Welcome to my insanity. This is going to be 100% dedicated to BTS so if this isn’t for you, don’t bother coming in.
A little bit about me: '73 liner #dopeoldarmy w/no filter 🔞 I’m a thirsty boraho for KTH but I’m 💯 OT7 Always. 🔞 #apobangpo. My BTS DOB 💜 04.21.2021 (Dynamite Grammy 2021).
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I have a request for an idol.namjoon x manager.oc. Namjoon always had a thing for the oc but he could not act upon it because of the contract or because she had a bf. Then finally oc is single but he is nervous and doesn't want to lose her, but when someone tries to hurt her he gets all possessive and they get together in the end.
Off-Limits
Pairing: Idol!Namjoon x Manager!Reader
Genre: Idol AU, Forbidden Romance, Possessive Namjoon, Yearner Namjoon, Smut, Slight Angst, Fluff
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content [kissing backstage after confession, hotel room sex post concert, praise kink, lots of kissing, body worshipping, oral (f receiving), fingering, protected sex], Forbidden Romance, soft-dom Namjoon, possessive Namjoon, Mention of Harassment/Assault
Rating: 18+ | Minors DNI
Word Count: ~8.5k
A/N: Sorry, @themwordsblog, for taking so long to write this. Thank you for being so patient. I hope the wait was worth it. I had fun writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. 💜
[MASTERLIST]
The fluorescent lights of the practice room buzzed overhead, over the chaos of pre-tour preparations. You stood in the corner, clipboard in hand, checking off tasks as the members darted around.
Jungkook doing push-ups for no apparent reason, Jimin stealing Taehyung’s water bottle, and Hobi practicing a dance move in the mirror while shouting random encouragements to himself.
Yoongi, predictably, was napping on a pile of hoodies in the corner.
Typical.
But your eyes kept drifting to Namjoon.
He was seated at the edge of the room, scribbling in his notebook, his brows furrowed in that adorable way that made him look like he was solving world hunger instead of probably just writing a rap verse.
His glasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them up with a clumsy swipe, nearly knocking them off entirely.
You stifled a smile.
Two years... You’d been their manager for two years, and Namjoon had always been your favorite to work with. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud but he made it easy.
He was low maintenance, respectful, and had a quiet charm that disarmed you from day one.
He was also adorably clumsy, always tripping over cables or dropping his phone. You’d lost count of how many times you’d saved his AirPods from certain doom.
But it wasn’t just his clumsiness or his dimpled smile that got to you.
It was the way he looked at you.
Like you were the only person in the room who mattered.
You’d catch him staring during meetings, his eyes soft and intense, only to look away when you met his gaze. It was subtle, but it was there.
Always there.
And it was forbidden.
The contract clause was crystal clear: No inappropriate relationships with staff.
It was a line neither of you could cross, no matter how much his quiet gestures... bringing you tea when you were exhausted, offering his hoodie when you shivered, cracking dumb jokes to make you laugh, made your heart stutter.
You’d had a boyfriend for most of those two years, anyway.
A boyfriend who barely noticed you. Missed dates, ignored texts, forgot to pick you up from airports. You’d smile through the disappointment, but Namjoon always saw it.
One particularly rough night in Seoul, after your ex had bailed on yet another dinner, you were sitting in the empty practice room long after everyone else had left, staring at your phone screen with a forced smile that didn’t reach your eyes.
Namjoon lingered by the door, hesitating before stepping inside.
“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice gentle like always.
He held two cups of tea, the steam curling up between you.
You nodded quickly, slipping your phone into your pocket. “Yeah, just… long day. Thanks for the tea, Joon. You didn’t have to.”
He sat down on the floor across from you, crossing his long legs. “I wanted to. You’ve been running around fixing everyone else’s messes all week. Figured you could use a break.”
He paused, studying your face. “You sure you’re alright? You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world again.”
You laughed lightly, trying to brush it off. “It’s nothing. My boyfriend just… got caught up with work. Again. No big deal.”
Namjoon’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened further. “If it’s ‘nothing,’ why do you look like you’re forcing that smile? You know you can talk to me, right? I’m a pretty good listener. Even if I trip over my own feet half the time.”
You sighed, taking a sip of the warm tea.
It was exactly how you liked it—slightly sweet, with a hint of honey.
He always remembered.
“I don’t know… sometimes it feels like I’m the only one putting in effort. He forgot to pick me up from the airport last week, too. I waited for an hour.”
Namjoon’s jaw tightened just a fraction, but his voice stayed calm. “That’s not right. You deserve someone who shows up for you. Who sees how hard you work and makes sure you’re taken care of too.”
He hesitated, then added with a small, self-deprecating smile, “Not that I’m one to give relationship advice. I can barely manage my own schedule without your help.”
You chuckled despite yourself. “You’re not that bad. You’re the easiest one on the team, honestly. The others would be lost without you keeping them grounded.”
He grinned, dimples flashing. “See? We make a good team. You keep me from breaking expensive equipment, and I… bring you tea and bad jokes.”
His tone turned more serious. “But really. If you ever need to vent, or if things get too much, I’m here. No judgment.”
That became a pattern.
After tough days, he’d find little ways to check in.
Another time, weeks later, you were rushing through the hallway after a delayed flight, eyes puffy from holding back tears because your boyfriend had ignored your messages all day.
Namjoon appeared out of nowhere, jacket in hand.
“You look cold,” he said, draping it over your shoulders without waiting for permission. “And tired. Rough trip?”
“Yeah,” you admitted, pulling the jacket tighter. It smelled like him... clean, with a hint of his cologne. “Just… some personal stuff. Thanks, Joon. I’ll return it tomorrow.”
“Keep it as long as you need,” he replied, falling into step beside you.
“You know, I read this article about how holding onto things that drain you can mess with your creativity. Not saying that applies to you, but… you deserve people who lift you up, not leave you waiting at airports.”
You glanced at him, heart twisting at the quiet care in his words. “You’re too nice for this industry, Kim Namjoon. Seriously, how are you so… observant?”
He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just pay attention. Especially to the people who matter.”
His eyes met yours for a beat too long before he looked away. “Anyway, want to hear a dumb joke I just heard from Jin Hyung... to cheer you up? Why did the scarecrow win an award?”
You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Why?”
“Because he was outstanding in his field.” He delivered it with such earnest clumsiness that you burst out laughing, the tension easing from your shoulders.
“God, that was terrible,” you said, nudging his arm. “But thank you. I needed that.”
“Anytime,” he murmured, his voice warm. “I mean it.”
He never pushed, never said anything outright about your boyfriend.
But he knew.
He always knew.
When you finally broke up with your ex, it was like a weight lifted. You didn’t talk about it publicly, but Namjoon noticed the change immediately.
A week after the breakup, you were in the studio helping him organize some lyric sheets. You were humming softly, moving with a lightness you hadn’t felt in months.
Namjoon looked up from his notebook, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You seem different lately. Happier. Did something good happen?”
You paused, biting your lip. “Yeah, actually. I… ended things with my boyfriend. It was overdue. I feel lighter, like I can breathe again.”
His eyes lit up, genuine relief and something deeper flashing across his face. “I’m glad. You deserve that lightness every day. No one should make you feel like you have to dim yourself to fit.”
You laughed softly. “Thanks, Joon. You’ve been… a really good friend through all of it. Even when I didn’t say anything.”
He leaned back in his chair, watching you with that look... the one that made your stomach flutter.
“Friend, huh? I’ll take it. But seriously, you smile more now. It’s beautiful. You deserve someone who never lets that smile fade. Someone who’d worship the ground you walk on. Someone who notices when you’re carrying too much and helps carry the load.”
Your chest stuttered, your breath catching at the intensity in his voice. The air between you felt charged, heavy with unspoken feelings.
You laughed it off, though your cheeks warmed. “Wow, that’s a really cheesy line, Mr. RM. Practicing for a new song?”
He chuckled, but his gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe. Or maybe I just mean it. You work so hard for all of us. Let someone work hard for you for once.”
You rolled your eyes playfully, but the words lingered. “Careful, or I might start thinking you’re flirting with your manager.”
“Would that be so bad?” he teased lightly, but there was a vulnerability underneath.
Before you could respond, he stood up clumsily, nearly knocking over a stack of papers. “Shit—sorry. See? I still need you to manage my clumsy ass.”
You both burst into laughter, collapsing onto the couch in a fit of giggles as you helped him pick up the scattered sheets. The moment felt light, easy, but underneath it all, something had shifted.
That night, as you packed up your things, he leaned against the doorframe, watching you with that look again.
“You smile more now,” he repeated softly, almost reverent. “Don’t let anyone take that away.”
Your heart raced.
You muttered something about “cheesy lines,” but the words stayed with you, looping in your mind like a song you couldn’t shake.
Forbidden... Contract... Bad idea...
Right?
The international tour was a whirlwind after their recent comeback.
Tokyo, LA, Mexico, Vegas, Paris—each city blurred into the next, a kaleidoscope of jet lag, screaming fans, and endless schedules.
You were in your element, juggling logistics, calming frantic staff, and making sure the boys were where they needed to be. But the exhaustion was real. 6 a.m. wake-up calls, late-night soundchecks, and the constant pressure to keep everything running smoothly.
Namjoon was getting bolder.
You felt it in the way his hand brushed your waist when he guided you through a crowded backstage area, his touch lingering a fraction too long.
Or the way he leaned close during breaks, whispering dumb jokes in your ear to make you laugh. You’d swat him away, muttering, “Behave, Joon,” but your heart raced every time.
Don’t go there, you told yourself. Don’t.
But then there was the dancer.
One of the new backup dancers, Minho, had been… off.
You’d noticed it early on... his eyes lingered too long, his smile too sharp and creepy. He’d hover near you during breaks, making small talk that felt too personal.
You’d caught him taking selfies with you in the background, his phone angled just so. It was creepy, but you brushed it off. You were used to handling weirdos in this industry.
Until that night in Paris.
You were in the dressing room, checking in with stylists and organizing the boys’ outfits for the next show. The room was quiet after they left, the chaos of the day finally settling.
You were alone... or so you thought.
The door creaked open, and Minho slipped inside.
His smile was too wide, his eyes too dark.
“Hey,” he said, his voice syrupy. “You’re always so busy. Thought I’d keep you company.”
You forced a polite smile, your skin prickling. “I’m good, thanks. Just finishing up.”
He didn’t leave.
Instead, he stepped closer, his body blocking the path to the door. “C’mon, sweetheart. You’re always with them. Don’t you want someone to notice you for you?”
Your stomach twisted. “I’m fine. You should go.”
He didn’t.
He moved closer, his hand reaching for your arm. You stepped back, but he grabbed your wrist, his grip tight enough to sting.
“Don’t be like that,” he murmured, leaning in. His breath was hot against your cheek, and panic surged in your chest.
“Let go,” you said, your voice sharp as you yanked your arm back. But he didn’t budge, his fingers tightening.
And then the door slammed open.
Namjoon stood there, his silhouette filling the doorway. His eyes, usually so warm and soft... were dark, blazing with a rage you’d never seen before.
“Take your hands off her. Now.”
His voice was low, deadly, each word dripping with barely restrained fury. Minho froze, his grip loosening as he stumbled back under the weight of Namjoon’s glare.
“I... I was just—” Minho stammered, but Namjoon cut him off.
“Get out.”
Minho didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled for the door, nearly tripping in his haste. Security appeared moments later, dragging him away.
Namjoon turned to you, his jaw tight, his hands shaking as he grabbed your arm... not roughly, but urgently, and pulled you out of the room.
He slammed the door behind you, his chest heaving as he paced the hallway, hands raking through his hair.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice raw. “Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” you said, but your voice trembled. You held up your wrist, where faint red marks lingered. “Just… shaken.”
Namjoon’s eyes narrowed on the marks, and his expression darkened further. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing over your wrist with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the storm in his eyes.
“I should’ve protected you,” he said, his voice breaking. “I should’ve said something sooner. I saw how he looked at you, and I... fuck... fuck the rules.”
Your heart stopped. “Namjoon, don’t—”
But he wasn’t listening.
He was too close now, his breath warm against your face, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.
“I’m done pretending,” he said. “I’m done watching you hurt and not doing anything about it. I’m done acting like I don’t—”
He stopped himself, his hands clenching into fists as he stepped back, trying to rein himself in. But you saw it... the raw, aching need in his eyes.
The same need you’d been burying for months.
“Let’s get you to Hotel,” he said finally, his voice softer but still edged with something dangerous. “You are coming with me. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Instead of taking you to your room three doors down, Namjoon guided you gently toward his suite at the end of the hall. “Come to mine,” he said quietly. “I have a first aid kit. We should treat those marks before they bruise worse.”
You nodded, still shaken, letting him lead the way.
Namjoon’s hotel suite was a mess of books, lyric sheets, and half-empty coffee cups—a reflection of his chaotic, beautiful mind.
You sat on the edge of his bed, your hands still trembling from the encounter with Minho. Namjoon didn’t touch you, didn’t sit too close at first. He just stayed with you, his presence steady and warm.
He paced for a while, muttering to himself about “fucking creeps” and “stupid contracts.” You watched him, your heart aching at how unhinged he was, how much he cared.
“I’m okay, Joon,” you said finally, your voice soft. “Really.”
He stopped pacing, his eyes snapping to yours. “You’re not okay. I saw your face. I saw how he—”
He cut himself off, dragging a hand over his face. “I should’ve been there.”
“You were,” you said. “You stopped it.”
He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Not soon enough.”
Namjoon disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and returned with a small first aid kit. He sat beside you on the bed, close enough that his knee brushed yours, and gently took your wrist in his large, warm hand.
With careful movements, he applied a soothing ointment to the faint red marks, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin as if to erase the memory of the grip.
“This should help,” he murmured, voice low and focused. “Tell me if it stings.”
The room fell silent, the air thick with unspoken things.
You wanted to reach for him, to tell him it was okay, but the weight of the contract, the company, the rules held you back.
After a while, you stood, murmuring that you should head back to your own room just a few doors down the hall. He walked you there but didn’t push to stay, respecting the fragile space between you.
The next day, you were back to work, but the incident lingered heavily. The boys were busy with final sound checks on stage, the distant thrum of music and Jin & Jungkook’s laughter echoing through the arena.
You slipped away backstage to check in something, almost against your will to the same dressing room where everything had happened yesterday.
As soon as you stepped inside, the memories flooded back—the creep of Minho’s voice, his tight grip on your wrist, the fear that had gripped your chest.
Your eyes grew teary, your breath shaky as you leaned against the wall, realising what could have possibly happened if Namjoon didn't arrive on time.
You didn’t hear the soft knock on door behind you.
“Hey,” Namjoon called, his voice low and gentle, muffled slightly as he stepped in. “It’s me. I saw you come this way during the break. The others are still on stage for another twenty minutes or so. Can I come in… properly?”
You wiped at your eyes quickly, trying to steady your breathing as you turned toward him.
“I’m fine,” you said, but your voice cracked, betraying the tears you couldn’t quite hide. “Really, Joon. You should be with the members.”
He saw right through you.
His eyes softened with deep concern, but there was something else there—something fierce and protective, layered with a tender longing that made your heart ache.
He stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click, and leaned against the wall near the sink, giving you space but never taking his eyes off you.
The air between you felt charged, heavy with everything unsaid.
“I’ve spent two years watching you carry everyone else’s burdens,” he said, his voice low and steady, each word deliberate and full of quiet emotion.
“I’ve seen you smile through things that would break anyone else. I’ve watched you put on that brave face after every missed call from your ex, after every long flight, after every crisis that wasn’t even yours to fix. And I’ve stayed quiet, because I thought that’s what you needed. And because of that damn contract. Because I didn’t want to make things harder for you, or risk messing up what we already have.”
He took a slow step closer, his large hands twitching at his sides like he was physically fighting the urge to reach out and pull you into his arms.
“But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend I don’t see you, that I don’t feel you, every single day. I’ve been in love with you for so long it hurts, and I—”
His voice broke, raw and vulnerable, and he looked down for a moment, jaw tight as he gathered himself.
“God, saying it out loud feels terrifying. But I need you to tell me what you want. If you want me to keep my distance, to stay just your clumsy RM who brings you tea, I will. I’ll try my best, even if it kills me. But if you feel even a fraction of what I feel… if there’s any part of you that’s been wondering the same thing… say it. Please. I need to hear it from you.”
Your breath caught sharply in your throat, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst out of your chest. The sincerity in his eyes, the way his voice trembled just slightly on the words “in love with you,” cracked open every wall you’d built.
You’d spent so long burying your feelings, hiding behind professionalism and fear, convincing yourself this was impossible. But here he was, standing in the very room, offering his heart so openly.
“Namjoon…” you whispered, your voice trembling as fresh tears welled up, not from fear this time but from overwhelming emotion.
“I’ve wanted you for so long. Longer than I even admitted to myself. Every time you brought me tea, every quiet ‘you okay?’ after a bad day, every time I caught you looking at me like I was something precious… it killed me to pretend I didn’t feel it too. But I’m scared. The contract, the company, what this could mean for you and the boys—”
“I know,” he said softly, stepping even closer now, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with stage nerves.
His hand lifted slowly, hovering near your cheek before gently brushing a tear away with his thumb. “I’m scared too. Terrified, actually. But I’d rather face every consequence, than keep pretending I don’t love you. You’re worth risking everything for. Tell me I’m not alone in this. Tell me you feel it too.”
The dam broke completely.
The tension that had been building for months snapped like a live wire. You closed the distance in one desperate step, your hands reaching up to cup his face, fingers threading into his hair as your lips met his.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative and trembling.
But then it deepened with fierce intensity—his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he was afraid you might disappear.
His lips moved against yours with hungry passion, a slow burn turning into wildfire, tongues brushing in a dance that sent sparks down your spine. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, matching your own frantic rhythm.
Every brush of his fingers along your back, every soft groan he let out into your mouth, every second of built-up longing poured out in waves that left you dizzy and breathless.
He tasted like coffee and desperation, like every stolen glance and unspoken word finally set free. Your bodies pressed closer, his large frame enveloping you protectively as the kiss grew more urgent, more consuming.
Butterflies erupted wildly in your stomach, a fluttering storm of desire, relief, and pure love that made your knees weak.
Time seemed to stop in that dressing room—the same place that had brought terror now filled with something beautiful and electric.
When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, foreheads pressed together, lips swollen and eyes locked in a gaze full of wonder and heat.
Your hands stayed on his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall.
“We’re going to get in so much trouble,” you murmured, a shaky, breathless laugh escaping you as you traced his jaw with your thumb. “But God, Joon… that felt right. So right.”
He smiled, those beloved dimples flashing, but his eyes remained serious and dark with emotion. “Then we’ll face it together. No more hiding. I love you. I’ve loved you for so long I don’t remember what it felt like before.”
“I love you too,” you whispered back, the words tasting like freedom on your tongue. “More than I knew how to say.”
You lingered for another moment, stealing one more soft kiss, then another, the tension between you crackling like electricity. But reality nudged in.
You pulled back slightly, hands still on his chest.
“You should probably head back,” you said softly, voice laced with reluctance.
“Sound check is wrapping up, and the concert is in less than an hour. The boys will be looking for you. We… we’ll talk more after. But for now... go. Be amazing as always out there.”
Namjoon nodded, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead, his arms squeezing you tight. “I’ll be thinking of you every second I’m on that stage. We’ll figure this out. Promise me you’ll be okay until then?”
“I will,” you assured him, smiling through the lingering butterflies. “Now go, before someone comes looking.”
He stepped back reluctantly, eyes full of promises and heat, then slipped out the door, leaving you alone in the room—heart racing, lips tingling, and the sweet tension of what was to come hanging thick in the air for the entire concert ahead.
The concert had ended hours ago, but the adrenaline still hummed wildly in your veins, mixing with something far more dangerous.
The entire ride back to the hotel had been pure torture.
You and Namjoon sat close in the van, the air thick with unspoken promises and weeks of pent-up tension. Every stolen glance, every accidental brush of his fingers against your thigh, every shared look that lingered too long had only worsened the ache that started the moment your lips met backstage.
The kiss you shared hours ago still burned on your skin, a promise of what was coming.
As you stepped off the elevator onto your floor, the hallway was quiet except for the sound of your racing heart.
You stopped in front of your door, just three rooms down from his, and turned to face him. Your body ached for him, heat pooling low in your belly, but you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little longer.
You gave him a soft, playful smile, biting your lip as you looked up at him through your lashes. “I should probably head to my room,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s late… We wouldn’t want to risk anything tonight, right?”
Namjoon’s eyes darkened instantly, the hunger in them unmistakable.
He stepped closer, towering over you, his presence overwhelming in the dimly lit hallway. He knew you wanted him just as badly... he could see it in the way your breath hitched, the way your thighs pressed together, the way you hadn’t stopped looking at him since the concert ended.
“Like hell you are,” he growled low, his voice rough and filled with raw need. His large hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, not rough but possessive, pulling you toward his suite at the end of the hall.
“You think I don’t know exactly what you’re doing? Teasing me like this after that kiss backstage? After hours of this fucking tension building between us?”
You let out a soft, breathless laugh as he tugged you along, your pulse skyrocketing. “Maybe I’m just being responsible, Joon. Wouldn’t want to break any more rules tonight…”
He stopped in front of his door, swiping his keycard with his free hand while keeping his grip on you. He leaned down, lips brushing your ear, voice dark and dripping with desire.
“Responsible? Baby, we both know you want this as much as I do. I saw how you looked at me during the encore. I felt how you trembled when I kissed your forehead. That tension from the dressing room? It’s been killing you too. Stop pretending.”
The door clicked open.
Before you could tease him again, he pulled you inside, shutting the door behind you with a decisive thud.
“Joon—” you started, but he cut you off, pressing you against the closed door, his body flush against yours.
“No more teasing,” he murmured, cupping your face with both hands, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “Tell me you don’t want me right now and I’ll let you go to your room. But we both know that’s a lie.”
You shivered, staring into his intense eyes, the air between you thick and reeking of barely contained lust. “I do want you,” you whispered, finally giving in. “So much it hurts.”
A low, satisfied groan escaped him. “Good girl.”
Namjoon was on you like a man starved.
His hands cupped your face as he crashed his lips against yours in a desperate, claiming kiss. The kiss was hot, messy, and full of two years of longing—tongues sliding, teeth nipping, breaths mingling.
He pressed you back against the door, his tall, strong body pinning you there, and you could feel every hard inch of him, especially the growing bulge straining against his jeans.
“Fuck, you have no idea,” he murmured against your mouth, voice deep and wrecked as he kissed along your jaw, teeth grazing your skin. “No idea how long I’ve wanted this. How many nights I lay awake thinking about you, touching myself while imagining it was you.”
“Joon…” you gasped, your hands fisting in his shirt as your head fell back against the door. “We’re really doing this. We’re gonna get in so much trouble if anyone finds out.”
“Let them try to stop us,” he growled, his hands sliding down your sides, fingers digging possessively into your hips as he ground against you. “I don’t give a fuck about the contract anymore. You’re worth it. You’re mine now.”
His fingers brushed over the faint marks still lingering on your wrist from Minho. His expression turned darker, almost feral. He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the tender skin with aching reverence.
“Let me erase every fucking mark he left on you,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “No one else gets to touch what’s mine. Say it, baby.”
“I’m yours,” you whispered breathlessly.
He groaned at your words and suddenly lifted you, carrying you to the nearby couch. He set you down gently but urgently, then dropped to his knees in front of you like a man worshipping at an altar.
His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress higher, exposing your skin inch by inch.
“Look at you,” he breathed, eyes dark and intense as he stared up at you.
The sight of Kim Namjoon on his knees, broad shoulders between your legs, made your panties soaked. “So fucking perfect. Tell me you want this. Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, Joon,” you moaned, voice shaking with need. “Please… I need you.”
That was all the encouragement he needed.
He hooked his fingers into your panties and pulled them down slowly, letting them pool at your ankles.
Namjoon leaned in slowly, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His lips were wet and sloppy, sucking gently, then harder, leaving faint marks of his own as his tongue dragged over your skin.
Your thighs trembled uncontrollably under the attention, the wet sounds of his kisses filling the room.
“Fuck, these thighs,” he murmured reverently between kisses, his voice thick with lust. “So soft… so fucking perfect. I’ve dreamed about burying my face between them for so long. You’re shaking already, baby. You like when I kiss you here?”
“Yes... Joon, please,” you whimpered, your hands gripping the couch cushions as your legs quivered.
He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin.
“Good girl. So responsive for me.” He continued his worship, sucking and licking higher, closer to where you needed him most, until you were a trembling, dripping mess.
Only then did he move in fully... his mouth was on you, hot, hungry, and relentless. He devoured you like a goddess, like he’d been starving for years and you were his salvation.
His tongue flicked over your clit with devastating precision before flattening to lick broad, messy stripes through your folds, tasting every inch of you.
He sucked your clit into his mouth, humming in pleasure as he worked you with expert skill.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned against your core, the deep vibration making you cry out.
“Sweeter than I imagined. So fucking wet for me already. This pretty pussy is dripping down my chin, baby. You’re soaking me and I love it. I could stay here for hours, eating this sweet cunt until you can’t take anymore.”
Your hands flew to his hair, gripping the soft strands tightly as your hips bucked against his face. “Joon—oh god, that feels so good… your mouth—fuck!”
He pulled back just enough to look up at you, his lips shiny with your arousal, eyes dark and intense. “You’re doing so well for me. Such a good girl, letting me taste you like this. This pussy belongs to me now. Say it.”
“It’s yours,” you moaned, thighs trembling around his head. “All yours, Joon.”
He dove back in with renewed hunger, sliding one thick finger inside you, curling it perfectly against that spot that made your back arch off the couch.
Then he added a second finger, stretching you open while his tongue worked your clit mercilessly—sucking, licking, and flicking in a rhythm that had you seeing stars.
“That’s it, baby. Ride my face,” he growled between licks, his free hand gripping your thigh possessively. “You’re so tight around my fingers. So fucking perfect. I can feel you clenching already. Come for me, princess. Let me taste how good I make you feel.”
“Joon... oh god, I’m so close already,” you whimpered, voice breaking as the pleasure built unbearably. “You’re gonna make me... fuck, I’m gonna cum—”
“Look at me,” he commanded, pulling back just enough for his dark eyes to lock onto yours, fingers still pumping steadily. “I want you to watch who’s making you fall apart. Who this pretty pussy belongs to. Come on my tongue like the good girl you are.”
You obeyed, eyes locked with his as he sucked harder on your clit, fingers thrusting faster and deeper. The coil in your stomach snapped violently.
You came with a loud, broken cry, thighs shaking around his head, waves of intense pleasure crashing over you as you gushed on his tongue.
But Namjoon didn’t stop.
He kept licking and fingering you through every aftershock, devouring every drop like he couldn’t get enough, murmuring praises against your oversensitive flesh.
“That’s my good girl… so fucking beautiful when you cum for me. Give me another one, baby. I’m not done worshipping you yet.”
You whimpered his name like a prayer, oversensitive and trembling, but he continued his relentless devotion until you were a moaning, shaking mess beneath him.
He finally stood, lips glistening with your arousal, and kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss was filthy and loving all at once, his tongue sliding against yours as if he couldn’t get enough of you.
“OH... God... you’re mine,” he repeated against your mouth, voice rough and possessive, sending shivers down your spine. “Say it again while I fuck you. I need to hear it.”
“I’m yours,” you gasped breathlessly between kisses, your hands clutching his shoulders. “And I’ll repeat it everytime you ask me, Joon. Only yours.”
He groaned deeply at your words, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Fuck, baby… you have no idea what you do to me.”
He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he carried you to the bed.
The way he held you... so strong yet so careful, made your heart swell with love even as raw lust burned between you. He laid you down gently on the mattress, but his eyes were dark with hunger.
You reached for him immediately, tossing off his shirt, hands tracing every line of his toned chest and faint scars, worshipping the body you’d wanted for so long. He shoved down his jeans and boxers in one motion. His cock sprang free—thick, hard, and leaking at the tip.
“Need you so fucking bad,” he rasped, settling between your spread thighs. He spread you open with his large hands, rubbing the head of his cock against your slick, sensitive entrance, teasing you mercilessly.
“You’re so wet for me already. Been thinking about this since that kiss backstage, haven’t you? All through the concert I was hard just remembering how you tasted on my tongue.”
“Yes,” you moaned, hips rolling up desperately, trying to pull him inside. “Please, Joon. I want you inside me. I’ve wanted this for so long… I can’t wait anymore.”
He leaned down, forehead pressed to yours, breathing heavily.
The tension in the air was electric—thick with love, lust, and years of suppressed desire. “I love you,” he whispered fiercely, voice trembling with emotion. “I love you so much it hurts. But right now I need to fuck you like I’ve been dying to.”
He reached over to the jeans pockets, fumbling for a moment before pulling out a condom. A mischievous, slightly embarrassed smirk tugged at his lips as he tore the packet open with his teeth.
You blinked, chest heaving. “Wait… you already have those here?”
Namjoon chuckled lowly, rolling the condom down his thick length with steady hands, eyes never leaving yours. “I may have… asked the members for one after the concert. Told them I needed it for ‘reasons.’ Jin-hyung gave me three with the biggest shit-eating grin. They definitely know something’s up.”
You let out a breathless laugh, cheeks burning even as arousal pulsed through you. “Great. Now everyone’s going to know. By tomorrow the whole group chat is going to be unbearable.”
“Let them talk,” he growled, positioning himself at your entrance again, rubbing the tip against your clit teasingly. “I don’t care. As long as you’re mine.”
He pushed in slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching you deliciously. You gasped sharply, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure bordered on overwhelming.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours, voice strained with the effort of holding back. “So perfect around me. You okay, baby? Tell me if it’s too much.”
“I’m good—fuck, Joon, you feel incredible,” you begged, rolling your hips up to take more of him. “Move, please. I need all of you. Love me. Fuck me. Make me forget everything except you.”
He kissed you hard, full of love and raw lust, then started moving—deep, powerful thrusts that stole your breath. The room filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, your shared moans, and whispered words of love and filth.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured against your lips between thrusts. “I’m never letting you go.”
He didn’t hold back.
His pace was rough and desperate, hips snapping forward as he fucked you deep and hard, each powerful thrust pushing you further into the mattress.
The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your breathy moans and his low groans, filling the room with raw, filthy heat. The air was thick and heavy with the scent of sex and sweat.
“Look at me,” he demanded again, voice rough and commanding.
One of his large hands slid up to rest possessively around your throat... not squeezing, just holding you there, claiming you.
His eyes burned into yours as he drove into you relentlessly. “I want to see your face when you come on my cock. Say you’re mine, baby. Say it like you mean it.”
“I’m yours,” you gasped, eyes locked on his, your voice breaking with every deep thrust. “Only yours, Joon. Fuck—harder! Please, I need more—”
“That’s my girl,” he growled, his hips slamming into you even harder, deeper, the wet sound of your bodies meeting echoing louder.
“God, I love you so fucking much. You have no idea how long I’ve been dying for this. How many nights I lay awake aching for you, knowing you were with your ex… and he didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you.”
He leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy, desperate kiss while continuing to thrust into you with punishing rhythm.
When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, eyes dark with lust and raw emotion.
“Every time that bastard ignored your texts, every time he forgot you at the airport, every time I saw that sad smile on your face… it fucking killed me,” he confessed between heavy thrusts, voice strained but full of passion.
“I wanted to pull you into my arms and tell you that you deserved someone who would worship the ground you walk on. Someone who would kiss the fucking floor you step on. I would never treat you like that. Never. You’re my everything.”
“Joon…” you moaned loudly, your nails raking down his back as pleasure coiled tighter inside you. The way he was looking at you... so possessive, so obsessed, yet so full of love, made your heart ache with overwhelming emotion.
“I’m obsessed with you,” he admitted hoarsely, hips snapping forward again, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over. “I’ve been obsessed for two fucking years. Watching you, wanting you, loving you from a distance because I respected you too much to ever do anything until you weren’t ready.”
His thrusts grew even more intense, deep and claiming, his hand still possessively around your throat as he stared into your eyes.
“No one else gets to see you like this,” he growled, voice dripping with lust and devotion. “No one else gets to hear you like this. You’re mine to worship. Mine to ruin. Mine to love until the end of time. Tell me again, baby. Tell me who you belong to while I fuck you senseless.”
“You!” you cried out, tears of overwhelming pleasure and love pricking your eyes. “Only you, Joon. I love you so much—”
“That’s it,” he groaned, pounding into you harder, chasing both your pleasure and his. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you fall apart. I’ve waited so long for this. So fucking long.”
The tension, the confessions, the raw love mixed with filthy lust pushed you over the edge. You came hard, clenching around his cock, crying out his name as stars exploded behind your eyes, your entire body shaking.
Namjoon followed right after, burying himself deep inside you with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom. He stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily against your neck, before slowly pulling out.
He collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you into his strong arms. His lips brushed your temple, then your forehead, soft and reverent after the raw passion.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured tenderly, his fingers tracing lazy, soothing patterns on your back. “I’m never letting you go. I love you. More than you’ll ever know.”
You curled into his chest, heart still racing, body buzzing with aftershocks. “I love you too. So much. I never knew how much you were holding back… how deeply you felt all this time.”
For the first time in years, wrapped in his arms, you felt truly safe, wanted, completely loved and utterly claimed.
The next morning, reality crashed down.
You woke up in Namjoon’s arms, his warmth enveloping you, but the weight of what you’d done settled in your chest like a stone.
The contract. The company. The consequences.
“We’re fucked,” you muttered, burying your face in his chest.
Namjoon stirred, his arms tightening around you instinctively.
He let out a low, sleepy chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Probably. But damn… it was worth it, wasn’t it?” His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, gentle and reassuring.
You swatted his arm, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re an idiot.”
“Your idiot,” he said, kissing your forehead.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes still hazy with sleep but filled with unwavering affection. “Good morning, by the way. How are you feeling? Any regrets?”
You shook your head, tracing idle patterns on his chest with your fingertip.
“No regrets,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly. “I love you.”
“I love you more,” he murmured against your lips, deepening the kiss.
You both knew what had to happen.
You insisted on telling the company yourself, before anyone could twist the story. You marched into your superior’s office, your heart pounding, Namjoon’s hand brushing yours one last time before you went in.
“Let them fire me,” you told him, your voice fierce. “I’m not giving you up.”
He smiled, his eyes soft. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
They didn’t fire you—because, you were too good at your job, and Namjoon was RM. But you were reassigned, pulled off BTS’s team and moved to a different department.
It stung, but Namjoon was relentless.
He confessed to you, to the company, to anyone who would listen.
Months later, you were no longer his manager, but you were his.
The company eventually worked out a quiet deal—thanks to Jin’s smooth persuasions and Yoongi’s terrifyingly calm emails.
You stayed on as a general coordinator, traveling with the group when needed. You and Namjoon kept things low-key in public, but the boys knew.
And they loved it.
Backstage before the concert, the energy was electric.
You stood close to Namjoon, fussing over his in-ear mic.
“Hold still, Joon,” you murmured softly, your fingers carefully tucking the earpiece and smoothing the wire along his neck. “Why do I always end up doing this? You’d probably walk on stage with it dangling if I didn’t check.”
Namjoon looked down at you with a fond, dimpled smile, his voice low and teasing just for you. “Because you worry about me too much. But I’m a grown man, you know. I can handle my own mic… most of the time.”
You rolled your eyes playfully as your fingers brushed his collar, straightening it with gentle tugs.
“A grown man who dropped his phone in a water this morning? Yeah, sure. I fuss because someone has to keep the genius RM from technical disasters right before he owns the stage.”
He chuckled warmly, his hands lightly resting on your waist as you moved to brush a tiny piece of lint off his crisp black shirt. The simple, domestic gesture felt so natural now.
“You don’t have to, but I love that you do,” he admitted quietly, eyes soft. “Makes me feel like the luckiest guy here. Even if the members are about to roast me for it.”
The others noticed immediately.
Jin’s voice boomed with dramatic flair as he leaned against a nearby equipment case. “Yah! Look at this! Where’s the wedding invite, huh? I need to clear my schedule for the big day and be the emcee.”
Jungkook, bouncing on his heels with a mischievous grin, jumped in right away. “Hyung, do I get to be the flower boy? Or maybe the ring bearer? I promise I won’t drop them… probably.”
Jimin clapped his hands together, eyes sparkling with delight. “Oh my god, you two are so cute it hurts. Look at her fixing his collar like a proper wife already! Namjoon-hyung, you’re blushing so hard right now.”
Taehyung pretended to wipe away fake tears. “I can’t believe this. My favorite hyung is all domesticated now. Next thing you know, she’ll be packing his snacks and reminding him not to lose his passport again.”
Hobi laughed brightly, pulling out his phone to snap a quick photo. “This is pure gold! Someone pass the tissues... I’m getting emotional!”
Yoongi, ever the calm one, smirked from his seat while adjusting his own mic. “You all talk too much. Let them be. Though… yeah, keep the heart eyes off in public.”
Namjoon groaned loudly, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red as he rubbed the back of his neck.
He gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you aside, away from the group’s prying eyes and teasing laughter, his large hands settling warmly on your hips.
“They’re never gonna let me live this down,” he muttered, voice low and slightly embarrassed, though his eyes were soft and full of affection as he looked at you.
You smirked up at him, your hands resting on his chest as you tilted your head playfully. “You love it. Deep down, you love all this chaos. Admit it—it makes you smile bigger when they tease you about me.”
He chuckled, dimples deepening as he leaned in closer, forehead almost touching yours. “Okay, maybe a little. But mostly I just love you. Even when they’re being absolute gremlins about it.”
From behind you, Jin called out again, “Yah, lovebirds! Save the whispering for after the encore! Some of us are trying to focus here!”
Jungkook added with a laugh, “Yeah, hyung! If you drop the mic tonight because you’re too busy staring at her, I’m telling everyone it’s because of love sickness!”
You both laughed, and Namjoon pressed a quick, soft kiss to your temple before reluctantly letting go.
“We’ll continue this later,” he whispered promisingly.
Later that night, after the concert’s high energy had settled, the group gathered for a late dinner in a private room. Soju bottles were passed around as the boys recounted the show’s highlights, but the teasing quickly turned back to you and Namjoon.
Taehyung raised his glass dramatically. “To the real MVP tonight — our ex-manager who somehow keeps this clumsy giant in line!”
Jimin leaned forward with a grin. “Tell us again about the phone incident this morning. Namjoon-hyung, how are you a genius and a disaster at the same time?”
Namjoon groaned but smiled, his arm draped casually around your shoulders. “It was one time. And she’s a saint for putting up with me.”
You nudged him playfully. “One time? Babe, it’s at least the third this month your phone have been rescued by me. But I wouldn’t trade your clumsy ass for anything.”
Hobi nearly spit out his soju laughing. “See! That’s true love right there. She calls him ‘babe’ now!”
Jin wiped his eyes, still chuckling.
Namjoon leaned close to you amid the laughter, his lips brushing your ear, voice dropping to that low, teasing register that always sent shivers down your spine.
“Ignore them. Let’s get back to the room soon. I owe you some real worship tonight... slow, thorough, the kind that makes you forget all their teasing.”
Your face flushed hot, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your lips or the excited flutter in your chest.
As the boys erupted into mock-scandalized shouts... “Yah, we heard that!” from Jin, and “Get a room!” from Jungkook, you leaned into Namjoon’s side, feeling perfectly content.
You knew one thing for sure... you were his, and he was yours.
Contract or no contract, nothing was going to change that.
Summary: Being clueless to the fact that your best friend has feelings for you has you questioning everything...
Pairing: Clueless f!reader x Best friend Jungkook | f2l
Word Count: 7.6k
Warnings: Just a whole lot of fluff
a/n: Here it is! Thank you to everyone who supported my random post I made about this fic which was just a brain child at that point lol. I hope it was worth the wait 🤍
p.s. I never use dividers so lemme know what you think haha
p.p.s. Dedicating this to my love Massi because she really hyped me up throughout the whole process and helped me see this through to completion! Love you endlessly @taevescence
I look up when I hear the door to my apartment open, a lopsided smile on my best friend's face is the first thing I see as he walks in, plopping on the couch next to me.
"Hey, I didn't know you were coming over," I chuckle, leaning into him when he tucks me into his side and places a kiss on my temple.
"Finished up work early and wanted to see my girl" he mumbles against my hair, his words kicking my heartbeat into overdrive.
'My girl'
That phrase slips past his lips more times than I can count most days, and he knows it gets to me. Always smiling at the way my features soften and lashes flutter, his smile getting goofier by the second.
I don't deny I'm his girl because...I guess you could say I am.
We talk all the time, go out to eat, cook, watch movies, spend the night.
The list goes on and on and on.
Plus, I've never heard him talk about other girls. At least not for a couple years. So I guess there isn't anyone else around to fill that role.
And I can't deny I'm selfishly happy that's the case.
I don't know what I'd do if he got into a relationship.
He's been single for almost the entire time we've known each other, so having to share him with someone would be difficult.
Or worse, having to part ways out of respect for his girlfriend...his girl.
I shake off the thought and he notices how silent I've become.
"You listening, Baby?" he asks, tracing my cheekbone lightly.
"Hm? Sorry. What were you saying?" I apologize, knowing there's no use in denying I wasn't since I don't have the slightest of ideas as to what he was saying.
He hums, "What were you thinking about?" his thumb having moved down to trace my jaw, looking at me with his undivided attention.
"You," I admit and he smiles, pressing another kiss on my forehead.
"Wanna talk about it?" he asks, rubbing his thumb between the crease in my brows.
"No," he nods, not pushing too much although I know he wants to.
"Were you planning on doing anything before I crashed the party?" he smiles, his bunny teeth looking particularly adorable tonight.
"It's not much of a party with one person," I roll my eyes, his toothy grin only growing wider.
"I'll take that as a no." Sounding victorious he gets up and grabs his backpack, placing it at his feet.
"I was thinking I could spend the night tonight...if that's okay?" he asks, his ears turning pink, making me want to say yes even more.
"Of course. What's mine is yours-"
"And what's mine is mine" he cuts me off, his possessive and mock selfish nature always coming out when I use phrases like that, although we're one in the same.
Always letting me sleep in his bed, leaving a tooth brush for me in his bathroom along with my shower things, not so secretly loving it when I run out of mine and have to use his.
Whereas I scold him half the time since he always uses too much.
"Those are expensive Koo!" I huff, looking at the bottle that's lost half it's volume since the last time I saw it. "That's not even for your hair."
"You know I'll buy you more," his sultry tone and bedroom eyes are enough to make me shut up, jumping when his hands reach for my hips to pull me closer, dodging his grasp and hightailing it out of there.
Every room always seems so much smaller when he's by my side.
"What cha' got in there?" I ask, focusing to the way he's digging in his bag, lips set in a pout, hair falling in his eyes and his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he looks in all of the various compartments and bags he has.
One of which is mine.
A pretty sparkly one with a pink bunny.
Something he knew would make me smile every time he pulled it out of his very big very black and very scary backpack.
It's a pouch full of little things like a mini period rescue kit, lip balm, band aids, hair ties, sunglasses and my favorite flavor of gum.
I've added and subtracted a few things here and there...so yes, the current bag is one he bought me, and when I forget to top it up I always find it full again whenever I reach for it.
"Here it is!" he sighs, happy he didn't forget it...whatever it is.
I try to peek inside before he's able to pull it out but he scoots the whole backpack away from me.
"Nu uh, no peeking. Close your pretty eyes and don't open them until I say so," giving me a pointed look to which I sigh and close them, gaining me a hum of approval.
I hear him shuffling and scooting closer, the couch cushions dipping with his weight, freezing when I feel his breath fanning my face.
My brows furrow the next second when I feel a cool touch around my neck, the ticklish sensation making me shiver, an amused chuckle sneaking past his lips.
"Almost done" he says, leaning closer to close the clasp on what I know to be a necklace now and before I can ask when I can open my eyes I feel a featherlight kiss on my cheek.
"Okay, open," he whispers before leaning back, my hand searching for the pendant, feeling for it first before angling it up to me.
A delicate silver chain with a pendant of the letters 'JK' hanging from it.
My lashes flutter as I look at it, trying to decipher its meaning...other than his initials of course.
"Do you like it?" his throat bobs, slightly unsure as I've seemingly stayed silent for a lot longer than was deemed comfortable.
"Yes, yes, Jungkook. It's beautiful. Thank you," I cup his cheek and he leans into it, a relieved sigh leaving his lips.
"You had me worried," he mumbles, his cheeks now utterly pink from the range of emotions he no doubt felt rush through him. "I thought you hated it."
"Oh my gosh no! No, I would never ever hate anything you gave me, especially not something as heartfelt as this," I trail off, looking it over, little diamonds making up the letters.
"But, Koo, this is too much," I shake my head, starting to imagine how much it might've cost.
"No it's not. I know your birthday is next month and I was getting too impatient so think of it as an early birthday present," he argues, giving me a reason to not feel as bad about accepting a gift like this.
"It must've cost a lot though. You didn't have to spend this much on me," I say, my other hand coming up to toy with it as well.
"You're my girl right?" he asks, tilting his head to the side, a sure gesture he knows makes me shy.
"Yeah, I'm your girl," I mumble, a smile curling on my lips.
"Then it doesn't matter how much it costs. Plus, it's a gift for me too. Just make sure you wear it everyday, yeah?" he says, tilting my chin up to make eye contact.
His eyes drop down to my lips for a second before he takes the pendant in his other hand, mine now falling in my lap as he rests the pendant on my chest. Fingers methodically tracing the letters before, placing his hand in mine.
He lets go of my chin and moves his hand to the back of my neck to pull me closer, placing a kiss on my forehead.
His favorite way to show his devotion to me.
"It looks so beautiful on you," a smile of satisfaction gracing his lips along with something else I can't read.
I thank him quietly and he caresses my face before giving me space to breathe, turning his attention to his bag again.
"I brought snacks too. Thought we could have a movie night," going back to his normal self as if he didn't give me a gift that has my head whirling.
"Sure," I hum. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick," getting off the couch I try not to run down the hall, closing the door and locking myself inside.
I take some deep breaths in and out, trying to calm my mind, looking up only when I know I'll be able to handle the sight.
'JK'
Unmistakably Jungkook.
What would everyone think?
Seeing me wearing a necklace with my best friend's initials.
What does he think?
'Plus, it's a gift for me too.'
What does that even mean?
I jump when I hear a knock on the bathroom door.
"Yes?" I ask, looking in the mirror again and straightening my appearance, making it seem as if I wasn't having a mini meltdown in here.
"You've been in there for a while. You okay?" his voice is laced with genuine concern, breaking my heart for making him worry so much.
I open the door seconds later, as genuine of a smile as I can muster up spread across my lips.
"Totally fine, wanted to freshen up since I had eaten before you came. Wanted to make sure I didn't have any food in my teeth" I make an excuse, having brushed them in the midst of my panic, already aiming to use it as an excuse.
"Okay, well, movie is queued up if you're ready?" holding his hand out for me, taking it with a shy smile. He returns it and not so subtly glances at his initials that catch the light before leading me to the living room.
Or at least I thought he was, until he veers right instead of left.
"I thought you said we were watching a movie?" my brows furrow in confusion.
"Your bed's more comfortable than the couch. Plus, this way I can hold my girl a little closer," he taunts, his hand letting go of mine in favor of guiding me in by the small of my back.
He's set my room to the ultimate coziness level, paired with the soft twinkling of my fairy lights and the warm scent from my favorite candle permeating the space.
A new stuffed bunny that's nestled between my pillows catches my eye.
"You changed my bedsheets?" I ask, noticing the freshly made bed on top of all that he's done.
"Yeah," his ears turn a soft shade of pink, a small detail he wished I hadn't noticed but when I don't say much else he lets out a breath, unsure as to if he took too much liberty in altering my space.
"This for me?" I ask the obvious question, picking up the soft white bunny with a pink nose and the floppiest ears I've ever seen. He hums in confirmation, and walks over, wrapping his arms around me from behind and nuzzling into my neck.
"I couldn't resist," he admits, reaching his hand out and tilting one of the paws up to show our initials embroidered on it with a little heart.
"Jungkook," I murmur, tracing the letters, him placing a kiss on my cheek.
"You like it?" he asks again, this time knowing it's a no brainer, and I nod.
"This an early birthday present too?" I ask, toying with the ears.
"No. I knew you'd like it, so I wanted to get it for you," he squeezes me a little tighter.
"Thank you, Koo."
"Mhm, now come on, I've been dying to watch this with you!" he lets go and goes over to 'his side of the bed' both knowing he claimed it a very long time ago.
He grabs the fuzzy blanket he knows I love to share and makes room for me to settle in next to him, bringing over a bowl full of snacks, all still in their packaging because he knows I don't like it when my foods touch.
"Comfy?" he asks once he's pulled me closer, his back resting against the pillows while I'm curled into his side. I hum, a smile no doubt gracing his lips at the sound while he grabs the remote and presses play.
I start to doze halfway through the movie, his warm strong body holding me making me feel safe and sleepy.
"You watching?" he chuckles and I hum in confirmation, both of us know I'm lying but he doesn't push it, watching quietly and tracing patterns into my side, my shirt having risen up enough for him to make contact with my bare waist.
Once he notices I'm truly close to passing out he turns off the movie and moves so we can lay down properly, guiding me to rest my head on his chest after putting his glasses on the nightstand.
"Goodnight, baby," he mumbles, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head and slowly drifting off as well.
The next morning I'm awoken with the feeling of a featherlight touch along my features. Tracing my cheekbones, my nose, my jaw, my lips until my lashes flutter open.
The sight of him takes my breath away, eyes a little sleepy, hair just as messy and a soft smile gracing his lips.
"Morning sleepy head," he hums, gazing at me as if I was the only person in the world that mattered.
"Morning," I murmur his gravely tone sending shock waves through my system.
"I have to go to work but I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye," he mumbles, reluctant to leave so soon.
"Do you have to?" I ask, sad that my morning with him is cut short and he nods, just as disappointed.
"Yeah, but I can come back later?" he offers and I smile but shake my head.
"That's okay. You probably have things to do."
"No I don't."
"Don't you wanna spend time at your house?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Well, because you're not there," he says matter-of-factly as if that's reason enough.
"O-oh, well you're more than welcome to."
"Then it's settled," he nods and regrettably de tangles himself from me, getting his things together.
"Can I shower here?" he asks, knowing the answer but still asking.
"Mhm, just don-"
"Don't use the purple bottles. I know," he winks before disappearing into the bathroom.
I sigh and cover my face, trying to figure out when things got so comfortable between us.
We've been close ever since we met so of course we gradually got closer.
I mean for Pete's sake, he has an extra key to my house and my car and I have the same for him.
Things are getting out of hand if we're just going to go about this without a label.
There's nothing wrong with it per say...but I'd like to know what's going through his head and if this means anything besides a close friendship to him.
"You okay?" I jump when I hear his voice a little while later, not having heard the shower turn off.
I look up to respond and see he's only in his towel, hung low around his waist while he dries his hair off with another one.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I ask, covering my eyes again, this time out of necessity.
"Sorry, I forgot to grab my clothes before I went in there," he chuckles and opens what sounds like 'his drawer' in my dresser...okay yes he does have a drawer too but it's for times like these.
It's convenient.
"That's okay," I say, hands still very much covering my entire face at this point.
"You don't have to do that," a smirk heard in his tone so I shake my head.
"I want to give you privacy," I argue, turning my back to him, or at least I think I am based off of where I can hear his voice coming from.
"Alright, I'll go finish up in the bathroom then," he says and when I hear the door close I let out a sigh of relief.
That was a close one.
Once he's finished getting ready and is about to head out I give him a cup of coffee to go, writing a little message on it to remind him to eat something yummy for lunch.
"Thank you, Honey," he hums, adjusting his glasses before placing a kiss on the corner of my lips, slipping the coffee cup out of my hold when he feels me freeze. "See you after work," he murmurs when he pulls away just the slightest bit.
"D-drive safe," I say once he's at the door, my mind barely catching up when he's about ten paces away, his hand brushing the doorknob.
"You know I'll always come back to you," he smiles, the response reassurance enough.
Once he's gone and I've had a second to think I grab my laptop and pull up a search engine.
'What does it mean when my best friend gives me a necklace?' I type in and wait for it's response, unfortunately giving me something vague about being close friends and it being a thoughtful gift.
"I knew that already" I huff and delete a few words to rephrase the question.
'What does it mean when a guy gives his girl best friend a necklace with his initials but they're just friends?' I hit enter and try to find something that matches us but nothing makes sense.
I scroll further down and rephrase the question a few more times until I find an anonymous post that sounds a little similar.
'I (26 y/o) female have a (27 y/o) male best friend who I've been close with for years.'
Okay okay so the ages are a little off but let's roll with it.
'We spend a fair amount of time together and have for years but lately it feels like we see each other every day'
Yup sounds like us.
'Not that there's anything wrong, but I feel like things have been...different'
I stop reading and think about how things have changed with us over the years.
'Nothing dramatic or drastic has happened lately but it feels like there's something we're not discussing...an elephant in the room so to say'
Okay now that's creepily spot on.
I keep reading and not only has he given her a gift that's held a special meaning but has also asked her to go away together with him paying for and planning everything.
Okay well at least Jungkook hasn't gone to that extreme...recently. It leaves me wanting to disregard this post in entirety, but I can't help myself from scrolling through the comments after her final sentence.
'Any advice on how to ask him what he's thinking without asking him what he's thinking?'
Okay yeah this is where I need to lock in.
'Are you sure you aren't dating this man?'
'Sounds like you're his girlfriend.'
'Pretty sure he wants to propose.'
The last one has me swallowing the lump in my throat and shutting my laptop.
"Okay that's enough of the internet for today"
I take a shower and do some household chores to try and keep myself from spiraling and luckily it works...until I hear his keys in the lock a few hours later.
"Hey," a lazy smile is spread across his lips as he places his things down, giving him the same greeting before stumbling forward when he pulls me into a big bear hug.
"You okay?" I ask, rubbing his back and lacing my fingers through his hair.
"Mhm, just missed you," he mumbles into my neck, ignoring the ticklish sensation that it gives.
"You sure?" I repeat and he let's out a sigh.
"My boss organized a dinner with the execs and wants all of us to go," he grumbles, having no interest in spending more time with them than necessary.
"You always hate those company dinners, huh?" he nods, pulling me even closer so there's hardly any space between us.
"They want us to bring a plus one too," he pulls back then, his hands now resting on my hips, his thumbs tracing circles on my bare skin, my t-shirt having risen up a bit.
"Who are you gonna take?" I ask as if the answer was not obvious.
"Who else but my girl?" his tone smooth as silk as one of his hands comes up to cup my face. "You free Friday night?" he tilts his head, thumb now running along the apple of my cheek.
"I dunno, I'll have to check my calendar, see if I can squeeze you in," I tease, both of us knowing I prefer a cozy night in most nights.
"Name your price," he offers, a small smile curling at the corner of my lips.
"Coffee and an almond croissant for the next...three Saturday mornings. Right when I wake up," I bargain, wanting to have a nice start to my lazy weekends.
"I'd do that anyways...but deal," he agrees before I go out of my way and give him something ridiculous to do instead. "Having you there will make this pointless dinner more bearable."
"You can do better than that," I tease, wanting him to give me an even more dramatic expression of gratitude.
"It would be a great honor if you did me the favor of accompanying me, my Lady, as you would be my only sense of solace amidst the treacherous feast," he puts a hand to his chest and bows his head.
"Okay maybe not that much" I chuckle and poke his dimple that's shying it's way out, "Just make good on your promise and treat me like a lady," I nod and he smiles.
"I couldn't imagine doing anything else."
The week flies by and surprisingly Jungkook and I don't see each other much.
We've been keeping in touch with texts here and there and have FaceTimed a few times but turns out this dinner with the execs had a lot more preparation in store than he was anticipating.
"Apparently the head of the executive council is coming so my boss is making sure we know everyone like the back of our hand. Believe it or not he had us memorizing their hands so we could remember who's married and who's not."
"What the heck? That's so weird," I laugh at his complaining to which he gives me a pointed look but the smile on his face shows that he's similarly amused.
In all actuality, he just likes making me laugh.
"You know what you're gonna wear tomorrow night?"
"Why? You wanna match?" I hum, his ears turning pink at the call out.
"Gotta find some kinda way to show everyone you're mine," his words smooth but I can tell he's still shy.
"I'm planning on wearing a purple dress, one that's so deep it almost looks black. I saw it in a shop window when I was at the mall and I couldn't resist," my original intention being to wear something I already had in my closet.
"Oh yeah? How much was it?" he asks casually, listening to me babble on about how I found it and got it for a pretty good deal.
My rambling is cut short when I see a notification come in on my phone, showing that he sent me some cash for the dress.
"Jungkook," I scold him and he smirks, his leading questions doing exactly what he had planned.
"You bought it to go to the dinner I invited you to. I can't make you pay for it too," he argues and although his logic is sound I still protest.
"You sent me too much though!" I say, making to send some back to him.
"No, it's for the jewelry you said you got to match and the drink I know you sipped on while you searched high and low for that perfect dress," he explains and I frown.
"I can afford to get them on my own."
"I know, but who would I be if I wasn't spoiling my girl?" a smile spreads on my lips at his simple but innocent response.
"Okay, but no more buying me things...except for food and coffee...that I will allow," I mumble at the end, a dimpled smile gracing his lips.
I feel as though I've blinked and it was suddenly the night he had been dreading...one that has butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
He's bringing me...his best friend to an important dinner for his job where people are either dating or married...so what's it gonna look like on the outside when he introduces me as his best friend?
Are people going to judge him or think we're lying?
We could lie and say we're dating or something? Right? It couldn't be that hard.
I practically jump out of my skin when I see Jungkook coming around the corner into my bathroom where I'm sitting at my vanity.
"You scared the crap out of me," I hold my hand to my chest, a smirk curling on his lips.
"Sorry, didn't you hear me come in?" he asks, watching me turn off the music I had playing in the background.
"No," I take a deep breath in and out to recover, his hands going to rest on my shoulders, massaging them the slightest bit.
"You're really tense, something bothering you?" he hums, placing a soft kiss on my neck, the small touch affecting me more than it should.
"No, just a little nervous."
"Bout what?" his head tilts to the side in confusion, looking at me through the mirror, now noticing the clear signs that show I'm not totally settled. "Tonight?" he follows up and I nod, him having seen through part of it, though it's pretty obvious.
"What's making you nervous?" he asks, turning to look at me instead of my reflection.
"Well, this is a big night for you and I...I don't want to mess things up. You know, say the wrong thing or not look professional enough or-"
"Baby," he stops me, closing my lips into a pout to let him speak. "All you gotta do is be your lovely self. That's enough. If you're really nervous, well, then I'll talk enough for the both of us," game planing ahead of time to calm my nerves.
"Just stay real close and you won't have to worry about a thing. Okay?" he hums and I nod. "Come here," guiding me to stand on my feet and pulling me into his familiar embrace that makes me forget my worries most days. A comforting heartbeat pressed against my ear, mine slowing to fall in sync.
"Now, let me get a good look at you," he says, slipping out of the embrace and pulling back, taking me in head to toe. He lifts my hand above my head, a silent request to do a little twirl for him, a smile on my lips once I face him again.
"How'd I get so lucky?" he puts a dramatic hand to his chest.
"I dunno, but you're obviously doing something right," I tease, him easily nodding in agreement.
"You ready?" he asks while he watches me put on one last layer of gloss, nodding once I've screwed the top on.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I shrug and he smiles, lacing his fingers through mine and picking up my shoes I left by my bed for tonight.
"Sit down for me, yeah?" he requests once we're at the couch, placing a kiss to my temple to which I do, him kneeling before me to slip on my heels.
"I can put my own shoes on," I laugh and try to take them but he swats my hands away.
"I know, but I want to. You asked me to treat you like a lady tonight, didn't you?" my words coming back to haunt me.
"I did," I roll my eyes, him smirking at his small victory against me before slipping on the other shoe and offering me a hand up.
"Oh! Almost forgot," he says, walking back to my room, me following close behind since I don't remember him bringing anything.
"Finishing touches" he says, handing me the perfume I always wear for special occasions or outings, as well as the bottle of cologne he's left for moments like this.
He always uses something of his when he comes over, making it more and more apparent that he's become such a big part of my life...and for now...I'm okay with not questioning it.
"Okay, now we're ready" he nods, lacing our fingers together and leading me to the front door, grabbing my bag and both of our jackets on the way out.
When we pull up to the valet at the entrance of the restaurant it's only then that I realize he's wearing an all black suit with a dark purple almost black tie.
"You weren't kidding when we said you wanted to match, huh?" I tease, fixing his tie and brushing a hair off his forehead once we're standing outside.
"Like I said, needed a way to show everyone you're mine, especially since you couldn't wear the necklace I gave you tonight," he sighs, something we had come to terms with a few days ago, deeming it unprofessional and too casual which he vehemently disagreed with but I got my way in the end.
"I'll put it on as soon as I get home. Happy?" I compromise, hoping to get that pouting expression off his face and luckily, it does the trick, a short nod coming from him as he puts on an air of confidence.
"Last chance to back out."
"I didn't realize it was an option."
"It's not. But it felt like something a gentleman would say," he puffs his chest out and I swat it lightly.
"Let's go," I chuckle, leading him inside with him soon switching to lead once he's found his footing.
He speaks to the hostess at the front briefly before she has one of the waitstaff take us to the private room they had reserved. The ambiance from the open restaurant to the more intimate setting makes me tense, hoping I could become a face in the crowd.
Plan B then.
Jungkook walks in first and is immediately greeted by his boss who pulls him aside, me trailing behind him.
"Jungkook we need to-. Oh, and who might this be?" his attention now turned to me. Jungkook snakes his arm around my waist, bringing me out from behind.
"This is my girlfriend," he says easily, my heart stopping but I try not to show the distress that's running through my mind, repeating the same word over and over again.
Girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
"Ah, so this is the woman you've been talking about?"
"Yes," he laughs and scratches the back of his neck, "Baby, this is my boss Mr. Choi" he returns the introduction.
"It's very nice to meet you, sir," I say quietly, his boss giving me a nod before turning back to Jungkook again, allotting me time to continue my spiral.
Girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
Girlfri-
"Honey?"
"Hm?" I hum, feeling both of his hands now gripping my waist. "Yes?"
"Mr. Choi wants to introduce me to a few people. Would you like to come along, or did you wanna go find our seats?" he asks, his brows pinched together in worry, giving me an out but knowing I had intended to stay close.
"I think I'll go find our seats," I say with a forced smile which makes him even more reluctant to leave me.
"You sure?" he asks and I'm quick to nod this time. "Well, there should be two name cards labeled 'Jeon' so they should be easy to spot. I'm the only Jeon here so you won't have to worry about mixing them up with someone else's," he gives me a wry smile and although I wish I could do something to ease his mind I find it harder and harder to do as the seconds go by.
I hum and he gives me one last look before placing a kiss on my forehead and squeezing my waist. "Be back soon," he says, but we both know it's a promise he might not be able to keep
The time before dinner is served is spent with Jungkook being bounced around from group to group, spending what feels like an eternity away from me until everyone starts to take their seats, Jungkook quickly slipping in next to me.
"Sorry," he mumbles, placing a kiss on my temple.
"It's okay, I knew this was for business, not pleasure."
He looks at me, concern still written on his face but before he's able to ask me more his boss starts his casual introduction, thanking everyone for being here and whatever corporate nonsense he has to go through to be taken seriously.
Jungkook's hand drifts to my thigh and squeezes the hand resting on it before lacing his fingers through mine.
Every touch, every look, every breath seems different.
Girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
His thumb runs along the back of my hand, hoping the soft, soothing motion will bring me back down, back to him.
I give him a weak smile and it seems it's only made him more nervous.
I can't do this. I can't ruin this for him.
I take another second to breathe, clear my mind and think about what he's done and how he's cared for me for so long.
I can do this. I can pretend to be his girlfriend and if need be...be his, truly his.
Dinner is brought out and we all make casual conversation until one of the wives starts speaking to us.
"You two make quite the couple," she smiles, no doubt reminiscing about being young and in love.
"Thank you," my soft, shy response makes Jungkook feel the slightest bit at ease.
"I'm not sure how I managed to convince her to be with me," Jungkook jokes beside me, squeezing my hand again under the table.
"How long have you been together?"
Shit...definitely something I don't know the answer to.
"A little over a year," he answers.
"Are you engaged?" I choke then on the wine I had been taking a sip of, him immediately bringing a napkin over to cover my mouth, a glass of water at the ready if I need it.
"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause an upset," the woman says, her brows pinched together, concerned she might've overstepped.
"We're taking things slow," he answers.
At a turtle's pace if you ask me.
"Everything moved along in a flash with my Edward. I forget that the youth of this day and age take their time getting to know their partners. Either way, I hope you both marry for love. Whenever that may be," she ends before her husband brings her into another conversation.
"You okay?" he asks, wanting to check after my mishap.
"I think I've had enough for the night," I scoot the glass away, hoping to avoid what I know he wants to bring up. "But yes, I'm fine," I give him a more genuine smile now, one I've given him before whenever he's taken care of me in the slightest of ways.
The look I give him makes the tension he had been feeling all night fade away, a sense of normalcy settling between us. I'll try to keep things normal here, but once we're alone...I don't know what I'll do.
The time comes where we all start departing, Jungkook having us wait for a few couples to leave before we do, not making our absence in the space seem rushed or dragging on. Always wanting to keep up appearances without having to try too hard.
Once he gets me in the car the air between us changes, and although I'd like to ignore it, it's clearly something he can't.
"Are you okay? You seemed pretty shaken up in there." he asks, my polite nod and smile not sitting well with him. "So you're clearly not," he clocks me, not wanting to have to push this aside anymore.
"I...I don't want to talk about this here, so, can we go, please?" I plead, basically telling him there is something we need to discuss, but that this isn't the most appropriate setting.
"Okay. Yours or mine?"
"Mine," I'm quick to say, needing the familiar surroundings of my home as support to address this.
His only response is a nod before pulling out of the parking lot and onto the buzzing street.
He opens my door like he usually does, but this time I don't let him lead me in. I don't wait for him to lock up the car. I don't let him use his key and I don't let him open the door to my home for me.
I need a breather.
Need a second to think, to plan, to grip onto a sense of reality so I can figure out what this is.
"Baby? He says softly, closing the door and locking it behind him, walking over to where I've poured myself a glass of water and chugged the whole thing.
I place the cup on the countertop and go around him, needing a more open space for this conversation...confrontation...intervention?
I don't know.
All I know is I need to get these thoughts and feeling out out out so I can breathe.
"You're scaring me," he says softly, bringing me back to him, reminding me I'm not alone in this spiral.
"Why did you call me that?" I finally blurt out the question that's been going round and round in my head, the dizziness it caused slowly fading after being loosed from it's cage.
"Call you what?" his brows furrow, still concerned for my well being but also scared that he might've said something wrong.
"You know, I thought we would've had a conversation about it. Go over it and agree it would only be for tonight. A word thrown around here and there but not something overused or obnoxious," my words getting harsher by the moment, making me say things I don't mean.
He didn't use it many times. Definitely not enough to be deemed obnoxious, but still. It had been the first time I'd ever heard that term directed towards me, so needless to say it was jarring.
I should've expected it. Should've seen it coming.
But I never thought he would've used it without my consent.
"Obnoxious? Honey, what's going on?"
"What's going on is this," I motion between the two of us.
"This?"
"Yes this. This familiarity, this...bond. This intimacy with no meaning behind it," he takes a step forward and for the first time...I take a step back.
His heart sinks in his chest, I know I've hurt him, know I've done damage that I never ever meant to.
"Why would you call me that?" my voice breaks, his pain forgotten, replaced with true concern and the dire need to hold me close. To protect me from everyone and everything, but he knows it's not going to work this time when the person he has to protect me from is himself.
"Call you what?" his voice is softer than I've ever heard it before, as if he's afraid he'll scare off a doe he's been searching for for hours.
"Your girlfriend," the words whispered even softer from my lips make his whole demeanor shift from concerned to shocked to confused to amused.
"Because you're my girlfriend?" he says as if it's the most ridiculous thing I could've been upset about.
"I'm your what?"
"You're my girlfriend, aren't you?"
"Well...I know I'm your girl but..." I trail off and I can see a hint of satisfaction at the admission. "I'm not your girlfriend," I shake my head and he sighs as if the notion is utterly ridiculous.
"Then what does being 'My Girl' mean to you?" he crosses his arms over his chest, me now trying not to notice the way the fabric strains against his muscles.
"Well...your girl, your ride or die, your best friend, someone you can count on," I explain and he nods.
"Yes, you are all of those things and more," he chuckles, taking a step forward and when I don't take a step back he knows he's got me.
"You're my adorable, cute, shy and painfully clueless girl. But, you're also the girl I've been in love with for years," his tone becomes tender and I notice how he's always reserved these moments for me.
He's never looked at a girl, let alone spoken to one out of necessity for...well for years.
"Do you not remember the night I asked you? That night on the mountain?" he gets close, close enough to touch me, his hand reaching for mine, running his thumb along my knuckles.
I think for a moment, back to that trip, to those moments we spent together.
It was our first solo trip, just the two of us for his birthday.
I was surprised in the moment that he didn't want anyone else to go.
"Don't you wanna invite your friends? We always celebrate as a group," but he shook his head.
"No, I wanna spend time with you," he said simply, the sentiment warming my heart enough that I didn't question it.
He took us somewhere new, somewhere he'd never taken anyone before.
"I thought we were going to our usual spot?" I asked when he missed our exit, a crooked smile from my viewpoint in the seat next to him spreading across his lips.
"This isn't a usual birthday," he said, making it a big deal that he wanted to spend his time turning a quarter of a century with me.
I'd smiled and shook my head, watching as we circled round and round and up and up the big mountain we always saw in the distance whenever we spent time at our usual spot by the lake.
We decided not to rough it this time, glamping some might call it but it was just a little RV we had rented with enough room for two...a very intimate space to share with your best friend.
But again, at the time, I didn't question it.
"You wanna be my girl?" he asked me on one of those nights under the stars, my eyes so full of wonder as I had never seen so many before. The ones reflecting in his as he held his breath though were the ones I remembered the most.
"I thought I already was?" I'd replied, thinking he meant his girl best friend, his confidant, his...his...
"I'm so stupid" I groan as I rest my head against his chest, the present day hitting me like a ton of bricks. "How could I not tell that that's what you meant? You...you looked so nervous and cute I...I should've put it together. Should've noticed how afterwards you held me tighter, held my stare longer, took care of me whenever you were given the chance," I look up at him, his eyes so full of love...of devotion.
"I'm sorry," I whisper softly, my face heating up, mortified that I've been so naïve, so dedicated to our friendship, how things were that I didn't think he'd ever want things to change.
"You have nothing to be sorry for. I guess I didn't make myself clear enough."
"I should've known though, should've seen the signs. I just...I've never been friends with a guy before. True friends. So I guess I didn't know how to spot the signs of when things went from friendship to...love," I gulp, looking in his eyes and seeing nothing but.
"I guess I should've gone with the tried and true 'Will you be my girlfriend?' then. Or would that not have clued you in either?" a swat on his arm being my response.
"I would've known then."
"I thought 'My Girl' sounded cuter. Fit us better. Because you're my girl, right?" he asks, that same tilt of his head, making me nervous again.
"Yeah...I'm your girl."
"Truly?"
"Truly."
"You know," he starts, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, "all this time I just thought you were being shy."
"Well...I am shy," I state the obvious and he shakes his head.
"I meant a shy girlfriend. Never making the first move, never asking for kisses...or kisses at all," an involuntary pout graces his lips, me smiling in response as his ears turn pink.
"Do you want to kiss me, Jungkook?" I ask, closing the small distance that was left between us, my shoes bumping into his.
The verbal answer I was expecting is replaced with the feeling of his lips on mine, one of his hands gripping my waist while the other cups my cheek, keeping me right where he wants me.
After what feels like an eternity but yet again like a single breath he pulls back, his forehead resting against mine as we share breath, the corner of his mouth turning up.
"Does...does that answer your question?" he pants, his eyes locked on mine, trying to recover from the fuzzy feeling he caused, the lack of oxygen from the unexpected kiss making it much more intense.
"Dunno, might have to tell me again," I return the smirk, catching him off guard.
"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be?" he cocks a brow, his grip on me tightening, the playful tone from me is unexpected to say the least.
"Think you can handle it?" I hum, trailing my hands up his chest, feeling his heart thundering under my palm.
"Not sure, but I'll die trying if I have to. Waited too long for this," he mumbles against my lips, kissing me this time with so much care. The touch is soft and intimate as he slowly leads me backwards, his hand going behind my head as he presses me against the nearest wall.
"Fuck, I love you," he admits what he's been holding back for so long, and even though this is the first night where I finally knew we were real...I can't help but want to say it back.
"You don't have to-"
"I love you. I love you so much it hurts that I didn't notice sooner," I admit. My want for him, for true connection without questions has been a constant thought I've pushed away in fear of losing him.
"It's okay. We've got all the time in the world to make up for it," his kisses again are chased, as if he's memorizing the way I taste, the way I feel in this moment, what my body feels like pressed against his.
He pulls back and when I try to chase his lips he pulls back further.
"What is it?" I ask, confused as to why he's running away from me...well running is an exaggeration, but still.
"I know I thought we had been together for a while...but for you this is new, and I don't wanna mess that up," he shakes his head, cutting off what I had expected to be a night spent losing myself in him.
He chuckles when he sees my clear disappointment so he gives me another quick kiss.
"I've wanted you for so long...I can wait a little longer," he caresses me as if I were made of glass, someone so precious that he would do anything to keep them from harm...keep me from harm.
I rest my face in the crook of his neck, letting out a quiet huff of protest but the way he wraps his arms around me and holds me close helps keep the protests at bay.
"I love my girl too much to keep her waiting for too long."
Dividers by @cursed-carmine
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After seeing Jungkook off to his morning classes and making him breakfast, you were alone in the kitchen when Yoongi made his presence known. The elevator hummed softly, and then he was there—standing in the doorway, looking unsure but determined.
You didn’t notice him at first, busy scrambling eggs. He watched you for a few quiet minutes before clearing his throat.
Your head snapped up, eyes landing on him immediately. You offered a warm smile.
“Good morning,” you greeted softly.
“Morning,” he mumbled.
“Sit anywhere you like,” you said, gesturing to the kitchen table. He nodded and chose the seat closest to you. You returned to the stove.
“How did you sleep?”
“Decent, I think. Don’t remember much after the pain medication started working.”
“You were pretty deep into it,” you nodded. He stared at you, searching. “I check on everyone before bed to make sure they’re okay. I promise I didn’t go further than the doorway. Just a few seconds.”
Something in him softened. His inner kitten purred in quiet contentment. He trusted you. If you said you didn’t enter his room, he believed you.
“Thanks,” he said.
You glanced over, curious. “For checking on me.”
“Anytime, Yoongi.”
Just then, Taehyung entered the kitchen and paused when he saw Yoongi at the table.
“Um… hi,” he greeted gently.
“Yoongi, this is Taehyung,” you said. Yoongi stared, eyes wide. Taehyung met his gaze and gave a small nod—one survivor to another.
“It’s nice to meet you, Yoongi,” Taehyung said.
“You too. Um… thank you for the name plaque. I really like it.”
Taehyung smiled, genuine and bright. Yoongi blinked, startled by the warmth.
“You’re welcome,” Taehyung replied. Then he turned to you. “Need any help?”
“Want to make the pancakes for me?”
“Okay,” he nodded, stepping beside you at the stove.
Yoongi didn’t say more. He didn’t need to. No one was interrogating him. No one was demanding answers. He was content to sit in silence, watching you and Taehyung work, listening to the soft rhythm of your conversation.
A noise in the hallway made you all pause.
“I think Namjoon tripped over the umbrella stand again,” Taehyung chuckled.
“I thought I moved it?” you frowned. You had—after the last time Namjoon nearly twisted his ankle.
“Hobi moved it back,” Jin said, entering the kitchen with a sheepish-looking Namjoon in tow.
You giggled and shook your head.
“Yoongi, that handsome kitsune is Seokjin—but we call him Jin. And the clumsy gentle giant of a fox is his longtime boyfriend, Namjoon.”
Jin nudged Namjoon into a chair across from Yoongi, then moved to the coffee maker.
“Nice to meet you both, I think,” Yoongi said, trying not to smile.
“You’ll get used to Joonie,” Jin chuckled. “He’s a big nerd with a kind heart.”
“Hey!” Namjoon exclaimed, mock-offended.
Jin pressed a kiss to his forehead and handed him a cup of coffee.
“And I say that with love.”
Then Jin set a second cup in front of Yoongi, who blinked in surprise.
“What? You look like a coffee person. I hope I got it right.”
Yoongi took a sip, savoring the plain, comforting taste. “You did. Thank you, hyung.”
“Bah! Call me Jin. We don’t stand on ceremony here.”
Yoongi nodded, a little surprised. Things were different here. Softer. Freer.
“Um… how long have you two been together? If you don’t mind me asking?” he asked, fiddling with the handle of his cup.
“Eleven years this August,” Namjoon replied instantly.
Jin leaned in and kissed his cheek, proud.
“That’s… a long time.”
“We struggled,” Jin admitted. “It wasn’t acceptable back home. We had to keep it a secret. And for the most part… we did.”
Yoongi didn’t speak. He just listened. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he had to hide.
“What happened?” Yoongi asked quietly.
Namjoon’s expression darkened with memory. “Someone tried to come between us. Tried to hurt Jin. When Jin turned him down, he went to the owners of the home we were staying in and tattled. We were kicked out with only the clothes on our backs.”
You glanced over as Namjoon continued, voice low. “We ended up homeless. Jin lost his job after his boss got an anonymous call about his orientation. The laws back home… they weren’t kind.”
“We stayed in a hybrid shelter for a while,” Jin added, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. “Trying to figure out what to do. The operator told us about the Hybrid Protection Agency and gave us Peter’s number here in the States. He helped us get out. Got us to Y/n. Best decision we ever made.”
You turned the bacon with a soft clatter. “And I won’t let anyone stay here who judges you. Not for love. Not for truth.”
“No judgment from me,” Yoongi said, voice firm. Jin nodded as Taehyung set a platter of pancakes on the table.
Just then, Jimin walked in—bright-eyed, fresh-faced, tail flicking with curiosity. He paused when he saw Yoongi, and something shifted. His fox recognized the quiet cat hybrid instantly. Yoongi’s inner kitten purred, content and drawn to the younger fox. There was something familiar in Jimin’s energy—something safe.
Yoongi stared, caught in the moment.
“Jimin?” you called gently.
He blinked, cheeks flushing pink. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare.”
“Set the table, Jimin,” you said with a smile.
He nodded and moved to gather plates and cutlery.
“Yoongi, this is Jimin,” you introduced. “You’ll meet Jungkook and Hoseok when they get home later.”
“Nice to meet you, Yoongi,” Jimin said shyly, placing a plate and utensils in front of him.
“Same, Jimin,” Yoongi replied, his own cheeks tinged with color.
You and Jin shared a glance as you poured orange juice into glasses—soft amusement, quiet hope. The table was filling. The house was waking. And Yoongi was beginning to find his place in it.
After breakfast, Jimin and Taehyung headed off to their shifts—Jimin to the dance studio, Taehyung to the café where Hoseok worked nights. Namjoon and Jin volunteered to handle cleanup, giving you space to keep your promise to Yoongi: a proper tour of Halfmoon Haven.
You started on the ground floor. He’d already seen the second floor bedrooms, so you led him through the recreation and gym area in the basement. Jungkook’s domain. Yoongi lingered there a little longer than expected, eyes scanning the equipment with quiet curiosity.
Then you showed him your office—nearly a corner of the house, filled with warmth and order.
“Feel free to pop in if I’m ever in here,” you said, “no matter what time of day.”
He blinked, surprised. His previous owners hadn’t tolerated interruptions. You could see the disbelief flicker across his face, followed by something softer. Gratitude. Permission.
Outside, the porch stretched wide beneath the morning sun. Yoongi stepped out and paused, taking in the view. The green fields, the swaying trees, the quiet hum of life.
“Pete said this used to be a farm?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you replied. “The original owner passed away. No family came forward, so it went on the market. I scooped it up at a fair price. Everything you see is the result of hard work.”
“It’s beautiful,” he sighed, eyes fixed on the horizon.
You smiled. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
You disappeared around the side of the house and returned moments later in a golf cart.
“Hop in,” you said. “I’ll show you the rest of the grounds and the secondary house.”
Yoongi didn’t hesitate. He was grateful—his arms and leg already aching at the thought of walking the full property. He settled into the seat beside you, tail curled protectively around his side, and let the breeze wash over him as you drove.
The land rolled out before him—open, green, alive. He let himself breathe.
You drove slowly, letting Yoongi take in the sights—the small stream that ran perpendicular to the front lawn, its water glinting in the morning light. Then around back, where the in-ground pool and cabana sat nestled beneath swaying trees.
“Nice for the hot summers we get,” you said, and Yoongi nodded, eyes scanning the space with quiet interest.
You pulled up to the secondary house and parked in front of the doors. He took a moment to situate his crutches, moving carefully. You waited, patient as ever, before guiding him inside.
Where the main house was warm with browns and beiges, this space was cool and calming—stucco walls in soft blues and greens. Yoongi visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping a fraction. It felt like comfort. Like quiet.
He would’ve asked to stay here if he didn’t hate being alone.
“This is a very beautiful place,” he whispered.
“I hope in time you consider it your home, Yoongi,” you said from behind him. He turned to look at you, eyes searching.
“All I’ve ever wanted is for hybrids to be treated with the same respect and care as anyone else. To be happy. If at any point you don’t like living here, I’ll help you find somewhere that feels right. But my only goal is for you to feel safe. And happy.”
He ducked his head, breath hitching. The sting of tears came fast, unexpected. No one had ever spoken to him like that. No one had ever wanted him to be happy—not really. And here you were, breaking down walls he didn’t even know he’d built.
You heard the sniffle. Saw the way he tried to hide it. But you’d already seen the tears.
You stepped closer, slow and steady, and placed a warm hand on his arm. He turned toward you, resting his head against your shoulder as the sobs came—quiet, aching, full of pain he hadn’t been allowed to feel.
You wrapped your arms around him, holding him like you’d wanted to since the moment he stepped out of Peter’s car. No words. Just presence. Just care.
His tears soaked into your shirt, your skin, your heart.
When the sobs finally tapered off, you kept an arm around him as you walked back to the cart together.
The tour wasn’t over. But something else had begun.
The Mountains Stayed Still (3) - Yoongi's Interlude
The world narrows to the rhythm of my breathing and the dull ache in my leg. Lights smear into halos when I try to look up; the crutch under my arm bites into my palm. Pete’s voice is a soft anchor—easy words, steady. He tells me she’s nice. He tells me there are other hybrids. I let him do the talking while I count steps, listen to the scrape of wheels and the soft thump of feet on the ramp.
They stop at the porch. A woman’s voice—calm, warm—says there’s a ramp and I feel relief like a physical thing sliding across my shoulders. She jokes with Pete about an elevator I wouldn’t have noticed. When she smiles at me, something that’s been hollow and raw eases an inch, like a wound held to the sun.
Inside, my crutches echo on tile. The kitchen smells like cooked things I can’t name and something gentle that might be safety. She presses a hidden panel and a small elevator opens like it has been waiting. I let myself be guided, one careful step at a time, up to the third floor where doors line a quiet hall.
My name on a plaque makes my mouth go dry. A paw print sits under the letters like proof that someone already cared enough to mark me as belonging. The room is bare and clean, the edges soft with possibility. She tells me I can paint, decorate, make it mine. The words are heavier than any blanket I’ve known.
She says Taehyung understands, that he was owned by the same people: the breath catches in my throat, a cold electricity of recognition. I see a ghost of the past there—how small I was, how loud the cages, how the chain cut—but then she points to the connecting door and says knock if I need someone. The idea of a knock feels like a lifeline.
Pete places my duffel on the chest. The meds fuzz the edges of my thinking; a softness tucks into my limbs. I try to form sentences but the syllables fall out like small stones. “Thank you,” comes out quieter than I planned. It is true.
She says she’ll come back in the morning, or eight, or whenever. Pete reminds me he’s around. They leave. The porch light clicks off and the house exhales. I am alone with the hollow of my bones and the steady beat of my heart.
I settle onto the bed. The mattress is firm in the way that feels honest. I ease the crutches against the wall and pull the blanket up. My tail—stiff and foreign from lack of touch—finds its way over my arm, curling in on itself like a reflex. For the first time in a long time, I notice my breathing slow on purpose and not because I had to.
Taehyung’s room is on the other side of the connecting door. I press my palm to the wood, feeling the faint warmth on the other side, imagining footsteps, a presence. I don’t know what the future will be, or how long the nights will tremble, but right now the walls are quiet and my body is allowed to rest.
Sleep comes soft, like someone drawing a curtain. Sound blurs into a comfortable distance; the ache in my leg becomes background static. Images spatter across my mind—faces, a kitchen that smelled like hope, a paw print on a plaque—and then the world closes to the simple, small fact of being here.
I fall asleep thinking, for the first time in a long while, that maybe I can stay.
Pete waited until Yoongi was fully clear of the car before guiding him toward the porch. Crutches tucked beneath his arms, Yoongi moved slowly, deliberately—each step a quiet act of endurance.
“Before you attempt the steps,” you said, halting them both, “there’s a ramp.”
Pete blinked, then redirected Yoongi toward the access ramp to the left of the main stairs. “When did you build that?”
“Last summer. Jimin broke his ankle,” you replied, watching them ascend. “Watching him struggle up the steps was painful. So I did something about it.”
“What about inside the house?” Pete asked.
“Pete, you’ve been in and out of my home for how many years now?”
“Too many.”
“I had a small elevator built off the kitchen,” you said with a chuckle and a shake of your head.
Yoongi watched the two of you interact, his head turning back and forth like he was watching a tennis match.
“Really? I never noticed it!”
“I designed the panel to blend in with the rest of the interior. It’s hard to spot unless you know where to look.” You grinned.
“Well I’ll be damned. You’re resourceful.”
“Taehyung calls me efficient.” You giggled, and Yoongi’s eyes widened in surprise at the sound.
You turned your gaze on him, soft and steady. “Welcome to Halfmoon Haven, Yoongi. I hope your time here is healing. And enjoyable.”
He stared at you for a long moment—silent, searching. Then finally, he spoke.
“Thank you,” he murmured, voice low and textured with something you couldn’t name yet.
“Would you like to come inside?” you asked gently. “I can show you around if you’d like, or if you’re tired, I can take you up to your room and we can do the tour tomorrow.”
“They gave me medicine… for my leg,” Yoongi murmured.
You looked to Pete for confirmation.
“He’s on pain meds,” Pete explained. “They make him sleepy. He had to take one before discharge, so I don’t think he’ll stay awake much longer.”
“Right. Straight to bed, then. Please follow me.”
You kept your pace slow, matching Yoongi’s rhythm as he moved carefully on his crutches. Pete walked beside him, quiet and steady. Together, you made your way toward the kitchen.
To the left of the entrance, a blank stretch of paneling held a single portrait of a black stallion. You pressed your palm beneath the lower corner of the frame, and the panel popped open, revealing the elevator car tucked discreetly into the wall.
You opened the half-door and gestured them inside, then followed and closed it behind you. Pressing “3” on the keypad, the elevator began its slow ascent.
When the doors opened, Yoongi saw a hallway lined with doors, each marked with a decorative nameplate. You pointed them out as you passed—Jimin, Jungkook, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jin, Taehyung.
Then you stopped in front of his.
He stared at the plate in stunned silence.
“Taehyung made it for you,” you said softly. “It’s his welcome gift.”
“It’s beautiful,” Yoongi whispered, voice barely audible. “Will… you thank him for me?”
“Of course I will. He’ll be pleased you like it.”
You opened the door and let him step inside first. The room was simple for now—clean, quiet, waiting. But you hoped, in time, he’d make it his own. And you told him so.
“It’s okay? To decorate it?” he asked, hesitant.
“This is your room for however long you choose to stay,” you said. “You can paint the walls, change the carpet, pick new sheets—whatever makes you feel safe. This space is yours. I want you to be comfortable in it.”
“T-Thank you,” he whispered.
You wanted to hug him. He’d been here less than an hour, and already your heart ached for him. But you didn’t touch him. Instead, you stepped around and pointed to the secondary door.
“This connects to Taehyung’s room. If you ever need someone to talk to and I’m not available, just knock. He won’t turn you away. He’s been where you are, Yoongi. He understands.”
“How can he understand?” Yoongi asked, voice tinged with sadness and disbelief.
“The people who had you… they had him too. Ten years ago. They treated him like an animal. No kindness. No care. He nearly died. He still has nightmares. Scars that won’t ever fully heal—inside and out. So yes, he understands. Because he’s survived it too.”
Yoongi didn’t respond. He just stood there, absorbing the truth. Shocked. Quiet. But something shifted in his eyes—recognition, maybe. Or the first flicker of belonging.
“I’m tired,” he whispered, glancing away.
Pete placed his bags on the chest at the foot of the bed. You nodded and stepped back, giving Yoongi space to settle into the first safe room he’d had in years.
“We’ll leave you to sleep,” you said gently. “Would you like me to come get you in the morning? We usually have breakfast around seven. Or I can bring you something.”
“I don’t know,” Yoongi murmured.
“That’s fine. You take all the time you need. I’ll come check on you around eight?”
“Okay.”
“We’ll leave you be.” You stepped into the hallway.
“You’ve got my number, Yoongi,” Pete added. “Call me anytime—day or night—if you need me.”
Yoongi nodded, and Pete followed you out, closing the door softly behind him.
You headed downstairs together, choosing the stairs over the elevator this time.
“He’s going to struggle,” Pete said quietly.
“They all do, the first few months,” you replied. “I’m ready for it.”
“I’ll come check on him in a few weeks.”
“Thanks for helping him, Peter.”
“It’s what I do.” He smiled, then climbed into his car. He gave you a wave before driving off down the long, winding path that led away from the Haven.
You stood there for a moment, watching the taillights fade into the dark.
Then you turned back inside, locking the door behind you and switching off the porch lights. The house was quiet now—holding its breath for the newest soul learning how to feel safe again.
You made yourself a cup of tea, turned out the lights in the downstairs rooms, and headed upstairs. The house was quiet now, wrapped in the hush of night.
You checked on the boys one by one.
Yoongi was sound asleep, his tail curled around his arm and tucked beneath his chin. The sight made your heart ache in the softest way—fragile, precious. You smiled and let him rest.
Taehyung had kicked his blanket to the end of the bed, limbs sprawled in every direction. You chuckled quietly, pulled the sheet up to his chest, and brushed your fingers through his hair. He murmured something unintelligible, then turned over and curled around his pillow. You left him to sleep.
Jimin was watching a movie on his tablet, the glow casting soft shadows across his face. He waved when he saw you peek in, and you waved back.
Jungkook was deep into a video game, headset snug over his ears. He jumped when you tapped his shoulder, pulling off the headphones with a sheepish grin.
“Don’t stay up too late,” you warned. “You’ve got class in the morning.”
He nodded. “One more hour. I promise.”
You held up your pinky, and he wrapped his around yours in a quiet promise. You patted his shoulder and left him to it.
Hoseok’s room was empty—he’d left for his overnight shift at the café not long after Yoongi arrived.
Jin and Namjoon were curled up in their shared bed. Jin’s head rested on Namjoon’s stomach, eyes on the TV, while Namjoon read a book with one hand gently stroking Jin’s hair. They both looked up when you knocked and poked your head in.
“I’m heading to bed. Jimin and Kook are still awake. Jungkook promised to sleep in an hour. Would you check on him for me?”
“No problem,” Jin replied.
You nodded in thanks and closed the door behind you.
The house was quiet, safe, and full of love. You sipped your tea, heart full, and made your way to bed—knowing that healing was happening, even in sleep.
You built Halfmoon Haven as a sanctuary—for hybrids who had been displaced, mistreated, or forgotten. In the beginning, there were no laws to protect them. Pain was legal. Silence was expected. But over time, advocates fought for change, and now, protections exist where there was once only neglect.
This haven had been your dream since you were fresh out of college. The reasons behind it were deeply personal—ones you shared only with your family. They understood. They stood beside you. With the gifts your parents and grandparents gave, you purchased a ranch just outside the city, wrapped in mountains and woods like a promise of safety.
It didn’t take long for Halfmoon Haven to become one of the most respected hybrid homes in the state—perhaps even the country.
Now, ten years into its legacy, your success rate stands at 95%. You help hybrids reintegrate into society, find homes and jobs, and begin new lives free from the prejudice that once ruled the nation. Your heart swells every time a letter arrives from a former resident—stories of healing, of love found with humans or fellow hybrids, of families built from survival.
Not every story ended in triumph. You carry the weight of those you couldn’t save.
To meet the growing need, you renovated one of the barns into a second home. At your busiest, you housed up to twenty hybrids at once. The extra space wasn’t a luxury—it was a lifeline.
Today, six hybrids live with you in the main house. The halls echo with quiet laughter, shared meals, and the steady rhythm of healing.
Your two longest residents are also your eldest.
Seokjin—a kitsune hybrid from Asia—came to America searching for a new beginning. His journey wasn’t easy. Before arriving at Halfmoon Haven, he’d lived in another home, one that turned its back on him when he fell in love. They didn’t approve of his sexual preferences. They made him choose between safety and authenticity.
He chose love.
Namjoon, a red fox hybrid, had captured his heart. And when they arrived at your gates, weary but still holding hands, you didn’t hesitate. You welcomed them both. Not for a single moment did you consider separating them.
Love, here, is never a liability. It’s part of the healing.
Then came Hoseok.
A cheetah hybrid rescued from the brutal confines of a traveling circus, he arrived at Halfmoon Haven with eyes that flinched at sudden movement and shoulders that never quite relaxed. The trauma clung to him like dust—quiet, persistent, hard to shake.
It took over two years for him to begin shedding that weight. You never rushed him. Healing, here, moves at the speed of trust.
At first, Hoseok was quiet. Shy. He kept to the edges of rooms, the corners of conversations. But Jin and Namjoon—steady, warm, and unafraid to love out loud—drew him gently into the light. With them, he began to laugh. To tease. To dance barefoot in the moonlight and sing while cooking breakfast.
His true self emerged slowly, like sunlight through fog: vibrant, outgoing, endlessly kind.
Next came Jimin and Jungkook.
Cousins by blood, bonded by tragedy. Jimin—a white fox hybrid—and Jungkook—a bunny hybrid—had been spending the weekend with their families at a small vacation home near the coast. It was supposed to be simple. Joyful. A break from the world.
The fire started in one of the lower rooms. Electrical. Accidental. By the time the boys noticed the smoke, the house was already collapsing. They had been outside, playing on the beach. Too far. Too late.
Everyone inside was lost.
Orphaned at young ages, they were sent to you—two lonely boys with soot in their lungs and silence in their eyes. You didn’t hesitate. You gave them safety. You gave them softness. You gave them a home.
They flourished under your care. Jin’s steady warmth and Hoseok’s gentle joy wrapped around them like sunlight. Slowly, they began to laugh again. To trust. To grow.
Now, they are not just survivors. They are part of the Haven’s heartbeat.
Your second longest resident is Taehyung—a tiger hybrid with eyes that once held more pain than light.
He came to you about a year after Namjoon and Seokjin, his body a map of cruelty. His previous owners had chained him to a fence, exposed to the elements day and night, season after season. They beat him for any perceived slight, treating him like nothing more than a beast to be broken.
The chain around his neck had rubbed the skin raw. No care. No treatment. Eventually, the skin grew around the metal, infection setting in like rot. He was barely fed. Water was a luxury withheld. By the time Hybrid Protection Services found him, he was hovering near death.
He spent six months in the hospital before they sent him to you.
And then the real healing began.
It took over three and a half years before he let himself trust you. You never pushed. You simply stayed—present, patient, unwavering. He didn’t mind being around the others, but when he sought comfort, it was your company he chose. Quiet moments. Shared silences. The kind of presence that doesn’t demand anything.
It’s not easy to unlearn that kind of pain. Even now, he still has nightmares. But he’s here. He’s healing. And every time he chooses softness, it’s a victory.
The six of them got along surprisingly well. And you were happy.
It was early evening, and Jin had commandeered the kitchen to make dinner—which none of you minded. Namjoon was a disaster in the kitchen, Taehyung and Hoseok were passable, Jimin was just lazy, and Jungkook only cooked when Jin wasn’t home. You? You hated cooking. So it all worked out.
The phone by the back door rang—your work line. Jin recognized it immediately, wiped his hands on a towel, and answered.
“Halfmoon Haven, Jin speaking.”
“Hey Jin, it’s Peter. Is Y/n around by chance?”
“I think she’s in her office. Do you need her?”
“Yes, please. It’s kind of an emergency.”
“One moment.” Jin put Peter on hold and tapped the extension for your office.
“Yeah?” you answered.
“Peter’s on the phone. He said it’s an emergency.”
“What line?”
“2.”
“Thanks, Jin.”
“Dinner will be ready in 30.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Jin hung up and returned to the stove, the rhythm of the house undisturbed.
In your office, you clicked onto line 2 and sat up straighter. “Hey Pete, what’s going on?”
“Got an emergency case for you. Black cat hybrid. Situation’s similar to Taehyung’s years ago. Owner was arrested on sight. Neighbors called it in—screaming, cries of pain, broken furniture. Looks like it’s been going on for years. He was nearly feral. We had to sedate him.”
“He’s not dangerous, is he?” You knew how delicate feral cases could be.
“No. Once the sedative wore off and he realized we were HPS, he wilted. Relief, like he’d been holding his breath for years. We got him out, took him to the hospital.”
“Anything life-threatening?”
“No. Broken femur. They’re casting him now. He’ll need PT—his bones are weak from malnutrition.”
“Oh, that poor man.” You sighed, heart aching.
“What time should I expect him?”
“Five hours, give or take. They burned all his belongings when they bought him, so we’re taking him shopping.”
“I loathe abusers.” Your voice was sharp, unforgiving.
“Same. I’ll send you his details shortly.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to the boys, let them know what to expect.”
“You’re the best, Y/n.”
“So I’ve been told.” You chuckled and hung up.
An email pinged in your inbox. You opened it, scanning the photos and intake notes of your soon-to-be-newest resident.
“Min Yoongi,” you murmured.
Then your breath caught. A detail Peter hadn’t mentioned.
Yoongi had been purchased by the same abusers who once owned Taehyung.
“Oh for fuck’s sake. They let those abusers take another hybrid?” You scowled, fury rising like bile. You made a notation in the file to track the court date. They weren’t getting away with a slap on the wrist this time. Not again.
With a sigh, you printed the intake papers and started a file for Yoongi. Then you gathered everything and left your office.
Jin was plating dinner when you entered the kitchen. Hoseok and Taehyung were setting the table.
“Just in time,” Jin smiled. “I was about to call everyone.”
“Please do. We’ve got things to talk about after we eat.” You held the file in your hand, and the three of them noticed. They nodded, understanding immediately.
“How bad is it?” Taehyung whispered.
You walked over and wrapped him in a warm hug.
“We’ll talk after dinner. You need to eat, Tae.” You warned gently. You’d been navigating his eating struggles for years—some days were better than others.
Jin called the others down, and soon everyone was gathered around the table. The meal was warm, comforting, and full of praise for Jin’s cooking, which made him blush and deflect with a shy smile.
After cleanup and leftovers were tucked away, you all settled into the living room.
“We’ve got another hybrid arriving tonight,” you said once everyone was seated. “A cat hybrid.” You glanced at Hoseok, then let your gaze settle on Taehyung.
“What?” he asked, already sensing something deeper.
“Do me a favor and let Hobi hold your hand. Jungkook, take the other.”
“Okay,” Jungkook agreed immediately, moving to sit beside them and gently taking Tae’s hand.
“Why do they need to hold my hands?” Taehyung asked, voice small.
“Because…” You knelt in front of him, resting your palms on his cheeks. “The same people who had you… had him.”
His eyes widened. Breath caught. His grip tightened on the hands holding his.
“Breathe, Tae. Breathe with me, honey.”
You stayed there, grounded and steady, guiding him through the storm.
It takes a few minutes to calm him down. You brush away Taehyung’s tears with your thumbs, grounding him in the present. He releases Jungkook’s hand and reaches up, fingers grazing the scars on his neck—those old, raw reminders that never fully faded.
You take his hand in yours and press a kiss to the skin.
“You’re here. You’re safe,” you whisper, resting your forehead against his. It’s a ritual you’ve shared since the early days, when nightmares clawed through his sleep and safety felt like a distant concept.
“Nobody should have to go through that,” he murmurs, eyes closed.
“You’re right. And I’ll make sure they never harm another soul again.” Your voice is a vow. He nods and presses a soft kiss to your cheek in thanks before you sit back.
“Peter’s bringing him over later tonight,” you say gently. “I want to put him in the room next to yours, Tae. You’ve got the connecting door. I figured… if anyone can understand what he’s been through, it’s you. Are you okay with that?”
“Of course,” he replies without hesitation.
“Don’t push him to talk. Let him set the pace. He needs to feel safe here—just like all of you do.” You scan the room, meeting each gaze. Five nods of affirmation.
“That means no hugging him without permission, Hobi,” you add with a teasing edge.
“Aw man!” Hoseok groans, making everyone laugh. “Seriously though, I get it. None of us liked physical contact when we first got here either.”
“Thank you,” you say, smiling. “Your patience means everything.”
“What’s his name?” Namjoon asks.
“Min Yoongi,” you reply. “He’s a couple years younger than Jin. Seems he likes writing and composing music. Maybe you two can connect.”
You pass around the file Peter sent. Sparse details, but enough to begin understanding.
Namjoon’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’d be cool if we worked on something together.”
After a bit more discussion, everyone drifts off to their own rhythms. You head upstairs to prepare Yoongi’s room—fresh sheets, soft lighting, a space that says you’re wanted here without needing words.
A short while later, Taehyung appears in the doorway, holding a nameplate. It reads Yoongi, with a small kitty paw print in the corner.
His welcome gift.
He’d made one for each of the boys when they first arrived—each with their own animal print. A quiet ritual of belonging.
You watch as he affixes it to the door, hands steady, heart open.
“Thank you, Tae,” you said with a soft smile. He nodded, cheeks tinged pink, before heading back to his room.
Later, you were in your office, the boys tucked away to give space for what was coming. When headlights splashed across the wall, you rose and made your way to the front door.
Pete was just stepping out of the car. He nodded in greeting, then moved to open the passenger door. At first, there was no movement. Your heart tightened.
Then you heard Pete’s voice—gentle, coaxing.
“It’s okay, Yoongi. She’s the lady I told you about. She’s very nice. Very friendly.”
A pause. Then, softly again: “Yes, there are six other hybrids here. All male. A kitsune, red fox, tiger, rabbit, cheetah, and…”
“A white fox,” you added, stepping forward with a warm smile. Pete nodded in thanks.
“No… you won’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Pete continued. “We just want you to be happy. To heal.”
“He’s right,” you said, keeping your tone even, steady. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for any hybrid who lives here. And I want that for you too, Min Yoongi.”
Pete ducked back inside the car to listen again, then chuckled softly.
“Yes, she knows your name. I had to let her know so she wouldn’t be surprised.”
Then Pete stepped back.
And you saw him.
Black ears framed by hair dark as midnight. He turned slowly, cautiously, and your breath caught. Even with the bruised cheek and black eye, he was stunning. His photo hadn’t captured this—his quiet beauty, the way his gaze held both fear and defiance. He looked like someone who had survived too much and still hadn’t given up.
You didn’t move. You didn’t speak.
You simply let him see you—open, steady, safe.
Current Taglist: @kittenan , @rpwprpwprpwprw , @themwordsblog , @chocolatereignz
Okay so IDK what category this falls into 😭
It’s not exactly a fic… not really smut either.
It’s just a chaotic, unserious drabble that popped into my head after I randomly remembered that live where Joon was lowkey panicking about his new sofa 🤯 So yeah… don’t expect anything extra-ordinary, have a read just for fun.
Pairing: Joon x Sofa (I’m kidding… or maybe not 👀)
Actual pairing: Jungkook x Reader (and lots of chaos)
Warnings: Nothing much exactly [makeout, kissing]
Word Count: ~1.5k
[MASTERLIST]
You all were having a night out at Namjoon's apartment. The living room was a warzone of empty soju bottles, half-eaten ramyeon cups, Pizza boxes, and one very proud Namjoon standing in the middle of it all.
“Everyone, I repeat,” he announced for the tenth time that night, holding up one finger, “this is my new sofa. Italian leather. Breathable. It cost me three months of soul-searching. No one jumps on it. No one spills anything on it. If you even look at it wrong, I will cry. And I cry ugly.”
Hoseok cackled from the floor, already tipsy. “Namjoonah, you said the same thing about your limited-edition shoes and we all saw Taehyung now use them as slippers.”
“That was different. Those were shoes. This… this is emotional support furniture.”
You and the rest of the gang laughed, the night spiraling into loud jokes, horrible karaoke, and Jin dramatically pretending to propose to the sofa.
Being a mutual friend, ever since Namjoon introduced you to the group, Jungkook had been glued to your side for the past three months, kept finding excuses to lean closer.
“Want another drink?” he asked, voice low, eyes sparkling with that dangerous mischievous glint.
You raised an eyebrow. “You trying to get me drunk, JK?”
“Me? Never,” he grinned, dimples on full attack. “Just… making sure you’re hydrated.”
Namjoon side-eyed the two of you but said nothing.
He was too busy stress-fluffing the sofa cushions.
Hours later, the living room had mostly emptied out.
People had crashed in guest rooms, on air mattresses. Only you and Jungkook remained in the living room, sitting on the floor with your backs against the sacred sofa, controllers in hand.
The game glowed on the TV, but the tension between you two was louder than any explosion on screen.
Jungkook nudged your shoulder. “One more round?”
“You said that three rounds ago, Jungkook.”
“Yeah, but I’m winning now. Can’t leave while I’m winning.”
Namjoon shuffled out of his room in pajamas, hair sticking up. “You guys still going? It’s 4 a.m.”
Jungkook waved him off without looking away from the screen. “Go sleep, hyung. We’ll be quiet. Promise. Just two more games.”
Namjoon squinted suspiciously at the two of you, then at his pristine sofa. “Just don't jump on my sofa. I’m serious. I will know.”
You snorted. “What, did you put a security camera in the cushions?”
“Don’t tempt me,” he muttered, then disappeared down the hall, mumbling, “My precious sofa…”
The game music kept playing cheerfully in the background while the real match began.
“You’ve been avoiding me all night,” he said, voice dropping into that husky register that made your stomach flip.
“I was sitting two feet away from you the whole time.”
“Exactly. Two feet is too far.”
Alcohol and months of his relentless and annoyingly charming flirting finally won. Tipsy giggles turned into heated stares, which turned into Jungkook pulling you onto his lap right there on the floor.
Kisses started soft and playful, then quickly became deep, desperate, and messy.
Since you both were too much into the kissing and the hard floor was getting seriously uncomfortable against your knees and back, you somehow ended up on the sofa without either of you really registering the move.
It was all lips, hands, and zero awareness.
It was chaotic. Messy. Intense.
All teeth and tongue and wandering fingers. Jungkook tasted like strawberry soju and bad decisions.
“Fuck... wait, the sofa...” you gasped between kisses.
“He’ll never know,” Jungkook mumbled against your neck, already dragging you closer. “Just… one more minute.”
One minute became thirty very chaotic minutes.
Clothes rumpled. Hair destroyed.
One throw pillow sacrificed to the floor. A suspicious lipstick mark appeared on the armrest. Jungkook’s chain got tangled in your shirt's button. At one point you knocked over an empty bottle and it rolled under the sacred furniture with a loud clink.
“Shhh!” you hissed, laughing breathlessly. “Namjoon will murder us.”
“Let him. Worth it,” Jungkook grinned, pulling you back in.
Next morning.
Namjoon woke up at 8 a.m. sharp, ready to admire his new sofa in the daylight. He padded into the living room humming happily, only to freeze mid-step.
You and Jungkook were sprawled across the sofa like crime scene victims. Your head was on Jungkook’s chest. His arm was slung possessively around your waist.
One of your legs was tangled with his. The sofa cushions were tilted at unnatural angles. There was a faint red mark on the leather that looked suspiciously like a lipstick mark.
Namjoon’s soul left his body.
He stood there for ten full seconds in complete silence.
Then, “NO... My Sofa.”
Jungkook woke up first, blinking sleepily.
The second he saw Namjoon’s devastated face, he immediately switched into full baby mode. He sat up slowly, bottom lip jutting out in the most pitiful pout he could manage, big doe eyes on maximum power.
“Hyung…” he whined softly, voice still raspy from sleep and last night’s activities. “We both were a little tipsy… Forgive us now, c’mon…”
He even tilted his head cutely for extra effect.
You quickly sat up beside him, trying to smooth down your hair. “Yeah, Namjoon… it was an accident. Mostly cause we were drunk.”
Namjoon’s jaw dropped. “An accident? An accident is spilling juice. This—” he gestured wildly at the sofa, “—this is a whole intense makeout session on my precious sofa. There’s a lipstick mark!”
At that exact moment, the guest room doors started opening one by one.
Hoseok stumbled out first, yawning. “What’s with the screaming... oh.” His eyes landed on the sofa and he immediately started laughing. “Wait… did you two actually—”
Jin followed right behind, still half-asleep but instantly awake at the drama. “No way. Namjoon’s emotional support couch got defiled? This is better than my dramas.”
Taehyung and Jimin peeked out next, rubbing their eyes, then broke into giggles. “Jungkookie… you didn’t.”
Yoongi came last, looking like he wanted to go back to sleep forever. “Too loud. Why is everyone yelling about a couch?”
Namjoon spun around dramatically, pointing an accusing finger at you and Jungkook.
“It all went wrong the day I introduced these two to each other!” he cried, voice cracking with betrayal. “I said, ‘Hey guys, this is my friend Y/N, she’s cool.’ And what does Jungkook do? He starts flirting like his life depends on it! For months! And now look! My sofa is ruined! It’s traumatized! I'm traumatized.”
Jungkook’s pout deepened, looking even more like a scolded puppy. He tugged at the hem of his shirt and whined again, “Hyung, c’mon… we were tipsy. It just… happened. But nothing more than kissing, I promise. Don't worry... The sofa was really comfortable, though. Super supportive—”
“DO NOT compliment my sofa after you violated it!” Namjoon gagged.
Hoseok was now doubled over laughing, holding onto Jin’s shoulder. “Violated? Namjoon, you’re making it sound like a crime scene.”
“It is a crime scene!” Namjoon insisted, gesturing wildly. “Look at the cushions! They’re… deflated. Emotionally scarred. I’m going to have to apologize to it.”
You buried your face in your hands, mortified but trying not to laugh. “Namjoon, we’re really sorry...”
“Sorry doesn’t fix leather, Y/N!”
Taehyung, still grinning, walked over and poked the suspicious red mark on Jungkook's neck. “Is this a hickey? Wow, Y/n, you really went for it.”
“TAEHYUNG!” you and Jungkook shouted at the same time.
Jungkook kept pouting, scooting a little closer to you on the sofa as if seeking protection. “Hyung, forgive us… We’ll help you clean it. I’ll even pay for the cleaning. Just don’t be mad…”
Namjoon crossed his arms, looking between the two of you with so done look. “I trusted you. Both of you. And you repaid me by turning my new sofa into your personal makeout battlefield.”
Yoongi sighed from the corner, already heading toward the kitchen. “I’m making coffee. You kids are too chaotic for 8 a.m.”
Hoseok suddenly gasped. “Wait... does this mean they’re finally together? After all that flirting?”
Namjoon threw his hands up in defeat.
He looked at the couch one last time, voice full of sorrow mixed with reluctant affection. “I should’ve known… the moment I introduced you two, chaos was inevitable.”
He paused, letting out a long sigh before continuing, “But… I am happy for you both. Seriously.”
Then his expression turned serious as he pointed straight at Jungkook. “Jungkook, if you ever make her cry, it will be worse than you ruining my sofa. I mean it. I will personally destroy every limited edition sneaker you own.”
You couldn’t help but smile sheepishly as Jungkook sneaked his hand into yours behind the cushion, still pouting at Namjoon like a guilty baby.
Namjoon noticed and pointed again. “And stop holding hands on my traumatized sofa!”
The entire room erupted in laughter while Namjoon dramatically collapsed onto the floor in front of his beloved couch, whispering apologies to it like it was a wounded friend.
“Hyung, it’s just a sofa…” Jungkook mumbled, still pouting.
“IT’S NOT JUST A SOFA!” Namjoon wailed.
And just like that, the chaotic morning officially began.
Pairing: Cafe_Owner!Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Healing, Overwhelm/Burnout Themes, Slice of life, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Strangers-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Slow-Burn, Countryside life
Rating: 18+ | Minors DNI
Warnings: Overwhelm/Burnout Themes, Healing, Fear of losing, Feeling of insecurity, Explicit sexual content [make out in waterfall-pool, lots of kissing, oral f receiving, unprotected sex (refrain IRL)], Body worship, emotional intimacy, emotional love making
Word Count: ~12k
[MASTERLIST]
The old wooden gate creaked as you pushed it open, dragging your suitcase behind you. The countryside air smelled of salt, pine, and wet earth.
It was quieter here.
Too quiet.
Your mind, however, was still loud... replaying arguments, harsh words, and the suffocating pressure of Seoul that had finally broken you.
Your grandma was already waiting on the porch, her silver hair tied in a neat bun, a warm shawl draped over her shoulders.
“Halmeoni…” Your voice came out smaller than you expected.
She didn’t say anything at first. She just walked down the steps and pulled you into a tight hug.
You felt your shoulders tremble.
“You don’t have to handle everything alone, my dear,” she whispered, rubbing your back. “You can come to me anytime you want. And now you’re here. That’s enough for today.”
You swallowed hard. “I just… needed to leave. Everything felt too heavy.”
“I know, I know.” She cupped your face gently. “No explanations needed right now. Come inside. I made your favourite tea.”
Later that evening, your grandma insisted on taking you for a short walk to get some sea air.
You reluctantly agreed.
The seaside café came into view, a charming wooden structure with fairy lights strung along the railing and tables scattered on the sand facing the waves.
A big handwritten board outside read: JK's Little Haven ~ Coffee, Food & Good Vibes.
A tall, energetic guy was laughing loudly with a group of locals. His dark hair was slightly messy from the sea breeze, sleeves rolled up, and a bright smile that seemed to light up the entire patio.
Your grandma waved enthusiastically. “Jungkook-ah!”
The man turned, his eyes crinkling with warmth the moment he saw her. “Halmeoni…! You came!” He jogged over and gave her a gentle hug. Then his gaze shifted to you.
“And who’s this beautiful guest?” he asked, flashing you a dazzling smile.
Your grandma beamed. “This is my granddaughter. She just arrived from Seoul today.”
Jungkook’s eyes sparkled with genuine interest. “Seoul? Wow. Welcome to our little paradise! I’m Jungkook, owner of this café. Best coffee on this coast, I promise.”
He extended his hand.
You looked at his hand for a second, then shook it briefly, your grip limp.
“Hi,” you said flatly.
He didn’t seem discouraged at all. “First time in the countryside?”
“Yeah...”
“Must be a big change from the city, huh? The air feels different, right? Like your lungs can finally breathe.”
You gave a small nod, avoiding eye contact. “It’s… quiet.”
Jungkook chuckled softly. “Quiet is good sometimes. But if it gets too quiet, just come here. I can be as loud as you want.” He winked playfully.
Your grandma laughed. “See? This boy is full of energy. He brings sunshine wherever he goes.”
You forced a small, polite smile but didn’t reply.
Jungkook tilted his head, still smiling. “Would you like something to drink? On the house for Halmeoni’s granddaughter. I just made fresh lemonade with mint from my backyard. Or maybe iced americano if you’re a Seoul girl through and through?”
“I’m fine,” you replied softly, almost curt. “Thank you.”
He nodded, unfazed. “No pressure at all. But the offer stays open anytime. I’m here every day.”
As you and your grandma turned to leave, he called out cheerfully, “Come back soon! And Halmeoni, tell me if you need help with the leaking tap again!”
The next morning, you sat on the porch with a book you weren’t really reading. From a distance, you could see Jungkook near the town square.
An old lady was struggling with heavy grocery bags.
Jungkook immediately ran over.
“Imo! Why didn’t you call me?” he scolded gently, taking all the bags from her. “These are too heavy for you.”
“Aigoo, Jungkook-ah, you’re always so busy…”
“Never too busy for you,” he said with a grin. “Let’s go, I’ll carry them home and fix that broken shelf you told me about yesterday.”
You watched as he walked with her, chatting animatedly the whole way, making her laugh.
Next day, you noticed him again. He was on his knees fixing a bicycle for a group of kids. Their laughter echoed across the street as he made silly faces while tightening the chain.
“Hyung, you’re the coolest!” one boy shouted.
Jungkook ruffled his hair. “Only because I have the coolest kids in town. Now, who wants to race me on their bikes later?”
Your grandma appeared beside you with tea.
“He’s a good boy,” she said softly.
“That Jungkook… he helps everyone. Lost his own parents young, but instead of becoming bitter, he decided to become everyone’s son.” She sighed happily. “He would bring sunshine into anyone’s life.”
You stared at your tea. “He seems… too loud and chaotic.”
Grandma chuckled. “Or maybe you’ve been judging him too soon... without knowing him properly.”
You didn’t reply.
Few days later, you wandered into the café alone, mostly because your grandma had gently pushed you out, saying you couldn’t stay locked inside forever.
Jungkook was behind the counter, humming while wiping glasses. The moment he saw you, his whole face lit up.
“Hey! You came!” He leaned forward excitedly. “I was starting to think I scared you away with my charm.”
You sat at the counter, keeping your expression neutral. “Just… needed a change of scenery.”
“Understandable. City girl in the countryside.” He grinned. “So, what can I get you? Lemonade? Coffee? I made a strawberry cake too. Fresh strawberries from the farm nearby.”
“Just regular coffee. Black. No sugar.”
“Coming right up!” He moved efficiently, but kept talking. “You know, most people who come from Seoul say they hate it here for the first week. Then they never want to leave. Something about the sea and the slow life.”
You watched him pour the coffee. “I’m not most people.”
He slid the mug toward you with a soft smile. “Good. I like that.”
He paused, then added gently, “If you ever feel like talking… or even if you don’t and just want to sit here quietly, the seat is always open. No pressure.”
You looked up at him for the first time properly. His eyes were kind. Annoyingly kind.
“…Thanks,” you mumbled.
He smiled again, that bright, warm smile that refused to dim even when he faced with your coldness. “Anytime.”
You told yourself you were only returning to the café for the coffee.
Not for him.
Yet here you were, on your fourth visit in five days, sitting at the corner table near the window.
Jungkook spotted you instantly. His smile stretched wide as he wiped his hands on his apron and walked over.
“Well, well… look who decided to grace my humble café again,” he teased, leaning one hip against the table. “Four times in five days. Should I be worried or flattered?”
You glanced up at him dryly. “Don’t flatter yourself. Your coffee is decent. That’s it.”
“Decent?” He clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me. I make the best coffee on this coast and you call it decent?”
You fought back a smile. “It’s acceptable. Barely.”
He grinned, clearly enjoying this. “Acceptable. I’ll take it. So… same as usual? Black coffee, no sugar, extra cold heart on the side?”
You raised an eyebrow. “You’re annoying.”
“And yet you keep coming back here... for the coffee... mostly,” he shot back playfully, winking before heading to the counter.
Two days later, you showed up again in the late afternoon when the café was almost empty. Jungkook was stacking cups when you approached the counter.
You took a deep breath. “Do you need any help here? Like... got any openings?”
He froze mid-motion, then slowly turned around, trying but failing to look casual.
“Help… like… a job?” His voice was steady, but his eyes were sparkling with excitement.
“Yeah. I can’t just sit at home all day. I’ll go crazy. I can make coffee, clean, serve tables… whatever you need.”
Jungkook leaned on the counter, pretending to think seriously.
He pulled out a notepad and pen like this was a real interview. “Alright, Miss Seoul. Let’s do this properly. Name?”
You stared at him. “You already know my name.”
“Formalities matter,” he said smugly. “Name?”
You sighed. “...Y/n.”
“Age?”
“You don’t need my age.”
“Wrong answer. I need to know if you’re old enough to handle my chaotic energy,” he teased.
“I’m old enough to handle you just fine,” you replied sarcastically.
Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Oh? Bold. I like it.” He scribbled something dramatically. “Previous experience?”
“Worked part-time at cafés during college. I can handle rush hours.”
“Impressive. Reason for wanting to work here?” He looked at you with soft, curious eyes now.
You shrugged. “I need something to do. And… your café isn’t terrible.”
“Not terrible,” he repeated, laughing. “High praise. You’re hired.”
You blinked. “That’s it? You need anything else?”
“Nope.” He grinned brightly and extended his hand. “Welcome to the team, partner. Start tomorrow morning?”
You shook his hand. His palm was warm and calloused. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“Too late,” he said cheekily. “You’re stuck with me now.”
“Table 3 is waiting for their order!” during first day on the Job, Jungkook called out, carrying a tray.
“I’m not blind, Jungkook,” you replied, grabbing the drinks. “Stop hovering.”
“I’m not hovering. I’m supervising,” he said, following you anyway. “Also, you look cute in the apron.”
You shot him a glare over your shoulder. “Focus on work.”
“Yes, Boss,” he said innocently, but you caught him smiling behind your back.
Later that week, one day while you were wiping tables together after closing, he started.
“You’re actually good at this,” he said, stacking chairs. “The customers like you. Especially the elders. They keep asking about you when you are not around.”
“They’re sweet,” you admitted quietly.
Jungkook glanced at you, surprised by the soft tone. “And me? Am I sweet too?”
“You’re… chaotic,” you muttered while hiding the smile.
He laughed loudly. “I’ll take that as compliment. Progress!”
One late evening, after a busy day, you two were doing the final clean up. The café was quiet except for the sound of waves crashing outside and the soft hum of the fridge.
Jungkook handed you a glass of cold lemonade. “Here. You worked hard today. Drink this before you collapse.”
You took it, surprised. “Thanks.”
He leaned against the counter beside you, both of you staring out at the dark sea for a while. After a comfortable silence, he spoke gently. “So… how are you feeling here? Really.”
You sipped the lemonade slowly.
You stayed silent for a moment, then answered honestly, “Better than Seoul. But sometimes my head still gets loud.”
He nodded slowly, not pushing. “That’s okay. Loud heads need quiet places. And if it gets too loud again… I’m here. You can talk, or you can just sit next to me in silence. No need to explain.”
You glanced at him. The warm lighting made his features look softer.
He was staring at the ocean, giving you space.
“You’re… not what I expected,” you said softly.
Jungkook turned to you with a gentle smile. “What did you expect?”
“Someone way more annoying,” you said honestly.
Jungkook laughed loudly, the sound warm and bright. “I am annoying. You just haven’t unlocked my final form yet.”
You shook your head, but a small, real smile slipped out.
Jungkook noticed immediately. His eyes softened. “There it is.”
“What?”
“Your smile. You’ve been hiding it from me for weeks.”
“Shut up,” you muttered, turning away to hide your face, but your smile only grew.
“Make me,” he teased, voice dropping playfully.
The air suddenly felt thicker.
You both went quiet, the tension humming between you.
Finally, you cleared your throat and picked up the mop. “We still have to mop the floor.”
“Yes, boss,” he said softly, almost affectionately.
You paused mid-mop and raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s your café, Jungkook. Technically, you’re the boss here.”
He stopped wiping and turned to you fully, leaning on the table with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head.
“I love how you order me around. The way you tell me what to do with that serious face… it’s cute. Makes me want to obey you immediately.”
You scoffed, trying to ignore the way your cheeks warmed. “That’s ridiculous. You’re the owner. Stop playing around.”
“But I’m serious,” he continued, stepping a little closer, still grinning.
“You say ‘Jungkook, stack those chairs properly’ and I’m suddenly the most obedient employee in the world. You say ‘Wipe that counter again’ and I do it happily. So tell me… who’s really the boss here?”
You glared at him, but there was no real heat behind it. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet you like ordering me around,” he teased, biting his lip to hold back a bigger smile. “Admit it. You secretly enjoy having me under your control.”
“Keep talking and I’ll make you mop the entire floor by yourself,” you shot back, trying to sound stern but failing as a laugh slipped out.
Jungkook’s eyes widened dramatically. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about! One threat from you and my heart is racing. You’re definitely the boss, sweetheart.”
Your breath hitched at the sudden pet name, but you quickly recovered. “Don't call me that.”
He laughed, bright and unrestrained.
You both continued cleaning, but the air between you felt lighter and heavier at the same time, filled with playful tension that was getting harder to ignore.
After locking up the café, Jungkook insisted on walking you all the way home. The moonlight painted the quiet path in soft silver as you walked side by side.
The only sounds were your footsteps and the distant waves.
When you reached your grandma’s gate, he stopped and turned to you with a soft smile.
“See you tomorrow, boss,” he said gently, giving you that signature wink.
You rolled your eyes, but your lips were already curving into a smile. “Goodnight, Jungkook.”
He waited until you were safely inside the gate, then turned and started walking back toward his place. You stood there for a moment, watching his figure slowly disappear down the moonlit path.
That’s when it hit you.
You were starting to look forward to every single day with him.
The campfire nights had slowly become your favourite part of the week. It had already been more than three months since you first arrived in this countryside town.
Three months of knowing Jungkook.
From awkward silences to playful banter, from reluctant smiles to genuine laughter, he had become a steady, warm presence in your life without ever pushing too hard.
Every Friday, Jungkook lit a big bonfire on the sand beside the café.
Locals gathered with blankets, homemade snacks, and cheerful chatter. The waves provided a soothing rhythm in the background while fairy lights glowed softly overhead.
You were sitting on a wide bench near the fire, wrapped in a cozy blanket, when Jungkook picked up his guitar. The moment his fingers touched the strings, the crowd quieted down in anticipation.
He played a gentle, heartfelt melody.
Then his smooth, slightly raspy voice filled the night air. Halfway through the song, his eyes found yours across the fire. And they stayed there.
His gaze was soft, full of quiet affection and patience.
The firelight danced beautifully on his face, making him look almost unreal. Your heart fluttered wildly. You tried to look away, but it felt impossible. Your cheeks grew warmer than the fire itself.
When the song ended, the crowd erupted into applause and whistles.
Old Mr. Kim laughed loudly and shouted, “Aigoo, our Jungkookie is finally falling for someone! Look at him singing with those heart eyes!”
Mrs. Park joined in, clapping her hands. “After rejecting every girl who tried to approach him for years, he’s completely whipped! When are you going to make it official, Jungkook-ah?”
More teasing comments followed, making the whole group laugh. Jungkook just smiled shyly and rubbed the back of his neck, not denying anything but not feeding into the teasing either.
You kept your head down, pretending to adjust the blanket around you, trying your best to ignore everything.
Slowly, as the night grew later, the crowd began thinning.
Families with children left first, then the elders, waving goodbyes and thanking Jungkook for another beautiful night. Soon, only a few people remained, chatting quietly.
That’s when Jungkook finally stood up.
He set his guitar down carefully and walked over to you.
He crouched in front of you, close enough that you could smell his comforting scent. The firelight still glowed softly on his face. He looked up at you with that gentle, heart-melting smile.
“Did you like it?” he asked softly, his voice warm and sincere.
You bit your lip, still feeling flustered. “It was… really beautiful.”
“Beautiful?” His eyes crinkled with genuine happiness. “I’ll take that. I wrote that song a few weeks ago.”
Your eyes widened slightly. “You wrote it?”
He nodded, still crouching in front of you, his gaze never leaving your face. “Yeah… been feeling a lot of things lately.” He paused for a moment, then added gently, “But I’m not rushing anything. I just wanted you to hear it.”
The sweetness in his tone made your chest tighten. He was always like this... patient, understanding, never putting pressure on you.
You whispered, “Jungkook… you don’t have to—”
“I know,” he said softly, cutting you off with a tender smile. “I’m not asking for anything. I just… really like being around you. That’s more than enough for me right now.”
For a long moment, the world seemed to fade away.
It was just the two of you, the crackling fire, and the sound of waves in the background. His eyes held so much warmth and care that it made you feel both safe and scared at the same time.
You looked away, overwhelmed. “You’re too much sometimes.”
He chuckled lightly and stood up, but not before gently brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered for a second longer than necessary, sending a rush of butterflies through you.
“Only for you,” he murmured so only you could hear.
Then, with one last soft, affectionate smile, he went to help the remaining people clean up, leaving you sitting there with a racing heart and cheeks that refused to cool down.
Your grandma, who noticed everything from afar, came to you and whispered gently, “He’s a good one, darling. He’s waiting for you… patiently.”
You didn’t reply. But deep inside, you knew she was right.
It was a quiet afternoon with very few customers.
Jungkook had closed the café for few hours and dragged you behind the café to the empty stretch of road.
“You once said you wanted to learn how to ride a bike,” he said, patting the sleek black motorcycle with a bright smile. “Well… today’s the day, boss.”
You eyed the powerful machine nervously. “I said that casually, Jungkook. I didn’t mean right now.”
“Too late,” he teased, handing you the helmet. “No backing out. I promised I’d teach you whenever we get free time.”
He helped you settle onto the bike first.
Then he climbed on behind you. His body pressed against yours from behind... chest flush to your back, thighs bracketing yours.
His warmth instantly surrounded you.
“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice low and close to your ear.
“Not even a little,” you admitted, your heart already racing.
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your back.
“Good. Means you’re paying attention.” His arms came around you, large hands settling over yours on the handlebars. He adjusted your grip gently, his fingers lingering on yours far longer than necessary.
“Relax your shoulders,” he murmured, his breath brushing the side of your neck. “You’re too tense. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen.”
You swallowed hard. “Jungkook…”
“Hmm?” He turned his head slightly. His lips were dangerously close to your ear. “You said my name so softly just now.”
You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “Stop distracting me.”
“But distracting you is my favourite part,” he whispered, his thumbs slowly stroking the back of your hands. “Okay… slowly twist the throttle. Gentle, like this.”
He guided your hand with his, his touch firm yet tender. The bike purred to life beneath you.
For the next twenty minutes, he taught you patiently... correcting your posture, teaching you how to balance, when to brake. Every instruction came with his body pressed closer, his voice soft and intimate against your ear.
“You’re doing so well,” he praised, his tone warm and proud. “Look at you… riding so beautifully already.”
“Jungkook, focus,” you said, but your voice came out breathy.
“I am focusing,” he replied, his hands sliding from the handlebars to rest on your waist, steadying you. “Just not only on the bike.”
The road was completely empty except for the sound of waves in the distance. He made you stop the bike on the side under the shade of a big tree.
Neither of you moved.
“You’re shaking again,” he observed softly. His hands stayed on your waist, fingers gently pressing into your sides.
“I’m not used to someone being this… close,” you confessed.
Jungkook rested his chin lightly on your shoulder, his cheek brushing against yours. “Do you want me to move away?”
You stayed silent.
The truth was you didn’t.
He smiled against your skin. “That’s what I thought.” His voice dropped even lower, more intimate. “You feel so perfect like this… right here in my arms.”
The tension thickened.
You turned your head slightly to look at him. Your faces were inches apart. His dark eyes dropped to your lips, then slowly back up to your eyes. The air between you felt electric.
“Tell me to stop…” he whispered, leaning in closer, “and I will.”
Your breath mingled with his.
Both of you slowly leaned in.
Your noses brushed. His lips were a heartbeat away from yours.
Suddenly — HONK!
A car drove past on the main road nearby, honking loudly and breaking the spell.
You jerked back, heart pounding wildly. Jungkook let out a frustrated groan and dropped his forehead against your shoulder, breathing heavily.
“Damn it,” he muttered, half laughing, half pained. “Worst timing in the world.”
You let out a shaky laugh, trying to steady your racing heart. “We… we should head back. It’s getting late. Rush hour is gonna start.”
Jungkook stayed there for a second longer, forehead pressed to your shoulder, hands still gripping your waist possessively. Then he sighed and finally pulled back.
“Yeah,” he said softly, voice husky. “We should.”
Later that night, after the last customer left and you both had closed the café, you started wiping down the counter.
Jungkook was in the storeroom at the back, checking inventory.
After a few minutes, he called out from inside, “Hey boss, you can head home after you’re done. I’ll be here for a while checking the stock. Might take some time tonight.”
You paused for a second, then continued wiping the already clean counter.
“Okay,” you replied, but made no move to leave.
Thirty minutes passed.
Jungkook finally stepped out of the storeroom, wiping his hands on a towel. He stopped when he saw you still there, slowly wiping the same spot.
“You’re still here,” he said softly, a gentle and knowing smile spreading across his face. “I thought I told you to go home.”
You shrugged, pretending to be casual while avoiding his eyes. “The counter still looked a bit dirty. Figured I’d wait so we can lock up together.”
Jungkook walked closer until he was standing right in front of you, the counter no longer between you. He tilted his head, eyes warm and playful.
“Or maybe… you missed me when I wasn’t around?” he asked, voice low and teasing.
You bit your lip and didn’t answer.
The truth sat heavy in your chest.
He stepped even closer, gently taking the cloth from your hand and setting it aside. For a moment, he just looked at you, the air between you thick with everything unsaid.
“You know,” he murmured, “you don’t have to make excuses to wait for me.”
Your heart fluttered.
You looked up at him, the proximity making it hard to breathe normally again.
Jungkook’s gaze softened, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he gave you a small, warm smile and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Come on, boss. Let’s go home.”
As you walked together under the moonlight toward your grandma’s house, the quiet realization settled deep inside you.
This friendship definitely started turning into something more.
The worst part was that Jungkook wasn’t even hiding the fact that he liked you. He was open about it... in the way he looked at you, the way he teased you, the way he found excuses to be near you, and how he always made sure you got home safe.
He was making his feelings loud and clear.
And feeling this safe with him... this warm, this wanted, this cared for — terrified you more than anything.
It was a slow Thursday afternoon at the café.
Only a few customers were scattered around. Jungkook leaned over the counter toward you, flashing that bright, boyish smile that always made your stomach flip.
“So… I’m heading to my farmhouse this weekend,” he said casually, but his eyes were sparkling with clear excitement. “It’s about 20 km away, right by the sea. Super private, beautiful view, pool, everything. No people, no noise… just peace.”
He tilted his head, biting his lip. “Come with me?”
You looked up from arranging the cups, trying hard to hide your fluttering heart. “Just like that? You’re planning to kidnap me for the whole weekend?”
Jungkook let out a bright laugh, leaning even closer. “Not kidnapping. A very romantic invitation. I’ll cook for you, we can swim, watch the stars… I promise it’ll be fun.”
You crossed your arms, a playful smirk forming on your lips. “Hmm… If you’re taking me somewhere private for three whole days, you should at least ask my grandma first. Like a proper gentleman.”
Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up, clearly amused. “Oh? You want me to do the traditional thing?”
“Exactly,” you said, lifting your chin. “If you’re bold enough to invite me, be bold enough to ask permission.”
He straightened up dramatically and placed a hand over his heart. “Challenge accepted, boss. I’m not scared of your grandma. Watch me.”
Later that evening, after closing the café, Jungkook walked you home. The moment you reached your grandma’s gate, he didn’t hesitate.
“Halmeoni!” he called out cheerfully.
Your grandma opened the door with a warm smile. “Oh? Both of you together again? Come in, come in.”
Jungkook stepped forward confidently. “Actually, Halmeoni, I wanted to ask you something important.”
Your grandma raised an eyebrow, looking between you two with an already knowing look. “Go on, Jungkook-ah.”
He smiled brightly.
“I’m planning to go to my farmhouse this weekend. You already know it's not that far from here. I wanted to take your granddaughter with me for a few days… just to relax and get some fresh air. I promise I’ll take very good care of her. We’ll be back safely on Monday.”
Your grandma’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
She looked at you first. “Do you want to go, dear?”
You felt your cheeks heating up. “I… um… yes. If it’s okay with you.”
Jungkook quickly added, “I’ll cook all the meals, make sure she rests properly, and we won’t do anything she’s uncomfortable with. You have my word.”
Your grandma chuckled softly, clearly enjoying this. “Jungkook-ah, you’ve been helping me and this whole town for years. I trust you completely.”
She turned to you with a big smile. “Go and enjoy, both of you. You’ve both been working so hard. Spend some time together. Make good memories.”
“Halmeoni!” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “You’re supposed to at least pretend to think about it.”
She laughed heartily. “Why would I say no?”
Jungkook grinned victoriously, looking extremely proud of himself. “See? Even Halmeoni has been rooting for me this whole time.”
You shot him a glare, still embarrassed. “Both of you are impossible.”
Grandma waved her hand. “Go pack your bag, sweetheart. And Jungkook… take care of her heart too, okay? Not just her safety.”
Jungkook’s expression softened.
He gave a small, sincere bow. “I will, Halmeoni. I promise.”
Your grandma gave you one last mischievous grin. “Don’t come back too soon. Stay as long as you want.”
“Halmeoni!” you whined again, making both of them laugh.
The next morning, you rode behind him on his motorcycle, arms wrapped tightly around his waist as the scenic coastal road stretched ahead.
The wind was fresh, the sea was sparkling brightly on your right.
Halfway through the ride, Jungkook slowed down the bike and placed one of his hands over yours on his stomach, his palm warm and protective.
He gently interlaced his fingers with yours.
“You okay back there?” he asked, his voice soft and warm against the wind.
“Yeah…” You rested your cheek against his broad back, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing. “It’s so beautiful out here.”
He gave your hand a gentle squeeze.
“You’re more beautiful,” he said without hesitation, his thumb slowly stroking the back of your hand. “And I’m really glad you said yes. I was scared you’d change your mind at the last minute.”
You smiled against his back. “I almost did. But… I wanted to come with you.”
Jungkook let out a happy, contented sound. He occasionally kept his hand on yours, rubbing small circles on your skin with his thumb.
When you finally arrived at the farmhouse and got off the bike, your breath caught in your throat.
The place was stunning.
A sleek modern wooden villa sat right beside the endless sea. In the backyard was a large infinity pool with a beautiful man-made waterfall gently cascading into it. The open sky and the sound of waves created a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a very long time.
“Wow…” you whispered, completely in awe.
Jungkook came up behind you without saying a word.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his cheek gently brushing against yours as both of you looked at the view.
For a long moment, he just held you like that... quietly, warmly, like he never wanted to let go.
“Like it?” he finally asked, his voice low and intimate near your ear.
“I love it,” you breathed. “It feels… free. Like I can finally breathe.”
Jungkook smiled and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the side of your head. He didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he kept his lips there for a few extra seconds, then moved down to place another soft kiss just below your ear.
“Good,” he murmured against your skin. “That’s exactly what I wanted you to feel.”
He tightened his arms around you.
After a quiet pause, he spoke again, his voice softer this time.
“I come here when I need to escape from everything… Sometimes when I miss my parents a little too much, when the emptiness gets too loud… I come here to distract myself. To breathe.”
He nuzzled his face closer into the crook of your neck, holding you a little tighter. “And now… I get to share this place with you. It feels really special. More than special, actually.”
You placed your hands over his, gently squeezing. “Thank you for bringing me here, Jungkook. For trusting me with this part of you.”
He turned his head slightly and pressed a tender kiss on your neck, lingering there as he whispered, “Thank you for coming with me.”
Then he continued with a teasing tone to lighten the moment. “But first… go change. I want to see you in that swimsuit you packed.”
You turned in his arms and lightly smacked his chest. “You’re so shameless.”
“Only for you,” he murmured, eyes dark with affection.
Later that afternoon, you changed into a simple black swimsuit and stepped into the backyard. The sun felt warm on your skin as you walked toward the pool.
Jungkook was already in the water, leaning against the edge with his arms resting on the tiles. The moment he saw you, he went completely still.
His eyes slowly trailed down your body as you picked up the bottle of sunscreen and started applying it to your arms, shoulders, and neck.
He couldn’t look away.
You noticed his intense gaze and smiled shyly. “Are you just going to stare at me the whole time?”
Jungkook didn’t even try to hide it.
He tilted his head, a slow, appreciative smile forming on his lips.
“Can you blame me?” he said, voice low and warm. “You look… unreal. I’m trying to memorize every second of this.”
You continued rubbing sunscreen over your collarbones and down your arms, feeling his eyes follow every movement. The air between you already felt charged.
“Want some help?” he asked, his tone playful but undeniably husky.
You laughed softly. “I think I can manage.”
“Shame,” he murmured, still staring. “I was really looking forward to that.”
After you finished applying the lotion, you walked to the edge of the pool. Jungkook immediately swam closer, looking up at you with soft, dark eyes.
“Come here, baby,” he said gently, offering his hand.
You slipped into the cool water.
Jungkook wasted no time pulling you toward him until your bodies were almost touching. For a moment, he just held your waist under the water, thumbs gently stroking your sides as he looked at you.
“You really have no idea what you do to me, do you?” he whispered. “Standing there in the sunlight, putting on sunscreen like it’s the most innocent thing in the world… while I’m losing my mind over here.”
You placed your hands on his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palms. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being honest,” he replied softly.
He leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, then another on your temple, taking his time. “I’ve wanted you here with me like this for so long. Just you and me… no café, no town, no pretending we’re just friends.”
You felt your chest tighten at his words. “Jungkook…”
He pulled back slightly, eyes locked on yours with that same open affection that always made your heart race.
“I like you,” he said simply, no teasing this time. “A lot. In case it wasn’t obvious already.”
Your heart fluttered. You looked into his eyes and answered softly,
“I like you too, Jungkook.” You paused, biting your lip. “I’m scared… but I believe you won’t make me feel like a loser.”
Something tender flashed across his face.
He cupped your cheek gently with his wet hand.
“I won’t,” he whispered seriously. “I promise.”
To lighten the suddenly emotional mood, Jungkook grinned mischievously. “But right now…” he scooped up a huge splash of water and threw it at you, “I’m going to win this water fight!”
You squealed as the water hit you. “Jungkook!”
The next few minutes were filled with laughter and chaos.
He chased you around the pool, both of you splashing water at each other like kids. You tried to run away in the water, but he was faster, catching you by the waist and lifting you slightly, making you laugh harder.
“Got you!” he cheered.
You eventually got tired of chasing him. He was too fast and strong. So you changed tactics.
You swam slowly toward the shallower end, leaned against the pool wall, and gave him your best seductive look... half-lidded eyes, wet hair clinging to your skin, and a soft, inviting smile.
“Jungkook…” you called his name sweetly, trailing your fingers along your own collarbone. “Aren’t you tired of running?”
He stopped in his tracks, eyes darkening instantly.
The playful smile on his face slowly faded as he stared at you.
“Y-You’re playing dirty,” he said, voice suddenly much lower as he slowly walked through the water toward you. “That’s not fair.”
You tilted your head innocently, but kept the seductive expression. “Come here then.”
The moment he reached you, the air completely shifted, from playful to heavy and electric.
Jungkook cornered you against the pool wall near the waterfall, the cascading water creating a private, misty curtain around you both. He placed his hands on either side of you, trapping you between his strong arms.
His wet chest pressed against yours.
“You little temptress,” he breathed, forehead resting against yours. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me, don’t you?”
His nose brushed against yours.
The tension was thick, almost suffocating now.
“Tell me you feel it too,” he whispered, lips hovering just above yours. “Tell me I’m not the only one going insane here.”
You looked into his eyes, heart pounding wildly. “You’re not the only one.”
That was all it took.
Jungkook cupped your face with both hands and kissed you like he was drowning.
The first kiss was deep and hungry, months of pent-up longing exploding between you. His lips moved desperately against yours, soft yet demanding, as if he couldn’t get enough.
You kissed him back with equal desperation, fingers threading through his wet hair, pulling him closer.
He groaned loudly into your mouth, the sound raw and needy.
“God… finally,” he rasped against your lips, barely pulling back an inch. “You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this.”
He tilted his head and kissed you harder, tongue slipping past your lips to taste you deeply. The kiss turned messy, wet, and urgent. Water splashed around you as he pressed your back against the pool wall, his body flush against yours.
“Jungkook—” you gasped when you felt his hardness pressing between your legs.
“Say my name again,” he begged, voice hoarse as he kissed you again, deeper this time. “Please, baby. Say it.”
“Jungkook…” you moaned into his mouth.
He growled, one hand sliding down your back to grip your ass, pulling you even tighter against him. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he ground against you slowly, deliberately.
“Fuck… you feel so good,” he panted, breaking the kiss only to breathe. “So fucking perfect. I’ve been going crazy every single day pretending I don’t want you like this.”
His lips trailed down your jaw to your neck. He sucked hard on your pulse point, then soothed it with his tongue, making your head fall back.
“Mhhmm... Jungkook!”
“I want everyone in town to know you’re mine,” he growled against your skin. “Tell me you’re mine, baby. Please.”
“I’m yours,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. “I’m yours, Jungkook.”
He growled and captured your lips again in a filthy, desperate kiss.
His tongue tangled with yours as his hands roamed greedily, squeezing your waist, gripping your thighs, sliding up your back. He kissed you like he was afraid this moment would disappear.
“I can’t stop,” he confessed between heavy breaths, forehead pressed against yours. “I’ve wanted you for so long… every time you smiled at me, every time you teased me, every damn night. I wanted to pull you into the storeroom and kiss you stupid.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, lips swollen, eyes dark with lust and something much softer.
“Tell me to slow down,” he said, voice rough, “and I will. But if you don’t… I’m going to kiss you until you forget every bad thing that ever happened to you.”
You answered by pulling him back into another fierce kiss.
Your legs tightened around his waist as you rocked against him.
“Baby…” he moaned into your mouth, the sound desperate and wrecked. “You’re driving me insane. If you keep kissing me like this, I won’t be able to stop myself.”
“Don’t stop,” you whispered, biting his lower lip. “Please don’t stop.”
Jungkook cursed under his breath and kissed you with renewed hunger... deep, wet, and messy. His hands gripped your ass, pulling you even closer as he pressed you against the pool wall under the waterfall.
The cool cascading water poured over both of you while your bodies burned.
“I'm yours now, baby,” he whispered against your swollen lips, voice soft and proud. “Say it.”
“You are mine,” you moaned, kissing him again desperately. “You are mine, Jungkook.”
He smiled against your mouth, breathing heavily, eyes blazing with lust and raw emotion.
“Good girl,” he whispered, before claiming your lips in another long, intoxicating kiss that left you both completely breathless.
The tension you’d both been holding for weeks had finally snapped... wild, desperate, and beautifully overwhelming under the falling water.
The next three days felt like a beautiful dream you never wanted to wake up from.
Mornings were slow and golden.
Sunlight would spill gently through the large windows as you slept in the cozy guest bedroom. Jungkook would quietly sneak in, sit on the edge of your bed, and wake you up with the softest kisses.
He’d press warm, lingering kisses across your forehead, your cheeks, and finally your lips until you stirred awake with a sleepy smile.
“Morning, baby,” he’d whisper in his deep, raspy morning voice, brushing hair away from your face. “Time to wake up. I made coffee for you.”
You’d hum softly, still half-asleep, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “Five more minutes…”
Jungkook would chuckle and nuzzle his nose against yours. “You said that 10 minutes ago. And yesterday too. I’m starting to think you just like me waking you up like this.”
“I do,” you admitted with a shy smile, pulling him down for a proper kiss. “Your good morning kisses are the best part of the day.”
He grinned against your lips, kissing you slowly and sweetly. “Then I’ll keep waking you up like this every single day. Deal?”
“Deal,” you whispered, melting under his gentle affection.
The moment the word left your mouth, Jungkook pulled back slightly with a dramatic, thoughtful expression.
“Hmm… but for that...” he said, pretending to think seriously, “...I’ll have to marry you as soon as possible. Otherwise, it’ll look weird if I keep sneaking into your room every morning, right? Also, what about my gentleman image... Can't let it ruin in front of Halmeoni!!”
Your eyes widened, and a bright laugh escaped you. “Jungkook!”
Before he could react, you attacked him with tickles, fingers digging into his sides. He burst into loud giggles, trying to catch your hands.
“Yahhh! Baby... stop—!” he laughed helplessly, falling onto the bed beside you as you continued tickling him. “This is domestic abuse!”
“You can’t just say things like that!” you giggled, still tickling him while he squirmed and laughed.
“Okay... okay! I surrender!” He finally caught both your wrists and pulled you on top of him, both of you breathing heavily and smiling like idiots.
“But I wasn’t joking about the marrying part,” he added softly, eyes sparkling with affection.
You blushed and hid your face in his neck. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love it,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you tightly and kissing the top of your head.
One afternoon in the kitchen, you tried to help prepare lunch, but Jungkook immediately blocked your path with his body, a playful grin on his face. “Nope. You’re not touching anything.”
You stared at him, hands on your hips. “Excuse me? Why not?”
He crossed his arms, looking way too smug. “I promised your grandma I’d take care of you properly. That includes cooking for you. She specifically told me not to let you lift a finger.”
You let out a shocked laugh. “She did not say that... You are adding it on your own!”
“She definitely did,” he teased, nodding seriously. “She said her granddaughter works too hard and needs to be spoiled. So today, you’re sitting there looking pretty while I cook.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Jungkook, I don’t want to sit around like a decoration piece all the time. I want to do things with you.”
He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. His voice dropped playfully, “Well… if you really want to help that badly, you need to bribe me first.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Bribe you?”
“Mhmm,” he hummed, leaning in until his nose brushed yours. “With kisses. Many kisses. The longer and sweeter, the more you get to help.”
You tried to look annoyed but couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re so clingy.”
Jungkook grinned wider, unbothered. “Extremely clingy. Only for you though.”
You paused, then softly added, “…But I like it.”
His eyes softened instantly. He cupped your face with both hands and kissed you gently, lingering for a long moment.
“Yeah?” he whispered against your lips. “Good. Because I don’t think I can stop being clingy with you even if I tried.”
You kissed him again, deeper this time, before pulling back with a smile. “Fine. I’ll bribe you… but only if I get to chop the vegetables.”
“Deal,” he said happily, still stealing small kisses as you both moved around the kitchen together.
The days were filled with simple, happy moments.
You spent hours swimming in the pool, floating together under the warm sun. He’d hold you in his arms while you both talked about random things... favourite childhood memories, silly dreams, and quiet hopes for the future.
At night, he taught you silly card games and dramatically complained every time you won.
“You’re cheating! There’s no way you’re this good,” he whined, pulling you into his lap as punishment.
You laughed and kissed his pout away. “You let me win on purpose and we both know it.”
“Maybe,” he admitted, smiling brightly. “I just love seeing you happy.”
Every touch between you now came so naturally... his fingers always finding yours, his hand resting on your waist, forehead kisses that lasted longer than necessary, and the way he’d randomly pull you close just because he missed you for five minutes.
There was no more hesitation.
You were officially together, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Night before returning to town, Jungkook had lit a beautiful fire in the backyard firepit. The flames crackled warmly against the cool sea breeze.
You were wrapped in a big, soft blanket, sitting between his legs with your back pressed comfortably against his chest. His arms were wrapped securely around your waist as you both sipped hot coffee and watched the fire dance under the starry sky.
You stayed silent for a long time, just soaking in his warmth.
Eventually, you spoke. “Jungkook… can I tell you something?”
His arms tightened around you gently. “Of course, baby. Anything. I’m right here.”
You took a deep, shaky breath. “My breakup… it wasn’t just painful. It broke something in me.”
Your voice trembled. “He told me I was too much. Too emotional, too clingy, too intense. He said loving me was exhausting and that no one would ever be able to handle me for long. And for a while… I believed every word.”
Jungkook stayed quiet, just listening. His thumb continued drawing slow, soothing circles on your arm.
“But it wasn’t just him,” you continued, eyes stinging.
“My job in Seoul… I gave everything to that company. I worked late nights, skipped holidays, poured my soul into every project. And when the promotion came… they sabotaged me. Someone else took credit for my work and got promoted instead. I felt so used up and discarded. Like nothing I did ever mattered.”
You let out a broken breath. “I couldn’t handle it anymore. That’s why I ran away to Grandma. I was burnt out, heartbroken, and so tired of feeling like I was never enough.”
Jungkook pressed a long, tender kiss to the top of your head and held you closer.
“I’m so sorry you went through all of that, baby,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You didn’t deserve any of it. Not the way he treated you, and not what your company did to you. You gave your best… and they failed you.”
You turned your head slightly to look at him. “When I started catching feelings for you… I got so scared. You make me feel safe, Jungkook. You make me feel wanted. And that safety terrified me. I kept thinking… what if I become too much for you too? What if one day you also get tired of me?”
Jungkook gently turned you in his arms so you were facing him sideways. He cupped your cheek with one hand, wiping away the tears that had fallen with his thumb.
“Hey… look at me,” he said softly. “I’m not him. And I’m not them. I will never get tired of you. Never.”
He rested his forehead against yours.
“I love how you get all bossy with me at the café. I love how you pretend to be annoyed when I flirt but still wait for me every night. I love how you blush when I call you baby. I love every single version of you—the quiet one, the sarcastic one, the emotional one, the strong one, the scared one… all of them.”
You sniffled, a small smile breaking through. “You’re too good to me.”
Jungkook smiled and kissed the tip of your nose. “If I ever leave you… which I won’t… but if I ever make you feel like I'm gonna do something that stupid, you have my full permission to burn my café down. Hell, I’ll even hand you the lighter and help you do it.”
You let out a watery laugh and lightly hit his chest. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Your idiot,” he corrected warmly, kissing your forehead. “Only yours. I’m not going anywhere, baby. I choose you. Every single day, I choose you.”
You turned fully in his arms and hugged him tightly, burying your face in his neck. “I choose you too,” you whispered. “I’m still scared… but I want this. I want us.”
“You have me,” he murmured, pressing kisses to your temple, your cheek, and finally your lips. “All of me.”
The kiss started gentle and comforting… but it didn’t stay that way for long.
It slowly deepened, growing hotter and more desperate.
Jungkook cradled the back of your head as his lips moved against yours with increasing hunger. Your mouths opened wider, turning the kiss messy and wet. The soft sighs turned into breathy moans as tongues met — slow, deep, and sensual.
Wet sounds filled the quiet night air as he licked into your mouth, tasting you like he couldn’t get enough.
You kissed him back just as eagerly, tongues sliding together, lips becoming slick and swollen. A thin string of saliva connected you both when he briefly pulled away, only to dive back in even deeper.
The fire crackled beside you, but the real heat was blooming between your bodies.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily. His thumb gently caressed your glistening bottom lip, eyes dark with desire yet overflowing with tenderness.
“Baby…” he whispered huskily, voice low and intimate against your wet lips. “Do you want to continue?”
You looked into his eyes, heart racing wildly.
There was no pressure in his gaze — only love, patience, and raw want.
“Yes,” you whispered, fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer. “I want you, Jungkook. I want all of this with you… everything.”
A soft, beautiful smile touched his lips.
He leaned in again and kissed you deeply — slower this time, but even messier. His tongue explored your mouth thoroughly, licking and sucking on your tongue with wet, filthy sounds.
He kissed you like he was pouring every ounce of his love into it, lips sliding against yours, tongues tangling sensually. You could taste the coffee and sweetness on his tongue as he devoured you slowly.
His hand slid down your back, pulling your body flush against his as the blanket slipped from your shoulders, exposing more skin to the cool night air.
“Then let’s go inside,” he murmured against your slick, swollen lips, voice warm and full of promise. “I want to love you properly… slowly.”
He stood up effortlessly, lifting you in his arms along with the blanket.
You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you, never stopping the gentle kisses. He pressed soft kisses along your jaw and down your neck, whispering sweet words between each one.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed against your skin. “I’m so lucky you’re mine. I’ve got you, baby… always.”
He carried you inside the house, your arms wrapped around his neck, the blanket trailing behind. The bedroom door was already ajar. Jungkook pushed it open with his shoulder and gently laid you down on the large, soft bed.
The only light came from a warm bedside lamp, casting a golden glow over both of you. He hovered above you for a moment, just looking at you with so much affection it made your chest ache.
“Are you really sure, baby?” he asked softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “We don’t have to do anything tonight. Just being with you is enough.”
You reached up and pulled him down into a kiss. “I’m sure,” you whispered against his lips. “I want to feel close to you… in every way.”
Jungkook smiled tenderly and kissed you again, deeper this time. His hands moved slowly as he helped you sit up. You both undressed each other unhurriedly — savouring every moment.
He slipped the blanket off your shoulders, then gently pulled your top over your head. His lips immediately found your newly exposed skin, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice full of awe. “Every single part of you.”
You tugged at his shirt, and he helped you pull it off.
Your hands explored his warm, toned chest as he unclasped your bra, letting it fall away. He kissed you again, slow and sensual, while his hands gently cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you sighed into his mouth.
“Jungkook…” you breathed.
He laid you back down and slowly removed the rest of your clothes, kissing every inch of skin he revealed... your stomach, your hips, your thighs. When you were completely bare, he stood for a second just to admire you.
“God… look at you,” he whispered, almost reverently. He quickly removed his own pants and boxers, then crawled back over you.
He started by devouring your lips, deep, passionate kisses that left you dizzy and breathless. Then his mouth began to travel lower.
He kissed down the column of your neck, sucking gently on your pulse point until you shivered. His lips continued their slow descent, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbone. When he finally reached your breasts, he let out a soft, reverent groan.
“These are so pretty,” he murmured, cupping one breast gently in his large hand. “So soft… perfect.”
He leaned down and dragged his tongue slowly around your nipple, teasing the sensitive bud before flicking it lightly. You arched into him with a quiet moan. Jungkook smiled against your skin and did it again, slower this time, savoring your reaction.
“You like that?” he asked, voice husky as he looked up at you through his lashes.
“Yes…” you breathed.
He wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked gently, then harder, alternating between soft suction and slow, lazy circles of his tongue.
His hand kneaded your other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers before pinching it lightly, just enough to make you gasp.
“Jungkook…” you whimpered, fingers threading through his hair.
He switched sides, giving your other breast the same devoted attention... licking, sucking, and kissing every inch like he had all the time in the world.
He took his time, humming happily against your skin as he sucked harder on one nipple while gently pinching the other.
“So sensitive for me,” he whispered, blowing cool air on the wet bud before sucking it back into his warm mouth. “I could do this for hours… just listening to the pretty sounds you make.”
You squirmed underneath him, heat pooling between your legs. “Jungkook… please…”
He gave one final slow lick to your nipple before kissing his way down your stomach, leaving a trail of wet kisses. He settled between your thighs and looked up at you with dark, loving eyes, his lips glistening.
“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long, baby,” he said, voice thick with desire. “Will you let me?”
“Yes,” you whispered, nodding. “Please, Jungkook.”
He settled between your legs, spreading them gently. He kissed your inner thighs first, teasing you with soft bites and licks. Then, finally, his mouth found your core.
The first long, slow lick made you moan loudly.
Jungkook groaned in response.
“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he murmured against you. “So perfect.”
He took his time, licking, sucking, and kissing with pure devotion. His tongue circled your clit before sucking it gently into his mouth. When your hips bucked, he held them down softly, continuing his slow, sensual torture.
“Relax, baby. Let me take care of you,” he said softly before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking tenderly.
“Mhmm... Jungkook!” you gasped, back arching, fingers gripping his hair. “That feels so good…”
He hummed happily, alternating between sucking your clit and licking broad strokes through your folds. Every movement was deliberate and full of adoration.
He slid one finger inside you slowly, curling it gently while his tongue continued its sweet torture on your clit.
“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured against you, adding a second finger. “So tight and warm… Does this feel good, baby?”
“Yes— so good,” you moaned, breathing heavily. “Don’t stop… please don’t stop...,” your eyes fluttering shut. “You’re making me feel so loved.”
He added a second finger, curling them gently while sucking on your clit with just the right pressure. Your thighs started trembling around his head.
“That’s it, baby. Let go for me,” he whispered. “I want to feel you come on my tongue.”
The pleasure built slowly but intensely.
With a soft cry of his name, you came undone, shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you. Jungkook kept licking you gently through it, humming happily against your sensitive flesh.
When you finally came down, he kissed his way back up your body until he was hovering over you again. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
“How are you feeling?” he asked tenderly, brushing your hair back.
“Amazing,” you whispered, still catching your breath. “I want you inside me now, Jungkook.”
He kissed you again, slow and full of emotion. “I’ll go slow, okay? Tell me if you want me to stop or go faster.”
He positioned himself between your legs, the blunt head of his cock pressing gently against your slick entrance. He locked eyes with you, full of love and desire, and slowly began pushing inside, inch by inch, stretching you open with careful patience.
Both of you let out soft, breathy moans when he finally bottomed out, buried completely inside you.
“Baby…” Jungkook breathed, forehead pressed against yours. His voice was thick with emotion. “You feel incredible… so warm, so tight around me. Like you were made for me.”
He stayed still, letting you adjust to his size, while pressing the softest kisses to your lips, your nose, and your cheeks.
“You okay, my love?” he whispered tenderly, one hand gently stroking your hair. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
“I’m perfect,” you whispered back, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even deeper. “Move... Please... You feel so good inside me, Jungkook…”
He smiled softly and kissed you again, slow and deep. “I love being connected with you like this,” he murmured against your lips. “Nothing between us. Just you and me.”
Jungkook began moving slow, deep, sensual rolls of his hips.
Every thrust was deliberate, dragging against your walls in the most delicious way. He kept one hand intertwined with yours, pinning it gently beside your head, while the other cradled your face.
“Tell me how it feels, baby,” he whispered, lips brushing yours with every thrust. “I want to hear your voice.”
“So good…” you moaned softly, eyes fluttering. “You’re so deep… I can feel all of you.”
He groaned quietly, the sound vibrating against your chest. “You’re squeezing me so beautifully. So perfect. I could stay inside you forever like this.”
He kissed you again, tongues sliding together lazily as he continued his slow, rhythmic pace. The room filled with the soft sounds of skin meeting skin, quiet moans, and whispered words.
“You make me feel so safe,” you confessed breathlessly between kisses. “I’ve never felt this loved before.”
Jungkook’s eyes softened even more. He thrust a little deeper, grinding against you gently.
“You are loved,” he said tenderly, voice husky. “So deeply loved. I’m going to spend every day proving it to you. Every morning. Every night. You’ll never doubt how much you mean to me.”
You moaned louder as he hit a particularly sensitive spot.
Your free hand ran down his back, nails grazing his skin. “Right there… Jungkook, right there…”
He kept the same angle, stroking that spot with every slow thrust. “Here, baby? Like this?” he asked, voice sweet but dripping with lust.
“I won’t,” he promised, kissing your neck and sucking gently on your pulse point. “I love watching your face when I make you feel good. You’re so beautiful when you fall apart for me.”
Your bodies moved together in a perfect, sensual rhythm.
He never rushed.
Every thrust was full of love, devotion, and intimacy. “You’re doing so well, baby…” He kept whispering sweet praises between kisses... “Taking me so beautifully… I’m so lucky you’re mine…”
As the pleasure built higher, your moans grew softer but more desperate. Jungkook could feel you tightening around him.
“You’re getting close, aren’t you?” he murmured lovingly, pressing his forehead to yours again. “Come with me, sweetheart. Let me feel you.”
“I’m so close…” you gasped, squeezing his hand tighter. “Jungkook… I love you.”
Those words made him groan deeply. His thrusts became slightly deeper, still slow and sensual.
“I love you too,” he whispered against your lips. “So much. Come for me, baby. I’ve got you.”
A few more loving, deep strokes and you fell apart beneath him — moaning his name softly as intense pleasure washed over you in warm waves. Your walls clenched rhythmically around him, pulling him deeper.
Jungkook followed right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a soft, broken moan of your name. He trembled above you, filling you with warmth as he came.
For a long moment, neither of you moved.
He stayed buried deep inside you, holding you close as you both caught your breath. He pressed endless gentle kisses across your face—your forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks, and finally your lips.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered lovingly. “I’ve got you, my baby. You’re safe. You’re loved.”
You wrapped your arms and legs around him tightly, tears of overwhelming emotion pricking your eyes.
“I’ve never felt this cherished before,” you whispered.
Jungkook smiled softly and kissed you again, slow and full of promise. “Then I’ll just have to cherish you more… every single day.”
Jungkook stayed buried deep inside you for a few long minutes, both of you breathing softly against each other. He finally lifted his head and looked at you with the gentlest eyes, a tender smile playing on his lips.
He slowly pulled out of you, making you whimper at the loss.
Immediately, he gathered you in his arms and rolled onto his back so you were lying on top of his chest.
“Come here, baby,” he whispered, wrapping his strong arms around you securely.
He pressed soft kisses to your forehead, then your temple, while his hand gently stroked up and down your bare back in soothing motions.
“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, voice full of warmth and care. “Any discomfort?”
You shook your head, nuzzling deeper into his chest. “I feel perfect… just a little sensitive. But so loved.”
“Good,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head again. “You were so good for me. So beautiful.”
He reached over to the side table and grabbed the packet of wipes, gently cleaning between your legs with the utmost care and tenderness. After tossing the wipes aside, he pulled the warm blanket over both of you and hugged you closer.
“You’re trembling a little,” he noticed, rubbing your arms gently to warm you up. “Is that okay?”
You smiled shyly. “Yeah… just from everything. It felt really intense… in the best way.”
Jungkook chuckled softly and tilted your chin up so he could kiss you.
It was slow, soft, full of love.
“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “Thank you for trusting me tonight.”
“I love you too,” you whispered back, resting your cheek over his heart. “This feels like home.”
He held you tighter, one hand playing with your hair while the other traced gentle patterns on your waist. “Then stay right here,” he said softly. “This is your home now… in my arms.”
You both lay there in comfortable silence, wrapped around each other, listening to the distant sound of waves and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.
You felt safe, cherished and loved.
The ride back to town felt too short.
Your arms were wrapped securely around Jungkook’s waist, cheek resting against his back as the coastal wind whipped past you.
Jungkook kept one hand on the handlebar, but his other hand frequently found yours... gently squeezing the hands you had clasped around his stomach.
Every few minutes, he would slide his hand down to squeeze your thigh affectionately, his touch warm and possessive.
He kept glancing at you through the rear-view mirror, that bright, lovesick smile never leaving his face.
“You know you’re staring at me more than the road, right?” you teased, raising your voice slightly over the wind.
Jungkook chuckled, giving your thigh another gentle squeeze.
“Can you blame me?” he called back. “My beautiful girlfriend is hugging me from behind. This is the best view I’ve ever had while riding.”
You blushed and hid your face against his back, but he wasn’t done.
“Baby,” he said playfully, interlacing his fingers with yours again over his stomach. “You’re holding me so tight. Scared I’ll disappear or just enjoying yourself?”
“Both,” you admitted, smiling. “And stop looking at me in the mirror so much! Focus on driving.”
He laughed loudly, the sound warm and happy.
“I’m a very good multitasker,” he replied, gently squeezing your hand. “Right now I’m driving… and admiring how pretty my girl looks with the sea behind her. Two important things.”
“You’re impossible,” you muttered, but your arms tightened around him affectionately.
“And you love it,” he said confidently, bringing your hand up to his lips for a quick kiss before placing it back on his waist. “Don’t even try to deny it, boss.”
As soon as you stepped through your grandma’s gate, she was already standing on the porch with her arms crossed and a knowing smile.
“Oh my…” she said, eyes scanning both of you. “Look at you two. Glowing like lanterns. Did you even sleep at that farmhouse or just stare at each other the whole time?”
“Relaxed?” Grandma raised an eyebrow. “Darling, you have red patch on your neck and Jungkook is smiling like he won the lottery. Don’t insult my intelligence.”
You covered your neck with your hand, mortified. “It’s not... we didn’t... I mean—”
Jungkook, who was carrying both your bags like they weighed nothing, laughed warmly behind you.
“Halmeoni, you’re too sharp,” he said cheerfully. “I can never win with you.”
Before you could defend yourself, Jungkook walked past you with all the confidence in the world and set the luggage down dramatically.
“Halmeoni,” he announced proudly, standing tall like he was making a speech, “...guess what?”
Your grandma tilted her head, amused. “What, my dear?”
“You’ve been asking me for the last two years... ‘Jungkook-ah, when are you bringing a granddaughter-in-law home?’” He grinned, full of charm and mischief. “Well… I think I’ll be bringing your granddaughter as your official granddaughter-in-law soon.”
“Jungkook!” you gasped, eyes wide in panic.
You lightly smacked his arm. “You can’t just say that!”
He turned to you with the most innocent, lovesick expression. “Why not? It’s true.”
Grandma clapped her hands together in pure delight. “Finally! Welcome to the family, Jungkook. Though… you’ve been my favorite grandson in my heart for a long time. But now you will be my favorite grandson-in-law too.”
You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to disappear. Right now. Into the sea.”
Jungkook laughed and pulled you into his side, kissing the top of your head. “No disappearing. You’re stuck with me now, boss.”
Later that evening, when you two were alone on the porch, you were sitting on the wooden swing, legs draped over Jungkook’s lap. He was gently rubbing your calf while the evening sea breeze played with your hair.
You looked at him shyly. “Were you serious earlier? About the… granddaughter-in-law part?”
Jungkook turned to you, his expression softening completely.
He took your hand and interlaced your fingers.
“I’ve been serious about you since the day you ignored me at the café,” he said gently. “Even when you were cold and distant, I already knew I wanted you in my life. But I’m not rushing you, baby.”
He lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles. “We’ll go as slow as you want. I’ll wait until you’re fully ready. No pressure. Just… I want you to know where my heart is.”
You felt your eyes get teary. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”
He smiled and pulled you closer until you were practically sitting in his lap. “I plan to keep being too good to you. Every single day.”
Jungkook had zero intention of keeping your relationship private.
The very next morning, the moment you stepped into the café, Jungkook’s face lit up like the sun. He was behind the counter but immediately rushed toward you, wiping his hands on his apron.
He greeted you with a big kiss on the lips right in front of three regular customers.
“Jungkook!” you whispered, mortified but breathless.
“Morning, girlfriend,” he said loudly and proudly, a bright grin plastered on his face for the entire café to see.
You covered your face with your hands. “Oh my god… everyone is staring.”
“Good... Let them stare,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. He gently took your hands away from your face and turned you around so your back was facing him.
“Come here, let me help you,” he murmured softly.
His arms came around you from behind as he helped tie your apron strings. His fingers moved slowly and deliberately, brushing against your waist and lower back more than necessary.
He leaned down, lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You look so cute when you’re blushing like this. Makes me want to kiss you again.”
“Jungkook, stop,” you whined quietly, but a shy smile was fighting its way onto your lips. “There are customers!”
“Let them enjoy the show,” he teased, tying a neat bow but refusing to move away. Instead, he wrapped his arms fully around your waist and hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.
Old Mrs. Park, who came for her daily tea, clapped excitedly. “Finally! I was wondering when this boy would make it official!”
Later, when a group of young girls from town came in and started flirting with him, Jungkook immediately pulled you to his side.
“Sorry ladies,” he said cheerfully, kissing your temple. “I’m very taken. This is my girlfriend. She’s the boss here… and of me.”
You elbowed him lightly, embarrassed but smiling. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Extremely,” he admitted, nuzzling your cheek. “I’ve been waiting months to show you off. Let me flex a little.”
In the evenings, he walked you home holding your hand, swinging it between you like a lovesick teenager.
“You know... it's been weeks and the whole town is still talking about us, right?” you asked, laughing, one day while heading to home.
“Good,” he replied, pulling you closer. “Let them talk. I want everyone to know that the cold girl from Seoul who used to ignore me is now the love of my life.”
You stopped walking and looked up at him, heart overflowing.
Without thinking, you rose onto your tiptoes, held his face gently, and pecked his lips—soft, sweet, and full of affection.
Jungkook’s face lit up like the sunrise.
His eyes widened in pleasant surprise before melting into the softest, most loving smile.
“What was that for?” he whispered, still grinning.
“Because I love you,” you said shyly, still holding his face. “And I wanted to kiss you first for once.”
He let out a happy little laugh and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.
“I love you more,” he murmured, forehead resting against yours. “So much more. And I’m going to keep saying it until you get tired of hearing it.”
You smiled, brushing your nose against his. “Not possible.”
Next one to be posted (according to my last poll, it got the second highest number of votes).
Posting will begin next weekend due to the fact I'll be away from my computer the next few days for dental surgery and recovery.
Title: The Mountains Stayed Still
Summary: Halfmoon Haven was built for safety and healing, but Yoongi never imagined it could be his. He slowly begins to understand that Halfmoon Haven isn’t just a safe house—it’s home. A story of bondmates, aftercare, and the quiet miracle of finding where you belong.
Rating: Explicit (for rut-related intimacy and emotional vulnerability)
Warnings:
Past Non-Con (referenced, not depicted)
Pairings: M/M, M/F
Relationships:
Min Yoongi/Y/N
Min Yoongi/Kim Taehyung
Min Yoongi/Y/N/Kim Taehyung (triad dynamic)
Kim Seokjin x Kim Namjoon
Characters:
Min Yoongi
Kim Taehyung
Y/N
Park Jimin
Jung Hoseok
Jeon Jungkook
Kim Namjoon
Kim Seokjin
Additional Genres: Alternate Universe – Omega Verse, First Rut, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Healing, Aftercare, Safe House, Chosen Family, Bondmates, Trauma Recovery, Soft Yoongi, Protective Taehyung, Caregiver Y/N, Post-Trauma, Scent Bonding, Gentle Touches, Vulnerability as Strength, Found Family Feels, Yoongi-Centric, Healing Through Love, Emotional Intimacy, Domestic Rituals, Quiet Revolution of Belonging, Journal Entry, Mountains and Porch Swings, Legacy of Care, Namjoon is older than Hobi
Author’s Note: This is a story about safety, surrender, and the quiet power of being held. Set in a home built on chosen family and reverent care, this fic explores what it means to belong after survival. Thank you for holding space for softness, for aftercare, and for the kind of love that doesn’t ask you to earn it.
He hadn't known what safety meant, until he met you. He didn’t know love could feel like home.
Content Warning: This fic contains references to past ownership, trauma, and non-consensual dynamics (not depicted, only alluded to). Emotional vulnerability, first rut experiences, and themes of recovery and healing are central to the story. All intimacy is consensual, reverent, and rooted in safety. Please read with care and honor your boundaries.
Their story finally ends... but does it truly ever end?
Over the next six months, the seven stepped up—truly stepped into the light.
They restructured their businesses, held press conferences with transparency, partnered with legal teams and financial advisors, and made public commitments to ethical growth. The community watched with cautious curiosity at first, then growing respect. They weren’t just cleaning house—they were building something new. Something honest. Something lasting.
And through it all, Jungkook kept his promise.
He didn’t vanish into the whirlwind of meetings and strategy sessions. He carved out moments—quiet, intentional ones—to stay in your orbit. A coffee dropped off at your door before a long day. A walk through the park after sunset, no words needed. A text at midnight: “I saw something today that made me think of you.”
He didn’t ask for attention. He didn’t demand space. He simply showed up.
Sometimes it was a shared meal, sometimes a shared silence. Sometimes it was him sitting beside you while you worked, headphones in, just being near. And sometimes it was deeper—conversations that unraveled old fears, laughter that stitched new memories.
He didn’t try to impress you.
He tried to know you.
And let himself be known.
And as the seven were being seen and heard by the world, Jungkook was learning to be seen and heard by you.
Not as a leader.
Not as a performer.
But as a man who had chosen to change.
And chosen you to witness it.
And you?
Your heart cracked wide open.
Not all at once. Not dramatically. But slowly, steadily—like sunlight creeping through curtains you’d kept drawn for years. The walls you’d built—of defiance, of self-defense, of survival—didn’t crumble. They softened. They let light in.
You stopped bracing for disappointment.
Stopped expecting performance.
Stopped guarding yourself like love was a battlefield.
Because Jungkook didn’t just show up once.
He kept showing up.
In quiet ways.
In consistent ways.
In ways that didn’t ask you to shrink or shift or shine for him.
And so you let yourself be seen.
Not the curated version.
Not the untouchable one.
Just you.
You laughed more freely.
Spoke more gently.
Asked for what you needed without apology.
You let him witness your rituals, your rhythms, your silences.
You let him hold space for your joy and your fury.
You let him in—not because he demanded it, but because he earned it.
And somewhere in those six months, you stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop.
You started believing that maybe—just maybe—this was what it felt like to be met.
To be chosen.
To be safe.
To be loved without armor.
Two years to the day since Jungkook first saw you—really saw you—you watched from a quiet distance as he and his brothers stood at the groundbreaking site, shovels in hand, surrounded by press and community leaders. The seven of them, now legitimate and respected businessmen, had turned their legacy into something tangible. Something healing. A children’s orphanage built not just with money, but with intention.
Jungkook had sent you a text that morning:
“Today’s the day. Would love to see you there.”
You hadn’t replied.
Was he disappointed? Naturally. A part of him had hoped you’d be in the crowd, maybe tucked behind the cameras, maybe waiting near the edge of the site with that quiet smile he’d come to crave. But he didn’t push. He didn’t follow up. He understood that sometimes, you needed space. And he respected it—because that’s what love had taught him. To wait. To trust.
What he didn’t know was that you’d been planning something quietly behind the scenes with Jin and Taehyung's help.
A surprise dinner.
No fanfare. No cameras.
Just warmth. Intention.
Just him.
Jin offered the use of their home, planning to take the rest of his brothers away for the weekend so that the two of you could be alone. You’d chosen the menu carefully, asked for soft lighting, even brought a small gift wrapped in lavender paper. Because tonight wasn’t about celebration. It was about connection.
There was something you wanted to share with him.
Something that couldn’t be said in a text.
Something that needed eye contact, steady breath, and the kind of silence that holds meaning.
You’d watched him grow.
You’d watched him lead.
You’d watched him become the man he promised he’d be.
And now, you were ready to offer something back.
Not just your presence.
But your truth.
Your future.
Your heart—unhidden, unguarded, and ready.
Tonight, he’d find out.
And everything would shift again.
Not with spectacle.
But with sincerity.
After the ceremony, the press interviews, the handshakes with investors and the warm exchanges with the orphanage staff, Jungkook was running on fumes. Pride buzzed beneath his skin, but so did exhaustion. He offered to cook dinner for everyone—something simple, something grounding—but his brothers exchanged sheepish looks.
“Sorry,” Jimin said. “We’ve got plans this weekend. Can’t get out of them.”
“Next time,” Namjoon added, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Oh,” Jungkook said, trying to mask the disappointment in his voice. He gave a small nod, a half-smile. “Yeah. No worries.”
They split at their cars, and he drove home alone, the silence in the car louder than the applause he’d left behind.
When he stepped into the mansion, he expected stillness. Instead, he was met with low lighting and the soft hum of music floating through the air. He paused, frowning, keys still in hand. Something was off—but not in a bad way. In a curious way.
He followed the music down the hall, past the foyer, and into the dining room.
And there you were.
Waiting.
The candlelight flickered across your skin, casting golden shadows that danced along the curves of your body. You wore a dress he’d never seen before—deep plum, silky, clinging to you like a secret. The neckline dipped just enough to tease, the slit along your thigh revealing a flash of skin that made his breath catch. It was sultry, elegant, devastating.
You looked like a dream.
But more than that—you looked like you.
Unapologetic. Intentional. Present.
His eyes swept over you, stunned into stillness. The Cin persona had always captivated him, but this—this version of you, dressed in desire but grounded in truth—set his senses aflame.
You smiled, soft and sure. “I got your text,” you said. “Sorry I didn’t make it.”
He blinked, still catching up. “What’s all this?”
“Dinner.”
“You cooked?”
“I did.”
He swallowed, voice low. “Thank you.”
“Come sit.”
He moved without thinking, drawn to you like gravity. As he took the seat across from you, the candlelight caught in his eyes, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. He just looked at you, like he was trying to memorize every detail.
The meal began, quiet and warm.
But the air between you was charged.
Not with tension.
With anticipation.
With meaning.
And Jungkook knew—this wasn’t just dinner.
This was a moment.
A turning point.
And he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Dinner was quiet, but charged.
The kind of quiet that hummed with meaning, where every glance carried weight and every breath felt like a prelude. You were used to the silences between you—comfortable, familiar, sometimes more expressive than words. You’d had entire conversations with just your eyes. But tonight was different.
Tonight, you were nervous.
Anticipation and desire twisted in your gut, vying for space. It had been building to this moment for two years—two years of growth, of showing up, of choosing each other in quiet, deliberate ways. And tonight, you were ready to say yes.
After dinner, Jungkook stood to clear the plates, ever the gentleman. But you reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm.
“Wait,” you said softly. “Sit for a moment.”
He paused, sensing the shift, then lowered himself back into his chair. His eyes locked onto yours, steady but searching. He could feel it—something was coming. Something big.
On the outside, he was composed.
On the inside, he was anything but.
A flicker of fear passed through him. Was this the moment you’d say you were done? That you’d reached your limit? That despite everything, you couldn’t stay?
He couldn’t think of a single moment where he’d failed to show up. He’d been present. Consistent. Devoted. He was invested—100%.
You took a breath, grounding yourself, then reached for something resting on the chair beside you. A small box, wrapped in lavender paper and tied with a purple satin bow. You placed it in front of him, your fingers lingering on the edge for a beat before pulling away.
His gaze dropped to the gift, then rose to meet yours again.
“What’s this?” he asked, voice low.
You smiled, soft and sure. “Open it.”
And as his fingers moved to untie the bow, the air between you thickened—not with uncertainty, but with promise.
Because tonight wasn’t about endings.
It was about beginnings.
You were ready to answer.
He slowly opened the box, parting the tissue paper with a soft rustle. His breath caught.
Nestled inside was a gold pocket watch—elegant, timeless, and deeply personal. On its surface, engraved in delicate detail, were two hands linked at the pinky. A symbol of a promise made in silence. A moment that had lived between you for years.
He picked it up with reverence, thumb brushing the engraving like he wanted to press it into his skin, carry it with him always.
“Open it,” you whispered, voice barely audible over the thrum of your heart.
He did.
Inside the cover, etched in fine script, were the words:
Thank you for seeing me.
And thank you for finally showing me you.
He blinked.
His vision blurred as tears welled up, unbidden and unstoppable. The weight of the gift, the meaning behind it, the years that had led to this moment—it all crashed into him at once.
He looked up at you, at the softness in your eyes, the quiet strength in your smile. And something in him broke open.
His hand reached for you, slipping around the back of your neck with gentle urgency. He pulled you toward him, and you met him halfway.
The kiss was your first—your real first.
Not stolen. Not staged.
But earned.
It was passionate, yes.
But more than that, it was full of respect.
Of love.
Of the kind of desire that grows from knowing someone deeply, and being known in return.
And in that kiss, the past two years folded into a single truth:
You had chosen each other.
Not once.
But every day.
And now, you were ready to begin.
Epilogue
Two years later…
They called it the wedding of the century.
Not because it was extravagant—though it was breathtaking. Not because of the guest list—though it was star-studded and intimate. But because of what it represented.
A love that had been earned.
Witnessed.
Chosen.
Again and again.
The ceremony took place in the garden of the mansion, the one that had seen quiet dinners, late-night walks, and the first kiss that rewrote everything. Lavender blooms lined the aisle, a nod to the color of the bow that wrapped the gift he still carried in his pocket. The watch ticked softly in his vest, close to his heart.
Jungkook stood at the altar, dressed in a tailored black suit, nerves and joy dancing in his chest. His brothers flanked him, proud and emotional, each one knowing exactly what this day meant—not just for him, but for all of them.
And then you appeared.
You walked down the aisle in a dress that shimmered like dusk—elegant, sultry, unmistakably you. The crowd hushed, but Jungkook didn’t hear them. He only saw you. The way your eyes locked onto his. The way your smile bloomed, soft and sure. The way your presence filled the space like it always had—quietly, powerfully.
When you reached him, he whispered, “You’re real.”
And you whispered back, “So are you.”
The vows were simple. Honest. No grand declarations. Just truth.
“I choose you,” you said. “Not for who you were. Not for who you could be. But for who you are—every day.”
“I’ll keep showing up,” he promised. “For you. For us. For the life we build together.”
The kiss that followed was familiar and new all at once—like every kiss before it had been leading here.
And when the music swelled and the crowd erupted, you didn’t hear the applause. You heard the heartbeat of the man who had waited. Who had grown. Who had loved you without spectacle.
They called it the wedding of the century.
But for you and Jungkook, it was simply the beginning.
Of a life.
Of a legacy.
Of love—unhidden, unguarded, and everlasting.
If I'm looking at my notes correctly, there's one chapter left. :(
Your phone rang, slicing through the quiet focus of your yoga flow. You blinked, startled, breath caught mid-pose. Rising quickly, you padded across the room and snatched it up, answering on the third ring, voice still breathless from movement and surprise.
“Hello?”
There was a pause. Then—
“Hey… it’s me.”
Jungkook’s voice was low, cautious. Like he’d dialed with intention but arrived with uncertainty. Like he had questions he wasn’t sure he was ready to ask, or maybe didn’t know how to.
Your heart cracked open a little more at the sound of him. Not because he was fragile, but because he was trying. You could hear it in the restraint, the way he didn’t rush, didn’t fill the silence with bravado. You appreciated that—his reservedness. His respect for the space between you.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said, and the words carried weight. Not flirtation. Not nostalgia. Something heavier. Something real.
You felt it. That hesitation. That ache. That unspoken thing sitting just behind his confession.
So you gave him an out. A bridge. A breath of ease.
“Wanna grab lunch with me?”
Another pause—this one softer. Then a quiet exhale.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’d really like that.”
And just like that, the tension between you shifted. Not erased. But softened.
Lunch wasn’t a solution.
It was a beginning.
You suggested the small café just around the corner from your apartment. He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there in twenty,” he said, and you quietly disconnected, nothing more needing to be said. The simplicity of it felt grounding—no overthinking, no drawn-out goodbyes. Just a decision made, and a meeting set.
You stood there for a moment, phone still in hand, staring at the blank screen as if it might reveal something more. Anticipation thrummed through your veins, subtle but insistent. There had been something in his voice—an undertone of change, of weight carried and maybe, finally, set down. It wasn’t just that he’d been thinking about you. It was how he said it. Like he’d been holding that thought for days, maybe longer, unsure if he had the right to speak it aloud.
What had he been up to since the weekend? What decisions had he made? You hadn’t seen him since the performance, since the moment he looked at you not as a fantasy, but as a mirror. You wondered if he’d followed through on the shift you saw beginning in his eyes.
You moved to your bedroom, the quiet hum of your thoughts louder than any music. The closet door swung open, and you began the ritual—wardrobe choices made and discarded with the precision of someone who knew how to dress for impact. You considered the statement pieces, the curated looks, the armor you’d worn for years. But none of it felt right.
Today wasn’t about performance. It was about presence.
You settled on ease: jeans that fit like memory, a soft t-shirt, a flannel sweater that still smelled faintly of lavender, high-top sneakers scuffed at the toes, and your glasses—clear, unpretentious, real.
You caught your reflection in the mirror and paused. Not to critique, but to see. This was you. Not Cin. Not the persona. Just the woman who had built herself from truth and ritual, who had chosen authenticity even when it cost her comfort.
How would he take this version of you?
How would he see this version of you—the one who didn’t hide behind shimmer or shadow, the one who had nothing to prove but everything to protect?
You wanted to know.
Not because you needed his approval.
But because you were curious.
Because something in his voice said he might finally be ready to meet you—not as a conquest, not as a symbol, but as a person.
And you were ready.
You must have taken longer than you thought.
When you reached the café, he was already there—seated by the window, back straight but relaxed, one hand resting on the table, the other holding the menu like he was actually reading it. You paused on the sidewalk, caught off guard by the sight of him.
He looked… soft.
His hair was loose, wavy, falling naturally around his face. Not slicked back, not styled to perfection. Just his hair, untouched and free. No rings glinting on his fingers. No watch weighing down his wrist. No designer jacket or statement boots.
Just a plain gray hoodie and matching sweatpants. Sneakers. And—your breath caught—a pair of glasses perched on his nose. You squinted slightly. Readers, maybe. He was scanning the menu with quiet focus, unaware of your gaze.
He could have been anyone.
An ordinary man on the street.
Someone grabbing lunch between errands. Someone who didn’t carry empires in his shadow.
And yet, you knew better.
You knew the weight he’d carried. The choices he’d made. The walls he’d built and the ones he was now trying to tear down. But in this moment, through the glass, he looked like someone who had finally let himself be—not perform, not command, not impress.
Just be.
You reached for the door, heart steady but curious.
Because if this was the version of Jungkook he was offering you—
You were ready to meet him there.
He didn’t see you at first.
His eyes were fixed on the menu, brow furrowed in quiet concentration, as if the choice between bulgogi and bibimbap held the weight of diplomacy. The way he studied the options—head tilted slightly, lips parted in thought—made him look almost boyish. He was so absorbed, so still, that he didn’t notice your approach until he felt a presence beside him.
Thinking it was the waitress, he glanced up, words already forming—something polite, something automatic.
But then he saw you.
Really saw you.
And everything stilled.
This was a version of you he’d never encountered. No stage lighting. No curated mystery. No Cin. Just you—raw, unfiltered, present. The jeans, the flannel, the glasses. The softness in your eyes. The steadiness in your stance. You weren’t performing. You weren’t guarding. You weren’t trying to be anything but yourself.
And it hit him harder than he expected.
You looked like someone who had nothing to prove. Someone who had already chosen truth over spectacle. And in that moment, he realized how much he wanted to be worthy of that choice. Of you.
He liked what he saw. A lot.
Unbidden, a warm smile spread across his face—slow, genuine, erasing the shadows that had lingered there since the weekend. The tension in his shoulders eased, the weight behind his eyes lifted. It wasn’t just relief. It was recognition. Admiration. Maybe even longing.
“Hey,” he whispered, voice low and reverent, like the moment deserved quiet.
“Hey,” you returned, your own smile blooming, subtle and sure.
For a breath, neither of you moved. The café hummed around you—cups clinking, steam hissing, laughter drifting from a nearby table—but it all faded into the background.
Because this wasn’t just a greeting.
It was a shift.
A soft collision of two people who had spent too long in performance, now choosing presence.
He gestured to the seat across from him, still watching you like he was trying to memorize this version of you. The real you. The one he hadn’t dared to imagine, but now couldn’t look away from.
And as you sat down, something unspoken settled between you.
Not tension.
Not expectation.
Just possibility.
You slid into the seat across from him, the café’s soft hum wrapping around you both like a cocoon—warm, unhurried, private enough to let the moment breathe.
Jungkook set the menu down, but his eyes didn’t leave you. Not right away. He was still taking you in, like he needed a few extra seconds to recalibrate. This wasn’t the version of you he’d built in his head—the one wrapped in mystery and performance. This was the version he hadn’t dared to hope for. And now that you were here, he didn’t want to miss a single detail.
“You look…” he started, then paused, searching for something honest. “You look like you.”
You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Is that a good thing?”
He smiled again, softer this time. “It’s the best thing.”
The waitress came by, breaking the moment just enough for you both to glance at the menu. You ordered something simple. He followed suit. No fanfare. No curated choices. Just food and presence.
When she left, the silence returned—but it wasn’t awkward. It was full. Charged with everything unsaid.
“I shut down Proof,” he said suddenly, voice low but clear.
You blinked, surprised by the directness. “You did?”
He nodded. “This morning. Told the guys during a family meeting. We’re auditing everything. Cleaning house. Starting over.”
You leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. “That’s… huge.”
“It is,” he agreed. “I didn’t realize how heavy it was until I said it out loud.”
You watched him closely. There was no bravado in his posture. No performance in his tone. Just a man sitting across from you, trying to be better than he was yesterday.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said again, repeating the words from the call—but this time, they landed differently. “Not just because I missed you. But because I wondered what you’d see in all this. If you’d believe it. If you’d believe me.”
You didn’t answer right away. You let the moment stretch, let the truth settle.
Then you reached for your water, took a sip, and met his gaze.
“I do,” you said simply. “I see it.”
And for the first time, Jungkook didn’t feel like he had to earn your trust with grand gestures or perfect words.
He just had to keep showing up.
Exactly like this.
The food arrived with quiet clinks and soft thank-yous, steam curling from the bowls like an invitation to pause. You both settled in, the table between you filled with warmth and scent—comfort food, nothing extravagant. Just nourishment.
Words were sparse.
Not because there was nothing to say,
But because nothing needed to be said.
You had asked him to show up.
Not with declarations.
Not with apologies.
Just presence.
And he had.
He sat across from you, hoodie sleeves pushed up, glasses slipping slightly down his nose as he leaned over his bowl. He didn’t try to fill the silence. Didn’t reach for charm or bravado. He simply ate, occasionally glancing up at you—not to study, but to see. To be seen.
You mirrored him, spoon in hand, heart steady. The quiet between you wasn’t empty. It was full of everything that had led to this moment. The calls. The boundaries. The performances. The unraveling. And now, the choice.
To sit.
To eat.
To be.
You caught his gaze once, mid-bite, and he smiled—small, grateful, real.
And you smiled back.
Because this was enough.
For now.
This was everything.
The door swung closed behind you with a soft click, the café’s warmth giving way to the crisp afternoon air. Jungkook held it open for you without a word, and you stepped out onto the sidewalk together, the quiet between you stretching just long enough to feel meaningful.
Neither of you moved.
Neither of you wanted to.
There was something about the moment—unrushed, unspoken—that made the idea of parting feel premature. You could feel it in your chest, a gentle tug. And when you turned toward him, he was already turning toward you.
“Take a walk with me?”
“How about a walk?”
Spoken in sync.
You blinked, startled, then laughed—unhindered, bright, the kind of laugh that cracked open the air around you. It wasn’t the reserved chuckle he’d heard at the club, the one tucked behind performance and poise. This was different. This was you.
Jungkook froze for a beat, caught in the sound.
It was like music—unexpected, unguarded, real.
And it hit him harder than he expected.
He smiled, wide and warm, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I like that laugh,” he said, almost shyly.
You shrugged, still smiling. “Guess you caught me off guard.”
“I hope I keep doing that,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.
You didn’t respond with words. You just started walking, and he fell into step beside you.
No destination.
No agenda.
Just two people choosing to stay in the moment a little longer.
And for Jungkook, that was everything.
Because this wasn’t a performance.
This was presence.
And you were walking beside him.
The park welcomed you with the easy rhythm of everyday life—dogs tugging at leashes, children shrieking with laughter as they chased each other across the grass, the occasional jogger weaving past with earbuds in and breath steady. The sun hung low, casting golden light through the trees, dappling the path ahead.
You and Jungkook walked side by side, steps unhurried, words unnecessary. The silence between you wasn’t empty—it was full. Full of everything unsaid, everything understood. It was the kind of quiet that only exists between people who’ve already decided to trust it.
Your hands brushed once.
Then again.
And on the third pass, his pinky finger hooked gently around yours.
You looked down, startled by the softness of the gesture. It wasn’t possessive. It was tentative, like a question asked without words.
You glanced at him.
His face was in profile, eyes forward, jaw relaxed. He wasn’t looking at you, but he wasn’t avoiding you either. It was as if he knew you’d noticed, and was giving you space to decide.
You didn’t pull away.
Instead, you let your pinky stay curled with his, the smallest tether between two people who had spent so long navigating distance—emotional, physical, imagined.
And somehow, that tiny link felt louder than any confession.
Jungkook smiled.
The walk had started in silence, but somewhere between the rustling leaves and the rhythm of your steps, conversation found its way in. You asked about his plans—what came next, what he saw for himself, for them. And Jungkook, to his credit, didn’t hold back.
He told you everything. About the meeting that morning. About shutting down Proof. About audits and legal counsel, about restructuring and rebuilding. About wanting to do it right this time—not just for appearances, but for peace. For legacy. For the people he loved.
You listened, genuinely impressed. Not because he had all the answers, but because he was finally asking the right questions. You’d never thought he’d get here. Not really. Not like this.
But he was changing.
Not for you. Not just for you.
For himself.
For his brothers.
For the man he wanted to become.
And somehow, without planning it, without even realizing it, your feet had carried you both back to your apartment. The street was quiet now, the sun dipping low, casting long shadows across the pavement.
You turned to face him at your door.
He stood there, hands in his pockets, eyes searching yours. There was a question in his gaze—not desperate, not demanding. Just… open. Waiting.
You met it with a small nod. Barely there. But enough.
He took a step forward.
And paused.
You didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just watched.
Another step.
Then another.
He was close now. Less than a foot away. You could hear the hitch in his breath, see the way his throat worked as he swallowed down nerves or hope or both.
Still, you didn’t blink.
You waited.
Let him choose.
And he did.
He chose you.
Not with a grand gesture.
Not with a kiss stolen in haste.
But with a hug.
Slow. Intentional. Full of meaning.
He stepped into your space, arms lifting with a hesitation that melted into quiet certainty. You didn’t move at first—just watched, breathed, let him come to you. And when he wrapped his arms around you, it wasn’t tight or possessive. It was grounding. Gentle. A silent plea and a quiet promise.
His chest met yours with a quiet exhale, his arms folding around you like he’d been waiting to do it for years. There was no urgency in the embrace, no rush to claim—just the quiet gravity of someone choosing to be present. His fingers curled into the fabric of your sweater, anchoring himself there, as if afraid you might disappear if he let go too soon.
Your breath caught, just for a moment. Then your arms lifted, wrapping around him in return. Not out of obligation. Not out of habit. But because you wanted to. Because you understood what he was asking without words.
Your cheek brushed his shoulder, and you closed your eyes briefly, letting the moment settle into your bones. The air between you was still, but charged—like something sacred had just been exchanged.
“I’ll wait,” you whispered, the words barely brushing his ear.
He stilled. Then breathed. Shaky, relieved, like something inside him had unclenched. His grip didn’t tighten, but it lingered—long enough to say thank you, long enough to say I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.
You didn’t pull away.
You stayed.
Wrapped in the stillness of that moment.
Where nothing had to be spoken
to be understood.
The family room was quiet, not with tension, but with anticipation. The kind of quiet that lets truth settle before it’s spoken. Jungkook stood in front of them, hands in his pockets, heart thudding like it was trying to speak first.
No one had interrupted. No one had pushed back. So he continued.
“I want to legitimize everything,” he said, voice steady but vulnerable. “Our businesses. Our work ethic. The way we live. Everything we did to survive—I don’t regret it. But I don’t want to stay there.”
He looked around the room, meeting each gaze. Not as a boss. Not as a performer. As a brother.
“I want audits. Real ones. I want legal counsel, accountants, bankers who don’t flinch when they see our names. I want to build something clean. Something that lasts. Something we can be proud of. Not just for me—for all of us.”
He outlined the plan with quiet conviction:
Full audits of every business arm— the venues, the hospitality branches.
Legal restructuring with contracts that protect, not manipulate.
Financial transparency with trusted advisors.
A public-facing brand that reflects who they are now—not who they had to be.
He didn't touch on Seven, Hoseok had that business well in hand.
Still, no one argued.
Jin leaned forward, thoughtful, already calculating logistics. Yoongi watched with quiet intensity, the gears turning behind his eyes. Jimin and Hoseok exchanged glances, curiosity blooming into cautious hope.
Namjoon sat back, arms folded, gaze steady. He didn’t speak, didn’t nod, didn’t interrupt. But his silence was full of pride. He’d always known Jungkook had this in him—he’d just waited for him to claim it.
But Taehyung?
Taehyung had always been closest to Jungkook. The protector. The confidant. The one who knew when Jungkook was hurting before he ever said a word. They’d grown up side by side, sharing secrets, bruises, dreams. Taehyung had watched Jungkook rise, watched him harden, watched him lose pieces of himself to power and pressure.
And now, watching his brother stand there—vulnerable, determined, ready to step out of the shadows—Taehyung felt something rise in his chest that couldn’t be contained.
He stood up, walked across the room, and pulled Jungkook into a hug.
Just arms around shoulders, forehead pressed to temple, the kind of embrace that says I see you. I’m proud of you. I’ve got you.
Jungkook didn’t speak. He just nodded, eyes stinging, breath caught somewhere between relief and gratitude.
The others watched, quiet and moved.
Because this wasn’t just a meeting.
It was a reckoning.
A beginning.
The first step toward a legacy built not on survival, but on intention.
And they were all ready to follow.
Jimin leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes sharp with curiosity. “What about Proof?” he asked. “What do you want to do with it?”
Jungkook didn’t flinch. Didn’t pause. His answer came like a stone dropped into still water.
“Shut it down.”
The room went quiet—not shocked, but still. Proof wasn’t just a business. It was a legacy. One of their oldest ventures, born in the early days when survival meant secrecy, when power was measured in leverage and silence. It had been their shield, their sword, their whisper in the dark. Profitable. Powerful. Untouchable.
But Jungkook didn’t waver.
“It was built on fear,” he said. “On leverage. On secrets. That’s not who I want to be anymore. That’s not who we need to be.”
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, thoughtful. Jin didn’t speak, but his fingers tapped against his knee, calculating. Hoseok looked between them all, waiting for someone to object.
No one did.
Because they saw it too—the shift in Jungkook. The clarity. The conviction. The man who used to command now choosing to ask. To lead with transparency instead of control.
And Taehyung?
Taehyung had always been closest to Jungkook. The protector. The confidant. The one who knew when Jungkook was hurting before he ever said a word. He’d watched Jungkook build Proof from nothing. Watched him wield it like armor. Watched him lose pieces of himself in the process.
“You’re not just changing,” he said, voice thick with pride. “You’re leading.”
Jungkook looked at him, eyes soft. “I want to be someone I’d trust.”
And just like that, the decision was made.
Proof would end.
And something better would begin.
The energy in the room shifted from quiet reflection to kinetic planning. Jin grabbed a stack of old receipts from the kitchen drawer, Yoongi tore a paper bag into strips, and Jimin scribbled on the back of a takeout menu. Whatever could hold ink became a canvas for possibility.
Ideas flew like frisbees—some wild, some brilliant, some both.
“We need a clean brand relaunch,” Hoseok said, sketching logos in the margins.
“We’ll need to vet new partners,” Yoongi added, already listing names to cut.
“Let’s build a scholarship fund,” Taehyung offered, “for kids like us. Who had to fight early.”
“We’ll need a press strategy,” Jin muttered, already calculating timelines.
“And a new mission statement,” Jimin grinned. “Something that sounds like us. Not just survival—legacy.”
Jungkook didn’t speak much. He didn’t need to. He watched them move, argue, laugh, compromise. Watched the way they leaned into each other’s strengths, filled in each other’s gaps. Watched the way they built something together—not out of fear, but out of hope.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
This was his family. His brothers.
Not just the ones who stood beside him in the dark—
But the ones who were ready to walk with him into the light.
And more than anything, he wanted to make them proud.
Not with power.
Not with perfection.
But with purpose.
Jungkook watched it all with quiet awe. This—this was what he’d hoped for. Not just agreement, but engagement. Not just loyalty, but belief. The kind that didn’t need to be declared, only lived.
And then, his thoughts drifted.
To you.
Would you see what he was trying to do? Would you understand the weight of it—not just the logistics, but the heart behind it? Would you believe that this wasn’t about redemption or performance, but about becoming? About shedding the armor he’d worn for so long and finally letting himself be seen?
He imagined you walking into the room, eyes scanning the chaos of napkins and receipts, the laughter and debate. Would you smile at the mess? Would you see the beauty in it? Would you see him in it?
He wondered what you’d say. If you’d challenge him. If you’d offer ideas of your own. If you’d sit beside him and ask, “What does legitimacy mean to you, Jungkook?” And he’d have to answer honestly—not with strategy, but with soul. Maybe he’d say it means building something that doesn’t need shadows to survive. Maybe he’d say it means being someone you could trust, not just admire.
He hoped you’d see the shift.
Not just in the plan.
But in him.
Because more than anything, he wanted to make his brothers proud.
But with you?
He wanted to be worthy.
Of your trust.
Of your insight.
Of the quiet way you always saw through him, even when he couldn’t see himself.
And maybe, just maybe, he hoped you’d see this moment—this messy, hopeful, scribbled-on moment—as the beginning of something real. Something you could be part of. Not as a witness.
But as a co-architect.
Jungkook stepped out onto the back patio, the door clicking shut behind him like punctuation. The air was crisp, edged with the kind of chill that made you feel awake, alive. He inhaled deeply, letting the cold settle in his lungs, hoping it would slow the thrum of adrenaline still pulsing from the meeting. Inside, his brothers were still tossing ideas around—plans scribbled on napkins, timelines drafted on the backs of receipts, dreams spoken aloud for the first time in years.
It was everything he’d wanted. Everything he’d feared. Because now it was real. Now it was his to lead.
He leaned against the railing, eyes scanning the horizon, but not really seeing it. His thoughts were too loud. Too tangled. He needed stillness. He needed clarity. He needed… you.
He pulled out his phone, thumb scrolling past old contacts, past aliases and placeholders, until he landed on your name. Not “Cinnamon Girl” anymore. That name had been a shield, a fantasy, a way to keep you at arm’s length while pretending you were close. But now? Now it was just you. Honest. Unmasked.
He pressed dial.
It rang once. Twice. Three times.
Then your voice came through, breathless. “Hello?”
He froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sound of you. You sounded like you’d been running, or laughing, or maybe crying. He didn’t know. He wanted to ask—wanted to know what had you breathless at this hour, what moment you were living in while he stood here trying to rewrite his own.
But he didn’t.
It wasn’t his place. Not unless you offered.
“Hey,” he said, voice low, careful. “It’s me.”
There was a pause. Not awkward—just weighted. Like you were deciding whether to let him in.
“I know it’s early,” he continued, “but I needed to hear your voice.”
He heard the shift in your breath, the way your silence softened. You didn’t speak right away, but he could feel you listening. Really listening.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he admitted.
He didn’t explain everything. Not yet. Not the napkins, the plans, the decision to shut down Proof. But he hoped you’d hear the truth in his voice. The vulnerability. The effort. The man trying to become someone worth trusting.
“You look…” Namjoon started, voice quiet but weighted.
Jungkook turned, brow raised. “Whole?”
Namjoon shook his head slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No. A man comfortable in his own skin again.”
Jungkook blinked, the words settling deeper than he expected.
“I missed that about you,” Namjoon continued. “That man before—the womanizer, the charmer, the one who always had a line ready—that wasn’t you. That was armor. Performance.”
Jungkook sat down across from him, elbows on his knees, gaze low. “I didn’t know how else to be.”
“I know,” Namjoon said. “But tonight… you didn’t come back with a story. You came back with silence. That’s how I knew.”
Jungkook looked up, eyes soft. “I didn’t need to win anything. I just needed to show up.”
Namjoon nodded. “And you did. That’s the man I trust.”
They sat in the quiet for a while, the kind of quiet that doesn’t ask for more.
Jungkook didn’t feel like he had to prove anything.
He just felt complete.
“I want to change,” Jungkook said, voice low but clear, like he’d rehearsed it in his chest a hundred times before letting it out.
Namjoon looked up from his book, surprised by the weight in Jungkook’s tone. He removed his glasses slowly, folding them with care, and set the book aside. His posture shifted—no longer the relaxed older brother, but the man who had always known how to listen when it mattered.
“You already have,” Namjoon said, watching him closely.
Jungkook shook his head. “I know. But that’s not what I meant.”
Namjoon leaned forward, elbows on his knees, brows furrowed. “Oh?”
Jungkook hesitated, then let the words fall.
“I want to change us. Our business. How we do things.”
Namjoon’s eyes narrowed—not in suspicion, but in calculation. He was already weighing the implications, the risks, the legacy. “Go legit, you mean?”
Jungkook nodded. “Yes.”
Namjoon didn’t speak right away. He leaned back, processing. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable—it was strategic. Then he asked, “Are you doing this for her?”
Jungkook’s answer came fast, but not defensive. “No. I’m doing it for me. I don’t like the man I’ve become. I hate him, actually.”
That landed hard. Namjoon stared at him for a long moment, searching his face for cracks, for hesitation. He found none.
“You mean it,” Namjoon said.
“I do.”
Namjoon stood slowly, walked over, and placed a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. It wasn’t dramatic. It was grounding. A gesture that said I’ve got you.
“We’ll help,” he said simply.
Jungkook’s breath hitched, shoulders dropping like he’d been carrying the weight of the world alone and didn’t realize it until now.
Namjoon sat beside him, voice steady. “We start tomorrow. Small changes first. Paperwork. Transparency. We find new partners for the parts that can’t stay. You lead, we follow. We make it clean together.”
Jungkook nodded, eyes glassy but determined. “I don’t want to lose what we built. I just want to make it something we can be proud of.”
Namjoon smiled, the kind of smile that only comes from belief. “You won’t be alone. We do this as a family. We do it the right way.”
They sat in silence, the kind that comes after a decision that will change everything. Not just the business. Not just the reputation.
But the man at the center of it all.
And for the first time in years, Jungkook felt like he was building something that wouldn’t need to be hidden. Something that could stand in the light.
The kitchen was alive with the kind of warmth that only came from shared history and the smell of real food. Jungkook moved between the stove and the counter with quiet focus, flipping scallion pancakes, stirring stew, plating kimchi like it was ritual. It had been years since he’d cooked for them—really cooked. Not a show, not a flex. Just breakfast.
Jin hovered behind him, ever the culinary watchdog, peeking over his shoulder. After a long, scrutinizing pause, he gave a single nod and moved to the coffee maker. “Acceptable,” he muttered, which from Jin was practically a Michelin star.
Yoongi wandered in next, hair tousled, hoodie half-zipped. He took the mug Jin handed him and raised an eyebrow at the scene.
“What do we owe the honor of your presence this morning?” he asked, sipping slowly.
Jungkook groaned, flipping a pancake with exaggerated flair. “Can’t I just stay home and make my family breakfast without a secondary agenda?”
“No,” Jimin said, appearing in the doorway wrapped in a blanket like a sleepy burrito. “You’re Jungkook. There’s always an agenda.”
Taehyung sniffed the air dramatically. “Is this real food? Like, cooked food? By you?”
Jungkook rolled his eyes but didn’t answer. He just kept plating.
Namjoon entered last, quiet and observant, leaning against the counter with arms crossed. He didn’t say anything—just watched.
Once everyone had settled around the kitchen island, plates in hand, Jungkook cleared his throat.
“After breakfast,” he said, “I want to have a family meeting.”
That got their attention.
Jin paused mid-bite. “A meeting?”
Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “About what?”
Jimin perked up. “Are we finally getting matching jackets?”
Taehyung gasped. “Is it about the espresso machine? Because I have notes.”
Jungkook shook his head, amused but firm. “It’s serious. I’ll explain after we eat.”
The room buzzed with curiosity, theories flying between bites and sips. But Namjoon said nothing. He just nodded once, slow and certain, eyes on Jungkook with quiet approval.
No one noticed the gesture.
But Jungkook did.
The last pancake was gone, the stew pot scraped clean, and the kitchen buzzed with the quiet rhythm of cleanup. No one had to be asked—plates were stacked, counters wiped, Jin barking gentle orders like a conductor guiding a symphony of domesticity. Jimin and Taehyung bickered over who used the wrong sponge, Yoongi rinsed mugs with practiced ease, and Hoseok danced between them all, humming as he dried.
Jungkook stood at the sink, towel in hand, watching it unfold. It felt… good. Familiar. Like something they’d lost and just remembered how to do.
But beneath the calm, his nerves twisted.
He’d never had to ask before. Never had to propose anything. He was the one who made decisions, gave orders, set the pace. But this—this wasn’t a command. It was a request. A hope. A shift.
And he didn’t know how they’d take it.
When the kitchen was clean and the last dish clinked into the drying rack, Namjoon clapped his hands once. “Family room?”
Everyone nodded, drifting out in pairs, still chatting, still curious. Jungkook lingered, towel clenched in his hands, staring at the sink like it held answers.
Namjoon waited until the others were gone, then stepped beside him. He didn’t speak. Just reached out and placed a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder—firm, steady, grounding.
Jungkook exhaled, the tension in his chest loosening just enough.
“You’ve got them,” Namjoon said quietly. “Just speak from where it hurts.”
Jungkook nodded, throat tight. “I’m not used to asking.”
Namjoon gave a small smile. “That’s why it matters.”
They walked into the family room together.
The others were already settled—Jin perched on the arm of the couch, Jimin curled into a blanket, Yoongi cross-legged on the floor, Taehyung and Hoseok sharing a beanbag like teenagers. The room was warm, expectant, filled with the kind of silence that only family can hold.
Jungkook stood in front of them, hands in his pockets, heart thudding.
He looked at each of them—really looked. And then, slowly, he began.
“I want to change things,” he said. “Not just me. Us. The way we run this. The way we live.”
No one interrupted. No one scoffed.
Namjoon stayed beside him, a silent sentinel of support.
And for the first time, Jungkook didn’t feel like a boss.
Jungkook sat upright in bed, sheets tangled around his legs, heart pounding like it was trying to outrun something unnamed. The mansion was quiet—too quiet. His thoughts were a mess, looping back to the club, to the way you stood on stage, to the way your voice had cracked something open in him. He felt raw, like someone had reached inside and rearranged his ribs.
He picked up his phone, thumb hovering over your number. Hoseok had given it to him earlier that week, but only after you’d nodded your permission. That nod had meant more than any apology. It was trust. A sliver of it. And now, Jungkook held it in his hand like a fragile flame.
He didn’t mean to press the call button. But he did.
And then your voice came through the speaker—soft, awake, aware.
“Jungkook.”
Just his name. But it carried weight. It carried history. It carried the echo of every moment you hadn’t spoken to him.
“I’ll be there,” he said, before he could second-guess it.
1:17 am. — Leaving the Mansion
He dressed quickly—sweats, a t-shirt, no cologne, no jewelry. Just him. Bare and honest.
Namjoon was still awake, sitting in the living room with a book in his lap. He looked up as Jungkook passed, eyes sharp with understanding.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said, voice low.
Jungkook paused, nodded. “I won’t.”
Namjoon didn’t press. He just gave him a look that said this is your one chance—don’t waste it.
1:42 am. — Arrival
The city was asleep, but your building felt like it was holding its breath. Jungkook stood outside for a moment, staring up at the windows, wondering which one was yours. Then he stepped inside, climbed the stairs, and knocked—three soft taps.
You opened the door.
Barefoot. T-shirt brushing the tops of your knees. Hair loose. Face bare. Heart open.
You didn’t speak. You didn’t smile. You just looked at him like you were reading a page you’d already memorized.
He stepped into your orbit.
1:45 am. — Inside
The apartment was quiet, lit only by the city’s glow through the blinds. Jungkook stood in the entryway, unsure if he should sit, speak, apologize.
You said his name again, softer this time. “Jungkook.”
He exhaled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything. For the way I—”
You raised a hand, not to silence him, but to guide him.
“Not tonight,” you said. “If you’re here, be here. Don’t explain. Just… sit.”
He nodded, grateful and stunned, and settled onto the edge of your couch like someone trying not to disturb the air.
You moved to the kitchen, made tea without ceremony. He watched you—watched the way you moved, the way you didn’t rush, the way you didn’t perform. You handed him a mug, and he held it like it was the only thing tethering him to the moment.
You sat across from him, legs tucked to the side, gaze steady.
2:03 am. — The Confession
“I keep replaying you on stage,” Jungkook said, voice low. “Not the act. You. The way you stood there. The way you didn’t ask for anything. I don’t want to be the guy who ruins that. I haven’t been good at listening. Or staying. I don’t expect forgiveness. I just… want to try. To prove I can be different.”
You didn’t interrupt. You didn’t soften. You listened.
Then you spoke, clear and calm.
“Prove it in the small things,” you said. “No grand gestures. No late-night calls unless you mean them. Don’t speak for me. Let me lead what I share. If you want to be in my life, be consistent. Be boring, sometimes. Be present when it counts.”
He nodded, absorbing every word like scripture. “I can do that,” he said. “I will do that.”
You didn’t reach for him. You didn’t offer comfort. You offered terms.
“If you cross that line,” you said, “I walk. No warnings next time.”
He swallowed hard. “I understand.”
Then, quieter: “Thank you for letting me in.”
You gave him a small smile. “You woke me up. That’s something.”
He let out a breath that sounded like surrender.
3:12 am. — The Soft Shift
The tea cooled. The silence warmed. You talked about books, about childhood, about the way the city sounds different at night. He listened more than he spoke. You corrected him when he assumed too much. He apologized without drama.
The sky began to shift, pale blue bleeding into the edges of the blinds.
He hadn’t touched you. Hadn’t asked for more. Hadn’t tried to turn the night into something it wasn’t.
When he stood to leave, he bowed—not in apology, but in promise.
“You’ll hear from me tomorrow,” he said. “Not because I said I would. Because I need to show you I mean it.”
You nodded. “Do that.”
He stepped into the hallway, paused at the door, looked back once—just once. You watched him go, not with longing, not with regret.
With clarity.
Because tonight wasn’t about romance.
It was about respect.
And the quiet beginning of something earned.
He was halfway down the hall when he heard it—his name, spoken like a secret.
“Jungkook.”
He turned.
You stood in the doorway, framed by soft lamplight and the quiet hush of early morning. Barefoot, steady, eyes locked on his. You didn’t rush. You didn’t explain. You simply walked toward him, each step deliberate, each breath a choice.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched you approach, heart thudding like it was trying to memorize the moment.
You stopped in front of him, close enough to feel the warmth between you, but not touching. Your gaze held his—clear, unflinching, full of something that felt like trust and warning all at once.
Then you leaned in.
Your lips met his in a kiss so soft it felt like breath. No urgency. No heat. Just presence. Just truth. Just you.
Jungkook didn’t deepen it. Didn’t chase it. He let you lead. Let you set the terms. Let you offer only what you were ready to give.
And in that moment, he understood something profound:
This wasn’t a reward.
It wasn’t a promise.
It was a marker—a moment carved out of silence to say I see you. I’m watching. Don’t waste this.
When you pulled back, your eyes lingered on his for a beat longer. Then you turned and walked back inside, leaving the door open—not wide, not inviting, but unlocked.
Jungkook stood there, stunned, lips tingling, heart cracked open in a way that felt holy.
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t speak.
He just breathed.
And then he walked away—quiet, careful, carrying that kiss like a vow stitched into his chest.
You stood in the doorway, the soft click of your heartbeat echoing in the silence. One breath. Two.
He didn’t come back.
And that was okay.
A slow smile curved across your lips—not disappointment, not longing. Just quiet affirmation. He had taken what you offered and left it untouched, unspoiled. He had honored the moment. He had listened.
You stepped back inside, fingers brushing the edge of the door as you closed it gently. The lock slid into place with a soft click, not as a barrier, but as a boundary. A choice.
It was enough.
Not because it was everything.
But because it was true.
And tonight, truth was the most intimate thing you could share.
Jungkook stepped quietly through the front door of the mansion, the soft creak of the hinges barely registering over the hum in his chest. The house was dim, most of the lights off, the silence thick with sleep.
Except for Namjoon.
He was still in the living room, curled into the corner of the couch with a book open on his lap, glasses perched low on his nose. He looked up when Jungkook entered—and blinked.
Surprise flickered across his face. “You came back.”
Jungkook paused, unsure how to respond. He hadn’t expected to feel this raw, this cracked open. He nodded once, stepping further into the room.
Namjoon closed his book slowly, setting it aside. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t.”
Jungkook gave a quiet laugh, more breath than sound. “I almost didn’t.”
Namjoon studied him, eyes sharp but kind. “You look different.”
“I feel different,” Jungkook said. “Like I left something behind and picked up something better.”
Namjoon didn’t press. He just nodded, the kind of nod that said I see you without needing explanation.
“You didn’t do anything stupid?” he asked, voice light but edged with meaning.
Jungkook shook his head. “No. I did something honest.”
Namjoon smiled, slow and proud. “Good. That’s harder.”
Jungkook sank into the armchair across from him, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. They sat in silence for a moment, the kind that only family can share—no judgment, no performance, just presence.
And in that quiet, Jungkook knew: he hadn’t just returned to the house.
Pairing: CEO!Seokjin x Employee!Reader
Genre: Office AU, Workplace Romance, Strangers-to-Lovers, One Night Stand AU, Age Gap Romance (5 years), flirty chaos, rom-com, fluff, smut, jealousy, sexual tension
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content [One night stand, messy make-out, wet kisses, oral f receiving, riding, fingering, multiple orgasms and multiple rounds, elevator make-out, basement make-out, CEO desk sex, protected sex], Jealousy, possessiveness
Rating: 18+| Minors DNI
Word Count: ~14k
[MASTERLIST]
The bass vibrated through your bones, but it did nothing to lift your mood.
Graduation had ended only a few hours ago, and your best friends had practically kidnapped you from the after-party, insisting that “you only graduate once” and that you “deserved to let loose for once.”
You hated clubs.
The sticky floors, the overwhelming smell of perfume and alcohol, the way people shouted just to be heard. You were nursing a watered-down cocktail at the edge of the bar, already planning your escape, when you noticed him.
Tall... Broad shoulders... Sharp jawline that could cut glass...
He looked expensive even in the dim club lighting — white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, revealing toned forearms, and dark trousers that hugged his long legs.
His expression screamed boredom, like he’d rather be anywhere else.
You weren’t sure what possessed you, but the words slipped out before you could stop them. “You look like someone who regrets coming here.”
He turned his head slowly.
His dark eyes met yours, and the corner of his lips twitched into a small, dangerously attractive smirk.
“I do,” he said, voice deep and smooth, cutting through the noise like velvet. “But then I met you.”
Your stomach flipped. Just like that. One sentence and the air between you shifted.
He slid onto the stool beside you, close enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne.
“I’m not usually here either,” you admitted, swirling your drink. “My friends dragged me. Graduation celebration.”
“Congratulations,” he murmured, eyes flicking over you with open appreciation. “Final year?”
“Just finished.” You smiled shyly. “Feels weird. Like I’m supposed to have my life figured out now.”
He chuckled softly. “Life rarely cooperates with plans. Trust me.”
The conversation flowed easier than it should have with a stranger. Teasing banter came naturally.
He was quick-witted, a little cocky, but in a way that made your cheeks heat instead of annoying you. When the crowd grew too loud and the music too aggressive, he leaned in, breath brushing your ear.
“Want to get some air? There’s a balcony upstairs that’s usually quieter.”
You nodded before your brain could catch up.
He offered his hand.
You took it.
On the balcony, the cool night air kissed your skin. He shrugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders without asking. It smelled like him... warm and masculine.
“Better?” he asked, leaning against the railing beside you.
“Much.” You pulled the coat tighter, glancing up at him. “You still haven’t told me your name.”
He looked at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then he smiled, soft and almost boyish. “Call me Jin.”
“Jin,” you repeated, liking the way it felt on your tongue.
The tension thickened and his eyes dropped to your lips.
Yours did the same to his.
He stepped closer, voice dropping lower. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong.”
“You’re not,” you whispered.
His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip. “I want to kiss you. Badly.”
“Then do it.”
The first kiss was slow, testing. Then it ignited.
Wet, hungry kisses followed... deep and consuming. His tongue slid against yours, coaxing soft moans from your throat. He tasted like whiskey and sin. One hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body.
“Fuck… you taste good,” he groaned against your mouth, nipping your bottom lip.
You lost track of time.
Minutes blurred into heated touches and whispered curses. When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard.
“My place is twenty minutes away,” he said, forehead resting against yours. “Come home with me.”
Your heart hammered.
This was reckless. You didn’t know him. You didn’t do things like this. But looking into his eyes which were dark with desire, yet strangely gentle... it felt right.
“Yes,” you breathed. “Take me home.”
The ride to his apartment was a haze of stolen kisses at red lights and his hand resting possessively on your thigh.
The second the apartment door clicked shut, his mouth was on your neck, sucking marks into your skin while his hands roamed, clothes started coming off.
Jin pushed you against the wall, kissing you like he was starving.
His hands slid under your dress, gripping your thighs as he lifted you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against the hard bulge in his pants.
“Bedroom,” he growled, carrying you down the hallway without breaking the kiss.
He laid you down on his massive bed like you were something precious, then crawled over you. He peeled your dress off slowly, eyes darkening at every inch of skin revealed.
“Look at you…” he murmured, voice rough with lust. “So fucking beautiful.”
He kissed his way down your body with deliberate slowness, lips brushing over your collarbone, the valley between your breasts, your stomach, then lower.
Every kiss left a trail of heat.
When he reached your hips, he looked up at you through dark lashes, a wicked smirk playing on his lips.
“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he murmured, voice low and rough.
His large hands gripped your thighs, gently but firmly pushing them apart until you were completely open to him. “That’s it… fuck, look at you. Already so wet and I’ve barely touched you.”
Your breath hitched as the cool air hit your slick folds. Heat flooded your face, but the way he was staring at your pussy like it was his favorite meal made your core clench.
“Jin…” you whispered, half embarrassed, half desperate.
He chuckled darkly, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another, inching closer but never quite where you needed him. “So shy all of a sudden? You were grinding against me like a needy little thing just a minute ago.”
You let out a frustrated whine, fingers twisting in the sheets. “Stop teasing…”
“Teasing?” He nipped at your other thigh, tongue soothing the sting.
“This isn’t teasing, sweetheart. This is me enjoying the view.” His breath ghosted over your clit and you jerked. “You’re dripping for me. So pretty and wet. Bet you taste even better.”
Before you could beg again, his tongue finally dragged slowly through your folds... one long, torturous lick from your entrance to your swollen clit.
“Ah— Jin!” you cried out, back arching sharply. Your hands flew to his dark hair, threading through the soft strands.
He groaned against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. “Mmm… fuck, you taste so sweet. Like honey.” He licked again, slower this time, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it gently between his lips.
Your hips bucked involuntarily. “Oh my god... right there—”
Jin pulled back just enough to speak, lips shiny with your arousal. “Yeah? You like that?” He flicked his tongue over your clit rapidly, then sucked harder. “Tell me how it feels, baby. Use your words.”
“It feels... ah... so good,” you moaned, thighs trembling around his head. “Your tongue… fuck, Jin, don’t stop—”
He hummed in approval and slid two thick fingers inside you without warning, curling them perfectly against that sensitive spot. The combination of his mouth and fingers made your eyes roll back.
“Shit... Jin! Too much... feels too good—”
“Not enough,” he growled, pumping his fingers steadily while his tongue worked your clit in tight circles. “I want you to soak my face. Can you do that for me? Come on my tongue like a good girl.”
You were panting, hips grinding against his mouth shamelessly now. “I’m close... so close— please...”
He sucked your clit harder, fingers thrusting faster, curling with every stroke. “That’s it. Let go, baby. I’ve got you. Come for me. Let me taste how hard you cum.”
The pressure built unbearably fast. Your grip on his hair tightened as your whole body tensed.
“Jin... Jin, I’m... fuck, I’m cumming—!”
You shattered with a broken cry, thighs clamping around his head as waves of intense pleasure crashed through you. He didn’t stop — tongue and fingers working you through every pulse, drawing out your orgasm until you were shaking and whimpering.
When the aftershocks finally faded, he kissed his way back up your body, letting you taste yourself as he claimed your mouth in a deep, filthy kiss.
“Fuck, you’re delicious,” he rasped against your lips, voice hoarse with lust. “Did you hear how pretty you sounded moaning my name?”
You could barely form words, still floating.
“You’re… evil,” you managed, breathless.
Jin laughed softly, nipping at your bottom lip. “Evil? Sweetheart, I’m just getting started.” His hard cock pressed against your thigh, hot and heavy. “Think you can handle more?”
You nodded eagerly, pulling him down for another kiss. “Yes… please. I want you inside me.”
He groaned, grinding against you. “Good girl. Because I need to feel this tight little pussy wrapped around my cock. Multiple times tonight.”
“Condom?” you managed to ask between messy, desperate kisses, your hands roaming over his broad chest.
“Nightstand,” Jin growled against your lips, barely breaking the kiss as he reached over.
He tore the packet open with his teeth, eyes never leaving yours. His breathing was ragged as he rolled the condom down his thick, throbbing length.
You couldn’t help but stare.
His cock was big — long and girthy, veins prominent, the head flushed dark and already leaking precum even through the latex. The sight made your core clench with anticipation.
Jin noticed your gaze and smirked, that dangerously cocky look returning. He gripped the base and rubbed the swollen head slowly up and down your slick folds, deliberately teasing your swollen clit with every pass.
“Fuck… you’re dripping all over me,” he rasped, voice thick with lust. “Look at that. Your pretty pussy is begging for my cock.”
You whimpered, hips twitching every time he nudged your clit. “Jin… Please... Don't tease...”
He let out a low, amused chuckle and pressed the head against your entrance, pushing in just the tip before pulling back out again. “I’m just making sure you really want it, baby. I want to hear you say it.”
He repeated the motion, sliding the thick head between your folds, bumping your clit, then nudging your hole again... driving you insane with need.
You moaned loudly, nails digging into his shoulders. “I want you. God, I want you so bad.”
“Yeah?” He leaned down, lips brushing your ear, voice dropping into a husky whisper. “Tell me exactly what you want. Use your pretty words.”
“I want your cock,” you breathed, voice shaking with desperation. “Please, Jin… fuck me. I need you inside me right now.”
A deep, satisfied groan rumbled from his chest. “That’s my good girl.”
He finally pushed in... slow, deliberate, letting you feel every thick inch stretching you open. The burn was delicious, the fullness overwhelming.
Both of you moaned loudly as he sank deeper.
“Shit…” Jin hissed through gritted teeth, forehead pressed against yours. “You’re so fucking tight. Squeezing me like you were made for this cock.”
You gasped, back arching off the bed as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. “Oh my god… you’re so big. I can feel you so deep—”
He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust, but his control was clearly fraying. His arms trembled slightly as he held himself above you.
“Talk to me, baby,” he murmured, voice strained. “Tell me how it feels having my cock buried inside you.”
“It feels… incredible,” you whimpered, clenching around him experimentally. “So full… you’re hitting so deep already.”
Jin groaned and started moving — slow, powerful thrusts at first, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in deep.
Every stroke made your toes curl.
“Fuck, listen to how wet you are,” he rasped, the lewd sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. “This pussy is taking me so well. Greedy little thing.”
Your moans grew louder with every thrust. “Jin— ah— harder… please, I can take it.”
He picked up the pace, hips snapping forward with more force. One hand slid under your ass, tilting your hips to hit even deeper. “Like this? You want me to fuck you harder, sweetheart?”
“Yes— yes, just like that!” You cried out, nails raking down his back. “Don’t stop… you feel so good inside me.”
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, wet kiss while pounding into you. Between kisses he whispered filthy praises. “That’s it… take every inch. Such a good girl for me.”
“Your pussy is clenching so tight around my cock. You gonna cum for me again?”
You could barely form coherent sentences, pleasure building rapidly. “I— fuck... I’m so close already—”
He smirked against your lips, angling his thrusts to hit that perfect spot inside you with every stroke. “Then cum for me, baby. Cum all over my cock while I’m still buried deep inside you. Let me feel it.”
The intensity pushed you over the edge fast. Your walls fluttered and clenched hard around him as you came with a loud cry of his name, body shaking beneath him.
Jin groaned loudly, his rhythm faltering for a moment. “Fuck... that’s it. Good girl. Milk my cock just like that…”
He didn’t stop moving, fucking you through your orgasm with deep, steady thrusts, drawing it out until you were a trembling, whimpering mess.
When you finally started coming down, he kissed you softly, still buried inside you, and whispered against your lips with a wicked smile, “Do you need a minute? Before we start again.”
He quickly changed the condom, rolling on a fresh one with practiced ease before pulling you on top of him.
You straddled his hips, hands braced on his firm chest as you slowly sank down onto his thick cock.
A shared moan filled the room.
His hands gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging in hard enough to leave faint marks as you started bouncing on him.
“That’s it, baby… ride me just like that,” Jin groaned, eyes dark with lust and admiration. “Fuck, you look so good taking my cock. So pretty when you’re falling apart for me.”
“Jin... ah—” you gasped, rolling your hips faster, the new angle making you see stars.
He kept praising you between heavy breaths... “Good girl… just like that… you feel incredible”, his voice rough yet warm.
Later, he flipped you onto your back again, thrusting into you with a relentless, deep rhythm until you came hard around him, clenching and trembling. He followed right after, groaning your name as he spilled into the condom.
You didn’t stop at two rounds.
By the fourth condom, things had turned slower and lazier. He moved inside you with unhurried, sensual strokes, lazy wet kisses pressed between every thrust.
Soft conversations mixed with quiet moans — whispered compliments, gentle teasing, and him repeating your name like it was something precious.
When you finally collapsed beside each other, exhausted and sated, the sky outside was turning soft pink with dawn. Jin pulled you into his arms, tucking your head against his chest and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.
“Stay,” he whispered, voice hoarse but gentle.
You didn’t argue.
Curling into his warmth, you fell asleep listening to the steady beat of his heart, wondering how one reckless night with a stranger could feel this dangerously perfect… and strangely safe.
Sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows when you finally stirred. The bed felt too big, too empty.
Jin was gone.
You sat up slowly, wincing at the pleasant ache between your legs. On the bedside table was a neatly folded note written in clean, elegant handwriting, a soft oversized black hoodie, and a hot water pack that was still warm.
Your heart did a silly little flip.
You picked up the note.
“Urgent work came up. Sorry I had to leave early. I left brunch and tea for you in the kitchen. There’s a hot water pack if you’re sore. Make yourself at home. — Jin”
You stared at it for a long moment, cheeks warming. Who leaves a hot water pack and homemade breakfast after a one-night stand? It felt… dangerously boyfriend-ish.
It made you Confused... Comfortable... And suspiciously, stupidly happy.
You freshened up, then slipped into his hoodie.
It swallowed you whole, the sleeves too long, the hem falling mid-thigh, carrying his clean, woody scent. You buried your nose in the collar for a second longer than necessary.
In the kitchen, you found perfectly arranged tray... fluffy scrambled eggs, toast with avocado, fresh fruits, and a pot of herbal tea still warm.
You carried the tray to the massive living room and settled on the couch. The 85-inch TV stared back at you invitingly.
“Just one episode,” you told yourself as you turned on Netflix.
Three hours later, the plate was empty, the tea long gone, and you were deep into the fourth episode of a new drama, legs tucked under you, completely lost in the story. The hoodie sleeves covered your hands as you hugged a cushion, hair messy, cheeks warm from laughing at the romantic scenes.
You didn’t notice how the sunlight slowly shifted from bright afternoon to golden evening.
The sound of the front door opening startled you.
You froze.
Jin stepped in, loosening his tie, looking unfairly handsome in his crisp white shirt and slacks. His eyes landed on you... wrapped in his hoodie, surrounded by crumbs, and he stopped in the doorway.
Silence stretched for two heartbeats.
“I’m s-so s-sorry—” you blurted, face burning as you scrambled to sit up properly. “I didn’t realise how late it got. I just started watching while having brunch and… time disappeared. I swear I’m not like this... Ugh... Please don’t think I’m a total weirdo who overstays after one night—”
Jin’s shoulders shook with quiet laughter.
He closed the door behind him, eyes soft and warm.
“You look cute in my hoodie,” he said, voice low and fond. Then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he added, “I’m glad you didn’t disappear.”
The words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been. Something dangerous fluttered in your chest.
You tugged nervously at the hem of the hoodie. “But… I should probably leave now. My clothes must be dry by now.”
Jin shook his head, already walking toward the open kitchen. “Let’s have dinner first. I’m cooking.”
Your eyes widened, excitement bubbling up before you could stop it. You gave him big puppy eyes without meaning to. “You’ll cook? Actually… I really loved the breakfast you made this morning. It was so good.”
He glanced over his shoulder, a small, pleased smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah? Then sit down. This won’t take long.”
You ended up perched on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island like it was the most natural thing in the world, watching him move around the kitchen with quiet confidence. He chopped vegetables with practiced ease while you swung your legs lightly.
“So… what drama were you watching?” he asked, glancing at you with genuine curiosity.
You perked up. “It’s this new romance one... the one with the CEO and the office employee girl, who keeps accidentally bumping into him. Total cliché, but the chemistry is insane. Have you seen any good dramas lately?”
Jin chuckled, stirring something that already smelled amazing. “I don’t get much time for TV. Work eats up most of my evenings. But I like to play games when I can.”
You tilted your head. “Why do you work so much? You sound like you barely sleep.”
He shrugged lightly, but there was a hint of tiredness in his eyes. “Habit, mostly. Sometimes I forget there’s a life outside spreadsheets and meetings.” He glanced at you. “What about you? Big plans now that you’ve graduated?”
Your shoulders slumped a little. “Honestly? I’m terrified. I have my first proper job interview tomorrow and I feel like I’m going to mess it up. I keep imagining myself freezing or saying something stupid.”
Jin’s knife paused for half a second before he continued chopping. “Which company?”
“Kim WWH Corp. LTD,” you said casually, reaching for a piece of carrot he’d sliced. “I got the mail two days ago. It’s for an entry-level position in the marketing team. I’m really nervous though. They’re huge.”
Jin’s expression remained perfectly polite on the outside... a small, encouraging smile, but inside his mind was screaming.
Kim WWH Corp. My company.
OH... OH NO... This is going to be fun.
He decided not to tell you tonight. He wanted one more normal evening where you looked at him like Jin... not the CEO.
“Marketing, huh?” he said smoothly, plating the food. “You’ll do great. Just be yourself.”
You beamed at him, completely unaware. “Thank you. That actually helps a little.”
You both laughed, the conversation flowing easily again... favorite drama tropes, worst interview horror stories you’d heard, his subtle complaints about overworking, your excited ramblings about finally stepping into the corporate world.
For a while, it felt dangerously normal.
Like this was just another cozy evening between two people who had known each other far longer than one night.
He set a steaming plate in front of you — perfectly cooked stir-fried noodles with vegetables and tender chicken. You took one bite and let out an embarrassing happy sound.
“Oh my god, Jin… this is amazing... mhmmm...,” you hummed softly.
His ears turned the slightest bit pink.
A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, the kind that made your stomach flip. Jin lived for moments like this. Feeding people he liked and cared about, watching them enjoy his cooking… and now you joined that list. It did dangerous things to his heart.
“You really like it?” he asked, voice softer than before.
“I love it,” you said between bites, eyes sparkling. “Seriously, you cook like this every day? I might never leave.”
Big mistake...
Jin’s eyes lit up with quiet delight.
A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face... the kind that said he lived for exactly this reaction. “Careful,” he warned playfully, though his tone was warm. “I might hold you to that.”
You looked up, chopsticks paused halfway to your mouth. The air suddenly felt warmer, sweeter. For a moment, neither of you said anything. Just soft smiles and the quiet clink of chopsticks.
It was dangerously perfect.
By the time both plates were empty, you were sitting side by side at the kitchen island, shoulders occasionally brushing. Jin hadn’t stopped looking at you... that quiet, fond gaze that made warmth bloom in your chest and heat rise to your cheeks.
You fiddled with your chopsticks, suddenly shy under his attention.
“You’re staring,” you murmured, cheeks turning pink.
“Can’t help it,” he replied softly, voice low and honest. “You look good in my kitchen. In my hoodie.”
Your heart stuttered.
Before you could think of a reply, Jin leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away. You didn’t. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips met yours in a gentle, sweet kiss.
It started soft... just a brush of warmth, but the moment your hand came up to rest on his chest, something shifted. Jin’s arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer.
You melted into him, and the kiss deepened, turning slow and hungry. His tongue traced your bottom lip, coaxing a tiny sigh from you.
Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you effortlessly by the waist and settled you onto his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs. One of his hands splayed across your lower back, the other cupping the back of your neck as he kissed you deeper, slower, like he wanted to memorize the taste of you.
You lost yourself in it... the warmth of his body, the way his fingers gently threaded through your hair, the soft sounds he made against your mouth.
Time slipped away again.
Eventually, breathless, you pulled back just enough to rest your forehead against his, a playful smile tugging at your swollen lips.
“If we don’t stop now,” you whispered, voice husky, “I might actually miss my interview tomorrow… and I really can’t afford to do that.”
Jin let out a low, reluctant chuckle, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek.
“Fair point.” He pressed one last soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to your forehead. “But I’m driving you home. No arguments.”
You nodded, still a little dazed and glowing from the kiss. “Okay.”
Twenty minutes later, after you’d changed back into your own clothes, Jin walked you down to his car. The ride to your apartment was quiet but comfortable, filled with stolen glances and soft conversation about nothing important.
When he pulled up outside your building, he turned to you, eyes warm in the dim streetlight.
“Thank you for staying,” he said simply. “Tonight was… nice.”
You smiled, heart fluttering. “Yeah. It really was.”
You hesitated, then added, “Goodnight, Jin.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
He waited until you were safely inside before driving away.
You went to bed that night wrapped in the memory of his hoodie, his cooking, and the taste of his kiss, completely unaware that the man who had just dropped you home was the CEO of the company where you had your interview in less than twelve hours.
The next morning you dragged yourself into the towering glass building of Kim Corp., running on three hours of sleep, two cups of coffee, and pure panic-fuelled confidence.
Your blazer was slightly wrinkled, your heels clicked too loudly on the marble floor, and you kept repeating interview answers under your breath like a prayer. Be professional. Smile.
You were mid-interview in the sleek 18th-floor conference room when the door suddenly opened without a knock.
Hoseok from HR was smiling brightly, Namjoon (VP, also Jin's younger brother) was nodding thoughtfully at your answers, and Yoongi from Marketing looked half-asleep but was scribbling notes.
All of their heads turned in confusion.
Your soul left your body.
Because walking in like he owned the building... which he did... was Jin. One-night-stand Jin.
He was now in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, hair styled neatly, looking every inch the untouchable CEO. His eyes landed on you for half a second... something unreadable flashing across his face before he smoothed it into perfect professionalism.
“Good morning,” he said calmly, voice deep and steady, as if he hadn’t spent half the previous night with his tongue in your mouth. “I hope I’m not interrupting. Please continue.”
The panelists blinked.
You internally died. Revived for a split second. Then died again, harder.
Hoseok blinked. “Mr. Kim… we weren’t expecting you.”
“I had some free time,” Seokjin said easily, pulling out the chair at the head of the table like this was completely normal. “Please continue.”
You sat there frozen, clutching your resume so tightly the paper crinkled.
Namjoon’s sharp eyes flicked between you and his older brother. He noticed everything, the way your cheeks had gone pale, the way Seokjin’s gaze lingered half a second too long on you before turning professional.
Yoongi raised one eyebrow, then immediately went back to pretending he was deeply interested in his notes. Internally he was thinking, This is going to be a nightmare for HR.
Hoseok’s bright smile faltered for a split second. Oh no. We might need to update the company dating policy by next week.
Seokjin leaned back in his chair, over-correcting into full CEO mode. His tone was polite, measured, and somehow more intimidating than usual.
He rarely sat in on entry-level interviews. Everyone knew that.
Hoseok cleared his throat. “Ah… where were we? Right. Miss Y/N, you were telling us about your final-year project on social media campaign strategies.”
You somehow managed to answer, voice only slightly higher than usual. “Yes, um… I focused on user-generated content and micro-influencer partnerships. Engagement went up 47% because—”
Jin leaned back slightly, listening with perfect poker-face professionalism. But when you glanced at him, his eyes held the tiniest spark of amusement.
Namjoon jumped in smoothly. “Impressive numbers. How do you handle negative feedback on social platforms?”
You answered as best you could, but your brain kept screaming That’s the same man who fed me stir-fried noodles and called me ‘good girl’ while I was riding him.
Yoongi asked a few dry marketing questions, clearly enjoying your quiet suffering. “What’s your biggest weakness in a team setting?”
“I… sometimes get too excited about ideas and forget to check the time,” you said, then immediately regretted it because it reminded you of binge-watching on his couch until sunset.
Hoseok chuckled kindly. “We all do that sometimes.”
Jin finally spoke, voice perfectly neutral but carrying that familiar warmth underneath. “Tell me, how do you manage work-life balance? Especially after late nights.”
You nearly choked on air.
Namjoon’s dimples deepened as he tried to hide a knowing smile.
Yoongi coughed into his fist, suddenly very interested in his coffee.
Hoseok’s eyes widened slightly — internally judging and already drafting new HR policies in his head.
You forced a smile. “I… believe in setting clear boundaries and getting enough rest. Sleep is important.”
Jin nodded slowly, then asked in the most innocent tone possible, “Did you sleep well last night?”
The room went dead silent.
Namjoon’s pen stopped moving.
Yoongi’s eyebrow shot up.
Hoseok’s smile froze in pure second-hand embarrassment.
You felt your soul attempt to exit your body through your ears. Your face burned crimson. “I… um… not particularly well, sir. A bit… restless.”
Jin’s lips twitched... the barest hint of a smile he quickly suppressed. “That’s unfortunate. We value well-rested employees here at Kim Corp.”
Namjoon leaned forward, unable to resist. “Hyung... I mean, Mr. Kim, any particular reason you’re joining us today? You usually trust us with entry-level hires.”
Jin shot his brother a calm look. “Just making sure we’re hiring the right fit. Miss Y/N has an… interesting resume. Very memorable.”
You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
Hoseok tried to save the situation. “Well! Any final questions for the candidate?”
Jin tilted his head, eyes locking onto yours with dangerous softness hidden behind professionalism. “Just one more. Where do you see yourself in five years… working with this company?”
You swallowed hard, heart hammering. “Hopefully contributing meaningfully to the marketing team, learning from experienced leaders, and… growing professionally. Without too many surprises.”
Yoongi muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the table to hear, “Too late for that.”
Namjoon coughed to cover a laugh.
Hoseok looked like he was calculating how soon he could call an emergency HR meeting.
Jin simply smiled, that same slow, fond smile from last night when you complimented his cooking. “Thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch soon.”
As you stood up on shaky legs, bowing politely, Jin added casually, “And try to get some proper rest tonight. Interviews can be… draining.”
You nearly tripped on your way out.
The second the door closed behind you, you leaned against the wall in the hallway, hand over your racing heart.
Inside the room, Namjoon immediately turned to his older brother. “Hyung. Seriously? What was that?”
Jin just picked up his coffee, looking far too pleased with himself. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Yoongi snorted. “Sure... And we are idiots.”
Hoseok buried his face in his hands. “I’m updating the employee handbook tonight.”
Seokjin just smiled to himself, already planning how to “accidentally” run into you in the marketing department very, very soon.
You got the job offer letter two days after the world’s most awkward interview.
Official reason: Your portfolio showed strong potential, fresh ideas, and you handled pressure well according to the panel.
Real reason... Kim Seokjin wanted you nearby. Badly.
The first few weeks were pure torture dressed up as professionalism.
You avoided eye contact like it was your full-time job.
If Jin walked into the marketing floor, you suddenly became extremely interested in your monitor. If he passed your desk, you’d duck your head or pretend to search for something in your drawer.
Accidental bumping into him in the hallway? You’d mutter “sorry, Mr. Kim” and practically sprint in the opposite direction.
Elevators became your mortal enemy. The moment you saw Jin alone inside one, you’d smile politely and say, “I’ll take the stairs, good exercise!” before bolting.
Jin tried so hard to behave. Failed everytime...
You were rushing to the printer when a familiar broad shoulder brushed against yours in the narrow corridor.
“Miss Y/L/N,” Jin’s voice came from behind you, warm and far too close. “Good morning.”
Your soul did a tiny scream. You clutched the printed reports tighter and speed-walked away without turning around.
“Good morning, Mr. Kim!” you squeaked, already halfway down the hall.
Namjoon, who was walking the opposite way with a coffee, watched the entire thing and sighed. “Hyung… you’re scaring the new hire.”
Jin adjusted his tie, pretending to be innocent. “I was just saying hello.”
Yoongi appeared beside Namjoon, sipping his iced Americano. “You said hello like you wanted to drag her into your cabin.”
Jin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yoongi go and focus on upcoming campaign.”
Namjoon, Yoongi, and especially Hoseok noticed everything.
One afternoon in the break room, Hoseok whispered dramatically while stirring his coffee, “They already know each other from... Totally normal tension.”
Yoongi snorted.
Namjoon just sighed, rubbing his temples. “Hyung is going to give himself a headache. But if he likes her, we all know he won’t stop.”
The other employees started whispering too, but the trio quickly shut it down with the same “they’re old acquaintances” excuse.
No one argued.
Everyone knew, when Kim Seokjin decided on something or someone... he pursued it.
By the fifth week, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.
You were still at your desk at 7:30 PM, finishing a Q3 campaign proposal, when your desk phone rang. “Marketing Department, Y/N speaking.”
“Miss Y/L/N,” Jin’s voice came through the line... smooth, low, and tired. “Could you bring the Q3 campaign files to my office? I’d like to review them tonight.”
You hesitated, gripping the receiver. “I can email them, Mr. Kim.”
There was a short pause. Then, softer, almost pleading, “Please?”
Your resolve cracked like cheap glass. “…Okay. I’ll be up in five minutes.”
When you stepped into his spacious top-floor office, Jin was at his desk, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, looking exhausted but unfairly handsome. He looked up and gave you a small, genuine smile.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
You placed the files on his desk and started to leave, but he spoke again, gesturing to the chair across from him. “Actually… stay for a bit. If you don’t mind.”
You froze. “Mr. Kim—”
“Just for a few minutes,” he added quietly. “Namjoon casually mentioned you were still here. I… didn’t want to be alone right now.”
You hesitated, then slowly sat down. The silence stretched for a moment before Jin rubbed his face with both hands.
“I’ve been feeling exhausted lately,” he admitted, voice softer than you’d ever heard in the office. “Too many late nights, too many decisions. Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing any of this right.”
Your heart softened instantly. “You’re doing better than you think. The team respects you a lot. Even when you… ask weird questions in interviews.”
Jin let out a tired laugh, eyes crinkling. “God, don’t remind me. I still can’t believe why I asked if you slept well. Hoseok looked like he wanted to file a complaint against me on the spot.”
You giggled despite yourself. “He definitely updated the HR Guidelines that night.”
From that evening onward, the strict walls of professionalism started cracking.
You avoided him less.
You still kept boundaries... no lingering touches, no personal talk during work hours, but the cold shoulder disappeared. Jin, however, was struggling. Calling you “Miss Y/L/N” felt wrong on his tongue.
He kept slipping.
“Y/N, could you—” He’d catch himself and clear his throat. “Miss Y/L/N… the report looks good.”
Every time he said your name without the “Miss,” his ears would turn pink.
One ordinary Thursday, you were in the elevator with your co-worker Mina when Jin stepped in on the 12th floor. Mina was going to the 8th floor for a meeting, so she got off first, leaving you and Jin alone.
The doors closed.
Silence...
You stared at the floor pattern like they held the secrets of the universe. Then... with a sudden jerk and a loud beep, the elevator stopped between floors.
The lights flickered once before settling into emergency mode.
You both froze.
Jin pressed the emergency button. A voice crackled through the speaker... “Help is on the way. Estimated arrival: one hour.”
One hour... Alone... With him...
Jin asked... “Claustrophobic?”
“Nah... I am fine. You ok?” He nodded in reply.
You let out a shaky breath, kicked off your heels, and slid down to sit on the floor, back against the wall. Jin watched you for a second, then did the same, loosening his tie and sitting across from you, long legs stretched out.
The silence lasted maybe thirty seconds before you couldn’t hold it anymore. “Why didn’t you tell me that night, you were the CEO?” you asked, voice quiet but direct.
Jin looked at you, eyes soft and honest.
He didn’t deflect or joke this time.
“Because I liked the way you looked at me before you knew,” he said simply.
“In my apartment, in my hoodie, on that couch, at dinner… you saw Jin. Not the CEO of Kim Corp. Not the guy everyone expects something from. Just… me. I wanted to protect that a little longer. I wasn’t playing games with you. I was protecting something that felt real.”
The words hit you straight in the chest.
Your throat tightened.
“You could have told me after you dropped me to my apartment,” you whispered.
“I know.” He gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “But every time I tried, I kept remembering how you smiled at me when I was just cooking noodles for you. I got selfish. I’m sorry.”
You stared at him, heart pounding.
He wasn’t playing. He had been scared of losing the version of you that looked at him without the weight of his title.
Something shifted in the quiet emergency lighting.
You crawled across the small space on your knees and stopped right in front of him.
Jin’s breath hitched.
Without thinking, you leaned in.
He met you halfway.
The kiss started slow and emotional... full of all the weeks of tension and unspoken feelings. Then it deepened, turning hungry. Jin’s hand cupped your cheek, the other sliding to your waist as he pulled you closer.
You climbed into his lap, heels long forgotten, fingers threading through his perfectly styled hair and messing it up.
Soft sighs and quiet moans filled the small space. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then your neck, leaving warm, open-mouthed kisses.
“Fuck… Y/N,” he breathed against your skin, voice wrecked. “I’ve been going crazy trying to behave.”
You laughed breathlessly, tugging him back up for another kiss. “You’re terrible at it.”
“I know,” he groaned, kissing you deeper. “But I like you too much to stop trying… and failing.”
You kissed him again, slower this time, pouring all the confusion, the longing, and the butterflies into it. Between kisses, fluffy little confessions slipped out.
“You looked adorable running away from me in the hallway,” he teased, kissing along your jaw.
“Shut up... I was panicking!”
“And the stairs? Really? On the 18th floor?”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” He smiled against your neck. “You wore my hoodie like it was your favorite blanket.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes sparkling with affection and lingering disbelief. “You’re impossible. Handsome, annoying, and impossible.”
“And you’re stuck with me for at least another forty-five minutes,” he replied, forehead resting against yours. His thumb brushed your swollen lips tenderly. “I’m not complaining.”
You giggled, the sound light and happy in the small space.
When you finally pulled back for air, foreheads resting together, Jin smiled... that genuine, boyish smile that made your stomach flip.
“Still mad at me?” he whispered.
“A little,” you admitted, tracing his jaw with your finger. “But mostly… I get it now.”
He pressed a soft kiss to your temple.
The emergency lights hummed above you as you stayed curled against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. For the first time in weeks, the tension felt lighter replaced by something warmer, scarier, and disgustingly sweeter.
You nuzzled a little closer, cheek pressed to the smooth fabric of his shirt. Jin’s hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back.
“I was dying to talk to you like this again,” he murmured, voice low and warm against your hair. “Just as Jin. Not Mr. Kim, not the CEO… just the guy who cooked you dinner and stole kisses in his kitchen. These past weeks have been torture.”
You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head up to look at him. “You know… you look a little scary and intimidating in this CEO look. The suit, the serious face, the way everyone straightens up when you walk in. I almost didn’t recognize you that day in the interview room.”
Jin chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Scary? Me?”
He raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “I thought I was doing a great job at being professional. Clearly I failed miserably the moment I asked if you slept well.”
You giggled, hiding your face in his chest for a second. “That question almost made me pass out.”
He laughed again, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. “I couldn’t help it. Seeing you sitting there all nervous and pretty… my brain short-circuited.”
A comfortable silence settled for a moment before you spoke again, voice quieter this time.
“After you dropped me home that night… I wanted to ask for your number so badly,” you admitted, tracing a small pattern on his shirt with your finger.
“But I chickened out. I kept thinking… why would someone like you stick around with me? You’re handsome, successful, you could have anyone you want. I figured it was just a one-night thing and I shouldn’t get my hopes up.”
Jin’s arms tightened around you.
He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression soft and serious. “I had planned to take your number too,” he said honestly.
“I was going to ask right after dinner. But then you mentioned your interview at Kim Corp… and I froze. I waited because I knew I’d eventually get your contact anyway. I just didn’t want our first real conversation after that night to start with me being your boss. I wanted a little more time where I was just Jin to you.”
Your heart squeezed at his words. “So you hired me because…”
“Because you’re genuinely talented, and I'm no one to take decisions in hiring process, only panel can decide,” he said quickly, then gave you a sheepish smile.
“And… I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that night. Your laugh, the way you looked in my hoodie, how you praised my cooking like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted. I kept replaying everything.”
You felt your cheeks heat up. “You’re dangerous, you know that? Saying things like that while we’re stuck in an elevator.”
Jin grinned, that boyish, charming smile that made your stomach flip. “Dangerous? Sweetheart, I’ve been on my best behavior for five weeks. Do you know how many times I almost walked over to your desk just to say hi like a normal person?”
“Probably as many times as I took the stairs to avoid you,” you teased, poking his chest lightly.
He caught your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Exactly. We’re both terrible at this hiding thing.”
You laughed softly, then sighed, resting your head back on his chest. “This feels nice… talking like this. No pretending.”
“It does,” he agreed, voice turning gentle again. “I missed this. Missed you looking at me without the ‘oh shit, he’s my boss’ panic in your eyes.”
You smiled against his shirt. “I still have that panic a little. But it’s getting smaller.”
“Good.” He tilted your chin up gently, eyes warm. “Because I really like the way you look at me when it’s just us.”
The moment stretched sweetly.
Jin leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss.
It quickly deepened, his hand cupping your cheek as you melted into him, fingers threading through his hair. Soft sighs and quiet hums filled the small space until the emergency lights flickered again.
When you finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, Jin rested his forehead against yours.
“When we get out of here,” he whispered, “I’m taking you to dinner. Proper date. No hiding, no CEO title, no running away to the stairs. Just you and me… as Jin and Y/N.”
You nodded, heart fluttering. “I’d like that. A lot.”
He smiled, pressing one last soft kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I’m not letting you dodge me anymore.”
Exactly fifty-three minutes later, the elevator dinged back to life.
You scrambled off his lap, both of you fixing your clothes and hair in a panic, laughing quietly like teenagers caught making out.
As the doors slowly opened, two worried maintenance staff members were already waiting with concerned expressions.
“Everyone okay in there?” one of them asked, stepping forward.
You quickly nodded, smoothing down your slightly rumpled blouse, while Jin beside you, adjusting his tie with practiced calm. Both of you looked composed on the outside.
“Yes, we’re fine,” Jin answered smoothly, voice steady and authoritative. “Just a minor malfunction. Thank you for your quick response.”
The staff nodded, still looking a bit flustered. “We’ll do a full check right away, Mr. Kim.”
You stepped out first, cheeks still warm.
Jin followed right behind you.
After the elevator incident, everything changed... but only between the two of you.
You and Jin started dating secretly.
No one in the office was supposed to know. That was the rule you both agreed on the very next day during a rushed lunch hour in his office with the blinds half-drawn and the door locked.
“We have to be professional at work,” you had said, cheeks still pink from the kiss he’d stolen as soon as you locked his office door.
Jin had nodded solemnly, then immediately ruined it by pulling you into his lap and murmuring, “Professional during office hours. After hours… you’re all mine, sweetheart.”
So the secret began.
Or at least… you both thought it was a secret.
It started small over the weeks.
One day, you were in the pantry grabbing coffee when Jin walked in. The moment he saw you, his entire face softened. He reached for a mug at the exact same time as you, his fingers brushing yours on purpose.
“Miss Y/N,” he said smoothly, though his eyes were sparkling. “You’re here early today.”
You pulled your hand back like you’d been burned. “Good morning, Mr. Kim.”
From the corner, Yoongi was stirring honey into his tea, watching the whole thing with a deadpan expression. While slowly muttering under his breath, “Why the hell is he here when he has got a fancy coffee machine in his office itself…”
You nearly dropped your coffee.
Jin just smiled innocently, pouring himself a cup as if he hadn’t been caught. “The machine upstairs is acting up today. Thought I’d try the pantry one for a change.”
You nodded quickly, keeping your voice perfectly polite. “Of course, Mr. Kim. Have a great day.”
As you turned to leave, you heard a soft chuckle from Jin behind you. “You too, Miss Y/N. Try not to work too hard.”
Your heart did a little flip, but you kept walking.
Another day, during a team meeting, Jin was presenting quarterly targets when his gaze accidentally lingered on you a second too long. You looked down at your notebook, cheeks heating.
Hoseok, sitting across the table, leaned toward Yoongi and stage-whispered, “Did you see that? The CEO just gave the new marketing executive heart eyes. Should we update the no-PDA policy?”
Yoongi didn’t even look up from his laptop and whispered back, “They’re idiots in love. Totally normal.”
Namjoon coughed to hide his laugh and smoothly changed the subject. “Moving on to the campaign budget…”
Jin cleared his throat, forcing his eyes back to the presentation screen. “Right. As I was saying, the Q3 targets require a 12% uplift in engagement. Any thoughts on the new social strategy?”
You raised your hand, keeping your tone completely professional. “I think focusing on user-generated content could help, Mr. Kim. We saw a 28% increase in similar campaigns last quarter.”
Jin’s eyes met yours again, warm and proud for a split second before he nodded. “Excellent point, Miss Y/N. Let’s build on that.”
Later that same day, you were walking back to your desk when Jin “accidentally” bumped into you in the corridor. His hand brushed your waist for half a second longer than necessary.
“Sorry, Miss Y/N,” he said politely, but his voice dropped when no one else was close. “You look beautiful today. That blouse is killing me.”
You glared at him, trying not to smile. “Mr. Kim, someone might hear you.”
“Let them,” he whispered, the corner of his mouth twitching with mischief. Then, louder and perfectly professional again, “My apologies for the collision, Ms. Y/n. Have a productive afternoon.”
He walked away like nothing happened, but you caught the tiny wink he threw over his shoulder when no one was looking.
Behind you, two female colleagues from finance exchanged glances.
One whispered, “They’re definitely dating.”
The other nodded. “Should we pretend we don’t know?”
“Obviously. It’s more fun this way.”
A third colleague walking past overheard and added softly with a smile, “Besides, the boss has been smiling more in the last few weeks than he has in the past two years. He’s always been such a good boss to everyone, works harder than any of us, stays late, remembers our birthdays. If he’s happy… we’re happy. Let them have their little secret.”
The first one giggled quietly. “Exactly. As long as he keeps bringing those amazing team lunches every month, I’m not saying a word.”
You didn’t hear any of it.
You were already halfway back to your desk, heart racing and cheeks warm, wondering how long you and Jin could keep this up before someone actually noticed.
But the whole office?
They had noticed.
They were just too fond of their kind, hardworking CEO to ruin the fun.
At evening, after everyone had left, Jin had texted you.
Jin: Come to the basement parking. I’ll drive you home tonight. No arguments.
You slipped down quietly, heart already racing. The moment you reached his sleek black car, Jin stepped out, pulled you into his arms without a word, and kissed you properly.
It started deep and slow, full of all the affection he’d been holding back the entire day. His lips moved against yours with hunger, tongue slipping in to taste you, turning the kiss wet and heated within seconds.
Soft sighs escaped both of you as he pressed you gently against the side of the car, one hand cupping your cheek while the other gripped your waist possessively.
Wet, messy, needy, and addictive open-mouthed kisses followed.
You moaned softly into his mouth when his tongue brushed yours again, fingers threading through his hair and tugging lightly.
Jin groaned, tilting his head to kiss you even deeper, sucking on your bottom lip before diving back in. The sound of your shared breaths and quiet sighs filled the dimly lit basement.
When you finally broke apart for air, both of you breathing heavily, Jin rested his forehead against yours, eyes dark and warm.
“You have no idea how hard it is to call you Miss Y/N all day,” he groaned between light kisses along your jaw. “I miss saying your name like this… just Y/N. My Y/N.”
You smiled against his lips, still a little breathless. “You slipped and almost called me ‘sweetheart’ in the meeting today. Twice.”
“Did I?” He laughed softly, the sound low and affectionate as he pressed another slow kiss to your mouth. “No one noticed.”
“Hoseok started choking on his water,” you corrected, giggling as you pulled back just enough to look at him. “He had to drink an entire glass in one go to recover.”
Jin chuckled, brushing his nose against yours.
“Well… you know I’m only pretending because you asked me to. Otherwise, you know I don’t want to hide it. I want to date you openly. Hold your hand in the office, bring you lunch in front of everyone, call you sweetheart whenever I feel like it.”
You bit your lip, the warmth in your chest mixing with a flicker of worry. Your fingers played with the collar of his shirt as you spoke softly.
“I know… and I want that too, eventually. But what if people start gossiping once they know? What if they say I only got the job because I’m sleeping with the CEO? Or that I’m using you? I’m scared of that part, Jin. I don’t want anyone looking at me differently… or whispering behind my back.”
Jin’s expression softened immediately.
He cupped your face with both hands, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as he looked into your eyes with nothing but tenderness.
“Hey… sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and reassuring. “If that’s what you’re worried about, then we’ll go at your own pace. Whenever you’re ready. I’m not in any rush. I just want you to feel comfortable and safe. No pressure.”
You searched his eyes, heart melting at how gentle he was being. “Really? You wouldn’t mind waiting?”
“Not even a little,” he said honestly, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “I waited five weeks just to talk to you properly in that elevator. I can wait as long as you need.”
You let out a small, relieved breath and wrapped your arms around his neck again. “Thank you… that means a lot. I just don’t want things to get messy at work. You’ve built such a good reputation here, and I don’t want to be the reason people start talking badly about you either.”
Jin smiled warmly, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other.
“People can talk all they want. I know the truth. You earned your place here because you’re talented. Anyone who knows me knows I don’t mix business and pleasure like that… well, except with you.”
He smirked playfully and added, “And even then, I tried very hard to behave… until you looked at me in my hoodie and ruined all my self-control.”
You laughed softly, the tension easing out of your shoulders. “I ruined your self-control? You’re the one who kept feeding me and asking if I slept well in the middle of my interview.”
“Guilty,” he admitted with a chuckle, then his voice turned sincere again.
“But seriously, Y/N… we’ll keep it secret for now if that’s what you need. I’ll keep calling you Miss Y/N in meetings, I’ll pretend I don’t want to kiss you every time I see you, and I’ll only steal you away like this after hours. Okay?”
You nodded, feeling safer in his arms. “Okay. Thank you for understanding.”
“Always,” he whispered.
He tilted your chin up and captured your lips once more in a slow, wet kiss, sighing happily when you kissed him back just as eagerly.
His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you tighter as the kiss grew deeper again, full of quiet affection and unspoken promises.
When you finally pulled apart, both smiling and a little dazed, Jin rested his forehead against yours one last time.
“Ready to go home, sweetheart?” he asked softly.
You smiled, heart full. “Only if you keep kissing me like that when we get there.”
Jin grinned, eyes sparkling. “Deal.”
One ordinary afternoon, a cheerful young woman in her early twenties walked into the top floor with a bright smile and a small suitcase.
Employees on the executive floor simply greeted her politely with small bows and greets as she passed by. No one seemed surprised or reacted much as if she had visited before many times.
But when she walked straight toward Jin’s cabin without stopping at the secretary’s desk, your stomach twisted.
You tried to focus on your screen, but curiosity quickly turned into something sharper when you heard her voice floating from the slightly open door.
“Oppa! I missed you so much!”
The sound of her calling him “Oppa” in such a sweet, familiar tone made your chest tighten. You told yourself it was nothing.
You tried to stay at your desk.
You really did.
But five minutes later, you couldn’t take it anymore.
You stood up, walked to Jin’s cabin, and pushed the door open without knocking.
The sight that greeted you made your jealousy skyrocket.
Jin was standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around the girl in a warm hug while both of them giggled about something. She was playfully poking his cheek, and he was laughing, looking completely relaxed and happy.
Jin noticed you immediately.
His eyes widened. “Y/N...”
Before he could say anything more, you marched right up to his side, heart pounding with a mix of embarrassment and possessiveness.
You looked directly at the girl and said firmly, “He is my boyfriend, so Ms. you should stay away from him.”
The room went completely silent for two seconds.
Then both Jin and the girl stared at you, stunned.
A moment later, they both burst into loud laughter.
Jin tried to hold it back but failed miserably, shoulders shaking. The girl covered her mouth, eyes sparkling with amusement as she laughed even harder.
You stood there, utterly confused, cheeks burning. “W-what…? Why are you both laughing?”
The girl finally calmed down enough to speak, still giggling. She stepped forward and offered her hand with a bright, friendly smile.
“Hi! I’m Soojin... Seokjin Oppa’s cousin. I live abroad for my studies. I just landed an hour ago and couldn’t wait to meet my brothers, so I came straight here before even going home.”
Your mind went blank. Shit. Oh my god. What did I just do?
Soojin continued cheerfully, clearly enjoying the situation, “And Oppa, is this the girl you kept yapping to me about? The one you called at 3 a.m. my time because she was ignoring you for weeks?”
She grinned widely, clearly enjoying the scene. “Aww, look at you two. So obsessed with each other already! I love it.” She winked at Jin. “She’s cute, Oppa. Nice choice. I approve.”
Jin chuckled. “Soojin, stop teasing her. You’re making her shy.”
“But it’s true!” Soojin laughed. “You kept texting me every day saying ‘She’s ignoring me again, what do I do?’ and now she just claimed you in front of me like a total boss. I’m impressed.”
Your face turned bright red.
You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
“I… I remember some urgent work,” you stammered, forcing an awkward smile. “You guys continue your family meeting. I’ll just... Sorry for interruption...”
You turned to practically run out of the room, but Jin was faster.
His hand shot out and caught your wrist gently but firmly, pulling you back toward him. You crashed straight into his chest with a small “oof.”
Jin wrapped one arm around your waist to steady you, looking down at you with warm, amused eyes and a soft smile.
“Running away already, sweetheart?” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear the fond teasing in it.
Soojin watched the two of you with a delighted grin.
She picked up her small handbag and winked at Jin.
“Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. I should go meet Namjoon Oppa now. He’ll probably scold me for coming here first instead of home.” She gave you a little wave, still giggling.
“It was nice meeting you, Y/N! Don’t worry... your secret is safe with me. And seriously, you two are adorable. Bye, Oppa! Bye, future sister-in-law!”
With that, Soojin slipped out of the cabin, closing the door behind her with a soft click, leaving you alone with Jin.
You stayed pressed against his chest, mortified, while Jin’s arm remained securely around you.
The moment the door clicked shut behind Soojin, you stayed buried against Jin’s chest, face burning with embarrassment.
Your hands clutched the front of his shirt as you mumbled, “Oh my god… I can’t believe I just did that. I stormed in here and told your cousin to stay away from you like some jealous girlfriend. She must think I’m crazy.”
Jin’s chest vibrated with a low, affectionate laugh.
His arms tightened around your waist, one hand gently rubbing your back in slow circles.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, voice warm and soothing, “you have no idea how much I loved that possessive side of yours.”
He pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up with his fingers, making you meet his eyes. “The way you marched in here and claimed me so boldly? It was incredibly hot. I’ve been dying to see you get jealous over me.”
You groaned, hiding your face in his chest again. “Stop teasing me… I feel so stupid right now.”
“You’re not stupid,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “You’re adorable. And honestly? It made my whole day. Knowing you care enough to get possessive over me… it does dangerous things to my heart.”
He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, his voice dropping into a playful whisper. “My shy little girlfriend turning into a fierce lioness the moment she thought someone was taking her man away. I think I fell for you even harder just now.”
You peeked up at him, still flushed but unable to stop a small smile. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Guilty,” Jin admitted with a mischievous grin.
He leaned down and captured your lips in a slow, tender kiss.
It started soft and comforting, but quickly deepened as his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His tongue traced your bottom lip, coaxing a quiet sigh from you before he slipped inside, turning the kiss wet and heated.
You melted into him, fingers threading through his hair as you kissed him back. Between kisses, you whispered breathlessly, “Jin… what if someone enters? The door—”
He smiled against your mouth, not breaking the kiss as he reached into his pocket with one hand.
You heard a soft beep from his phone.
“There,” he murmured between kisses, lips still pressed to yours, tongue brushing yours teasingly. “I just locked...” another deep, wet kiss that stole your breath, “...the door with the passcode through my mobile.”
He didn’t let you pull away even an inch, kissing you again as he continued speaking right against your lips. “No one can enter now...” a slow, filthy kiss, sucking on your bottom lip, “...not even my secretary.”
Another open-mouthed kiss, hot and hungry, cutting off any reply you might have tried to make. “We’re completely alone, sweetheart.”
Your heart raced wildly at his words. You tried to speak, pulling back just a fraction, “You… you planned that—”
But Jin immediately chased your lips, kissing you hard and wet so you couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Not planned,” he murmured against your mouth, voice husky as he kissed along your jaw between every single word, not giving you a chance to respond.
“I just… couldn’t wait… to have you… all to myself.”
His hands roamed down your sides, gripping your hips as he walked you backward until your thighs hit the edge of his large mahogany desk. Papers and files shifted under you as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you on the desk and stepping between your legs.
“Jin…” you breathed, a mix of nervousness and excitement in your voice. “We’re at work… this is so risky.”
“I know,” he groaned, kissing you deeply again, tongue sliding against yours in wet, filthy strokes. “That’s what makes it hotter.”
His hands slid under your blouse, palms warm against your skin. “Tell me to stop if you are uncomfortable. But the way you looked at me when you said I’m your boyfriend… fuck, Y/N. I need you right now.”
You whimpered into the kiss, legs tightening around him. “Don’t stop… but please be quick. And quiet.”
Jin chuckled darkly against your lips, still kissing you between every word. “Quick and quiet? With you? That’s going to be difficult, sweetheart.”
He reached into the top drawer of his desk without looking, pulling out a condom packet. He held it up with a playful smirk, but still leaned in to steal another kiss before you could speak. “See? I’m always prepared when it comes to you.”
Your eyes widened, a surprised laugh escaping you between his kisses. “You keep condoms in your office drawer?”
“Only since we started dating,” he admitted, tearing the packet open with his teeth while his other hand worked on unbuttoning your blouse, still kissing you between sentences. “I’ve been hoping for a moment like this. Naughty, right?”
“Very naughty and highly unprofessional,” you scolded lightly, but your voice was breathy as he pushed your blouse off your shoulders.
You tugged at his tie, loosening it. “You’re such a bad CEO.”
“Your bad CEO,” he corrected, claiming your mouth in another deep, messy kiss full of tongue and soft moans. “And right now, I only want to be yours.”
Your fingers worked frantically on his shirt buttons, popping them open one by one to expose the smooth, warm skin of his chest.
You pushed the fabric aside, palms sliding greedily over his toned muscles as you leaned in and bit down gently on his soft, plump lower lip, tugging it between your teeth.
Jin groaned loudly at the bite, the sound vibrating against your mouth. “Fuck, baby… do that again.”
You smiled wickedly and obeyed, biting his lip harder this time while your hands roamed down to his belt.
He pushed your skirt up around your thighs, fingers teasing along your inner thighs in slow, deliberate strokes before sliding your panties aside.
“Already so wet for me,” he groaned, voice rough with desire as he freed himself from his pants, unzipping them quickly and pulling his hard, throbbing cock out. “All because you got jealous.”
“Shut up,” you whined, pulling him closer by his now-open shirt, nails lightly scratching down his chest. “Just kiss me.”
Jin obeyed instantly, capturing your lips in another wet, hungry kiss, tongues sliding together as he rolled the condom on with practiced speed, then positioned himself at your entrance.
He pushed in slowly... agonizingly slow, the thick head of his cock stretching you open. He was so big that even after everything you’d done together, taking him in one go was still difficult.
Your breath hitched sharply and you tried to muffle the sound by biting down hard on your lower lip, eyes squeezing shut as the intense stretch burned through you.
A single tear slipped free from the corner of your eye at the overwhelming fullness.
Jin immediately stilled, buried only halfway inside you.
His forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged as he kissed the tear away with the softest brush of his lips.
“Shhh, sweetheart… breathe for me,” he whispered tenderly against your mouth, voice thick with both lust and concern. “I know it’s a lot. Just relax, baby. Let me in slowly.”
You whimpered, nails digging deeper into his shoulders as you tried to breathe through the stretch. “It’s… too much… Jin… I can’t...”
“You can,” he cooed gently, kissing you between every word, soft and reassuring. “You’re doing so good for me… so perfect. Look at you taking me like this.”
He rocked his hips forward another inch, slow and careful. “That’s it… just like that. Tell me how it feels, love. Talk to me, love.”
“So full…” you gasped, voice trembling as another small tear escaped. “You’re so deep already… I feel so stretched… it burns but… it feels so good too…”
Jin groaned low in his throat, the sound raw and intimate.
He kissed you again, slower this time, tongue gently coaxing yours as he pushed in a little more. “That’s my girl… let it out. Don’t muffle those pretty sounds for me. No one can hear you, I promise. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
You shook your head slightly, still trying to stay quiet, but another soft, broken moan slipped out as he sank deeper. “Jin… I can’t… someone might—”
“No one will,” he murmured, voice husky and loving as he kissed the corner of your eye, then your cheek, then your lips again.
“Let go, baby. Let me hear you. I love those little sounds you make when I’m stretching you open like this. Please… for me?”
The gentle plea in his voice broke your restraint.
You let out a shaky, needy moan as he finally bottomed out, hips flush against yours. The desk creaked softly beneath you with the movement.
He kissed you again, wet and possessive, swallowing every sound you made. “That’s my girl… fuck, listen to you. So pretty when you let go for me.”
You clung to him tighter, legs locked around his waist, breathing hard against his mouth. “Jin… you’re so big… I feel you everywhere…”
“And you feel perfect around me,” he rasped, still kissing you softly between thrusts as he started moving in deep, steady rolls of his hips. “So tight… so warm… made just for me.”
You clung to him, legs locked around his waist.
The initial burn slowly melted away as pleasure started to take over completely, turning every deep thrust into pure bliss. Your moans grew louder, no longer muffled, filling the quiet office with breathy, desperate sounds.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this… on your desk…” you gasped between moans, voice shaky as pleasure coiled tighter inside you.
Jin smirked, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust.
“Believe it, sweetheart,” he groaned, voice low and filthy. “And next time you get jealous, just remember... I’m only yours.”
He thrust harder, making you cry out loudly. “Fuck, listen to those pretty moans… getting louder for me already. Say it, baby. Tell me who I belong to. Louder.”
“You’re mine,” you moaned, loud and needy, pulling him down for another wet kiss, biting his lip again. “Only mine, Jin... ahh, fuck... only mine!”
“That’s right,” he groaned, pace quickening as he kept kissing you between every breathy, filthy word. “I’m all yours, baby. This big cock is only for you… stretching this tight little pussy on my desk like a good girl.”
He slammed in deeper, making the desk creak louder.
You whimpered loudly, nails raking down his back as pleasure overwhelmed you. “Yes... Jin... oh god, right there! I love it… I love when you fuck me like this… harder, please — I’m yours too, only yours!”
Jin chuckled darkly against your mouth, the sound turning into a groan as he drove into you faster. “That’s my filthy girl… moaning so pretty for me. Tell me again... who does this pussy belong to?”
“Yours!” you cried out, legs tightening around him, moans turning shamelessly loud. “It’s yours, Jin — fuck, it’s all yours!”
You clung to him, legs locked around his waist as pleasure took over completely. Your moans grew louder and shameless, the initial stretch long forgotten in the heat of it all.
Jin’s thrusts became deeper, faster, hitting that perfect spot over and over until you were trembling in his arms.
“Jin... fuck... I’m so close,” you gasped, voice breaking.
“Come for me, baby,” he growled against your lips, kissing you wet and filthy. “Let me feel you fall apart on my cock right here on my desk. That’s it... loud and pretty, just like that.”
With one final, deep thrust, you shattered hard around him, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crashed through you.
Jin followed right after, groaning your name into your mouth as he spilled into the condom, hips stuttering against yours.
For a long moment, the only sounds in the office were your heavy breathing and the soft creak of the desk. Jin stayed buried inside you, forehead pressed to yours, kissing you slowly and sweetly as you both came down.
“Fuck… you’re perfect,” he whispered between gentle kisses, voice hoarse and full of affection. “My beautiful, possessive girl… you did so good for me.”
You let out a soft, breathless laugh, still clinging to him. “I can’t believe we just did that here… on this desk... I feel like my legs are jelly.”
Jin chuckled warmly, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out. He disposed of the condom quickly in the small bin under his desk, then grabbed a handful of tissues from the drawer.
“Stay right there, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice soft and caring. “Let me take care of you.”
He gently spread your legs a little wider and started cleaning you up with slow, tender strokes of the tissue, wiping away the mess between your thighs.
His touch was so careful and loving that it made your heart flutter.
“Does that feel okay?” he asked softly, eyes focused on what he was doing. “Not too sensitive?”
You shook your head, cheeks warm. “It feels nice… you’re being so gentle.”
“Of course I am,” he replied, smiling up at you as he continued cleaning. “The least I can do is clean you up properly and make sure my baby is comfortable after making love to you.”
He leaned in and kissed the inside of your thigh sweetly. “There… all better.”
Once you were clean, he quickly wiped himself off with fresh tissues, then tossed them away. He helped you down from the desk, holding you steady when your legs wobbled.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he teased lightly, wrapping an arm around your waist. “I’ve got you.”
He started dressing you with the same gentle care... buttoning your blouse one button at a time, smoothing the fabric over your shoulders, then tugging your skirt back down around your hips.
When he reached your panties, still damp and ruined from earlier, he paused and let out a low, amused chuckle.
“Mmm… these are definitely wrecked,” he said, running a finger lightly over the soaked fabric with a playful smirk. “My poor girl. You came so hard for me that your panties didn’t stand a chance.”
You swatted his chest, embarrassed but laughing. “Jin! Stop it… it’s your fault.”
“My fault?” He grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief as he finished adjusting your skirt.
“Baby, you were the one moaning so loud and clenching around me like you never wanted me to stop. I’m just saying… from next time, you should probably bring an extra pair with you to the office.”
He leaned in close, voice dropping into a teasing whisper. “Or maybe two. Because if you keep getting jealous and marching into my office like that, I can’t promise I won’t bend you over this desk again.”
You buried your face in his chest, giggling. “You’re impossible. What if someone notices I’m walking funny now?”
Jin laughed softly and hugged you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Then they’ll just think you had a very long, very intense meeting with the CEO. Which… technically, you did.”
He tilted your chin up so you’d look at him, his expression turning warm and sincere again. “But seriously, sweetheart… are you okay? No regrets?”
“None,” you whispered, smiling up at him. “It was risky and crazy… but I loved it. I love you.”
Jin’s eyes softened instantly.
He cupped your face and kissed you slow and deep, full of affection. “I love you too. So much. And next time we do something like this, I’ll make sure to bring the tissues and the extra panties myself, okay?”
You laughed against his lips. “Deal. But you’re still buying me new ones after ruining these.”
“Anything for my possessive little girlfriend,” he teased, giving you one last sweet kiss before stepping back to fix his own clothes.
“Now… go back to your desk looking like the professional you are. And try not to think about how I just fucked you right here every time you look at this desk.”
You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you fixed your hair. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”
“Never,” he promised with a wink. “But I’ll make it up to you tonight at my place. Proper dinner, no desk involved… unless you ask nicely.”
You shook your head, laughing as you headed toward the door. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Your ridiculous boyfriend,” he corrected fondly, watching you with soft eyes. “Now go before I change my mind and keep you here all evening.”
The company had just closed its best quarter in three years, record profits, glowing client feedback, and a marketing team that was buzzing with pride.
To celebrate, Jin had declared a full team dinner at one of the city’s coziest Korean restaurants, the kind with warm wooden tables, soft lighting, and endless side dishes.
Every single employee was invited, from the newest intern to the senior directors. No exceptions.
The long tables were already filled with laughter and chatter when Jin finally walked in, looking unfairly handsome in a simple black button-down, sleeves rolled up.
The moment he appeared, the entire room erupted into cheers and applause.
A chorus of grateful cheers erupted. “Thank you, Mr. Kim!” “Best boss ever!” “We love you, CEO-nim!”
Jin laughed, waving them off as he took his seat at the head of the main table. “Eat first, thank me later. And make sure you all try the spicy pork... it’s my treat.”
A few minutes later, you slipped in quietly, hoping to go unnoticed.
Your cheeks were still a little flushed from the quick make-out session you and Jin had stolen in the private elevator on the way here.
You spotted your friend Mina waving enthusiastically and slid into the empty chair beside her.
Mina immediately leaned in with a bright smile. “Y/N! You made it! Here, I saved you some of the japchae, it’s so good tonight.”
“Thanks, Mina,” you said, picking up your chopsticks and taking a big bite of the stir-fried noodles, trying to act completely normal, but your mind was still replaying Jin’s hands on your waist and the way he’d whispered “one more kiss” before the doors opened.
Mina’s eyes narrowed the second she looked at you properly.
Your lips were noticeably swollen... pink, plush, and a little puffy in a way that no amount of lip balm could hide.
“Um… Y/N?” she asked, tilting her head while you were still chewing. “What happened to your lips? They look… really swollen. Did something bite on it?”
You froze mid-chew.
Across the table, Yoongi was taking a sip of water.
The entire group, Namjoon, Hoseok, a few marketing team members, and even some from finance, suddenly went very quiet, all eyes subtly drifting toward you.
You swallowed quickly and let out an awkward laugh, waving your chopsticks around like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Oh, this?” You pointed at your own mouth with a dramatic flourish.
“Haha, it’s nothing! The gochujang in this dish is just so spicy, right? My lips are literally on fire. Swollen from the heat! Hahaha… yeah. Super spicy. You know how it is.”
Yoongi choked violently on his water.
He coughed hard, setting the glass down with a clunk as Namjoon patted his back, trying but failing not to laugh. Hoseok pressed his lips together so tightly he looked like he was about to burst.
A few other employees exchanged knowing glances, barely holding back their smiles.
The whole table let out a long, collective sigh.
Namjoon leaned back in his chair, giving you and Jin the most deadpan stare imaginable. “Y/N… seriously?”
Hoseok shook his head slowly, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “We’ve been pretending not to know for months. Months. And you’re still going with the ‘spicy gochujang’ excuse?”
One of the finance girls giggled. “We all saw you two sneaking into the elevator together last week. You were holding hands.”
Another colleague from your team chimed in cheerfully, “And Mr. Kim has been smiling like an idiot every single time he walks past the marketing floor. We thought he won the lottery or something.”
Mina nudged your shoulder gently, eyes sparkling with amusement.
You buried your face in your hands, mortified but laughing. “Oh my god… you all knew?”
He stood up slowly, still smiling that devastatingly charming smile, and said shamelessly in front of the entire room, “So since you all know about us… Y/N, could you please come and sit beside me?”
The entire table erupted into loud, happy laughter and whistles.
You glared at him playfully across the tables, cheeks burning bright red. “Kim Seokjin! You are the worst at keeping secrets!”
Jin just grinned wider and patted the empty seat right next to him. “Come on, baby. No more hiding. I’ve been waiting months to do this properly.”
Mina gave you a gentle push. “Go, go! We’ve been waiting for this moment too.”
With everyone’s eyes on you... warm, supportive, and genuinely happy, you stood up, still glaring at Jin with zero actual heat, and walked over.
The moment you reached him, he pulled you down into the chair beside him and immediately slipped an arm around your waist, tugging you close.
“See?” he said softly, just loud enough for the table to hear. “Much better. My girlfriend should always sit next to me.”
Hoseok raised his glass with a bright laugh. “Finally! To the cutest office couple we’ve ever had!”
Namjoon lifted his own glass, smiling warmly. “And to the best CEO who finally stopped pretending he wasn’t completely whipped.”
Yoongi, still recovering from his earlier choking fit, muttered with a smirk, “Took you long enough. We were running out of excuses for why you two kept ‘accidentally’ bumping into each other in the pantry.”
You leaned into Jin’s side, hiding your face against his shoulder as the whole room toasted and cheered. Jin pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, completely unbothered by the audience.
“See, sweetheart?” he whispered against your hair, voice full of love and teasing. “They adore us. Especially me being whipped for you.”
The table exploded into more laughter and applause as you swatted his arm, cheeks flushed but heart impossibly full.
For the first time, there was no hiding.
Just you, Jin, and an entire office full of people who had been rooting for the two of you all along.
You get a long chapter today to make up for my long absence. And kudos if you know what songs are in this one. :D
Saturday evening arrived like a held breath—slow, deliberate, full of promise.
You hadn’t taken any bookings all week. Not because you couldn’t. Because you wouldn’t. You needed space. Time to reflect. Time to re-evaluate who you were when no one was watching. The silence had been intentional, sacred. A pause in the performance. A moment to ask yourself: Who am I when no one’s looking?
When Hoseok called that morning, his voice warm and steady, asking if you’d come work for him that night, you didn’t hesitate. You didn’t weigh the risks or rehearse your lines. You simply said yes. Your body answered before your mouth did—humming with anticipation, with clarity, with something that felt like rebirth.
You stood in front of your mirror, wig in hand. The same wig that had shielded you, transformed you, given you armor when the world felt too sharp. It had been your mask, your veil, your weapon. But tonight, you didn’t need armor.
You needed to speak your own truth.
You set the wig down on its stand with quiet finality. Not rejection. Not shame. Just… release. A soft surrender to the woman underneath.
Then you dressed.
Not for fantasy. Not for survival. But for you.
The outfit was simple—clean lines, soft fabric, a hint of skin where you wanted it. Sexy, yes. But it was you. The real you. The one who didn’t need to be Cin to command a room. The one who had walked away from Jungkook not to punish him, but to protect herself. The one who had haunted him not with seduction, but with truth.
Your hair was styled and curled, pinned atop your head like a crown. Not a disguise. A declaration. You chose the shape of your silhouette, the texture of your presence. You chose softness without surrender, elegance without erasure.
You looked at yourself in the mirror and didn’t flinch. Didn’t second-guess. You saw the woman who had set boundaries, who had demanded respect, who had learned that being seen didn’t mean being consumed.
Not a fantasy.
Not a conquest.
Not a ghost in someone’s memory.
But as yourself.
Tonight, you would be.
Not for Jungkook.
Not for Hoseok.
Not for the crowd.
For you.
Because you were ready.
Because you were enough.
The bouncer squinted at you as you approached, his posture shifting instinctively into gatekeeper mode. You were familiar—your energy unmistakable—but your appearance had changed. No wig. No exaggerated glamour. Just you, styled with intention, radiating a quiet power that didn’t ask for permission.
He hesitated, hand hovering near the velvet rope.
You tilted your head, smiled softly, and said his name, “Dante.”
That smile—he knew it like the rhythm of the club’s heartbeat. Recognition dawned, slow but certain. His brows lifted, and he asked, “New look?”
“Not a new look,” you replied, voice even, eyes steady. “Just the same me with a new perspective.”
He studied you for a breath longer, then nodded with a grin that held respect. He stepped aside, pulling the rope back like he was opening a door to something sacred.
You walked through.
Inside, the pulse of Seven was alive—bass thrumming through the floor, lights casting soft shadows across velvet booths and polished glass. But as you stepped in, something shifted. The energy bent toward you, conversations faltering mid-sentence, heads turning not out of curiosity but reverence.
Hoseok, mid-shift behind the bar, reached for a tray of empty glasses and nearly dropped them. His eyes locked on you, wide and stunned, mouth parted in disbelief. It was rare to catch him speechless. Rarer still to see him look like he’d just witnessed a revelation.
You smiled—calm, grounded, radiant.
He recovered with a laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, pride blooming across his face.
Jimin, lounging near the VIP entrance, caught sight of you and audibly gasped. His jaw dropped so hard you swore you heard it bounce off the floor. He blinked, scrambled for words, then gave up entirely, just staring like you’d rewritten the rules of gravity.
You didn’t rush. You didn’t perform. You moved through the room like you belonged to it—not as a fantasy, not as a spectacle, but as a woman who had chosen to be seen.
You climbed the steps to VIP with deliberate grace, each footfall a quiet declaration. You took your seat, crossed your legs, and set your shoulders like someone who had nothing to prove and everything to protect.
The ripple effect was immediate.
Phones lowered. Eyes lifted. The usual buzz of the VIP softened into something more reverent. You weren’t dressed to provoke, but you provoked something anyway—admiration, curiosity, respect.
Hoseok finally made his way up, still stunned, still smiling. “You look…” he started, then paused, searching for the right word.
You met his gaze. “Like myself.”
He nodded, eyes shining. “Exactly.”
Jimin stumbled over a compliment, gesturing wildly, words tripping over themselves. “You—this—you’re glowing,” he finally managed.
You chuckled and gave him a small nod, not dismissive, but grounded. You weren’t here to dazzle. You were here to exist.
And in that moment, you weren’t Cin.
You weren’t a mask.
You weren’t a myth.
You were Y/n James.
And you were finally letting the world see the real you.
The lights dimmed slowly, casting a hush over the VIP lounge. The usual chatter faded into breathless anticipation. Jungkook leaned back in the booth, arms folded, gaze casual—until the spotlight hit center stage.
And then he saw you.
Not Cin.
Not the mask.
You.
Hair pinned like a crown, dress hugging you in all the right places without begging for attention. You stood there, mic in hand, not performing—for once, just being. The real you. The woman he’d only glimpsed in fragments. And now, fully revealed.
Jungkook’s breath caught. His body stilled. His eyes widened, locked on you like gravity had shifted.
Namjoon glanced at him, then followed his gaze. Taehyung leaned forward, lips parted. Even Jin, halfway through a drink, froze mid-sip.
Yoongi, still at the bar, turned just in time to see Hoseok watching the stage with a look that said this is history.
Then the music began—soft, slow, familiar.
You lifted the mic, voice clear and warm, and sang:
“There's something I want to tell you…
There's something I've been thinking that your heart should know…”
Jungkook’s heart thudded in his chest. The lyrics weren’t just words. They were you. They were everything you hadn’t said that night at the bar. Everything you’d held back in silence. Everything he hadn’t dared to hope for.
“Let's wait awhile…
Before it's too late…”
Your voice wrapped around the room like silk, like truth. You weren’t asking for anything. You weren’t offering yourself. You were setting the terms. Drawing the line. Inviting him to meet you there—if he could wait.
“We don't have to take our clothes off
To have a good time…”
Jungkook’s throat tightened. You were radiant. Unfiltered. And for the first time, he didn’t feel the urge to chase. He felt the urge to honor.
Namjoon leaned in, whispering, “She’s not just performing. She’s sending a message.”
Jungkook nodded slowly, eyes never leaving you.
You sang with grace, with power, with restraint. You sang like a woman who knew her worth. Like someone who had nothing to prove—but everything to protect.
And when the final note lingered in the air, Jungkook didn’t clap. He didn’t cheer.
He just sat there, stunned.
Because for the first time, he saw you not as a dream.
But as a choice.
And he knew—if he wanted to be part of your story, he’d have to earn every page.
The applause faded like mist—soft, reverent, lingering just long enough to honor the moment. But you didn’t bask in it. You moved forward, graceful and grounded, stepping into the second song like it was a confession.
The lights shifted—warmer now, more intimate. The crowd leaned in, instinctively sensing that this wasn’t just a performance. It was a revelation.
Even the bartenders paused mid-pour. Waitresses stood still, trays balanced in hand. Every eye in VIP was on you. Not because you demanded it. Because you earned it.
The music began—gentle, sensual, wrapped in longing.
You lifted the mic again, voice softer now, but no less sure.
“I need some love like I never needed love before…”
Jungkook’s breath caught. The words weren’t just lyrics. They were a mirror. A memory. A possibility.
“Wanna make love to ya baby…”
But it wasn’t about seduction. It was about intimacy. About truth. About the kind of connection that doesn’t rush, doesn’t consume, doesn’t conquer.
You sang with vulnerability, with power, with restraint. You sang like someone who had learned the difference between being wanted and being chosen.
“Be a little bit wiser baby…”
Jungkook’s eyes never left you. He saw the woman who had once haunted him now standing in full light—unmasked, unfiltered, radiant.
Namjoon leaned back, arms crossed, a quiet smile playing on his lips. Taehyung watched with reverence, like witnessing a sacred rite. Jimin was leaning against his station, hands on his cheeks, eyes glued to the stage. Even Yoongi, now seated beside Hoseok, had gone still.
“This time I wanna make it right…”
You weren’t just singing to the room. You were singing to yourself. To the version of you that had waited, that had protected, that had demanded more.
And Jungkook understood.
This wasn’t a seduction.
It was a boundary.
It was a prayer.
It was an invitation—if he could meet you there.
As the final notes lingered in the air, you lowered the mic slowly, gaze sweeping the room—not to claim it, but to own your place within it.
You were no longer the mystery.
You were no longer the mask.
You were Y/n.
And you were ready to be seen.
The room was silent in its devotion. Not hushed—spellbound. Every breath in VIP seemed to sync with yours, every heartbeat suspended in the space between your voice and the velvet air.
You didn’t speak.
You didn’t gesture.
You simply existed—and that was enough.
The music shifted again, soft and aching, the unmistakable intro of Selena’s “Dreaming of You” blooming through the speakers like a secret.
You lifted the mic slowly, eyes scanning the room once—and then locking onto Jungkook.
He froze.
Your gaze didn’t waver. It didn’t challenge or seduce. It invited. It revealed. It said: This is me. And this is what I’ve held.
Then you sang:
“Late at night when all the world is sleeping
I stay up and think of you…”
Jungkook’s chest tightened. The words weren’t just lyrics. They were memories. They were the quiet moments he’d spent replaying your voice, your silence, your strength. They were the nights he’d stared at his ceiling, wondering if he’d ever earn the right to be near you, to breathe you.
“And I wish on a star
That somewhere you are thinking of me too…”
Your voice was tender, but unwavering. You weren’t pleading. You weren’t performing. You were confessing. Not to the room. Not to the crowd.
To him.
Jungkook’s eyes glistened, but he didn’t blink. Couldn’t. You had him. Entirely. And not because you were Cin. Because you were Y/n. The woman who had walked away. The woman who had drawn a line. The woman who now stood before him, radiant and unmasked.
“Cause I’m dreaming of you tonight
Till tomorrow I’ll be holding you tight…”
You sang like you’d lived every word. Like you’d felt the ache of distance, the weight of longing, the quiet hope that maybe—just maybe—he’d changed.
And Jungkook?
He didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Because in that moment, he wasn’t dreaming of you.
He was witnessing you.
And he knew—this wasn’t a performance.
This was a gift.
A chance.
If he was brave enough to take it.
The applause hits like a wave, sudden and enormous, swallowing the room whole. For a beat it feels like everything is moving faster than you are. Then the sound folds into itself, leaving a buzzing electricity in the air. You hadn’t expected that—hadn’t expected the stairways to fill, the bouncers to stop mid-shift, the entire downstairs crowd drawn up like moths to a light.
You smile without meaning to, sunlight and surprise both blooming across your face. The smile is honest and quiet and absolutely yours.
Jungkook sits frozen, eyes locked on you, unable to shape the words tumbling inside him. He feels unstitched and new at once—hollowed out by what he sees, pieced back together with something raw and urgent. He wants to say a thousand things and the only thing that comes out is silence.
He doesn’t reach. He doesn’t force anything. He simply watches, learning the architecture of you—how you hold your chin, how your fingers loosen around the mic, how you breathe after giving that much away.
Namjoon exhales, the slow sound of a man who understands consequences and growth. Taehyung grins like someone who’s been invited to witness a miracle. Yoongi’s face is unreadable, but his hand rests on Hoseok’s arm with a steadiness that speaks volumes. Hoseok beams the way a maker beams when his creation finally shows its true form. And Jimin, just stares, like a wide-eyed baby, stunned at you, proud of your bravery of standing your ground, calling your shots, speaking your own truth out into the world.
Waitstaff and regulars clap louder than expected, some wiping eyes, some hooting, all unanimous. Phones are up for one second and down the next—people want to remember it in their bodies, not their feeds.
You step down from the stage when the host calls you back with reverent applause. You move through the scatter of bodies easy, practiced, but not performing. At the velvet rope you pause and find Jungkook standing, half-risen from the booth.
Your eyes lock. No grand gestures. No speeches. He opens his mouth again and closes it, overwhelmed. He finally manages three words, voice rough and careful.
“I saw you.”
The admission lands like a small, sacred thing. You nod once—measure, accept, but do not promise. Your face softens, gratitude and guardedness braided together.
“Thank you,” you answer, the same two words printed on the card he sent—simple, heavy, true.
He bows his head, not in apology this time, but in acknowledgment. The movement looks like the beginning of a vow.
Backstage, they gather—quick congratulations, a hard hug from Hoseok that nearly cracks a rib. Jimin grinning at you, tears falling freely and unhindered down his rosy cheeks. You feel buoyed but steady, the way someone does after finally speaking their truth aloud.
Outside the mansion later, Jungkook steps into the cool air. Taehyung follows him without asking. They don’t talk at first; they just listen to the night breathe. Jungkook exhales, the sound of a man beginning the long work of becoming the person he promised to be.
He doesn’t ask for anything. He doesn’t try to fix the past with grand gestures. He simply keeps the image of you in his chest, a compass for what he vows to show up for next.
And somewhere inside your apartment, under the warm glow of the bedside lamp, you sit with the knowledge that being seen might not change everything overnight—but it changes the shape of what comes next.
