Summary: You’re a survivor within this madness call scenarios. A madness where you’re force to clear the various scenarios made to entertain the higher beings. Running and fighting against monsters and humans alike. The scenarios twisted and tested your morality in the name of writing a grandiose story. However despite the madness wilting away your sanity and fueling your hatred toward it, a certain constellation had been there from the beginning. Watching over you, lending you a helping hand without asking much in return.
Pairing: Constellation!Phainon/Khaslana x f!reader
Tags: Modern au, orv au, alternative universe(cannon-diversion), slow-burn, blood and violence, cursing, murder, suggestive, explicit content, questionable morality.
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[Masterlist]
You’re woken up by the system, congratulating you for surviving the third scenario. Then giving you the reward befitting of the scenario’s difficulty.
Since you don’t have any plan for the day due to the dungeon being raid by a lunatic, you decide to just laze around in your green zone. However your food supply is depleting as the day gone by.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said you could hunt monster]
A shiver run down your spine just remembering the horrendous monsters you’ve seen so far.
As if sensing your trouble, Phainon console you through the blue screen.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said you don’t have to worry]
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said you have him]
Miraculously, you do feel slightly at ease. At times like this, you thought you made a good decision choosing Phainon as your supporting constellation, “You know, Phainon. If you were in a relationship, you’ll make a good partner.” You blurt out.
The blue screen did not appear as quick as usual. You imagine the surprise colouring his face although you had never seen him before. Nonetheless, you imagine his surprise look, eyes widen, mouth slightly agape wondering how should he respond.
Maybe you were right about that because Phainon hadn’t send a single response even after minutes has passed. “Don’t tell me, you’ve never been in a relationship before.” You tease but he still didn’t respond.
Concern, you called his name. “Phainon.”
Again, not a single respond was given.
“Phainon, are you mad?” You asked. What if you accidentally poke at an old wound?
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said he was looking for a stove]
‘Oh, good. He wasn’t mad.’ Relieved, you left the conversation behind, “What stove?”
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said you can used it to cook monster’s meat]
“Do I need seasoning?” You need to know that before cooking any meal. You’re not just going to eat bland food now, would you?
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said it’ll be alright without seasoning]
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said cooked monster meat are juicy]
That sounds delicious but the real problem is could you hunt monster? On your way to Chungmuro, the only monster you have encounter is the specter.
“Phainon,” You rummage through your pouch, searching for the item dropped by specters you’ve killed. “can I eat this?” You shows him the stones.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, shake his head]
If the spirit stone is not meant to be eaten, then what is the used of it? You can’t just let it rot in your bag.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said it will amplify your trauma]
“Then, is this a torturing device?” If it could amplify someone’s trauma, it wouldn’t be too different from torture. ‘If that’s the case, I might need this for later use.’ The spirit stones return to the safety of your pouch.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said it would be difficult to use as torturing device]
That’s unfortunate for you, “Why is that?”
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said once you eat the spirit stone, you will temporarily become a ghost species]
Getting your trauma amplified and become a ghost species temporarily on top of that. It does not sound very appealing to you.
[Constellation who’s a masochist added that monsters species cannot attack you nor will human]
On a second thought, it might be of help to you.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, send a meteor to Constellation who’s a masochist’s location]
[Constellations who likes thrill whistle loudly and close their ears]
[Constellations from absolute good avert their eyes away]
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, warn you to not used it]
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said it does not worth the trouble]
You blink at the respond. He’s not that aggressive usually, this small thing in your possession must be a big deal for him to react that way.
“Relax, I’m just asking.” Then Phainon bombard you with another responds telling you to never take the spirit stones. He even go as far as telling you to swear an oath. “Alright, I won’t eat it.” You reassured.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, let out a sigh of relief]
Unfortunately, it was a short relief until you open your mouth, “Unless—”
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, forbid you from eating the spirit stone]
“Hear me out first, would you?”
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said it’s the end of discussion]
“Alright, fine. I won’t.” At least you didn’t swear the oath to him.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said you must swear]
“Fuck you.”
For a moment, there’s no reply from him but it’s just a moment.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said swear the oath, not swear at him]
“Although you’re being specific, I’m still not doing it.” Why would you have the spirit stone if not to use it?
Who knows maybe tonight or tomorrow, you’ll be force to step out of your green zone and fend for yourself. Why not use the item that could save your life?
If what that masochist constellation said is true, you’ll be invisible to both monsters and human. Isn’t that a bit too good? If you ignore the fact it will amplify your trauma— it’s a good deal.
In a reassuring tone, you speak to Phainon. “I can handle my trauma very well.”
[Constellations who had been watching you are side eyeing you]
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, raise his eyebrow]
“... Aggressive but it’s well handled.” It’s not the typical way of handling trauma but it keep you sane somehow—so it work.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said you still need to swear the oath]
“My trauma is not that bad.”
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said to not downplay your trauma]
Seeing the conversation is not going anywhere, you decide to just swear the oath to him. “I swear,” You pull out a spirit stone out of your pouch, raising it up in the air as if to make a point, “I won’t use this stone no matter the circumstance.”
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, nod]
*****
Phainon let out a relief sigh. “She’s so stubborn.” Messaging his temple, exhausted. In front of him is the numerous screens from Star Stream, one of them showing his incarnation sitting quietly in her green zone. While some are showing incarnations who claimed to be prophets.
Then, there are two screen separated from the others. One showing the man who stabbed his incarnation, and other screen showing a blurry face man with his group hunting monsters.
Phainon narrow his eyes at the two incarnation who he’s been keeping an eye on since the end of the first scenario.
He’ve overheard Olympus speak of singularity as of late, his curiosity get the better of him and checked on the subject of their topic.
Through the screen, he heard his incarnation calling for him. [“Phainon.”]
He send an indirect message to her as a response.
“You’ll protect me, right?” A hint of doubt and anxiety lace into her voice.
A fond smile grace his lips, his hand tracing over his incarnation’s image. “Of course.” He whispered as if it could reached his incarnation’s ears. “Without doubt.” He promised.
*****
There’s this thought that stuck with you since the apocalypse begin.
Phainon is generous. In fact he’s very generous and lenient that you almost feel bad for being difficult a moment ago but at the same time, your gut is telling you something is going to happen.
You pull out your phone that’s on the verge of dying with crack everywhere but it still dutifully display the current time on the lock screen.
[2 p.m.]
You turn off the phone and put it back into your pouch. Saving the battery as much as you could until you find a powerbank or a replacement for it. Although you doubt, you’ll be using it often.
One thing for sure, you’re bored out of your wit. For the first time since the apocalypse start, you could actually feel boredom haunting you like a ghost haunting some poor soul.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, ask what’s wrong]
“I felt bored.” You confess. It wouldn’t hurt to confine your trouble to Phainon.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, ponder]
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said that’s a good thing]
At the response, you arch an eyebrow at him—precisely, at the screen. “Why is that?”
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said it means you feel safe]
“Now that you said that.” You wonder back to the past few days. Never once did you feel completely safe despite sleeping soundlessly at night.
In fact, you’re constantly on edge with the thought that everyone would stab you if you let your guard down, just like how the passengers kill each other in cold blood during the first scenario. Though it’s a one-sided massacre, that one scenario made you realized how dangerous human can be when push to a corner.
Not to mention, law did not exist anymore and nothing is keeping the beast in human’s skin in check.
Beast in human’s skin.
You look up. The ceiling greet your sight but it’s not your main focus, you’re looking at him. At your sponsor who had been on your side since the start of this apocalypse.
Beast in human’s skin.
Phainon who had been nothing but kind and generous, supporting and lenient. If he hadn’t hint you of the screwdriver at that time, you would have been dead.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, look at you]
Beast in human’s skin.
Closing your eyes shut, you laid down on the cold floor. “Since I’m bored, let’s talk about something.”
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, apologize]
“Are you busy?” A question shoot out of your mouth, curious evidence in your tone.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said he won’t be able to accompany you for a few days]
Phainon don’t usually leave you for long. The longest he ever did was just an hour or two. Him leaving you for days made you slightly anxious just thinking about it.
But since when did you become too dependant to him? Would there be consequences if you keep relying on him?
“It’s alright, I can take care of myself.” You reassured, waving your hand and smiling as if it could lessen his worry, that is—if he truly is worry for you.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, truly feel sorry]
“Don’t be like that.” The usual reassured tone slip past your tongue like honey. “I’ll be fine.”
The real question is, would really you be fine on your own?
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said he’s sorry]
“You don’t trust me with myself?” You jokingly ask which he response too quickly.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, said yes]
An offended gasp escape your lips, “How could you say that?”
[Constellations from absolute good agree with Constellation, Prisoner of Flames]
Just how unreliable are you in their eyes even those hypocrite don’t trust you with yourself?
*****
The third scenario begin without delay, however this time you feel quite lonely that your sponsor isn’t around to lift the mood.
Despite the monsters roaming around you, the percentage shown through the survival rate haven’t change at all which is reassuring when Phainon isn’t around.
The greatsword rest next to you, in case the dokkeabie decide to screw you over and the worst case scenario happen.
Before Phainon left, he give you a stove mean to cook monster’s meat and 20,000 coins for emergency use. Also reminding you to not put yourself in danger and run whenever your survival rate drop too low. Afterward, you haven’t heard anything from him.
“Phainon.” You call him over but the usual blue screen with his modified nickname haven’t shows up. “Must have been very busy.” You mutter.
[Constellation who’s a masochist said you’re like a wife denying her husband’s death]
A cough left your throat but it was drown by the growl from the nearby monsters. You reach over the nearby drink. Quenching your dry throat, “Why so ominous?”
[Constellation who’s a masochist said you’ve been calling Constellation Prisoner of Flames for the past 30 minutes]
“Because I’m bored.” Phainon will have something to chat about if he’s around but not tonight. He’s not around and you couldn’t sleep without him talking your ears off.
The thought that you’re too dependant to him made you wonder how are you going to survive without him if he’s gone for good.
Nonetheless, you survive the second day without much trouble but the constant growl from the monsters around keep you awake the whole night.
A yawn left your lips as you stare yourself in the mirror. Since Phainon isn’t around, you couldn’t properly take a bath because some pervert of constellations are watching like a hawk would their prey. Though they give you coins when they get to see your bare ankles or thighs, it still make every strand of hairs in your body to stand still in disgust.
During the day, you try to catch a wink of sleep in some quiet corner and that quietest corner just so happened to be near the dungeon. Where that lunatic man had the teenage girl guarding it strictly so he could hoard all the rewards.
“Unnie.” The teenage girl call with a raise eyebrow. The sword still sheath in her hand as she seize you. “You don’t look like someone who catch a wink of sleep.” She added.
[Survival against this individual: 70%]
[85% chance for this individual to agree with you]
Maybe due to the lack of caffeine in your blood, the question slip out of your mouth. “Can you let me sleep for an hour before you kick me out of here?”
The girl blink a few time, “Since you’re cool, of course!” Then she sat beside you, her sword resting against her shoulder. With a confident grin she reassured, “Don’t worry, I got your back, unnie.”
“Thank you... You are?”
“Lee Jihye.”
“Thank you, Lee Jihye.”
“Anytime!”
Not even a minute passed, your eyelid drop and you feels like you’re falling from somewhere high. Very high in fact.
Then a growl, not from monster but from a stomach stir you awake almost immediately.
Lee Jihye who was nearby almost pull out her sword of it’s sheath the moment you jolt awake. Then her stomach grumble and followed by yours, who haven’t had breakfast yet.
To avoid the awkwardness, she suggest hunting some monster together and since it would help you get used to killing monster, you agree.
Therefore, you encounter a... Bizarre group. Actually, there’s this one member who’s pretty weird in your eyes. Not that he had done anything to earn the irk from you— it’s just his face. If you had to describe it, you could only say, blurry as if a glitch is hiding him from you.
However, what worry you is your calculation skill.
[S4#v1%@ l ®@te / 391#@%]
[Err0r!]
This is the first time the skill shown an error. Especially when your sponsor isn’t around, adding to your trouble but your confusion fall short after you and Jihye decide to help the survivors to the station.
The way back is quite awkward, the teenage girl did not seem like she’s in the mood for some chat and the survivors doesn’t look like they want to start any conversation after fighting the specters.
Though it was short live until the blurry face man decide to proclaim that he’s a companion of Yoo Jonghyuk.
Although you don’t know who that person is. Judging from Lee Jihye’s reaction, you could guess that’s the name of the teenager’s master and maniac who stabbed you on the shoulder.
Lee Jihye turn to you with a serious look, “Unnie, can you keep an eye on them? I’ll go get master!” She said then run off before you could reply.
You want to refuse actually. Why would you want to be within the vicinity of your stabber? Knowing what kind of ruckus he cause back when he first arrived here, you certainly don’t want to be on his bad side— let alone crossing path with him again.
“You are that person’s companion?” You ask as a matter of confirmation.
The man smile with confident, “Yes. I am Yoo Jonghyuk’s companion.”
[T+3 (8#!8# 9f 7#is p3®s aon @#$ 1738%]
‘He’s a maniac too.’ You assumed. Noting that you should put some distance with this man specifically because last time you check, Yoo Jonghyuk can still be within prediction of Possibility Calculation.
As far as you know, someone unpredictable is hard to deal with.
“All of you must have been very tire.” Come the polite smile to your face, “Did you know about the 3rd Scenario?” It wouldn’t be too bad to strike a conversation a little since the teenage girl did ask you to keep an eye on them while she fetch her master.
After all, if that girl’s master can sense your presence and didn’t hesitate to stab someone with his sword. Who knows what will happened if you were to get on her bad side.
You converse while resting with the group. Therefore, you manage to get their name in that conversation.
“How did you distribute food to other survivors?” Lee Hyunsung with book and pen in hands ask, keen on taking note of every detail.
Remembering the days when Yoo Jonghyuk arrived at this place, he didn’t bother to take care of the survivors who come with him other than Lee Jihye. Since then, the survivors had been relying on that girl to hunt monster for them. That’s too long of an explanation, so you cut it short. “That girl just now is the one who hunt monsters for the survivors.”
“The survivors?” Kim Dokja who claimed to be a companion of Yoo Jonghyuk raise an eyebrow. “You’re not relying on Jihye too?”
That hurt your pride for some reason. You’re older than Lee Jihye and weaker than her but you couldn’t bring yourself to rely on her to bring food to the table. You’re not that shameless at least. “No, we just so happened to hunt monsters together at that time.”
“I see.” Kim Dokja yawn, completely bored. Though the glance thrown to your direction goes unnoticed, ‘She must be another extra who will die later.’ He thought. From what he observed, there is nothing worth noting from your character profile. Even the name of your sponsor doesn’t ring a bell to him.
You wonder where has that teenage girl run to because it’s taking longer than you expected. It’s to the point of you leading the newly arrived group to the restroom. Thankfully, the other survivors don’t have the courage to approach you or the group.
“What is that green zone for?” Yoo Sangah pointed toward an unoccupied green zone and two survivor fighting over it with bruises all over their face.
Seeing how confuse she was, you decide to explain to her. “People like to call it room, you should find one immediately before the third scenario begin. It’s essential if you want to survive tonight.” All of you climb the stairs, letting the fight over the green zone continue.
The murmurs of crowd enter your ears, alerting you of what’s awaiting upstairs. Arriving at the first floor, you find a crowd of survivors begging to be let in into a certain green zone.
You remembered coming across the biggest room in Chungmuro when you first arrived. Unfortunately, it was claimed by a grumpy old man. Phainon alerted you to not get on such person’s bad side, thus you avoid the owner til this day.
A kid run past you, hurrying toward the crowd. Wasn’t he the same kid currently with the guy who claimed to be Yoo Jonghyuk’s companion?
Yes, it’s the same kid actually.
“Kid, wait—!”
The kid had disappear into the crowd and before you could followed through, everyone hurriedly dispersed. The panicked painted across the crowd is enough to spell trouble.
“Sangah-ssi, please hold onto Heewon-ssi.” Kim Dokja left the unconscious woman to Yoo Sangah and rush toward the dispersing crowd, chasing after the kid.
[SU4:7v@l r07e* 1-1uπ664&]
Seeing the undeciphered screen, you hesitate to lend a hand. Although you avoid the grumpy old man till now, the hushed whisper of his capabilities is enough for you to know that you couldn’t win against such person.
The syllables of your name fall off of Yoo Sangah’s lips as she beg you to help with Lee Hyunsung looking at you expectantly next to her.
Did you help? No.
Why would Phainon warn you to not get on that grumpy old man’s side if not to put you away from danger? Even the probability of you dying is significant enough for you to know that you must not do anything that would upset him. If possible never made contact with him.
But those pleading eyes are poking at your conscience as second turn to minute. However the sound of notification grab your attention.
Ding!
It was your skill that could finally work properly again.
[The chances of situation to escalate further is 37%]
Ding!
[The chances of situation to escalate further is 25%]
“Don’t worry.” You reassured, there’s one person that could put your survival at risk at the same time capable of putting people like Gong Pildu in check with his strength alone.
[The chances of situation to escalate further is 14%]
Then the lunatic come to the rescue. Of course, you left as soon as you sense his presence nearby. The chances of you getting swept up into this mess is pretty low but you dare not take any chances.
Though it’s not long before the group find you again before the scenario begin. Not to kill you, just asking if there’s any empty room left in the station.
You have no idea if there are any vacant rooms left, you don’t have the heart to give these people false hope, so you told them that you don’t think there are any left.
Maybe karma is getting at you for leaving the group on their own when that lunatic in black coat appear.
Or maybe it was when they asked you for help to search for any vacant room so they can occupy it because as soon as the scenario begin, the dokkeabie added a new rule where some room will disappear.
Unfortunately, yours is one of them.
The green zone disappeared instantly, causing the monsters to snap their head toward you simultaneously. Hunger crystal clear in their eyes. Not wasting any second the herd of monsters swarm you like bees would to invader.
[Warning!]
[Survival rate decreasing tremendously!]
[Survival rate: 54%]
The hold on your greatsword tighten as you smash the closest monster with it’s hilt then slicing the monster behind it in two. As if not wanting to give a moment of respite two monsters jump across the corpse, snapping their jaw open. With a forceful swing, the blade slash through the monsters’ bone.
After killing four monster consecutively, your lungs is gasping for air, your legs shaking from both fear and exhaustion. You’re drained, both physically and mentally simply by facing the monsters.
For a moment, you’re certain that you wouldn’t get used to living within this lawless world.
A deafening roar echo on the station wall, drowning all dying scream of other survivor.
[100% chance for two large monster to attack simultaneously]
Just as the system warn, two monster twice your size spring forward, their feet stomping onto the floor, leaving a den behind.
[5,000 coins has been invested to strength]
[Strength lv. 20 -> lv. 30]
[4,600 coins has been invested to stamina]
[Stamina lv. 8 -> lv. 20]
[4,900 coins has been invested to agility]
[Agility lv. 7 -> lv. 20]
[Survival rate: 56%]
Though, you increase your stats, the percentage shown by the system does not brought you any security.
Another large monsters approach, the survival rate drop.
[Survival rate: 55%]
Resisting your fear, you took the risk to run toward one of the approaching monsters. It’s claw wide open, ready to grab you. Swiftly, you dodge, sliding between it’s legs and slashing it’s belly open. Blood spurt on the floor as the monster’s inside decorate the white pristine floor.
Without second wasted, you throw the bloody greatsword straight to the other large monster’s head. Blood spurt to the ceiling before the monster fall lifeless along with it’s kin.
Where is Phainon when you need him the most?
You curse under your breath, taking the greatsword off the monster’s skull and slash the incoming monster in half. “Phainon!” You shout, voice hoarse and desperate but there’s no answer from him.
A monster lunge forward, jaw wide open, ready to sink it’s teeth to your right leg. Quickly you lift your leg, letting the monster to slide across the floor with a screeching sound.
You stomped onto it’s head, breaking it’s skull, molding the head flat with red liquid spurt put of it’s ears and nose. Once again you swing the greatsword and the floor is bath in blood, the smell of iron made you dizzy and nauseous but you must push through it.
[Activating Stigma, Let There Be Light lv. 1]
A blinding light left the monsters in daze, giving you a chance to escape death’s clutch. With great effort, the greatsword slash the dazed monsters’ head in one swing.
Like a repeated motion, you use the stigma again then kill the dazed monster. However, there seems to be something ripped out of you after using that stigma multiple time.
[You have drained all your mana]
[Due to insufficient mana, the Stigma effect is cut in half]
Unfortunately, just as the system message appear, the effect from your stigma only effective against monsters that were near you. In no time, you’re once again swarm by monsters.
[Warning!]
[Survival rate decreasing tremendously!]
[Survival rate: 13%]
Ignoring the system, you stood your ground. Slashing every monsters that dare to open their jaw against you with the greatsword until you’re push to a corner.
[98% chance your head will be chomped]
At the long warning, you duck under as a monster appear and crash onto the wall above you. Swiftly, you strike it with your fist, sending the monster flying to it’s herd. A growl vibrate next to you, a ground rat like monster’s gaze remain lock on you as it raise it’s claw, swiftly you used the greatsword to block the strike.
[100% chance your shoulder will—]
Crack..!
The sound of bone shuttered cause you to glance over your shoulder. Another ground rat got you. It sunk it’s teeth deeper into your flesh, you could almost hear something tore apart. Momentarily, you let go of the greatsword. Using your fist to strike it’s head but a sharp pain course through your left leg, loosening your strike’s force slightly.
Another monster bite onto your thigh as it pull away with it’s teeth pierce deep in your muscle. Then a scream tore through your throat as an unbearable pain pierce your stomach. With blurry vision, you only see monsters sinking their teeth over your flesh, tearing you alive.
Your weapon is no where to be seen, your functioning hand try to pry every monsters off of you but it was an obvious failure when another keep latching their teeth to your skin. Leaving you helpless and terrify.
[Survival rate: 3%]
[Constellations who likes thrill roar in joy]
[Constellations from absolute good are praying for you safety]
[Survival rate: 2%]
[Constellations who likes thrill are cheering for you]
[You have been gifted 1,500 coins]
“I’m not...” going to die. You thought, at least not as your flesh being ravaged by monsters. Your free hand reaching over your pocket where another spirit stone is stored.
You swallow the stone whole. The pain numb before you feels like you’re falling from a high place.
[You have become a ghost species]
[Survival rate: 1%]
*****
Amidst the golden wheat, with misshapes clay in hand, Phainon sense something had happened to his incarnation.
Quickly, he open the Star Stream channel. Eyes searching for the familiar figure of his incarnation through the screen but what greet him is only a swamp of monsters and endless terrified scream from dying survivors.
His eyes then caught sight of a familiar greatsword abandoned on the floor—bath in blood. Not far from it is a swamp of monsters—feasting, then there’s a monster chewing a leg just a meter away from the swarm and two monsters fighting over a piece of torn clothe.
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, ask what he had missed]
[Constellation, Prisoner of Flames, ask where is his incarnation]
[The constellations in channel BIR- remain silent]
[A Constellation from absolute good told Constellation, Prisoner of Flames what had happened]
The first thing you noticed was the cloud of warmth enveloping you. It felt cosy, and for some reason your body seemed to be acting as if it had had the chance to relax so thoroughly for the first time in ages. You stayed wrapped up in that cocoon of sheets, trying to shield yourself from the morning chill and soothe a migraine. The air was freezing; could it be that the coldest season of the year had already arrived? You tossed and turned in bed, cursing yourself for forgetting to close the window the night before. A few rays of light filtered through the shutters, dimly illuminating the room.
The air rushed out of your lungs and your heart seemed to slow down as you looked around. This wasn’t your room.
Goodness, your room had never been so bare! Feeling your heart pounding, you leapt out of bed and threw open the shutters.
You were blinded by the light. The room was on the second floor, offering a view over some unfamiliar square. Pedestrians and carriages passed along the streets, then disappeared between the buildings and headed who knows where. You stood motionless, paralysed for what seemed like an eternity. Only when a maid in the building opposite opened the windows and looked at you with an equally bewildered expression did you hasten to close the window.
Were you really here? You could have sworn that everything you’d experienced in the last twenty-four hours was the result of alcohol and lack of sleep. You sighed, as a shiver ran down your spine. Why were you in an inn? What had happened last night that you couldn’t remember? What were that man’s intentions? The air seemed to turn to lead. Could it be that he had some interest in you? After all, it would have been a walk in the park for him to make you disappear. In that century, you didn’t exist; you were nobody. If you had disappeared, nobody would have noticed.
You headed for the door, making sure to keep your pace brisk and quick. You turned the handle, surprised to see the door open and the corridor deserted. Perhaps he didn’t mean any harm, you mused as you walked down the corridor. However, you had no desire to blindly trust a stranger, nor to stop long enough to find out whether your paranoia was justified or not.
But where would you go? What kind of world would you find outside those four walls? And how would it treat someone like you, who was clearly out of place? Pushing all rational thought aside, you crossed the corridor as quickly as possible and slipped down the stairs. Casting a quick glance at the dining area, you thanked your lucky stars that most of last night’s patrons were either absent or barely awake.
So you left, with no destination other than the desire to get away. Perhaps it was an irrational choice, or the remnants of an ancient instinct driving you to survive. Of course, you weren’t used to living without a home, and if that Moran had actually had good intentions, then you would have been a bit of a dickhead, leaving others to foot the bill. But despite this, you didn’t stop, neither in the face of the unease lingering in your heart nor even when you heard the innkeeper calling out to you.
On Friday mornings, the old man walked down Drury Lane. It was a fact nobody would have questioned: the grass is green, the sky is blue, and every friday at nine sixteen, that old man walked down Drury Lane with the precision of a Swiss watch. Not that anyone would have been interested in questioning it, nor in watching some old man’s morning stroll for more than a few seconds.
That day it was rainy, with torrents of water pouring down on the city without any mercy. Normally, after running his errands, the old man would have gone straight home, but not that day. It so happened that, for one reason or another—perhaps due to roadworks or a strike—not a single carriage was to be seen that day. So the old man stood there, beneath a portico, as if waiting for something to happen.
“Ah, fuck” you sighed with a curse, crossing the road with quick strides and praying with the fragile hope that your foot wouldn’t sink into a fatal puddle. God, you knew the weather in England was awful—every media outlet, travel vlog or documentary kept mentioning it—yet you hadn’t expected it to be this bad now that the sky had suddenly gone from clear to bringing down the heavens.
Come to think of it, perhaps you should've thought things more carefully while wandering around the city or before tipping off Moran. But right now, as you were running along the cobbled streets, you couldn't afford to waste a single second crying over spilt milk—instead, you had to decide what to do.
You retreated beneath a desolate porch, home only to a tannery, a bakery and a few small shops you couldn’t quite make out. The place was deserted, in an almost surreal way now that most people had taken shelter indoors. You sat down on the ground, uncharactely indifferent to what you might find on the pavement of a Victorian street.
Despite the cold, the road was comfortable. Ever since you’d arrived in this place, in this timeline, you’d always been careful not to betray yourself, and now, after what had seemed like an eternity, you had the chance to lift that veil, if only for a moment.
It’s pleasant, almost comfortable as— a cloth? You blinked, and there really was a cloth a few centimetres from your face. In front of you, the fabric—or rather, the hand holding it—remained motionless, as if waiting. You looked up to find an old man standing before you. A few seconds of silence passed, so deep that your ears picked up the indistinct fragments of chatter three blocks away.
“… You’ll end up catching a cold, you know,” he explained, looking somewhat embarrassed at your questioning gaze.
You took the cloth, muttering a quick thank you, and then rubbed its rough surface against your skin. The man in front of you seemed to hesitate for a moment. “If you’d like, I could accompany you home”
You shook your head. “I’m not from around here,” you replied, flinging the cloth vehemently onto your lap as if it had personally offended you.
The old man started. “Oh no, I meant I could call you a carriage and take you to your hotel,” he exclaimed, waving a hand in front of him with fervent vigour.
You blinked slowly, smiling awkwardly. “I’m not staying in a hotel.”
“Then to your hostel or, I don’t know, your home.”
“I don’t have either of those,” you sighed. Your smile turned into a grimace. “Look, there’s no address I can give you.”
The man’s expression shifted from confusion to a hint of compassion, though as soon as he noticed your glare, he was quick to hide it. “Don’t worry, anyway,” you added, swallowing your pride. If you really had to pass for homeless, then you’d see your act through to the end. “I’ll just keep wandering around the area then—”
“W-wait! You can’t do that! I mean, you’ll end up in a workhouse if the police caught you ” He hastened to explain after seeing the bitter note in your gaze. “Besides it’s a miracle you haven’t been arrested yet.
So that’s why people had been giving you dirty looks ever since you arrived here? At first you thought it was because of your clothes – after all, that was only natural, given that you were a time traveller or whatever. Seriously, it was only when you found yourself amongst those people that you realised just how ridiculous your everyday clothes must have looked to people of this era, being clearly too cheap and practical to belong to a bourgeoisie, yet at the same time too brightly coloured and expensive to be the clothes of a factory worker. With this concern on your mind, you had therefore snatched the first cloak that came to hand, displayed outside one of the many shacks in the neighbourhood. Those clothes were a curse, a target on your body. So who on earth would have said anything to you for acting out of necessity?
As your thoughts raced through your mind with the same frantic energy of a bird trapped in a cage, you heard a sound to your left. Glancing in that direction, you saw that the old man had moved closer to you and had slumped down onto the ground a few steps away. “Are you all right?” you asked with concern.
“Yes, I’ll keep her company for a while.” You didn’t object to that. “Goddammit, it looks like it’s never going to stop raining,” he sighed, probably more to himself than to you.
“Is it often like this, the weather?” you asked. In the distance, the storm continued to rage; raindrops kept pelting everything in their path, and occasionally thunder rumbled in the distance. In a way, you envied it. Sure, the wind was venting all its fury at that moment. But unlike it, you had no way of giving voice to the turmoil lurking within your soul.
You looked out beyond the porch, sighing. Setting the sentimentalism aside, this didn't change the fact that, right now, you had nothing to do.
“Not really, ” replied the old man. “This season is rather peculiar. I suppose you’re not used to this kind of weather.”
You opened your mouth to reply, you didn't know exactly what. No, you weren't used to it, given that you came not only from abroad but also from at least a hundred years in the future. Even if the geographical difference hadn't affected the climate you were used to, you were sure that climate change would've taken care of it anyway.
But before you could even blurt out the first lie that sprang to mind in a bid to get away with it, someone seemed to have other ideas. That someone being none other than your stomach.
A gurgle who intended to compete with the thunder broke the silence with the brazen temperament of one who is not afraid to be heard, only to be met by more silence. For a moment, in those quiet moments, you wondered whether you should say something or blame it on the storm.
“Are you hungry?” he inquired. You nodded solemnly, no longer trusting your own voice in the midst of such shame. Feeling the old man’s gaze upon you, you cursed for the first time in your life that an old man could still hear so clearly. “Let’s go and get you something to eat.”
Despite all your protests— Oh, I could surely have made it through the day without eating you didn't have to worry about me, you're too kind but I can manage without it after all I don't need it. And so, there you were in a diner once again, taking advantage of a stranger's kindness against your will. God, how could this old man be so stubborn? Seriously, you’d tried every trick in the book to get rid of him. You’d started with morality (‘Eh? You’re not hungry, you say? Come on, my ears still work just fine’) to financial practicality (’You can’t pay me back, you say? Come on, I’m not doing this for the money!’).
And so there you were, sitting at a table, staring at the plate that had been served to you as if it were forbidden fruit. You studied the old man, the room and the grain of the wood, as if to prove that your resolve could not be shaken. “No,” you said, pushing the plate towards him. “I’ve already caused you too much trouble; you take it.”
You shamelessly threw yourself into it, tucking into a hearty meal after what had felt like a lifetime. And just like that, the fantasy vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Alas, what could you have said? Despite your stubbornness, you were weak in the face of temptation.
“So why are you here, anyway? he suddenly asked halfway through the meal.
Your mind snapped to attention, having long since forgotten he was there. Did he really have to ask these questions without any warning? “Where here?” you asked, hoping to buy yourself a few more nanoseconds so your brain could come up with something.
“Here, in London,” explained the old man. “The city has become quite popular in recent years, but... well, you don't look like a traveler,” he added hesitantly after a brief pause.
...Do I really look that much like a homeless person? “Well, I was here on a trip, but some incidents happened...” In your mind, you applauded yourself. Although you didn't answer anything, you admired your own confidence. You glanced quickly at the door, praying to a higher power that your ordeal would end soon. What could you do now? While you believed your lies were credible enough, you certainly didn't trust how you'd deliver them.
So you sat there, feeling like a condemned criminal on the gallows whilst hoping for the best. You recounted many things to him, such as how your mother had apparently given birth to you at sea (which is why there are no documents about you basically) and how, after losing your parents at a young age, it was your grandfather who raised you in the countryside, before you decided to set off for London and ended up being pickpocketed.
You spoke, blending your longing for your era with your sense of loss, weaving truth and falsehood the best you could. He seemed to take it in his stride, showing you compassion—though he wasn’t very expressive—and offering you some comfort when he could. You felt guilty for lying so shamelessly to someone who was clearly good-hearted, but there wasn’t much you could do about it at that moment.
Slowly, the conversation shifted moving on to more mundane topics.
He told you his name, what he did for a living, and how long he’d been in town. You talked about London, your homelands, and his love for cats. For a moment, it felt as though you’d returned to your everyday life, as if you were catching up with an old acquaintance rather than a stranger.
The bell at the shop's door rang. You glanced quickly at the door, having caught a fleeting movement with the corner of your eye.
You felt your blood run cold; your eyes darted to the now-empty plate. No, no, no—what were the chances that this could happen?
You swallowed in vain, trying in vain to quell your ever-growing anxiety. Should you run away? Or pretend nothing was wrong? The only thing you knew was that you didn’t want anything to do with anyone from this era.
Your eyes returned to the old man, finding him staring at you in confusion. “I’m… I’m fine,” you cleared your throat. How much of your panic had he seen? Given your state, you hadn’t even noticed.
Footsteps approached before a shadow loomed over the table, undisturbed amongst the plates and crockery.
As the silence deafened you, you prayed that fate would be on your side, at least this once. And thus, your last hope was shattered.
"You..." The newcomer scrutinised the old man, seemingly asking him some kind of question. "What are you doing here?"
(A/n): AHHHH thank you everyone for supporting this fic, it really means a lot to me! I didn't really expect people to like this silly fic so much😭 I'm sorry if this update was pretty delayed but I decided to rewrite half of this since I thought it was too cliché. Anyways, I know that this chapter is really slow paced but trust the process🔥🔥
The first thing you noticed was the cloud of warmth enveloping you. It felt cosy, and for some reason your body seemed to be acting as if it had had the chance to relax so thoroughly for the first time in ages. You stayed wrapped up in that cocoon of sheets, trying to shield yourself from the morning chill and soothe a migraine. The air was freezing; could it be that the coldest season of the year had already arrived? You tossed and turned in bed, cursing yourself for forgetting to close the window the night before. A few rays of light filtered through the shutters, dimly illuminating the room.
The air rushed out of your lungs and your heart seemed to slow down as you looked around. This wasn’t your room.
Goodness, your room had never been so bare! Feeling your heart pounding, you leapt out of bed and threw open the shutters.
You were blinded by the light. The room was on the second floor, offering a view over some unfamiliar square. Pedestrians and carriages passed along the streets, then disappeared between the buildings and headed who knows where. You stood motionless, paralysed for what seemed like an eternity. Only when a maid in the building opposite opened the windows and looked at you with an equally bewildered expression did you hasten to close the window.
Were you really here? You could have sworn that everything you’d experienced in the last twenty-four hours was the result of alcohol and lack of sleep. You sighed, as a shiver ran down your spine. Why were you in an inn? What had happened last night that you couldn’t remember? What were that man’s intentions? The air seemed to turn to lead. Could it be that he had some interest in you? After all, it would have been a walk in the park for him to make you disappear. In that century, you didn’t exist; you were nobody. If you had disappeared, nobody would have noticed.
You headed for the door, making sure to keep your pace brisk and quick. You turned the handle, surprised to see the door open and the corridor deserted. Perhaps he didn’t mean any harm, you mused as you walked down the corridor. However, you had no desire to blindly trust a stranger, nor to stop long enough to find out whether your paranoia was justified or not.
But where would you go? What kind of world would you find outside those four walls? And how would it treat someone like you, who was clearly out of place? Pushing all rational thought aside, you crossed the corridor as quickly as possible and slipped down the stairs. Casting a quick glance at the dining area, you thanked your lucky stars that most of last night’s patrons were either absent or barely awake.
So you left, with no destination other than the desire to get away. Perhaps it was an irrational choice, or the remnants of an ancient instinct driving you to survive. Of course, you weren’t used to living without a home, and if that Moran had actually had good intentions, then you would have been a bit of a dickhead, leaving others to foot the bill. But despite this, you didn’t stop, neither in the face of the unease lingering in your heart nor even when you heard the innkeeper calling out to you.
On Friday mornings, the old man walked down Drury Lane. It was a fact nobody would have questioned: the grass is green, the sky is blue, and every friday at nine sixteen, that old man walked down Drury Lane with the precision of a Swiss watch. Not that anyone would have been interested in questioning it, nor in watching some old man’s morning stroll for more than a few seconds.
That day it was rainy, with torrents of water pouring down on the city without any mercy. Normally, after running his errands, the old man would have gone straight home, but not that day. It so happened that, for one reason or another—perhaps due to roadworks or a strike—not a single carriage was to be seen that day. So the old man stood there, beneath a portico, as if waiting for something to happen.
“Ah, fuck” you sighed with a curse, crossing the road with quick strides and praying with the fragile hope that your foot wouldn’t sink into a fatal puddle. God, you knew the weather in England was awful—every media outlet, travel vlog or documentary kept mentioning it—yet you hadn’t expected it to be this bad now that the sky had suddenly gone from clear to bringing down the heavens.
Come to think of it, perhaps you should've thought things more carefully while wandering around the city or before tipping off Moran. But right now, as you were running along the cobbled streets, you couldn't afford to waste a single second crying over spilt milk—instead, you had to decide what to do.
You retreated beneath a desolate porch, home only to a tannery, a bakery and a few small shops you couldn’t quite make out. The place was deserted, in an almost surreal way now that most people had taken shelter indoors. You sat down on the ground, uncharactely indifferent to what you might find on the pavement of a Victorian street.
Despite the cold, the road was comfortable. Ever since you’d arrived in this place, in this timeline, you’d always been careful not to betray yourself, and now, after what had seemed like an eternity, you had the chance to lift that veil, if only for a moment.
It’s pleasant, almost comfortable as— a cloth? You blinked, and there really was a cloth a few centimetres from your face. In front of you, the fabric—or rather, the hand holding it—remained motionless, as if waiting. You looked up to find an old man standing before you. A few seconds of silence passed, so deep that your ears picked up the indistinct fragments of chatter three blocks away.
“… You’ll end up catching a cold, you know,” he explained, looking somewhat embarrassed at your questioning gaze.
You took the cloth, muttering a quick thank you, and then rubbed its rough surface against your skin. The man in front of you seemed to hesitate for a moment. “If you’d like, I could accompany you home”
You shook your head. “I’m not from around here,” you replied, flinging the cloth vehemently onto your lap as if it had personally offended you.
The old man started. “Oh no, I meant I could call you a carriage and take you to your hotel,” he exclaimed, waving a hand in front of him with fervent vigour.
You blinked slowly, smiling awkwardly. “I’m not staying in a hotel.”
“Then to your hostel or, I don’t know, your home.”
“I don’t have either of those,” you sighed. Your smile turned into a grimace. “Look, there’s no address I can give you.”
The man’s expression shifted from confusion to a hint of compassion, though as soon as he noticed your glare, he was quick to hide it. “Don’t worry, anyway,” you added, swallowing your pride. If you really had to pass for homeless, then you’d see your act through to the end. “I’ll just keep wandering around the area then—”
“W-wait! You can’t do that! I mean, you’ll end up in a workhouse if the police caught you ” He hastened to explain after seeing the bitter note in your gaze. “Besides it’s a miracle you haven’t been arrested yet.
So that’s why people had been giving you dirty looks ever since you arrived here? At first you thought it was because of your clothes – after all, that was only natural, given that you were a time traveller or whatever. Seriously, it was only when you found yourself amongst those people that you realised just how ridiculous your everyday clothes must have looked to people of this era, being clearly too cheap and practical to belong to a bourgeoisie, yet at the same time too brightly coloured and expensive to be the clothes of a factory worker. With this concern on your mind, you had therefore snatched the first cloak that came to hand, displayed outside one of the many shacks in the neighbourhood. Those clothes were a curse, a target on your body. So who on earth would have said anything to you for acting out of necessity?
As your thoughts raced through your mind with the same frantic energy of a bird trapped in a cage, you heard a sound to your left. Glancing in that direction, you saw that the old man had moved closer to you and had slumped down onto the ground a few steps away. “Are you all right?” you asked with concern.
“Yes, I’ll keep her company for a while.” You didn’t object to that. “Goddammit, it looks like it’s never going to stop raining,” he sighed, probably more to himself than to you.
“Is it often like this, the weather?” you asked. In the distance, the storm continued to rage; raindrops kept pelting everything in their path, and occasionally thunder rumbled in the distance. In a way, you envied it. Sure, the wind was venting all its fury at that moment. But unlike it, you had no way of giving voice to the turmoil lurking within your soul.
You looked out beyond the porch, sighing. Setting the sentimentalism aside, this didn't change the fact that, right now, you had nothing to do.
“Not really, ” replied the old man. “This season is rather peculiar. I suppose you’re not used to this kind of weather.”
You opened your mouth to reply, you didn't know exactly what. No, you weren't used to it, given that you came not only from abroad but also from at least a hundred years in the future. Even if the geographical difference hadn't affected the climate you were used to, you were sure that climate change would've taken care of it anyway.
But before you could even blurt out the first lie that sprang to mind in a bid to get away with it, someone seemed to have other ideas. That someone being none other than your stomach.
A gurgle who intended to compete with the thunder broke the silence with the brazen temperament of one who is not afraid to be heard, only to be met by more silence. For a moment, in those quiet moments, you wondered whether you should say something or blame it on the storm.
“Are you hungry?” he inquired. You nodded solemnly, no longer trusting your own voice in the midst of such shame. Feeling the old man’s gaze upon you, you cursed for the first time in your life that an old man could still hear so clearly. “Let’s go and get you something to eat.”
Despite all your protests— Oh, I could surely have made it through the day without eating you didn't have to worry about me, you're too kind but I can manage without it after all I don't need it. And so, there you were in a diner once again, taking advantage of a stranger's kindness against your will. God, how could this old man be so stubborn? Seriously, you’d tried every trick in the book to get rid of him. You’d started with morality (‘Eh? You’re not hungry, you say? Come on, my ears still work just fine’) to financial practicality (’You can’t pay me back, you say? Come on, I’m not doing this for the money!’).
And so there you were, sitting at a table, staring at the plate that had been served to you as if it were forbidden fruit. You studied the old man, the room and the grain of the wood, as if to prove that your resolve could not be shaken. “No,” you said, pushing the plate towards him. “I’ve already caused you too much trouble; you take it.”
You shamelessly threw yourself into it, tucking into a hearty meal after what had felt like a lifetime. And just like that, the fantasy vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Alas, what could you have said? Despite your stubbornness, you were weak in the face of temptation.
“So why are you here, anyway? he suddenly asked halfway through the meal.
Your mind snapped to attention, having long since forgotten he was there. Did he really have to ask these questions without any warning? “Where here?” you asked, hoping to buy yourself a few more nanoseconds so your brain could come up with something.
“Here, in London,” explained the old man. “The city has become quite popular in recent years, but... well, you don't look like a traveler,” he added hesitantly after a brief pause.
...Do I really look that much like a homeless person? “Well, I was here on a trip, but some incidents happened...” In your mind, you applauded yourself. Although you didn't answer anything, you admired your own confidence. You glanced quickly at the door, praying to a higher power that your ordeal would end soon. What could you do now? While you believed your lies were credible enough, you certainly didn't trust how you'd deliver them.
So you sat there, feeling like a condemned criminal on the gallows whilst hoping for the best. You recounted many things to him, such as how your mother had apparently given birth to you at sea (which is why there are no documents about you basically) and how, after losing your parents at a young age, it was your grandfather who raised you in the countryside, before you decided to set off for London and ended up being pickpocketed.
You spoke, blending your longing for your era with your sense of loss, weaving truth and falsehood the best you could. He seemed to take it in his stride, showing you compassion—though he wasn’t very expressive—and offering you some comfort when he could. You felt guilty for lying so shamelessly to someone who was clearly good-hearted, but there wasn’t much you could do about it at that moment.
Slowly, the conversation shifted moving on to more mundane topics.
He told you his name, what he did for a living, and how long he’d been in town. You talked about London, your homelands, and his love for cats. For a moment, it felt as though you’d returned to your everyday life, as if you were catching up with an old acquaintance rather than a stranger.
The bell at the shop's door rang. You glanced quickly at the door, having caught a fleeting movement with the corner of your eye.
You felt your blood run cold; your eyes darted to the now-empty plate. No, no, no—what were the chances that this could happen?
You swallowed in vain, trying in vain to quell your ever-growing anxiety. Should you run away? Or pretend nothing was wrong? The only thing you knew was that you didn’t want anything to do with anyone from this era.
Your eyes returned to the old man, finding him staring at you in confusion. “I’m… I’m fine,” you cleared your throat. How much of your panic had he seen? Given your state, you hadn’t even noticed.
Footsteps approached before a shadow loomed over the table, undisturbed amongst the plates and crockery.
As the silence deafened you, you prayed that fate would be on your side, at least this once. And thus, your last hope was shattered.
"You..." The newcomer scrutinised the old man, seemingly asking him some kind of question. "What are you doing here?"
(A/n): AHHHH thank you everyone for supporting this fic, it really means a lot to me! I didn't really expect people to like this silly fic so much😭 I'm sorry if this update was pretty delayed but I decided to rewrite half of this since I thought it was too cliché. Anyways, I know that this chapter is really slow paced but trust the process🔥🔥
The lack of x reader fics are killing me🤧…anyways can I request a fanfic where reader was like ovulating and thought she is checking Sebastian out discreetly but it’s actually so obvious to him 😊😗
𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 | 𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
Tags: suggestive, tiny bit of dry humping if you squint, wrote it with them being in a relationship in mind but it's not mentioned anywhere so feel free to interpret it otherwise
A/N: My face lit up when I received this request ily anon. I hope it lives up to your expectations.
It must be that time of the month when certain parts of you are insatiable again. No man should ever look this good whilst doing something so simple as sitting on the couch and talking to someone with an irritated expression on his face. Yet you can't help but see him as the most beautiful and desirable thing right now. He turns back to you and asks for your help in the argument, and for a while, you have to pretend you weren't just holding back from pouncing on him in front of everyone.
The backyard is green and quiet. It’s just you and the robin in the oak tree, you’re outside for gun practice. You’d ask for Sebastian’s assistance, but you want to surprise him and make him proud- you must admit, your aim could use some work-, so you’re doing it alone. Ideally, there should be moving targets, but everyone is too busy with next week’s preparations to accompany you on a hunting trip, thus you stick with empty beer and wine bottles for now.
“Yer holding it wrong.” A booming voice startles you, the weapon goes off and leaves a hole in the tree trunk you propped the bottles on. A hand steadies your posture before you could turn around and scold him, his chest pressing into your back.
“You seriously gotta stop sneaking up on people!”, you complain, but he’s not having it.
“And you gotta toughen up. You’re like a rabbit. You scare too easily”, He says sternly, noting the eagerness of you leaning into him. He adjusts your grip on the rifle, angling it towards the bottles. One hand on each of yours, arms enveloping you, his breath against your neck. Makes the heat crawl from your chest further down south.
“As if you wouldn’t have shot the person that snuck up on you instead.” You jest. “You’re more of a scaredy cat than I am.”
“Watch it”, he warns, but his voice holds no real anger. Rather, it’s rich and sweet, running down your spine like honey. “Now hold your position, breathe and pull the trigger.” He lets go and steps back, leaving you shivering from the loss of his warmth. You try to calm your racing heartbeat. You fail. You pull anyway. The bullet makes its impact just a tiny bit shy of the center of the bottle, shattering it with a loud crash. You look back at him to gauge his reaction.
“Not bad for a rookie”, he pets the top of your head, a faint smirk on his face. “Keep practicin’. I got other business to take care of.”
You follow him with puppy eyes as he leaves. You don’t pull the trigger again that day, too bothered by the sensations coiling deep in your belly. You only have to hold out until the evening, can’t be that hard, you tell yourself. You haven’t the slightest idea just how wrong you are. The hours drag on for so long, and he doesn’t know just how bad you need him. You watch- discreetly- from the couch as he works, putting some new furniture together with his sleeves rolled up, forearms flexing from the effort, cigarette hanging from his mouth. He looks so good that you forget to find him doing chores odd. He doesn’t look back at you, not once. The late afternoon light falls on his face through the window, illuminating his sharp features and the adorable, focused furrow of his eyebrows. You could stare for hours, but you have your own responsibilities, you must leave for now. Your thoughts never do, though. They’re back beneath the sheets with him even as you stand in line at the grocery store. You get the shopping done as quickly as possible, eager to load it all in the pantry and find him again. You’re about to bring a stool after a failed attempt of placing a bag of flour on the top shelf, when your knight in shining armor arrives once again. He snatches it from you and puts it there himself wordlessly, taking your breath when his crotch presses into the curve of your behind. He only mutters a quiet “You’re welcome” before stealing the box of biscuits from the shopping bag and leaving. You forget to demand it back.
You don’t see him for the rest of the day. Soon it is time to retreat to the comfort of your room. He finds his way there when you’ve just finished taking your hair out, combing through it for the night. Now it’s his turn to watch, and yours to pretend you don’t notice his presence. Not for too long.
“What?”
“What?” He repeats, coming to hug you from behind. His hand slides down your front, cupping where you need him most. “You were the one watchin’ me all damn day.” He talks low, pressing his mouth to the side of your head, then your cheek, where the blood rushes upon the realisation that you were not subtle at all. He looks straight into your eyes in the mirror, his gaze like pieces of burning coal.
“Not to mention you were rubbin’ on me like a cat in heat.” He added, thinking back on all the times you smoothed down a hand on his arm or back whenever you passed him, or kissed him just a little longer than necessary.
“So you knew and you didn't do anything?” You pout, muffled as he forces your head back to capture your lips. “You’re mean...” He grins against your mouth, teeth tugging on your lower lip when he moves away. You're not separated for too long as you turn to kiss him comfortably, and he hoists you up by your thighs with ease. He makes sure you feel him.
“What did you want me to do? Surely not fuck you with everyone downstairs with us?”
Silence. Eyebrows raising, he lowers you back on your feet while you avoid his gaze. He holds your chin, focusing your eyes back on him.
“Really? Cat got your tongue?” He’s got that look in his eyes. The one that brings you to the conclusion that if you don’t want him to leave you hanging for another day- he loves having you beg-, you must do something to get him riled up. Emboldened, you lick the tip of his thumb, and you see the corner of his eye twitch. He pushes forward, watching with want as your bitten lips envelop his finger. Pressing down on your tongue, he confirms that the cat in fact left it in its place. You observe the clench of his jaw and the rise of goosebumps on his arm with satisfaction. You’re so close to the goal. He pulls his finger back with a wet pop when you suck on it, weaving his lips with yours aggressively.
“You’re so easy”, you giggle, his hands on your hips urging you to stumble backwards to the bed. Bumping into the edge, you sit down.
“Not another word”, he grumbles, kneeling before you and placing open mouthed kisses up your legs. He stops at the hem of your underwear, exhaling shakily. The cogs in his head seem to turn.
“Is everything-” The world turns around, and you find yourself on your stomach. Cold air hits your skin as he pushes your nightgown up, chapped lips skimming your back before he tugs your bloomers down. When you feel his breath blow against you and hear his belt buckle clinking, you know tonight will be tiring, but it will all be worth it.
tags: established relationship, domestic vibes, banter, petnames, i tried to keep this gender neutral but reader is referred as 'girl' once I'm sorry
As night fell over the city like a cloak, you laid in the sheets of your bed, curled up and nestled in their warmth. It was quiet; the stillness seemed almost unnatural for a place that had been so lively thorought the day. At this late hour, you laid alone on your bed, your only companion a book that you were reading with particular attentiveness.
In the silence, amid the steady ticking of the pendulum clock in the next room and the faint sounds of those who remained active despite thr onset of the night, you heard the soft click of a lock. Light footsteps follower, so nimble that you could barely make them out before a shadow slipped into the room.
"You're here" your delicate voice cut throught the quiet.
A sigh left Sebastian's lips as he sat on the bed, the matress dipping under his weight. "Sorry, William made me stay longer than I expected". His eyes landed on you, gazing at your dimly lit figure. "I told you to not wait me up"
A smirk made its way onto your lips, yet you made no move to look up from your book. "Didn't feel like it"
He sighed, giving up from rebutting. He, after all, knew better than anyone else that when you were in this playful mood, it would be an arduous battle for him. So he lied by your side, wrapping an arm about you and drawing you closer. He buried his head on the crook pf your neck, taking in your warmth.
"You're oddly clingy today" you pointed out as your finger ran along the pages.
"What? Is one not allowed to hold his girl after a long day?" he lifted his head a little, staring at you as he questioned with a sigh. "Besides, I'm not even clingy right now"
"Ah? What are you then?"
"Mmm, just determined to not let you go. There's a difference"
You giggled. "Whatever helps you sleep"
He stayed quiet, oddly so. For a moment, you wondered whether he’d taken offence at your words or whether he’d simply given up on trying to counter them. Then you felt it, a little nib between the base of your neck and your clavicle. It was just a light nibble, not having enough pressure to hurt you but enough to make you jump out of your skin given its unexpectedness. "Ack- Sebastian!" you let out a surprised whine, slamming the book close. "What the hell!? What was that for?"
He giggled, pressing a kiss on the same area he had nibbled. "Mhm, just a little revenge, you were giving me an attitude since i got here"
"that's because you took too long to come back" you confessed. For a moment your voice lost its playful edge.
"And whose fault is it? I've told you to not wait for me, you know the schedule my work makes me have" he caresses your cheek, guiding it towards him before giving a loving kiss to the corner of your lips. "I wouldn't want my beloved to stay awake in the middle of the night just for me"
"Well, I can't help if I'm not able to sleep without you hovering half of the bed" you mumbled, trying to ignore your flushed state. Shifting your position to face him, you lightly smacked the book on his head. "Now we're even"
He let out an amused huff. "You're impossible"
"Anyways, since I waited for you this long you owe me at least a date" you teased, wrapping your arms around his nape.
He arched an eyebrow. "I thought you said we were even"
"We are, but that was for the bite. You still have to make up for making me wait"
"as you wish" he whispered quietly. "I already wanted to bring you somewhere anyway". He guided your body closer, making your forehead lie on his shoulder.
"Now sleep, you need to rest" he spoke, gently caressing your hip as he nuzzled against your hair. "Tomorrow is only for us, after all"
(a/n): I'm sleep deprived, idk what did I just write help😭 I'm sorry if it's ooc
Edit: please thank @.moransrifle if this saw the light of day, if it wasn't for her this would've still be locked in my drafts lol
tags: established relationship, domestic vibes, banter, petnames, i tried to keep this gender neutral but reader is referred as 'girl' once I'm sorry
As night fell over the city like a cloak, you laid in the sheets of your bed, curled up and nestled in their warmth. It was quiet; the stillness seemed almost unnatural for a place that had been so lively thorought the day. At this late hour, you laid alone on your bed, your only companion a book that you were reading with particular attentiveness.
In the silence, amid the steady ticking of the pendulum clock in the next room and the faint sounds of those who remained active despite thr onset of the night, you heard the soft click of a lock. Light footsteps follower, so nimble that you could barely make them out before a shadow slipped into the room.
"You're here" your delicate voice cut throught the quiet.
A sigh left Sebastian's lips as he sat on the bed, the matress dipping under his weight. "Sorry, William made me stay longer than I expected". His eyes landed on you, gazing at your dimly lit figure. "I told you to not wait me up"
A smirk made its way onto your lips, yet you made no move to look up from your book. "Didn't feel like it"
He sighed, giving up from rebutting. He, after all, knew better than anyone else that when you were in this playful mood, it would be an arduous battle for him. So he lied by your side, wrapping an arm about you and drawing you closer. He buried his head on the crook pf your neck, taking in your warmth.
"You're oddly clingy today" you pointed out as your finger ran along the pages.
"What? Is one not allowed to hold his girl after a long day?" he lifted his head a little, staring at you as he questioned with a sigh. "Besides, I'm not even clingy right now"
"Ah? What are you then?"
"Mmm, just determined to not let you go. There's a difference"
You giggled. "Whatever helps you sleep"
He stayed quiet, oddly so. For a moment, you wondered whether he’d taken offence at your words or whether he’d simply given up on trying to counter them. Then you felt it, a little nib between the base of your neck and your clavicle. It was just a light nibble, not having enough pressure to hurt you but enough to make you jump out of your skin given its unexpectedness. "Ack- Sebastian!" you let out a surprised whine, slamming the book close. "What the hell!? What was that for?"
He giggled, pressing a kiss on the same area he had nibbled. "Mhm, just a little revenge, you were giving me an attitude since i got here"
"that's because you took too long to come back" you confessed. For a moment your voice lost its playful edge.
"And whose fault is it? I've told you to not wait for me, you know the schedule my work makes me have" he caresses your cheek, guiding it towards him before giving a loving kiss to the corner of your lips. "I wouldn't want my beloved to stay awake in the middle of the night just for me"
"Well, I can't help if I'm not able to sleep without you hovering half of the bed" you mumbled, trying to ignore your flushed state. Shifting your position to face him, you lightly smacked the book on his head. "Now we're even"
He let out an amused huff. "You're impossible"
"Anyways, since I waited for you this long you owe me at least a date" you teased, wrapping your arms around his nape.
He arched an eyebrow. "I thought you said we were even"
"We are, but that was for the bite. You still have to make up for making me wait"
"as you wish" he whispered quietly. "I already wanted to bring you somewhere anyway". He guided your body closer, making your forehead lie on his shoulder.
"Now sleep, you need to rest" he spoke, gently caressing your hip as he nuzzled against your hair. "Tomorrow is only for us, after all"
(a/n): I'm sleep deprived, idk what did I just write help😭 I'm sorry if it's ooc
Edit: please thank @.moransrifle if this saw the light of day, if it wasn't for her this would've still be locked in my drafts lol
tags: established relationship, domestic vibes, banter, cuddling, petnames, i tried to keep this gender neutral but reader is referred as 'girl' once I'm sorry
As night fell over the city like a cloak, you laid in the sheets of your bed, curled up and nestled in their warmth. It was quiet; the stillness seemed almost unnatural for a place that had been so lively thorought the day. At this late hour, you laid alone on your bed, your only companion a book that you were reading with particular attentiveness.
In the silence, amid the steady ticking of the pendulum clock in the next room and the faint sounds of those who remained active despite the onset of the night, you heard the soft click of a lock. Light footsteps followed, so nimble that you could barely make them out before a shadow slipped into the room.
"You're here" your delicate voice cut throught the quiet.
A sigh left Sebastian's lips as he sat on the bed, the matress dipping under his weight. "Sorry, William made me stay longer than I expected". His eyes landed on you, gazing at your dimly lit figure. "I told you to not wait me up"
A smirk made its way onto your lips, yet you made no move to look up from your book. "Didn't feel like it"
He sighed, giving up from rebutting. He, after all, knew better than anyone else that when you were in this playful mood, it would be an arduous battle for him. So he lied by your side, wrapping an arm about you and drawing you closer. He buried his head on the crook pf your neck, taking in your warmth.
"You're oddly clingy today" you pointed out as your finger ran along the pages.
"What? Is one not allowed to hold his girl after a long day?" he lifted his head a little, staring at you as he questioned with a sigh. "Besides, I'm not even clingy right now"
"Ah? What are you then?"
"Mmm, just determined to not let you go. There's a difference"
You giggled. "Whatever helps you sleep"
He stayed quiet, oddly so. For a moment, you wondered whether he’d taken offence at your words or whether he’d simply given up on trying to counter them. Then you felt it, a little nib between the base of your neck and your clavicle. It was just a light nibble, not having enough pressure to hurt you but enough to make you jump out of your skin given its unexpectedness. "Ack- Sebastian!" you let out a surprised whine, slamming the book close. "What the hell!? What was that for?"
He giggled, pressing a kiss on the same area he had nibbled. "Mhm, just a little revenge, you were giving me an attitude since i got here"
"that's because you took too long to come back" you confessed. For a moment your voice lost its playful edge.
"And whose fault is it? I've told you to not wait for me, you know the schedule my work makes me have" he caresses your cheek, guiding it towards him before giving a loving kiss to the corner of your lips. "I wouldn't want my beloved to stay awake in the middle of the night just for me"
"Well, I can't help if I'm not able to sleep without you hovering half of the bed" you mumbled, trying to ignore your flushed state. Shifting your position to face him, you lightly smacked the book on his head. "Now we're even"
He let out an amused huff. "You're impossible"
"Anyways, since I waited for you this long you owe me at least a date" you teased, wrapping your arms around his nape.
He arched an eyebrow. "I thought you said we were even"
"We are, but that was for the bite. You still have to make up for making me wait"
"as you wish" he whispered quietly. "I already wanted to bring you somewhere anyway". He guided your body closer, making your forehead lie on his shoulder.
"Now sleep, you need to rest" he spoke, gently caressing your hip as he nuzzled against your hair. "Tomorrow is only for us, after all"
(a/n): I'm sleep deprived, idk what did I just write help😭 I'm sorry if it's ooc
Edit: please thank @.moransrifle if this saw the light of day, if it wasn't for her this would've still be locked in my drafts lol
idk man, I usually can't picture characters when reading reader insert fics. Regardless of who the characters are I always think of them as two people existing in a certain context getting in a relationship. I feel pretty detached from both y/n and the canon characters, I just can't picture them as me or, when it comes to the canon, as character or person existing somewhere else out of that fic😭
how i feel trying to convince my friends, who listen to mainstream kpop groups, to check out the discography of some unknown -36 gen group who debuted in 1142 with five members, three singles and an album and that disbanded after a day since the company went bankrupt. All of this followed by "a shame they're so underreted, they were really talented"
summary: you have a pretty normal life as a college student. Everything changes one spring break when you visit Korea to see some family and your sister decides to drag you along to stalk the famous pop-star Jeon Jungkook, part of the most famous group in the world — the one you despise— and the one you unexpectedly keep running into.
pairing: uni student! reader x idol! jeon jungkook
genre: rom-com. annoyances-to-lovers. fluff. trynna-be-comedy. a lil angst but not really. | reader is really annoying sometimes. jungkook can be an asshole but he’s still a cutie pie. reader has a sister lowkey sasaeng but thanks to her the story has a plot!! 97line mentioned/appearance. jimin and tae appearance in the first part!!
warning!— this story contains mature content. smut (fingering, dry humping, penetration, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, etc). — third part NSFW
author’s note: third and last part is here!! this one is really everything to me (and literally has everything in it. fluff, comedy, drama, angst, guy yearning, smut, more fluff) i hope u enjoy this last part!! lmk what u think<33 i changed the smut last minute cuz i didn’t like the first scene i wrote so if u see any mistakes there no you don’t!!
word count: +22k words.
part one, part two, part three.
You despised Jeon Jungkook.
You couldn’t believe he got you in this horrible situation again. It was like he was only meant to ruin your day every time you ran into him. You thought for a second that maybe you were paying for some karma. Maybe your ancestors were really fucked up and you were paying for their mistakes. It had to be some curse like that.
You hadn’t talked with Jungkook for almost half an hour. You two just walked. Or, more accurately, you walked ahead fast enough to make a point, your grip tight around your bag, your shoulders stiff, your eyes fixed on absolutely nothing in front of you, while Jungkook followed a few steps behind, hands in his pockets now, quieter than before but not exactly calm either.
The ground wasn’t a real path anymore, just uneven dirt, patches of dry grass, small dips that made walking annoying, and after a few minutes it became very obvious that there was no road in sight, no clear direction, nothing that looked remotely familiar. But you still kept walking like you knew exactly where you were going… the dirt had to find and end soon, right? And also because stopping would mean admitting you had no idea where you were going. And you were not giving him that.
The problem was… it was getting ridiculous. The silence, the walking, the fact that nothing around you was changing, just more of the same empty, half-dry landscape that didn’t look like it led anywhere near a beach. The fact that you two were covered in mud like nothing new. You could feel it building again, that frustration sitting right under your skin, mixing with everything else— your phone, the car, your sister, him— and it made every step heavier than it needed to be.
God, your family was going to kill you.
Behind you, Jungkook let out a quiet breath for the tenth time. This time, he finally opened his mouth to talk. “Are you okay?” he asked.
You didn’t even turn around.
“I’m great,” you said flatly.
There was a second of silence before he continued. “You don’t sound great.”
“I said I’m great.”
He sped up slightly, closing the distance just enough to be closer to your side instead of behind you, though you didn’t look at him. “Why are you so grumpy?”
That made you stop, imediately. You turned to look at him, disbelief written all over your face. “…Are you fucking kidding me?”
He blinked, clearly not expecting that reaction. “I just asked—”
“No, I heard what you asked,” you cut him off, your voice sharper now, everything you had been holding back finally pushing through. “Why would I be so grumpy right now? Oh, I don’t k now! Maybe because I just sank my grandma’s car and now I have to pay her like a thousand dollars for it? Because I left my sister alone in the beach and she’s probably calling the police thinking I disappeared?! Are you stupid?”
He stared at you for a second. “Okay, yes. That makes sense but I’ll pay for everything—”
“Doesn’t matter anymore! First I need to go home so I can explain them everything, if my face is not in a poster all over the city by the time we get there…”
“Look, I know—”
“No, you don’t. I just want to go home, Jungkook. I want to go back, find my sister, explain why I disappeared for hours, explain what happened to my grandma’s car, and then deal with whatever comes after that and hopefully never see your ass again because you’re becoming a problem. That’s what I want right now.”
Jungkook stayed silent for a second but then something shifted in him. Your words were mean and full of anger, it just made him feel frustrated that you didn’t understand how he could feel about it. But it also made him anger that you didn’t want to understand that he was trying his best to be helpful with you.
You just made him angry.
“…Do you know what I want?” he said. You didn’t answer. “I want to have fun,” he continued, his tone different now, more cold and heavier underneath. “It’s the first time in years I don’t have people following me, no cameras, no one asking me questions every five seconds, no schedule, no staff telling me where to go or what to do. I’m just here with you.” You held his gaze. “And I was having a good time. Actually, I was having the best time I’ve had in a long time!” You frowned and he stared down at you. “And you’re fucking it up. I just want you to stop complaining for five minutes so I can actually enjoy it,” he finished.
That landed. You didn’t react immediately. You just stared at his him, something tightening in your chest. Jungkook didn’t say anything else, just looked at you for half a second longer before turning and walking past you, faster now, like he needed to move, like standing there was making it worse.
There was another small silence after that. Then you scoffed softly, shaking your head once.
“…Wow.” You watched him go. “So this is what it is with you, huh?” you called after him. He didn’t stop. You took a step forward, your voice rising just enough to reach him. “You don’t get what you want and you throw a tantrum?” That made him stop. He turned back to you slowly, jaw tightening slightly. “I bet everyone around you just follows you around fixing everything after that, right?” you continued, walking toward him now. “‘Oh, Jungkook, I’m so sorry, Jungkook, we didn’t mean to upset you, Jungkook’, ‘Sorry we hurt your grow-up-man feelings, let us give you exactly why you asked for, Jungkook’, ‘I’m sorry we didn’t treat you like the superstars you are’”. You shook your head. “What a brat you—”
He walked back toward you before you could finish, closing the distance quickly. “I’m a brat?” he repeated. You didn’t back down. “What about you?”
You frowned slightly. “What about me?”
“For the past two days I’ve done nothing but try to help you,” he said, his voice sharper now, frustration finally showing properly. “Even when you were acting like a bitch for no reason.”
You let out a small, incredulous laugh right in his face. “Oh, you’ve been nice?” you repeated. “Is that what you think this is?”
“Yes,” he said immediately.
You nodded slowly, stepping a little closer. “Okay. So when you hit me with a door, twice, that was you being nice?” you started, counting it off on your fingers. “When you dragged me to watch you perform instead of taking me to the hospital, that was nice? When you used me to escape paparazzis and got my grandma’s car literally swallowed by the earth… that was nice?” He didn’t interrupt. You tilted your head slightly, looking at him like you were genuinely trying to understand. “I honestly pity the people around you if that’s your version of ‘nice.’”
There wasn’t a pause. He immediately shot back, the truth getting too loud and his defensive side unable to stay back. “Please, you wish you were one of them.”
It came out sharper, meaner than anything else he had said to you. And being honest, it was the first you saw that part of him, the mean part, the part you had of him in your head. The part you he had shown you wrong… Because he wasn’t wrong about one thing, he had been nicer to you than you were ever to him. He had been helpful to you. And that kind of line he said didn’t need to be loud to land exactly where it was supposed to.
You looked at him, right in the eyes. And for a second, something in your expression changed completely.
“I’d rather get a fucking concussion,” you said firmly. And then you turned to walked past him. You didn’t look back and for a few steps, he didn’t move.
You could feel it, even without turning, the pause, the moment where he stayed there, letting everything settle, letting his own words catch up to him before you heard his footsteps again, getting closer and slower this time. Not matching your pace exactly, but not lagging behind either.
Jungkook just hated when he got like that. It had been so long since someone got him this mad. But he didn’t like that you had this idea of him about being a brat, about being this person who wasn’t real and didn’t know how life was outside his little bubble. He knew he could act like an idiot sometimes, he didn’t realize of some things or sometimes it took him more time than others to figure things out but he wasn’t a bad person. And he didn’t want you to see him as one.
Specially not after the day you both had. Because even if you were back to hating him, he had seen a part of you enjoying your time with him. He noticed the way you enjoyed spending time with him. He didn’t know why you were back to disliking him like it was a daily task you needed to keep going to breathe normally.
“Okay, okay. I went too far.” He said, walking by your side and looking at you even when you didn’t try to make an effort to look at him. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand,” he said after a moment. You didn’t answer. “When we were driving earlier,” he continued, his tone different now, less sharp, more… confused and soft than anything else. “I thought you liked me.”
You let out a quiet breath, not slowing down. “Well, you thought wrong.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense?”
He walked a little faster, moving slightly ahead of you now, turning his head just enough to look at you while still walking. “It doesn’t make sense that you are suddenly back to not liking me,” he insisted. “You were fine. We were fine. We were talking, laughing—”
“That doesn’t mean anything. I can enjoy time with people I find annoying.”
“I’m sure it means something,” he ignored your last comment.
“It doesn’t.”
He frowned slightly. “Then what is it?” You didn’t answer. “I know this wasn’t the best way to end the day but why are you acting like I’m the most annoying person again?. It’s like you just turned the switch back on. Just because you don’t want to deal with admitting to yourself that you like me even after all this,” he pressed. “Tell me why.”
“Please, don’t flutter yourself.” You rolled your eyes.
“Tell me why you don’t like me then.”
“I simply don’t like you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
You exhaled sharply. “Not everyone has to like you, Jungkook.”
“I know that,” he said. “But we were fine earlier—”
“I was fine because we were just talking.”
“So what changed?”
“Nothing changed.”
“Something had to.”
You shook your head, refusing to look at him. “I just don’t like you. Don’t try to make it deep.”
“Enough with that. Some things are deep, okay?.”
“Well, this is not. I just don’t like you. You’re annoying, you get me in trouble—”
He stopped walking forward, but he didn’t stop moving. Because he was still facing you. Walking backwards now. Trying to keep eye contact, trying to to get a better answer. “You’re lying,” he said simply.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“Then tell me—”
“Why do you care?” you snapped.
“Because I like you”
That made you stopped in your tracks, looking at him confused. He opened his mouth to continue but before he could say something he just fell back and disappeared.
He was suddenly gone.
What the hell?!
You blinked scared, “…What the—” A splash of water echoed. “—the fuck?!”
You rushed forward instinctively, only to stop short at the edge, a small waterfall that Jungkook fell into. Enough to hide the drop just long enough for it to be a surprise. You looked up to see the beautiful water falling in the background between some rocks before quickly staring down again to see if Jungkook was okay.
He was there in the water looking just as shocked. “Uhm…”
“Oh my God, are you okay?!” you said, leaning forward to help him. He reached up and grabbed your arm before roughly pulling you into the water with him. “Jungkook—!” The water hit you cold, fast enough to steal the air from your lungs for a second, your hands scrambling instinctively as you came back up. “I can’t swim!” you shouted immediately.
His head snapped toward you, panic flashing across his face. “What?!”
“I can’t swim!”
He moved instantly, reaching for you, trying to grab your arm to pull you closer. “Okay, okay. Relax, I got you, just give me your hand and hold on—”
You splashed him an absurdly amount of water right into his face, making him choke a little bit before he started coughing. He stared at you deadpan when he finished his almost-dying act and you started laughing, you pushed slightly away from him while you brushed your wet hair out of your face.
“Gotcha.”
He stared at you longer. “…Oh, you think that’s funny?.”
You nodded, still smiling. He imitated your smile before splashing water at you, really hard. “Hey!” You laughed again, immediately splashing him back. “That’s not fair!”
“You lied!”
“You deserved it!”
“I didn’t!”
“You pulled me!”
The argument didn’t stop, it just changed. Turned into something lighter, messier, the tension from before dissolving into something that didn’t need words anymore, just movement, splashes, half-laughing protests that didn’t mean anything.
For a moment everything else disappeared. The car, the phones, the fight, the consequences. Right in that moment it was just water, laughter, and you two…. And Jungkook couldn’t enjoy that more.
——————————
The evening eventually settled.
Your laughter fading into softer breaths, the splashing turning into small ripples that disappeared as quickly as they formed, until all that was left was the quiet sound of the waterfall in front of you and the distant hum of nothing in particular. You both ended up closer to the edge, where the ground was dry enough to sit without slipping, your clothes still damp, your hair a mess, but neither of you caring enough to fix it properly.
You leaned back on your hands, legs stretched out in front of you, staring at the sky as it shifted colors slowly, the light almost dark now, warmer, turning everything around you into something calmer than it had any right to be after the day you’d had.
For a while, neither of you said anything. And, even after that fight you had, it didn’t feel awkward at all.
“This is nice,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter than before, not sharp, not defensive anymore, just calm.
Beside you, Jungkook let out a small breath, tilting his head back slightly as he looked up too. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.”
A short pause settled between you again, but this time it stretched comfortably, like neither of you felt the need to fill it immediately.
“I wish I could stay here,” he added after some minutes. “Like this. For a few weeks or something.”
You turned your head slightly to look at him.
“Here?” you asked. “Like this exact place in the middle of nowhere?”
He shrugged lightly. “Or somewhere like this.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer right away. He stayed looking up for a second longer, like he was actually thinking about it instead of giving you something quick or without meaning.
“I don’t know,” he said finally. “It’s just… quiet.”
You hummed softly. “You don’t get that a lot?”
He let out a small laugh, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “Not really.”
You shifted slightly, turning more toward him now, resting one arm over your knee. “But you like what you do, right?” you asked.
“I do,” he said immediately. “I love it.” There was no hesitation in that But there was something else underneath it.“I just…” he paused, exhaling softly. “Sometimes I wish I could do that and then just live normally after. Like perform, do my job, and then go back to being… a person.”
You raised an eyebrow slightly. “You are a person.”
“You know what I mean.”
Maybe you did.
“Without people following you around?”.
“Yeah.”
“Without cameras.”
“Yeah.”
“Without people trying to figure out who you’re dating, where you are, what you’re doing every second.”
He glanced at you briefly. “Exactly.”
You looked back out at the horizon, thinking about it for a second. “…Then why don’t you just do it anyway?” you asked.
He frowned slightly. “Do what?”
“Just… live your life,” you said simply. “Ignore it.”
He let out a quiet breath, shaking his head. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it just doesn’t,” he repeated, a little more firmly this time. “If I don’t stay low, if I don’t avoid things, it gets worse. People get more curious, more invasive. It’s not just about me… it’s everything around me too.”
You watched him for a second, then looked away again. “…But it’s still your life,” you said.
“It is.”
“So you still have a choice.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I guess,” he admitted. “But it’s not that simple.”
“Nothing is,” you shrugged.
There was another pause. He stayed more quiet, thinking what you had just said.
“What would you even do?” you asked suddenly. “If you could just— do whatever you want, no one watching.”
He let out a soft breath through his nose, thinking. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Just… normal things. Walk around without worrying. Sit somewhere without people recognizing me. Go somewhere random without planning it.”
You smiled slightly. “Like today.”
He glanced at you again. “Yeah. Like today.” There was something softer in his expression now, something that hadn’t been there earlier. “I just don’t want to disappoint anyone either,” he added. “Army… they gave me everything. I know I owe them a lot.”
You nodded slowly, understanding that more than you expected. A quiet settled again.
“You know,” you said, shifting slightly, your tone thoughtful now, “maybe I don’t fully get it.” He looked at you. “Your life,” you continued. “Is so different from mine— from everyone I’ve met, really. Everything you do, everything you say… it’s all important and so public.” He didn’t interrupt. “I guess I don’t really understand.”
Jungkook looked at you, a little softer. His gaze more calm and a little warmer.
“Not everything,” he finally said.
You frowned slightly. “What?”
“Not everything is like that,” he repeated, looking at you now instead of the landscape. “Not right now.” You held his gaze. “Not with you,” he added quietly. Something in your chest shifted. “I feel like I can just… be myself,” he continued. “Not BTS Jeon Jungkook. Not… all of that. Just me.”
The silence that followed was for you to get your thoughts together. But you didn’t understand exactly what his words made you feel. Maybe like you two just understood each other in a way it was almost impossible to understand.
You looked at him for a second longer than you meant to, then glanced away, your fingers brushing lightly against the ground beside you. “…And how do you like it?” you asked, softer now.
He didn’t hesitate this time. “I like it a lot. I like myself a lot with you.”
You smiled faintly. “Me too.”
He smiled. And then he shifted slightly, turning more toward you, facing you better now.
“Tell me something about you.”
You raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Anything.” He thought for a second. “I wanna know everything about you.”
“Well, that might take a while. My life is so extraordinary.” You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head.
“Come on, tell me.”
You glanced at him, then back at the sky. He was looking too excited to know your life like it wasn’t so normal next to his.
“Well,” you started, stretching your legs out a little more, “I’m finishing my film studies soon.”
“Oh, yeah. You told me you were a senior, right?”
“Yeah. Finally my last year.”
“What do you want to do after?”
“I’m thinking about applying to a big studio back home,” you said. “Or at least trying. See what happens. If I don’t get it I might take a different route but I’ll stay in this lane. I know before I turn thirty I’ll be making my first movie.“
“That’s not a small step.”
“I know.”
“You sound sure about it.”
“I am.”
He watched you as you spoke, something about the way you said it, no hesitation, no doubt, pulling his attention more than the words themselves. “And when do you finish?”
“Three months more to go. I’m glad I got this break because next couple of months will be really busy.” You let him know. “I have a lot of exams and I’m organizing a fundraiser next month,” you added.
“For what?” He asked, curious.
“A local cinema,” you explained. “They’re struggling, so we’re putting together this small concert thing and an after party to raise money for them.”
“That’s actually really cool.”
You shrugged lightly. “It’s not that big.”
“It is,” he said. “You care about it.”
You glanced at him briefly, then looked away again, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah,” you admitted.
He stayed quiet for a second. “…Can I ask you something?” You looked at him again, pressing your lips together before nodding, a little nervous by the look he was giving you. He hesitated just a little. “Why didn’t you like me?”
You didn’t answer immediately. You knew this was coming. Although you just hadn’t planned on actually answering it. “…It’s stupid,” you said finally
“I don’t think it is.”
“It is.”
“Tell me anyway.”
You exhaled slowly, leaning back again, your eyes on the sky instead of him.“It’s my sister,” you said. He stayed quiet. “Ever since we were younger,” you continued, your voice more even now, less defensive, “when she found out about BTS… it was just—everything.” You let out a small breath. “Every conversation, every hangout, everything we did… it always ended up being about you. About your friends. About the group,” you corrected, glancing at him briefly. “And it just got worse over time.” He listened. Didn’t interrupt “I left for college and I missed her like hell but everytime I try to catch up with her… it was just always about you guys. I felt like I was competing with something I couldn’t even reach,” you added. “Like I couldn’t win her attention because I wasn’t… you.” You shrugged lightly, like you were trying to downplay it. “I know it’s dumb—”
“It’s not,” he said quietly. You looked at him. “I get it,” he added.
You studied his face for a second, like you were trying to figure out if he was just saying that to not make you feel stupid.
“I guess I just built this… resentment,” you admitted. “Like I didn’t really hate you and overtime the dislike just stopped but this feeling stayed. Not really toward you and your group, but to this idea I had of you in my mind.”
“That makes sense.”
You blinked slightly. “You don’t think it’s stupid?”
“No.”
There was a small silence. Jungkook didn’t let you feel like your feeling were stupid, even when it was almost an attack towards him
“…Okay,” you said, softer now.
Another silence followed. But it felt different, it was lighter, easier. It was like you had finally taken a weight out of your shoulders. It made you feel better. You never believed you were going to fix that resentment with the one person that made you feel it but there you were.
Jungkook smiled slightly then.
“But now you like me.”
You turned your head slowly, meeting his gaze without hesitation, your expression completely unimpressed even if there was something softer sitting underneath it now.
“You wish.”
You pushed his shoulder lightly, meant to brush him off more than anything else, but his hand came up almost instantly, catching your wrist with an ease that felt natural, like he hadn’t even thought about it before doing it. The movement stopped you just enough to pull you slightly closer, your balance shifting toward him as your eyes flickered down to where his fingers wrapped around your wrist before lifting back up to his face.
There was a second, just one, where neither of you moved. Close enough now that the space between you didn’t feel accidental anymore. His grip loosened, not letting go completely, just enough to slide from your wrist to grip your knuckles between his fingers, thumb making his way to your palm and his fingers curling more gently this time as if giving you the chance to step back if you wanted to.
You didn’t. And he noticed. The change in his expression was subtle, but there, the teasing edge from before fading into something quieter, something more with intention, as his other hand came up to your waist, steadying you, pulling you just a little closer until there was barely any space left to pretend the action was still nothing.
He kissed you then.
The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t clumsy or uncertain either, it was slow and with intention, like he was testing the moment instead of taking it, his lips brushing yours first, soft enough to pause there, to let you react, to give you that last chance to pull away. You didn’t. Your hand tightened slightly around his without you realizing, your body leaning into him instead of away, and that was all it took for him to deepen it just enough to make it real, his hand at your waist firm now, holding you there as the kiss settled into something warmer, something that carried the tension from everything that had been building between you since the beginning of the day.
It wasn’t overwhelming but it wasn’t light either.
It had weight to it, the kind that made everything else go quiet without needing to force it, the kind that made you forget, even for a second, about the car, the argument, the fact that you were literally stranded in the middle of nowhere.
His thumb brushed lightly against your side, grounding, while your free hand came up almost instinctively, sneaking to his hair to pull him closer, even though you didn’t really need to.
When he pulled back, it wasn’t far. Just enough to look at you again, close enough that you could still feel his breath, still feel the warmth of him where his hand hadn’t moved.
And for once neither of you said anything. Because there wasn’t really anything to argue about anymore… So you just smiled, and Jungkook just kissed the shit out of you again.
——————————
By the time the sun fully disappeared, the world around you had changed again.
What had looked manageable in daylight now felt different. Darker, quieter, the kind of quiet that made every small sound feel louder than it should be, your steps crunching lightly against the ground, branches shifting somewhere far enough to not see but close enough to notice. You had no real sense of direction anymore, just walking, adjusting, guessing, but somehow neither of you had stopped. Trying to find the route back became a little more of a second thing to do after the kiss— even after you two were clearly lost.
On the way, your hands brushed at first accidentally. Then not. Then fully intertwined like it had always been what you two wanted, fingers fitting together without either of you making a big deal out of it, like acknowledging it would somehow make it more real than it already was. Every now and then he’d tug slightly, pulling you closer when the ground got uneven, or you’d bump into him on purpose just to hear the quiet laugh he tried not to let out.
“If we die here,” you said at some point, putting the camera on his face before showing ahead into what looked like absolutely nothing, “I want it on record that this is your fault.”
“My fault?” he repeated, glancing at you with a small smile that you could barely see in the dark but still felt, he grabbed the camera to shove it into his face. “I want the world to see the face of the woman who got rid of Jeon Jungkook.”
“You talking in third person because your name is big is insane. And you were driving,” you shook your head, accusatory.
“You told me where to go.”
“I didn’t tell you to get us lost.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“It’s literally what happened.”
Jungkook turned the camera off before grabbing your hand again and squeeze it lightly, like he was amused more than anything. “You’re fine.”
“I’m cold, lost, my phone is dead, and my grandma’s car is gone,” you listed, turning your head toward him. “Define fine.”
“You’re holding my hand,” he said simply.
You paused. “…That doesn’t count.”
“It counts.”
“It doesn’t.”
“It does.”
You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t let go.
The path— if you could even call it that— started narrowing, trees getting thicker around you, the air cooler, and just when you were about to complain again, something appeared ahead.
A cabin.
You both slowed down. “…What is that?” you asked quietly.
He squinted slightly. “Looks like… a motel?”
“A motel?” you repeated, already skeptical. “Here?”
You stared at it for a second longer. It looked questionable. Old wood, dim lights, the kind of place that felt like it existed outside of time in the worst possible way, like it had been there forever and no one had thought to update it. Like the damn start of an horror movie type of hotel. One of the lights near the entrance flickered slightly, and you felt your grip tighten around his hand without realizing.
“This is how horror movies start, Jungkook,” you said.
He let out a small laugh. “We don’t have a lot of options.”
“That doesn’t make it less creepy.”
“You want to keep walking?”
You hesitated before looking at the building again. “…No.”
“Okay then.”
He pulled you gently forward.
Inside was worse. Not in a dramatic, haunted way but in a quiet, unsettling one. The air smelled like old wood and faintly dusty, the kind of place that didn’t get many visitors and with a lot of reasons. Behind the small reception desk sat an old woman who looked up the second you walked in like she had been expecting you.
You froze for half a second.
“…Hi,” you said slowly.
She stared at you, then at Jungkook, and then back at you. “One room?” she asked.
You blinked. “…Uh—”
“Yes,” Jungkook answered before you could say anything. You turned your head toward him immediately. He didn’t look at you “One room,” he repeated, calm.
The woman nodded slowly, reaching for a key without another word. You leaned slightly toward him, lowering your voice. “One room?”
“Well, my phone is not working and I barely have enough cash,” he whispered back.
“I have some in my bag—”
He smiled slightly, finally glancing at you. “Too late now.”
You huffed softly, but didn’t argue further as the key was handed over. “Second floor, room 7” the woman said.
You took it. “Thank you.” She didn’t respond just watched you walk away. “…She hates us,” you muttered under your breath.
“She doesn’t know us.”
“She might know you,” you shrugged. “Maybe she’s a hater.”
“Shut up,” he snorted.
The room wasn’t as bad as you expected. Still old, still simple, but cleaner, warmer, a small relief after everything else, and the second the door closed behind you, you both just paused, taking a second to know you were finally able to have some rest after the day you had.
You looked at each other. And then laughed. Not really loud or dramatic but some giggles to release something that had been building since the car, since the beach, since everything… Because what a fucking day.
“This is insane,” you said, dropping your bag on the floor.
“Yeah,” he agreed, running a hand through his hair.
You glanced around, spotting a small bathroom. “I’m washing my face.”
“Go.”
You disappeared inside first, catching your reflection briefly and stopping for half a second. Your hair messy, clothes still slightly wet, sand in places you didn’t want to think about. You let out a small breath before turning on the water.
By the time you came out, he had already found the pile of oversized shirts folded neatly on the bed. “What is that?” you asked.
“Pajamas, I think.”
You picked one up. It was huge, almost to your knee. “This is a dress.”
“Better than wet clothes.”
“Fair.”
You both changed without much ceremony, the kind of casual that felt new but not uncomfortable anymore, like the line between awkward and normal had blurred somewhere along the day.
When you finally climbed into bed, it felt surreal.
Jungkook looked at you, already thinking of settling against the pillow. “So,” he said. “Do I have to sleep on the floor tonight?”
You turned your head slowly. “Are you asking or complaining?”
“Both.”
You considered it for a second. Then shifted slightly closer instead. “I guess I can make some space,” you said.
He didn’t argue, just smiled before moving closer, the space between you two disappearing easily, like it had been waiting to.
For a moment, you just lay there. Looking at each other, talking softly, about nothing important, small things, random comments that didn’t need full answers, your voices lower now, slower, the kind of quiet that only happened when the day is finally catching up to you.
His hand brushed yours again, then stayed and then moved again, like he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do yet. It went back again, it was lightly at first, fingers tracing absent patterns against your arm, your side, not rushed, like he was testing the space again, like earlier. You didn’t stop him. Didn’t move away. If anything, you leaned into it slightly, your hand finding his shirt, gripping lightly without thinking too much about it.
“Tou’re not complaining now,” he murmured softly.
You huffed a small breath. “Don’t start.”
“I’m just saying.”
“You’re always saying bullshit.”
He smiled faintly, closer now, his voice lower. “But now you like me.”
“I don’t—”
You didn’t finish because he kissed you again.
And this time it wasn’t new, it wasn’t hesitant. It was warmer, deeper, familiar in a way that didn’t make sense yet, his hand sliding more securely against your waist, pulling you closer as the conversation faded without needing to end properly.
His kiss deepened, like he was trying to taste every part of your mouth, trying to remember what it felt like for eh rest of his life. Jungkook’s mouth was soft and he moved his lips over yours slowly, thin lips kissing you with so much desire it made you feel good.
Jungkook crawled underneath the covers right on top of you, settling himself in between your thighs. Now in that oversized shirt and his underwear, he looked soft when he pulled apart to look at you, hair a it messy. You didn't get to admire it that much though, because your stomach was dropping rapidly, your breath caught in your throat. You could feel him resting against your core; thick, heavy and rock hard. He kissed you again, lips moving slowly to your neck.
“Jungkook, we don’t have—”
“I know,” he whisper in your ear, breathless. “I know. I just… just wanna feel you— I won’t fuck you, okay?”
You didn’t have protection, it was a fair deal. But his voice, already so needy, it made you wondered how he would sound if you fucked him— No, no, you couldn’t.
“Uhm,” you nodded slightly before kissing him again. Jungkook whined in your mouth, palming his bulge over his sweatpants. He used his other hand to tease your clit over your thin panties, thumb rubbing over the bundle of nerves ever so lightly that made you start getting wet. “That’s feels good.”
“Yeah?,” Jungkook continued circling your clit with his thumb, a little harder to make you leak your juices and stain your panties. “Wanna make you feel good. That’s all I wanna do for you.” He said almost sweetly. “Wan’ me to touch you better?”
You nodded, bordering on desperate as your hips kicked up when he pinched your little bud. Jungkook groaned under his breath, bringing his now slick thumb to his lips and sucking at the digit. A sight left his mouth, hands moving to pull at the hem of his pajamas. He didn’t give time for your foggy brain to process his actions, sliding his underwear down to mid thigh and leaving you to gape at his hard cock like a woman starved. You felt your tummy itchy at the thought of him inside you. You clenched around nothing.
Jungkook was quick to positioned himself over your wet panties. And the first experimental thrust that followed was deliciously sinful. His bulge rubbing up against you made your stomach jolt. He felt so good, so big.
He kept going, grinding his length forward in lazy rolls of his hips. The head of his cock pushing against your clit in a way that made your head spin. You were already soaked, panties dripping wet to aid in the glide of Jungkook’s length. You couldn’t help the little gasps leaving your mouth as your hips bucked forward.
“Shit, shit,” he cursed, hissing a bit when the mushroom tip of his cock bumps against your clothed clit, “you’re gettin’ so wet. Just by looking at my cock ‘n feeling it rub against your pussy. You like that, huh? Like how I’m rubbing against you?”
Your cotton panties surely were all damp with arousal now, from both Jungkook and you. His pre-cum mixed with your juices, ruining your pair of panties. The wet spot forming near your slit only got darker and darker the more you allow him to rub his dick back and forth over your cunt.
You nodded, eyes getting a little tearful at how good he was making you feel and the way he was talking to you. “Feels s’good, kook. You’re s’good for me—”
“No— fuck, I like when you say my name like that. Makes me wanna fuck you right,” his voice was lower now, more lost in the desire. “Might just push in here...” Jungkook murmured as he positioned the leaking head of his cock against your covered entrance. “Fill you up full while hearing you scream my name. Sounds good, right?”
You whined, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. His hips moved back and forth, shallow thrusts against the barrier that was your panties, mimicking the real thing. Your poor clit continuously being circled and bumped against his tip was driving you crazy.
“We can’t, we can’t—”
“I know, I know,” he kissed your neck before seating, knees between your spread legs and with a perfect view of your damped panties.
Jungkook ran a rough finger over your wet panties, keeping your legs spread wide with his knees. He easily found your little hole as the cotton material stuck to your pussy, showing the outlines of your lips.
“Jungkook…”
“So pretty down here, lemme see the real thing.” He pushed your panties to the side, watching your glistening cunt looking all ready for him. “Fuck, so ready for me. Wanna do some things to ya’, you have no idea…”
Jungkook let his fingers run over your wet lips before his middle started pushing into your core, it almost made him moaned how it swallowed him greedily, like it had bee waiting to be touched like that. You clenched so needy he put another finger inside you not too long after.
“Touch me better,” you pouted.
Fuck, he wanted to kiss the shit out of you. Jungkook’s cock leaked at the sight of your pussy sucking his fingers in like that, the sight of it so greedy, stretched around his bare hand was too much. His fingers pulled back and then inserted again, and again, a messy squelch echoing in the room, gossamer swirls of your arousal coating his fingers.
His fingers buried to the knuckle suddenly. It felt so good you couldn’t hold back your little whimper, hips bucking up. You felt every line and callous of his thick fingers, cunt gripping him like she's scared he'll leave. "Mhmm.”
Your cheeks were flushed, eyes rolling back, hips just rolling when he ran a thumb over your clit once more. “Look at me. See who’s making you feel this good.” You were barely focus, stretched so good by only his long fingers. Your lashes fluttered at his command, he leaned down just a bit as he worked you. "There you go, you like getting fucked like this, huh? Imagine how full you would feel with my cock instead.” He pressed his other hand to your tummy, just over your bellybutton. “Imagine how deep I would be, pushing my way right here. So you can feel all of me—”
You moaned, shaking your head as your hips stuttered when he fucked his fingers deeper and pressed harder in your clit. He was scissoring his long fucking fingers in and out of your now sloppy little cunt, your nails pressed into his forearms, just making him moan softly of how needy you were.
“We shouldn’t—”
“Let me feel you bare, baby.”
He fell on top of you again, body leaning into yours. Jungkook’s fingers flitted over you, taking your panties off and grazing your throbbing clit before lining his leaking cock back up. The feeling of bare skin sliding against bare skin, his slick length nudging your clit and the wet sounds of each roll of your hips made your whines grow an octave higher.
You moaned softly at the fraction, leaning your head to the side to give Jungkook more access to your neck. His mouth moved constantly, licking and biting at the skin with a reckless sort of desperation. Your lips, your jaw, your neck. You could feel the precum dripping from his tip smear against your clit, making a mess of your cunt already, with the rest of the mess you’ve made. Up and down and up and down.
Your voice caught up in your throat when the tip of Jungkook’s cock caught against your entrance, not entering you, but so close.
“Kook, no—”
“F-fuck,” Jungkook voice was cracking, he was needy. He needed to feel you or he was going to die. “Baby," he pleaded raspily, sucking a pretty bruise into your neck. He liked the thought of leaving marks on you. "Let me put it in, yeah?”
“Jungkook, we can’t—”
“Just the tip,” he begged desperately. “I promise. I promise just the tip. Please, please I just wanna feel you.”
His voice, so broken and pleading, The constant pulsing in your core increased in intensity, arousal flowing out of you and covering Jungkook’s cock all over. You could feel him twitch in response. He wrapped his fingers around it, pushing it against your clenching hole. The pressure felt divine.
Jungkook whined, panting against your collarbone. “I know is so tight, trying to suck me in all the way. Ngh. Promise I just wanna feel you… I just wanna feel you.”
He was breathless, his brows furrowed in concentration. He slid a few inches forward, the heat of your cunt enveloping the flushed, leaking tip snugly. He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder again. Eyes rolling back, your greedy hole squeezing his tip like you were begging to be fucked.
“Uhmm, Kook.”
“Y-yeah,” he stuttered sweat dripping from his forehead. “Feels good, huh? Imagine how good it would feel I sink all the way in. Could make you feel so much better, so good.”
“I wanna feel you but—”
“Then feel me.”
A large palm pressed over your mouth as Jungkook buried his head in the side of your neck, muffling his own needy, drawn out groan as he pushed his thick cock inside you all the way. The hand at your lips barely offered reprieve when you moaned, eyes clenching shut at the feeling of finally being so full and stretched open around his length. Your cunt throbbed, struggling to accommodate him as he sank deeper. The stretch was uncomfortable, but at the same time so good you were on the verge of trembling.
Jungkook bottomed out with his entire body tensing up, not giving you much time to prepare before he snapped his hips back and slowly started fucking himself into you. His strokes were soft and loving, deep. So soft they didn't match the dirtiness of his actions.
You rolled your eyes back, feeling so good it made your toe fingers clench in pleasure. You grabbed his hand to move it out of your mouth. “Fuck me harder. Just— Just don’t come i-inside.”
“Yes, whatever— whatever you want, baby.” He groaned. "Won’t come inside. Fuck, yeah," the words were coming out hot and breathy, bumping against each other on his suddenly clumsy tongue. "F-fuck, I promise, baby. I won't come. I won’t, just wanna feel you.”
You arched your back to let him hit you deeper. And that made Jungkook groan again. He leaned his forehead on yours, entwining your fingers. With his free hand he held on to your hips, keeping you firmly in place as his knees spread more your thighs to fuck you deeper.
“Gonna come soon,” you warned him, cunt squeezing him tight when you felt the butterflies in your lower tummy.
“Me too,” Jungkook kissed your lips, sweetly, needy. “Me too, I’m s’ close.”
“Don’t— don’t cum ins—”
“Yeah, yeah.” His thumb moved immediately, rubbing fast, relentless circles right where you needed it while he buried himself deep, hips rolling in short, brutal strokes that hit your sweet spot over and over. “Gonna cum inside, make you full.”
“Jungkook,” you whined, unable to actually tell him he shouldn’t.
He definitely shouldn’t. But fuck he was fucking you so good.
He slapped your clit with his finger before pressing and rubbing it harder. You sobbed, eyes rolled back as he bullied your pussy with his thick cock.
“Gonna make you feel good, wanna make you feel s’ full.”
He muffled your sobs with a messy kiss, the thumping of the headboard against the wall growing frantic as you tightened around his cock.
Your walls fluttered and squeezed around him so tightly, pulsing in waves as your orgasm crashed through you, and it dragged him under with you. His hips stutter once, twice, then slammed deep one final time as he spilled inside you. Thick, hot ropes of his creamy cum flooding your insides to the deepest.
It was messy, dirty and overwhelming, your body clenching around him as he spilled his cum deep inside you, his hips jerking erratically as he rode out his orgasm. He collapse next to the bed, taking you with him to put you o. top, weight pressing him into the mattress, his cock still buried deep inside you, still pulsing.
Neither of you moved for some minutes.
Your cheek pressing his chest, his hand slowly and softly rubbing your lower back. You could feel his cum flooding down your cunt into the length of his cock again.
“That was… wow,” he said finally.
“Yeah.”
“Should we go again?.”
You giggled, a little breathless. Jungkook smiled before taking your jaw between his fingers to move your head up to kiss you. It was slow and hot. He smiled on your mouth before pushing his hips up, cock hitting your sensitive cunt.
“Jungkook!” you whined, sensitive and a little entertained by how much stamina the guy had.
“I’m not letting you sleep so easy tonight, baby.” He squeezed your thighs, hips rolling up again to hit that spot his was bury deep inside already. “Why don’t you show me how good you’re at riding me?”
Well, it was going to be a long night—
But you weren’t complaining at all.
——————————
Morning didn’t feel real at first. It came in slowly through the thin curtains, soft light spilling across the room like nothing had happened the night before, like you hadn’t gotten lost, fought, kissed, almost died in quicksand, and somehow ended up sleeping together in the middle of nowhere.
For a few seconds, you just stayed there, eyes half-open, not moving, letting that quiet settle before your brain fully caught up. Then you felt it. His arm. Loose, warm, resting across your waist like it had been there for hours without either of you noticing.
You blinked a little more awake, turning your head slightly.
He was still asleep, face relaxed in a way you hadn’t seen yet, hair messy, lips a little part open, completely unaware of anything around him, and for a second, just a second, you let yourself look at him without thinking about what it meant. The night before had been perfect but…
“You’re staring.”
You froze. His voice was rough with sleep, eyes still closed, but there was a faint smile pulling at his lips now.
“I’m not,” you said immediately.
“Mm,” he hummed, finally opening his eyes slightly, glancing at you without moving his arm. “You are.”
“I’m literally not.”
“You were.”
“I wasn’t.”
He didn’t argue, just watched you for a second longer than necessary before letting out a quiet breath and sitting up slowly, running a hand through his hair.
“What time is it?” he asked.
You looked around instinctively before remembering. “We don’t have phones.”
“Right.”
A small silence followed, both of you adjusting back into reality a little more with every passing second.
“There was a vending machine downstairs,” you said after a moment, pushing yourself up. “I saw it last night.”
He nodded slightly. “Food sounds good.”
“Very,” you agreed. “Let’s wash up and go eat something.”
The motel looked less creepy in daylight.
Still old, still quiet, but less like something out of a horror movie and more like something forgotten, which somehow made it easier to walk around to. The vending machine was exactly where you remembered, tucked in a corner, buzzing faintly, filled with random snacks that didn’t really go together.
You stood in front of it, arms crossed. “This is depressing.”
“It’s food,” he said, stepping next to you.
“This is not food. This is barely edible.”
“Same thing right now.”
You sighed, pressing a button anyway. “If I get sick, I’m blaming you.”
“You already blame me for everything.”
“That’s because everything is your fault.”
He huffed quietly, handing you a drink. “Here.”
You took it, brushing your fingers against his briefly. “Thanks.”
You both leaned against the wall nearby, eating in that same quiet from earlier, but it felt different now. Not uncomfortable, just… a little awkward. Like something had shifted overnight, and neither of you were fully sure what to do with it yet.
He glanced at you after a moment.
“…So.”
You looked back at him. “…So.”
There was a small pause.
“Are you… going back home soon?” he asked.
You frowned slightly, a little confused by his question. “To my country?”
“Yeah.”
“Next week,” you said. “Yeah.”
He nodded slowly, looking down at his drink for a second. “I have a tour,” he said.
You blinked. “Yeah.”
You were still trying to understand where he was going with this conversation. Jungkook let out a small breath that almost sounded like a breathy laugh. “Yeah.” Silence stretched again, heavier this time. “We could,” he started, then stopped. You waited. He glanced at you again, a little more hesitant now. “…I don’t know. See each other again?”
It wasn’t fully a question but it wasn’t a statement either.
You looked at him, studying his face like you were trying to understand what he actually meant, what that would even look like outside of… this. You had an amazing day with him but, seeing him again in another setting, would that ever work?. You didn’t know. You were very unsure.
But… you liked him enough to find out.
“Maybe,” you said slowly. He nodded once, like the fact that you wanted to try was enough for him. “It might be hard,” you added. “You know. With your tour. And me not even living here—”
“I know.” There was pause. “But… yeah,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” you repeated.
And somehow, that was all you needed to say.
You exhaled softly, pushing yourself off the wall. “We should get going.”
Jungkook didn’t move immediately. Like he didn’t want to. He didn’t, he didn’t want it to end just yet. But he knew the end was coming so he only nodded. “Yeah. Come on.”
——————————
The map from reception looked older than the place itself. Folded too many times, slightly torn at the edges, but still readable enough to guide you back, and this time, with actual direction, the walk felt shorter, easier, like the world had decided to cooperate again.
By the time the beach came back into view, the air had changed again, warmer, brighter, familiar. And without thinking, your hand found his again. He didn’t let go. For a moment, it felt like yesterday hadn’t ended. Like you were still in that same bubble, untouched, separate from everything else. You slowed slightly, turning your head toward him, a small smile pulling at your lips. He looked at you the same way. It felt easy with him, at least when he was like that.
Jungkook leaned in slightly to kiss you but then—
Voices.
A group of people passed by, not even paying attention at first, just locals walking, talking, laughing, but it was enough. Enough to break it. Immediately, his hand dropped from yours. Not aggressively but fast, really fast.
He reached up, pulling the pink hat back on, adjusting it lower over his face, his posture shifting in a way you hadn’t seen since yesterday morning. Like something had snapped back into place. You looked at him a little amused
He glanced around quickly, more aware now, more alert. “…Okay,” he muttered under his breath. “Back to the real world.”
You frowned slightly. “What does that mean?”
He looked at you then, properly, but something was different, like he had just popped that little bubble he was just in.
“You know what happens now, right?” he asked.
You stared at him, still slightly amused. “No?”
He nodded slowly, like he expected that. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” he said.
You blinked. “What do you mean?”
“About yesterday, about today… About me. You can’t tell anyone, not even your family.”
You let out a small, confused laugh. “Why would I—? It’s not like they’re going to post it or something.” you added jokingly.
“I’m serious.”
His tone made you pause. “…Okay,” you said slowly. “But I don’t get—”
“If you want to continue seeing me you have to go through the company first,” he continued, cutting you off. “If you want you can come during the next couple of weeks, you have to sign an NDA with my lawyer. Nobody can know about this and if it gets public it will be worse for you. And if it things get complicated—”
You stared at him. “Wow, wow,” you cut him off, already uncomfortable by all the things you had to do for something that wasn’t even formal. “Okay. Calm down.”
“I am calm.”
“No, you’re not. You’re making it weird.”
“I’m not making it weird, I’m telling you how it works.”
“Why does it have to be like that?”
He didn’t even hesitated for half a second. “Because I’m Jungkook from BTS and you’re just an ordinary girl.”
That hit differently. His voice more firm, more detached, like it was something common he use to say… which it probably was. You didn’t react right away. You just looked at him like you didn’t recognize him for a second. Maybe you didn’t, you didn’t know him enough anyway.
You let out a small breath, nodding slowly, like you were processing it. “Wow,” you said again, quieter this time, but sharper. “Okay.”
He frowned slightly, noticing the way your expression changed. “What I mean—”
“No, I know what you meant,” you cut in, stepping back slightly. “And don’t worry about any NDA or future complications, I don’t want to see you again anyway.”
You turned and started walking away from him
“What— Wait, wait” he called your name before stepping in front of you quickly, blocking your way. “What just happen?…”
“Move.”
“If this is because of the NDA, you have to understand is for your privacy too—”
“I said move.”
“You don’t know what people can be like. How much hate you could get—”
“And whose fault would that be?” you snapped.
Jungkook hesitated. “It’s not just that,” he continued, trying again. “I have contracts, deals I can’t—”
“I don’t care.”
“You should—”
“Jungkook,” you said, firmly. “I don’t care anymore. I don’t know what you’re trying to do but this is not normal for me, okay?” You shook your head, unbelievable. “Usually when someone likes me they just ask me on a date, they don’t call me an ‘ordinary girl’ like it’s a slur— Or try to get me to sign contracts before we even go on a date— or tell me excuses about deals and whatever to not make it a big thing—”
“You need to understand my side—”
“No, I do,” you cut him off again. “You just don’t want to date an ordinary girl…”
“It’s not that—”
“Yeah, it is. Because you’re scaring me with all this shit and you’re acting like you’re doing me a favour by even paying me attention.” There was a silence. He didn’t say anything. Because he knew it was true. You nodded before pushing him slightly. “Goodbye, Jungkook.”
You started walking away, your chest tightened. You felt so stupid. Not because of the situation— a superstar using you— but because you had thought he was actually different from the idea you had form in your head about him.
But he just showed you…
“Y/n!,” he called your name. You stopped, turning around to see him. He looked a little embarrassed, his eyes on the sand. “… I need the camera back,” he said suddenly, quieter now.
You blinked. “…Seriously?”
“I don’t want those pictures getting out.”
You stared at him for a second longer then laughed. Not amused but disbelieving. You reached into your bag, pulled it out, and threw it at his feet.
“Take it. There’s nothing in there I want to remember anyway.”
He flinched it, a little thrown off. You turned again, walking away faster this time… At least three steps before you suddenly stopped. You sighed, frustrated before turning back. Jungkook was still froze in his place. You walked straight toward him again before he could even react.
He frowned slightly when you grabbed his arm, pulling it toward you and took a pen from your bag. “What—”
“Shut up.” You wrote quickly against his skin, pressing harder than necessary. “There,” you said, letting go. He looked down. It was a long number.
“…What is this?”
“My bank account,” you replied flatly. “You still owe me 1005€. And my grandma’s car.”
You stepped back. Turned again. This time, you didn’t hesitate to walk away as soon as you could. You didn’t want him to see your eyes getting red with tears.
“Wait, y/n—” Jungkook called after you again, moving forward. “I don’t want it to end like this.” You didn’t stop. “If you just try to understand—” he continued. “The media ruins everything. You wouldn’t be free—”
You turned your head just slightly. “They don’t have to ruin everything anymore, Jungkook,” you said, finally looking at him. “You just did.”
And then you kept walking, you didn’t look back again, because you didn’t want Jeon Jungkook— the superstar, the global idol— to see you crying for him. He didn’t followed you this time, he didn’t even try again to call your name. Behind you, voices started rising. At first just a few. Then more. Recognition spreading faster than it should, people stopping, turning, pointing, phones coming out—
“Is that—?”
“Oh my God—”
“Jungkook!”
And just like that the bubble shattered completely.
Neither of you noticed the camera in the distance. The one that had been there longer than it should have. Watching and capturing everything that just happened.
—————————
Your last few days in Korea didn’t feel like a proper ending.
They felt unfinished, like something had been cut off too abruptly and your body hadn’t caught up to it yet, like you were still waiting for something to happen even though nothing was going to. You went back to your great grandmother’s friend cabin that same day with sand still in your shoes and too many things in your head, and somehow you managed to explain everything to your sister without actually explaining anything, turning the whole story into something vague and harmless about getting lost, about the car breaking down somewhere you couldn’t properly describe, about being helped by someone you “didn’t really know.” You told the same story to your great grandma. She didn’t get mad, not even a little, which somehow made it worse, because she just nodded, patted your arm, and told you those things happened, that cars could be fixed and people got lost all the time, and you stood there feeling like you were the only one aware of how much you were leaving out. Your parents just went with what your grandma said, not really having the energy to fight her.
Your sister, on the other hand, was not as understanding. She was still pissed as hell.
She wasn’t really screaming at you all the time but it was the kind of pissed that sat in every look she gave you, in the way she crossed her arms when you spoke, in the short answers and the eye rolls that didn’t even try to hide how annoyed she was. To her, you had disappeared from the beach, completely abandoned her without explanation, and somehow ended up back in the cabin the next day like nothing had happened, which made absolutely no sense no matter how you tried to spin it. You told her you got dizzy again, that you had to leave, that things just… escalated, but it sounded weak even to your own ears, and she wasn’t buying it, not really.
“You just left me there and disappeared for a day!,” she said at some point, sitting across from you with her arms crossed tightly. “Do you know how crazy that is?!”
“I didn’t just leave you,” you replied, trying to keep your tone even. “I told you, I wasn’t feeling well.”
“You were fine before.”
“I wasn’t.”
She scoffed, shaking her head. “You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Make things complicated for no reason.”
You almost laughed at that but you didn’t because there was nothing you could actually say.
So you let her be mad, let the silence settle between you in those awkward stretches where neither of you knew how to move forward, and instead focused on everything else. The last family dinners, the small outings, the little routines that were supposed to feel normal but didn’t quite land the same anymore even on your last days.
And then there was him.
Everywhere. It didn’t matter where you went Jungkook was there
Not physically but enough to make it impossible to ignore. On screens in convenience stores, playing quietly in the background while people walked in and out like it was nothing. On posters at bus stops, his face printed larger than life, smiling like you hadn’t seen him the last time you spoke. On the radio in taxis, his voice filling the space so casually it almost felt personal. Even in places you didn’t expect, small restaurants, late-night ramen spots where someone had his music playing low enough to blend into the noise. In the purple of the city, streets full of colour with his face all over…
It was exhausting.
Not because you missed him. You didn’t, you just couldn’t escape him. Korea loved him in a way that felt obsessive and effortless, built into everything around you, and you started noticing it more now, every detail sharper than before, every mention of his name making something twist in your chest before you could stop it.
By the time your trip was coming to an end, you found yourself counting down not because you were excited to leave, but because you needed distance. Somewhere you wouldn’t accidentally hear his voice in a random café or see his face printed on a billboard like it was part of the scenery, somewhere you could go back to being just yourself without all of this attached to it.
At least back home, you told yourself, you wouldn’t have to see him everywhere.
At least there, it would be easier to forget…
On the other side of the city, in a place filled with lights and noise and thousands of voices screaming the same name over and over again, Jungkook stood at the center of it all like nothing had changed.
The first concert in Goyang had ended with loud screams, overwhelming fans, perfectly timed, the kind of performance that left no space for mistakes and no room for anything personal to slip through. He moved through it automatically, every step rehearsed, every expression controlled, smiling when he needed to, speaking when it was expected, giving exactly what the crowd came for without letting anything else show.
From the outside, it was seamless. It always was.
Backstage was different, quieter in a chaotic way, staff moving around, voices overlapping, the energy still high but shifting into something more contained, more routine. His members talked around him, laughing, planning where to go next, throwing out ideas for food like they always did after a show and haven’t done in so long. He followed along, nodding when it made sense, answering when he had to, blending into the conversation without really being in it.
“Let’s go eat,” someone said.
“Yeah, I’m starving.”
“Same place as last time?”
“Please, no.”
He smiled faintly at that, just enough to look like he was listening.
They eventually settled on somewhere nearby, nothing too public, somewhere they could go without it turning into a scene, and by the time they reached the parking lot, the noise had faded into something more manageable. He got into his own car, not really feeling like getting his driver to take him there. He just wanted a moment alone and drive around to clear his mind. A car was more private than his motorcycle this time, specially after the concert.
He closed the door. And for the first time that day it was quiet.
He didn’t start the engine right away, didn’t reach for his new phone immediately either He just sat there for a second, hands resting loosely on the steering wheel, staring ahead at nothing in particular while everything from the day slowly settled around him.
Then he reached over to the backseat and picked up the camera like it was killing him not looking at it. The same one you threw at him some weeks ago already. He turned it in his hands for a moment before switching it on, the screen lighting up softly in the dim space of the car, and one by one, the pictures came back.
Blurry ones, bad angles of him, your weird faces when he took pictures. The candid photos he took of you without you noticing him, his big smile in the ones you took of him.
“Okay, let me take another one. But smile like you’re having the best time of your life.”
He was having the best time of his life. Moments that didn’t look like anything important to anyone else, but felt… different now, sitting there in silence with no noise to cover it.
There was one where you were mid-sentence, your expression slightly annoyed, like you were arguing about something stupid. Another where you were both smiling without realizing it, too distracted to care about the camera. One where the light hit you just right, turning everything softer than it actually was. A video after video of your little walk that night.
“I want the world to see the face of the woman who got rid of Jeon Jungkook.”
He stayed on that one a little longer. His thumb hovering over the screen, not moving, not deleting, just there. It was so different, his own smile before he shoved the camera to your face and how you argued with him. He has never seen his own smile like that, so carefree, so himself, so…
Outside, someone knocked lightly on his window.
“Dude, my driver’s been honking for ten minutes. Are we going to eat or what?”
He blinked at Jimin, the moment breaking just like that, and quickly turned the camera off, setting it aside like it hadn’t meant anything. “Yeah, yeah” he said, grabbing his keys. “I’m moving.”
He turned on the engine out, the noise returning instantly, the world snapping back into place like it always did. And just like that everything went back to normal. Normal as his life could be. Or at least, that’s what it looked like.
——————————
For the second concert in Goyang, Jungkook went out with for dinner with his friends.
It was louder than usual, or maybe it just felt that way. The restaurant wasn’t anything fancy, just one of those places they could go to without turning it into a full scene, tucked away enough to keep things manageable but still busy enough that no one paid too much attention. Plates kept arriving, someone was already complaining about being starving even though they had eaten barely an hour ago, and the conversation moved easily between them, jumping from congratulating him for the concert to random jokes to things that didn’t matter at all.
Jungkook sat with them, nodding when it made sense, responding when someone addressed him directly, but there was a slight delay to everything he said, like his mind was always half a step behind the moment.
It didn’t take long for someone to notice.
“You’re quiet,” Eun-woo said, leaning back slightly as he looked at him. “What’s up?.”
“I’m always quiet,” Jungkook replied without looking up from his plate.
“No, you’re not,” his friend replied cut in immediately. “You are tired sometimes but you’re not quiet even when you’re spacing out. And this is not tired quiet.”
Jungkook let out a small breath through his nose, still not fully engaging. “I’m fine.”
“That’s even worse,” Mingyu added, shaking his head. “He said ‘I’m fine.’ He’s definitely not fine.”
His friends laughed at that, the tension easing just enough to make it feel like a joke, but their eyes stayed on him, waiting.
“…What?” Jungkook finally said, glancing up.
“Just say it,” Mingyu shrugged. “What’s going on?”
He hesitated for a second.
Not because he didn’t want to say it but because saying it out loud would make it more real than it already felt in his head.
“…There’s this girl,” he said finally.
That was enough. The reaction was immediate. “Oh, here we go.”
“Of course there is.”
“Who is she?”
“I didn’t know you started dating again—”
Voices overlapped, interest sparking instantly, and Jungkook almost regretted opening his mouth at all, but it was too late now.
“I wasn’t but—” he scratched his head, a little shy. “I met her very spontaneously and—”
“Wait, what do you— Oh my god! Is this the girl who threw up in my shoes?!”
“Dude…”
Mingyu gasped. “She is!” he whined. “She threw up in my favourite shoes, man! You’re a traitor, how can you like her? She even insulted my hair!”
“She thought it was real—”
“IT IS REAL—”
“Okay, shut up! You’re grabbing attention.” Eunwoo slapped his friend’s shoulder before looking at Jungkook. “What’s up with this girl?.”
The question settled into something lighter, easier, and for a moment it felt like just another chat, like nothing about it was different from any other night, but then his friend leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table.
There was a small silence before he finally let it out. “I can’t stop thinking about her,” he admitted, a little quieter this time.
“What do you mean?”
Jungkook paused again, this time not because he didn’t want to say it, but because he wasn’t sure how to explain it without it sounding like more than it was— or less than it actually felt.
“She’s just…” he started, then stopped, searching for the right words. “She’s real.” They waited “She doesn’t care,” he continued. “Not about who I am, not about any of this. She’s annoyingly honest, like— she’ll just say things without thinking about how they sound, and it’s frustrating, but also…” he let out a small breath, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know. It’s different.”
“Different how?” his friend asked.
He looked down at his hands for a second before answering. “She’s smart,” he said. “And she’s funny, but my type of funny which is rare. And she’s—” he hesitated just slightly, then continued anyway, “—she’s beautiful.”
There was a brief silence after that. Not awkward just his friends thinking about his words.
Mingyu finally leaned back, crossing his arms. “Okay. So what’s the problem?”
Jungkook frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you clearly like her,” he said. “So what’s stopping you?”
That question lingered longer than the others. Jungkook didn’t answer immediately. Because he already knew.
“Everything,” he said finally. They didn’t interrupt. “I don’t want to drag her into this,” he continued, gesturing vaguely, like “this” explained everything. “You know how it is. The rumors, the media, people digging into her life, saying things about her… she didn’t ask for that.”
“Well— yeah, that can be a reason,” his friend nodded. “But you can always keep things more private.”
“I don’t think she likes that, but even if had did I— I already…” he trailed off, exhaling slowly. “I already messed it up.”
“How?”
Jungkook let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “By being exactly what she thinks I am.” They exchanged looks, not fully understanding but not pushing either. “She doesn’t want anything to do with it,” he added. “With me.”
“That’s fixable,” Mingyu said.
Jungkook shook his head slightly. “Not really.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s right,” he said simply. That shut them up for a second “I mean, look at it from her side,” he continued. “It is complicated. It would get messy. And I don’t even know if I could make it not messy.”
“You don’t know that,” his friend argued.
“I do.” There was no hesitation in that answer. He leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression settling into something more neutral again, like he had already made the decision even if it didn’t sit right. “It’s better this way anyway,” he said after a moment. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”
No one responded immediately. Not because they agreed but because they knew that tone in Jungkook. The one where he had already decided something and wasn’t going to change it, no matter how much he might regret it later.
“You’re gonna regret this,” Mingyu said finally, shaking his head.
Jungkook smiled faintly. “I already am.”
——————————
The next day felt heavier for Jungkook.
Not in an obvious way, not something anyone else would notice right away, but it was there, sitting in the background of everything he did, following him through rehearsals, through conversations, through the small moments where his mind drifted just enough to bring it all back again.
When his manager asked him to come in for a meeting, he didn’t think much of it at first. Meetings weren’t unusual… but the tone was.
“Sit,” his manager said, already holding something in his hand.
Jungkook frowned slightly but did as he was told, closing the door behind him before taking a seat across from the desk. “What’s going on?” he asked.
His manager didn’t answer immediately. He just slid a photo across the desk. Jungkook looked down. And felt his chest tighten.
It was the beach. Him and you.
Not blurry, not unclear… clear enough to recognize exactly what it was, exactly where it had been taken, the angle slightly off but not enough to hide anything important.
He looked back up “…Where did you get this?”
“Where do you think?.”
Of course.
“You already knew they’ve been following you for months,” his manager continued calmly. “Ever since the rumors started. They’ve been waiting for something like this and you just gave it to them.”
Jungkook clenched his jaw slightly, his eyes dropping back to the photo for a second before he pushed it back across the desk. “It’s not what it looks like,” he said.
His manager raised an eyebrow. “What does it look like?”
Jungkook exhaled sharply, trying to think of something quickly. “She’s not— It was just a mistake…”
“A mistake?” his manager cut in. He didn’t answer. “Because that’s not what they’re going to say,” he continued. “And it’s definitely not what the brand is going to think.”
Jungkook frowned. “What brand?”
His manager let out a small breath, leaning back in his chair. “Se-seril.” That got his full attention. “They’re already hesitant,” he added. “You know that. The image they want is not this again.”
Jungkook’s jaw tightened again. “It’s just one photo.”
“It’s never just one photo,” his manager replied calmly. “It’s a pattern. And right now, they think you can’t even last a week without getting involved in something— with someone.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It doesn’t have to be fair. It just has to be convincing.”
Silence settled between them, heavier now.
Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, frustration building slowly under his skin. “I’ll fix it.”
His manager studied him for a second before nodding slightly “I hope so,” he said. “Because the marketing team already made their position clear.”
“What position?” Jungkook looked at him.
His manager sighed, a short silence followed before he clearly said: “Its simple. Either the girl goes… or the deal does.”
The words landed heavier than anything else that had been said. Jungkook didn’t respond immediately. He just sat there, staring at the desk for a second longer than necessary, his thoughts moving faster than he could keep up with, everything from the last few weeks crashing into the reality of what was sitting in front of him now.
He couldn’t believe that one thing, just one small thing could get this big. This wasn’t just about him anymore. It never really had been… And suddenly it all felt a lot more complicated than it had on that beach.
A perfect day had gone perfectly wrong in all ways.
——————————
The moment you landed, everything changed.
Not slowly, not in a way you could process step by step, but all at once, like someone had flipped a switch while you were mid-flight and you only realized it once your phone turned back on and didn’t stop vibrating. Notifications flooded your screen before you even had time to unlock it properly, messages stacking over each other so fast you couldn’t read a single one completely before another one appeared, your name, your actual full name, mixed between usernames you didn’t recognize and words you wished you hadn’t.
At first, you thought it was a glitch.
Then you opened one. And everything clicked into place in the worst way possible.
The photo. That same one. You and him at the beach, close enough, clear enough, intimate in a way that didn’t need context to become something else entirely once it hit the internet. It had spread everywhere, accounts reposting it, threads dissecting it, videos zooming in like there was something hidden between the pixels that needed to be uncovered… and somehow, within hours, they had found you.
Not just your face. You, your name, your university, your social media.
It didn’t make sense how fast it happened, but it didn’t need to. It was already done.
You stood there for a second longer than you should have, still at the airport, people moving around you while your screen kept lighting up with things you didn’t want to read, your chest tightening slowly as you opened more and more of it despite knowing it wouldn’t get better.
“Who is she?”
“Where did he meet her?”
“She looks like a fan.”
“Another sneaky link.”
“His new toy.”
“New girl of the month.”
It didn’t even feel like they were talking about a real person. Like they weren’t talking about you. But they were.
And it just kept going for days.
People asking questions like you owed them answers, like your life had suddenly become public property just because you happened to exist next to him in the wrong moment. Others didn’t even bother asking, they decided things for you, built entire stories out of nothing, filling in gaps with whatever made the most sense to them, no matter how far it was from the truth.
By the time you got back to your own dorm back to uni, it had gotten worse.
Local accounts had picked it up, translating everything, spreading it further, and suddenly it wasn’t just international fans, it was people around you too. Messages from people you hadn’t spoken to in months, classmates sending screenshots, asking if it was really you, if it was real, if you actually knew him.
Even the news. Not big headlines, not yet, but enough.
Enough for paparazzi to start showing up where they shouldn’t, asking questions you weren’t ready to answer, cameras pointed at you like you had done something wrong just by existing in the same space as him.
You tried to ignore it. At least at first.
You turned your phone off for a few days, told yourself it would calm down, that it would pass like everything else on the internet did.
It didn’t. When you turned it back on, it was worse. More messages. More tags. More people.
Your parents asked what happened the first night you were back to your dorm and luckily they had found the news after landing so you were already enough far away to not see their faces— because you knew you couldn’t lie to them— , their tone careful, confused more than anything, like they didn’t fully understand what they were looking at but knew it wasn’t small. You told them it was nothing, that it was exaggerated, that people were making things up, and technically you weren’t lying— but you weren’t telling the truth either.
You didn’t know how to. You didn’t even know where to start… So you avoided it.
Went back to your classes as soon as you could, using them and work and anything else as an excuse to not stay in the internet too long, to not visit your parents because you knew they would look at you like they were waiting for an explanation you couldn’t give.
Your sister didn’t make it easier either. Her messages didn’t stop. At first, it was confusion. Then disbelief, then more crashing out feelings.
“Is this real???”
“Tell me that’s not you.”
“Why are people saying you were with him???”
“Did you meet him???”
“Why didn’t you tell me???”
You stared at the screen more than once after days of ignoring their messages and calls, Your fingers hovering over the keyboard, trying to figure out how to answer without making it worse, how to explain something that didn’t even feel real anymore now that it was out there like that.
In the end, you kept it simple:
“I just bumped into him.”
That was it. You had never lied to her before. Not like that. And the moment you sent it, something sat heavy in your chest, the guilt settling in immediately, but it was too late to take it back, and honestly— it felt easier than trying to explain everything else.
Because everything else felt like too much. Too personal, too exposed.
And the truth was, you were already drowning in it. The hate didn’t stop. If anything, it got worse for you. Comments under your posts, messages you didn’t open anymore, notifications you started ignoring completely because reading them only made it worse. People telling you to stay away from him, like you had any control over any of this now, like you had planned it, like you were trying to get something out of it. You weren’t. You never were. And yet, none of that mattered.
One night, you sat on your bed with your phone in your hand, scrolling through things you knew you shouldn’t be looking at, reading comments that blurred together after a while, all saying the same thing in different ways, all pointing at you like you were the problem.
You didn’t even know what you were looking for anymore. Maybe something that made sense, maybe something that defended you. Maybe just something different…
Instead, you found a clip.
Short and already viral inside the fandom. Jungkook. From a live he had done the day before.
You hesitated for a second before pressing play.
“…I’m just trying to live my life the best I can,” he was saying, his tone calm, chill in that way that made it feel like nothing serious was happening. He was drinking a beer, looking even more casual. “But it’s honestly so weird how Army can’t even get close to take a picture anymore because it gets out of control.”
You froze. The video kept playing, but you didn’t hear the rest because that was enough. Army. He said it so easily so naturally. Like that was all it had been. Like that was all you had been. A fan who got too close. A situation that got “out of control.” And he has said you were the one thing you had despised the most for the longest time— a fan of him.
And he knew that. And the worst thing was he probably didn’t even care.
You stared at the screen, your grip tightening slightly around your phone, something sinking in your chest in a way that felt heavier than everything else you had read that week.
Because this wasn’t a rumor. This wasn’t strangers making things up. This was him. And just like that, everything you had been trying not to think about—the beach, the conversation, the way he said he could be himself with you, the way he looked at you like you were something different— collapsed into something much simpler. Much clearer.
Jeon Jungkook was exactly what you thought he was.
And somehow that sucked more than anything else.
——————————
The post didn’t just spread. It exploded.
By the time Jungkook saw it, it was already everywhere, screenshots reposted across platforms, translations in multiple languages, fan accounts debating every word like it was evidence in something bigger than it actually was. It had the kind of tone that people believed easily: calm, polite, short, just enough distance to feel real but not enough to invite more questions.
He stared at it longer than he should have.
“It’s pretty weird for me to go online making statements but this harassment really needs to stop, especially toward my family who had nothing to do with this. The last week of last month I went to Korea to enjoy my spring break with my family. I met Jungkook at some beach in Busan. My sister is a big fan of the group so I just asked for an autograph and a picture. Respect to BTS and their craft, they’re amazing artists, but I promise I don’t know Jeon Jungkook (or any member of the group) AT ALL.”
He read it again.
And again.
And again.
Each time it felt worse.
“…Damn.”
Mingyu’s voice came from right next to him, leaning over his shoulder without asking, his phone forgotten in his own hand as he read along.
“That’s brutal,” he added, straightening up slightly.
Jungkook didn’t answer immediately, his thumb still resting against the screen like he was about to scroll but couldn’t bring himself to. “…Yeah,” he said finally, quieter than before.
Mingyu glanced at him, studying his face for a second. “Didn’t you say you liked her because she was annoyingly honest?”
Jungkook let out a small breath through his nose. “Yeah.”
“Well,” Mingyu shrugged lightly, “you got her to lie for you.”
That made Jungkook look up. “I didn’t—” he started, then stopped. Because he didn’t have a real way to finish that sentence.
Mingyu raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t?”
Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, frustrated more with himself than the conversation. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I didn’t ask her to say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Jungkook looked away, jaw tightening slightly, his grip on the phone shifting. Mingyu leaned back against the couch, watching him carefully now. “You told me she was different.”
“She is.”
“You told me she was honest.”
“She is.”
“So why is she out there writing something like that?” Jungkook didn’t answer. Because he knew. Mingyu exhaled slowly, shaking his head a little. “You know what this looks like from the outside?”
Jungkook glanced at him. “What?”
“It looks like she’s protecting you.” The room went quiet for a second. “And you’re letting her,” Mingyu added.
Jungkook frowned. “What am I supposed to do? Go online and say I lied and she did it too for me? Confirm everything they’ve been saying is true?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what?”
“I’m just asking why you’re okay with this,” Mingyu said, more serious now. “Because you don’t look okay.”
Jungkook let out a short, humorless laugh. “Of course I’m not fucking okay with this.”
“Then why are you acting like you are?”
“I’m not acting like anything.”
“You are,” Mingyu insisted. “You’re sitting here pretending this is just… how things have to be.”
Jungkook shook his head, standing up abruptly, pacing a few steps before stopping again. “It is how things have to be. You know that.”
“Do I?”
Jungkook turned to look at him. “Yes, you do.”
Mingyu tilted his head slightly. “I know how things usually are. That doesn’t mean they have to stay that way.”
Jungkook let out a frustrated breath. “You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me.”
He hesitated. Then spoke anyway. “I have a deal on the line. The company is already watching everything I do. There are rumors everywhere, and now this—” he gestured vaguely toward his phone, “—this just makes it worse. If I mess this up, it’s not just about me. It’s the group, the brand, everything.” Mingyu listened without interrupting. “And she didn’t ask for any of that,” Jungkook added. “She shouldn’t have to deal with it because of me.”
“She’s already dealing with it, Jungkook,” Mingyu pointed out. Jungkook went quiet. “That post?” Mingyu continued. “That’s not someone who’s fine. That’s someone trying to control something that’s already out of control. She’s a girl who’s never been public like us and you just lit her on fire. She literally fell into the worst place for this— no offence to your fans, of course.”
Jungkook looked down again, his thoughts catching up to him faster now, pieces clicking into place in ways he didn’t like.
“I was trying to protect her,” he said, quieter.
“From what?”
“From this.”
Mingyu nodded slowly. “And how’s that working out?” Jungkook didn’t answer. Because it wasn’t working out, at all. Mingyu leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve been saying for some time you wanted to live more honestly.” Jungkook glanced at him. “You said you were tired of all the noise, all the pretending, all the things you have to be for everyone else,” Mingyu continued. “You said you wanted something real.”
“I do.”
“Then why are you doing the exact opposite right now?”
That question sat heavier than anything else. Jungkook opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out immediately, his thoughts shifting, rearranging, trying to find something that made sense. “I’m not doing the opposite,” he said finally, but it sounded weaker than he wanted it to.
“You are,” Mingyu said simply. “You’re choosing the same thing you always choose.”
“And what is that?”
“Everyone else.”
Silence settled again for a moment. Jungkook looked away, his jaw tightening again, but this time it wasn’t frustration, it was something els, something closer to realization.
“I don’t want to disappoint people,” he said after a moment.
Mingyu nodded slightly. “I know.”
“I don’t want to mess things up.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to lose everything I’ve worked for.”
“I know,” Mingyu repeated, softer this time. “But at what point do you start losing yourself instead?” That hit differently. Jungkook didn’t respond . He just stood there, the weight of everything settling in a way it hadn’t before, all the reasons he had been telling himself starting to sound less like answers and more like excuses. “You can’t make everyone happy,” Mingyu added after a moment. “You know that, right?”
Jungkook let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah.”
“Then why are you still trying?”
He didn’t have an answer for that. Not a real one. Because the truth was, he had always tried. Always balanced everything carefully, always adjusted himself just enough to fit what was expected, what was needed, what was safe. And maybe that had worked before. But now it didn’t feel right. Not after everything, not after you.
He thought about the beach… About the way you looked at him like he was just another person, not something untouchable, not something to be careful around. About the way you argued with him without hesitation, the way you didn’t soften your words just because of who he was, the way you had said things exactly as they were, even when it would have been easier not to.
Annoyingly honest, that’s what he had called you. And now you were out there lying for him…
The realization settled slowly, but once it did, it didn’t leave. “I don’t want to be that person,” he said quietly.
Mingyu looked at him. “What person?”
“The one she thinks I am.”
“Then don’t be.”
Jungkook let out a breath, running a hand through his hair again, but this time it felt different, less frustrated, more clear. “If i follow this… it won’t be simple,” he said, but it didn’t sound like he believed it as much anymore.
“It never is,” Mingyu shrugged. “That doesn’t mean you don’t have a choice.”
Jungkook looked down at his phone again, the post still open, the words sitting there like a reminder of everything he had tried to avoid.
He thought about the brand. The deal. The expectations. The image. And then… he thought about you. Walking away from him on that beach. Looking at him like you didn’t want a person like him in your world—
But he wanted a person like you in his.
“They don’t have to ruin everything anymore, Jungkook. You just did.”
He exhaled slowly. Maybe he had. Maybe he still was. But that didn’t mean it had to stay that way. He lifted his head slightly, something shifting into place.
“I need to fix this,” he said finally.
Mingyu raised an eyebrow. “How?”
Jungkook didn’t answer immediately. Because he didn’t know yet. Not exactly. But for the first time since all of this started he wanted to find out.
——————————
The days after your post, everything settled into something that almost felt normal again, or at least a version of it that you could tolerate without constantly checking your phone like something new was about to explode.
Classes went on, people eventually stopped staring as much, and the noise online shifted into something less aggressive, less suffocating, especially after your statement started circulating and people accepted the version of the story you had given them. It wasn’t perfect, there were still comments, still whispers, still the occasional message that slipped through and reminded you that the internet never really forgot… but it wasn’t the same kind of overwhelming chaos it had been at the beginning, and for the first time since you got back, you could breathe without feeling like you were about to be dragged into something you couldn’t control.
It helped that you kept yourself busy.
The fundraiser had taken over most of your time, in the best way possible, because it gave you something tangible to focus on, something that didn’t revolve around him or what people thought they knew about your life. It was bigger than you originally planned, almost accidentally so, because more people had gotten involved once word spread, and now it had turned into a full event with performances, a small stage, lights you had to coordinate, a playlist that kept changing every time someone new asked to join, and a budget that somehow still didn’t feel like enough even though you had spent days recalculating everything down to the smallest detail.
By the afternoon of the event, you were running on little sleep and too much caffeine, moving from one place to another with a checklist in your head that never seemed to end, making sure everything was set, confirming times, answering questions that could have been answered if people just read the messages you had already sent them. It was a little messy but at least it had you focus on something else, it felt productive instead of overwhelming, and for a few hours you almost forgot about everything else.
Almost.
Because even when you weren’t thinking about it directly, it was there, sitting quietly in the back of your mind, showing up in the smallest ways, like when someone mentioned music and your brain immediately connected it to something you didn’t want to revisit, or when your phone lit up with a notification and your chest tightened for half a second before you realized it was nothing important.
You had gotten better at ignoring it.
At ignoring people… him. Or at least pretending to.
By the time you finally went back to your dorm to get ready, the sun was already starting to set, the light outside softer, warmer, a reminder that the night was about to begin whether you felt ready or not. You pushed the door open without thinking much about it, already mentally going over everything you still had to do once you got back to the venue, but you stopped mid-step when you realized you weren’t alone.
Hana was sitting on your bed.
She looked up the moment you walked in, like she had been waiting, and for a second neither of you said anything, the silence stretching just long enough to feel weird.
“Hi,” you said, a little unsure.
“Hi,” she replied, just as quietly.
You closed the door behind you, dropping your bag by the chair, trying to act normal even though the tension between you hadn’t really gone away since you got back. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you,” she said simply.
You nodded slowly, moving around the room like you had a purpose, even though you were mostly just avoiding the conversation you knew was coming. “You could’ve texted.”
“I did.”
You paused for a second. “…Right.”
There was the silence again.
You opened your closet, pulling out something to wear for the night, focusing on that instead of her, but you could feel her watching you, and it didn’t take long before she spoke again.
“Are you going to keep pretending nothing happened?” she asked.
You sighed quietly, not turning around. “Hana…”
“No, I’m serious,” she continued, her voice not angry, just frustrated. “You disappeared in Busan, you came weird, we came back home, and suddenly the whole internet is talking about you and him, and you’re just— what? Acting like it’s not a big deal?”
“I said it wasn’t like that.”
“I know what you said,” she cut in. “I read the post.”
You turned to look at her then, your expression tightening slightly. “Then what else do you want me to say?
“The truth.”
The word hung there.
You looked at her for a second longer before shaking your head, turning back to your clothes. “I told you what happened.”
“No, you told me a version of what happened,” she said, standing up now, taking a few steps closer. “And maybe that’s enough for everyone else, but I’m not everyone else.” You stayed quiet. “I’m your sister,” she added, softer now. “I should at least know what’s real.”
You exhaled slowly, running a hand through your hair. “I can’t—” you started, then stopped, your voice catching slightly before you forced it back into something steady. “I just don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?”
She watched you carefully, searching your face like she was trying to decide whether to push more or not. “…Fine,” she said after a moment. You nodded, relieved too quickly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to stand here and watch you pretend you’re okay when you’re clearly not.” That made you look at her again. “I don’t need details,” she continued. “I don’t need to know what happened or why or any of that. But you could at least let me be here for you.” Your expression softened slightly, caught off guard by the shift in her tone. “I can’t stand seeing you like this,” she added, her voice quieter now. “You’ve been… off. And I don’t like it. I prefer when you’re weird and annoying.”
You let out a small breath, your shoulders relaxing just a little. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” she said immediately. “And that’s okay, but stop acting like you are.”
You hesitated. Because she wasn’t wrong. And for the first time in days, it didn’t feel like you had to defend yourself or explain anything or prove something, it just felt like she was there, waiting, not asking for more than you could give.
You looked away, and you realized for the first time this was your fucking sister you were talking about. Your hands flew directly to your eyes, tears filling up in your eyes almost too fast.
“It’s just been a lot,” you admitted finally, voice breaking.
She nodded, stepping closer. “I know.”
You shook your head, still not able to see her. “I didn’t think it would get like that.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
“And now it’s just…” you trailed off, now crying. “I don’t even know what to do”
“You don’t have to do anything,” she said. “You just have to get through it.”
You let out a small, almost tired laugh. “That sounds very easy when you say it like that.”
“It’s not easy,” she admitted. “But you’re not doing it alone.”
That made something in your chest loosen just a little. You moved your hands to look at her and she was quickly to embrace you into a hug.
“I hate this,” you sobbed.
“I know,” she said softer. “I swear I’ve been fighting with all those fake armys defending your honour.”
That made you snort, specially since she said it very calm. You knew it was true.
“And did it ork?”
“Not really. And I’m actually hating Jungkook for not going online to defend a supposedly fan.” She said disgusted.
You stepped away, cleaning your tears and looking at her accusatory. “You hating that guy? Did you have an accident? Are you okay?”
“Shut up,” she pushed you slightly. Hana grabbed your shoulders so you would look at her directly. “You know I would kill anyone for you, right?. Even Jeon Jungkook of BTS if is necessary.” You looked at her, searching her face like you were trying to find any sign that she didn’t mean it but she did. “I don’t care how much I love them,” she continued, her voice steady. “You come first. Always.”
You blinked, caught off guard by how certain she sounded. You looked at her again and for a second it hit you how much you had been holding onto something that wasn’t even real anymore, something you had built over years without realizing it.
“Even those idiots?” you asked, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.
She rolled her eyes. “Especially those idiots.”
You laughed then, a real one this time, the tension easing out of your shoulders in a way it hadn’t in days.
“Wow,” you said. “You hating them for me? That’s new.”
“Don’t get used to it,” she shot back. “I’m only doing it temporarily.”
“Of course.”
“But seriously,” she added, her tone softening again. “If he did something— if something happened and he acted like an idiot or something when you asked for a picture… I swear I’ll find him and kick his ass.”
Something in your chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t heavy, it was warm. You stepped forward without thinking too much about it, wrapping your arms around he again, and she hugged you back immediately, like she had been waiting for it.
“Thank you,” you murmured.
“Always,” she replied.
“But Hana we both know you’re fainting if you ever get the chance to talk to him.”
“Yah!” she pushed you back. “You have to understand!—”
You burst out laughing. The sweet moment stayed like that for a moment longer than usual, letting it settle, letting yourself feel it without overthinking it, just laughing with your sister. Things didn’t feel as overwhelming as they had before, not with her.
“Okay,” you said, clearing your throat slightly. “I have an event to run. Let’s get ready to party.”
She smiled. “Oh, finally.”
You turned back to your closet, grabbing your outfit again, but this time your movements felt steadier, more grounded, like you weren’t carrying everything on your own anymore.
And as you started getting ready, adjusting things, checking your reflection quickly before moving on to the next detail, you realized that maybe, just for tonight, you could focus on something good.
Something that was yours. Something that had nothing to do with Jungkook.
——————————
By the time you arrived at the auditorium, everything already felt bigger than you had imagined when the idea first came to you months ago, like something that had slowly grown on its own while you were too busy organizing the details to notice just how far it had gone. The entrance was crowded, not overwhelmingly so but enough to make it clear that people had actually shown up, groups of students talking, laughing, adjusting their outfits, the low hum of anticipation filling the space in a way that made your chest tighten, not with anxiety this time, but with something closer to excitement mixed with disbelief.
Someone at the door stopped you before you could walk in, handing you a small container. “Phones,” they said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
You frowned slightly. “Phones?”
“Yeah, we’re collecting them at the entrance,” they explained quickly. “They’ll get them back when they leave.”
You blinked, a little confused, trying to remember if that had been part of the plan. It didn’t sound like something you would have insisted on, especially not for an event like this where people usually wanted to record things, to post, to share, but then again, the last few days had been so chaotic that you had stopped questioning small decisions like that, especially if someone on your group thought it was a good idea.
“…Okay,” you said after a second, handing yours over anyway and grabbing the little number so you could pick it up later. “Sure.”
Hana looked at you as she did the same, raising an eyebrow. “Since when are you this strict?”
“I’m not,” you replied, still a little unsure. “Maybe someone else added it.”
“Control freak behavior,” she teased.
“Please, you think I wanna let go of my new phone now that I signed for a five year payment plan?.”
She laughed, bumping her shoulder lightly against yours as you both walked inside, and whatever confusion you had about the phones disappeared almost immediately when you stepped into the auditorium.
It looked incredible.
The stage was set up better than you expected, lights moving softly across the room, the sound already filling the space as the first performers played, people gathered in small groups near the front, others sitting, some already dancing like the night had been going on for hours instead of just starting. The screen behind the stage displayed the donation count in real time, a number that made your stomach twist slightly when you saw it, not because it was bad, but because it wasn’t quite where you wanted it to be yet.
“Hey,” Hana said, nudging you. “Relax. It just started.”
“I know,” you replied, forcing yourself to look away from the number and focus on everything else. “But this better be perfect.”
“It will,” she said confidently. “Look at this place. It’s amazing.”
You glanced around again, taking it in properly this time, and she wasn’t wrong. People were there, they were enjoying it, the atmosphere was exactly what you had hoped for, easy, fun, something that felt alive. You slowly let yourself fall into it instead of standing on the outside analyzing every detail.
You stayed near the front for a while, listening to the bands, clapping, laughing when someone messed up and played it off like part of the act, talking with people who came up to you to say how much they loved the idea, how excited they were to be part of it. Hana dragged you into the crowd at some point, pulling you along when the music picked up, and you didn’t fight it, letting yourself move with it, letting go of the constant need to check everything.
For a while, it felt normal, good.
When the last band finished and the DJ took over, the energy shifted into something louder, more chaotic in the best way, people filling the space in front of the stage, lights flashing brighter now, the music heavier, easier to lose yourself in. You found yourself laughing again, actually laughing, not the forced kind you had been doing for weeks, but something real, something that didn’t feel weighed down by everything else.
And still your eyes kept drifting back to the screen. The number had gone up, slowly, steadily, but it still wasn’t enough, not yet.
You tried not to focus on it too much, telling yourself there was still time, that people were still arriving, still buying drinks, still donating, that it would get there eventually, but the thought stayed in the back of your mind, persistent, impossible to fully ignore.
“Stop staring at it,” Hana said at one point, catching you again.
“I’m just monitoring.”
She rolled her eyes. “Same thing.”
You smiled faintly, looking away again, forcing yourself to focus on the music, on the people around you, on the fact that this was supposed to be fun, not something you stressed over every second.
And then it changed. At first, you didn’t even notice it properly, just a shift in the crowd, a murmur that moved faster than the music, people turning toward the screen, pointing, reacting to something you couldn’t see yet from where you were standing.
“What?” you asked, frowning slightly.
Hana grabbed your arm, pulling you a little closer. “Look.”
You followed her gaze. The number had jumped. Not a little, not gradually. From three thousand it went straight up to fifty-three thousand.
You blinked, thinking you had read it wrong, but it stayed there, bold and undeniable, the kind of number that didn’t make sense in the context of everything you had been watching all night. “What the hell?” you said under your breath.
Around you, people were reacting the same way, voices overlapping, confusion turning into excitement, into disbelief, the energy in the room shifting again, louder now, sharper.
“Did someone mess with it?” Hana asked.
“I don’t think so,” you replied, even though you had no idea how else to explain it.
Before you could process it further, the music cut out.
The sudden silence felt louder than anything that had come before it, the crowd reacting immediately, some people cheering, others just confused, all eyes turning toward the stage as the lights dimmed slowly, one by one, until the entire room was darker than before, the only glow coming from the stage itself.
“What’s happening?” someone near you whispered.
“I don’t know,” you answered, even though the question wasn’t directed at you.
A single spotlight flickered on. Not on the center of the stage but further back, near the screen. Your breath caught slightly, your body going still before your brain could catch up, something in your chest tightening in a way that felt too familiar, too sudden.
And then you saw him. At first, it didn’t register properly, your mind refusing to connect the image in front of you with the reality of where you were, because it didn’t make sense, because it couldn’t make sense, not here, not like this, not after everything. But he didn’t disappear. He stood there, exactly where the light hit him, like he had always been part of the plan, like this wasn’t completely fucking insane.
Jungkook.
In your event, on your stage.
“Oh my god,” Hana said next to you, her grip tightening on your arm. “Oh my god. Oh my god—”
You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Because everything that had felt under control just seconds ago had slipped completely out of your hands again, and this time, you had no idea what he was about to do— or why he was even there in the first place.
You couldn’t move. For a few seconds, maybe more, you just stood there, your body completely still while everything around you erupted into noise, the crowd reacting instantly, screams breaking through the space like a wave you couldn’t escape from, people turning, pointing, trying to get closer to the stage, and somehow, in the middle of all that chaos, he found you.
You didn’t even realize he had grabbed a microphone until you heard your name.
“Y/n,” Jungkook said, his voice echoing through the auditorium, a little breathless, a little unsure despite everything else about him looking so composed under the lights. “There’s some things I forgot to say back in Busan.”
Your stomach dropped.
People around you turned immediately, the energy shifting again, curiosity spreading faster than anything else as they followed his gaze straight to you, and suddenly you were no longer just part of the crowd. You were the person he was looking at, the one he was talking to, the one everyone was now moving around, stepping aside without even realizing it, creating a clear path between you and the stage.
“Hana—” you muttered under your breath, gripping her arm slightly.
“What the hell is happening?,” she whispered back, eyes wide, completely frozen in place.
You had not fucking idea.
Jungkook shifted slightly on stage, running a hand through his hair in a way that looked almost nervous, almost human despite the fact that he had just turned your entire event upside down by simply showing up.
He let out a small breath, then— almost as if it was instinct— he started singing.
모르겠어, 이 감정이 뭔지
혹시 여기도 꿈속인 건지
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t one of those big, dramatic performances meant for a stage like this. It was softer, more stripped down, something that felt almost out of place in the middle of the chaos, and yet somehow, it made the entire room quiet down, the noise fading into something distant as people listened.
Won't you please stay in dreams? Yeah
저기 멀리서 바다가 들려
꿈을 건너서 수풀 너머로
You didn’t move. You didn’t react. You just stood there, your eyes fixed on him, your mind trying to catch up with what was happening, with the fact that he was here, that he was doing this, that he was singing like it was just for you even though there were hundreds of people around.
Close the door now (door now)
When I'm with you, I'm in utopia
And when he finished, the silence lasted just a second before the crowd erupted again. He smiled grateful. Then brought the microphone back up, his expression shifting into something more awkward, more real.
“Okay—” he said, letting out a small, embarrassed laugh. “That was… not what I planned.” The crowd laughed slightly, even if they didn’t know what he meant. “I just—” he started again, then paused, glancing at you, his voice lowering slightly despite still holding the mic. “I wanted to say I’m sorry, Y/n.” The word hung there. He grimaced immediately after saying it, like he regretted doing it that way, like it didn’t feel right. “Wait—no,” he added quickly, shaking his head. “This is weird.”
You let out a short breath, almost a laugh despite everything, because yeah, it was weird. And apparently, he realized it too.
Without another word, he handed the microphone off to someone near the stage and stepped down, the crowd reacting again, parting almost instinctively as he made his way toward you, people whispering, staring, trying to process what was happening just as much as you were.
Jungkook stopped right in front of you.
You just looked at him, a little weird out. He stay quiet for a second, not really sure what to say.
“What?” You finally broke the silence. “You thought you could just come here, sing one of your little songs, and everything would be alright?” you said, your voice low but sharp enough for him to hear.
He blinked. “…Yes—” he said automatically, then immediately shook his head. “No. I mean, no.”
You stared at him. “Yes or no?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly aware of how that sounded. “That came out wrong.”
“You think?” you shot back.
“I panicked,” he admitted.
“You panicked and decided to perform?”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” he said, half-defensive, half-embarrassed. “I’m used to stages.”
“That’s your solution for everything?” you crossed your arms. “Just… sing your way out of it?”
He hesitated. “…Sometimes?”
You let out a breath through your nose, shaking your head. “You’re full of yourself.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I know, I just— I needed to talk to you.”
You glanced around, gesturing vaguely at the crowd still very much watching. “Like this?”
He followed your gaze, then winced slightly. “…Yeah, okay, fair point.”
“Dude, this is weird,” you added. “You’re doing this in front of everyone I know.”
He nodded immediately. “Yeah. You’re right. Let’s—” he gestured toward the side of the stage, “—not do this here?”
You hesitated for half a second, then turned, walking toward backstage without waiting for him, trusting that he would follow. And of course he did.
The moment you stepped out of sight, the noise dimmed slightly, the walls blocking most of it, leaving behind a quieter space that felt completely disconnected from what had just happened out there.
You turned to him immediately. “What are you doing, Jungkook?” you asked, not even trying to hide it.
He stopped a few steps away from you, his expression shifting completely now that it was just the two of you, the confidence from the stage gone, replaced with something more uncertain, more… real and human.
“I’m fixing it,” he said.
“Fixing what?” you shot back. “Because from where I’m standing, you just made it worse.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I know, I just— I didn’t think it through, I just needed to see you and—”
“And what?” you interrupted. “Apologize in front of a crowd?”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair again. “No. Not like that. I just… I didn’t want you to think that what I said— what happened— was real.”
You frowned slightly. “What?”
“The live,” he clarified. “What I said about army. That wasn’t about you. It wasn’t— I wasn’t talking about you like that.”
You crossed your arms tighter. “You made me look like I was your fan.”
“I know,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry for that. I knew you wouldn’t fuck with that and I still did it and— I should’ve been clearer, I should’ve— I don’t know, handled it better. Everything, actually. The NDA shit I said, the way I talked to you, the way I let things go after… I messed it up.” You stayed quiet. “I don’t want to be that person,” he continued, his voice softer now. “The one you think I am. The one that made you lie just to protect me.”
That made something in your chest shift slightly, but you didn’t let it show. “You didn’t make me do anything,” you said.
“I did,” he insisted. “Maybe not directly, but I did. And I hate that. I hate that the most.” There was a pause. “And I’m sorry,” he added, quieter this time. “I’m really sorry, Y/n.”
You looked at him for a second longer, searching his face, trying to find something that didn’t feel rehearsed, something that didn’t feel like it belonged to the version of him everyone else saw.
“You really thought this was a good idea?” you asked finally, nodding slightly toward the stage.
He let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “No. Not really.”
“Good.”
“But I needed to do something,” he added. “I couldn’t just let it stay like that.”
You sighed, some of the tension easing out of your shoulders despite yourself. “You could’ve just called.”
“I tried,” he said.
You frowned. “…You didn’t.”
“I didn’t have your number,” he corrected. “I send you a dm on Instagram.”
“Oh…” That made you pause. “Well I had to delete the app” you added, your tone shifting slightly. “You know, it wasn’t really fun to go around there anymore after those leaked pictures.”
His expression softened immediately. “I’m sorry about that. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
“I know,” you said simply. You let out a small breath, shaking your head slightly. “Honestly, all this is insane.”
“I know,” Jungkook looked at you. “I’m sorry.”
“You just said that.”
“Because I am.” A beat of silence passed, softer now, less sharp than before. “And for the record,” he added, his voice quieter, “I need you to know that I meant what I said. I like you.” You looked at him. “You are not ordinary at all. You’re real,” he continued. “You’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re funny. You’re annoyingly honest, really frustrating sometimes because you wanna argue about everything and think you know more than anyone else. And you suck at directions—“”
“I thought this was a love confession…”
Jungkook smiled. “I really like you. A lot. And I really like me when I’m with you.” You blinked, caught off guard by how direct he was being. “And I’d really like to take you out,” he added, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Properly this time. Even if I have to tell the whole world about it.”
You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Oh no. Please let’s not do that. You were absolutely right about your world,” you said, looking at him with a small, incredulous smile. “I fucking hate it. Everything.”
He laughed too, the tension breaking completely now. “Yeah… fair.”
There was a brief silence.
“Look, Jungkook.” You sighed. “I really like you too but I don’t think there’s a way this could work if—”
“I’ll make it work,” he said immediately, without really hearing the excuse you were trying to say. “Whatever you want, I’ll make it work.”
“But…”
“Do you like me?” he asked, now more confident.
“Jungkook—”
“Do you?”
“Of course I like you but—”
“Then that’s enough,” he said firmly. “I’ll make it work.” He said firmer. Because he will, he was going to make it work anyway with any sort. He liked you that much to just not fight for whatever was going on between you two.
“But—”
He stepped closer.
And this time, there was no hesitation. He reached for you to shut you up, his hand finding your waist, pulling you in with a kind of certainty that hadn’t been there before, not like this, not after everything that had happened.
And when he kissed you, it wasn’t rushed or uncertain, it was intentional, slow at first, like he was making sure you were really there, like he wasn’t going to mess this up again. And that made every doubt in your head disappear. You couldn’t really think of any bad thing when he was kissing you like that. Your hands moved up to his shoulders, then to his neck, pulling him closer, the space between you disappearing completely as the kiss deepened, warmer, heavier, something that carried everything you hadn’t said yet, everything that had been left unfinished before.
He let out a quiet breath against your lips, his hand tightening slightly at your waist, grounding himself in the moment, in you, like that was the only thing that made sense after all the chaos.
When you pulled back, it wasn’t by much. “Do you know how much I hate getting interrupted?” you murmured.
Jungkook smiled slightly. “I’ll learn.” He tilted his head slightly, still close. “You have to go on a date with me so I can learn what else you don’t like.”
“I don’t like you.”
He hummed, his fingers pinching your skin. “You see? Now I know you’re a bad liar.”
You let out a small laugh. “Shut up,” you rolled your eyes. “I can’t believe you donated fifty thousand. You’re insane, dude.”
“I needed to pay for your grandma’s car,” he made a grimaced. “And please stop calling me ‘dude’, I’m literally trying to date you.”
You ignored his last comment. “No, that’s totally different. This is a fundraiser, dude. You still own me for that and the $1005.”
“Well, go on a date with me and I’ll send the money right now.”
You laughed, throwing your head back slightly with a smile, pretending to think before looking back at him. “Well, if I have to—”
“Shut up, you’ll love it.” His smile widened slightly, relief clear in his expression. “Oh! And I forgot.” He grabbed some sunglasses from his jacket to put them on you. “I told you I’ll give them to you.”
You giggled, fixing them. “How do I look?”
Jungkook gave you a quick peck, his bunny smile showing. “Like a superstar.”
And just as he leaned in again—
“OH MY GOD.”
You both pulled apart instantly. Hana stood at the entrance of the backstage area, staring at the two of you like she had just witnessed something life-altering, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open, completely frozen in place.
You blinked. “Hana—” She didn’t move, didn’t blink, probably didn’t even breathe. “This is Jungkook,” you started, turning slightly toward him, then back to her. “Jungkook, this is my sister—”
“I know— Jungkook— He…”
Then she dropped, completely. You stared at her on the floor for a second.
“…Did she just faint?”
Jungkook looked just as stunned. “…I think she did.”
You sighed, running a hand over your face. “Oh, my god!”
He started freaking too. “What should we do?!”
“I don’t know!,” you started panicking, crouching down next to her. “Call a medic or something!— Don’t make that face! Jungkook you better not be calling Taehyung and Jimin because I swear to God—”
Maybe you and Jungkook weren’t so different. After all you both were undeniably and completely idiots.
——————————
[Campus Buzz – Student Blog]
“Massive charity event ends in chaos after ‘mystery guest’ appearance.”
Attendees claim a “very famous figure” (member of korean-group BTS) appeared on stage during last night’s university fundraiser, causing a spike in donations that exceeded expectations. With phones collected at the entrance, no footage exists, leaving the internet divided between disbelief and full conspiracy mode.
[K-Pop Insider Forum Thread]
“Was Jungkook in Europe last night???”
User claims their friend attended a university event where “someone who looked exactly like him” performed briefly before disappearing backstage with a girl. No videos, no proof… just rumours. Fans argue whether it’s him or just another lookalike myth.
[Entertainment Gossip Account]
“Dispatch misses again?!”
After recent dating rumors involving BTS’s Jungkook, new whispers suggest he was spotted overseas at a private event in the University where Y/n Y/l/n (girl who was rumoured to be involved with him back in Busan is attending) attends. No official confirmation. No photos. Just a lot of students confirming this.
[Local News Snippet]
“Unexpected donation surge raises questions.”
A student-led fundraiser exceeded its goal by a significant margin after an anonymous contribution pushed totals beyond €80,000 by the end of the night. Organizers declined to comment on the source.
——————————
weverse/twitter:
mnijungkook: this is getting absolutely crazy. with all this big rumours maybe i should start dating this person
yourname: bts lowkey flops
i might forgotten to add a lot of people to the taglist but i try my best i swear😔🙏🏼
Tags: wlw, fem x fem, established relationship, homophobia, mentions of human trafficking (the crime they're investigating), no physical descriptions of reader
A/N: Hi to the three Moneypenny lovers how do we feel? I haven't written her before so I hope I did her justice. Based on a request.
“Stay still, please!”, Moneypenny scolds, tilting your head to get a better angle. She’s been doing your makeup for half an hour now, making sure each and every line is perfect. Now she’s painting your lips a pretty pink with careful strokes. “You’re going to ruin it.”
“Sorry”, You smile sheepishly, stopping the tapping of your foot against the floor. “I’m just nervous.” She applies the last bit of lipstick when you stop talking, swiping her thumb against your lower lip to blend it in and give it a more natural look.
“So am I, if it makes you feel better. It’s normal to feel that way”, she reassures, leaning back to assess her work. The focused frown fades, an admiring smile replacing it. You look beautiful. She steps aside so you can see if you like it in the mirror.
“You have golden hands”, You beam at her. She made the eyes harsh but left the lips and blush pale, creating a nice contrast. Her own makeup emphasizes her big eyes and plush lips with darker colors. “Your turn now”, you jump up from your seat, guiding her to sit in your place. She hands you the hairbrush and you comb through her long auburn locks. Separating it into three strands, you braid it and pin it up in a bun, styling her bangs to sit nicely over her forehead. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t tame the baby hairs sticking out everywhere, but you don’t mind. It gives her a certain charm, especially the back of her neck, where you can’t help but press a brief kiss. Goosebumps rise on her skin. It is too late when you realise you have lipstick on, and you rush to wipe it off. You wish you could leave the mark there.
“Does it need touching up?” She asks, voice wavering. You notice that she’s red ear to ear, making you chuckle. You shake your head.
“No, it’s perfect like this.” You rest your chin on her shoulder, looking over her hair in the mirror. “Do you like it, or should we do another hairstyle?”
“It’s beautiful.” She smiles, squeezing your hand. “Thank you, darling. Now, onto our task.”
It is hard to keep your hands off your lover in public when she looks this stunning. She’s wearing deep red satin, black lace at the neckline and sleeves- matching her bold makeup and fiery hair. She’s a breath of fresh air amongst the suffocating, filthy nobles that surround you. Your job is to gather information, about one man in particular- one that is involved with a trafficking ring. That man is standing right across the ballroom, sizing the two of you up. Either he figured out you’re not nobles or he’s about to invite you over to him and you’re going to have an unpleasant, but useful conversation. He waves. This is your chance. The two of you approach him, revving up your acting skills in your head. One, two, three, big smile.
“Good evening, ladies”, he greets, kissing your right hands. “I am Jonathan Anson, but you must already know me. And you are?”
“Mrs. Moriarty”, Moneypenny speaks up first. “And this is my sister in law. Albert Moriarty is my husband.”
“Ah, husband! Take no offense, I almost thought you were one of those perverted women that lay with their bosom friends, you were so close the whole time.” He barks a laugh, his blue eyes burning with malice. Your fists clench at your sides, trying to keep your calm and not tackle this disgrace to the ground. Moneypenny is so upset she can’t find words, but it doesn’t show on her faint smile. ‘Fortunately’, he continues speaking so you don’t have to break character.
“Albert Moriarty, you said? I didn’t know he got married. Allow me to note, he’s a lucky man.” He gives her another once-over, making your stomach churn with disgust. The sheer audacity to compliment her after saying something so insulting... Yet she keeps smiling through it. “Is he present?”
“Why, thank you! Although I believe I’m the lucky one. He’s wonderful.” She makes sure to keep eye contact, playing the confident noblewoman, opposite of her. You take over the conversation now, seeing her discomfort.
“Unfortunately, he’s bedridden. He sent us here because he wanted to make a business offer.” He catches on immediately, his smile turning more cautious. He doesn’t suspect anything, his ring is an open secret between nobility- most of the guests in this room are already involved. Still, he steps closer and speaks on a volume only the two of you can hear.
“Let us talk somewhere private.”
And somewhere private you go, only hoping nobody notices that it’s you that left with him. You find yourself in the bedchambers upstairs, presumably his. He is naive and believes in his power- not believing for a second that two noblewomen would or could trap him.
“Two beautiful orphan boys, around seventeen”, Moneypenny says. “We’ve adopted them secretly- nobody will notice they’ve gone missing.” Even lying about something so horrible makes both of you nauseous. “Just name the place and my husband will sell them to you.”
“I would like to have a look at them first.” He opens the balcony door, watching as the rain falls on the empty backyard. You take it as a sign to follow him. “There’s an abandoned warehouse in the outskirts of the East End. You’ll recognize it. We keep and sell the product there. I expect the boys at midnight on Tuesday.” His objectifying, despicable words fill you with rage to the brink, to the point where you can’t let him speak any more, grabbing his collar and smashing his face into the railing so hard, blood splashes on the pink silk of your dress. You hear a crack, possibly his nose, and you revel in it. He lands on cobblestone with a loud thud before either him or Moneypenny could stop you. She doesn’t leave time for your actions to dawn on you, dragging you out of the room, down the lonely halls, outside to your carriage waiting on the other side of the manor amongst the others. From the carriage window Moneypenny makes sure that the ballroom curtains are closed- nobody saw Anson fall. Maybe nobody noticed the three of you together. Either way, you fucked up and you know it. Silence occupies the carriage all the way home. You’re in a haze, and she’s trying to figure out what to report to William. You only talk when you’re back in your hotel room.
“We weren’t supposed to kill him.” She says, trying to maintain her composure while she undoes the back of your dress. You only nod.
“I know.”
“What if someone realises it was not an accident and they move the trafficking location? What if someone heard us and traces back the ties to Moriarty??”
“We’ll figure something out. I’m sorry!” You sigh with frustration, turning to face her. You don’t regret killing him- he deserved it-, but you regret not waiting for the right moment. “I couldn’t bear listening to him anymore, not for another second. The way he talked about human beings was enough, but he also looked at you like you were… and what he said about us…” You’re just rambling at this point, fiddling with her hand nervously. That is until she grabs your face and redirects your gaze onto her, straight into her doe-like eyes. They’re not angry. They’re worried and understanding.
“Breathe for me, okay?”, She talks low, her voice soothing you. She smooths your hair back, her slender hand coming to cradle your head. “It wasn’t your fault. He provoked it, and we’ll solve this, like everything else. Everybody makes mistakes.” You almost forget what you are upset about the longer you stare into her pretty face. You could count all her freckles up this close. The faint scent of lavender, ink and old paper wafts from her skin. Comforting. Uniquely her. Her lips meet yours before she knows it, soft and gentle.
“That man was lost”, you murmur against her mouth, coaxing her onto her back. You lean back to look down at her, running your fingers through her now undone, disheveled hair. “If he ever loved someone the way we love each other, he wouldn’t have had so much hate in his heart.” She smiles, a genuine one. Not the polite smile she gives others. The flush on her cheeks isn’t the same either.
“You think so?”
“I know so.” You brought this up because you sense she’s just as upset about it as you are, if not more. She doesn’t like making things about herself. “Those who know true love don’t hate others for experiencing it differently.”
“My philosopher.” She chuckles, and your eyes light up. You kiss her again, and once more on her neck.
“How about a nice bath together?” You wink. “I’ll wash you. We both deserve it, I think.”
