear beneath arguments about thesis statements, grammar choices, sentence structure, citation formats, and whether Jungkook is intentionally making things difficult for his own entertainment.

The answer is almost certainly yes.

At some point, Minji wanders through the living room carrying a drink, pauses when she notices the two of you arguing over a textbook like a couple celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary through mutual irritation, then silently turns around and leaves without saying a word. Neither of you notices.

The strange thing is that nothing has actually changed. Levi still exists, the fear still exists. The pressure sitting permanently inside your chest hasn’t magically disappeared.

None of the real problems have gone anywhere.

And yet, somehow, the weight feels lighter- easy enough that you can breathe without feeling like your lungs are collapsing. Enough that laughter occasionally slips through the cracks.

Easy enough that when Jungkook eventually declares you a menace to higher education and you threaten to hit him with the nearest textbook, the familiar rhythm that always existed between the two of you settles naturally back into place.

The bickering. The teasing. The endless competition to have the final word. The comfort hidden beneath every insult and eye roll.

For the first time in days, everything feels familiar again, and for a little while, neither of you says a single thing about the subjects that actually matter.

By the end of the first hour, Jungkook is irritated. By the end of the second, he’s offended.

Somewhere during the third, while kneeling on Levi’s bedroom floor surrounded by enough junk to qualify as a biohazard, he seriously considers setting the entire mattress on fire out of principle.

Because there should be something.

There has to be.

The room isn’t spotless by any means. Levi still lives like a feral raccoon that somehow acquired a student loan and access to online shopping, but all the obvious places have already been checked. Every drawer has been emptied. Every shelf has been searched. Jungkook has flipped through textbooks, dug through storage bins shoved beneath the bed, checked jacket pockets, old backpacks, gym bags, and stacks of loose papers that looked important until they turned out to be useless.

Nothing.

No notebooks. No folders. No hidden collection of blackmail material waiting to be discovered. No convenient smoking gun. Just garbage.

Which is exactly why Jungkook keeps looking- because innocent people don’t spend their afternoons threatening girls for money. And Levi definitely isn’t innocent.

A floorboard creaks beneath his boot. The sound is subtle enough that most people wouldn’t even register it, but Jungkook freezes immediately, every instinct sharpening at once as his gaze drops toward the floor.

For several seconds he remains perfectly still. Then he slowly shifts his weight- the board creaks again. Interesting.

Nothing about it looks unusual. The wood isn’t damaged. There aren’t any visible pry marks. No scratches. No signs that anyone has been lifting it. Still, when Jungkook crouches and presses down near the edge, he feels something move. Just slightly.

A slow smile appears. “There you are.”

Two minutes later, the board comes loose and suddenly everything makes sense…

A second laptop sits hidden beneath the floor alongside several USB drives and an external hard drive, each item carefully wrapped in plastic as though Levi knows exactly how much trouble he’d be in if anyone ever found them.

For a moment Jungkook simply stares… then training takes over; his phone appears in his hand. A photograph. Another. The laptop, the serial numbers, the USB & hard drive. The compartment itself.

Every angle. Every detail. Every piece of evidence exactly where he found it.

When he’s finished, everything goes back beneath the floorboards. Taking it now would be stupid- Levi would notice and panic. And panicked people become reckless and even more dangerous

No. Jungkook needs him comfortable. Confident. Completely unaware that someone has already broken into the walls of his life and started pulling bricks loose.

Which is how he finds himself sitting inside Yoongi’s apartment an hour later.

The place looks exactly the same as always; coffee cups occupy every available surface. Multiple monitors cast pale light across the dark room. Half-finished projects litter the desk, and Yoongi himself appears to be functioning exclusively through caffeine, nicotine, and sheer stubbornness.

Jungkook drops into a chair and slides his phone across the desk. Yoongi scrolls through the photographs. Once. Twice.

Then reaches for his coffee. “Interesting.”

“Can you get into it?”

For the first time, Yoongi looks up. The expression on his face suggests he has been personally insulted.

“That’s what you’re asking?”

“Yes.”

A long pause follows before the older one gestures vaguely toward the screen.

“Jungkook.” Another pause. “That’s not even a challenge.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “I need thirty seconds.”

“Show-off.”

“Correct. And that’s also why you came here.”

The plan comes together quickly after that because predictable people are easy to manipulate.

And Levi is painfully predictable- another night and the idiot disappears into another party.

Jungkook knows he won’t return for the rest of the night. He drinks way too much for someone who can’t handle his liquor well.

Around 2am the idiot is unconscious behind a row of fraternity bushes, covered in dirt, soaked in stale alcohol, missing one shoe, and sleeping dangerously close to his own vomit.

Jungkook stares while Yoongi stands next to him. Neither looks impressed.

“You know,” Yoongi says eventually, “I expected better.” Jungkook just shakes his head. Levi snores. The disappointment somehow deepens.

Twenty minutes later they’re back inside his room. This time they have time and the tools. Yoongi settles into the desk chair, powers on the hidden laptop, and waits for the password screen to appear.

Jungkook watches while Yoongi doesn’t look remotely concerned. A small device disappears into one of the ports, then code begins scrolling across the screen. Twenty-three seconds later the desktop appears.

Jungkook blinks, Yoongi takes a sip of coffee. “Told you.”

Then he starts opening folders and very quickly the room changes because they stopped looking for evidence… now they stare right at it.

Folder after folder appears across the screen:

Names. Dozens of them.

Each one labeled carefully, belonging to different persons. Videos. Photographs. Screenshots. Private conversations. Class schedules. Social media accounts. Secrets. Mistakes. Embarrassing moments. Painful ones.

Every insecurity, every vulnerability, every weakness meticulously catalogued and stored. Not memories or keepsakes. Weapons.

For several seconds, neither man speaks. The laptop fan hums softly beneath years of accumulated files.

Yoongi scrolls and scrolls before he slowly leans back. “Jesus Christ.” The words come out quieter than usual.

Jungkook just keeps staring; another folder, another victim. Another life Levi decided he had the right to own.

“What a fucking loser.”

Yoongi’s expression darkens. “Nah.” His eyes remain fixed on the screen. “This is worse than loser.”

The silence stretches, then he exhales. “This is psychotic.”

Jungkook barely hears him- he’s already noticed something else. One specific folder. It’s recent. His hand moves before he consciously decides to.

The folder opens and a quiet curse leaves his lips. There are dozens of photographs of… you.

You leaving lectures, carrying coffee across campus, laughing beside Soomin, walking toward the sorority house, sitting outside academic buildings, glancing over your shoulder.

You were completely unaware someone was following you.

Jungkook’s stomach drops, not because he’s surprised, but suddenly every missing piece clicks into place: Every exhausted expression. Every nervous glance. Every time you’d looked like you were carrying something too heavy to say out loud.

He scrolls through the folder until a video appears. The thumbnail is only in black and white, not very sharp and kind of grainy but he recognises it immediately. The library.

The way you were kneeling for him, looking up while he stroked your hair.

Levi had seen it too… and used it against you.

Beside him, Yoongi leans forward. “Holy shit.” His gaze moves between the screen and Jungkook’s face. “Is that little asshole blackmailing you?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens hard enough to hurt, then he slowly shakes his head. “No.”

The answer is quiet. Understanding settles across Yoongi’s face almost immediately.

“Oh.” A long pause follows. “Oh, he’s blackmailing her.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, doesn’t even move nor blink. His eyes remain fixed on the screen. On the thumbnail of the video.

“My girl.” The words leave him without thought. Not even possessive, not performative just certain. Like a fact.

Yoongi closes his eyes briefly before rubbing a hand down his face. “Idiot.”

Jungkook finally glances over.

“Not you.” the older one quickly adds. “Him.” Yoongi points toward the screen.

Neither of them speaks for a long time, both just stare at the screen, trying to process what kind of fucked up rabbit hole they dug up.

Yoongi glances toward his friend, and the look on the younger man’s face should scare him. In fact, it probably would scare anyone else… but Min Yoongi knew one thing: Jeon Jungkook rarely got loud or angry, and even more rarely got physical unless he had a damn good reason…

Finally, Yoongi leans back. “Just make sure you leave no evidence.” The room falls silent.

Jungkook’s hand stops on the touchpad. Slowly, he turns his head.

Yoongi shrugs and gestures toward the screen.“I’ve known you long enough.”

His gaze drifts back to your folder, back to the photographs. Back to the proof of what Levi has been doing.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

Jungkook remains silent but a tiny twitch under his right eye tells Yoongi everything he needs to know.

Yoongi snorts. “Don’t give me that look.” The silence lingers for a few more seconds before his voice softens.

“Honestly…” He exhales slowly. “I get it.”

The words aren’t approval or encouragement. Not really. But they’re understanding. Because some people spend years building the walls of their own downfall. And Levi has spent years laying every single brick himself.

Yoongi finally looks back at him. “Just be careful.”A tiny humorless laugh escapes him. “You’re smart, so make sure you stay smart.”

Jungkook nods then carefully, almost deliberately, closes the laptop. “Good.”

Yoongi frowns. “Good?”

Jungkook slides the laptop back into the bag and into its hiding place under the floorboard. “Now I know.”

“Know what?”

For the first time all evening, something changes in his expression- and it’s colder than anything Yoongi has ever seen before on his friend’s face.

Something final.

The look of a man who has stopped asking questions and started making decisions.

“What kind of person he is.”

The answer sends a chill down Yoongi’s spine because it doesn’t sound like a discovery. It sounds like a verdict.

The day starts badly and somehow finds increasingly creative ways to make itself worse.

The first problem arrives shortly after lunch when one of the freshmen Levi has been leaning on for the better part of a month suddenly decides she doesn’t have the money. Not next week. Not tomorrow. Not after payday. Apparently she spent the entire amount on tuition and now breaks down crying every time he calls.

Pathetic.

Levi hangs up halfway through her latest sobbing apology and blocks the number without a second thought. If she’s stupid enough to force his hand, that’s her problem.

The second problem arrives during class when he realizes he’s probably going to fail another exam. The third when his professor asks him to stay behind afterward. And the fourth when he checks his bank account.

By the time evening rolls around, Levi is in a genuinely foul mood, which usually means somebody else is about to have a much worse night than he is.

The thought improves his mood considerably.

As he walks back toward the fraternity house, gym bag slung over one shoulder, his mind begins drifting through possibilities. A photograph would probably be enough. Maybe a video if he’s feeling generous. Nothing catastrophic. Nothing that couldn’t be explained away later.

Just enough. Enough humiliation, just enough fear. Just enough pressure to remind people what happens when they stop cooperating.

The familiar feeling settles warmly inside his chest. Control. Consequences. Fear.

People always respond best to fear.

Whistling softly beneath his breath, he climbs the stairs toward his room, fishes his keys from his pocket, unlocks the door, and steps inside.

Then he freezes- a weird sensation hits him... not because anything is obviously wrong. Nothing has been overturned or appears to be damaged.

The furniture remains exactly where he left it. The room looks normal. And yet something deep inside him immediately recoils. Wrong.

The realization crawls slowly up his spine.

For several long seconds he remains standing just inside the doorway while his eyes move across the room. Everything looks exactly the same, which somehow makes it worse.

A strange pressure begins building beneath his ribs and his pulse picks up slightly, the same way animals know they’re being watched before they understand why.

Levi tells himself he’s being ridiculous and walks across the room. His movements feel strangely careful now. Like somebody entering a house that may or may not contain a stranger.

When he finally kneels beside the floorboard, the unease inside his stomach sharpens. The board comes loose easily. Too easily.

The compartment beneath it is empty.

For a moment, his brain simply refuses to process what he’s looking at…

The laptop should be there… the hard drive... the USB drives... They’ve always been there!

The empty space seems impossible. Unreal.

Like his eyes are showing him the wrong image. Slowly, he reaches inside- his fingers scrape against bare wood. Nothing.

His stomach drops. “No.”

His hands move faster now, searching corners, feeling beneath edges, as though the devices might somehow reappear if he looks hard enough. Nothing.

The compartment remains empty. Completely, utterly, terrifyingly empty.

A cold rush shoots down his spine as the room feels different: violated. Someone was here and found it. Found the one place nobody was ever supposed to find.

“No, no, no…”

His breathing starts quickening. The floorboard slips from trembling fingers and crashes against the floor with a sharp crack that echoes through the room.

Because another realization is already crashing into him: Photographs, videos, folders, entire conversations and files… Every secret and threat. Every victim. Everything.

Gone…

Levi stumbles backward so quickly he nearly loses his footing. His pulse pounds violently inside his ears. Someone has it- has all of it.

And suddenly every person he’s ever threatened begins flashing through his mind. Every girl. Every guy.

Every desperate plea. Every ruined life. Every enemy he’d created. The list is much longer than he’d like it to be.

A strained sound escapes him, part laugh, part panic. Because this isn’t happening. It can’t be.

Then he sees the note.

A single folded piece of paper resting neatly at the bottom of the compartment. The sight sends a fresh wave of nausea rolling through him- suddenly the missing files aren’t the most frightening part.

The note is.

Whoever took everything wanted him to know, wanted him to come home. To look. Wanted him to understand.

His fingers shake as he unfolds the paper:

OLD SWIMMING POOL, MIDNIGHT

For several seconds he simply stares. The room around him seems to disappear, silence feels suffocating. Something awful begins crawling slowly up his spine: whoever did this could have vanished… They could have gone to the police, could have exposed him and leaked everything.

Instead, they left an invitation. Or maybe it isn’t an invitation. Maybe it’s a summons.

A cold sweat breaks across the back of his neck because now he isn’t imagining administrators or police officers. Not even angry victims demanding justice.

He’s imagining something much worse.

Someone patient, methodical. Someone who already has every card in their hand.

Someone confident enough to tell him where to be and fully expect him to show up.

The realization lands like a punch directly to the chest. This isn’t a warning… warnings happen before consequences but this? This feels like the consequence itself.

Slowly, Levi lifts his gaze and looks around the room. For the first time since moving into the fraternity house, a thought occurs to him that nearly makes him sick. What if someone has been standing in this room while he slept?

The possibility lodges itself inside his head and immediately begins growing teeth. If they found the floorboard, what else do they know? What else have they seen? How many times have they been here? How long have they been watching? A shiver runs through him.

The room no longer feels familiar, doesn’t even feel like his. Every corner suddenly seems capable of hiding eyes. Every shadow feels occupied.

Outside, darkness slowly settles over campus. Midnight remains hours away. Far too many hours. Hours he will spend imagining every possible outcome, wondering who found him.

Hours he will spend realizing that for the first time in years, he has absolutely no control over what happens next.

Yet despite the fear clawing through his chest, he already knows one thing with complete certainty: He’s going.

Because the person who left that note now owns every secret he ever buried.

And somehow, as he stares down at those simple words, the thing waiting for him at the old swimming pool feels infinitely more dangerous than prison ever could.

➻ taglist for stupid little girl

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➻ You'll only find my work posted here, Wattpad and on my AO3 blog. I don't give consent for my work to be re-posted (in any language) onto any other platform, even if it is with credit. Thank you.

[borathae]

I hate the trend of comparing crowds these new fans make. Like why are we comparing and betting against all the stops the boys go to? Why is one crowd better than the other? Why does one stop suddenly not deserve them because "this city was louder" and "they should have been better than them"? Why did one stop set the bar way too high and so nobody else can reach it?

WHY ARE WE MAKING THIS TOUR A FUCKING COMPETITION???

And then the actual jealousy about which songs get played in which city and saying shit like "they didn’t deserve this song, this stop should have gotten it instead".

Can we stop making everything a competition? Seriously why does fandom culture suck so bad lately?

Just go to the fucking concert and have fun, seriously and stop being weird about this tour.