˙⋆✮ They say having feelings for your brother's best friend is never a good idea...
But loving Jungkook feels like the easiest thing in the world.
He's been by your side for as long as you can remember, so it's only natural for you to feel devastated when your brother, Dohyun, tells you that Jungkook is about to get married.
For the first time ever, loving him doesn't feel easy at all.
pairing : brother's best friend!jungkook × f!reader
cw: age gap (jk is 32, reader is 22 ops), tension, reader is WHIPPED, pining, initial unrequited love (my fav), eventual smut (!!adding new warnings when needed!!)
>>english is not my first language
chapter 4 | masterlist
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
“Sorry.”
Sophie’s voice is polite but slightly rushed, like she has been moving faster than her thoughts can comfortably keep up with. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
You react almost automatically, straightening in your seat as if posture alone could somehow make this situation appear less suspicious than it probably already does. “No, it’s fine, I promise!”you answer quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. “You’re not interrupting anything.”
The moment the words leave your mouth, you wish you could pull them back. Not because they’re untrue, but because they sound exactly like something somebody would say when they are, in fact, being interrupted. Sophie’s eyebrows lift ever so slightly and suddenly you’re painfully aware of the image the two of you must present from the outside: a quiet café, two untouched coffees, Yoongi sitting across from you looking entirely too comfortable for someone who wasn’t supposed to exist in this part of your life.
Unlike you, Yoongi doesn’t rush to explain himself. He simply looks at her, calm and unreadable, his expression revealing absolutely nothing despite the fact that you know there is no possible universe in which this encounter doesn’t affect him. For a few seconds, nobody says anything. Sophie keeps looking between the two of you, clearly trying to understand how she has walked into a situation she didn’t know existed. Then, after what feels like an unusually long pause, she pulls out the empty chair beside the table and sits down.
“It’s been a while.”
Her attention settles entirely on Yoongi now.
“It has.”
The simplicity of the exchange somehow makes everything feel more significant. There is no awkward greeting, no emotional reunion, no dramatic reaction. Just two people looking at each other after years apart and speaking as though they ran into each other last week instead of carrying an entire history neither of them seems particularly eager to unpack in the middle of a café.
“How have you been?” Sophie asks.
Yoongi’s gaze remains fixed on her for a moment before he answers. “I’ve been fine. What about you?”
A small laugh escapes her. “Busy. Things have been really busy lately.”
You know exactly what she means. At this point, her life revolves around guest lists, venue changes, decoration disasters, relatives causing problems and whatever new wedding emergency decides to appear every week. The word busy barely covers it.
Yoongi nods slowly. “So I heard.”
The comment is innocent enough, but the meaning behind it hangs there anyway. Sophie notices it too. You can tell by the way her eyes linger on him for a second longer, as though she’s deciding whether to acknowledge the obvious implication behind those two simple words.
Instead, she turns toward you.
“I didn’t know you two knew each other.”
The question sounds casual enough, but the look accompanying it feels anything but. You can practically see the gears turning behind Sophie’s eyes as she tries to work backwards through information she didn’t know she was missing.
You force yourself not to panic.
“We met a few weeks ago.”
Sophie’s eyebrows lift slightly.
”Really?”You nod.
“At a club.”
For a moment, she simply looks at you.
“Oh.”
The single syllable is enough to tell you she’s trying to make sense of it.
For a second, it looks like she’s about to ask another question. Then she stops herself.
Whatever thought crossed her mind remains unspoken as she leans back slightly in her chair, still looking mildly puzzled but apparently willing to let the explanation stand.
Sophie studies you for another moment before letting out a small hum. She doesn’t look convinced exactly, but she doesn’t look suspicious either.
Before she can continue questioning either of you, Yoongi shifts the conversation elsewhere.
“What are you doing here?”
Thankfully, the attention moves away from you immediately.
“I’m waiting for someone.”
“Who?” Yoongi asks, resting his elbows on the table.
“You remember?” Sophie asks, her voice barely audible.
“You only ever had one best friend.”
A smile appears on her face before she can stop it. It’s small and completely unconscious, the kind of smile that belongs to memories rather than the present moment. You don’t miss it. Unfortunately, neither does Yoongi.
Before either of them can continue, the bell above the café door rings.
The timing is almost ridiculous.
A tall figure steps inside, scanning the room for approximately two seconds before spotting Sophie.
“There you are.”
Sophie’s face immediately brightens.
“You’re late.”
“The traffic was terrible.”
Jin makes his way toward the table, adjusting the sleeve of his jacket as he walks. Then his eyes land on Yoongi.
He stops.
For a second he simply stares, looking as though his brain is struggling to process what his eyes are seeing.
Then recognition arrives.
“Min Yoongi?”
His surprise immediately turns into a grin.
“Wow. It’s been ages.”
Even Yoongi smiles.
Not one of his polite smiles, a real one.
“Hey, Jin.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Jin laughs before dropping into the empty chair beside Sophie. Unlike everyone else at the table, he seems entirely comfortable with the bizarre nature of this situation. If anything, he appears mildly entertained by it.
The conversation becomes easier after that. Not normal, because nothing about this is normal, but easier. Jin fills every silence before it has the chance to become awkward, Sophie gradually relaxes into the familiarity of his presence and somehow the four of you end up talking as though this strange collision of past and present isn’t happening at all.
Mostly, you listen.
You listen to stories you weren’t there for, names you’ve never heard before and memories that belong entirely to them. Every now and then Sophie laughs at something Jin says and every now and then you catch Yoongi looking at her for a fraction of a second longer than he probably intends to. Not staring. Not lingering. Just looking.
Then Sophie’s phone vibrates.
You don’t need to see the screen, the smile gives it away immediately: Jungkook.
She answers without hesitation.
“Hey.”
The conversation is quiet enough that you can’t hear his side, but that doesn’t stop your stomach from tightening.
“Yeah, he just got here.”
A pause.
Her eyes briefly flicker toward the table.
Toward you.
Toward Yoongi.
“I’m with Y/N.”
Another pause follows.
“And Yoongi.”
This time the silence stretches longer.
You don’t know what Jungkook says on the other side of the call, but something about Sophie’s expression shifts ever so slightly before she lets out an uncomfortable laugh.
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
“I know.”
When she ends the call, she places her phone back on the table with a little more care than necessary.
“Jungkook’s coming.”
Nobody reacts immediately.
Then she adds “He knows I’m here with you guys.”
The atmosphere changes so subtly that you almost convince yourself you’re imagining it. Almost. Jin remains completely unbothered.
Yoongi doesn’t visibly react either, but you’ve spent enough time around him to notice the small things. The way his attention drifts away from the conversation. The way his fingers stop moving. The way his gaze briefly lowers toward the table before returning somewhere over your shoulder.
A few seconds later, he stands. You look up immediately.
“Yoongi?”
His eyes find yours.
“We should go.”
The certainty in his voice catches you off guard.
“What? Why?”
“It’s getting late.”
The excuse is weak. Both of you know it.
Still, something about his expression tells you not to push. Before you can question him further, he reaches for your hand. The gesture feels natural enough that you don’t think about it at first.
Only when you’re already standing do you realize what happened. Sophie’s gaze immediately drops to your joined hands. You can’t read her expression.
Not even a little: there’s confusion there, curiosity too.
Something else as well. Something you can’t quite identify. Jin notices it too, although unlike Sophie, he looks dangerously close to saying something that would make this entire situation significantly worse.
Thankfully, he stays quiet.
“We’ll see you around.”
Yoongi’s voice remains calm.
Sophie’s eyes move from him to you and then back again.
“Yeah.”
A small smile appears.
“See you around.”
A few moments later you’re outside, the café door closing behind you as the cool evening air immediately hits your face. Neither of you says anything at first, continuing down the sidewalk while the city carries on around you completely unaware of the emotional disaster that just unfolded inside a random café. Eventually, you let out a disbelieving laugh and drag a hand across your face.
“Well, that was terrible.”
This time Yoongi actually laughs.
A genuine laugh.
“Yeah,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That could’ve gone better.”
.✦ ݁˖
Sophie remains seated long after you and Yoongi leave.
Not because she has any particular reason to stay, but because standing up would mean acknowledging that the afternoon is over, and she isn’t entirely sure she’s ready to do that yet.
Across from her, Jin is saying something about a coworker he can’t stand, gesturing with one hand while finishing the last of his coffee with the other, but she only catches every third sentence. Her attention keeps drifting elsewhere, back toward the café door, back toward the image of Yoongi standing up from the table, back toward the strange expression she’d caught on his face when he’d looked at her.
The whole encounter had lasted less than an hour.
Less than an hour and somehow it had managed to drag years back to the surface.
“You know you’re not listening to me, right?”
Sophie’s eyes lift.
“What?” Jin laughs.
“Exactly.”
She forces a smile and looks down at her cup.
“Sorry.”
“You okay?”
The question is casual, but Jin knows her too well.
“I’m fine.”
“Sure.”
His tone immediately tells her he doesn’t believe her.
Neither of them bothers arguing about it.
A few minutes later the bell above the café door rings again and Sophie looks up automatically.
This time, when she sees Jungkook walking inside, relief washes through her so suddenly that it almost surprises her.
Jin notices immediately.
Which is even more unfortunate.
“Hi guys.”
Jungkook smiles as he approaches the table.
Jin stands to greet him and the two exchange a quick handshake before Jungkook slides into the empty seat beside Sophie.
His hand briefly settles against her knee beneath the table.
For the first time all afternoon, something inside her begins to settle.
The conversation that follows is easy enough. Jin does most of the talking, as he always does, jumping from one topic to another with absolutely no regard for transitions while Jungkook occasionally contributes and Sophie listens. Every now and then she catches Jungkook looking at her, probably noticing how unusually quiet she is, but thankfully he doesn’t ask about it.
By the time they finally leave the café, the sky outside has already begun darkening.
Jin heads in the opposite direction after pulling Sophie into a quick hug and promising to see her soon, leaving her alone with Jungkook for the first time since earlier.
The silence starts before they even reach the car.
At first it doesn’t seem strange.
They’re both tired and It’s been a long day.
But the silence follows them inside, stretching through the first few minutes of the drive, lingering long enough that Sophie gradually becomes aware of it.
Jungkook keeps his eyes on the road- one hand rests against the steering wheel, the other against the gear shift.
Outside, the city moves past in streaks of light and passing headlights. Inside, neither of them speaks.
Eventually Jungkook exhales.
“You saw Yoongi.”
The statement settles heavily between them. Sophie’s stomach immediately tightens.
“Don’t start.” The response comes out sharper than intended.
Jungkook lets out a short laugh; not because he finds anything funny. He doesn’t.
“Of course you’d say that.”
Sophie turns toward him.
“What does that mean?”
“It means every time I bring up something you don’t want to talk about, your first reaction is telling me not to start.”
The calmness in his voice irritates her more than anger would have.
“You’re already making assumptions.”
Jungkook glances at her briefly before looking back at the road.
Jungkook lets out a quiet laugh, though there’s nothing amused about it ”Am I not supposed to?”Sophie turns toward him immediately “No. You’re supposed to trust me.”
The answer comes out sharper than she intended, but she doesn’t take it back. For a moment, Jungkook says nothing. His eyes remain fixed on the road ahead, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
“How was it?”
The question lands inside the car with a kind of quiet precision that makes Sophie feel instantly cornered. The streetlights slide across his face in passing intervals, carving out moments of calm that don’t quite match the tension building between them, as if the world outside is moving on a different emotional frequency.
Sophie shifts in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her arms without really noticing she’s doing it, her gaze fixed somewhere on the windshield rather than on him, because looking at Jungkook right now feels like admitting to something she hasn’t even defined for herself yet.
The memory of the café lingers too vividly behind her eyes, especially the brief, unsettling moment when Yoongi had stood so close to her without saying much.
“It was fine.” she finally answers, her voice controlled in a way that almost convinces even her, though the hesitation beneath it betrays more than she intends.
Jungkook lets out a slow breath through his nose, the kind of sound that is less a reaction and more a restraint, as if he is carefully keeping something contained rather than letting it spill into the space between them. His fingers tighten slightly around the steering wheel, but his expression remains steady, almost unnaturally so for someone who is clearly trying not to react too strongly.
“Fine” he repeats after a moment, the word carrying just enough disbelief to make it feel heavier than it should.
Sophie turns her head toward him at that, her patience thinning in a way she doesn’t fully want to acknowledge, because part of her understands where this is coming from and another part of her resents being placed under a spotlight she didn’t ask for. The city outside continues to blur past, indifferent to the fact that something fragile is being tested inside the car.
“You’re doing that thing again” she says, her tone sharper now, not quite raised but no longer soft either, as if she is trying to draw a line before the conversation crosses it for her.
Jungkook glances at her briefly, just long enough for his eyes to register the expression on her face, before he returns his attention to the road, his silence stretching in a way that feels deliberate rather than accidental. The pause that follows isn’t empty; it feels filled with everything he is choosing not to say yet.
“I’m not doing anything” he replies eventually, his voice lower now, measured in a way that suggests he is still trying to keep control of himself, even if that control is starting to feel strained.
Sophie scoffs under her breath, looking away again as she presses her back into the seat, her jaw tightening as the conversation shifts into something more familiar and therefore more dangerous. The distance between them suddenly feels larger than the physical space of the car, as if the argument has already moved somewhere neither of them can easily reach.
“You know I love you more than anything.” she says after a beat, her words slower this time but no less charged, as though she is trying to make him hear what she is really accusing him of without saying it directly.
Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tightens again, this time more visibly, and when he speaks, there is a faint edge beneath the calm that finally starts to show through the surface he has been maintaining.
“And you take my love for granted.” he says, his voice steady but no longer soft, as the restraint he has been holding onto begins to fray in small, controlled pieces.
Sophie exhales sharply, turning fully toward him now, the frustration finally breaking through the careful composure she had been trying to maintain since the café.
“You know I fucking don’t. You’re the one that keeps asking questions like you already decided the answers” she replies, her tone rising just slightly, enough to make the space inside the car feel suddenly smaller.
For a moment, Jungkook doesn’t respond, and the silence that follows is more loaded than any words could have been, because it carries the weight of suspicion he doesn’t fully voice and the exhaustion Sophie doesn’t fully admit. The car slows at a red light, and the glow of it paints both of their faces in a brief wash of red that feels almost symbolic in its timing.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to think. He’s back in your life.” he says finally, quieter now, though not less firm, as if he is admitting something he has been trying to avoid saying aloud.
Sophie looks away again, her eyes settling on the passing sidewalk, on strangers who have no idea what kind of conversation is happening just a few meters away from them, and for a moment she feels the strange disconnection of being physically present in a place she no longer emotionally belongs to. Her fingers curl slightly against her own palm as she searches for something to say that won’t make everything worse and fails to find it quickly enough.
“You’re supposed to trust me.” she repeats, but this time it doesn’t come out sharp, it comes out tired, as if she is repeating a line she has already said before and is not sure it has ever truly landed.
“I haven’t heard from him since. He’s not back into my life and you know that.”
Jungkook doesn’t answer, and when the light turns green again, the car moves forward without either of them resolving anything, carrying their silence into the final stretch of the drive. The apartment building appears sooner than Sophie wants it to, too familiar and too final in the way it waits for them.
The moment Jungkook parks, the engine noise fading into stillness, neither of them moves right away, as if leaving the car would require an agreement they haven’t reached. The argument doesn’t end so much as it stalls, suspended in the air between them as they finally step out into the night that feels colder than it should.
They walk side by side toward the entrance without touching, without speaking, and even though they are heading into the same home, it feels like they are still carrying separate versions of the evening with them, neither willing to adjust to the other’s.
.✦ ݁˖
The café is busy in that predictable way that doesn’t require you to think too much, just move, serve, repeat. You keep your focus on orders and receipts, letting the rhythm of work fill in the gaps your mind keeps trying to drift into.
Layla works beside you without saying much at first, passing cups, wiping counters, adjusting small things that don’t really need adjusting just so her hands stay busy. But there’s something in the way she keeps looking at you that doesn’t quite match the usual rhythm of your shifts together. Not curiosity exactly. More like recognition of something you’re actively trying not to show.
You ignore it as best as you can.
A lull comes somewhere mid-morning, brief and almost suspicious, and you take the chance to lean slightly against the counter while checking your phone.
One new message is already waiting.
kook❤️🩹: Are you free tonight?
You stare at it for a moment, your thumb resting lightly against the edge of the screen without moving forward or back, as if even a simple reply might shift something you’re not ready to shift yet. The name alone is enough to make your thoughts tighten, because it doesn’t feel like just a question, it feels like timing you don’t fully understand.
Before you can even decide what to do with it, the phone vibrates again in your hand.
A second notification appears almost immediately, pushing everything else aside without effort.
yoongi: Can we talk?
Your breath catches slightly, subtle enough that no one around you would notice, but enough that you notice it yourself.
You don’t move for a second, just standing there with both messages sitting on the screen like they’ve been waiting for this exact moment to arrive together, even if they clearly weren’t meant to.
You lock the screen quickly, setting the phone down with more control than you actually feel, and force yourself back into motion as if nothing just changed at all.
Behind you, Layla finishes what she’s doing and glances over, noticing the way you’ve gone still.
“Everything okay?” she asks, not pushing too hard but clearly not buying the calm you’re trying to keep.
You turn toward her with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, something light and automatic that feels borrowed rather than real, not entirely sure why you’re not just saying anything out loud right now or why this is suddenly something you’re trying to carry alone instead of letting her in on it.
“Yeah” you answer, already turning back toward the counter like the conversation is over before it can even start.
───────────
author’s note:
Ngl this chapter felt way too short, but y’all- shit’s about to go down :P
Sooo how was it??? One thing about me is that I always have to end chapters with a cliffhanger, i’m sorry😭
˙⋆✮ They say having feelings for your brother's best friend is never a good idea...
But loving Jungkook feels like the easiest thing in the world.
He's been by your side for as long as you can remember, so it's only natural for you to feel devastated when your brother, Dohyun, tells you that Jungkook is about to get married.
For the first time ever, loving him doesn't feel easy at all.
pairing : brother's best friend!jungkook × f!reader
cw: age gap (jk is 32, reader is 22 ops), tension, reader is WHIPPED, pining, initial unrequited love (my fav), eventual smut (!!adding new warnings when needed!!)
>>english is not my first language
chapter 4 | masterlist
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
“Sorry.”
Sophie’s voice is polite but slightly rushed, like she has been moving faster than her thoughts can comfortably keep up with. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
You react almost automatically, straightening in your seat as if posture alone could somehow make this situation appear less suspicious than it probably already does. “No, it’s fine, I promise!”you answer quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. “You’re not interrupting anything.”
The moment the words leave your mouth, you wish you could pull them back. Not because they’re untrue, but because they sound exactly like something somebody would say when they are, in fact, being interrupted. Sophie’s eyebrows lift ever so slightly and suddenly you’re painfully aware of the image the two of you must present from the outside: a quiet café, two untouched coffees, Yoongi sitting across from you looking entirely too comfortable for someone who wasn’t supposed to exist in this part of your life.
Unlike you, Yoongi doesn’t rush to explain himself. He simply looks at her, calm and unreadable, his expression revealing absolutely nothing despite the fact that you know there is no possible universe in which this encounter doesn’t affect him. For a few seconds, nobody says anything. Sophie keeps looking between the two of you, clearly trying to understand how she has walked into a situation she didn’t know existed. Then, after what feels like an unusually long pause, she pulls out the empty chair beside the table and sits down.
“It’s been a while.”
Her attention settles entirely on Yoongi now.
“It has.”
The simplicity of the exchange somehow makes everything feel more significant. There is no awkward greeting, no emotional reunion, no dramatic reaction. Just two people looking at each other after years apart and speaking as though they ran into each other last week instead of carrying an entire history neither of them seems particularly eager to unpack in the middle of a café.
“How have you been?” Sophie asks.
Yoongi’s gaze remains fixed on her for a moment before he answers. “I’ve been fine. What about you?”
A small laugh escapes her. “Busy. Things have been really busy lately.”
You know exactly what she means. At this point, her life revolves around guest lists, venue changes, decoration disasters, relatives causing problems and whatever new wedding emergency decides to appear every week. The word busy barely covers it.
Yoongi nods slowly. “So I heard.”
The comment is innocent enough, but the meaning behind it hangs there anyway. Sophie notices it too. You can tell by the way her eyes linger on him for a second longer, as though she’s deciding whether to acknowledge the obvious implication behind those two simple words.
Instead, she turns toward you.
“I didn’t know you two knew each other.”
The question sounds casual enough, but the look accompanying it feels anything but. You can practically see the gears turning behind Sophie’s eyes as she tries to work backwards through information she didn’t know she was missing.
You force yourself not to panic.
“We met a few weeks ago.”
Sophie’s eyebrows lift slightly.
”Really?”You nod.
“At a club.”
For a moment, she simply looks at you.
“Oh.”
The single syllable is enough to tell you she’s trying to make sense of it.
For a second, it looks like she’s about to ask another question. Then she stops herself.
Whatever thought crossed her mind remains unspoken as she leans back slightly in her chair, still looking mildly puzzled but apparently willing to let the explanation stand.
Sophie studies you for another moment before letting out a small hum. She doesn’t look convinced exactly, but she doesn’t look suspicious either.
Before she can continue questioning either of you, Yoongi shifts the conversation elsewhere.
“What are you doing here?”
Thankfully, the attention moves away from you immediately.
“I’m waiting for someone.”
“Who?” Yoongi asks, resting his elbows on the table.
“You remember?” Sophie asks, her voice barely audible.
“You only ever had one best friend.”
A smile appears on her face before she can stop it. It’s small and completely unconscious, the kind of smile that belongs to memories rather than the present moment. You don’t miss it. Unfortunately, neither does Yoongi.
Before either of them can continue, the bell above the café door rings.
The timing is almost ridiculous.
A tall figure steps inside, scanning the room for approximately two seconds before spotting Sophie.
“There you are.”
Sophie’s face immediately brightens.
“You’re late.”
“The traffic was terrible.”
Jin makes his way toward the table, adjusting the sleeve of his jacket as he walks. Then his eyes land on Yoongi.
He stops.
For a second he simply stares, looking as though his brain is struggling to process what his eyes are seeing.
Then recognition arrives.
“Min Yoongi?”
His surprise immediately turns into a grin.
“Wow. It’s been ages.”
Even Yoongi smiles.
Not one of his polite smiles, a real one.
“Hey, Jin.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Jin laughs before dropping into the empty chair beside Sophie. Unlike everyone else at the table, he seems entirely comfortable with the bizarre nature of this situation. If anything, he appears mildly entertained by it.
The conversation becomes easier after that. Not normal, because nothing about this is normal, but easier. Jin fills every silence before it has the chance to become awkward, Sophie gradually relaxes into the familiarity of his presence and somehow the four of you end up talking as though this strange collision of past and present isn’t happening at all.
Mostly, you listen.
You listen to stories you weren’t there for, names you’ve never heard before and memories that belong entirely to them. Every now and then Sophie laughs at something Jin says and every now and then you catch Yoongi looking at her for a fraction of a second longer than he probably intends to. Not staring. Not lingering. Just looking.
Then Sophie’s phone vibrates.
You don’t need to see the screen, the smile gives it away immediately: Jungkook.
She answers without hesitation.
“Hey.”
The conversation is quiet enough that you can’t hear his side, but that doesn’t stop your stomach from tightening.
“Yeah, he just got here.”
A pause.
Her eyes briefly flicker toward the table.
Toward you.
Toward Yoongi.
“I’m with Y/N.”
Another pause follows.
“And Yoongi.”
This time the silence stretches longer.
You don’t know what Jungkook says on the other side of the call, but something about Sophie’s expression shifts ever so slightly before she lets out an uncomfortable laugh.
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
“I know.”
When she ends the call, she places her phone back on the table with a little more care than necessary.
“Jungkook’s coming.”
Nobody reacts immediately.
Then she adds “He knows I’m here with you guys.”
The atmosphere changes so subtly that you almost convince yourself you’re imagining it. Almost. Jin remains completely unbothered.
Yoongi doesn’t visibly react either, but you’ve spent enough time around him to notice the small things. The way his attention drifts away from the conversation. The way his fingers stop moving. The way his gaze briefly lowers toward the table before returning somewhere over your shoulder.
A few seconds later, he stands. You look up immediately.
“Yoongi?”
His eyes find yours.
“We should go.”
The certainty in his voice catches you off guard.
“What? Why?”
“It’s getting late.”
The excuse is weak. Both of you know it.
Still, something about his expression tells you not to push. Before you can question him further, he reaches for your hand. The gesture feels natural enough that you don’t think about it at first.
Only when you’re already standing do you realize what happened. Sophie’s gaze immediately drops to your joined hands. You can’t read her expression.
Not even a little: there’s confusion there, curiosity too.
Something else as well. Something you can’t quite identify. Jin notices it too, although unlike Sophie, he looks dangerously close to saying something that would make this entire situation significantly worse.
Thankfully, he stays quiet.
“We’ll see you around.”
Yoongi’s voice remains calm.
Sophie’s eyes move from him to you and then back again.
“Yeah.”
A small smile appears.
“See you around.”
A few moments later you’re outside, the café door closing behind you as the cool evening air immediately hits your face. Neither of you says anything at first, continuing down the sidewalk while the city carries on around you completely unaware of the emotional disaster that just unfolded inside a random café. Eventually, you let out a disbelieving laugh and drag a hand across your face.
“Well, that was terrible.”
This time Yoongi actually laughs.
A genuine laugh.
“Yeah,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That could’ve gone better.”
.✦ ݁˖
Sophie remains seated long after you and Yoongi leave.
Not because she has any particular reason to stay, but because standing up would mean acknowledging that the afternoon is over, and she isn’t entirely sure she’s ready to do that yet.
Across from her, Jin is saying something about a coworker he can’t stand, gesturing with one hand while finishing the last of his coffee with the other, but she only catches every third sentence. Her attention keeps drifting elsewhere, back toward the café door, back toward the image of Yoongi standing up from the table, back toward the strange expression she’d caught on his face when he’d looked at her.
The whole encounter had lasted less than an hour.
Less than an hour and somehow it had managed to drag years back to the surface.
“You know you’re not listening to me, right?”
Sophie’s eyes lift.
“What?” Jin laughs.
“Exactly.”
She forces a smile and looks down at her cup.
“Sorry.”
“You okay?”
The question is casual, but Jin knows her too well.
“I’m fine.”
“Sure.”
His tone immediately tells her he doesn’t believe her.
Neither of them bothers arguing about it.
A few minutes later the bell above the café door rings again and Sophie looks up automatically.
This time, when she sees Jungkook walking inside, relief washes through her so suddenly that it almost surprises her.
Jin notices immediately.
Which is even more unfortunate.
“Hi guys.”
Jungkook smiles as he approaches the table.
Jin stands to greet him and the two exchange a quick handshake before Jungkook slides into the empty seat beside Sophie.
His hand briefly settles against her knee beneath the table.
For the first time all afternoon, something inside her begins to settle.
The conversation that follows is easy enough. Jin does most of the talking, as he always does, jumping from one topic to another with absolutely no regard for transitions while Jungkook occasionally contributes and Sophie listens. Every now and then she catches Jungkook looking at her, probably noticing how unusually quiet she is, but thankfully he doesn’t ask about it.
By the time they finally leave the café, the sky outside has already begun darkening.
Jin heads in the opposite direction after pulling Sophie into a quick hug and promising to see her soon, leaving her alone with Jungkook for the first time since earlier.
The silence starts before they even reach the car.
At first it doesn’t seem strange.
They’re both tired and It’s been a long day.
But the silence follows them inside, stretching through the first few minutes of the drive, lingering long enough that Sophie gradually becomes aware of it.
Jungkook keeps his eyes on the road- one hand rests against the steering wheel, the other against the gear shift.
Outside, the city moves past in streaks of light and passing headlights. Inside, neither of them speaks.
Eventually Jungkook exhales.
“You saw Yoongi.”
The statement settles heavily between them. Sophie’s stomach immediately tightens.
“Don’t start.” The response comes out sharper than intended.
Jungkook lets out a short laugh; not because he finds anything funny. He doesn’t.
“Of course you’d say that.”
Sophie turns toward him.
“What does that mean?”
“It means every time I bring up something you don’t want to talk about, your first reaction is telling me not to start.”
The calmness in his voice irritates her more than anger would have.
“You’re already making assumptions.”
Jungkook glances at her briefly before looking back at the road.
Jungkook lets out a quiet laugh, though there’s nothing amused about it ”Am I not supposed to?”Sophie turns toward him immediately “No. You’re supposed to trust me.”
The answer comes out sharper than she intended, but she doesn’t take it back. For a moment, Jungkook says nothing. His eyes remain fixed on the road ahead, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
“How was it?”
The question lands inside the car with a kind of quiet precision that makes Sophie feel instantly cornered. The streetlights slide across his face in passing intervals, carving out moments of calm that don’t quite match the tension building between them, as if the world outside is moving on a different emotional frequency.
Sophie shifts in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her arms without really noticing she’s doing it, her gaze fixed somewhere on the windshield rather than on him, because looking at Jungkook right now feels like admitting to something she hasn’t even defined for herself yet.
The memory of the café lingers too vividly behind her eyes, especially the brief, unsettling moment when Yoongi had stood so close to her without saying much.
“It was fine.” she finally answers, her voice controlled in a way that almost convinces even her, though the hesitation beneath it betrays more than she intends.
Jungkook lets out a slow breath through his nose, the kind of sound that is less a reaction and more a restraint, as if he is carefully keeping something contained rather than letting it spill into the space between them. His fingers tighten slightly around the steering wheel, but his expression remains steady, almost unnaturally so for someone who is clearly trying not to react too strongly.
“Fine” he repeats after a moment, the word carrying just enough disbelief to make it feel heavier than it should.
Sophie turns her head toward him at that, her patience thinning in a way she doesn’t fully want to acknowledge, because part of her understands where this is coming from and another part of her resents being placed under a spotlight she didn’t ask for. The city outside continues to blur past, indifferent to the fact that something fragile is being tested inside the car.
“You’re doing that thing again” she says, her tone sharper now, not quite raised but no longer soft either, as if she is trying to draw a line before the conversation crosses it for her.
Jungkook glances at her briefly, just long enough for his eyes to register the expression on her face, before he returns his attention to the road, his silence stretching in a way that feels deliberate rather than accidental. The pause that follows isn’t empty; it feels filled with everything he is choosing not to say yet.
“I’m not doing anything” he replies eventually, his voice lower now, measured in a way that suggests he is still trying to keep control of himself, even if that control is starting to feel strained.
Sophie scoffs under her breath, looking away again as she presses her back into the seat, her jaw tightening as the conversation shifts into something more familiar and therefore more dangerous. The distance between them suddenly feels larger than the physical space of the car, as if the argument has already moved somewhere neither of them can easily reach.
“You know I love you more than anything.” she says after a beat, her words slower this time but no less charged, as though she is trying to make him hear what she is really accusing him of without saying it directly.
Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tightens again, this time more visibly, and when he speaks, there is a faint edge beneath the calm that finally starts to show through the surface he has been maintaining.
“And you take my love for granted.” he says, his voice steady but no longer soft, as the restraint he has been holding onto begins to fray in small, controlled pieces.
Sophie exhales sharply, turning fully toward him now, the frustration finally breaking through the careful composure she had been trying to maintain since the café.
“You know I fucking don’t. You’re the one that keeps asking questions like you already decided the answers” she replies, her tone rising just slightly, enough to make the space inside the car feel suddenly smaller.
For a moment, Jungkook doesn’t respond, and the silence that follows is more loaded than any words could have been, because it carries the weight of suspicion he doesn’t fully voice and the exhaustion Sophie doesn’t fully admit. The car slows at a red light, and the glow of it paints both of their faces in a brief wash of red that feels almost symbolic in its timing.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to think. He’s back in your life.” he says finally, quieter now, though not less firm, as if he is admitting something he has been trying to avoid saying aloud.
Sophie looks away again, her eyes settling on the passing sidewalk, on strangers who have no idea what kind of conversation is happening just a few meters away from them, and for a moment she feels the strange disconnection of being physically present in a place she no longer emotionally belongs to. Her fingers curl slightly against her own palm as she searches for something to say that won’t make everything worse and fails to find it quickly enough.
“You’re supposed to trust me.” she repeats, but this time it doesn’t come out sharp, it comes out tired, as if she is repeating a line she has already said before and is not sure it has ever truly landed.
“I haven’t heard from him since. He’s not back into my life and you know that.”
Jungkook doesn’t answer, and when the light turns green again, the car moves forward without either of them resolving anything, carrying their silence into the final stretch of the drive. The apartment building appears sooner than Sophie wants it to, too familiar and too final in the way it waits for them.
The moment Jungkook parks, the engine noise fading into stillness, neither of them moves right away, as if leaving the car would require an agreement they haven’t reached. The argument doesn’t end so much as it stalls, suspended in the air between them as they finally step out into the night that feels colder than it should.
They walk side by side toward the entrance without touching, without speaking, and even though they are heading into the same home, it feels like they are still carrying separate versions of the evening with them, neither willing to adjust to the other’s.
.✦ ݁˖
The café is busy in that predictable way that doesn’t require you to think too much, just move, serve, repeat. You keep your focus on orders and receipts, letting the rhythm of work fill in the gaps your mind keeps trying to drift into.
Layla works beside you without saying much at first, passing cups, wiping counters, adjusting small things that don’t really need adjusting just so her hands stay busy. But there’s something in the way she keeps looking at you that doesn’t quite match the usual rhythm of your shifts together. Not curiosity exactly. More like recognition of something you’re actively trying not to show.
You ignore it as best as you can.
A lull comes somewhere mid-morning, brief and almost suspicious, and you take the chance to lean slightly against the counter while checking your phone.
One new message is already waiting.
kook❤️🩹: Are you free tonight?
You stare at it for a moment, your thumb resting lightly against the edge of the screen without moving forward or back, as if even a simple reply might shift something you’re not ready to shift yet. The name alone is enough to make your thoughts tighten, because it doesn’t feel like just a question, it feels like timing you don’t fully understand.
Before you can even decide what to do with it, the phone vibrates again in your hand.
A second notification appears almost immediately, pushing everything else aside without effort.
yoongi: Can we talk?
Your breath catches slightly, subtle enough that no one around you would notice, but enough that you notice it yourself.
You don’t move for a second, just standing there with both messages sitting on the screen like they’ve been waiting for this exact moment to arrive together, even if they clearly weren’t meant to.
You lock the screen quickly, setting the phone down with more control than you actually feel, and force yourself back into motion as if nothing just changed at all.
Behind you, Layla finishes what she’s doing and glances over, noticing the way you’ve gone still.
“Everything okay?” she asks, not pushing too hard but clearly not buying the calm you’re trying to keep.
You turn toward her with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, something light and automatic that feels borrowed rather than real, not entirely sure why you’re not just saying anything out loud right now or why this is suddenly something you’re trying to carry alone instead of letting her in on it.
“Yeah” you answer, already turning back toward the counter like the conversation is over before it can even start.
───────────
author’s note:
Ngl this chapter felt way too short, but y’all- shit’s about to go down :P
Sooo how was it??? One thing about me is that I always have to end chapters with a cliffhanger, i’m sorry😭
Funny how a car crash at the Monaco Grand Prix ended up crashing everything else too.
F1 racer!jungkook, Songwriter!oc, childhood bestfriends to lovers, racing accidents/crashes, public scrutiny, friends to lovers, hate comments, emotional dependency, jealousy, miscommunication, angst, toxic fan culture, media pressure, arguments, alcohol consumption, anxiety, emotional burnout, slowburn, smut
desclaimer: this is a fictional story and does not reflect the real personalities or lives of any idols, drivers or celebrities mentioned. pls remember this is all fake and made for fun !!
word count: 10.5k words
Series Masterlist
note: chapter 4 is here guysss, this is a looong one and i did put in a lot of thoughts for this one, i tried my best to pour in all the emotions i could, cause this is kinda the peak of the series. And honestly, by the end of the chapter i could feel the goosebumps on my body, like i was soooo into the story. So i hope i was able to put that into this chapter and i really really hope ya'll feel the same and enjoy this one. I'd really appreciate your feedbacks and comments. Love ya'll, mwah mwah <33
Sleep had abandoned you somewhere around dawn.
Not dramatically. There was no sudden awakening, no nightmare, no particular thought dragging you from unconsciousness. You had simply opened your eyes sometime after six and immediately known there was no point trying again. Monaco sat waiting on the other side of the morning, heavy and impossible to ignore, and every attempt at closing your eyes only seemed to make you more aware of it.
The hotel room remained quiet as you pushed yourself upright, the sheets pooling around your waist while early sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains. Somewhere below, the city was beginning to wake. Not fully. Not yet. The streets weren't crowded, the yachts remained mostly still in the harbour, and the circuit that would soon be packed with spectators looked strangely harmless from this height. It was always unsettling, seeing race tracks before race day properly began. As though somebody had taken something loud and dangerous and temporarily disguised it as ordinary.
The balcony door slid open beneath your hand, cool air immediately rushing into the room. It felt nice after the stuffiness of sleep, carrying with it the faint scent of the sea and something distinctly Monaco that you had never quite been able to identify despite visiting often enough.
Leaning your forearms against the railing, your gaze wandered aimlessly across the harbour below. Sunlight scattered across the water in fractured pieces, catching against windows and polished decks and every reflective surface unfortunate enough to face the morning. In a few hours, the entire city would be loud. Cameras. Commentators. Fans. Helicopters circling overhead. Yet for now, there was only the distant hum of Monaco stretching awake around you.
Your eyes eventually drifted lower, wandering away from the harbour and the yachts and the circuit winding through Monaco's streets, until movement near the hotel grounds caught your attention: a lone figure rounding the side of the building before disappearing again almost immediately.
At first, you barely paid any attention to it, assuming it was probably another guest taking advantage of the cooler morning temperatures before the city properly woke up, yet several seconds later, the figure appeared again, emerging from around another corner before vanishing just as quickly, and this time, your gaze followed automatically, curiosity settling in before you could stop it.
A smile tugged at your lips. Of course, who else would be voluntarily running laps around a hotel at six in the morning on Monaco race day?
Below, Jungkook disappeared behind the building once more before reappearing moments later looking exactly the same as before, maintaining the same steady pace he had apparently decided was necessary despite the fact that he would be climbing into a Formula One car in only a few hours. From twenty-nine floors above, he should've been impossible to recognize, reduced to little more than a moving silhouette dressed entirely in black, yet some part of you would've known it was him immediately. Maybe it was the way he ran, the slight forward lean he'd had for as long as you could remember, or maybe it was because you'd spent so much of your life unconsciously searching for him in crowds that identifying him had eventually become instinct.
The realization settled quietly in your chest, not dramatic enough to demand attention and not significant enough to interrupt your thoughts, simply existing with the same ease as countless other things that had become normal over the years. Below, Jungkook completed another lap, then another, then another, his pace never changing, his determination remaining just as ridiculous as it had always been whenever something mattered too much to him.
The closer a race was to his heart, the harder it became for him to sit still, and judging by the number of laps he'd already completed before most people had even finished sleeping, Monaco had clearly won that battle.
Idiot.
The thought arrived with so much affection attached to it that you didn't even bother correcting yourself, your smile lingering far longer than it should have while your gaze continued following his progress around the hotel grounds, watching him disappear and reappear and disappear again beneath the slowly brightening Monaco sun.
Below, Jungkook slowed briefly, one hand pushing damp hair away from his forehead as he walked for several seconds before immediately starting another lap.
After a while, you walked back inside towards the shower, deciding that if you were going to spend the next several hours suffering through race-day anxiety, you could at least do it while looking presentable.
By the time you emerged again, dressed and mostly awake, your phone lit up.
Jungkook.
A smile appeared immediately as you accepted the phone call before the second ring. "Hey."
"Why do you sound awake?" You laughed.
The accusation arrived so quickly that it almost caught you off guard. "Good morning to you, too."
"No, seriously," Jungkook continued. "How long have you been awake for? Why do you sound like that?"
"Like what?"
"Functioning." You couldn’t help but scoff at the response. By now, you were already out of your room, carefully sliding the key card into your back pocket as you reached the end of the hallway. The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped inside.
"I hate to break it to you, but some of us possess basic life skills."
The elevator began descending, and outside the glass wall overlooking the lobby, Monaco continued waking beneath the morning sun.
"You should be asleep."
"You called me."
"Exactly. I was trying to wake you up." A laugh escaped before you could stop it.
Somewhere on the other end, Jungkook sighed dramatically.
"I even waited until a reasonable hour."
"Seven-thirty isn't a reasonable hour."
"It is for you." The elevator reached the ground floor as you stepped into the lobby.
"What are you doing anyway?" he asked.
His tone had shifted slightly, a little more casual and curious. You could practically picture him slowing to a walk while asking.
Pushing through the hotel entrance, you stepped out into the gardens surrounding the property, morning sunlight immediately settling across your shoulders while neatly maintained hedges and winding stone pathways stretched ahead beneath a sky that seemed far too calm for a race day, and it took less than a few seconds for your gaze to find him.
“I’m walking.”
Jungkook stood several metres away with his back turned towards you, phone pressed against one ear, dressed entirely in black, still slightly flushed from his workout, and still completely unaware of the fact that the person he was currently attempting to wake up had already been watching him run laps around the hotel for the better part of an hour. The sight alone made a smile tug at your lips, and by the time his voice filtered through the phone once more, questioning where exactly you were, the urge to annoy him had already become impossible to resist.
A brief pause followed, confusion immediately threading through his voice as he replied with a simple, "What does that mean?" while you continued walking towards him, each step making it increasingly difficult to keep the smile off your face.
The answer came easily. "It means turn around."
Jungkook froze so abruptly that the gravel beneath his shoes shifted slightly, his head turning first before his shoulders followed, realization slowly piecing itself together as he looked over the hotel gardens until his gaze finally landed on you. The confusion vanished instantly. Offense replaced it just as quickly.
“Oh, fuck off."
The accusation escaped before he could stop it, earning a laugh that echoed through the otherwise quiet garden while Jungkook lowered his phone and stared at you as though personally betrayed. "Come on."
"You saw me from your room, didn't you?"
"Maybe."
"You did." His eyes narrowed immediately as your grin widened.
And suddenly, for the first time all morning, some of the nerves that had been sitting heavily inside your chest seemed to loosen ever so slightly, because after everything that had happened yesterday, after the celebrations and interviews and cameras and endless reminders of what today meant, there was something reassuringly familiar about finding Jungkook standing in the middle of a hotel garden arguing over absolutely nothing.
"How are you all showered and freshened up already?"
The accusation arrived again, though this time amusement had already begun creeping into his expression.
"I woke up early."
"So you watched me run laps around the hotel?"
"I was looking at the gorgeous view from my room ."
"And that's me."
"No, that's Monaco, you fugly ass bitch."
The look he gave you only made the smile worse, because he genuinely seemed unable to decide whether the alarming part was the fact that you'd been awake before sunrise or the fact that you were calling him all sorts of names. His hair remained slightly damp from sweat, and his expression carried the same disbelief you'd seen countless times before whenever he decided you were being unreasonable.
"No way you recognized me from twenty-nine floors up."
"You weren't exactly difficult to identify."
"That's insane."
"I can literally find you even in a crowd of thousands."
The words slipped out before you could stop them, and for a second, Jungkook simply blinked at you before a laugh escaped, not particularly loud or dramatic but enough to soften something around the edges of his expression. "That's creepy."
"Oh, look who’s talking."
The two of you started walking back towards the hotel shortly afterwards, neither bothering to suggest it out loud because there wasn't much point. Some habits had existed for so long that they stopped feeling like decisions altogether, settling quietly into the fabric of your friendship until nobody could remember when they had actually started.
Following Jungkook upstairs before breakfast belonged somewhere on that list, alongside race-day phone calls, stolen food from each other's plates, and arguments over music during long flights despite both of you already knowing exactly how those conversations would end, and so you fell into step beside him without thinking twice about it, the morning stretching comfortably ahead while Monaco continued waking around you one slow moment at a time.
The journey passed without much discussion, interrupted only occasionally by race engineers wandering through the hotel or staff members wishing Jungkook luck for later. Each interaction was brief and polite. Yet you noticed the way his shoulders tensed slightly every time somebody reminded him what today meant.
You waited until the elevator doors slid shut behind you before speaking again. "Nervous?"
The question lingered in the air between you as Jungkook didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back lightly against the mirrored wall behind him, crossing his arms as the elevator began climbing, his gaze fixed somewhere above your head while considering the question more seriously than most people would've expected.
"A little."
The answer made you laugh. Not because it was funny, but because it was ridiculous.
Jungkook glanced at you. "What?"
"A little?"
His expression remained completely serious. "A little."
"You spent forty-five minutes running laps around the hotel."
"I do it every day."
"But today you were stress-running."
"I wasn’t.” The denial arrived far too quickly to be convincing.
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. Unfortunately, Jungkook knew exactly what that laugh meant. "I hate when you do that."
"Do what?"
"That laugh where you already know you're right." Your smile widened as you dangled your tongue at him. Beside you, Jungkook shook his head before looking away, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him almost immediately. And just like that, the nerves seemed a little smaller than they had an hour ago.
By the time the elevator reached Jungkook's floor, whatever remained of the conversation had dissolved into something quieter, the comfortable sort of silence that had never felt awkward between the two of you, no matter how many years passed, perhaps because there simply wasn't much left to prove after spending the better part of your lives together.
The hallway stretched ahead in perfect hotel symmetry once the doors slid open, expensive enough to make you wonder whether anybody had ever actually lived inside the rooms lining either side of it, and for a brief moment, you found yourself thinking about how strange Formula One really was. Somewhere downstairs sat race engineers preparing strategy plans capable of deciding championships, journalists already drafting headlines before the race had even begun, and thousands of fans waking up across different time zones to watch a man who, at this exact moment, was fumbling through his pockets because he'd somehow misplaced his room key despite having used it less than twenty minutes ago. A laugh escaped before you could stop it.
Jungkook immediately looked up. "What?"
"You lost it, didn't you?"
The accusation landed with enough accuracy that his expression answered before he did. "I didn't lose it."
"Oh, you absolutely lost it."
Jungkook opened his mouth, then closed it, then sighed dramatically.
Eventually, after another few seconds of searching and considerably more muttering than the situation warranted, he finally produced the key card from an entirely different pocket than the one he'd checked moments earlier, looking mildly offended by the discovery as though the card itself had intentionally inconvenienced him. "There."
"When will you grow up?"
Jungkook shook his head while pushing open the hotel room door, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him almost immediately, and you found yourself following him inside before either of you thought twice about it. The action felt so normal that it barely registered, which probably said more about your friendship than either of you would ever willingly acknowledge.
The room itself looked almost identical to yours, save for the fact that every available surface appeared to contain some evidence of Jungkook's existence. A Ferrari team jacket rested carelessly over the back of a chair near the window, yesterday's accreditation pass had somehow ended up abandoned beside a lamp, and an assortment of race-related items occupied the desk with the organized chaos of somebody who fully intended to clean everything later and almost certainly wouldn't.
Your gaze wandered around the room while Jungkook disappeared briefly into the adjoining bedroom, leaving you alone amongst the familiar chaos that seemed to follow him from hotel to hotel, before reappearing several moments later carrying something carefully tucked beneath one arm. Immediately, your attention sharpened. The look on his face alone was enough warning that whatever he was holding was important, a smile already threatening at the corners of his mouth despite his obvious attempts to act casual about the whole thing.
Without saying a word, he crossed the room and placed the helmet carefully on the coffee table between you, the movement carrying a sort of unconscious reverence that you recognized immediately. Drivers always pretended they weren't sentimental about their helmets until the moment somebody touched one carelessly, and the fact that Jungkook was handling this one as though it belonged behind glass rather than on a race track told you everything you needed to know before you even looked properly.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The helmet was beautiful. Not in the loud, overdesigned way special-edition helmets occasionally became whenever somebody tried too hard to make them memorable, but in a way that felt deliberate, every detail placed with purpose rather than simply for decoration. The familiar Ferrari red remained woven throughout the design alongside broad black accents and subtle gold detailing that caught the light whenever the helmet shifted slightly, while delicate references to Monaco appeared throughout the artwork in ways that felt elegant rather than obvious, revealing themselves only after a second glance.
Slowly, you stepped closer, your attention drifting across the design while discovering something new every few seconds. The outline of the harbour. The Monaco skyline worked subtly into one side. Small details hidden amongst the larger artwork that most people would probably never notice during a race broadcast. The longer you looked, the more there seemed to be.
A smile appeared before you even realized it. "Okay, that's ridiculous."
Across from you, Jungkook immediately looked pleased with himself. "What?"
"You know exactly what." His grin widened.
The reaction alone was answer enough.
"You've been waiting to show this off."
"Not at all."
"You brought it out within ten minutes of me entering your room."
The accusation landed successfully enough that Jungkook looked away, which only confirmed your suspicions.
Your gaze drifted towards Jungkook, finding him already watching you with the sort of anticipation people usually reserved for receiving grades or waiting for reviews.
"I spent weeks working on it."
Your attention drifted back towards the helmet once more, noticing details you'd missed before and understanding suddenly why he'd wanted to show it to you before anyone else.
"It's beautiful."
The words came out softer than intended.
"Yeah?"
You nodded, and the smile that appeared afterwards was small and genuine and somehow more satisfying than all the teasing that had come before it, lingering on Jungkook's face even after the conversation had begun drifting elsewhere. For a while, the helmet remained between you, occupying most of your attention as you continued discovering details you hadn't noticed at first glance, while Jungkook sat nearby pretending not to care about your reaction nearly as much as he clearly did.
Eventually, your phone found its way into your hand, the movement catching Jungkook's attention almost immediately despite the fact that he had been pretending not to watch your reaction to the helmet for the past several minutes.
For somebody whose face appeared on billboards, magazine covers, race broadcasts, promotional campaigns, and approximately every sports-related social media account in existence, Jungkook remained remarkably opposed to being photographed whenever the choice was actually his, a contradiction that had never stopped being funny no matter how many years passed.
The moment your phone appeared in your hand, suspicion crossed his face, followed by realization and then something alarmingly close to horror, his immediate refusal arriving before you'd even managed to open the camera. Unfortunately for him, that only made the whole thing more entertaining.
What was supposed to be a single photograph quickly dissolved into several, mostly because Jungkook seemed physically incapable of behaving normally whenever a camera was pointed in his direction, every attempt somehow producing a different problem entirely. In one photograph, he looked painfully aware of being observed, in another, he looked as though somebody had just informed him of a national emergency, and by the fifth attempt, both of you were laughing too hard to take the process seriously anymore.
Eventually, you lowered the phone altogether, still smiling as your gaze drifted back towards him, only to stop abruptly when something finally clicked into place. His hair. The early morning workout, the Monaco humidity, and his nervous habit of repeatedly dragging his hands through it throughout the morning had combined into a complete disaster, leaving behind a level of chaos that somehow felt considerably more representative of the actual Jeon Jungkook than anything a stylist could ever create.
A second later, your hand disappeared into his hair entirely, fingers pushing through the dark strands and making an already questionable situation dramatically worse, until whatever remained of his attempts at looking presentable vanished completely. The look of betrayal that followed was immediate and so deeply offended that laughter became unavoidable.
"There," you announced proudly, stepping back to admire your work. "Now you actually look like yourself."
Jungkook stared at you for a long moment, one hand lifting automatically towards the damage before stopping halfway there as though he'd already realized the situation was beyond saving. The look he gave you promised revenge. But the smile you gave back suggested you weren't particularly worried.
The moment you reached forward to mess it up again, he caught your wrist. “Don’t… fuck with my hair.”
The warning would've been far more convincing had his hair not already looked completely hopeless. A laugh escaped before you could stop it, and unfortunately, that seemed to offend him even further.
“I'm serious.”
“So am I,” you replied, already reaching forward again. “You look ridiculous.” The betrayal on his face was immediate.
But before you could mess it up further, a cushion suddenly collided with your shoulder. A loud gasp left your mouth as your eyes dropped towards the pillow now lying on the floor. Slowly, you looked back at Jungkook, who looked entirely unapologetic.
“Oh, that's how we're handling this?”
Before he could properly defend himself, you grabbed the pillow resting beside you and launched it directly at his face, the attack neither graceful nor particularly powerful, but successful enough that Jungkook's sentence ended abruptly beneath a look of genuine betrayal, his head jerking backwards as the pillow bounced harmlessly off his shoulder before landing somewhere near the sofa. For a second, he simply stared at you, as if you had started it all; though, that expression alone was enough to destroy whatever composure remained.
A laugh escaped before you could stop it, immediately followed by Jungkook again reaching for the nearest pillow, which somehow made everything worse because the movement was so predictable that you were already backing away before he'd even managed to grab it.
The next few moments dissolved into complete chaos. You managed to dodge one attack entirely, another clipped your shoulder, a third somehow ended up trapped beneath your arm before being thrown straight back at him, and through all of it, the laughter never really stopped, growing louder with each passing second until breathing became genuinely difficult.
Unfortunately, attempting to retreat while laughing proved to be a terrible strategy, because one second you were moving backwards in triumph after narrowly avoiding another attack, and the next your heel caught against the edge of the rug, your balance vanishing so quickly that the laugh still hadn't left your mouth before a startled sound replaced it. Jungkook immediately reached forward, whether to stop you falling or simply because instinct had beaten logic to the punch, but the attempt only made everything worse, his own balance disappearing the second yours did, and suddenly the room tilted in the most spectacularly inconvenient way possible.
Your legs collided with the edge of the bed first, momentum carrying you backwards onto the mattress, while Jungkook stumbled directly after you, and for one brief second, it genuinely seemed as though both of you might recover but then gravity intervened.
By the time everything finally stopped moving, half your body remained awkwardly sprawled across the bed while the rest of you had somehow ended up draped over Jungkook, who now lay flat on his back on the floor beside it, looking just as confused as you felt. For a moment, neither of you moved. The position itself wasn't uncomfortable, merely unexpected, yet awareness arrived almost immediately afterwards, because suddenly you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath you, could hear his laugh trying and failing to escape, could feel your face growing warmer for reasons you absolutely refused to examine. The realization seemed to hit both of you simultaneously, judging by the way Jungkook immediately looked away and the way your own gaze suddenly became very interested in a random point somewhere near his shoulder.
Then laughter returned so violently that it physically hurt. The two of you remained exactly where you were for several seconds afterwards, incapable of doing anything except laugh harder every time one of you attempted to speak, until eventually you managed to push yourself upright, wiping tears from your eyes while trying and failing to regain some semblance of dignity. Across from you, Jungkook wasn't doing much better, his hair completely ruined, his cheeks slightly flushed, and his expression carrying the sort of helpless amusement that only appeared when something genuinely caught him off guard. The sight alone nearly restarted the entire thing.
"Come on," you finally managed, extending a hand towards him despite still laughing. "Get up."
In hindsight, it was a terrible idea.
Jungkook took your hand immediately, and for one glorious second, it seemed as though the plan might actually work. Then reality remembered that professional athletes were significantly heavier than songwriters. The moment he pulled, your balance disappeared again, a startled laugh escaping before you could stop it as the floor seemed to vanish beneath your feet entirely, and suddenly you were falling for the second time in less than a minute.
This time, there was no mattress to soften anything. You landed directly on top of him, the impact knocking another burst of laughter from both of you while Jungkook instinctively caught your waist in a completely unsuccessful attempt to stabilize the situation. If anything, it made it worse.
The movement shifted both of you sideways; neither managed to recover, and within seconds the room was once again filled with the sound of completely uncontrollable laughter, the kind that made your stomach ache and your eyes water and every attempt at calming down entirely impossible. By then, neither of you even seemed interested in standing up anymore, content to remain collapsed on the floor in the aftermath of your own stupidity while desperately trying to convince your racing hearts that they were only reacting to laughter.
Eventually, the laughter began fading, though neither of you seemed particularly interested in helping the process along because every attempt at calming down lasted approximately three seconds before one of you looked at the other and immediately ruined whatever progress had been made. Jungkook remained trapped beneath you, one arm still loosely wrapped around your waist from his completely unsuccessful attempt at preventing the second fall, while you were currently attempting to support your weight with one hand planted beside his shoulder despite the fact that neither of you possessed enough coordination to actually move.
The worst part was that the room had gone quiet now, not silent, but quiet enough that awareness slowly began creeping back in around the edges of everything. Quiet enough that you could hear your breathing gradually slowing, quiet enough that suddenly it became impossible not to notice things that hadn't seemed particularly important thirty seconds earlier.
Your eyes met first, and neither of you looked away immediately, not because anything dramatic happened and certainly not because either of you suddenly discovered feelings that hadn't existed before, but simply because after laughing for so long, after spending the better part of fifteen minutes behaving like complete idiots, there was something strangely disarming about finding yourselves here.
The realization seemed to hit both of you simultaneously, judging by the way his gaze immediately dropped before darting somewhere over your shoulder, while your own face suddenly felt much warmer than it had any right to. For a brief second, neither of you seemed entirely sure what to do next, because moving felt awkward and not moving somehow felt worse, and after spending your entire lives around each other, after years of shared flights and race weekends and random afternoons spent doing absolutely nothing together, the fact that this particular moment had somehow managed to become awkward felt deeply unfair.
Then, naturally, Jungkook ruined it. "I think you've broken a few ribs."
The accusation arrived with such complete seriousness that it took a second to process, another second to realize he was being ridiculous, and a third for the laugh to escape before you could stop it. "It’s your fault."
"How come?"
"You started this bullshit." Another laugh escaped immediately before he joined yours, his head falling backwards against the carpet while yours dropped forward in surrender.
"That was self-defence."
"Against what?"
"Your filthy hands." You gave me an offended look, to which Jungkook only laughed further.
The two of you were still collapsed on a hotel floor, arguing over a pillow fight. The thought should've felt ridiculous. Instead, it felt comforting. Eventually, after several failed attempts and considerably more laughter than necessary, you finally managed to untangle yourselves from the disaster you'd created, though standing proved surprisingly difficult when every glance threatened to restart the entire thing.
By the time you reached your feet, your cheeks hurt from smiling, your stomach hurt from laughing, and Jungkook looked only marginally more put together than he had while trapped beneath you on the floor. Unfortunately for him, his hair still looked terrible.
“You look terrible, by the way.” Your words earned you a scoff from him.
Your laugh followed instantly. “Go take a shower, bitch. The rest of us would like to have breakfast without you smelling like shit.”
You simply grinned, already moving towards the door. “Downstairs in fifteen.”
“Thirty.”
“Fifteen.”
“Fine.” Still smiling, you slipped out of the room, leaving him alone with his ruined hair, his Monaco helmet, and the biggest race of his life waiting just a few hours away.
The rest of the morning passed far more quickly than either of you expected.
Final team breakfast happened somewhere between laughter and race strategy, the entire Ferrari table existing in a strange state of controlled chaos where mechanics discussed weather forecasts, engineers stared at laptops, Taehyung complained dramatically about being awake, and everybody simultaneously pretended Monaco wasn't sitting at the centre of every thought in the room. The closer race time crept, the shorter conversations grew, gradually giving way to that familiar race-day atmosphere where nobody was quite relaxed enough to behave normally.
Eventually, there was nothing left to do except leave.
Jungkook was one of the first to stand, exchanging a few final words with engineers before gathering his things and heading towards the circuit with the rest of the Ferrari team, the moment feeling strangely abrupt despite the fact that it happened every race weekend. One second, he was sitting across from you, stealing food from your plate, and the next, he was gone, swallowed by the world of team meetings, strategy briefings, media obligations, and everything else that existed between breakfast and lights out.
You watched him disappear through the hotel doors, then immediately went upstairs. Because if Jungkook had a race to prepare for, so did you.
The hotel room felt unusually quiet after the morning you'd just had, sunlight now flooding through the windows in bright sheets while Monaco buzzed somewhere below, growing louder and busier with every passing hour. Getting ready should have been simple. Instead, you somehow spent twenty minutes changing outfits, another ten convincing yourself you didn't need to change again, and several more staring out at the harbour while pretending you weren't nervous.
By the time you finally finished getting ready and reached the circuit, the city outside looked completely different from the version that had greeted you only a few hours earlier, the calm stillness of dawn having disappeared entirely beneath the growing excitement of race day. Helicopters already hovered above the harbour in lazy circles, their shadows occasionally skimming across the water below, while yachts crowded every available stretch of coastline and the streets surrounding the circuit swelled steadily with spectators draped in team colours, all of Monaco seeming to vibrate with the kind of anticipation that only existed a few hours before lights out.
You found yourself drifting towards the paddock almost absentmindedly, your gaze wandering around as though searching for something without quite realizing it, only for your attention to stop abruptly when movement inside the Ferrari hospitality building caught your eye. A laugh escaped before you could help it.
A few floors above, standing beside one of the small windows overlooking the paddock, were two figures dressed entirely in Ferrari red who were very obviously supposed to be preparing for a Grand Prix and very obviously doing anything but that. Jungkook stood pressed almost embarrassingly close to the window while Taehyung lingered beside him, and both seemed to have spotted you at exactly the same moment.
Idiots.
You genuinely had no idea how they'd managed it. Between the distance, the crowds, and the hundreds of windows surrounding the paddock, the chances of either of them noticing you should have been practically nonexistent, yet somehow they had. The moment Jungkook pointed dramatically in your direction, Taehyung's entire body seemed to light up with recognition before he immediately began waving with enough enthusiasm to attract the attention of half the hospitality building, while Jungkook, rather than stopping him, appeared to find the whole thing deeply amusing.
From up here, they looked less like professional racing drivers preparing for one of the biggest races on the Formula One calendar and more like children trapped behind glass, desperately trying to get someone's attention.
A second laugh escaped as your phone appeared in your hand almost automatically.
The photograph itself wasn't particularly good. The distance was too awkward, the lighting was working against you, and both men looked objectively ridiculous, one still pointing while the other continued waving as if his life depended on it, but somehow that only made the picture better.
The smile stayed on your face for most of the time in the circuit. But the closer you got to the paddock, the more obvious it became that race day had truly arrived, the atmosphere shifting almost perceptibly as the city transformed into something louder and more urgent than it had been only a few hours earlier.
By the time you finally stepped inside, the garages were already buzzing with activity, engineers moving constantly between meetings while mechanics completed final checks on the cars and journalists attempted to interview anybody willing to stand still for longer than ten seconds, camera crews weaving through narrow spaces with practiced efficiency while photographers crowded around drivers trying unsuccessfully to reach their own garages, every corner occupied by somebody carrying a headset, a clipboard, a camera, or a problem that needed solving before lights out.
And through all of it sat the Ferrari garage.
When you reached the pit wall, preparations had already entered their final stages, the cars long since rolled into position, while stacks of tyres waited nearby and engineers occupied every available space in front of endless monitors displaying streams of data that somehow seemed capable of making entire groups of highly intelligent people nervous simultaneously.
Eventually, the drivers emerged, and the crowd reacted immediately.
A wall of noise rolled across the circuit so suddenly and completely that it seemed to swallow everything else, swelling from grandstands and hospitality suites and the countless yachts packed tightly into the harbour until the sound appeared to bounce between every building surrounding Monaco. Your eyes found Jungkook almost instantly. Of course they did. Dressed in his race suit now with his helmet tucked beneath one arm, he moved through the organised chaos with the familiar confidence of somebody who had done this hundreds of times before, though today somehow felt different.
Maybe it was Monaco. Maybe it was pole position. Maybe it was simply the realization that one perfect afternoon separated him from achieving something he'd spent years dreaming about. Whatever the reason, it felt impossible to look away as photographers followed his every movement and broadcasters stopped him repeatedly for final comments, team personnel pulling him in one direction while officials needed him somewhere else, yet somehow he continued moving steadily towards the grid through all of it.
For a while, you simply watched. The interviews. The photographers. The final preparations. The endless noise, movement, and anticipation seemed to exist everywhere at once. Then, almost as if he could feel it, Jungkook glanced towards the pit wall. The distance between you was considerable, and the crowd separating you even larger, yet somehow his eyes found yours immediately, the moment lasting barely a second before he raised one hand in acknowledgment.
The gesture was small enough that most people would've missed it entirely. You didn't. Your own hand lifted automatically in return, and then just like that, he was gone again, disappearing back into the sea of people surrounding the grid while Ferrari engineers settled fully into position beside you, headsets secured, data screens glowing, strategy discussions beginning in earnest.
The race was close now. Close enough that the helicopters circling overhead seemed louder than before, close enough that every update crackling through the radios sounded important, close enough that the nervousness you'd spent the entire morning successfully avoiding finally returned and settled heavily inside your chest. Across the circuit, thousands of spectators stood waiting beneath the afternoon sun while the harbour shimmered brilliantly beyond them, the Ferrari garage poised on the edge of something enormous. And somewhere out on the grid, Monaco's pole sitter lowered his visor, climbed into the Ferrari, and prepared for the biggest race of his season.
“Seventy-eight laps. Three hundred and thirty-seven kilometres. One of the most iconic races in motorsport. And this afternoon, beneath the Monaco sun, twenty drivers will attempt to conquer the streets of Monte Carlo.”
The commentator’s voice echoed from screens scattered throughout the paddock, blending into the endless noise surrounding the circuit while helicopters circled overhead and yachts packed tightly into the harbour glittered beneath the afternoon sun.
“But all eyes today are on the Ferrari of Jeon Jungkook, who starts from pole position after a sensational qualifying performance yesterday, securing the first Monaco pole of his Formula One career.”
The roar from the grandstands seemed to swell immediately at the mention of his name.
Across the circuit, thousands of Ferrari supporters waved flags from packed grandstands while countless others crowded balconies, hospitality suites, and yachts positioned around the harbour, every available space occupied by spectators hoping to witness history.
“Pole position around Monaco has always carried enormous significance. Overtaking opportunities remain limited, strategy becomes critical, and if Jungkook can control this race from the front, Ferrari has a genuine opportunity to leave Monte Carlo with one of the most prestigious victories in motorsport.”
From your position on the pit wall, Monaco seemed to exist in a state of controlled chaos, the harbour glittering beyond the barriers while helicopters circled overhead and the Ferrari garage buzzed with nervous energy, every pair of eyes repeatedly drifting towards the scarlet Ferrari sitting on pole position, carrying years of expectation.
“The grid is now forming. Final preparations underway. Drivers settling into position. We are moments away from lights out here in Monaco.”
One by one, the final pieces of the grid began disappearing as mechanics wheeled equipment away from the cars, grid personnel stepped back behind the barriers, engine covers vanished, and tyre blankets were removed, each small movement bringing the circuit one step closer to lights out. The noise remained, as did the constant movement surrounding the paddock, yet something else settled over Monaco all the same, a quiet tension threading itself through the grandstands, the garages, and the pit wall alike, the particular kind of anticipation that only existed in the final moments before a Grand Prix began. Across the timing screens, the starting order glowed back at you.
Your stomach tightened immediately, not because you doubted him but because you didn't. That had always been the problem. Doubt would have been easier to manage. Doubt came with lowered expectations and softened disappointments. Hope was far more dangerous.
“Engine temperatures rising now. Drivers preparing for the formation lap.”
One by one, the cars rolled away from their grid boxes, the Ferrari launching forward beneath a roar from the grandstands while the rest of the field followed behind, beginning the slow procession around Monaco's streets for the final time before the race officially began. Around you, engineers watched timing screens with unwavering focus while radios crackled with updates, yet somehow it all faded into the background as the formation lap unfolded.
The five red lights remained illuminated for what felt like an eternity, every second stretching impossibly thin while twenty drivers sat poised on the edge of seventy-eight laps around one of the most demanding circuits in motorsport, engines screaming beneath them and thousands of spectators holding their breath in anticipation.
Then the lights disappeared.
"And away we go in Monaco!"
The roar that followed seemed to shake the entire harbour.
Cars launched forward simultaneously, the field surging towards Sainte Devote in a blur of colour and noise while tyres fought desperately for grip and every driver searched for even the smallest advantage. From the pit wall, it was difficult to focus on anything except the scarlet Ferrari starting from pole position, your stomach twisting immediately as Verstappen drew slightly alongside during the run towards Turn One.
"Good start from Verstappen on the outside, Jungkook defending the inside line into Sainte Devote!"
The gap between them narrowed.
And a second later, the Ferrari emerged ahead. The reaction inside the Ferrari garage was immediate, several engineers visibly relaxing for the first time all afternoon while the rest of the field funnelled through the opening corners behind them, the order stabilising almost as quickly as it had exploded into chaos.
"Excellent launch from Jungkook, who maintains the lead of the Monaco Grand Prix."
Only then did you realize you'd been holding your breath.
The opening laps passed in a blur of sector times and radio updates, Monaco settling gradually into its familiar rhythm as the field stretched itself around the circuit and tiny gaps began appearing between cars. Every few seconds, the timing screens updated. Every few seconds, somebody inside the Ferrari garage reacted to a number. Somewhere behind Jungkook, battles continued unfolding throughout the midfield, yet the attention of almost everybody surrounding you remained fixed on the front.
Lap three became lap five, then lap eight, the opening phase of the race disappearing steadily from the timing screens while the scarlet Ferrari remained firmly at the front of the field, controlling the pace around Monaco's narrow streets with a confidence that seemed to grow stronger with every passing lap. Around you, conversations gradually resumed as the initial tension of the race start began fading away, engineers exchanging observations across headsets while strategy discussions continued and radios crackled constantly with information, yet compared to the atmosphere that had existed before lights out, the garage felt noticeably lighter now, as though everybody had collectively remembered how to breathe again.
"Jungkook is currently leading Verstappen by 1.4 seconds, beginning to build an early advantage here in Monaco."
The confidence growing inside Ferrari wasn't obvious enough for anybody to acknowledge openly, but it existed all the same, settling quietly into conversations and body language because Jungkook looked comfortable. More than comfortable. Fast. The Ferrari seemed perfectly suited to Monaco's demanding layout, carving through corners with a level of precision that made every lap appear almost effortless from a distance, the gap behind him growing little by little as the race settled into rhythm.
"Fastest lap of the race for Jeon Jungkook."
The announcement earned several approving nods around the garage, eyes immediately drifting towards the timing screens as fresh data appeared.
"Gap now 2.1 seconds at the front."
Another lap disappeared. Another purple sector appeared beside his name. Another small increase to the lead followed shortly afterwards, and with every passing circuit, it became increasingly difficult to ignore what the timing screens were beginning to suggest.
For the first time all weekend, you found yourself glancing away from the timing screens occasionally, allowing your attention to wander across the harbour and the grandstands and the endless sea of Ferrari supporters packed into every available space around the circuit.
The race was far from over, not even remotely close, yet with every lap that disappeared from the timing screens, it became increasingly difficult to ignore what everybody else seemed to be noticing. Jungkook wasn't simply leading anymore. He was controlling the race, the pace, the gap. Controlling the entire afternoon in a way that only became more obvious the longer the Grand Prix continued.
"Lap fifteen of seventy-eight, and Jungkook continues to lead comfortably, extending the gap to nearly three seconds over Verstappen behind."
Three seconds. The statistic alone felt significant enough to send another quiet wave of excitement through the Ferrari garage, several heads immediately turning towards the timing screens as though seeing the number for themselves somehow made it more real. Nearby, one engineer exchanged a brief look with another before returning his attention to the data in front of him, neither man saying anything out loud because neither needed to. The thought already existed everywhere. It lingered in the small smiles appearing more frequently around the garage. It lingered in the way conversations seemed easier now.
The race continued unfolding steadily around you while lap after lap disappeared from the timing screens, the Ferrari remaining firmly in control at the front while Taehyung quietly held position further back in the points, Monaco's streets gradually becoming less intimidating and more familiar with every passing circuit. Around the harbour, thousands of spectators remained fixed on the action below while helicopters continued circling overhead and commentators filled the airwaves with increasingly optimistic discussions about Ferrari's chances, the afternoon settling into a rhythm that felt almost comfortable.
Which, in hindsight, should probably have been the first warning sign.
Because the most dangerous thing about hope was how quietly it arrived, slipping into conversations and expectations and passing thoughts until one day you looked up and realised you'd already started imagining the ending.
"Lap twenty-three of seventy-eight and Jeon Jungkook continues to control proceedings at the front, maintaining a comfortable gap over Verstappen while managing his tyres beautifully."
The race had settled into rhythm now, the opening chaos long gone and replaced by something steadier. Around you, engineers studied timing screens and tyre data with unwavering focus, occasionally exchanging observations through headsets before returning their attention to the endless streams of information scrolling across their monitors.
Further down the order, pit stops had already begun unfolding, one team blinking first before another quickly followed, the timing screens shifting constantly as cars peeled away from the train and disappeared into the pit lane, strategies gradually becoming the centre of attention as the race entered its next phase.
"The undercut could be powerful today. Ferrari will be monitoring Verstappen closely here."
The atmosphere around the Ferrari garage sharpened almost immediately, several engineers leaning closer towards their screens while fresh calculations appeared and strategy discussions accelerated through headsets, attention momentarily shifting away from the race lead and towards the battle unfolding behind it.
A few laps later, Verstappen finally boxed, prompting another flurry of activity around you as every possible scenario seemed to be evaluated simultaneously, yet despite the growing intensity surrounding the pit wall, the Ferrari remained comfortably at the front, Jungkook continuing to circulate around Monaco's streets with the same controlled precision he'd displayed all afternoon.
"Verstappen into the pits. Ferrari is choosing to keep Jungkook out for now."
The decision appeared deliberate. Confident. Ferrari allowed their driver to extract a few more laps before eventually calling him in, the scarlet car finally peeling towards the pit lane several circuits later as the garage exploded into motion. Mechanics launched themselves over the wall with practiced efficiency, tyres disappearing and reappearing in a blur of movement while the stop unfolded almost too quickly to properly follow, the Ferrari dropping from the lead only briefly before rejoining the circuit.
The reaction around the garage was subtle but impossible to miss, shoulders relaxing slightly as a few relieved smiles appeared amongst engineers who immediately returned their attention to the race. The pit stop phase continued unfolding elsewhere around the circuit, but Ferrari had emerged exactly where they wanted to be.
"Excellent stop from Ferrari. Jungkook retains the lead of the Monaco Grand Prix."
The race settled once again after the pit stop cycle concluded, the order at the front remaining largely unchanged while Monaco's streets continued swallowing lap after lap beneath the afternoon sun. Around the circuit, overtaking remained as difficult as ever, forcing most drivers into a careful balancing act between aggression and patience, while further down the order several battles briefly threatened to develop before inevitably being shut down by the unforgiving nature of the track itself.
"Lap thirty-seven of seventy-eight, and Jungkook continues to lead the Monaco Grand Prix. Verstappen remains within range, but Ferrari will be pleased with how this race is unfolding."
The numbers continued changing constantly as the race progressed, drifting from two-point-seven to three-point-one before settling somewhere in between again, yet never shrinking enough to become genuinely concerning. If anything, Jungkook appeared completely in control. From your position on the pit wall, there were moments when the entire thing almost appeared effortless, the scarlet car threading itself through Monaco's impossibly narrow streets with a precision that made the circuit look far less intimidating than it actually was, each lap unfolding with the same measured confidence that had defined his entire afternoon.
For one brief moment, the entire Ferrari garage seemed to pause collectively before information finally began filtering through the radios. A Williams had brushed the barrier exiting the Swimming Pool section, scattering a small amount of debris across the circuit before managing to continue without significant damage, the incident minor enough to avoid a Safety Car yet significant enough to remind everybody of the reality surrounding them.
The yellow flags disappeared almost as quickly as they had appeared, and the race resumed its rhythm, yet something about the atmosphere felt subtly different afterwards.
"Forty laps completed. Thirty-eight remaining."
The race had entered that strange phase where time seemed to move in two directions at once, every lap taking forever to finish while the overall distance remaining somehow continued shrinking faster than expected.
Sometime during the last ten laps, a cooler breeze had begun sweeping across the harbour, carrying with it the first hints of the evening that would eventually settle over Monaco once the race ended. You ignored it initially, too focused on the timing screens to pay much attention, but eventually even that became impossible.
The thin leather jacket you'd thrown on earlier suddenly felt far less useful than it had a few hours ago. Without looking away from the race, you slipped it off your shoulders and draped it across the back of your chair before reaching for the Ferrari hoodie you'd brought with you that morning, pulling it on quickly as another gust swept through the pit lane. Your attention had already returned to the timing screens.
The next ten laps seemed to disappear almost without notice, the race settling into such a steady rhythm that time itself felt strangely distorted, one moment showing thirty laps remaining on the timing screens and the next showing twenty, the scarlet Ferrari never once surrendering the lead while Verstappen remained trapped a few seconds behind, close enough to stay relevant yet never quite close enough to become a genuine threat.
With every completed circuit, the atmosphere surrounding the Ferrari garage grew steadily more dangerous, not because anything had gone wrong but because nothing had. The race had unfolded almost exactly as Ferrari had spent the entire weekend hoping it would, every strategy call landing perfectly, every pit stop executed cleanly, every decision appearing to move them one step closer towards something nobody wanted to discuss too openly.
"Twenty laps remaining in the Monaco Grand Prix, and Jeon Jungkook continues to control proceedings at the front."
Around the circuit, it seemed everybody else had reached the conclusion. Ferrari supporters erupted whenever Jungkook's name appeared on the giant screens, their cheers rolling across the harbour in waves, while broadcasters and commentators had started discussing victory with considerably less caution than before, the possibility no longer feeling hypothetical enough to dance around.
"If Ferrari can continue managing this race the way they have so far, Jungkook is on course for one of the biggest victories of his career."
The statement lingered longer than it should have, and so did the reaction it created. Suddenly, the possibility seemed to exist everywhere. Not hidden beneath careful optimism or buried beneath statistics and strategy discussions, but spoken aloud, openly acknowledged by people who had spent most of the afternoon refusing to tempt fate. The word victory had finally entered the conversation, and somehow that made everything feel significantly more fragile.
Around you, the tension had returned in a completely different form. One engineer briefly removed his headset and rubbed both hands across his face before immediately putting it back on, while another checked the timing screens for what felt like the hundredth time despite the numbers barely changing.
"Fifteen laps remaining."
Fifteen laps separated Jungkook from Monaco. Fifteen laps separated Ferrari from one of the most prestigious victories in motorsport. Fifteen laps stood between years of dreaming and the possibility of finally achieving it.
And somewhere deep inside your chest, the nervousness you'd managed to suppress for most of the afternoon returned all over again.
"Twelve laps remaining here in Monaco, and barring anything unexpected, Jeon Jungkook appears firmly in control of this Grand Prix."
The commentator's voice drifted through the speakers scattered around the pit wall, the statement sounding almost dangerously confident now.
The Ferrari continued circulating at the front with the same measured precision it had displayed all afternoon, Verstappen still unable to reduce the gap enough to apply meaningful pressure, while the grandstands surrounding the circuit seemed to grow louder with every completed lap.
The race was beginning to feel inevitable, the kind of inevitable people only recognised in hindsight. And the closer victory moved, the harder it became to look away.
"Ten laps remaining."
The announcement earned an immediate reaction from the crowd, a surge of excitement sweeping across the harbour and echoing between the buildings overlooking the circuit as thousands of spectators collectively realised just how close the race had come to its conclusion.
For the first time all afternoon, the number felt genuinely small, close enough that broadcasters had already begun preparing graphics and post-race segments, close enough that journalists were gradually gathering near Parc Fermé, and close enough that somewhere in the back of your mind, despite every effort not to, you found yourself wondering what Jungkook's face would look like when he finally climbed out of the Ferrari.
A cooler breeze drifted through the pit lane, and you instinctively folded your arms tighter across the Ferrari hoodie wrapped around your shoulders, your eyes never leaving the timing screens as another lap disappeared from the board and then another shortly afterwards. Lap sixty-nine became seventy. Then seventy-one. With every completed circuit, something inside the Ferrari garage seemed to tighten, not fear exactly, but expectation, the dangerous kind that arrived once victory stopped feeling hypothetical and started feeling attainable.
"Gap remains stable at 2.4 seconds. Verstappen simply hasn't had an answer for the Ferrari's pace this afternoon."
Ahead, the scarlet Ferrari continued carving its way through Monaco's narrow streets with the same precision it had displayed all afternoon, disappearing through Casino Square before reappearing moments later elsewhere around the circuit, the car looking every bit as composed as it had two hours earlier despite carrying the weight of an entire race weekend on its shoulders.
Then came lap seventy-two. Only six laps remaining.
And for the first time all afternoon, something changed. A brief radio transmission crackled through one of the engineers' headsets. A second glance towards a monitor before exchanging a quick look with somebody standing nearby. The entire interaction lasted only a few seconds, subtle enough that most people probably would've missed it entirely.
But you didn't, as your stomach tightened immediately.
Then the radio crackled again, this time louder and long enough that several heads turned simultaneously. The reaction was immediate, subtle enough that most people would've missed it yet impossible to ignore once you noticed it, one engineer suddenly frowning at the data in front of him while another looked up from his monitor and a third reached instinctively for his microphone, the atmosphere around the Ferrari garage stumbling all at once as though somebody had interrupted the rhythm everybody had settled into over the last seventy-two laps.
Your eyes immediately drifted towards the timing screens. The Ferrari was still listed first, and the gap was still there. Nothing looked wrong, yet something had changed.
"What happened?"
The question escaped before you could stop it, directed towards the nearest engineer, but he never answered. Not because he was ignoring you. Because he was already listening to something coming through his headset, his expression changed almost imperceptibly as more information arrived.
A sound tore through Monaco, so sharp and violent that it instantly cut through the roar of the crowd and the scream of twenty Formula One engines, replacing them with something infinitely worse. For a split second, the entire circuit seemed to hold its breath as the unmistakable sound of a car hitting the barriers echoed between the buildings surrounding the harbour.
A violent screech of tyres fighting desperately for grip, sharp enough to cut through the roar of the crowd and brutal enough to silence entire sections of the circuit almost instantly, followed by a sickening impact that seemed to reverberate through the harbour itself, the sound of carbon fibre and metal colliding with concrete barriers carrying far further than it should have.
The entire pit wall froze.
Your head snapped towards the circuit instinctively while around you, engineers were already moving, conversations dying mid-sentence as eyes immediately shifted towards timing screens and monitors, everybody trying to understand something that nobody seemed capable of explaining yet.
The timing tower updated once. The broadcast feed switched cameras abruptly, showing a Ferrari flying through one section of the circuit before cutting elsewhere, then somewhere else again, the production team seemingly searching for the source of whatever had just happened.
For one terrible, confusing second, nothing made sense.
The noise that had filled Monaco all afternoon vanished beneath something far worse, the entire circuit suspended in a strange state of confusion where everybody knew something had happened but nobody knew what.
Then your eyes found the timing tower again, and your stomach dropped. Because the Ferrari that had spent seventy-two laps leading the Monaco Grand Prix had suddenly disappeared.
Just gone.
"No." The word escaped automatically, barely louder than a whisper.
Around you, people were already moving before information had even fully arrived, engineers abandoning monitors, mechanics leaving equipment exactly where it sat, and team personnel rushing towards the pit wall railing overlooking the circuit, everybody operating entirely on instinct.
You followed without thinking, your feet moving before your brain could catch up, the distance between you and the barrier somehow feeling impossibly long despite only being a few metres. Then you reached it and saw the scarlet Ferrari sitting crumpled against the barriers. For a moment, your brain simply refused to process what your eyes were showing you.
One side of the car had been obliterated by the impact, fragments of carbon fibre scattered across the circuit in every direction while marshals sprinted towards the scene beneath frantic yellow flags, debris littering the racing line and smoke hanging faintly in the air. Everything about the image felt wrong.
Around the harbour, the crowd had fallen eerily quiet. Around the Ferrari garage, nobody seemed capable of speaking. Even the commentators sounded stunned when they finally found their voices again.
"Jungkook's crashed."
The words echoed across the circuit. Across the harbour, the grandstands, the Ferrari garage.
"Jungkook is out of the Monaco Grand Prix."
And just like that, seventy-two laps of perfection disappeared in a single corner.
The wrecked Ferrari remained motionless against the barriers while yellow flags continued waving overhead and marshals surrounded the scene, yet the Ferrari garage seemed trapped in a strange state of disbelief, as though everybody was still waiting for reality to correct itself and reveal that none of this had actually happened.
The timing screens updated, and Verstappen inherited the lead, the realization somehow hitting harder than the crash itself because that was the moment it became real, not when the Ferrari had struck the barriers and not when carbon fibre had scattered across the circuit, but now, as the race continued without him and the world carried on as though nothing had happened.
Around you, engineers slowly removed their headsets while others stared silently at screens they had spent the last two hours monitoring, nobody quite seeming to know what to do with themselves now that seventy-two laps of work, strategy, concentration, and hope had disappeared in a matter of seconds, leaving behind only the hollow aftermath of what should have been.
Then movement appeared beside the wrecked Ferrari, first one marshal and then another, before attention shifted towards the cockpit itself, and the entire Ferrari garage seemed to hold its breath, yourself included, every pair of eyes fixed on the same spot as the seconds stretched painfully longer than they should have.
Nobody was looking at the timing screens now. One second passed, then another, and then finally the top of a helmet appeared above the halo.
The reaction was immediate, not celebration but relief, pure overwhelming relief that swept through the garage and the grandstands alike as a wave of applause rolled through sections of the crowd when Jungkook climbed from the car unaided, marshals immediately approaching him while television cameras zoomed in from every available angle. Relief hit so hard it almost hurt.
The realization should have settled the panic sitting inside your chest, should have eased the tightness that had been there ever since the impact, yet instead it only seemed to make room for something else, because even from this distance and even through the helmet, you could tell that something about him had changed.
Jungkook wasn't looking at the car, he wasn't looking at the crowd, and he wasn't looking anywhere at all, simply standing beside the wreckage for a moment with his shoulders rising and falling as one marshal spoke to him before he finally nodded once in response, the gesture feeling mechanical and automatic, like somebody operating entirely on instinct because there was nothing else left for them to do.
Around Monaco the race continued, cars streaming past behind the Safety Car while commentators resumed speaking and the grandstands gradually found their voices again, yet none of it seemed capable of reaching him, none of it seeming able to break through whatever silence had settled around him in that moment, because six laps earlier he had been leading the Monaco Grand Prix, six laps earlier victory had been close enough to touch, close enough to imagine, and now it was gone.
Completely gone.
Without another glance towards the Ferrari, Jungkook finally turned away from the barriers and began walking towards the waiting marshals while the crowd continued applauding as he left, but he never acknowledged it, not once.
And for the first time all afternoon, Jungkook looked exactly like somebody whose dream had been taken away before he ever had the chance to reach it.
Summary: Every time Mingyu tells you no, you somehow end up even more spoiled by the end of the night.
Wc: 3,074
Warnings: age gap (Mingyu is mid 35, reader is in early 21), reader is rlly bratty lol, also kind of sugar bby!reader except they’re also in a relationship, oral (f receiving), swearing, arguing, slightly suggestive. I think that’s all?
A/n: experimenting with ceo!mingyu x bratty reader 😀 thoughts? This dynamic was so fun to write should I do more 🤣🤣
MASTERLIST
-
The argument started before you’d even finished your makeup.
You were sitting at the vanity in a tiny silk robe, legs crossed, gold jewellery scattered across the marble counter while your stylist zipped garment bags nearby.
The party dress hanging on the wardrobe door was tiny. Silver. Backless. Absolutely inappropriate for the kind of event Mingyu hated.
Which was exactly why you wanted to wear it.
“You’re not going.”
Mingyu’s voice came from behind you.
You met his eyes through the mirror and immediately rolled yours. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything.” He loosened the cuffs of his shirt as he walked further into the dressing room. “I’m ending it.”
Your lips parted in disbelief. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I already did.”
You spun around on the velvet stool to face him properly, glaring up at him while he stood there looking infuriatingly calm in dark trousers and a black button-up rolled to his forearms.
Every magazine in Seoul loved him. Every investor feared him. And unfortunately for you, he carried that same authority into your relationship without even trying.
“It’s a birthday party, Mingyu.”
“It’s a Hanseong networking party pretending to be a birthday party.”
“So?”
Mingyu stared at you for a second like he couldn’t believe you were even asking.
“So,” he said slowly, voice calm in that way that always made you feel more defensive, “the people hosting that party have spent the last six months trying to tear my company apart.”
You scoffed dramatically, crossing your arms tighter over your chest.
Unfortunately, the movement only pushed your cleavage up higher in the tiny robe. Mingyu’s eyes flickered down automatically.
Brief. Instinctive. But you still caught it.
His gaze snapped back up to your face almost immediately, jaw tightening slightly when he realised you noticed.
His eyes narrowed slightly at the little twitch in your lips before continuing.
“They leaked false reports about my shareholders three weeks ago,” he said. “They’ve been feeding reporters rumours, trying to tank stock prices, trying to bait me into reacting publicly—”
“Okay, and?”
Mingyu’s jaw flexed slightly.
“And I’m not having my girlfriend photographed drinking champagne in the middle of all that.”
Your chin lifted immediately. “I’m not some extension of your company.”
“No,” he agreed. “You’re the one thing they know would get under my skin.” You hated when he answered too honestly.
Still, you rolled your eyes again, stubbornness digging in deeper even though you weren’t stupid.
You knew exactly what showing up to that party would look like. Knew the headlines would explode by morning. Knew people would twist it into betrayal, disrespect, scandal.
Whatever narrative benefited them most.
But a part of you wanted to go anyway. Just to push him. Just to see that look in his eyes when you stopped listening.
You crossed your arms harder. “I haven’t even taken your last name.”
Mingyu huffed out a quiet laugh through his nose, humourless.
“Exactly,” he said dryly. “And somehow you still spend my money like you have.”
Your jaw dropped instantly. “Kim Mingyu.”
“What?” he asked innocently. “Was I lying?”
You stared at him in disbelief before scoffing. “I don’t see you complaining when we’re in bed though.” That finally got a reaction.
His tongue pressed briefly against the inside of his cheek while he looked at you for a second too long, dark eyes narrowing with amusement.
“You always get mouthy when you’re losing an argument, did you know that?”
“I’m not losing.”
“You absolutely are.”
You rolled your eyes dramatically and turned back toward the mirror, grabbing one of your earrings with unnecessary attitude.
“You’re just mad because I look hot in the dress.”
“The dress isn’t the issue.”
“Then what is?”
“The issue,” Mingyu said patiently, “is that you act like actions don’t have consequences.”
You scoffed loudly. “Gyu, you sound eighty years old.”
“And you behave like you’re eighteen.” That actually made you laugh a little despite yourself.
“That was only three years ago,” you pointed out smugly. “Besides, I’m not that immature.”
Mingyu just stared at you.
A long, unimpressed stare that immediately started irritating you again.
“What?” you demanded.
“You bought a six-thousand-dollar lamp yesterday.”
You spun around immediately. “Because it was pretty!”
“It doesn’t even light up.”
“It’s decorative!”
“It’s a fucking lamp.”
“You are so unbelievably judgemental.”
“And you are unbelievably spoiled.”
The words should’ve sounded harsh, but they didn’t. Not with the way his eyes dragged slowly over you afterward, equal parts exhausted and fond like he couldn’t decide whether to argue with you or kiss you quiet.
Honestly, probably both.
Mingyu pinched the bridge of his nose slowly, already looking drained from the conversation.
Your stylist, who had been pretending not to listen from the corner of the dressing room, suddenly cleared her throat awkwardly.
“I, um… I’m just going to steam the other dress downstairs.” She disappeared from the room almost immediately.
The second the door shut, you stood up fully.
“I already told everyone I’m coming.”
“Then tell them you’re not.”
“You’re embarrassing me.”
“No,” he corrected calmly. “I’m protecting you.”
You hated that tone. That calm, patient tone like he already knew he was going to win.
“I don’t need protecting.”
Mingyu walked closer, large hand settling on the vanity beside you while he looked down at your expression.
He could see it written all over your face, that stubborn little spark in your eyes that always appeared whenever he told you no. It wasn’t even really about the party anymore.
You just liked pushing against him. Liked testing him to see how far you could get before he snapped and handled you properly.
“You’re not going.”
Your chin lifted. “I can do whatever I want.”
His eyes darkened slightly at that. Not angry, worse. Amused. “You really wanna play this game tonight?”
Your stomach flipped annoyingly. “No,” you snapped. “I wanna go to a party.”
“And I said no.” Silence. Heavy silence.
Then you shoved past him dramatically, grabbing your phone off the counter. “You’re being controlling.”
“I’m being smart.”
“You’re acting like my father.”
That made his expression change slightly. Mingyu stepped forward suddenly, grabbing your wrist before you could storm out.
“You know the difference between me and your father?” His voice was low now.
Your heartbeat stuttered slightly when he stepped closer, towering over you. “What?” you asked quieter this time.
Mingyu looked down at you for a long second. Then he gave a humourless little smile.
“He never spoiled you enough to get away with this attitude.”
Your lips parted immediately.
The words hit harder than they should have because they were true. Painfully true. Mingyu had ruined you. Completely.
You used to argue with people and lose. Used to hear no and deal with it. Used to think before spending money, before acting out, before testing boundaries just because you could.
Then Mingyu came into your life and suddenly there were no boundaries anymore.
Anything you wanted appeared before you even properly asked for it. Jewellery. Trips. Apartments. Designer dresses you wore once before abandoning in a closet.
And worst of all, his attention.
Because Mingyu indulged you constantly. Even when you were difficult. Even when you were bratty and dramatic and intentionally impossible just to get a reaction out of him.
Especially then.
“You think because I buy you pretty things and let you mouth off that you suddenly run this relationship?”
His hand landed on your waist suddenly, pulling you flush against him before you could fire back another argument.
Your breath hitched softly.
“You don’t.”
You hated when he talked to you like that. Mostly because it worked.
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“And you’re still testing me.”
Mingyu’s grip tightened slightly against your waist, just enough to make heat crawl up your spine.
“You wanna know why?” he asked softly.
Your brows furrowed. “Why what?”
“Why I let you get away with half the things you do.” His eyes dragged slowly over your face.
“Because at the end of the day,” he murmured, “you always come right back here.”
Your throat suddenly felt dry.
“You spend all day fighting me, acting spoiled, pushing every button I have—” His hand slid higher against your waist. “—and then at night you curl into my side like you belong there.”
Your expression faltered slightly. Mingyu noticed immediately. Of course he did. A smug little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he leaned down closer.
“So no,” he said quietly. “You don’t run this relationship.” Your pulse was beating way too fast now.
“But you do run my patience,” he added dryly. “Which is honestly impressive."
“But,” Mingyu said softly, thumb brushing against your waist almost absently, “I love you for it.”
Your expression flickered slightly. That was the problem with him. He could go from cold and controlling to saying something like that so easily it left you completely disarmed.
Mingyu watched your face carefully before the corner of his mouth lifted.
“Which is why,” he continued calmly, “you know I’m gonna put a ring on your finger soon anyway.”
Your breath caught.
Your lips parted slightly before you could stop yourself. “Mingyu…”
“Hm?”
“You can’t just say things like that in the middle of an argument.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” you frowned, suddenly flustered, “—because it’s manipulative.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
“Baby, if I was manipulating you, you’d already be upstairs taking that robe off.”
Your glare returned instantly, weaker this time.
“You’re annoying.”
“And you’re still not going.”
Before you could snap back, his hand suddenly came down against your ass through the thin robe.
Sharp enough to shock you. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make your breath hitch. Your lips parted immediately.
“Mingyu!"
He leaned down slightly, mouth close to your ear now, voice low enough to make heat crawl up your neck.
“You’re not going,” he murmured. “End of story.”
The warmth in your face burned hotter instantly.
“You’re being mean.”
“And you’re being a spoiled brat.”
The words should’ve sounded harsh, but the amusement in his voice ruined it completely.
Mingyu pressed a casual kiss to your temple afterward like he hadn’t just completely thrown you off balance.
“I’ll be in my study.”
Then he walked away. Like he hadn’t just casually told you he was going to marry you someday. Like he hadn’t completely ruined your entire night.
~
The first purchase notification hit Mingyu’s phone twelve minutes later.
He was sitting in his study reviewing contracts when the vibration buzzed against the desk.
He ignored it. Another buzz. Then another. Then another.
His eyebrows lifted slightly as he glanced down at the screen.
"AMEX ALERT — Guiseppe Zanotti Purchase Approved"
Mingyu didn’t even look up at first. Then another came through.
"AMEX ALERT — Chanel Purchase Approved"
Mingyu leaned back slowly in his chair. Another notification lit up the screen.
"AMEX ALERT — Van Cleef & Arpels Purchase Approved"
He actually laughed. A low, tired chuckle while rubbing a hand over his face.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself.
He could practically picture you sprawled dramatically across the couch upstairs, angrily buying as retaliation.
Another notification lit up the screen.
"AMEX ALERT — Hermès Purchase Approved"
Mingyu shook his head, amused now more than anything.
“You little brat.”
The funniest part was that you genuinely believed this was punishment.
As if he wasn’t the one who’d handed you the black card in the first place.
Another buzz.
"Porsche Deposit Pending"
His eyebrows shot up this time. “Ah,” he murmured. “Now we’re spiralling.”
He shook his head, smiling to himself before returning to his emails.
~
By the time Mingyu came upstairs nearly an hour later, the penthouse was quiet again. Too quiet.
He opened the bedroom door and stopped immediately.
Your suitcase was open on the bed. Clothes everywhere. Designer heels tossed carelessly onto the floor. Jewellery cases open. D
You were aggressively folding bikinis with tears of frustration sitting in your eyes.
Mingyu stared for a moment before calmly loosening his tie. You looked up instantly. “Oh, now you care.”
“Hm?”
“You don’t see me packing?!”
“I do.”
“And?”
“And your folding technique is terrible.”
You stared at him in disbelief. “Mingyu!”
“What?” he said calmly. “You wrinkle everything.”
He tossed his watch onto the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed directly on top of one of your dresses.
“Get up!”
“No.”
“You’re sitting on silk!”
“You’re having a tantrum.”
Your mouth fell open.
“This is not a tantrum.”
“You bought a car because I told you no.”
“I was upset.”
“You spent nearly a million dollars upset.”
You crossed your arms. “Well maybe if you weren’t so controlling—”
“You were not going to that party.”
“Yes I was.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You’re so annoying!”
“And you’re still not leaving.”
You wanted to scream. Instead you grabbed another armful of clothes aggressively.
“I’m staying at Yuna’s.”
“Yuna’s in Paris.”
“…Then Mina’s.”
“She’s in Bali.”
You froze.
Mingyu looked up slowly. “You don’t actually know where your friends live, do you?”
You glared so hard it almost made him laugh. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
You stared at him in disbelief while he calmly unbuttoned his shirt like none of this was happening.
“How are you this annoying?”
“Hurry up and get into bed.”
Your mouth fell open. “You cannot be serious-"
The words disappeared completely when Mingyu suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him.
The kiss shut you up immediately. Hot. Slow. Possessive.
“You done?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“You’re cute when you’re angry.”
“I don’t wanna be cute right now.”
“Too bad.”
“Mingyu—”
Your angry little noises melted against his mouth as his hand slid up your thigh beneath the robe.
“There she is,” he murmured against your lips. “Much prettier when she stops yelling at me.”
You smacked his chest weakly, but it lacked any real heat now. Especially when his mouth moved down your neck. Especially when his hands untied your robe.
“You’re still mean,” you mumbled breathlessly.
“Mhm.”
“You hurt my feelings.”
“I bought you a Chanel bag an hour ago.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“It usually does.”
You tried to keep complaining, but it got significantly harder once he pushed you back against the bed like you weighed nothing, moving the half-folded clothes aside with one hand.
“Mingyu…”
His eyes flicked up to yours knowingly. The one that always ruined your attitude in seconds.
“You still angry, baby?”
“Yes,” you lied softly.
“Hm.”
Then his mouth disappeared between your thighs and your entire body jolted. Your fingers tangled into his hair automatically. Traitorous body. Mingyu smiled against your skin knowingly.
“Oh my god—”
“Still angry?” he asked against your skin.
Your fingers tangled in his hair immediately.
“Yes—”
A laugh vibrated against you. You were still trying to rant between shaky breaths.
“I still think you’re controlling—”
“Uhuh.”
“And annoying—”
“Sure.”
“And I wanna go to Seychelles,” you breathed out shakily, words barely coherent anymore.
Mingyu’s hands tightened slightly around your thighs at the request, his mouth dragging slow and teasing against sensitive skin before he answered without hesitation.
“Okay.”
Your brain short-circuited for a second.
“What?”
He glanced up at you , dark eyes calm like this conversation wasn’t happening while you were sprawled beneath him completely ruined.
“We’ll go next week.”
You blinked down at him, stunned. “…Really?”
“Yes."
Then his attention dropped back to you again, completely unbothered.
Just like that. Like rearranging international flights and clearing schedules across two continents was nothing.
To Kim Mingyu, maybe it wasn’t.
Your fingers tightened in his hair slightly, still trying to process how easily he gave in to you sometimes.
“And I want a new car too,” you said immediately, taking advantage of the moment.
Mingyu laughed softly under his breath this time. “You already bought one tonight.”
“That was an anger car.”
That actually made him pause. Then he laughed properly. Full laugh.
Warm and deep and completely disbelieving while he shook his head slightly.
“An anger car?”
“Yes.”
“What’s this one for then?”
You thought about it for a second through the haze in your brain before answering seriously. "A forgiveness car.”
Mingyu looked up at you like you were genuinely ridiculous. But there was too much affection in his eyes for the judgement to land properly.
“Fine,” he said anyway. Of course he did.
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously despite how dazed you already felt.
“You’re only agreeing because you’re distracting me.”
“Is it working?”
His smug smile against your thigh made heat crawl all the way up your neck.
“Yes.”
Mingyu looked far too satisfied hearing that.
Now, you thrash above him, grabbing at the sheets and at his head as you come undone.
Arching your back so pretty, pressing your wet core right on his face as he laps you up.
He knows he was hard on you today, and you need the extra attention.
Mingyu makes you orgasm three times before coming up got air, kissing you possessively so you can taste yourself on him.
And you're more docile now, you always were after he's tamed you and gotten you off. Like you've orgasmed the brattiness out of you.
Except it never lasts long, but he'd take what he could get.
He tucked the blankets around you carefully once you started falling asleep, pressing a kiss into your hair while you mumbled incoherently about beach clubs in Seychelles.
Summary - For years, they existed in the space between friendship and love, too close to be platonic, yet never enough to be real. He treated her like she was his in private, only to pull away the moment things became too serious.
The night she finally chose to walk away from the man who once consumed her entire world, she carried something else with her too.
Four years later, a little girl, or fate perhaps—bring them back to each other.
genre : second chance romance, unrequited love (at first), slow burn, accidental pregnancy, Friends → strangers → lovers, angst, fluff
themes : emotionally unavailable! Jungkook , unlabeled relationship, friends with benefits(kind of), fear of commitment, one-sided devotion, accidental pregnancy, absent father (he doesn’t know), girl dad! Jungkook, second chances, yearning, found family, angst with happy ending
⤷ series masterlist ˎˊ˗
In Another Life
The worst thing Jungkook ever said to Y/N happened on an ordinary night. That’s the cruel thing about memories. They don’t warn you.
They were in his kitchen. It was raining outside, the soft tapping against the windows filling the silence between them. Jungkook stood by the stove, stirring noodles lazily. Y/N sat on the counter like she always did, watching him. The scene looked so normal, so familiar.
Jungkook passed her the bowl. “Careful, it’s hot.” Y/N took it quietly. She should have felt comfort. Instead, she felt something tight in her chest. “Jungkook,” she said softly.
He glanced up. “Hmm?”
She hesitated, then asked the question she had been holding inside for months, years.
“What are we?”
Jungkook groaned immediately. “Not this again.”
Y/N’s fingers tightened around the bowl “I’m just asking.”
“You’re overthinking.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“But we act like... this.”Her voice was quieter now.
Jungkook laughed, a sharp sound. “We don’t act like a couple, if that’s what you mean.”
Y/N stared at him. “You cook for me, you take care of me, we spend nights together.”
Jungkook shook his head as if she was missing the point. “That’s just us.”
“That’s what couples do.”
“No,” he said flatly. “Couples are in love.”
The words settled in the room like something heavy. Y/N’s throat felt dry.
“So you don’t…love me?”
Jungkook looked almost amused. “Y/N. He leaned against the counter. “You’re sweet, tou’re familiar.” The pause felt endless. “But you’re not someone I’d ever actually choose.”
The words landed like glass shattering. Y/N didn’t move. Jungkook kept going, careless. “You’re comfortable, okay? And you’re my best friend. That’s it.”
Silence.
“If I ever wanted you, I would’ve picked you a long time ago.”
Y/N didn’t cry in front of him. She just nodded slowly, as though she understood, as though it made sense. Then she stood up. “I should go.”
Jungkook frowned. “Why are you being dramatic?” He asked, even as his own words made him wince. They sounded stupid, hurtful and careless. Cruel in a way he hadn't intended, yet couldn't take back.
“I’m not.” She grabbed her jacket.
Jungkook sighed. “You’ll come back in a few days anyway,” he mumbled. Not something he meant to say out loud, but something he wished.
Y/N paused at the door. For a second, she almost turned around, almost told him how much he had hurt her. But something inside her had gone strangely quiet. “No,” she said softly. “I won’t.”
And this time, she meant it.
⸻
Jungkook didn’t think before he speak.
He said things that got him out of problems quickly. Not things he meant. Not things he felt. Not things he wanted to say.
Y/N didn’t come to their hangouts anymore. It was always because she was “busy,” or “working,” or “not feeling well.” But deep down, Jungkook remembered that night a little too well.
He had said things he didn’t mean. Things that made his stomach turn the moment they left his mouth because of how cruel they sounded, how harsh, how much of a lie they were.
He remembered the clothes she wore that night. The way her hair was pinned up in a claw clip, the one he had bought her, her earrings, her necklace, the shade of her lip gloss, the blush on her cheeks.
He remembered how nervous she sounded when she asked him. How his heart had been beating too fast. The look on her face when he said those words.
Her face when she got up to leave.How badly he wanted to stop her, to hold her back, to beg her not to leave him, to tell her it was all a lie and that he was just afraid.
But he didn’t.
He could still remember the ache in his chest. The fear that took over him when she said she wouldn’t be coming back anymore. How he broke down after she left.
Y/N collapsed into Jiho’s arms the moment she reach her apartment and saw her standing outside.
She had called earlier, saying she needed her. Jiho knew immediately.
She might not have heard what Jungkook said. She might not have known what the argument had been about this time. But she knew enough.
Y/N hardly ever cried in front of her, in front of anyone. And now she was here, sobbing into her arms, and all Jiho could do was hold her tightly and tell her everything would be okay, even though she wasn’t sure how long that would take.
The others immediately knew something was wrong the next day.
Y/N’s absence, Jungkook barely speaking, Jiho glaring at him from time to time.
But nobody said anything, nobody questioned it.
_______
One night, Y/N’s doorbell rang at almost 11. She wasn’t expecting anybody. Could it be her neighbour trying to share leftovers with her again?
Y/N loved the place she lived. Her apartment. It wasn’t big, it wasn’t much but it was perfect. She loved her neighbours and flatmates. They were like a little family. Y/N came from Suwon, a city near Seoul, where her parents still lived.
She got up and opened the door.
Jiho stood there, with Jaehyun.
She raised an eyebrow, looking at Jaehyun, then Jiho, then Jaehyun again, then Jiho.
“Can we come in?” Jiho asked with a small, sarcastic smile.
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Y/N stepped aside, shaking away her confusion.
Why was Jaehyun here?
She and Jaehyun weren’t really close. She couldn’t remember ever having a proper conversation with him. He didn’t speak much around her, so she assumed he simply wasn’t comfortable with her, and she never pushed.
They settled into Y/N’s living room.
Jaehyun and Jiho sat on the larger couch beside each other, while Y/N took the single chair, her right leg tucked underneath her.
“I was about to sleep. Any reason you guys are here?” Y/N asked.
“Well, I was already planning to come over and check on you or something, and I saw Jaehyun on my way here, so he just joined me.” Jiho smiled brightly.
“She forced me,” Jaehyun said, rolling his eyes slightly.
“Of course she did.” Y/N laughed.
The conversation drifted from casual to serious in 30mins.
“Yeah, he’s a total bitch. I don’t know if it’s too early to ask, but what did he do to you that night? I just know it was fucked up.” Jiho clenched her jaw.
Y/N and Jiho slipped fully into gossip mode.
Jaehyun took out his phone and pretended to scroll through it, though he was listening to every word.
“Well...” Y/N started nervously. Maybe it was still too early. It had only been a week or two, and her heart still ached.
She glanced at Jaehyun, who looked completely absorbed in his phone. A part of her worried he would report everything back to Jungkook afterward.
“He said something about me not being his... choice?” Y/N wasn’t even sure that was the right way to phrase it.
She remembered it perfectly. Every word, every sentence. The clothes he wore, the way his hair fell messily over his eyes. His scent. The feeling of his touch against her skin. How he avoided eye contact after she asked, ‘What are we?’ How he never looked up once, not even when she was leaving.
She didn’t want to tell Jiho the details. Especially not with Jaehyun definitely listening.
Jiho let out a sad sigh. Then sadness became anger. “Nothing good ever comes out of his mouth. Everything he says is bullshit.”
Y/N laughed softly.
“You should leave him before you lose yourself.” Jaehyun finally spoke, lifting his gaze from his phone.
“I—what?” Y/N's smile slowly faded.
Jiho stared at him with her mouth open. Neither of them had expected Jaehyun to speak.
Especially not about Y/N and Jungkook. Especially not to give advice.
Jaehyun merely shrugged, as though he had said something completely ordinary.
“Did that advice come from personal experience?” Jiho joked.
Y/N was about to laugh too.
Until Jaehyun nodded. “Yeah.”
“Oh.” Y/N immediately covered her mouth.
Jiho awkwardly patted his shoulder “Sorry.” Maybe she was trying to comfort him somehow, maybe she wasn't.
“Thanks…Anyway, it's almost midnight. I should go. Jiho, are you staying?”
“Uh... yeah, I guess so. Get home safe, okay?”
“Thanks for coming over,” Y/N added, standing and walking him to the door.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
Jaehyun gave her a small smile before leaving. Y/N locked the door and walked back to the living room.
The moment her eyes met Jiho’s, both girls burst into laughter.
Y/N doubled over, clutching her stomach, Jiho nearly slid off the couch.
“I did not expect him—” Jiho couldn’t even finish her sentence before she started wheezing.
Y/N took a deep breath, wiping at the tears gathering in her eyes. “I feel bad for him, though.”
Eventually they calmed down and headed toward Y/N’s room.
The first word out of Jiho’s mouth was “Damn.”
Y/N clicked her tongue, “Girl, it’s not like you haven’t seen a messier place.”
“Yeah, but this is your room.” Jiho gestured dramatically.
“I’ve been feeling tired lately. Nothing serious. I just don’t have the energy to clean.” She picked up a few clothes from the floor to make space.
“How tired are we talking?” Jiho raised an eyebrow while helping.
“Just... tired. And some headaches.”
“You should eat properly and get more rest.”
Both of them climbed into bed. Sleepiness settled over them quickly.
________
Y/N woke up the next morning already irritated. The exhaustion had settled into her bones before she had even opened her eyes, and the blood stain on her shorts and bedsheet did nothing to improve her mood.
“I thought you were keeping track,” Jiho said, watching her friend scrub furiously at the stain as though she were trying to erase the entire morning.
“I did. It just came early... I guess.”
“You should see a doctor. You know, just to be safe.”
“I guess so, but I don’t think it’s really necessary.”
“My aunt found out she had cancer when her period came early for two months and she went to the doctor for a checkup.”
“Wow, thanks, Jiho. That really made me feel relaxed.” Y/N rolled her eyes and shot her friend a look.
“What? I just want you to be safe and healthy.” Jiho pouted, throwing her hands up in defense.
“I’ll go next week. Maybe.” Y/N mumbled it quietly, still convinced it was unnecessary.
_____
Jungkook attended every hangout, every meetup, every party, secretly hoping to see her. But she never showed up.
He would run past her apartment during his nightly runs, pretending it was nothing, pretending it had always been part of his route. He did see her once, only from a distance.
She was taking out the trash. Afterward, she sat down on her porch, doing absolutely nothing. Just sitting there. Jungkook's heart went into chaos. His breathing became uneven, his palms grew damp. It was ridiculous. Why was he nervous? He ran away before she could notice him.
Even though he had spent weeks rehearsing conversations in his head.
What he would say.
What he would do.
How he would apologize.
But when the moment finally arrived, he chickened out and kept running.
Jungkook had never met someone as kind as Y/N. Someone as patient. Someone who felt so real and yet somehow dreamlike at the same time.
He remembered the first time he truly noticed her. They had been classmates for nearly a year, but she had existed only at the edge of his vision. Until one afternoon in math class. He sat behind her that day. The teacher had assigned a worksheet, and Jungkook wasn't particularly good at math.
Y/N wasn't either, except when it came to algebra. Algebra was her thing.
Jungkook scrunched his nose in frustration and let out a long sigh as he attempted the same problem for the fourth time. Then, like some small miracle sent down from heaven, Y/N turned around.
“Need help?” Her voice was soft, low, calm. She wore a small smile that felt warm without trying to be.
Jungkook nodded. “Yeah. Uh, thanks. He pushed his notebook toward her. The funny thing was that his eyes kept drifting toward her face instead of the equation.
Jungkook knew who Y/N was. A classmate, nothing more. They had never spoken before. Never exchanged more than a passing glance.
He knew her name. He knew she seemed easy to talk to. That was it.
He didn't immediately fall for her, but he found her interesting, likeable, fun.
That night, he sent her a follow request on Instagram. And somehow, that was where everything began.
Y/N knew Jungkook well. Or at least as well as anyone could know someone from a distance.
He was rich, popular enough. Always getting into trouble with his friends.
Jungkook hung around all the popular guys. He wasn't as famous as they were, but people knew him. Partly because he was Jungkook. Partly because his older brother had been one of those seniors everyone admired.
Y/N still remembered the excitement she felt when Jungkook walked up to her after school a week after she had helped him with algebra. She remembered how hot her ears became. How she stumbled over her own words when he asked for her number. How she stuttered through each digit.
She never imagined that moment would eventually lead her here.
_________
Jungkook sat on the couch, leaning back with one hand covering his face. Every now and then, a sigh escaped him.
He regretted asking Mingyu that one specific question because now Mingyu seemed determined to turn it into a lifelong lesson.
Jungkook had casually asked, “Is Y/N coming?”
The moment Mingyu mentioned a business meetup. That had been a mistake.
It started with, “Jungkook, this is about us, our business, our future.”
And somehow evolved into, “You had your chances and you fucked them up. You can't screw around and expect her to take you back.”
Jungkook groaned quietly. He rolled another joint and lit it.
“You've been smoking a lot more lately. Jaehyun finally joined the conversation “You might need rehab if you keep this up.”
Without waiting for permission, Jaehyun stole the joint from Jungkook's hand, took a drag, and walked away.
Jungkook smoked a lot. Always had. But when he was around Y/N he tried not to.
Y/N never complained.
Never told him to stop. Never judged him, but he remembered a conversation from high school. He had offered her a cigarette once.
She refused. He asked why. Y/N had simply shrugged. “I don't like the smell. It makes it harder for me to breathe.”
That was all. Such a small answer and yet Jungkook remembered it years later. Funny how the mind worked. It forgot important things.
But held onto moments like that forever.
________
Y/N started worrying. Just a little.
Her “period” had stopped after two days. There had barely been any blood. Normally it lasted five or six days and was heavy enough to annoy her into existence.
She paced back and forth across her kitchen.
What if I have cancer?
What if it's some terminal illness?
What if I only have a few months left?
Her thoughts immediately drifted toward her parents. Should I spend my remaining time with them?
Then her friends. Jiho. What would she even tell her?
Then her dream. A bookstore and a café. She had dreamed about it since she was a child. A small place full of books and coffee and quiet conversations.
Then, inevitably, her thoughts drifted to Jungkook. Would he finally care about me a little if he found out I was dying Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing.
The thought arrived quietly and somehow that made it worse.
“What the fuck?” She whispered it to herself. If Jiho could hear her thoughts right now, she would probably slap her across the face.
Y/N sighed. She really needed to see a doctor before her imagination drove her insane.
______
The next day, Y/N went to a clinic to see a gynecologist.
The moment she stepped out of the doctor's office, the world no longer felt entirely real.
That night, Y/N stepped into Jiho's apartment, still unsure whether she should tell her the news. She didn't even know if it was bad news or good news.
Y/N sat in Jiho's room, staring at the floor. “I went to the clinic today,” she began quietly.
Jiho immediately stopped what she was doing and turned all her attention toward her friend.
“You’re not dying, are you?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.
Y/N laughed. “God, no.”
Jiho sat down beside her on the bed “Then you're okay?”
“I am, but there's more to it... I don't know how to say this, Jiho.” Y/N spoke honestly. Her lower lip trembled slightly.
“It's okay. I'm here.” Jiho reached for her hand. She didn't know what to expect.
“Jiho…I'm pregnant.”
The words finally left her mouth after a long silence.
Even now, saying them felt unreal. Like a dream, like something that had happened to somebody else.
“You're sure?” It was a stupid question. But Jiho couldn't believe it either.
Y/N nodded. “Yes.”
Jiho covered her mouth. “Oh my God.” Then she pulled her best friend into a hug.
Y/N finally let out the tears she had been holding back all day. She didn't know if she was happy, sad, terrified or all three at once.
Neither of them said Jungkook's name.
They didn't need to.
⸻
With Jiho's support, Y/N took the train to Suwon the next day. She told her parents after only a few minutes of settling in.
It was the hardest conversation of her life. But they didn't yell at her. They didn't blame her.
Her mother simply held her while she cried. Her father sat quietly for a long time.
Then he said something Y/N would never forget. “You're still our daughter first.”
Y/N was an only child, but she had never been particularly close to her parents.
She had lived away from them since middle school, when she moved to Seoul to attend school and stay with her aunt.
There had never been any conflict between them. No arguments, no resentment. Just distance.
Her mother hadn't been there when she got her first period, or during her first heartbreak.
Her father hadn't been there to protect her when boys from school followed her home, or when she learned how to drive.
It had always been her aunt. And eventually, even her aunt had moved away to the States to live with her husband.
Yet somehow, despite all those years apart, they were still her parents. And the love that existed between them had never disappeared.
It had simply remained unspoken.
⸻
A week later, they made the decision. Y/N would move back into her parents' house.
She could start over. Find a job in Suwon. Build a life there and her parents were willing to help.
She could stay somewhere nobody knew Jungkook. Somewhere nobody knew the story.
Or the mistakes.
⸻
Jiho was the only friend who knew. Y/N had made her promise.
“No one else can know.”
“Not even the boys?” Jiho asked.
Y/N shook her head immediately. “No.”
“And Jungkook?”
The name still felt like a knife.
Y/N's voice barely came out. “Especially not Jungkook.”
Jiho hesitated. “But he should be responsible—”
“I know.” Tears filled Y/N's eyes. “But I can't give him that power. I can't let him back into my life just for him to leave me again. I tried so hard to walk away from him. I can't do it again.”
Jiho wrapped her arms around her tightly. “You won't have to.” Her voice was firm. “I promise.”
⸻
The night before Y/N left town, she took a walk around the city.
Past familiar streets. Past places she used to visit with her friends.
Then she ran into Jungkook. He seemed to be out walking too. The familiar sight made her chest ache.
Both of them stopped.
For a moment, she simply looked at him.
The boy she had loved for years, the boy who had broken her heart, the father of the child she was carrying.
Jungkook spoke first. “Y/N?”
She smiled faintly. “Hi.”
He took a step closer. “Where have you been?”
She shrugged. “Busy.”
Jungkook studied her face carefully. “I heard you're moving to Suwon. Back to your parents.”
“Yeah.” A small pause. “Did Jiho tell you?”
“Jaehyun, actually.” He laughed awkwardly. “I thought I'd be the first to know.”
Y/N laughed too. “He probably heard it from Jiho.”
Jungkook opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. Like there was something he desperately wanted to say, something he needed to say.
But instead he only said, “Well... good luck, then.”
Y/N nodded. “Thanks.”
She turned and began walking away. Jungkook watched her leave. Something about it felt wrong. Final. Like a door closing.
But he didn't stop her.
Jungkook didn't know much about love. Not beyond what he had seen from his parents. He wasn't even sure whether what he felt now was love, but if it was, love was painful, messy, terrifying.
⸻
The next morning, Y/N left for Suwon. Jiho cried the moment she hugged her goodbye.
“You better call me every day.”
Y/N smiled. “I will.”
“And I'll visit every other week if I can. Jiho sniffled loudly.
Y/N laughed as she rubbed her back.
“And you better wait for me before delivering that baby. I want to be there.”The threat only made Y/N laugh harder.
⸻
Eunwoo never knew why Y/N left.
Neither did Mingyu, nor Jungkook.
None of them knew what she carried with her.
But Jaehyun knew there had to be a reason. Something she hadn't said aloud, because Jaehyun had been there once. He had walked away from someone too. Not because he stopped loving them, but because he had nearly lost himself, completely. And he knew Y/N had left for a reason. Maybe she had almost lost herself too ir maybe she had left because she had found something worth protecting.
⸻
Y/N's mother stood beside her. “You'll still follow your dreams,” she promised.
The words settled somewhere deep inside Y/N. Like warmth, like reassurance, like something she had wanted from her mother for years.
Jiho and Y/N called almost every day and Jiho visited whenever she could.
The train ride was only thirty minutes. She always brought fruit and every kind of healthy food she could find. Y/N never asked about Jungkook. She didn't want to know.
But at night, she often spoke softly to her baby. One hand resting over the small curve of her stomach. She told her about her friends. About her life. About her first love.
Then she whispered something only the baby could hear. “You're the only part of him I'll ever keep.”
⸻
Jungkook felt reckless. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat.
Is this it?
Is this the end?
He wanted one more chance. Just one. A chance to tell Y/N he loved her, a chance to apologize, a chance to undo every cruel thing he had said. But he knew he had already been given too many chances and he had wasted every single one. He felt useless.
His bed felt larger now. Colder.
His house felt empty. Unlived in.
He barely stepped into the kitchen anymore.
Everything reminded him of her.
Her presence, her scent, her laugh, her voice.
He wanted to go to Suwon. It wasn't even far. He wanted to go just to see her one more time. But he didn't have the courage.
He never had.
Eunwoo still texted Y/N occasionally to check on her. He no longer argued with Jungkook. Never lectured him. Never brought Y/N up, because he knew Jungkook was carrying something now. Not love.
Something worse.
Regret.
Mingyu still texted Y/N too, mostly memes. At the same time, he stayed close to Jungkook. Making sure he didn't drink too much, making sure he didn't smoke too much. One night, Jungkook got too high and broke down in Mingyu's arms. Sobbing about how much he regretted everything. How much he missed her.
Jaehyun, on the other hand, never called Y/N. Never texted. But he was happy for her. And he didn't hate Jungkook either. Jungkook was still his friend.
Love was messy. It was never simple. Sometimes it healed people, sometimes it broke them, sometimes it did both at once.
And Jaehyun knew that better than most.
Note : Hii Omg can’t believe this shit didn’t flop. I’m so happy😭. Also I read all your feedbacks, advice, compliments and I wanna thank you all for it. I really appreciate them, keep it coming. Also this chapter is a bit short and it might be moving too fast lmao sorry and thank you all again🫶🏼🫡 . Guys i see all your requests too but I kinda want to complete this series first or idk. but thanks for all the great ideas, i promise to write them.
Summary - For years, they existed in the space between friendship and love, too close to be platonic, yet never enough to be real. He treated her like she was his in private, only to pull away the moment things became too serious.
The night she finally chose to walk away from the man who once consumed her entire world, she carried something else with her too.
Four years later, a little girl, or fate perhaps—bring them back to each other.
genre : second chance romance, unrequited love (at first), slow burn, accidental pregnancy, Friends → strangers → lovers, angst, fluff
themes : emotionally unavailable! Jungkook , unlabeled relationship, friends with benefits(kind of), fear of commitment, one-sided devotion, accidental pregnancy, absent father (he doesn’t know), girl dad! Jungkook, second chances, yearning, found family, angst with happy ending
⤷ series masterlist ˎˊ˗
In Another Life
The worst thing Jungkook ever said to Y/N happened on an ordinary night. That’s the cruel thing about memories. They don’t warn you.
They were in his kitchen. It was raining outside, the soft tapping against the windows filling the silence between them. Jungkook stood by the stove, stirring noodles lazily. Y/N sat on the counter like she always did, watching him. The scene looked so normal, so familiar.
Jungkook passed her the bowl. “Careful, it’s hot.” Y/N took it quietly. She should have felt comfort. Instead, she felt something tight in her chest. “Jungkook,” she said softly.
He glanced up. “Hmm?”
She hesitated, then asked the question she had been holding inside for months, years.
“What are we?”
Jungkook groaned immediately. “Not this again.”
Y/N’s fingers tightened around the bowl “I’m just asking.”
“You’re overthinking.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“But we act like... this.”Her voice was quieter now.
Jungkook laughed, a sharp sound. “We don’t act like a couple, if that’s what you mean.”
Y/N stared at him. “You cook for me, you take care of me, we spend nights together.”
Jungkook shook his head as if she was missing the point. “That’s just us.”
“That’s what couples do.”
“No,” he said flatly. “Couples are in love.”
The words settled in the room like something heavy. Y/N’s throat felt dry.
“So you don’t…love me?”
Jungkook looked almost amused. “Y/N. He leaned against the counter. “You’re sweet, tou’re familiar.” The pause felt endless. “But you’re not someone I’d ever actually choose.”
The words landed like glass shattering. Y/N didn’t move. Jungkook kept going, careless. “You’re comfortable, okay? And you’re my best friend. That’s it.”
Silence.
“If I ever wanted you, I would’ve picked you a long time ago.”
Y/N didn’t cry in front of him. She just nodded slowly, as though she understood, as though it made sense. Then she stood up. “I should go.”
Jungkook frowned. “Why are you being dramatic?” He asked, even as his own words made him wince. They sounded stupid, hurtful and careless. Cruel in a way he hadn't intended, yet couldn't take back.
“I’m not.” She grabbed her jacket.
Jungkook sighed. “You’ll come back in a few days anyway,” he mumbled. Not something he meant to say out loud, but something he wished.
Y/N paused at the door. For a second, she almost turned around, almost told him how much he had hurt her. But something inside her had gone strangely quiet. “No,” she said softly. “I won’t.”
And this time, she meant it.
⸻
Jungkook didn’t think before he speak.
He said things that got him out of problems quickly. Not things he meant. Not things he felt. Not things he wanted to say.
Y/N didn’t come to their hangouts anymore. It was always because she was “busy,” or “working,” or “not feeling well.” But deep down, Jungkook remembered that night a little too well.
He had said things he didn’t mean. Things that made his stomach turn the moment they left his mouth because of how cruel they sounded, how harsh, how much of a lie they were.
He remembered the clothes she wore that night. The way her hair was pinned up in a claw clip, the one he had bought her, her earrings, her necklace, the shade of her lip gloss, the blush on her cheeks.
He remembered how nervous she sounded when she asked him. How his heart had been beating too fast. The look on her face when he said those words.
Her face when she got up to leave.How badly he wanted to stop her, to hold her back, to beg her not to leave him, to tell her it was all a lie and that he was just afraid.
But he didn’t.
He could still remember the ache in his chest. The fear that took over him when she said she wouldn’t be coming back anymore. How he broke down after she left.
Y/N collapsed into Jiho’s arms the moment she reach her apartment and saw her standing outside.
She had called earlier, saying she needed her. Jiho knew immediately.
She might not have heard what Jungkook said. She might not have known what the argument had been about this time. But she knew enough.
Y/N hardly ever cried in front of her, in front of anyone. And now she was here, sobbing into her arms, and all Jiho could do was hold her tightly and tell her everything would be okay, even though she wasn’t sure how long that would take.
The others immediately knew something was wrong the next day.
Y/N’s absence, Jungkook barely speaking, Jiho glaring at him from time to time.
But nobody said anything, nobody questioned it.
_______
One night, Y/N’s doorbell rang at almost 11. She wasn’t expecting anybody. Could it be her neighbour trying to share leftovers with her again?
Y/N loved the place she lived. Her apartment. It wasn’t big, it wasn’t much but it was perfect. She loved her neighbours and flatmates. They were like a little family. Y/N came from Suwon, a city near Seoul, where her parents still lived.
She got up and opened the door.
Jiho stood there, with Jaehyun.
She raised an eyebrow, looking at Jaehyun, then Jiho, then Jaehyun again, then Jiho.
“Can we come in?” Jiho asked with a small, sarcastic smile.
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Y/N stepped aside, shaking away her confusion.
Why was Jaehyun here?
She and Jaehyun weren’t really close. She couldn’t remember ever having a proper conversation with him. He didn’t speak much around her, so she assumed he simply wasn’t comfortable with her, and she never pushed.
They settled into Y/N’s living room.
Jaehyun and Jiho sat on the larger couch beside each other, while Y/N took the single chair, her right leg tucked underneath her.
“I was about to sleep. Any reason you guys are here?” Y/N asked.
“Well, I was already planning to come over and check on you or something, and I saw Jaehyun on my way here, so he just joined me.” Jiho smiled brightly.
“She forced me,” Jaehyun said, rolling his eyes slightly.
“Of course she did.” Y/N laughed.
The conversation drifted from casual to serious in 30mins.
“Yeah, he’s a total bitch. I don’t know if it’s too early to ask, but what did he do to you that night? I just know it was fucked up.” Jiho clenched her jaw.
Y/N and Jiho slipped fully into gossip mode.
Jaehyun took out his phone and pretended to scroll through it, though he was listening to every word.
“Well...” Y/N started nervously. Maybe it was still too early. It had only been a week or two, and her heart still ached.
She glanced at Jaehyun, who looked completely absorbed in his phone. A part of her worried he would report everything back to Jungkook afterward.
“He said something about me not being his... choice?” Y/N wasn’t even sure that was the right way to phrase it.
She remembered it perfectly. Every word, every sentence. The clothes he wore, the way his hair fell messily over his eyes. His scent. The feeling of his touch against her skin. How he avoided eye contact after she asked, ‘What are we?’ How he never looked up once, not even when she was leaving.
She didn’t want to tell Jiho the details. Especially not with Jaehyun definitely listening.
Jiho let out a sad sigh. Then sadness became anger. “Nothing good ever comes out of his mouth. Everything he says is bullshit.”
Y/N laughed softly.
“You should leave him before you lose yourself.” Jaehyun finally spoke, lifting his gaze from his phone.
“I—what?” Y/N's smile slowly faded.
Jiho stared at him with her mouth open. Neither of them had expected Jaehyun to speak.
Especially not about Y/N and Jungkook. Especially not to give advice.
Jaehyun merely shrugged, as though he had said something completely ordinary.
“Did that advice come from personal experience?” Jiho joked.
Y/N was about to laugh too.
Until Jaehyun nodded. “Yeah.”
“Oh.” Y/N immediately covered her mouth.
Jiho awkwardly patted his shoulder “Sorry.” Maybe she was trying to comfort him somehow, maybe she wasn't.
“Thanks…Anyway, it's almost midnight. I should go. Jiho, are you staying?”
“Uh... yeah, I guess so. Get home safe, okay?”
“Thanks for coming over,” Y/N added, standing and walking him to the door.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
Jaehyun gave her a small smile before leaving. Y/N locked the door and walked back to the living room.
The moment her eyes met Jiho’s, both girls burst into laughter.
Y/N doubled over, clutching her stomach, Jiho nearly slid off the couch.
“I did not expect him—” Jiho couldn’t even finish her sentence before she started wheezing.
Y/N took a deep breath, wiping at the tears gathering in her eyes. “I feel bad for him, though.”
Eventually they calmed down and headed toward Y/N’s room.
The first word out of Jiho’s mouth was “Damn.”
Y/N clicked her tongue, “Girl, it’s not like you haven’t seen a messier place.”
“Yeah, but this is your room.” Jiho gestured dramatically.
“I’ve been feeling tired lately. Nothing serious. I just don’t have the energy to clean.” She picked up a few clothes from the floor to make space.
“How tired are we talking?” Jiho raised an eyebrow while helping.
“Just... tired. And some headaches.”
“You should eat properly and get more rest.”
Both of them climbed into bed. Sleepiness settled over them quickly.
________
Y/N woke up the next morning already irritated. The exhaustion had settled into her bones before she had even opened her eyes, and the blood stain on her shorts and bedsheet did nothing to improve her mood.
“I thought you were keeping track,” Jiho said, watching her friend scrub furiously at the stain as though she were trying to erase the entire morning.
“I did. It just came early... I guess.”
“You should see a doctor. You know, just to be safe.”
“I guess so, but I don’t think it’s really necessary.”
“My aunt found out she had cancer when her period came early for two months and she went to the doctor for a checkup.”
“Wow, thanks, Jiho. That really made me feel relaxed.” Y/N rolled her eyes and shot her friend a look.
“What? I just want you to be safe and healthy.” Jiho pouted, throwing her hands up in defense.
“I’ll go next week. Maybe.” Y/N mumbled it quietly, still convinced it was unnecessary.
_____
Jungkook attended every hangout, every meetup, every party, secretly hoping to see her. But she never showed up.
He would run past her apartment during his nightly runs, pretending it was nothing, pretending it had always been part of his route. He did see her once, only from a distance.
She was taking out the trash. Afterward, she sat down on her porch, doing absolutely nothing. Just sitting there. Jungkook's heart went into chaos. His breathing became uneven, his palms grew damp. It was ridiculous. Why was he nervous? He ran away before she could notice him.
Even though he had spent weeks rehearsing conversations in his head.
What he would say.
What he would do.
How he would apologize.
But when the moment finally arrived, he chickened out and kept running.
Jungkook had never met someone as kind as Y/N. Someone as patient. Someone who felt so real and yet somehow dreamlike at the same time.
He remembered the first time he truly noticed her. They had been classmates for nearly a year, but she had existed only at the edge of his vision. Until one afternoon in math class. He sat behind her that day. The teacher had assigned a worksheet, and Jungkook wasn't particularly good at math.
Y/N wasn't either, except when it came to algebra. Algebra was her thing.
Jungkook scrunched his nose in frustration and let out a long sigh as he attempted the same problem for the fourth time. Then, like some small miracle sent down from heaven, Y/N turned around.
“Need help?” Her voice was soft, low, calm. She wore a small smile that felt warm without trying to be.
Jungkook nodded. “Yeah. Uh, thanks. He pushed his notebook toward her. The funny thing was that his eyes kept drifting toward her face instead of the equation.
Jungkook knew who Y/N was. A classmate, nothing more. They had never spoken before. Never exchanged more than a passing glance.
He knew her name. He knew she seemed easy to talk to. That was it.
He didn't immediately fall for her, but he found her interesting, likeable, fun.
That night, he sent her a follow request on Instagram. And somehow, that was where everything began.
Y/N knew Jungkook well. Or at least as well as anyone could know someone from a distance.
He was rich, popular enough. Always getting into trouble with his friends.
Jungkook hung around all the popular guys. He wasn't as famous as they were, but people knew him. Partly because he was Jungkook. Partly because his older brother had been one of those seniors everyone admired.
Y/N still remembered the excitement she felt when Jungkook walked up to her after school a week after she had helped him with algebra. She remembered how hot her ears became. How she stumbled over her own words when he asked for her number. How she stuttered through each digit.
She never imagined that moment would eventually lead her here.
_________
Jungkook sat on the couch, leaning back with one hand covering his face. Every now and then, a sigh escaped him.
He regretted asking Mingyu that one specific question because now Mingyu seemed determined to turn it into a lifelong lesson.
Jungkook had casually asked, “Is Y/N coming?”
The moment Mingyu mentioned a business meetup. That had been a mistake.
It started with, “Jungkook, this is about us, our business, our future.”
And somehow evolved into, “You had your chances and you fucked them up. You can't screw around and expect her to take you back.”
Jungkook groaned quietly. He rolled another joint and lit it.
“You've been smoking a lot more lately. Jaehyun finally joined the conversation “You might need rehab if you keep this up.”
Without waiting for permission, Jaehyun stole the joint from Jungkook's hand, took a drag, and walked away.
Jungkook smoked a lot. Always had. But when he was around Y/N he tried not to.
Y/N never complained.
Never told him to stop. Never judged him, but he remembered a conversation from high school. He had offered her a cigarette once.
She refused. He asked why. Y/N had simply shrugged. “I don't like the smell. It makes it harder for me to breathe.”
That was all. Such a small answer and yet Jungkook remembered it years later. Funny how the mind worked. It forgot important things.
But held onto moments like that forever.
________
Y/N started worrying. Just a little.
Her “period” had stopped after two days. There had barely been any blood. Normally it lasted five or six days and was heavy enough to annoy her into existence.
She paced back and forth across her kitchen.
What if I have cancer?
What if it's some terminal illness?
What if I only have a few months left?
Her thoughts immediately drifted toward her parents. Should I spend my remaining time with them?
Then her friends. Jiho. What would she even tell her?
Then her dream. A bookstore and a café. She had dreamed about it since she was a child. A small place full of books and coffee and quiet conversations.
Then, inevitably, her thoughts drifted to Jungkook. Would he finally care about me a little if he found out I was dying Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing.
The thought arrived quietly and somehow that made it worse.
“What the fuck?” She whispered it to herself. If Jiho could hear her thoughts right now, she would probably slap her across the face.
Y/N sighed. She really needed to see a doctor before her imagination drove her insane.
______
The next day, Y/N went to a clinic to see a gynecologist.
The moment she stepped out of the doctor's office, the world no longer felt entirely real.
That night, Y/N stepped into Jiho's apartment, still unsure whether she should tell her the news. She didn't even know if it was bad news or good news.
Y/N sat in Jiho's room, staring at the floor. “I went to the clinic today,” she began quietly.
Jiho immediately stopped what she was doing and turned all her attention toward her friend.
“You’re not dying, are you?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.
Y/N laughed. “God, no.”
Jiho sat down beside her on the bed “Then you're okay?”
“I am, but there's more to it... I don't know how to say this, Jiho.” Y/N spoke honestly. Her lower lip trembled slightly.
“It's okay. I'm here.” Jiho reached for her hand. She didn't know what to expect.
“Jiho…I'm pregnant.”
The words finally left her mouth after a long silence.
Even now, saying them felt unreal. Like a dream, like something that had happened to somebody else.
“You're sure?” It was a stupid question. But Jiho couldn't believe it either.
Y/N nodded. “Yes.”
Jiho covered her mouth. “Oh my God.” Then she pulled her best friend into a hug.
Y/N finally let out the tears she had been holding back all day. She didn't know if she was happy, sad, terrified or all three at once.
Neither of them said Jungkook's name.
They didn't need to.
⸻
With Jiho's support, Y/N took the train to Suwon the next day. She told her parents after only a few minutes of settling in.
It was the hardest conversation of her life. But they didn't yell at her. They didn't blame her.
Her mother simply held her while she cried. Her father sat quietly for a long time.
Then he said something Y/N would never forget. “You're still our daughter first.”
Y/N was an only child, but she had never been particularly close to her parents.
She had lived away from them since middle school, when she moved to Seoul to attend school and stay with her aunt.
There had never been any conflict between them. No arguments, no resentment. Just distance.
Her mother hadn't been there when she got her first period, or during her first heartbreak.
Her father hadn't been there to protect her when boys from school followed her home, or when she learned how to drive.
It had always been her aunt. And eventually, even her aunt had moved away to the States to live with her husband.
Yet somehow, despite all those years apart, they were still her parents. And the love that existed between them had never disappeared.
It had simply remained unspoken.
⸻
A week later, they made the decision. Y/N would move back into her parents' house.
She could start over. Find a job in Suwon. Build a life there and her parents were willing to help.
She could stay somewhere nobody knew Jungkook. Somewhere nobody knew the story.
Or the mistakes.
⸻
Jiho was the only friend who knew. Y/N had made her promise.
“No one else can know.”
“Not even the boys?” Jiho asked.
Y/N shook her head immediately. “No.”
“And Jungkook?”
The name still felt like a knife.
Y/N's voice barely came out. “Especially not Jungkook.”
Jiho hesitated. “But he should be responsible—”
“I know.” Tears filled Y/N's eyes. “But I can't give him that power. I can't let him back into my life just for him to leave me again. I tried so hard to walk away from him. I can't do it again.”
Jiho wrapped her arms around her tightly. “You won't have to.” Her voice was firm. “I promise.”
⸻
The night before Y/N left town, she took a walk around the city.
Past familiar streets. Past places she used to visit with her friends.
Then she ran into Jungkook. He seemed to be out walking too. The familiar sight made her chest ache.
Both of them stopped.
For a moment, she simply looked at him.
The boy she had loved for years, the boy who had broken her heart, the father of the child she was carrying.
Jungkook spoke first. “Y/N?”
She smiled faintly. “Hi.”
He took a step closer. “Where have you been?”
She shrugged. “Busy.”
Jungkook studied her face carefully. “I heard you're moving to Suwon. Back to your parents.”
“Yeah.” A small pause. “Did Jiho tell you?”
“Jaehyun, actually.” He laughed awkwardly. “I thought I'd be the first to know.”
Y/N laughed too. “He probably heard it from Jiho.”
Jungkook opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. Like there was something he desperately wanted to say, something he needed to say.
But instead he only said, “Well... good luck, then.”
Y/N nodded. “Thanks.”
She turned and began walking away. Jungkook watched her leave. Something about it felt wrong. Final. Like a door closing.
But he didn't stop her.
Jungkook didn't know much about love. Not beyond what he had seen from his parents. He wasn't even sure whether what he felt now was love, but if it was, love was painful, messy, terrifying.
⸻
The next morning, Y/N left for Suwon. Jiho cried the moment she hugged her goodbye.
“You better call me every day.”
Y/N smiled. “I will.”
“And I'll visit every other week if I can. Jiho sniffled loudly.
Y/N laughed as she rubbed her back.
“And you better wait for me before delivering that baby. I want to be there.”The threat only made Y/N laugh harder.
⸻
Eunwoo never knew why Y/N left.
Neither did Mingyu, nor Jungkook.
None of them knew what she carried with her.
But Jaehyun knew there had to be a reason. Something she hadn't said aloud, because Jaehyun had been there once. He had walked away from someone too. Not because he stopped loving them, but because he had nearly lost himself, completely. And he knew Y/N had left for a reason. Maybe she had almost lost herself too ir maybe she had left because she had found something worth protecting.
⸻
Y/N's mother stood beside her. “You'll still follow your dreams,” she promised.
The words settled somewhere deep inside Y/N. Like warmth, like reassurance, like something she had wanted from her mother for years.
Jiho and Y/N called almost every day and Jiho visited whenever she could.
The train ride was only thirty minutes. She always brought fruit and every kind of healthy food she could find. Y/N never asked about Jungkook. She didn't want to know.
But at night, she often spoke softly to her baby. One hand resting over the small curve of her stomach. She told her about her friends. About her life. About her first love.
Then she whispered something only the baby could hear. “You're the only part of him I'll ever keep.”
⸻
Jungkook felt reckless. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat.
Is this it?
Is this the end?
He wanted one more chance. Just one. A chance to tell Y/N he loved her, a chance to apologize, a chance to undo every cruel thing he had said. But he knew he had already been given too many chances and he had wasted every single one. He felt useless.
His bed felt larger now. Colder.
His house felt empty. Unlived in.
He barely stepped into the kitchen anymore.
Everything reminded him of her.
Her presence, her scent, her laugh, her voice.
He wanted to go to Suwon. It wasn't even far. He wanted to go just to see her one more time. But he didn't have the courage.
He never had.
Eunwoo still texted Y/N occasionally to check on her. He no longer argued with Jungkook. Never lectured him. Never brought Y/N up, because he knew Jungkook was carrying something now. Not love.
Something worse.
Regret.
Mingyu still texted Y/N too, mostly memes. At the same time, he stayed close to Jungkook. Making sure he didn't drink too much, making sure he didn't smoke too much. One night, Jungkook got too high and broke down in Mingyu's arms. Sobbing about how much he regretted everything. How much he missed her.
Jaehyun, on the other hand, never called Y/N. Never texted. But he was happy for her. And he didn't hate Jungkook either. Jungkook was still his friend.
Love was messy. It was never simple. Sometimes it healed people, sometimes it broke them, sometimes it did both at once.
And Jaehyun knew that better than most.
Note : Hii Omg can’t believe this shit didn’t flop. I’m so happy😭. Also I read all your feedbacks, advice, compliments and I wanna thank you all for it. I really appreciate them, keep it coming. Also this chapter is a bit short and it might be moving too fast lmao sorry and thank you all again🫶🏼🫡 . Guys i see all your requests too but I kinda want to complete this series first or idk. but thanks for all the great ideas, i promise to write them.
˙⋆✮ They say having feelings for your brother's best friend is never a good idea...
But loving Jungkook feels like the easiest thing in the world.
He's been by your side for as long as you can remember, so it's only natural for you to feel devastated when your brother, Dohyun, tells you that Jungkook is about to get married.
For the first time ever, loving him doesn't feel easy at all.
pairing: brother's best friend!jungkook × f!reader
cw: age gap (jk is 32, reader is 22 ops), tension, reader is WHIPPED, pining, initial unrequited love (my fav), eventual smut
>> english is not my first language
chapter 3 | masterlist
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
The amusement park is Dohyun’s idea.
Which means that by the time Saturday finally arrives, you’ve already spent the better part of two weeks hearing about it.
Not constantly.
Just often enough that nobody is particularly surprised when he shows up that morning looking as excited as if the entire festival had been organized specifically for him.
Honestly, the weather seems determined to support his enthusiasm.
The sky stretches cloudless above the city, bright and impossibly blue. The sunlight is warm without being overwhelming, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of blooming trees through the parking lot as all of you make your way toward the entrance.
The park is already crowded.
Families fill the main avenue beyond the gates. Children dart between adults with a level of energy that feels physically impossible to maintain. Music drifts from hidden speakers overhead, cheerful and bright.
Somewhere in the distance, a roller coaster slowly climbs its tracks before disappearing into the sky.
A few seconds later, the screams follow.
You find yourself smiling before you’ve even fully stepped inside.
Not because of the rides.
Not because of the attractions.
Because of the people around you.
There’s something comforting about watching everyone fall back into familiar rhythms so easily, as though no time has passed at all. Conversations overlap. Half-finished jokes get interrupted because somebody starts talking before the punchline arrives. Nobody actually agrees on where to go first, yet somehow the entire group ends up moving in the same direction anyway.
Some things never change.
Jimin spends the first ten minutes insisting that one of the biggest roller coasters in the park should be your first stop.
His argument loses all credibility the moment he accidentally admits he’s never actually been on it himself.
The reaction is immediate.
“Wait” Sophie says, staring at him. “You’ve never ridden it?”
Jimin points at her defensively.
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It absolutely matters.”
“It kind of does when you’re trying to convince us.”
Taehyung nearly doubles over laughing.
“He’s been advertising this thing for way too long.”
By the time you finally reach the attraction, Taehyung has somehow turned the entire situation into a running joke at Jimin’s expense.
Namjoon spends most of the walk questioning why he continues spending time with any of you.
The ride itself turns out to be considerably worse than advertised.
Violently aggressive.
By the time it’s over, you feel like your soul has been separated from your body at least three different times.
When you finally stumble back onto solid ground, Layla looks delighted.
Sophie immediately wants to go again.
And Dohyun collapses onto the nearest bench with the expression of a man reconsidering every decision that has led him to this exact moment.
“I can still feel it moving.”
“You’ve been standing still for five minutes” Jungkook points out.
Dohyun stares into the distance.
“That’s what scares me.”
You laugh despite yourself.
The rest of the afternoon unfolds with the kind of easy spontaneity that only seems possible when you’re surrounded by people who know each other well enough to abandon every plan almost immediately.
At one point, nearly forty minutes disappear because Hoseok becomes convinced he can win one of the oversized stuffed animals hanging from the ceiling of a carnival booth.
His confidence lasts considerably longer than his success.
After several increasingly embarrassing attempts, a small crowd has gathered nearby.
The employee running the game looks exhausted.
Hoseok remains optimistic.
“I’ve almost got it.”
“You’ve said that six times-“ Layla says. “Because it’s true.” he interrupts.
You have to turn away to hide your smile.
Unfortunately for Hoseok, optimism proves significantly less effective than Taehyung.
After watching the disaster unfold for several minutes, he casually steps forward, picks up one of the rings, and wins the prize on his very first attempt.
The silence that follows is brief.
The laughter isn’t.
Even Jungkook looks incapable of helping himself.
You glance over before you can stop yourself.
He’s leaning against the side of the booth, shoulders shaking slightly as he laughs at something Taehyung says.
The sight catches you off guard for a moment.
You immediately look away.
Unfortunately, years of practice have never made that particular task any easier.
Which is deeply irritating.
The afternoon gradually softens into evening.
Sunlight fades slowly, painting everything in shades of gold before finally surrendering to dusk. Strings of lights suspended throughout the park flicker to life overhead, transforming pathways and attractions into something almost cinematic.
Families begin making their way toward the exits.
The crowds thin and the air grows cooler.
Music drifts more clearly through the evening breeze.
Everything feels calmer than it did only a few hours ago.
Without really deciding to, all of you eventually find yourselves wandering toward one of the older sections of the park.
The newer attractions gradually disappear behind you, replaced by buildings that look decades older. Decorative lamps cast warm pools of light across the pavement while vintage signs glow softly against the darkening sky.
The entire area feels strangely charming.
It’s there that Sophie notices the funhouse.
The building stands slightly apart from everything surrounding it, large enough to attract attention without appearing particularly impressive. Rows of lights frame the entrance, illuminating painted lettering that promises mirrors, illusions, hidden passageways, and impossible reflections.
Sophie stops walking.
You immediately know what’s about to happen.
“Oh, we’re doing that.”
Layla follows her gaze.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
Namjoon sighs.
Dohyun groans.
Jimin looks interested.
Taehyung and Hoseok are already heading toward the entrance.
And just like that, the decision is made.
Naturally, Sophie decides all of you have to go inside.
Naturally, nobody manages to stop her.
Nobody seems especially surprised.
The attraction turns out to be exactly the sort of place designed to create confusion.
Corridors twist unexpectedly. Reflections appear where exits should be. Walls seem to shift depending on the angle you’re looking from. More than once, you find yourself reaching toward what looks like an open passage only to discover your own reflection staring back at you.
At first, the group stays together.
Then somehow, you don’t.
The funhouse simply seems determined to separate people.
Every hallway leads somewhere different. Every turn presents another choice. Voices echo strangely through the building, making it impossible to tell who’s actually nearby and who’s several rooms away.
You’re fairly certain Layla was walking beside you only a moment ago.
Then you turn a corner.
And suddenly, she’s gone.
The realization settles in gradually as you continue down another corridor lined entirely with mirrors. The others’ voices have become distant now, reduced to occasional bursts of laughter that seem to come from every direction at once.
You pause at an intersection, studying the two nearly identical hallways stretching out in front of you.
Neither looks familiar.
Neither looks particularly promising.
“You look like you’re trying to solve a murder.”
The voice immediately pulls your attention away from the hallways.
You turn toward the sound and feel a small wave of relief when you find Jungkook standing a few feet away.
Which is ridiculous.
You’re not actually lost- probably.
Jungkook, meanwhile, looks entirely unconcerned by the fact that the two of you have clearly been separated from everyone else.
Then again, he rarely seems concerned about anything until it becomes absolutely necessary.
“I’m trying to figure out where we are.”
His gaze shifts briefly toward the hallways before returning to you.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to know.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“I try.”
A smile threatens to appear before you quickly suppress it.
Unfortunately, he notices anyway.
His mouth twitches slightly.
You choose to ignore that.
Together, you continue forward, picking one of the hallways entirely at random.
The further you walk, the quieter everything becomes.
The music has almost disappeared now.
The sounds of other visitors seem distant.
Even the lighting has changed, becoming softer and less theatrical than before.
At some point, you stop encountering other people entirely.
The corridor ahead narrows unexpectedly before ending at a small door partially hidden behind one of the decorative wall panels.
Unlike everything else around it, the door looks real.
Completely out of place.
Your eyes land on the small handle at the exact same moment Jungkook reaches for it.
“That seems like a terrible idea.”
“Probably.”
The agreement does absolutely nothing to discourage him.
The handle turns easily.
The door opens.
And because curiosity remains one of humanity’s most persistent weaknesses, both of you step inside.
The room beyond is unmistakably a storage space.
Shelves line most of the walls, stacked with boxes and maintenance supplies. A single overhead light casts a warm amber glow across the cramped interior, illuminating dust particles drifting lazily through the air.
The space isn’t particularly large.
Actually, it seems barely large enough for two people.
You don’t fully process that thought before the door suddenly swings shut behind you.
The sound echoes sharply throughout the room.
A metallic click follows.
The kind of sound that immediately feels important.
For a second, neither of you moves.
Then Jungkook turns toward the door and reaches for the handle.
He twists it.
Nothing.
He tries again.
Still nothing.
The change in his expression is almost imperceptible.
Not panic- not even concern.
Just enough uncertainty to make your stomach sink.
Because if Jungkook is starting to reconsider the situation…
Maybe you should be too.
And suddenly, the room feels much smaller than it did a moment ago.
The silence stretches for a few seconds.
Jungkook keeps one hand on the handle, testing it again as if the door might suddenly decide to cooperate.
It doesn’t.
“Well” he says eventually. “That’s unfortunate.”
You stare at him.
“Unfortunate?”
“What word would you use?” he asks almost ironically.
“Locked.” you stare at him, suddenly aware of your surroundings.
“That’s a little dramatic.”
You let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Dramatic? Jungkook, we’re trapped in a storage closet.”
“We’re not trapped.”
“The door literally won’t open.”
You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts.
Stepping forward, you gently push his shoulder.
“Move.”
His eyebrow lifts.
“Excuse me?”
“Let me try.”
“You think I’m not opening it correctly?”
“I think there’s a very real possibility you’re being stupid.”
A grin flashes briefly across his face.
“That’s rude.”
“Move.”
Still smiling, Jungkook steps aside.
The space is already cramped enough without the two of you trying to switch places. You have to squeeze between him and one of the shelves lining the wall, muttering under your breath when your shoulder bumps against a stack of boxes.
“Careful.” he says.
“I’m being careful.”
The moment the words leave your mouth, your elbow catches the corner of a cardboard box.
You freeze.
The box wobbles.
For one hopeful second, it looks like it might stay where it is.
It doesn’t.
“Oh no.”
The first box tips forward.
Then another.
Then apparently every single box on the shelf decides to join the rebellion.
Something crashes loudly beside you.
You instinctively stumble backward.
Directly into Jungkook.
His hands grab your waist before either of you can hit the floor.
The movement stops your fall.
Barely.
A second later another box lands somewhere behind him with a heavy thud, and suddenly, neither of you can move.
Your back is pressed firmly against his chest, one of his arms remains wrapped around your waist, the other is braced against the shelf beside you.
The storage room had already felt small, now it feels microscopic.
Your heartbeat becomes painfully obvious, you can only hope he can’t hear it.
For a moment neither of you says anything.
The fallen boxes settle around the floor, dust drifts lazily through the air.
Everything else is quiet.
Very quiet.
Slowly, you become aware of every point of contact.
The warmth of him behind you, the way his hand is still resting against your side.
“Well.”
Jungkook’s voice breaks the silence, lower than before.
Much closer.
You swallow.
“Well?”
“I think you made it worse.”
You let out a nervous laugh.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
The response comes too quickly.
Too easily.
Your stomach does something deeply unhelpful.
Carefully, you tilt your head back enough to look at him.
Big mistake.
His face is much closer than you expected.
Close enough that you can clearly see the faint amusement lingering in his eyes.
Close enough that looking away suddenly feels like the safest option- for a second, neither of you does.
Something shifts, not enough to name- just enough for the atmosphere to feel different.
The smile on Jungkook’s face fades slightly.
His gaze drops for the briefest moment.
Your heart immediately forgets how to function.
You panic.
You shift slightly, trying to create some distance between the two of you, the warmth of his body suddenly feeling far too overwhelming in such a small space.
Immediately, you feel his hand tighten around your waist, more out of instinct than anything else, as though he’s afraid you’ll lose your balance.
“We’re stuck.”
The realization makes your anxiety climb higher.
Not because you’re trapped inside a storage room.
Not because nobody seems particularly eager to rescue you.
But because Jungkook is everywhere.
His presence fills the tiny space between the shelves, impossible to ignore. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing behind you, the warmth radiating from him, the simple fact that there is nowhere for either of you to move.
You try again, shifting your weight in another unsuccessful attempt to create even the smallest amount of space.
“Stop.”
Your heart immediately drops.
The word is quiet, but there’s a note of warning in it that makes you freeze for half a second before instinctively trying again.
“Y/n, please.”
Your mind is moving far too fast to listen.
The accelerated rhythm of your heartbeat drowns out every rational thought. All you know is that being this close to him feels dangerous in ways a locked room never could.
You move once more.
A sharp exhale leaves him.
“Fuck Y/n- don’t move.”
This time his hands tighten strongly around your waist, steadying you before you can shift again.
You freeze.
Completely.
Only then do you notice what he had been trying to warn you about.
You can feel him everywhere.
His chest, his hands, and the reason he wanted you to stop moving.
“Oh my God.”
You feel him inhale sharply behind you as his hands finally leave your waist, and somehow the loss of contact only makes everything worse. The silence that settles between you is thick with something you refuse to examine too closely, and for one horrifying second all you can think about is how your own imagination- an imagination responsible for years of terrible decisions and even worse daydreams- could never have come up with a situation this absurd.
You want the ground to open beneath your feet and put an end to your suffering.
Slowly, carefully, you turn your attention back to the shelf in front of you, determined to think about literally anything else. The boxes. The lock. The fact that you’re trapped. World hunger. Taxes. Anything.
You open your mouth, ready to apologize for accidentally making the last five minutes the most awkward experience of your life.
You never get the chance.
The door suddenly swings open.
“There they are.”
Relief immediately floods the room, followed by a completely different emotion when you remember exactly what happened just a minute ago.
Your cheeks are already burning.
Your breathing hasn’t fully settled.
Jungkook is standing far too close behind you.
And everyone is staring.
Absolutely perfect.
You suddenly realize how this must look from the outside. Trapped in a room barely large enough for one person, Jungkook standing directly behind you - there is absolutely no version of this that looks innocent.
For a moment nobody says anything. Their eyes move from you to Jungkook and then back again, each of them silently trying to piece together whatever explanation could possibly justify finding the two of you trapped inside what is essentially a glorified storage closet.
You step out first the second there’s enough room to move, grateful for the cooler air that immediately hits your face. Unfortunately, it does absolutely nothing to help with the embarrassment threatening to kill you on the spot.
“How on earth did you guys end up in here?”
The question comes from Layla, though judging by the expressions around her, everybody wants the answer.
Neither of you dares to say anything.
.✦ ݁˖
By the time everyone leaves the amusement park, the initial excitement of the day has faded into the kind of pleasant exhaustion that makes even the most energetic people noticeably quieter. The car ride to Dohyun’s house is filled with lazy conversations and occasional laughter, most of it coming from Taehyung and Jimin, who somehow still have enough energy left to argue over absolutely nothing. The rest of you mostly listen, occasionally contributing before sinking back into comfortable silence.
Dohyun’s house is already glowing with warm lights by the time you arrive.
His wife opens the door before anyone even has the chance to ring the bell, smiling knowingly at the sight of the entire group gathered outside.
“Please tell me nobody got arrested.”
“Not today” Namjoon answers.
“Disappointing.”
The house immediately fills with noise as everyone filters inside. Sophie and Layla disappear into the kitchen to help with dinner, Jimin somehow finds food before anybody else, and Taehyung immediately makes himself comfortable as though he pays rent there.
You’re halfway through greeting Dohyun’s wife when your phone vibrates inside your pocket.
The sight of Yoongi’s name immediately catches your attention.
For some reason, the thought of telling him about today makes you smile.
Maybe because you already know exactly how he’s going to react.
You had assumed that, with time, Yoongi would slowly fade out of your life.
Instead, you somehow find him everywhere. Not physically, at least not as often as you’d like given the circumstances, but his presence lingers all the same.
You excuse yourself from the conversation and quietly slip toward the balcony connected to the dining room, sliding the door shut behind you as the noise of the house softens.
The evening air feels cool against your skin.
For a moment you simply stand there, looking out over the city lights.
Then you answer.
“Please tell me you’re calling because you sensed I was suffering.”
Yoongi laughs immediately.
“I knew something happened.”
“Something happened.”
The amusement in his voice grows instantly.
“Oh, this is going to be good.”
You roll your eyes despite yourself.
“It isn’t good.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
The annoying thing about Yoongi is that he’s often right.
You lean against the railing and begin explaining the day, starting with the amusement park, the maze, and the unfortunate decision to wander somewhere you definitely weren’t supposed to be.
At first he listens quietly.
Then you reach the storage room and the part where the door locked.
And from there the conversation completely falls apart.
“You got trapped.”
“Yes.”
“With Jungkook.”
You close your eyes.
“Unfortunately.”
The laugh that follows is immediate.
“You sound very upset about that.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re embarrassed.”
You groan.
“Can you just go on with the story?”
“I’m trying.”
“You are not.”
He laughs again.
By the time you’ve explained the entire thing- including the rescue, the incident, the concerned faces outside the room and the silent treatment you and Jungkook have been giving each other- Yoongi is openly entertained by your suffering.
“I don’t understand what’s funny.”
“You don’t?”
“No.” you shake your head.
“You spent half an hour trapped in a tiny room with the guy you’ve been emotionally torturing yourself over for years…”
You can feel him smiling through the phone.
“…and you got him hard- I think that’s pretty funny.”
You immediately look around despite being completely alone.
“What the fuck- keep your voice down.” you almost scream even though there’s no chance anyone could overhear the conversation from where you’re standing.
“You called me.”
“That’s not the point.”
A smile threatens to appear despite your best efforts.
The conversation continues naturally after that. One topic turns into another, and before you know it several minutes have passed. Yoongi’s in the middle of complaining about how Sophie and her stupid ideas were still as disastrous as he remembered, when movement behind the glass catches your attention.
You glance over your shoulder.
Jungkook.
He’s standing inside the dining room, talking to somebody for a second before his eyes drift toward the balcony.
Toward you.
Your stomach immediately decides to become a problem.
“Hold on.”
The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.
Yoongi notices immediately.
“Oh?”
“I’ll call you later.”
His tone becomes instantly suspicious.
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Is that him?”
You end the call before he can continue.
The balcony door slides open a second later as Jungkook steps outside.
For a brief moment neither of you says anything.
The sounds of laughter and conversation spill out from inside before the door closes behind him once more.
You suddenly become aware that the balcony isn’t particularly large.
Which is a ridiculous thing to notice.
“I haven’t heard much from you lately.”
The comment is casual.
You slip your phone into your pocket.
“Neither have I.”
A smile briefly appears on his face.
Jungkook leans against the railing beside you, glancing out toward the city.
“You know” he says, “normally when people are avoiding me, they’re less obvious about it.”
You almost choke.
With everything that’s going on- weddings, yoongi and hurtful unrequited love, you admit to yourself that you’ve been less… present.
“I wasn’t avoiding you.”
Jungkook turns his head slightly.
The look he gives you says he doesn’t believe that for a second.
You immediately look away.
The city lights suddenly become fascinating.
The memory of the storage room chooses that exact moment to return, uninvited and entirely unwanted.
Unfortunately, your brain never misses an opportunity to make your life worse.
Trying to distract yourself, you let out a small laugh.
“Well, if I was avoiding you, I guess getting locked in a storage room together wasn’t exactly an effective way to make up for lost time.”
The second the sentence leaves your mouth, you regret it.
Immediately.
Because now you’re thinking about it again.
The silence that follows lasts just long enough to make your embarrassment significantly worse.
When you finally glance toward Jungkook, he appears far too calm.
“It was an awfully… uplifting afternoon, wasn’t it?”
You stare at him.
There is absolutely no way.
No way he just asked you that.
He delivered the question so casually that for half a second you almost wonder whether he’s genuinely waiting for an answer or not.
Then you notice the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.
The barely concealed amusement.
The fact that he can’t quite look at you without smirking.
And suddenly you realize exactly what he’s doing.
“Oh, shut up.”
That finally earns a laugh from him.
A real one.
“You brought it up.”
“You know that’s not what I was talking about.”
“Do I?”
The teasing in his voice is subtle, but it’s there. Enough to make your face feel warm all over again. Enough to make you want to throw yourself off the balcony.
The worst part is that Jungkook looks entirely too pleased with himself.
For somebody who spent the afternoon trapped in the exact same room, he seems suspiciously unaffected by the whole experience.
Or maybe he’s simply better at hiding it.
Jungkook’s smile softens slightly as he looks back toward the city lights stretching beyond the balcony.
Eventually, he lets out a quiet breath.
“You know..” he says, absentmindedly tracing his thumb along the railing, “sometimes things just happen.”
You glance toward him.
“What does that mean?”
A small smile appears on his face.
“It means not everything has to become a big thing.”
The words are simple.
You look away again, letting your gaze drift toward the city below.
“I guess.” you mutter, still embarrassed.
“I’m serious.”
His voice is light, but there’s something reassuring underneath it.
“We spend way too much time overthinking things.”
For a few seconds, neither of you speaks again.
The sounds coming from inside continue uninterrupted, somebody laughing loudly enough that it reaches the balcony even through the closed glass door.
What Jungkook is trying to say is that life keeps moving, the evening keeps moving.
Not every conversation has to lead somewhere.
Not every moment has to be analyzed to death.
Not every thought deserves attention.
You honesty wish you could achieve that level of carelessness, but the problem is that what happened doesn’t just leave you overthinking.
It sits heavily in your stomach, an impossible weight that follows you everywhere.
Every time you replay it in your head, you’re overwhelmed by a mess of emotions that range from indecently inappropriate to genuinely terrifying.
“Jungkook I-“
Jungkook pushes himself away from the railing.
“We should probably go back inside.”
You mentally groan.
You stay quiet for a moment, eventually deciding that feigning ignorance is the best thing you can do.
“You’re right.”
For a moment, you find yourself looking at him a little longer than intended.
Then you quickly look away before your brain decides to become annoying again.
Together, you head back toward the house.
Neither of you says it out loud.
Neither of you needs to.
Some conversations are better left unfinished.
Some things don’t require explanations.
As Jungkook slides the balcony door open and the noise of the dinner gathering immediately surrounds you once again, an unspoken understanding settles comfortably between the two of you: whatever happened, whatever didn’t happen, whatever either of you may or may not be thinking, tonight isn’t the night to talk about it.
And for once, you’re both perfectly okay with that.
Taehyung catches you the second you walk back into the dining room.
His eyes immediately drift toward the balcony behind you, then back to you.
You already know where this is going.
“Don’t look at me like that, you know nothing happened.”
“I didn’t ask anything.”
“You were about to.”
Taehyung places a hand over his heart, looking deeply offended.
“I was just checking if you’re okay.”
You narrow your eyes.
“I’m somewhat feeling alright.”
He looks at you with initial concern, but when he realizes you’re being sarcastic, his grin widens.
“You’ve been out there for a while.”
You immediately look past him.
“Oh my God- I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Was it a productive conversation?”
“Move.”
“Did you solve all your problems?”
You point a finger at him, “Kim Taehyung.”
He laughs and the sound follows you all the way to your seat.
“That’s a no, then.”
.✦ ݁˖
A few days pass before you see Yoongi again, although “a few days” feels deceptively short when every single one of them has been consumed by wedding planning in one way or another. It seems impossible to escape it lately. Every conversation somehow circles back to the wedding, as always, and every time your phone lights up there’s a decent chance somebody is asking for an opinion you never volunteered to give in the first place. The closer July gets, the more the entire thing starts feeling less like an event and more like an approaching deadline hanging over everyone’s heads.
Including yours.
By the end of the week, you’ve reached a point where hearing the words wedding venue is enough to make you consider moving to another country.
Which is exactly why agreeing to meet Yoongi feels like a breath of fresh air.
The café he suggests is tucked away on a quieter street a few neighborhoods away from the city center, the kind of place you would never discover on your own but somehow feels immediately familiar the moment you walk inside. It’s small without being crowded, warm without being stuffy, and pleasantly detached from the chaos of the outside world. Most of the tables are occupied by people working on laptops or pretending to read books while secretly eavesdropping on conversations around them, leaving the atmosphere relaxed enough that nobody pays attention to anyone else.
You arrive first and claim a table near the window.
Yoongi arrives eight minutes later carrying absolutely no guilt about being late.
“You look exhausted.”
The observation comes less than thirty seconds after sitting down.
You don’t even bother pretending otherwise.
“I am exhausted.”
His eyebrows lift slightly.
“Work?”
You nod, blowing the steam away from your coffee.
“And weddings.”
Understanding immediately settles across his face.
Not sympathy.
Recognition.
The kind that comes from knowing exactly where this conversation is about to go.
Over the next hour, the conversation drifts effortlessly between different topics, sometimes spending twenty minutes on something completely irrelevant before unexpectedly circling back to the wedding once again. You tell him about the latest disaster involving guest accommodations, the endless discussions about decorations, and the fact that Sophie appears to have developed the supernatural ability to become stressed about things nobody else even knew existed. Somehow this evolves into a conversation about the group as a whole, which then becomes a conversation about Jungkook, which inevitably becomes a conversation about the increasingly surreal experience of watching a person you’ve known for most of your life prepare to marry somebody else.
You never phrase it that way.
You don’t need to.
Yoongi is smart enough to understand what you’re actually saying, because somewhere along the way, understanding you became second nature to him.
Either way, he listens more than he talks, occasionally offering a comment here and there but mostly allowing you to ramble until your thoughts finally untangle themselves.
The strange thing is that speaking to him has become remarkably easy.
Somewhere between your first conversation and now, the awkwardness disappeared entirely. There are no expectations attached to your interactions, no pressure to be anything other than yourself, and no complicated history lurking beneath every sentence waiting to make things difficult. It’s simple. Comfortable. The kind of friendship that sneaks up on you before you realize it’s happening.
At one point you find yourself laughing over something completely unrelated, your coffee long forgotten beside you, and it suddenly occurs to you that this is probably the most relaxed you’ve felt all week.
Maybe that’s why you don’t immediately notice the café door opening.
Maybe that’s why you don’t realize anything has changed until Yoongi’s attention drifts somewhere over your shoulder.
The shift is subtle.
So subtle, in fact, that under normal circumstances you probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all.
But you do.
His expression doesn’t change.
Not really.
If anything, that’s what catches your attention: the complete absence of reaction, the way he suddenly becomes very still.
You frown slightly.
“What?”
For a second he doesn’t answer.
His gaze remains fixed somewhere behind you, his coffee forgotten midway to his lips.
The silence stretches just long enough to make you curious.
Then concerned.
Slowly, you turn around in your seat.
The answer arrives immediately.
Sophie is standing near the entrance.
At first she looks completely normal, one hand still resting on the strap of her bag as she glances around the café, clearly searching for somebody.
Then her eyes find your table.
Find you.
And finally find Yoongi.
Everything about her freezes.
The movement.
The expression.
Even her breathing seems to stop.
The confusion appears first, quick and instinctive, followed almost immediately by disbelief so profound that for a moment she genuinely looks as though she’s questioning whether what she’s seeing is real.
Nobody moves.
The noise of the café continues around you uninterrupted, cups clinking against saucers and conversations carrying on as though nothing unusual is happening, but suddenly all of it feels strangely distant.
Sophie continues staring.
Yoongi continues staring back.
You gulp as somewhere deep in your stomach, a terrible realization begins forming.
Because until this exact moment, until right now, you’ve somehow managed to keep those two parts of your life completely separate.
Sophie.
Yoongi.
The wedding.
The past.
None of it had collided.
Not yet.
Not until now.
Several long seconds pass before Sophie finally takes a hesitant step forward, her eyes never leaving his face as though she’s afraid he’ll disappear if she looks away.
When she finally speaks, her voice is so quiet that under any other circumstances you might have missed it.
You don’t.
Neither does Yoongi.
“Yoongs?”
The single word hangs between them, carrying years of history you know almost nothing about, and the expression that flashes across Sophie’s face makes one thing painfully clear.
Whatever she expected to find when she walked into this café today, it certainly wasn’t her ex sitting across from you.
Yoongi doesn’t say anything, the look on his face tells you everything.
There’s something heartbreakingly sad about his expression, something so quietly devastating that it catches you completely off guard. The usual composure is still there, the calm exterior he always seems to wear so effortlessly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
And his eyes.
God.
The melancholy sitting behind them is so unmistakable that, for a brief second, you feel your own throat tighten.
Your eyes sting unexpectedly- not because he’s asking for sympathy or anything- but because you can see it.
You can see exactly what he’s trying so hard not to show.
You had always known about the feelings Yoongi still carried for Sophie. He’d told you enough for you to understand the situation, enough for you to know that some part of him never really moved on. But knowing it and witnessing it are two entirely different things.
Seeing him like this makes something click into place.
It makes you realize just how similar the two of you actually are.
Beneath all the differences, beneath the sarcasm and the jokes and the conversations that somehow last for hours, you’re both carrying the same kind of wound.
A heartbroken person recognizes another heartbroken person the moment they see one.
And looking at Yoongi now, you can’t help but wonder if he sees the exact same thing when he looks at you.
───────────
author’s note:
thought the secret was going to last longer?
unfortunately for everyone involved, drama waits for no one :P
as always, i’d love to hear your thoughts, and thank you so much for reading <3
Funny how a car crash at the Monaco Grand Prix ended up crashing everything else too.
F1 racer!jungkook, Songwriter!oc, childhood bestfriends to lovers, racing accidents/crashes, public scrutiny, friends to lovers, hate comments, emotional dependency, jealousy, miscommunication, angst, toxic fan culture, media pressure, arguments, alcohol consumption, anxiety, emotional burnout, slowburn, smut
desclaimer: this is a fictional story and does not reflect the real personalities or lives of any idols, drivers or celebrities mentioned. pls remember this is all fake and made for fun !!
word count: 4.5k words
Series Masterlist
note: yes. yeah. yup. chapter 3 is out already. Did I loose my sleep over this? Definitely. Will I do it again for chapter 4? Hell yeah. So this capter is going to be very cutsiee, it'll be about the qualifyings and we'll get to see so many cute moments bw oc and jungkook. I really hope ya'll enjoy this one and i'd really appreciate your feedbacks and comments. Love ya'll, mwah mwah <33 I'll go sleep now.
On Saturday morning, Monaco had settled into the pit of your stomach.
Nothing had changed physically; the yachts still floated lazily across the harbour, the Mediterranean sparkled beneath the sunlight, and the city looked impossibly beautiful from every angle. Yet, the atmosphere tightened. It became sharper, carrying a weight that seemed to follow everybody through the paddock, whether they acknowledged it aloud or not.
Even arriving at the circuit unusually early didn't make the place feel calmer. If anything, it only made the tension more noticeable. Mechanics were already moving through the Ferrari garage with purpose; engineers stood clustered around screens displaying data from previous sessions, and team personnel hurried between meetings carrying coffees that looked far too small for the amount of work waiting ahead of them.
Everybody seemed nervous except Jungkook.
Or at least he appeared that way. You sat beside him near the back of the garage while he finished his smoothie and casually chatted with Taehyung as though Monaco qualifying wasn't only a few hours away. Around him, the entire team seemed locked into preparation mode, yet Jungkook somehow managed to carry himself with the same relaxed confidence he'd shown all weekend, occasionally laughing at something Taehyung said before turning back toward the engineers discussing setup changes nearby. It should have reassured you. Instead, it made you more nervous.
"You know you're stressing enough for both of us, right?"Jungkook’s voice reached you as you glanced up from your phone and say, "Someone has to."
"I'm literally the one driving. You act like I'm about to go to war."
"You’re about to drive a Ferrari around Monaco at two hundred kilometres an hour." That earned you a laugh from him. Despite himself, he seemed amused by your concern, which only irritated you further. The entire paddock spent every weekend reminding people how dangerous Formula One was, yet the actual drivers always appeared the least concerned by it.
Jungkook simply nudged your shoulder with his before standing up as one of the engineers called him over for the final FP, leaving you with nothing except your own thoughts and the growing anticipation hanging over the circuit.
A few hours later, FP3 just made everybody even more confident.
From the moment the session began, Jungkook looked completely untouchable, consistently finding time at the top of the leaderboard while Ferrari personnel attempted and failed to hide their satisfaction. Every lap looked clean. Every sector looked strong. Every time his name appeared at the top of the timing screens, the confidence surrounding him seemed to grow. By the time the session ended with him comfortably securing P1 once again, even the people trying not to get ahead of themselves had started believing Monaco pole position was within reach.
You certainly believed it. But believing it only made you more nervous because now there was something to lose.
The celebrations afterwards remained brief, mostly because everybody immediately shifted their attention toward qualifying preparations, but the atmosphere around Ferrari had noticeably lifted. Conversations sounded lighter. Smiles appeared more frequently. Even the engineers looked cautiously optimistic. Jungkook, meanwhile, returned from the session looking exactly the same as he had beforehand, helmet tucked beneath one arm as though topping another practice session was the most ordinary thing in the world.
Before either of you could leave for the hotel, however, your phone suddenly lit up with an incoming FaceTime.
Mom
You immediately knew what this was about. Instead of answering, you accepted the call and turned the screen toward him. The moment his face appeared on screen, your mother's expression brightened noticeably while your father immediately launched into what sounded suspiciously like a pre-race motivational speech.
"Look at him," your mother said dramatically. "He already looks like a winner."
"Don't jinx it," Jungkook replied.
"Nonsense. You're winning tomorrow."
"See?" your father added. "That's the confidence I like."
For the next several minutes, you sat there listening while they treated him less like your best friend and more like their second child. They reminded him to eat properly, wished him luck approximately twelve separate times, told him how proud they were of everything he'd achieved, and somehow managed to squeeze childhood memories into the conversation as well. At one point, your mother even brought up a karting competition from years ago that neither of you had thought about in ages, causing Jungkook to laugh so hard he nearly dropped your phone.
By the time the call ended, the smile lingering on his face seemed impossible to hide. Barely two minutes later, his own family called, followed by his cousins and friends.
One by one, he accepted every good luck wish with the same patience and gratitude, thanking each person before moving on to the next. Watching him sit there surrounded by so many people rooting for him felt strangely emotional, especially because you knew exactly how much work had gone into reaching this point.
Eventually, engineers started calling drivers back as the meetings resumed and qualifying preparations began in earnest. Jungkook stood for another briefing, while you prepared to head back to the hotel and get ready yourself.
"You'll be fine, you know."
The words pulled your attention away from the endless movement surrounding you, away from engineers crossing the garage carrying laptops and headsets, away from mechanics making last-minute preparations and team personnel rushing between meetings as qualifying crept closer with every passing minute.
You looked up to find Jungkook watching you with an expression that was equal parts amused and concerned, as though he'd spent the entire morning observing your increasingly obvious attempts to pretend you weren't worried. "What?"
"Qualifying."
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. "I'm not the one qualifying."
"No," he agreed, shifting his helmet from one arm to the other, "but you're still more nervous than I am."
You wanted to argue. You wanted to point out that he was about to drive a Formula One car around one of the most unforgiving circuits in the world while millions of people watched and expected him to perform. You wanted to remind him that every person inside the Ferrari garage had spent the entire weekend quietly convincing themselves that he was capable of securing pole position, that he had topped every session so far, that everybody suddenly seemed so sure of what was going to happen that it felt dangerous. Instead, all that came out was a quiet sigh because, unfortunately, he wasn't entirely wrong. The smile that spread across his face softened almost immediately.
"I'll be okay."
For a moment, neither of you moved, and everything felt strangely quieter than before. Maybe it was because the reality of qualifying was finally settling in. Maybe it was because you'd spent the entire morning carrying around a nervousness that refused to disappear, no matter how many times you reminded yourself that Jungkook had done this hundreds of times before. Or maybe it was simply because no matter how successful he became, no matter how many championships people predicted for him or how many headlines his name appeared in, a part of you would always see the boy who had spent most of his childhood chasing impossible dreams and refusing to give up on them.
As if Jungkook could still hear the turmoil within you, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you.
You hugged him back immediately, arms comfortably settling around his sides.
Throughout your lives, there had been countless moments exactly like this, moments before competitions, performances, races, tours, and milestones where one of you instinctively reached for the other without needing a reason beyond simple comfort. This was just another one of them, yet his warmth comforted you in a way nothing ever has. It felt as though some of the tension you'd been carrying all morning had finally loosened its grip.
"You better win this shit,” you murmured against his chest.
The laugh that escaped him this time was warmer, softer, and for some reason, it eased something inside your gut that had been wound tight all morning. Neither of you pulled away immediately; there had never been a need to rush when it came to each other. However, an engineer called out Jungkook's name from somewhere deeper inside the garage, forcing both of you back into the present.
As he stepped away, he gave your shoulder a small squeeze. "I mean it," he said, meeting your eyes one last time before turning toward the waiting team. "I'll be okay."
This time, you believed him. You believed him because you always had. Because trusting Jungkook had become so deeply woven into your life that you no longer knew how not to. Yet even as you watched him disappear further into the controlled chaos of the Ferrari garage, preparing himself for the most important session of the weekend so far, the nervousness started to reappear, and it only settled deeper beneath your ribs.
By the time you returned to the circuit that afternoon, the paddock had transformed completely, growing louder and more crowded with every passing hour.
The outfit change, the makeup touch-ups, and the brief attempt at convincing yourself that Jungkook was probably the best driver there had done very little to calm your racing heart. The roads surrounding the circuit were busier now, packed with fans wrapped in team colours and photographers lingering near every possible entrance in hopes of catching drivers arriving for the most important session of the weekend. Somewhere in the distance, you could already hear helicopters circling above the harbour, broadcasting images of Monaco to millions of viewers around the world while the city itself seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
Monaco had always carried a different kind of importance compared to every other race on the calendar. Even somebody like you, whose career existed in an entirely separate universe from motorsport, understood exactly what was at stake. Pole position here wasn't just pole position. It was history, the kind of achievement people remembered years later. The kind that ended up framed on walls and replayed in highlight reels long after the season had ended.
The moment you stepped inside the paddock, the shift in atmosphere became impossible to ignore. Ferrari's garage buzzed with a level of intensity that hadn't existed earlier that morning, engineers moving between workstations with purpose while mechanics completed final checks on both cars. Across the pit lane, Red Bull appeared equally focused, their drivers already disappearing in and out of briefings while Mercedes personnel crowded around timing screens discussing something with increasingly serious expressions. McLaren looked busy. Aston Martin looked busy. Every single team seemed locked into the same collective understanding that what happened over the next hour could very easily define the rest of the weekend.
"Well, the Ferrari Princess is here."
You turned around only to find Namjoon walking towards you. The smile that immediately appeared on his face suggested he was enjoying this far more than he should have.
"Hate when people call me that.” You laughed despite yourself. "I still don't believe Ferrari lets you sit on the pit wall."
“You can’t ignore real talent forever.”
"That's definitely not it." He chuckled, showing off his dimpled smile.
The conversation should have ended there. At least, that was probably how it would have gone with anybody else. But Namjoon possessed the irritating ability to keep every interaction moving forward, no matter how many opportunities it had to die naturally, effortlessly jumping from one topic to another while maintaining the same relaxed confidence that appeared to follow him everywhere he went. It wasn't difficult to understand why people liked him.
Soon enough, Jungkook reached both of you, water bottle hanging loosely from one hand, while he casually inserted himself into the conversation with the ease of somebody who had never once questioned whether he belonged there. Somehow, his presence changed the entire shape of the conversation without him appearing to make any effort whatsoever. Maybe it was because your attention kept drifting toward him. Or maybe it was because qualifying was now close enough to feel real. Which was probably why you didn't fully realize what had happened until Namjoon eventually glanced toward one of the screens displaying the remaining time until qualifying, pushed himself to his feet with an exaggerated sigh, and announced that his team had apparently remembered he had responsibilities.
His gaze shifted between you and Jungkook for a brief second before giving Jungkook a quick "Good luck today." The smile he gave you before leaving was amused. The one he gave Jungkook was knowing. Neither of you acknowledged it, though.
Yet once he disappeared into the growing crowd surrounding the neighbouring garages, Jungkook caught your attention. "You seem to be making a lot of new friends."
You narrowed your eyes at him, "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
"That definitely wasn’t nothing." The accusation almost escaped your mouth before you stopped yourself. You knew the slight shift in his voice when something was bothering him, even if he refused to admit it. Which was exactly why you noticed the way his attention seemed to linger on Namjoon's retreating figure for half a second longer than necessary.
Unfortunately, qualifying left very little room for overthinking. The closer the qualifying drew, the more obvious it became that the entire paddock was shifting into another gear. Ferrari wasn't the only team feeling it. Across the pit lane, journalists hovered near garage entrances, hoping to catch final interviews before drivers disappeared into preparation mode.
Everywhere you looked, people seemed to understand exactly what was at stake. And standing inside Ferrari's garage, watching engineers prepare for the session while mechanics made final adjustments to the cars, you couldn't stop thinking about how badly one particular driver wanted it.
Jungkook changed the closer he got to the car. His focus seemed to narrow naturally, all unnecessary distractions quietly falling away until every piece of his attention pointed toward the same objective. Looking at him now felt different from looking at him an hour ago. He looked like the driver who had spent years turning impossible ambitions into reality through sheer stubbornness, talent, and determination.
And suddenly, standing there while the noise of the garage swirled around you, you found yourself feeling absurdly emotional about it.
Because nobody else here had seen the beginning of it all. The oversized karting helmets, the tiny local tracks, the endless drives home after competitions, the years spent working toward opportunities that had never felt guaranteed.
Everybody saw the headlines, podiums, sponsorship deals, and interviews. You saw all of that, too, of course you did, but layered beneath it remained every previous version of him that had existed before the world started paying attention. Maybe that was why your chest felt strangely tight as qualifying finally approached and your heart seemed determined to race alongside his.
When his eyes eventually found yours again, neither of you spoke immediately because there wasn't really anything left to say. Everything meaningful had already been spoken aloud. What remained now was something simpler. The understanding that existed after twenty years of knowing somebody so completely that words occasionally became unnecessary.
The affection hit you before you could stop it, as you stepped closer, reached up, and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek.
The gesture itself wasn't unusual. Physical affection had never been unusual between the two of you. Hugs, shoulders leaning together during flights, hands grabbing wrists and sleeves and jackets without thinking, all of it had existed comfortably inside your friendship for years. Yet something about this moment felt different anyway.
Because instead of immediately rolling his eyes or making a joke or teasing you for being emotional, Jungkook simply looked at you.
The look he gave you felt different from every other look exchanged throughout the course of your life, carrying something neither of you understood well enough to name.
You'd known Jungkook for most of your life. You knew the sound of his laugh before you saw him, the difference between his real smile and the one he used for cameras, how he looked when he was angry, exhausted, excited, disappointed, nervous, heartbroken, and happy.
So why, standing here in the middle of a Ferrari garage surrounded by hundreds of people, did he suddenly feel impossible to read?
The thought barely had time to settle before somebody called his name from deeper inside the garage.
The moment cracked apart. Jungkook blinked first, then appeared a small, soft, almost shy smile, and that made everything worse.
Because your stomach chose that exact moment to perform a completely unnecessary backflip.
Jungkook simply held your gaze for one second longer than necessary before turning toward the waiting Ferrari, disappearing back into the noise and movement and expectation that had surrounded him all day as you watched him go.
And for the first time all afternoon, qualifying wasn't the only thing making your heart race.
By the time the first cars rolled out of the pit lane, you had already stopped pretending you weren't nervous.
It wasn't even a rational kind of nervousness anymore. Rational nervousness could be explained away. Rational nervousness listened to the statistics, timing sheets, and all the evidence Ferrari had spent the entire weekend presenting. Rational nervousness looked at Jungkook topping every practice session and decided there was probably no reason to panic.
Unfortunately, whatever was currently happening inside your chest had very little interest in logic. The closer qualifying drew, the more difficult it became to ignore the pressure hanging over the circuit, not only because this was Monaco, not only because pole position here mattered more than almost anywhere else, but because everywhere you looked, people seemed to expect something extraordinary to happen. The thousands of supporters packed into grandstands overlooking the harbour expected it. Somewhere beneath all the excitement and anticipation sat a dangerous amount of hope, and hope had always been considerably more terrifying than doubt.
From your place on the pit wall, Monaco unfolded in flashes of colour and noise and impossible precision, cars appearing for mere seconds before disappearing behind barriers and buildings again, leaving only the fading scream of engines in their wake. Every time the timing screens updated, another ripple passed through the Ferrari garage.
Engineers leaned closer to monitors. Mechanics exchanged glances. Radios crackled constantly with information that seemed to arrive faster than anybody could possibly process it. Across the circuit, other teams were experiencing the same thing. Red Bull remained close enough to be uncomfortable. Mercedes refused to disappear. Every few minutes, another driver threatened to shake up the order entirely before somebody else immediately responded. The gaps separating them were ridiculous. Entire afternoons being decided by distances too small for the human eye to detect.
And through all of it, Jungkook remained exactly where everybody expected him to be.
Always near the front.
Every time his name appeared at the top of the timing screens, the Ferrari garage relaxed for approximately five seconds before finding a new reason to panic. Every improvement from another team sent another wave of tension through the engineers surrounding you. Every purple sector made your stomach drop. Every lap felt important. Every corner felt important. At some point, you stopped sitting entirely, too restless to remain still for more than a few moments at a time, hair already in a messy braid, pacing short distances behind the pit wall before inevitably returning to the screens as though staring at them hard enough might somehow influence the outcome.
Then came Q3, and Ferrari looked strong. Strong enough to believe, to make pole position feel possible, and to make losing it hurt.
By the time the final runs began, nobody around you seemed capable of acting normal anymore. Hoseok had removed his headset twice, only to immediately put it back on. Yoongi looked as though he hadn't blinked in several minutes. Even the mechanics standing behind the pit wall had abandoned any attempt at appearing calm, their attention fixed entirely on the screens displaying sector times as the remaining minutes disappeared. Somewhere overhead, helicopters circled the circuit. Somewhere out in the harbour, thousands of people were watching from yachts. Somewhere in the city, millions of viewers around the world were holding their breath.
And so were you. You didn't even realize the broadcast cameras had found you until the reaction reached the crowd first.
A roar swept through one section of Ferrari supporters positioned opposite the pit wall, loud enough to briefly pull your attention away from the screens. Confused, you followed their gaze upward and immediately regretted it. Your face stared back at you from the giant circuit display overlooking the harbour, your expression apparently communicating enough panic to entertain several thousand people at once. The realization lasted all of two seconds before your attention snapped right back toward the timing screens because Jungkook was still on track, and absolutely nobody's opinion of your stress levels felt remotely important compared to that.
The final lap felt endless. Every sector update appeared to take years, and every corner seemed impossibly far away from the next. Somewhere beside you, somebody swore. While somewhere else, somebody started celebrating too early. Nobody seemed capable of agreeing on anything except the fact that the next few moments would decide everything.
Then came the final sector, the line, and the deafening silence.
The strange, impossible silence that exists for a fraction of a second before thousands of people realize what they've just witnessed.
The moment Jungkook crossed the line and his lap time shot to the top of the timing sheets, Ferrari exploded.
The sound hit first, not one sound but hundreds of them. Shouts and laughter and disbelief and relief all crashed together into something so loud that it briefly drowned out everything else, the engineers surrounding you surging to their feet almost instantly while mechanics threw their arms around whoever happened to be standing closest.
One of the headsets landed somewhere on the floor. Somebody nearly knocked over a monitor. Somewhere behind you, Jimin was already filming the chaos unfolding around him because, apparently, even in moments of complete emotional collapse, he remained committed to content.
People were already pulling you into strong, messy hugs, yet you couldn't move.
All you could do was stare at the timing screen, at the name sitting at the very top, at the tiny white letters beside it confirming what everybody had spent the entire weekend hoping for and simultaneously trying not to expect.
P1, Monaco.
Jeon Jungkook.
The three things refused to fit together properly inside your head. The moment itself felt bigger than the numbers displayed on the screen, because standing there while the Ferrari garage celebrated around you, all you could think about was how far away this had once seemed. How many years ago this had simply been a dream. How many weekends had been spent chasing moments exactly like this one.
The realization hit harder than expected as your eyes immediately burned. Nobody gave you time to recover because somebody suddenly grabbed both of your shoulders from behind and started shaking you.
"He did it." You finally turned.
Taehyung looked just as shocked as everybody else. "He actually did it."
"You got P3."
"I KNOW." He yelled before pulling you in a hug. The fact that he sounded personally offended by his own excitement only made you laugh harder, tears also escaping your eyes, the tension finally breaking apart after hours spent wound impossibly tight.
Around you, the celebrations showed absolutely no signs of slowing down. Ferrari personnel continued pouring out of the garage. Journalists were already gathering near Parc Fermé. Team members were talking over each other. Yet the person responsible was nowhere to be seen.
Until he was.
The giant screens scattered throughout the circuit switched to the broadcast feed just in time to catch Jungkook climbing out of the Ferrari, pulling off his helmet while the crowd erupted around him. Even from a distance, the grin spreading across his face looked almost unreal, the kind of smile that appeared only when somebody spent years imagining a moment and then found reality exceeding expectations. Cameras surrounded him immediately. Marshals directed him toward parc fermé. Reporters practically materialized from thin air.
And still his eyes searched.
The realization struck you so suddenly that it almost stole your breath. Even through thousands of people, he was looking for you.
The second his gaze finally landed on you standing near the pit wall, something about his entire expression changed. One moment he looked like Monaco's pole sitter, and the next, he looked like Jungkook.
The idiot Jungkook, wearing the same expression he had worn when he came first in that roller-skating competition at fourteen.
And then he started running towards you, as the crowd immediately noticed.
You could actually hear the reaction ripple through the grandstands as people realized the newly crowned pole sitter was sprinting straight past several journalists and directly toward somebody standing near the Ferrari garage. Cameras followed him instantly while broadcast crews practically chased him. Somewhere above the circuit, your faces probably occupied every giant screen available.
Neither of you cared.
You barely had time to react before his arms wrapped around you and suddenly the ground disappeared beneath your feet, a startled laugh escaping you as he lifted you clean off the floor with enough force to nearly send both of you falling backwards. The adrenaline still radiating from him felt almost contagious, his laughter mixing with yours as well as the tears of happiness, while the entire Ferrari garage continued celebrating around you, and for one ridiculous moment, it genuinely felt as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
"You did it."
The words came out breathless and entirely inadequate, yet Jungkook understood anyway.
Because of course he did, he always did.
The hug lasted longer than either of you intended before the two of you were crushed by a running Taehyung, then came Hoseok, then Jimin, Yoongi, and then half of Ferrari.
The resulting group hug quickly collapsed into complete chaos, people laughing and shouting and congratulating each other while photographers desperately attempted to capture everything at once.
For the next hour, the celebrations never truly stopped. Interviews came and went. Photographs were taken. Team members received congratulations from people they'd never met before. Phones buzzed endlessly with messages from friends and family. Everywhere you looked, somebody was smiling.
Eventually, as the paddock slowly began settling into the evening and the initial chaos faded into something more manageable, somebody suggested drinks. The proposal was accepted almost immediately, partly because Ferrari had earned the right to celebrate and partly because nobody possessed enough self-control to say no after a day like this. Plans were made. Locations were chosen. Reservations were apparently secured by people far more organized than anybody else present.
And for the first time all day, with the pressure finally gone and Monaco glowing beneath the evening sun beyond the harbour, everybody allowed themselves to believe that tomorrow was going to be perfect.
your maths home tutor throughout junior highschool, who also never took a single penny from you.
your school senior, the one you respected, looked up to, admired, and always rooted for like he was your own little secret hero. (he was)
your mom’s best friend’s son.
the guy who’d bring you strawberry milkshakes on those unbearable days because he knew they were the temporary cure to your sadness.
the person who accompanied you for your wisdom tooth removal, saw you in your most embarrassing state (god, you’re not forgetting this one! like, ever), and still praised and pampered you like you’d just saved a whole country from World War.
you always found yourself in these weirdly grandiose circumstances with him, the ones you’d randomly recall even if you had dementia at an old age.
and somewhere in the midst of those moments, before your friends and family even noticed. . . he somehow (very much on purpose) became the love of your life.
and god, you wished he hadn’t been your greatest heartbreak too.
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: slowburn romance ➔ angst ➔ smut ➔ fluff.
𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬: childhood acquaintances ➝ friends ➝ lovers (?) she fell first, he fell harder.
𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬: YEARNING, mother’s best friend’s son, unrequited love (initially) misunderstandings, miscommunications, lots of yearning, invisible red string theory, age gap (7-8 years), older jungkook x younger oc, ROCD ( relationship obsessive compulsive disorder ), retrospective jealousy, toxic relationship dynamics, low self esteem, self destructive tendencies (with eventual growth & healing), oh and did I mention yearning?
𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭: foreplay, inspired by the kamasutra positions, oral sex, top-bottom dynamic, masturbation, clothed sex, unprotected sex (more detailed versions of the smut will be attached to the chapters)
𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ | minors dni.
chapter index.
✦ chapter i — I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss and i knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs.
✦ chapter ii — i knew I'd curse you for the longest time.
✦ chapter iii — i knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired, and you'd be standin' in my front porch light.
✦ chapter- iv — but we’re knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out, is it casual now?
✦ chapter- v — it’s a sexually explicit kind of love affair.
✦ epilogue — and I cry, it's not fair, I just need a little loving.
Summary - For years, they existed in the space between friendship and love, too close to be platonic, yet never enough to be real. He treated her like she was his in private, only to pull away the moment things became too serious.
The night she finally chose to walk away from the man who once consumed her entire world, she carried something else with her too.
Four years later, a little girl, or fate perhaps—bring them back to each other.
Genre : second chance romance, unrequited love (at first), slow burn, accidental pregnancy, Friends → strangers → lovers, angst, fluff
Themes : emotionally unavailable! Jungkook , unlabeled relationship, friends with benefits(kind of), fear of commitment, one-sided devotion, accidental pregnancy, absent father (he doesn’t know), girl dad! Jungkook, second chances, yearning, found family, angst with happy ending
⤷ series masterlist ˎˊ˗
The Gravity Between Them
Nobody in their friendgroup could explain Jungkook and Y/N. Not really. They never dated, they never even admitted they liked each other.
But everyone knew there was something wrong about the way they orbited each other.
Like gravity.
⸻
The first time someone asked about it was at Mingyu’s birthday, a long time ago, it was before graduation. Music playing, people half drunk half high, smoke lingering in the air, pizza boxes lay everywhere, cake frosting on every surface. The house was packed, Mingyu wanted to celebrate with all of his uni friends.
Y/N was sitting on the kitchen counter swinging her legs while Jungkook stood between them, leaning against the sink. Their other friends sitting around the kitchen island, discussing about their future plan.
Jungkook and Y/N seem to be living in their own world. Every few minutes Jungkook would lean in to whisper something into her ear which made Y/N giggle and blush.
Jaehyun watched them for ten minutes before finally saying, “Are you two together or what?”
Jungkook laughed immediately. A sharp, careless laugh.
“God no.”
Y/N didn’t look at him.
Jungkook and Y/N met during last year of middle school and somehow, despite their differences they got along pretty well. They did not know when it started or how it started, nobody in the group ever called it love. They called it Jungkook and Y/N being Jungkook and Y/N. Which was somehow worse.
Because everyone could see something was wrong with it. Except them. Or maybe they saw it. Maybe they just didn’t stop.
Jaehyun raised a brow. “Then why do you always act like that?”
Jungkook shrugged.
“We’re just being ourselves.”
Like that explained everything.
Jaehyun joined their friend group only a few months ago.
Jungkook, Mingyu and Eunwoo run a business selling their own clothing brand, which they started during their last year of high school. They named it “97 Label”. Jaehyun was their regular customer until they invited him to join the business.
Y/N hopped down from the counter.
“Exactly,” she said lightly. “Just us being us.”
She grabbed a slice of pizza and walked out to the balcony.
Jungkook watched her go. Then went after her five minutes later.
Like he always did.
⸻
After graduation, Jungkook dated people. A lot of people. He dated some girls during their college years too but it was just two or three times.
Y/N never said anything about it. But every time he got a new girlfriend, the pattern started again.
Jungkook would disappear for a few weeks and Y/N would pretend he never existed. Sometimes he would call her when things aren’t good with his girlfriends but they never speak of it again the next day. After Jungkook break up with his girlfriend, him and Y/N would go back to how they were. And the cycle never end.
Y/N’s phone would ring late at night.
“Come outside.”
It was always the same words. Always the same tone. Like he knew she would come. And she always did.
One night she found him sitting on the hood of his car.
The air was cold, the streetlight flickering.
He held out a cigarette infront of her,
“I don’t smoke,” she said shaking her head.
“I know but you still make wishes on them right?”
Y/N paused.
Whenever Jungkook opens a fresh pack of cigarettes, he would take one out, flip it upside down then she makes a wish on it. They used to do it when they were in high school.
“Maybe,” she said.
“Make one.”
Y/N didn’t do it.
“You have a girlfriend.”
Henry rolled his eyes
“So?”
That word hurt more than it should have. Like nothing mattered. Like she was supposed to know the ‘rules’.
“You shouldn’t call me when you’re dating someone.” Y/N stated folding her arms over her chest.
Jungkook looked at her like she’d said something ridiculous, finally taking the cigarette between his lips.
“Relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
“You’re overthinking again.”
Y/N stared at him.
“You do this every time.” She said frustrated but her voice came out soft, normal, practiced.
Jungkook tilted his head.
“Do what?”
“You disappear when you’re happy and then come back when you’re bored.”
Jungkook laughed.
“You think you’re that important?”
The words landed like a slap.
Y/N went quiet. Her gaze fell toward the floor.
Jungkook saw it and immediately softened his voice. “Hey,” he said, nudging her shoulder. “Don’t start being dramatic.”
That was his way of apologizing.
Not saying sorry. Just pulling her back into orbit and Y/N stayed, like she always did.
Jungkook could be cruel, but he could also be unbelievably gentle. And those two things lived inside the same person.
Y/N never knew which one she was going to get.
That night he made her tea. They sat on the couch watching a random movie neither of them cared about.
At some point Y/N leaned against him, he didn't move away. Instead he rested his chin on her head.
"You're always cold," he murmured. He pulled a blanket over her shoulders. His fingers absentmindedly brushing her arm.
Little things like that. Little things that made it impossible to leave.
Later, when it got late, Y/N ended up in his bed. It wasn't new. It had happened before.
Afterwards Jungkook always did the same strange routine.
He'd pull her close, kiss her forehead. Then disappear into the bathroom and come back with a towel.
"Come here."
Y/N would laugh softly.
"I can do it myself."
"I know."
But he'd still do it.
Like she was something delicate, something precious.
Then he'd pull her into the shower with him, warm water running over both of them. He'd wash her hair, carefully, like someone who loved her. But Jungkook didn't love her, not like that.
At least that's what he told everyone. Jungkook didn’t like to think about it and Y/N never forced him.
After showers he always cooked even if it was midnight.
Eggs, toast, sometimes ramen.
Y/N would sit on the kitchen counter watching him move around the kitchen.
"You'd make a really good boyfriend," she said once. She didn't mean it say it out loud but she had always pictured him.
Jungkook snorted.
"I'm a terrible boyfriend."
"You're not."
"Yeah I am."
He slid the plate toward her. "Eat."
She smiled softly. Moments like that made it easy to forget his careless words, or the fact that she didn't actually matter to him.
_____
Until… Jungkook became a completely different person.
At a hangout two weeks later, Ava showed up.
Pretty, confident. The type of girl people noticed when she walked in. Jungkook noticed too. Everyone saw it. Y/N saw it.
Ava doesn't talk much, only when necessary, her voice is sharp, calm and clear. Her confidence makes her attractive. She was an exchange student back in uni, everyone had heard about her before but she hardly interact with anybody.
Y/N is different, she talk with everyone, she slip into conversation easily and she can adjust herself to whatever situation. She doesn’t stand out as much as Ava did, but she’s known by everyone too, she’s simple, kind, easy. That’s what Jungkook like about her. Easy
Jungkook laughed more around Ava, talked more and leaned closer when he did that.
Y/N sat on the couch beside Jiho pretending she didn't care.
Another thing about Y/N is that she never show her true emotions or confess her feelings because of the fear of sounding pathetic.
Eunwoo watched the whole thing with a tight jaw.
Eunwoo is the opposite of Y/N, he speak his mind, show his emotions freely and he never let anyone change his opinion easily.
He knew Y/N as long as he had known Jungkook, they were the ultimate trio in high school before they adopted Mingyu and Jiho. Eunwoo is observant, very observant. He saw the way Jungkook and Y/N looked at each other, the way they act towards each other, before anyone else did. It pissed him off because he love Jungkook like his own brother and Y/N like his own sister, he knew that Jungkook would never want to make it official with Y/N and he also wouldn't let her go, and that Y/N will never confront Jungkook and even if she did she will always go back to him as long as her heart can take.
Later that night Jungkook walked past Y/N in the kitchen.
"You like her." She spoke
Jungkook shrugged. "She's interesting."
Y/N nodded. "Good."
Jungkook glanced at her.
"Why?" raising an eyebrow.
She forced a smile. "Because you deserve someone you actually like."
Jungkook laughed. "You sound jealous."
"I'm not. Why would I be?."
"Good." He said lightly. Then he added, "Because there's nothing to be jealous about."
________
The worst part wasn't the girlfriends. It was the way Jungkook acted when it was just them.
Because when no one else was around...
He was different.
He would steal food off her plate, lean his head on her shoulder during movies, call her at 2 in the morning just to talk about nothing.
One time, during a storm, the power went out at Mingyu's house. Everyone sat in the living room with candles.
Y/N was sitting on the floor. Jungkook dropped down beside her and rested his chin on her shoulder.
Like it was natural. Like he belonged there.
Eunwoo stared at them. "You two are unbelievable."
Jungkook looked up. "What now?"
"You keep on acting like that." He gesture, pointing where Jungkook was resting his head.
Jungkook snorted.
"Relax it’s nothing. Y/N's just delusional sometimes." he joked.
Completely unnecessary.
Y/N froze.
"What?" Eunwoo frowned.
Jungkook shrugged lazily. "She reads too much into things." Then he ruffled her hair. "Right?"
Y/N forced a laugh.
"Right."
But that night when she went home, she cried.
Not loudly.
Just quietly into her pillow.
Because the worst part was... he would say things like that in front of people. But when they were alone, he'd whisper things like "You know you're my favorite person, right?"
Three days later, Ava and Jungkook were officially dating.
Ava was the first girlfriend who noticed.
She watched the way Jungkook's eyes followed Y/N across rooms. The way Y/N always knew exactly what he meant before he finished sentences.
One night Ava asked him directly.
"Do you love her?"
Jungkook didn't even hesitate.
"No."
"Then why do you look at her like that?"
Jungkook shrugged.
"She's just someone I grew up with."
Ava nodded slowly, but she started noticing something else.
Y/N was always the one leaving. Not him.
Y/N.
________
Y/N disappeared from his life overnight.
Just like that.
No messages, no late night calls, no "come over."
Y/N immediately pull back as soon as she heard they were officially dating.
She mute his socials, never glance toward him, and always choose the farthest seat from his.
And Jungkook acted like she'd never existed.
At hangouts he sat beside Ava. Held her hand, kissed her cheek.
Y/N stayed quiet. She never reacted nor acknowledge them.
Polite and distant.
Like someone who had never spent nights in his bed. Like someone who had never been kissed slowly in the kitchen while pasta boiled on the stove.
Eunwoo couldn't stand it.
One night he pulled Jungkook aside.
"You're unbelievable."
"Bro what?"
"You just erased her."
Jungkook frowned.
"Who?"
Eunwoo stared at him.
“You're actually fucking disgusting. I told you to stop doing this to her.”
Jungkook scoffed. “She knew what it was.”
“What is it then ?”
Jungkook shrugged. “Nothing serious.”
Eunwoo shook his head, pure disappointment in his eyes. "You're going to destroy her."
Jungkook rolled his eyes.
“She's fine. She doesn’t need you to stand up and be a hero for her. It’s not like she’s in love with me or something.” He muttered the last few words.
But Y/N wasn't fine.
She just refused to let anyone see it.
The relationship with Ava lasted three months.
And the cycle started again.
_________
Y/N was practicing her latte art when her phone buzzed. She always wanted to be a barista and open her own cafe.
Jungkook:
“You awake?”
Her heart sank. She knew she shouldn't answer.
She knew exactly what was coming. Jiho had warned her. She had promised her she wouldn't answer when he text.
Still,
“Yeah.”
Three dots appeared immediately.
“Come over.”
When Y/N knocked on the door, Jungkook opened it with a crooked smile.
"Missed me?"
Y/N shook her head.
"Don't you have a girlfriend?"
"Not anymore." He stepped aside. "Come in."
Everything went back to normal.
Like the last three months had never happened.
Movie nights, cooking, his arm around her waist while they brushed their teeth side by side.
Sometimes he'd look at her in this quiet way, soft and thoughtful, caressing her cheek softly and telling her how beautiful she is.
Like he meant something and Y/N would almost believe it.
Until someone asked, again. A question that felt too familiar.
It happened during a party.
Someone noticed the way Jungkook kept his hand possessively on her waist and the way Y/N leaned into him.
"You two dating now?"
Jungkook laughed immediately.
"No."
The guy looked confused.
"Damn, you act like a couple. Fucking weird don’t ya think?”
Jungkook rolled his eyes.
"Nah, she's not even close to my type."
Y/N felt the words hit her chest.
Jungkook kept talking. "And she's like family."
The room laughed.
Y/N laughed too. Because what else was she supposed to do?
Later that night Jungkook found her sitting alone outside on the porch.
"You're quiet."
Y/N gave him a small smile.
"Just tired."
Jungkook sat down beside her and lit a joint.
"You know I didn't mean anything by that."
"By what?"
"You know." He shrugged lazily.
She looked at him.
"That i'm not your type?."
Jungkook nodded, "Yeah…But you're Y/N." He added like that fixed it.
Then he leaned down and kissed her temple.
Casual.
Y/N closed her eyes.
And the cycle continued.
Months passed like that.
Push and pull.
Jungkook dated other girls. Ignored Y/N completely during those times, then came back when things ended and every time he came back, he was sweet again.
Gentle, attentive, cooking for her, pulling her into warm showers, kissing the back of her neck while she laughed.
Like they belonged to each other.
But they didn't.
Everyone knew it, even Y/N.
_________
One evening, they were all sitting in a café discussing about their brand new release.
Everyone was present, and by everyone I mean, Jungkook, Eunwoo, Jaehyun, Mingyu, Y/N, Jiho and Jungkook's new girlfriend.
Jungkook had his arm around his girlfriend. Y/N was laughing with Jiho about something.
Eunwoo suddenly slammed his glass down.
"This is stupid."
Everyone looked at him.
"What?" Mingyu asked.
Eunwoo pointed between Jungkook and Y/N.
"You're sitting next to your girlfriend but you keep on glancing toward Y/N every few seconds."
Silence.
Jungkook rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Eunwoo. Keep your delusional thoughts to yourself."
"No, seriously," Eunwoo speak already fed up. "Did you tell your girlfriend that you already did everything you're doing with her?"
Mingyu nodded like he agreed with Eunwoo.
Jiho glared at Eunwoo because this clearly is not the time to say things like that, but for Eunwoo there’s no such thing as the right or wrong time to talk about his opinion or his view on something, every time and everywhere is always the right place. Jiho hold Y/ N's hand tightly under the table to comfort her.
Jaehyun sat in between glancing around awkwardly as Jungkook's girlfriend shifted in her seat trying to make herself comfortable which isn't working.
Jungkook scoffed.
"That was before, we weren't even together. I would never date her."
The words were casual. Careless.
Like they meant nothing.
But Y/N heard them. Every single word. And something inside her broke.
“Yeah, well, maybe don’t call her every night, then.” Jiho spit back.
Y/N nudge her under the table clearing her throat. Jungkook didn’t talk back, he sat in his place his arms no longer around his girlfriend anymore. He looked angry, annoyed, confused.
“Okay back to work.” Mingyu break the silence pulling everyone away from their thoughts and calming down the tension.
A few minutes later, after the tension disappeared and the subject changed.
Y/N stood up. Excused herself saying she's feeling a bit light headed. Grabbed her bag and walked out before anyone could protest.
Jungkook frowned he knew it wasn't becuase she was feeling unwell, but he doesn't say anything.
At first Jungkook thought it was another one of their cycles.
A few days, maybe a week. Then she'd answer his calls again.
But she didn't.
She stopped coming to hangouts. Stopped replying to messages.
Stopped existing in his life.
Two weeks later,
Jungkook finally asked Jiho,
"Did she say something to you?"
Jiho stared at him.
"You really don't get it."
"Get what?"
Jiho sighed.
"She's clearly not okay and you’re the no.1 reason." she rolled her eyes at him.
Jungkook went quiet.
"That’s not it, she'd tell me if there's anything wrong." He say more to himself than Jiho, and he knew what he had just told himself is a complete lie.
_______
A month and a half later Jungkook saw her infront of a bookstore, standing by herself. Her jacket hang loosely around her figure, her skirt covering half her thigh and a tote bag on her shoulder.
He had heard from Mingyu that she’s working at a bookstore to save up extra money.
Jungkook hate to admit that he had visited four bookstores in the past few weeks because he wanted, no, he needed to see her. Mingyu didn't know the name of the place where she worked, Jaehyun have no idea as well, Jiho and Eunwoo won't definitely tell him.
Jungkook missed her, it was obvious to his friends, to everyone. But they never bring it up or tease him about it because they know that he will always say the same thing.
Jungkook walked over slowly.
"Hey."
She looked up.
For a moment, she couldn't speak.
Then Y/N smiled.
Soft, polite, different.
"How are you?"
Jungkook hated that smile. Because it did not fully reach her eyes, and it felt fake, distant.
"I've been calling you."
"I know."
"Why didn't you answer?"
Y/N said, "I think we needed distance.” her voice steady and calm.
Jungkook stepped closer. Something burned in his chest was it anger? or was it sadness? or maybe fear even.
"You can't just disappear like that."
Y/N looked at him for a long moment.Jungkook wasn't the type to say sorry, he wasn't the type to explain himself or the type to beg. Jungkook liked Y/N and kept her around because she never question him, she never ask for more, she's safe, comforting and easy. She never made Jungkook think too much about his feelings and he liked that.
Jungkook did not want to lose her, and maybe he did like her like that, maybe he did love her, but Jungkook chose not to think about it, because it's easier like this, safer.
"You said you'd never date someone like me." Y/ N speak after a long silence. She didn't know why she said that,was it because she wanted an explanation or to let him know that he's always, constantly hurting her.
Jungkook opened his mouth then closed it. He had said that. A hundred times. Like it meant nothing.
Y/N adjusted her bag strap that was falling of her shoulder. "You don't have to pretend with me anymore."
"I wasn't pretending."
"Then what was it?"
Jungkook didn't answer because he didn't know.
All he knew was that suddenly, without Y/N around everything felt strangely empty and that he didn’t want to lose her.
She nodded like she understood what the silence meant and walked away.
Jungkook grabbed her wrist.
"Y/N, wait please.”
She turned, and for the first time in years there was no hope in her eyes. Just quiet acceptance.
Jungkook swallowed.
"I didn't mean those things."
"I know."
"Then why are you leaving?"
Her voice was soft.
'Because if I stay, I'll keep loving you in a way that you never wanted.'
She wanted to tell him that, let him know that she’s giving him her everything, that she loves him, that she wants him to let her go because she won’t be able to walk away, not when she love him this much.
But instead she said something simpler, “I don’t want to be the second choice anymore.”
After the words left her mouth, her shoulder relaxed and she breathe out.
Has she been holding her breath this entire time? She didn’t know, couldn’t recall.
Jiho never left Y/N’s side. Comforting her when she needed it and giving her reality check when she say things like, “I should text him back.” “Should I pick up his call?” “I miss him.” .
Jiho wanted Y/N to tell Jungkook herself that she’s done with his bullshit, or tell him that she’s in love with him and walk away to protect her peace. Y/N thought the first option sound the safest, less pathetic.
Jungkook looked at her walk away for a long time, not knowing what to say or do.
And for the first time, he felt unsure, unsure of his feelings, unsure of what the pain in his chest meant.
For the first time he realised that maybe, just maybe, he had spent years pushing away the one person who would have stayed.
______
Jaehyun isn’t as close to Y/N as he is to Jungkook or the others.
When he first hung out with them, he saw the way Jungkook stayed beside Y/N, how he held her and whisper sweet nothings to her.
He thought they had something going on, so he never approach Y/N or try to get to know her. And when he heard they were nothing but ‘best friends’, he was beyond disturbed.
Jaehyun didn’t think Y/N lacked self respect because he had once been in her place. A second option. He remembered it painfully clear and that was one of the reasons why Jaehyun never got close to Y/N, because she reminded him of his past self, someone who had been so in love that he failed to see he was losing himself.
_________
Jungkook didn't understand the sudden change in Y/N's behavior.
He liked Y/N, a lot. More than he would ever admit. She was fun, easy to be around, and somehow capable of fitting into any conversation. She could match any mood without trying too hard. Being with her always felt effortless.
Jungkook thought Y/N was special. Not because she stood out, but because she didn't. And somehow, that made her unforgettable.
She never begged for attention, yet people noticed her anyway, she never ignored others either, she greeted people first, offered small smiles when she passed someone she knew, even if they weren't particularly close. She wasn't the loudest person in the room, but she always seemed to know exactly what to say when it mattered.
And Jungkook thought she was beautiful.
Not the kind of beautiful that turned heads the moment she walked into a room. She was the kind of beautiful that made people feel comfortable. Easy to approach. Easy to like.
Easy to love.
The closer someone got to her, the more beautiful she became and every little thing they learned about her only gave them another reason to stay.
Maybe that was the problem.
Jungkook hated feeling tied down.
He hated commitment.
To him, relationships and marriage had always seemed like chains disguised as promises. He had watched his parents fight for years, watched resentment replace affection until their marriage became little more than a battlefield. Love looked exhausting, commitment looked permanent and permanence terrified him.
Why willingly give someone the power to hurt you?
Maybe that was why he had never admitted what Y/N truly meant to him. Because the moment he did, the moment he gave their relationship a name, it would become real.
And real things could break.
When Y/N had looked at him and quietly said,
"I don't want to be the second choice anymore."
He wanted to stop her.
God, he wanted to.
He wanted to tell her that she was the first person he thought about when he woke up and the last person he thought about before he fell asleep. He wanted to tell her that every girl he'd ever dated had simply been a distraction from the one person he actually cared about. He wanted to tell her that he wasn't afraid of loving her. He was afraid of losing her.
But he didn't, because Jungkook was a coward.
Y/N had thought that leaving him would make loving him easier.
She had been wrong. Painfully wrong.
The moment she saw him again, she realized nothing had changed. She loved him exactly the same and she didn't know when that love would disappear, or if it ever would.
__________
That night, Jungkook couldn't sleep.
He felt empty, restless.
Every message he'd sent remained unread. Every call went unanswered.
Still, he kept trying.
Maybe if he heard her voice one more time, he could finally breathe again.
At almost four in the morning, he told himself this would be the last attempt.
Just one more call then he'd stop.
He tapped her name and pressed the call button. To his surprise, she answered.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Jungkook froze, he almost couldn't believe it.
A few seconds later, her voice came through the speaker. "Jungkook?" Soft, sleepy and a little hoarse from being woken up.
"Did I wake you?" he asked, sounding strangely nervous.
"It’s four in the morning," she replied. "Why aren't you asleep?"
Jungkook rubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah... sorry. I didn't think you'd actually pick up." A small pause. "You can go back to sleep."
"I'm awake now," she said. "Do you need something, Jungkook?"
He swallowed. "Yeah." Another pause. "I couldn't sleep." Silence. "And I wanted to hear your voice."
"...Okay."
"I missed you."
The confession slipped out before he could stop it. The line fell silent again.
Then he asked quietly, “Can I come over?”
“Right now?”
“Please.”
Y/N sighed. “Jungkook, don’t do this… this isn’t—“
“I know. I know.” He cut her off. “But I haven't slept properly in weeks.”
His voice cracked slightly. “I just want to see you.”
Another pause. “Please, Y/N.”
Jungkook never begged.
Not hardly ever. Never.
And Y/N had never been strong where he was concerned. Love had a way of blinding people, a way of leading them right back to the road they had sworn never to walk again.
Y/N stood there in a pair of white cotton pajamas.
Jungkook recognized them immediately. One of his favorites.
Her hair was messy from sleep, but her face looked softer than he remembered.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then she stepped aside, letting him in and she walk straight towards her bedroom while Jungkook followed her inside.
"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said quietly as they reached her bedroom. Y/N stopped and turned toward him. "Let's not talk about it right now." Her voice was gentle. "I want to finish my dream."
A small smile appeared on Jungkook's face, he nodded.
Y/N slipped beneath her blankets.
A second later, Jungkook climbed in beside her. It felt natural.
Y/N turned her back towards him and was asleep again within minutes. Jungkook watched her for a moment. Then he moved closer.
His arm slid around her waist, pulling her against him.
"Sweet dreams, Y/N."
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, and for the first time in a month, Jungkook slept.
_________
The next morning, Y/N woke to the sound of her phone ringing. Still half asleep, she reached for it. Then she felt it. His warmth, his scent, his arm draped around her waist.
She turned her head slightly. Jungkook was still asleep. He looked peaceful, calm.
A small smile tugged at her lips.
Carefully, she lifted his arm and reached for her phone.
Mingyu.
She answered and before she could even say hello, Mingyu started talking. “Good morning, Y/N. Don't forget about today. Remind Jungkook too. Bye!”
The call ended immediately. Y/N blinked.
Behind her, she felt movement. Jungkook sat up, still sleepy. One hand rested on the mattress beside her while the other settled on her arm, "Who was that?" he mumbled.
His lips brushed against her shoulder.
"Mingyu."
"Yeah? What'd he want?"
"He called about your release celebration." She turned to look at him. "He also told me to remind you." A pause. "Did you tell him you were coming here?"
Jungkook laughed. "No."
"He's weird."
Jungkook hum in agreement his arm wrapped around her waist. Then he pressed another soft kiss against her neck.
And just like that, they were right back where they started.
The same cycle.
The same mistakes.
The same love neither of them seemed capable of letting go.
Note : Hi pretty people!! What do you think of this chapter? I know it’s messy but yea i’m trying my best lmao. Jungkook’s a bitch🙄. And Y/N’s pathetic even though that’s the last thing she wanted to be. Ik it’s a bit confusing but idk how to fix it or make it better, sorry:( . Omg guys im so sorry. When i type too fast, i would accidentally type out Jungkook’s name as Hungkook and that would autocorrect as Henry😭😭 so sorry. I’ve corrected two of em if there’s more mistake pls do tell me
˙⋆✮ They say having feelings for your brother's best friend is never a good idea...
But loving Jungkook feels like the easiest thing in the world.
He's been by your side for as long as you can remember, so it's only natural for you to feel devastated when your brother, Dohyun, tells you that Jungkook is about to get married.
For the first time ever, loving him doesn't feel easy at all.
pairing: brother's best friend!jungkook × f!reader
cw: age gap (jk is 32, reader is 22 ops), tension, reader is WHIPPED, pining, initial unrequited love (my fav), eventual smut
>> english is not my first language
chapter 3 | masterlist
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
The amusement park is Dohyun’s idea.
Which means that by the time Saturday finally arrives, you’ve already spent the better part of two weeks hearing about it.
Not constantly.
Just often enough that nobody is particularly surprised when he shows up that morning looking as excited as if the entire festival had been organized specifically for him.
Honestly, the weather seems determined to support his enthusiasm.
The sky stretches cloudless above the city, bright and impossibly blue. The sunlight is warm without being overwhelming, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of blooming trees through the parking lot as all of you make your way toward the entrance.
The park is already crowded.
Families fill the main avenue beyond the gates. Children dart between adults with a level of energy that feels physically impossible to maintain. Music drifts from hidden speakers overhead, cheerful and bright.
Somewhere in the distance, a roller coaster slowly climbs its tracks before disappearing into the sky.
A few seconds later, the screams follow.
You find yourself smiling before you’ve even fully stepped inside.
Not because of the rides.
Not because of the attractions.
Because of the people around you.
There’s something comforting about watching everyone fall back into familiar rhythms so easily, as though no time has passed at all. Conversations overlap. Half-finished jokes get interrupted because somebody starts talking before the punchline arrives. Nobody actually agrees on where to go first, yet somehow the entire group ends up moving in the same direction anyway.
Some things never change.
Jimin spends the first ten minutes insisting that one of the biggest roller coasters in the park should be your first stop.
His argument loses all credibility the moment he accidentally admits he’s never actually been on it himself.
The reaction is immediate.
“Wait” Sophie says, staring at him. “You’ve never ridden it?”
Jimin points at her defensively.
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It absolutely matters.”
“It kind of does when you’re trying to convince us.”
Taehyung nearly doubles over laughing.
“He’s been advertising this thing for way too long.”
By the time you finally reach the attraction, Taehyung has somehow turned the entire situation into a running joke at Jimin’s expense.
Namjoon spends most of the walk questioning why he continues spending time with any of you.
The ride itself turns out to be considerably worse than advertised.
Violently aggressive.
By the time it’s over, you feel like your soul has been separated from your body at least three different times.
When you finally stumble back onto solid ground, Layla looks delighted.
Sophie immediately wants to go again.
And Dohyun collapses onto the nearest bench with the expression of a man reconsidering every decision that has led him to this exact moment.
“I can still feel it moving.”
“You’ve been standing still for five minutes” Jungkook points out.
Dohyun stares into the distance.
“That’s what scares me.”
You laugh despite yourself.
The rest of the afternoon unfolds with the kind of easy spontaneity that only seems possible when you’re surrounded by people who know each other well enough to abandon every plan almost immediately.
At one point, nearly forty minutes disappear because Hoseok becomes convinced he can win one of the oversized stuffed animals hanging from the ceiling of a carnival booth.
His confidence lasts considerably longer than his success.
After several increasingly embarrassing attempts, a small crowd has gathered nearby.
The employee running the game looks exhausted.
Hoseok remains optimistic.
“I’ve almost got it.”
“You’ve said that six times-“ Layla says. “Because it’s true.” he interrupts.
You have to turn away to hide your smile.
Unfortunately for Hoseok, optimism proves significantly less effective than Taehyung.
After watching the disaster unfold for several minutes, he casually steps forward, picks up one of the rings, and wins the prize on his very first attempt.
The silence that follows is brief.
The laughter isn’t.
Even Jungkook looks incapable of helping himself.
You glance over before you can stop yourself.
He’s leaning against the side of the booth, shoulders shaking slightly as he laughs at something Taehyung says.
The sight catches you off guard for a moment.
You immediately look away.
Unfortunately, years of practice have never made that particular task any easier.
Which is deeply irritating.
The afternoon gradually softens into evening.
Sunlight fades slowly, painting everything in shades of gold before finally surrendering to dusk. Strings of lights suspended throughout the park flicker to life overhead, transforming pathways and attractions into something almost cinematic.
Families begin making their way toward the exits.
The crowds thin and the air grows cooler.
Music drifts more clearly through the evening breeze.
Everything feels calmer than it did only a few hours ago.
Without really deciding to, all of you eventually find yourselves wandering toward one of the older sections of the park.
The newer attractions gradually disappear behind you, replaced by buildings that look decades older. Decorative lamps cast warm pools of light across the pavement while vintage signs glow softly against the darkening sky.
The entire area feels strangely charming.
It’s there that Sophie notices the funhouse.
The building stands slightly apart from everything surrounding it, large enough to attract attention without appearing particularly impressive. Rows of lights frame the entrance, illuminating painted lettering that promises mirrors, illusions, hidden passageways, and impossible reflections.
Sophie stops walking.
You immediately know what’s about to happen.
“Oh, we’re doing that.”
Layla follows her gaze.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
Namjoon sighs.
Dohyun groans.
Jimin looks interested.
Taehyung and Hoseok are already heading toward the entrance.
And just like that, the decision is made.
Naturally, Sophie decides all of you have to go inside.
Naturally, nobody manages to stop her.
Nobody seems especially surprised.
The attraction turns out to be exactly the sort of place designed to create confusion.
Corridors twist unexpectedly. Reflections appear where exits should be. Walls seem to shift depending on the angle you’re looking from. More than once, you find yourself reaching toward what looks like an open passage only to discover your own reflection staring back at you.
At first, the group stays together.
Then somehow, you don’t.
The funhouse simply seems determined to separate people.
Every hallway leads somewhere different. Every turn presents another choice. Voices echo strangely through the building, making it impossible to tell who’s actually nearby and who’s several rooms away.
You’re fairly certain Layla was walking beside you only a moment ago.
Then you turn a corner.
And suddenly, she’s gone.
The realization settles in gradually as you continue down another corridor lined entirely with mirrors. The others’ voices have become distant now, reduced to occasional bursts of laughter that seem to come from every direction at once.
You pause at an intersection, studying the two nearly identical hallways stretching out in front of you.
Neither looks familiar.
Neither looks particularly promising.
“You look like you’re trying to solve a murder.”
The voice immediately pulls your attention away from the hallways.
You turn toward the sound and feel a small wave of relief when you find Jungkook standing a few feet away.
Which is ridiculous.
You’re not actually lost- probably.
Jungkook, meanwhile, looks entirely unconcerned by the fact that the two of you have clearly been separated from everyone else.
Then again, he rarely seems concerned about anything until it becomes absolutely necessary.
“I’m trying to figure out where we are.”
His gaze shifts briefly toward the hallways before returning to you.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to know.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“I try.”
A smile threatens to appear before you quickly suppress it.
Unfortunately, he notices anyway.
His mouth twitches slightly.
You choose to ignore that.
Together, you continue forward, picking one of the hallways entirely at random.
The further you walk, the quieter everything becomes.
The music has almost disappeared now.
The sounds of other visitors seem distant.
Even the lighting has changed, becoming softer and less theatrical than before.
At some point, you stop encountering other people entirely.
The corridor ahead narrows unexpectedly before ending at a small door partially hidden behind one of the decorative wall panels.
Unlike everything else around it, the door looks real.
Completely out of place.
Your eyes land on the small handle at the exact same moment Jungkook reaches for it.
“That seems like a terrible idea.”
“Probably.”
The agreement does absolutely nothing to discourage him.
The handle turns easily.
The door opens.
And because curiosity remains one of humanity’s most persistent weaknesses, both of you step inside.
The room beyond is unmistakably a storage space.
Shelves line most of the walls, stacked with boxes and maintenance supplies. A single overhead light casts a warm amber glow across the cramped interior, illuminating dust particles drifting lazily through the air.
The space isn’t particularly large.
Actually, it seems barely large enough for two people.
You don’t fully process that thought before the door suddenly swings shut behind you.
The sound echoes sharply throughout the room.
A metallic click follows.
The kind of sound that immediately feels important.
For a second, neither of you moves.
Then Jungkook turns toward the door and reaches for the handle.
He twists it.
Nothing.
He tries again.
Still nothing.
The change in his expression is almost imperceptible.
Not panic- not even concern.
Just enough uncertainty to make your stomach sink.
Because if Jungkook is starting to reconsider the situation…
Maybe you should be too.
And suddenly, the room feels much smaller than it did a moment ago.
The silence stretches for a few seconds.
Jungkook keeps one hand on the handle, testing it again as if the door might suddenly decide to cooperate.
It doesn’t.
“Well” he says eventually. “That’s unfortunate.”
You stare at him.
“Unfortunate?”
“What word would you use?” he asks almost ironically.
“Locked.” you stare at him, suddenly aware of your surroundings.
“That’s a little dramatic.”
You let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Dramatic? Jungkook, we’re trapped in a storage closet.”
“We’re not trapped.”
“The door literally won’t open.”
You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts.
Stepping forward, you gently push his shoulder.
“Move.”
His eyebrow lifts.
“Excuse me?”
“Let me try.”
“You think I’m not opening it correctly?”
“I think there’s a very real possibility you’re being stupid.”
A grin flashes briefly across his face.
“That’s rude.”
“Move.”
Still smiling, Jungkook steps aside.
The space is already cramped enough without the two of you trying to switch places. You have to squeeze between him and one of the shelves lining the wall, muttering under your breath when your shoulder bumps against a stack of boxes.
“Careful.” he says.
“I’m being careful.”
The moment the words leave your mouth, your elbow catches the corner of a cardboard box.
You freeze.
The box wobbles.
For one hopeful second, it looks like it might stay where it is.
It doesn’t.
“Oh no.”
The first box tips forward.
Then another.
Then apparently every single box on the shelf decides to join the rebellion.
Something crashes loudly beside you.
You instinctively stumble backward.
Directly into Jungkook.
His hands grab your waist before either of you can hit the floor.
The movement stops your fall.
Barely.
A second later another box lands somewhere behind him with a heavy thud, and suddenly, neither of you can move.
Your back is pressed firmly against his chest, one of his arms remains wrapped around your waist, the other is braced against the shelf beside you.
The storage room had already felt small, now it feels microscopic.
Your heartbeat becomes painfully obvious, you can only hope he can’t hear it.
For a moment neither of you says anything.
The fallen boxes settle around the floor, dust drifts lazily through the air.
Everything else is quiet.
Very quiet.
Slowly, you become aware of every point of contact.
The warmth of him behind you, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the way his hand is still resting against your side.
“Well.”
Jungkook’s voice breaks the silence, lower than before.
Much closer.
You swallow.
“Well?”
“I think you made it worse.”
You let out a nervous laugh.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
The response comes too quickly.
Too easily.
Your stomach does something deeply unhelpful.
Carefully, you tilt your head back enough to look at him.
Big mistake.
His face is much closer than you expected.
Close enough that you can clearly see the faint amusement lingering in his eyes.
Close enough that looking away suddenly feels like the safest option- for a second, neither of you does.
Something shifts, not enough to name- just enough for the atmosphere to feel different.
The smile on Jungkook’s face fades slightly.
His gaze drops for the briefest moment.
Your heart immediately forgets how to function.
You panic.
You shift slightly, trying to create some distance between the two of you, the warmth of his body suddenly feeling far too overwhelming in such a small space.
Immediately, you feel his hand tighten around your waist, more out of instinct than anything else, as though he’s afraid you’ll lose your balance.
“We’re stuck.”
The realization makes your anxiety climb higher.
Not because you’re trapped inside a storage room.
Not because nobody seems particularly eager to rescue you.
But because Jungkook is everywhere.
His presence fills the tiny space between the shelves, impossible to ignore. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing behind you, the warmth radiating from him, the simple fact that there is nowhere for either of you to move.
You try again, shifting your weight in another unsuccessful attempt to create even the smallest amount of space.
“Stop.”
Your heart immediately drops.
The word is quiet, but there’s a note of warning in it that makes you freeze for half a second before instinctively trying again.
“Y/n, please.”
Your mind is moving far too fast to listen.
The accelerated rhythm of your heartbeat drowns out every rational thought. All you know is that being this close to him feels dangerous in ways a locked room never could.
You move once more.
A sharp exhale leaves him.
“Fuck Y/n- don’t move.”
This time his hands tighten strongly around your waist, steadying you before you can shift again.
You freeze.
Completely.
Only then do you notice what he had been trying to warn you about.
You can feel him everywhere.
His chest, his hands, and the reason he wanted you to stop moving.
“Oh my God.”
You feel him inhale sharply behind you as his hands finally leave your waist, and somehow the loss of contact only makes everything worse. The silence that settles between you is thick with something you refuse to examine too closely, and for one horrifying second all you can think about is how your own imagination- an imagination responsible for years of terrible decisions and even worse daydreams- could never have come up with a situation this absurd.
You want the ground to open beneath your feet and put an end to your suffering.
Slowly, carefully, you turn your attention back to the shelf in front of you, determined to think about literally anything else. The boxes. The lock. The fact that you’re trapped. World hunger. Taxes. Anything.
You open your mouth, ready to apologize for accidentally making the last five minutes the most awkward experience of your life.
You never get the chance.
The door suddenly swings open.
“There they are.”
Relief immediately floods the room, followed by a completely different emotion when you remember exactly what happened just a minute ago.
Your cheeks are already burning.
Your breathing hasn’t fully settled.
Jungkook is standing far too close behind you.
And everyone is staring.
Absolutely perfect.
You suddenly realize how this must look from the outside. Trapped in a room barely large enough for one person, Jungkook standing directly behind you - there is absolutely no version of this that looks innocent.
For a moment nobody says anything. Their eyes move from you to Jungkook and then back again, each of them silently trying to piece together whatever explanation could possibly justify finding the two of you trapped inside what is essentially a glorified storage closet.
You step out first the second there’s enough room to move, grateful for the cooler air that immediately hits your face. Unfortunately, it does absolutely nothing to help with the embarrassment threatening to kill you on the spot.
“How on earth did you guys end up in here?”
The question comes from Layla, though judging by the expressions around her, everybody wants the answer.
Neither of you dares to say anything.
.✦ ݁˖
By the time everyone leaves the amusement park, the initial excitement of the day has faded into the kind of pleasant exhaustion that makes even the most energetic people noticeably quieter. The car ride to Dohyun’s house is filled with lazy conversations and occasional laughter, most of it coming from Taehyung and Jimin, who somehow still have enough energy left to argue over absolutely nothing. The rest of you mostly listen, occasionally contributing before sinking back into comfortable silence.
Dohyun’s house is already glowing with warm lights by the time you arrive.
His wife opens the door before anyone even has the chance to ring the bell, smiling knowingly at the sight of the entire group gathered outside.
“Please tell me nobody got arrested.”
“Not today” Namjoon answers.
“Disappointing.”
The house immediately fills with noise as everyone filters inside. Sophie and Layla disappear into the kitchen to help with dinner, Jimin somehow finds food before anybody else, and Taehyung immediately makes himself comfortable as though he pays rent there.
You’re halfway through greeting Dohyun’s wife when your phone vibrates inside your pocket.
The sight of Yoongi’s name immediately catches your attention.
For some reason, the thought of telling him about today makes you smile.
Maybe because you already know exactly how he’s going to react.
You had assumed that, with time, Yoongi would slowly fade out of your life.
Instead, you somehow find him everywhere. Not physically, at least not as often as you’d like given the circumstances, but his presence lingers all the same.
You excuse yourself from the conversation and quietly slip toward the balcony connected to the dining room, sliding the door shut behind you as the noise of the house softens.
The evening air feels cool against your skin.
For a moment you simply stand there, looking out over the city lights.
Then you answer.
“Please tell me you’re calling because you sensed I was suffering.”
Yoongi laughs immediately.
“I knew something happened.”
“Something happened.”
The amusement in his voice grows instantly.
“Oh, this is going to be good.”
You roll your eyes despite yourself.
“It isn’t good.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
The annoying thing about Yoongi is that he’s often right.
You lean against the railing and begin explaining the day, starting with the amusement park, the maze, and the unfortunate decision to wander somewhere you definitely weren’t supposed to be.
At first he listens quietly.
Then you reach the storage room and the part where the door locked.
And from there the conversation completely falls apart.
“You got trapped.”
“Yes.”
“With Jungkook.”
You close your eyes.
“Unfortunately.”
The laugh that follows is immediate.
“You sound very upset about that.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re embarrassed.”
You groan.
“Can you just go on with the story?”
“I’m trying.”
“You are not.”
He laughs again.
By the time you’ve explained the entire thing- including the rescue, the incident, the concerned faces outside the room and the silent treatment you and Jungkook have been giving each other- Yoongi is openly entertained by your suffering.
“I don’t understand what’s funny.”
“You don’t?”
“No.” you shake your head.
“You spent half an hour trapped in a tiny room with the guy you’ve been emotionally torturing yourself over for years…”
You can feel him smiling through the phone.
“…and you got him hard- I think that’s pretty funny.”
You immediately look around despite being completely alone.
“What the fuck- keep your voice down.” you almost scream even though there’s no chance anyone could overhear the conversation from where you’re standing.
“You called me.”
“That’s not the point.”
A smile threatens to appear despite your best efforts.
The conversation continues naturally after that. One topic turns into another, and before you know it several minutes have passed. Yoongi’s in the middle of complaining about how Sophie and her stupid ideas were still as disastrous as he remembered, when movement behind the glass catches your attention.
You glance over your shoulder.
Jungkook.
He’s standing inside the dining room, talking to somebody for a second before his eyes drift toward the balcony.
Toward you.
Your stomach immediately decides to become a problem.
“Hold on.”
The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.
Yoongi notices immediately.
“Oh?”
“I’ll call you later.”
His tone becomes instantly suspicious.
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Is that him?”
You end the call before he can continue.
The balcony door slides open a second later as Jungkook steps outside.
For a brief moment neither of you says anything.
The sounds of laughter and conversation spill out from inside before the door closes behind him once more.
You suddenly become aware that the balcony isn’t particularly large.
Which is a ridiculous thing to notice.
“I haven’t heard much from you lately.”
The comment is casual.
You slip your phone into your pocket.
“Neither have I.”
A smile briefly appears on his face.
Jungkook leans against the railing beside you, glancing out toward the city.
“You know” he says, “normally when people are avoiding me, they’re less obvious about it.”
You almost choke.
With everything that’s going on- weddings, yoongi and hurtful unrequited love, you admit to yourself that you’ve been less… present.
“I wasn’t avoiding you.”
Jungkook turns his head slightly.
The look he gives you says he doesn’t believe that for a second.
You immediately look away.
The city lights suddenly become fascinating.
For a moment neither of you speaks.
The memory of the storage room chooses that exact moment to return, uninvited and entirely unwanted.
Unfortunately, your brain never misses an opportunity to make your life worse.
Trying to distract yourself, you let out a small laugh.
“Well, if I was avoiding you, I guess getting locked in a storage room together wasn’t exactly an effective way to make up for lost time.”
The second the sentence leaves your mouth, you regret it.
Immediately.
Because now you’re thinking about it again.
The silence that follows lasts just long enough to make your embarrassment significantly worse.
When you finally glance toward Jungkook, he appears far too calm.
“It was an awfully… uplifting afternoon, wasn’t it?”
You stare at him.
There is absolutely no way.
No way he just asked you that.
He delivered the question so casually that for half a second you almost wonder whether he’s genuinely waiting for an answer or not.
Then you notice the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.
The barely concealed amusement.
The fact that he can’t quite look at you without smirking.
And suddenly you realize exactly what he’s doing.
“Oh, shut up.”
That finally earns a laugh from him.
A real one.
“You brought it up.”
“You know that’s not what I was talking about.”
“Do I?”
The teasing in his voice is subtle, but it’s there. Enough to make your face feel warm all over again. Enough to make you want to throw yourself off the balcony.
The worst part is that Jungkook looks entirely too pleased with himself.
For somebody who spent the afternoon trapped in the exact same room, he seems suspiciously unaffected by the whole experience.
Or maybe he’s simply better at hiding it.
Jungkook’s smile softens slightly as he looks back toward the city lights stretching beyond the balcony.
Eventually, he lets out a quiet breath.
“You know..” he says, absentmindedly tracing his thumb along the railing, “sometimes things just happen.”
You glance toward him.
“What does that mean?”
A small smile appears on his face.
“It means not everything has to become a big thing.”
The words are simple.
You look away again, letting your gaze drift toward the city below.
“I guess.” you mutter, still embarrassed.
“I’m serious.”
His voice is light, but there’s something reassuring underneath it.
“We spend way too much time overthinking things.”
For a few seconds, neither of you speaks again.
The sounds coming from inside continue uninterrupted, somebody laughing loudly enough that it reaches the balcony even through the closed glass door.
What Jungkook is trying to say is that life keeps moving, the evening keeps moving.
Not every conversation has to lead somewhere.
Not every moment has to be analyzed to death.
Not every thought deserves attention.
You honesty wish you could achieve that level of carelessness, but the problem is that what happened doesn’t just leave you overthinking.
It sits heavily in your stomach, an impossible weight that follows you everywhere.
Every time you replay it in your head, you’re overwhelmed by a mess of emotions that range from indecently inappropriate to genuinely terrifying.
“Jungkook I-“
Jungkook pushes himself away from the railing.
“We should probably go back inside.”
You mentally groan.
You stay quiet for a moment, eventually deciding that feigning ignorance is the best thing you can do.
“You’re right.”
For a moment, you find yourself looking at him a little longer than intended.
Then you quickly look away before your brain decides to become annoying again.
Together, you head back toward the house.
Neither of you says it out loud.
Neither of you needs to.
Some conversations are better left unfinished.
Some things don’t require explanations.
As Jungkook slides the balcony door open and the noise of the dinner gathering immediately surrounds you once again, an unspoken understanding settles comfortably between the two of you: whatever happened, whatever didn’t happen, whatever either of you may or may not be thinking, tonight isn’t the night to talk about it.
And for once, you’re both perfectly okay with that.
Taehyung catches you the second you walk back into the dining room.
His eyes immediately drift toward the balcony behind you, then back to you.
You already know where this is going.
“Don’t look at me like that, you know nothing happened.”
“I didn’t ask anything.”
“You were about to.”
Taehyung places a hand over his heart, looking deeply offended.
“I was just checking if you’re okay.”
You narrow your eyes.
“I’m somewhat feeling alright.”
He looks at you with initial concern, but when he realizes you’re being sarcastic, his grin widens.
“You’ve been out there for a while.”
You immediately look past him.
“Oh my God- I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Was it a productive conversation?”
“Move.”
“Did you solve all your problems?”
You point a finger at him, “Kim Taehyung.”
He laughs and the sound follows you all the way to your seat.
“That’s a no, then.”
.✦ ݁˖
A few days pass before you see Yoongi again, although “a few days” feels deceptively short when every single one of them has been consumed by wedding planning in one way or another. It seems impossible to escape it lately. Every conversation somehow circles back to the wedding, as always, and every time your phone lights up there’s a decent chance somebody is asking for an opinion you never volunteered to give in the first place. The closer July gets, the more the entire thing starts feeling less like an event and more like an approaching deadline hanging over everyone’s heads.
Including yours.
By the end of the week, you’ve reached a point where hearing the words wedding venue is enough to make you consider moving to another country.
Which is exactly why agreeing to meet Yoongi feels like a breath of fresh air.
The café he suggests is tucked away on a quieter street a few neighborhoods away from the city center, the kind of place you would never discover on your own but somehow feels immediately familiar the moment you walk inside. It’s small without being crowded, warm without being stuffy, and pleasantly detached from the chaos of the outside world. Most of the tables are occupied by people working on laptops or pretending to read books while secretly eavesdropping on conversations around them, leaving the atmosphere relaxed enough that nobody pays attention to anyone else.
You arrive first and claim a table near the window.
Yoongi arrives eight minutes later carrying absolutely no guilt about being late.
“You look exhausted.”
The observation comes less than thirty seconds after sitting down.
You don’t even bother pretending otherwise.
“I am exhausted.”
His eyebrows lift slightly.
“Work?”
You nod, blowing the steam away from your coffee.
“And weddings.”
Understanding immediately settles across his face.
Not sympathy.
Recognition.
The kind that comes from knowing exactly where this conversation is about to go.
Over the next hour, the conversation drifts effortlessly between different topics, sometimes spending twenty minutes on something completely irrelevant before unexpectedly circling back to the wedding once again. You tell him about the latest disaster involving guest accommodations, the endless discussions about decorations, and the fact that Sophie appears to have developed the supernatural ability to become stressed about things nobody else even knew existed. Somehow this evolves into a conversation about the group as a whole, which then becomes a conversation about Jungkook, which inevitably becomes a conversation about the increasingly surreal experience of watching a person you’ve known for most of your life prepare to marry somebody else.
You never phrase it that way.
You don’t need to.
Yoongi is smart enough to understand what you’re actually saying, because somewhere along the way, understanding you became second nature to him.
Either way, he listens more than he talks, occasionally offering a comment here and there but mostly allowing you to ramble until your thoughts finally untangle themselves.
The strange thing is that speaking to him has become remarkably easy.
Somewhere between your first conversation and now, the awkwardness disappeared entirely. There are no expectations attached to your interactions, no pressure to be anything other than yourself, and no complicated history lurking beneath every sentence waiting to make things difficult. It’s simple. Comfortable. The kind of friendship that sneaks up on you before you realize it’s happening.
At one point you find yourself laughing over something completely unrelated, your coffee long forgotten beside you, and it suddenly occurs to you that this is probably the most relaxed you’ve felt all week.
Maybe that’s why you don’t immediately notice the café door opening.
Maybe that’s why you don’t realize anything has changed until Yoongi’s attention drifts somewhere over your shoulder.
The shift is subtle.
So subtle, in fact, that under normal circumstances you probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all.
But you do.
His expression doesn’t change.
Not really.
If anything, that’s what catches your attention: the complete absence of reaction, the way he suddenly becomes very still.
You frown slightly.
“What?”
For a second he doesn’t answer.
His gaze remains fixed somewhere behind you, his coffee forgotten midway to his lips.
The silence stretches just long enough to make you curious.
Then concerned.
Slowly, you turn around in your seat.
The answer arrives immediately.
Sophie is standing near the entrance.
At first she looks completely normal, one hand still resting on the strap of her bag as she glances around the café, clearly searching for somebody.
Then her eyes find your table.
Find you.
And finally find Yoongi.
Everything about her freezes.
The movement.
The expression.
Even her breathing seems to stop.
The confusion appears first, quick and instinctive, followed almost immediately by disbelief so profound that for a moment she genuinely looks as though she’s questioning whether what she’s seeing is real.
Nobody moves.
The noise of the café continues around you uninterrupted, cups clinking against saucers and conversations carrying on as though nothing unusual is happening, but suddenly all of it feels strangely distant.
Sophie continues staring.
Yoongi continues staring back.
You gulp as somewhere deep in your stomach, a terrible realization begins forming.
Because until this exact moment, until right now, you’ve somehow managed to keep those two parts of your life completely separate.
Sophie.
Yoongi.
The wedding.
The past.
None of it had collided.
Not yet.
Not until now.
Several long seconds pass before Sophie finally takes a hesitant step forward, her eyes never leaving his face as though she’s afraid he’ll disappear if she looks away.
When she finally speaks, her voice is so quiet that under any other circumstances you might have missed it.
You don’t.
Neither does Yoongi.
“Yoongs?”
The single word hangs between them, carrying years of history you know almost nothing about, and the expression that flashes across Sophie’s face makes one thing painfully clear.
Whatever she expected to find when she walked into this café today, it certainly wasn’t her ex sitting across from you.
Yoongi doesn’t say anything, the look on his face tells you everything.
There’s something heartbreakingly sad about his expression, something so quietly devastating that it catches you completely off guard. The usual composure is still there, the calm exterior he always seems to wear so effortlessly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
And his eyes.
God.
The melancholy sitting behind them is so unmistakable that, for a brief second, you feel your own throat tighten.
Your eyes sting unexpectedly- not because he’s asking for sympathy or anything- but because you can see it.
You can see exactly what he’s trying so hard not to show.
You had always known about the feelings Yoongi still carried for Sophie. He’d told you enough for you to understand the situation, enough for you to know that some part of him never really moved on. But knowing it and witnessing it are two entirely different things.
Seeing him like this makes something click into place.
It makes you realize just how similar the two of you actually are.
Beneath all the differences, beneath the sarcasm and the jokes and the conversations that somehow last for hours, you’re both carrying the same kind of wound.
A heartbroken person recognizes another heartbroken person the moment they see one.
And looking at Yoongi now, you can’t help but wonder if he sees the exact same thing when he looks at you.
───────────
author’s note:
thought the secret was going to last longer?
unfortunately for everyone involved, drama waits for no one :P
as always, i’d love to hear your thoughts, and thank you so much for reading <3
˙⋆✮ They say having feelings for your brother's best friend is never a good idea...
But loving Jungkook feels like the easiest thing in the world.
He's been by your side for as long as you can remember, so it's only natural for you to feel devastated when your brother, Dohyun, tells you that Jungkook is about to get married.
For the first time ever, loving him doesn't feel easy at all.
pairing: brother's best friend!jungkook × f!reader
cw: age gap (jk is 32, reader is 22 ops), tension, reader is WHIPPED, pining, initial unrequited love (my fav), eventual smut
>> english is not my first language
chapter 02 | masterlist
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
“Together with their families, Jeon Jungkook and Sophie Laurent request the pleasure of your company at their wedding celebration…”
July 18th.
You read the date once.
Then again.
And somehow, seeing it written down so formally makes everything feel worse.
Not the engagement announcement.
Not the constant wedding conversations filling every single hangout lately.
Not Sophie absentmindedly bringing up cake tastings or flower appointments.
The invitation does it.
Because invitations are permanent things. Real things. They get mailed to houses and stuck onto refrigerators and tucked carefully inside kitchen drawers beside unpaid bills and birthday cards.
There’s no more convincing yourself the wedding won’t actually happen.
“You’re burning holes through the paper at this point.”
Your mother’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts.
You blink, lowering the invitation slightly while she watches you from the other side of the kitchen island.
Normally she would’ve been excited about something like this.
Weddings are exactly the kind of thing she loves: flowers, music, dressing people up, crying dramatically during vows.
But ever since the engagement announcement, she’s been careful around you- quieter.
Not upset.
Just worried about you.
“I’m fine” you say automatically.
She gives you that look mothers somehow perfect over the years.
The one that says: ‘I know you’re lying’.
“You didn’t sleep much” she says carefully.
You shrug lightly, looking back down at the invitation before folding it closed again. “I’m working today.”
“Mhm.”
Silence settles softly between the two of you for a moment.
“You know” your mother says gently, “you don’t always have to force yourself to be okay for everybody else.”
Your chest tightens unexpectedly.
Because that’s the problem, isn’t it?
Nobody says Jungkook’s name.
Nobody asks questions.
But somehow your mother still sees it anyway.
“Mama—”
“I’m not asking” she interrupts softly. “I’m just saying I know you.”
You look away immediately after that.
The last thing you need at eight in the morning is to cry in your kitchen.
Thankfully, your phone vibrates against the counter before your mother can say anything else.
Ly💛: if you become emotionally unstable at work today i’m charging you extra
You shake your head while grabbing your bag. “I’m leaving before you become wise and emotional again.”
“Too late. I already am.”
.✦ ݁˖
By the time your shift starts, you’ve successfully convinced yourself you’re functional again.
Which is usually enough.
The cafe smells like coffee beans and vanilla syrup while quiet music drifts through the speakers overhead. Layla is pretending to clean tables while very obviously waiting for gossip the second you’re vulnerable enough to provide it.
“You look tragic” she says the moment you walk behind the counter.
“Good morning to you too.”
“I’m serious. Your face looks heartbreakingly beautiful today.”
You stare at her blankly. “Should I take that as a compliment?”
Layla grins unapologetically before handing you an apron.
“You cried?”
“A little.”
“How little?”
“Enough.”
She sighs dramatically. “God. Men are genuinely embarrassing.”
You snort quietly while tying your apron strings behind your back.
For a while, the morning rush keeps both of you distracted enough that conversation dies down naturally. Coffee orders pile up, people rush in half asleep before work, somebody spills an iced latte directly onto the counter and nearly causes Layla to commit murder.
But every now and then your thoughts drift again.
Three months.
Three months until Jungkook stands in front of everybody you love and promises forever to someone else.
“You’re doing it again” Layla says suddenly.
“What?”
“The sad staring thing.”
“I’m literally making coffee.”
“You’re dreadfully making coffee.”
You laugh under your breath, ignoring her.
Around closing time, Layla suddenly drops a stack of receipts dramatically onto the counter.
“No.”
You glance up from the espresso machine. “No what?”
“We are not ending the day like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re one sad playlist away from staring out a rainy window dramatically.”
A quiet laugh almost escapes you, but you manage to hide it behind your cup.
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m absolutely not.” Layla narrows her eyes at you. “You’ve been walking around this café looking haunted for eight hours.”
“I have literally been working.”
“You handed someone the wrong order because you were staring into space.”
You pause.
“…Okay, that happened once.”
“Twice.”
You groan softly, rubbing your face with one hand while Layla watches you carefully for a second, her expression softening slightly.
“You can’t keep doing this to yourself, you know.”
Something about the gentleness in her voice makes your eyes water.
You busy yourself wiping down the counter again. “I’m trying not to.”
“I know.” She sighs quietly before nudging your arm with hers. “That’s why we’re going out tonight.”
You immediately shake your head. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh my God, why are you acting like I asked you to join a cult?”
“Because clubs are my personal hell.”
Layla laughs under her breath before reaching over to grab your wrist lightly.
“Come on. Just for a few hours.” Her tone softens again. “You deserve one night where you’re not thinking about wedding invitations and emotional suffering.”
You groan quietly, already exhausted just thinking about crowded dance floors and drunk strangers stepping on your shoes.
But Layla keeps looking at you with that stubborn expression that usually means she’s already decided for both of you.
And honestly? Maybe staying home alone with your thoughts sounds worse.
.✦ ݁˖
By eleven that night, you’re questioning every decision that led you here.
The club is loud enough to make your head hurt almost immediately.
Lights flash violently across the crowded dance floor while bodies move together beneath music so loud it practically vibrates through your ribs.
Layla, meanwhile, looks completely alive.
“This is fun!” she shouts over the music.
“This is horrendous.”
She cackles loudly before disappearing toward the bar, dragging you behind her before you can escape.
You lean against the counter tiredly while Layla orders drinks for both of you.
Around you, people laugh too loudly, flirt too easily, touch each other like intimacy is something simple.
You wonder briefly what that must feel like.
“Okay” Layla says suddenly, handing you a drink. “New rule.”
“I don’t trust that tone.”
“No thinking about Jungkook tonight.”
Your expression gives you away instantly.
“Oh my God” she groans. “You were literally just thinking about him.”
“I wasn’t.”
Before she can argue further, a voice suddenly speaks beside you.
“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”
You glance up automatically.
The man standing there looks vaguely amused, one hand resting against the bar while tired eyes study you carefully.
Dark clothes.
Dark hair.
Pretty in a way that feels effortless.
Layla narrows her eyes suspiciously immediately.
“She would” she answers before you can.
A quiet laugh leaves him.
“Fair enough.”
There’s something unexpectedly calm about him despite the chaos around you. Like the music doesn’t touch him at all.
“I’m Yoongi” he says.
You tell him your name a second later, mostly expecting a polite conversation before he disappears back into the crowd.
Instead, he stays.
And strangely enough, talking to him feels easy.
Not flirty in the exhausting way most strangers are.
At one point Layla disappears toward the dance floor after loudly whispering:
“Please try acting like a person for once.”
“She always like this?” Yoongi asks.
“Unfortunately.”
You smile faintly into your drink.
For a few moments, silence settles comfortably between the two of you while the music pounds around the room.
Then Yoongi glances at you again.
“So” he says casually, “what ruined your mood today?”
You let out a soft laugh beneath your breath.
“That obvious?”
“A little.”
You hesitate briefly before shrugging lightly.
“My friend’s getting married.”
He watches you as you take a sip of your drink,
“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”
“It is.”
“But?”
Your fingers tighten slightly around your glass.
“It’s complicated.”
Yoongi watches your expression carefully for a second before nodding slowly.
“That usually means feelings are involved.”
Heat rises immediately to your face as you look away.
And unfortunately, that probably answers the question for him.
“Ah-” he says, obviously not shocked at all.
You groan. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“The ‘I think I got it right’ thing.”
A smile tugs faintly at the corner of his mouth.
“You’re in love with someone unavailable.”
The sentence lands gently.
You stare down at your drink for a second before laughing quietly to yourself.
“It gets worse, actually.”
A faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “That sounds promising.”
“He’s older than me too.”
Yoongi raises an eyebrow slightly. “How much older?”
You hesitate for half a second.
“…Ten years.”
That finally earns a real reaction out of him.
He turns toward you properly for the first time since the conversation started, disbelief flickering briefly across his face before he lets out a quiet laugh.
“Wow.”
“I know.”
“No, seriously.” He shakes his head once, still vaguely amused. “That’s a very specific kind of disaster.”
You groan softly, hiding your face behind your glass for a second. “Please don’t say that again”
“I’m trying not to judge you.”
“You are judging me.”
“A little.”
Despite yourself, a laugh escapes you.
And strangely, it feels nice.
For once somebody is looking at your feelings from the outside, and the world still hasn’t ended because of it.
For a few seconds, the two of you just stand there while music pulses through the walls around you.
Then you glance toward him again.
“What about you?” you ask. “Are you here alone?”
Yoongi hums softly before nodding once. “Yeah.”
“No friends?”
“I ditched them after like twenty minutes.” His expression twists slightly. “I needed a distraction.”
You look at him for a second longer than necessary.
And before your brain can stop you—
“Do you maybe…” You immediately regret opening your mouth. “I mean- if you still want a distraction, we could go somewhere else.”
Yoongi blinks once.
Heat rushes instantly to your face.
Oh my God.
“Not in a weird way” you say too fast. “I just meant- maybe ice cream or something.”
For a second, Yoongi just stares at you.
Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth lifts.
“Ice cream” he repeats.
You want the floor to open beneath you.
“This sounded less embarrassing in my head.”
“No” he says quietly, still looking at you with that amused expression. “It’s actually kind of nice.”
And somehow, a few minutes later, the two of you are walking out of the club together into the warm night while Layla sends you increasingly threatening messages from inside.
.✦ ݁˖
By the time the two of you find somewhere to sit, the city feels quieter.
Cars pass occasionally down the street behind you while warm air carries distant music from bars that still haven’t closed yet. The convenience store bag rests beside you on the bench, abandoned after Yoongi complained that his ice cream was melting way too fast.
Now he sits beside you with one arm stretched lazily along the back of the bench, head tilted slightly toward the night sky while he finishes the last bite of his ice cream.
There’s something strangely calm about him outside the club.
Inside, he looked detached from everything around him.
Out here, he just looks tired.
Comfortably tired.
Like someone who stopped trying to impress people a long time ago.
“You know” he says suddenly, glancing toward you, “this is probably the weirdest way I’ve ever met someone.”
“You say that like you do this often.”
“Leave clubs with heartbroken strangers?”
“Exactly.”
Yoongi hums thoughtfully. “Not usually, no.”
A quiet laugh escapes you.
For a few seconds, neither of you says anything after that. The silence doesn’t feel awkward though.
Maybe because there’s comfort in talking to somebody who doesn’t know your life.
Somebody who doesn’t look at you with pity every time your feelings get mentioned.
Yoongi nudges your shoe lightly with his own.
“So” he says. “Tell me about him.”
Your chest tightens immediately.
Even without names.
Even without details.
Somehow, talking about Jungkook always feels dangerous.
You stare ahead quietly for a moment before speaking.
“I’ve known him since I was ten.”
Yoongi’s eyebrows lift slightly.
“Ten?”
You nod once.
“Our families have always been close, he’s my brother’s best friend.” A small smile appears on your face despite yourself. “He used to come over all the time when we were younger. I was kind of obsessed with him immediately.”
“Kind of?”
You roll your eyes softly. “Fine. Completely obsessed.”
“I respect the honesty.”
You smile faintly before looking back down at your hands.
“At first it was just a stupid childhood crush.” Your voice softens slightly. “You know… the kind you think you’ll eventually grow out of.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
The word comes out quieter than expected.
Yoongi watches you carefully without interrupting.
And somehow, maybe because he feels strangely safe, the rest spills out easier than it should.
“I think the problem is that he kept becoming someone worth loving.” You let out a quiet breath through your nose. “It would’ve been easier if he turned into an asshole.”
Yoongi snorts softly beside you.
“But he didn’t?”
“No.” You shake your head lightly. “He’s good. Annoyingly good.”
Your chest aches a little at the thought.
“He remembers tiny things people tell him once and somehow never forgets them. He notices when I’m upset before I even say anything. He takes care of everyone around him without making it obvious.” You laugh quietly to yourself. “Sometimes I genuinely think loving him became muscle memory at some point.”
The night air suddenly feels colder.
“Does he know?” Yoongi asks carefully.
You look down immediately.
“No.”
“Never?”
You shake your head again.
“There was never really a point.” A sad smile pulls at your lips. “Some people are just… impossible to have.”
Yoongi stays quiet.
So you continue.
“He’s older than me. We met when I was still a kid and he was already…” You shrug lightly. “He always felt unreachable somehow. Even when we got closer as I got older.”
Your stomach twists painfully.
“And then eventually he fell in love with somebody else.”
Yoongi glances toward you.
Saying it out loud still hurts.
Even now.
You let out a soft laugh beneath your breath.
“And the worst part is that I can’t even blame her for it.”
Yoongi glances toward you.
“You know her well?”
You nod slowly.
“Our lives have been connected for years.” Your voice softens slightly. “At some point, she just became part of everything too.”
Silence settles between the two of you again after that.
Somewhere down the street, people laugh loudly while crossing the road. A motorcycle speeds past a little too fast. The city keeps moving around you normally while your entire chest feels strangely exposed.
Then Yoongi speaks again.
“You know… I get it.”
You blink, turning toward him slightly.
“What do you mean?”
For the first time that night, his expression loses that faint amused edge completely.
He looks down at the melted remains of his ice cream for a second before speaking.
“The woman I’m in love with is my ex.”
Your eyebrows pull together slightly.
Yoongi lets out a quiet laugh through his nose, though there’s nothing happy about it.
“We were together for a long time.” He pauses briefly. “Too long, probably.”
Something about his tone makes you stay quiet.
“It was one of those relationships where every good moment came with another fight waiting right behind it.” His jaw tightens slightly. “We loved each other, but we were exhausting together.”
You listen carefully while he speaks, watching the way his fingers absentmindedly play with the spoon in his hand.
“We’d break up.” A faint smile appears briefly on his face. “Then somehow end up together again two weeks later.”
“Like a loop?”
“Exactly.” He laughs softly. “Dates, sex, promises that things would be different this time… then another fight. Another breakup.”
The sadness in his voice is subtle.
That almost makes it worse.
“At some point” he continues quietly, “we both realized love wasn’t fixing anything anymore.”
Your chest tightens unexpectedly.
“So you ended it.”
Yoongi nods slowly.
“We agreed it was the right thing to do.”
The way he says it tells you immediately that being right didn’t make it hurt less.
“And how did it go?” you ask softly.
For a moment, Yoongi just stares ahead at the empty street.
Then he smiles faintly.
Except this time the expression looks genuinely painful.
“She moved on…” he says quietly.
A pause.
“I didn’t.”
Something in your chest aches at the honesty of it.
Not because you pity him.
Because you understand.
Completely.
For a while, neither of you speaks after that.
Then, unexpectedly, Yoongi laughs quietly to himself.
“What?”
He glances toward you again.
“It’s kind of funny.”
“What is?”
“We met like an hour ago and somehow ended up trauma bonding on a bench at two in the morning.”
A laugh escapes you before you can stop it.
“Maybe this was fate.”
“Don’t say that” Yoongi says immediately. “That makes this sound way more romantic than it is.”
You grin faintly for the first time all night.
And strangely enough, sitting beside someone who understands what it feels like to love people you can’t fully have makes the loneliness inside your chest feel a little quieter for once.
For a while, the conversation drifts into small things.
Favorite foods, terrible habits, the kind of music people only listen to alone.
Yoongi speaks calmly, never too much at once, but enough that you slowly begin piecing together the shape of him. He’s sarcastic in a dry, almost lazy way, the kind that sneaks up on you half a second too late. Every now and then he says something unexpectedly funny without even smiling afterward, like humor is just an accidental side effect of how his brain works.
And somehow, despite meeting barely two hours ago, sitting beside him feels strangely comfortable.
The bench beneath you creaks softly every time one of you shifts position while your ice cream is nearly melted now, forgotten somewhere between conversations and confessions.
Yoongi glances toward your cup with mild disgust.
“That looks medically concerning now.”
You look down.
“…I think it’s becoming soup.”
“Tragic.”
A laugh escapes you quietly.
Then silence settles again, softer this time.
You pull your legs slightly closer to yourself against the bench, reaching down for your bag while searching for napkins.
Your fingers brush against thick paper.
And immediately, you remember.
The invitation.
You close your eyes briefly in embarrassment.
“What?” Yoongi asks.
“I actually brought the wedding invitation to the club with me.”
A quiet snort leaves him instantly.
“That might be the saddest thing I’ve heard in months.”
“I forgot it was there.”
“That honestly makes it worse.”
You shake your head, laughing softly despite yourself while pulling the cream-colored envelope halfway out of your bag.
The gold details catch faintly beneath the streetlights.
Even now, hours later, looking at it still leaves that same heavy feeling inside your chest.
Yoongi notices your expression immediately.
His teasing fades slightly.
“You really love him, huh?”
The question isn’t mocking.
If anything, it sounds almost careful.
Your eyes stay fixed on the invitation resting between your fingers for a moment before you answer.
“I think part of me always will.”
The honesty slips out before you can soften it.
Yoongi watches you quietly after that.
Then, after a few seconds, he reaches toward you slightly.
“Can I see it?”
You hesitate briefly before handing it over.
He takes it casually, still leaning back comfortably against the bench as his eyes scan the front once.
His entire expression changes.
Not dramatically though, that’s what makes it unsettling.
His posture stills first.
Then his gaze drops back to the names again, slower this time, like he’s making sure he read them correctly.
A strange silence settles between the two of you.
You frown slightly.
“Yoongi?”
He doesn’t answer immediately.
His thumb presses lightly against the edge of the paper while something unreadable passes across his face.
Confusion first.
Then disbelief.
Then something heavier.
“…Jeon Jungkook?” he says finally.
Your stomach tightens instantly.
“You know him?”
Yoongi’s eyes lift toward yours slowly.
And suddenly, the atmosphere changes completely.
The easy comfort from before disappears beneath something sharper.
He lets out a quiet breath through his nose before looking back down at the invitation again.
Then he laughs softly once.
Except there’s absolutely nothing amused about it.
“No fucking way.”
Your heartbeat quickens immediately.
“What?”
For a second, Yoongi just stares ahead at the street in front of you, jaw tight enough now that you notice it even beneath the dim lighting.
The hand holding the invitation lowers slowly into his lap.
“Sophie.”
The way he says her name makes your chest tighten.
“What about her?”
Yoongi rubs one hand tiredly across his mouth before leaning back against the bench again.
And suddenly, every conversation from earlier starts rearranging itself inside your head.
The ex.
The heartbreak.
The woman he couldn’t move on from.
You sit a little straighter.
“…Yoongi.”
He looks at you again then, and for the first time all night he doesn’t seem detached or calm.
“She’s my ex.” he says quietly.
Your brain stops for a second.
“What?”
A humorless laugh leaves him while he shakes his head once, like even he can’t believe this coincidence is real.
“She’s the woman I was talking about earlier.”
Your mouth parts slightly.
No.
No way.
You stare at him while your thoughts crash violently into each other.
Sophie.
Yoongi.
Jungkook.
Suddenly every strange reaction he’d had tonight makes sense all at once.
The way he understood too quickly.
The bitterness hidden beneath his voice whenever he talked about love.
The look on his face the second he saw the invitation.
“Oh my God” you whisper.
Yoongi leans his head back slightly against the bench, eyes closing for a brief second like he’s exhausted already by whatever memories just resurfaced.
“She’s actually getting married” he murmurs quietly, almost to himself.
And somehow, hearing sadness in his voice when he talks about Sophie feels stranger than anything else tonight.
Because for years, in your head, Sophie and Jungkook had existed as something solid.
Certain.
Untouchable.
But suddenly there’s another version of the story sitting beside you on this bench.
One you know absolutely nothing about.
.✦ ݁˖
After that night, talking to Yoongi becomes a regular thing.
At first, it’s occasional.
A random text at two in the morning.
A picture of an ugly drink he claims tastes “like dog shit.”
A sarcastic complaint about work.
Then somehow, without either of you really noticing it happening, it becomes part of your routine.
You start expecting his messages.
He became your friend surprisingly fast.
Yoongi isn’t the kind of person who overwhelms conversations. Sometimes he disappears for hours, then suddenly sends something so unexpectedly funny that you end up laughing alone in the middle of your shift.
Other times, he just listens.
Which feels unfamiliar in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.
Because Yoongi never tries to fix your feelings about Jungkook.
Never tells you to “move on.”
Never gives advice you didn’t ask for.
He just understands.
And somehow that becomes comforting enough on its own.
One night, the two of you end up sitting inside a convenience store at midnight eating ramen while Yoongi passionately argues that mint chocolate ice cream should be considered a criminal offense.
“You’re deeply wrong” you tell him.
“I’m objectively correct.”
“You have the taste buds of an exhausted middle-aged man.”
“I am an exhausted middle-aged man.”
You laugh so loudly the cashier actually looks up.
And for the first time in months, the sound doesn’t feel forced.
.✦ ݁˖
“You seem lighter lately” Taehyung says one afternoon while helping you carry coffee orders out to the tables.
You glance at him over your shoulder. “Lighter?”
“Less miserable” he corrects casually.
You snort softly. “That’s nicer.”
“I’m trying to grow as a person.”
Rain taps quietly against the café windows while soft music hums through the speakers overhead. The afternoon crowd is smaller than usual, leaving the atmosphere calmer, warmer somehow.
Taehyung places a tray down onto one of the empty tables before looking back at you carefully.
“That doesn’t mean you don’t look sad, though.”
The comment catches you off guard slightly.
You busy yourself adjusting the sleeves of your sweater. “What an uplifting observation.”
“I’m serious.”
You know he is.
Taehyung has always been gentler than people expect him to be. Even when he jokes, there’s usually something observant hidden underneath it.
He watches you for another second.
“Is it getting worse because the wedding’s getting closer?”
Your chest tightens quietly.
Of course he’d ask eventually.
You look away toward the coffee machines behind the counter where Layla is aggressively fighting with the register again.
“Maybe.”
Taehyung sighs softly through his nose before leaning against the table beside you.
“Have you talked to him properly lately?”
The image of Jungkook flashes immediately through your mind.
You shake your head lightly.
“Not really.”
“That’s probably worse.”
“I know.”
Silence settles briefly between the two of you.
Then Taehyung speaks again, quieter this time.
“Do you think he really has no idea?”
Your stomach twists painfully.
For years you convinced yourself Jungkook didn’t know because believing otherwise would hurt too much. Because if he knew and still chose Sophie-
You stop the thought immediately.
“I don’t think he has.” you admit softly.
Taehyung’s expression softens.
“You still love him that much? After all these years?”
A humorless laugh leaves you quietly.
“always.”
You stare down at the coffee cup in your hands for a moment before speaking again.
You swallow slowly before continuing.
“And now the wedding’s so close that everything feels…” You pause briefly. “Heavy all the time.”
Taehyung doesn’t interrupt.
“I keep thinking about how after July everything changes permanently.” Your voice softens. “He’ll be somebody’s husband.”
Taehyung looks genuinely heartbroken for you now.
“You know” he says carefully, “I think part of you is still waiting for something impossible to happen.”
You blink slowly.
Because he’s right.
And maybe that’s the worst part of all.
The hope.
Tiny.
Still alive somehow after all these years.
Your phone vibrates softly against the counter beside you, pulling you out of your thoughts.
Taehyung glances toward the screen absentmindedly before looking back at you.
“Is that the guy from the club again?”
You nod once.
“Looks like you’ve found another friend- that’s very good.”
You smile faintly despite yourself. “Yeah.”
Taehyung watches you carefully for another moment.
“Does Jungkook know about him?”
The question surprises you enough that you actually freeze.
“There’s nothing to know.”
And maybe the answer would’ve felt less dishonest if there wasn’t a secret sitting heavily at the back of your mind now.
───────────
author’s note:
yoongi is hereeeee <3
to apologize for this jungkook-less chapter, the next one is going to be fun
𓄲 His fingers flex on top of yours, "Curious," he says after another open-mouthed kiss to the column of your throat. Teeth closing around your skin, he pulls the tender flesh past his lips and bites down. "He seems like a decent guy," letting go, he soothes the sting with his tongue, "How do you know him?"
전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children) highkey jealous!jungkook a very messy attempt at an anatomy lesson (I tried okay) very suggestive dryhumping sloppy sloppy kissing jungkook is on some bullshit in this one marking!
⧽ word count ⋮ 9k
average reading time ⋮ 45 minutes
── [ ✉️ ] I kind of hate this, but I also love it? Some parts irk me, others fuel me, I'm torn okay. Anyway, Jungkook decided around 80% of the plot in this one, he was behind the wheel and I was tied up in the back. When I said no more porn I didn't mean it literally okay, this isn't sex but fuck it is close. Oh and HW would not be HW if OC as a med student did not use Jungkook's glorious body for an anatomy lesson. Okay, let me know what you think, and if it was horrible then don't come for me please. Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3
series masterlist | last chapter | next part
chapter 21 — "Heartbeat"
You had not imagined finding yourself back at the large mall a mere week after picking out Rayne's birthday present. No less could you have ever thought that your return here would be in search of Christmas gifts for the two children. Had it been busy last week, then it was undoubtedly worse today. With only five days to spare before the day itself, people were resorting to violently elbowing each other toward the shelves to snag the last items for themselves.
Without the firm grip Jungkook keeps on your hand as he weaves through the crowd you're pretty sure you would've been trampled to the ground by now. He'd come to pick you up around noon after dropping Rayne and Cassian off at their grandparents' as he suggested that you do the shopping together — and you had not been one to decline.
When you thought about it, you don't think you had ever been outside with Jungkook — unless you chose to count the multiple car rides, which you didn't. Though the crowded mall wasn't exactly a romantic scene. Sweat and pungent women's perfume make the hot air uncomfortably sticky, you've bumped shoulders with at least a handful strangers already, apologizing with a quick bow of your head before Jungkook pulls you forward.
"Didn't think it was going to be this packed," he mutters when steering clear of a group of teenage girls, at least half of them letting their eyes linger on his bypassing frame. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he stood out in his dress pants and the tight fitted, navy fleece — which seemed to be the only garment he possessed that wasn't a button up.
You snort, fingers lacing a little tighter between his. "Christmas is next Thursday, we're not the only ones on a last minute run."
He doesn't say anything in response to that but judging by his tense posture — this was not his ideal setting. His eyes dart around the crammed room you stand in, its high walls make each conversation echo loudly and in the distance the piercing scream of a discontent child rings out. A fountain sits in the middle of the bottom floor, water rippling from the top, the sound would have probably been soothing, had you been able to hear it.
Jungkook spots the escalators ahead and starts tugging you in their direction, cutting through the mass of people like a man on a mission. When you reach them he steps aside, allowing you on first before taking his spot behind you.
Turning around to face him, you lean against the railing as the moving stairs take you to the second floor. "May I remind you that this was your idea?" The teasing lilt to your voice has him frowning and Jungkook makes a clicking noise with his tongue as he averts his gaze, studying his surroundings like he expects them to suddenly charge at him with knifes.
"I'm starting to regret it," he sighs whilst running an inked hand through his dark hair. A loose strand falls across his forehead and you reach out to push it back. The action feels natural, domestic almost. He doesn't stop you, gaze trailing the path your finger takes closely.
Standing one step higher makes you tower over him and Jungkook tilts his head back to peer at you through his lashes. The sigh he lets out fans across the lower half of your face warmly and you resist a small smile. "We'll be in and out, thirty minutes tops." You tell him the lie in full confidence, knowing very well that the long lines would probably amount to that time alone.
But he doesn't question it, simply nodding as you step off the escalator and take in the array of stores on the new floor. To the left you spot a pop of color that screams 'Toy's' and you immediately move toward it — only to be stopped by Jungkook's tug to your hand.
Confused, you send him a glance over your shoulder. "Let's split up," he says, "I have somewhere to go." When the puzzled look you wear doesn't ease up he lets his thumb brush across your knuckles, "I won't be long."
Dumbfounded, you finally bring yourself to nod. "Yeah— Uh, sure."
Jungkook hums, jerking his chin in the direction of the toy store you had been headed toward. "I'll meet you there when I'm done." Then he lets go of your hand and takes a step back, clearly waiting for you to move first.
You hesitate for a second before mutely agreeing and spinning on your heel. Part of you wants to check if he was still standing where you had left him but you decide against it, focusing on making it to your desired destination without getting overrun by the hoard of people.
The air inside the toy store itself is even hotter than that of the mall outside, and as expected, the space is filled to the brim with parents, all in search of presents for their children. Somewhere in the distance a Christmas carol plays through a crappy speaker, barely heard over the ambience around you. Slowly you begin making your way down the many aisles, scanning the options available as you chew on your bottom lip.
An older man shoves past you suddenly, causing you to stumble on your feet. By the time you've regained your balance he's disappeared around a corner, not to be seen again. "Bastard," you grumble as you pull yourself together.
You go over the mental list you had made of Cassian's wishes. When passing by a shelf of stuffed animals your eyes instinctively scan for a dinosaur one, he hadn't specified which he would like, so you figured that the green stegosaurus would work. Turning it over in your hands, you inspect it closely before nodding to yourself.
As you wander through the store, your mind loops back to Jungkook with a frown. Where had he gone — and why couldn't you tag along? The answer was written before you in bold and yet you dared not entertain the idea that he might be getting something for you.
Teeth sinking further into the skin of your lip, you ponder on what to get him. You could hardly afford anything on the pricier side, what would he even want? Jungkook revealed so little about himself, making your decision nearly impossible.
Up ahead, there's a section dedicated to shiny toy cars and you slow down when walking past it. Cassian had mentioned wanting something like that as well. Your fingers hesitate over a blue one, just about to reach for it when a patch of color catches your attention. Turning toward another shelf further down the aisle, you find what you hadn't thought existed until now.
Rainbow crayons.
The toy car is abandoned entirely as you head for it, gaze locked on the small jar as you swerve through the crowd. In fact you're so focused on getting to the damned crayons that your surroundings completely fade into background noise. It's not until you have it clutched between both hands that you finally exhale a breath.
Tilting the box in your palms, you study it with a pleased smile, Cassian would be overjoyed. And the price tag wasn't half as outrageous as you had feared — though it pushed your budget enough to exclude the shiny, plastic car from the equation.
"Lovely lady, is that you?"
A familiar voice pulls your attention from the colorful crayons and you glance up in time to see Namjoon gently stepping around another woman as he approaches. He's dressed in denim on denim, which, was an interesting fashion choice that you chose not to comment on. The pale blue fabric contrasts the bleached ends of his hair well though and he offers you a warm smile when coming to a halt before you.
"It would appear so," you hum as you find yourself reciprocating the greeting. Had it not been for his memorable face, you think you might've had trouble recalling who he was. Your thoughts had admittedly been quite preoccupied with the Jeon family — the brief encounter with Namjoon was quickly shoveled to the back of your mind.
You're surprised he even approached you to begin with, though grateful nonetheless. "Think I picked the worst day to come out here," he says when throwing a pointed glance around the crowded store.
"I reckon it'll only worsen the closer to Christmas we get," you shrug, knowing very well that both prices and customers would skyrocket by the 24th.
Namjoon nods, then his gaze drops to the rainbow colored crayons you still clutch, not to mention the stegosaurus shoved under your arm. His brows arch a little higher on his forehead and his eyes quickly snap up to yours, the questions stirring behind them. "You got kids?" he suddenly asks and you could've sworn your heart plummeted to your stomach.
"O-Oh, no, no—" shaking your head, you busy yourself by fiddling with the plastic jar between your fingers, hoping he won't catch on to your flustered expression. "No. No, I don't," you exhale a quiet breath, "I um, I babysit two, well, I'm their nanny I suppose." A strained cough later, you add, "They're not mine."
Your words come out a jumbled mess but they seem to make perfect sense to Namjoon, whose shoulders relax a fraction. "Ah, I see," he says with a lopsided grin, "It's really kind of you. I don't think I've heard of a nanny who buys presents for the kids."
You want to object by saying that they weren't just kids to you. Rayne and Cassian were special, really special. Regardless of you spending the holidays with them or not — it would feel wrong not to get them something. It's during said thought process that you realize Namjoon was scouring for gifts inside a toy store as well.
Lifting your gaze, you meet his quietly, "And you?" You tilt your chin in the direction of the doll he was holding, having just noticed its long, brown hair and purple dress.
Namjoon shakes his head, "No. This one's for my niece." He holds up the doll with a tilt of his lips. "Though I can't say that my family isn't hot on my heels about the matter," heaving a sigh, he continues in a somewhat sarcastic tone, "Thirty-three years old and I'm beyond my prime it seems."
His blunt admission makes you pause, eyes widening a fraction as you blink. Thirty-three? That would make him three years older than Jungkook and— Actually, you didn't want to think about the rest.
Your awkward chuckle is what fills the short silence as you think of something else to say. It wasn't that you disliked talking to him, quite the contrary. But Namjoon had this natural charm around him that made you want to impress him — for whatever reason.
"You don't seem like a last minute type of guy," you finally muse, nail flicking idly against the plastic lid of the jar in your hands.
Namjoon hums, "I'm not," he says when running his fingers through his short hair. "I was out with my mother the other week— Oh yeah, we bumped into you back then too, how silly is that?" His lips stretch into a wide grin that has dimples dent into the soft skin of his cheeks and you swallow. "Anyway, me and my brother, Jin, ended up buying duplicates for his daughter," he sighs, "It was a whole mess. Long story short, the coin toss ended with me having to go out and find something else for her. "
He adjusts his grip on the doll, regarding it with a thoughtful look. "She likes to play with her stuffed toys, I'm hoping this will do the trick as well."
"I'm sure it will," you say, "How old is she?"
Namjoon's lips part, the answer waiting on his tongue when he suddenly goes silent. Frowning, you're just about to ask the matter when a cologne you recognize all too well invades the space between you.
Jungkook's presence is felt before it's seen, the quiet loom of his shadow as it creeps up beside you, blocking off half the aisle with little care. He's holding not one but two bags, both from brands you recognize to be high end. Though that's not what catches your attention — not really. No, it was the brooding expression glued to his face, dark eyes lingering on Namjoon's friendly ones.
"Oh— That was quick," you hum, suddenly feeling awkward as you stand between the two men.
Next to you, Jungkook simply nods. Gaze briefly straying from where they had been fixed to Namjoon as he sends you a glance. "It was," he agrees lowly.
Shifting on your feet, you clutch the jar of crayons a little tighter. "Uh, right. Jungkook this is Namjoon," gesturing vaguely to the man in front of you, "Namjoon, this is Jungkook."
Unfazed by the fact that the hot store seemed to have turned a good couple of degrees colder, Namjoon extends a warm hand. "Hey," he says in a light voice, "Nice to meet you."
Jungkook regards his outstretched palm with a scrutinizing look that he quickly masks again. After moment's deliberate hesitation he reaches out to take the offered hand as the former gives it a firm shake. He does not greet him back, but his features have schooled themselves into a weak attempt at something more relaxed.
"The boyfriend I presume?" Namjoon asks, his smile doesn't waver but his gaze is calculating when the darts between you and Jungkook.
Boyfriend. The label slices through you like a knife, twisting your stomach in all directions and you nearly chuckle at the absurdness of the question. But Jungkook hasn't moved an inch beside you, apart from withdrawing his hand the second he got the chance. His jaw is clenched hard enough for the muscle in his cheek to strain and you rush to clear your throat.
"No he's uh— I'm the nanny to his children," you hurriedly explain, hoping he wouldn't catch on to how tightly the stegosaurs was squeezed against your side.
Your answer has confusion striking his features as Namjoon lets his attention shift between the two of you. Perhaps he found it strange that you would be out Christmas shopping with your supposed boss — you wouldn't blame him.
But if he had any opinions, he kept them to himself as he flashed you another smile. "Ah, my apologies" he says, though doesn't actually sound regretful as he his eyes settle on you. Or perhaps you were imagining things…
Namjoon is quick to effortlessly move the conversation forward, smoothing over the small bump like it was nothing. "My mother won't stop raving about you," he says, his now-free hand finding its way to his jean pocket as he takes on a more casual stance.
The giggle that slips past your lips is lighthearted, all ready feeling more at ease. "She's still going on about dinner?" You wonder, grateful for the subject change.
He hums, "That's putting it lightly." Namjoon shakes his head, "I told her you must be busy during the holidays and to not fret so much."
You're about to suggest setting up a date around New Years when the sudden weight on your waist steals your voice. Jungkook's hand is firm where it rests on your hip, and if you had somehow managed to forget about his presence — this was certainly a stark reminder.
"She is," He says, tone flat and devoid of any emotion. Your elbow nearly jabs him in the side when he tugs you closer, the plushie squished between you until it was unrecognizable. Jungkook doesn't seem to notice — he's too busy sizing Namjoon up with his eyes alone as they peer at him with quiet intensity.
You send the other a small smile, fingers curling hard around the box of crayons as you pray this entire conversation be over as quickly as possible. "Yeah uh, Christmas is quite busy for me," you say, offering him an apologetic look.
"Of course," Namjoon shrugs, like it was no matter, "I'm sure we'll find time." The corner of his lip twitches into a lazy grin, just enough to show off his white teeth. "Well then," He gives a dramatic bow and you resist another giggle, "I hope to run into you soon again, lovely lady."
With that he takes his leave, quickly disappearing through the crowd of people as he heads for the register. You're left standing by the art supplies with Jungkook attached to your hip — literally. He has yet to say anything and when you turn your head, you find him staring after Namjoon's retreating figure silently.
His hand is firm on your hip and it seems he's got no intentions of letting go in any near future. "Are you done here?" He asks when finally tearing his gaze back to yours, his voice has softened back into the one you've become so accustomed to and you exhale a relieved breath.
"Yeah," you say, allowing him to lead you through the store, never once letting go of you.
For the next hour you wait in more lines than you do any actual shopping. After securing the two presents you were to give Cassian, you had spotted a makeup store not far off, quickly pulling Jungkook in it's direction. He had made no verbal complaints, only looking very puzzled as you went through the different sections of the store.
"Do you think she would like the blue- or pink-themed one?" You had asked him when holding up two eyeshadow palettes in front of him. He had studied them both closely, the frown on his face deepening tenfold as he grumbled the options to himself.
Finally he had croaked out a quiet 'Pink?' to which you had playfully shoved his arm and called him stereotypical. From that point on he'd let you lead the way through the rest of the store, linked together by the lock of your hands, Jungkook followed you like a shadow.
Since your brief encounter with Namjoon, he had been even quieter than usual, you had tried to brush it off as something that had to do with the hot and over-crowded mall but even the car ride home was void of conversation.
He made no comments about the gifts you had bought, no further inquiries about Namjoon, which you were quite grateful for. And when the engine cuts as you roll up to the tall building you call home, Jungkook wordlessly gets out as he rounds the car to hold your door open before you can even attempt to do so yourself.
He retrieves the presents from the trunk, slamming it shut with a little more force then necessary as he turns and heads for your apartment complex, leaving you to scramble after him.
Despite you insisting that you would be fine, Jungkook still carries your bags up the stairs and to the third floor. He assures you that it's no mind and a small part of you can't help but wonder if he was merely trying to prolong his departure — in either case, you were not complaining.
Soon you find yourself on your doorstep, the sound of a rusty key jamming inside its lock as you twist it open. Jungkook hasn't said a word since holding the entrance door open for you and when you turn to face him, he regards you quietly. It feels wrong to just tell him goodbye and send him on his way even when that was probably what was expected of you.
Your fingers hesitate over the door handle, tongue pressing against the roof of your mouth as you swallow thickly. "Do you…" Tapping quietly on the cool metal, you blurt out the rest of your sentence, "Would you like to come inside?"
For a second you think he might reject the offer, say that he was late to picking the kids up from their grandparents' and leave. But actually Jungkook nods, his expression betraying nothing of what he thought. So without pondering the idea further, you push the door open with your shoulder.
This was not the first time Jungkook had been to your apartment yet it feels like a whole new experience when you make your way down the hall that leads to the living room. You weren't a messy person by any standards but your flat certainly doesn't compare to that of his large and spotless house. "Just uh, make yourself at home," you say, gesturing vaguely toward the couch.
Doing as he's told, Jungkook takes a seat on the cushion, looking very much out of place on the mundane piece of furniture as he takes in his surroundings. You realize that his previous visits here had been very short lived and it wasn't until now that he'd actually gotten to stop and properly look around.
The mess of old mugs on the coffee table make you cringe and you scurry over to collect them clumsily. "Can I get you anything to drink?" you ask when straightening back up.
Jungkook's gaze flickers up to meet yours, "Water will be fine," he says.
Nodding, you turn on your heel as you dart for the kitchen, eager to escape his line of sight for a moment. You don't know why you were so nervous about having him here. Placing the dirty mugs in the sink, you mull over the feelings stirring inside your chest. You had been alone with Jungkook multiple times before, hell, your entire day had been spent in his presence at the mall.
What made this any different?
The still air maybe, or the fact that you no longer had the distraction of crowded stores or the children hovering around you. Or maybe it was because whenever you and him found yourselves completely alone — you always seemed to cross dangerous boundaries.
You think of last night. The drinks you had shared in the shadows of his study, tucked away from the rest of the world. You think of the way his lips had felt on your neck, his hands on your thighs when he placed you on his desk and the caress to your back as he held you close. You think of the reluctant shower you'd taken when arriving back home, grieving the scent of him on your body as it washed away under the hot steam.
"Enough," you mutter when pulling a cabinet open. The memories of yesterday are pushed to the back of your mind as you turn on the faucet and fill two glasses.
Jungkook is still lounging on the couch when you return to the living room. One hand is stroking the armrest beside him idly but his eyes lift upon your arrival. Your feet move soundlessly across the floor as you approach, handing him one of the glasses which he takes with a murmured thank you.
For a little while the two of you simply exist together in the small space of your apartment, with you having yet to take a seat as you sip on your water. Jungkook does the same, his gaze fixed on you over the rim of his glass. It's not until he leans over to set the drink down that his attention shifts to the textbook thrown across the coffee table.
He studies it for a moment, inked fingers brushing across its cover as he picks it up. "Oh, yeah…" rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly, you nod toward the book, "I have this big exam tomorrow, was doing some last minute studying this morning."
Jungkook hums as he reclines back against the cushion, flicking the pages open with his thumb as he skims them aimlessly. When he turns back to you, it's with a cocked brow, "Are you prepared?"
The question has the water slipping down your throat as you blink dumbfoundedly in his direction. "I mean, I think so…?" You knew that you hadn't given your studies enough attention during the course of the last two weeks, the man before you was partly to blame for that. "It's a lot of material but I've revised it all at least once," you then say whilst adjusting your grip on the glass.
He doesn't respond right away, still skimming the page he'd landed on before finally closing the book and tucking it between himself and the armrest to his left. "Alright," he muses, "Then show me."
Had it not been for the deathly hold you kept on your glass of water, it would've kissed the floor the same way your jaw currently was. "What—?" you splutter, thinking you might've misheard him somehow. But Jungkook simply folds his arms across his chests as he flings both legs up on the foot of the L-shaped couch. It was then you realized that he was being completely serious.
"I wouldn't even know where to start—" shaking you head, you try to brush the idea off again, "And there's so much, I'll bore you." Not only was the prospect of potentially boring him on your mind, but so was the thought of wasting the little alone time with him on something as mundane as studying.
Unfortunately, Jungkook isn't letting up. His stare could've probably coerced just about anyone into compliance and you were no different.
The sound of your glass hitting the coffee table echoes off the four walls that surround you. "Can I at least go grab my notes?"
That was how you found yourself next to Jungkook on your couch, in your living room, in your apartment — alone. You sit curled up beside him, eyes fixed to the notes in your hands, supported by your thighs as you read them over again and again — your brain never actually picking up the words so messily scribbled down.
As you quickly revised, Jungkook took his time flipping through your textbook. After prying a chapter number out of you he was now reading the material closely, eyes squinting slightly in the absence of his glasses.
You gnaw on your bottom lip when sneaking a glance at him, gaze fleeing back to your notes when he suddenly looks your way. Another two minutes pass in tense silence where you repeat the scribbled key words like a mantra.
Then the notebook is suddenly snatched from your grasp as Jungkook's tattooed hand closes around its edge. He's put the class material aside and is now scanning the pages you've written for himself. When you attempt to retrieve the essential guide, he simply pulls it out of reach. "Time's up," he says.
You almost fling yourself over him to get your notes back, only to realize how stupid that would look — and how close you were already sat. His cologne, always lingering in the back of your mind, infiltrates your nostrils with your next inhale. His arm is warm where it rests against your own, his head tilted just enough for you to meet one of his dark eyes as he studies you.
"Well?" He prompts when folding his arms back over his chest and sinking back against the cushion. His expression is expectant, even more so than your stern no-nonsense professors and you feel yourself beginning to sweat under the sudden attention. "Start simple," he then says and you nod.
Clearing your throat, you mentally go over the notes once more. The exam was your biggest one yet, focusing on both the human lungs and heart. "I— Um, the heart…" you begin, hands fiddling awkwardly with one another, "It's the body's most vital organ as it provides oxygen to our cells and maintains our blood pressure."
Jungkook hums, never once taking his eyes off of you. "Where's it located?"
You roll your eyes at that, "Oh come on. You know here."
But he only shrugs, "What if I don't?" You were no fool to what he was trying to do here. Acting completely clueless to pull as much information from you as possible. It would be a lie to say that it didn't amuse you, if only a little — because Jungkook was far from stupid, though getting to experience him like this, even if it was only pretend, fueled something in you.
"It's located in your chest, just behind your sternum, in front of your spine — though it's positioned slightly to your left." Reaching out, you point to where his heart would be beating just under the tight fleece he wears.
Jungkook's gaze tracks the path of your hand, humming softly to show that he was following along. "How?" He then asks, tilting his head a fraction to the side, "How does it give me oxygen."
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, "Well, to explain that you first need to know how the heart is built." There's brief hesitation where you search his face for clues, but he's just watching you, wordlessly urging you to keep going.
The next breath you take comes easier, some of the tension draining from your shoulders as you hone in on one of the things you were most passionate about — the human body. "The heart is made up of four chambers and they all serve different purposes," you explain, "The atria are the two chambers at the top of your heart, and the ventricles sit at the bottom."
Your finger points to where you think each one would be, approximately at least. Jungkook lets you without complaint, his chest rising and falling slowly with each breath he takes. "You're quite a hands-on teacher," he then muses, causing you to forget your next sentence as you huff exasperatedly.
"I'm just trying to show what I mean…" You mutter, quickly withdrawing your hand from his torso when you realize how long you'd let your touch linger.
Jungkook eyes you for a moment without speaking until he abruptly leans forward. You barely have time to ask the matter as he reaches behind him, grabbing the back of his shirt as he tugs it over his head in one swift motion.
"What are you—?"
The spluttered question falls flat as he tosses his shirt over the armrest on the other side of him. He raises a brow at your perplexed and slightly flabbergast expression, the corner of his lip twitching before he forces it back into something more neutral. "Giving you access," he says when leaning back against the couch to get comfortable again.
Your brain short circuits as your attention falls on his naked chest — the one you'd only had the privilege of seeing on one previous occasion. And now he was suddenly offering himself up as revision material?
Finally pulling yourself together, you shift in your seat as you turn to get a better view. "Right," you clear your throat, "Like I was saying…"
"The atria and the ventricles?" he finishes for you.
"Yes, that." Fumbling to gather your bearings, you will your mind to focus on where his heart would be and not the distracting sight of bare skin. "The uh, the chambers can be divided into left and right." You're hesitant to reach out again, more so for your own sake than his, but in the end you do — finger pointing to his chest where you had felt the steady drumming of his heart.
"The right atrium receives oxygen poor blood through the vena cava. There are two of them, one superior and one inferior and they both work slightly different…" You trail off, eyes flickering up to meet his, only to find Jungkook already watching you intently through dark lashes.
"How so?" He asks.
"Well, the superior one delivers blood from your upper body, such as your head, throat, chest and even your arms." Gesturing vaguely in the direction of his painted arm, you then continue in the same breath, "The vena cava inferior transports blood from your lower body, that blood travels through your veins but to defy gravity and actually make it back to your heart they rely on different mechanisms to help them."
Your hand slides down to his forearm, gently pushing it back against the upper one as you try not to linger on the way his bicep contracts at the motion. "When your muscles are in movement they squeeze your veins, forcing the blood upward and with the help of one-way valves that open and close, the oxygen poor blood is ensured to not run back down again."
Jungkook lets you manhandle his arm back and forth a couple of times, more than what was actually necessary for the explanation but he makes no move to stop you either. "And if I'm not moving?" He wonders, brows furrowing slightly on his forehead, "Then what happens?"
"You also have your respiratory pump," you hum, recalling the revised material a lot easier now. "When you breathe your diaphragm moves," abandoning his arm, your palm comes to rest on the center on his torso, just below his chest at the base of his ribcage, "It creates a suction effect in your chest cavity which draws blood upward."
Under your hand, Jungkook's chest expands as he takes a deep breath, like he was testing the theory out for himself. "Makes sense," he muses on his exhale.
You nod, debating on pulling back entirely but instead deciding to just let your touch return to his heart instead. "Right so, the right atrium then delivers the oxygen poor blood to the right ventricle which in turn sends that blood to your lungs in order to enrich it with oxygen again. That part is a little confusing to explain as the functions of the veins and arteries trade places."
The corner of Jungkook's lip twitches, "I'm sure I can keep up."
Heat crawls up your neck at the confidence in his voice and it makes you waver for a split second before you clear your throat. "The uh, transportation of oxygen poor blood to the lungs is not done with veins rather the pulmonary artery. When you inhale your lungs become full of oxygen which is given to your blood through diffusion. This is possible thanks to the capillaries which are walls thin enough to let the exchange happen. It is the same way oxygen is exchanged everywhere throughout your body."
You pause to make sure that he was following along, shyly lifting your gaze from where it had been glued to his chest. Jungkook is regarding you quietly, he's made no attempt to interrupt you and the look in his eyes made your stomach flutter in a way it certainly shouldn't when you were revising anatomy.
"The er— exchange itself then fills our lungs with carbon dioxide which is what we then go on to exhale. Moving on, the oxygen rich blood is transported back to your left atrium through the pulmonary vein. That chamber in turn pumps the blood to your left ventricle which sends it out to the rest of your body."
By the time you're done explaining the basics of the heart itself you're left with your own hammering in your chest — and that was without going into any detail on the different conditions such as heart attacks.
Jungkook hums in understanding, nodding once like you had made perfect sense. The silence between you stretches long and awkward for nearly ten seconds after that and you fumble for something to fill it with, ultimately landing on rambling more information stored at the top of your head.
"Further more, an adult heart, when relaxed should beat anywhere between sixty to a hundred beats per minute, anything above that can indicate high blood pressure." A quick glance at his toned arms and the whisper of muscle on his stomach has you continuing, "Though fit individuals may sometimes have a lower resting heart rate, somewhere around forty to fifty beats per minute."
Jungkook cocks a brow at that, his gaze landing on the hand you still kept over his chest. You barely have time to register what he was doing before the warmth of his palm presses down across your fingers, bringing you closer to his beating heart.
"What's your diagnosis, doc?" He asks when tilting his head to the side.
Completely thrown off balance, it takes you a moment to understand what he meant and you quickly distract yourself by trying to count the slow and steady beats his heart gives. Your apartment is silent, save for your joint breaths and the soft creak of the couch when you shift on the cushion. The rhythmic thumping under your hand never falters, its calm and steady beating almost pisses you off — how was it so easy for him to remain unaffected as he sat shirtless in your living room?
When you think a minute might've passed you gingerly pry yourself free of his grip. "Well, it's impossible to say since I can't time it properly right now — but I'd say it's normal."
Jungkook seems satisfied with your answer. He doesn't say anything for a while, leaving you to rethink the entire interaction as you gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Then he suddenly turns, twisting himself just enough to face you better and a second later his fingers dip beneath the neckline of your shirt, hot palm finding your heart as he presses it against your skin.
You want to ask what he was doing, like it wasn't obvious enough. But you can't seem to get a single word out, forced to sit there as Jungkook feels the embarrassingly rapid beating of the traitorous organ in your chest. You toy with the idea of holding your breath forcing your heart into submission but ultimately decide against it as Jungkook's dark eyes meet yours.
"Yours is beating fast," he notes, hand still present against your chest.
The huff that escapes you falls somewhere between a laugh and a strained plea. "Yeah uh— There's explanations for that as well," you tell him, immediately regretting it when his expression lights up with interest.
"Such as?"
"Well there's many… Norepinephrine, sudden adrenaline surges and involuntarily fight-or-flight responses. They all cause your heart to beat faster." You ramble on as you avoid his gaze, finding the armrest behind him most intriguing.
Jungkook hums, "Why now?"
You have half a mind to tell him off. He was not stupid but neither were you, and you knew when someone was pushing your buttons. Still, the only response you can manage is a weak scoff and a pathetic excuse, "You took your shirt off…"
The fleece lays discarded to his left, but Jungkook pays it no mind. His fingers move absently across your skin, tracing small, messy patterns there. Eyes darting back and forth between his hand under your shirt and your face, like he was considering something. "And if you took yours off? My heart would beat faster, yes?"
You're certain he can feel the beat your heart skips in your ribcage, the hitch in your breath as his proposal registers. You tell yourself that you were past the terms of modesty since long — Jungkook had seen you in less, and still, this conversation makes you want to hide just as much as it makes you want to kiss him.
"Well—" you begin with a slight stutter, "Not necessarily, you'd need to be attracted to the person you're seeing."
At that he leans closer, his attention dropping to the faint outline of his knuckles through your shirt as he presses his index and middle finger over your heart. Then he lifts gaze, "I am," he calmly states. His free hand finds the line of your jaw, fingers closing around it on a soft embrace when he leans in to press his lips against yours.
You sit there like a stature for a good three seconds, trying to piece together what he'd just initiated before leaning in as you invite his tongue inside your mouth with a breathless gasp. The kiss is soft, it feels like him, scarily familiar in a way you should've never let it become.
His fingers slip out of your shirt, curling into your hip as Jungkook tugs you onto his lap like he was moving air. Both hands settle on your waist and your own palms brace themselves on his shoulders without having to be told as you kiss him harder, all thoughts of studying flying out the window in favor of the man on your couch.
He toys with the hem of your sweater, tugging on the fabric just enough to pull your attention away from the lock of your lips. Despite the heat that smooths itself over your cheeks you still manage to maintain eye contact as you lean back enough to pull the garment over your head, tossing it to the floor just like you usually would when getting undressed after a long day.
Jungkook's gaze roams your chest unapologetically, lashes fluttering softly as he runs the pad of his thumb up your side. His hands slide to your back, tracing your naked spine as he pulls you closer and you let him steal your breath with another kiss.
Your hips move on their own, grinding down against him through the layers of clothes you wear — to which he responds by digging his fingers into your skin, pulling you down on him harder. The air inside your living room grows hot, outside your window the sun begins its slow descent down the horizon, basking you in all shades orange.
Last night had yet to leave your mind and judging by the way Jungkook hardens under you within the minute, it hadn't left his either. The sound of his groan vibrates on your lips, low and filled with desire he does nothing to hide.
Only when his fingers wrap around your wrists as he guides it across his collarbone do you pull back an inch. He says nothing when he moves your palm to rest flat over his chest, right above the now frantic beating of his heart. You feel it clearly, the quick thump-thump-thump as it slams against his ribcage from within.
When you meet his eyes you find them entirely swallowed by the black pools of his pupils, dazed with all the things he never said out loud. "Do you feel that?" he whispers, breath warm against your face. His fingers lock around yours as he presses your hand impossibly close, letting you experience the undeniable evidence of his pure want.
You nod, just a slow tilt of your chin which Jungkook mimics with one of his own. "Good," he says, but he doesn't let you go when he leans in to pick up the kiss he'd broken with renewed hunger.
Your other hand loosens its hold on his shoulders, sliding to the nape of his neck as he tips his head back to let your tongue slip inside his mouth. The ends of his hair slip between your fingers, fitting perfectly in your grasp when you curl the digits around them. Having previously lost their rhythm, your hips return to their slow grind against him.
Jungkook leans back from the kiss, lips pressing against the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the side of your neck as he showers you in affection. "Who was that?" he asks against you, the hand not currently keeping your own caged to his chest, grips your hip. When all he receives is a slightly confused hum from you, he adds in a lower voice, "Your friend," making sure to accentuate the latter.
Your body grows tense on top of his, brows pinching together across your forehead as you attempt to pull back enough to look at him — but Jungkook is not letting you go. His arm slides around your waist, keeping you perched on his lap as his lips stay latched on to your neck.
"Namjoon?" You finally splutter, fingers twiddling a strand of his dark hair between them.
Jungkook sighs out a small 'mm' between kisses, "That's his name?" He phrases it like a question even though you both know it isn't.
"Yes," you murmur, glancing down to where your hands lay locked over his heart. "Why are you asking?"
His fingers flex on top of yours, "Curious," he says after another open-mouthed kiss to the column of your throat. Teeth closing around your skin, he pulls the tender flesh past his lips and bites down. "He seems like a decent guy," letting go, he soothes the sting with his tongue, "How do you know him?"
Your brain short circuits as you try to make sense of what he was saying all the while he continues to lick and nip at your throat. "Uh, I've met his mom twice — by chance. Him once before," you say as you try to recall your past encounters with Namjoon, even when that was the last thing on your mind right now.
The answer has Jungkook humming noncommittally, the arm looped around you flexing slightly as he tugs you closer. His hips lift up to meet yours that had gone still, wordlessly urging you to move again.
You comply as you grind down on him, slower this time. "What matter is it anyway?" you huff, tilting your head to the side when his kisses trail back up your jaw, then your cheek.
Jungkook exhales through his nose, he nudges your palm flat against his chest, reminding you of the way his heart was currently beating like a dumbbell. "None," he says as his lips cover yours.
Your next kiss is laced with the emotions that had been left brewing since last night. Each roll of your hips sends a shudder through you, soft gasps spilling right into his waiting mouth. His hands return to your waist, guiding you back and forth over the bulge in his dress pants.
The subject of Namjoon is dropped just as quickly as it had surfaced and for that you're glad. All you can focus on his how Jungkook feels under you, against you, so close yet nowhere near enough. He hadn't asked about the boyfriend thing, hadn't brought up your dismissal of such a label being used on the two of you. Then again, you weren't an item to begin with.
Your fingers return to his dark hair, running through the strands like property signed in your name. His jaw goes slack when you tug on a few locks, a strained noise ripping from his throat as his hips jerk up to meet yours in a messy attempt at creating more friction. The sofa creaks under your joint weight, the slick sounds of lips and saliva smearing together mixed with your heavy breaths filling your living room.
The two of you would've probably kept going for a lot longer, had it not been for the sudden, ear-piercing ring that cuts through the hot air. Jungkook's grip on your hips loosen, his mouth slowing down against yours as he exhales.
"Ignore it," you moan against him, not wanting the moment to end because someone — God knows who — though probably Daehyun, decided to be a cock-blocker. But the shrill of your landline won't stop and you're forced to make the hard decision of tearing yourself off Jungkook's lap as you storm over to the device on your desk.
Fingers curling around the phone, you rip it from its designated spot as you press to accept the call. "Daehyun, I swear to God if this is—"
"Oh, there's a familiar voice."
Namjoon's chuckle makes you pause mid scolding, brows shooting high on your forehead. "Uh, sorry. I thought you were someone else," you quickly apologize, pulling your swollen bottom lip between your teeth as embarrassment floods you from head to toe.
"It's no mind," he says, "I've been calling around, going through everyone with your name in the phone book. Though since I never caught your last name I was going on the first. Turns out there's quite a few of you in the area." Namjoon's tone is lighthearted, a stark contrast to the conversation you had just been having about him.
"Well, you found me at last," you muse, finger tapping softly against the back of the phone. Somewhere in the distance a floorboard creaks and a second later Jungkook's arms slide around you from behind. He's put his shirt back on, the soft fleece biting into your back when his chest molds against you.
"I'm glad I did," Namjoon says and you were certain that Jungkook could hear his voice on the other end of the line. His head was lowered enough for it to, the tip of his nose skimming along the side of your neck as he inhales deeply, a sound you hope won't pick up on the receiver.
But Namjoon doesn't seem to be catching on as he continues, "I was calling about that dinner. I made the mistake of mentioning our run-in to my mother earlier and her nagging has only gotten worse." He clears his throat, "So uh, you don't happen to be free sometime after Christmas?"
It was the first time you had ever heard Namjoon appear even remotely hesitant. He was all charming smiles and confident conversation. The question was almost endearing, though Jungkook's arms, locked around your stomach makes your thoughts stray from the man on the phone as your heart races.
"After Christmas?" you echo, biting down on your tongue when a pair of wet lips meet the spot just below your ear. "I'll have to check my calendar but uh…" Another kiss to the juncture where your neck and shoulder meets has you suppressing a shiver. "Could I maybe get back to you on that?"
"Of course," Namjoon says, "Should be a lot easier now that my number is in your register." His laughter is something you're unable to reciprocate as Jungkook continues his assault to your bare skin, placing hot, messy kisses all over you with no intent of slowing down.
When the short call comes to a close you exhale a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. For a few long seconds you stand there, staring at the wall as Jungkook drags his lips across the slope of your shoulder.
Placing the phone back onto the machine, you twist in his arms as you turn to face him, causing him to finally pull his mouth back. He did not have to ask who had been on the other end and you did not have to tell him. The previous desire in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by something softer as he studies you in the warm afternoon sun.
"Sorry about that," you murmur, fingers picking at a loose thread on his shirt before flattening the fabric out again.
Jungkook only shakes his head, hands clasped over the small of your back. "Don't apologize to me," he says, brows furrowing across his forehead for a second, then relaxing again. Your close proximity did not fluster you as much as it had only minutes ago — though it still made fire burn hot in your veins. Should you kiss him again? Would he want you to? Maybe you—
"I should be heading out." Oh. You can't hide the flash of disappointment when it strikes your features, he must notice it too for he lifts one hand to cradle your cheek. "Told my parents I'd be picking the children up at five."
"Right, no of course." Shaking your head, you take a small step back in an attempt to put some much needed distance between the two of you, and allowing him to take his leave — only for him to stop you.
Jungkook's hand is firm on the low of your back when he reels you in, foreheads meeting as his lips hover a breath from your own — just shy of a kiss which he dares claim a second later. There's no tongue this time, no heat, just the gentle press of his mouth to yours. When he pulls back he does so carefully.
His thumb brushes the high of your cheek, "You'll do good on your exam," he says, the corner of his lip lifting at the flustered purse of your own.
"I'm not so sure about that" you huff, feigning indifference as you try to play it down again.
Jungkook hums, "I am." He leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, then he lets his hands drop back to his sides as he steps back. Your gaze trails after his retreating figure when he heads down the hall, slipping on his coat and shoes methodically, the flutter in your stomach having yet to die down.
With one hand wrapped around the door handle he turns to glance at you over his shoulder, dark eyes meet yours just like they had so many times this afternoon before he steps out.
Your apartment is awfully silent after his leave, goosebumps rising on your naked arms in his absence. With a begrudging sigh you turn to snatch you discarded shirt off the floor, pulling it over your head as you stumble toward the bathroom with the means of washing up.
The bright, white lights blind you when you flick them on and it takes you a moment to adjust. Twisting the faucet, you lean down to soak your face in cold water, scrubbing away the remnants of the heated kisses you and Jungkook had shared.
Part of you wonders what would've happened if you hadn't been interrupted. Would it be like last night? Maybe. You dared not think about it for too long.
You pat your face dry with the nearest hand towel, blinking at your tousled reflection in the small mirror. Admittedly, you had looked better. But as you lean closer to inspect the swollen state of your lips, your attention catches on something entirely different. Craning your neck to the side, your eyes widen as they drink in the hint of bruising to your skin.
Your fingers reach for the faint mark, knowing it would darken overnight. The bathroom light flickers above you but you ignore it as you trace the outline where Jungkook's mouth had once been — remembering what his teeth had felt like when they sunk into your skin.
── [ ✉️ ] Okay yeah, he was hot in this one I think. Doing way too much with the heart stuff, I did not plan for him to do that it was his own decision I need everyone to be onboard with this okay? Anyway anyway, hope this was okay, it was very all over the place yet nowhere at all? Not sure how to feel but I hope when we get to the next two chapters things will actually make sense.
Funny how a car crash at the Monaco Grand Prix ended up crashing everything else too.
F1 racer!jungkook, Songwriter!oc, childhood bestfriends to lovers, racing accidents/crashes, public scrutiny, friends to lovers, hate comments, emotional dependency, jealousy, miscommunication, angst, toxic fan culture, media pressure, arguments, alcohol consumption, anxiety, emotional burnout, slowburn, smut
desclaimer: this is a fictional story and does not reflect the real personalities or lives of any idols, drivers or celebrities mentioned. pls remember this is all fake and made for fun !!
word count: 4.5k words
Series Masterlist
note: yes. yeah. yup. chapter 3 is out already. Did I loose my sleep over this? Definitely. Will I do it again for chapter 4? Hell yeah. So this capter is going to be very cutsiee, it'll be about the qualifyings and we'll get to see so many cute moments bw oc and jungkook. I really hope ya'll enjoy this one and i'd really appreciate your feedbacks and comments. Love ya'll, mwah mwah <33 I'll go sleep now.
On Saturday morning, Monaco had settled into the pit of your stomach.
Nothing had changed physically; the yachts still floated lazily across the harbour, the Mediterranean sparkled beneath the sunlight, and the city looked impossibly beautiful from every angle. Yet, the atmosphere tightened. It became sharper, carrying a weight that seemed to follow everybody through the paddock, whether they acknowledged it aloud or not.
Even arriving at the circuit unusually early didn't make the place feel calmer. If anything, it only made the tension more noticeable. Mechanics were already moving through the Ferrari garage with purpose; engineers stood clustered around screens displaying data from previous sessions, and team personnel hurried between meetings carrying coffees that looked far too small for the amount of work waiting ahead of them.
Everybody seemed nervous except Jungkook.
Or at least he appeared that way. You sat beside him near the back of the garage while he finished his smoothie and casually chatted with Taehyung as though Monaco qualifying wasn't only a few hours away. Around him, the entire team seemed locked into preparation mode, yet Jungkook somehow managed to carry himself with the same relaxed confidence he'd shown all weekend, occasionally laughing at something Taehyung said before turning back toward the engineers discussing setup changes nearby. It should have reassured you. Instead, it made you more nervous.
"You know you're stressing enough for both of us, right?"Jungkook’s voice reached you as you glanced up from your phone and say, "Someone has to."
"I'm literally the one driving. You act like I'm about to go to war."
"You’re about to drive a Ferrari around Monaco at two hundred kilometres an hour." That earned you a laugh from him. Despite himself, he seemed amused by your concern, which only irritated you further. The entire paddock spent every weekend reminding people how dangerous Formula One was, yet the actual drivers always appeared the least concerned by it.
Jungkook simply nudged your shoulder with his before standing up as one of the engineers called him over for the final FP, leaving you with nothing except your own thoughts and the growing anticipation hanging over the circuit.
A few hours later, FP3 just made everybody even more confident.
From the moment the session began, Jungkook looked completely untouchable, consistently finding time at the top of the leaderboard while Ferrari personnel attempted and failed to hide their satisfaction. Every lap looked clean. Every sector looked strong. Every time his name appeared at the top of the timing screens, the confidence surrounding him seemed to grow. By the time the session ended with him comfortably securing P1 once again, even the people trying not to get ahead of themselves had started believing Monaco pole position was within reach.
You certainly believed it. But believing it only made you more nervous because now there was something to lose.
The celebrations afterwards remained brief, mostly because everybody immediately shifted their attention toward qualifying preparations, but the atmosphere around Ferrari had noticeably lifted. Conversations sounded lighter. Smiles appeared more frequently. Even the engineers looked cautiously optimistic. Jungkook, meanwhile, returned from the session looking exactly the same as he had beforehand, helmet tucked beneath one arm as though topping another practice session was the most ordinary thing in the world.
Before either of you could leave for the hotel, however, your phone suddenly lit up with an incoming FaceTime.
Mom
You immediately knew what this was about. Instead of answering, you accepted the call and turned the screen toward him. The moment his face appeared on screen, your mother's expression brightened noticeably while your father immediately launched into what sounded suspiciously like a pre-race motivational speech.
"Look at him," your mother said dramatically. "He already looks like a winner."
"Don't jinx it," Jungkook replied.
"Nonsense. You're winning tomorrow."
"See?" your father added. "That's the confidence I like."
For the next several minutes, you sat there listening while they treated him less like your best friend and more like their second child. They reminded him to eat properly, wished him luck approximately twelve separate times, told him how proud they were of everything he'd achieved, and somehow managed to squeeze childhood memories into the conversation as well. At one point, your mother even brought up a karting competition from years ago that neither of you had thought about in ages, causing Jungkook to laugh so hard he nearly dropped your phone.
By the time the call ended, the smile lingering on his face seemed impossible to hide. Barely two minutes later, his own family called, followed by his cousins and friends.
One by one, he accepted every good luck wish with the same patience and gratitude, thanking each person before moving on to the next. Watching him sit there surrounded by so many people rooting for him felt strangely emotional, especially because you knew exactly how much work had gone into reaching this point.
Eventually, engineers started calling drivers back as the meetings resumed and qualifying preparations began in earnest. Jungkook stood for another briefing, while you prepared to head back to the hotel and get ready yourself.
"You'll be fine, you know."
The words pulled your attention away from the endless movement surrounding you, away from engineers crossing the garage carrying laptops and headsets, away from mechanics making last-minute preparations and team personnel rushing between meetings as qualifying crept closer with every passing minute.
You looked up to find Jungkook watching you with an expression that was equal parts amused and concerned, as though he'd spent the entire morning observing your increasingly obvious attempts to pretend you weren't worried. "What?"
"Qualifying."
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. "I'm not the one qualifying."
"No," he agreed, shifting his helmet from one arm to the other, "but you're still more nervous than I am."
You wanted to argue. You wanted to point out that he was about to drive a Formula One car around one of the most unforgiving circuits in the world while millions of people watched and expected him to perform. You wanted to remind him that every person inside the Ferrari garage had spent the entire weekend quietly convincing themselves that he was capable of securing pole position, that he had topped every session so far, that everybody suddenly seemed so sure of what was going to happen that it felt dangerous. Instead, all that came out was a quiet sigh because, unfortunately, he wasn't entirely wrong. The smile that spread across his face softened almost immediately.
"I'll be okay."
For a moment, neither of you moved, and everything felt strangely quieter than before. Maybe it was because the reality of qualifying was finally settling in. Maybe it was because you'd spent the entire morning carrying around a nervousness that refused to disappear, no matter how many times you reminded yourself that Jungkook had done this hundreds of times before. Or maybe it was simply because no matter how successful he became, no matter how many championships people predicted for him or how many headlines his name appeared in, a part of you would always see the boy who had spent most of his childhood chasing impossible dreams and refusing to give up on them.
As if Jungkook could still hear the turmoil within you, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you.
You hugged him back immediately, arms comfortably settling around his sides.
Throughout your lives, there had been countless moments exactly like this, moments before competitions, performances, races, tours, and milestones where one of you instinctively reached for the other without needing a reason beyond simple comfort. This was just another one of them, yet his warmth comforted you in a way nothing ever has. It felt as though some of the tension you'd been carrying all morning had finally loosened its grip.
"You better win this shit,” you murmured against his chest.
The laugh that escaped him this time was warmer, softer, and for some reason, it eased something inside your gut that had been wound tight all morning. Neither of you pulled away immediately; there had never been a need to rush when it came to each other. However, an engineer called out Jungkook's name from somewhere deeper inside the garage, forcing both of you back into the present.
As he stepped away, he gave your shoulder a small squeeze. "I mean it," he said, meeting your eyes one last time before turning toward the waiting team. "I'll be okay."
This time, you believed him. You believed him because you always had. Because trusting Jungkook had become so deeply woven into your life that you no longer knew how not to. Yet even as you watched him disappear further into the controlled chaos of the Ferrari garage, preparing himself for the most important session of the weekend so far, the nervousness started to reappear, and it only settled deeper beneath your ribs.
By the time you returned to the circuit that afternoon, the paddock had transformed completely, growing louder and more crowded with every passing hour.
The outfit change, the makeup touch-ups, and the brief attempt at convincing yourself that Jungkook was probably the best driver there had done very little to calm your racing heart. The roads surrounding the circuit were busier now, packed with fans wrapped in team colours and photographers lingering near every possible entrance in hopes of catching drivers arriving for the most important session of the weekend. Somewhere in the distance, you could already hear helicopters circling above the harbour, broadcasting images of Monaco to millions of viewers around the world while the city itself seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
Monaco had always carried a different kind of importance compared to every other race on the calendar. Even somebody like you, whose career existed in an entirely separate universe from motorsport, understood exactly what was at stake. Pole position here wasn't just pole position. It was history, the kind of achievement people remembered years later. The kind that ended up framed on walls and replayed in highlight reels long after the season had ended.
The moment you stepped inside the paddock, the shift in atmosphere became impossible to ignore. Ferrari's garage buzzed with a level of intensity that hadn't existed earlier that morning, engineers moving between workstations with purpose while mechanics completed final checks on both cars. Across the pit lane, Red Bull appeared equally focused, their drivers already disappearing in and out of briefings while Mercedes personnel crowded around timing screens discussing something with increasingly serious expressions. McLaren looked busy. Aston Martin looked busy. Every single team seemed locked into the same collective understanding that what happened over the next hour could very easily define the rest of the weekend.
"Well, the Ferrari Princess is here."
You turned around only to find Namjoon walking towards you. The smile that immediately appeared on his face suggested he was enjoying this far more than he should have.
"Hate when people call me that.” You laughed despite yourself. "I still don't believe Ferrari lets you sit on the pit wall."
“You can’t ignore real talent forever.”
"That's definitely not it." He chuckled, showing off his dimpled smile.
The conversation should have ended there. At least, that was probably how it would have gone with anybody else. But Namjoon possessed the irritating ability to keep every interaction moving forward, no matter how many opportunities it had to die naturally, effortlessly jumping from one topic to another while maintaining the same relaxed confidence that appeared to follow him everywhere he went. It wasn't difficult to understand why people liked him.
Soon enough, Jungkook reached both of you, water bottle hanging loosely from one hand, while he casually inserted himself into the conversation with the ease of somebody who had never once questioned whether he belonged there. Somehow, his presence changed the entire shape of the conversation without him appearing to make any effort whatsoever. Maybe it was because your attention kept drifting toward him. Or maybe it was because qualifying was now close enough to feel real. Which was probably why you didn't fully realize what had happened until Namjoon eventually glanced toward one of the screens displaying the remaining time until qualifying, pushed himself to his feet with an exaggerated sigh, and announced that his team had apparently remembered he had responsibilities.
His gaze shifted between you and Jungkook for a brief second before giving Jungkook a quick "Good luck today." The smile he gave you before leaving was amused. The one he gave Jungkook was knowing. Neither of you acknowledged it, though.
Yet once he disappeared into the growing crowd surrounding the neighbouring garages, Jungkook caught your attention. "You seem to be making a lot of new friends."
You narrowed your eyes at him, "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
"That definitely wasn’t nothing." The accusation almost escaped your mouth before you stopped yourself. You knew the slight shift in his voice when something was bothering him, even if he refused to admit it. Which was exactly why you noticed the way his attention seemed to linger on Namjoon's retreating figure for half a second longer than necessary.
Unfortunately, qualifying left very little room for overthinking. The closer the qualifying drew, the more obvious it became that the entire paddock was shifting into another gear. Ferrari wasn't the only team feeling it. Across the pit lane, journalists hovered near garage entrances, hoping to catch final interviews before drivers disappeared into preparation mode.
Everywhere you looked, people seemed to understand exactly what was at stake. And standing inside Ferrari's garage, watching engineers prepare for the session while mechanics made final adjustments to the cars, you couldn't stop thinking about how badly one particular driver wanted it.
Jungkook changed the closer he got to the car. His focus seemed to narrow naturally, all unnecessary distractions quietly falling away until every piece of his attention pointed toward the same objective. Looking at him now felt different from looking at him an hour ago. He looked like the driver who had spent years turning impossible ambitions into reality through sheer stubbornness, talent, and determination.
And suddenly, standing there while the noise of the garage swirled around you, you found yourself feeling absurdly emotional about it.
Because nobody else here had seen the beginning of it all. The oversized karting helmets, the tiny local tracks, the endless drives home after competitions, the years spent working toward opportunities that had never felt guaranteed.
Everybody saw the headlines, podiums, sponsorship deals, and interviews. You saw all of that, too, of course you did, but layered beneath it remained every previous version of him that had existed before the world started paying attention. Maybe that was why your chest felt strangely tight as qualifying finally approached and your heart seemed determined to race alongside his.
When his eyes eventually found yours again, neither of you spoke immediately because there wasn't really anything left to say. Everything meaningful had already been spoken aloud. What remained now was something simpler. The understanding that existed after twenty years of knowing somebody so completely that words occasionally became unnecessary.
The affection hit you before you could stop it, as you stepped closer, reached up, and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek.
The gesture itself wasn't unusual. Physical affection had never been unusual between the two of you. Hugs, shoulders leaning together during flights, hands grabbing wrists and sleeves and jackets without thinking, all of it had existed comfortably inside your friendship for years. Yet something about this moment felt different anyway.
Because instead of immediately rolling his eyes or making a joke or teasing you for being emotional, Jungkook simply looked at you.
The look he gave you felt different from every other look exchanged throughout the course of your life, carrying something neither of you understood well enough to name.
You'd known Jungkook for most of your life. You knew the sound of his laugh before you saw him, the difference between his real smile and the one he used for cameras, how he looked when he was angry, exhausted, excited, disappointed, nervous, heartbroken, and happy.
So why, standing here in the middle of a Ferrari garage surrounded by hundreds of people, did he suddenly feel impossible to read?
The thought barely had time to settle before somebody called his name from deeper inside the garage.
The moment cracked apart. Jungkook blinked first, then appeared a small, soft, almost shy smile, and that made everything worse.
Because your stomach chose that exact moment to perform a completely unnecessary backflip.
Jungkook simply held your gaze for one second longer than necessary before turning toward the waiting Ferrari, disappearing back into the noise and movement and expectation that had surrounded him all day as you watched him go.
And for the first time all afternoon, qualifying wasn't the only thing making your heart race.
By the time the first cars rolled out of the pit lane, you had already stopped pretending you weren't nervous.
It wasn't even a rational kind of nervousness anymore. Rational nervousness could be explained away. Rational nervousness listened to the statistics, timing sheets, and all the evidence Ferrari had spent the entire weekend presenting. Rational nervousness looked at Jungkook topping every practice session and decided there was probably no reason to panic.
Unfortunately, whatever was currently happening inside your chest had very little interest in logic. The closer qualifying drew, the more difficult it became to ignore the pressure hanging over the circuit, not only because this was Monaco, not only because pole position here mattered more than almost anywhere else, but because everywhere you looked, people seemed to expect something extraordinary to happen. The thousands of supporters packed into grandstands overlooking the harbour expected it. Somewhere beneath all the excitement and anticipation sat a dangerous amount of hope, and hope had always been considerably more terrifying than doubt.
From your place on the pit wall, Monaco unfolded in flashes of colour and noise and impossible precision, cars appearing for mere seconds before disappearing behind barriers and buildings again, leaving only the fading scream of engines in their wake. Every time the timing screens updated, another ripple passed through the Ferrari garage.
Engineers leaned closer to monitors. Mechanics exchanged glances. Radios crackled constantly with information that seemed to arrive faster than anybody could possibly process it. Across the circuit, other teams were experiencing the same thing. Red Bull remained close enough to be uncomfortable. Mercedes refused to disappear. Every few minutes, another driver threatened to shake up the order entirely before somebody else immediately responded. The gaps separating them were ridiculous. Entire afternoons being decided by distances too small for the human eye to detect.
And through all of it, Jungkook remained exactly where everybody expected him to be.
Always near the front.
Every time his name appeared at the top of the timing screens, the Ferrari garage relaxed for approximately five seconds before finding a new reason to panic. Every improvement from another team sent another wave of tension through the engineers surrounding you. Every purple sector made your stomach drop. Every lap felt important. Every corner felt important. At some point, you stopped sitting entirely, too restless to remain still for more than a few moments at a time, hair already in a messy braid, pacing short distances behind the pit wall before inevitably returning to the screens as though staring at them hard enough might somehow influence the outcome.
Then came Q3, and Ferrari looked strong. Strong enough to believe, to make pole position feel possible, and to make losing it hurt.
By the time the final runs began, nobody around you seemed capable of acting normal anymore. Hoseok had removed his headset twice, only to immediately put it back on. Yoongi looked as though he hadn't blinked in several minutes. Even the mechanics standing behind the pit wall had abandoned any attempt at appearing calm, their attention fixed entirely on the screens displaying sector times as the remaining minutes disappeared. Somewhere overhead, helicopters circled the circuit. Somewhere out in the harbour, thousands of people were watching from yachts. Somewhere in the city, millions of viewers around the world were holding their breath.
And so were you. You didn't even realize the broadcast cameras had found you until the reaction reached the crowd first.
A roar swept through one section of Ferrari supporters positioned opposite the pit wall, loud enough to briefly pull your attention away from the screens. Confused, you followed their gaze upward and immediately regretted it. Your face stared back at you from the giant circuit display overlooking the harbour, your expression apparently communicating enough panic to entertain several thousand people at once. The realization lasted all of two seconds before your attention snapped right back toward the timing screens because Jungkook was still on track, and absolutely nobody's opinion of your stress levels felt remotely important compared to that.
The final lap felt endless. Every sector update appeared to take years, and every corner seemed impossibly far away from the next. Somewhere beside you, somebody swore. While somewhere else, somebody started celebrating too early. Nobody seemed capable of agreeing on anything except the fact that the next few moments would decide everything.
Then came the final sector, the line, and the deafening silence.
The strange, impossible silence that exists for a fraction of a second before thousands of people realize what they've just witnessed.
The moment Jungkook crossed the line and his lap time shot to the top of the timing sheets, Ferrari exploded.
The sound hit first, not one sound but hundreds of them. Shouts and laughter and disbelief and relief all crashed together into something so loud that it briefly drowned out everything else, the engineers surrounding you surging to their feet almost instantly while mechanics threw their arms around whoever happened to be standing closest.
One of the headsets landed somewhere on the floor. Somebody nearly knocked over a monitor. Somewhere behind you, Jimin was already filming the chaos unfolding around him because, apparently, even in moments of complete emotional collapse, he remained committed to content.
People were already pulling you into strong, messy hugs, yet you couldn't move.
All you could do was stare at the timing screen, at the name sitting at the very top, at the tiny white letters beside it confirming what everybody had spent the entire weekend hoping for and simultaneously trying not to expect.
P1, Monaco.
Jeon Jungkook.
The three things refused to fit together properly inside your head. The moment itself felt bigger than the numbers displayed on the screen, because standing there while the Ferrari garage celebrated around you, all you could think about was how far away this had once seemed. How many years ago this had simply been a dream. How many weekends had been spent chasing moments exactly like this one.
The realization hit harder than expected as your eyes immediately burned. Nobody gave you time to recover because somebody suddenly grabbed both of your shoulders from behind and started shaking you.
"He did it." You finally turned.
Taehyung looked just as shocked as everybody else. "He actually did it."
"You got P3."
"I KNOW." He yelled before pulling you in a hug. The fact that he sounded personally offended by his own excitement only made you laugh harder, tears also escaping your eyes, the tension finally breaking apart after hours spent wound impossibly tight.
Around you, the celebrations showed absolutely no signs of slowing down. Ferrari personnel continued pouring out of the garage. Journalists were already gathering near Parc Fermé. Team members were talking over each other. Yet the person responsible was nowhere to be seen.
Until he was.
The giant screens scattered throughout the circuit switched to the broadcast feed just in time to catch Jungkook climbing out of the Ferrari, pulling off his helmet while the crowd erupted around him. Even from a distance, the grin spreading across his face looked almost unreal, the kind of smile that appeared only when somebody spent years imagining a moment and then found reality exceeding expectations. Cameras surrounded him immediately. Marshals directed him toward parc fermé. Reporters practically materialized from thin air.
And still his eyes searched.
The realization struck you so suddenly that it almost stole your breath. Even through thousands of people, he was looking for you.
The second his gaze finally landed on you standing near the pit wall, something about his entire expression changed. One moment he looked like Monaco's pole sitter, and the next, he looked like Jungkook.
The idiot Jungkook, wearing the same expression he had worn when he came first in that roller-skating competition at fourteen.
And then he started running towards you, as the crowd immediately noticed.
You could actually hear the reaction ripple through the grandstands as people realized the newly crowned pole sitter was sprinting straight past several journalists and directly toward somebody standing near the Ferrari garage. Cameras followed him instantly while broadcast crews practically chased him. Somewhere above the circuit, your faces probably occupied every giant screen available.
Neither of you cared.
You barely had time to react before his arms wrapped around you and suddenly the ground disappeared beneath your feet, a startled laugh escaping you as he lifted you clean off the floor with enough force to nearly send both of you falling backwards. The adrenaline still radiating from him felt almost contagious, his laughter mixing with yours as well as the tears of happiness, while the entire Ferrari garage continued celebrating around you, and for one ridiculous moment, it genuinely felt as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
"You did it."
The words came out breathless and entirely inadequate, yet Jungkook understood anyway.
Because of course he did, he always did.
The hug lasted longer than either of you intended before the two of you were crushed by a running Taehyung, then came Hoseok, then Jimin, Yoongi, and then half of Ferrari.
The resulting group hug quickly collapsed into complete chaos, people laughing and shouting and congratulating each other while photographers desperately attempted to capture everything at once.
For the next hour, the celebrations never truly stopped. Interviews came and went. Photographs were taken. Team members received congratulations from people they'd never met before. Phones buzzed endlessly with messages from friends and family. Everywhere you looked, somebody was smiling.
Eventually, as the paddock slowly began settling into the evening and the initial chaos faded into something more manageable, somebody suggested drinks. The proposal was accepted almost immediately, partly because Ferrari had earned the right to celebrate and partly because nobody possessed enough self-control to say no after a day like this. Plans were made. Locations were chosen. Reservations were apparently secured by people far more organized than anybody else present.
And for the first time all day, with the pressure finally gone and Monaco glowing beneath the evening sun beyond the harbour, everybody allowed themselves to believe that tomorrow was going to be perfect.
➹ note:This chapter is soooo cute!!! And honestly, jungkook running a relay race just for his nephews is so hot, no?. Anyways, I hope you guys like it and do lemme know! Have fun, mwah mwah <3
This is strictly fiction. Any scenario or situation should not be taken seriously
The week after your dinner with Jungkook passed strangely quietly. No dramatic family interventions, awkward conversations, or emotional catastrophes.
Just work.
Long meetings, endless paperwork surrounding the merger, investors breathing down everyone’s necks, and approximately fourteen missed calls from your mother every single day.
The only genuinely irritating part was how naturally Jungkook had slipped into your routine over the past week.
Your phone now contains an unfortunate number of painfully dry conversations with him.
Running ten minutes late
Your team forgot attachment 4
Taehyung is harassing me again.
Tell him to stop sending me shark memes.
And you hated how he managed to catch your attention, everytime.
Which was exactly why, one week later, you walked into the headquarters of Kim Industries already mildly irritated before the day had even properly begun.
The atmosphere inside the building felt different immediately, sharper somehow.
Today’s merger meeting involved shareholders, senior executives, legal advisors, and enough board members to financially ruin several countries combined, meaning, everyone was stressed.
You stepped out of the elevator without slowing your pace once, heels clicking sharply against the marble floors as employees immediately moved aside.
“Good morning, ma’am.”
“Morning.”
“Conference Hall A has already been prepared.” Your assistant followed beside you quickly, holding a tablet against her chest. “Also, the Jeon Group arrived around twenty minutes ago.”
Of course they did.
You pushed the glass doors open moments later, instantly greeted by the low murmur of conversations filling the enormous conference room.
Several heads turned toward you immediately. And so did Jungkook’s.
He sat near the center of the long table, dressed entirely in black again, sleeves rolled neatly past tattooed wrists while silver rings glinted beneath the overhead lights as he flipped calmly through financial reports.
You hated how composed he always looked. Like nothing in the world had ever managed to shake him properly. His eyes lifted fully toward you as you approached the table and paused briefly,
“Glad to see punctuality still runs in the family,” you spoke dryly while pulling out the chair directly across from him.
A few executives chuckled nervously but Jungkook didn’t even blink.
“You’re three minutes late.”
Your jaw tightened instantly as you controlled the urge to roll your eyes at his audacity.
Before you could respond, one of the senior investors cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Right,” he smiled tightly, already stressed. “Shall we begin?”
The next hour disappeared beneath projected revenue charts, acquisition strategies, shareholder negotiations, and enough corporate terminology to physically exhaust most people.
Thankfully, neither you nor Jungkook were most people.
And somewhere during the middle of the meeting, the atmosphere around the table shifted subtly. Because, despite your personal irritation toward each other, you and Jungkook worked disgustingly well together. And it happened naturally.
You’d begin explaining a strategy; Jungkook would continue it without interruption, like he already knew exactly where your thoughts were heading.
At one point, a board member questioned one of your expansion proposals, only for Jungkook to dismiss the concern before you could even open your mouth yourself.
Another time, you reached toward the presentation remote at the exact same moment he slid it silently across the table toward you without once looking up from the reports in front of him. Like he already knew what you needed.
Which, judging from the increasingly disturbed expressions around the room, everyone else had started noticing too.
“Impressive synergy,” one of the shareholders commented eventually, sounding slightly caught off guard.
Beside you, Jungkook remained entirely unfazed.
“Years of experience,” he replied simply.
The meeting finally ended nearly two hours later with exhausted executives, unfinished coffee cups, and enough signed paperwork to give everyone present stress-induced migraines.
You were halfway through gathering your documentswhen your phone buzzed loudly against the table.
Taehyung, your brother. You declined the call instantly. But then you recieve a text,
Taehyung:
Pick up right now, or I'm coming upstairs.
Ughh he's so extra, you think. Another message arrived immediately after.
Mom told everyone that you and Jungkook went on a date, btw.
Okay, what the fuck?
Across from you, Jungkook finally stood from his chair, slipping several documents into a black folder before glancing briefly toward your expression.
“You look irritated.”
You looked up immediately. “I’m always irritated.”
“Hm.”
God, that stupid response again.
Before you could continue verbally assaulting him, the conference room doors suddenly swung open.
And chaos entered instantly.
“UNCLE JUNGKOOK!”
A tiny blur launched itself directly toward Jungkook at terrifying speed.
Your eyes widened slightly just before Seojun, Seoah and Jimin’s son, collided dramatically against Jungkook’s legs.
Jungkook looked down calmly at the small boy clinging to his leg before sighing quietly.
“You’re supposed to be at school.”
Seojun ignored him completely.
“Appa said we’re getting ice cream.”
Another voice entered moments later. “And appa was lying.”
You turned instinctively toward the doorway. Jimin walked into the conference room looking deeply exhausted already, dressed far too casually compared to everyone else present, while Seoah followed behind him.
And suddenly, the terrifyingly professional atmosphere of the merger meeting completely collapsed. Seoah noticed you almost immediately.
“Oh, thank God,” she sighed dramatically before walking over. “A normal person.” You stared at her blankly.
Beside him, Jungkook quietly removed the child still attached to his leg before setting him down properly beside him.
“Uncle Jungkook said a bad word yesterday,” Seojun announced proudly to absolutely nobody.
A horrifying silence followed.
Jimin slowly turned toward Jungkook. “You’re teaching my son bad things now?”
You snorted quietly before you could stop yourself.
“Where is Taehyung anyway?” Seoah asked as she helped her son fix the tiny backpack that was slipping off his shoulders.
“Probably somewhere flirting with girls at my office,” you replied absentmindedly while organizing your files.
“Hey!”
The familiar offended voice echoed through the conference room barely seconds later.
Speak of the devil.
Taehyung walked in carrying two iced coffees and approximately zero professional energy, sunglasses hanging lazily from the collar of his shirt despite the fact that the man was literally indoors.
Behind him followed Jin, looking significantly more put together as always.
“You people started without me?” Taehyung gasped dramatically while placing one of the coffees in front of you.
“You weren’t invited,” Jungkook replied flatly.
“And yet here I am. Beautiful, thriving and victorious.”
“None of those words apply to you,” you muttered.
Jin laughed quietly before pulling you into a quick side hug anyway.
Your head snapped toward him instantly. “You are SUCH a liar.”
“You threw a pen at Director Choi.”
“He deserved it.”
“He asked one question.”
“He asked it incorrectly.”
Seoah burst into laughter beside you while Jimin looked deeply unsurprised.
“Anyway!” She then clapped loudly, gaining everyone's attention. “Field day this Saturday.”
The young boy immediately cheered beside her.
Jimin groaned softly. “I still don’t understand why elementary schools require parental athletic participation. I pay tuition specifically to avoid physical activity.”
“You lost the dads’ relay race last year,” Seoah reminded sweetly.
“Because Jin cheated.”
“I was fast,” Jin defended calmly.
“You shoved me.”
“That sounds like a skill issue.”
“Ughh, you're all so annoying,” you muttered.
Seoah ignored you completely before turning toward both you and Jungkook.
“You two should come over after field day.”
Absolutely not.
You already opened your mouth to reject the idea when Taehyung spoke first.
“Oh, they’ll come.”
“No, we won’t,” both you and Jungkook answered immediately.
“Looks like…” Taehyung pointed dramatically between you and Jungkook as he’d just uncovered government corruption. “They’re developing a couple telepathy.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
"OHNOOO Y/N NOONA SAID A BAD WORD TOO!!!" Seojun gasped infront of everyone, the room now breaking a fit of laughter.
Seoah sighed dramatically before crouching slightly beside the younger boy, fixing the tiny collar of his uniform while speaking.
“Listen, I’m serious. You both work too much.”
“It’s one afternoon,” she continued, “The boys love you guys.”
The Seojun nodded enthusiastically beside her. “Uncle Jungkook promised to race this year.”
Your gaze shifted toward Jungkook automatically, and he looked mildly betrayed.
“You were not supposed to say that out loud.”
The boy gasped dramatically before hiding behind Jimin’s leg. “Sorry.”
“You race?” you asked before stopping yourself.
Jungkook glanced toward you briefly while slipping his watch back onto his wrist.
“I lose peacefully every year.”
“That is somehow significantly harder to believe.”
“Hm.”
Again with the hm. You couldn’t help but let out one of those big ass eye rolls, which truly gets on Jungkook’s nerves.
One day, you genuinely planned on fighting him over that response alone.
“Anyway,” Seoah stood again, clapping once decisively, “field day ends around four. Everyone’s coming over afterward.”
“No promises,” you answered immediately.
“Same,” Jungkook added.
Seoah narrowed her eyes slowly, then smiled.
“Okay.”
That alone should’ve concerned you more.
But your attention got distracted by Taehyung stealing your iced coffee directly out of your hand like the financial menace he was.
“Did you just—”
“Yes.”
“You son of a bitch”
“We have the same parents.”
Across the room, Jin quietly shook his head while Jimin laughed under his breath.
And through all the chaos, all the overlapping conversations and exhausted adults and screaming children running around a corporate conference room worth more than most apartments in Seoul—
Your eyes drifted unconsciously toward Jungkook again.
He stood near the table listening absently to the younger boy ramble about relay races, one tattooed hand resting lazily against the child’s head to stop him from running directly into furniture.
There was something strangely gentle about the way he stood there, calm despite the chaos around him.
The image suited him far too well.
“Alright,” Jin spoke eventually, glancing at the time on his watch. “Mirae’s probably waiting for me”.
The conversation dissolved into overlapping conversations almost immediately after that, everyone naturally slipping into the kind of comfortable chaos that only existed between people who had known each other too long.
And somewhere during the middle of it, you realized something.
Jungkook smiled more around them. Not enough for most people to notice. But the sharpness around him softened slightly whenever the boys dragged him into conversations or when Jimin said something particularly stupid.
“By the way,” Seoah spoke suddenly, turning toward you while helping the younger boy put his tiny shoes back on properly, “field day starts at nine.”
You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Why are you telling me like I already agreed to attend?”
“Manifestation.”
“That’s not how consent works.”
“It does in this family.”
Fair point.
Before you could continue arguing, Taehyung’s phone buzzed loudly against the conference table. He glanced at the screen once. Then immediately looked deeply entertained. Which was never good news.
Saturday field day sounds adorable 🥰
You and Jungkook should absolutely go support the boys together!!!
You closed your eyes immediately.
Beside you, Jungkook looked down at his own phone before exhaling quietly through his nose.
The kind of exhale people released moments before committing crimes.
Another buzz hit your phone almost immediately.
Mom:
Don’t embarrass us by saying no.
Dad:
It would be good for public image.
Across from you, Jungkook’s expression somehow flattened even further while reading whatever message his own parents had clearly sent him.
Mrs. Jeon:
Wear something nice. 😊
Your soul physically left your body.
“UUGHHH,” you groan in horror.
Taehyung immediately started laughing so hard he nearly dropped his coffee.
“This is the funniest thing that’s happened to me all month.”
“You are no longer my brother.”
For a brief moment, silence settled again while everybody waited for either you or Jungkook to reject the situation entirely. Unfortunately, both of you already knew exactly how this would end.
Years of experience, he said, didn’t he?
Slowly, your eyes lifted toward Jungkook across the room. He looked back almost instantly.
“We’re really being forced to attend a children’s sports event together,” you said flatly.
Jungkook slipped his phone back into his pocket calmly.
“Hm.” Your eye twitched.
“I’m going to kill you one day.”
“That seems excessive.”
“And yet deeply deserved.”
By 8:47 a.m. on Saturday morning, you had already decided elementary school field days were a form of psychological warfare.
“This is so cute!” Seoah gasped beside you while adjusting the little cap sitting crookedly on her son’s head.
You stared blankly at the chaos unfolding across the massive school field.
“Cute isn’t the word I’d use.”
“Your heart is black.”
Unfortunately, despite your complaints, you still showed up. Mostly because your mother had threatened emotional manipulation so intense it bordered on criminal activity.
And also because somehow everyone else had shown up too.
Jin and Mirae stood near the snack tables, arguing quietly about sunscreen. Jimin was currently attempting to convince a group of second graders that stretching before races prevented “premature knee destruction.” Taehyung had somehow already gotten banned from helping organize games despite only arriving twenty minutes ago.
The only genuinely irritating part was Jungkook. Or more specifically, the amount of attention Jungkook was receiving.
Several mothers nearby had already looked at him enough times to physically concern you.
And honestly? Rude.
Because, unfortunately, the man looked unfairly good even at a children’s sports event. Black hoodie, blue Calvin Klein jeans, and sleeves pushed slightly upward, revealing tattoos beneath the morning sunlight. His silver piercings glinted whenever he looked up from his phone.
“You’re staring again,” Seoah sang quietly beside you.
Your head snapped toward her immediately. “I’m literally not.”
“Mhm.” You hated this family.
Across the field, Jungkook looked up suddenly. And immediately caught you looking with his traitorous eyes. For half a second, neither of you looked away.
Then Dohyun, Jin and Mirae’s son, came crashing directly into Jungkook’s side, screaming something about relay teams.
“Okay!” one of the teachers announced loudly through a microphone. “Parents’ relay race participants, please gather near the track!”
Meanwhile, Taehyung looked disturbingly excited already. “This is my Olympics.”
“That sentence alone should disqualify you,” Jin muttered.
You watched the group move toward the track lazily before spotting him.
Jungkook was walking with them too.
“You’re participating?” you asked before you could stop yourself.
Jungkook glanced toward you briefly while rolling the sleeves of his hoodie slightly higher. “Unfortunately.”
“You voluntarily agreed to run around with children at nine in the morning?”
“The boys asked.”
Your eyes flickered briefly toward Seojun and Dohyun, currently holding onto each of Jungkook’s hands proudly as if they’d personally recruited him into the military.
“Uncle Jungkook runs really fast,” Dohyun informed you proudly while fixing his tiny jersey.
And somehow, standing there beneath the warm morning sunlight surrounded by screaming children, exhausted parents, and people who had become family long before any companies merged—
Jungkook looked strangely... human.
“Line up properly, please!”
The teacher’s voice echoed uselessly across the field while parents continued ignoring basic instructions in favor of arguing over relay positions and bribing their children with post-race ice cream.
Honestly, the entire event looked a single minor inconvenience away from complete societal collapse.
Taehyung, meanwhile, had somehow taken the existence of a parents’ relay race as a direct attack on his pride.
“You’re stretching way too seriously for an elementary school event,” you informed him while watching him aggressively rotate his shoulders like he was preparing for a national championship instead of running beside exhausted fathers in polo shirts.
“Wow,” he muttered dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “The lack of support in this family is actually heartbreaking.”
Beside him, Jin quietly adjusted Dohyun’s cap back onto his head for what had to be the fourth time in the last ten minutes while Mirae stood nearby looking deeply unsurprised by literally anything happening around her.
Meanwhile, Jungkook stood a little farther from the others now, Seojun and Dohyun still attached to either side of him while Dohyun explained the relay rules with the kind of terrifying seriousness only five-year-olds possessed. Most people would’ve nodded distractedly or pretended to listen while checking their phones. But he didn’t, he listened properly.
Occasionally nodding, occasionally correcting Seojun when the boy exaggerated parts of last year’s race story dramatically, his attention remained fully on them despite the noise surrounding the field.
The teachers finally started organizing parents into proper relay positions. Children immediately erupted into screaming chaos again.
Taehyung pointed dramatically toward Jungkook from across the track. “If I lose because of you, I’m cutting all business ties permanently.”
“You contribute nothing to the business,” Jungkook replied without even looking at him.
The relay race started with significantly more screaming than necessary.
Children had climbed onto benches to yell encouragement loud enough to rupture eardrums while several parents looked moments away from pulling hamstrings before the race had even properly begun. Somewhere near the snack tables, Taehyung was already arguing with another father over “track positioning ethics,” whatever that meant.
“You’re all taking this way too seriously,” you muttered while Seoah handed you an iced americano she’d apparently bought ten minutes ago.
“We’ve been coming to these for years,” she replied easily. “Eventually, you either become competitive or emotionally detached.”
“And which one are you?”
“I’m very much married to my husband, what do you think?”
Fair enough.
Across the field, the participants finally moved into position while teachers struggled to regain control over the increasingly chaotic crowd. Jimin looked deeply regretful already, stretching his legs beside Jin while Taehyung bounced lightly on his feet with the energy of a man who desperately needed healthier hobbies.
Jungkook, meanwhile, stood near the outer lane looking completely unaffected by the madness surrounding him.
One hand rested lazily against his hip while the other adjusted the sleeves of his hoodie slightly higher beneath the morning sunlight, exposing more ink winding across his forearm. Besides other fathers dressed in athletic wear and school caps, he looked strangely out of place. Too composed. Too sharp around the edges.
Like someone had accidentally dropped a luxury campaign model into a school sports event.
And somehow, despite standing perfectly still, he still drew attention naturally.
Several mothers nearby had already started whispering amongst themselves while pretending not to stare. You understood the urge though.
The whistle blew loudly enough to cut through the noise seconds later, immediately sending the first group of parents sprinting forward while children erupted into absolute hysteria.
“Oh my God, appa run faster!” Seojun screamed from beside the fence, nearly climbing over it entirely.
Jimin looked seconds away from collapsing already.
“He’s losing to Jin,” Seoah gasped dramatically beside you.
“That’s actually embarrassing.”
“HE PUSHED ME,” Jimin yelled from somewhere across the field.
“I’m literally in another lane!” Jin shouted back.
By the second round, Taehyung had somehow turned the entire thing into a personal mission to defend the family honor while Jungkook remained infuriatingly calm through all of it, jogging forward with barely any visible effort despite the fact that every other father looked one breath away from cardiac arrest.
Taehyung suddenly pointed aggressively toward Jungkook from across the field while trying to catch his breath.
“STOP RUNNING AS IF YOUR COMPANY'S STOCKS DEPEND ON IT.”
For the first time all morning, an actual laugh escaped Jungkook.
Small and brief, but real enough that it visibly startled half the group.
By early afternoon, the field day had dissolved into complete chaos.
Children were covered in grass stains and sugar, exhausted parents had started occupying shaded benches like survivors of a natural disaster, and Taehyung was still passionately arguing about relay race corruption to anyone unfortunate enough to listen.
Honestly, you were beginning to understand why teachers looked permanently exhausted.
One of the teachers approached the group holding several participation ribbons and certificates while trying to control a cluster of overly excited children.
“Seojun!” Seoah called immediately. “Come say thank you before running away again.”
The boy sprinted over dramatically, Dohyun following close behind, while Jungkook walked several steps behind them at a significantly calmer pace.
And somehow, despite the noise surrounding the field, your attention still found him first automatically.
“We’re going home now?” Dohyun asked sadly while clutching his tiny ribbon.
“After lunch,” Jin promised while fixing the child’s messy hair gently.
Seojun gasped suddenly before turning toward Jungkook with horrifying excitement.
“Uncle Jungkook! You promised!” Jungkook’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
Seojun looked delighted by the attention. “That they’d come over today!
Seoah, however, looked moments away from celebrating victory publicly.
“You manipulate children now?” you asked flatly.
“I didn’t manipulate anyone,” she defended immediately.
“Liar,” Jimin muttered.
“It was strategic emotional persuasion.” Seoah shrugged.
You rubbed your forehead tiredly while Seojun continued looking between you and Jungkook with the kind of hopeful excitement only children could weaponize successfully.
And unfortunately?
Nobody in the group looked remotely interested in helping either of you escape.
After a long moment, your eyes lifted toward Jungkook automatically, and he was already looking at you again.
A quiet sigh escaped you eventually.
“Fine.”
Seojun screamed loudly enough to concern nearby parents.
And beside you, Jungkook exhaled once through his nose before muttering quietly:
“We’re never hearing the end of this.”
Unfortunately, both of you already knew he was right.
By the time everyone finally reached Seoah and Jimin’s house later that afternoon, the children were already halfway asleep, and the adults looked emotionally exhausted from prolonged exposure to elementary school energy.
The second the front door opened, Seojun immediately kicked his shoes off somewhere near the hallway and disappeared deeper into the house while Dohyun followed after him significantly slower, still clutching the participation ribbon tightly in one hand.
“Do not run!” Seoah yelled automatically before sighing tiredly. “Actually, whatever. Break a bone if you want.”
“That feels irresponsible parenting-wise,” Jin noted while stepping inside.
“I’m off duty mentally.”
You slipped your shoes off near the entrance beside Mirae, while Taehyung immediately collapsed face-first onto the living room couch like a man returning from war.
“I think I pulled something.”
“You pulled absolutely nothing,” Jimin replied while walking toward the kitchen.
“My dignity then.”
“That was gone years ago.”
The familiar warmth of the house settled around you almost instantly. Soft music somewhere in the background, the faint smell of food still lingering from earlier lunch preparations, sunlight filtering lazily through wide windows overlooking the backyard.
You’d been here dozens of times before.
Movie nights. Birthdays. Random dinners that stretched until two in the morning because nobody felt like going home yet.
Familiar.
Comfortable.
And yet today, something felt slightly different around the edges.
Which was deeply inconvenient.
Loud footsteps suddenly thundered across the hallway before Seojun reappeared holding a Nintendo controller dramatically above his head.
“Uncle Jungkook!”
Jungkook had barely stepped fully into the living room before the child crashed into him again.
At this point, the attachment honestly looked permanent.
“You promised Mario Kart.”
“I said maybe.”
“That means yes.”
Jungkook exhaled quietly through his nose while Seojun already dragged him toward the television without waiting for an actual answer.
You moved toward the kitchen island slowly, reaching for one of the water bottles left there earlier while the noise from the living room blended together naturally behind you.
For a moment, you simply leaned against the counter quietly, letting the familiar atmosphere settle around you.
Your eyes drifted toward the television unconsciously as Seojun’s horrified scream suddenly echoed across the room.
“UNCLE JUNGKOOK CHEATED.”
“I literally didn’t.”
“You used shortcuts!” You couldn’t help but yell from the kitchen.
“That’s the point of the game.”
“NOOO THAT'S EVIL!!” Dohyun shrieks beside him.
A laugh escaped Jin immediately. “Some things never change.”
Your brows furrowed slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jin continued, “You and Jungkook used to fight over Mario Kart literally all the time.”
“OHH yeahhh, I remember you threw a controller at him once,” Taehyung reminded you from the couch.
A horrifying amount of old memories hit you at once.
Summer vacations spent screaming at each other over Mario Kart. Taehyung and Hoseok acting like sports commentators while you and Jungkook fought over shortcuts and blue shells like national enemies.
Jungkook quietly smirking whenever he won.
And you actually throwing a controller at his head.
Honestly, childhood should’ve come with therapy reimbursement.
“In my defense, he deserved it.”
Across the room, Jungkook finally glanced up from the screen toward you.
“Why? Just because I won?”
“No, because you cheated.”
“I was just good at it.”
“You used shortcuts. And that is pretty evil.”
The response came so quickly, so naturally, that the room went quiet for half a second before Seoah burst into laughter.
“Oh my God,” she wheezed. “You’re literally having the exact same argument even after so many years.”
Before you could think too deeply about it, Dohyun suddenly appeared beside you near the kitchen entrance, holding a Nintendo controller carefully against his chest.
“Y/N noona,” he called softly.
You looked down immediately. “Hm?”
The child lifted the controller toward you with complete seriousness.
“Can you help me beat uncle Jungkook?”
The competitive energy in the room had already fully shifted now.
Dohyun climbed beside you proudly while Jungkook picked up another controller across from you, sleeves pushed slightly upward again as he adjusted the settings one-handed without looking away from the screen.
And maybe it was pathetic how naturally all of this came back.
The familiar competitiveness.
The instinctive irritation.
The way your attention narrowed toward him automatically the second the game started.
Like some deeply embarrassing part of your brain still remembers exactly what it felt like trying to beat Jeon Jungkook at fourteen years old.
“Ready?” he asked finally.
You narrowed your eyes slightly. “I’m going to ruin your ego in front of children.” A quiet scoff left him.
“We’ll see.”
The game became violent almost immediately.
“You hit me on purpose!”
“You drove into the banana peel voluntarily,” Jungkook replied calmly without once looking away from the screen.
“That was sabotage.”
“That’s not a real thing.”
“IT SHOULD BE.”
Seojun was practically bouncing beside the couch at this point while Dohyun sat pressed against your side, clutching a juice box with the kind of intense concentration usually reserved for national sporting events.
Meanwhile, every adult in the room had completely abandoned normal conversation to spectate the disaster unfolding on television.
“You’re losing,” Taehyung informed you happily from the couch.
“Shut up.”
“You’re getting humbled in front of children.”
“Shut the fuck up Kim Taehyung.”
“ Y/N noona said a bad word!!!” Seojun gasped beside Jungkook, who remained infuriatingly calm despite the fact that the rest of the room had descended into complete chaos around him.
One hand rested loosely around the controller while the other lazily pressed buttons with unfair precision, tattoos shifting beneath rolled sleeves every time his fingers moved.
And somehow, despite years passing since the last time you’d properly played against him, nothing about his habits had changed.
Your eyes narrowed toward the screen. “You’re saving the shell intentionally.”
Jungkook glanced toward you briefly. “You noticed?”
“You always do that before the last turn.”
The response slipped out before you could stop.
Even after years of barely tolerating each other, your brain still remembers the way Jeon Jungkook played Mario Kart when you were kids.
Humiliating information honestly.
Then Seojun screamed loudly enough to physically shake the atmosphere.
“NOONA HIT HIM NOW.”
The realization barely had time to settle before Dohyun suddenly gasped beside you.
“You’re winning!” Your attention snapped back toward the television immediately.
And sure enough:
Final lap.
First place.
“Oh, absolutely not,” Jungkook muttered quietly for the first time all game.
Victory surged through you instantly.
The same familiar competitive thrill from years ago was rising embarrassingly fast as you leaned forward slightly, fully focused now, while the finish line approached closer and closer.
“MOVE,” you yelled dramatically at the screen.
“Y/N noona is scary,” Seojun whispered loudly.
“She’s always scary when she plays this game,” Taehyung replied.
Then finally the screen displayed the words FINISH along with a FIRST PLACE written in an exagerating font.
Silence hit the room for exactly one second before the chaos exploded.
“I WON.”
Dohyun looked genuinely emotional beside you while Seojun screamed as if his football team had just won a championship.
Meanwhile, across from you, Jungkook stared at the screen for another second before leaning back slowly against the couch. “You used shortcuts.”
Your jaw dropped immediately. “Oh, now shortcuts are cheating?”
“They were strategic when I did it.”
“That is SUCH hypocritical behavior.”
For the first time all evening, a real smile appeared properly across Jungkook’s face.
A small crooked smile, just like the ones he gave you when you were kids, which was now gone almost immediately.
But somehow, the image stayed with you long after the laughter around the room faded.
And that felt far more dangerous than losing ever could’ve.
