After slipping into a private Korean dinner with the boys, the two of you sneak away to the single-stall bathroom for a stolen moment. Tipsy and overjoyed, Taehyung pulls you into playful, heated kisses against the sink—full of giggles, beard tickles, and his signature words.
WARNINGS ◦ alcohol consumption (my babies are tipsy) ◦ mild making out / heated kissing ◦ very light suggestive touching ◦ bathroom makeout ◦ established relationship ◦ idol au ◦ soft taehyung bc i'm a lonely bitch
11O5 ━━━━━ drabble taehyung x fem!reader
۶ৎ 𝓜 , tell me why i'm in the middle of the craziest week at uni but i'm still here delivering this silly work to my taehyung girlies bc i couldn't sit still after seeing a photo of him in pinterest with this hair. i'm just too soft for my bangtan babies so this is me providing another domestic bangtan drabble. hope you can enjoy, sorry if it's bad!
━━━━━ read on ao3
The private Korean dinner in Vegas was buried deep in the back of an unmarked restaurant, the kind of place that required NDAs and two separate entrances. The boys were loud and loose after the show, soju bottles sweating on the table while staff tried (and failed) to keep things civilized. You’d slipped in halfway through the meal, fresh off your flight, hair still smelling like airplane air and the desert wind. The second Taehyung spotted you across the room his whole face lit up like a kid on Christmas—boxy grin, eyes disappearing, immediately abandoning his seat to pull you into a back hug that lasted way too long.
Now the two of you were crammed into the single-stall bathroom at the end of the hallway, door locked, the low hum of laughter and clinking glasses muffled through the wall. One dim warm light glowed above the mirror. Taehyung had you pressed against the sink, tipsy and happy and entirely too pleased with himself.
“You really flew all the way here just to surprise me?” he murmured against your lips, voice low, the faint scent of soju and galbi on his breath. His newly trimmed beard brushed your skin as he kissed you again, slower this time.
You laughed softly into it, fingers in his hair. “Don’t get cocky. I had a gap in my schedule.”
“Still counts.” He smiled against your mouth, hands resting at your waist, thumbs slipping just under the hem of your top. The kiss deepened naturally, warm and familiar after weeks apart—his tongue brushing yours, unhurried but hungry. He tasted like dinner and the soju he’d been drinking, a little messy when he tilted his head.
You pulled back a fraction, breathing against his cheek. “We’re gonna get caught if you keep grinning like that every time you kiss me.”
He let out a quiet laugh, forehead resting against yours for a second. “Can’t help it. You show up looking like that and I’m supposed to act normal?” His hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, then he leaned in again, catching your bottom lip gently between his.
It stayed playful at first—little giggles breaking through when your noses bumped or his beard tickled your chin. But the longer it went, the more it heated up. He pressed closer, one thigh sliding between yours as he kissed you deeper, slower, the kind of kiss that made the tiny bathroom feel even smaller. The mirror fogged slightly behind your back. Outside, someone yelled something about another round of drinks, and you both froze for half a second before cracking up again.
“You’re such an idiot when you’re tipsy,” you whispered, rolling your eyes as he nipped at your jaw.
“An idiot who missed you,” he shot back, cocky but soft, voice rough around the edges. He kissed the spot right under your ear, then lower, careful not to leave marks. His hands stayed mostly respectful, one cupping the back of your neck, the other at your hip, but the way he held you felt greedy anyway.
You tugged his hair lightly to bring his mouth back to yours. The muffled noise from the dinner, the warm yellow light, the stolen minutes—it all made everything feel more intense. Just two people who barely got time like this, sneaking a moment in a Vegas bathroom because tomorrow was finally an off day.
Taehyung pulled away just enough to look at you, eyes a little glassy from the soju, that lazy smile still in place. “We should probably go back before they send a search party.”
“Yeah,” you agreed, but neither of you moved right away. He stole one more kiss, shorter this time, then rested his forehead on yours again with a content sigh.
Your fingers moved on their own, tracing lightly along his jaw where you’d helped trim his beard two weeks ago. The skin was still smooth there. “How are you feeling, really?” you asked quietly, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “All the shows, the travel… you sleeping enough? Eating properly?”
He let out a soft breath, almost a laugh, but it came out melted and relaxed under your touch. His eyes closed for a second as he leaned into your hand like a cat. “You always ask that first.”
“Because you never tell me unless I do.” You kept your voice low, one hand sliding to the back of his neck, massaging gently. The muffled laughter from the dining room felt far away now.
Taehyung hummed, the sound rumbling in his chest. He looked younger like this — tipsy, unguarded, shoulders dropping as the constant performer energy finally slipped off. “I’m okay. Tired, but good tired. The Vegas shows were insane… the crowd was loud. My throat’s a little scratchy from all the singing, but nothing serious.” He paused, then admitted with a small shrug, “Missed you more than I thought I would this leg.”
You nodded, continuing the slow caress along his neck and into his hair. “Good. I worried about the time difference and your schedule. You looked a bit pale in the last live.”
He smiled, small and genuine, eyes opening again to meet yours. “You watch those?”
“Every one I can.” Your fingers kept moving, soothing, grounding. “Don’t push too hard tomorrow on the off day, okay? We can just stay in. Order room service, watch something stupid.”
Taehyung melted even more, arms wrapping loosely around your waist as he pulled you closer, not in a heated way — just wanting to feel you there. “That sounds perfect,” he murmured against your temple. “No plans. Just us. I’ll even let you pick the movie without complaining.”
You chuckled softly. “Liar. You always complain.”
“Only because your taste is questionable,” he teased, but there was no bite to it. He nuzzled into your neck for a moment, breathing you in. The warm bathroom light made everything feel intimate and small, like the chaos of tour and Vegas outside didn’t exist for these few minutes.
You stayed like that, hands gently stroking his back, his hair, just existing together in the quiet. No rush to leave, even though you both knew you should. It was rare — this kind of easy, earned closeness in the middle of his crazy life.
“Love you,” he said simply, almost under his breath, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Love you too, idiot.”
He laughed quietly, the sound warm against your skin, and neither of you made a move to unlock the door just yet.
author's note — nothing really developed as usual, but i looooove writing est. relationship!bangtan bc i believe these men deserves the best so i write them the best (not always abhahahaha). NEways, thank you for reading!
Because of you - Jungkook scenario (Angst, fluff, slight smut) - Part 6 - the end
A/N: I have this urgee to write about Jungkook. Thank you, thank you so so much for love and support on this story! Love you all!
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Part 1 -> here / Part 2 -> here / Part 3 -> here /
Part 4 -> here / Part 5 -> here
Summary: Jeon Jungkook is your big brother’s best friend. As the villa trip winds down, a quiet late-night walk by the ocean forces you and Jungkook to finally confront the heavy ghosts and lingering heartbreaks of your shared past.
Members: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Fluff, angst, slight smut
Warnings: alcohol, mature, mature scenes
Word count: 21371
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The high-pitched chime of the doorbell didn't just ring once—it buzzed incessantly, followed by a rapid, pounding barrage of fist against wood.
Jungkook groaned, burying his face deeper into his pillow to drown out the noise. Muttering a dark curse under his breath, he threw back his comforter and sat up on the edge of the bed. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, squinting through the harsh light of the screen.
9:04 AM. Saturday.
Who in their right mind was harassing his door at nine in the morning on a weekend?
Dragging a hand down his face, he stumbled out of bed. He was wearing low-slung grey pajama pants, his dark hair a messy, rumpled mop from sleep, and his chest completely bare. Dragging his feet across the cool wooden floor, he reached the front entryway, pulled the lock back with a sharp click, and yanked the heavy door open, ready to snap at whoever was standing on his welcome mat.
The words died straight in his throat. His eyes went wide.
You were standing right there in his hallway. You opened your mouth, ready to unleash a whole speech on him, but before a single sound came out, your eyes flicked downward. For one loud, heavy second, your gaze landed directly on his bare, broad chest and the sharp line of his abs, tracing down to where his pajama pants hung loose on his hips.
A tiny beat of silence hung between you before you caught yourself, quickly snapping your eyes back up to meet his dark, sleepy gaze and forcing your composure back into place.
"What the fuck, Jungkook?" you demanded, your voice laced with pure, unadulterated frustration.
"What?" Jungkook’s brow furrowed into a deep frown.
Without waiting for a formal greeting or an invitation, you pushed right past his shoulder, stepping straight into his quiet, dimly lit apartment.
Jungkook stood there for a second, blinking at your retreating figure in utter bewilderment. He let out a quiet, disbelieving scoff, shutting the front door behind you. "Well, come on in, why don't you," he muttered, voice dry.
He padded behind you, his bare feet silent on the floor as he followed your angry stride straight into his open living area. The moment you hit the middle of the rug, you spun around on your heel to face him, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. "Tell me what happened last night," you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him.
Jungkook stopped in his tracks, his hands coming up to rest lightly on his hips as he looked down at you, completely lost. "Nothing happened."
"You are lying," you shot back instantly, your voice rising in exasperation as you looked at him with sheer suspicion. "Just tell me so I can get it over with!"
A short, raspy laugh burst from Jungkook, full of sleepy amusement. He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking down at you like you had completely lost your mind.
"Why are you so full of energy today?" he asked, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head. "I'm telling you, nothing happened."
You let out an exasperated sigh, unzipping your jacket and slipping it off your shoulders. You tossed it over the back of his sofa and dropped down onto the soft leather cushion, crossing your arms and staring up at him as he stood bare-chested in the middle of the room.
"Are you lying?" you asked, narrowing your eyes, trying to catch even a single flicker of hesitation on his face.
"I am not lying," he answered smoothly, standing his ground with a look of pure, calm innocence.
You groaned, turning your head to glare at his coffee table. "Ugh, I hate you."
A soft giggle escaped his lips. Jungkook pointed a finger directly at his own chest, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at you on his couch. "What are you mad at me for? You're the one who texted me, Shorty."
The moment your eyes had cracked open earlier that morning, reality had slapped you squarely in the face. Still half-dazed, you had reached for your phone on the nightstand, only to freeze when you opened your chat history. Reading through your own bold, reckless text messages—especially the one where you threw his old words right back in his face—you had literally buried your face into your pillow and screamed into it.
Jungkook turned slowly, he padded across the dark hardwood floor toward his open kitchen, his bare feet silent as he moved. He poured himself a glass of water, taking a slow sip before setting the glass down on the counter.
"I came to pick you up, I drove you home, I helped you get into bed, and that's all," he said, his low morning voice calm and steady as he leaned back against the counter, resting his hands behind him. "Then I went home."
Pushing yourself up from the leather cushions, you trailed after him into the warm, sunlit kitchen. You pulled out one of the high bar stools at the kitchen island and sat down directly across from him, resting your elbows on the cool marble surface.
"Have you had coffee yet?" he asked, turning toward his coffee machine. "Or did you just run out of your apartment, full of blind rage, straight to my door?"
"The second one," you grumbled, dropping your hands to rest your chin on your palms.
Jungkook let out a soft snort, shaking his head as he pulled two mugs from the cabinet. Watching him move around the kitchen was entirely too distracting. The line of his shoulders and the way his back muscles shifted as he reached for the coffee beans made you acutely aware, once again, that he was still shirtless in front of you like it was nothing.
"Put a shirt on, Jeon," you muttered, though there was zero authority left in your tone.
Jungkook paused mid-reach, turning his head slightly to look back at you over his shoulder. A tiny, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You're the one who pounded on my door at nine in the morning, Y/N."
He set the mugs down and poured the coffee beans into the grinder. The whirring filled the kitchen for a moment before fading, leaving only the rich aroma of fresh espresso in the air.
"Besides," he added casually, leaning back against the counter while the machine began to hum, "it's not like you haven't seen me without a shirt before."
The nonchalant way he said it—referring so easily to the intimacy you used to share—made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with frustration. The thick, invisible wall that had kept the two of you carefully polite for the past month was completely gone. In its place was this dangerous, sweet middle ground where the past was suddenly bleeding back into the present.
You buried your face in your hands, a low groan of sheer defeat muffled against your palms. "I hate you. I officially hate you."
"Liar," he murmured softly, the vibration of his low voice practically reaching you across the marble top.
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You wrap both hands around the warm mug, taking a long, slow sip of the coffee. The rich espresso takes the edge off your lingering morning fatigue, but sitting across from a shirtless Jungkook in his sunlit kitchen—after everything that happened last night—is starting to make your chest feel dangerously tight.
Before the atmosphere can shift into something completely unmanageable, you set the empty mug down on the marble counter with a quiet tap.
"Okay," you say, pushing yourself up from the bar stool. "I'm leaving."
Jungkook raises an eyebrow, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he steps back from the counter. "Leaving already? You were pounding on my door five minutes ago."
"I got my answers," you grumble, walking back into the living room to grab your jacket off the couch.
Jungkook doesn't try to stop you, but he follows close behind, his bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor as he walks you down the entryway toward the front door. You slip your jacket back on, zip it up, and reach for the handle. Just as your hand touches the cold metal, you pause and turn on your heel to face him. He stands there in the doorway, hands resting loosely in the pockets of his low-slung pajama pants, looking completely unfazed.
"Just so you know," you say, narrowing your eyes at him, "I'm still mad at you."
A sharp, breathless laugh bursts from Jungkook's throat. He shakes his head in utter disbelief, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're still mad at me?" he asks, pointing at himself.
"Why are you mad at me? I literally did nothing wrong!"
He leans his shoulder against the doorframe, a wicked, teasing smirk spreading across his face as he tilts his head down toward you.
"Maybe," he murmurs, his low voice dropping into a soft, knowing tone, "you're not actually mad at me. Maybe you're just mad at yourself."
The spot-on accuracy hits you right in the chest. A hot flush creeps up your neck, and without thinking, you reach out and give his bare chest a gentle, indignant push.
"Bye, Jungkook," you snap, fighting the stubborn smile trying to tug at your own lips.
Jungkook lets out another soft, delighted chuckle as he stumbles back half an inch, watching you step out into the carpeted hallway. "Drive safe, Shorty," he calls out softly just as you pull the heavy door shut between you, leaving you alone in the hallway with a heart pounding way too fast for a Saturday morning.
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In the days and weeks that followed, the embarrassment lingered. Each time you glanced at your phone, another flush of frustration crept up. You couldn’t believe you’d actually sent those texts—that you’d been the first to break after months of restraint. You were angry with yourself for letting your guard down.
But as the initial cringe faded, a deeper understanding took root. Alcohol had a way of dissolving the walls you’d spent weeks building. Drunk words aren’t careful lies—they’re unfiltered truths, raw and exposed. Whatever you’d said or done that night—no matter how reckless or humiliating in the morning—had been honest. Every feeling you’d suppressed behind politeness and distance had finally surfaced.
And Jungkook knew it.
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March brought a welcome wave of early spring to the K-Arts campus, sweeping away the brutal winter chill and turning the outdoor plazas into bustling hubs of sunshine and light denim jackets. With the warmer air came the unmistakable, frantic energy of the annual K-Arts University Festival.
You were sitting on a stone bench near the main plaza, minding your own business with an iced coffee in hand, when two familiar shadows blocked out the afternoon sun.
"Our favorite girl," Taehyung announced dramatically, dropping down onto the bench beside you and throwing an arm around your shoulders.
Jimin materialized right in front of you, crouching down so he was at eye level, a suspiciously sweet, radiant smile plastered across his face. "Y/N. Savior of our lives. Future legend of the dance department."
You squinted at both of them over the rim of your cup, instantly on high alert. "What do you two want?"
"Okay, so as you know, the senior festival showcase is in two weeks," Jimin began, clasping his hands together like a salesman about to drop a pitch. "And our group stage is massive this year. We have the concept, we have the track, we have the core choreo... but we're short one dancer."
"One very specific, incredibly talented dancer who can actually keep up with a heavy hip-hop routine," Taehyung chimed in, pressing his palms together in a mock plea. "We already booked three other girls from the performance track, but the formation is completely uneven without a fourth. You're the only one left on campus who can pull it off without needing three weeks of basic training."
You hesitated, taking a slow sip of your coffee. "Who's in the showcase?"
"Just the usual senior lineup," Jimin answered smoothly, waving a dismissive hand through the air as if it were no big deal at all. "Me, Taehyung, Jungkook, a couple of the guys from the rap track... standard stuff. Come on, Y/N, it's our last big university show! Do it for us?"
Taehyung pouted, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Please? We'll buy your coffee for a month."
You looked between Jimin's innocent, pleading eyes and Taehyung's ridiculous pout, letting out a defeated sigh. "Fine. Send me the practice schedule."
Jimin immediately beamed, clapping his hands together. "You're the best! Practice starts tomorrow at six in Studio 3!"
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The next afternoon, Studio 3 was filled with the rhythmic thud of sneakers against polished wood. The initial phase of rehearsal was purely focused on group sync—everyone standing in rows, breaking down the choreography count by count. You worked on the side formations first, learning sharp, explosive hip-hop isolations alongside the other backup dancers. Jungkook was in full work mode, his black hoodie over his head, sweat glistening on his forehead as he mastered the footwork. You caught his eye in the wall-to-wall mirrors now and then, but the focus in the room was intense and professional.
When the student choreographer clapped his hands loudly to gather everyone center stage, you were still catching your breath from the group footwork drills.
"Alright, group parts are looking tight," the choreographer announced, wiping his forehead with a towel. "Now let's break down the central partner section for the bridge. Pair up."
You turned, fully expecting to be matched with one of the other performance majors, but the choreographer pointed directly at you and then at Jungkook. "Y/N, you're taking the center pair routine with Jungkook. He takes the vocal lead here, so you two are tethered for the entire thirty-second breakdown."
You froze for a split second. A quiet sigh escaped you, and without thinking, you let out a soft, exasperated, "Well, fuck," beneath your breath, rolling your eyes slightly up toward the studio ceiling.
Jungkook caught every single second of it.
He instantly raised an eyebrow, a sly, wicked smirk spreading across his face as he stepped into the center of the floor toward you. He tilted his dark head down, his dark eyes sparkling with pure amusement.
"Ouch," Jungkook murmured, his low voice laced with heavy teasing as he stopped right in front of you. "Did you just 'well, fuck' me? Am I really that terrible to dance with?"
"You're a distraction," you grumbled, swatting lightly at his arm, though you couldn't stop the reluctant grin from tugging at your lips. "And I know you're going to make this intentionally difficult."
"Me? Never," he gasped in mock offense, clutching the front of his oversized dark hoodie like you'd deeply wounded his honor. "I'm a consummate professional."
Before you could fire back another comeback, the speakers blasted the sultry, heavy-bass rhythm of the bridge, and the playful teasing instantly gave way to standard K-Arts intensity.
The routine shifted from aggressive hip-hop to dangerously intimate movements. It started with a slow, deliberate approach—Jungkook stepping right into your space, his tall frame blocking out the bright studio lights. In one fluid motion, his hand reached out, his long fingers slowly settling against the side of your waist to guide your position. It was meant to be a simple point of contact for the spin, but the sheer heat of his palm burned straight through your t-shirt, sending a sharp spark down your spine.
He pulled you in slightly, turning you so your back was positioned directly against his chest.
"Two body rolls, then break to the right!" the choreographer called out.
You initiated the move, sinking into the beat and executing two fluid, sweeping body rolls. The back of your shoulders and hips brushed against his firm chest and thighs, matching his rhythm perfectly as he guided your movement from behind. The sudden wave of radiating body heat between you made the air in the studio feel thick and dizzying.
When you snapped out of the wave and stepped to the side, you spun around to face him—and the eye contact was insane. Jungkook’s dark eyes locked onto yours in the mirror's reflection, burning with a heavy, intense focus that had nothing to do with standard choreography. His chest was heaving beneath his hoodie, his breath warm, and for a split second, neither of you seemed to remember anyone else was in the room.
The choreographer hit pause on the stereo to give everyone a quick five-minute breather, but the second the music started back up for round five, the mistakes only got more ridiculously unhinged.
On the next trial, the routine called for a rapid, synchronized head-snap on count four. You threw yourself into the beat, sharply whipping your head to the left—only for your high ponytail to fly straight across the gap and smack Jungkook square across his cheek with a loud, crisp thwack.
Jungkook froze mid-step, his hand flying up to cup his face in absolute, dramatic betrayal.
"Did you just whip me?" he asked, his dark eyes wide open as he stared down at you.
"It was momentum!" you gasped, trying—and failing—to hold back a burst of snickers. "You were standing way too close to my head!"
"I'm the lead vocal, shorty, I'm supposed to be in frame!" Jungkook argued, though a boyish grin was already breaking through his fake outrage. He rubbed his cheek exaggeratedly. "I just took a lethal biological weapon straight to the nose. Someone get a medic."
"Oh, stop whining, your giant hoodie took most of the damage anyway," you scoffed, swatting his hand away from his face.
"My face was exposed!" he protested, leaning in close and pointing directly to his cheekbone. "Look at the emotional trauma you've caused. I might not be able to hit the high notes later."
"If you don't shut up, I'll whip you with it again," you threatened softly, pointing a finger at his chest.
Jungkook let out a low, breathless giggle, shaking his head as he stepped back into starting position. "Heartless. Absolutely heartless."
On the third run-through, as you tried to execute a quick spin off his hip, you misjudged the distance and slammed your shoe straight onto his toe.
"Ow!" Jungkook let out a sudden, dramatic grunt, hopping backward on one foot while clutching his shoe.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" you gasped, covering your mouth as you rushed over to grab his arm.
Jungkook looked up at you through his dark bangs, trying to keep a stern face before completely breaking into a deep, boyish laugh. "Are you trying to bench me for the festival, shorty?"
From the front row, Jimin dropped to the floor laughing, while Taehyung shouted, "Red card! That's a foul on center stage!"
The tension shattered instantly, dissolving into collective laughter across the studio floor.
A few minutes later, you mess up another count—this time accidentally ducking the wrong way during a side-step, causing your forehead to bump lightly against Jungkook’s broad shoulder. He instantly reached out, his hands catching your waist to steady you, holding you flush against him as he let out a breathless, fond giggle right near your ear.
"Focus," he murmured, his voice laced with rich amusement as his thumb stroked your hip through your track pants before letting you go.
The final straw came right before the bridge climax.
You were executing your sharp solo spin around him, while Jungkook was supposed to hit a precise, grounded count-six hip isolation while staring straight ahead at his own reflection.
Instead, his dark eyes drifted off-center in the mirror, watching you complete your turn. He got so completely distracted by your movement that he missed count six entirely, standing there like an unbothered statue while you finished the spin and struck your pose... entirely alone.
Silence fell over the speakers as the track ran out.
You slowly dropped your pose, turning around with your hands on your hips to stare at him. "Jungkook. Where was count six?"
Jungkook blinked, suddenly realizing he had completely checked out. His ears immediately flushed a bright, soft pink beneath his dark fringe. He rubbed the back of his neck through his hood, looking everywhere in the room except at you.
"I was... analyzing your spatial awareness," he offered smoothly, though his voice cracked just enough to give him away.
"You forgot the count because you were staring," you called him out instantly, a smug smirk taking over your face.
"I was not staring!" he insisted, though the deep blush spreading across his cheeks betrayed him completely.
From the front row, Jimin pointed a finger at Jungkook's bright red ears. "Liar! He was totally staring! I saw it in 4K resolution!"
Jungkook let out an embarrassed groan, pulling the drawstrings of his dark hood so tight that his face practically disappeared into the fabric, leaving only his nose and dark, sparkling eyes visible. "Alright, reset the track," his muffled voice called out from inside the hood. "From the beginning. Before everyone starts making up lies about me."
You couldn't help the loud, genuine laugh that burst from your lips. Reaching out, you yanked his hood back down to reveal his messy hair and blushing face, bumping your shoulder against his.
"Come on, lead vocal," you teased gently, your voice dripping with sweet affection. "Let's see if you can keep up this time."
Jungkook looked down at you through his dark bangs, his embarrassment softening into a quiet, breathtaking smile that made your pulse do a stupid, familiar flip. "Watch me." he murmured softly, stepping back into formation right beside you.
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An hour later, the two of you were finally stepping out of the dance building into the crisp, refreshing March night air. The campus grounds were quiet, lit by the warm glow of yellow streetlamps that cast long shadows across the stone pathways.
Jungkook had his dark hood pulled low over his head, his hands shoved deep into the front pocket of his oversized sweatshirt as he walked beside you, his long strides matching your pace effortlessly. The cool breeze felt amazing against your flushed skin after hours in the muggy studio.
"Vending machine?" Jungkook asked, nodding toward the glowing glass box near the edge of the central plaza.
"Only if you're paying," you replied instantly.
"I always pay," he grumbled playfully, though he was already pulling his phone out to scan the tap-to-pay sensor.
He selected a can of sweet iced coffee for you and a banana milk for himself. As the machine clinked and dropped the drinks into the metal slot, you reached down to grab yours—only for Jungkook to swiftly snatch both cans out of the bin before your fingers could even touch the metal.
"Hey!" you snapped, spinning around.
Jungkook held your iced coffee high above his head, a wicked, victorious smirk spreading across his face as he looked down at you. "What's the magic word?"
"Jungkook, give it back," you demanded, stepping right into his personal space and reaching up to grab it.
He didn't move an inch away—he just stood there, using his height advantage, his dark eyes sparkling with pure, childish delight as you stretched up on your tiptoes. Your chest bumped against his broad front, your hand brushing against his wrist as you tried to reach past his shoulder.
"Come on, Y/N, you're almost there," he teased, tilting his head back to keep it just out of your reach, his low laugh soft and rich in the quiet night air.
"You are unbelievable," you huffed, giving up and leaning your entire weight against his chest, placing both hands flat on his chest to push yourself off.
The sudden contact caught him off guard. Jungkook’s breath hitched slightly as your palms pressed against his chest, his eyes dropping down to look at your face, the playful smirk softening into something much warmer, much quieter. For a brief, suspended second, the teasing vanished, leaving only the sound of the light night breeze rustling the trees overhead. He didn't pull back. Instead, he slowly lowered his arm, bringing the cold can down until it was resting gently against your palm.
"Here," he murmured softly, his raspy voice dropping an octave, his fingers lingering over yours as he transferred the can to your hand. "Don't say I never give you anything."
You wrapped your fingers around the cold metal, your gaze locked onto his dark, steady eyes beneath the shadow of his hood. "Thanks," you whispered softly.
Jungkook offered you a tiny, genuine smile, his thumb giving the back of your hand one quick, subtle stroke before he stepped back, popping the tab on his own banana milk.
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The clock on the studio wall was already inching past midnight by the time the four of you finally gathered your bags and pushed open the heavy double doors.
The campus was dead quiet at this hour, bathed in the soft amber glow of tall streetlamps as a cool March breeze swept through the trees. You pulled your jacket tight around yourself, your muscles humming with that satisfying, bone-deep exhaustion after hours of non-stop execution.
Your sneakers crunched softly against the pavement as you walked together down the wide stone steps toward the parking lot where your cars were parked under the night sky.
The energy among the three of them was still buzzing—that post-practice high that performance majors lived for. Taehyung paced ahead, occasionally turning backward to walk as he gestured wildly with his hands, while Jimin and Jungkook walked on either side of you, their car keys jingling softly in their palms.
"We definitely need to fix the breathing on the third count of the chorus," Taehyung said, running a hand through his wavy hair. "If we hit that hard chest drop while trying to push out the high belt, the vocals are gonna crack."
"Yeah, it's all in the diaphragm control," Jimin agreed, taking a slow, deep breath to demonstrate as his breath misted faintly in the cold midnight air. "We need to sync our inhales right before the transition so we aren't gasping for air during the partner section."
Jungkook, his dark hood still pulled low over his forehead and his hands shoved deep into his oversized front pocket, nodded in thought. "Once we lock the breathing in with the footwork, it’s going to feel way lighter. We won't tire out as fast."
He paused, turning his head slightly beneath his hood to look down at you, his dark eyes warm in the moonlight.
"Seriously though, Y/N," he said softly, a genuine smile softening his features, "you were amazing tonight. Once we stopped crashing into each other, you completely nailed the bridge."
"Yeah, for real," Jimin added, reaching over to give your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "You brought the whole energy up. When the final festival show comes around, this stage is going to be absolute gold."
"It's gonna blow everyone away," Taehyung chimed in, turning back around as you all finally reached the row of parked cars. He unlocked his sedan with a beep and leaned back against the hood, crossing his arms over his chest as a sudden, spontaneous thought seemed to strike him.
"Hey," Taehyung said, his eyes lighting up. "Listen to this. Right after the festival wraps up—like, literally the next morning—we need to get the hell out of the city."
You blinked, leaning against the door of your own car. "What do you mean?"
"I mean a trip," Taehyung declared, spreading his hands wide. "Just rent a house somewhere quiet by the ocean or up in the hills for a few days. We pack up, skip uni on Monday and Tuesday, and relax."
At the suggestion, Jimin instantly turned his head toward Jungkook.
The two of them exchanged a silent, telepathic look across the hood of the car. There was no need for words—in a split second, an identical, mischievous spark ignited in both of their eyes, and they offered each other a slow, synchronized nod.
"I'm in," Jimin said immediately. "Count me in 100%."
"Same," Jungkook murmured, a low, satisfied hum vibrating in his throat as he shifted his weight next to you, his shoulder casually brushing against yours in the quiet parking lot.
You looked between the three of them, chuckling softly at their instant enthusiasm. "Honestly, you guys should definitely do it. A boys' trip sounds amazing for you three after grinding so hard for the showcase. You should go, have fun."
For a second, total silence fell over the parking lot.
Then, Taehyung let out a loud, theatrical scoff, shaking his head in utter disbelief. "A boys' trip? Excuse me?"
"Did she really just say 'you guys go'?" Jimin asked, throwing his hands in the air with a dramatic gasp as he looked at Jungkook. "Are my ears playing tricks on me at midnight?"
Jungkook turned his body slightly, leaning his hip against the driver's side door right next to you, looking down into your face with that familiar, dangerously sweet smirk playing on his lips.
"Nice try, Y/N," Jungkook murmured, his low morning-raspy voice dropping into a teasing, cozy tone that sent a quiet shiver down your spine. "Who told you that you had a choice?"
"I'm giving you space!" you protested softly, swatting at his hoodie sleeve, though a stubborn smile was already fighting its way onto your face.
"We don't want space, we want our fourth dancer," Taehyung declared smoothly, tossing his car keys into the air and catching them. "There is no 'no' on the table, Y/N. You're coming with us whether you like it or not."
"You're already booked," Jimin added with a wide, radiant grin, pointing a finger at you. "Pack a bag for three days. No excuses."
You threw your hands up in a gesture of pure surrender, letting out a dramatic sigh that made all three of them grin.
"Fine!" you declared, shaking your head as you unlocked your driver's side door. "Fine, I'll go. But if you guys wake me up before ten in the morning on that trip, I'm taking the car and driving back alone."
"Deal!" Taehyung cheered, instantly getting into his car.
"That's our Y/N!" Jimin called out, throwing you a flying kiss before slipping into his own driver's seat.
Jungkook just stood there beside your open door for a lingering second, his hands tucked back into his hoodie pocket. He looked down at you through his dark bangs, a soft, satisfied smile resting on his lips as if he’d known all along you were going to break.
"Get home safe, Shorty," he murmured, stepping back so you could get in.
"You too, Jeon," you replied, pulling the heavy car door shut.
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The quiet in your apartment was suffocating the second the front door clicked shut. After hours of thumping bass in the studio and the loud, chaotic energy in the parking lot, the stillness of your living room felt almost violent.
You had fought so hard to convince yourself that you were moving on, that the fight had burned everything to ash, and that you were strong enough to live in a world where Jeon Jungkook was just a ghost from your past. And yet, here you were. One drunk text, one sunlit morning over a cup of coffee at his counter, and one dance rehearsal later, every single brick of that fortress had dissolved into dust.
The burning warmth of his broad palm settling against your waist during the body rolls. The weight of his chest against your back, his heart pounding through his oversized dark hoodie.
You hadn't fought any of it. You had naturally slipped right back into his orbit—bantering, rolling your eyes, sharing water bottles, and leaning into his shoulder as if those months of bitter, hollow silence had never happened at all.
Leaning against the damp counter, you felt a wave of sheer anger at yourself. It felt weak. It felt like you were letting him off the hook, like you were abandoning your own pride and sprinting right back into a space where your heart could be shattered all over again. But beneath that anger was a far simpler, undeniable truth that made your breath catch: the feelings were just too damn strong, and they were still there.
Keeping your guard up against Jungkook took an exhausting amount of energy, but being near him was as effortless as breathing. The damage from the past wasn't gone—the memory of that explosive argument still lingered in the dark corners of your mind—but the second he was close to you, brushing his shoulder against yours and looking at you with those dark, intense eyes, your self-preservation completely folded. You were stupidly, desperately happy to have him back.
Across the city, in his own dimly lit apartment, Jungkook pulled his dark hoodie over his head and tossed it onto the couch.
The amber glow of the Seoul skyline poured through his floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long, dramatic shadows across the hardwood floor. He raked a hand through his dark, sweat-damp bangs, letting out a long, heavy breath as he sat down on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at his hands.
His mind was racing just as fast as yours, but the emotion heavy in his chest wasn't fear—it was pure, overwhelming relief.
Those months without you had been an absolute nightmare. He had hated the quiet in his apartment. He had hated walking onto campus knowing you were actively avoiding his gaze. He had spent weeks trapped in his own head, suffocating under a mountain of self-blame, completely paralyzed because he had no idea how to fix the mess he had made without making you hate him more. The distance between you had felt permanent, a cold wall he couldn't break through.
So today at rehearsal, he had taken a massive gamble.
He had deliberately tested the waters. Every playful tease, every time he pushed into your space, every lingering touch at your waist during the bridge routine was a silent, desperate prayer. He had been looking for any sign that the girl he loved was still in there, that the effortless, electric dynamic you used to share hadn't been completely destroyed.
Sitting in the dark, Jungkook rested his elbows on his knees, a soft, breathless laugh escaping his lips. He knew things can’t be magically fixed. He knew the heavy history was still sitting in the shadows, and he knew you were almost certainly overthinking everything in your own apartment right now.
He knew he had to be careful, that he couldn't rush you or spook you after everything you’d been through. But holding you in his arms on that dance floor, hearing your laugh echo in the studio, and knowing you were coming on that weekend trip in a few weeks proved the one thing he had been praying for: the spark hadn't died.
Jungkook pulled his phone from his pocket, looking at your name on the glowing screen for a long, quiet moment. A sweet, genuine smile softened his sharp features in the dark. He locked the phone and set it on his nightstand, leaning back against his pillows. The suffocating knot that had been sitting in his chest for months was finally gone. He had you back in his life, and this time, he was never going to let you go.
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By 6:00 PM, you pushed open the heavy double doors of Studio 3, your bag slung over one shoulder.
The studio was already warm, the familiar hum of the air conditioning struggling against the evening heat. Standing in the center of the polished floor was a loose circle consisting of the three boys—Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin—along with the two other female dancers from your performance group. They were leaning in close, animatedly whispering about something.
"Hey, guys," you greeted, dropping your gym bag near the mirrored wall.
Jimin spun around instantly, his face lighting up. "Y/N! Perfect timing! Get over here!"
You walked over, slipping into the opening between the two girls. As you joined the circle, your eyes naturally flicked toward Jungkook. He was wearing a simple, clean black t-shirt that hung off his broad shoulders, his dark fringe slightly parted over his forehead, revealing the toned expanse of his arms and tattoos. He gave you a small, subtle nod—a quiet, private acknowledgment that made your stomach do an involuntary little flip.
"Okay, so hear us out," Taehyung started, holding his hands up like a director making a pitch. "Before we drop the heavy, serious festival set, we want to do a surprise opener. Something light, sleek, and fun to get the crowd hyped before the main stage."
"A teaser act," Jimin added with a wide grin. "And Tae found the absolute perfect routine for it."
Taehyung pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen to open TikTok. "Look at this. It's Marc Devon's choreography to Ne-Yo's Miss Independent."
He angled the glowing screen toward the center of the circle so everyone could see. The smooth, infectious beat of the song filtered through the tiny speaker, accompanied by a video of a tight, effortless dance routine. It was full of slick body rolls, sharp isolations, and a groovy, flirtatious tempo that looked extremely satisfying to perform.
As the video played through, a genuine, helpless smile spread across your face. It was actually really good—fun, stylish, and full of personality.
"See? I told you she'd like it!" Taehyung laughed, noticing your expression.
You lifted your eyes from the phone screen, intending to agree with Tae, but as your gaze drifted across the circle, you caught Jungkook. When your eyes met his, he didn't look away or play it off. He just kept his steady, unblinking gaze on you, a tiny, almost invisible smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You forced yourself to break the eye contact, turning back to Taehyung and nodding smoothly. "Yeah... It's really cool. I think it's going to look amazing on stage. Let's do it."
"Yes!" Jimin cheered, tapping Taehyung's shoulder as the rest of the group nodded in agreement, starting to spread out across the floor to take their positions.
As you walked to your spot on the hardwood, taking a deep, steadying breath, desperately trying to keep your racing pulse under control.
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"Rewind it again—look at his footwork right on the beat drop!" Taehyung insisted for what felt like the fiftieth time, his thumb frantically scrubbing back and forth across his smudged phone screen.
All six of you were huddled in a tight, breathless circle in the middle of Studio 3, staring down at the tiny glowing video of Marc Devon’s Miss Independent routine. The smooth, infectious R&B beat leaked repeatedly from the tiny speaker, punctuated by the sharp swish of the dancers on screen as they executed that dangerously sleek, low-groove choreography.
"Okay, so when Ne-Yo hits the first line, we start facing the back mirror," Taehyung explained, standing up and immediately stepping out onto the empty floor to demonstrate. "You don't just turn around like a robot. It’s a slow, heavy shoulder roll over the right side, sink your hips into the floor, and then you snap the chest on count four. Like this!"
Taehyung executed the move, exaggerating the torso wave so dramatically that Jimin burst into a loud, wheezing laugh, dropping his head onto your shoulder to hide his face.
"Tae, you look like a wave crashing into a rock," Jimin giggled, wiping a tear from his eye.
"I am demonstrating the concept!" Taehyung argued passionately, doing the shoulder roll again. "See? Smooth! You guys are turning way too fast. Look at the video again!"
You couldn't help the helpless laugh that bubbled up in your chest. The energy in the room was electric and completely chaotic as everyone tried to map out the counts.
"Alright, let me set the count," Jungkook’s low, raspy voice cut through the giggles.
He stepped up toward the front center of the formation, looking lethal in his fitted black t-shirt. The thin fabric clung to his broad chest and shoulders, the dark ink of his sleeve tattoo peeking out as he raised his hands to clap in a steady, crisp rhythm.
"Facing the back. Heads down on eight," Jungkook instructed, his dark eyes sweeping over the group in the mirror's reflection before settling directly on yours. "Five, six, seven, eight—and one."
On one, the entire line executed the turn.
It was an immediate, glorious mess.
You turned a fraction of a second too early, while Jimin turned too late, causing the two of you almost to bump shoulders. Meanwhile, the girl on your left missed the hip isolation entirely, prompting a sudden chorus of groans and laughter that echoed off the high mirrors.
"Stop, stop, reset!" Jungkook called out, shaking his dark head with a broad, boyish grin that made his eyes crinkle. "Y/N, you're rushing count one. Don't anticipate the beat, let the bass pull you around."
"I wasn't rushing, the track sped up!" you protested playfully, fanning your warm face.
"The track didn't speed up, Shorty, you were just eager," Jungkook teased smoothly, stepping back into position right beside you.
After reviewing the 30-second TikTok another twenty times on Taehyung’s phone, breaking down every micro-isolation frame by frame, you all finally stood back in formation to run the full combination.
"From the top! Full energy!" Taehyung called out, hitting play on the main stereo system.
The studio speakers roared to life, filling the large room with the heavy, sensual bassline of Ne-Yo’s Miss Independent.
"Position! Facing the back, heads down," Taehyung called out, taking his spot in the line.
You stood in the front row, taking a slow, deep breath to steady your pulse. Directly to your right was Jungkook. Through the dark reflections in the back mirror, you could see him adjusting his position—his black t-shirt hugging the broad breadth of his chest, his dark hair damp around his temples.
The music swelled, Ne-Yo's vocals cutting smoothly over the thumping R&B beat.
She got her own thing...
On the first heavy beat, the six of you executed a synchronized 180-degree turn. You dragged your foot across the floor, sweeping your torso in a low, heavy wave to face the front wall of mirrors.
As you turned, Jungkook moved simultaneously. The transition brought him right into your personal space—his shoulder nearly brushing yours as he sank low into his knees, his movements grounded, fluid, and lethal.
...That's why I love her...
As the lyrics washed over the room, the choreography pulled you both into the slow, accent-heavy body roll.
Miss Independent...
Jungkook stepped slightly behind your right hip, closing every fraction of an inch between you. As you arched your spine into the top of the wave, his right hand reached across—his long, broad fingers sliding underneath the loose hem of your top, his warm palm pressing directly against your bare skin right at the curve of your waist and lower abdomen.
The sharp, sudden heat of his skin against yours sent an electric shock straight through your veins.
Won't you come and spend a little time...
With his grip guiding your center, you execute an opposite-side body roll, swaying your weight fluidly from side to side as a deep undulation ripples down from your shoulders through your torso and hips—matching Jungkook’s signature blend of effortless street style and locked-in control. He held you tight against his frame for that single, agonizing second, his breath warm against the shell of your ear as Ne-Yo’s voice filled the studio.
On the next count, his hand slipped off your abdomen, leaving your skin burning where his fingers had just been. You sweep your hands up along your chests and push overhead into strong, angular reaches. On the final accent, you drop back down into a wide, symmetrical power stance—knees bent, chests open.
Jungkook was watching you through the glass from time to time. Sweat glistened along his collarbone and throat, his dark eyes locked onto yours as he executed the chest isolations beside you. A faint, dangerously satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips—a quiet acknowledgment of the heat humming violently between you two while the rest of the room burned through the routine.
Yeah, yeah, yeah...
The tension through the glass is magnetic—his intense, hyper-focused eyes track your every micro-movement from behind, keeping eye contact through the mirror for a charged, split-second beat that radiates raw energy. On the track's final shift, you drop down onto the studio floor. Sweeping your upper body low, you execute a dramatic head roll and hair whip across the floor. Above you, Jungkook stands over the moment in a wide, powerful stance, arms brought in tight, locking into a sharp, frozen pose as the final beat cuts out.
The studio sound cut out completely.
For two seconds, nobody moved. Then, Taehyung let out a wild, victorious shout, slamming his hands together. "YES! That was it! That was fucking clean!"
Jimin collapsed onto his back on the floor. "We actually synced! Did you see that?!"
You let out a long, breathless laugh, dropping your hands to your knees as you bent over to catch your breath, your cheeks burning hot. Above you, a shadow fell over the floor. You looked up to see Jungkook standing over you, his hands resting on his hips, his black t-shirt damp around the neckline. He was looking down at you with an expression so genuinely proud, so soft and warm, that it completely blew away any remaining air in your lungs.
He extended a hand down toward you.
"Not bad, Shorty," Jungkook murmured over the noise of Taehyung and Jimin celebrating in the background, his raspy voice dipping low just for you.
You looked at his open palm, then up into his dark, gentle eyes. Suppressing the helpless smile threatening to break across your face, you reached up and took his hand, letting his broad, warm grip easily pull you back up onto your feet. He released your hand, offering a quiet, breathy chuckle as he turned to grab his water, but as he took a sip, his eyes lingered on you, his heart pounding a chaotic, happy beat against his chest.
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For the next few hours, the studio turned into a whirlwind of repetition, sweat, and focused determination. You drilled the movements over and over until your muscles burned and your sneakers left scuff marks on the floorboards. Whenever someone messed up a count, there would be a wave of groans followed by breathless laughter, someone restarting the track, and Jungkook’s steady voice counting out 5, 6, 7, 8 to lock everyone back into sync.
By the time the wall clock finally ticked past 10:00 PM, the energy in the room completely collapsed.
Taehyung hit stop on the stereo, and the sudden silence was filled only with heavy breathing and the rhythmic hum of the air conditioner.
"That's it... I'm dead," Jimin groaned, collapsing flat on his back in the center of the room, his arms spread out wide against the floor.
"Good work today, everyone," the lead girl called out, wiping her neck with a towel. The two female dancers grabbed their gym bags, gave quick high-fives, and waved goodbye as they headed out the door first. "See you guys at rehearsal tomorrow!"
That left just the four of you—you, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin—standing in the dimming studio light, completely exhausted.
You unzipped your bag, shoving your water bottle inside and pulling your hair up into a messy, high bun. You were drenched in sweat, your muscles throbbing in that satisfying way that only comes from a brutal practice. Right on cue, a loud, dramatic stomach growl echoed from Jimin's direction.
He sat up, rubbing his abdomen with a pained expression. "Okay, I have burned approximately ten thousand calories today. If I don't get food into my system in the next ten minutes, I'm going to pass out on this floor."
"Chimaek?" Taehyung asked instantly, his face lighting up as he tossed his bag over his shoulder. "Crispy fried chicken and ice-cold draft beer. We earned it."
"God, yes," you gasped, the mere thought of a cold beer making your mouth water. "Please tell me the spot down the street is still open."
"It is," Jungkook’s raspy voice came from behind you.
You turned to see him pulling a dry grey hoodie over his black t-shirt, his messy dark fringe sticking out as his head popped through the neck hole. He settled his bag over his shoulder and looked down at you, his dark eyes soft and glittering with post-workout adrenaline. "Let's go before they close the kitchen."
Ten minutes later, the four of you were tucked into a cozy, dimly lit wooden booth at a local chicken joint just a short walk from campus. The place smelled overwhelmingly delicious—hot oil, garlic, sweet spicy glaze, and stale draft beer.
You slid into one side of the booth, expecting Jimin or Taehyung to sit next to you, but Jungkook casually slid into the seat right beside you before anyone else could move. His broad frame immediately filled up half the bench, his shoulder resting comfortably against yours as Taehyung and Jimin took the side across from you.
"We want two full baskets," Taehyung told the waiter without even looking at the menu. "One original crispy, one half-and-half sweet and spicy, two extra sides of pickled radish, and four large draft beers."
"Make it quick, please; we're dying," Jimin added with a tragic, pleading smile that made the waiter laugh as he walked away.
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The platters were half-empty, the froth on your draft beer had settled into a thin ring, and the initial chaotic energy of practice was finally melting into a lazy, comfortable hum.
Jimin was resting his chin on his palm, half-asleep, while Taehyung was carefully using his chopsticks to build another absurd stack of pickled radishes. Beside you, Jungkook was leaning back against the plush booth, his broad frame relaxed, casually sipping his beer with his shoulder resting warm against yours.
Then, the restaurant’s background playlist shifted.
The low, smooth synth intro and thumping beat of Chris Brown’s "New Flame" began floating softly from the small speaker mounted in the corner of the ceiling.
At first, nobody paid attention. But as the beat drop built and the vocals hit—“You gon be my baby, love me, love you crazy, tell me if you with it...”—Taehyung instantly dropped his chopsticks onto his plate with a sharp clatter. Both of them started mumbling the lyrics through silly, suppressed grins, their voices low and gravelly.
Across the table, Jungkook set his beer mug down so fast a tiny splash sloshed against the rim.
Without exchanging a single word, both boys locked into the beat. Sitting right there in their booth seats, they executed a sharp, perfectly synchronized upper-body groove on the beat drop—popping their chests, rolling their shoulders, and sweeping their hands across the table in total unison with terrifying dancer accuracy.
Before anyone could even process that, Usher’s feature verse kicked in with the iconic, smooth line: “Baby, baby, baby...”
Taehyung’s eyes lit up instantly. He flattened both of his palms against his chest, replicating Usher’s video moves. He executed a slow, fluid body roll through his torso, tracing his hands smoothly down his stomach to his waist, before sliding his palms back up to rest lightly behind his neck and head.
Jungkook took one look at Taehyung's dramatic Usher expression and completely lost it. A burst of breathless, bright giggles exploded from his chest, his nose scrunching up as his boyish, bunny-toothed smile broke wide across his face. Jungkook jumped right in. Laughing his head off, he joined Taehyung move-for-move—while cracking up together.
You clutched your stomach, helpless giggles escaping your lips as you watched the two of them perform full music-video choreography from a restaurant booth, mumbling through their own laughter. As the song faded into the next track, the laughter hung easily over the four of you. Sitting in that warm, noisy restaurant with fried chicken on the table, cold beer in hand, and Jungkook pressed contentedly against your side, all the lingering stress of the day completely melted away—leaving behind a sweet, quiet night ending in total peace.
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The end of March had brought crisp, breathtaking early-spring sunshine. The sky overhead was a pale, brilliant blue, and the fresh spring breeze carried a refreshing cool edge into the festival grounds, perfectly balancing the bright warmth of the sun. Outside the venue, students, teachers, and people gathered under the clear sky, their excitement buzzing through the air as soundchecks echoed in the distance.
Backstage, however, was a controlled frenzy of hairspray, racks of clothing, bustling staff, and bright vanity lights.
Standing in front of a full-length mirror, your heart was hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. Your fingers were cold, a tight knot of nervous anxiety twisting in your stomach as you stared at your reflection. The stage outside was huge—bigger than anything you had performed on before.
"Hey. Take a breath," a soft, rich voice spoke beside you.
You looked up to see Taehyung stepping into the mirror's frame. He looked effortlessly breathtaking. He was wearing a dark navy draped long-sleeve top that fell in soft, elegant folds across his torso, paired with wide-leg trousers featuring sharp zipper details along the sides. He looked like he had walked straight off a high-fashion runway.
Noticing the pale, terrified look on your face, Taehyung offered a gentle, grounding smile. "You're going to be amazing, Y/N. We’ve drilled this a thousand times over the last two weeks. You know every step better than anyone."
He reached out, his hand moving in a slow, affectionate motion to give you a soft pat on the head, lightly ruffling your styled hair just enough to bring a small, breathless smile back to your face. "Just have fun out there."
"Thanks, Tae," you exhaled softly, feeling the knot in your stomach loosen just a fraction.
A few feet away, Jimin and Jungkook were completely tuning out the backstage noise.
Jimin looked extremely sleek and structured. He was dressed in a sharp black long-sleeve shirt accented with crisp white buttons running down the front, tailored black pants, and fitted black gloves that gave his every gesture a clean, lethal precision. He was casually stretching his hamstrings on a warm-up mat while running through a series of smooth, effortless vocal scales.
Next to him, Jungkook was an absolute showstopper. He was wearing a black mesh long-sleeve top that subtly revealed the broad lines of his chest and the intricate dark ink of his tattoo sleeve underneath. Fitted black pants, a heavy leather belt, and silver chain accessories hanging from his hip completed his sharp, edgy vibe. He was leaning against a costume rack, doing slow shoulder rolls and humming low, warm harmonies alongside Jimin.
What struck you most was their composure. There wasn't a single flicker of nerves on any of their faces. While your palms were cold, the three of them looked completely stable, calm, and ready—like stepping out in front of a screaming festival crowd was as natural to them as breathing. They had been built for this stage.
"Alright, everyone! Five minutes to places!" a stage manager yelled, popping her head through the curtain.
"Before we go—picture!" Jimin declared, leaping up from his stretch.
Jungkook didn't even hesitate. He pulled his phone from his back pocket, extended his right arm high up into the air, and angled the camera straight down to catch a high-angle shot. The intricate dark ink of his tattoo sleeve stretched out toward the lens, his black mesh top shifting over his chest as he adjusted his grip.
Taehyung immediately slid into position right behind him. He leaned his body forward, ducking his head down low right over Jungkook’s shoulder. His soft, dark wavy hair tumbled forward over his forehead, hiding his face in that effortlessly cool, low-key way he always did. Jimin dropped straight down into a low crouch on the smooth, light-tan tiled floor. His bright blonde hair popped instantly against the dark background. Raising both hands—wrapped snugly in sleek black gloves—Jimin framed his face with a cheeky V-sign right over his eyes, staring straight up through his gloved fingers into the overhead lens with an intense, playful glare.
"Hold still, hold still," Jungkook murmured softly under his breath.
He didn't pull a dramatic face; instead, he just looked straight ahead, not into the camera, in casual, lethal composure, his dark bangs parted over his forehead and his lip ring glinting under the hallway lights.
Snap.
The shutter clicked, capturing the exact chaotic, effortlessly legendary dynamic of the three of them.
Jungkook brought his phone down, his thumb flying across the screen as a satisfied, dimpled grin broke across his face. "Yep. This is it."
He hit upload, sharing the shot straight to his Instagram feed: Showtime. 💥
"Alright, we're on!" a stage crew member yelled from down the hall, the massive roar of the outdoor festival crowd bleeding right through the heavy double doors.
Jungkook slid the phone away and turned back toward you, his dark eyes warm and steady as he held out his hand. "You ready?"
Jungkook’s warm fingers wrapped securely around yours, giving your cold hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze as he led the way through the wings.
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Stepping out onto the raised outdoor stage, the bright spring sun washed over you. The cool afternoon air hit your face, instantly cutting through the lingering backstage jitters. Looking out into the crowd, you immediately recognized familiar faces—classmates from your lecture halls sitting down, dance department professors watching attentively from the reserved seating area, and groups of students sitting on the lawn with iced drinks, cheering loudly as the four of you took your places.
Taehyung offered a casual, devastatingly charming wave to a group of design students shouting his name, his wide navy trousers catching the breeze. Beside him, Jimin adjusted his sleek black gloves, sending a confident, effortless smirk toward the front row that made a few sophomore girls squeal.
They weren't acting like unapproachable stars—they were just the university's absolute top dance crew, completely in their element on their home turf.
Jungkook let go of your hand only when you reached your starting mark in the center of the stage. He took his position slightly behind and to the right of you, his dark mesh top catching the sunlight, his chains clinking softly as he settled into a grounded, wide stance.
He caught your eye for one fleeting fraction of a second, offering a low, confident nod. We've got this.
Silence fell over the crowd for three suspended seconds.
Then, the heavy, sensual bassline of Ne-Yo’s Miss Independent thundered out from the massive speaker stacks framing the stage, vibrating right through the wooden floorboards beneath your sneakers. On the very first beat, the four of you executed the sharp 180-degree pivot in total, terrifying unison. Your body swept through a low, fluid torso roll before snapping your head up to face the audience, your left foot dragging across the stage with crisp precision.
The crowd immediately exploded into roars and cheers.
Every single second of the two weeks of brutal, late-night practice paid off. The isolations were razor-sharp, the footwork was seamless, and the energy was electric. Every time your eyes met Jungkook's in the middle of a transition, his dark eyes held that same intense, unblinking focus—a silent, thrilling conversation happening strictly between the two of you in front of the people.
When the music finally cut out on the last sharp head tilt, the entire campus audience erupted into deafening applause and cheering. You stood side-by-side in the center of the stage, breathing heavily in the cool March air, sweat glistening along your neck.
A heavy, distorted bassline tore through the amplifier stacks, shaking the wooden floorboards right beneath your sneakers. The white spotlights slammed down in blinding beams, pinning the four of you in a tight, staggered diamond formation. You held the center front, with Jungkook right behind your shoulder, Tae anchored on the left, and Jimin on the right.
Without missing a single beat, Jungkook kicked off the song’s opening line live on mic. His voice cut through the thundering bass—impeccably stable, rich, and effortless. On his final syllable, all six of you hit the initial beat drop in total, terrifying unison. The entire crew dropped low, executing a sharp chest pop into a grounded hip pivot that sent a visible shockwave across the stage.
Taehyung glided to the front center, his wide navy trousers snapping as he took the lead. The full crew executed sharp, syncopated arm sweeps behind him.
Right as Tae finished his line, the formation split. Jimin sliced straight through the center, his black gloves carving pristine lines through the air as his blonde hair caught the stage lights. He hit a lightning-fast spin before leaping into the air, his pitch-perfect, crystal-clear high notes ringing out live over the heavy beat.
With the full squad around, the energy was electric—every footstep, every sharp head snap, and every floor drop hit with double the impact. The two female dancers flanked you and Jimin, locking into perfect symmetry as the six of you tore through the fast-paced floor combination. Then, the formation opened up for the climax. Taehyung, Jimin, and the other dancers swept outward to create a framed perimeter, leaving a wide channel right down the center for you and Jungkook.
Jungkook stepped into place beside you, his dark mesh top clinging to his chest, the silver chains at his waist clinking against his pants as he locked his gaze onto yours. Moving in exact mirror-image precision, you both drove into the high-octane center duo while the rest of the crew hit heavy, synchronized isolations around you.
Right in the middle of a sharp inward turn, as your shoulders nearly brushed, Jungkook harmonized live over the track. His raspy, breathy ad-libs filled your headset, his dark eyes sparkling with raw adrenaline as a cocky, breathless smirk tugged at his lips mid-song. He was completely in his element, singing his heart out while matching your energy step for step.
For the final sixteen counts, all six dancers converged back into a tight, razor-sharp arrowhead formation.
Jungkook belted out the song's soaring finale high note into his mic while the entire squad executed a lightning-fast sequence of chest pops, arm sweeps, and head snaps in complete, breathtaking unison. On the very last heavy beat, all six of you executed a synchronized floor drop—one knee pressed to the stage, torsos tilted back, and right hands snapped straight to the sky as the music abruptly cut to dead silence.
Then, the entire university audience—professors, students, and locals alike—erupted into a massive standing ovation.
Slowly breaking out of the pose, the entire crew stood up, breathing heavily in the cool March air. Jungkook immediately reached for your hand, pulling you up beside him as all six of you lined up across the stage, hands intertwined, bowing deeply to the roaring crowd as one complete, victorious team.
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The second the stage curtains swept shut behind you, cutting off the blinding lights and muffling the roaring crowd, the backstage corridor exploded into pure, unadulterated excitement.
"We completely ate that up!" Jimin shouted, pulling his black gloves off and throwing his hands up in the air.
Taehyung immediately shoved Jimin’s shoulder with a playful laugh, nearly knocking him off balance. "You hit that high note and spin so clean, I almost forgot my own counts!"
Jungkook walked right behind them, letting out a low, victorious yell that echoed off the concrete walls. He reached out with his tattooed arm, heavy palms coming down in warm, firm pats on both Tae and Jimin's broad backs. "That was incredible! Everyone was locked in, seriously!"
The two female dancers joined in, high-fiving you and the boys, everyone talking over each other in a frantic, joyful chatter about specific moves, beat drops, and the crowd's insane reaction.
"Group hug, come on, bring it in!" Tae declared suddenly, sweeping his long arms out wide.
Without a second thought, all six of you squeezed into a chaotic, sweaty, wonderfully tight circle. Arms wrapped around shoulders and waists, everyone cheering and laughing into the huddle, celebrating the sweet, earned victory of two weeks of brutal work paying off in total perfection.
As the group hug naturally broke apart, the other dancers and the boys began pulling away toward the water bottles and towels stacked on the production tables, still giggling and talking animatedly.
“Y/N, come here.” Without hesitation, Jungkook took one step forward and opened his arms.
Before your brain could overthink it, you stepped straight into him.
His broad, strong arms wrapped securely around your back, pulling you flush against his chest. Through the thin, delicate mesh of his top, his body radiated an overwhelming, feverish heat. Your hands came up naturally to press against his shoulders, feeling the solid, familiar muscle beneath your palms, your face tucking comfortably right into the crook of his warm neck.
In that fraction of a second, time seemed to freeze.
The excitement of the show was still coursing like fire through your blood, but beneath the adrenaline, a quiet wave of emotion washed over you. This was the first time in months that the two of you had actually hugged. All the lingering pain, the months of quiet distance, and the heavy walls you had built up completely dissolved against the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart against yours.
The hug didn't last long—maybe only three or four seconds.
Jungkook gently loosened his grip, his hands lingering at your waist before sliding them off you slowly. His raspy breath brushed softly against your cheek, his eyes dark, warm, and entirely focused on your face.
“You did amazing out there, Shorty.” Jungkook murmured softly, his raspy voice cutting straight through the background noise of the crew. A tender, genuine smile touched his lips. "Seriously, I'm so proud of you."
Looking up into his flushed, radiant face, a warm, uncontrollable smile broke across your own.
"I had an amazing partner," you replied softly. “You were incredible, Jeon."
A soft, dimpled smirk broke across his face, his dark eyes crinkling into those familiar, boyish crescents. "We both were," he corrected.
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The following Friday morning was bathed in bright, early-spring sunlight, the sky a clear, pale blue that promised perfect road-trip weather.
The four of you had gathered at Jungkook’s apartment to load up, with three neat, reasonable, medium-sized suitcases lined up side-by-side near his front door. You and Jimin were standing in the hallway, sipping iced coffees, when the heavy bedroom door creaked open.
Jungkook emerged, practically lugging a colossal, matte-black hard-shell suitcase that looked big enough to hold a grown adult.
Jimin took one look at the suitcase, choked on his coffee, and immediately doubled over, clutching his stomach as a high-pitched, wheezing laugh escaped him.
"What in the world is that?!" Taehyung yelled from the kitchen, nearly dropping his bagel as he pointed at the giant trunk. "Jeon Jungkook, are you moving to Gangneung permanently?!"
Jungkook’s face flushed a soft, cute pink, though he tried his best to maintain a tough posture as he wheeled the massive suitcase into the entryway.
"Hey! You guys don't understand fashion options," Jungkook grumbled defensively, though a boyish, dimpled smirk was tugging at the corners of his lips. "What if it gets windy? What if we go for a run? What if I get wet? What if I need three different hoodies?"
"It’s three days, Jungkook!" you laughed, shaking your head as you pushed his giant suitcase with your foot.
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After somehow squeezing Jungkook’s massive trunk into the back of his black sedan alongside your medium ones, everyone piled in.
Taehyung immediately claimed the front passenger seat with zero shame. "Shotgun!" he called out, instantly plugging his phone into the dashboard cable and blasting an upbeat, sun-drenched playlist through the speakers before Jungkook even had his seatbelt buckled.
That left you and Jimin to settle into the spacious backseat. Jimin immediately commandeered the middle and left side, stretching out comfortably and offering you a bag of snacks. At the same time, you leaned back against the window, watching the city skyline fade into open highway.
"All set back there?" Jungkook asked, checking the rearview mirror. His eyes caught yours in the glass for a lingering, quiet second, a soft, fond look passing over his face before he shifted into drive.
"All set, driver Jeon! Take us to the beach!" Tae cheered, turning the volume up as the car glided onto the expressway toward Gangneung.
The two-and-a-half-hour drive flew by in a blur of loud car karaoke, passing around bags of dried squid and chips, and warm spring sunshine streaming through the windows. Every now and then, as Jungkook drove with one hand casually resting on the top of the steering wheel, his eyes would flick up to the rearview mirror—checking on you, catching your smile, and leaving that familiar, fluttering warmth humming in your chest.
By early afternoon, the highway gave way to coastal roads, the salty breeze carrying through the slightly open windows.
"Look!" Jimin pointed excitedly out the window.
Beyond the pine trees, the brilliant, shimmering expanse of the East Sea stretched out under the sun. Gangneung greeted you with crisp ocean air, golden sand, and the breathtaking turquoise waters of Gyeongpo Beach.
Jungkook navigated the car up a quiet, elevated coastal road just a short walk from the shoreline, pulling into the private driveway of a sleek, modern hilltop residence.
"Behold," Taehyung announced proudly, unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out of the car with a flourish. "Our home for the weekend!"
It was a stunning, modern private pool villa. The house was built with floor-to-ceiling glass windows, but the real showstopper was out back: a private, heated infinity pool built right on the wooden sun deck. The crystal-clear water reflected the bright blue sky, merging seamlessly with the breathtaking, unobstructed panorama of Gyeongpo Beach and the open ocean below.
Popping open the trunk of the black sedan, the laughter erupted all over again the second Jungkook heaved his monstrous black suitcase out onto the gravel.
"I swear it got bigger during the drive!" Jimin wheezed, pointing dramatically at the behemoth bag while slinging his own modest duffel over his shoulder.
Jungkook couldn't even defend himself this time—he burst into a wide, breathless laugh, his dark eyes crinkling as he wheeled the giant trunk toward the villa's front entrance. "Leave my options alone! You guys are just jealous I have a fresh outfit for every hour of the day!"
Laughing together, the four of you pushed through the front doors of the villa.
The interior took your breath away instantly. Right from the open-concept entryway, the grand living room stretched out with high ceilings, crisp white walls, and plush modern seating. But the real showstopper was the wall of floor-to-ceiling glass directly ahead: it framed a crystal-clear, heated infinity pool on the sun deck, set against the backdrop of the glistening blue ocean and golden sand of Gyeongpo Beach.
"Tae, you're a genius," Jimin gasped, stepping out onto the sun deck, the cool coastal wind ruffling his hair.
"Right?!" Taehyung grinned, slinging an arm around Jimin’s neck as they both walked toward the edge of the pool deck to take in the view.
While the boys started exploring the main floor, you walked down the brightly lit hallway to claim a spot. You found a gorgeous, cozy bedroom featuring a plush bed and soft linen curtains fluttering in the breeze. Smiling to yourself, you pushed your medium suitcase just inside the doorway and stepped right back out into the hallway to rejoin the group.
As you walked back toward the open living room, you heard intense, dramatic shouting coming from the middle of the space.
Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook were standing in a tight, suspenseful triangle right in front of the main bedroom door, their posture dead serious as if they were preparing for battle.
"Alright, ground rules!" Tae declared sternly, narrowing his eyes at the other two. "Best of three rounds. The winner takes the main suite with an infinity pool view."
"May the best man win," Jimin muttered, rolling up his sleeves with terrifying focus.
Jungkook just smirked, bouncing lightly on his toes like a boxer stepping into the ring. "Bring it on."
They raised their fists in total sync.
"Kawi... Bawi... BO!"
Taehyung: Scissors Jimin: Scissors Jungkook: Rock
"Yes! Point one!" Jungkook yelled, punching the air as Taehyung and Jimin stared down at their scissors in disbelief.
"Focus, Tae, focus!" Jimin hissed, shaking his hand out to reset his energy.
Then the second round came on.
"Kawi... Bawi... BO!"
Taehyung: Rock Jimin: Rock Jungkook: Scissors
Quickly, they played out the last round.
"KAWI... BAWI... BO!"
Their hands snapped down one last time.
Taehyung: Scissors Jimin: Scissors Jungkook: Rock
Silence fell over the living room for one split second before Jungkook’s face lit up in pure, unadulterated triumph.
"VICTORYYY bitches!" Jungkook threw both arms straight into the air, yelling at the top of his lungs with a huge, bunny-toothed grin. He flexed playfully, practically dancing on the spot as he pointed at their defeated hands.
"Better luck next time, boys!" Jungkook teased cheerfully, grabbing the handle of his giant black suitcase with one hand and wheeling it proudly past them into the main suite, throwing a quick, triumphant wink over his shoulder right at you before strutting inside.
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As the afternoon sun dipped lower toward the horizon, painting the sky in breathtaking shades of deep violet, pink, and molten gold, everyone headed to their respective rooms to clean up and dress for the evening.
When you stepped out into the living room an hour later, the boys were already waiting. Taehyung looked straight off a runway in a loose, cream-colored linen button-up and gold jewelry, while Jimin opted for a sleek black silk shirt with the top buttons casually undone. Jungkook was waiting near the glass door, wearing a clean, dark oversized knit sweater that pushed up his sleeves to reveal his tattoo sleeve, paired with dark trousers—effortless, effortless, and impossibly handsome.
The four of you headed down to a bustling beachside restaurant, dining on fresh grilled seafood, sizzling barbecue, and cold beers mixed with sweet local fruit soju. The atmosphere was electric, filled with easy laughter, playful banter, and the warm, golden glow of lanterns swaying in the coastal breeze.
Feeling pleasantly warm and buzzed from dinner, you all ambled down onto the damp sand of Gyeongpo Beach. The ocean hit the shore in rhythmic, white-foamed waves under the starry night sky.
As you were walking, Taehyung started casually nudging his shoulder into Jungkook’s, muttering silly jokes into his ear. When Jungkook tried to ignore him and keep walking, Tae upped the ante—grinning mischievously, he reached over and started lightly poking Jungkook in the ribs over and over.
Jungkook swatted at his hand with a soft groan, trying to play it cool. "Tae, stop. Don't start."
Taehyung just cackled, giving Jungkook a firm, sudden push on the shoulder that sent him stumbling a step into the soft sand. "Make me, Jeon!" Tae yelled, instantly taking off at a full sprint down the shoreline.
Jungkook's eyes widened, a loud, breathless laugh bursting out of him. "You are so dead!" he shouted, kicking off his shoes in a split second and sprinting full speed down the beach after him.
You and Jimin stood by the water's edge, holding your own shoes and laughing hysterically as Jungkook quickly gained on Taehyung, finally tackling him onto a dry sand dune further down the beach. At the same time, Taehyung wheezed out dramatics and begged for mercy.
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After returning from the beach walk, the boys hadn't wasted a single second. Within minutes, they had stripped down into their swim shorts and leaped into the heated pool with a series of chaotic cannonballs, sending blue-lit water splashing across the deck.
You sat nearby on a comfortable outdoor lounge chair, pulling your knees to your chest. For nearly an hour, you just watched them, shaking your head and laughing out loud at their ridiculous underwater handstands, splash fights, and loud carols echoing over the sound of the distant ocean waves.
Eventually, as the night air grew cooler and the exhaustion of the drive and the show finally caught up to you, you quietly slipped away. You gave them a soft wave, whispered a goodnight, and made your way into your bedroom. The bedroom was cool, dark, and silent, illuminated only by the faint amber glow of the bedside lamp.
You kicked off your shoes, climbed under the crisp, fresh sheets, and pulled the blanket up to your waist. Unwinding, you unlocked your phone and started scrolling through Instagram. Just as expected, the boys' stories were already popping up: a chaotic video Tae posted of Jimin trying to swim backward and failing miserably, and a blurry selfie Jimin took of the three of them in the glowing pool, beer bottles held up in a toast.
A small smile tugged at your lips as you watched. Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your hand, a text popping up on the screen.
Jungkook: Why’d you go to bed so early?
Your heart did a small, involuntary flutter against your ribs. You stared at his name on the screen, a soft, fond smile spreading across your face as your fingers tapped out a quick response.
You: Tired, that's all
You: My body’s catching up with me.
His reply came back almost instantly.
Jungkook: You’re missing out on the fun out here.
Out in the dimly lit villa kitchen, Jungkook stood leaning his hip against the cool marble counter, staring down at his glowing phone screen. He was wearing an oversized black t-shirt and loose dark shorts, his dark hair still damp from the pool and sticking slightly to his forehead.
"Hey, Jeon! Are you bringing those extra beers or what?!" Tae’s loud, muffled voice called out from the patio, followed by Jimin’s splashing laughter.
"Yeah, yeah! Coming!" he called back, his low, raspy voice echoing slightly in the house.
Jungkook rested both of his broad hands against the edge of the kitchen counter. Beneath the cool demeanor he had been putting on all day, a heavy, suffocating ache was throbbing right behind his ribs—a lingering, relentless physical pull that he hadn't been able to shake off for weeks. Having you close didn't ease the hunger; it only made it worse.
He wanted to walk down that hallway. He wanted to push your door open, step inside the dark room, and pull you straight into his arms. You had just built a bridge back over the painful distance of your past fight. You had just gotten back the lingering glances, the subtle touches, the easy laughs. He had promised himself he wouldn't rush, that he wouldn't ruin what you guys were rebuilding.
Most of all, he was terrified of rejection. What if he walked into your room, laid his heart completely bare, and saw that you didn't want this—didn't want him—the same intense, terrifying way he wanted you?
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The next morning, bright coastal sunlight poured through the villa's high windows, painting the polished floors in warm gold. Waking up starving, you padded into the quiet kitchen and whipped yourself up a massive, thick-cut breakfast sandwich. Starving, you didn't even wait to sit down—you took a massive, shameless bite right there, devouring it as you started wandering down the hallway toward the sun deck.
As you passed the glass-walled fitness room, the rhythmic clanking of iron weights and low, breathless grunts caught your attention.
You slowed your steps and peeked inside.
The boys were in their full, unfiltered element. Taehyung and Jimin stood around the cable machine, casually leaning against the mirrors and keeping watch.
And in the center of it all was Jungkook.
He was seated at the pulley station, gripping the double handles above his head. As he exhaled heavily and pulled the heavy weight down toward his chest, his entire upper body flexed—exposing his broad chest, sculpted core, and wide shoulders. The morning light hit his damp skin, making his intricate shoulder and full-sleeve arm tattoos stand out in stunning, vivid detail. Sweat glistened along his collarbone, his dark hair delightfully messy as his muscles coiled with every repetition.
You froze dead in your tracks in the doorway. With your cheeks slightly full of breakfast sandwich, you stared at the absolute visual overload in front of you.
"Well... fuck me," you muttered to your chin with a mouthful of food, shaking your head in utter disbelief.
“Y/N, did you say something?” Taehyung said
Jungkook let the cable weights click gently back into place and released his grip. A wide, bright, irresistibly cocky smile broke across his face, his dark eyes sparkling as he looked straight into your eyes, wiping a line of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
Without missing a beat, Taehyung casually slid into the seat to take his turn on the machine.
Jungkook stood up, wearing nothing but his low-slung athletic shorts. His buffed, extremely toned physique was on full, brazen display right in front of you—broad chest, defined abs, and all—as he deliberately walked around the cable equipment directly toward where you were standing.
The sheer heat radiating off him from three feet away was enough to make your throat go completely dry.
Letting out a heavy, overwhelmed sigh, you turned on your heel, took another hurried bite of your sandwich, and bolted straight out the glass doors onto the outdoor pool deck to save yourself from fainting.
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You stayed out on the sun deck, settling onto one of the comfortable loungers as the morning ocean breeze swept over the pool. Finishing your sandwich in peace, you leaned back against the cushions, letting the warm sunlight hit your skin.
Inside the villa, the clanking of weights eventually tapered off.
"I'm taking the shower first!" Taehyung’s voice echoed down the hall, followed by the sound of a bedroom door clicking shut.
A moment later, the glass door to the deck slid open.
Jungkook stepped out into the bright morning light. He hadn't put a shirt on—just a white towel draped loosely around his neck, resting over his broad, bare shoulders. Sweat still glistened lightly along his collarbone, and his athletic shorts hung low on his hips as he padded barefoot across the wooden deck straight toward you.
Without asking, he sank on the edge of the lounger right beside you.
Your heart did an immediate, violent flip in your chest. Sitting this close, the sheer, feverish heat radiating off his body was suffocating. You fixed your gaze on his side profile. The sharp line of his jaw in the morning sun, his damp dark hair clinging slightly to his forehead, the rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath.
Slowly, involuntarily, your eyes wandered down from his jawline to his right shoulder. In the bright daylight, the intricate ink spread across his skin was stunning—the vivid pops of blue and soft shading blending seamlessly from his full right-arm sleeve straight up over his shoulder and onto his chest.
"You know..." you began softly, breaking the quiet hum of the ocean waves.
Jungkook turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours, curious and attentive.
"I actually really love that you got your shoulder tattooed, too," you admitted, your voice dropping a little as you traced the pattern on his right side with your eyes. "Those colors... they really add something to it. It looks really nice on you."
A slow, boyish smirk pulled at the corner of Jungkook’s lips. The cocky, teasing front he had in the gym melted away, replaced by a warm, genuinely pleased glow in his eyes. He lifted his right hand, his long fingers casually brushing over his inked shoulder right where your gaze had been resting, his broad chest flexing slightly with the movement.
"Yeah?" he asked as he leaned in just an inch closer to you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made it almost impossible to breathe. "You like the colors?"
"Yeah," you murmured, your voice a little breathier than you intended. "I do. It suits you."
"You can touch it if you want," he offered softly as he shifted slightly on the edge of the lounger, turning his right shoulder a fraction of an inch closer to you.
The offer hung in the crisp morning air like a dare. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Something inside you snapped—a sudden, electric surge of pure boldness. You were tired of stepping around the tension, tired of holding back every impulse you’d felt since stepping foot in this villa. In that moment, you didn't care about playing it safe anymore.
Without missing a beat, you reached straight out. You planted your hand firmly against his right upper arm, your fingers pressing right into the warm, defined curve of his flexed bicep.
Slowly, deliberately, you dragged your fingertips upward. Your pads traced the smooth, ink-covered skin, following the vibrant blues and detailed lines as you pulled your hand up over his upper arm, across the sculpted ridge of his shoulder, right to the base of his neck.
A sudden, violent wave of goosebumps erupted across his skin beneath your touch, spreading visibly down his arm and across his broad, bare chest despite the warm morning sun beaming down on the deck.
Jungkook couldn't move. His dark eyes dropped instantly to your hand, completely mesmerized as he watched your fingers trace his body. The sheer heat radiating off him was suffocating, his muscles locked tight under your palm.
Slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes locked onto yours with a terrifyingly raw, intense gaze that burned straight through you. You didn't look away or shrink back—you held his eyes boldly, letting him see every ounce of the desire you weren't hiding anymore.
"TAEHYUNG, ARE YOU DONE IN THE BATHROOM YET?!"
Jimin’s loud voice shattered the silence from inside the house, followed by the slide of the glass door opening. In a fraction of a second, the spell snapped.
Your hand naturally dropped from his shoulder back to the lounger. Jungkook let out a low, ragged exhale, his eyes closing for a brief second to force his composure back into place.
"Oh," Jimin paused, looking between the two of you, a subtle, knowing smirk instantly tugging at his lips. "Am I interrupting a moment here?"
"No," Jungkook grumbled smoothly, though the flush on his ears betrayed him as he tossed his towel over his shoulder and stood up in one fluid motion. "Tae should be done. I'm going to take a shower."
Jungkook gave you one last, heavy look—his dark eyes still lingering on your face with a promise-unkept intensity—before stroking past Jimin and disappearing into the villa.
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The heavy glass door clicked shut with barely a whisper, sealing away the quiet villa where Jimin and Tae were finally out cold.
Out on the sun deck, the night air was crisp, carrying the sharp, refreshing scent of sea salt and damp sand as the waves crashed in rhythmic, white-foamed rolls against the dark shore of Gyeongpo Beach. You gripped the cool metal railing, resting your chin on your hands as you took a deep breath, letting the ocean calm the wild pulse that had been hammering in your chest all day.
A second later, a wave of familiar, heavy heat settled right beside you.
Jungkook didn't say anything at first. He just leaned his forearms against the railing, his broad shoulders squared against the coastal breeze. He was wearing a soft, oversized dark t-shirt, his hair still slightly damp and tousled. Even with the cool midnight wind sweeping across the deck, the sheer, feverish heat radiating off his body was overwhelming—a stark, electric contrast to the chill in the air.
In the faint, silver glow of the moonlight, he shifted his weight.
His bare arm brushed flush against your shoulder. Neither of you moved away. The subtle, constant pressure of his body against yours sent a sharp, exquisite shiver straight down your spine, making your breath hitch in the quiet night.
Slowly, Jungkook turned his head. He didn't care about the ocean or the moonlight hitting the water.
His dark, heavy eyes locked onto your side profile, tracing the line of your jaw, the curve of your neck, and finally settling on your eyes as you turned to meet his gaze. The playful, cocky smirk from the afternoon was completely gone, replaced by a raw, suffocating intensity that made the air between you feel dangerously thin.
"What are you thinking about?"
You swallowed hard, turning your head to look up at him. But instead of the deep confession he seemed to be bracing for, you glanced out at the ink-black water, a small, amused smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.
"I was actually just thinking," you murmured softly, "about how Tae tried to swim backward last night and nearly drowned himself in three feet of water."
Jungkook blinked. The high-voltage intensity in his eyes wavered for a split second before a sudden, helpless snort escaped his nose. He dropped his head against the cool metal railing, his broad shoulders shaking as a deep, rich laugh bubbled up from his chest.
"God, he was so confident about it, too," Jungkook wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye as he looked back at you, his dimples cutting deep into his cheeks. "He swore it was a new Olympic stroke."
The ridiculous memory broke the suffocating spell completely, replacing it with a light, intoxicating warmth.
"Hold on. Don't go anywhere," Jungkook said, his dark eyes sparkling. He turned on his heel, slid the glass door open, and vanished inside the villa for a brief thirty seconds. When he returned, he was holding two fresh, frosted glass bottles of beer, the metal caps already popped off.
He handed one to you, his long fingers brushing against yours, and gestured toward the plush daybed tucked under the covered corner of the patio.
"Come on," he said softly. "Sit."
The two of you sank into the deep cushions, sitting close enough that your shoulders occasionally brushed as the night wore on. What started as light ribbing about Tae and Jimin quickly bled into easy, effortless chatter. You talked about everything and nothing—funny childhood memories, university stories, middle-of-the-night food cravings, and random late-night thoughts that only come out after midnight.
One beer turned into two. Two turned into three.
With every cold sip and every shared laugh, the lingering tension didn't disappear—it just softened into a hazy, dizzying warmth. The combination of the cool ocean air, the fatigue of the long day, and the alcohol made your head feel deliciously light.
As Jungkook set his empty bottle down on the side table, mid-sentence about a chaotic studio session, you let out a soft, breathless laugh and pushed yourself up from the daybed. Your legs felt a little like jelly, a sweet, floaty buzz running through your veins. You caught your balance against the edge of the cushions, looking down at him with hooded, slightly glossy eyes and a soft smile.
"Okay, Jeon," you murmured, your voice thick with sleep and wine. "I am officially tipsy... and it is definitely time for bed."
Jungkook stopped talking. He leaned back against the cushions, looking up at you from under his dark lashes. A slow, incredibly fond smirk spread across his lips as his eyes traced your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and soft smile.
"Tipsy, huh?" he rasped out softly, his voice low and warm as he made no move to stand up just yet, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intoxicating, lingering weight. "You sure you can make it down the hall by yourself?"
"Of course I can," you toss back over your shoulder, a faint, teasing smirk playing on your lips as you turn on your heel and start heading toward the sliding glass door.
You hear the soft scuff of his bare feet on the wooden deck following you. You glance back to see Jungkook trailing slowly behind, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his sweatpants, a small, knowing smile curving his lips as he watches you carefully navigate your own footsteps.
When you reach the entrance of the living room, you spin around, planting your hands on your hips and pointing a finger straight at him.
"For the record... I'm actually running away from you," you announce, your voice a mix of warning and playful surrender.
Jungkook stops dead in his tracks right at the threshold. He tilts his head, his dark eyes glinting in the dim light of the interior. "Why are you running away?"
"Because last time we did things when we were tipsy," you mutter, turning on your heel and starting to walk backward across the dimly lit living room, "so I am going to my room right now before I do something wrong."
Across the room, Jungkook doesn't follow immediately. Instead, his voice drops into a quiet, dangerous register that stops you in your tracks.
"Is that true, Y/N?" he asks, taking a slow step toward you. "You really don't want to do anything right now?"
Your chest hammers violently against your ribs. The question hangs in the room's heavy, warm air, echoing in the silent space between you. Your mind starts playing cruel, vivid games with you—flashing back through everything. The history, the sweet memories of the past, the painful mistakes, the walls you both spent so long building, and the terrifying realization of how badly you want to tear them all down.
Slowly, fighting the heaviness in your limbs, you turn completely around to face him.
"Of fucking course I want just to grab you and kiss you, feel you, all of it," you blurt out, your voice cracking under the sheer weight of your own confession. "There's a flame burning inside of me, Jungkook, and it's driving me insane. I can't turn it off, no matter how hard I try."
Jungkook takes another slow, deliberate step forward.
"Then just do it," he murmurs, his voice thick and rough. "It's okay."
You shake your head slowly, a lump forming in your throat as the ghosts of everything you've both been through pull at your restraint. The atmosphere in the room shifts, instantly turning suffocating. The air feels heavy, hot, and charged with a raw, electric friction—every breath feels like inhaling pure fire. The unspoken history and the desperate, burning wanting between you stretch tight as a guitar string pulled to its absolute limit.
"I am so fucking attached to you, Jungkook." you whisper, the anger cracking to reveal the raw, aching truth underneath. "No matter how hard I try to stay away, no matter how many times I tell myself I'm done... I can't. I can't stay away from you, and it's driving me out of my mind.
With every word you speak, Jungkook steps closer. One step. Two steps.
The distance between you evaporates. The air is thick with the scent of sea salt, his skin, and the undeniable magnetism pulling you into his orbit. You can feel the feverish heat radiating off his broad chest before he even touches you.
"You're making me do things, Jeon, that I try so hard—"
"Y/N, stop talking. Stop fucking talking—"
Jungkook cuts you off with a rough, breathless growl. He closes the remaining inch of space in a fraction of a second, his large, warm hands shooting out to grip your waist with fierce, desperate possession.
He crashes his lips onto yours. Your hands fly up, your fingers tangling frantically into the soft fabric of his t-shirt as you pull him closer, desperately pressing your body into his. The kiss is hot, heavy, and consuming—a wild collision of everything you’ve denied yourselves for months.
Jungkook groans into your mouth, a rough, desperate sound that vibrates straight down to your toes. His large hands slide down from your waist, gripping the backs of your thighs with effortless, commanding strength. Before you even register the movement, he hoists you up. Your legs instinctively wrap tight around his waist, locking your hips against his as he stumbles backward, his back hitting the living room wall, but he doesn't break the kiss for a single second.
His lips move over yours with a fierce, demanding hunger, tasting like sweet plum wine and pure adrenaline. You tilt your head, opening up to him completely, your fingernails biting into the broad muscles of his shoulders as the room spins around you.
Jungkook breaks the kiss for a fraction of a second, his chest heaving as he buries his face into the warm crook of your neck. He presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss against your pulse point, making your entire body shudder violently in his arms.
"I'm not letting you go," he growls against your skin, his voice thick, dark, and utterly wrecked.
Without waiting another second, he turns on his heel, carrying you effortlessly down the dim hallway away from the living room. He shuts his bedroom door behind you with a dull, heavy thud, plunging the room into absolute darkness.
Jungkook didn't waste a second. He lowered you down onto the edge of the mattress, his broad, solid frame immediately following, hovering over you like a looming shadow charged with pure electricity. He didn't give you room to breathe, his mouth capturing yours again in a bruising, breathless kiss that tasted of desperation and everything unsaid.
Your hands moved instinctively, sliding up across his wide, muscular back, your fingers digging deep into the warm expanse of his shoulders and tracing the tight ridge of his spine. Every muscle beneath your palms was coiled and tense, reacting instantly to your touch.
A soft, ragged gasp slipped past your lips as he broke the kiss to trail his hot mouth down the line of your jaw to your throat, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to draw a quiet, breathless moan from deep within your chest. Jungkook echoed the sound with a low, deep rumble of his own, his hands moving to cup your face, his thumbs brushing across your cheekbones as he worshiped you in the dark.
Jungkook pulled back for a fraction of a second, his chest heaving as the faint moonlight caught the sheen of sweat on his skin. Without breaking eye contact with you, his large hands gripped the hem of his dark t-shirt, pulling it up and tossing it aside in one swift, effortless motion. His broad, muscular shoulders and carved chest were fully bared to you, radiating an intense, feverish heat.
Before you could even fully catch your breath, his hands moved to yours, gently guiding them away before sliding down to the hem of your shirt. With slow, deliberate care, he lifted it off, casting it away into the dark room.
The moment your bare skin met the cool night air, Jungkook closed the distance, pressing his hot, naked chest flush against yours. A sharp, delicious shiver raced down your spine as skin met skin. Jungkook let out a low, gravelly groan that vibrated right through your chest.
He lowered his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. Instead of rushing, he took his time. He pressed a warm, lingering kiss right over your pulse point, then parted his lips, sucking slowly and deeply against the tender flesh. He dragged his teeth lightly across the skin, a deliberate, possessive stroke designed to brand you, leaving a dark, unmistakable mark of his heat.
You gasped softly, your fingers flying back up to tangle into his damp hair, arching your back into the touch.
His hands didn't stay still. They roamed freely over your body—large, warm palms mapping the curve of your waist, tracing the line of your hips, and firmly pulling you closer until there wasn't a single millimeter of space left between you.
He shifted his weight, his knee sliding between your thighs to open you up, his dark eyes burning down into yours with a wild, unrestrained hunger.
"Look at what you do to me, Y/N," he rasped, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a shudder straight down your spine.
You didn't answer with words. You reached up, your fingers tangling into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, pulling his head down as you brought your mouth back to his. The kiss was explosive—hungry, wet, and breathless. You nipped at his bottom lip, drawing a sharp, rough groan from deep in his chest. Your free hand slid down his broad, carved chest, feeling the wild, erratic thudding of his heart, down over his taut abs, and firmly gripping the waistband of his sweatpants.
Jungkook let out a ragged breath against your mouth at the sudden touch, his hips twitching upward into your palm.
He slid inside you in one slow, agonizingly deep push that filled you completely.
Your head snapped back into the pillow, a loud, breathless gasp tearing from your throat as your hands flew to his broad shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. Jungkook froze for a second, his forearms locked on either side of your head, muscles straining as he fought for a shred of control. His chest was heaving, his dark eyes dilated and black in the dim light as he looked down at you.
"Fuck, you're so tight," he growled out, his breath hot against your face.
He began to move, setting a relentless, energetic pace that made the bed frame creak rhythmically against the wall. Every deep, powerful thrust sent a wave of pure, dizzying sensation crashing over you. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper, matching his frantic energy as your hips met his with every rise and fall.
Jungkook leaned down, capturing your mouth again to drink in every sound you made, his tongue sliding against yours in rhythm with his hips. He slid one hand beneath your back, lifting your hips higher to change the angle. The sudden, agonizingly deep friction hit a spot that made your whole body jerk, a high, breathy cry escaping into his mouth.
"That's it," he whispered darkly, pulling back just enough to watch the wrecked, blissful expression on your face as he hit the exact same spot again, harder, faster. "Give it all to me. Don't hold back."
Your hands scraped up his back, feeling the slick sheen of sweat covering his muscles as you rode the rising tide together. Every touch was urgent, every breath shared, the heat between you building into a blinding, undeniable storm that threatened to pull you both under.
The intensity reached its absolute peak, a blinding rush of heat and emotion that swept away every remaining barrier between you. The world narrowed down to the sound of your shared, ragged breathing and the tight, unwavering grip he had on you as the final wave washed over you both.
With a final, broken groan, Jungkook’s strength finally gave out. He collapsed forward, his heavy, trembling frame sinking against yours as you both lay there, utterly breathless and completely undone.
Slowly, he lifted his head just an inch. In the dim, quiet shadows of the bedroom, he pressed his forehead gently against yours. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, your chests rising and falling in sync against each other.
His dark, dilated eyes searched yours in the silence, filled with a raw, overwhelming tenderness that needed no words. In the quiet aftermath of the storm, as the steady rhythm of your breathing began to slow. Slowly, Jungkook shifted, rolling onto his side so he could face you, propping his head up with one arm while his other hand loosely draped across your waist. The faint moonlight caught the soft, disheveled look in his eyes—completely stripped of all the stubborn pride and walls he usually kept up.
You stared up at him, shaking your head against the pillow.
"Jeon, fucking Jungkook..." you muttered, a breathless, helpless laugh slipping past your lips.
Jungkook chuckled low in his chest, the sound vibrating warmly in the quiet room. He grinned, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Yeah?" he murmured, his thumb gently tracing a slow circle against your hip. "What was that, Y/N?"
You looked right into his eyes, fighting a smile even as you tried to sound entirely serious. "I hate you so fucking much."
Jungkook’s smile only widened, slow and impossibly fond. "No, you don't."
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The next morning, golden sunlight filtered softly through the cracks in the curtains, casting a warm, lazy glow across the bedroom.
When you opened your eyes, the heavy realization of everything washed over you in a sudden rush—the flashbacks of the night before, the raw confessions, and the way the walls you both had spent months building completely crumbled to dust.
You turned your head on the pillow, resting your chin in your hand as you watched Jungkook sleep. In the bright morning light, his features were entirely relaxed, the sharp, guarded edge completely gone. He looked peaceful, almost boyish, with his dark hair falling haphazardly across his forehead.
Without warning, a small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He didn't even open his eyes.
"You're staring," he murmured, his morning voice thick, deep, and laced with quiet amusement.
A slight heat rushed to your cheeks, but you didn't look away. Instead, you bit your lip slowly, leaning in close until your breath mingled with his. You pressed a soft, lingering kiss straight to his lips.
Instantly, Jungkook’s eyes fluttered open, dark and intense. His large hands found your face right away, his warm palms cupping your cheeks as he deepened the kiss, pulling you flush against him. What started as a gentle morning greeting quickly melted into a short, steamy, and heated make-out session, his lips moving against yours with a lazy, hungry demand that made your head spin.
Breathless, you finally managed to pull away, pressing a light palm against his chest with a soft laugh.
"Alright, that's enough," you whispered, a teasing glint in your eye. "I'm actually getting up."
Jungkook groaned, a low, playful sound of protest, his hands sliding down to catch your waist before you could move an inch away.
"Where do you think you're going?" Jungkook murmured, his voice laced with sleep-rough amusement.
Before you could react, his grip shifted with effortless strength. In one smooth motion, he rolled over, trapping you beneath him against the mattress. His dark eyes sparkled with a playful, teasing challenge, his broad shoulders blocking out the morning light as he hovered just inches above you.
"Stay in bed with me," he retorted, lowering his head so his lips brushed the sensitive skin just below your ear, sending a sudden, pleasant shiver down your spine.
"You're impossible," you breathed, your hands resting against his shoulders, though your fingers couldn't resist tracing the warm lines of his muscles.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to look down at you, the teasing edge in his eyes softening into something remarkably tender. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face, his thumb lingering against your cheek.
"Yeah?" he whispered, his smile softening. "And you love it."
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Pushing the bedroom door open an inch, you peeked out into the hallway. From down the hall, the faint sound of clinking silverware and distant chatter drifted from the kitchen—Taehyung and Jimin.
Hoping they hadn't noticed anything suspicious, you quickly slipped back into your room, took a fast shower, and threw on some clothes before heading down the corridor and walking casually into the kitchen.
Taehyung and Jimin were already seated at the island, nursing cups of coffee and plates of breakfast. You sat down, trying to act as natural as possible, grabbing a piece of toast.
Just a few minutes later, heavy, slow footsteps echoed down the hall. Jungkook strolled into the kitchen, looking entirely unbothered, his hair still slightly damp from a quick wash, wearing a relaxed expression that immediately gave away nothing—and everything.
As Jungkook poured himself a cup of coffee, Taehyung paused, a small frown suddenly pulling at his brow. He squinted across the island, his gaze locking onto the side of your neck.
"Y/N, what happened to your—" Taehyung started, pointing a butter knife vaguely in your direction.
Your eyes went wide as saucers, your hand instinctively flying up to cover the skin.
Beside Taehyung, Jimin didn't even pretend to look surprised. He was already leaning back against his stool, a knowing, wicked smirk plastered across his face as his eyes darted from Jungkook to you, connecting the dots in a fraction of a second.
Before you could stutter out a clumsy excuse, Jungkook leaned casually against the counter, taking a slow sip of his coffee. He didn't even blink.
"Guilty," Jungkook supplied smoothly, his voice deep and entirely unapologetic.
Your breath hitched. You hadn't expected him to just out-and-out admit it like it was the weather, but as the initial shock faded, a sudden, warm wave of relief washed over you. You didn't have to hide anymore.
Taehyung’s eyes darted between the two of you, his brain processing the sudden confession. He blinked once, let out a slow, heavy sigh, and shook his head, going right back to eating his eggs without a single further question.
Across from you, Jimin burst out laughing, clearly loving every single second of the chaos. He started teasing you both mercilessly, a playful glint in his eye that finally broke your composure, leaving undeniable, helpless smiles lingering on both your faces.
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A slice of the extended weekend
What was supposed to be a quick weekend getaway somehow effortlessly stretched into a full four days. None of you even bothered to check the calendar or rush back to the city.
The rest of the trip unspooled in a lazy, sun-drenched blur of slow mornings, shared meals, and long, quiet evenings by the fire. Taehyung and Jimin were too busy enjoying the downtime—and occasionally taking bets on how long you and Jungkook could go without making heart eyes at each other—to care about the extension.
For you, the past few days felt like a deep breath you hadn't realized you needed to take. The constant tension, the overthinking, and the heavy armor you both used to wear had completely dissolved.
The sprawling living room couch offered no escape once Jungkook caught you. One second you were trying to catch your breath, and the next, he had backed you against the plush cushions, his heavy, muscular frame settling completely over you.
The make-out session that followed was desperate and fever-hot. Jungkook’s mouth captured yours with an urgent hunger, his tongue sweeping inside as a low, appreciative groan vibrated in his chest. Your hands flew up, tangling desperately into his messy dark hair, pulling him closer while his large, warm hands gripped your waist, tracing heated lines up your spine and pressing you deeper into the cushions. Every sweep of his lips, every heavy press of his chest against yours, sent an electric jolt straight through your veins, leaving you breathless and completely dizzy with wanting.
Neither of you heard the distinct crunch of gravel outside, nor the quiet jingle of keys in the front door.
The heavy wooden front door swung open with a soft click.
"I swear, if you forgot the chips again, I'm making you walk back—" Taehyung’s voice echoed into the hallway, cutting off abruptly as he and Jimin rounded the corner into the open-plan living room.
Freezing mid-motion, Jungkook slowly lifted his head, while your eyes widened in absolute horror. You were sprawled across the sofa, hair thoroughly disheveled, lips swollen and red, with Jungkook hovering right above you, looking like a wolf caught red-handed.
Jimin immediately let out a dramatic, high-pitched shriek, slamming both hands over his eyes and turning on his heel.
"Ew! Oh, my god, my eyes are burning! I'm blind!" Jimin wailed, turning around to pat at Taehyung’s chest blindly. "Tae, shield me! Some of us are single and trying to live our best lives!"
Taehyung groaned loudly, dropping his grocery bags onto the entryway table and covering his own eyes with one hand while pointing an accusing finger in your direction.
"Are you kidding me? In the middle of the living room? In broad daylight?" Taehyung complained, though a massive, teasing grin broke through his mock-offended expression. "Put a shirt on, Jungkook, have some respect for the establishment!"
Instead of scrambling away in embarrassment like you wanted to, Jungkook merely let out a low, lazy chuckle against your ear. He didn't even rush to move. He slowly shifted his weight off you, turning his head to look at the two dramatic idiots standing by the front door with a completely unbothered smirk.
"Knock next time," Jungkook called out smoothly, his voice laced with absolute amusement.
"We live here too, you absolute animal!" Jimin shouted back, still refusing to uncover his eyes as he marched toward the kitchen, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
You buried your face in your hands, a bright, mortified blush creeping all the way down your neck, even as Jungkook leaned over to press a warm, unapologetic kiss to your temple, completely unfazed by the chaos.
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By ten o'clock, the villa had grown noticeably quieter. Taehyung let out a dramatic yawn, declared that fresh mountain air apparently drained a person's soul, and dragged an equally exhausted Jimin toward the stairs. Within minutes, the hallway lights clicked off.
You had slipped out to the pool a few moments before, the warm, steaming water offering a comforting contrast to the crisp, chilly night air. Swimming a lazy lap to the far, deep end, you reached the edge and rested your forearms against the tiled rim, tilting your head back to look up at the sprawling canopy of bright stars overhead.
A soft, distinct splash echoed across the patio.
You turned your head. Jungkook was standing at the edge of the shallow end before diving in smoothly, cutting through the water with effortless, powerful strokes. He wasn't wearing a shirt, the pale blue glow from the underwater lights catching the sharp planes of his chest, shoulders, and the wet strands of dark hair plastered to his forehead.
He didn't rush. He swam toward you with a slow, deliberate cadence, his dark eyes locked entirely on yours through the rippling water. The intensity of his gaze from across the pool made your breath hitch, every stroke bringing him closer until the air between you felt charged and heavy.
When he finally reached the far end, he didn't stop. He closed the remaining distance, planting his large hands on the tile on either side of you, caging you in against the wall. The warm water swirled around you both with the shift in his weight, and the heat radiating from his bare chest banished any chill from the night air.
Jungkook tilted his head, a slow, knowing smile touching his lips as water dripped down his jawline.
His hands slide down from the tile, finding your waist and lifting you effortlessly so you float higher against him, your legs automatically parting to wrap around his hips. The warm water ripples around you both, shifting with the heavy, deliberate movement of his body, but the chill of the night air is entirely forgotten beneath the searing heat radiating from his skin.
When his lips capture yours, it isn't gentle. It’s a deep, breathless rush, hungry and entirely consuming. His tongue sweeps past your lips, tasting you thoroughly as a soft, involuntary gasp escapes into the quiet night. Your hands tangle desperately in the wet strands of his dark hair, pulling him closer, anchoring you to him as the world narrows to the heavy rhythm of his breath and the fierce, unwavering devotion in his eyes. The stars stretch endlessly across the dark sky above, but in the shimmering blue glow of the pool, with his arms locked securely around you and his heart hammering wildly against yours, nothing else in the world exists.
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The living room had transformed into a makeshift concert venue, complete with empty snack bowls scattered across the coffee table and the glowing lyrics flashing against the television screen.
Taehyung and Jimin had just wrapped up a ridiculously harmonious, effortless duet that left you wondering why you even dared to hold a microphone in the same room as them. They passed the wireless mics over with theatrical bows, cheering you on as you groaned and shook your head.
"Come on, your turn!" Jimin urged, tossing a plush pillow straight at your lap. "No backing out now."
Taking a deep breath and letting out a nervous laugh, you stepped up to the coffee table. You didn't have a powerhouse vocalist's range, but tonight, surrounded by warmth, wine, and the people you loved, you didn't care. You queued up the first track—a song that had been stuck on repeat on your Spotify for months. As the upbeat, driving rhythm of Tate McRae’s "Siren Sounds" filled the room, you gripped the mic a little tighter.
You sang with your whole heart, your voice carrying a sweet, earnest charm even when you missed a high note or laughed halfway through a line. Every time you glanced over at the couch, Taehyung was hyping you out with ridiculous hand gestures, and Jimin was doing a dramatic, mock-serious dance on the rug.
You couldn't help but smile and laugh out loud, your eyes sparkling as you caught Jungkook watching you. At a particularly fitting lyric, your gaze locked with his across the room. Jungkook’s lips parted into a soft, breathtaking smile, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners with an undeniable sparkle.
The moment the beat dropped, you leaned into it entirely. All hesitation vanished. You threw your hands up in the air, closing your eyes for a second to feel the music pulse through the room, your voice rising with the melody as you danced around the coffee table.
Taehyung and Jimin immediately started cheering and clapping behind you. Still, the roaring sound of the room melted away, leaving just the music, the lights, and the way Jungkook looked at you like you were the only person in the universe.
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The salt-kissed air of the final evening carried a bittersweet weight, but right now, wrapped in the warm, pleasant buzz of a few drinks shared at the local beachside bar, everything felt soft and right.
The sun was dipping toward the horizon, painting the sky in streaking shades of bruised purple and amber, casting a golden sheen across the coastline.
You slowed your pace, coming to a sudden halt as you looked around, letting the cool breeze sweep over your skin. The vast expanse of the sea stretched out endlessly before you, the white-crested waves crashing rhythmically against the shore, pulling the loose sand back out in a soothing, hypnotic hiss. A deep, heavy sense of absolute peace settled into your chest.
Your gaze naturally drifted away from the water and landed on Jungkook just a few paces ahead.
He was walking at a slow, unhurried gait, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his shorts. He wore a loose white button-down shirt left slightly unbuttoned at the collar, the crisp fabric catching the evening breeze and clinging faintly to the broad, powerful expanse of his back. Against the white, the dark ink of his tattoos peeked through subtly, and the way his muscular arms shifted with every relaxed movement made your breath catch for a second.
A fond, quiet smile tugged at your lips. You looked down for a moment, shaking your head at your own lingering awe, before quickening your steps to catch up with him.
As you slipped back in step right beside his shoulder, you noticed the low, melodic hum vibrating in his chest. He was softly humming an old tune, entirely relaxed, his dark eyes turning to meet yours with a warm, effortless smile the moment you brushed against his arm.
As the breeze picked up, carrying the cool scent of the ocean, Jungkook paused, looking out toward the horizon where the sun was melting into the dark water.
Without thinking, you pulled your phone from your pocket, quickly framing the shot. The click of the shutter broke the quiet. Jungkook turned his head slightly, a brow arching in silent amusement as you lowered the phone, flashing him the screen. He looked incredible—caught in that quiet, unguarded moment against the vast backdrop of the sea.
A soft chuckle slipped past his lips, and he reached out, effortlessly tangling his fingers with yours.
"Delete that, or give me rights to use it as my lock screen," he teased softly, though his eyes were entirely warm.
"Keep dreaming," you smiled, locking your fingers tighter with his as you resumed walking.
A little further down the shore, past the stretch of open sand, a wooden bench sat secluded beneath the shelter of a few low-hanging pine trees, facing the open water.
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The cool night air carried the steady, rhythmic crash of the waves against the shore, but on the wooden bench, the space between you and Jungkook felt heavy with a different kind of quiet.
You sat side by side, a careful, deliberate distance maintained between you. No touching hands, no seeking physical comfort. Just two people, sitting in the fading twilight, simply observing each other.
Jungkook kept his gaze fixed straight ahead for a long moment, his jaw tight, before he finally spoke.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely carrying over the sound of the wind.
You turned your head to look at him. In the dim light, the raw hurt in his eyes was unmistakable—a deep, lingering shadow of regret that hadn't faded, even after all this time.
"I'm sorry for everything," Jungkook continued, his chest rising and falling with a heavy sigh. "For the way I left things, for the confusion, for the pain I put you through. I thought I was protecting you from my own wreckage, but all I did was break something that meant everything to me. Even now... looking back at how blind I was, it tears me apart."
You swallowed the tight knot forming in your throat, your hands resting flat and still on your lap.
"I was broken too, Jungkook," you said quietly, your voice steady, though it held an edge of vulnerability. "The way things ended... it destroyed me for a long time. I built those walls because I had to survive it. And even standing here now, a week ago I never, ever thought I’d be talking to you like this again. Let alone kissing you, let alone feeling like this."
Jungkook didn't look at you right away. He kept his face turned toward the dark horizon, listening in absolute, heavy silence.
Neither of you said a word. A profound, aching silence settled across the bench, broken only by the sound of the ocean and the vast, starlit night sky stretching out endlessly above you.
After what felt like an eternity, Jungkook slowly turned his head. His dark eyes met yours, shining with a fragile, desperate hope.
“Y/N… If you loved me once before... Can you love me once again?” he asked softly, his voice trembling ever so slightly.
You held his gaze, your eyes speaking a thousand words before you even formed a single sentence. You thought of the history, the pain, the laughter of the last four days, and the undeniable pull drawing you back to him. A small, cool gust of wind swept through, rustling the loose strands of hair across your face as another heavy silence grew between you, stretching out for a full minute as you let him feel the weight of the truth.
Jungkook broke it, his shoulders dropping slightly as a bitter, self-aware smile touched his lips.
"I'd understand if you couldn't do it," he added quietly, his voice laced with a painful kind of grace. "Even though what we have going on right now... it's real. It's something. But if you're scared, if you don't want anything to do with me after everything I put you through... tell me. I'll walk away."
The silence stretched between you, thick and fragile, charged with years of unspoken history.
Jungkook didn't move a muscle. He sat completely still beside you, his dark eyes fixed on your face, tracking every micro-expression, every shift of your breath. Underneath his calm exterior, a quiet storm raged. He was terrified—shaken to his core by the thought that his past mistakes might finally cost him the only thing that had ever truly mattered.
For so long, he had kept those feelings locked away, treating them like dangerous secrets. He had never told you, never dared to voice the truth that echoed in his chest every single day: You were his heaven. The only bright, sacred space in a life that often felt like a relentless war. He had spent countless sleepless nights wishing, praying that you and he would end up together.
Now, sitting on the cold wooden bench under a blanket of stars, the universe had narrowed down to this exact second. He was waiting, holding his breath, bracing himself for whether his heaven would open its doors or shut him out forever.
You looked back at him.
In the deep indigo shadows of the night, you could see the raw, exposed vulnerability in his eyes. You saw the boy who had run away out of fear, and the man who was now sitting here, entirely stripped of his armor, willing to lay his heart open on the line just for a chance at a future with you.
You didn't rush to fill the quiet with grand declarations. Instead, you let the truth settle softly between you.
Looking straight into his eyes, your voice steady yet laced with all the vulnerability you carried, you said,
"I really want to stay this time... but can you keep me safe this time?"
The words hung in the cool ocean air like a lifeline.
For a few long, breathless seconds, Jungkook didn't move. He just stared at you, the heavy weight of your question sinking deep into his soul. You watched as the realization washed over him, the last remaining walls crumbling away as the magnitude of your trust hit him all at once.
Then, with a breathless gasp that sounded like a prayer answered, Jungkook leaned in.
He didn't hesitate. His hands came up, cupping your face with a fierce, reverent tenderness, and his mouth captured yours. It was a passionate, soul-deep kiss, every ounce of his relief, fear, and overwhelming love written into the way his lips moved against yours. It was desperate yet steady, a promise sealed in the dark against the crashing of the waves.
When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes glistened with unshed tears under the starlit sky.
"I'll keep you safe, this time," he whispered fiercely, his voice thick with emotion, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. "I swear it. And I am never, ever letting you go."
desc: Dating celebrities is hard, especially when they're the leader of the most famous boy band from Korea, if not in the world. What will fans think when they see you surprising your man after his concert?
word count: 1.9k
masterlist ao3
I definitely didn't write this because I saw them in Tampa and miss it sm.... haha... definitely not (I saw pied piper live I cannot complain)
tags: slice of life, pre established relationship, arirang tour, jk is chronically online, jin's loud ahh laugh, namjoon's mysterious wife and 3 kids,
The humidity of the Tampa Bey evening clung to the asphalt of the Raymond James Stadium loading dock, smelling of ocean salt and pyrotechnics. Inside the concrete belly of the arena, the air was still vibrating. You could feel the sub-bass of the final "Arirang Tour" encore echoing in your bone marrow, a rhythmic thrum that signaled the end of a three-hour marathon.
You stood in the "Dead Zone," a quiet corridor tucked behind a mountain of flight cases labeled STAGE GEAR. You were a shadow in the corner, dressed in a staff-issued black windbreaker, a face mask, and a baseball cap pulled low. Your lanyard was real, but the name on it belonged to a production assistant currently grabbing coffee in the catering tent.
For six weeks, you had been a flickering image on a phone screen. You had watched Namjoon’s face grow leaner through FaceTime, seen the dark circles under his eyes deepen as the Arirang Tour kicked off its North American leg. You had listened to him talk about the pressure of the "Arirang" concept—how he wanted to weave traditional Korean soul into a modern stadium pop spectacle. He was exhausted, exhilarated, and, most of all, lonely.
"Final bows in sixty seconds!" a stage manager barked into his headset, sprinting past you.
The roar from the stadium changed. It shifted from a rhythmic chant into a singular, deafening wall of sound- the sound of seventy thousand people realizing the night was over. Ten minutes later, the heavy curtains separating the stage from the tunnel swung open. The air that rushed out was hot and smelled of ozone and sweat. The members appeared like ghosts through the haze. Jungkook was sprinting, his adrenaline still peaked, tossing a water bottle to a staff member. Hobi followed, trailing energy like a comet, his face drenched but glowing.
And then, you saw Namjoon.
He was walking slowly, his head tilted back as he caught his breath. He looked like a fallen god- wearing his own tour merch to end the night, forehead damp with perspiration, the silver chain on his pants catching the harsh fluorescent lights of the tunnel. He looked older than he had six weeks ago, his shoulders carrying the literal and metaphorical weight of the group's leadership.
He stopped near your stack of crates, reaching for a towel. He didn't look up. He just leaned his forehead against a flight case, his chest heaving.
"The bridge in 'Come Over' was a little pitchy tonight, Joon," you said softly.
Namjoon froze. The towel stopped halfway to his face. He didn't turn around immediately; he stayed perfectly still, as if he was afraid that by moving, he would break the hallucination. Slowly, he turned his head. When his eyes met yours over the top of your mask, the exhaustion seemed to vanish, replaced by a shock so pure it was almost comical.
"Y/N?" he breathed, his voice a gravelly wreck.
"I’m kidding about the pitch," you smiled, pulling your mask down. "You all were perfect."
He didn't care about the cameras for the tour documentary. He didn't care about the twenty staff members buzzing around him. He moved with a sudden, desperate speed, his large arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off your feet. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his skin hot and damp against yours. He smelled like the stage—heat, hairspray, and the faint, earthy scent of the woodsy cologne he always wore.
"You're here," he whispered into your skin, his grip tightening until you could barely breathe. "How? The flights... the Seoul schedule..."
"I have a very good relationship with your manager," you laughed, clutching the damp fabric of his stage shirt. "Happy opening night, Joon."
The transition from the chaos of the stadium to the sanctuary of the blacked-out SUV was a blur of adrenaline. Usually, the members rode together in a convoy, but Namjoon had pulled a "Leader’s Prerogative," claiming he needed to discuss setlist adjustments with a "production lead" on the way to the hotel. Now, you were tucked into the plush leather backseat of a tinted Cadillac Escalade. The driver was a silent professional who had been briefed to keep his eyes on the road. Outside, the streets of Dale Mabry were lined with fans holding up their lightsticks, hoping for a glimpse of a window. Namjoon slumped into the seat, his hand immediately finding yours. He laced his fingers through yours, his thumb rubbing rhythmic circles over your knuckles.
"I feel like I’m breathing for the first time since Seoul," he murmured, looking out at the palm trees blurred by speed. "The tour is beautiful, Y/N. The fans... they’re incredible. But it’s loud. It’s so loud, all the time."
"I know," you said, resting your head on his shoulder. "I watched the whole set from the sound booth. You looked like you were carrying the whole world on your back during 'Mic Drop'."
He let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. "I was just trying not to slip on the water Taehyung and Jimin spilt during the first break, I didn’t realize i’d have to prepare for a water fight that early on.” He turned his head to look at you, his eyes soft in the intermittent glow of the passing streetlights. "Thank you for coming. I know the flight is brutal. I know being the secret girlfriend of a guy in a fishbowl isn't exactly a fairytale."
"It has its perks," you teased, gesturing to the luxury SUV. "Free food and a very handsome passenger? Sign me up"
As the car pulled into the underground garage of the hotel, Namjoon didn't let go of your hand. He led you through the service elevator, a move designed to avoid the fans camped out in the lobby. By the time the elevator dinged on the penthouse floor, the "RM" of the Arirang Tour had faded, replaced by just Namjoon.
The hotel suite was a glass box looking out over the glittering sprawl of Tampa. Namjoon had insisted on ordering "everything" from the late-night room service menu. By the time he emerged from the shower, smelling of sandalwood and fresh linen, the table was covered in steak, pasta, and a suspiciously expensive bottle of wine.
He was wearing his own clothes now- loose linen pants and a soft grey hoodie. He looked like the Namjoon who visited art galleries on rainy days, the Namjoon who read philosophy books in the park.
"I told them to leave the cart outside," he said, pulling out a chair for you. "I don't want anyone else in here tonight. Just us."
The dinner was a slow, indulgent affair. You talked about everything except the tour. You talked about the books you’d read, the way the light hit your apartment in Seoul, and the small things you missed about each other. Namjoon was a vivid storyteller, his hands moving animatedly as he described a small bookstore he’d found in Tokyo a few weeks prior. After dinner, the wine had left a warm hum in your veins. Namjoon dimmed the lights and sat on the oversized sofa, pulling you into his side.
"Sometimes I look at all of this," he said, gesturing to the view and the luxury of the room, "and I feel like I’m living in a dream that belongs to someone else. Like I’m just holding the place for the 'RM' the world sees. But when you’re here... the dream feels like mine again."
You looked up at him, tracing the familiar line of his jaw. "You've worked so hard for this dream, Joon. Don't let the scale of it make you feel small."
He smiled, his dimples deepening, and leaned down. The kiss was slow and tasted of red wine and longing. It was the kind of kiss that made the six weeks of distance vanish in an instant. His hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.
"I missed you," he whispered against your lips. "I missed you so much it felt like a physical ache."
"I'm not going anywhere," you breathed. "At least for the next three days."
The peace of the moment was shattered by a sound that definitely did not belong in a romantic penthouse suite: the muffled, hysterical wheezing of Kim Seokjin laughing in the hallway.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
The door to the suite didn't just open; it was practically kicked in.
"NAMJOON-AH! OPEN THE TWITTER! IMMEDIATELY!"
Seokjin burst into the room, still wearing his silk pajamas and holding his phone like a holy relic. Behind him, Jungkook was doubled over, clutching his stomach, his face a shade of red that looked dangerous. Namjoon scrambled to sit up, his hair mussed and his face flushed. "What the- we are BUSY! There’s a thing called knocking!"
"No time for knocking!" Seokjin gasped, wiping a tear from his eye. "The internet has decided your fate! You are no longer the Leader of BTS! You are the 'National Gift-Giver'!"
Jungkook finally managed to find his voice, though it was an octave higher than usual. "Hyung, they saw you! They saw you leaving the stadium with Y/N!"
Your heart dropped. "Wait, did we get caught? Are there pictures of my face?"
"No, no, no," Seokjin said, shoving his phone into Namjoon’s face. "Look! Look at the hashtag!"
Namjoon squinted at the screen. His eyes went wide, and then his head fell back against the sofa with a groan.
Trending Worldwide: #GiveMeANDAToo
"What is an 'ANDA'?" you asked, leaning in to look.
"It’s not an 'ANDA'," Jungkook squealed, falling onto the carpet. "It’s 'A N-D-A'. It stands for A Non-Disclosure Agreement!"
Seokjin started scrolling through the tweets at lightning speed. "Look at this one! 'I saw RM leaving in a black SUV with a lucky fan! He even held her hand! Why can't I win the lottery too? #GiveMeANDAToo'."
He swiped again. 'The Arirang Tour is truly for the people. Namjoon-ssi is literally taking fans back to his hotel to discuss the cultural significance of the setlist. A true king. #GiveMeANDAToo'.
"They think..." you started, the realization dawning on you. "They think I'm a fan? Like, a contest winner?"
"Not just a fan," Seokjin corrected, his shoulders shaking with fresh laughter. "They think you're a 'Lucky Representative.' There’s a whole theory going around that because the Arirang Tour is about 'The People’s Song,' Namjoon is choosing one 'soulmate fan' per city to give a private lecture to. They can’t believe that Namjoon would hook up with a fan and it be caught this easily"
Namjoon covered his face with his hands. "A private lecture? I was literally kissing her two minutes ago!"
"Well, according to Twitter user @JooniesBonsai, you were actually explaining the Joseon Dynasty's influence on 'Intro: Persona'," Jungkook teased, poking Namjoon’s leg. "She said, and I quote, 'Look at how intently she's looking at him. She's clearly a PhD student in Korean History. Namjoon found his match. #GiveMeANDAToo'."
Namjoon looked at you, then back at his chaotic members. The absurdity of it all finally broke through his embarrassment. He started to chuckle, then barked out a loud, genuine laugh that shook his whole frame.
"So," Namjoon said, pulling you back into his side while Seokjin and Jungkook started filming a TikTok to the hashtag in the background. "Since you’re my 'PhD student' for the night, do you want to hear my thesis on why I love you?"
"Only if it comes with more of that wine," you laughed.
"Deal," Namjoon said, kissing the top of your head. "But I'm locking the door this time. And I'm taking Seokjin's phone."
