paradise of dreams *

| digital library | favs | fic recs | yes, i read a lot |

[solemnreads]

look around the digital library

get to know me

hey loves! welcome to my blog! i know it's a headache to find a good read, but luckily i'm an obsessive reader who knows a good fic when i see it. fyi, lots of these reads are nsfw (18+) so be cautious!

feel free to explore:

masterlist fic recs

recent uploads:

way back home: part 11

yours truly

[gl00s]

༘⋆ to whatever end. .☘︎ ݁˖ • chapter3

Summary - For years, they existed in the space between friendship and love, too close to be platonic, yet never enough to be real. He treated her like she was his in private, only to pull away the moment things became too serious.

The night she finally chose to walk away from the man who once consumed her entire world, she carried something else with her too.

Two years later, a little girl, or fate perhaps—bring them back to each other.

Genre : second chance romance, unrequited love (at first), slow burn, accidental pregnancy, Friends → strangers → lovers, angst, fluff

Themes : emotionally unavailable! Jungkook , unlabeled relationship, friends with benefits(kind of), fear of commitment, one-sided devotion, accidental pregnancy, absent father (he doesn’t know), girl dad! Jungkook, second chances, yearning, found family, angst with happy ending

⤷ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

The Life She Built

Y/N settled into her new life quickly. She worked as a teacher at the kindergarten that had opened a few months ago, just down the road from her parents’ house.

Her parents didn't think the job was necessary, but she insisted. She told them it was because one day she'd have to take care of a child of her own. And though she hated to admit it, she took it partly because she didn't want to think about him, she needed to keep her mind busy, her hands full, her heart distracted.

But somehow, after a few weeks of keeping herself occupied whenever she could, she found herself thinking about him anyway. About Jungkook. Not in the quiet moments, but in the crowded ones. Surrounded by people she enjoyed, buried in work, laughing at something a kid said, he'd slip in between the cracks, sharper and more often than in silence.

Jungkook would love this kid.

If Jungkook were here, he'd have laughed his ass off.

Jungkook would call this his new favourite dish.

The nights were worse. Alone in bed, Y/N would gently rub her belly and whisper to her child about little things, big things, everything. Her childhood. Her day. How she almost threw up at the word fart, just the word itself. Pregnancy was terrifying, and spending every day around children didn't help. When the kids first noticed she was pregnant, one little girl stood up proudly, reciting with absolute "Mama told me babies are made out of love." Y/N smiled at the time. She cried when she got home, souldn't stop, she cried until she fell asleep.

Once, during lunch, the sound of children chewing sent her running to the bathroom.

She whispered to her baby about Jungkook too. "Jungkook is your dad, but nobody has to know. We don't want an asshole like him in our lives." And then, quieter "Do you think he would've loved me differently if he knew about you? Do you think there was ever a moment, even a small one, when he actually loved me?"

_____

Jiho and Y/N talked every day. Jiho came over every weekend.

"How is everyone else doing?" Y/N asked one evening, making an americano for herself and Jiho. Jiho had been a lifeline. She took care of Y/N, looked after her, even bought her an espresso machine just so she didn't have to survive on instant coffee.

"They're okay. Same as always. We miss you so much. Mingyu suggested a surprise visit and I had to come up with so many lame excuses I've lost count." Jiho's voice carried a weight she couldn't hide. "I don't think we can keep this quiet much longer."

She felt guilty, keeping something this big from their friends, lying by omission every single day. But it was for Y/N. There were close calls, like that one time she'd mentioned Y/N's cravings and someone asked what cravings, and she'd covered it up with a quick "period cravings." The lie sat sour in her stomach every time.

Y/N felt it too. Eunwoo and Mingyu checked on her constantly, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the boys found out. She could only hope they'd understand. "I know," Y/N said, her voice quiet, threadbare. "I feel awful too. But you know I have to do this."

Jiho nodded. She knew Y/N's decision was the only one that made sense right now. Still, every time she saw Jungkook, she had to fight the urge to kick him square in the balls. And sometimes, when the weight of it all pressed down on her chest , she wanted to cry. Because her best friend was carrying his child and they were hiding it from him.

________

Jungkook had asked Jiho about Y/N once. Just once. She'd given him nothing, a shrug, a vague she's fine and he hadn't had the courage to ask again. But he felt the emptiness more than he'd expected to. He missed her. Her presence. Her jokes that weren't even funny. Her laugh. Her scent. He started dating again, hoping someone new could fill the space she'd left. It didn't last.

One night, in the middle of it all, while his girlfriend was on top of him, breath heavy, moving, he moaned a name that wasn't hers.

Y/N.

Her hips stopped. His eyes shot open. She slapped him so hard his jaw throbbed until the next morning. Without a word, she got up, pulled her clothes on, and walked out. The door slammed so hard the windows rattled. Jungkook fell back onto the bed, both hands covering his face. "I need therapy," he whispered to the ceiling.

That was the last time he tried. No more girlfriends. No more hookups. No more pretending someone else could be her.

________

It was late — the kind of late where the city dims and the only sounds are the hum of streetlamps and the distant bark of a dog. Jiho had been home, already in her sleep clothes, when her phone buzzed with Mingyu's name on the screen. He needed help packing the delivery orders. She sighed, changed, and went. The shop was warm when she stepped inside, the overhead lights casting a tired yellow glow over scattered piles of folded clothes. Boxes sat half open on the floor, a roll of tape had rolled under the table. It was normal Messy. Chaotic. The kind of chaos she'd grown used to being around.

Jiho grabbed the list and began checking items one by one, crossing off names with a pen she found tucked behind her ear. Jungkook worked beside her, folding, matching, stacking in silence. Mingyu and Jaehyun had been out delivering since evening, their van cutting through streets Jiho knew by heart. Eunwoo sat in the corner, phone pressed to his ear, handling calls and messages in a low, tired voice. The air was thick with routine. And then Jungkook spoke, "Are you visiting Y/N soon?"

Jiho's hand froze mid check. The pen hovered over the paper. It caught her off guard, not because the question was strange, but because it was him asking it. Jungkook hadn't said Y/N's name since she left. Not once. He carried her absence like a bruise he never touched, never acknowledged, never let anyone see. And now, standing among folded shirts and half taped boxes, he'd finally broken the silence. Jiho forced her voice steady. "Mmhm. I'm actually visiting her tomorrow."

Jungkook nodded. A small stiff motion. His hands kept folding a pair of jeans, then a sweater, but his fingers moved slower now, like his mind was elsewhere, swimming through waters he'd been avoiding.

"Tell her I said Hi."

The words came out quiet. Casual. Almost throwaway but beneath them, buried in the space between his syllables, there was a whole universe of things he didn't say.

He wanted to tell Jiho to tell Y/N that he was sorry. That he woke up some mornings reaching for a side of the bed that was cold. That her laugh played on a loop in his head at night when he couldn't sleep. That he saw her face in crowds, in the reflection of shop windows, in the pause before he fell asleep. That he missed her, not the idea of her, but her. The weight of her. The warmth. The way she'd scrunch her nose when she laughed at her own bad jokes.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her. That he'd always loved her. That the reason he pushed her away, let her go, didn't fight for her was because he was terrified. Not of her, but of what she made him feel. Of how deeply she'd carved herself into him. Of the kind of love that asks you to be vulnerable, to be seen, to trust that someone won't leave even when they know every broken piece of you. He wanted to say all of it.

But he didn't.

Because deep down, even if he couldnt fully accept it, even if it sat like a stone in his chest every single day he knew. Y/N was better off without him. She was happier. Or at least, she was learning to be. And he had no right to disturb that peace, no matter how much his own world felt like it was crumbling without her.

So he just folded another shirt and said nothing more.

_________

If you asked Jungkook what love was, he wouldn't be able to tell you. Not in words. Not in definitions or poetry or songs. He'd fumble, shake his head, change the subject.

But he knew it through Y/N.

He knew it in the way she kissed him, slow and deliberate, he knew it when she chose him over and over again. He knew from the way she pulled him close while their bodies are pressed together, swallowing each other’s words and moans, their souls intertwined.

_______

Y/N's pregnancy went better than anyone had expected. Her body adjusted in ways she hadn't dared to hope for, the morning sickness faded after the first trimester, the exhaustion settled into something manageable, and the wild swings of emotion became quieter, like waves that had learned to recede instead of crash. Her life, strangely, began to piece itself together.

She woke up in the mornings without that familiar weight pressing down on her chest. She went to work, came home, cooked meals she actually ate, slept through the night more often than not. There was a rhythm to it. A soft, gentle hum that hadn't existed when he was still in her life.

Sometimes, when Jungkook wandered into her mind uninvited, in the middle of grading a child's drawing or while stirring soup on the stove, she would curse him. Call him a stain on her timeline, a curse she had to break. Because look at her now. Look at how everything had fallen into place the moment she walked away. Her life felt safer. Calmer. Like she could finally breathe without splinters in her lungs.

See? she'd tell herself. It was him. He was the problem.

But she never believed it. Not really.

Because beneath the bitterness, beneath the anger she clung to like armor, Y/N had never stopped loving Jungkook. She didn't know when it would end. Didn't know if it would end. It was stubborn, rooted deep in places she couldn't reach to pull it out.

And how could she forget him, when she carried a part of him with her everywhere she went? When she felt his heartbeat under her own ribs? When she talked to her belly at night and heard echoes of his voice in hers?

She didn't know how to stop loving someone who had become a part of her blood.

Maybe she never would.

________

Everything went well. Better than well, like the universe had decided to give her this one thing without a fight.

Her water didn't break on the way to the hospital. There were no complications, no sudden panic, no moment where the world tilted off its axis. The pregnancy hadn't been as bad as she'd feared, she'd handled it, somehow, handled it well. And when the time came, her body knew what to do. Ten hours. That was all it took. Ten hours of labor, with Jiho's hand in hers the entire time, never letting go.

When Y/N first heard her baby cry, everything around her went mute. The machines, the voices, the distant bustle of the hospital, all of it disappeared, swallowed by a single sound. That cry. Raw and new and so impossibly alive. Tears spilled from her eyes before she could stop them, streaming silently down her temples as she lay there, breathless.The nurse lifted the baby, wiped her clean, and placed her on Y/N's chest with a warm smile.

"It's a girl."

The world stopped.

Y/N looked down at the tiny body resting against her, skin to skin, warm and damp and trembling with each small breath. She was so small, so impossibly small. Her fingers curled into fists no bigger than the tip of Y/N's thumb. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that felt like the most important sound in the universe.

My babygirl.

She didn't realize she'd whispered it until she heard her own voice, soft, cracked, full of something she couldn't name.

The nurse draped a cloth over the baby's back, drying her gently while she lay on Y/N's chest, then covered them both with a warm blanket. The baby nuzzled instinctively, searching for warmth she already knew, and within minutes, she was asleep. Peaceful. Curled up like she'd never left the safety of Y/N's belly.

The doctor stepped out to update her parents that the mother and baby were healthy. No complications, a perfect delivery.

But Y/N barely heard any of it. She couldn't take her eyes off the baby. "She's so tiny," she whispered, over and over, like a prayer she couldn't stop saying. She studied every inch of her. Her skin, still flushed red, softening into pink. Her tiny hands, faintly blue at the fingertips. The way she slept with her face turned slightly toward Y/N's heartbeat, as if she still recognized it. As if she knew she was home. Y/N lay there, her arms wrapped around her daughter, and let the silence settle around them like a second blanket.

She didn't think about Jungkook. Not yet. For now, there was only this, her babygirl, warm and safe sleeping on her chest like she'd always belonged there.

Jiho started staying over more often after the birth, showing up with groceries, taking over night feeds so Y/N could sleep, holding Jiyeon while Y/N showered. Y/N's mother took leave from work until she was fully recovered, and her father made sure they never wanted for anything. He showed up with bags of food, medicine, vitamins and a few weeks after they got home from the hospital, he started bringing toys too. A plush bunny. A rattle shaped like a star. A tiny dress that Y/N cried over before Jiyeon even grew into it.

There wasn't a single moment when Y/N felt like she needed Jungkook by her side. Not one. She was happy. Safe and loved. Surrounded by people who showed up without being asked, who held her when she cried, who celebrated every small milestone like it was their own.

Her mother had suggested the name. Jiyeon. She'll grow up to be a beautiful woman, she'd said, full of wisdom and grace. Just like her mother.

Y/N had smiled, cheeks wet, and agreed. She felt it all, the happiness, the excitement, the overwhelming swell of emotion every time she thought about raising a daughter.

A mini her

But she was oh so wrong.

Time passed quickly, the way it always does when you're too busy living to notice. Jiyeon grew up faster than Y/N had ever prepared herself for.

The first time she stood up on her own, Y/N was in the kitchen making a cup of tea. She turned around and there she was, tiny hands gripping the edge of the coffee table, legs wobbling, face scrunched in concentration. And then she let go. One second. Two. Standing on her own two feet like she'd been doing it her whole life. Y/N burst into tears. Right there, mug in hand, crying like a child herself. Because it felt like just yesterday she'd held her for the first time, that warm, tiny weight against her chest, still pink, still learning how to breathe. And now she was standing. Leaving the newborn days behind whether Y/N was ready or not. It all felt like a dream. A beautiful, blurry, heartbreaking dream.

And the fact that Jiyeon looked exactly like Jungkook didn't help.

It was uncanny, really. The same eyes, dark, deep, and huge. The kind that crinkled at the corners when she laughed. The same nose, the same lips, the same smile that could light up an entire room and break your heart in the same breath. She was his replica. A tiny, walking, breathing copy of the man Y/N had spent years trying to forget.

Y/N sometimes hated it. Hated that her daughter took so little from her. She'd search Jiyeon's face for something that was undeniably hers, and all she could find was her hair. The same shade, the same texture. Everything else, the curve of her jaw, the shape of her ears, the way she tilted her head when she was curious, all Jungkook.

As Jiyeon grew, her personality followed the same path. She was stubborn in a way that felt familiar. Loud when she wanted attention, quiet when she was observing. She loved certain foods and hated others with a passion that made no sense for a child her age. She tapped her fingers on tables when she was bored. She bit her lip when she was thinking. She laughed with her whole body, throwing her head back like the world was the funniest place to be with her bunny teeth showing.

All of it. Every single habit. Every like, every dislike, every little quirk.

Him.

"At least her first word wasn't 'Dada,'" Y/N would mutter to herself on the hard days, when Jiyeon looked at her with those eyes and she felt her chest crack open. She said it like a prayer, like a small victory she could hold onto. A tiny comfort. She said 'Mama' first. That's mine. That one thing is mine.

And yet, Y/N looked at her daughter, sleeping peacefully, her face a perfect copy of a man she once loved, maybe still loved and she felt it. That fullness in her chest. That warmth that spread through her like sunlight.

Everything in her life was complete. Everything she had dreamed of, everything she had ever wished for, was right here in front of her.

Even if it came wrapped in a face that reminded her, every single day, of what she'd left behind.

_________

Two years passed within a blink.

Just like that. Two whole years, gone like smoke through open fingers.

Within those two years, Y/N learned more than she had in the decade before. She learned how to survive on three hours of sleep and still function. She learned that love doesn't always look like what the movies show, sometimes it looks like vomit on your favorite shirt at 2 a.m., like rocking a screaming baby for hours until your arms go numb, like crying in the bathroom because you're so tired you can't remember the last time you felt like yourself.

She learned that you can leave someone you thought you couldn't live without. That the world doesn't stop turning. That your heart keeps beating, even when you're sure it's broken beyond repair and she learned that sometimes, when you lose one kind of love, the universe blesses you with another.

Two years passed so quickly, with so much happening, that Y/N sometimes couldn't tell the difference between her dreams and actual moments that happened. Was that a real memory, Jiyeon's first laugh, bubbling up from her tiny chest like honey or had she imagined it so many times that it felt real? She didn't know anymore. The days blurred together, soft and warm and exhausting, and she let them.

She never spoke of Jungkook anymore. Not to Jiho, not to her mother, not to anyone. His name sat in her throat like a stone she'd learned to swallow. But that didn't mean she thought about him less.

If anything, she thought about him more.

He was there in every little moment from the moment she held Jiyeon in her arms alone for the first time. In every big one. The day Jiyeon laughed for the first time. The day Jiyeon took her first steps, wobbling, determined, arms outstretched, Y/N watched and thought of him. The day she said her first word. Mama. Y/N cried and laughed and held her close, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard his voice. When Jiyeon started feeding herself, smearing food across her face like war paint, Y/N laughed until her stomach hurt. And then she thought of him.

He was everywhere. In the curve of Jiyeon's smile, in the stubborn set of her jaw, in the way she hummed when she was focused on a toy. He was in the air she breathed, in the silence before sleep, in the spaces between heartbeats.

Y/N had stopped speaking his name. But she had never stopped carrying him with her. She had just learned how to live with the weight.

_______

Jungkook knew the feeling of losing a loved one well. He had learned it young, learned it deeply, learned it in ways that carved themselves into his bones and never quite healed.

And he knew, better than most, that death wasn't the only thing that could come between people.

The first time he felt it, he was just a boy.

His parents sold his dog, his best friend, his shadow, the only living thing that greeted him with pure, uninhibited joy at the end of every school day. He came home one afternoon and the house was quieter. No barking. No scratching at the door. Too much trouble, they said. Distracting you from your studies. He didn't cry in front of them. He waited until he was in his room, face buried in his pillow, and let the tears soak through until there was nothing left. He never asked for another dog. He never asked for anything again.

The second time was when they moved to Seoul, leaving his grandmother behind in Busan.

She had been his everything. She was the one who cleaned the scratches on his knees when he fell off his bike, humming an old tune as she dabbed alcohol on the wound. She was the one who tucked him in at night, smoothing the blanket over his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his forehead like he was the most precious thing in the world. She was the one who held him when he cried, who never told him to stop, who let him fall apart in her arms and put him back together with nothing but her presence.

She was the only person who ever made him feel like his existence mattered.

And then they took her away from him. Not through death, through distance. Through a move he had no say in. Through weekend phone calls that grew shorter and fewer until they stopped altogether. He visited her sometimes, but it was never the same. The warmth was still there, but the miles between them had stretched it thin, like elastic that had lost its snap.

The third time happened when he was in high school.

By then, Jungkook had already learned to keep most of himself hidden. He didn't ask for things anymore. Didn't expect much from the people around him. He had learned, early on, that wanting things only led to disappointment, so he stopped wanting. Or at least, he stopped showing it.

But music and art—those found him anyway. It started small. A melody he couldn't get out of his head, scribbled on the margin of a textbook. A drawing of the view from his window, done in ballpoint pen because he didn't have proper pencils. Slowly, it became the only thing that made sense. When the world felt too loud, too heavy, too suffocating, he picked up his guitar. He let his fingers move across the strings until the noise in his head quieted down. He drew until his hand cramped, filling page after page with shapes and shadows that didn't need words.

It was his escape. His way of breathing. His way of saying everything he couldn't say out loud. His father never understood it. To his father, music was a distraction. Art was a waste of time. Everything that didn't lead to a stable job, a stable future, a stable life, it was useless. And Jungkook, who had never been good at explaining himself, who had never been given the space to try let the distance grow between them like cracks in dry soil.

Until one night. The night that broke whatever was left. He couldn't remember what started the fight. Maybe it was about his grades. Maybe it was about the hours he spent locked in his room. Maybe it was about nothing at all, just two people who had never learned how to talk to each other, finally reaching the end of a very short rope.

But he remembered the end. He remembered his father's hand wrapping around the neck of his guitar. The one he had saved up months of allowance to buy. The one he had stayed up late practicing on, fingers raw and blistered, because it was the only thing that made him feel alive. He remembered the way his father's arm swung up, the guitar suspended in the air for a split second and then the sickening crack as it came down against the floor. The wood splintered. The strings snapped, curling in on themselves like wounded things, pieces of the body scattered across the floor, and Jungkook just stood there, staring at the wreckage of the only thing that had ever felt like his.

He didn't scream. Didn't cry. Didn't say a word. He simply turned around and walked out.

Jungkook didn't remember driving to her place that night. He remembered walking out of his house, the front door slamming behind him, the cold air hitting his face, the splintered remains of his guitar still scattered across the living room floor. He remembered getting into his car, his hands were shaking, his chest felt like it was caving in. He didn't know where he was going until he was already there.

Her house.

The only place his heart had ever learned to point itself toward.

He knocked. Then he knocked again. And when she opened the door, sleepy, confused, hair messy. He didn’t say a word and stepped forward immediately. His face buried into her shoulder. His arms wrapped around her waist, tight, desperate, like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely. Y/N didn't question him. Didn't push him away. She just held him tighter, her arms circling his back, one hand running up and down his spine in long, soothing strokes.

She didn't ask what happened. She didn't need to. She just held him, let him shake, let him breathe, let him fall apart in the safety of her arms. Minutes passed. Maybe longer. Time felt meaningless. Then her voice came, soft and warm, spoken into his hair like a secret. "Jungkook, let's go to my room, okay? My aunt's home tonight."

He pulled away slowly. His eyes were red, glassy, still holding back a flood he hadn't let himself release yet. He looked at her and nodded. "Okay."

She took his hand and led him inside.

That night, Jungkook cried in front of someone for the first time since he was fourteen years old. Since his grandmother's funeral, where he had sat in the corner of a crowded room, silent and hollow, tears streaming down his face while no one noticed.

Y/N had slipped past his walls before he even realized they were down.

He cried the whole night. Great, heaving sobs that tore through his chest like something had been clawing to get out for years. He cried for his dog, for his grandmother, for the guitar his father destroyed. For every moment he had been made to feel like he wasn't enough. For every time he had swallowed his pain and smiled through it. And through all of it, Y/N held him. She didn't tell him to stop. Didn't tell him it was okay when it clearly wasn't. She just wrapped herself around him and whispered, soft, gentle and grounding into his ear. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. You're safe.

For the first time in a very long time, Jungkook felt loved. Genuinely, completely, unconditionally loved.

And then he lost her too.

But this time, he had no one to blame except himself.

_________

Two years. Twenty four months. Seven hundred and thirty days.

Jungkook hadn't been the same since.

He lost interest in everything that used to fill his time. Women came and went, but he didn't notice them anymore, he didn't care to notice them. They blurred into the background of a life that had lost its color. His motivation dried up like a river in drought. He went through the motions, worked, ate, slept, repeated but there was no spark behind it. Just the hollow echo of a person going through the mechanics of living without actually being alive.

Outside, he looked perfectly still. Like the same old Jungkook. Same face. Same walk. But his friends noticed.

He didn't speak much anymore. The easy chatter that used to spill out of him was gone, replaced by long silences and one word answers. His smug personality, that playful, cocky grin that used to annoy and charm everyone in equal measure had completely disappeared. He didn't attend parties. Didn't go out unless he had to. Jaehyun watched him sometimes from across the room. And though a small part of him felt a pang of pity for the state Jungkook was in, there was another part, a deeper, quieter part that felt something else. Something close to satisfaction. the part that whispered. Let him feel a fraction of what he put her through.

Mingyu tried his best to keep Jungkook composed. He'd clap him on the shoulder, drag him out for coffee, force conversations that went nowhere. He didn't know the full story, none of them did, not really, but he knew enough. He knew Jungkook had broken something precious. And he knew some things couldn't be fixed by coffee and good intentions.

And then there was Eunwoo. Jungkook's unofficial therapist. The one person who didn't tiptoe around him, didn't sugarcoat, didn't cover up the truth to spare his feelings. Eunwoo said things exactly as they were, exactly as he saw them. No filters. No pity. Just blunt, honest words that cut through the fog.

"You're wasting away. Is this what she'd want?"

"You let her go. That was your choice. Now live with it."

Harsh. But true. And Jungkook needed that, needed someone to tell him the things he was too afraid to admit to himself.

Jiho felt something different around Jungkook now. Strange. Awkward. And underneath it all, a creeping sense of guilt that she couldn't shake no matter how hard she tried. She would catch herself staring at him sometimes, lost in deep thought. She'd watch his hands as he worked, the curve of his jaw when he was focused, the way his eyes dimmed when he thought no one was looking. And she'd wonder. What would he do if he found out?

What would he do if he knew he had a two year old daughter? A little girl with his eyes, his nose, his smile, a perfect replica of him running around, laughing, growing up without ever knowing his name.

Would he crumble? Would he run, like he always did when things got too real? Would he step up, finally become the man Y/N deserved, the father that little girl deserved? Or would the weight of it all crush whatever was left of him?

She didn't know. And that uncertainty sat in her chest like a stone, heavy and cold.

What if things had been different? she'd think, staring at him across the room. What if he had known from the start? Would he have changed? Would he have been better? Or would he have just hurt her all over again?

Jiho never found the answers. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

__________

Mingyu wasn't expecting anything interesting that day.

It was supposed to be simple. A quick trip to Suwon to meet up with a work friend, discuss a potential collaboration, maybe grab lunch, then head back.

But his car was in the shop. Again.

Because fucking Jeon Jungkook had crashed it.

Mingyu had been stupid enough to let him borrow it a few weeks back. Jungkook said he needed to clear his head, said he'd be careful, said he just needed to drive for a while. And Mingyu, trusting, hopeful, always giving people the benefit of the doubt had handed over the keys.

Big mistake.

Jungkook had shown up at the shop at 2 a.m., drunk out of his mind, the front bumper hanging off, the passenger side door dented beyond repair. He'd swerved off the road and into a guardrail. Lucky he didn't kill himself. Lucky he didn't kill someone else. Mingyu had to take a deep breath before he said anything that night, had to remind himself that Jungkook was hurting, that he wasn't himself, that pushing him away would only make things worse.

But damn it.

He blamed himself a little. He should have known better. Should have seen it coming. Jungkook had been spiraling for two years, and Mingyu had handed him a car and a full tank of gas like it was a solution. Stupid, he thought. So stupid.

So now he had to take the train.

Mingyu came across the place by chance.

He was walking through a quiet street in Suwon, phone in hand, checking the time until his train, when a warm glow caught his eye. Yellow light spilled through wide windows, soft and inviting. He slowed down, then stopped altogether.

Shelves of books lined the walls inside. Cozy armchairs. A counter with a coffee machine. And a small wooden sign hanging above the door that read:

The Brewed Book Café

Mingyu smiled to himself. Cute name. He figured he had time for a coffee before heading back, so he pushed the door open. A small bell chimed overhead, and the smell hit him immediately, fresh coffee and old paper. Well, he thought, it's a book café after all.

The space wasn't big, but it wasn't cramped either. A few tables and chairs were scattered thoughtfully around. Bookshelves lined every wall, packed with novels, poetry collections, and old hardcovers that looked like they'd been loved for years. It felt warm. Intentional. Like someone had poured their heart into every corner.

And then his eyes landed on her.

Y/N.

She was standing on a small wooden ladder, reaching up to arrange books on a high shelf. Her hair was longer now, tied loosely at the nape of her neck, a few strands falling free. She wore a simple cream sweater, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing her forearms as she carefully slid a book into place. She looked calm. Different. In all the right ways.

For a moment, Mingyu just stood there, frozen, like he was seeing a ghost.

"Y/N?"

She turned.

Her eyes widened. "Mingyu?"

They stared at each other, suspended in that strange space between shock and recognition. Two years. Two whole years, and here they were, standing in a tiny book café in Suwon like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Then Y/N laughed, light, surprised and climbed down from the ladder. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Mingyu said, still trying to process. He looked around the café, at the books, the warm lighting, the little details that felt so her. "This is yours?"

She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. I opened it a month ago."

Mingyu let out a low whistle. "Damn. I'm impressed." A genuine smile spread across his face. "It's so good seeing you."

Y/N smiled back, a little shy. "It's great seeing you too. My parents helped me a lot."

"They're such angels. You staying with them, or…?"

"Not anymore. I live right upstairs." She gestured vaguely toward the ceiling. "It's easier for me. Closer to the café, less commuting."

Mingyu nodded. For a moment, it felt almost like old times. Like none of the pain had ever happened.

And then something small bumped into Y/N's leg.

Mingyu looked down.

A tiny girl, maybe two, maybe three, stood there, wobbling slightly on unsteady legs. She clutched Y/N's sweater with both hands and hid behind her, peeking out with wide, curious eyes. Mingyu said nothing. He just stared.

Y/N bent down immediately and scooped her up. "What is it, baby?" she asked softly. The little girl pointed toward the counter. “sweet."

Her voice was soft, barely understandable, that sweet, slurred baby talk that made everything sound a hundred times more precious.

Y/N smiled and carried her to the counter, reaching into a small jar and pulling out a cookie. "Only one," she said gently. The little girl took it with both hands and giggled, shoving it into her mouth with uncoordinated glee.

Mingyu's brain had stopped working. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Finally, he managed to ask, "…Yours?"

Y/N nodded casually, like it was the most normal question in the world. "Yeah."

Mingyu's mouth opened slightly. A thousand questions swirled in his head. Whose? When? How? He bit his lip, forcing himself not to say anything stupid. "What's her name?" he asked after a long pause.

Y/N looked down at the little girl in her arms, her expression softening. She kissed the top of her head. "Jiyeon."

Mingyu whispered the name under his breath. "Jiyeon." He looked at the child, at her dark hair, her big eyes, her tiny nose. Something in his chest tightened. "That's a beautiful name."

He reached out gently and patted the top of her head. Jiyeon stared at him with wide, curious eyes, clutching her cookie like a treasure. Mingyu studied her face carefully, the shape of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the way her little brow furrowed when she was trying to figure him out.

He suddenly felt like he couldnt breathe. "Well… uh…I..um…" His voice came out awkward, stilted. "I'll see you around."

Y/N nodded, a small smile on her face. "Yeah. Come by again."

Mingyu turned and walked out of the café. The bell chimed behind him. The door clicked shut. And the moment he was outside, he started running. Straight toward the train platform. His heart was pounding, his mind racing, a single thought repeating over and over like a broken record.

________

Jiho was sitting lazily, leaning back in her chair, phone in hand, scrolling through Instagram without really paying attention. It had been a slow day at the shop, the kind of slow that made time feel sticky and endless. Jaehyun was behind the counter, wiping down already clean glass shelves just to have something to do.

Until the door slammed open.

Jiho jolted so hard she nearly dropped her phone. The bell above the door rattled violently, swinging on its hinge like it had been attacked. And there, in the doorway, stood Mingyu, chest heaving, face pale, eyes wide like he had seen something he couldn't quite believe. “You— I need to talk to you.” He say breathless pointing at Jiho. “Okay…” Jiho trailed off exchanging goances with Jaehyun who was sitting behind the counter.

Mingyu walked inside the storage room, Jiho following close behind. The moment the door clicked shut, he spun around to face her, his voice already spilling out in a small, panicky rush. "I went to Suwon."

Jiho raised an eyebrow. "I know."

"I walked into a café to grab coffee."

"Okay?"

"I saw Y/N." He paused, swallowing hard. "She had a little girl. Her name is Jiyeon. The baby looked at me." Each word came out like it was haunting him, dragging itself out of his chest with visible effort. Jiho sighed, a heavy, knowing sound. She had always known this day was coming. She had just hoped it would be later. Or never.

"Mingyu—"

"No, I'm not done." He held up a hand, his breathing uneven. "The baby looked at me. I looked back at her. And I saw her—no." He shook his head, correcting himself. "I saw him. I saw Jungkook in her. She looks exactly like fucking Jeon Jungkook. What the fuck!"

He grabbed at his hair, pacing in a tight circle, taking huge, ragged breaths like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. "I came running home. I didn't even buy my damn coffee." He let out a hysterical laugh. "My coffee, Jiho. I left without my coffee."

Jiho gave him a moment. Let him pace. Let him breathe. Let the information settle into his bones, even if it made him rattle. Then Mingyu suddenly let out a gasp, freezing mid step. He whipped around and pointed an accusing finger at her. "Damn it. You knew everything." His voice dropped, but the weight of it doubled. "You told me nothing. You said nothing."

He looked haunted now. Shocked. Betrayed. All of it flickering across his face like a storm passing through. Jiho met his gaze steadily, keeping her voice calm and soothing. "Mingyu, let me explain everything. But first, you need to calm down." She took a small step closer. "Take a breath. Let's go out, and we'll talk about it, okay? I promise I'll tell you everything."

Mingyu stared at her for a long moment, chest still heaving. Then slowly, reluctantly, he nodded. "...Okay."

Jiho, Mingyu, and Jaehyun sat in the middle if the shop. Jiho's voice was steady as she finally told them everything.

The two guys listened without speaking a word. Jaehyun leaned forward, elbows on his knees, jaw tight. Mingyu stared at the floor, running his hands over his thighs like he needed something to ground him.

When Jiho finished, she let out a slow breath. "Any questions?"

Mingyu's hand shot up almost immediately. "So— you knew she was pregnant before she left?" Jiho blinked. She had literally said that three times already. "Mingyu, I just—" But before she could finish, a voice cut through the air from the front of the shop, sharp and curious.

"Who's pregnant?"

All three heads snapped toward the entrance. Standing at the door, keys still in hand, was Eunwoo. And right beside him, hands buried in his jacket pockets, expression unreadable, stood Jungkook.

Jiho's heart dropped into her stomach.

"My friend—" Jiho started.

"Y/N," Mingyu finished at the same time.

Jaehyun's head whipped toward Mingyu so fast his neck cracked. He stared at him in pure, undisguised disbelief, but Mingyu completely oblivious, kept talking. "But she already had the baby, so she's not pregnant right now. But she was."

A sharp kick landed on his shin under the table. Mingyu yelped, clutching his leg, wincing in pain as he rubbed his foot. Jiho's death glare bore into the side of his head, but the damage was already done.

Silence settled over the room like a heavy fog. Nobody spoke. Jiho, Eunwoo, and Jaehyun exchanged frantic glances, telepathically begging each other to say something, anything to fill the void, to redirect, to undo what had just been said.

Jungkook beat them to it.

"Good for her."

His voice was low. Casual. Almost unconcerned. Like someone commenting on the weather, or a sports score they barely cared about. But every single person in that room knew it was far from that. The words hung in the air, deceptively light, carrying a weight none of them dared to touch. Jungkook didn't move. Didn't react. Just stood there, hands still in his pockets, face carefully blank. And for a long, painful moment, no one said a word.

After the shop closed, Jungkook drove Eunwoo home.

It was a quiet drive. The kind of quiet that felt heavy, pressing down on both of them from the inside of the car. Streetlights flickered past in golden streaks, illuminating Jungkook's face in brief, fragmented flashes. His expression was unreadable, but his knuckles were white against the steering wheel.

Eunwoo watched him for a long moment before finally breaking the silence. "Kook. You okay?"

Jungkook's answer came too fast, too flat. "Why wouldn't I be?"

But his grip on the steering wheel tightened. His eyes were fixed on the road, but he wasn't really seeing it. His mind was somewhere else entirely spinning, spiraling, stuck on a name he hadn't heard in two years.

Eunwoo let out a short, annoyed breath. "Man, stop pretending for once." He turned in his seat, fixing Jungkook with a stare. "You know you can be real with me. For fuck's sake, you cried on my shoulder last week because you smelled her perfume on some random woman at the convenience store."

Jungkook's jaw tightened. "Stop bringing that up. Also, I was drunk."

"Right." Eunwoo snorted, a dry, humorless laugh. "Drunk. Sure."

Silence filled the car again. The hum of the engine. The soft thrum of tires against asphalt. Eunwoo thought that was the end of it, that Jungkook would retreat back into his shell and they'd finish the drive in silence.

But then Jungkook spoke again. His voice came out quieter this time, almost fragile. "Do you think she's married?" Eunwoo blinked.

"Or maybe engaged at least," Jungkook continued, words tumbling out faster now. "I mean, she's gotta have a man to have a baby, right? Will we get invited to her wedding? Do you think she'll invite me? What would she—"

"Jungkook." Eunwoo reached over and grabbed his shoulder, squeezing firmly. "Speed down. One question at a time, please."

Jungkook let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging. "Okay… okay."

"We'll talk when we reach my house, alright?" Eunwoo's voice softened. "Don't think about that right now. Just focus on driving."

Jungkook didn't answer. But he nodded, slowly, forcing his shoulders to relax, forcing his eyes back on the road ahead. The car carried on into the night, quiet once more but this time, it felt less like silence and more like a held breath, waiting to be released.

Jungkook couldn't sleep.

He had been lying in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, his mind running in endless, exhausting circles. He couldn't eat either, the thought of food made his stomach turn. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face. And then he saw the little girl. Y/N's daughter. Her baby.

A kid. Y/N has a kid.

He let out a laugh, short, hollow, utterly devoid of humor. It wasn't funny. Nothing about this was funny. But the sound escaped him anyway, like his body didn't know how else to process the information. It felt like a dagger right through the heart. Cold and sharp, leaving a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.

His hand moved on its own, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. He unlocked it. Opened his contacts. And there it was, her name. Still saved. Still unchanged after all this time. He had never been able to delete it. His thumb hovered over the screen, trembling slightly.

He needed to hear it from her. Needed to hear her voice, needed confirmation that it was real, that he hadn't imagined Mingyu's panicked words. Or better, he needed to see it. Needed to see her. Needed to see the baby. Needed to know if she was happy, if she was okay, if she had found someone better than him.

But he couldn't do it.

His thumb wouldn't move. His throat closed up. His chest tightened until he could barely breathe.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, voice cracking.

His vision blurred. His breathing turned ragged, uneven, each inhale a battle. And then, before he knew what he was doing, he hurled his phone across the room. It hit the wall with a sharp crack and clattered to the floor, screen shattered. "FUCK!" The scream tore out of him, raw and broken.

He fell back onto his bed, both hands dragging down his face before tangling into his hair, pulling at the roots like the physical pain might distract him from whatever was tearing through his chest.

He didn't know what this feeling was.

Fear? Anger? Sadness? Guilt? Regret?

Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it. Maybe something that didn't even have a name, something that only existed because of her. Because of what he did. Because of what he lost.

All he knew was that it was crushing him. And for the first time in two years, he had no idea how to survive it.

Jiho had already informed Y/N that the boys needed extra help at the shop, so she wouldn't be able to visit or text as often. Y/N understood.

Y/N had known this day would come the moment she decided to stay in Suwon, close enough to be found but far enough to build a life of her own. She had always known that someone would eventually figure it out. Mingyu was sharp, and Jiho carried guilt like a second skin. It was only a matter of time before the pieces fell into place. She was prepared for it. She had prepared for it a thousand times over in her head, what she would say, how she would explain, how she would protect her daughter from the fallout.

But there was one thing she couldn't stop thinking about.

Will they tell Jungkook?

And if they did, what would he think?

Would he be angry? Indifferent? Would he feel relieved that she had moved on? Would he feel nothing at all? Would he want to see Jiyeon? Would he run, like he always did when things got too real?

Y/N didn't have the answers. And that uncertainty sat in her chest like a stone she couldn't swallow.

She looked down at the bed, where Jiyeon was fast asleep. Her tiny chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Her lips were slightly parted, one chubby hand curled loosely around the edge of her blanket. She looked so peaceful. So innocent. So completely unaware of the storm that was brewing somewhere out there, threatening to find its way to her.

Y/N reached out and gently caressed her cheek, her fingers brushing over the soft, warm skin. A smile immediately formed on her lips. It didn't matter what Jungkook thought. It didn't matter what anyone thought. She had her daughter. She had this little life that depended on her, trusted her, loved her unconditionally. Jiyeon was her world now, her anchor, her reason, her everything.

No matter what happened next, as long as she had her baby beside her, she was happy.

And that was all that mattered.

Y/N leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Jiyeon's forehead, lingering for just a moment.

"Sleep well, my love," she whispered. "Mommy's got you."

Then she turned off the lamp, curled up beside her daughter, and let the quiet hum of the night wrap around them both.

_________

Jungkook locked himself in his house.

Three days. Three days of staring at the same walls, the same ceiling, the same cracks in the plaster that he had memorized months ago. He didn't answer his phone. Didn't open the curtains. Didn't eat anything that could be called a proper meal. He just existed, sprawled on his couch, cigarette burning between his fingers, watching smoke curl toward the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Nobody called. Nobody knocked. It was like they all knew, knew that he needed to sit with it himself, to wrestle with it alone until he either made peace with it or let it destroy him. They knew better than to bother him.

On the third day, he heard loud pounding in his door. Jungkook didn't move. He took a slow drag of his cigarette, staring blankly at the door.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

Louder this time. More insistent. Then the door burst open. The lock gave way with a splintering crack, and a figure stormed inside like a force of nature.

Mingyu.

Jungkook said nothing. Didn't even spare him a glance. He stayed exactly where he was, half sprawled on the couch, smoke drifting lazily from his lips.

Mingyu crossed the room in three furious strides. He snatched the cigarette from Jungkook's fingers and stubbed it out in the ashtray with more force than necessary. Then he grabbed Jungkook by the arm, hauled him upright, and forced him to sit properly. Mingyu dropped onto the couch beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.

"I hate seeing you like this."

Silence.

"You're going to find out one way or another, so I thought I better tell you everything now." Mingyu's voice wavered slightly. "So you'll feel better. Or maybe worse. I don't know anymore."

Jungkook finally turned his head, staring at his friend with confusion flickering behind his exhausted eyes. But no words left his mouth. He just waited.

Mingyu leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. He stared at the floor like it held the answers to questions he was too afraid to ask. "Yes, it's true. Y/N was pregnant. Well, is pregnant. I mean, she was. She has a kid now." He let out a frustrated breath. "A girl. Her name is Jiyeon. And she's cute as fuck, but that's not the point." He looked up at Jungkook, his eyes searching. "The baby, Kook. The kid. Her eyes, they were exactly like yours. Her nose, her lips, her cheeks. Everything." He paused. "Well, except her hair."

He waited for a reaction. For a breakdown. For screaming, crying, throwing something, anything. But Jungkook just sat there, staring at him with an expression that Mingyu couldn't read. "Don't you get it?" Mingyu asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook opened his mouth. His lips moved. But no sound came out. And for the first time in three days, something flickered behind his eyes. Dawning realization.

Mingyu let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N's kid, her baby, it's yours. She was pregnant with your baby. She knew she was pregnant, and that's why she moved to her parents' house in Suwon. That's why she left."

The words hung in the air like a grenade.

Jungkook let out a laugh. A scoff, really. Short. Bitter. Disbelieving. Mingyu stared at him, confusion bleeding into disbelief. "What?"

"I don't believe you."

Mingyu's mouth fell open. "What are you—"

"She would've told me." Jungkook's voice turned cold, his expression snapping into something sharp and serious. "If whatever you just said was true, she would've told me. I refuse to believe it. It's not true. Not possible." His hand came down hard on the coffee table, a loud SLAM that made Mingyu jump. Jungkook stood up abruptly, walked to his bedroom, and slammed the door shut behind him with a force that rattled the walls.

Mingyu sat alone in the living room, staring at the closed door, unsure if he should follow or leave.

Inside the bedroom, Jungkook pressed his back against the door and slid down to the floor.

His chest heaved. His hands trembled.

Deep down, he knew.

He knew she wouldn't have told him. He knew she had every reason to keep it from him. He knew he had given her no reason to trust him, no reason to believe he would stay.

And deep down, so deep it hurt to admit he wished it was true. He wished he could turn back time. He wished he had been better. He wished he had been the man she deserved instead of the man who drove her away.

Jungkook finally understood what had been clawing at his chest for the past three days.

Fear. Anger. Sadness. Guilt. Regret.

___________

Across town, Y/N closed the café for the night.

She flipped the sign on the door, locked the deadbolt, and let out a long, tired breath. The warm glow of the café lights reflected off the wooden floors as she wiped down the counters one last time. Behind her, Jiyeon sat on the counter, swinging her little legs back and forth, humming a nonsensical tune only she understood.

"Mama."

Y/N turned, a soft smile already forming on her lips. "Yes, baby?"

"Story?"

Y/N's heart melted, as it did every single time. She dried her hands on a towel and walked over, scooping Jiyeon up into her arms. The little girl's small hands immediately found their way to Y/N's neck, hugging her tight.

"Of course. Let's go upstairs."

She carried her up to their small apartment above the café. It wasn't much, a cozy living area, a tiny kitchen, one bedroom that held both their hearts. But it was theirs.

Y/N tucked Jiyeon into bed, pulling the soft pink blanket up to her chin. She picked up the worn storybook from the nightstand, the one with the dog eared pages and the creased spine and began to read in a soft, gentle voice. By the time she reached the last page, Jiyeon's breathing had slowed. Her eyes fluttered closed, her tiny chest rising and falling in the peaceful rhythm of sleep.

Y/N set the book aside and gently brushed her daughter's hair away from her forehead, fingers lingering on the soft strands and Y/N whispered into the silence, so softly it was almost a secret. "You'll never have to wonder if someone will ever choose you."

She pressed a kiss to Jiyeon's forehead.

Because Y/N knew exactly what that felt like. She had spent years wondering, hoping, waiting, aching for someone to choose her. To stay. To prove that she was worth holding onto.

And she had learned, the hard way, that some people just wouldn't.

But Jiyeon would never know that pain. Not if Y/N could help it. She would grow up knowing she was loved, wanted, chosen every single day.

_________

Jungkook didn't go the next day.

Or the day after that.

But he passed the street three times. Each time, he slowed down near the café. Each time, his grip on the steering wheel tightened. Each time, he told himself he would go in. And each time, he kept driving. He said he needed to hear it from her. Needed Y/N to look him in the eye and confirm it herself. Needed to see her face when she told him the truth, whatever that truth was.

But every time he got close, his throat closed up, his chest tightened, and his foot found the gas pedal instead of the brake.

Mingyu finally lost patience.

He found Jungkook leaning against the hood of his car, arms crossed, staring blankly at the street ahead. Mingyu walked up to him and didn't bother with pleasantries. "You're acting like a coward." Jungkook didn't react. "You think ignoring it will make it disappear?" Mingyu pressed. "She's not going anywhere, Kook. She has a café. She has a life. She has your daughter. She's not a ghost you can just drive past."

Jungkook let out a long, heavy sigh. "You don't understand."

"Oh, I understand perfectly." Mingyu's voice softened, just a little. "You're scared she'll say yes. That it's true. That you have a kid you weren't there for."

He paused.

"And you're even more scared she'll say no."

Jungkook's jaw tightened. His hands, still buried in his pockets, curled into fists.

"That it's not yours. That she moved on. That you really meant nothing."

The words landed like a punch to the gut.

Jungkook swallowed hard because Mingyu was right. That was exactly it. He was terrified of both possibilities. Terrified of the truth, no matter which direction it leaned.

_________

Jungkook finally stepped inside one evening.

He told himself he was just walking past. Just taking an evening stroll to clear his head. His feet just happened to carry him here. It meant nothing.

The moment he pushed the door open, the smell of roasted coffee beans hit him, warm, rich, inviting. He looked around, taking in the space. The soft yellow lighting, the shelves lined with books, the cozy armchairs scattered around. It felt warm. Comfortable.

Like Y/N.

His eyes scanned the room almost involuntarily, searching for something he wasn't sure he was ready to find. And then they stopped.

In the corner of the café, on a small sofa slightly too big for her, sat a little girl. A book was spread open between her legs, her tiny fingers tracing the pages with intense concentration. Her hair fell softly around her face as she mumbled the words to herself, barely audible.

Jungkook didn't move closer. He didn't look away. And then the little girl looked up.

Their eyes met.

Jungkook's breath hitched. His heart started beating so fast, so loud in his ears, that for a moment he thought it had stopped altogether. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything but stare into those eyes, eyes that looked exactly like his own.

He turned toward the door and stormed out.

The cool evening air hit his face as he burst outside, but he didn't stop. He kept walking, then jogging, then running until he was far enough from the café that he could breathe again. He finally stopped, doubling over, one hand pressed against his chest as he tried to steady his heartbeat and his ragged breathing. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." He cursed over and over, sinking down to sit on the edge of the street. Passersby gave him strange looks as they walked past, but he couldn't bring himself to care. His mind was a storm. His heart was a wreck.

After a few minutes or maybe an hour, he couldn't tell, he managed to pick himself up and stumbled to the nearest bench. He sat there as the evening turned to night, the streetlights flickering on one by one. Time slipped away from him. Minutes felt like seconds. Hours felt like nothing.

Finally, he pulled out his phone and called Mingyu. Mingyu answered on the first ring.

"I saw her." Jungkook's voice tumbled out, raw and shaky. "She stared at me. She looked at me with her eyes — her eyes that looked — she looked—"

"Jungkook." Mingyu's voice was firm but gentle. "I know. We know. Relax, okay? Where are you? I'll come to you."

Jungkook barely managed an okay. He tried to tell Mingyu where he was, only to realize he didn't really know. He had been walking in a haze, not paying attention to street names or landmarks.

When Mingyu finally found him, Jungkook tried to speak, tried to say more, tried to thank him for coming but his words caught in his throat. His eyes burned. Tears threatened to fall, and he couldn't stop them.

“Let’s go home first,” Mingyu said softly.

Jungkook nodded silently and walked toward the car.

Seeing Jungkook lose himself was rare. Seeing him cry was even rarer. But seeing him completely break down, that was something that had never happened before. Jungkook kept telling himself this was his fault. The consequences of his own actions. The price he had to pay for the choices he made two years ago.

But the aching in his chest never lessened.

It was raw. Brutal. And so, so empty.

Taglist is closed! Im sorry:((

A/N : I just want to say that I am so happy that I have people who appreciate my work. When i posted my first fanfic I mentioned that my works are pre written, I would read the stories I write to my friend and she recommended me to turn them into fanfictions and post them, and yea here am I. I edit my stories to match the characters of my fanfiction and add more details according to the characters I use. I have been writing stories and poems ever since I was a kid and it has always been a dream to share them with other people. I would suddenly get ideas and inspirations when I am listening to songs, or go to a particular place or even when I’m just laying in my bed.I’m still learning and I know I make mistakes a lot and it’s not perfect, but I write my stories with love and passion and I hope you all can respect my work and not call it ai generated. My friend actually found it very funny when I told her someone asked me to delete my work because it’s ‘ai generated’ because i’ve always been that friend who encourages others to stop using ai lol.

If you actually read my work I always try my best to explain and let the readers feel every moment, and I always want them to be able to picture every scene. If you don’t like my work please block me or ignore my posts and not threaten me or tell me to delete it because I put my heart into every sentence and every word.

I appreciate everyone who read my work and I never imagine reaching this far, it’s like a dream come true for me. All your support, your likes, comments and requests got me giggling and kicking my feet in the air. I love you all🤍🫂

My favourite chapter ever. It was originally 7.8k words but i added a few more lines haha.

Tags : @hamsss @bratz-lad @hiilovetata @lobbera @fluffysheepmaster @chaosbunn1 @annpeachy @muniing @hobimangkenobi @jeikeeei @kyljjk @eegyo @blackswan18 @juju-227592 @bangchans-girl @svnk1ssd @daisydasee @bebesnyia7 @lunaryoongie @severelengendseed @goawaysha @euphorichaewon @jakiki94 @bangchris97 @mar-lo-pap @bts123746 @gi1yawnzz @dahliadaenerys @hghjj135 @svitozz @allmyfictionalfantasies @btskzfav @busanbby-jjk @euphoricdeni @bjoriis @bangtans-momma @luvlyyoonki @almostcrystalized101 @agrimanath @bbtsficrecs @carriereadsbooks @super-btstrash-posts @cristinamajadera @naksu111 @bangatanily @ecwipsecoffee @butterymin @roryxcy @turboreader @embercrumb @remcamila @avetehanna @polarbearsnickers

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ TWENTY-TWO

𓄲  "I want to kiss you." He says it like it's the simplest thing in the world, like your conversation with Rayne had meant nothing — like this wasn't bigger than the two of you. 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children)

⧽ word count ⋮ 10k average reading time ⋮ 50 minutes

── [ ✉️ ] Why, hello. This chapter has so much happening in it. It introduces a lot of new settings, two new characters. It has been a journey to write. Dare I say we are finally starting to itch away at both Jungkook's and the mother's lore? If ever so slightly at least. Yes, we are entering an era, so to speak. Everyone strap in, also, this might be a little all over the place (?) I still hope it follows somewhat of a red line... Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3

series masterlist | last chapter | next part

chapter 22 — "The Day Before"

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon lived on a quiet street with white painted fences and neatly trimmed gardens — at least that is what you would imagine them to be in summer. The bushes on either side of the graveled pathway are nothing but bare bones, dusted in a thick layer of snow from last night's heavy fall. The house itself is a simple, two story home with pale wooden boards and a clean-cut stone porch — somewhere one would expect a happily married couple to live

Up ahead, Cassian skips forward eagerly, excitement bouncing off of him in tandem with each step he takes. He's been talking non-stop throughout the entire car ride here and now he was practically singing his way to the front door, leaving the rest of you to follow in his wake. 

Jungkook walks beside you, the gravel crunching beneath your shoes. He carries two bags worth of wrapped Christmas gifts, another with the essentials he'd brought for the two-day stay you were to have at his parents house. Your own duffel bag sits heavy on your shoulder, slamming against your side every now and again like a ticking clock. 

You're thankful for the box of freshly baked cookies you hold, otherwise you would've probably reached for Jungkook's hand to calm your nerves. Instead you let your fingers curl a little tighter around the plastic corners, tongue pushing against your teeth anxiously. 

To say that you were nervous would be an understatement. You were actually terrified. Not only were you being introduced to the children's grandparents but Jungkook's own mother and father as you impose on a holiday meant for family. Sure you had been invited to come and it wasn't like you were showing up unannounced, but your blood still rushed at the thought of doing this.

You glance to the cookies you had woken up early this morning to bake, placed neatly inside the container you cling to so desperately. It wasn't much but it was better than arriving empty handed, you think. 

Cassian has already made it up the two small steps leading to the front door, finally turning to urge the rest of you along. "Come on!" he says as he rocks back and forth on tiny feet, ignoring Rayne's unamused huff where she walks on the other side of her father. 

When you join him on the porch your heart is close to beating out of your chest. Sweat beads on your forehead when you glance between Jungkook and to what could only wait on the other side of the door. You're just about to tell him that this was a horrible idea that should have never been brought up in the first place when Cassian jams a finger to the doorbell. 

The sharp tune can be heard through the walls, alerting those inside of your arrival and it takes but a second for a lock to be twisted on the other side. Too late. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you do your best to straighten up and plaster a somewhat less dreadful expression onto your face. 

"Nana!" 

Cassian's shout comes as soon as the door opens and he's already flinging himself into the arms of the woman waiting on the other side. She looks to be in her sixties, her dark hair, thrown together in a bun, graying slightly. Her arms envelop the small boy, a wrinkled hand coming to rest atop his head that reached all the way to her chest. "Hi sweetheart," she coos, beaming from ear to ear as she hugs her grandson. 

Rayne, too, steps forward as she gives the man beside her grandma a hug. Mr. Jeon was a tall man and he probably reached Jungkook's height in his prime. The glasses slide down on his nose when he tilts his chin to see his granddaughter better, smiling widely under his short mustache, patting the top of her head affectionately. "Why, don't you look dashing today young lady?" he muses. 

They're both dressed for the occasion, Mr. Jeon in a thicker, green sweater and Mrs. Jeon in a fluffy cardigan of the same colour. The wedding rings on their fingers glint under the afternoon sun and you find yourself staring at them a little longer than intended. 

Only once they pull back from their respective hugs do their gazes lift, landing on their son with equal enthusiasm. Mrs. Jeon pulls him in for a hug which Jungkook just about manages to reciprocate given the bags he carries. "Ah, my boy!" She says as she rises to her tip-toes to better greet him. 

"It's good to see you too mother," Jungkook hums, leaning down to accept the kiss she presses to his cheek. It was oddly endearing to see him with his mother, you thought. And for a moment you forget about how anxious you had been to get here as you silently watch the interaction between him and his parents. 

When he's finally released from Mrs. Jeon's tight embrace, he turns to his father who places a firm hand on his shoulder before relieving him of one of the bags. "Safe travels I hope?" Mr. Jeon asks to which Jungkook nods. 

"Quite a bit of snow on the roads, but it was alright," Jungkook says before getting interrupted by his mother who had now turned to you. 

"Hello dear," she smiles, "My grandchildren has told me all about their lovely nanny." Mrs. Jeon extends a hand, the red tint to her nails catching your attention. 

Juggling the container of cookies over to your left arm, you reach out to accept the warm handshake she gives you. "Thank you, it's so nice to finally meet you…" 

"Ye-seo," she finishes for you as her lips stretch wider across her face. You nod, letting go of her hand just in time for Mr. Jeon to step forward as well. 

His grip is a lot firmer than his wife's, fingers closing around your own as he takes your palm in both of his. "Jaejoon," he introduces himself, eyes crinkling slightly behind his glasses. When you pull back again a brief silence settles over your party before Mrs. Jeon steps aside. 

"Well come on in, we have much to do!" 

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon were kind people. That is what you managed to gather from stepping foot inside their home. Mr. Jeon retrieved your coat as he hung it up next to Cassian's before bringing the children and their father along to the living room while Mrs. Jeon took it upon herself to give you a tour of the house. 

"Oh dearest, you really did not have to!" she exclaimed when you shyly offered her the box of cookies. Though she accepted the gift gratefully when placing it down on the yellow-tiled counter top. 

Their kitchen was a lot smaller than the one at the Jeon estate, adorned with colorful appliances that reflected little of the beige theme back at Jungkook's place. And while it wasn't messy, the house still looked lived in. Signs of life sprouted from each corner, be it the potted plants on the windowsill or the half-finished cup of tea left next to the stove. 

Mrs. Jeon is still fawning over the container of cookies you had brought, having taken off the lid to smell the delicious treats for herself. "It's not much…" You hastily begin, fingers fiddling absently with one another as you regard her, "But I hope they taste alright." 

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Jeon exclaims, "They will fit perfectly on the table." She puts the container aside and you notice the several prepped trays of home-made pastries, all ready for tomorrow. "Very well then, let me show you the rest of the house," the words have barely left her lips before she's headed out of the kitchen, quick on her feet as she moves through the living room. 

For such a small woman, Mrs. Jeon sure kept a steady pace and you almost struggled to keep up as you avoided bumping into the different trinkets and paintings that cover the walls. She takes you through the living room, where your eyes briefly meet Jungkook's as he speaks with his father. His lips are moving but whatever he was saying to the man beside him is drowned out by Mrs. Jeon's cheerful voice, "There is a bathroom just around the corner, though the shower is on the second floor." 

She makes easy work of the stairs, climbing the steps that take you into a long hallway. Four doors are evenly situated on either side of said hall, the first one to your right is cracked open an inch, and when passing by you slow down to peer inside. 

You find a bunk bed pushed against the far left corner, bright and blue curtains frame the window that looks out to the street outside. On a shelf sits a sparse selection of both books and toys, a kid friendly area that takes you by surprise. 

Mrs. Jeon stops in her tracks when she notices your lingering gaze. "Ah, we have a room set up for the children," she explains when coming to stand beside you, "It's good for them to have their own space here. Especially after everything that happened with their mother." 

The casual mention of the woman whose name was avoided like the plague back at the Jeon estate makes you freeze. Your shoulders form a rigid line and you turn to Mrs. Jeon with a frown that is impossible to miss. 

Your puzzled, if not hesitant expression makes the old lady instantly sigh. "Oh dear, he hasn't told you about that, has he?" She does not sound surprised by her own revelation, nor does she your following response:

"No," you shake your head, "Why? What happened?" 

Curiosity gnaws at you, the way it had ever since you stumbled across the locked door on the second floor during your first day. Part of you hopes that she will quench your thirst, the other thinks you selfish for even daring to pry on such a private matter. 

Mrs. Jeon waves a dismissive hand at nothing in particular, "It's an ugly story." Her eyes drag across the bedroom slowly as she draws in a silent breath. The look on her face is solemn, as though she was lost in thought, some place far away. Then she snaps out of the momentary trance, blinking twice and turning to you with a smile. "Nothing worth lingering on today," she says, "It's Christmas after all." 

She continues down the hall like nothing had happened, leaving you to follow with your tongue held. 

After moving past what you presume to be her and Mr. Jeon's bedroom, she comes to a halt in front of the room furthest down the hall to the left. "Here is our guest bedroom," pushing the door open, she allows you to step inside.

The room itself is quaint, with yellow, pastel walls and a few paintings of landscapes hung on them. A single bed sits in the middle, the headboard leaning against the window, where the naked trees in the backyard can be seen through the glass. 

"It's nothing extravagant," comes Mrs. Jeon's voice from the doorway, "But I hope its comforts will be to your standards."

Your duffel bag slides off your shoulder, landing on the duvet with a soft thud as you take in your surroundings. "I assure you it is most perfect," fingers brushing against the covers, you turn to her with a smile, "Your home is beautiful." 

Mrs. Jeon thanks you with a dramatic tilt of her head as she goes on to explain how her and her husband had acquired the property back in the early fifties. But your attention is no longer with her, rather the white dresser to your left. Its golden handles glint under the sunlight, spilling through the window and you find yourself approaching without second thought. 

On top of it sits porcelain figurines, a duck, a horse, a little girl. You scan them briefly before landing on the picture frame in the middle. The rim is the same golden hue as that of the dresser's knobs but it is the young man in the photo that pulls you in. 

His dark hair looks almost spiky as it stands in all directions, some of it falling down his neck. The clothes he wears are bold, a sleeveless t-shirt with a pale woman's face printed in its center, a checkered flannel tied to his jeans which appear to be a couple of sizes too big on him. Your finger lingers on the choker around his neck. Had it not been for the familiar designs that cover his right arm, or the intense look in those dark eyes, Jungkook would've been almost unrecognizable. 

"He was just a kid in that one." 

You hadn't heard Mrs. Jeon approach, and her voice startles you from the photo as you turn to her. She stands close enough for her shoulder to brush your arm, humming softly to herself as she, too, regards the frame. "I tried to talk him out of those rings on his face," she shakes her head, "But he wouldn't listen of course."

Your gaze follows hers back to the picture of Jungkook and it is then you notice the silver hoop that hugs his bottom lip, another sitting on his brow. You remember tracing the scars they had left behind, the way he had dismissed them as nothing but a distant memory. "He must've been quite the handful I imagine." 

The statement actually makes her chuckle and Mrs. Jeon reaches out to pluck the picture frame from the dresser as she cradles it in her hands. "You have no idea," she muses, "His father and I have grounded him more times than I can remember, not that it ever worked." Despite that, there's fondness in the way she shakes her head as a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, "He always found a way to sneak out." 

The idea of a much younger Jungkook climbing through his window or tip-toeing down the stairs is amusing and you try to imagine just how he might've looked. Hearing Mrs. Jeon talk about her son the way she was right now only feeds to growing curiosity inside of you. That Jungkook did not at all seem like the man you knew today, the one who combed his hair back and wore pristine button-ups. 

"He looks like a completely different person," your thoughts escape your parted lips in a silent whisper. For a second you worry that it might offend her, but his mother simply nods. 

"He is," her tone takes on a quieter edge, "All grown up now." Mrs. Jeon sighs as she places the frame back in its designated spot. "He's done good for himself, all things considered," after a moment's of silence she then adds, "Though sometimes I do miss that side of him." She lets out a humorless laugh, giving your arm a gentle pat, "Even if he drove me up the walls." 

Then, without as much as a glance toward the old photograph, she turns on her heel and heads back toward the door which you had came through. "We best join the others downstairs, otherwise there won't be a tree left for us to decorate," she calls over her shoulder. 

Your gaze returns to the picture of Jungkook, giving it a final once-over before you go to follow Mrs Jeon out of the room. It is when you step over the threshold that the sudden thought strikes you, "Where will Jungkook be sleeping?" You hadn't even stopped to consider that you were inhabiting the only guest bedroom left. 

"Oh," Mrs. Jeon gestures toward the study when you walk past it, "When we found out we would be hosting one more this year, Jaejoon brought one of the spare beds from the attic and placed it in his office." She hums as you begin descending the stairs, "Jungkook has already volunteered to sleep in there." 

A bitter feeling of guilt roots itself in your chest and your fingers curl tight around the banister as you keep up with Mrs. Jeon. You'd like to argue that there was no need for him to do that — that if anything, you should be sleeping in the study. But as you make it to the bottom step, where the sound of Cassian's laughter and Mr. Jeon's teasing conversation can be heard, you found yourself unable to speak. 

"More to the left." 

"No— Right!" 

"Left looks better." 

Cassian sticks out his tongue in retaliation to his sister who simply rolls her eyes back at him. They had been bickering with one other over the placement of the last candy cane ornament for the past couple of minutes and your arm was beginning to grow tired as you held the decoration out, swaying it left and right as you tried to please them both. 

Jungkook and his parents had taken to the kitchen in order to get started on tonight's dinner, leaving you alone to do what you always did — babysit the children. 

"Guys, how about we just place it in the middle?" you suggest, only to be met by instant protests from both kids as they shake their heads unanimously. 

"To the left," Rayne points a finger in said direction. 

Her brother quickly shoves her arm aside as he firmly states his thoughts on the matter. "No, it needs to be on the right!" He says, his voice bordering on a whine. 

The muscles in your bicep strain with each passing second, in fact you're inclined to just give up and leave one of them disappointed when Mr. Jeon suddenly appears in the doorway. "Children," he says, immediately grabbing both Rayne's and Cassian's attention as he walks over to place a hand on their shoulders, "What is all this fussing? On Christmas Eve no less." 

Their expressions morph into something chastised, eyes dropping to the floor as the younger pouts. "Sorry, papa," Rayne says as she flattens out the sleeve of her sweater. Her brother mumbles an apology of his own, though not without giving his rival a quick glare. 

Mr. Jeon inhales a deep breath, nodding thoughtfully to himself before turning to Cassian, "How about you let your sister pick where this one goes?" The tiny boy looks ready to argue but is quickly shut down as his grandfather continues, "And you put the star up." 

That seems to please him enough to drop the petty argument again as he goes to retrieve the item in question. Rayne hums, turning back to you with a triumphant look, "To the right," she jerks her chin dramatically and you obey as you hang the candy cane up at last. Breathing out a sigh of relief when your arm is finally allowed to drop back against your side, you step back to admire the work you had done so far. 

The tree was clad in soft, yellow lights, red and white globes, a handful of candy canes and even a few gingerbread men. All that was missing would be the star to go on top, which Cassian comes carrying a moment later — careful not to drop the precious artifact. 

"Papa, help me," he pleads as he peers up at the man with hopeful eyes. Mr. Jeon huffs under his breath, grabbing the boy by his hips as he hoists him up with a grunt. 

Arms extended as far as they go, his brows furrow in concentration as he works on getting the ornament in place. "Careful now," Mr. Jeon hums, clearly not wanting an accident the day before Christmas. 

After some finessing Cassian manages to place it just right and he's allowed back to solid ground with an excited squeal. "Look!" He gestures toward the shining star and you follow his gaze with a smile. With all the decorations put up, the tree looks just about ready for tomorrow. You can't help the almost childlike flicker of joy in your chest. While spending the holidays with your parents was nice, it had been years since you found yourself sharing the Christmas spirit. 

"Can we go get the presents now?" Cassian quips, making both you and his grandfather turn to him. 

"Yes of course—" you begin, stopping yourself to send Mr. Jeon a hesitant glance, "If it's okay with your papa." 

Mr. Jeon simply nods, giving the small boy a pat on his back. "But no trying to open them, alright?" he says, putting on a stern tone that makes both children instantly straighten up. Cassian grabs Rayne by the hand, leading her toward the hallway where the bags of wrapped gifts were. 

That leaves you and Mr. Jeon, standing side by side next to the lit Christmas tree. You busy yourself with tucking your shirt into your jeans, adjusting the thin belt within its loops, anything to fill the temporary silence as the kids rummage through the bags somewhere in the distance. 

"Rayne tells me you've been looking after them for quite some time now." The sudden conversation that Mr. Jeon initiates catches you off guard. Head whipping in his direction, you give a subtle tilt of your chin as you meet his warm gaze. 

"Uh yes, two months now I think," you say, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. 

Mr. Jeon hums, "That's good." His gaze drifts toward the hallway where Cassian and Rayne had disappeared just moments ago. "Jungkook has struggled to find someone that could help him with them," he says when running a hand through what little hair he had left, "They're not easy children." 

He was right about that, you thought with a quiet exhale. You could still remember your first day at the Jeon house, their stiff postures and rehearsed lines that dripped with politeness you knew they did not actually mean. "They aren't," you agree. 

In the other room you hear Cassian giggle, the joyful sound followed by rustling of plastic. Rayne mutters something unintelligible to her brother, but there's amusement in her voice. The corner of your lip curls upward, "Though they're lovely. I'm grateful to know them." 

You can feel Mr. Jeon's gaze on you, a flash of a smile appearing somewhere in your peripheral vision. "I'm sure your feelings are reciprocated," he sighs wistfully, "My grandson speaks very fondly of you."

His words make you glance over, brows raising a little higher on your forehead. While Cassian was very openly affectionate with you, it had never crossed your mind that he might be bringing you up even when you weren't around. The idea forces you to bite back a grin as you peer down at the floor, "I'm glad." 

"Indeed," without skipping a beat, he then adds, "I'm sure my son must feel the same." 

Your breath catches halfway on your next exhale, eyes flitting back up to meet his through the glasses we wears. Mr. Jeon does not elaborate much further, instead he places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "It is not often Jungkook brings company around," he says. 

The implication of his statement sits between you for a second longer, until the rapid footsteps of Cassian and Rayne return as they come barreling back inside the living room, this time with presents stacked in their arms. "Papa! Look how many!" the younger exclaims as he proudly holds up the gifts. 

Mr. Jeon lets his hand fall to his side once more, "Ah, bring them here and let me have a look," he says. He turns to his grandchildren without another thought — as though your conversation had never happened to begin with. 

Dinner at Mr. and Mrs. Jeon's house was quite different from the meals you shared back at Jungkook's place. For one, the table was smaller, barely accommodating the six of you when taking your seats around it. Rayne slinks down in the chair to your right, catching you by surprise as you tilt your head toward her. But she pays you no mind, her attention fixed to the flickering candles in the middle of the feast her grandparents had prepared. 

Mrs. Jeon sits on the high end to your left, her husband mirroring her on the other side. "Honey, are you sure you brought the napkins?" she frowns when peering out across the neatly decorated dining table. 

"As sure as I am my own right foot," Mr. Jeon retorts as he pours Rayne a glass of water. 

His response however, only makes his wife's brows crease even further. "Then perhaps you should make sure your foot really is sewn on because I cannot find them." Her tone grows snappier with each passing second and for a brief moment you worry that they might even argue.

"Nana," Rayne suddenly says, "They're by the chicken." She points toward the folded napkins, placed neatly in their holder next to the food her grandmother had spent the last hour preparing. 

Mrs. Jeon blinks twice, her mouth opening before clicking shut again. "Oh," she clears her throat and gives Rayne a warm smile, "Thank you dear. I guess your papa gets to keep his foot after all." To that, her husband huffs under his breath, but makes no further comment on it as he fills his own glass with water. 

The two seats opposite you remain unoccupied. Jungkook had taken Cassian to the bathroom a few minutes prior, making sure that he did not run off to the presents, which he had already wasted twenty minutes on weighing and measuring. Soon enough a high-pitched whine voice comes from down the hall, "But I just want to look at them one more time!"

"No," Jungkook replies in a stern tone, "We're having dinner." The two of them enter the dining room just then, Cassian digging his heels into the floor as he resists his father's attempts at tugging him toward the table where the rest of you were already seated. 

"One more time!" He wrestles with the hold Jungkook has around his tiny wrist, eyes locked on the entryway leading to the living room like a magnet. 

His arguments are futile and met only by a strained exhale as Jungkook bends down to pick up the squirming boy. Cassian resists by kicking his legs in all directions, "No, no, no!" His knee jams into his dad's ribs as he trashes against his unrelenting grip, "I want to see the presents one more time!" 

Mrs. Jeon looks like she wants to interfere, her hand half raised and a concerned pinch to her brows. Before she gets the chance to, Jungkook pulls out the chair in front of yours, placing a visibly upset child on the seat. "Enough," he says whilst holding his son down by the shoulders, "We are having dinner." 

The quivering bottom lip and rapid flutter of his lashes make you believe that Cassian was actually about to cry and a swell of panic surges in your chest. Luckily, Mrs. Jeon has already placed a perfectly cooked drumstick on his plate. "There," she hums, "I assure you the presents won't go anywhere until you've had your food." 

Jungkook's chair makes a scraping noise against the floor when he pulls it out and takes his own seat, diagonal from yours. He doesn't look at anyone when running his fingers through his dark hair, his jaw clenched and lips sealed shut. It feels almost like dinner usually would at the Jeon estate, quiet and proper, at least until Mrs. Jeon speaks up: 

"Would you pass me the salt, dear?"

Nodding, you reach forwadd to grab it for her, handing it over with a small smile that she easily reciprocates. The table falls into easy conversation after that. Mostly it's Rayne and her grandfather discussing the books she had read as of late. 

Mr. Jeon had a lot to say about Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and spoke with great enthusiasm, only to be silenced by his wife who deemed the topic of conversation to be most inappropriate during dinner. "I do not want to hear about stitching human bodies together as I eat my chicken, it's morbid," she says when slicing her knife through the breast on her plate. 

"Nana," Rayne half-argues, "It's not morbid. It's science." She tips a couple of cooked carrots onto her fork, "You always let papa talk about his science stuff at the table." 

"Science or not, it doesn't make the matter any less morbid," Jungkook mutters as he reaches over to wipe the corner of Cassian's mouth with a napkin "And it is not something to be discussed during dinner," he adds as he sends his daughter a long glance. 

Rayne slumps back in her seat, the carrots dropping onto her plate of unfinished food as she picks at them leisurely. To her right, Mr. Jeon shakes his head, "Nonsense," he says around a mouthful of potatoes, "If the kid wants to talk about sewing an arm to a torso then let her." 

Mrs. Jeon lets out an exasperated huff, "Will you stop talking with your dinner half chewed up?" 

To that, her husband simply shrugs, swallowing the bite as he reaches for his glass of water. "All I'm saying is," he continues after a sip, "There is nothing wrong with her having interests." He sets his drink down with an unapologetic gleam in his eye before turning to give Rayne a quick wink, earning himself a smile from the young girl. 

"Time and place, father," Jungkook says without looking up from his own plate. His brows are furrowed across his forehead, his focus split between the conversation taking place and Cassian who ate quietly beside him. 

Mr. Jeon scoffs, looking mildly amused with the entire situation as he leans forward, much to both his wife and Jungkook's dismay. "What about you little man? Do you like Frankenstein?" 

Cassian pauses, his next forkful hovering an inch from his parted lips which then crack into a grin. "Yeah! I love zombies." 

The glare Mrs. Jeon sends her husband could've probably cut through stone and you find yourself turning back to your own plate as you busy yourself with another bite. Mr. Jeon however, seems very pleased with his grandson's response as he redirects his attention over to you, "And what about you, dear? Does the topic bother you as much as it does my wife?"

You pause, slowly lowering your fork as you swallow — painfully aware of the fact that everyone was now looking at your way. "Not at all," you say, "I actually find the prospect to be quite interesting. You see I study medicine and post-mortem happens to be a small part of my work. It doesn't easily gross me out if that is what your concern regards." 

The entire table had gone quiet as you spoke and you press your lips together in an awkward smile as you shyly meet Mr. Jeon's gaze. Unlike his son, who wore an impassive and detached expression most of the time, it was easy to tell what he was thinking. The corner of his lip was curled in approval, as were his raised brows. 

"Very well," he declares when raising his glass of water, "That makes us four against two." Taking another swig, he then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, causing both children to wrinkle their noses slightly. 

On the other end of the table, Mrs. Jeon sighs. "Heavens," she grumbles under her breath as she redirects the topic over to what games should be played after dinner. 

Cassian and Rayne finishes their meal quickly, the former practically swallowing his chicken and shoving boiled carrots into his mouth greedily. He does make sure to wipe his lips when Jungkook wordlessly nudges the napkin closer, making himself presentable before turning back to his father. 

"Daddy, can we go look at the presents again?" 

His voice betrays how eager he is to return to what he had been preoccupied with before dinner had stolen him away. Next to you, Rayne nods, clearly exhausted after having to sit through the long monologue her grandfather had been holding about the recent inflation and the costs of getting new landlines installed. 

Jungkook lets his gaze shift between his children, nodding once as he picks up his glass. "Put your plates in the kitchen," he murmurs when Cassian and his sister turn on their heels. 

It doesn't take long for them to clear out of the dining room, the sounds of dishes clinking in the sink followed by quick footsteps echoing throughout the house. That leaves you, Mr. and Mrs. Jeon at the table with Jungkook. Having already finished your food, you distract yourself by lacing your fingers together in your lap. 

After coming to an end about his long-lived rant on today's pricing, Mr. Jeon now seemed content to finish off his meal, leaving the rest of you to wallow in silence. You do your best to avoid glancing in Jungkook's direction, scared of what you might find if you let yourself lock eyes with him for longer than a second. 

A full minute must've passed by the time Mrs. Jeon finally shifts in her seat. She sits just to your left, her hand resting on the table, red nails sparkling under the candle light. "You mentioned studying medicine, dear," she says upon turning to you, "How is that?" 

The question makes you freeze, your gaze darting over to Jungkook out of habit. Your studies had been a rather sensitive topic between the two of you up until just recently and you weren't quite sure how to approach the subject in front of his parents. 

"Well it's—" pursing your lips, you shrug half-heatedly, "It's okay." 

Across from you and to the right, Jungkook scoffs, "It's more than okay isn't it?" He glances toward his mother whose attention was darting between you and her son. "She's really good," Jungkook reaffirms, "You should tell them about the heart and all those things you taught me." 

Even Mr. Jeon had woken up from his momentary daze and was now watching you intently from his end of the table. "Oh, that does sound intriguing," his wife hums, "You're in line to become a nurse then?" 

Neither of his parents seemed to catch on to the subtle look Jungkook had sent you before turning back toward his plate, but the heat that blossoms under your skin is enough to have you squirming in your seat. You hadn't allowed yourself to think back to that afternoon on your couch — the revision that somehow turned into you on his lap. Sure, you had nailed the test the day after, but you weren't so sure that was because of Jungkook. 

"Yes," you finally manage a response, "I'm only in my first year but it's been a lifelong dream of mine, helping people I mean." 

Mr. Jeon nods, "You seem to be doing a fantastic job with my grandchildren already, I have no doubts." He flashes you a smile that has your own lips twisting upward. 

"I just—" It's his wife who grabs your attention a second time. She's tucking a loose strand of hair back into place, hands messing with the cardigan she wears as she clears her throat. "Forgive me for being invasive but it's just— You look so young," she hesitates before continuing, "How old are you, dear?" 

The chuckle that tumbles off your tongue feels slightly unfitting for the occasion but Mrs. Jeon appears relieved that you hadn't taken any offense to the inquiry. "I'm twenty," you tell her, watching as the brows on her forehead rise before falling again, like she'd remembered herself. "Though I turn twenty-one not long into the new year."

"Oh, wow," Mr. Jeon hums, "That is certainly impressive for someone your age." 

His wife quickly nods, "Indeed." She sends Jungkook a brief glance before adding, "It must be a lot of work considering you take care of our grandchildren. Are you balancing it well?"

You give her a quiet smile, "Yes," you say, hoping to sound at least somewhat convincing. "I manage it just fine. Cassian and Rayne are no trouble to look after." Without pausing to look at Jungkook, you then go on to add, "Their father raised them well." 

Mrs. Jeon's face lights up at that, her lips stretching widely over her face. Across the table a choked-off sound can be heard, and through the corner of your eye you see Jungkook quickly reaching for his glass as he takes a sip of his water. "He has," Mr. Jeon agrees, "Always looking out for them." 

Jungkook himself makes no comment on the matter, even when his mother sends him a pointed eye. But you're no stranger to the subtle flush that creeps along his neck, never reaching his cheeks yet still enough to let you know that the casual praise had gotten to him. 

The four of you clean up together after that. You join Mrs. Jeon in the kitchen to help with the dishes and you easily get to discussing the contents of tomorrow's menu. Jungkook and his father leave to keep an eye on the children, likely helping the youngest pick out a game that was comprehensible enough for a five-year-old. 

As the evening progresses, you find yourself feeling less and less like a stranger in their home and more like a part of the small family. You and Cassian team up for the card games, with him in your lap as he tries to peek at his grandfather's cards very subtly — ultimately ending in him getting his game-privileges revoked all together. 

Mrs. Jeon and Rayne had formed their own duo while Jungkook and his father competed neck to neck with little to no sportsmanship. 

"It's just a few paper cards," Mrs. Jeon had tried to reason when her husband slammed his entire hand on the coffee table. 

Jungkook had simply rolled his shoulders with a triumphant grin, "Father just needs to learn when to cut his losses." 

Mr. Jeon's head had snapped up at that, brows furrowed deeply as he sent his son a look that could kill. "Don't forget who taught you these games, boy," he scowled. 

"Sounds like you're the one who could use another lesson," the former replied casually. 

You're pretty sure a petty argument would've broken out, had Mrs. Jeon not reminded the two that it was probably time for the children to be put to bed — thus diffusing the heated tension caused by a simple deck of cards again. 

When getting changed into the one set of pajamas you had brought for the night, a sense of peace washed over you. Your previous anxiety about going here to begin with ebbed away as you brushed your teeth, though you made sure not to bump into Jungkook on your way back to the guest bedroom. And as the house fell silent half an hour later, you found that you had settled in quite nicely. 

You never had been very good at sleeping away from home. It had taken you three weeks to get used to your own flat when moving out. And though you had spent one night under the same roof as Jungkook before — that fateful day where you sprained your ankle felt like a lifetime ago. Before things had turned intimate between you, back when you were still only the children's nanny and nothing else. 

The brief sanctuary you had found when playing card games downstairs had vanished again — leaving a hollow feeling in its wake as the evening progresses into night. 

Somewhere in the distance a clock ticks, and as you lay in bed, you attempt to lull yourself into a light slumber by simply counting each second as it passes. It is to no avail, of course. Your eyes snap open, greeted by the ceiling which looked as plain as a grain of rice. Fingers drumming against the duvet, you try to work out how many hours could be left until dawn. 

The ominous creak of a door cuts through the otherwise silent house and it has you jolting upright as you strain to catch the accompanying footsteps. Perhaps it was Mr. or Mrs. Jeon who left for the bathroom, perhaps it was Jungkook. 

You wait it out, going back to counting seconds as you listen to the persistent clock. When you've counted five minutes without any signs of a return, curiosity wins out. Your feet are light on the floor as you peer out into the hallway, all three doors are closed, no sign of life — and yet, you move toward the stairs. 

Creeping down the steps, you hold your breath in fear of stepping on a board that might betray your whereabouts. Luckily you make it all the way to the bottom floor without much trouble, exhaling a sigh of relief as you let go of the banister. 

The house is basked in shadows, save for the moonlight that spills through the windows and you let it guide you down the hall. You had no real motive for being down here, save for the fact that you were unable to sleep and now following a noise that could have easily been the wind or just the old roof settling. 

But as you round a corner, the sudden flicker of yellow makes you halt in your tracks. It's coming from the living room, a soft and warm hue that seeps into the hallway, one you follow on tip-toes, careful not to make a sound. 

When you peer through the archway all tension immediately drains from your face. The light had been coming from the Christmas tree, of course. Standing in front of the couch and armchair, the pine tree nearly reaches the ceiling, its star casting a golden halo around the room. 

Your gaze drops to the floor, to the silhouette belonging to Rayne. 

She sits with her legs tucked to her chest, chin hooked over her knees as she peers up at the tree in front of her — not the presents. The purple pajamas sits loose on her tiny frame, the dotted flowers blurring together with the shadows cast on her back. She has yet to notice you, too entranced by the lights in front of her to pick up on your tentative approach. 

Perhaps it was your sleeplesss brain, or the sheer curiosity you found yourself filled with after spotting her down here — nonetheless, you decide to sit down beside her on the floor, mimicking her posture as you pull your own knees to your chest in a tight embrace. 

Rayne finally turns her head to look at you, confusion written across her features. "What are you doing here?" Her voice isn't accusing, not exactly anyway, but you could tell that she was trying to figure out your intentions — except you hardly knew them yourself. 

Shrugging, you rest your cheek on your knees as you watch her through half-lidded eyes. "Can't sleep," you truthfully tell her, "The clock in my room is too loud." 

She doesn't respond to that beyond a slow tilt of her head but her dark eyes never stray from yours. You could gaze into them for hours without ever coming close to knowing what she was thinking, and she would stare back at you for just as long without ever telling you. 

"What are you doing here?" Echoing her question, you shift your feet on the carpet as you cushion yourself better against your kneecap. 

Rayne shrugs, "Can't sleep." 

"Does your dad know you're down here?" You hum, watching as she shakes her head in a 'no' that she never utters out loud. Without questioning her further you turn your attention back toward the Christmas tree. It looks much bigger when viewed from below and you have to crane your neck in order to make out the star on top. 

Rayne sits quietly beside you for a minute. She makes no attempt to speak, for a while you think she might even get up and leave again now that you had disturbed her peace. But she remains seated on the floor, close enough for your elbows to touch if either of you shifted an inch or so. 

Finally, you let go of the breath you had been holding. "I'm sorry for intruding on your Christmas," you tell her, hoping that she can hear the sincerity in your voice, "I know you probably didn't want me to." 

She inhales deeply beside you, chin lifting from her knees as she studies the lights hanging from the tree — their yellow hues reflect on her soft cheeks, bathing her in warmth as she blinks slowly. "It's not that I don't want you here," she begins, pausing mid-sentence as she swallows, "It's just…" 

Rayne trails off, her gaze dropping to the floor. You hold your tongue, waiting for her to continue whenever she felt ready to — even if the unknowing plagued you terribly. 

"It's scary." 

The admission feels vulnerable coming from her, like something you had never been intended to hear in the first place. She doesn't try to elaborate on it, and she doesn't look at you either, simply regarding the shiny ornaments as they hang from the tree. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, it goes down like a razor blade. Was there anything you could say to make it better? Anything you could do to take the feeling away again? When you regard her in the dim, yellow glow of what was supposed to be holiday spirit — you can't help but notice just how young she looks. Your stomach ties itself into knots when you think about all the things she might keep inside. 

Turning her head back to you, Rayne lets her intense gaze drag itself along your curled up frame on the floor next to her. Her brows meet over the bridge of her nose in a thoughtful frown. "I don't know what you want," she then murmurs, head cocking to the side as she studies you with calculating eyes. 

Her confession renders you speechless. Mostly because it was the same way in which you had felt about her all this time. Rayne was never where you expected her to be. Sometimes you were fooled into hoping that you were getting through to her, only for the distance to return a day later. Sometimes you felt stupid after talking to her, other times you felt smart. But the thing about Rayne that seemed to keep you awake at night was the: why. 

Why accept your help before the dance? Why ask questions that made no sense? Why even bother with this conversation right now? You came to understand that she was searching for the same answers you were. So you sit up a little straighter, arms loosening their hold on your legs as you turn to face her fully. "I want you to be happy," you tell her certainly, "You and your brother." 

Rayne nods, slowly but not unsurely. Her gaze flickers back to the tree for a moment, eyes tracking the red globes, maybe even counting them. A minute passes — two perhaps. Your confidence wavers with each second until nothing but a nervous flick of your nails against your pajama pants remain. 

She heaves a deep breath, taking all the air inside the room with her, including your own. Then she holds that same breath for a long while. Only when you glance over in fear that she might suffocate, does she exhale it again. "How do I know you won't hurt him?" 

You frown, lips parting without as much as a word, the rustle of clothes loud in your ears when you shift in place. The implication that you would ever harm someone, even if unintentionally, fills you with unease. "Hurt Cassian?" you shake your head promptly, "I would never—"

"Father." 

Rayne's expression resembles that of Jungkook's when she turns to you, masked with indifference — had it not been for the vulnerability behind her dark eyes as she awaits your response. "How can I be sure you won't hurt him?" 

Hurt — Jungkook? 

She was worried about… Jungkook? Rayne must have noticed the perplexed expression on your face by now, even so, she made no comment on it as she watches you expectantly.

You want to tell her that it is none of her responsibilities to worry about her dad, that he was a grown up who took care of himself. But something in the way she looks at you, the determination that fills out her shoulders and the protective fire within her gaze — it makes you think better of it. 

"I…" Stumbling over your words, you think of a way to respond to that. In the end, you can only shake your head, finishing off with a quiet whisper, "That's the last thing I want." 

Rayne looks at you, really looks at you, as though she was picking you apart for lies. Her throat bobs when she swallows, hesitation striking her shield of feigned nonchalance. Before she can formulate a reply however, the stairs creak. 

Your heads whip in the direction of the sound, the two of you scrambling to your feet just in time to see Jungkook himself emerge from the shadows as he steps into the light. He's dressed in checkered sweatpants, a loose, white t-shirt and nothing else. Still, he the glance he sends you both is enough to make your spine straighten. 

"What are you doing up?" He turns to address his daughter whose face was now devoid of any trace leading to your previous conversation. She doesn't answer him right away, fingers curling around the sleeves of her pajama shirt. 

"We came down for water," you say, nodding toward the tree behind you, "Got distracted by the Christmas decorations." Next to you, Rayne lets out a soft breath. 

Jungkook's attention flits over to the ornaments, snapping back to you both a beat later. Judging by the crease between his brows and the subtle clench to his jaw, he did not believe you. Yet he said nothing, instead he extends one hand toward his daughter, more of a demand than a request. "Bed time," he says and Rayne quickly obliges as she walks over to to lace her fingers with his. 

He does not turn to glance at you when he leads her out of the living room, and you listen to their barely audible retreat. Only when you're sure that they have made it upstairs do you finally uproot yourself from your spot, heading out into the dark hallway and toward the kitchen in search of the water you had yet to drink. 

Moonlight spills across the yellow tiles, perfectly illuminating the sink when you enter. It takes you some adjusting but after a minute or so you're able to find your way over to the cupboard holding the glasses. It's cool in your palm, heavier than you could remember a simple drinking glass being. You don't question it as you run it under the faucet. 

The cold water slips down your throat easily and you indulge in three greedy sips. The small kitchen window gives a perfect view of the backyard. Naked trees crowd the outskirts of the lawn, covered in a pale, glittering layer of snow. Cassian would probably want to head out there and play tomorrow — after tearing through his presents that is. 

Finger tapping against the rim of your glass, you ponder on how long your shoes would last out in the wet snow, and if you had remembered to pack an extra pair of socks. 

It's not until the lights above suddenly turned on that you startle from your thoughts, fist closing tight around your glass so to not drop it entirely. Tilting your head to peer over your shoulder, you spot Jungkook in the doorway. His hand hovers above the light switch before it returns to join the other in the pockets of his pants. 

"Sorry," the apology is blurted out the second your eyes fall on him, "We didn't mean to wake you." 

Jungkook shakes his head as he approaches, moving quietly across the kitchen floor as he comes to stand before you. "I couldn't sleep," he says as he lets his gaze drop to the half finished glass of water you hold. The chase for rest seemed to be a running theme tonight. 

The stillness and shadows around you linger for a while, and you long to join them, even if only for a little bit. "Is she okay?" Your thoughts have already found their way back to Rayne, her confession seared into the depths of your mind where it would stay until you were able to shake it. 

"She's asleep," he says. 

It wasn't an answer to your question, but you know better than to ask again. Opting for another sip, you let the cool liquid sit on your tongue before swallowing it. Standing in front of Jungkook now does not feel the same as it had only a week ago. It was a funny feeling, this lingering sense of dread, it crept up on you when you least expected it. You wonder if he can tell. 

Jungkook breaks away from your gaze and you follow the shuffle of his arm as he pulls his hand from his pocket, eyes widening when they land on the small box in his palm. The red wrapping shines under the kitchen lights, it's tied together with a white bow and your heart clenches at the sight. 

"What's this?" A stupid inquiry when the evidence was right in front of you. 

Jungkook humors you anyway, "Merry Christmas," he says when bringing it forward for your taking. 

He's met with a frown you cannot conceal. "It's Christmas Eve," you remind him, ready to decline the gift based on principle alone. But he simply nods toward the clock hung up on the wall behind you, showing 12:05. 

The corner of your lip pulls into a faint smile despite yourself and you set the glass down beside the sink as you reach out to take the present from him with careful hands. It's light, almost weightless in your grasp. Gaze shifting back up to him, you find Jungkook regarding you with his breath held, "Open it," he murmurs. 

There was no card attached, not that it mattered, you think when undoing the white ribbon. It comes apart easily under your fingers and you hesitate over the red wrapper. The prolonged silence pushes you to go through with it in the end, nail hooking into a crevice as you tear it gently — the ripping of paper is loud in the otherwise silent kitchen. 

Jungkook takes the ribbon and wrapping off your hands, discarding it on the tiled counter top as he goes back to watching you intently. His attention makes your stomach flutter the way it always would whenever he looked at you like that, like nothing else existed. 

You turn the small, black box in your hands — reading the brand name, which you did not dare attempt to pronounce, engraved in gold at the top. Deciding to just bite the bullet, you finally pick the lid, your eyes practically gauging out of their sockets when met with the jewelry inside. 

A small, golden pendant with soft edges that were shaped into a heart. It shimmers softly when you tilt the box a little closer. The necklace is attached to a thin chain of the same material and the pad of your finger strokes it reverently. 

Jungkook has yet to speak as he hovers close, his gaze heavy with something you want to believe is affection. 

"I—" inhaling a shaky breath, you manage to pull yourself away from the shiny jewelry and over to him, "You really didn't have to. I mean— this is way too much, I couldn't possibly—" 

His palm his flaming hot against your face, the pad of his thumb soft where it caresses your cheek. "I wanted to," he says, his other hand finding yours where you clutch at the small box. His fingers brush over your wrist, eyes flitting between your own and the necklace, "Can I put it on you?" 

Your throat feels dry despite the water you had been inhaling just a minute ago. Nodding mutely, you allow him to retrieve the jewelry. Jungkook moves carefully when he picks it up, like he was handling a porcelain vase. "Turn around," he whispers. 

There was little you could do except comply, turning to face the fridge door across from you as you fiddle with the now-empty box in your hand. The scent of his cologne feels out of place in Mr. and Mrs. Jeon's kitchen, but when he takes a step forward, it is all you can smell. 

His chest is just shy of brushing against your back, and when Jungkook inhales, it actually does. You bite your lip to keep yourself from saying something you shouldn't as Jungkook brings his hands over your shoulders, gently placing the necklace onto your collarbone. The gold pendant is cold against your feverish skin and it sears itself onto you — like it, too, knew you would never take it off again. 

He fiddles with the clasp for a moment, knuckles accidentally brushing the nape of your neck and you suppress a shudder. You can feel the lock mechanism click into place long before Jungkook actually pulls back. He stands there for a while, warm breath fanning across your shoulder blade as the pads of his fingers trace the fine chain around your neck. 

"Alright," he clears his throat and the heat of his body disappears again, "Turn back around." 

Doing as he says, you come to face him once more. Glancing down to where the necklace rests, you reach up to feel it, making sure that it was real. Jungkook says nothing but his hands settle on your hips, locking your bodies together in a seal you won't be able to break, even if you want to. 

"It's pretty" you murmur, still studying the shimmering gold. 

His next exhale meets the tip of your nose, "On it's own maybe." His thumb draws idle circles onto your waist through the cotton of your shirt, "You wear it beautifully." 

Had you not been so taken aback by the admission you would've probably given his chest a teasing shove. But when you shift your gaze back up to meet his, you can't bring yourself to even breathe. Jungkook was standing close, too close, and if not for the way his chest pressed against your own, both of your hearts beating as one, then the fact that his lips hovered an inch from your own would've been more than enough to make your head spin. 

"I want to kiss you." 

He says it like it's the simplest thing in the world, like your conversation with Rayne had meant nothing — like this wasn't bigger than the two of you. 

You nod, finally letting go of the pendant and placing the jewelry box aside, your hands find the back of his neck. Just for tonight, you tell yourself. Just for tonight you repeat as his lips brush over yours. Just for— 

The creak of a floorboard has your eyes snapping open at the exact same moment Jungkook's does. His head, previously tilted forward to meet yours, jerks in the direction of the kitchen entrance and his grip on your hips tighten impeccably. 

The soft, barely audible groan of old wood had not been a trait of the house and soon the sound of footsteps fill the previously hot air. It's but a second later that Cassian rounds the corner and comes to an abrupt halt in the archway. 

His hair is tousled from sleep, the blue pajamas sitting awkwardly on his tiny frame after tossing and turning in bed. One small, knuckled fist comes up to rub at his eye as he squints against the sudden lightning. Without actually registering the scene in front of him, he croaks out a groggy: 

"Santa?" 

── [ ✉️ ] I like this chapter, mainly because of the dialogue. Hm, I hope it's not too boring since there was significantly less Jungkook x OC action, then again, HW is so much more than that, which you ladies know by this point. Anyway anyway, I feel like we have a lot to discuss in terms of theories and lore after this one, hit me, I am ready <3

© All rights reserved @merakoo 2026.

[ohmymistakee]

Blue Hour 005

summary: A night shift on your delivery girl job makes your life make a 180 spin, you cant believe where you got yourself involved in, will you lose everything you worked so hard for? Will Jungkook be there to catch you if you fall?

pairing: deliverygirl! fem reader x mafia! jeon jungkook

genre/warning: fluff fluff and some comedic slips lol. heavily inspired by The Sopranos, jk is in the mob heheh, tropes like forced proximity, adorable jk of course, hunged jk, wanted to make this a bit comedic, dont know if i served good laughs tho.

Jungkook is hooked, oc is kind of in denial of course, namjoon is the leader of fucking course. Biker kook! Bad boy kook, idk

After his sudden and rushed disappearance, you realised you had nothing to do. At all.

The only thing bothering you was your job, your source of income, and Yoona. She must be thinking where the hell you are. You didn't know if you had to give up your job for everything that suddenly happened. That was a conversation you had to have with Jungkook the moment he appeared, but it seemed like forever since you last saw him.

You spent the day alone, raoming about the huge penthouse you were stuck in. You had to admit it was beautiful and really clean, but it was getting kind of boring after the 10th room you checked and no sort of distraction or entertaining item appeared.

You almost gave up, sitting back again on the couch with a sigh, when you remembered. The attic.

A mischievous smile appeared on your face as you searched on the ceiling a small square you could pull down. Your head tilted back constantly examining all of the crevices and details a celing could have.

And then you saw it. On the far end of the corridor, a chord and a small plastic ball awaited for you. And you smiled triumphantly.

You tried to reach it, your frowning deepening as the seconds passed. Even if you jumped, you couldn't reach it. So you helped yourself with the high stools on the kitchen to finally pull down the stair case.

You made sure of the stability of the small steps as you began climbing up. You could stand up comfortably around the room, your hand finding for the light switch.

And once the light went on, your wide eyes met with countless of boxes. This could keep you entertained for a while.

You smiled and began your discovery. You were careful with the wrapped up boxes. You didn't want to nose about his personal items, so you focused on finding something worth the while. A book maybe, a nintendo switch you always dreamed of having. He had enough money to buy thousands of them, so you were sure something along those lines was hidden here.

After almost an hour of searching around, the only thing you found was a couple of books about philosophy and some fiction. You saw some weird things on those boxes. Family stuff you could recognise as really old photo books and clothes. But you respected his privacy.

He would kill you if you messed with his things, rightfully so. So you only took one book for now, a philosophy one that caught your attention as you walked down the small stairs and left it all as it was.

Settling for making yourself a cup of tea and reading in a corner of the big sofa on his living room.

Hours passed as you were engrossed on the pages, the theories a bit heavy for a light reading, but interesting nonetheless. You haven't moved much for the day. But when you felt the words blur together and a big yawn on your throat, you decided it was time to call it a day.

The street was dark, the moon hang high by now. You sat up and put the closed book on the classy coffee table. And just when you were cleaning up the dishes, the sound of keys and an opened door invaded your senses.

You turned your face to look at the main door, and breathed a bit lighter as you saw him taking off his shoes at the main entrance.

“Another hard day in the office?” You joked, cleaning the remaining soap on the mug. You heard his sigh and the keys clanking on the table.

“Ha, ha. Really funny” He smiled lightly at you through his tired face, but once his eyes reached the coffee table, a frown took upon his brows.

“Where did you find that?” He mumbled as he walked closer to the table, his eyes on the book as if it was a diamond in the middle of the desert.

“Oh, that. I just-” His voice cut you off almost inmediately.

“You went in the attic?” The mad face he wore making you stop your actions. You quickly put the mug to dry on the rack besides the sink and dried your hands.

“Y-yeah I was just-” You tried to shrug your way throught his accusatory tone, but to no avail.

“Who gave you permission to do that?!” His eyes looked hard at you, his jaw locked as you couldn't understand what was going on, utterly confused at his sudden irritation.

“Sorry?” You scoffed, you couldn't believe the scene he was pulling on you for reading a fucking book.

“You couldn't stop your nosy ass, could you?” You unbelievably laughed at that, your heart begin to thump on your ribs at his words.

“You're being an asshole” You confidently said, walking to him passing the kitchen island, standing in front of him but at a bit more far than a normal distance.

“You're the one taking things that aren't yours!” His sudden raise of voice made you gulp and laugh a bit more, your heart beating faster, growing aggravated at his fucking attitude.

“You pretend to keep me trapped here with nothing to do? Just staring at the wall for hours until you decide to show up? What the fuck is going on?” You raised your voice too, he was wrong if he thought he could talk to you like that and you were going to just take it.

“You don’t get to touch anything in this house like you belong here.” His words cut through you hard. A sudden shiver took upon you as his hard stare stayed on you. Your feet shifting your weight slowly as you sucked your cheeks in, nodding slowly.

“Fuck you” You spat at him. The only words you could mutter right now at his fucking kid attitude. He took it like a blow, blinking a bit faster and realizing what he said. You didn't give him a chance to say anything, your feet guiding you to the bedroom.

“Y/N I-”

“Fuck off!” You shouted without turning, getting inside the room and closing the door with force. Your hands went to your hair almost instantly. the sudden cold and brute attitude he wore making you a bit more nervous than normally. Not nervous, just a bit panicked. That's what arguments did to you. Your system suddenly went on alert, and you couldn't handle shouting or anything like that.

You made sure to never have heated arguments with the people around you to save yourself from feeling this shitty. But you guess this was his way. And you didn't like it one bit.

What the hell did you do wrong? He didn't even tell you anything about not going into the attic. The only room you were actually forbidden to go into was his fuckass office.

So why his sudden anger? Did he hide something there? You didn't even want to know. Fuck, you didn't even want to relive how his hard stare and tense form made you feel. There was no more funny and easy going demeanor he showed with you.

This time, an almost entirely different side take over him, and you dreaded it.

After you calmed yourself a bit, you decided to take a cold shower and call it a day, getting in bed, even if you tossed and turned more than you would admit.

He stayed frozen in his place, his head running to a different thousand directions. He knew he fucked up with that last words he said to you, but honestly he didn't understand what took upon him to say those things. He didn't want to take any of his inner troubles on you, but those boxes in the attic were the last thing he had of her. And it was extremely difficult for him to let anyone touch or see those boxes, those memories.

He was afraid you would find her old photobook, her wedding dress or even his old drawings of her. He wasn't prepared to face it entirely, and even worst, explain all of it to you.

He run his hands through his face, his busy day making his attitude a bit more prone to snapping. But he admitted it was no excuse for treating you like that, and talking as if you had any fault on what you accidently got involved.

You were right, he was an asshole. And now, he understood he shouldn't tell you anything, and give time for both of you to calm down before talking about it.

So he, too, called it a night, a warm shower calming his tensed muscles and a half empty massive king size bed waiting for him.

He went to sleep hoping to talk to you in the morning, to somehow fix the situation over coffee, but you didn't leave your room at all. He had to go mid morning, and he waited for your small steps to sound on the wooden floor of the corridor.

But it was sound silence, from the moment he prepared breakfast to the moment he got dressed to face the day.

He battled inside his mind on what he should do, should he leave without saying anything? No, that would be way worse, that would give you the idea he didn't want to fix anything. And he honestly was sorry for what he said to you.

knock knock

Your door stayed closed as you stared at it from your seat on the small couch on the room. You were up even before he woke up and started making noise in the kitchen. But a mix of real uncomfortableness and pride made you stay inside the room. Looking out the window as your pastime.

It wasn't his attitude that made you mad. Well it was, but you could accept his apology on that. His words were what kept replaying on your head from time to time. Making you question what even were you doing here.

Was he that uncomfortable having you here? You knew people were the most honest when they were angry, and you felt hurt he really felt like that. It was a sticky situation for you both, he had, what you presumed, a busy life with the rest of his gang. And you had your life prior to this.

One night just mixed both of your realities, creating your stay in his home, unprecedented. You even understood where he was coming from. From one day to another, his big apartment had it's privacy invaded by you, a stranger. But it's not like you wished for this.

It was unfortunate for the both of you, and so you would actually make it easier if you bothered him the least possible.

“Y/N?” His voice woke you up from the rambling inside your head, your eyes stayed on the door as you looked for something to say.

“I'm sleeping” You somehow shouted for him to hear, not in an angry shout, just a bit more elevated volume.

You heard the scoff through the door, and you bit your lip at his reaction.

“Okay, um, I gotta go, breakfast is on the stove” He sighed when he realised you wouldn't open the door to even look at him. But nevertheless he waited for some beats at your door, hoping for your hands to open it and finally face him. But that didn't happen.

He couldn't even blame you, he had it coming. And so he took his things and made his way to his headquarters, where his mates were waiting for him.

The second you heard the front door close shut, and only then, you opened the door. Your head peeking around and waiting for a sound that confirmed he was still inside. But you heard nothing, assuming he left already you got out, and got yourself surprised at the breakfast in the kitchen.

A mix of just whatever on separate plates, showed off as some kind of fancy hotel. Toasts with butter and mermalade, coffee, tea, some rice and meat he surely made for himself, and a mix of breakfast fruit like apples and oranges in a fancy big bowl.

He really went all out huh? You suddenly felt bad, leaving him to do all of these for you, only to end up eating breakfast alone waiting for you. Fuck, this was a mess.

“Wassup koo- oh, you didn't sleep much tonight huh?” Jimin joked with a smirk as he saw the youngest walk through the door, a coffee in his hand and a tired face.

“Too much action for you?” Tae wiggled his brows at him, the two of them exploding in a fit of laughs at his sexual jokes about him and you.

“Shut up ” He grumbled as he sat on the nearest chair, placing the coffee cup on the table and slouching over it.

“Trouble in paradise?” Tae raised his eyebrow at him noticing how down the youngest seemed, walking towards the table with his own cup of coffee.

“She went through the attic” His words made Jimin suddenly turn, his eyes examining Jungkook's tired face as he raised his eyebrows, surprised.

“Oh, this about to be good ” He mumbled and sat as soon as he could in front of him, resting his head in his hand as he waited for what Jungkook had to say.

“What's in the attic? Do you have an illegal marihuana plantation up there?” The joke only made Jimin giggle slowly as he shook his head. Jungkook only reaised his eyes to look at Tae with a tired expression.

“That's where he keeps her things” Jimin simply explained, waiting for some words that would confirm the worries he had about the situation, but as Jungkook explained what happened, Jimin couldn't find the youngest reasoning credible.

“Did you tell her to not go up there?” They waited for his response, only earning a small frown of him and a shake of his head. He mumbled a small 'no' as the rest of them sighed.

“Did she even touch through the things? Take something personal?” Jungkook shook his head again, eyes fixated on his drink.

“I dont know, she just took a book” Jimin and Tae looked at each other, a raised eyebrow at the story the youngest shared. “I dont know, I snapped” He sighed exhasperated, running his hands through his head as the other waited for him to keep talking.

“I told her to not touch things that aren't hers, that it isn't her home” A heavy sigh sounded through the room as they nodded, a small smile on Taehyung's face.

“Oh man” Jimin muttered shaking his head.

“You fucked up big time” Taehyung laughed at the situation, Jungkook behaving like a real asshole to anyone being something new for them.

“I know! You dont have to remind me” He took a sip of coffee, he knew he messed up, but he didn't expect this response from them.

“but why was she even up there” The blonde one asked trying to make sense on this.

“she was bored and she was looking for something to do” jungkook shrugged and the others sighed again.

“God damn, jungkook. You have her there with not even a tv for her to distract herself. Not even a card deck or some shit.” Taehyung explained.

“I just didn't think of it, assumed she would bring something... i dont know” Jungkooks voice kept getting smaller, and a bit defensive.

“You already made her feel like a stranger and she only spent one night with you! Its not even her fault, if anything is ours for having her trapped there for her safety. Youre lucky she's nice enough to not throw that in your face. ” Jimin said his last words before the leader came through the door, ready for the daily morning reunion. And leaving Jungkook to think about Jimin’s words almost all morning.

They needed to talk about the money they were stolen, and how they would play out the situation with you. You were very obviously at risk. They even talked about how surreal it was that the Italians had the impression you were a couple. The leader convinced it was just an excuse to fuck with them.

They talked about how they would get the money back, and how they could take down, or even reach a deal with the Italians to stop the nonsense. If they wanted war, they had no choice but to have it.

Not much of a conclusion was made, the only sure thing was you needed to stay at Jungkook's house still, and keep up with the act. They handled different tasks between them to reach some information about who and why they stole from them. Carrying a preventive plan for the guilty's end.

The day passed in a blur for Jungkook, the sudden busy schedule they had, trying to get answers and get to a clear path on what they had ahead of them.

He again, returned home tired, but with a plan on his mind. He had to talk to you, apologize for what he did, and get to common ground with you. It was much better for you two, as you were living together now and for the foreseeable future.

He closed the door behind him when he got home, and put his keys on the little table beside the door. He took off his jacket and looked around, the kitchen clear to him from where he was standing.

But his eyes were, in a second, shifted to the small trail of blood on the kitchen floor, tissues on the ground and messy kitchen. His eyes went big, his heart rising in beats as he couldn't find you on his vision field.

“Y/N?!” He called for you, fearing for the worst. Could they have somehow got to you? Hurt you and even killed you in his home? That wasn't possible, this neighbourhood was secured from mile to mile. A bunch of security points you had to pass before even entering the property.

Maybe they came in disguised, as a delivery driver or a fucking plumber. His mind was racing, too much thoughts at once. And his feet took the lead, strutting through the kitchen, looking at the corridor to find the bathroom light on and the door opened.

“Y/N!” He shouted again as he opened the bathroom door wider with a hard hit, your figure appearing after it.

A big bloody tissue on your hand as your nervous eyes greeted him.

“I-im sorry i-” You shifted the weight from feet to feet as you saw him standing there, his chest going up at down at an insane speed. His panicked face running from your eyes to your hand, and the big bloody tissue on your hand.

“Don't say sorry- fuck, what happened?” He approached slowly, his hands hovering on the tissue you were holding against your hands. He didn't want to scare you off, but fuck, he feared the worst for a second.

“I-i was just trying to make a nice dinner and-” You panicked at his panicked state, the two of you creating a panicked shared feeling that was too much to handle for you.

“It's okay, don't worry just- let me see” He calmed his voice, his hand reaching for your forearm as you looked at him scared, shaking your face. You didnt even want to look at it. You didn't feel any big pain on your finger but the bloody scene was wrecking your nerves.

“It's okay, look at me” He nodded as his big eyes searched yours, understanding the situation in a second. You looked at him with big eyes, scared of what your finger might look like as he slowly unwrapped it, only for him to see.

His sudden intake of air made you gulp down, scared of what he saw that made him so panicked.

“Put pressure on it, yeah, that's good” He whispered nodding incessantly, he himself trying to calm everything too. He helped you put pressure on it with his own hand as he looked at you again, your face scared still.

“Don't worry, it's not that bad” He reassured, making you calm down a bit more, his words reassuring in a moment like this.

He wasn't going to tell you he could see an incredibly deep cut on your middle finger, and that the blood coating the floors belonged in a horror movie.

“I'm really sorry, I don't know how-” He shut you up almost inmediately, his hand going to the back of your head and grazing your hair slowly.

“It's okay, let me make a call just- sit here” He made you sit on the toilet lid, his hand still putting pressure on you as he put his phone in his ear, calling for the best doctor he knew in town.

He crouched in front of you as he talked with someone, inviting them over. And you just sit there, watching him as his presence could make you forget the blood fest you just created.

“Tell me what happened baby” he softly said, hunging up his phone as he took your hands in his, pressuring softly while looking up at you.

His big almost black eyes staring up at you, the ceiling lights of the bathroom reflecting on them, making him look like star strucked boy. Waiting for you to say something, staring at him with your mouth opened slightly, your eyes dancing between his.

You could feel how close he was to you, the mix of coffee and his perfume captivating your nose, making you a bit dizzy. Or maybe that was the blood you were losing.

Right, the blood, the cut. You focused again.

“I-I tried to cut some vegetables for dinner. I just wanted to make something nice. I-I felt bad for this morning and yesterday and how I didn’t even come out this morning to talk to you and I don’t know how but-“

“Okay, I get it” he laughed softly, cutting off your nervous rambling, his hand resting for a second on your thigh, making your brain short circuit for a moment.

“Yesterday, I- I’m sorry too, it isn’t fair to you.” He shook his head as he talked, looking down, shy to meet your stare while he explained what he felt.

“But-“

“No buts, I didn’t tell you anything about the attic. And I was an asshole, for leaving you here without anything to do while I’m away, and for saying those words to you” he gulped. It wasn’t easy for him to say sorry, and admit all of this. But he felt it was the best thing to do, for you and for him. You were stuck in this, together.

“I didn’t mean them” he assured you, looking up at you again. His almost crosseyed stare looking at you like you hanged the moon, when it was actually opposite to it.

You got in between something you shouldn’t, and even if you didn’t purposely decide to be there at that time and place, it brought trouble for the two of you. And that wasn’t fair to him either.

You nodded slowly at him, you couldn’t look away from him, not when he was crouched so close to you. His hand going from yours and your thigh, his voice deep and soft pleading forgiveness for what he said.

He started at you incessantly, his eyes going from your messy hair to the small peek of your shoulder he could see thanks for the oversize sweatshirt you wore.

Your shampoo scented hair and soft eyes making him crumble in front of you, your mere existence in this ridiculously big bathroom and the messy blood everywhere just enough for him to feel some type of way. The small panic you showed through your demeanor awaking a sort of primal urge for him to protect you at all costs.

The loud doorbell shook both of you out of it. Him standing up and bringing a man you haven’t seen ever, beside him. A fancy outfit on, some slacks and black sweater, and a stethoscope hanging on his neck.

The man greeted you calmly, of course he noticed the messy scene of the kitchen. But with cuts, blood was really dramatic, so he had to wait and see what happened.

He checked your finger while you looked away, too apprehensive and scared for what you may see.

“It’s a deep cut, we might need some stitches” he mumbled simply, like he was totally comfortable with that.

“Stitches?!” Your loud voice made Jungkook laugh softly.

“It’s okay” He reassured as he stared at what the doctor did with your hands, his nosy eyes wanting to know everything.

“It’s not! Is it going to hurt doctor?” Your panicked eyes went to the middle aged man in front of you.

“You can’t even imagine it” he confirmed raising his eyebrows, jungkook laughing even louder at his words followed with your terrified eyes looking at him.

“Oh God, can’t you like treat it without stitches or something? Please, really I-“ the doctor had the fucking audacity to laugh too. You didn’t know if you were more irritated or scared.

“Don’t worry, a little local anesthesia will do the job” he assured you as he looked at the black haired man, nodding and walking to the living room where he would proceed with stitching you up.

You panicked again.

“Why’s he leaving?!” You looked around Jungkook's form, looking for the doctor that already disappeared through the door.

“Relax, he will take care of it, he's a real professional” He nodded approaching you, his hands helping you stand up from the closed toilet.

“H-how do you know?” Your nervousness showing an apparent lose of trust in him, and what he would do in case you were hurt. It kinda hurt him you were this hesitant about his intentions.

But nevertheless, once you were on your too feet, his hands grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and showing his torso.

Your eyes widened a bit, you never seen a six pack this close. You felt the room becoming a bit smaller between you, your gaze never moving from the chiseled torso in front of you.

“Look, he cured me when i was shot, see? there's nothing” He whispered at the top of your head, his head low as he followed your eyes on him, his fingers brushing softly on top of a small and almost unnoticeable scar on his lower abdomen.

Your eyes scanned it for a short amount of time, your eyes too distracted by his muscles that you almost forgot why the hell was he showing you a wound.

“Earth to y/n” He sang with a smirk, noticing your still body in front of him. But when you registered his words, you shook out of your sudden trance, nodding slowly and clearing your throat.

“Y-yeah yeah, i didn't even see anything” You looked up at him, feigning indifference while he reaised his eyebrows at you, a playful smile showing his teeth.

“Yeah right, let's go” He laughed as he walked with you to the couch, making you sit on it as a wide range of medical tools were spread on the clean table.

“Good, you won't even notice anything” Your eyes drifted from the doctor to Jungkook in a fast manner, you didn't even know where to look, but one thing you knew, the gore cut on your finger was the last thing you wanted to watch getting stitched up.

Jungkook rose his hand, offering it to you as you rapidly took it, your figure sat sideways as the doctor got to work, narrating everything he was doing to let you know in advance.

Your knee bounced up and down incessantly, your worried expression bit your lip with no break, closing your eyes from time to time.

And jungkook crouched again in front of you.

“Look at me” He mumbled at you, again, his close presence made it clear you could hear him even if he whispered. You enjoyed his closeness, of course you did. When else would you have some hot mafia member kneeling in front of you again? You didn't even know, so you had to enjoy it while it lasted.

And maybe, as an excuse for you to not see what the doctor did, you hid your face on his shoulders, earning a chuckle from him when he noticed your subtle movements on his skin.

And with the pass of time, your head that was once on his shoulder was now on his neck, smelling the perfume he always put in that little crevice between his shoulders and neck, his soft skin and the rythm of his heart grounding you.

You were kind of vulnerable, the last day's feelings catching up to you. You were a mix of tired, sad, in pain, and cozy in his arms. And it was the perfect mix of adorableness for Jungkook to let you do anything you wanted. He was all yours for the time being. And he wasn't sure when he wouldn't be after this.

“Done” The doctor said with a sigh and a smile after sometime. You truly didnt notice anything, no pain or nothing.

Jungkook focused on your bandaged finger and then on the doctor, thanking him for coming so late. He shrugged it off, assuring him that it was okay.

“You'll need to take this for two days, for the pain” He explained as he took a small bottle of anti-inflammatory pills and placing them in the table. “Take one now and one tomorrow night. It will make you a bit sleepy, so it's better to take them in the night.” While he took all of his things and placed them in the bag, jungkook made sure to remember all of this for you, still sat down in the sofa and looking between the doctor, the pills, and your finger.

“That's all for now, call me if you need anything” He smiled as Jungkook walked him to the door. You watched him leave and sat up to bow at him, thanking him for his time as he left. Jungkook came back with a glass of water, and a pill on his hand.

“It'll make the pain go away” He assured you as he walked towards you.

“I don't even feel my arm” You pouted, making him laugh and crouch in front of you, his index and thumb holding the pill for you.

“Open” His hand on your chin made you obey him in a second, not after mumbling a 'bossy' at him. He focused on your mouth, his eyes locked on your lips as he fed you the little pill. The glass of water followed while he tipped it for you to drink it, your eyes still on him as he nodded.

“That's it” his low voice and focused eyes on your mouth, his big hand holding your chin and his praises were making you almost drip on the sofa. Was he doing this on purpose? Cause if he was, he was being good at it.

You swallowed all the water from the cup, a small wink of his eye making you question if this was real or not. He busied himself cleaning everything, from the blood stains on the floor, to the mess you made on the kitchen. All the ingredients out, the cutting table still as you left it. You watched him from the sofa, and you started feeling a bit bad about the messy state of his otherwise spot clean apartment.

“Let me help you-”

“Stay there” He said inmediately, his accusatory finger pointing at you as you frowned.

“I cut myself, im not handiccaped” You tried to explain yourself, and even with that joke you couldn't crack a laugh from him.

“I don't care, i got it”

“But-”

“Come on” His long strides towards you kept you in place, his hands later on your shoulders as he made you lay down on the sofa, his hands arranging the pillow below you and the blanket he placed on top of you.

“No, really, i want to help” You tried to say, but a big yawn got on the way of your words, that made him laugh.

“See? You're already sleepy” He shook his head as he stayed arranging the blanket on top of you, even if it was perfectly put.

“No, really-” You yawned again, a laugh coming out from you at the silly situation.

“one, two, three, sleep” He cliked his fingers and brushed your eyes closed, his giggles still ringing in your eyes.

“Okay, okay, if you insist” You snuggled in the large and cozy sofa he was putting in a platter in front of you. You didn't have to wait much to totally fall asleep right there.

And surpisingly, he got the kitchen cleaned in record time, the bathroom too. He had one last battle for the night, standing in front of you as he watched you sleep soundly, your bandaged hand peaking out from the blanket.

Should he sleep here? Close to you if anything happened? No, that would be too creepy. Imagine if you woke up and got uncomfortable for sleeping in the same sofa as him. That was a possibility, he reasoned. And also, he didn't know if he could resist not snuggling you if you slept that close.

So he decided to sleep in his bed for the night, door opened to notice if you needed anything. His sleepy form slopping in bed and finding sleep soon.

The next morning was very quiet, his just woken up body walked to the kitchen. Sneaking a peek to you, who were still sleeping, and prepared a coffee pot right away.

You were awaken by the smell and sound of the noisy machine. Your eyes blinking slowly as you scanned your surroundings. Everything was like last night. Well, the mess was already cleaned up, thank god. You searched for the one boy that cleaned it all up. Your eyes scanning the living room and the open kitchen island in front of you.

And once you saw him, his broad back as he stared intensely at the coffee machine, his strong arms supporting himself on the counter, and his sleepy eyes blinking slowly, you couldn't take your eyes off of him. His random appearance on your sight making you wake up inmediately, careful to not let him see you.

But he was smarter, a smarty pants.

“Want a picture?” You heard his cocky voice instantly, the deeper timbre of the early morning shaking your insides. You froze at his words, he couldn't know you were ogling at him, your ego could not take it.

“Im making toast” He sang waiting for your reaction, and even if you didnt want to, you still got up and walked closer to him.

“No, let me do it”

“Why?” He frowned down at you, standing now side to side as you waited for the toast to pop out of the toaster.

“I owe you one” You explained simply, it was true. And you wanted to be equals, and if he did something for you, you would give it back.

“Come on, are you serious?” His side smile captivated as he scanned your face to search if you were really serious about it. When you did nothing but nod, he shook his head “You're injured” He pointed at your hand.

“It's just a cut in one finger, i can do plenty of things with one hand” You dismissed his words, frowning and shrugging your shoulders at his non sense.

“Oh, Im sure you do”

“What?” You couldn't hear what he just said, but you suspected it was something to make fun of you by his smirk and smug pose.

“Okay” He crossed his arms and smiled, his back on the counter as he watched you. You stood there, confused. “I would love to see you spread butter on that toast, one hand”

So this was a challenge? You smiled and raised your head, you were going to show him you were more than capable. Your back to him, you took a small knife from the counter and, with a bit of a fight, opened the butter. You looked at him triumphantly, proving him wrong for now as he didn't stop smiling.

You placed the toast on a plate, and when you tried to spread the butter into the toast, the bread kept moving away from you. The butter too hard for it to spread, the toast moving back and forth as you tried to do it, again and again. His laugh behind you was just distracting you.

“Almost there” He joked, his gaze fixed on the moving toast and your irritated face, and when you looked back at him, equally mad, a 'told you so' face was waiting for you in cute black eyes and pierced lip form.

“Dont laugh! I'm making it, give me a second” You kept trying, the butter melting slowly against the warm bread, your hand pressing down with more and more force to show him that you really could spread that fuckass butter on the toast.

What you didn't expect though, was the sudden chest on your back, his hands coming around you to hold the toast and your hand –that holded the knife–, his face just beside yours. His hair brushing against your temple while his soft giggles were now much more closer, tickling your cheek with his giggles.

He held the toast for you, his veiny hands illuminated graciously by the sun coming through the windows, his large palms you couldn't help but to compare with yours.

“Need a little help, huh?” You could swear his deep voice stilled on you, a shiver coming down your nape at the vibrations of his voice against you. You could feel his chest on your upper back, his shoulders covering yours above you, and most importantly, the absence of presence you felt on your middle. He actually didn't brush against your ass? How classy.

“I know what youre doing” you whispered, his nose finding place caressing your neck, going up to your cheek. His left hand, the one holding the toast in place suddenly reached over, holding your right side fo your waist. His whole muscly arm covering your tummy as he pressed you into him a bit harder.

“I’m not doing anything” you could hear the smile on his whisper, your own system getting turned on so easily at his ministration, making you lose your mind.

He didn’t stop for one second, his hand going below your hoodie, his slim fingers finding the senstive skin of your belly. His body pushed up even closer to you.

His head fully nuzzled into your neck, his lips opening right where your pulse is, and closing in a wet kiss that left you speechless, your big intake of air making him smile. He didn’t stop, not for one second, his sloppy kisses making you wetter by the passing second, your heart going a thousand miles per hour.

You closed your eyes, your lips opened as your ragged breath tried to find way. You tilted your head, his form now impossibly close. You could feel him everywhere.

His big arms hugging you from behind, his soft lips making a mess on your neck, giving you goosebumps that never seemed to stop. You could hear his own messed up breathing, his hand coming up to your chest. His big palm grabbing ahold of your breast, and the moan that escaped you was unstoppable.

“J-Jungkook” you whined, your own body trying to press more against him, you needed more.

“Let me take you” his deep voice whispered in your eyes, a whiny edge on his words that reflected how much he needed this too.

“What?” You moaned louder as a slow roll of his hips made you feel everything through your soft shorts. You reached behind you, your hand finding his nape as you held there for dear life.

Your other hand gripping the arm that hugged you, leaving nail marks on his otherwise perfect skin.

“Y/N” he whispered slowly in your ear, his kisses moving from your neck to your jaw, his teeth grazing at it with confidence, and so much hunger.

“Yeah?” you whimpered softly, your eyes stayed closed as you let the feelings he gave you ran through you like a tidal wave.

“Let me handle it” he laughed in front of you, his entertained gaze watching you as you gripped on the knife for dear life.

“What?” You whispered at him, your utterly confused state funny to him.

“Those pills they gave you, they made you space out heavily” he laughed as he moved the plate with the toast to him, helping spread the butter as he giggled.

You gulped down, looking at him, your cheeks growing impossibly red, and touching your forehead to see if you had a fever.

Was it all made up by your imagination?

You needed a hobby, something to do, now.

hey queeens thank you so much for all the notes!!! love you inmensily, and hope you like this chapter!!

maybe the small little smut part was unprecented? a bit, but i just wanted to practice writing smut before i dive in it completely heheh

tags: @jksusawife @muniing

(don’t really know how tagging works I’m a newbie but if you wanna be tagged let me know!!) 💜💜

[astralkookie]

All tracks lead back to you ✮⋆⭒˚.⋆ Chapter 4

Funny how a car crash at the Monaco Grand Prix ended up crashing everything else too.

F1 racer!jungkook, Songwriter!oc, childhood bestfriends to lovers, racing accidents/crashes, public scrutiny, friends to lovers, hate comments, emotional dependency, jealousy, miscommunication, angst, toxic fan culture, media pressure, arguments, alcohol consumption, anxiety, emotional burnout, slowburn, smut

desclaimer: this is a fictional story and does not reflect the real personalities or lives of any idols, drivers or celebrities mentioned. pls remember this is all fake and made for fun !!

word count: 10.5k words

Series Masterlist

note: chapter 4 is here guysss, this is a looong one and i did put in a lot of thoughts for this one, i tried my best to pour in all the emotions i could, cause this is kinda the peak of the series. And honestly, by the end of the chapter i could feel the goosebumps on my body, like i was soooo into the story. So i hope i was able to put that into this chapter and i really really hope ya'll feel the same and enjoy this one. I'd really appreciate your feedbacks and comments. Love ya'll, mwah mwah <33

Sleep had abandoned you somewhere around dawn.

Not dramatically. There was no sudden awakening, no nightmare, no particular thought dragging you from unconsciousness. You had simply opened your eyes sometime after six and immediately known there was no point trying again. Monaco sat waiting on the other side of the morning, heavy and impossible to ignore, and every attempt at closing your eyes only seemed to make you more aware of it.

The hotel room remained quiet as you pushed yourself upright, the sheets pooling around your waist while early sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains. Somewhere below, the city was beginning to wake. Not fully. Not yet. The streets weren't crowded, the yachts remained mostly still in the harbour, and the circuit that would soon be packed with spectators looked strangely harmless from this height. It was always unsettling, seeing race tracks before race day properly began. As though somebody had taken something loud and dangerous and temporarily disguised it as ordinary.

The balcony door slid open beneath your hand, cool air immediately rushing into the room. It felt nice after the stuffiness of sleep, carrying with it the faint scent of the sea and something distinctly Monaco that you had never quite been able to identify despite visiting often enough.

Leaning your forearms against the railing, your gaze wandered aimlessly across the harbour below. Sunlight scattered across the water in fractured pieces, catching against windows and polished decks and every reflective surface unfortunate enough to face the morning. In a few hours, the entire city would be loud. Cameras. Commentators. Fans. Helicopters circling overhead. Yet for now, there was only the distant hum of Monaco stretching awake around you.

Your eyes eventually drifted lower, wandering away from the harbour and the yachts and the circuit winding through Monaco's streets, until movement near the hotel grounds caught your attention: a lone figure rounding the side of the building before disappearing again almost immediately.

At first, you barely paid any attention to it, assuming it was probably another guest taking advantage of the cooler morning temperatures before the city properly woke up, yet several seconds later, the figure appeared again, emerging from around another corner before vanishing just as quickly, and this time, your gaze followed automatically, curiosity settling in before you could stop it.

A smile tugged at your lips. Of course, who else would be voluntarily running laps around a hotel at six in the morning on Monaco race day?

Below, Jungkook disappeared behind the building once more before reappearing moments later looking exactly the same as before, maintaining the same steady pace he had apparently decided was necessary despite the fact that he would be climbing into a Formula One car in only a few hours. From twenty-nine floors above, he should've been impossible to recognize, reduced to little more than a moving silhouette dressed entirely in black, yet some part of you would've known it was him immediately. Maybe it was the way he ran, the slight forward lean he'd had for as long as you could remember, or maybe it was because you'd spent so much of your life unconsciously searching for him in crowds that identifying him had eventually become instinct.

The realization settled quietly in your chest, not dramatic enough to demand attention and not significant enough to interrupt your thoughts, simply existing with the same ease as countless other things that had become normal over the years. Below, Jungkook completed another lap, then another, then another, his pace never changing, his determination remaining just as ridiculous as it had always been whenever something mattered too much to him.

The closer a race was to his heart, the harder it became for him to sit still, and judging by the number of laps he'd already completed before most people had even finished sleeping, Monaco had clearly won that battle.

Idiot.

The thought arrived with so much affection attached to it that you didn't even bother correcting yourself, your smile lingering far longer than it should have while your gaze continued following his progress around the hotel grounds, watching him disappear and reappear and disappear again beneath the slowly brightening Monaco sun.

Below, Jungkook slowed briefly, one hand pushing damp hair away from his forehead as he walked for several seconds before immediately starting another lap.

After a while, you walked back inside towards the shower, deciding that if you were going to spend the next several hours suffering through race-day anxiety, you could at least do it while looking presentable.

By the time you emerged again, dressed and mostly awake, your phone lit up.

Jungkook.

A smile appeared immediately as you accepted the phone call before the second ring. "Hey."

"Why do you sound awake?" You laughed.

The accusation arrived so quickly that it almost caught you off guard. "Good morning to you, too."

"No, seriously," Jungkook continued. "How long have you been awake for? Why do you sound like that?"

"Like what?"

"Functioning." You couldn’t help but scoff at the response. By now, you were already out of your room, carefully sliding the key card into your back pocket as you reached the end of the hallway. The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped inside.

"I hate to break it to you, but some of us possess basic life skills."

The elevator began descending, and outside the glass wall overlooking the lobby, Monaco continued waking beneath the morning sun.

"You should be asleep."

"You called me."

"Exactly. I was trying to wake you up." A laugh escaped before you could stop it.

Somewhere on the other end, Jungkook sighed dramatically.

"I even waited until a reasonable hour."

"Seven-thirty isn't a reasonable hour."

"It is for you." The elevator reached the ground floor as you stepped into the lobby.

"What are you doing anyway?" he asked.

His tone had shifted slightly, a little more casual and curious. You could practically picture him slowing to a walk while asking.

Pushing through the hotel entrance, you stepped out into the gardens surrounding the property, morning sunlight immediately settling across your shoulders while neatly maintained hedges and winding stone pathways stretched ahead beneath a sky that seemed far too calm for a race day, and it took less than a few seconds for your gaze to find him.

“I’m walking.”

Jungkook stood several metres away with his back turned towards you, phone pressed against one ear, dressed entirely in black, still slightly flushed from his workout, and still completely unaware of the fact that the person he was currently attempting to wake up had already been watching him run laps around the hotel for the better part of an hour. The sight alone made a smile tug at your lips, and by the time his voice filtered through the phone once more, questioning where exactly you were, the urge to annoy him had already become impossible to resist.

“Huh? Walking where?”

"For somebody whose entire job revolves around awareness, you're surprisingly unobservant."

A brief pause followed, confusion immediately threading through his voice as he replied with a simple, "What does that mean?" while you continued walking towards him, each step making it increasingly difficult to keep the smile off your face.

The answer came easily. "It means turn around."

Jungkook froze so abruptly that the gravel beneath his shoes shifted slightly, his head turning first before his shoulders followed, realization slowly piecing itself together as he looked over the hotel gardens until his gaze finally landed on you. The confusion vanished instantly. Offense replaced it just as quickly.

“Oh, fuck off."

The accusation escaped before he could stop it, earning a laugh that echoed through the otherwise quiet garden while Jungkook lowered his phone and stared at you as though personally betrayed. "Come on."

"You saw me from your room, didn't you?"

"Maybe."

"You did." His eyes narrowed immediately as your grin widened.

And suddenly, for the first time all morning, some of the nerves that had been sitting heavily inside your chest seemed to loosen ever so slightly, because after everything that had happened yesterday, after the celebrations and interviews and cameras and endless reminders of what today meant, there was something reassuringly familiar about finding Jungkook standing in the middle of a hotel garden arguing over absolutely nothing.

"How are you all showered and freshened up already?"

The accusation arrived again, though this time amusement had already begun creeping into his expression.

"I woke up early."

"So you watched me run laps around the hotel?"

"I was looking at the gorgeous view from my room ."

"And that's me."

"No, that's Monaco, you fugly ass bitch."

The look he gave you only made the smile worse, because he genuinely seemed unable to decide whether the alarming part was the fact that you'd been awake before sunrise or the fact that you were calling him all sorts of names. His hair remained slightly damp from sweat, and his expression carried the same disbelief you'd seen countless times before whenever he decided you were being unreasonable.

"No way you recognized me from twenty-nine floors up."

"You weren't exactly difficult to identify."

"That's insane."

"I can literally find you even in a crowd of thousands."

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and for a second, Jungkook simply blinked at you before a laugh escaped, not particularly loud or dramatic but enough to soften something around the edges of his expression. "That's creepy."

"Oh, look who’s talking."

The two of you started walking back towards the hotel shortly afterwards, neither bothering to suggest it out loud because there wasn't much point. Some habits had existed for so long that they stopped feeling like decisions altogether, settling quietly into the fabric of your friendship until nobody could remember when they had actually started.

Following Jungkook upstairs before breakfast belonged somewhere on that list, alongside race-day phone calls, stolen food from each other's plates, and arguments over music during long flights despite both of you already knowing exactly how those conversations would end, and so you fell into step beside him without thinking twice about it, the morning stretching comfortably ahead while Monaco continued waking around you one slow moment at a time.

The journey passed without much discussion, interrupted only occasionally by race engineers wandering through the hotel or staff members wishing Jungkook luck for later. Each interaction was brief and polite.  Yet you noticed the way his shoulders tensed slightly every time somebody reminded him what today meant.

You waited until the elevator doors slid shut behind you before speaking again. "Nervous?"

The question lingered in the air between you as Jungkook didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back lightly against the mirrored wall behind him, crossing his arms as the elevator began climbing, his gaze fixed somewhere above your head while considering the question more seriously than most people would've expected.

"A little."

The answer made you laugh. Not because it was funny, but because it was ridiculous.

Jungkook glanced at you. "What?"

"A little?"

His expression remained completely serious. "A little."

"You spent forty-five minutes running laps around the hotel."

"I do it every day."

"But today you were stress-running."

"I wasn’t.” The denial arrived far too quickly to be convincing.

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. Unfortunately, Jungkook knew exactly what that laugh meant. "I hate when you do that."

"Do what?"

"That laugh where you already know you're right." Your smile widened as you dangled your tongue at him. Beside you, Jungkook shook his head before looking away, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him almost immediately. And just like that, the nerves seemed a little smaller than they had an hour ago.

By the time the elevator reached Jungkook's floor, whatever remained of the conversation had dissolved into something quieter, the comfortable sort of silence that had never felt awkward between the two of you, no matter how many years passed, perhaps because there simply wasn't much left to prove after spending the better part of your lives together.

The hallway stretched ahead in perfect hotel symmetry once the doors slid open, expensive enough to make you wonder whether anybody had ever actually lived inside the rooms lining either side of it, and for a brief moment, you found yourself thinking about how strange Formula One really was. Somewhere downstairs sat race engineers preparing strategy plans capable of deciding championships, journalists already drafting headlines before the race had even begun, and thousands of fans waking up across different time zones to watch a man who, at this exact moment, was fumbling through his pockets because he'd somehow misplaced his room key despite having used it less than twenty minutes ago. A laugh escaped before you could stop it.

Jungkook immediately looked up. "What?"

"You lost it, didn't you?"

The accusation landed with enough accuracy that his expression answered before he did. "I didn't lose it."

"Oh, you absolutely lost it."

Jungkook opened his mouth, then closed it, then sighed dramatically.

Eventually, after another few seconds of searching and considerably more muttering than the situation warranted, he finally produced the key card from an entirely different pocket than the one he'd checked moments earlier, looking mildly offended by the discovery as though the card itself had intentionally inconvenienced him. "There."

"When will you grow up?"

Jungkook shook his head while pushing open the hotel room door, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him almost immediately, and you found yourself following him inside before either of you thought twice about it. The action felt so normal that it barely registered, which probably said more about your friendship than either of you would ever willingly acknowledge.

The room itself looked almost identical to yours, save for the fact that every available surface appeared to contain some evidence of Jungkook's existence. A Ferrari team jacket rested carelessly over the back of a chair near the window, yesterday's accreditation pass had somehow ended up abandoned beside a lamp, and an assortment of race-related items occupied the desk with the organized chaos of somebody who fully intended to clean everything later and almost certainly wouldn't.

Your gaze wandered around the room while Jungkook disappeared briefly into the adjoining bedroom, leaving you alone amongst the familiar chaos that seemed to follow him from hotel to hotel, before reappearing several moments later carrying something carefully tucked beneath one arm. Immediately, your attention sharpened. The look on his face alone was enough warning that whatever he was holding was important, a smile already threatening at the corners of his mouth despite his obvious attempts to act casual about the whole thing.

Without saying a word, he crossed the room and placed the helmet carefully on the coffee table between you, the movement carrying a sort of unconscious reverence that you recognized immediately. Drivers always pretended they weren't sentimental about their helmets until the moment somebody touched one carelessly, and the fact that Jungkook was handling this one as though it belonged behind glass rather than on a race track told you everything you needed to know before you even looked properly.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The helmet was beautiful. Not in the loud, overdesigned way special-edition helmets occasionally became whenever somebody tried too hard to make them memorable, but in a way that felt deliberate, every detail placed with purpose rather than simply for decoration. The familiar Ferrari red remained woven throughout the design alongside broad black accents and subtle gold detailing that caught the light whenever the helmet shifted slightly, while delicate references to Monaco appeared throughout the artwork in ways that felt elegant rather than obvious, revealing themselves only after a second glance.

Slowly, you stepped closer, your attention drifting across the design while discovering something new every few seconds. The outline of the harbour. The Monaco skyline worked subtly into one side. Small details hidden amongst the larger artwork that most people would probably never notice during a race broadcast. The longer you looked, the more there seemed to be.

A smile appeared before you even realized it. "Okay, that's ridiculous."

Across from you, Jungkook immediately looked pleased with himself. "What?"

"You know exactly what." His grin widened.

The reaction alone was answer enough.

"You've been waiting to show this off."

"Not at all."

"You brought it out within ten minutes of me entering your room."

The accusation landed successfully enough that Jungkook looked away, which only confirmed your suspicions.

Your gaze drifted towards Jungkook, finding him already watching you with the sort of anticipation people usually reserved for receiving grades or waiting for reviews.

"I spent weeks working on it."

Your attention drifted back towards the helmet once more, noticing details you'd missed before and understanding suddenly why he'd wanted to show it to you before anyone else.

"It's beautiful."

The words came out softer than intended.

"Yeah?"

You nodded, and the smile that appeared afterwards was small and genuine and somehow more satisfying than all the teasing that had come before it, lingering on Jungkook's face even after the conversation had begun drifting elsewhere. For a while, the helmet remained between you, occupying most of your attention as you continued discovering details you hadn't noticed at first glance, while Jungkook sat nearby pretending not to care about your reaction nearly as much as he clearly did.

Eventually, your phone found its way into your hand, the movement catching Jungkook's attention almost immediately despite the fact that he had been pretending not to watch your reaction to the helmet for the past several minutes.

For somebody whose face appeared on billboards, magazine covers, race broadcasts, promotional campaigns, and approximately every sports-related social media account in existence, Jungkook remained remarkably opposed to being photographed whenever the choice was actually his, a contradiction that had never stopped being funny no matter how many years passed.

The moment your phone appeared in your hand, suspicion crossed his face, followed by realization and then something alarmingly close to horror, his immediate refusal arriving before you'd even managed to open the camera. Unfortunately for him, that only made the whole thing more entertaining.

What was supposed to be a single photograph quickly dissolved into several, mostly because Jungkook seemed physically incapable of behaving normally whenever a camera was pointed in his direction, every attempt somehow producing a different problem entirely. In one photograph, he looked painfully aware of being observed, in another, he looked as though somebody had just informed him of a national emergency, and by the fifth attempt, both of you were laughing too hard to take the process seriously anymore.

Eventually, you lowered the phone altogether, still smiling as your gaze drifted back towards him, only to stop abruptly when something finally clicked into place. His hair. The early morning workout, the Monaco humidity, and his nervous habit of repeatedly dragging his hands through it throughout the morning had combined into a complete disaster, leaving behind a level of chaos that somehow felt considerably more representative of the actual Jeon Jungkook than anything a stylist could ever create.

A second later, your hand disappeared into his hair entirely, fingers pushing through the dark strands and making an already questionable situation dramatically worse, until whatever remained of his attempts at looking presentable vanished completely. The look of betrayal that followed was immediate and so deeply offended that laughter became unavoidable.

"There," you announced proudly, stepping back to admire your work. "Now you actually look like yourself."

Jungkook stared at you for a long moment, one hand lifting automatically towards the damage before stopping halfway there as though he'd already realized the situation was beyond saving.  The look he gave you promised revenge. But the smile you gave back suggested you weren't particularly worried.

The moment you reached forward to mess it up again, he caught your wrist. “Don’t… fuck with my hair.”

The warning would've been far more convincing had his hair not already looked completely hopeless. A laugh escaped before you could stop it, and unfortunately, that seemed to offend him even further.

“I'm serious.”

“So am I,” you replied, already reaching forward again. “You look ridiculous.” The betrayal on his face was immediate.

But before you could mess it up further, a cushion suddenly collided with your shoulder. A loud gasp left your mouth as your eyes dropped towards the pillow now lying on the floor. Slowly, you looked back at Jungkook, who looked entirely unapologetic.

“Oh, that's how we're handling this?”

Before he could properly defend himself, you grabbed the pillow resting beside you and launched it directly at his face, the attack neither graceful nor particularly powerful, but successful enough that Jungkook's sentence ended abruptly beneath a look of genuine betrayal, his head jerking backwards as the pillow bounced harmlessly off his shoulder before landing somewhere near the sofa. For a second, he simply stared at you, as if you had started it all; though, that expression alone was enough to destroy whatever composure remained.

A laugh escaped before you could stop it, immediately followed by Jungkook again reaching for the nearest pillow, which somehow made everything worse because the movement was so predictable that you were already backing away before he'd even managed to grab it.

The next few moments dissolved into complete chaos. You managed to dodge one attack entirely, another clipped your shoulder, a third somehow ended up trapped beneath your arm before being thrown straight back at him, and through all of it, the laughter never really stopped, growing louder with each passing second until breathing became genuinely difficult.

Unfortunately, attempting to retreat while laughing proved to be a terrible strategy, because one second you were moving backwards in triumph after narrowly avoiding another attack, and the next your heel caught against the edge of the rug, your balance vanishing so quickly that the laugh still hadn't left your mouth before a startled sound replaced it. Jungkook immediately reached forward, whether to stop you falling or simply because instinct had beaten logic to the punch, but the attempt only made everything worse, his own balance disappearing the second yours did, and suddenly the room tilted in the most spectacularly inconvenient way possible.

Your legs collided with the edge of the bed first, momentum carrying you backwards onto the mattress, while Jungkook stumbled directly after you, and for one brief second, it genuinely seemed as though both of you might recover but then gravity intervened.

By the time everything finally stopped moving, half your body remained awkwardly sprawled across the bed while the rest of you had somehow ended up draped over Jungkook, who now lay flat on his back on the floor beside it, looking just as confused as you felt. For a moment, neither of you moved. The position itself wasn't uncomfortable, merely unexpected, yet awareness arrived almost immediately afterwards, because suddenly you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath you, could hear his laugh trying and failing to escape, could feel your face growing warmer for reasons you absolutely refused to examine. The realization seemed to hit both of you simultaneously, judging by the way Jungkook immediately looked away and the way your own gaze suddenly became very interested in a random point somewhere near his shoulder.

Then laughter returned so violently that it physically hurt. The two of you remained exactly where you were for several seconds afterwards, incapable of doing anything except laugh harder every time one of you attempted to speak, until eventually you managed to push yourself upright, wiping tears from your eyes while trying and failing to regain some semblance of dignity. Across from you, Jungkook wasn't doing much better, his hair completely ruined, his cheeks slightly flushed, and his expression carrying the sort of helpless amusement that only appeared when something genuinely caught him off guard. The sight alone nearly restarted the entire thing.

"Come on," you finally managed, extending a hand towards him despite still laughing. "Get up."

In hindsight, it was a terrible idea.

Jungkook took your hand immediately, and for one glorious second, it seemed as though the plan might actually work. Then reality remembered that professional athletes were significantly heavier than songwriters. The moment he pulled, your balance disappeared again, a startled laugh escaping before you could stop it as the floor seemed to vanish beneath your feet entirely, and suddenly you were falling for the second time in less than a minute.

This time, there was no mattress to soften anything. You landed directly on top of him, the impact knocking another burst of laughter from both of you while Jungkook instinctively caught your waist in a completely unsuccessful attempt to stabilize the situation. If anything, it made it worse.

The movement shifted both of you sideways; neither managed to recover, and within seconds the room was once again filled with the sound of completely uncontrollable laughter, the kind that made your stomach ache and your eyes water and every attempt at calming down entirely impossible. By then, neither of you even seemed interested in standing up anymore, content to remain collapsed on the floor in the aftermath of your own stupidity while desperately trying to convince your racing hearts that they were only reacting to laughter.

Eventually, the laughter began fading, though neither of you seemed particularly interested in helping the process along because every attempt at calming down lasted approximately three seconds before one of you looked at the other and immediately ruined whatever progress had been made. Jungkook remained trapped beneath you, one arm still loosely wrapped around your waist from his completely unsuccessful attempt at preventing the second fall, while you were currently attempting to support your weight with one hand planted beside his shoulder despite the fact that neither of you possessed enough coordination to actually move.

The worst part was that the room had gone quiet now, not silent, but quiet enough that awareness slowly began creeping back in around the edges of everything. Quiet enough that you could hear your breathing gradually slowing, quiet enough that suddenly it became impossible not to notice things that hadn't seemed particularly important thirty seconds earlier.

Your eyes met first, and neither of you looked away immediately, not because anything dramatic happened and certainly not because either of you suddenly discovered feelings that hadn't existed before, but simply because after laughing for so long, after spending the better part of fifteen minutes behaving like complete idiots, there was something strangely disarming about finding yourselves here.

The realization seemed to hit both of you simultaneously, judging by the way his gaze immediately dropped before darting somewhere over your shoulder, while your own face suddenly felt much warmer than it had any right to. For a brief second, neither of you seemed entirely sure what to do next, because moving felt awkward and not moving somehow felt worse, and after spending your entire lives around each other, after years of shared flights and race weekends and random afternoons spent doing absolutely nothing together, the fact that this particular moment had somehow managed to become awkward felt deeply unfair.

Then, naturally, Jungkook ruined it. "I think you've broken a few ribs."

The accusation arrived with such complete seriousness that it took a second to process, another second to realize he was being ridiculous, and a third for the laugh to escape before you could stop it. "It’s your fault."

"How come?"

"You started this bullshit." Another laugh escaped immediately before he joined yours, his head falling backwards against the carpet while yours dropped forward in surrender.

"That was self-defence."

"Against what?"

"Your filthy hands." You gave me an offended look, to which Jungkook only laughed further.

The two of you were still collapsed on a hotel floor, arguing over a pillow fight. The thought should've felt ridiculous. Instead, it felt comforting. Eventually, after several failed attempts and considerably more laughter than necessary, you finally managed to untangle yourselves from the disaster you'd created, though standing proved surprisingly difficult when every glance threatened to restart the entire thing.

By the time you reached your feet, your cheeks hurt from smiling, your stomach hurt from laughing, and Jungkook looked only marginally more put together than he had while trapped beneath you on the floor. Unfortunately for him, his hair still looked terrible.

“You look terrible, by the way.” Your words earned you a scoff from him.

Your laugh followed instantly. “Go take a shower, bitch. The rest of us would like to have breakfast without you smelling like shit.”

Jungkook looked deeply offended. “I smell alright.”

You simply grinned, already moving towards the door. “Downstairs in fifteen.”

“Thirty.”

“Fifteen.”

“Fine.” Still smiling, you slipped out of the room, leaving him alone with his ruined hair, his Monaco helmet, and the biggest race of his life waiting just a few hours away.

The rest of the morning passed far more quickly than either of you expected.

Final team breakfast happened somewhere between laughter and race strategy, the entire Ferrari table existing in a strange state of controlled chaos where mechanics discussed weather forecasts, engineers stared at laptops, Taehyung complained dramatically about being awake, and everybody simultaneously pretended Monaco wasn't sitting at the centre of every thought in the room. The closer race time crept, the shorter conversations grew, gradually giving way to that familiar race-day atmosphere where nobody was quite relaxed enough to behave normally.

Eventually, there was nothing left to do except leave.

Jungkook was one of the first to stand, exchanging a few final words with engineers before gathering his things and heading towards the circuit with the rest of the Ferrari team, the moment feeling strangely abrupt despite the fact that it happened every race weekend. One second, he was sitting across from you, stealing food from your plate, and the next, he was gone, swallowed by the world of team meetings, strategy briefings, media obligations, and everything else that existed between breakfast and lights out.

You watched him disappear through the hotel doors, then immediately went upstairs. Because if Jungkook had a race to prepare for, so did you.

The hotel room felt unusually quiet after the morning you'd just had, sunlight now flooding through the windows in bright sheets while Monaco buzzed somewhere below, growing louder and busier with every passing hour. Getting ready should have been simple. Instead, you somehow spent twenty minutes changing outfits, another ten convincing yourself you didn't need to change again, and several more staring out at the harbour while pretending you weren't nervous.

By the time you finally finished getting ready and reached the circuit, the city outside looked completely different from the version that had greeted you only a few hours earlier, the calm stillness of dawn having disappeared entirely beneath the growing excitement of race day. Helicopters already hovered above the harbour in lazy circles, their shadows occasionally skimming across the water below, while yachts crowded every available stretch of coastline and the streets surrounding the circuit swelled steadily with spectators draped in team colours, all of Monaco seeming to vibrate with the kind of anticipation that only existed a few hours before lights out.

You found yourself drifting towards the paddock almost absentmindedly, your gaze wandering around as though searching for something without quite realizing it, only for your attention to stop abruptly when movement inside the Ferrari hospitality building caught your eye. A laugh escaped before you could help it.

A few floors above, standing beside one of the small windows overlooking the paddock, were two figures dressed entirely in Ferrari red who were very obviously supposed to be preparing for a Grand Prix and very obviously doing anything but that. Jungkook stood pressed almost embarrassingly close to the window while Taehyung lingered beside him, and both seemed to have spotted you at exactly the same moment.

Idiots.

You genuinely had no idea how they'd managed it. Between the distance, the crowds, and the hundreds of windows surrounding the paddock, the chances of either of them noticing you should have been practically nonexistent, yet somehow they had. The moment Jungkook pointed dramatically in your direction, Taehyung's entire body seemed to light up with recognition before he immediately began waving with enough enthusiasm to attract the attention of half the hospitality building, while Jungkook, rather than stopping him, appeared to find the whole thing deeply amusing.

From up here, they looked less like professional racing drivers preparing for one of the biggest races on the Formula One calendar and more like children trapped behind glass, desperately trying to get someone's attention.

A second laugh escaped as your phone appeared in your hand almost automatically.

The photograph itself wasn't particularly good. The distance was too awkward, the lighting was working against you, and both men looked objectively ridiculous, one still pointing while the other continued waving as if his life depended on it, but somehow that only made the picture better.

The smile stayed on your face for most of the time in the circuit. But the closer you got to the paddock, the more obvious it became that race day had truly arrived, the atmosphere shifting almost perceptibly as the city transformed into something louder and more urgent than it had been only a few hours earlier.

By the time you finally stepped inside, the garages were already buzzing with activity, engineers moving constantly between meetings while mechanics completed final checks on the cars and journalists attempted to interview anybody willing to stand still for longer than ten seconds, camera crews weaving through narrow spaces with practiced efficiency while photographers crowded around drivers trying unsuccessfully to reach their own garages, every corner occupied by somebody carrying a headset, a clipboard, a camera, or a problem that needed solving before lights out.

And through all of it sat the Ferrari garage.

When you reached the pit wall, preparations had already entered their final stages, the cars long since rolled into position, while stacks of tyres waited nearby and engineers occupied every available space in front of endless monitors displaying streams of data that somehow seemed capable of making entire groups of highly intelligent people nervous simultaneously.

Eventually, the drivers emerged, and the crowd reacted immediately.

A wall of noise rolled across the circuit so suddenly and completely that it seemed to swallow everything else, swelling from grandstands and hospitality suites and the countless yachts packed tightly into the harbour until the sound appeared to bounce between every building surrounding Monaco. Your eyes found Jungkook almost instantly. Of course they did. Dressed in his race suit now with his helmet tucked beneath one arm, he moved through the organised chaos with the familiar confidence of somebody who had done this hundreds of times before, though today somehow felt different.

Maybe it was Monaco. Maybe it was pole position. Maybe it was simply the realization that one perfect afternoon separated him from achieving something he'd spent years dreaming about. Whatever the reason, it felt impossible to look away as photographers followed his every movement and broadcasters stopped him repeatedly for final comments, team personnel pulling him in one direction while officials needed him somewhere else, yet somehow he continued moving steadily towards the grid through all of it.

For a while, you simply watched. The interviews. The photographers. The final preparations. The endless noise, movement, and anticipation seemed to exist everywhere at once. Then, almost as if he could feel it, Jungkook glanced towards the pit wall. The distance between you was considerable, and the crowd separating you even larger, yet somehow his eyes found yours immediately, the moment lasting barely a second before he raised one hand in acknowledgment.

The gesture was small enough that most people would've missed it entirely. You didn't. Your own hand lifted automatically in return, and then just like that, he was gone again, disappearing back into the sea of people surrounding the grid while Ferrari engineers settled fully into position beside you, headsets secured, data screens glowing, strategy discussions beginning in earnest.

The race was close now. Close enough that the helicopters circling overhead seemed louder than before, close enough that every update crackling through the radios sounded important, close enough that the nervousness you'd spent the entire morning successfully avoiding finally returned and settled heavily inside your chest. Across the circuit, thousands of spectators stood waiting beneath the afternoon sun while the harbour shimmered brilliantly beyond them, the Ferrari garage poised on the edge of something enormous. And somewhere out on the grid, Monaco's pole sitter lowered his visor, climbed into the Ferrari, and prepared for the biggest race of his season.

“Seventy-eight laps. Three hundred and thirty-seven kilometres. One of the most iconic races in motorsport. And this afternoon, beneath the Monaco sun, twenty drivers will attempt to conquer the streets of Monte Carlo.”

The commentator’s voice echoed from screens scattered throughout the paddock, blending into the endless noise surrounding the circuit while helicopters circled overhead and yachts packed tightly into the harbour glittered beneath the afternoon sun.

“But all eyes today are on the Ferrari of Jeon Jungkook, who starts from pole position after a sensational qualifying performance yesterday, securing the first Monaco pole of his Formula One career.”

The roar from the grandstands seemed to swell immediately at the mention of his name.

Across the circuit, thousands of Ferrari supporters waved flags from packed grandstands while countless others crowded balconies, hospitality suites, and yachts positioned around the harbour, every available space occupied by spectators hoping to witness history.

“Pole position around Monaco has always carried enormous significance. Overtaking opportunities remain limited, strategy becomes critical, and if Jungkook can control this race from the front, Ferrari has a genuine opportunity to leave Monte Carlo with one of the most prestigious victories in motorsport.”

From your position on the pit wall, Monaco seemed to exist in a state of controlled chaos, the harbour glittering beyond the barriers while helicopters circled overhead and the Ferrari garage buzzed with nervous energy, every pair of eyes repeatedly drifting towards the scarlet Ferrari sitting on pole position, carrying years of expectation.

“The grid is now forming. Final preparations underway. Drivers settling into position. We are moments away from lights out here in Monaco.”

One by one, the final pieces of the grid began disappearing as mechanics wheeled equipment away from the cars, grid personnel stepped back behind the barriers, engine covers vanished, and tyre blankets were removed, each small movement bringing the circuit one step closer to lights out. The noise remained, as did the constant movement surrounding the paddock, yet something else settled over Monaco all the same, a quiet tension threading itself through the grandstands, the garages, and the pit wall alike, the particular kind of anticipation that only existed in the final moments before a Grand Prix began. Across the timing screens, the starting order glowed back at you.

P1 - Jeon Jungkook P2 - Verstappen P3 - Taehyung P4 - Norris P5 - Russell

Your stomach tightened immediately, not because you doubted him but because you didn't. That had always been the problem. Doubt would have been easier to manage. Doubt came with lowered expectations and softened disappointments. Hope was far more dangerous.

“Engine temperatures rising now. Drivers preparing for the formation lap.”

One by one, the cars rolled away from their grid boxes, the Ferrari launching forward beneath a roar from the grandstands while the rest of the field followed behind, beginning the slow procession around Monaco's streets for the final time before the race officially began. Around you, engineers watched timing screens with unwavering focus while radios crackled with updates, yet somehow it all faded into the background as the formation lap unfolded.

The five red lights remained illuminated for what felt like an eternity, every second stretching impossibly thin while twenty drivers sat poised on the edge of seventy-eight laps around one of the most demanding circuits in motorsport, engines screaming beneath them and thousands of spectators holding their breath in anticipation.

Then the lights disappeared.

"And away we go in Monaco!"

The roar that followed seemed to shake the entire harbour.

Cars launched forward simultaneously, the field surging towards Sainte Devote in a blur of colour and noise while tyres fought desperately for grip and every driver searched for even the smallest advantage. From the pit wall, it was difficult to focus on anything except the scarlet Ferrari starting from pole position, your stomach twisting immediately as Verstappen drew slightly alongside during the run towards Turn One.

"Good start from Verstappen on the outside, Jungkook defending the inside line into Sainte Devote!"

The gap between them narrowed.

And a second later, the Ferrari emerged ahead. The reaction inside the Ferrari garage was immediate, several engineers visibly relaxing for the first time all afternoon while the rest of the field funnelled through the opening corners behind them, the order stabilising almost as quickly as it had exploded into chaos.

"Excellent launch from Jungkook, who maintains the lead of the Monaco Grand Prix."

Only then did you realize you'd been holding your breath.

The opening laps passed in a blur of sector times and radio updates, Monaco settling gradually into its familiar rhythm as the field stretched itself around the circuit and tiny gaps began appearing between cars. Every few seconds, the timing screens updated. Every few seconds, somebody inside the Ferrari garage reacted to a number. Somewhere behind Jungkook, battles continued unfolding throughout the midfield, yet the attention of almost everybody surrounding you remained fixed on the front.

Lap three became lap five, then lap eight, the opening phase of the race disappearing steadily from the timing screens while the scarlet Ferrari remained firmly at the front of the field, controlling the pace around Monaco's narrow streets with a confidence that seemed to grow stronger with every passing lap. Around you, conversations gradually resumed as the initial tension of the race start began fading away, engineers exchanging observations across headsets while strategy discussions continued and radios crackled constantly with information, yet compared to the atmosphere that had existed before lights out, the garage felt noticeably lighter now, as though everybody had collectively remembered how to breathe again.

"Jungkook is currently leading Verstappen by 1.4 seconds, beginning to build an early advantage here in Monaco."

The confidence growing inside Ferrari wasn't obvious enough for anybody to acknowledge openly, but it existed all the same, settling quietly into conversations and body language because Jungkook looked comfortable. More than comfortable. Fast. The Ferrari seemed perfectly suited to Monaco's demanding layout, carving through corners with a level of precision that made every lap appear almost effortless from a distance, the gap behind him growing little by little as the race settled into rhythm.

"Fastest lap of the race for Jeon Jungkook."

The announcement earned several approving nods around the garage, eyes immediately drifting towards the timing screens as fresh data appeared.

"Gap now 2.1 seconds at the front."

Another lap disappeared. Another purple sector appeared beside his name. Another small increase to the lead followed shortly afterwards, and with every passing circuit, it became increasingly difficult to ignore what the timing screens were beginning to suggest.

For the first time all weekend, you found yourself glancing away from the timing screens occasionally, allowing your attention to wander across the harbour and the grandstands and the endless sea of Ferrari supporters packed into every available space around the circuit.

The race was far from over, not even remotely close, yet with every lap that disappeared from the timing screens, it became increasingly difficult to ignore what everybody else seemed to be noticing. Jungkook wasn't simply leading anymore. He was controlling the race, the pace, the gap. Controlling the entire afternoon in a way that only became more obvious the longer the Grand Prix continued.

"Lap fifteen of seventy-eight, and Jungkook continues to lead comfortably, extending the gap to nearly three seconds over Verstappen behind."

Three seconds. The statistic alone felt significant enough to send another quiet wave of excitement through the Ferrari garage, several heads immediately turning towards the timing screens as though seeing the number for themselves somehow made it more real. Nearby, one engineer exchanged a brief look with another before returning his attention to the data in front of him, neither man saying anything out loud because neither needed to. The thought already existed everywhere. It lingered in the small smiles appearing more frequently around the garage. It lingered in the way conversations seemed easier now.

The race continued unfolding steadily around you while lap after lap disappeared from the timing screens, the Ferrari remaining firmly in control at the front while Taehyung quietly held position further back in the points, Monaco's streets gradually becoming less intimidating and more familiar with every passing circuit. Around the harbour, thousands of spectators remained fixed on the action below while helicopters continued circling overhead and commentators filled the airwaves with increasingly optimistic discussions about Ferrari's chances, the afternoon settling into a rhythm that felt almost comfortable.

Which, in hindsight, should probably have been the first warning sign.

Because the most dangerous thing about hope was how quietly it arrived, slipping into conversations and expectations and passing thoughts until one day you looked up and realised you'd already started imagining the ending.

"Lap twenty-three of seventy-eight and Jeon Jungkook continues to control proceedings at the front, maintaining a comfortable gap over Verstappen while managing his tyres beautifully."

The race had settled into rhythm now, the opening chaos long gone and replaced by something steadier. Around you, engineers studied timing screens and tyre data with unwavering focus, occasionally exchanging observations through headsets before returning their attention to the endless streams of information scrolling across their monitors.

Further down the order, pit stops had already begun unfolding, one team blinking first before another quickly followed, the timing screens shifting constantly as cars peeled away from the train and disappeared into the pit lane, strategies gradually becoming the centre of attention as the race entered its next phase.

"The undercut could be powerful today. Ferrari will be monitoring Verstappen closely here."

The atmosphere around the Ferrari garage sharpened almost immediately, several engineers leaning closer towards their screens while fresh calculations appeared and strategy discussions accelerated through headsets, attention momentarily shifting away from the race lead and towards the battle unfolding behind it.

A few laps later, Verstappen finally boxed, prompting another flurry of activity around you as every possible scenario seemed to be evaluated simultaneously, yet despite the growing intensity surrounding the pit wall, the Ferrari remained comfortably at the front, Jungkook continuing to circulate around Monaco's streets with the same controlled precision he'd displayed all afternoon.

"Verstappen into the pits. Ferrari is choosing to keep Jungkook out for now."

The decision appeared deliberate. Confident. Ferrari allowed their driver to extract a few more laps before eventually calling him in, the scarlet car finally peeling towards the pit lane several circuits later as the garage exploded into motion. Mechanics launched themselves over the wall with practiced efficiency, tyres disappearing and reappearing in a blur of movement while the stop unfolded almost too quickly to properly follow, the Ferrari dropping from the lead only briefly before rejoining the circuit.

The reaction around the garage was subtle but impossible to miss, shoulders relaxing slightly as a few relieved smiles appeared amongst engineers who immediately returned their attention to the race. The pit stop phase continued unfolding elsewhere around the circuit, but Ferrari had emerged exactly where they wanted to be.

"Excellent stop from Ferrari. Jungkook retains the lead of the Monaco Grand Prix."

The race settled once again after the pit stop cycle concluded, the order at the front remaining largely unchanged while Monaco's streets continued swallowing lap after lap beneath the afternoon sun. Around the circuit, overtaking remained as difficult as ever, forcing most drivers into a careful balancing act between aggression and patience, while further down the order several battles briefly threatened to develop before inevitably being shut down by the unforgiving nature of the track itself.

"Lap thirty-seven of seventy-eight, and Jungkook continues to lead the Monaco Grand Prix. Verstappen remains within range, but Ferrari will be pleased with how this race is unfolding."

The numbers continued changing constantly as the race progressed, drifting from two-point-seven to three-point-one before settling somewhere in between again, yet never shrinking enough to become genuinely concerning. If anything, Jungkook appeared completely in control. From your position on the pit wall, there were moments when the entire thing almost appeared effortless, the scarlet car threading itself through Monaco's impossibly narrow streets with a precision that made the circuit look far less intimidating than it actually was, each lap unfolding with the same measured confidence that had defined his entire afternoon.

Then came the first yellow flag.

"Yellow flag, sector two. Yellow flag, sector two."

For one brief moment, the entire Ferrari garage seemed to pause collectively before information finally began filtering through the radios. A Williams had brushed the barrier exiting the Swimming Pool section, scattering a small amount of debris across the circuit before managing to continue without significant damage, the incident minor enough to avoid a Safety Car yet significant enough to remind everybody of the reality surrounding them.

The yellow flags disappeared almost as quickly as they had appeared, and the race resumed its rhythm, yet something about the atmosphere felt subtly different afterwards.

"Forty laps completed. Thirty-eight remaining."

The race had entered that strange phase where time seemed to move in two directions at once, every lap taking forever to finish while the overall distance remaining somehow continued shrinking faster than expected.

Sometime during the last ten laps, a cooler breeze had begun sweeping across the harbour, carrying with it the first hints of the evening that would eventually settle over Monaco once the race ended. You ignored it initially, too focused on the timing screens to pay much attention, but eventually even that became impossible.

The thin leather jacket you'd thrown on earlier suddenly felt far less useful than it had a few hours ago. Without looking away from the race, you slipped it off your shoulders and draped it across the back of your chair before reaching for the Ferrari hoodie you'd brought with you that morning, pulling it on quickly as another gust swept through the pit lane. Your attention had already returned to the timing screens.

The next ten laps seemed to disappear almost without notice, the race settling into such a steady rhythm that time itself felt strangely distorted, one moment showing thirty laps remaining on the timing screens and the next showing twenty, the scarlet Ferrari never once surrendering the lead while Verstappen remained trapped a few seconds behind, close enough to stay relevant yet never quite close enough to become a genuine threat.

With every completed circuit, the atmosphere surrounding the Ferrari garage grew steadily more dangerous, not because anything had gone wrong but because nothing had. The race had unfolded almost exactly as Ferrari had spent the entire weekend hoping it would, every strategy call landing perfectly, every pit stop executed cleanly, every decision appearing to move them one step closer towards something nobody wanted to discuss too openly.

"Twenty laps remaining in the Monaco Grand Prix, and Jeon Jungkook continues to control proceedings at the front."

Around the circuit, it seemed everybody else had reached the conclusion. Ferrari supporters erupted whenever Jungkook's name appeared on the giant screens, their cheers rolling across the harbour in waves, while broadcasters and commentators had started discussing victory with considerably less caution than before, the possibility no longer feeling hypothetical enough to dance around.

"If Ferrari can continue managing this race the way they have so far, Jungkook is on course for one of the biggest victories of his career."

The statement lingered longer than it should have, and so did the reaction it created. Suddenly, the possibility seemed to exist everywhere. Not hidden beneath careful optimism or buried beneath statistics and strategy discussions, but spoken aloud, openly acknowledged by people who had spent most of the afternoon refusing to tempt fate. The word victory had finally entered the conversation, and somehow that made everything feel significantly more fragile.

Around you, the tension had returned in a completely different form. One engineer briefly removed his headset and rubbed both hands across his face before immediately putting it back on, while another checked the timing screens for what felt like the hundredth time despite the numbers barely changing.

"Fifteen laps remaining."

Fifteen laps separated Jungkook from Monaco. Fifteen laps separated Ferrari from one of the most prestigious victories in motorsport. Fifteen laps stood between years of dreaming and the possibility of finally achieving it.

And somewhere deep inside your chest, the nervousness you'd managed to suppress for most of the afternoon returned all over again.

"Twelve laps remaining here in Monaco, and barring anything unexpected, Jeon Jungkook appears firmly in control of this Grand Prix."

The commentator's voice drifted through the speakers scattered around the pit wall, the statement sounding almost dangerously confident now.

The Ferrari continued circulating at the front with the same measured precision it had displayed all afternoon, Verstappen still unable to reduce the gap enough to apply meaningful pressure, while the grandstands surrounding the circuit seemed to grow louder with every completed lap.

The race was beginning to feel inevitable, the kind of inevitable people only recognised in hindsight. And the closer victory moved, the harder it became to look away.

"Ten laps remaining."

The announcement earned an immediate reaction from the crowd, a surge of excitement sweeping across the harbour and echoing between the buildings overlooking the circuit as thousands of spectators collectively realised just how close the race had come to its conclusion.

For the first time all afternoon, the number felt genuinely small, close enough that broadcasters had already begun preparing graphics and post-race segments, close enough that journalists were gradually gathering near Parc Fermé, and close enough that somewhere in the back of your mind, despite every effort not to, you found yourself wondering what Jungkook's face would look like when he finally climbed out of the Ferrari.

A cooler breeze drifted through the pit lane, and you instinctively folded your arms tighter across the Ferrari hoodie wrapped around your shoulders, your eyes never leaving the timing screens as another lap disappeared from the board and then another shortly afterwards. Lap sixty-nine became seventy. Then seventy-one. With every completed circuit, something inside the Ferrari garage seemed to tighten, not fear exactly, but expectation, the dangerous kind that arrived once victory stopped feeling hypothetical and started feeling attainable.

"Gap remains stable at 2.4 seconds. Verstappen simply hasn't had an answer for the Ferrari's pace this afternoon."

Ahead, the scarlet Ferrari continued carving its way through Monaco's narrow streets with the same precision it had displayed all afternoon, disappearing through Casino Square before reappearing moments later elsewhere around the circuit, the car looking every bit as composed as it had two hours earlier despite carrying the weight of an entire race weekend on its shoulders.

Then came lap seventy-two. Only six laps remaining.

And for the first time all afternoon, something changed. A brief radio transmission crackled through one of the engineers' headsets. A second glance towards a monitor before exchanging a quick look with somebody standing nearby. The entire interaction lasted only a few seconds, subtle enough that most people probably would've missed it entirely.

But you didn't, as your stomach tightened immediately.

Then the radio crackled again, this time louder and long enough that several heads turned simultaneously. The reaction was immediate, subtle enough that most people would've missed it yet impossible to ignore once you noticed it, one engineer suddenly frowning at the data in front of him while another looked up from his monitor and a third reached instinctively for his microphone, the atmosphere around the Ferrari garage stumbling all at once as though somebody had interrupted the rhythm everybody had settled into over the last seventy-two laps.

Your eyes immediately drifted towards the timing screens. The Ferrari was still listed first, and the gap was still there. Nothing looked wrong, yet something had changed.

"What happened?"

The question escaped before you could stop it, directed towards the nearest engineer, but he never answered. Not because he was ignoring you. Because he was already listening to something coming through his headset, his expression changed almost imperceptibly as more information arrived.

A sound tore through Monaco, so sharp and violent that it instantly cut through the roar of the crowd and the scream of twenty Formula One engines, replacing them with something infinitely worse. For a split second, the entire circuit seemed to hold its breath as the unmistakable sound of a car hitting the barriers echoed between the buildings surrounding the harbour.

A violent screech of tyres fighting desperately for grip, sharp enough to cut through the roar of the crowd and brutal enough to silence entire sections of the circuit almost instantly, followed by a sickening impact that seemed to reverberate through the harbour itself, the sound of carbon fibre and metal colliding with concrete barriers carrying far further than it should have.

The entire pit wall froze.

Your head snapped towards the circuit instinctively while around you, engineers were already moving, conversations dying mid-sentence as eyes immediately shifted towards timing screens and monitors, everybody trying to understand something that nobody seemed capable of explaining yet.

The timing tower updated once. The broadcast feed switched cameras abruptly, showing a Ferrari flying through one section of the circuit before cutting elsewhere, then somewhere else again, the production team seemingly searching for the source of whatever had just happened.

For one terrible, confusing second, nothing made sense.

The noise that had filled Monaco all afternoon vanished beneath something far worse, the entire circuit suspended in a strange state of confusion where everybody knew something had happened but nobody knew what.

Then your eyes found the timing tower again, and your stomach dropped. Because the Ferrari that had spent seventy-two laps leading the Monaco Grand Prix had suddenly disappeared.

Just gone.

"No." The word escaped automatically, barely louder than a whisper.

Around you, people were already moving before information had even fully arrived, engineers abandoning monitors, mechanics leaving equipment exactly where it sat, and team personnel rushing towards the pit wall railing overlooking the circuit, everybody operating entirely on instinct.

You followed without thinking, your feet moving before your brain could catch up, the distance between you and the barrier somehow feeling impossibly long despite only being a few metres. Then you reached it and saw the scarlet Ferrari sitting crumpled against the barriers. For a moment, your brain simply refused to process what your eyes were showing you.

One side of the car had been obliterated by the impact, fragments of carbon fibre scattered across the circuit in every direction while marshals sprinted towards the scene beneath frantic yellow flags, debris littering the racing line and smoke hanging faintly in the air. Everything about the image felt wrong.

Around the harbour, the crowd had fallen eerily quiet. Around the Ferrari garage, nobody seemed capable of speaking. Even the commentators sounded stunned when they finally found their voices again.

"Jungkook's crashed."

The words echoed across the circuit. Across the harbour, the grandstands, the Ferrari garage.

"Jungkook is out of the Monaco Grand Prix."

And just like that, seventy-two laps of perfection disappeared in a single corner.

The wrecked Ferrari remained motionless against the barriers while yellow flags continued waving overhead and marshals surrounded the scene, yet the Ferrari garage seemed trapped in a strange state of disbelief, as though everybody was still waiting for reality to correct itself and reveal that none of this had actually happened.

The timing screens updated, and Verstappen inherited the lead, the realization somehow hitting harder than the crash itself because that was the moment it became real, not when the Ferrari had struck the barriers and not when carbon fibre had scattered across the circuit, but now, as the race continued without him and the world carried on as though nothing had happened.

Around you, engineers slowly removed their headsets while others stared silently at screens they had spent the last two hours monitoring, nobody quite seeming to know what to do with themselves now that seventy-two laps of work, strategy, concentration, and hope had disappeared in a matter of seconds, leaving behind only the hollow aftermath of what should have been.

Then movement appeared beside the wrecked Ferrari, first one marshal and then another, before attention shifted towards the cockpit itself, and the entire Ferrari garage seemed to hold its breath, yourself included, every pair of eyes fixed on the same spot as the seconds stretched painfully longer than they should have.

Nobody was looking at the timing screens now. One second passed, then another, and then finally the top of a helmet appeared above the halo.

The reaction was immediate, not celebration but relief, pure overwhelming relief that swept through the garage and the grandstands alike as a wave of applause rolled through sections of the crowd when Jungkook climbed from the car unaided, marshals immediately approaching him while television cameras zoomed in from every available angle. Relief hit so hard it almost hurt.

The realization should have settled the panic sitting inside your chest, should have eased the tightness that had been there ever since the impact, yet instead it only seemed to make room for something else, because even from this distance and even through the helmet, you could tell that something about him had changed.

Jungkook wasn't looking at the car, he wasn't looking at the crowd, and he wasn't looking anywhere at all, simply standing beside the wreckage for a moment with his shoulders rising and falling as one marshal spoke to him before he finally nodded once in response, the gesture feeling mechanical and automatic, like somebody operating entirely on instinct because there was nothing else left for them to do.

Around Monaco the race continued, cars streaming past behind the Safety Car while commentators resumed speaking and the grandstands gradually found their voices again, yet none of it seemed capable of reaching him, none of it seeming able to break through whatever silence had settled around him in that moment, because six laps earlier he had been leading the Monaco Grand Prix, six laps earlier victory had been close enough to touch, close enough to imagine, and now it was gone.

Completely gone.

Without another glance towards the Ferrari, Jungkook finally turned away from the barriers and began walking towards the waiting marshals while the crowd continued applauding as he left, but he never acknowledged it, not once.

And for the first time all afternoon, Jungkook looked exactly like somebody whose dream had been taken away before he ever had the chance to reach it.

Chapter 5 | Taglist: @haniiii @myr-sam0 @annpeachy @ggukcosmos @lovingkoalaface @armycarat2612 @mar-lo-pap @bjoriis @lotusglowii

[outrokoo]

𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙪𝙨 | 𝙟𝙟𝙠 • 05

˙⋆✮ They say having feelings for your brother's best friend is never a good idea...

But loving Jungkook feels like the easiest thing in the world.

He's been by your side for as long as you can remember, so it's only natural for you to feel devastated when your brother, Dohyun, tells you that Jungkook is about to get married.

For the first time ever, loving him doesn't feel easy at all.

pairing : brother's best friend!jungkook × f!reader

genre : unrequited love(?), brother's best friend trope, angst, fluff, smut, slow burn

WC: 4k+

cw: age gap (jk is 32, reader is 22 ops), tension, reader is WHIPPED, pining, initial unrequited love (my fav), eventual smut (!!adding new warnings when needed!!)

>>english is not my first language

chapter 4 | masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

“Sorry.”

Sophie’s voice is polite but slightly rushed, like she has been moving faster than her thoughts can comfortably keep up with. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You react almost automatically, straightening in your seat as if posture alone could somehow make this situation appear less suspicious than it probably already does. “No, it’s fine, I promise!”you answer quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. “You’re not interrupting anything.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you wish you could pull them back. Not because they’re untrue, but because they sound exactly like something somebody would say when they are, in fact, being interrupted. Sophie’s eyebrows lift ever so slightly and suddenly you’re painfully aware of the image the two of you must present from the outside: a quiet café, two untouched coffees, Yoongi sitting across from you looking entirely too comfortable for someone who wasn’t supposed to exist in this part of your life.

Unlike you, Yoongi doesn’t rush to explain himself. He simply looks at her, calm and unreadable, his expression revealing absolutely nothing despite the fact that you know there is no possible universe in which this encounter doesn’t affect him. For a few seconds, nobody says anything. Sophie keeps looking between the two of you, clearly trying to understand how she has walked into a situation she didn’t know existed. Then, after what feels like an unusually long pause, she pulls out the empty chair beside the table and sits down.

“It’s been a while.”

Her attention settles entirely on Yoongi now.

“It has.”

The simplicity of the exchange somehow makes everything feel more significant. There is no awkward greeting, no emotional reunion, no dramatic reaction. Just two people looking at each other after years apart and speaking as though they ran into each other last week instead of carrying an entire history neither of them seems particularly eager to unpack in the middle of a café.

“How have you been?” Sophie asks.

Yoongi’s gaze remains fixed on her for a moment before he answers. “I’ve been fine. What about you?”

A small laugh escapes her. “Busy. Things have been really busy lately.”

You know exactly what she means. At this point, her life revolves around guest lists, venue changes, decoration disasters, relatives causing problems and whatever new wedding emergency decides to appear every week. The word busy barely covers it.

Yoongi nods slowly. “So I heard.”

The comment is innocent enough, but the meaning behind it hangs there anyway. Sophie notices it too. You can tell by the way her eyes linger on him for a second longer, as though she’s deciding whether to acknowledge the obvious implication behind those two simple words.

Instead, she turns toward you.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

The question sounds casual enough, but the look accompanying it feels anything but. You can practically see the gears turning behind Sophie’s eyes as she tries to work backwards through information she didn’t know she was missing.

You force yourself not to panic.

“We met a few weeks ago.”

Sophie’s eyebrows lift slightly.

”Really?”You nod.

“At a club.”

For a moment, she simply looks at you.

“Oh.”

The single syllable is enough to tell you she’s trying to make sense of it.

For a second, it looks like she’s about to ask another question. Then she stops herself.

Whatever thought crossed her mind remains unspoken as she leans back slightly in her chair, still looking mildly puzzled but apparently willing to let the explanation stand.

Sophie studies you for another moment before letting out a small hum. She doesn’t look convinced exactly, but she doesn’t look suspicious either.

Before she can continue questioning either of you, Yoongi shifts the conversation elsewhere.

“What are you doing here?”

Thankfully, the attention moves away from you immediately.

“I’m waiting for someone.”

“Who?” Yoongi asks, resting his elbows on the table.

“My best friend.”

Something resembling recognition crosses Yoongi’s face.

“Jin?”

That seems to genuinely surprise her.

“You remember?” Sophie asks, her voice barely audible.

“You only ever had one best friend.”

A smile appears on her face before she can stop it. It’s small and completely unconscious, the kind of smile that belongs to memories rather than the present moment. You don’t miss it. Unfortunately, neither does Yoongi.

Before either of them can continue, the bell above the café door rings.

The timing is almost ridiculous.

A tall figure steps inside, scanning the room for approximately two seconds before spotting Sophie.

“There you are.”

Sophie’s face immediately brightens.

“You’re late.”

“The traffic was terrible.”

Jin makes his way toward the table, adjusting the sleeve of his jacket as he walks. Then his eyes land on Yoongi.

He stops.

For a second he simply stares, looking as though his brain is struggling to process what his eyes are seeing.

Then recognition arrives.

“Min Yoongi?”

His surprise immediately turns into a grin.

“Wow. It’s been ages.”

Even Yoongi smiles.

Not one of his polite smiles, a real one.

“Hey, Jin.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Jin laughs before dropping into the empty chair beside Sophie. Unlike everyone else at the table, he seems entirely comfortable with the bizarre nature of this situation. If anything, he appears mildly entertained by it.

The conversation becomes easier after that. Not normal, because nothing about this is normal, but easier. Jin fills every silence before it has the chance to become awkward, Sophie gradually relaxes into the familiarity of his presence and somehow the four of you end up talking as though this strange collision of past and present isn’t happening at all.

Mostly, you listen.

You listen to stories you weren’t there for, names you’ve never heard before and memories that belong entirely to them. Every now and then Sophie laughs at something Jin says and every now and then you catch Yoongi looking at her for a fraction of a second longer than he probably intends to. Not staring. Not lingering. Just looking.

Then Sophie’s phone vibrates.

You don’t need to see the screen, the smile gives it away immediately: Jungkook.

She answers without hesitation.

“Hey.”

The conversation is quiet enough that you can’t hear his side, but that doesn’t stop your stomach from tightening.

“Yeah, he just got here.”

A pause.

Her eyes briefly flicker toward the table.

Toward you.

Toward Yoongi.

“I’m with Y/N.”

Another pause follows.

“And Yoongi.”

This time the silence stretches longer.

You don’t know what Jungkook says on the other side of the call, but something about Sophie’s expression shifts ever so slightly before she lets out an uncomfortable laugh.

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

“I know.”

When she ends the call, she places her phone back on the table with a little more care than necessary.

“Jungkook’s coming.”

Nobody reacts immediately.

Then she adds “He knows I’m here with you guys.”

The atmosphere changes so subtly that you almost convince yourself you’re imagining it. Almost. Jin remains completely unbothered.

Yoongi doesn’t visibly react either, but you’ve spent enough time around him to notice the small things. The way his attention drifts away from the conversation. The way his fingers stop moving. The way his gaze briefly lowers toward the table before returning somewhere over your shoulder.

A few seconds later, he stands. You look up immediately.

“Yoongi?”

His eyes find yours.

“We should go.”

The certainty in his voice catches you off guard.

“What? Why?”

“It’s getting late.”

The excuse is weak. Both of you know it.

Still, something about his expression tells you not to push. Before you can question him further, he reaches for your hand. The gesture feels natural enough that you don’t think about it at first.

Only when you’re already standing do you realize what happened. Sophie’s gaze immediately drops to your joined hands. You can’t read her expression.

Not even a little: there’s confusion there, curiosity too.

Something else as well. Something you can’t quite identify. Jin notices it too, although unlike Sophie, he looks dangerously close to saying something that would make this entire situation significantly worse.

Thankfully, he stays quiet.

“We’ll see you around.”

Yoongi’s voice remains calm.

Sophie’s eyes move from him to you and then back again.

“Yeah.”

A small smile appears.

“See you around.”

A few moments later you’re outside, the café door closing behind you as the cool evening air immediately hits your face. Neither of you says anything at first, continuing down the sidewalk while the city carries on around you completely unaware of the emotional disaster that just unfolded inside a random café. Eventually, you let out a disbelieving laugh and drag a hand across your face.

“Well, that was terrible.”

This time Yoongi actually laughs.

A genuine laugh.

“Yeah,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That could’ve gone better.”

.✦ ݁˖

Sophie remains seated long after you and Yoongi leave.

Not because she has any particular reason to stay, but because standing up would mean acknowledging that the afternoon is over, and she isn’t entirely sure she’s ready to do that yet.

Across from her, Jin is saying something about a coworker he can’t stand, gesturing with one hand while finishing the last of his coffee with the other, but she only catches every third sentence. Her attention keeps drifting elsewhere, back toward the café door, back toward the image of Yoongi standing up from the table, back toward the strange expression she’d caught on his face when he’d looked at her.

The whole encounter had lasted less than an hour.

Less than an hour and somehow it had managed to drag years back to the surface.

“You know you’re not listening to me, right?”

Sophie’s eyes lift.

“What?” Jin laughs.

“Exactly.”

She forces a smile and looks down at her cup.

“Sorry.”

“You okay?”

The question is casual, but Jin knows her too well.

“I’m fine.”

“Sure.”

His tone immediately tells her he doesn’t believe her.

Neither of them bothers arguing about it.

A few minutes later the bell above the café door rings again and Sophie looks up automatically.

This time, when she sees Jungkook walking inside, relief washes through her so suddenly that it almost surprises her.

Jin notices immediately.

Which is even more unfortunate.

“Hi guys.”

Jungkook smiles as he approaches the table.

Jin stands to greet him and the two exchange a quick handshake before Jungkook slides into the empty seat beside Sophie.

His hand briefly settles against her knee beneath the table.

For the first time all afternoon, something inside her begins to settle.

The conversation that follows is easy enough. Jin does most of the talking, as he always does, jumping from one topic to another with absolutely no regard for transitions while Jungkook occasionally contributes and Sophie listens. Every now and then she catches Jungkook looking at her, probably noticing how unusually quiet she is, but thankfully he doesn’t ask about it.

By the time they finally leave the café, the sky outside has already begun darkening.

Jin heads in the opposite direction after pulling Sophie into a quick hug and promising to see her soon, leaving her alone with Jungkook for the first time since earlier.

The silence starts before they even reach the car.

At first it doesn’t seem strange.

They’re both tired and It’s been a long day.

But the silence follows them inside, stretching through the first few minutes of the drive, lingering long enough that Sophie gradually becomes aware of it.

Jungkook keeps his eyes on the road- one hand rests against the steering wheel, the other against the gear shift.

Outside, the city moves past in streaks of light and passing headlights. Inside, neither of them speaks.

Eventually Jungkook exhales.

“You saw Yoongi.”

The statement settles heavily between them. Sophie’s stomach immediately tightens.

“Don’t start.” The response comes out sharper than intended.

Jungkook lets out a short laugh; not because he finds anything funny. He doesn’t.

“Of course you’d say that.”

Sophie turns toward him.

“What does that mean?”

“It means every time I bring up something you don’t want to talk about, your first reaction is telling me not to start.”

The calmness in his voice irritates her more than anger would have.

“You’re already making assumptions.”

Jungkook glances at her briefly before looking back at the road.

Jungkook lets out a quiet laugh, though there’s nothing amused about it ”Am I not supposed to?”Sophie turns toward him immediately “No. You’re supposed to trust me.”

The answer comes out sharper than she intended, but she doesn’t take it back. For a moment, Jungkook says nothing. His eyes remain fixed on the road ahead, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.

“How was it?”

The question lands inside the car with a kind of quiet precision that makes Sophie feel instantly cornered. The streetlights slide across his face in passing intervals, carving out moments of calm that don’t quite match the tension building between them, as if the world outside is moving on a different emotional frequency.

Sophie shifts in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her arms without really noticing she’s doing it, her gaze fixed somewhere on the windshield rather than on him, because looking at Jungkook right now feels like admitting to something she hasn’t even defined for herself yet.

The memory of the café lingers too vividly behind her eyes, especially the brief, unsettling moment when Yoongi had stood so close to her without saying much.

“It was fine.” she finally answers, her voice controlled in a way that almost convinces even her, though the hesitation beneath it betrays more than she intends.

Jungkook lets out a slow breath through his nose, the kind of sound that is less a reaction and more a restraint, as if he is carefully keeping something contained rather than letting it spill into the space between them. His fingers tighten slightly around the steering wheel, but his expression remains steady, almost unnaturally so for someone who is clearly trying not to react too strongly.

“Fine” he repeats after a moment, the word carrying just enough disbelief to make it feel heavier than it should.

Sophie turns her head toward him at that, her patience thinning in a way she doesn’t fully want to acknowledge, because part of her understands where this is coming from and another part of her resents being placed under a spotlight she didn’t ask for. The city outside continues to blur past, indifferent to the fact that something fragile is being tested inside the car.

“You’re doing that thing again” she says, her tone sharper now, not quite raised but no longer soft either, as if she is trying to draw a line before the conversation crosses it for her.

Jungkook glances at her briefly, just long enough for his eyes to register the expression on her face, before he returns his attention to the road, his silence stretching in a way that feels deliberate rather than accidental. The pause that follows isn’t empty; it feels filled with everything he is choosing not to say yet.

“I’m not doing anything” he replies eventually, his voice lower now, measured in a way that suggests he is still trying to keep control of himself, even if that control is starting to feel strained.

Sophie scoffs under her breath, looking away again as she presses her back into the seat, her jaw tightening as the conversation shifts into something more familiar and therefore more dangerous. The distance between them suddenly feels larger than the physical space of the car, as if the argument has already moved somewhere neither of them can easily reach.

“You know I love you more than anything.” she says after a beat, her words slower this time but no less charged, as though she is trying to make him hear what she is really accusing him of without saying it directly.

Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tightens again, this time more visibly, and when he speaks, there is a faint edge beneath the calm that finally starts to show through the surface he has been maintaining.

“And you take my love for granted.” he says, his voice steady but no longer soft, as the restraint he has been holding onto begins to fray in small, controlled pieces.

Sophie exhales sharply, turning fully toward him now, the frustration finally breaking through the careful composure she had been trying to maintain since the café.

“You know I fucking don’t. You’re the one that keeps asking questions like you already decided the answers” she replies, her tone rising just slightly, enough to make the space inside the car feel suddenly smaller.

For a moment, Jungkook doesn’t respond, and the silence that follows is more loaded than any words could have been, because it carries the weight of suspicion he doesn’t fully voice and the exhaustion Sophie doesn’t fully admit. The car slows at a red light, and the glow of it paints both of their faces in a brief wash of red that feels almost symbolic in its timing.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to think. He’s back in your life.” he says finally, quieter now, though not less firm, as if he is admitting something he has been trying to avoid saying aloud.

Sophie looks away again, her eyes settling on the passing sidewalk, on strangers who have no idea what kind of conversation is happening just a few meters away from them, and for a moment she feels the strange disconnection of being physically present in a place she no longer emotionally belongs to. Her fingers curl slightly against her own palm as she searches for something to say that won’t make everything worse and fails to find it quickly enough.

“You’re supposed to trust me.” she repeats, but this time it doesn’t come out sharp, it comes out tired, as if she is repeating a line she has already said before and is not sure it has ever truly landed.

“I haven’t heard from him since. He’s not back into my life and you know that.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, and when the light turns green again, the car moves forward without either of them resolving anything, carrying their silence into the final stretch of the drive. The apartment building appears sooner than Sophie wants it to, too familiar and too final in the way it waits for them.

The moment Jungkook parks, the engine noise fading into stillness, neither of them moves right away, as if leaving the car would require an agreement they haven’t reached. The argument doesn’t end so much as it stalls, suspended in the air between them as they finally step out into the night that feels colder than it should.

They walk side by side toward the entrance without touching, without speaking, and even though they are heading into the same home, it feels like they are still carrying separate versions of the evening with them, neither willing to adjust to the other’s.

.✦ ݁˖

The café is busy in that predictable way that doesn’t require you to think too much, just move, serve, repeat. You keep your focus on orders and receipts, letting the rhythm of work fill in the gaps your mind keeps trying to drift into.

Layla works beside you without saying much at first, passing cups, wiping counters, adjusting small things that don’t really need adjusting just so her hands stay busy. But there’s something in the way she keeps looking at you that doesn’t quite match the usual rhythm of your shifts together. Not curiosity exactly. More like recognition of something you’re actively trying not to show.

You ignore it as best as you can.

A lull comes somewhere mid-morning, brief and almost suspicious, and you take the chance to lean slightly against the counter while checking your phone.

One new message is already waiting.

kook❤️‍🩹: Are you free tonight?

You stare at it for a moment, your thumb resting lightly against the edge of the screen without moving forward or back, as if even a simple reply might shift something you’re not ready to shift yet. The name alone is enough to make your thoughts tighten, because it doesn’t feel like just a question, it feels like timing you don’t fully understand.

Before you can even decide what to do with it, the phone vibrates again in your hand.

A second notification appears almost immediately, pushing everything else aside without effort.

yoongi: Can we talk?

Your breath catches slightly, subtle enough that no one around you would notice, but enough that you notice it yourself.

You don’t move for a second, just standing there with both messages sitting on the screen like they’ve been waiting for this exact moment to arrive together, even if they clearly weren’t meant to.

You lock the screen quickly, setting the phone down with more control than you actually feel, and force yourself back into motion as if nothing just changed at all.

Behind you, Layla finishes what she’s doing and glances over, noticing the way you’ve gone still.

“Everything okay?” she asks, not pushing too hard but clearly not buying the calm you’re trying to keep.

You turn toward her with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, something light and automatic that feels borrowed rather than real, not entirely sure why you’re not just saying anything out loud right now or why this is suddenly something you’re trying to carry alone instead of letting her in on it.

“Yeah” you answer, already turning back toward the counter like the conversation is over before it can even start.

───────────

author’s note:

Ngl this chapter felt way too short, but y’all- shit’s about to go down :P

Sooo how was it??? One thing about me is that I always have to end chapters with a cliffhanger, i’m sorry😭

Expect 06 to be pretty long *wink wink*

[ohmymistakee]

Blue Hour

Summary:

A night shift on your delivery girl job makes your life make a 180 spin, you cant believe where you got yourself involved in, will you lose everything you worked so hard for? Will Jungkook be there to catch you if you fall?

genre: mafia au, mafia!jungkook, dark comedy, really light story, no major warnings.

tropes: forced proximity, enemies to lovers, Jungkook is a lovesick puppy, yearning, found family, ot7

☁︎ 001

☁︎ 002

☁︎ 003

☁︎ 004

+ more to come!!

[kookied]

AT YOUR SERVICE | JJK — Drabble

Feeling exhausted and overwhelmed after being in a new city all by yourself for the past 10 months, you come back home and ask your best friend to take you somewhere. You then mindlessly do something that leads to not seeing him for another 9 years, until that day in June, 2008.

[ supplementary to the first two chapters! read those first! ]

friends to lovers. biker!jk ──  takes place in the states! early 2000’s au. slow burn. fake dating. profanity. suggestive language. mild nudity. reckless driving!. secret relationship. alcohol consumption. substance use. jk and oc are asian-americans and code switch.

length. 1.1k

memo ᝰ.ᐟ I thought about including this into the actual story but it didn’t really fit anywhere in the outline in my head. So here it is as a drabble. I recommend reading the first two chapters before reading this as it’ll help understand this piece! We're going 10 years back in time in this but I visualized 20-year old jungkook while writing this lol. Reblogs and feedback in the comments/my asks are appreciated! <3

series masterlist

*Note: The characters in this story will be code switching. All dialogue spoken in Korean, is bold. All dialogue that is not bold, is when the characters are speaking English!*

"May 1999"

May 1999, 10:30 PM

“Help me.” You breathe heavily through your words, your bloodshot and puffy eyes staring up at your best friend who looks down at you worriedly. 

It’s pouring outside and you are drenched. You just came from JFK Airport and had been standing outside of his front door for the past ten minutes before finally knocking on the door and him answering it. 

“What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” His voice coos softly, seeing as you had cried.

“Take me somewhere.” You calm down a little, trying to keep your breathing steady. 

“At this hour? Where?” Jungkook peers over your head to see the rain pouring down as hard as it sounds. 

“Anywhere.” You know the only transportation he has is his motorcycle and you usually dared not to get on that vehicle. But right now, you don’t care. You just want to get some air and stop feeling like this.

“Sure. Let’s go.” Jungkook nods, letting you come in. You follow him down to the garage where his motorcycle is parked. He opens the garage door before helping you onto the bike and putting the spare helmet over your head. The rain splashes down onto the driveway, getting heavier by the minute. “You sure about this?” 

You nod, the helmet on your head shaking up and down with your head. 

Jungkook sighs before putting on his helmet and getting on the seat in front of you. He lowers the visor as you wrap your arms around his torso. “Hold on tight.” His voice is muffled but you can still hear him through the helmet. 

He twists the handlebars with his hands to rev the engine before taking off. He turns out of the driveway, races down the street and heads toward the main road. His speed continues on the main road, driving the bike in between cars. He knows that you usually get scared when you’re on his bike, that’s why you never say ‘yes’ to riding on the back of it. 

But something is different tonight. Something is different about you. 

As he speeds through the traffic, he’s headed toward the highway. You sit behind him with the left side of your head leaning against his back, arms wrapped tightly around his waist and eyes closed. You don’t nag him about his reckless driving or scream about his speed. You were just, quiet. 

Once Jungkook gets on the highway, he slows down and his speed is now steady. The ride is now a lot smoother and you feel yourself mindlessly falling asleep behind him. 

11:15 PM 

“What happened? What are you suddenly doing here? Why did you ask me to take you out?” Jungkook leans his right side against the side of his bike. His motorcycle is parked in front of a bench looking out toward the Hudson River, with a view of New York City on the other side of the water. 

The rain has now slightly calmed down, though it is still heavily falling. 

“Ask one question at a time.” You take off the helmet, being greeted by the beautiful scenery. New York City at nighttime is beautiful, especially from here. 

He sighs, “Are you okay?” 

You nod your head while looking at the skyline, though immediately shake your head a second later. You begin to tear up at his words. You then lower your head and stare at the helmet on your lap. Choking on your next words, you feel a pit in your stomach as you speak, “It’s hard.” 

Jungkook is now drenched with you, after being out in the heavy rain for the past 30 minutes. Water drips from the tips of his bangs as he just stares at you, “Then why did you go?” 

You look up from the helmet, finally making eye contact with him, “I don’t think I can do it anymore. I feel like I’m suffocating.” Your voice cracks as your eyes well up with tears. 

You moved to California last July after getting accepted to Stanford. And for you, adjusting to living in a city on the other side of the country wasn’t easy. You had no friends, the classes were too hard and you felt homesick. 

He just looks at you, then takes a step closer to remove the helmet from your lap. 

Tears roll down your face, “Can you come with me?” 

“What?” Jungkook whispers, holding the helmet in his hands. 

“Can you come with me? I’m so lonely.” You whine, your eyes desperate. 

Jungkook sighs and puts the helmet down on the seat next to you, “I can’t. You know I can’t.” He now stands in front of you, watching as you cry harder. 

“Please.” Your voice cracks again as you lean your head against his chest. “Help me, Jungkook.” 

“What do you want me to do?” He lays a hand on your head for the first time. This is the first time in the 15 years you’d known him that you had broken down in front of him like this. He didn’t know what to do to make you feel better. 

You sniffle then lift your head off of his chest to look up at him. You stare at him for a second before slightly lifting your body off of the leather seat that you are sitting on. You mindlessly lean your face closer until your lips touch his. When you pull away a second later, Jungkook just blinks at you. 

“W-What are you doing?” Jungkook whispers. 

Realizing what you just did, you blink rapidly and avoid his eyes. “S-sorry. I d-didn’t mean to do that.” 

You two just stand there in the rain, without saying a word to each other for the next five minutes. All you could hear is the pitter-patter of the water as it falls from the sky. 

Jungkook breaks the awkward silence by exhaling deeply. He rubs his mouth with his right palm, “It’s late. We should get back.” He clears his throat and leans to his right to grab your helmet. He puts it over your head, lowering the visor for you and covering your face. 

After putting on his helmet, he lifts his left leg and brings it over the leather seat to sit on the front of the bike again. You follow and sit properly on the bike behind him before wrapping your arms around his torso. Jungkook revs the engine before the bike speeds forward and turns around sharply in the direction that you came from. 

The ride back home is again silent and once he drops you off at home, that’s the last time you see him again. 

Until June 2008.

© kookied 2026. all rights reserved. all content shared on this page is my own, original work. the above characters (including original), characterizations, dialogue, plot and settings are all fictitious. they are not to be associated with any real people mentioned, whom are solely used for visual purposes. 

Taglist.  @raceme2hell @sa1nt-kitty @sadiayn @jooniesthigh @tteokbokibyjk @lackingdopaminesince2007 @mokkaccinnos @fabulousarepo4 @nahiansstuff @girlyminmin03 @chaechip @judesbitch @ustulia @mauveliz @mrpranjalmr @dna2723 @m4aimm @bb3armira @j0cgr0c @evrtgoes @jeonsdeerbaby @jja3hyun @silverozy @yxnivenus @chaostudee @pradaheeseung @dmstoyangyang @rainandmatcha @notsoamazingbeingme @mikrokookiex @koosluvss @ajikjeon @celliez @youboo2 @pinkplusblue @fivedaysnobueckers @cypherpttres @taehunnittttt @morkleeespizzacake @hermit0775 @xopau24 @songbyeonkim @khambiminiya @sweetcloudie @bemysseokie @lyskook

[seokbite]

── VROOM | J.JK ✶﹑

starring: biker!jungkook x good girl!reader

synopsis: Every night you slip out your bedroom window, heart hammering against your ribs as you run toward the low rumble waiting in the dark and to Jeon Jungkook, the town bad boy biker with tattoos and an attitude that would send your daddy into his grave. but you didn't care, because underneath all that rugged exterior was a man who knew how to take care of you in more ways than one.

warnings: smut mdni, fluffy, reader calls her dad "daddy" (not in a sexual way btw), dumbification, rough sex, sex on a motorcycle, oral (f & m. rec- he eats you out over your panties), anal, doggystyle, hair pulling, spiting, creampie, ass slapping, pussy slapping, lots of dirty talk, size kink, corruption, he calls her a whore, tit slapping, etc.

✶﹐word count: 11k | support me on my patreon! | kofi

The soft glow of your laptop screen illuminated the cozy chaos of your bedroom, casting gentle shadows that danced across the walls painted in your favorite shade of blush pink. It was a little after 11 PM, and the world outside your window had long since settled into the quiet hush of night. You were nestled in the center of your bed with your legs crossed beneath you, surrounded by a fluffy army of plushies that made the mattress look more like a plush wonderland than a place for sleeping.

There was the oversized bunny with floppy ears you’d won at a carnival last summer next to the pastel unicorn with the sparkly horn that always seemed to watch over you, and dozens more, teddies, kitties, and dreamy-eyed creatures in every hue of pink, lavender, and cream, all piled around you like loyal guardians. You loved them fiercely; they brought a sense of comfort and whimsy to your otherwise busy college life, softening the edges of late-night study sessions like this one.

Your fingers tapped steadily across the keyboard as you finished up the last few paragraphs of your assignment, the cursor blinking patiently while you refined your citations. String lights hung in delicate loops behind your headboard, their warm white bulbs twinkling like captured stars, wrapping the room in a soft, ethereal ambiance that made everything feel a little more magical, just the way you loved it to be. They reflected off the glossy surfaces of your plushies and the faint sheen of your pink comforter, creating a haven that was entirely yours.

Over your ears sat your favorite headphones, the cushy ones that blocked out the rest of the house, filling your mind with the elegant strains of classical music. A piano concerto flowed through you, the sounds of rich, intricate melodies by Chopin that soothed your thoughts and kept your focus sharp even as fatigue tugged at the corners of your eyes.

A gentle knock sounded on your door, soft but distinct enough to cut through the music. You paused, lifting your head and sliding one side of the headphones off your ear. The door creaked open just a bit, and there stood your father, his familiar silhouette framed by the hallway light. He leaned against the doorframe with that warm, tired smile he always saved for moments like these, when he was proud of you. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he took in the scene of you in your oversized hoodie, with your laptop balanced on a pillow, plushies scattered like a protective circle, and the soft glow of the string lights. You smiled back at him, a genuine, sleepy curve of your lips that mirrored his own.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere you’d built. “Just wanted to check in before we turn in. Your mom and I are heading to bed. Looks like you’re powering through that homework, huh? I’m proud of you, burning the midnight oil like that.”

You felt a little rush of warmth at his words, the simple validation settling comfortably in your chest. “Yeah, almost done,” you replied. The classical music still played faintly from the headphones around your neck, a delicate backdrop to the moment. You set your laptop aside carefully, mindful not to disturb the plushies, and gave him your full attention. “Goodnight, Daddy.”

He chuckled softly, that fond nickname always drawing out his gentler side. Stepping a little further into the room, he reached out to ruffle your hair lightly, careful not to mess up the cozy nest you’d created. “Goodnight, muffin. Don’t stay up too much later, okay? Get some rest. Love you.”

“Love you too,” you murmured, The latch clicked softly, leaving you alone once more with the piano melodies and the comforting weight of your stuffed companions. You turned back to your laptop with a soft sigh, slipping your headphones fully back over your ears. Your fingers resumed their steady rhythm on the keys, polishing the final sentences of your assignment. The house was quiet now, your parents’ footsteps having faded down the hallway minutes ago, leaving only the occasional creak of the old floorboards and the distant hum of the refrigerator downstairs.

You were just about to save the document when your phone buzzed softly against the comforter beside you, the screen lighting up with a familiar name that made your heart skip.

Jungkook ❤️: wyd angel?

A little smile tugged at your lips as you quickly typed back, thumbs flying over the screen. “Finishing up some homework. Why, what’s up?” You hit send and waited, biting your lip in that absentminded way you always did when thinking about him. The reply came almost immediately.

Jungkook ❤️: Come outside. I’m parked out front.

Your eyes widened, and before you could even process it, the low, unmistakable rumble of his motorcycle engine cut through the stillness of the night. The sound of it was deep, throaty, and way too loud for this hour. Vroom, it vibrated through your window, sending a jolt of panic straight through your chest. You froze, heart hammering as you strained to listen for any movement from your parents’ room down the hall. Had they heard? Were they getting up? You snatched your phone again, typing frantically.

“Babyyyy my parents are sleeping 😭”

His response popped up with a little teasing edge that you could practically hear in his voice:

Jungkook ❤️: Better come out before I wake them then...

You let out a quiet, nervous giggle, the thrill mixing with the rush of adrenaline. There was no saying no to him— not when he showed up like this, not when the pull between you was this strong. You moved quickly but carefully, setting your laptop aside on the nightstand and peeling off your oversized hoodie. Underneath, you kept things simple and cute: just your delicate lace bra, the material soft and barely-there against your skin. You slipped on your favorite baby pink off-the-shoulder cozy sweater as it draped gently over your curves and exposing the smooth line of your collarbones and one bare shoulder.

Your silk sleep shorts stayed on, paired with your fluffy bunny slippers that made little padding sounds as you moved. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed it, you looked adorable, soft even, and impossibly tempting, a look that always made Jungkook’s eyes darken with want.

With one last check to make sure the hallway was clear, you crept downstairs, avoiding the creaky third step like you’d done a hundred times before. The front door eased open with barely a whisper, and the cool night air kissed your skin as you stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind you with a soft click. The moment you spotted him leaning against his sleek black motorcycle under the streetlight, your feet carried you faster. You broke into a light run across the lawn, and Jungkook opened his arms just in time for you to jump straight into them.

His strong hands gripped your ass possessively as he caught you, pulling you flush against his chest with a low chuckle. A firm smack landed on one cheek, the sound sharp in the quiet night and sending you into a fit of breathy giggles against his neck. “Missed you, angel,” he murmured, voice rough and warm, his breath tickling your ear as he held you there, your fuzzy slippers dangling off the ground.

“I missed you too,” you mumbled shyly into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with leather and that faint hint of motor oil that always clung to him. His tattoos peeked out from under the sleeves of his jacket, dark ink against his skin, a stark contrast to your soft pink sweater and innocent bunny slippers.

He set you down gently but kept one arm looped around your waist, that signature smirk playing on his lips as he looked down at you. “Wanna go for a ride?” The question was laced with suggestion, his eyes gleaming under the streetlight.

You nodded eagerly, no hesitation. He handed you the spare helmet, helping you secure it before swinging his leg over the bike. You climbed on behind him, pressing your body close and wrapping your arms tight around his toned waist, feeling the heat of him even through his clothes. The engine roared to life again with that powerful vroom, and you held on even tighter as he pulled away from the curb, the wind whipping past as you left your quiet suburban street behind.

This was your secret rhythm, two years strong. Sneaking out almost every night once your parents were asleep, letting the older boy with the dangerous tattoos and the rumbling motorcycle whisk you away. They’d never approve of him, not in a million years: the way he looked, the way he lived, the way he fucked you stupid and left you breathless and addicted every single time. But none of that mattered when you were with him. The familiar streets blurred by— neighborhood lights giving way to wider roads and eventually the path toward his apartment building. You rested your helmeted head against his back, savoring the speed and the closeness, your thighs squeezed around him as the night air rushed over your bare legs.

Finally, he slowed and turned into the underground garage of his building, the engine’s growl echoing off the concrete walls before he killed it and parked in his usual spot. You climbed off, legs a little shaky from the ride, and he took your helmet off for you, setting it aside. Instead of leading you straight upstairs like usual, he turned to face you fully, his hands settling on your hips as he backed you gently against the bike. His expression was serious now, something heavier in his dark eyes.

“I need to ask you something,” he said, voice low and steady.

You looked up at him expectantly, tilting your head, still riding the high of the ride and the thrill of being in his arms. “What is it?”

Jungkook’s thumb brushed over your hip, tracing small circles through the soft fabric of your sweater. “When are you planning on telling your parents about us?”

The question hung in the air, catching you completely off guard. Your breath hitched, the cozy pink haze of the night suddenly sharpening as you stared back at him, heart pounding for a whole new reason. You looked down at the soft hem of your baby pink sweater, fingers nervously twirling the fabric between them as the weight of Jungkook’s question settled over you like the cool concrete air of the underground garage.

The fluorescent lights overhead hummed faintly, casting long shadows across the sleek black motorcycle and the painted lines on the floor. Your bunny slippers shifted against the ground as you fidgeted, the silk of your sleep shorts brushing teasingly against your thighs. The thrill of the ride and the warmth of his earlier touches still lingered on your skin, but now a different kind of nervousness bloomed in your chest. Now, you felt vulnerable and exposed under his steady gaze.

“I… you know how my dad is, Jungkook,” you began softly, voice barely above a whisper, eyes still fixed on the pink fabric twisting in your hands. “He’s so strict, and Mom too. They have all these expectations about who I should be with, someone from college, someone stable and safe. They still see me as their little muffin who needs protecting. They’d never understand this… us.” The words tumbled out in a rush, laced with the familiar guilt of your double life, the late-night escapes, and the two years of hiding something that meant everything to you.

Jungkook stepped closer, his tall frame casting a gentle shadow over you. With tender fingers, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the touch lingering as he cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. His thumb stroked slowly along your jawline, the touch felt warm and reassuring, the rough pad of it a contrast to your soft skin. “I don’t care about any of that, angel,” he murmured, voice low and sincere, dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I love their daughter. I’m in love with you, the real you, with your plushies and your pink room and the way you light up when you see me. I want them to know I exist. I want to be part of your life, not just the secret part.”

The words hit you like a warm wave, sending a deep blush blooming across your cheeks and down your neck. You weren’t fully used to hearing him say it so openly—“I love you”—even after two years. It still made your heart race wildly in your chest, butterflies erupting in your stomach like a flock of wild things taking flight. Your lips parted slightly, a shy, overwhelmed smile tugging at them as you leaned into his touch, savoring the way his palm felt against your flushed skin. The garage felt smaller, more intimate, the distant echo of city sounds far above fading into nothing.

Suddenly, his hand dropped from your cheek, and his expression shifted. His voice came out softer than you’d ever heard it before, sounding vulnerable, almost hesitant, a rare crack in his usual confident demeanor. “Are you… ashamed of me?”

Your eyes widened instantly, heart clenching at the raw edge in his tone. “No! Of course not, Jungkook,” you exclaimed, reaching up to grab his hand and hold it tightly between yours. The words rushed out with fierce determination. “I could never be ashamed of you. You’re everything to me. It’s just… my parents are so uptight. They have this perfect picture in their heads, and you, with your tattoos, and your bike, the whole vibe— they wouldn’t approve right away. But if you really want this, if you want to meet them… I’ll do it. I’ll be strong for us. I promise.”

Jungkook studied your face for a long moment, taking in the way your brows furrowed with resolve, your cheeks still pink, and your eyes bright with sincerity. You looked so adorably determined, standing there in your sweater and bunny slippers in the middle of his gritty garage, you were like a sweet dream crashing into his reality. A low, affectionate chuckle rumbled from his chest, the sound of it warm and relieving as the tension eased from his shoulders. “Okay, baby,” he said, nodding slowly, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “We’ll talk about it again soon. No rush.”

The heavy conversation dropped like a curtain falling, leaving the air between you charged. You felt a surge of relief and affection, grabbing at his hand more firmly and tugging him gently toward the elevator that would take you upstairs to his apartment. “Come on,” you whispered playfully, trying to pull him along with a small, hopeful smile, your fluffy slippers padding softly on the concrete.

But Jungkook shook his head, that familiar smirk returning to his face, full of intent. He didn’t budge, rooted in place like he had all the time in the world. You tilted your head, curiosity sparkling in your eyes. “What are you thinking about in that big head of yours, huh?”

He stepped even closer, backing you against the motorcycle again, his hands finding your waist as he leaned in. His voice dropped to a husky murmur, eyes gleaming with that fantasy he was about to confess. “I’ve always had this fantasy of you… sprawled across my bike. naked and needy for me. Right here in the garage, where anyone could potentially walk by if they’re not careful.”

You looked down shyly, heat flooding your face in a fresh, deeper blush that spread all the way to your ears. The image he painted sent a thrill racing through you, mixing nervousness with undeniable excitement. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your sweater again as you peeked up at him through your lashes. “Really?” you asked softly, voice breathy and uncertain but undeniably intrigued.

Jungkook hummed in confirmation, a deep, satisfied sound that vibrated through his chest. Without warning, his hands gripped your ass firmly again, squeezing the soft flesh through your silk shorts and pulling you flush against him. Another sharp smack landed on your cheek the sound echoing slightly in the garage and drawing a little gasp from your lips. A low growl escaped him, raw and hungry, as he lifted you effortlessly, strong arms flexing under his jacket as he sat you right on the seat of the motorcycle.

The cool leather of the bike pressed against the backs of your thighs. Before you could fully adjust to the new position, Jungkook’s hand grabbed your jaw with just the right amount of firmness— guiding, not forcing— and he kissed you hard on the mouth. The kiss was deep, demanding, and full of pent-up passion, his lips claiming yours as the garage faded away around you.

The kiss deepened instantly into something hard and consuming, as Jungkook’s mouth claimed yours with a hunger that stole the breath from your lungs. His tongue pushed past your lips, tangling with yours in a sloppy, heated dance. The taste of him flooded your senses. You moaned softly into his mouth, the sound vibrating between you as your manicured nails, pretty pastel pink to match your sweater, raked down the front of his clothed chest. The fabric of his shirt and leather jacket bunched slightly under your touch, but you could feel the solid, sculpted muscle beneath, the skin warm and firm. Each pass of your nails drew a low rumble from deep in his throat, encouraging you to press harder, to explore more.

His strong hands gripped your waist possessively, fingers digging into the soft curve there through the thin pink fabric. With effortless strength, he leaned you back along the sleek length of the motorcycle, guiding your body until the cool metal and leather of the seat supported you. The back of your shoulders pressed against the sturdy handlebars, arching your torso in a way that left you deliciously exposed and vulnerable under the dim garage lights. The position felt thrillingly precarious— the bike steady beneath you but the risk of the open garage adding an edge of excitement that made your pulse race.

Your bunny slippers dangled from your feet, one slipping slightly as your legs parted just a little for balance. The silk of your sleep shorts rode up higher on your thighs, and the cool air kissed your exposed skin, contrasting sharply with the heat radiating from Jungkook’s body hovering over you.

He broke the kiss only to trail his lips along your jawline, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses and gentle nips that made you shiver. His breath was hot against your skin as he moved lower, lavishing attention on the elegant line of your collarbone now beautifully exposed by the off-the-shoulder sweater. The soft fabric had slipped further down one arm, baring more of you to him, and he took full advantage of it as his tongue traced the delicate bone, sucking lightly at the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder.

Your hands wandered greedily over his broad shoulders, sliding along the smooth, worn leather of his biker jacket. You could feel the powerful muscles shifting underneath as he moved, admiring how incredibly toned he was, every inch of him sculpted from hours on the bike and in the gym. The way the jacket hugged his frame, the faint scent of leather and cologne mixing with the garage air, made him look so dangerously hot, like the ultimate forbidden fantasy come to life right there between your thighs.

“God, you’re so huge,” you whispered breathlessly, your fingers squeezing at his biceps through the jacket, marveling at the sheer size and strength of them. They flexed under your touch, hard as steel yet warm and alive, and the words slipped out in a reverent, needy little murmur that made your cheeks burn hotter.

Jungkook pulled back just enough to let out a deep, amused laugh, “Yeah? You like that, angel?” Before you could respond, his hand shot up to grip your jaw firmly, tilting your face up to his. With a wicked gleam, he leaned in and spit directly into your open mouth, the act so bold and intimate that it sent a fresh wave of heat straight to your core. Then his lips crashed back onto yours, kissing you even harder, tasting himself on your tongue as the sloppy makeout resumed with renewed intensity.

His hands moved with purpose now, sliding under the hem of your sweater. In one smooth, practiced motion, he lifted it up and over your head, the soft fabric whispering against your skin as it was tossed aside onto the nearby workbench. You were left in just your delicate lace bra and silk sleep shorts, the cool garage air raising goosebumps across your newly exposed torso.

Jungkook’s gaze darkened with lust as it roamed over you, drinking in every inch. His large hands cupped your breasts over the intricate lace, squeezing gently but firmly, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks that were already hardening under his touch. The sensation pulled a sharp gasp from your lips, your head lolling back against the motorcycle’s handlebars, eyes fluttering half-closed as pleasure sparked through you. Your back arched instinctively into his palms, offering more of yourself to him, the position leaving you beautifully displayed with your shoulders pressed back, chest pushed forward, and pink lace straining against his fingers.

The garage felt smaller, hotter, every sound amplified: your heavy breathing, the faint creak of the bike beneath you, and the low, appreciative growls escaping Jungkook as he continued to explore your body with reverent hunger. Jungkook’s mouth stayed fused to yours for a long, heated moment, the sloppy makeout growing even messier as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth with dominant hunger.

His hands never left your breasts, cupping the soft, lace-covered mounds fully in his large palms, squeezing and kneading them with just the right pressure that made sparks of pleasure shoot straight down your spine. He pulled back from the kiss with a wet pop, his lips shiny and breathing ragged, dark eyes locked on your flushed face before drifting lower. With a low, appreciative hum, he tugged the delicate lace cups of your bra downward in one smooth motion, freeing your tits to the cool air of the garage. Your nipples pebbled instantly under his gaze, and Jungkook didn’t hesitate, he latched onto one sensitive bud with his mouth, teeth grazing lightly before sucking hard, tongue swirling around the peak.

“Fuck, I love these tits,” he growled against your skin, the vibration sending shivers through you as he switched to the other nipple, nipping and sucking with greedy devotion. “So fucking perfect for me, angel. Always so soft.” His words were muffled against your chest, each pull of his mouth drawing louder, breathier moans from your parted lips.

You arched your back further against the motorcycle’s handlebars, pressing your chest eagerly into his face, one hand tangling in his dark hair while the other gripped the leather of his jacket for support. The position left you beautifully stretched out— shoulders braced, hips shifting restlessly on the bike seat, silk shorts riding higher up your thighs as pleasure built in slow, pulsing waves.

His free hand began a teasing descent, sliding down your stomach and slipping beneath the waistband of your silk sleep shorts. Jungkook groaned deeply the moment his fingers brushed against your soaked core, the sound raw and masculine, echoing softly in the underground garage. “So fucking wet already,” he murmured, voice thick with lust as he rubbed along your folds through the thin barrier of your panties. “This little pussy is dripping for me, isn’t it, baby?”

You whined his name desperately, “Jungkook, please…” the sound needy on your lips, as your hips bucked toward his hand practically begging for more friction. Your manicured nails scratched lightly at his scalp, tugging at his hair while your head lolled back again, exposing the elegant line of your throat. The cool metal of the handlebars dug into your shoulders, grounding you even as everything else felt like it was spinning with heat and want.

Jungkook chuckled softly against your breast, before he unlatched with one final, slow lick. He pulled back just enough to look up at you, eyes gleaming with dark affection. “So needy,” he cooed, voice dripping with mock sympathy as he continued to stroke you lightly. “My adorable little thing, always so desperate for my touch. Such a good little whore for me.” The filthy praise made your cheeks burn hotter, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you at his words. He finally gave you what you craved, his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties to circle your swollen clit with slow with deliberate stroke, firm enough to make your thighs tremble but not enough to push you over the edge just yet.

Your whines grew louder and more impatient, filling the quiet garage as you rocked against his hand. Jungkook grinned at your reaction, then suddenly dropped to his knees in front of the motorcycle, the move fluid and eager. He yanked your body forward on the seat with strong hands on your hips, pulling you closer to the edge so your pussy was perfectly positioned for him. You gasped sharply at the sudden shift, gripping the handlebars for balance as your slippers brushed against his sides.

He started slow with pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the first one side, then the other, nipping gently at the soft flesh while his hands held your legs apart. His breath ghosted over your clothed center, making you squirm.

Then his mouth was on you, trailing kisses directly over your soaked panties. He moved the fabric of your silk sleep shorts fully to the side but left your panties in place, pressing his tongue flat against the thin, damp material and licking a long, slow stripe up your center. The sensation was wet heat through the fabric, the teasing barrier, had you gasping loudly, your hand flying to his hair again and yanking hard as pleasure jolted through you.

Jungkook groaned in response, the sound vibrating right against your core, and then he began making out with your pussy over the panties like it was your mouth, deep, sloppy kisses, tongue swirling and sucking at your clit through the lace, nose pressed against you as he devoured you with filthy enthusiasm. Every lick and suck was deliberate, drawn out, building the ache inside you higher and higher while keeping you right on that delicious edge.

He knelt between your spread thighs, completely focused on your pleasure, the motorcycle steady beneath your arched body. Every swirl of his tongue around your swollen clit sent jolts of electric pleasure racing through your body, the barrier of the panties only heightening the teasing friction.

His large, tattooed hands gripped your soft thighs firmly, fingers digging into the plush flesh as he spread them even wider apart, opening you up completely for him. The rough handling made your silk sleep shorts ride up further, the fabric bunching uselessly at the side as he held you exactly how he wanted, now vulnerable, exposed, and utterly at his mercy. The motorcycle creaked slightly beneath you from the shifting of your weight, your shoulders still braced against the handlebars, back arched in a graceful curve that pushed your chest and hips forward. Your fluffy bunny slippers dangled helplessly in the air, one of them nearly slipping off as your legs quivered under his strong grip.

Soft, breathy moans spilled from your lips without restraint, filling the quiet garage with the sweetest sounds. “Jungkook… oh god, that feels so good,” you praised him in that gentle, angelic voice he adored so much, the one that always made his cock twitch and his possessiveness flare.

“You’re so good to me. I love your mouth, baby… please don’t stop.” Your words were laced with genuine adoration and desperate need, each moan and whimper encouraging him further. Your fingers threaded deeper into his dark, silky hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp in rhythmic motions that drew low groans from him, the vibrations traveling straight to your core. You pushed his head deeper into your needy pussy, hips rolling subtly against his face as you chased more of that delicious pressure, completely lost in the sensation of his tongue worshiping you through the damp lace.

Jungkook responded with renewed hunger, his growls muffled against your soaked panties as he devoured you like a man starved. He sucked your clit through the fabric with just the right amount of intensity, then flattened his tongue again for broad, messy strokes that left the material drenched and nearly translucent. His hands kept your thighs pinned wide open, thumbs stroking the sensitive inner skin in soothing circles even as his grip remained firm and commanding.

Your praises continued in that soft, melodic tone, broken only by little gasps and whimpers whenever his tongue hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Yes… just like that, Koo…I’m so wet for you…” The words seemed to spur him on, his movements growing sloppier, more passionate, as if your voice was the only thing he needed to stay right there on his knees for hours.

Jungkook finally pulled back from between your thighs with one last, lingering lick over your soaked panties, his lips shiny and his breathing heavy. He rose slowly from his knees, towering over you as he stood between your spread legs. His hands made quick, impatient work of shedding the rest of his clothes, first shrugging off his leather jacket with a rustle of fabric, then yanking his shirt over his head in one fluid motion.

The sight of his toned, tattooed torso coming into view made your mouth water. He pushed his pants and boxers down his powerful thighs in one go, kicking them aside along with his boots until he stood completely naked before you, every inch of his muscular, inked body on full display under the dim garage lights. His cock stood hard and heavy, thick and flushed, curving slightly upward as it throbbed with need.

You leaned up on your elbows, the cool metal of the motorcycle’s handlebars still pressing into your shoulders as you watched him with wide, hungry eyes. With a shy but determined little smile playing on your lips, you reached behind your back, unhooking your bra and pulling the delicate lace down your arms. You flung it somewhere behind you, not caring where it landed, leaving your bare tits fully exposed to the cool air and his burning gaze. Your eyes stayed locked intently on his the entire time, soft and sweet, and full of adoration even as desire darkened them. A small, innocent smile curved your mouth, your angelic expression and the filthy position you were in making Jungkook’s cock twitch visibly.

He wrapped a large hand around his thick length, stroking himself slowly up and down as he drank in the sight of you; sprawled half-naked across his bike. The way his fist moved over his cock was mesmerizing, veins standing out along his forearm, tattoos shifting with each stroke.

He leaned down to kiss you, but you shook your head gently, placing a small hand on his firm chest and pushing him back just enough. “Wait,” you whined softly, voice breathy and needy. “I want to suck you off, Jungkook… please.”

“You don’t have to, angel,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint, still slowly pumping his fist over his length.

You huffed cutely, bottom lip pushing out in a pretty pout. “But I want to… like, really bad.”

Jungkook let out a deep, affectionate laugh at your determination, the sound warm and husky as he nodded. “Alright, baby. Come here then.”

You slid off the motorcycle with shaky legs, the cool concrete of the garage floor meeting your slippers as you dropped gracefully to your knees in front of him. His dark eyes followed every movement, intense and possessive, watching as you replaced his hand with your own smaller one. Your manicured fingers wrapped around his thick cock, barely able to close fully around his impressive girth. You looked up at him sweetly as you leaned in, spitting directly onto his throbbing length, the warm saliva dripping down his shaft. Then you began jerking him off slowly, your fist gliding smoothly with a wet, obscene sound, twisting gently at the head on every upstroke.

You tapped the swollen tip of his cock against your soft, bare tits, smearing the mixture of your spit and his precum across your skin in teasing little slaps. Jungkook groaned deeply, hips twitching forward as he watched the filthy sight. “Fuck, you’re so sexy like this,” he rasped, voice thick with lust. “My pretty little angel on her knees for me… so fucking perfect.”

You hummed happily at his praise, the vibration traveling through your throat as you finally leaned forward and took him into your warm, wet mouth. Your lips stretched around his girth as you began sucking him off with slow, devoted bobs of your head, tongue swirling around the underside of his cock while your hand continued to stroke what you couldn’t fit yet. The garage filled with the wet, sloppy sounds of your mouth working him, mixed with his low groans and your soft, muffled moans of enjoyment.

Jungkook’s large hand cradled against your jaw and cheek, his thumb gently stroking the flushed skin there as he felt the bulge of his own thick cock moving inside your mouth with every bob of your head. The sensation seemed to drive him wild, his dark eyes fixed intently on the way your cheek hollowed and swelled, a low, continuous groan rumbling from deep in his chest.

“Fuck, angel… you have no idea how perfect you look right now,” he praised, voice hoarse and dripping with lust. “That sweet little mouth stretching around me, taking me so deep. You’re such a good girl for me, baby. My pretty princess on her knees, sucking my cock like you were born for it.” His words wrapped around you like velvet, making your pussy clench with fresh arousal even as you focused entirely on pleasuring him

Your smaller hand worked tirelessly along the thick base of his shaft that wouldn’t fit fully into your mouth, stroking with smooth, twisting motions while your lips and tongue lavished attention on the rest. The blowjob grew increasingly sloppy and wet, saliva dripping freely down your chin, coating his length, and spilling onto your bare tits in shiny trails.

Your nails occasionally grazed his thighs or cupped his balls lightly, adding another layer of sensation that made his hips jerk forward instinctively. You moaned around his cock, the vibrations traveling straight through him as you lost yourself in the act, eyes watering slightly but never breaking the sweet, adoring gaze you kept locked on his face.

Emboldened by his praises, you pushed yourself further, relaxing your throat and sliding all the way down until your nose pressed flush against his abdomen. You held there for a few intense seconds before shaking your head slowly from side to side, the movement making his cock rub against every sensitive part of your throat. The feeling was overwhelming, but you loved it, loved the way it made him curse under his breath and tighten his grip on your jaw.

Finally, you pulled back with a dramatic gasp, strings of thick saliva connecting your swollen, glossy lips to his throbbing, glistening cock. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, hand immediately returning to stroke him fast and slick while you looked up at him.

A soft, breathless giggle escaped you at the sight of his absolutely fucked-out expression, his eyes heavy-lidded and glassy with pleasure, lips parted and jaw slack, dark hair messy from your fingers earlier. He looked completely wrecked, and the power of knowing you did that to him sent a thrill racing through your body.

“Shit, baby… I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” Jungkook warned, his voice strained and rough, hips twitching into your fist as he fought for control.

Still giggling softly, you tapped the swollen, leaking tip of his cock against your soft, spit-covered tits again, smearing the messy combination of your saliva and his precum across your skin in teasing little pats. The filthy sight made his cock jump in your hand. You tilted your head innocently, batting your lashes up at him with that sweet, needy expression he could never resist. “Will you fuck me now, Koo?” you asked in that soft, breathy voice, still gently stroking his length. “Please? I need you so bad…”

He nodded almost immediately, a dark, predatory smirk breaking through the haze of pleasure on his face. “Yeah, angel. I’ll fuck you real good. Gonna give this tight little pussy exactly what it’s been begging for.”

Without another word, his strong hands grabbed your waist with effortless power. In one swift, fluid motion, he flipped you over onto the motorcycle. You let out a surprised little gasp as your body was maneuvered, ending up lying back along the sleek, cool body of the bike once more. The leather seat and metal frame pressed firmly against your bare back and shoulders, the handlebars digging into your upper back and shoulder blades in that familiar, slightly uncomfortable but thrilling arched position. Your head tilted back over the front of the motorcycle, hair cascading down, while your bare tits heaved with anticipation and your legs parted naturally around his hips. The cool garage air kissed every inch of your newly exposed skin, making you shiver as you looked up at him with wide, needy eyes.

Jungkook didn’t waste a single second. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your sleep shorts and panties, yanking them both down your thighs in one rough, impatient tug. He pulled them all the way off, tossing the delicate fabrics aside somewhere on the garage floor, leaving you completely naked and spread open on his motorcycle. His gaze raked hungrily over your body. You skin flushed and your nipples hard, dripping pussy glistening under the dim lights, as he stepped fully between your trembling thighs, his thick cock brushing teasingly against your inner thigh.

He wrapped one strong hand around his thick, throbbing cock, stroking it slowly as he gazed down at your dripping pussy with dark, hungry eyes. Then, with deliberate teasing, he tapped the swollen, leaking tip firmly against your swollen clit. The sudden contact made you yelp sharply, a high-pitched, needy sound that echoed softly in the underground garage. Pleasure sparked hot and electric through your core, your hips jerking instinctively upward.

Your hands flew up to his arms, sliding reverently up and down the toned, tattooed muscles there— feeling them flex and shift under your palms as he held you in place. The feeling of your soft, delicate touch and his hard, inked strength only made everything feel more intense.

He hooked one of your legs up and over his broad shoulder with ease, the new angle opening you up even more and stretching the muscles in your thigh deliciously. Your other leg he bent toward your chest, folding you nearly in half on the motorcycle seat so that your soaked pussy was completely exposed and presented to him. The position left you feeling vulnerable yet incredibly desired, your body folded and offered up like his personal feast. Jungkook dragged the thick head of his cock up and down your slick slit slowly, coating himself in your wetness, nudging teasingly against your entrance and then back up to your clit. The wet, obscene sounds of it filled the quiet space, making your cheeks burn hotter.

“You want it, angel?” he asked, voice low and rough, eyes locked on yours with that intense, commanding stare. “Want my cock stretching this pretty little pussy?”

You whined desperately, nodding your head quickly, hair shifting against the motorcycle as your hips tried to chase the teasing pressure. “Yes… yes, please, Jungkook,” you breathed out, voice trembling with need.

He smirked, still sliding his tip along your folds, pressing just slightly against your entrance before pulling back again. “How bad do you want it, baby? Tell me.”

You cried out, the words tumbling from your lips in a needy rush. “Really bad! I want it so bad, Koo… please, I need you inside me. I can’t take it anymore…”

Satisfied with your desperate plea, Jungkook slapped the thick head of his cock against your clit again, harder and rougher this time. The sharp smack sent a jolt of overwhelming pleasure-pain shooting through you, drawing a loud, broken moan from deep in your throat. Your back arched sharply against the bike, nails digging into his arms as your body trembled.

Without any further warning, he pushed inside you in one powerful thrust, burying himself to the hilt in your tight, dripping heat. He set a rough, quick pace right from the start with deep, punishing strokes that made the motorcycle creak beneath you with every snap of his hips. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the garage, mixed with your breathy moans and his low, guttural groans. Each thrust dragged perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you, the angle from your folded position making him feel impossibly deep, stretching you open so deliciously that stars burst behind your eyelids.

His large hands greedily grabbed at your tits, squeezing the soft, bouncing flesh roughly as he pounded into you. “Fuck, you’re so fucking hot like this, angel,” he growled, voice deep and strained with pleasure, eyes devouring the sight of you falling apart on his bike. “Look at you… taking my cock so well. You love me fucking you like this, don’t you? Love how I tear this tight little pussy up?”

You could only nod weakly at first, head lolling back against the motorcycle as overwhelming pleasure rendered you nearly speechless. Your mouth hung open, soft whimpers and broken moans spilling out with every deep thrust that punched the air from your lungs. Jungkook wasn’t satisfied with your silent response. He leaned over you slightly, still driving into you hard, and demanded, “Speak up, baby. Tell me.”

“Yes— yes, I love it so much!” you cried out, voice shaky and breathless. “I love your big cock so much, Jungkook… it feels so good, you’re so deep”

A sharp slap landed on one of your tits, the sting blooming beautifully across your skin as he tweaked and pinched your hardened nipple between his fingers, rolling it roughly. The mix of pain and pleasure made your walls clench tightly around his thrusting cock. He kept up the merciless pace, hips moving roughly, your entire body jerking and bouncing with every powerful stroke. You were being fucked dumb, eyes glassy, thoughts scattered, reduced to nothing but moans and the overwhelming sensation of him ruining you so perfectly on his motorcycle.

You mumbled incoherently about how good it felt, “So good… Kook, it’s so deep… feels amazing…” Your hand drifted down between your bodies, fingers desperately seeking your clit to chase even more pleasure, but Jungkook was faster. He smacked your hand away with a firm swat, replacing it with his own rough fingers.

He circled your swollen clit with expert pressure, matching the rhythm of his hips while his other hand continued smacking and groping your tits, alternating between sharp slaps and soothing squeezes. The combination sent you spiraling— pain and pleasure blending into one intoxicating wave that made your thighs shake and your pussy flutter around him.

His cock continued hitting so deep inside you with every thrust, the head brushing against that sensitive spot over and over, building the pressure higher and higher. Your bunny slippers bounced helplessly in the air, your nails digging into his arms as you held on for dear life, completely lost in the raw, filthy ecstasy of being claimed so thoroughly by him. His groans and growls grew louder and more primal, vibrating through his chest as sweat glistened on his tattooed skin under the dim garage lights.

The wet, filthy sounds of his thick cock driving into your soaked pussy filled the air, skin slapping skin, your juices coating his length and dripping down with every brutal thrust. You lifted your head weakly, eyes glassy and half-lidded, staring down the length of your folded body to watch in mesmerized awe as his glistening cock disappeared completely into your tight, stretched pussy only to pull back out shiny and wet before slamming in again. The sight was obscene and intoxicating, your soft folds parting around his impressive girth over and over.

He noticed your dazed gaze and let out a deep, breathless chuckle, still pounding into you. “You like how that looks, angel? Watching my cock wreck this pretty little hole?”

You nodded weakly, barely able to form words. “Yes…” you mumbled, voice hoarse and broken.

Jungkook slowed his pace for a moment, drawing out each thrust into a powerful, deliberate slam that jolted your entire body. The change in rhythm made you tremble uncontrollably, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Your hands moved shakily upward, reaching above your head to grip the cool metal handlebars behind you for support. Your knuckles turned white as you held on, back arched even more dramatically, tits bouncing with every deep impact. Soft, breathy whines spilled from your lips as the pressure became overwhelming. “I’m gonna cum… Koo, I’m gonna cum…”

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby?” he growled, voice thick with lust as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

“Uh huh, uh huh— fuck, don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” you begged desperately, nodding frantically, tears of overwhelming pleasure pricking at the corners of your eyes.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Jungkook picked up speed again, fucking you even faster and harder, chasing his own high with deep, animalistic thrusts. His hands gripped your hips bruisingly, holding you in place as he drove into you. “Look at you… so small under me, so fucking beautiful,” he rasped, eyes roaming over your flushed, writhing form. “I love this pussy so much, love this body, love fucking you stupid like this. You take me so perfectly every time, angel.”

You couldn’t even form real words anymore. The pleasure had melted your brain into a hazy fog, and all you could manage were soft, repeated little affirmations. “Uh huh… uh huh… uh huh…” The sounds slipped out with every brutal thrust, your head tossing weakly against the motorcycle as your body shook.

“My dumb little whore,” he cooed affectionately, voice rough yet tender as he slammed into you. “Gonna cum on my cock? Tell me.”

“Yes— yes!” you cried out, the word breaking into a loud, drawn-out moan as your orgasm crashed over you hard. Your pussy clenched violently around his thrusting cock, walls fluttering and spasming as waves of intense pleasure ripped through your entire body. You writhed and trembled beneath him, back bowing sharply off the bike, nails scraping against the handlebars while broken moans and whimpers poured from your lips. Your thighs shook, bunny slippers flopping wildly as the climax consumed you completely.

Jungkook followed right after with a deep, guttural groan. He pushed himself as deep as possible inside you, hips flush against yours as he came hard, thick ropes of cum flooding your pulsing pussy. His cock twitched and throbbed with every spurt, his body tensing above you as he rode out his release, growling your name under his breath. The garage fell into a heavy, satisfied silence broken only by your shared ragged breathing.

Jungkook stayed buried deep inside you for a few long, lingering moments, savoring the way your pussy continued to flutter and milk every last drop from him. Finally, he pulled out slowly, obscene slap of his cock leaving your soaked entrance making you whimper softly at the sudden emptiness. A thick trail of his cum mixed with your own arousal leaked from your pussy, dripping down your thighs and onto the leather seat of the motorcycle beneath you.

His hands immediately moved to caress your sides with surprising gentleness, sliding up and down your flushed, sweat-slicked skin as if grounding you after the intensity of your shared orgasms.

He leaned down over your arched body, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue fought against yours in a slow, messy battle, tasting, claiming, and soothing all at once. The kiss was hungry yet tender, full of the deep affection he held for you even in the middle of something so filthy. His cock, still hard and glistening, stood tall and proud against your thigh, twitching with renewed interest. It wasn’t unusual for him to stay ready for multiple rounds; your nights together often stretched on for hours, and tonight felt like one of those nights.

You whined softly against his mouth, pulling back just enough to look up at him with hazy, needy eyes. Your chest heaved, tits still flushed from his earlier attention, and your body trembled slightly from the aftershocks.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” Jungkook murmured, voice low and rough, one hand gently cupping your cheek as his thumb brushed your swollen bottom lip. His dark eyes searched yours with that perfect mix of dominance and care.

Shyly, despite everything you’d just done, you averted your gaze for a second before whispering, “I want you to take me from behind… please.”

A wicked smirk spread across his face. “Yeah? Turn around for me then, angel.” He helped you up with strong but careful hands, maneuvering your boneless body into the new position on the motorcycle. He guided your upper half to drape along the seat and sleek body of the bike, your cheek and chest pressed against the cool leather, face turned toward the handlebars. Your knees rested on the padded seat, back arched deeply, and your ass raised high in the air, perfectly presented to him as your knees sunk slightly into the seat as you gripped the edges for balance.

Jungkook’s fingers immediately found your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles as he spat on his other hand. He rubbed the saliva up and down your dripping entrance, spreading the mixture of your combined fluids. You were already soaking wet, his cum still leaking steadily from your pussy, making everything slick and messy. He lined the thick head of his cock up with your entrance, ready to slide back into your heat, but you let out a needy little whine.

“Noooo, baby…”

He paused instantly, pulling back slightly, confusion flickering across his face. “No?”

You wiggled your ass back toward him invitingly, biting your lip as heat flooded your cheeks. It took him a second, but understanding dawned in his eyes, darkening them further with raw lust.

“You sure?” he asked, voice dropping even lower, one hand gently squeezing your ass cheek.

You nodded at first, then remembered what he wanted. “Yes… I’m sure. Fuck my ass, Jungkook. Please.”

A deep, guttural groan tore from his throat at your words. He sent a firm smack to your ass, the sharp sound echoing in the garage as the flesh jiggled under his palm. “Fuck, angel… you’re gonna kill me saying it like that.” He took his time, spitting on his cock and rubbing the head against your tight entrance, teasing and preparing you carefully even as his breathing grew heavier with anticipation.

Jungkook took his time, knowing it had been a while since you’d done this. He rubbed the thick, spit-slicked head of his cock against your tight entrance in slow, teasing circles, pressing forward just enough for the tip to breach the tight ring of muscle before gently pulling back out. The shallow thrusts were careful and deliberate, stretching you open little by little. Each time he pushed in, only the head and a couple of inches sank inside before he retreated, letting your body adjust to his impressive girth. The sensation was intense, burning pleasure mixed with that familiar fullness that made your head spin and your breath hitch.

His hands roamed soothingly up and down your waist and sides, fingers stroking your soft skin in long, comforting caresses. “Relax for me, angel,” he murmured, voice low and husky. “That’s it… you’re doing so good. Taking the tip so nicely.” He coaxed you gently onto his cock, hips moving in that slow, shallow rhythm while his palms mapped every curve of your body, grounding you and helping you ease into it.

You were breathing heavily, soft moans slipping from your lips with every careful push. After a few moments, you whispered breathlessly, “I’m okay… you can go deeper, but slow please.”

“Of course, baby,” Jungkook replied tenderly, leaning down to press a kiss between your shoulder blades. He gradually sank a little deeper on the next thrust, still moving at that measured pace, giving you time to adjust. The slow drag of his thick cock inside your ass had your toes curling in your fluffy bunny slippers, overwhelming pleasure building deep in your core. He listened intently to every sound you made, your heavy, shaky breathing and the soft, needy moans that grew louder as he worked himself further inside you.

You flipped your hair to one side, turning your head to look back at him over your shoulder. The moment your eyes met his, his gaze darkened with raw lust, pupils blown wide. He glanced down to where your bodies were joined, watching intently as your tight hole stretched around his cock. “Fuck, look at you,” he groaned. “You’re opening up so good for me, angel. Taking my cock in your pretty ass like such a good girl.”

Emboldened by his praise, you wiggled your ass back against him, pushing yourself further onto his length. Jungkook let you take control, holding still as you began to fuck yourself back onto his cock. “That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, voice rough with restraint. “Use me. Fuck yourself on it.”

You whined desperately, whispering a string of “yes yes yes” as your hips started moving faster. You took more and more of him with each backward push until finally, after several moments of breathless effort, you sank all the way down, taking him completely inside your ass. Your hips moved of their own accord, rocking and grinding back against him in a needy rhythm, chasing that deep, full pleasure.

“It feels so good,” you gasped, tripping over your words as the sensations overwhelmed you. “Your dick is so big… so deep… it’s the best dick I’ve ever had, Koo… fuck, I love it…” You were going dumb again, babbling praises between breathy moans, completely lost in the feeling of being stuffed so full by him.

Jungkook’s cocky smirk returned as he watched you fuck yourself on him. He brought a firm hand down on your ass with a sharp smack, the sound ringing out in the garage. He gripped the soft flesh hard, molding and spreading your cheeks between his strong fingers, admiring the way you stretched around him. “That’s my girl,” he growled, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Taking every inch like you were made for it.”

Each backward roll of your hips drove him deeper, the stretch and fullness making your head spin with overwhelming pleasure. Finally, Jungkook’s patience snapped. His strong hands pressed down on your shoulders, sinking your upper body lower until your cheek was pressed flush against the cool leather seat of the motorcycle. The new angle arched your back even more dramatically, ass raised high and presented to him like an offering. Without warning, he took full control and began a sharp, punishing pace, thrusting hard and fast, using your ass like his own personal fleshlight. The sudden intensity made you cry out loudly, your body jolting forward with every brutal snap of his hips.

His hand tangled into your hair, fingers twisting in the strands as he yanked your head up, forcing you to arch even further. “Oh my fucking god—” you groaned, the words tearing from your throat in a broken, desperate sound as he fucked you relentlessly. The pace was merciless now, deep and powerful, his thick cock driving into your ass over and over, stretching you wide and hitting spots that made your vision blur. Tears of overwhelming pleasure streamed down your flushed cheeks, dripping onto the leather seat beneath you.

You were babbling complete nonsense, words melting into incoherent moans and whimpers. “Koo— ah, fuck, it’s so much— too good, please” Your voice cracked and trembled with every thrust that punched the air from your lungs. Jungkook’s free hand slid down between your trembling thighs, his fingers finding your swollen, dripping clit and rubbing fast, tight circles that made your legs shake violently. The dual stimulation, his cock ruining your ass while he played with your pussy, pushed you right to the edge again.

Suddenly, he sent a sharp smack directly to your soaked pussy, the wet slap landing right over your sensitive folds and clit. You jolted forward hard with a loud, broken cry, fresh tears spilling down your face as the sting bloomed into white-hot pleasure. Jungkook didn’t slow down for even a second. He kept fucking you hard and fast, hips slamming against your ass, hand still tangled in your hair while his fingers continued rubbing and occasionally smacking your pussy, mixing pain and pleasure until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

Jungkook kept his sharp rhythm. His hand stayed tangled in your hair, keeping your head arched up while your cheek occasionally pressed into the cool leather seat. Sweat slicked both your bodies, the garage air thick with the scent of sex and leather. His voice came out rough and breathless as he leaned over you, lips brushing near your ear.

“You gonna cum again for me, angel?” he growled, voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. “Tell me, baby. You close?”

You nodded weakly against the seat, face half-buried in the leather, tears still streaking down your flushed cheeks. “Fuck yes…” you mumbled, voice hoarse and broken, barely coherent. “Yes, Koo… so close”

He continued for a few more powerful seconds, driving into you with deep, punishing strokes that made your vision spark with white-hot pleasure. Your second orgasm crashed over you even harder than the first. A loud, shattered moan tore from your throat as your body seized up, ass clenching tightly around his thick cock. Waves of intense pleasure ripped through you, making your thighs shake violently and your knees buckle slightly on the motorcycle seat. You writhed beneath him, slippers flopping helplessly as your pussy gushed and your ass pulsed rhythmically around him, milking his length with every spasm. Tears flowed freely now, mixing with the sweat on your face as you cried out his name over and over.

Jungkook groaned loudly at the feeling, his hips stuttering for a moment before he chased his own high with renewed ferocity. “Fuck— yes, just like that,” he grunted, gripping the soft flesh of your ass hard with both hands, fingers digging in deep enough to leave marks. He pushed in as deep as he could go, grinding and thrusting through your orgasm as his own release hit him hard. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded deep into your ass, pulse after pulse as he kept moving, fucking his release into you with shallow, possessive thrusts. “Shit, your ass feels so fucking good wrapped around me… milking me dry, baby. Taking every drop like such a good little whore.”

He kept groaning and grunting with each spurt, hips pressing flush against your ass as he emptied himself completely. “That’s it… my princess loves taking my cum deep in her ass, doesn’t she? Fuck, you’re so perfect, squeezing me so tight.” His hands kneaded and spread your cheeks, holding you open as he gave a few final, lazy thrusts to push his cum deeper inside you, savoring the way your body continued to flutter around him.

The garage fell into a heavy, panting silence, broken only by your shared ragged breathing. Jungkook stayed buried inside you for a long moment, one hand gently stroking down your spine while the other kept a possessive grip on your hip, both of you coming down from the intense high.

Finally, with a soft, reluctant groan, he pulled out of your ass carefully, his cum leaking out of you in a warm, messy trickle that dripped down your thighs and onto the motorcycle seat. The sudden emptiness made you whimper softly, your body completely spent. You flopped limply against the leather seat of the bike, cheek pressed to the cool surface, limbs loose and trembling. Your chest rose and fell with heavy, satisfied breaths, hair messy and sticking to your flushed skin, a dreamy, fucked-out smile playing on your lips.

For a few moments, there was nothing but comfortable silence between you— just the distant hum of the city above the garage and the sound of your slowing heartbeats. Then, out of nowhere, a soft, bubbly giggle escaped your lips. It started small and quickly grew into quiet, happy laughter that shook your shoulders.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, a fond smile tugging at his own lips as he watched you, one hand still gently stroking along your spine. “What’s so funny, angel?” he asked, voice warm and amused, leaning down to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

You turned your head slightly to look at him, eyes sparkling with affection despite how wrecked you felt. “Nothing… I just… I love you,” you whispered sweetly, the words slipping out so easily and sincerely that it made your chest feel warm and full. “So much.”

His expression softened instantly, that signature cocky smirk melting into something tender and genuine. “I love you too, baby. More than you know.” He helped you up with careful, strong arms, supporting your shaky legs as he lifted you off the motorcycle. You leaned heavily against his chest, letting him hold most of your weight while he grabbed a clean rag from his workbench. He wiped you down gently, first between your thighs, then your ass, cleaning away the mess with slow, attentive strokes, murmuring soft praises the whole time. “You did so good for me tonight… my perfect girl.”

Once you were cleaned up, he slipped his leather jacket around your bare shoulders, the warm fabric engulfing you in his scent. He pulled you close again, cupping your face with both hands and kissing you deeply, slow and sweet this time, full of love rather than hunger. His lips moved softly against yours, lingering, pouring every unsaid feeling into the kiss.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, noses brushing. “Let’s get you upstairs, yeah? Shower, cuddles, and all the plushies you want when we get back to your room later.” He scooped you up bridal-style with ease, feet dangling as he carried you toward the elevator, pressing one last gentle kiss to your temple. “My sweet angel… I’m never letting you go.”

perm taglist ﹐ → @merakoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @littlejeanskirt @mikrokookiex @sugak00kie134340 @alondra6011 @stars4kooo @namgimini @b-tangkitten @celliez @kyljjk @lovingkoalaface @unbibiased @chwrrybby @divakoo @mar-lo-pap

@cadencebeat2662 @raceme2hell @muniing @immnotevenhere @trshibal

[jjkarmy091]

The D.U.F.F (Jungkook)- part 2

Summary: High school didn’t seem so bad, until Jungkook informed Y/N of her DUFF status.

Genre: Romance; comedy

Warnings: swearing; angst;

A/N: Based on “The DUFF” movie

not proofread

After last night's fiasco, you thought you could have a peaceful day, but you were completely wrong.

Jungkook decided to test your patience early in the morning with his annoying ass music blasting through his speakers at a very unglorious hour. The streets still dark and you're pissed. Your head was pouding and a faint smell of puking was lingering around your room, which made you feel even more sick

Fuck!

How did you end up being the DUFF? Better... how did your so called friends allow it? Why didn't they tell you? There's no way they wouldn't know that's your nickname around school. Even Lisa's boyfriend, before he was with her, asked about her before having the courage to take the first step and ask her out. And there you were, thinking you were just being a good friend.

Sitting at your bay window, now very much awake by your neighbors noise, curling up to watch the sunrise, pulling a jacket closer to you, you snuggle into it's warmth but all you can think of, for some reason, is Jungkook. The way he helped you, the way he was waiting for you outside that room just to check on you, the way he carried you so easily towards your bed, the way he smells so fucking good… The same smell that comes from the exact same jacket you’re using; the scent you could recognize anywhere, but - ohhh wait- a varsity jacket. Didn't you just give it to him last night? Quickly taking it off, you check the back of it, only to see the tag JJK on it. When did he have time to put his own jacket on you?

Disturbed with your thoughts, you look across and see him in the same position as you: sitting by his own window with music blasting, watching the sunrise. As if he felt your presence, Jungkook turns his attention to you, his usual smirk showing, yet, there was something missing.

Usually he smiles with his eyes first, then showing his cute little dimples as his smile grows bigger, scrunching his nose halfway, yet, the one he's giving you right now doesn't reach his eyes. You return his smile courtly, giving him a little wave. You watch how he mimicks your movement, raising his hand with his palm turn to you, signalling to wait, disappearing for a few seconds and reapearing with a textbook. He takes his seat once again and starts scribbling down something.

You look like shit

You scoff at his statement, glaring at him as he chuckles to himself. You go grab some paper and marker, ready to reply.

It's from looking at you

His smile grows and even though you're a bit far, you can tell the happiness in his eyes, the one missing just a few minutes ago, finally making it's appearence again. You notice how Jungkook was writting something else on his text book and you waited a bit to see what was gonna come next. Was he gonna mention the duff word? Apologize maybe?

Not what you said last night

You scoffed

You give me headaches. Shut down ur annoyng ass music btw

He didn't write anything else but his signature smile was back and for some reason you were happy. After giving him the middle finger, you closed your blinds so he couldn't see the inside of your room anymore. You're starting to enjoy Jungkook's presence more than you'd like, making you slap yourself once, then whine out in pain.

After getting ready and steal the last piece of french toast your mother made for herself, you grab your car keys and you head towards your car. On the way to school, you think about the last 24h and how mad you feel about this DUFF thing. Now that you know about it, you can't really forget it.

When you arrive at school, you parked, grabbed your things and got out. You looked around the parking lot and realized something: even your car was a DUFF; the ugliest, oldest and most dilapidated one.

Your life was ruined.

Your first class was science and it was shared with Jungkook. Although you shared that moment early in the morning, your conversation from the previous night kept replaying in your head over and over again. Fortunately, this class involved taking the knowledge you had learned so far and conducting experiments. That’s the funniest part of this type of class: getting your hands dirty.

"How's it going?" you look at the person next to you, however, when you don’t reply, he speaks again. "Shouldn't you be working in pairs?" He pulled up a chair and sat down near you. You shot him a death glare.

"And you? Shouldn't you be working?"

"My partner is doing that for me." You glanced at the desk where he was before.

"I work alone Jungkook. Just saying"

"Oh my god Y/n, why the bad mood so early in the morning? I should be the upset one, you ruined my favorite shirt." You punched his arm.

"You called me ugly, fat friend Jungkook, do you want me to throw you a party?" He looked at you indignantly.

"That's not what I said! I said you were a DUFF."

"That's exactly the definition of what I just said, idiot."

"You can't interpret everything so literally. Like, I told you yesterday, not all duffs are considered truly ugly and fat Y/n. It’s just a way of speaking" He was so lucky to be in class right now or else -

"Get out of here before I kill you" Jungkook started to get up, but not before saying

"You know I'm just kidding"

"I swear I'll kill you if you bother me again today." He raised both hands, returning to his seat with that brightless look you saw him with this morning.

Not that you gave a fuck about him anyway.

Upon arriving at the cafeteria, Lisa and Jennie were waiting for you. They were talking about something Jungkook and Mijoo related and how the party had ended with the police intervening.

"Hey, are you okay?" one of them asked.

"Yes, I'm just tired and hungry". Things got worse when you noticed how even the cafeteria staff spoke and acted towards your friends.

"Good morning Lisa, how are you? Today is your favorite meal. Hope it's good."

"Hey Jennie, you look good. Are you feeling better? You were a bit under the weather last week."

"Have a great day girls." But then it was your turn and you only got a "hi girl" and a fake smile. It was becoming increasingly difficult to accept the truth. Without them you didn't exist and you were tired of being in their shadow. You couldn't even look at their faces anymore without feeling irritated. Your friendship was a sham and when Jennie asked you to check her fashion work, you freaked out. "Can we talk outside?"

"How come you didn't tell me all this time that I was a DUFF?! Your DUFF!!” Lisa made a confused face.

"A what?"

"Designated Ugly Fat Friend. Yes, Jungkook told me everything!" They laughed at unison and that made you even angrier.

"Jungkook doesn't even know how to spell his own name. And since when do you give a damn about what he says? He just talks nonsense all the time."

"Because it makes perfect sense. After all, why would two beautiful and popular girls be friends with someone like me? It's because you're using me for some reason!"

Lisa retorted "Hey hey, calm down. Just because you think we're prettier doesn't mean that --" but you didn't even let her finish her sentence.

"Ahh, see? Okay, everything's fine. Is that how it is? Well then, let's end it here." You pulled out your phone and opened your social media, deleting them from every possible place imaginable. Childish behavior? Undoubtedly—but you couldn't think of a better way to get out of the situation they put you into.

“I’m finally free” you scream as you turn your back and leave.

You walked the halls with a different view on everyone. It feels like you were blind and needed Jungkook to open your eyes to something you should have seen a long time ago. You could hear whispers about your fight with Lisa and Jennie and the rumours spreading about Jungkook and Mijoo.

Wait what?

Your friends were indeed talking about Jungkook and Mijoo but you never caught the breaking up part. No wonder he looked down this morning; not to mention his obnoxiously loud music or how you spoke to him this morning. You really need to apologize for this morning's fit of rage.

The next class were with Jimin and Jungkook, but Jimin failed to show up, so you took the seat next to Jungkook to talk to him. "You okay?" you whisper, receiving a nod in response.

"Weren't you the one who to you'd kill me if I spoke to you again today?" He tried to make a joke, but the funny tone never came.

"Yeah my bad. I was moody. I'm sorry" He nods again as he turns away from you, only to look back a moment later. His big brown eyes were so captivating, perhaps that's why you can't help but notice them all the time, or maybe just today? You don't know. You always felt at peace navigating through his brown eyes, there was an innocence behind them that you can't explain, even though Jungkook was anything but innocent.

What has gotten into you? you ask yourself, shaking your head quickly, trying to erase those thoughts as you got up and went back to your seat, unable to keep the eye contact.

There were 5 minutes left before the dismissal bell when the teacher handed out the reports you did last week and you couldn't help but grin at the big A in front of you. When you turn around to look at Jungkook, you notice a big F on his paper. Then, the bell rang and everyone else had left, leaving just the two of you behind. You heard the professor call Jungkook and tell him he was on his way to fail the class and the only way he could play on the futbol team again was if he was able to raise the grade to a C, at least.

Jungkook wasn't dumb or anything like that. Few people knew about his ADHD condition and how this ends up affecting his attention. He can only focus on the things he truly enjoys, so everything else goes unnoticed and the only things he really likes are football and girls.

As you walked down the hallway to reach your locker, you saw Taehyung talking to a girl. She was beautiful and definitely not the group's DUFF and you just wish you could be like her: confident enough not to feel like you're about to swallow frogs every time you have to talk to your crush and there's only one person who can help you with that

"Jungkook! Can I talk to you for a second? It's important" you call when you see him on the field.

"You spoke to me not even an hour and a half ago. You love me, don't you?"

"Not even if you were the last man on Earth Jeon, but I have this matter I want to work on and you're the only one who can help" You give a long breath and stop him from running around. "I don't want this. I don't want to be the DUFF. I wanna be enough by myself. I don't want to help seduce others, I wanna be the seduced one" Jungkook stops in his tracks, looking at you as if you were mental.

"You're asking me for relationship advices? today of all days? You're kidding me, right?” he starts jogging again, making you run behind him faster. Oh gosh how you hate sports.

"Listen, I have a crush on this guy. Taehyung is his name, I'm pretty sure you know who he is. Well, the thing is, I can't talk to him without making a fool out of myself and it seems like you never have that problem. Can we stop running? I'm having a hard time to breath right now"

"What does that have to do with me?" He points an index finger at himself, cocking his head to the side.

"I want you to teach me"

"What’s in it for me then?" He questions, closing the space between you two, just for you to push him back slightly.

"I heard about your issue with Coach Grant and his deal with our teacher. You need your grades up to an average C in Science and I need your help. Quid pro quo. You help me and I’ll help you"

"Well that's not a fair trade. I have to unDUFF you. I mean, what the fuck are you wearing right now. Is that --you’re wearing pajama pants, aren’t you?" He crossed his arms over his chest, horror written all over his face.

"It’s a fashion statement!"

"I dig you girl, but that's something I have to think of"

"Then don't be an ass and give me a ride home. My car won’t start and I had to call a tow truck. I promise I won't talk"

"See? annoying duffy and also a liar " and you hit him, once again.

As soon as you got into his car, he turned on the music, perhaps to ease the tension between you two.

"Hey JK. Can I ask you something?" He looked at you for a few seconds before twisting his mouth in a mocking way.

"Weren’t you the one who promised not to speak?” He laughs. "go ahead." He really knew you well.

"Why are you with someone like Mijoo?" He stopped abruptly at the traffic light, jolting you forward a little, a sign that shows he wasn't expecting that question. He cleared his throat.

"I don't understand what you mean" you turn your body towards his.

"You're a good person, despite the stupidity of the nickname DUFF you gave me. In all the years I've known you, I've never seen you belittle or mistreat anyone. Unlike Mijoo, who, despite being beautiful, has nothing in her brain except despising others." Jungkook didn't answer right away. It was actually the first time you saw him take so long to answer. He pondered for at least a whole minute. How do you know? Because you counted every second.

As soon as he parked in front of his house, he looked at you, but with a serious look. "Where does all this come from, Y/n?" you sigh. Perhaps you're interfering too much in his life. Although you were friends, you never got to this sort of conversations.

"I heard the rumors between you and Mijoo and you seemed so off this morning. I just wanted to tell you that while it's understandable that you're sad, I want you to know that you are worth so much more than you think. You deserve someone who admires you and helps you become a better person, not someone who makes you feel small to fit into their world" You open the door to get out, making eye contact with him

"Thanks for the ride Kook"

Unable to sleep, you sit at your bay window with a book in hand. Why the hell did you bring Mijoo up? and the nickname you gave him? Kook- arrgh you NEVER called him that. Why did you say that? That was keeping you up at night.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you were startled when you hear a noise coming from afar. Looking up, you notice Jungkook writting something

Plans tomorrow?

Not really

You, me, mall. 11 am. Make sure to be ready!

After your conversation, something seemed to have changed between you two, or maybe it was just you. Oh god

Where are you getting yourself into Y/n?

Tags: @fangirl9990 @kelsyx33 @bbarmy13 @eegyo @flower-oasis @Ih4455 @taehyungseggs @kyljjk @gin-gin1995 @muniing @cprcupcakke @jeikeeei @lezgolando @jungkookisthetypeto @hennessysthings @taolucha @starryhop @whoa-jo @jksusawife

[joonie-joon]

Spin The Bottle (Part 3)

Pairing: Best Friend JungkookXFem!Reader Feat Namjoon

Genera: smut with plot. Best friend to lovers

Summary: part 3 (final part) of Spin The Bottle

Read Part 1. Part 2.

Content warning: NSFW. NO MINORS. Mention of alcohol use. DOM!JungkookXSub!Reader. Possessive Jungkook. Hickies. Dry Humping. nipple play. Teasing. Lots of dirty talk. Fingering. Multiple orgasm. Cockwarming. P in v. Handjob. Oral sex (f and m receiving). Rough sex. Choking. Spanking. Raw sex (practice safe sex ok). Aftercare and fluff at the end.

———————————————

Your studio was silent as both you and Jungkook pretended to sleep. You had tossed and turned earlier, unable to find any position to get comfortable in and eventually settled for laying on your back with your eyes looking at the ceiling. Jungkook laid on your couch, his eyes forced closed as he begged sleep to somehow find him as he begrudgingly replayed his failed attempted to kiss you over and over again in his mind.

You were doing the same thing of course, trying to analyze all of it. Was it because he was drunk? The last time he was drunk he kissed you so, maybe this was just another almost drunken mistake. Maybe it was the atmosphere? The adrenaline of having been in a fight surging in his veins and fogging his sense of logic? Or maybe he was just knocked in the head so fucking hard he had a concussion.

Yeah, that must be it.

You remember reading something online that people with concussions shouldn’t sleep right after getting one. ‘Fuck, then he shouldn’t be asleep. He could die.’ You thought to yourself. You toss the blankets you had covering you off your body and walk over to Jungkook and turn your phone flashlight on in his face, pulling his eyelid open with your fingers to look at his pupils.

“What? What! Are you okay?” He said, startled. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m checking if you have a concussion.” You told him trying your best to check for irregular dilation. “Does your head feel weird at all? Have you thrown up?”

“Why the fuck would I have a concussion?” He said shielding his eyes from the blinding light. “Have you gone crazy?”

You suddenly realize that maybe you might have gone crazy. Maybe it was just the alcohol. Or, maybe you have read the situation wrong completely.

“I don’t fucking know anymore.” You grumble in frustration. “I just- I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about today.”

Jungkook sat up on the couch and patted the cushion next to him to invite you to sit. You plopped down next to him in a huff and covered your eyes with your hands and rubbed your eyes until swirls appeared. You felt exhausted but sleep was still so far away.

“I mean, it could be worse. Right?” Jungkook tried his best to find humor in the situation.

“That’s definitely not helping.” You told him flatly.

“Right.” He nodded once, a bit awkwardly. “I mean.. he was kinda a loser anyway right? Namjoon. So, fuck him. Don’t know what you saw in him anyway..”

There was a bit of a tone to Jungkook’s voice you didn’t like. Something that didn’t settle right with you even though his words were trying to be comforting.

“He was nice to me.. In the beginning.” You shrug. “Nicer to me than you have been. I obviously wouldn’t have slept with him if I would have known he would have pulled this shit, Kook.”

“So you’re saying this only happened because I was an asshole to you?” He snapped at you, immediately defensive.

“No. I just don’t understand why you have to make a comment about me being interested in him regardless. He’s an ass and that’s all to it.” You spit back at him.

“I’m just trying to make you fucking feel better, fuck. Sorry!” He threw his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry I don’t know the exact words to say. This whole thing is so hard to navigate.”

“It’s hard because you’re making it hard!” You groan and sink into the couch. “We both are.”

“I don’t want it to be this way.” He told you, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“We should have never played that fucking game.” You shook your head. “That stupid fucking game.”

“Do you really regret it that much?” He asked you and, for a moment, you swear you could hear a bit of hurt in his voice.

“No.” You admitted. “It’s not even about the game. Or the kiss or the.. whatever. I don’t regret that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I regret what we’ve become.” You whispered, looking away from him. You felt your chest get a bit tight. “I would have walked out of the room if I would have known this is where we’d be now when that stupid bottle landed on me. I don’t want a drunken mistake to be the cause of us to drift apart.”

“I’m sorry. That’s my fault, not yours.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “I was avoiding you and I shouldn’t have been. It was just.. hard. Hard for me to come to terms with what happened and how.. I feel about it.”

“I know.” You sighed and chuckled a little. “And you’re such as asshole. But, you’re my best friend regardless and I don’t want that to change.”

“I am kinda an asshole, huh?” He laughed. “An asshole who can give and take a fucking punch.”

“I’ll be the next person to punch you if you ignore me again like you’ve been doing. Got it?” You tell him, your voice quivering just slightly as tears begin to swell. Jungkook’s heart broke watching your sad eyes, realizing what he had been trying to avoid had already happened without him knowing. Regardless of if he shared his feelings or not, avoiding them had drew a wedge between you two and had hurt you. He had hurt the one person he truly loved by not being open with his feelings.

“Hey.” He wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. “I’m not going anywhere anymore. I promise.”

“Thank you Kook.” You whispered into the hug, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. You inhaled his scent, taking it all in along with his warmth. The hug lingered longer than normal and, as you both pulled away from each other, your faces stayed hovering close by.

Jungkook lifted his hand and used his thumb to wipe away a single tear that managed to slip down your cheek. His hand lingered, his fingers brushing your cheek and down your neck. Your lips parted and, for a brief moment, you found yourself leaning in closer to him before you stopped yourself.

“Jungkook-“ your voice was weak, hardly a whisper. Almost pained as you stopped him. “Jungkook, you’re drunk.”

“No.” He whispered to you, then placed his hand on your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss. “Im not.”

Regardless of everything telling you to stop, you melted into your best friend and kissed him back. Forgetting the last few weeks completely and giving into your craving you didn’t think you would ever get to indulge in again.

His lips were warm velvet in an almost familiar way, both of you finding a rhythm so effortlessly. So easily. His fingers tangled into the cascades of your hair, his other hand securing itself to your waist, pulling you against his solid chest. You melted into him without thinking. Swinging your leg onto the other side of him so you were straddling him on the couch, your torso flush up against his firm body. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged gently on his hair, earning a deep moan from his chest that sent butterflies down between your legs. Without realizing what you were doing, you grinded your hips down against him, moving your clothed core against his as your kissed continued to deepen. Soon, you felt Jungkook’s bulge growing underneath you, snapping you out of your haze.

“Jungkook.” You pulled away from him, gasping for air. “Jungkook we have to stop.”

“Okay.” He huffed. “But why?”

“Because we can’t- we can’t do this.” You told him but made no effort to actually get off or untangle yourself from his arms.

“Yes we can.” He told you. “Do you want to do continue?”

“We can’t-“

“Answer the question.” He cut you off, his voice serious and husky. The demanding tone of his voice making you almost shutter. “Do. You. Want. To. Continue?”

“Yes.” You admitted in a whisper. “But.. do you?”

“Fuck yes.” The grip he had around your waist getting stronger.

“But before.. you said-“

“I was an asshole. And a liar.” Jungkook admitted. “And I’m sorry. But please, let me make it up to you. Let me show you.”

“You won’t be able to take this back. You can’t run from it after this happens.” You said breathlessly.

“I don’t want to stop and I’m not running.” He said, not missing a beat. “I want to fuck you.”

You felt like every nerve ending of your body had been set on fire. Your heart was beating so fast you were scared at any moment it would implode. His words terrified you but also ignited that deep passion you had tried to snuff out, buried by running to somebody else, that you had for him. All of the pain you had gone through and the anger you had, suddenly didn’t matter. He would have to answer questions later. For now, all that mattered was you wanted him. And he wanted you.

“Then fucking do it.”

Your faces collided back together almost painfully, frantically. Lips, tongues, and teeth fighting against each other while hands gripped and ripped at clothing for some sort of illusion of control. Both of your shirts were removed quickly, his hands gripping at your breasts, his lips at your collarbone licking the sensitive area while you rocked back and forth against his hard bulge. The seam of his jeans stretched in the perfect way that pressed in just the right spot, the firm fabric rubbing against your clothed clit.

“Jungkook-“ you moaned, throwing your head back as you rode him. His hands squeezed your breasts and brought both your hard nipples to his mouth where he extended his tongue, flicking the tip across both hard peaks before taking turns sucking on each of them. You were lost in ecstasy, moans flowing freely and hips continuing to move faster as you felt the heated pressure building between your thighs. Jungkook could sense your approaching climax.

“Are you going to cum like this baby?” He asked you, almost amused at how sensitive you were. You nodded your head frantically which made him chuckle but, he wasn’t ready for that to happen yet. In one swift movement, he wrapped his arms around your waist and stood up, taking you with him while you protested.

“Hey! I was so close.” You pouted. He kissed you on the cheek but spun you around, smacking you once on the backside.

“I’m just getting started with you.” He said, sitting back down on the couch and taking you with him. You sat on his lap, back pressed against his hard chest. He had one arm wrapped around your waist and the other across your shoulders, holding you against his chest, securing you to him.

You reached behind you, your hand gripping and pulling almost painfully at Jungkook’s hair while he pressed his lips against your jaw, trailing them slowly down the skin of your throat. His teeth nipping at the sensitive skin only to soothe it after with his tongue. You whimpered each time his sharp teeth grazed your neck, the sensation sending chills down your body and making your nipples. He noticed this of course, and dragged the hand that was holding your shoulder tight against him slowly down to cup your breast.

Jungkook only held it at first, enjoying how you felt cupped in his hand. You fit perfectly. The hard point of your nipple pebbled right into his palm. Then, he slowly started to massage you. His long fingers kneading and squeezing your breast as he gave you slow and sensual kisses on your neck.

“Mmm..” you moaned, your head lulling back onto his shoulder which gave him even more access to your skin.

“Does this feel nice?” He asked you, his voice low and husky. Almost unrecognizable.

“Yes.”

“What about this?” He suddenly stopped massaging and you felt a jolt of pleasure that made your back arch off of his chest. His fingers had found your nipple and gave it a generous pinch, pulling on it ever so slightly.

“Fuck!- mmm!” You moaned, biting your bottom lip between your teeth.

Jungkook took that as a yes and continued to pull and tweak with your hardened peak, flicking at it with his fingertips. Each graze of his digit making your clit pulse in your panties that were completely soaked and sticking to every fold and crevice of your cunt. You squirmed uncontrollably against him while he touched you, pressing your thighs together for some relief. You wanted more from him. Needed him.

“Kook.. please. This isn’t- I need more.” You begged him and he chucked darkly into your neck.

“Oh? This isn’t enough for you?” He cooed, teasing you. “Am I taking too long?”

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered. “I just- I’ve wanted you so bad. For so long..”

Jungkook wasn’t going to tease you about that confession. He too had waited a long time for this moment. It had taken every ounce of his self control to walk away from you at the party where he followed you to the bathroom, where things almost led to here. Now, he didn’t have to walk away. Didn’t have to hold back. He was ready to give himself to you and he wanted you to surrender yourself fully to him. In all ways.

“I’m sorry baby.” He mumbled in your ear, the pet name making your heart flutter. “I forgot I owe you an orgasm. We were interrupted last time, weren’t we?”

“You owe me a lot more than just a- oh fuck.” Your sarcastic comeback was cut off but Jungkook’s hand slipping down into the front of your sleeping shorts and panties, searching their way through your soaked folds to your sensitive clit.

“Fuuuck. You’re so fucking wet.” He said, almost bewildered with the amount of arousal that coated his fingers. The pads of his fingers teased over your plump and pulsing clit with light strokes. You pushed your hips forward into his hand, arching back into him, your head falling onto his shoulder.

“Fuck- please Kook..” you whimpered.

“Hmm?” He mumbled into your neck, sucking the soft skin.

“You’re driving me crazy.” You panted. “Stop teasing me.”

“But I’m having so much fun.” He chuckled and dragged his hand back out of your shorts which made you groan in disapproval. “Be a good girl and take your bottoms off for me. Maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

You pushed your bottoms and panties down your thighs and tossed them into the corner. You were completely bare now sitting on his lap and under his control. He hooked his feet around your ankles, spreading his feet apart to spread and hold your legs apart with them. You were exposed now, sitting on his lap with your legs spread for him to play with you how he wanted. The cold air hit your wet core, making you squirm against him. He didn’t touch you there quite yet. He just continued to kiss and suck the soft skin of your neck, his free hands massaging your breasts.

“Kook..” you whined, arching your back against his chest in frustration. “Stop. You’re going to give me a hickey.”

Suddenly, you felt a quick but potent smack against your cunt. The impact was directly against your clit that made you yelp and body jump, a jolt of pleasure running up your entire spine. Jungkook had spanked you and now, he was rubbing you to soothe the sting. The immediate pleasure making you melt against him and forget the jolt. Almost.

“Good. I hope I leave a mark.” He growled in your ear. “You’re mine.”

You were completely drenched, your wetness covering his hand and dripping off your inner thighs and ass. The filthy and possessive words coming from your best friends mouth had you clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. He finally gave you the satisfaction of his hand with no teasing, his fingers rubbing heavy circles into your engorged bud. A pathetic scream of his name ripped from your chest which made his cock twitch below you.

“Is this what you wanted?” He whispered seductively in your ear. “Hmm?”

“Yes!” You whimpered, rolling your hips into his touch for more. You’re shifting causing your ass to grind down on his erection.

“So needy for me. For my touch..” he mumbled, trailing his fingers down and away from your clit to find your entrance. Two of his fingers pressing down with easy pressure until just the tips pushed into your aching hole. Inch by inch he slipped them inside, your mouth slowly dropping open with a gasp as you felt him fill you. He stopped once he was knuckles deep, your arousal dripping off his tattooed letters. He could feel you pulse around his digits which made him smirk.

“Jungkook..” you whimpered. “Please-“

“Are you mine?” He asked you with his voice low. His fingers finally pulling in and out of you agonizingly slow.

“Yes.” You purred. “I’m yours.”

“Mmm. How many times I’ve imagined you saying that while I did this to you.” His confession you clench around his fingers which he noticed instantly. “Do you like knowing that? That I’ve thought about this? That I’ve gotten off to you?”

You didn’t answer, you only gasped through your parted lips as his fingers started to move quicker. His palm bumping your clit each time his fingers slammed back into your cunt at a pace that had your thighs shaking. Suddenly, without breaking his pace, he snaked his other hand up and around your throat and pressed his fingers around you with just enough pressure to show dominance, ownership. You clenched around his fingers once more.

“I asked you a question, baby. When I ask you questions, I want an answer.” He told you with a deceptively sweet tone.

“I’m s-sorry.” You whimpered through the pleasure. “Yes. I f-fucking love k-knowing that.”

“Did you ever cum thinking of me?” He asked you, his fingers focusing in on your g-spot which made your eyes roll back in your head.

“Yes! Fuck-“ You moaned, back arching against him. You could feel your climax approaching quickly. Down below you could feel Jungkook’s cock twitch under you.

“Oh? How many times?” He smirked, holding his bottom lip between his teeth at the thought.

“I don’t- I don’t know..” you whined, finding it hard to focus, let alone count, when you were so close to cumming around his fingers.

“No, no. I need you to think.” He bent his thumb back to rub against your clit as he fingered you, the extra stimulation making it absolutely impossible to focus on almost anything, let alone count. “How many times did you cum to the thought of me?”

“Fuck-!” You cried out, your legs trying to close but unable to do so due to his hold his own had on yours.

“I asked you a question.” He growled in your ear, the pressure on your clit only getting harder. “Answer it.”

“All of them! Every time I came.” You gasped. Your thighs were shaking uncontrollably now. You were mere seconds from falling apart. “I can’t cum if I don’t think of you.”

The weight of your confession hit him hard, realizing what you were admitting to him. Without even having to outright say it, he knew you were admitting to thinking of him, not just while you were alone, but even while with Namjoon.

“That’s fucking right. Because you’re mine. And always have been.” Jungkook growled. He shouldn’t feel this triumphant or cocky especially after what Namjoon had put you through but, maybe, just for a second he would allow himself that.

“Yes!-“ you whimpered, hips rocking into his hand pathetically as you chased your high. “I’m yours! I’m fucking yours-fuck! I’m gonna cum-“

“Cum on my fingers baby. Like a good fucking girl for me.” He purred in your ear while his fingers tightened around your throat. You came dramatically, your body shuttering against him as he continued to finger fuck you through your orgasm. He hummed in pleasure, enjoying how your cunt felt as if gripped and pulsed around his fingers as you came. When you finally came down, he slipped his fingers out of you and brought the drenched digits shamelessly up to his lips to taste your remnants.

“So fucking sweet.” He groaned, his eyes closing in ecstasy.

“Holy shit..” you gasped, body going limp against him.

“Don’t get tired now, I’m not done with you yet.” He told you, pressing a kiss to your neck. “I’ve waited for this moment. I’m going to show you what I’ve been dreaming about.”

Jungkook stands up and picks you up with him which makes you giggle in shock. He places you on your feet but only for a second before he’s lifting you over his shoulder and walking you across the room to your bed where he tossed you down on the plush duvet.

“Jungkook!” You squeal in surprise as you land on your back. He’s standing over you smirking, slowly unbuckling his belt while keeping eye contact with you. Finally, you hear the metal of the belt and the heavy fabric of his jeans hit your floor. Your eyes glance down and see his thick cock, hard, and straining against the fabric of his briefs. Then he cupped his erection in his palm, stroking himself over his underwear while you watch.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” He tells you, his hand squeezing his cock firmly. The visual making you instantly aroused again. You sit up slowly on the bed and inch your way over to him. Hesitantly, you bring your hands up to his hips and hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. With innocent eyes you look up at him, looking for permission.

“Then show me.” You told him.

Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of you below him. How many times had he pictured it? He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and closed his eyes, nodding once, giving you the okay to continue. With a few tugs of your hands, you shimmied his underwear down his muscular thighs until his hard cock sprung out of the constructing fabric. His thick member taking up more space between you two than you had initially anticipated. He wasn’t overly long. He was average is length however, fuck, he was thick. You almost salivated just looking at it.

You took him in your palm which made him shutter, his eyes opening to take in the scene in front of him. Jungkook thought he could cum just from the sight alone. He clenched his lower abdominal muscles, trying his best to control himself.

“Fuck.” He cussed under his breath as you slowly started to work your hand up and down his length, the precum that had already started to drip down his purple head lubricating his shaft. “You don’t understand how good that feels.”

You didn’t respond, continuing to work your hand up and down his length twisting your wrist as you went. Your thumb brushing over his head each time you made your way up to the top of his erection earning small gasps from his lips each time he felt the sensation. With innocent eyes, you peered up at him and held his gaze as you worked his shaft. A small smirk playing on your lips as you saw the state you had him in.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He told you, his voice breathy and weak, reaching down to cup your cheek in his hand gently. Your heart felt like it could burst.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” You told him almost feeling shy. His big dark eyes looking deep into yours for a long while, his bottom lip almost painfully bitten between his teeth as you continued to stroke him. After a while the direct attention got too overwhelming so you broke contact, turning your attention back to his cock. You lowered yourself to him, sticking your tongue out and licking one flick of your tongue across his tip before taking it between your full lips.

“Shit- oh fuck!” His knees buckled a bit, almost knocking him off balance. Your mouth felt warm and your tongue dragged across his overly sensitive tip as you started to suck his cock. You slowly took him into your throat inch by inch, covering the remainder of what you couldn’t fit with your hand. As you bobbed your head up and down at a steady pace, your hand followed, your wrist twisting with ease as it used your spit to slide up and down.

Jungkook tasted divine. His salty arousal coating your tongue more and more as you continued to pleasure him. You moaned around his length in enjoyment, the vibrations echoing through him and causing even more pleasure than you already were. He placed his hand gently at the back of your head, careful not to grab you and be too rough. Soft whimpers and moans you couldn’t even imagine in your wildest dreams he would make fell from his lips which had you peeping up at him, his cock still down your throat.

“Fuck, if you keep looking at me like that you’re gonna make me fucking cum.” He told you, throwing his head back and looking at the ceiling to try and stop himself. If your mouth wasn’t stuffed with his thick length, you would have laughed. The dominant man that had just ruined you with his fingers now coming completely undone with a blowjob?

“So sensitive for me. All I have to do is look at you and I can make you cum.” You told him after popping your mouth off his tip, your lips pulled up in a smirk.

“Yes. Because you’re so fucking beautiful.” He groaned, grabbing your face in his hands and pulling you to meet his face for a kiss. “But don’t mistake this for weakness. I’m still going to fuck the shit out of you.”

“Is that so? Then do it.” You challenged him which he gladly accepted. Jungkook grabbed you under your thighs and dragged you to the end of the bed which made you yelp in surprise. He pushed your knees up to your chest, making your cunt exposed to him, your folds falling open like a flower.

“Fuck, you’re so damn perfect.” He said as he stared down at your sex before dipping his head down and licking a heavy stripe up your soaked cunt.

“Mmm-oh my god!” You whimpered, your hips twitching as he took your swollen clit gently between his lips before sucking on the bud, his tongue massaging over it for extra stimulation. He hummed as he slurped down your sweet arousal, lapping up every drop as you squirmed under him.

You were sensitive and wound up so tightly, turned on and on the brink already from sucking his cock that it didn’t take you long to feel another orgasm approaching quickly. Your whimpers got needier, more higher pitched. Jungkook knew you were close which made him pull away from your cunt, his chin and lips glossy with your remnants.

“Kook please. Don’t stop! I’m so close..” you whined, trying to push your cunt up into his face again but failing to reach.

“I know pretty but, I want to make you cum on my cock.” He told you, a smirk on his lips. He reached down and took his cock in his own hand, pumping his length a few times. The view was enough to make your jaw drop a bit. “Will you let me do that?”

“Fuck-please. Anything. I’ll let you do anything.” You told him desperately. “Please just touch me again.”

“That’s my girl.” He cooed at you then lined himself up at your entrance. He used his hand to swirl his cock around your hole, teasing the entrance with his swollen tip. He could feel your cunt pulsing and practically begging for him to fill you. With one firm push of his thighs, he brought himself inch by inch inside of you, watching as he slowly disappeared into your soaked cunt. As his length stretched you and he filled you up, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you could feel yourself pulsate around him. An intense pleasure you had never felt before coming over you as he nestled his entire length deep inside of your pussy.

“Oh my-fuck.” You shuttered, grabbing onto his biceps as he bottomed out. Now unmoving as he enjoys the feeling of you pulsing around him. You felt so full. Stretched out by his cock that you swore you could cum at any moment. You looked up at him with pleading eyes. Begging. Finally, showing some mercy, Jungkook brought his thumb down to your clit and began to rub circles into the swollen bundle. You cursed, crying out in pleasure at the contact but also in frustration as he still refused to move inside of you.

“What’s wrong baby? Isn’t this what you wanted?” He smirked, his thumb rubbing down hard on your bud while he still refused to move.

“Just fuck me already.” You whined which made him chuckle.

“Demanding now, aren’t we?” He said curiously. “Why don’t I make you cum like this, hmm? With my cock buried deep inside of you?”

“Please no! I need you to fuck me.” You panted in desperation even though you knew you weren’t far away from a climax.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll still fuck you. I just want to feel you cum while my cock is buried deep inside.” He told you, his voice even more sultry than before. His thumb changed pace from an aggressive pressure to quick back and forth strokes that had your back lifting off the bed and your lips parted in broken gasps. The fullness from his girth only felt even more prominent as you continued to tighten around him as your next climax approached you with each rub of his finger.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight baby. Are you close?” He asked you in a strangled moan as he felt your walls begin to pulsate around him.

“Yes! Fuck- please make me cum, please make me cum, please make me cum-“ you begged him, chanting the plea over and over mindlessly as your legs trembled.

“Cum for me. Cum around my cock.”

With one more swipe from his thumb across your clit your orgasm hit you hard, your body convulsing almost violently as your cunt clamped down around him. He cursed and grabbed onto your thighs hard enough to leave bruises as he fought to not cum just from the feeling of your pussy pulsing around him. Milking him as he was buried inside. He stayed there, buried deep, until you finally came down from your high absolutely breathless and dizzy.

Jungkook pulled out of you slowly and groaned as he saw the pornographic view of his cock dripping in the remnants of your cum. He reached down and gripped his length in his hand, using the slick of your orgasm to jerk himself off in front of you. You watched hazily as you still tried to recover from your climax, your mind still a blur. However, the breathtaking sight in front of you was quickly bringing you back to your senses. Especially due to the heartbreakingly beautiful moans that slipped through his pouted lips.

“What are you staring at?” He asked you, a cocky smile on his face.

“You.” You smile back at him, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. Jungkook giggled a bit, leaning down to press a long kiss on your soft lips. Both of you felt giddy and warm. In the midst of this hot and heavy exchange, both of you still felt butterflies in these small moments.

“Enough staring. Get on all fours for me.” He told you after he pulled away. He spanked you on the ass playfully as you shifted into position, switching back into his dominant role effortlessly. He gripped your hip with one of his hands and pulled you back to him, using his other to line himself up with you one last time. He pressed his tip through your folds, collecting your wetness for lubrication, before slowly easing himself into you. Both of you let out pathetic moans as you were stretched, your pussy swallowing him easily as if it remembered every inch and curve perfectly. Finally, different from before, he started to move. Using both of his hands to hold your hips as he pushed inside and out of you at a steady pace.

“Fuuuck. You’re still so fucking tight.” He groaned, his head rolling back for a moment before his eyes focused in again on where your bodies connect. He was completely mesmerized by how your cunt gripped his girth, holding onto every inch. You were a mess of whimpers, mentally in stitches each time hips rolled into you. His cock was perfect and made for you, curving in just the right position that had his tip rubbing against your g-spot perfectly with every thrust.

“Kook..” you whimpered into the sheets, your fists bunching up into them. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

“Need it harder, hmm?” He said, his tone of voice almost mocking but his pace did not change. “Then beg for it.”

“Please. Please fuck me harder.” You cried out desperately, trying to twist your body to look back at him with pleading eyes. “I need it.”

You felt Jungkook’s hand on the back of your kneck, pressing you down into the bed. His other hand gripped one of your arms, pinning it behind you and holding you in place. His sudden aggressiveness made you whimper and also embarrassingly excited.

“Remember baby, you asked for this.” He chuckled darkly in your ear. Then, without any mercy behind his movements, he started to fuck into you at an unforgiving pace that has you screaming into the duvet.

“Is this what you wanted? My girl likes it rough?” He grunted through his teeth, his balls slapping against your swollen clit at a steady rhythm as he pounded your cunt. The extra stimulation had you seeing stars as you were already overstimulated from your two prior orgasms.

“Y-yes! Yes Kook! Just like that!” You didn’t even recognize the voice that came out of you, so fucked out and needy for your best friend. His cock filling you deep each time he slid out and pushed back in, hitting you in just the right spots. His thrusts were merciless and unwavering. Beads of sweat started to form against his pulled-together brows, his bottom lip bit by his teeth as he concentrated on his thrusts.

You felt your orgasm coming quickly and Jungkook knew he would cum soon too from how tight you were getting around him, milking him as he fucked you. He didn’t want this moment to end, this perfect moment of passion, but it was inevitable and he was going to make it count. Laying his body on top of yours, pinning you down, he kept his hand around your throat but let go of your arm he had pinned behind your back. He had no need for it as he used his own body to hold you down, his hand now snaking under you to find your used and sensitive clit. The speed of his thrusts slowed slightly to focus on the spot that made you whimper the most.

“I’m close baby.” He groaned, borderline whimpered in your ear. His strangled voice made your eyes roll back.

“Fuck- me too Kook.” You managed you say as the overwhelming pleasure threatened to spill over into a final orgasm, his fingers and cock bringing you there at light speed.

“Cum on my cock baby. Cum with me.” He told you, his thrusts becoming more needy and frequent as he got closer to his release. You came around him, your walls closing down around his thick length hard while you screamed into the sheets to middle the sound. He continued to fuck you as you orgasmed, holding your hips as you tried to scoot away from the intensity, until a second wave hit. This time, making him cum and empty out inside of you while your walls convulsed around him.

“Fuck! Oh fuck, baby.” He whimpered, his hips trembling as he emptied every last drop into you until he collapsed into a hot heap on top of you, panting and gasping for air. It took a moment for him to collect himself but when he did, he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder and cheek before slowly pulling himself out of you. You cringed a bit at the sensation which he noticed immediately.

“Hold on, let me get you a towel.” Jungkook said softly and walked over to your bathroom to grab a towel from your cupboard. He returned quickly and gently wiped you clean, careful not to be too rough where you were the most sensitive. Once done, he tossed it in your hamper and helped you sit upright on the bed.

“Do you need water?” He asked you, almost coming off a bit nervous.

“Yes but I can get-“ before you could even finish your sentence he was rushing over to the kitchen to grab you a glass, stealing a sip or two before bringing it back over to you. “Um, thank you.”

“Um, do you have pajamas you want to wear?” He looked around the room awkwardly until his eyes focused on your closet. He was debating on opening it and rummaging around for something, anything, comfortable for you to wear.

“Probably but I think I should probably pee and maybe shower first since we just-“

“Right, right. Sorry. Yeah, that’s like super important.” He stuttered, biting his lip and looking down at the floor awkwardly.

“Jungkook, what is up with you right now?” You giggled at your suddenly nervous best friend who just ironically ruined you just moments ago.

“What do you mean? Nothings up with me.”

“You’re nervous.” You smiled which made him smile back, scratching the back of his head to try and act nonchalant.

“I’m just.. I’m not used to the “after.” Usually I hook up with somebody it’s a quick ‘that was fun. See you next time.’ And then there is no next time.” He admits sheepishly, looking down at the floor then back up at you. There’s a tinge of jealousy in your chest from him bringing up his past but you brush it off.

“And what exactly was this then?” You ask him, still a bit unclear but not regretting it either.

“What do you want it to be?”

“I asked you first. What was this to you?” You pushed him. “I need you to be the one to tell me this time.”

“Well fuck-“ his heart started to beat quickly but he took a deep breath and pushed through his nerves. “I want you. To be with you.”

“You have feelings for me? This wasn’t just.. this wasn’t just a drunken hookup?” You suddenly felt like every nerve-ending in your body was on fire again.

“I already told you I wasn’t drunk.” He chuckled. “I.. I wasn’t drunk the first time either. During the spin the bottle game.”

His confession had you confused, replaying back everything in your head. Wondering if you should feel angry, hurt, but you just settled on more confusion. None of it made sense.

“Kook, I don’t understand. What do you mean you weren’t drunk? Why else would you have followed me after we kissed during the game? You even said-“

“Let me explain.” He said, holding up his hand to you before you could spiral. “The kiss was unplanned. I didn’t know or plan to kiss you during the game. But it happened. And I felt it. I felt something between us. And I knew it was real. I only had one beer and it was earlier that night. Nothing was influencing the feeling. And after you ran out of the room I just.. I just went after you. Without thinking.”

He paused for a moment, reliving the memory, before continuing.

“And then when we started to hook up my brain just turned off and I was just in the moment. I didn’t care about anything other than how I felt. How your body felt, how you sounded.. fuck.. and then when that guy interrupted us it just snapped me back into reality and I realized what was going on.” Jungkook shook his head. “I was about to hook up with somebody I cared so deeply about. Somebody I care about more than anybody in this world without really knowing how it would affect us. And I just couldn’t let that happen. So, I tried to pretend like it meant nothing to me.”

“To protect our friendship.” You summed it up for him, your voice monotone as the reality of his story hit you.

“Yeah. And it did the opposite. I made everything fucking worse. I pushed you away and had to watch as you hung out with that piece of shit- fuck.” He stopped himself, shaking his head and removing the thought. “Let’s not bring him up. But, it was the worst mistake I’ve made. And it took me a long time to realize that I can’t hide how I feel anymore. Even if you maybe don’t feel the same or can’t forgive me after hearing the truth.”

Jungkook sat back down beside you, taking your hand into his and looked at you earnestly. You were still silent, not able to find the words yet.

“I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you so much and pushed you away. I’m your best friend but I also want to be more than that.. I love you.”

You stared at him wide-eyed for what felt like forever, your heart fluttering like a hummingbird while you replayed the last 3 words he had just said to you in your head over and over. He watched your expression and slowly got more and more nervous but tried his best to give you time to respond until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please say something.” He mumbled, eyes searching your face for some hint of emotion. To your surprise and his, instead of words, tears started to stream down your face with a light sob breaking from your chest. You collapsed into him, your wet cheeks soaking his collar bones, and he encircled you in his muscular arms.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” He started to panic. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Jungkook, shut up.” You chuckled through your tears. “Don’t you get it? I fucking love you too.”

“Oh? Oh.” He sighed in relief, hugging you even tighter to him. “Then why are you crying?”

“Because I’m happy, idiot.”

“Hey, don’t call your boyfriend an idiot.” He teased you, kissing the top of your head

“Okay, then what do you suggest then?”

“How about ‘Love Of My Life Who Fucks Like A God?” You didn’t need to look at him to know he had a shit-ass grin on his face.

“We’ll work on the pet names.”

—————— The End —————

Thank you to the like 5 people who actually like this story and asked me to finish it!! Yall are the reason why it got completed lol. Thank you for the patience! I really hope you enjoyed it ❤️ it was very fun to write

[koosette]

I just saw a long post someone made about “looking out for AI/ChatGPT lines” in fics, complete with examples pulled from BTS authors. And all I could think was — people really have this much time on their hands?

Here's the thing. Where do you think AI is learning all those words from? Aliens? A secret dictionary no human has ever touched? No. It's learning from us. From decades of literature, fanfiction, forum posts, and published novels. So when a writer uses an em dash or a rhythmic sentence structure or a particular turn of phrase, that's not a sign of a robot — that's a sign of someone who reads. Someone who has absorbed language the way humans have always done.

Also, please stop running fics through AI detectors. Those tools are notoriously unreliable. You could feed them Jane Austen, Virginia Woolf, or a angsty drabble from 2013 and they'd confidently tell you it's 98% AI generated. So what now? Did Austen time-travel to use ChatGPT? Did Woolf make a deal with a language model? It's absurd.

The truth is, accusing real writers of being AI doesn't protect anyone from actual AI content. It just makes genuine creators anxious, self-conscious, and afraid to write with any kind of voice. And that's a real loss.

If you don't like a fic, just scroll. You don't have to build a case against it. Let people write. Let people have styles. Let people enjoy things without being treated like suspects in a crime they didn't commit.

[solemnreads]

random urge to read “peter parker’s field trip to stark industries” trope 🙂‍↕️

[jeonette]

what do you mean? — 정국

in which you’re in a “situation ship” with a guy that pushes you away with his words but pulls you back in with his touch. your “relationship” is practically a cycle of blurry, misunderstood late night calls and unread texts that always ends with him pounding on your front door. he's never clear with what the both of you are, and he’s never transparent with the way he feels. so, the only thing that's left to wonder... is what the fuck does he actually mean?

warnings : jungkook is a manipulative bitch. ( slightly though ) vulgar language. oc has like zero self respect. ( STAND UPP ladies ) unprotected sex. nipple play. breeding kink. bigdick!jk. he’s way too big for her and he makes sure she knows. he cums in her. he uses another girl to make oc jealous. ( kinda?? )

a/n: hi... okay so while writing this I may have gotten carried away with the whole concept and changed A LOT of stuff, so some of the description may be different from the one from my teaser. ANYWAYS IMPORTANT : do play the two songs requested when mentioned because those songs curate the whole vibe and will a 100 percent make you're reading experience more enjoyable and you WILL feel your heart ache, ( or at least I hope ), this was originally not supposed to be mainly focused on plot, but your girl got too carried away and well... here we are! I so so hope you enjoy!! thank you for being so patient and waiting for me. happy reading! <33

jungkook: come over

here we go.

you roll onto your side, thumb hovering over the glass. your chest feels tight, that familiar ache of wanting to give in and wanting to scream at him at the same time.

you: no.

the bubbles appear instantly. he’s hovering. he’s waiting.

jungkook: why are u being so difficult?? just come over

you sit up, the sheets pooling around your waist. you think about the instagram story you saw three nights ago.

the loud music you could practically fucking hear through the screen, the way some girl's arm was brushed against his shoulder while he laughed at something his friend said.

he looked like he didn't have a care in the world while your "where are you?" texts went unread for hours.

you: how am i being difficult when you barely could explain what happened a few nights ago??

jungkook: for fucks sake. i told you nothing happened, and i was going to come over later that night. shit just got carried away.

you: yeah but you didn’t. so until you tell me the truth, i ain’t coming over for shit. goodbye.

you toss the phone face down. you know what comes next. he’ll call. he’ll say he got carried away, again. he’ll say his friends made him stay, and then beg for me to forgive him.

it’s the same cycle. he pushes you away with his silence, leaves you wondering where you stand, and then the second you start to build a wall, he tries to kick it down.

he wants you close enough to touch, close enough to have, but never close enough to actually hold onto.

your phone buzzes again. then again.

you pick it up. it isn't a text this time. it's a picture.

it’s a blurry picture of his calvin klein sweatpants that you bought for him.

his length clearly hard, his hand just barely placed right above it.

then a voice note follows.

you press play, and his voice is low, scratchy with sleep or maybe something else.

"don't be like that," he mutters, the sound of a lighter flicking in the background. "i'm literally begging. just let me come over. please."

well, fuck.

the "please" is what actually kills you.

it’s the only time he sounds like he belongs to you, and you hate how easily it works.

he acts like he doesn't care if you stay or go, but the moment you actually head for the door, he’s blocking the damn exit.

you look at your front door, then back at the phone. what are you even fucking doing?

you: I’m upset, jungkook. can’t you tell?

jungkook: I know. so let me make it up to you, baby. I’m coming to yours rn. leave the lock open.

you : fine.

he doesn't ask. he never asks. he just decides. that’s the problem.

and of course. of course, you're already reaching for the remote to buzz him in.

the sound of his heavy boots echoing in the quiet hallway makes your stomach flip.

knock. knock. knock.

"open up, baby.” he mumbles, his voice vibrating through the door. "know you’re there."

you pull the door open just a crack, and he doesn't even wait. he pushes his way in.

he kicks the door shut with his heel and immediately crowds you into the wall, his large hands coming up to cup your face before you can even get a word out.

"hey," he whispers, his nose brushing against yours. his eyes are dark, searching yours with a look that’s so soft it feels like a lie.

"jungkook, stop," you say, your voice coming out way weaker than you wanted.

you put your hands on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart through his hoodie. "we need to talk. you didn't even explain about the other night and i'm not just gonna—"

"shhh," he breathes, cutting you off with a lingering kiss on your temple. "don't do that. not right now, hm?”

he starts kissing the side of your face, his lips grazing your jawline, moving slow and deliberate.

every time you try to turn your head away, he just follows, his thumbs rubbing small circles into your cheeks. it’s so frustratingly gentle.

it’s the jungkook that makes you forget all the red flags.

"i'm still upset," you whisper, even as your eyes flutter shut. "you can't just come here and act like everything is fine. i need communication, jungkook. i need you to actually tell me what happened."

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his thumb catching your bottom lip and tugging it down. "i know, i know baby. i’ll tell you everything you want to know, okay? just... not now."

he leans down, finally capturing your lips in a kiss that tastes like a promise he probably won't keep.

it’s deep and slow, his tongue slicking against yours until your knees feel like they’re going to give out. your hands, which were supposed to be pushing him away, are now fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

"i know you're mad," he murmurs against your mouth, his hands sliding down your back to hook under your thighs, lifting you up so you have to wrap your legs around his waist.

"why don't you take this off for me? let me take care of you. make you feel good.”

you let out a shaky breath, your resolve crumbling into a million pieces. he carries you to the bedroom, the room only lit by the dim light of the streetlamps outside.

he lays you down like you’re something precious, hovering over you while he watches you struggle with the hem of your shirt.

"that's it," he praises, his voice dropping an octave as he watches the fabric fall away. "so pretty for me. you have no idea how much i thought about this while i was out."

he doesn't rush. he spends forever just worshiping your skin, his mouth exploring every inch of your neck and collarbone. he’s a talker, just like always.

"you like that, don't you? can feel your heart racing," he whispers, his hands moving down to unbutton your jeans. "tell me you missed me. tell me you wanted me here."

you just groan, your head hitting the pillow as he works his way down. he's so focused, so intent on making you feel every single thing.

when he finally moves between your legs, his hands are firm but careful, spreading you open.

"look at me," he commands softly. you open your eyes, seeing him look up at you from between your knees. "gonna make you forget why you were even shouting at me earlier, hm? gonna make you feel good. that’s what you deserve, yeah?”

and he does. his tongue is precise, findng exactly what you need, his fingers working in perfect sync.

he’s talking the whole time, multiple praises and dirty whispers that make your toes curl.

"yeah, just like that— fuck, you’re so wet for me, baby. keep making those sounds, i love hearing you moan f’ me.”

by the time he finally moves back up, you’re a mess.

you're calling his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he sinks into you.

it’s not fast or rough, not like the usual.

this time it’s slow, and incredibly intimate.

but it’s on purpose.

he keeps his eyes locked on yours, murmuring about how good you feel, how much he missed the way you fit together.

fucking asshole.

you knew this was his way of saying “sorry”, of trying to avoid the questions you’d bombard him with.

and for a moment, everything is perfect.

but then, the moment he releases in you, the feeling passes.

the room goes quiet except for your heavy breathing as you both collapse onto the tangled sheets.

you’re waiting for him to pull you into his chest, to kiss your forehead and stay in this bubble for just a little longer.

instead, you feel the bed shift.

jungkook reaches over to the nightstand and grabs his phone. the bright screen lights up his face, casting a glow over his features. he’s scrolling, his thumb moving fast, and a small, amused smirk plays on his lips.

the silence in the room suddenly feels heavy again.

you hated this part.

you hated that he’d talk like how he did just to get into your pants, and then he’d completely act as if you didn’t exist right after.

it had you overthinking most of the time, which led to arguments, and arguments led to a prolonged lack of communication. which would then be fixed by him knocking at your door again, and fucking you, again.

and the cycle repeats.

you try to talk, hoping that something would change this time.

"that felt ... felt really good, kook," you say softly, trying to catch his eye. "missed you.."

"mhm," he hums, not looking up. his eyes are glued to his screen. “me too.”

"maybe we could, i don't know, cuddle and watch a movie?" you suggest, reaching out to trace the tattoos on his arm. "or we could just stay like this for a bit."

"yeah, down for that," he says, but his tone is totally flat. he’s still typing something out, his focus a million miles away from the bed you’re currently sharing.

you watch him, the ache in your chest returning.

he’s right here, his skin still warm against yours, but he’s already gone.

he’s back to being this version of himself, the one who treats you like an option once his needs are met.

you ponder what you are to him. and it doesn’t help with the already lingering questions and thoughts in your head.

you shift closer, resting your head on his shoulder, trying to force the intimacy back into the room.

he doesn't pull away, but he doesn't drop the phone either. he just shifts his arm slightly so he can keep scrolling.

"who are you talking to?" you ask, trying to sound casual, even though your heart is sinking.

"just the guys," he mutters, finally locking the phone and tossing it face down.

he sighs, a long, tired sound, and finally rolls over to face you. he looks at you for a long beat, his expression unreadable.

"c’mere."

he pulls you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin. it’s exactly what you asked for, but it feels different now.

"we're good, right?" he asks, his voice muffled by your hair.

you want to say no. you want to bring up the girls, the ignorant fucking texts, and the fact that he was supposed to be over a few days ago, but bailed and has yet to give you an explanation.

but you’re tired, and his arms are warm, and the scent of him is already drugging your brain again.

"yeah," you lie, closing your eyes. "we're good."

the next morning, you expected him to be gone.

you expected to wake up with a note on your bedroom table, but you see him awake, and staring at the ceiling

you can’t help but smile, thinking that maybe things were changing.

but oh were you fucking wrong.

"hey, morning.” you mumble.

“didn’t think you’d still be here.” you whisper, and his head turns towards your direction.

“just don’t have anywhere to be today.” he replies.

you simply nod, trying to not think much of it.

“m’ gonna shower," you mumble, your voice thick with sleep.

"i'll join you," he says. he doesn't look at you, but he stands up and follows you into the bathroom.

you feel a tiny spark of relief in your chest, a little smile tugs at your lips. maybe last night actually meant something. maybe he's actually staying present this time.

right?

the shower is steaming up fast. you step under the water, waiting for him to pull you close, to continue that sweetness from a few hours ago.

but he just stands there.

the silence is deafening, punctuated only by the aggressive spray of the water against the tiles.

he’s washing himself without even looking at you, his eyes occasionally looking up at the bottle of soap.

he looks like he’s a million miles away, like he’s already mentally left the apartment.

fuck, you hated this.

"kook?" you say.

"you okay? you’re like... unusually quiet."

"i'm fine," he mutters, not looking up. "could you pass me the soap."

you hand it to him, your fingers brushing his, but he doesn't grab your hand or even acknowledge the touch. he’s dry and he’s cold.

the warmth from last night has been completely drained out of him.

you try one more time, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "did you sleep okay? i was thinking maybe we could go grab some—“

he sighs, cutting you off.

he fucking sighs.

"don't really feel like talking right now," he snaps, rinsing the soap off his chest. "just wanna get clean."

he finishes before you, stepping out of the glass stall without a second glance.

you stay there for a few more minutes, the hot water turning cold, feeling that familiar knot of frustration twisting in your gut.

your mind is racing with thoughts, you quickly do what you need to do, and within minutes you’re out.

and you don't even bother with a towel.

you throw on a tiny tank top and your underwear, your hair dripping wet and sticking to your back, and you march out into the living room.

he’s sitting on the edge of the couch, scrolling through his phone, fully dressed in his jeans and hoodie like he’s already halfway out the door.

"jungkook. did i do something?" you start, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"was it something i said? or did i suddenly become invisible the second you fucked me last night?"

jungkook doesn't even look up from the screen. "no. what are you even talking about?"

"then why the fuck are you acting like this?" you raise your voice, stepping into his line of sight.

"last night you were literally begging to come over. you were so sweet, so gentle, acting like you actually gave a shit about me. and now? you’re acting like i’m some stranger you just happened to wake up next to!"

he finally looks up, and his expression is so blank it makes you want to scream. "i don't know why you’re yelling so early in the morning. i’m literally just sitting here."

"no!— you’re not 'just sitting here,' jungkook! you do this every single time!" you’re pacing now, your wet hair spraying droplets on the floor.

“whenever you mess up, you turn into this perfect version of yourself. the perfect version for me. you use the sweetness to get back in my fucking bed, and the second you get what you want, you shut down, you shut me out! you treat me like a fucking convenience."

he scoffs.

"you’re reaching," he says, his ego flaring up as he stands to face you. he looks down at you, towering over you with a nonchalant shrug that drives you fucking insane.

"i came over because i wanted to see you. i made it up to you. what more do you want?"

"i want you to actually be here! and i want to know what we actually are for fucks sake." you shout, poking a finger into his chest.

"i want to know who the real you is. is it the guy who calls me baby and kisses my forehead, or is it this cold, selfish jerk who can't even look at me over breakfast?"

jungkook scoffs, shaking his head like you’re the one being crazy. "what do you mean?" he asks, his voice sounding genuinely confused, which only makes it worse.

holy shit you’re about to break.

"i'm right here. i'm staying, aren't i? you’re the one creating a problem out of fucking nothing."

"nothing? you think this is nothing?" you’re practically vibrating with rage, the tears starting to prick at your eyes but you refuse to let them fall.

“you lie to me all the time, you bail on me for like— the 60th time, and then you come here and act like you own me. you use me to feel better about yourself and then you check out. i’m so fucking tired of guessing what you want from me."

"you know what, I’m not doing this with you," he says, his jaw tightening.

he’s already reaching for his wallet and keys on the coffee table.

"you’re being way too much right now. you’re always searching for some deep meaning behind everything. this isn’t fucking third grade literature y/n! sometimes a shower is just a shower."

you cannot believe those words just flew out of his mouth.

"fuck you! leave then!" you scream, your voice cracking.

"because i'm done trying to translate your bullshit signals. you’re a coward, jungkook. you can’t even handle one real conversation without running away."

he stares at you for a long beat, his eyes cold and hard. he looks at your messy hair, your shaking hands, and he just sighs like you’re an inconvenience.

wow.

"fine. have it your fucking way," he says, shoving his phone into his pocket. "you’re confusing as shit, you know that? one second you’re pulling me closer and the next you’re screaming at me. i can't keep up with this. i'll see myself out."

he doesn't even look back. he grabs his jacket, throws it over his shoulder, and walks out.

the door slams.

the sound of the door hitting the frame echoes through the empty apartment, final and sharp.

the silence that follows is deafening. you stand there in the middle of the room, the dampness of your hair making you shiver. the adrenaline drains out of you all at once, leaving you empty and hollow.

you collapse onto the couch, the same spot where he was just sitting, and finally, the first sob breaks through.

you hate him.

you hate how he makes you feel like the crazy one just for wanting the truth.

you hate that even now, with your heart breaking, you're already wondering how long it'll take before he sends the next "can I come over? let me make it up to you." text.

and the worst part is you already know what your fucking answer will be.

the silence in the apartment is literal torture.

it’s been seven days. seven days of you staring at your phone, checking his "last seen," and then getting mad at yourself for even caring

your room is a fucking mess. clothes on the floor, empty take out containers on the desk, and the curtains are drawn shut like the time you mourned the death of that one dinosaur that was left behind in jurassic park for a week.

you’re laying facedown on your bed, scrolling through your old photos, when you hear aggressive banging on your apartment door.

"y/n! open the door! i have a safety pin and a clip and i'm not afraid to use them!" yunjin yells through the wood.

you groan, dragging yourself up. you look in the hallway mirror and wince.

your skin is pale, your hair is practically a bird's nest, and you’ve got dark circles under your eyes.

you open the door just as she’s about to kick it.

"finally," she snaps, pushing past you. she stops in the middle of the living room and gag.

"oh my god. girl. it smells like literal sadness in here. when was the last time you opened a window?….. or showered?"

"i don't know. leave me alone, yunjin," you mumble, walking back to the couch and burying your face in a pillow.

she doesn't leave. she starts opening the curtains, letting in the blinding sun.

you hiss, clearly irritated.

but she does not give one fuck. she sits on the edge of the couch and pulls the pillow away from your face.

"okay, talk to me. seriously. what’s up with you? it’s been a week. you’ve been ghosting the group chat and you didn't even post for jimin’s birthday. is it him?"

you feel the lump in your throat getting bigger.

“so it is him, isn’t it?”

"he just... he left, yunjin. like, for real this time. we had this huge fight after he stayed over. he was being so sweet that night, like actually gentle, trying to make up for the shit we fought about a few nights ago.” your voice trails.

“and then the next morning it’s like he flipped a switch. he was cold and dry and when i called him out on it, he just walked out. he slammed the door so hard i thought the frame broke."

yunjin’s expression softens. she reaches out and rubs your arm. "did he say anything after? a text? a call?"

"no. nothing," you whisper, and your voice cracks.

"and that’s what hurts the most. i thought after everything... after the way he was looking at me that night... i thought he’d care enough to at least check if i was okay. but he just went back to his life. he’s probably out right now acting like i don't even fucking exist."

“it hurts, yun. it really…. fucking hurts.” your voice softens, tears threatening to fall as you can feel your heart physically being stabbed.

"oh, my poor baby… you know what he is? he’s a coward," yunjin says firmly.

"he uses that nonchalant act because he’s scared of actually being real with you. he’s acting like he doesn’t care because he’s too scared to have any real feelings."

"i just feel so stupid," you say, a tear finally escaping.

"i just… i ponder what i even am to him, yun.”

“like, am i just someone he calls when he’s bored of his friends? am i just a backup? i hate that i let him back in every single time. i hate that i'm sitting here crying and he's probably totally fine."

yunjin pulls you into a hug, letting you just leak into her shoulder for a minute. she lets you cry it out, not saying anything until you’ve gone quiet.

"oh baby. you’re not stupid," she says, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

"you’re just human. and you deserve to feel the way you do right now….. but you’re also a bad fucking bitch, and you’ve forgotten that because you’ve been rotting in this apartment for a week.” she says firmly.

“you’re not gonna sit here and cry over a guy who can’t even send a text. you're way too hot for this."

she stands up suddenly, clapping her hands. "get up. go to the bathroom. exfoliate. shave. and for gods sake, take a fucking shower. I love you, but you reek.”

"why?" you ask, wiping your eyes, looking up at her.

"because we’re going to the club tonight. jimin and taehyung are already texting me. hara is coming too. we’re gonna go out, get some drinks, and remind you that the world doesn't start and end with jeon mother fuckin’ jungkook."

"yunjin, no," you groan, falling back onto the cushions.

"i look like a literal zombie. my hair is a mess, i have nothing to wear, and i just want to sleep for another ten years.

"fuck no. you’re not sleeping," she says, heading for your closet and tossing clothes around.

“i’ll pick the fit and do your makeup. we are going to get you a vodka soda and you’re going to dance until you forget his name. blackout, if you must. anything to have your mind away from him and his circumcised dick.“

you look at her, seeing that look in her eyes that means she’s serious. you look around your depressing apartment, then back at your reflection in the glass of the tv.

"fine," you mutter. "but if i cry in the middle of the dance floor, it’s your fault."

"I can work with that, we have a deal." she chirps, pointing toward the shower.

"hit the shower. now."

by the time yunjin is done with you, you actually

look… not disgusting. she put you in this tiny, tight black dress and did your makeup so good you barely recognize yourself.

the club is completely packed when you guys get there. the bass is thumping so hard you can feel it in your chest, and the air smells like perfume, sweat, and expensive drinks.

you follow yunjin through the crowd, trying not to trip over everyone, until you see the booth in the corner.

jimin, taehyung, and hara are already there, sitting around a table full of drinks.

"holy shit! look who’s alive!" jimin yells over the music, jumping up to pull you into a massive hug.

"i thought you actually died, you’ve been so quiet on everywhere."

"yeah, well. blame yunjin, she dragged me out," you laugh, sitting down next to him. taehyung hands you a shot of tequila immediately, and you down it, feeling the burn hit your throat.

the club gets a bit drowned out after a couple more drinks.

you lean closer to jimin, since you guys have always been close but haven't really caught up in forever. you start telling him a little bit about what happened last week.

"he’s just so exhausting, chim," you shout over the loud music, holding your drink tight.

"one second he’s literally begging to see me, being all sweet, and the next he acts like i’m a stranger. i don't even know what we are. and he always avoids that exact question or tries to push me away when i bring that topic up."

jimin nods, looking all sympathetic. "he’s always been like that, babe. he doesn't know how to show emotion. he thinks that the only way he’ll get through life is by being this— closed off version of himself. we’ve tried telling him it never ends well. but does the fucker listen? nope."

“you’re doing the best you can, y/n. don’t beat yourself up about this too much, okay?” he finishes, rubbing your shoulder slightly.

“now, what shall offer m’lady? perhaps a highball? or maybe a—“ suddenly, jimin stops talking. his face goes completely blank, and his eyes shift toward the entrance.

"holy fucking shit," jimin mutters, his grip tightening on his glass. "look who just walked in."

you turn around, and your heart literally drops straight into your stomach.

jungkook.

well, shit.

he’s walking in with two of his guy friends. he’s wearing an all black fit, his hair is messy, and he looks entirely too good.

he looks completely fine, like he hasn't lost a single second of sleep over you.

"fuck. holy fucking shit. i— i shouldn't have come here," you whisper-yell, instantly panicking. you grab your clutch, ready to bolt. "yunjin, we have to go— if not, i’m leaving right now."

"are you phsycotic?! stay down! don't be so dramatic!" yunjin hisses, grabbing your arm and pulling you back into the seat.

"are you seriously going to let this jerk ruin your night? what did we talk about on the way over here? live your fucking life y/n. it’s about time you have some self respect! besides, you look way too hot to run away like some coward. just ignore him."

"ignore him? yunjin, he’s right there!" you’re literally hiding behind jimin’s shoulder, trying to peek through his arm like an absolute psycho.

it’s kind of funny how bad you're freaking out, and taehyung is just sitting there laughing at you.

jungkook doesn't notice you guys yet. he moves over to a table across the VIP section. and within minutes, a couple of girls in low cut tops slide right into his booth.

you feel that annoying pang of jealousy in your chest, but you somehow force yourself to keep watching.

the girls are doing the most, leaning in close and trying to talk to him. but jungkook just looks... bored. or just, out of it. you guess.

he’s in his own little bubble, sipping his drink and staring at the floor. he nods when they speak, but he isn't really laughing or entertaining them like that.

his friends are trying to hype him up, forcing him to take shots and enjoy the vibe, but he just looks totally closed off.

"see? babe, he looks miserable," yunjin whispers in your ear, nudging you. "he’s literally ignoring them."

"whatever, that means nothing." you mutter, but you can’t look away. it’s actually kind of funny watching these girls try so hard while he just sits there looking so nonchalant and annoyed.

after another hour of watching him from a distance, the tequila finally kicks in. you stand up, telling yunjin you need another drink.

"i'm going to the bar, need another drink.” you say, as she simply nods.

you walk toward the bar, making sure your hips swing just a little bit more. you can feel eyes on you. you don't look at his table, but you know he’s watching. you can literally feel the back of your neck tingling.

you reach the bar and order a vodka soda.

you’re waiting for the bartender when you hear a familiar voice right next to you.

you turn your head slightly, looking at the big mirror behind the bar.

and there he is.

jungkook is standing three feet away from you, ordering a drink for his friend. he looks over, catches your eye in the reflection, and his expression cracks for a split second.

he looks surprised, then his eyes darken as he takes in your dress.

you don't say a word. you just grab your vodka soda from the bartender, take a sip, and turn around to walk straight back to your booth.

you walk right past him. your shoulder brushes against his chest. it feels like a literal electric shock. you keep your face completely blank and don't stop.

but just as you step away, you hear his voice.

it’s low and rough. you haven’t heard it in awhile.

“nice dress.” he whispers.

fuck. fuck fuck fuck!

you hide your expression well, you don't even give him the satisfaction of looking back. you just keep walking, but inside, your brain is melting.

you get back to the booth and yunjin is basically vibrating in her seat. "oh my god we were watching! he saw you! what did he say? did he say anything?"

"he said he liked the dress," you mutter, trying to act cool but your face is definitely red.

"and? what did you do?" jimin asks, leaning in.

"nothing. i just ignored him and walked away."

jimin laughs, raising his glass. "nice one!”

you glance back over to his table one last time. jungkook is back at his booth, but he’s not even pretending to listen to his friends anymore.

he’s just sitting there, his chin resting on his hand, staring directly at your table with his dark eyes.

he looks completely wrecked that you just brushed him off, and for the first time in a week, you finally feel a little alive.

you finally feel the way he’s been feeling all the times when he’d act like this to you. and you’re fucking loving it.

you get back to the table and try your best to just keep yourself busy by engaging back into the conversation, laughing at whatever stupid jokes your friends are making.

you’re trying so hard to be unbothered. you want him to see that you’re perfectly fine, that your life didn't stop just because he decided to go ghost for a week.

but for the next hour, it’s just a straight up fucking mind game with him.

every couple of minutes, your eyes just automatically drift back to his table.

and every single time, he’s already staring. you quickly snap your head away, pretending like you were just looking at the lights or the crowd, and a few minutes later, you catch him doing the exact same thing.

he looks away the second your eyes lock. it’s exhausting. and your chest feel like it’s being squeezed.

( whip out spotify or apple music right the fuck now and put on “every breath you take” by the police!! — and I’d recc you to read it & follow the lyrics but do whatevaa!! x )

you take another drink just to make the knot in your throat go away.

and then, the bass dies down.

the loud club music fades out, and this familiar, soft intro starts playing through the speakers.

“every breath you take... every move you make..”

your entire body just freezes. your cup stops halfway to your mouth and you genuinely feel yourself stop breathing.

oh? oh.

“every bond you break, every step you take. I’ll be watching you.”

the dj comes on the mic, his voice sounding way too cheerful. "alright guys! let’s slow it down a little bit. grab your partner, or someone special to you and bring them out to the dance floor."

you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. a big fucking truck. of all the songs in the world, it had to be this one.

“every single day, and every word you say.”

this was your guy's song. it wasn't even a romantic thing at first— you just remember the exact night you both watched season 2 of the stranger things finale.

you both fell in love with the series and that exact scene of the ball, and from then on, it was just your thing.

“every game you play, every night you stay.”

whenever it came on randomly on shuffle, in a car, or in a store in public. jungkook would grab your waist and spin you around, both of you laughing without a care in the world. it was the only time things felt simple with him.

the only time things didn’t feel complicated, or rushed. time always stopped the moment the two of you moved your bodies against each other to that song. you felt almost… loved?

so yeah, horrible fucking timing.

slowly, you look back over at his booth.

“I’ll be watching you.”

only he isn't looking away this time. he’s staring straight at you, completely ignoring the noise and the people starting to stand up around him.

and his face isn't cocky. there's no smirk, no anger, nothing. his eyes look so heavy, almost... emotional. it’s a face you’ve literally never seen him make before.

you see his jaw tighten, not like he’s pissed off, but like he’s trying to hold something back. his eyebrows descend downwards, looking almost sad. completely wrecked.

your mind goes totally foggy. the crowd is moving, couples are walking past your booth to go to the dance floor, but it feels like the room is in slow motion. you’re just staring at him, trying to figure him out while trying to keep yourself from bawling right there and then.

“oh can’t you see?”

and then, of course, the worst thing possible happens.

one of the girls from earlier reaches down, grabs jungkook’s arm, and pulls him up.

you see his face look startled for a split second, like he was snapped out of a trance.

your mouth drops open a little bit, your stomach twisting into a sickening knot. because instead of shaking her off, instead of sitting back down, jungkook actually follows her.

“you belong to me.”

he lets her lead him right onto the dance floor. but he’s looking at you.

the second you see them start to move together to your song, you completely lose it. you couldn't believe what you were watching.

it felt like a literal slap to the face. the tears just start spilling over, hot and fast, blurring your vision.

“how my poor heart aches.”

you can see him looking over the girl’s shoulder, his dark eyes locked onto you the entire time he’s moving with her, but that just makes it a million times worse. it feels malicious.

“with every step you take, every move you make. and every vow you break.”

it feels like he’s doing it just to hurt you, just to prove he can.

"babe? hey, what’s wrong?" yunjin’s voice cuts through, her hand coming onto your shoulder.

jimin leans in, his face looking all worried. "hey, why are you crying? did he do something?"

you can’t hear shit. their voices sound like they’re underwater, completely drowned out by the lyrics of the song playing in the background.

your black mascara is already running down your cheeks, burning your eyes. you can't sit there for another second watching them.

you just grab your purse off the table, knock your chair back a bit, and rush out of venue.

you’re practically pushing past people, your head down, stumbling in your heels as you run toward the exit.

the music is still echoing in your ears, following you out of the main room, somehow getting louder the further away you go from the club.

you burst through the heavy doors and run into the bathroom located right outside the club entrance.

thankfully, it’s empty. the faint sound of the song is still vibrating through the walls.

you let yourself sink straight down against the back of the bathroom door, your knees pulling up to your chest. you’re sobbing so hard your chest hurts, horribly, the sound of your crying echoing against the walls.

your hand fists into your messy hair, pulling at the roots because you just want the pain in your chest to stop.

"you're such a fucking asshole!," you choke out, your voice breaking into tiny, pathetic sobs. "i h-hate you. i f-fucking hate you."

without even thinking, you unlock your phone with a shaking thumb. your eyes are so blurry from tears you can barely see the screen. you open your contacts and scroll down until you hit his name.

you click on his contact. right at the top is the profile picture you set for him.

a photo booth picture of the two of you from months ago. you’re biting his cheek and he’s laughing, everything looks so happy, and perfect.

your heart completely breaks into pieces looking at it. it feels like that boy doesn't even exist anymore.

with a shaky breath, you scroll all the way to the bottom of his contact page. you don't hesitate this time. you press the red text that says block this caller.

the pop up asks if you're sure. you press block contact.

you slide the phone face down onto the dirty bathroom floor, burying your face in your knees as a fresh wave of sobs hits you. you blocked him. it’s done.

but as you sit there in the quiet stall, listening to the muffled music outside, you just feel completely empty, and as the song fades out, so do you.

you wake up and your head is literally pounding so fucking bad it feels like it’s about to explode.

everything is a total blur.

you try to squint your eyes open against the light, and the first thing you see is yunjin and jimin’s faces right above you, looking down like they’re inspecting a corpse.

they’re whispering, but because your head hurts so bad, it just sounds like something’s stuck in your fucking head.

"i told you she's waking up, stop poking her arm," jimin mutters, swatting yunjin’s hand away.

"i'm not poking her, i'm checking if she's alive! she's been out for like 14 fucking hours," yunjin whispers back, sounding all annoyed.

"well, don't yell! you're gonna give her a headache."

"i’m literally whispering!”

you let out a weak groan, and they both instantly snap their heads down, their expressions softening the second they see your eyes are fully open.

"hey, hey," jimin says, his voice getting super soft as he reaches out to pat your shoulder.

"how are you feeling? you okay?"

"water," you croak out, your throat feeling like actual sandpaper.

yunjin immediately runs to the kitchen and comes back with a glass, lifting your head up slightly so you can sip it.

"what happened?" you mutter, rubbing your eyes. you look around and realize you're back on your own couch, wrapped in a fluffy blanket.

"how did i get here? the last thing i remember is... the bathroom."

yunjin scoffs, sitting on the edge of the couch.

"girl, we called your phone like a thousand times. we were literally panicking thinking you got kidnapped or something. then i remembered we have our locations shared on find my iphone, so i tracked you. it led us straight to the bathroom outside the club."

"we found you literally blacked out on the floor,"

jimin adds, shaking his head. "yunjin was about to call a whole fucking ambulance, but then we realized you were just completely out and asleep from the tequila and the crying. so i just carried you out through the back exit and we brought you home, and stayed the night so you wouldn’t wake up to nobody.”

you try to process everything they're saying, but their voices start to drown out as little snippets of last night start flashing in your head. the music. the song.

your, song.

jungkook looking at you. and then... that girl grabbing his arm and pulling him onto the dance floor to your song.

the memory hits you like a physical punch to the stomach.

"hey," yunjin says, noticing your face change.

"what actually happened last night? why did you run off like that? you can talk to us, babe. you know that right?”

you look at the two of them, and that fuckass of a lump in your throat comes back, twice as big this time.

"it was t-the song," you start, your voice trembling. "that slow song the dj played. it was our song. we used to dance to it all the time.”

you feel the hot tears start spilling over your cheeks again, your chest tightening. "and he was staring at me, yunjin. he looked so sad, like he actually felt something for once. but then this girl... this girl just grabbed his arm and pulled him to the dance floor. and he went. he actually went and danced with her while looking straight at me."

by each word, you get visibly more upset and hurt, the pain from the past week just bubbling over until you can’t hold it back anymore. you start bawling, completely sobbing as you just spew and rant everything you’ve been bottling up.

"fuck! i hate him so much!" you scream, cry, fisting the blanket in your hands.

"how does he— how can he, treat me like I’m fucking nothing. he ignores me for a week, acts like i don't exist, and then the second i try to have a little bit of fun, he has to ruin it. he has to show me that he can just replace me in front of my face. i blocked him. i blocked his number on the bathroom floor because i just can't do this anymore. i’m so tired of feeling like i’m losing my mind over someone who doesn't even care about me.”

“but why, why can’t I make this feeling go away. why… do I still yearn for someone who doesn’t yearn for me?” you question yourself, teary eyes looking up at your friends.

jimin and yunjin just move closer, wrapping their arms around you while you just lose it. they let you scream and cry for a long time, just listening to you let it all out.

"I’m so sorry my love. he’s jjust a piece of shit, babe," yunjin reassures you, wiping a tear from your cheek.

"you did the right thing by blocking his entitled ass. he doesn't deserve to have access to you if he’s gonna play with your feelings like that. you need space to actually breathe without him constantly messing with your head."

"exactly," jimin says softly.

"you gotta stop letting him dictate your mood. he only pulls those stunts because he knows you're watching. the best thing you can do now is just stay strong and not.. unblock him. let him see and feel what it’s like to actually lose you."

after like an hour of just sitting on the couch and talking it out, you’ve finally stopped crying, though your eyes are still completely puffy and your face feels raw.

suddenly, three sharp knocks appear on your front door.

"is that taehyung?" yunjin asks, looking at jimin.

"probably," jimin nods. "he knew we were coming here after the club and he said he might drop by if he got off from work early."

"i'll get it," yunjin says, standing up and walking over to the door.

she unlocks it and swings it open, ready to greet taehyung. but the second she sees who’s standing there, the smile completely vanishes from her face.

it’s not taehyung. it’s jungkook.

the moment yunjin realizes, she slams her weight into the door to close it, but jungkook is faster. he shoves his hand into the gap and forcefully pushes it open, stepping right into your apartment.

he looks a complete mess. his hair is all wild and unbrushed, and his eyes are heavy and droopy, like he hasn't slept all night. he’s just wearing a baggy black hoodie and gray sweatpants.

the second his eyes scan the room and land on you— wrapped in that blanket, with your eyes all red and puffy.

you can see his expression shift. it’s like his heart literally squeezes just looking at you.

your eyes widen, and you feel completely paralyzed. you can’t move a single muscle. you genuinely do not want to see him right now, not after last night.

"get the fuck out, jungkook," yunjin yells, putting both her hands on his chest and trying to push him backward out the door, but it’s completely useless.

he’s way too strong. he doesn't even budge. he’s just standing there, staring directly at you, and you’re staring right back at him, the room going dead silent.

jimin suddenly gets up from the couch and steps right in front of you, blocking jungkook’s view.

that’s when jungkook finally snaps out of his trance, his face twisting into a slightly annoyed expression as he looks at jimin.

"why the fuck are you here?" jimin asks, his voice low as he steps closer to jungkook. "get the fuck out of her apartment. she clearly doesn't want to see you."

jungkook scoffs, his ego flaring up despite how tired he looks. "i didn't come here to talk to you, jimin. move out of my fuckin’ way."

"i’m not moving shit," jimin says, matching his tone, his jaw tight. "you think you can just show up here after the shit you pulled last night? you wrecked her, and we had to be there for her because your ass couldn’t man up and comfort her for shit. so, walk away before i make you."

jungkook scoffs.

"you won't do shit," jungkook talks back, stepping closer until they’re practically chest to chest. "this is between me and her. you guys need to leave."

"she blocked your number for a reason. you’re a fuckin’ asshole and you need to take the fucking hint." jimin shouts, getting right in his face.

"you’re nothing but a selfish loser who uses her when you’re bored. you don't care about anyone but yourself."

that completely snaps jungkook’s patience. before anyone can even react, jungkook’s arm flies out and he punches jimin straight across the jaw.

"jimin!" yunjin screams.

jimin stumbles back a step, but he doesn't back down. his face goes completely dark.

he gets right back up and launches himself at jungkook, punching him square in the face, sending him stumbling back against your dining table.

the sudden violence completely breaks you out of your shock. what the fuck was happening?

you rush off the couch, dropping the blanket, and run toward them.

"can you two fucking stop!— stop it right now!" you’re yelling, completely upset as you and yunjin try to break them apart.

yunjin grabs jimin around his waist, pulling him back with all her strength, while you jump right between them, throwing your hands onto jungkook’s chest and shoving him backward toward the door.

"jungkook! stop— fuck! let go please!— fucking let go of him!" you scream.

when you finally manage to pull them apart, you keep your hands pressed against his chest, pushing him away.

you’re looking at him, so close to him for the first time after this entire horrible week. your breathing is heavy, and you find yourself whispering, "stop... please just stop."

jungkook finally looks down at you. he doesn't even acknowledge the fact that he just got into a literal fistfight, or that there's blood starting to smear across his face. his dark eyes are just searching yours, looking completely desperate.

"i need to talk to you," he whispers, his voice rough and low.

"are you fucking crazy?" you whisper-yell, your eyes burning with fresh tears. "you come to my house, force your way in, and fucking fight my best friend after everything that happened this week? after what you did last night?"

"i don't care," he says, his voice cracking slightly. "i don't care about any of that. i just need to talk to you. please."

just as he says that, a dark drop of blood drips from the corner of his swollen lip, sliding down his chin.

your heart completely winces. no matter how much you hate him, no matter how much he hurt you, seeing him bleed makes your stomach turn. you feel this horrible wave of guilt, like this is somehow all your fault.

without even thinking, your hand automatically moves up, your thumb gently wiping the blood away from his lip.

the second your skin touches his, jungkook’s hand flies up and grips your wrist abruptly. his grip is tight, firm, but his fingers are trembling against your skin. he holds your hand right there against his face, awaiting your answer.

"please," he whispers again, his voice literally breaking this time.

your eyes burn into his, and you slowly gulp, your mind completely spinning. you look at his messy hair, his droopy eyes, and the desperation practically oozing off of him.

slowly, you pull your wrist out of his grip. you turn around and walk over to jimin, who is leaning against the kitchen counter while yunjin checks his jaw.

"are you okay?" you ask softly, throwing your arms around jimin’s neck and hugging him tightly. "i'm so sorry, jimin. i'm so sorry— this is all my fault."

"hey, stop, it's fine," jimin mutters, hugging you back just as tight and patting your back. "it's not your fault. the guy’s a fuckin’ psycho.”

he pulls back and looks at you, then glances over your shoulder at jungkook, who is just standing by the door watching you hug him with a totally miserable expression.

jimin sighs, smoothing down your messy hair.

"look, me and yunjin are just gonna go for a drive around the neighborhood. we’ll give you guys some space to talk this out."

he raises his voice, speaking way louder so jungkook can hear every single word. "call us if anything happens. immediately. i don't care what time it is, you call and we’ll be back here in two minutes, alright?”

yunjin steps up and gives you a tight squeeze, whispering in your ear, "don't let him bullshit his way out of this, okay? stay strong."

you nod weakly.

they walk toward the door, and as jimin heads out, he purposefully slams his shoulder into jungkook’s, a hard, petty bump.

but jungkook doesn't even flinch. he doesn't even care at this point. his eyes are completely glued to you, waiting for the door to click shut so he can finally have you alone.

the door clicks shut, and the sudden quiet in the apartment is almost too heavy to breathe in.

you just stand there for a second, your hands shaking as you cross your arms over your chest.

a few fresh tears slip out of your eyes, hot and quiet, running down your puffy cheeks.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady your voice, and turn around to face him.

"talk." you say, simply.

jungkook takes a step closer to you, his eyes drooping and looking completely broken. he looks down at you, his hands twitching like he wants to reach out but he’s too scared to touch you.

"i'm so, so fucking sorry," he starts, his voice rough and cracking. "i don't even know what came over me last night. i don't know why the fuck i chose to follow that girl and dance with her. but i swear to god, i was only thinking about you. the whole time, i was just looking at you. i didn't even realize what i was doing until you stormed out of there, and then it hit me. i immediately pushed her away and ran out to chase after you, but you were just gone. i didn't know where you went, i couldn't find you anywhere."

he rubs a hand over his face, leaving a smear of jimin’s blood on his skin, but he doesn't even care.

not right now.

"i know we're not— exclusive. and we’ve never talked about it," he murmurs, his eyes burning into yours.

“but i know there's something here between us. i feel it, every single time. every time you hold me, touch me. but i'm scared. i'm so fucking scared because i've never felt like this before."

you just stare at him, the tears running down your face heavily.

"when i was young, in my first ever relationship... that girl broke me," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"i loved her so much, and she hurt me so fuckin’ badly. and even though it's been like fifteen years since that happened, and i'm completely moved on from her, a part of me still feels like the only way i can live my life without feeling that type of pain again is by just... not letting myself feel anything. especially love. i thought if i didn't care, i couldn't get hurt."

your heart aches hearing him say it, and you do sympathize with him, you really do. but the anger and the pain from the past few months is still too raw. too… painful.

"that still doesn't give you a reason to act the way you did," you say, your voice trembling as you look up at him.

"just because some girl broke your heart when you were younger, that doesn't mean you get to do the exact same thing to me. because whatever you felt back then? that’s exactly how i’m feeling right now. that’s how i’ve been feeling for months, kook. and i’m s-so tired. my chest physically hurts whenever i look at you. my heart literally squeezes whenever we have fucking sex, and then you just act like it means absolutely nothing the second it’s over."

"no— I, baby. y-you don't get it," he cuts you off, shaking his head and stepping even closer until he’s right in your space.

"i feel so amazing when i'm with you. I feel so good. but the only reason why i act like that afterwards is because i just feel like you wouldn't want me close to you. feel like if i do get too close, you’ll find me too fucking clingy or annoying or whatever, and you’ll just push me away. and i can't s-stand the thought of you pushing me away. i c-can’t stand being away from you."

you let out a bitter laugh. "you can't stand being away from me? then what about the entire week that you fucking ghosted me after we fought?"

"i didn't know what to do!" jungkook yells softly, his voice full of frustration and desperation.

"i felt so fucking s-shit, b-baby. felt like a fucking jerk because i knew it was entirely my fault, but i just... i couldn't face you after that. i know we fight a lot, there’s been so many times where we’ve messed up. b-but i couldn't face you after this specific fight. i don't even know why, but i think it’s because everything just came rushing to my head at once. whatever i was doing, how bad i was treating you... it just all hit me and i felt like i couldn't face you."

"i don't even know what to believe anymore," you sob, shaking your head as you look away from him. "every single time i ask you what we are, or even try to bring up the topic, you just push me away."

"i know, i know. fuck— I know baby. and I’m so sorry.” he rambles, his hands finally coming up to grab yours. his palms are warm and shaking.

"but it was never fully intentional, i always just had second thoughts about everything, i was just overthinking, but i knew that i wanted you. only you. because i love you and i just—"

he stops mid sentence. his breath hitches, and he just stares at you, his eyes slightly wide.

you freeze, your heart stopping in your chest.

"wait... what did you just say?"

( turn spotify the fuck on and play ‘iris’ by the goo goo dolls right now!! )

jungkook shuts his mouth, looking at you for a few seconds.

and then, a tiny, genuine smile touches the corner of his bleeding lip.

"i love you, y/n.” he says, his voice steady and soft this time. "i really fucking do."

he pulls your hands up to his chest, bringing himself so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body.

"and i'm so sorry i didn't get to tell you sooner. i'm so sorry it took me this long to realize it. but i swear, i promise you i will be better for you. i’ll change for you. i’m never gonna make you feel this way ever again, and i will never let another tear come out of your eyes because of me."

that completely breaks you. you’re fucking bawling now, as you lift your weak hands and start lightly hitting his chest.

"you're so f-fucking stupid," you sob, your forehead pressing against his hoodie. "you're so fucking stupid.”

you sigh, looking up at him. “i love you too."

"f-fuck. say that again," he whispers, his hand coming up to gently lift your chin so you have to look at him.

his eyes are bigger now, burning into yours.

and for the first time, in forever of knowing him, his eyes are not full of lust, but full of love.

and then he smashes his lips onto yours.

it’s not like before. it’s not fast or desperate. it’s deep, passionate, and so full of emotion it makes your whole body ache.

you’ve never kissed like this before, ever. your hands grip his neck, pulling him closer as his tongue slides slick against yours, tasting the faint copper of his blood.

his hands roam your body, pulling you flush against his chest as he moves his mouth down to your jaw, whispering against your skin. "you're s-so beautiful... so fucking beautiful. i'm so sorry, baby. for everything. gonna show you how much i love you."

he handles you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, guiding you back toward the bedroom.

when he lays you down on the tangled sheets,he hovers over you, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulls off your clothes slowly.

your clothes are discarded on the floor, leaving nothing between you but the heat of your skin.

his mouth lands on your left nipple, enveloping your bud into his mouth as he sucks on it lightly.

swirling his tongue around your bead as his eyes never leaves yours.

“t-taste so fucking good, so fuckin’ full for me.” he whispers, mouth attaching itself to your other nipple, giving it an equal amount of attention.

“k-kookie! mm— fuck!” your voice cracks, hands gripping his brown locks tightly.

“fuckin’ love your tits, the most beautiful pair in this whole fucking world. so soft. so mine.” he whispers, his mouth trailing kisses down your stomach, stopping above your pubic bone.

he brings himself back up, parting your legs.

his middle finger slides across your already drenched cunt, feeling the pool of wetness.

“you’re so fucking wet, all f’ me?” he whispers, coming closer to press a soft kiss onto your quivering lips.

“h-has— always only been for you.”

“y-yeah?” his voice breaks, looking into your eyes as he pushes two fingers inside of you.

“you’re so fucking tight, needa— needa prep you for my cock or else, I’m gonna nut the moment I’m in you, baby. fuck.”

his fingers move skill fully, curling inwards as he hits the spot that makes you squirm underneath him.

“mm— kook! I’m gonna— fucking. c-cum!!!” you yell, as he quickens his pace, before pulling out.

he hears you whine, and uses it as a chance to press another kiss onto your lips. whispering an “I love you.” in between the kiss.

he pushes himself up to quickly remove his sweatpants, hovering over you immediately to attach his lips onto your neck.

“gonna mark you, angel. make sure everybody knows you’re mine. all— all fuckin’ mine.”

his lips devour your neck like he was a vampire that was incredibly parched, sucking and biting on every single spot of your neck.

by the time he was done, your whole neck, once an empty canvas, was painted with sweat and faded purple.

his face hovers above yours, looking into your eyes as he smiles softly.

“s-so sorry, baby. gonna— gonna fuck you so well, m’kay? make sure you cum s’ fuckin hard and make you feel so good.” he whispers, positioning his dick at the entrance of your cunt.

“k-ookie..” your voice trails out.

“what is it, baby?”

“love y-you, s’ much.” you were barely able to let out, eyes filled with tears, unable to see.

“fuck.”

his lips crashes onto yours, once again. and he finally, finally. pushes inside of you.

“nghh— fuck. angel, you’ve gotta unclench. please, baby. I’m gonna fuckin’ nut if you don’t. please—“ he whines, as he pushes his cock deeper inside of you.

“feels so b-big, koo. I can’t— can’t take it, mmf— wait.” you cry out, he’s never felt this big before. not like this.

you wonder whether if it was the intense amount of emotion that was making the both of you feel this way.

“you can take it, yeah? you were made to take my cock. just mine. only mine. fffuckkkk— can feel your cunt just swallowing me whole. feels, so fucking good, baby.”

"you’re mine," he murmurs, his thumb catching a tear on your cheek.

"tell me you're mine. tell me you’re mine while im fuckin’ you. you feel so good, baby. i love you so much. so much."

and right at the peak of it, when he’s deep inside of you and your breathing is completely shattered, he pauses for a split second, his chest heaving against yours.

"may I be your boyfriend?" he whispers pleasingly, his voice breaking as he pushes deep again. "please. be mine for real. let me treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

"k-kook…yes," you sob, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down into another bruised kiss. "yes, jungkook, yes."

he groans, his pace getting a little faster, more intense but still so incredibly gentle.

you look up at him through your blurry vision, and you see it. small tears are actually falling from his own eyes, landing directly onto your already tear stained cheeks.

he’s crying with you, completely stripped of his armor, letting you see every single raw emotion he’s been hiding for months.

you couldn’t fucking believe it. couldn’t believe this was happening right now.

he keeps repeating it like a mantra against your lips, your neck, your shoulder. "i love you. i love you so much, baby."

“gonna fill you up so good. gonna put a ring on your fuckin’ finger. give you kids. buy you a fucking house. make sure you never have to lift a finger to work ever again. gonna do everything for you. build a whole life with you, you want that? baby?” he lets out, pulling himself slightly higher to slam into you harder.

“nghh— kookie! yes— mm! want— wanna have your kids!”

“yeah? gonna make that happen baby, gonna cum s’ deep inside of you until it sticks. make sure it doesn’t leak out of you.”

his hands held your legs apart as his pounds into you uncontrollably.

“I love you. love you so fuckin’ much. gonna fill you up so good. give you what you deserve. yeah?” he whispers.

“mmhh— please! please..!” you cry out, absolutely losing it the moment his fingers rub circles around your sensitive clit.

when he finally finishes inside of you, he pushes his cock deeper inside of you, refusing to let any of his seed leak out of you.

his forehead resting against your shoulder as he lets his weight settle over you for just a second.

after a few long minutes of just catching your breath, he pulls out slowly, wiping your tears when he hears you wince.

he lays down next to you, but jungkook doesn't reach for his phone this time.

instead, he immediately pulls you close against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you and tucking your head securely under his chin.

he pulls the blanket all the way up over both of your shoulders, holding you so tight like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go.

his fingers are tracing slow, lazy circles on your bare shoulder, his chin resting right on top of your head.

you lay there for a long time, just listening to him breathe.

you… can’t believe this is happening. it feels like a fever dream. you’ve only dreamt of this ever happening to you with him.

"kook?" you whisper, your hand resting flat against his chest.

"yeah, baby?" his voice comes out soft.

"did you mean it? like, everything you said before?"

jungkook stops tracing your shoulder. he shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look down at you.

the dim light from the window hits his face, showing the slight bruise forming on his jaw and the tiny cut on his lip. his eyes are so soft, so entirely full of emotion it makes your chest ache all over again.

"every single fucking word," he whispers, his thumb gently wiping away a dry tear track on your cheek.

"i've never been more sure of anything in my life. i know i fucked up. i know i put you through so much bullshit because i was too much of a coward to face how i felt about you."

you look up at him, your eyes burning a little bit.

"i just... i spent months feeling like i was crazy, jungkook. i thought i was the only one feeling this. it hurt so bad."

"i know. and i hate myself for making you feel that way," he says, his voice cracking a little. he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

"i was just so scared that if i let myself love you, you’d realize i’m a mess and leave me. but watching you walk away last night? seeing you look at me like you completely hated me? that was way worse than any fear i had. i can't lose you, not now. not ever.”

you let out a soft breath, your fingers tangling into the hairs at the back of his neck, pulling him just a little bit closer. "you're not gonna lose me. i'm right here."

jungkook lets out this long, shaky sigh, like a massive weight has finally been lifted off his chest.

a tiny, breathless smile forms on his lips, and he kisses you.

"say you love me again," he murmurs against your mouth, his eyes burning into yours.

"i love you," you whisper.

"i love you." he says, his voice so thick with affection it completely melts you.

you laugh slightly, “why don’t you ever say ‘too’?”

he stares at you slightly, “I don’t love you because you love me. I love you, because I love you. because, you’re you.”

he drops back down onto the pillow, pulling you right back into his chest and wrapping his arms around you, burying his face in your neck.

you close your eyes, not wanting to say anything back. you feel so content it’s scary.

you can finally go to sleep in his arms without wondering if he’s going to be here in the morning

you can finally go to sleep without waking up earlier just to be able to get a glimpse of him before he leaves.

you can finally go to sleep without having to leave out an extra note pad so that he’d be able to leave you a letter in case he left in the middle of the night.

you can finally, go to sleep. knowing he’s yours. knowing he’s staying. and knowing that you both are exactly, where you guys want to be.

; teehee! lmk what you thought!! 🥹 lowk sleep deprived and about to go sleep for the next 24 hours

[ohmymistakee]

003. Stronger

Synopsis:

After the accident that took her father’s life and left her mother sick, YN learned to survive on her own amidst endless shifts and silences that weighed too heavily. Her life seems like just another miserable routine, until JK appears just as everything starts to fall apart.

He approaches slowly, with an easy smile and too many questions, whilst hiding the real reason he entered her life: to kill her. But the more he discovers about her, the harder it becomes to pull the trigger. Because the accident that destroyed YN was never an accident, and the debt that haunts her has been stained with blood for years. Now JK will have to decide what weighs heavier: loyalty to the mafia that raised him, or the girl he should never have met.

genre: dark romance — mafia au — thriller — slow burn — angst — smut — fluff warnings: death, violence, manipulation, trauma, morally grey characters & unhealthy dynamics. mentions of panic attacks, bulimia, threats, etc. theyre very cute tho. ot7 ofcourse, the characters will be added slowly hehe

word count: 5k

author's note: bonjoour guyss, new chapter!!! oc's going through it tbh, a little excuse to give some background to my girly, also we'll be revealing her secret involvement with the mob in the following chapters to give this thing a bit of mistery, is all planned lmao. song rec for this one!!!

masterlist

Your mind kept replaying the date you had with him. Your spontaneous trip to the beach, how you felt with him just standing there. The soft breeze around you and his hands on your body.

It felt like something out of a fairytale. You felt a connection, a sudden feeling warming your heart whenever you looked at him. His big smile and bunny teeth greeting you whenever you made a silly joke.

His gentle presence and the confidence radiating off of him. That warm sensation on your chest slowly growing bigger this past week. Each time you mind wondered to him without notice, his presence a little ray of light, a little capsule of hope and happiness you could only imagine when you watched those dramas with your mom.

But almost everytime, a dreading feeling appeared just after. Your thoughts replaying his reaction at the end of the date.

You were just about to kiss him when reality downed on both of you, on him. He saw your reality, not an act you were used to pull.

You didn't -purposely- kept it a secret, but it was much easier to just pretend your routine didn't exist whenever you met new people. It was easier that way. You didnt have to put up with uncomfortable questions, sad eyes and fleeting comments taking pity on you.

It happened countless of times. When you finally let the sadness and tiredness that came from being you show, it was either a relationship built on pity, or the sudden and slow disappearence of the other person.

Before now, it only happened with people you were ready to consider friends, and this was the first time it happened with someone you hoped you could build a connection with.

It was devastating, watching everything vanish from your hands, and the worst of all, making yourself forget the memories you made with that person, everything that once was something you looked forward to.

You are aware you only knew him for two weeks, but the moments you shared were being treasured on your heart. His presence growing on you. Making you wait for him unconsciously while you checked people out on the counter. Your eyes moving, almost unconsciously, to the door. Hoping for him to appear out of nowhere, buy something just for an excuse to make you laugh with a ridiculous joke, and make your routine a bit more bearable.

You let Jihyo convince you, not that this was her fault, but you felt as if everytime you tried to expand your circle, your life ruined it for you.

You let the positivity of her words get way in your head. Your mind replaying her words

« I deserve this, a chance for another life, for another perspective »

Bullshit.

You loved her inmensely, you weren't mad at her, you were mad at yourself, mad at whoever came up with the fake positivism.

How did you let this happen again.

You felt like a fool, like you let him in for nothing. A kind of disappointment settled deeply on your bones. Even if you felt a little harsh to feel like that towards him, you could't deny it. Disappointed at the universe to put him in your way just to get rid of him on such short notice. Disappointed in him for not sticking around a bit more.

Its not like you chose this life - you always tell yourself- you're only doing my best with what you have. But lately, oh, how you wish you were just another careless girl raised between cushions and wealthy families. It would have made everything easier.

A life where you could do whatever you wanted, where you could spend all the money in the world, where a sudden raise on your electricity bill didnt make you feel like you were about to colapse. A life where you're a frat girl, with tons of friends and cute clothes.

Fuck, you would be on top of the world if that was you, a dream like reality where-

“Hey girl! Did you fuck him yet?” The brute words of your friend greeting you when you stepped on the shop shook you out of your trance. Her words, which would have made you laugh on any other day, made you look up at her with tired eyes. How you wish it was that simple “Oh-”

She frowned at you, that same pity look you recognized in anyone now on her face. Even if it was the same expression, you didn't hate it coming from her. She knew everything about you, you shared almost all of your life together, best friends since you were kids. You let yourself be confident that she wouldn't disappear one day, you granted yourself that little hope.

“Are you okay baby? Did he do-” Before she could continue talking, you closed your eyes and raised a hand.

“Time out” You softly said, a small smile on your face as you pecked her cheek and walked straight to where your work vest waited for you in the back room. Your mind was already too fed up, too angry, too sad. Everything all at once. You preferred to talk about it later, you knew you wouldn't handle the conversation as you wanted. You would vomit all of your worries to her, and she didn't deserve that.

You two were used to talk about everything and anything. Sharing countless secrets, struggles and problems. But when time out was said, everything stopped.

You two came up with that code the day you lost your father. Her worried body, high on adrenaline and a need to fix everything, she couldnt help but keep talking, hugging you, giving you food. Taking care of you in an excessive manner. It was inmensely important to you to have her in your life, but some times, it was all too much.

That was how you two agreed on that word. When you both knew that it was just a little too much to handle in the moment, and would talk later, you said those two words.

She understood inmediately, a small smile on her face and a short nod as she let you have space. Even if she was worried too. Head filled with rampant thoughts about what could have possibly happened that got you so sad, when all you have been these past two weeks was a bubble of light.

She noticed your giddy presence at work, whenever your eyes lingered on the door. She heard your giggles at the back of the shop when Jeongguk appeared, making you laugh and blush extremely. She sometimes caught herself staring, a small smile on her face at your excited form. Looking up at him with ease, and ultimately happy. That was a rare sight too see from you.

She knew about your story, and even if you carried all with responsability to the outside world, she knew that it would take little to nothing to see you crumble. You've been handling everything on your own for almost two years now. And you changed, of course you did.

Little glimpses of the old Y/N where rare to find, but still there. It was like if your real persona got buried in countless of bills, hours of work, and psychological worry.

But Jihyo made you a promise long ago, back when you were kids, to never part ways. Even if adult life was biting your ass every time you looked back.

The shift seemed to never end, the minutes feeling like hours passed. You busied yourself with doing your job, restocking, greeting customers, preparing orders. You two didnt talk at all that evening. Reserving your speech for another moment.

When the both of you finished, you met her at the back room, a little more relaxed and much more tired. You two hang your vests side by side.

“Want a beer?” She smiled soflty at you as you cracked a soft smile, nodding at her and walking out together. The other workmates replacing you on their shift.

The two of you bought a small bottle each. The two of you finding that patch of grass beside the river, where you spent countless of days on your early teenage years, talking and talking. About how your life was back then, about high school gossip. Things that in the past seemed really important, both of your grades, the latest news about some classmates, who they were dating, all of those significant moments now seemed insignificant.

Jihyo never pressured you on talking, she knew you. She would wait until you wanted to say something. She never initiated the conversation. It was easier for you to just spit your brains out.

“He met my mother” Those words sounded softly on the open space. The both of you sat on the grass, bottle in hand as you looked at the river flowing steadily.

She nodded at you, a signal that she was listening, even if you didnt need it. You knew she was there when you needed her, and viceversa.

“It was awkward, to say the least” you sighed and took a swing.

“It just began pouring down and, i didnt think, we just ran to take cover. It was going all so well” You smiled lightly.

“It's not like anything big happened, he just knows now” you nodded, scared you were exaggerating the situation.

“How did he react?”

“We-” you bit your lip and regained the breath you felt out when you remembered. “We were about to kiss” you suppressed a laugh at that, looking at her surprised face as you giggles.

“Really?” She waited for your response, waiting to live through your love life.

“Yeah” you laughed, your hands playing with the grass below your legs.

“And then my mom called for me” You shrugged your shoulders as she sighed.

“That cockblocker”

“Hey!” You laughed, her joke making you forget your troubles for a second. As the silent established itself again between the two of you, you resumed explaining.

“He just saw everything you know? I didnt even mention anything before, you know me”

“Of course” she nodded, drinking her beer.

“And we were like soaked, so i ran to get some towels. Bad decision, because i realized later that they were left alone. I dont even know what they talked about. And then, he insisted that everything was okay, that i didnt have to apologize. I felt like i had to explain to him, so i just told him about the accident.”

It wasnt easy for you to talk about that day, but you were willing to explain to him everything he needed to know, just for him not to disappear in a blink of an eye.

“And even if he kept reassuring me, i could just see it, like always, his absent mind as he looked everywhere but me, the short answers.” You sighed as you took another swing of your drink.

Her eyes scanned your profile, taking a breath in careful of what she was about to say.

“I think that's your problem” Her sudden words made you stop your inner monologue, a sudden shock on your body as you looked at her.

“What do you mean?” You whispered, afraid of her words. You felt like she was about to scold you, to even insult your character.

“I mean that- You have your life, your troubles. You need to own them” You frowned at her.

“It's hard, your life. Really hard. And I know it first hand. But hear me out on this, and dont get mad. No one will understand you the way you understand yourself. No matter how many times you explain it, nobody wont.” You gulped at her words, your brain trying to make sense of her words as you played with the little unpasted paper on your bottle.

“So own it, this is what it is. Youve been through hell to actually accept it, and you were even brave enough to move forward. That's nothing compared to someone that only has to understand” You bit your lip, her relaxed expression trying to get you to understand what she was saying.

“If a guy runs away or gets scared for something that isnt even his own life, then that's his problem”

Her words echoed in your head, her blunt words made you frown, trying to understand where she was coming from.

“I mean, it isnt easy to get involved in something like-”

“Y/N, its hard for you, not for someone that only has to understand and support you” She sighed and caressed your back slowly as you became a bit entranced at her words.

Your brain working overtime to analyze everything again. Maybe she was right, and maybe she was wrong too.

You got was she was saying, but you couldn't deny that the rawness of your reality may seem a bit heavy for anyone else. You barely have time, you're always tired. You're always on demand from your mother, and most importantly, your brain never rests. The state of panic never actually leaving.

“You're stronger than you know” She whispered as she looked absentmindedly at the river in front of you.

You took breath in, and sighed it out, your head nodding at her words as you kept on drinking your beer.

You two talked, and talked, about the state of your mother, of your debt, of your wellbeing. And you asked about her exams, the psychology major she was studying. You were proud of her.

Jihyo didnt come from a family of money either, and she worked hard to be able to pay her university major. She worked at the shop, and also has had saving since high school. You admire her attitude, hardworking and ever so hopeful. You wanted to be like her, looking up at her and trying everyday just to be a bit more like her.

After you two were done with your beers, and with your catch up conversation, you both rose up and walked slowly to your neighbourhood.

“You work tonight?” You nodded, checking the watch. 12:30 pm.

“Yeah, I'll just check up on mom and get going” She nodded as her eyes didnt leave you when you stopped talking. She went through your face, your nose, your lips, your big eyes. Your soft hair and the scar on your neck, the traits that made you who you were, and the ones she loved the most.

A sudden stop on your walk made you look at her, a small pout on her face as she hugged you hard against her making you chuckle.

“I love you so much” You laughed at her words and hugged her back.

“You get so emotional when you drink” You stroked her back, the sudden hug making your inside melt, and your brain stop for just some seconds, focusing on her arms around you.

“How can I not? Im so proud of you” She whispered close to your ear, her words making your eyeline water just for a second as you gulped down the lump on your throat.

“You're so sappy” You joked, the both of you separating as she sighed, continued walking.

She walked you to your home, saying goodbye with another big hug and a kiss on your head.

You smiled at her, your body a lot more relaxed after hanging out with her. You missed those moments with her, where time stopped and you could talk about everything going on both of your heads. You were to each other a piece that couldnt miss, and you treasured her presence in your life the most.

By the time you got home, your mother was sound asleep, a little note from your aunt on the kitchen assuring you she gaver her her meals and meds.

You felt a pressure lift from your chest, reading those words and appreciating her help. You were the youngest on the family, and since that damn day, it felt like you had the world on your shoulders. If you looked back, most of your memories were summed up in hospitals, home chores and work.

Your distant family did what they could, helping you taking care of mom when you were away, checking in on you, and having warm meals waiting for you if you ever went to their home. But nevertheless, you were the one aware of all of her appointments, her meds carefully arranged every start of the week, you kept track of the grocery shopping and made sure everything was as spotless as it could be.

It was a pity they couldn't make everything disappear like magic, even if you hoped every night for it. To wake up one morning and still have your father around, to never had been involved in this dark underworld. Have the freedom you felt you deserved, and not be running from a hungry lion that chased you constantly.

You used to have resentment, hatred for the world, for what put you through. Mad at destiny, for giving you such a unstable and unbereable outcome. You used to be mad at everyone, at your mom, at your friends, at your dad even. Every decision they made until now made you be where you are now. They didn't realize at that time that every misstep they took would affect directly onto their daughter in the future.

But as months passed, as you took in your surroundings, and as you realized what your life has became, you realized the only way out is through. You could only handle it as best as you could, and make sure you didnt lose yourself along the way.

You took a fast shower, your record time being two minutes and thirty seconds. It wasn't a comfort shower, one that you took after a long day ready to put on your pajamas for a relaxing evening. It was just a mere transaction to not smell like cardboard and ramen all night.

You took the late night bus to the biggest and more corrupt club in your city. Its big foundations and dark aura greeting you almost every night.

You were used to the internal codes, the words that the man shared, the people you saw coming in and out from these walls. It used to scare you, and confuse you. But you got used to it, even if you didnt imagine yourself in this place ever.

You had a late shift, a 5 hour long one that made sure it left you exhausted when you saw the sunrise. But it paid good, the triple amount you would get in a regular job. So it was something you couldn't deny.

“You can use that money to pay what you owe, whore” That's what Ggeum said to you when he assigned you to the cleaning staff of the club. He prided himself on giving you a job to do in his, what he called, empire. And he somehow, enjoyed the way you were below him, cleaning his mess after him and his employees.

You had to laugh at that, in your mind of course. The only thing that could be called an empire between these walls was the resilience and hope of the woman that danced in the poles.

He was a big and old guy that craved attention and validation, doing the most to keep his status intact, even if he was the loose screw on this underground world. Not everyone respected him, and some would even hate him. His ways were disgusting, how he treated women an insult to the so called traditional laws in the mob.

But he didnt care. He wanted power, money and reputation. And troubling him with moral matters only slowed the process.

You got in through the back door, your employee card beeping on the little electronic device just beside it. You already knew these walls, the secret corridors, the nasty bedrooms on the far left of the buildings. So your walk to the small cleaning room was familiar. A small room filled with big shelves storing all types of cleaning supplies, mops and some big boxes.

“Nice to see you babe” A tall and volumptuous girl said as she walked outside the room, not stopping to greet you but making sure she had your gaze when she slowed down her pace on the door.

“Good night Lia” You smiled softly at her and kept going through the cleaning supplies you needed. She was the first one you met when you started working here. She was a nice girl, not quite young as the others. She was presented to you by Ggeum, he always had one of the girls by his side. A complement, a prize.

The first thing she saw when you two met was a small, scrawny girl. You eyes sad, your energy grey. You were way too thin when she met you, way too fragile for this world. She saw herself in you, projecting a reflection she saw in the mirror a few years ago.

But you didnt have a choice, so she took it upon herself to explain to you everything that you needed to know. The secrets only one who was inside knew. How the girls worked, how Ggeum was, what you should and shouldn't do. She was your lighthouse, a strong woman that seeked to help you the only way she knew how.

You occupied your mind getting your cleaning supplies on the small cart you used. You had everything you needed to clean spilled drinks, drugs of the counter, vomit on the floor. Everything.

You also were assigned to clean the girl's 'bedrooms', where they worked. It surely was a shock, the way the sheets were always scrambled, drugs on the small bedside table, unnamed liquids you had to wipe. It disgusted you in ways you couldnt put into words, but you did what you did best, not think about it.

You made sure you had a few changing sheets on the far end of your cart, when a deep male voice made you turn around towards the door.

“Hey cutie, getting ready?” A tall man, with a big beard and slicked back hair greeted you. He wore a white suit, he worked here. His position? You didn't know. Probably one of the stakeholders of the business. They always came and went, only a few were the offical owners that controlled this place.

His big body walked slowly through the door, stealing all the light that came from the lightbulbs outside as he covered that much space. Like a demon dimming all of the lights in his passing.

“Y-yeah Im-” You werent able to finish your sentence, as your eyes saw his hands closing the door, his gaze turning darker as he locked it and approached you slowly. You felt like a prey, and he was the one to cause damage.

“Yeah, you better leave this place fucking spotless” He smiled sickly at you, a shiver running down your spine, your brain too overcrowded with panic to say anything back. Your hands gripped strongly on the rough blankets on your hands.

“Cat got your tongue?” He laughed at his own joke, and as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, his hands gripped your arms and banged your body to the wall behind you.

You felt the sharp pain on your back and the back of your head. It wasnt enough to do real damage, but his presence and brute force was making your body go in a state of panic you weren't sure how to handle.

You could feel his ragged breath, the alcohol and smoke smell coming from his mouth a disgusting odor that invaded the room. The pure disgust on his face as his left hand went from your arm to your neck in a swift move, his palm and fingers tightening strongly on your neck and nape. Your eyes opened widely at the sudden force and vulnerable position he has you in, a scared expression took hold of you on your face.

Your body began to shake, fearing the worst. You tried to breath through your nose as the air slowly left your lungs, his restriction making it impossible for you to breathe properly. Your two hands pasted on the wall, too scared to move. Ironically, waiting for a even more solid threat before fighting back. There was too much on the line.

“You disgust me, you know? Everytime you come around I have to spit on the ground, I can taste the venom on you” He said, his words impacting at your face as he made sure he talked loudly in this close distance, as if you were deaf.

You couldn't say anything, out of breath, out of words. This was it. Since you began working here, you were waitinig for the moment any of these bastards would abuse their position, beat you up, extort you, or something far worse.

“Answer me!” He shouted at you, his hand crashing your cheeks in between his thumb and his left four fingers, gripping you with a strength you were sure was going to leave a mark. The blankets you carried falling with a thud on the ground.

“You have little time left, Y/N, and the clock is ticking” His voice turned low suddenly, his grip lessening on your body as you breathed heavily looking at him, unmoving. His hand stayed on your neck, but no strength was put on your airways. Now, a small caress on the scar that went from ear to you lower neck.

“Tick tack, tick tack, tick tack” He laughed taking a step back from you, his eyes racking your body from head to toe, his dirty eyes scanning every part of you as he kept walking back. You noticed how his eyes stayed at your scar, at your hands, and of course, at your breasts.

He opened the door at last, spitting to the ground as he looked at you one last time, and getting out laughing like a maniac. And when you finally watched him leave, your body collapsed inward. Your hands on your knees as you tried to regain your breath, your cheeks flushed from the restriction of air from his grip on your neck.

You tried to calm your racing heart, your hands trembling as you closed your eyes. You tried to control your breathing, in and out, in and out. The sudden diziness on your head making you squat on the ground. Your back and head to the wall as you ran your hands through your face. Your eyes fixated on the open door and the corridor that let anyone see inside.

You felt your heart going too fast and too slow at the same time. You felt it through your back, on your chest, on your head. Your hands trembled intensely, holding them together to regain a bit of your lost composure. Your eyes going from the ground to the opened door when you heard those sharp heels clicking on the floor.

It was Lia, she walked again in front of the room, looking at you as you managed to nod at her. She, again, never once stopped her slow walk. In another circumstance, she would have ran to you, defended you with that man, coddled you and made sure you were okay. But she couldnt, she was risking herself to something way worse than what just happened to you.

So you nodded at her, a signal to let her know that you were okay, as she resumed her walk.

You shook your head and stood up. This was a warning, a threat. You knew you were slowly running out of time, but you felt hopeless. How much money could you gain and lose at the same time, paying a too far high debt for something you didn't even do.

Were you doomed to die here? For them to kill you a random evening? What would your mother do? Would she get so depressed to the point of no return? Would your debt go to your family? Would they finish them too?

You ran to the bathroom, hand on your mouth as you dropped all of your meals in the toilet. Your hands on the walls on your sides as you tried to get this sudden nausea over with. Your thoughts way too dark, your mind making up gore pictures of you loved ones. Your panic state making you reject everything on your stomach, reminding you of past times, when everything was too much to handle. Too much to not hurt yourself, to make sure this wasn't a dream.

Or better said, a nightmare.

“No fucking way”

All of them looked at each other, waiting for an answer to this situation. Anything that could make this make sense.

“Sorry but, who is Kang Soo?” Jimin asked, his eyes on each one fo the members, not getting what suddenly happened.

“He was a member” Jin murmured, his head hanged low as his brain working overtime to remember the story of that man.

“An ex member, he tried to leave” Namjoon explained, looking at his men with a frown, he too, tried to understand everything unfolding.

“So she's not a random person” Jeongguk stated, a mix of a hopeful and stressed look in his eyes.

“He- He died in a car accident yes, but, I dont remember everything that happened, very little was known of it” Namjoon once again returned to his desk, searching for something to give him information on the accident.

“He belonged to the south, he was a gang member” Jin explained, answering the confused stare Jimin had on his face. “He worked with Hyungso, my brother, we could talk to him”

Jimin relaxed a little, knowing Jin’s brother was familiar with your father was a bit more reassuring. A environmennt they controlled. Even if Jin dreaded the moment he had to call his brother for any help.

They didn’t have the best relationship, mostly on Jin’s part than in Hyungso. He was much older than Jin, her mother being barely 17 when she had him. That fact alone told a lot about his upbringing, and he only did what he could to help his family. Get in the sketchiest but fastest money making mob in the city.

Jin was in it too, he didn’t do admirable things to get where he was now. His brother got him in it, teaching him about guns, money, and death since he was sixteen. That was how he showed brotherhood. Bringing his younger brother into the underworld, surround him with greedy man and dirty money.

On the bright side he could see, that thanks to his involvement he could meet Namjoon. And in consequence, the rest of the gang. At least he had them.

Jeongguk couldnt believe it. He didnt know what to feel. Your father being a gang member was a surprising piece of information he didnt expect.

“She uses her mother surname, that's why we didnt notice” Jin recalled the letters on the envelope, your details.

“But-”

“Yoongi, call Hoseok, we need all the information we can get” The serious tone of his leader made everyone stand straight. Yoongi took his phone and searched for the number of the man.

Jeongguk didn't know what to do with himself. They should have investigated more, they should have noticed something was wrong. They should have connected the dots early on.

But maybe, if they rejected the envelope in an instant, you would have been dead by now. The deal handled by another gang.

His heart did a sommersault at that thought. His brain conjuring images of your body, lying lifeless on a ditch. Your face on a corpse, unmoving.

A shiver ran through his body at the thought, his throat closing, making it hard for him to breathe correctly, a heavy pressure on his chest.

At least his mates knew this wasn't something random. And for now, they've forgotten about the hit. About what he had to do with you.

And he couldn't help but think, that this could be your ticket to set you free.

Or the reason that could get you far down, six feet underground.

Meanwhile, on the other room, Yoongi paced slowly. His brain trying to understand what happened, who you were, and what was going to happen now that there were far too much connections to your case that they thought.

He arranged a meeting with his father tomorrow morning, as soon as they could before this got out of hand.

“Yoongi?”

“Hey Hoseok, it's me. We need info, could you come by?”

heeeeeeey, oc is kinda dramatic?? maybe hehe but I tried my best to give this the edge it needs before the big thing happens lmao.

actually this oc has been played on her face so much that she just kinda detects bullshit lmao

say hi to hoseok he's going to be a big pain in the ass lmao

no proofread on this chapter so if anything isnt written correctly im sorry!!

hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think!!!

[gl00s]

༘⋆ to whatever end. .☘︎ ݁˖ • chapter 2

Summary - For years, they existed in the space between friendship and love, too close to be platonic, yet never enough to be real. He treated her like she was his in private, only to pull away the moment things became too serious.

The night she finally chose to walk away from the man who once consumed her entire world, she carried something else with her too.

Four years later, a little girl, or fate perhaps—bring them back to each other.

genre : second chance romance, unrequited love (at first), slow burn, accidental pregnancy, Friends → strangers → lovers, angst, fluff

themes : emotionally unavailable! Jungkook , unlabeled relationship, friends with benefits(kind of), fear of commitment, one-sided devotion, accidental pregnancy, absent father (he doesn’t know), girl dad! Jungkook, second chances, yearning, found family, angst with happy ending

⤷ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

In Another Life

The worst thing Jungkook ever said to Y/N happened on an ordinary night. That’s the cruel thing about memories. They don’t warn you.

They were in his kitchen. It was raining outside, the soft tapping against the windows filling the silence between them. Jungkook stood by the stove, stirring noodles lazily. Y/N sat on the counter like she always did, watching him. The scene looked so normal, so familiar.

Jungkook passed her the bowl. “Careful, it’s hot.” Y/N took it quietly. She should have felt comfort. Instead, she felt something tight in her chest. “Jungkook,” she said softly.

He glanced up. “Hmm?”

She hesitated, then asked the question she had been holding inside for months, years.

“What are we?”

Jungkook groaned immediately. “Not this again.”

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the bowl “I’m just asking.”

“You’re overthinking.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“But we act like... this.”Her voice was quieter now.

Jungkook laughed, a sharp sound. “We don’t act like a couple, if that’s what you mean.”

Y/N stared at him. “You cook for me, you take care of me, we spend nights together.”

Jungkook shook his head as if she was missing the point. “That’s just us.”

“That’s what couples do.”

“No,” he said flatly. “Couples are in love.”

The words settled in the room like something heavy. Y/N’s throat felt dry.

“So you don’t…love me?”

Jungkook looked almost amused. “Y/N. He leaned against the counter. “You’re sweet, tou’re familiar.” The pause felt endless. “But you’re not someone I’d ever actually choose.”

The words landed like glass shattering. Y/N didn’t move. Jungkook kept going, careless. “You’re comfortable, okay? And you’re my best friend. That’s it.”

Silence.

“If I ever wanted you, I would’ve picked you a long time ago.”

Y/N didn’t cry in front of him. She just nodded slowly, as though she understood, as though it made sense. Then she stood up. “I should go.”

Jungkook frowned. “Why are you being dramatic?” He asked, even as his own words made him wince. They sounded stupid, hurtful and careless. Cruel in a way he hadn't intended, yet couldn't take back.

“I’m not.” She grabbed her jacket.

Jungkook sighed. “You’ll come back in a few days anyway,” he mumbled. Not something he meant to say out loud, but something he wished.

Y/N paused at the door. For a second, she almost turned around, almost told him how much he had hurt her. But something inside her had gone strangely quiet. “No,” she said softly. “I won’t.”

And this time, she meant it.

⸻

Jungkook didn’t think before he speak.

He said things that got him out of problems quickly. Not things he meant. Not things he felt. Not things he wanted to say.

Y/N didn’t come to their hangouts anymore. It was always because she was “busy,” or “working,” or “not feeling well.” But deep down, Jungkook remembered that night a little too well.

He had said things he didn’t mean. Things that made his stomach turn the moment they left his mouth because of how cruel they sounded, how harsh, how much of a lie they were.

He remembered the clothes she wore that night. The way her hair was pinned up in a claw clip, the one he had bought her, her earrings, her necklace, the shade of her lip gloss, the blush on her cheeks.

He remembered how nervous she sounded when she asked him. How his heart had been beating too fast. The look on her face when he said those words.

Her face when she got up to leave.How badly he wanted to stop her, to hold her back, to beg her not to leave him, to tell her it was all a lie and that he was just afraid.

But he didn’t.

He could still remember the ache in his chest. The fear that took over him when she said she wouldn’t be coming back anymore. How he broke down after she left.

Y/N collapsed into Jiho’s arms the moment she reach her apartment and saw her standing outside.

She had called earlier, saying she needed her. Jiho knew immediately.

She might not have heard what Jungkook said. She might not have known what the argument had been about this time. But she knew enough.

Y/N hardly ever cried in front of her, in front of anyone. And now she was here, sobbing into her arms, and all Jiho could do was hold her tightly and tell her everything would be okay, even though she wasn’t sure how long that would take.

The others immediately knew something was wrong the next day.

Y/N’s absence, Jungkook barely speaking, Jiho glaring at him from time to time.

But nobody said anything, nobody questioned it.

_______

One night, Y/N’s doorbell rang at almost 11. She wasn’t expecting anybody. Could it be her neighbour trying to share leftovers with her again?

Y/N loved the place she lived. Her apartment. It wasn’t big, it wasn’t much but it was perfect. She loved her neighbours and flatmates. They were like a little family. Y/N came from Suwon, a city near Seoul, where her parents still lived.

She got up and opened the door.

Jiho stood there, with Jaehyun.

She raised an eyebrow, looking at Jaehyun, then Jiho, then Jaehyun again, then Jiho.

“Can we come in?” Jiho asked with a small, sarcastic smile.

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Y/N stepped aside, shaking away her confusion.

Why was Jaehyun here?

She and Jaehyun weren’t really close. She couldn’t remember ever having a proper conversation with him. He didn’t speak much around her, so she assumed he simply wasn’t comfortable with her, and she never pushed.

They settled into Y/N’s living room.

Jaehyun and Jiho sat on the larger couch beside each other, while Y/N took the single chair, her right leg tucked underneath her.

“I was about to sleep. Any reason you guys are here?” Y/N asked.

“Well, I was already planning to come over and check on you or something, and I saw Jaehyun on my way here, so he just joined me.” Jiho smiled brightly.

“She forced me,” Jaehyun said, rolling his eyes slightly.

“Of course she did.” Y/N laughed.

The conversation drifted from casual to serious in 30mins.

“Yeah, he’s a total bitch. I don’t know if it’s too early to ask, but what did he do to you that night? I just know it was fucked up.” Jiho clenched her jaw.

Y/N and Jiho slipped fully into gossip mode.

Jaehyun took out his phone and pretended to scroll through it, though he was listening to every word.

“Well...” Y/N started nervously. Maybe it was still too early. It had only been a week or two, and her heart still ached.

She glanced at Jaehyun, who looked completely absorbed in his phone. A part of her worried he would report everything back to Jungkook afterward.

“He said something about me not being his... choice?” Y/N wasn’t even sure that was the right way to phrase it.

She remembered it perfectly. Every word, every sentence. The clothes he wore, the way his hair fell messily over his eyes. His scent. The feeling of his touch against her skin. How he avoided eye contact after she asked, ‘What are we?’ How he never looked up once, not even when she was leaving.

She didn’t want to tell Jiho the details. Especially not with Jaehyun definitely listening.

Jiho let out a sad sigh. Then sadness became anger. “Nothing good ever comes out of his mouth. Everything he says is bullshit.”

Y/N laughed softly.

“You should leave him before you lose yourself.” Jaehyun finally spoke, lifting his gaze from his phone.

“I—what?” Y/N's smile slowly faded.

Jiho stared at him with her mouth open. Neither of them had expected Jaehyun to speak.

Especially not about Y/N and Jungkook. Especially not to give advice.

Jaehyun merely shrugged, as though he had said something completely ordinary.

“Did that advice come from personal experience?” Jiho joked.

Y/N was about to laugh too.

Until Jaehyun nodded. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Y/N immediately covered her mouth.

Jiho awkwardly patted his shoulder “Sorry.” Maybe she was trying to comfort him somehow, maybe she wasn't.

“Thanks…Anyway, it's almost midnight. I should go. Jiho, are you staying?”

“Uh... yeah, I guess so. Get home safe, okay?”

“Thanks for coming over,” Y/N added, standing and walking him to the door.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

Jaehyun gave her a small smile before leaving. Y/N locked the door and walked back to the living room.

The moment her eyes met Jiho’s, both girls burst into laughter.

Y/N doubled over, clutching her stomach, Jiho nearly slid off the couch.

“I did not expect him—” Jiho couldn’t even finish her sentence before she started wheezing.

Y/N took a deep breath, wiping at the tears gathering in her eyes. “I feel bad for him, though.”

“Yeah,” Jiho agreed. “He seems pretty traumatised.”

Eventually they calmed down and headed toward Y/N’s room.

The first word out of Jiho’s mouth was “Damn.”

Y/N clicked her tongue, “Girl, it’s not like you haven’t seen a messier place.”

“Yeah, but this is your room.” Jiho gestured dramatically.

“I’ve been feeling tired lately. Nothing serious. I just don’t have the energy to clean.” She picked up a few clothes from the floor to make space.

“How tired are we talking?” Jiho raised an eyebrow while helping.

“Just... tired. And some headaches.”

“You should eat properly and get more rest.”

Both of them climbed into bed. Sleepiness settled over them quickly.

________

Y/N woke up the next morning already irritated. The exhaustion had settled into her bones before she had even opened her eyes, and the blood stain on her shorts and bedsheet did nothing to improve her mood.

“I thought you were keeping track,” Jiho said, watching her friend scrub furiously at the stain as though she were trying to erase the entire morning.

“I did. It just came early... I guess.”

“You should see a doctor. You know, just to be safe.”

“I guess so, but I don’t think it’s really necessary.”

“My aunt found out she had cancer when her period came early for two months and she went to the doctor for a checkup.”

“Wow, thanks, Jiho. That really made me feel relaxed.” Y/N rolled her eyes and shot her friend a look.

“What? I just want you to be safe and healthy.” Jiho pouted, throwing her hands up in defense.

“I’ll go next week. Maybe.” Y/N mumbled it quietly, still convinced it was unnecessary.

_____

Jungkook attended every hangout, every meetup, every party, secretly hoping to see her. But she never showed up.

He would run past her apartment during his nightly runs, pretending it was nothing, pretending it had always been part of his route. He did see her once, only from a distance.

She was taking out the trash. Afterward, she sat down on her porch, doing absolutely nothing. Just sitting there. Jungkook's heart went into chaos. His breathing became uneven, his palms grew damp. It was ridiculous. Why was he nervous? He ran away before she could notice him.

Even though he had spent weeks rehearsing conversations in his head.

What he would say.

What he would do.

How he would apologize.

But when the moment finally arrived, he chickened out and kept running.

Jungkook had never met someone as kind as Y/N. Someone as patient. Someone who felt so real and yet somehow dreamlike at the same time.

He remembered the first time he truly noticed her. They had been classmates for nearly a year, but she had existed only at the edge of his vision. Until one afternoon in math class. He sat behind her that day. The teacher had assigned a worksheet, and Jungkook wasn't particularly good at math.

Y/N wasn't either, except when it came to algebra. Algebra was her thing.

Jungkook scrunched his nose in frustration and let out a long sigh as he attempted the same problem for the fourth time. Then, like some small miracle sent down from heaven, Y/N turned around.

“Need help?” Her voice was soft, low, calm. She wore a small smile that felt warm without trying to be.

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah. Uh, thanks. He pushed his notebook toward her. The funny thing was that his eyes kept drifting toward her face instead of the equation.

Jungkook knew who Y/N was. A classmate, nothing more. They had never spoken before. Never exchanged more than a passing glance.

He knew her name. He knew she seemed easy to talk to. That was it.

He didn't immediately fall for her, but he found her interesting, likeable, fun.

That night, he sent her a follow request on Instagram. And somehow, that was where everything began.

Y/N knew Jungkook well. Or at least as well as anyone could know someone from a distance.

He was rich, popular enough. Always getting into trouble with his friends.

Jungkook hung around all the popular guys. He wasn't as famous as they were, but people knew him. Partly because he was Jungkook. Partly because his older brother had been one of those seniors everyone admired.

Y/N still remembered the excitement she felt when Jungkook walked up to her after school a week after she had helped him with algebra. She remembered how hot her ears became. How she stumbled over her own words when he asked for her number. How she stuttered through each digit.

She never imagined that moment would eventually lead her here.

_________

Jungkook sat on the couch, leaning back with one hand covering his face. Every now and then, a sigh escaped him.

He regretted asking Mingyu that one specific question because now Mingyu seemed determined to turn it into a lifelong lesson.

Jungkook had casually asked, “Is Y/N coming?”

The moment Mingyu mentioned a business meetup. That had been a mistake.

It started with, “Jungkook, this is about us, our business, our future.”

And somehow evolved into, “You had your chances and you fucked them up. You can't screw around and expect her to take you back.”

Jungkook groaned quietly. He rolled another joint and lit it.

“You've been smoking a lot more lately. Jaehyun finally joined the conversation “You might need rehab if you keep this up.”

Without waiting for permission, Jaehyun stole the joint from Jungkook's hand, took a drag, and walked away.

Jungkook smoked a lot. Always had. But when he was around Y/N he tried not to.

Y/N never complained.

Never told him to stop. Never judged him, but he remembered a conversation from high school. He had offered her a cigarette once.

She refused. He asked why. Y/N had simply shrugged. “I don't like the smell. It makes it harder for me to breathe.”

That was all. Such a small answer and yet Jungkook remembered it years later. Funny how the mind worked. It forgot important things.

But held onto moments like that forever.

________

Y/N started worrying. Just a little.

Her “period” had stopped after two days. There had barely been any blood. Normally it lasted five or six days and was heavy enough to annoy her into existence.

She paced back and forth across her kitchen.

What if I have cancer?

What if it's some terminal illness?

What if I only have a few months left?

Her thoughts immediately drifted toward her parents. Should I spend my remaining time with them?

Then her friends. Jiho. What would she even tell her?

Then her dream. A bookstore and a café. She had dreamed about it since she was a child. A small place full of books and coffee and quiet conversations.

Then, inevitably, her thoughts drifted to Jungkook. Would he finally care about me a little if he found out I was dying Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing.

The thought arrived quietly and somehow that made it worse.

“What the fuck?” She whispered it to herself. If Jiho could hear her thoughts right now, she would probably slap her across the face.

Y/N sighed. She really needed to see a doctor before her imagination drove her insane.

______

The next day, Y/N went to a clinic to see a gynecologist.

The moment she stepped out of the doctor's office, the world no longer felt entirely real.

That night, Y/N stepped into Jiho's apartment, still unsure whether she should tell her the news. She didn't even know if it was bad news or good news.

Y/N sat in Jiho's room, staring at the floor. “I went to the clinic today,” she began quietly.

Jiho immediately stopped what she was doing and turned all her attention toward her friend.

“You’re not dying, are you?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Y/N laughed. “God, no.”

Jiho sat down beside her on the bed “Then you're okay?”

“I am, but there's more to it... I don't know how to say this, Jiho.” Y/N spoke honestly. Her lower lip trembled slightly.

“It's okay. I'm here.” Jiho reached for her hand. She didn't know what to expect.

“Jiho…I'm pregnant.”

The words finally left her mouth after a long silence.

Even now, saying them felt unreal. Like a dream, like something that had happened to somebody else.

“You're sure?” It was a stupid question. But Jiho couldn't believe it either.

Y/N nodded. “Yes.”

Jiho covered her mouth. “Oh my God.” Then she pulled her best friend into a hug.

Y/N finally let out the tears she had been holding back all day. She didn't know if she was happy, sad, terrified or all three at once.

Neither of them said Jungkook's name.

They didn't need to.

⸻

With Jiho's support, Y/N took the train to Suwon the next day. She told her parents after only a few minutes of settling in.

It was the hardest conversation of her life. But they didn't yell at her. They didn't blame her.

Her mother simply held her while she cried. Her father sat quietly for a long time.

Then he said something Y/N would never forget. “You're still our daughter first.”

Y/N was an only child, but she had never been particularly close to her parents.

She had lived away from them since middle school, when she moved to Seoul to attend school and stay with her aunt.

There had never been any conflict between them. No arguments, no resentment. Just distance.

Her mother hadn't been there when she got her first period, or during her first heartbreak.

Her father hadn't been there to protect her when boys from school followed her home, or when she learned how to drive.

It had always been her aunt. And eventually, even her aunt had moved away to the States to live with her husband.

Yet somehow, despite all those years apart, they were still her parents. And the love that existed between them had never disappeared.

It had simply remained unspoken.

⸻

A week later, they made the decision. Y/N would move back into her parents' house.

She could start over. Find a job in Suwon. Build a life there and her parents were willing to help.

She could stay somewhere nobody knew Jungkook. Somewhere nobody knew the story.

Or the mistakes.

⸻

Jiho was the only friend who knew. Y/N had made her promise.

“No one else can know.”

“Not even the boys?” Jiho asked.

Y/N shook her head immediately. “No.”

“And Jungkook?”

The name still felt like a knife.

Y/N's voice barely came out. “Especially not Jungkook.”

Jiho hesitated. “But he should be responsible—”

“I know.” Tears filled Y/N's eyes. “But I can't give him that power. I can't let him back into my life just for him to leave me again. I tried so hard to walk away from him. I can't do it again.”

Jiho wrapped her arms around her tightly. “You won't have to.” Her voice was firm. “I promise.”

⸻

The night before Y/N left town, she took a walk around the city.

Past familiar streets. Past places she used to visit with her friends.

Then she ran into Jungkook. He seemed to be out walking too. The familiar sight made her chest ache.

Both of them stopped.

For a moment, she simply looked at him.

The boy she had loved for years, the boy who had broken her heart, the father of the child she was carrying.

Jungkook spoke first. “Y/N?”

She smiled faintly. “Hi.”

He took a step closer. “Where have you been?”

She shrugged. “Busy.”

Jungkook studied her face carefully. “I heard you're moving to Suwon. Back to your parents.”

“Yeah.” A small pause. “Did Jiho tell you?”

“Jaehyun, actually.” He laughed awkwardly. “I thought I'd be the first to know.”

Y/N laughed too. “He probably heard it from Jiho.”

Jungkook opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. Like there was something he desperately wanted to say, something he needed to say.

But instead he only said, “Well... good luck, then.”

Y/N nodded. “Thanks.”

She turned and began walking away. Jungkook watched her leave. Something about it felt wrong. Final. Like a door closing.

But he didn't stop her.

Jungkook didn't know much about love. Not beyond what he had seen from his parents. He wasn't even sure whether what he felt now was love, but if it was, love was painful, messy, terrifying.

⸻

The next morning, Y/N left for Suwon. Jiho cried the moment she hugged her goodbye.

“You better call me every day.”

Y/N smiled. “I will.”

“And I'll visit every other week if I can. Jiho sniffled loudly.

Y/N laughed as she rubbed her back.

“And you better wait for me before delivering that baby. I want to be there.”The threat only made Y/N laugh harder.

⸻

Eunwoo never knew why Y/N left.

Neither did Mingyu, nor Jungkook.

None of them knew what she carried with her.

But Jaehyun knew there had to be a reason. Something she hadn't said aloud, because Jaehyun had been there once. He had walked away from someone too. Not because he stopped loving them, but because he had nearly lost himself, completely. And he knew Y/N had left for a reason. Maybe she had almost lost herself too ir maybe she had left because she had found something worth protecting.

⸻

Y/N's mother stood beside her. “You'll still follow your dreams,” she promised.

The words settled somewhere deep inside Y/N. Like warmth, like reassurance, like something she had wanted from her mother for years.

Jiho and Y/N called almost every day and Jiho visited whenever she could.

The train ride was only thirty minutes. She always brought fruit and every kind of healthy food she could find. Y/N never asked about Jungkook. She didn't want to know.

But at night, she often spoke softly to her baby. One hand resting over the small curve of her stomach. She told her about her friends. About her life. About her first love.

Then she whispered something only the baby could hear. “You're the only part of him I'll ever keep.”

⸻

Jungkook felt reckless. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat.

Is this it?

Is this the end?

He wanted one more chance. Just one. A chance to tell Y/N he loved her, a chance to apologize, a chance to undo every cruel thing he had said. But he knew he had already been given too many chances and he had wasted every single one. He felt useless.

His bed felt larger now. Colder.

His house felt empty. Unlived in.

He barely stepped into the kitchen anymore.

Everything reminded him of her.

Her presence, her scent, her laugh, her voice.

He wanted to go to Suwon. It wasn't even far. He wanted to go just to see her one more time. But he didn't have the courage.

He never had.

Eunwoo still texted Y/N occasionally to check on her. He no longer argued with Jungkook. Never lectured him. Never brought Y/N up, because he knew Jungkook was carrying something now. Not love.

Something worse.

Regret.

Mingyu still texted Y/N too, mostly memes. At the same time, he stayed close to Jungkook. Making sure he didn't drink too much, making sure he didn't smoke too much. One night, Jungkook got too high and broke down in Mingyu's arms. Sobbing about how much he regretted everything. How much he missed her.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, never called Y/N. Never texted. But he was happy for her. And he didn't hate Jungkook either. Jungkook was still his friend.

Love was messy. It was never simple. Sometimes it healed people, sometimes it broke them, sometimes it did both at once.

And Jaehyun knew that better than most.

Note : Hii Omg can’t believe this shit didn’t flop. I’m so happy😭. Also I read all your feedbacks, advice, compliments and I wanna thank you all for it. I really appreciate them, keep it coming. Also this chapter is a bit short and it might be moving too fast lmao sorry and thank you all again🫶🏼🫡 . Guys i see all your requests too but I kinda want to complete this series first or idk. but thanks for all the great ideas, i promise to write them.

Taglist : @hamsss @bratz-lad @hiilovetata @lobbera @fluffysheepmaster @chaosbunn1 @annpeachy @muniing @hobimangkenobi @jeikeeei @kyljjk @eegyo @blackswan18 @juju-227592 @bangchans-girl @svnk1ssd @daisydasee @bebesnyia7 @lunaryoongie @severelengendseed @goawaysha @euphorichaewon @jakiki94 @bangchris97 @mar-lo-pap @bts123746 @gi1yawnzz @dahliadaenerys @hghjj135 @svitozz @allmyfictionalfantasies @btskzfav @busanbby-jjk @euphoricdeni @bjoriis @bangtans-momma @luvlyyoonki @almostcrystalized101 @agrimanath @bbtsficrecs @carriereadsbooks @super-btstrash-posts @cristinamajadera @naksu111 @bangatanily @ecwipsecoffee @butterymin @roryxcy @turboreader @embercrumb @remcamila @avetehanna

[vinylopall]

collateral | j.jk

⤷ Three years of playing it safe at university vanish when campus king Jeon Jungkook decides you're his new obsession. He's all dangerous ink and possessive hands, and he won't stop until your carefully curated invisibility is destroyed and you're completely his.

pairing: 전정국 x fem!reader

Genre: Romance | College AU | Slice of Life | Smut | fwb kinda

Warnings: dom!jungkook, swearing, 18+, multiple orgasms, making out, drinking, teasing, oral (f receiving), fingering, sexting, sex, overstimulation, public claiming (not sex), class differences, power imbalance, protected sex

word count: 4k

a/n: my first ever ff on tumblr (the last time i wrote one was like 10 yrs ago) ANYWAYS i am supposed to be working on my thesis, look what I'm doing instead, also i am eating pineapple while writing this (ifykyk)

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

You've spent three years at this university successfully avoiding the campus social hierarchy. That is, until he decides to notice you.

Jeon Jungkook is basically the kind of boy they write songs about, a string of bad decisions, all sharp cheekbones and even sharper attitude. The university’s unofficial royalty, he glides through the halls like he owns the place (and honestly, with his family name carved into three campus buildings, he kinda does).

He embodies that classic Doberman vibe for a boyfriend, so he treats the comparison like a second skin or something, tattooed along his forearms in intricate blackwork, winding up his hands an then disappearing under the rolled sleeves of his shirts. It sprawls over his back, in wings and script you’ve only half caught, when he takes off his leather jacket on those too hot afternoons.

He rides this matte black Ducati, purring like some kind of threat, and honestly the sound sticks to your nerves. He smokes clove cigarettes outside the engineering building.

His biceps strain against the seams of his clothes, and his back narrows into a waist you’ve shamefully dreamed about grabbing, like it’s personal. His mouth only does that curl when he’s unimpressed, like you’re supposed to feel it, and it’s weird, because for reasons you cannot explain, he’s started looking at you.

It starts at the coffee shop, him sliding into the booth across from you like you were already there, like it was already decided. Tattooed fingers tap the table while he studies you, not with curiosity exactly...

He doesn’t flirt but he asks questions you don’t know how to answer and somehow you always end up answering anyway. He stares at your mouth when you speak, and then he leaves, and you’re breathless, because the attention feels predatory and protective at the same time, like he’s hunting you but also making sure nothing or no one touches you.

You’re not his type, you know that. You’re soft where he’s hard, careful where he’s chaotic. You live on scholarships while he throws cash at problems like it’s confetti, like money is just another kind of weather.

But Jungkook has decided to collect you, like he collects everything that catches his eye. He’s got the university wrapped around his finger or whatever, and his reputation should’ve made you bolt, like, years ago. He’s got ink under his skin and smoke in his lungs, plus a motorcycle that could take him anywhere, but somehow he keeps parking it right outside your dorm.

Tonight it starts with a meme.

You’re lying in bed at 11:30, scrolling, half-asleep, when your phone buzzes against your chest. The vibration kinda startles you, and you nearly drop your phone on your face.

jk: this you?

Below that text is a pic (a raccoon, in a trash can, very poetic, i know). You squint at your screen, confused. It’s not a flattering comparison, and you don’t understand the reference at all.

you: ??

Three dots show up right away, meaning he’s typing. You picture him somewhere, probably in that ridiculously expensive apartment his parents pretend not to brag about, sprawled on some leather couch that costs more than your tuition, with a bottle of something expensive sitting on the table like it’s totally normal.

jk: the trash panda thing

jk: reminded me of you

You sit up, blanket pooling around your waist. The air in your dorm is cool, but there’s this heat creeping up your neck like you’re being slowly judged by the universe.

Three weeks ago you wouldn’t have had the faintest clue what to even say. Three weeks ago, Jeon Jungkook was just a distant, moving figure on campus, someone you sometimes spotted across the quad.

Now he’s the reason your underwear is missing from your laundry basket, the reason you’ve started checking your reflection more often, and the reason your heart does that ridiculous little flutter thing whenever you hear a motorcycle engine.

you: i’m not a raccoon.

jk: no but like

jk: you’d live in a trash can if you could

you: that's not a compliment

jk: it is tho

jk: raccoons are hot

You stare at the ceiling for a second. This is your life now. Debating whether raccoons are hot with a guy who has your underwear in his pocket from three days ago.

you: are you drunk?

jk: kinda

jk: come over

you: it's tuesday

jk: and?

jk: my bed's big and i'm lonely and i wanna touch you

You shouldn't. You have class at 9 AM and he lives twenty minutes away and your car is making that weird noise again. But you're already sitting up, looking for your jeans.

you: omw

You knew his address by heart now. The towering high-rise downtown, where the doorman recognizes you, and how there’s a toothbrush in his bathroom now.

You grab your keys, slip on your shoes, and take a moment in front of the mirror. Your hair is a wild mess, your face is bare, and you’re still in that same old hoodie from high school. You think about changing, maybe putting on some makeup, trying to look like someone who fits into his world. But then you remember the way he looked at you a week ago, on his bike, behind a random gym, his hands trembling as he unzipped your pants, his soft whisper of "fuck, you're perfect" against your throat.

You leave as you are

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

His apartment is different at night. Darker. More intimate, only the lamp by the couch casting long shadows across the floor, it feels like a den, a cave.

He's wearing sweatpants that hang low on his hips. His chest is bare, tattoos sprawling across his pecs and shoulders, the ink dark against his skin. His hair is messy, falling into his heavy-lidded eyes.

"Hey," he says, and his voice is rough, deeper than usual. He doesn't wait for you to answer before he's pulling you inside, kicking the door shut with his foot, and kissing you against the door before it even closes.

His hands are on your waist, thumbs pressing into your hip bones, you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and kiss him back.

"You taste like beer," you mumble against his mouth when you come up for air.

"You taste like mint." He bites your lip, not hard, just enough to make you gasp. "Missed you."

You saw him in the library yesterday, where he'd cornered you between the stacks, his body pressed against yours, his hand sliding up your thigh under your skirt while his friends waited for him outside. But you don't say that, because he's already kissing down your neck, teeth scraping against your pulse point, hands sliding under your shirt, and your brain is short-circuiting.

"Bedroom," he says, not a question, and lifts you like you weigh nothing. You yelp, grab his shoulders, and he laughs into your collarbone, carrying you down the hall while you protest weakly about being able to walk.

"I know you can walk." He drops you on the mattress, follows you down, caging you in with his arms. " But I like carrying you. You're small."

"I'm average."

"You're small. I like it." He's kissing you again, deeper, and his hand is sliding down your stomach, slipping into your waistband without taking them off. "Can I?"

"You asked last time."

"Wanna make sure." His fingers brush over you, light, teasing, through the thin fabric of your underwear. "Wanna hear you say it."

"Yes," you breathe, and he makes this sound, this low growl in his chest that vibrates through you, and then his hand is moving and you're arching into it.

He's learned you even better since the bike. That first time, pressed against the leather seat of his Ducati in the back of that deserted gym, had been frantic and desperate, all teeth and hurried touches in the dark. Now, he knows exactly how you like it, slow at first, teasing, tracing patterns over the fabric until you're squirming, then faster when you're panting, then slowing down again when you're close, keeping you on the edge until you're whining, grabbing onto him like a lifeline.

"Please," you say, and you hate how desperate you sound, but he loves it, you can tell by the way he watches your face with hungry eyes.

"Yeah?" he murmurs, thumb pressing just right through the now soaked fabric. "Wanna come for me?"

"Jungkook—"

"Say my name again. Like that. Fuck."

You come with his name in your mouth,

of course you do

you love how his name sounds from your lips

back arching off the bed, he doesn't stop, drawing it out, until you're shaking and pushing at his wrist because it's too much, too sensitive, too good.

"Good?" he asks, smug, bringing his hand to his mouth to lick his fingers clean while you watch, cheeks burning.

"You're so-" You can't find the word. "Obnoxious."

"Yeah." He grins, leaning down to kiss you, and you can taste yourself on his tongue, which should be weird but isn't, not with him. "Your turn."

He rolls onto his back, pulls you on top of him, and you can feel how hard he is through his sweatpants, pressing against your thigh. You sit up, straddling him, and he looks up at you with this expression that's half lust and half something softer, something that scares you.

"What?" you ask, a little embarrassed under his gaze.

"Nothing." He runs his hands up your thighs "Just...you look good. Up there."

You pull your shirt off, drop it on the floor, and his eyes darken, hands coming up to cover your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebble under his touch.

"Fuck," he breathes. "Every time. Every time I think I imagined how you look and then I see you and it's...better."

"Stop talking."

"Can't." He sits up, mouth finding your neck, your shoulder, the slope of your breast. "I wanna tell you everything. I wanna say-" He stops, bites down on your collarbone, sucks a mark there. "Never mind."

"Jungkook-"

"Shh." He flips you, sudden and smooth, and you're on your back again with him between your legs, and he's kissing down your stomach, fingers hooking in your waistband. "Can I?"

"Yes."

He pulls your pants off, your underwear too, and he just looks at you for a second. You want to cover yourself but his hands are on your knees, pushing them apart, and then his mouth is on you and your head falls back, hands gripping the sheets.

He's good at this. Embarrassingly good. Knows exactly how to use his tongue, when to suck, when to press, when to slide fingers inside and curl them just right. You're making sounds you don't recognize, high and broken, and he's making these noises too, these satisfied rumbles that vibrate against you.

"So good," he mumbles against you, and you feel it, the vibration. "Taste so good. Could do this all night."

"Don't-" You're panting, close, so close. "Don't stop, please-"

He doesn't. He works you through it, fingers and mouth, and you come harder than you have in your life, crying out, back bowing off the bed. He eases you through it, gentle now, pressing kisses to your thighs, your hip, your stomach.

"Okay?" he asks, chin resting on your belly, looking up at you with dark eyes.

You thread your fingers through his hair, God he's so beautiful like this.

"Yeah." You're wrecked. "Yeah, I'm- come here."

He crawls up, kisses you slow and deep. He's still hard, pressing against your hip, and you reach for him but he catches your wrist.

"Not yet," he says. "Wanna take my time."

"Since when do you take your time?"

"Since I want to." He kisses your wrist, the pulse point, then your palm.

And that was weird, because he never did that.

"I need be inside you. Ok?"

Your stomach flips. You nod.

He reaches over, grabs a condom from the drawer, rolls it on while you watch. He's beautiful like this, ink, muscles and lust, and you don't let yourself think about how many girls have seen him like this. You're here now. That's what matters.

He settles between your legs, guides himself in slow, so slow, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. You gasp at the stretch, the fullness, and he stills, breathing hard.

"Good?" he asks, strained.

"Yeah. Move."

He does. Slow at first, deep strokes that hit something inside you that makes your vision blur. He keeps his eyes on yours, which is almost too much, too intimate, and you try to look away but he catches your chin, makes you look at him.

"Stay with me," he says, and you don't know if he means right now or forever, and you're scared to ask.

He speeds up, hips snapping harder, and you wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging into his lower back. He's hitting that spot every time now, and you're already close again, which is ridiculous, which is unfair.

"Touch yourself," he pants.

You obey, fingers sliding between you, and he groans, watching, and the sound sets you off. You come clenching around him, and he follows, burying his face in your neck, groaning long and low as he spills into the condom.

For a minute, neither of you moves. He's heavy on top of you, but you don't mind. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest. His hand finds yours, fingers threading together on the pillow beside your head.

"Stay," he says, muffled against your shoulder.

"That's the second time you've said that tonight."

"Mean it both times." He lifts his head, looks at you with dark, serious eyes. "I want to wake up with you."

You should say no. You have class. You have rules about this, about not sleeping over, about not making this real.

"Okay," you say.

He smiles, rare and soft, and kisses your forehead, your nose, your mouth. "Okay."

He gets up, deals with the condom, brings you a towel and a t-shirt to sleep in. His shirt.

"Pretty," he says, and you roll your eyes, but you're smiling.

You crawl into his bed, under the black sheets, and he follows, wrapping himself around you from behind, arm heavy over your waist.

"Night," he murmurs against your hair.

"Night."

You're almost asleep when your phone buzzes from the floor where your pants are. You ignore it. He doesn't.

"Your alarm or something?"

"No." You're drifting. "Probably mom."

He goes still behind you. "You tell her about me?"

"She knows I have friends."

"Friends." He says the word like it's funny. Like it hurts. "Yeah. Okay."

You should clarify. You should say something. But you're tired, and he's warm, and you let yourself fall asleep instead.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

In the morning, he's already awake when you open your eyes, propped up on one elbow, watching you.

"Creepy," you mumble.

"Can't help it." He traces your jaw with his finger, light. "You're pretty when you sleep."

"Stop."

"Can't help that either." He leans in, kisses you soft, morning breath and all. "Wanna shower with me?"

"Your hot water lasts five minutes."

"Then we'll be fast." He's already pulling you up, hands on your waist, and you let him lead you to the bathroom, let him wash your hair, let him press you against the tile and take you again with water running down your back.

After, wrapped in his robe while he makes coffee in the kitchen, you check your phone.

jk: you look good in my shirt

You look up. He's leaning against the counter, watching you, phone in his hand.

you: you're ridiculous

jk: and yet you're still here

You don't have a reply to that.

"Class at 9?" he asks.

"Mhm."

"I'll drive you."

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

You look at him over the rim of your mug, at his messy hair and his bare chest and his tattoos, at the way he's looking at you like you're something precious, something he wants to keep.

"Okay," you say.

He smiles, small and real, and you don't let yourself name the feeling in your chest.

Not yet.

When he pulls up to the liberal arts building, cutting the engine, the sudden silence is jarring, you climb off.

"Text me after your class."

"I have a study group."

"Text me after that."

You roll your eyes, but you're smiling. "I'll see you later, Jungkook."

He catches your wrist before you can turn away, pulls you closer. "Hey." His other hand cups your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek. "Be good."

"I'm always good."

"No, you're not." He grins, sharp and wicked. "That's why I like you."

He kisses you then, right there in front of everybody, a claiming kiss that leaves you breathless and blushing. When he pulls away, he's still smiling, and you can feel the eyes of passing students on you.

"Go," he says, smacking your ass lightly. "Learn something."

You flip him off over your shoulder as you walk away, but you're still smiling when you push through the doors to the building.

Your study group is in the library, in one of the glass-walled rooms on the third floor. You're late, and they're already deep into discussion about postcolonial theory. You slide into a chair and try to focus, but your mind keeps drifting back to Jungkook and his hands on your skin, his mouth on yours, the way he'd looked at you this morning.

"Earth to Y/N," says Mia, waving a hand in front of your face. "Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere," you say, shaking your head. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"We were talking about Fanon's concept of violence as a cleansing force," says David, pushing his glasses up his nose. "But you seem more interested in whatever, or whoever, has you smiling like that."

"I'm not smiling."

"You are," says Sarah, grinning. "And you're wearing a guy's shirt under your hoodie. Spill."

You look down at the collar of the black t-shirt peeking out from under your hoodie.

"It's nothing," you say, but they're all looking at you, and you know they won't let it go.

"Is it that guy?" asks Mia, leaning forward. "The one you were with at the coffee shop three weeks ago ?"

You'd forgotten they'd seen you together. Jungkook had insisted on buying you coffee, sliding into the booth across from you, his tattooed fingers drumming the table as he studied you. Your friends had been sitting two tables away, watching with wide eyes.

"Maybe," you say, noncommittal.

"Oh my god," says Sarah. "It is. What's his name? Is he a student here?"

You hesitate. You know his name, of course, everyone on campus knows his name, but saying it out loud feels like acknowledging something real, something that you're not sure even exists.

"Jungkook," you say, quietly.

"Jeon Jungkook?" asks David, his eyes widening behind his glasses. "As in, the Jeon Jungkook? The guy whose family donated the new science building?"

You nod, feeling a flush creep up your neck. You'd forgotten about the fact that there were 3 buildings with his family name engraved for everyone to see.

"Holy shit," says Mia. "How did you-?"

"I don't know," you say honestly. "He just... noticed me."

God, that sounded a bit depressing,

"Girl," says Sarah, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. "That's not 'noticing.' That's 'hunting.' Be careful."

You want to laugh, but you can't. Because she's right, and the terrifying part is how much you're enjoying it.

Your phone buzzes during your next class, a subtle vibration against your thigh. You pull it out discreetly, hiding it under your desk.

jk: bored

jk: thinking about you

jk: specifically thinking about you in my bed

You feel a flush creep up your neck, and you cross your legs, pressing your thighs together. Professor Davies is droning on about Lacanian psychoanalysis, and you're supposed to be taking notes, but all you can think about is Jungkook's hands on you, his mouth, the way he'd looked at you this morning.

you: i'm in class

jk: so?

jk: touch yourself

You almost drop your phone. You look up, but Professor Davies is still writing on the whiteboard, his back to the class. You type back with shaking fingers.

you: i'm not doing that

jk: why not?

jk: bet you're wet right now

jk: bet you're thinking about this morning

jk: i am

You are, you’re thinking about the shower, the water running down your back, his hands on your hips. The way he pressed you against the tile, and took you from behind, one hand wrapped around your throat, the other between your legs.

you: stop

jk: make me

jk: come over after class

you: i have to study

jk: i'll be quiet

jk: mostly

You can't help but smile, even as your cheeks burn. You're saved by the bell, literally, as the class ends and students start packing up their things.

you: maybe

jk: not maybe

jk: i'll be outside

You grab your stuff, mumble a quick goodbye to your classmates, and you head straight for the door. Sure enough, there he is, leaning against his Ducati, sunglasses on, looking like he walked out of some glossy Vogue cover. People are staring, whispering, but he acts like none of it matters. His focus is stuck on you, and only you.

“Took you long enough,” he says, like it’s a joke, while you’re still getting closer.

“I was in class,” you reply, but you can’t really stop the smile from showing up.

”Missed you,” he answers, and before you can think too hard, he pulls you into this kiss right there in the middle of the quad. It’s not as deep as the one you had this morning, but it’s got the same hold on you. When he finally eases back, he’s already grinning.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks.

“I have to study,” you say, but it comes out soft, almost thin, and we both know it.

“Study later,” he says, and he presses a helmet into your hands. “Live now.”

You grab the helmet, strap it on , and hop up on the bike behind him. When you wind your arms around his waist,

When you finally reach his place, it’s empty, which is odd. Usually his dog is right there at the door, tail going a mile a minute, but now there’s nothing, not even a trace.

“Where’s your dog?” you ask, while Jungkook locks the door.

“At my parents” he says, and he pushes the door open. “They’re spoiling him.”

You step in, and he comes after, kicking the door shut behind you

“Come here,” he says, and he tugs you in close, kissing you slow and deep, like he has all the time in the world. “God, I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰

lmk what u guys think!