Pairing: Jungkook x POC!Reader
Genre: Romance, Thriller, Drama, Angst
Warning: 18+, explicit language, possessive behavior, smut, slow buildup drama
Chapter: 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06
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The morning after the gala arrived seeped in slowly.
You were already at the counter when Jungkook came downstairs, hair still pushed back from sleep, jacket from last night folded over his arm. You heard him on the stairs before you saw him and you took a breath and arranged your face into something easy before he rounded the corner.
"You're up early," he said.
"Couldn't sleep." You handed him a coffee without turning fully toward him. "You have an early call?"
He took the mug and looked at you.
"Some." You moved back toward the counter. "You should check your schedule. The boys were texting last night."
"I saw." He didn't move toward his phone. "You okay?"
"You said that in the car too."
"Because I was fine then too."
He was quiet for a moment. You could feel him deciding how hard to push.
"Something shifted last night," he said carefully. "At the event. You were good and then you weren't and I don't know what happened in between."
You turned to face him. Kept your expression level. "Nothing happened. I got tired. It was a long evening."
"You barely said ten words in the car and you had your face against the window the whole ride home like you were trying to become one with it."
You looked at him. He looked back.
The morning light was coming through the kitchen window, "I'm overthinking something," you said finally.
"Something small. Something that doesn't deserve a whole conversation."
"If it's bothering you it deserves a conversation."
"Can you just tell me what it is?"
His phone buzzed on the counter.
He glanced at it, then back at you.
"He can wait." He reached out and turned it face down. "Talk to me."
"It was when I came to find you at the window—"
The phone buzzed again. Face down on the counter, vibrating insistently.
Jungkook's jaw tightened. He didn't reach for it. His eyes stayed on you.
"You should get that," you said.
A pause. Then it buzzed a third time and this time a text notification lit up the screen face down, the glow of a fourth call visible even flipped over. Jungkook pressed his eyes closed briefly.
"We're not going anywhere." You nodded toward the phone. "Answer it."
He picked it up with visible reluctance. "Hyung—" A pause. His expression shifted. "Now?" Another pause. "I thought that wasn't until nine." He turned slightly away from you, running a hand through his hair. "Okay. Yeah. Give me twenty minutes."
"The director moved the call up," he said. The apology was already in his face before the words came. "I have to—"
"Go ahead." You said it before he could finish. "It's fine."
"It's not fine. We were in the middle of something."
"We weren't in the middle of anything." You picked up your coffee. "We'll talk later."
"Tonight," he said. "I'll come by tonight and we'll actually finish this."
"I mean it." He stepped toward you, tilting your face up with two fingers under your chin. "Tonight."
You held his gaze. "Okay, Jungkook."
He kissed your forehead. Held it there for a second longer than usual.
Then he picked up his jacket and his phone and went.
You listened to the door close.
Not that night, and not the one after it.
The boys filming schedule and studio time consumed the week the same way your schedules did.
Tuesday he texted at six thirty,
"Running so far behind. Director wants the whole afternoon reshot. I'm so sorry. Tomorrow I promise."
You sigh softly as your thumbs typed a reply.
"Don't worry about it. Get it done."
Wednesday he called on a twenty minute break, you can tell he was trying to fit a real conversation into borrowed time.
"Talk to me," he said. "Tell me about your day."
"It was good. Did some interviews, I was offered some roles and I'm currently reading through th scripts, and the Choi contract is almost finalized—it's targeted to be finalized and signed by Friday."
"That's great. That's really good."
Then he broke it, "And you? How are you feeling."
Background noise on his end—voices, equipment. "I feel like I'm losing the the plot of whatever was happening the other morning."
"You're not losing anything. Focus on the shoot."
"I don't want to just focus on the shoot—"
"Jungkook." You said it gently. "We can talk about this later. It's okay."
Someone called his name in the background.
"Tonight," he said. "For real this time."
He didn't make it Wednesday either.
By Friday you had stopped mentally noting the postponements and simply filed the conversation under your notes as later and tried not to think too hard about how full that particular folder was getting.
She was leaving for Seoul in four days—a board meeting, a supplier visit, the kind of obligations that came with being your father's heir.
You'd made plans weeks ago to meet before she left and you were glad for it. The café, the corner table, your usual drinks, the easy forward momentum of her company.
She was in the middle of a story about the board meeting agenda when she stopped mid sentence.
"Before I forget," she said, setting her cup down with a precision that told you this had been planned. "I need to ask you something and I need you to not make it strange."
You raised a brow. "You know that opener makes it automatically strange."
"I'm aware." She folded her hands on the table with the composure of someone who had rehearsed this exact level of casualness.
"Jungkook. Are you two together?"
The question landed cleanly in the space between you.
You looked at her for a moment. The unease from the gala rising in your chest, but you pushed it down.
She held your gaze without blinking — patient, giving nothing away.
"What makes you ask?" you said.
She shrugged, "I was surprised is all, didn't know you knew him. Never saw or heard anything especially considering his and your status in the industry—and the industry talks."
"I automatically assumed you were friends at first... but then the way he reached for you at the event without thinking about it," she said simply. "The way you let him. The way you both move around each other. It's not a friendship."
"I just needed confirmation."
You exhaled slowly. "We're together. "It's...we keep it private. It's not public."
Something moved across her face—very briefly, then filed away before you could fully read it.
Warm and genuine and entirely composed. "That's wonderful," she said. "Truly. He's—you both seem good together."
"A few years. On and off before it became what it is now."
She nodded slowly. "That kind of history shows. It's in how you move around each other."
You looked at your cup. "He does...Usually."
She tilted her head slightly. "Usually?"
She was watching you with that patient, unhurried expression, the one that created space without demanding you fill it.
And because it was Mina, and because you trusted her, and because the folder you used as a journal was marked later was heavy and you hadn't been able to talk to the one person you actually needed to talk to—you said more than you intended to.
"The distance is hard," you said.
"We're both building things in different places and it's...it requires a lot of trust. A lot of communication."
"And sometimes one of us isn't as communicative as the other and it creates these gaps that are hard to close across twelve time zones."
"That sounds exhausting," Mina said quietly.
"It can be." You turned your cup slowly. "And when you love someone the way I love him, you feel everything more. Every silence is louder. Every missed call means something it probably doesn't." You exhaled. "I pull away when I should just say what I'm feeling. It's a flaw I'm working on."
Mina was quiet for a moment.
"Does he know that about you?" she asked.
"He seems like a very grounded person—very understanding," she said. "At the gala we had a small conversation and from that I gathered that he's very...." She searched for a description. "Very...present."
"He is. When he's actually there."
You paused. "The schedules makes it difficult. He's been in LA for work and I've barely seen him this whole trip. We keep saying we'll talk and then something pulls one of us away."
"That must be frustrating."
"It is." You laughed quietly.
A small, tired sound. "But it's temporary. That's what I keep reminding myself."
"Temporary," Mina repeated.
"He goes back to Seoul soon and I'm flying over two weeks after. We'll have real time then. Less schedules. No in betweens."
"Seoul," she said, and something behind her eyes sharpened almost imperceptibly before her expression smoothed back into warmth. "Have you ever been? I'm assuming you have?"
You nodded, "it's a beautiful place,"
Mina smiles, "Yeah...also, real time sounds like exactly what you both need."
"Yeah." You picked up your coffee.
Mina smiled, soft and completely unreadable beneath the surface, and reached for her own cup.
"He's lucky," she said simply. "To have someone who loves him like that."
She nodded once and moved the conversation forward and you followed her there, the weight in your chest marginally lighter for having said some of it out loud.
Across the table, Mina listened and smiled and filed every word away with the precise calculation of someone who already knew exactly what she was going to do with it.
The way she pulls away instead of saying what she feels.
She lifted her coffee to her lips.
And Jungkook would be there in two weeks.
She sealed the information in her head, the way she turned everything over—extremely calculating. She had spent enough time in boardrooms to know that every advantage began as information. And information, handled correctly, became leverage.
She smiled at something you said and asked a thoughtful follow up question and the conversation continued warmly between you.
She was already planning.
The week bled into the next.
Your schedules ran parallel and separate. The usual pattern when the life of a celebrity gets too hectic.
Half a conversation on a phone call that kept getting disconnected.
The unspoken thing from the gala had stopped feeling urgent and felt like something you'd gotten used to stepping around.
Which was worse, in its own way.
It was Darnell who said it plainly on a Wednesday afternoon, the way Darnell always said things.
"You've been in your head for three weeks."
"You say that a lot lately." He looked up from his laptop.
You sigh as your mind went on Jungkook saying the exact thing.
"We keep missing each other."
"So make an appointment."
"I'm serious," he said. "You schedule everything else in your life. Schedule the conversation."
You opened your mouth to argue and closed it again because he wasn't wrong and you both knew it.
You texted Jungkook that evening.
"When are you available for a full night?"
He replied within minutes.
"Saturday. They wrapped the main shoot. We have a few pickups next week but Saturday is mine. Why?"
"Come over. We're talking."
"Okay. Good. Yeah. I'll be there."
"I've been trying to get there all week."
You looked at the message, unsure of how to reply.
"I know. See you Saturday."
Saturday arrived and so did he—earlier than expected, groceries in hand, the particular energy of someone who had been waiting to do something and was relieved to finally be doing it.
"I have a meal in mind," he said, moving past you into the kitchen.
"I want to." He set the bags down and turned to face you fully. "And then we're going to sit down and you're going to tell me what's actually been going on since the gala."
You leaned against the doorframe.
"That's quite an agenda."
"The food does sound good."
"Then let me quickly cook."
You sat on the counter and watched him move through your kitchen and the domesticity of it was so familiar and so warm that the thing you'd been carrying around for two weeks felt almost absurd in the face of it.
After dinner you were on the couch.
Plates pushed aside. The lamp making the room amber. The city quiet outside.
He turned to face you, arm resting on the back of the couch, giving you his full attention. His eyes and body language patiently waiting on you.
You looked at your hands for a moment.
"At the gala," you started. "When I came to find you at the window. You and Mina were talking and laughing and—" you paused. A bit hesitant on continuing.
"I felt like I'd walked into something...Like I'd interrupted a moment between you two. And I couldn't shake it."
He was very still. "Why didn't you just say that in the car?"
"Because it sounded ridiculous in my head."
"It doesn't sound ridiculous."
"It felt ridiculous." You exhaled.
"She's my friend. You were talking. It was completely harmless."
"It bothered me," you admitted.
"And I figured I know why. I guess that it wasn't really about you and Mina. It was about—" you stopped.
"Say it," he said quietly.
"It was about the argument. From before." You glanced at him. "I know we resolved it. I know we talked through it and I believed you and I still believe you. But something in me is still—" you searched for the word. "Tender? Sensitive? In that spot. And it makes me see things that probably aren't there."
He was quiet for a moment.
"Probably?" he said carefully.
"It was harmless," you said. "I know it was harmless."
He nodded slowly. "It was. I need you to know that."
"Do you?" He leaned forward slightly. "Because for weeks you've been somewhere I couldn't reach and every time I got close you redirected me. And I let you because I kept thinking you'd come to me when you were ready."
A pause. He stared at your side profile, hoping you'd turn your face and look back at him.
"But you weren't going to come to me, were you."
"I didn't want to make something out of nothing," you said softly.
"That's not your call to make alone." His voice was gentle but firm. "If something is bothering you it's not nothing. Even if it turns out to be a misunderstanding. It's still real to you and that makes it real to me."
"I know," you said. "I'm sorry."
He shook his head slightly. "I don't want an apology. I want to understand."
"Why do you pull away? Every time something sits wrong with you, instead of bringing it to me, you go quiet. You manage it by yourself and you let it get heavy and then I'm standing outside of something that I should've been part of from the beginning." He looked at you carefully. "Why?"
The question sat in the room. The ticking from the clock being the ice breaker.
You were quiet for a long moment.
"Because saying it out loud makes it real," you said finally. "And if it's real then it becomes a conversation...confrontation, and confrontations can go badly and—" you stopped.
"I love you. I love you in a way that scares me sometimes. And when I feel even the smallest thing shift...I don't—I don't know how to hold it without panicking a little."
He was watching you carefully.
"So you pull back," he said.
"So I pull back," you confirmed.
"Because if I'm already a little removed then it hurts less if—" you stopped again.
"If what?" he said quietly.
"If it ends," you said. Almost a whisper.
The atmosphere was suddenly ice.
He exhaled slowly. Sat back. Ran a hand through his hair.
"Is that what you've been thinking about?" he said. "That it's going to end?"
"Not consciously." You shook your head. "But somewhere underneath everything, yes. I think I'm always waiting for the thing that breaks it. And when something feels even slightly off, that part of me wakes up and starts..." you gestured vaguely "...preparing."
"Preparing," he repeated. Like he was turning the word over.
"It sounds like you don't trust that I'm staying."
The words landed squarely and you felt them.
"It's not that I don't trust you," you said carefully. "It's that I don't trust the situation. The distance. The schedules. The life that comes with who we are."
"It's a lot of variables, and the variables terrify me."
He looked at you for a long moment.
Then he reached over and took your hand.
"I need you to hear me," he said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere. Not because of distance, not because of schedules, not because of a laugh at a window at a gala."
He held your gaze. "I have chosen you through every complicated variable this relationship has thrown at us. I need you to let that be evidence."
"Then act like you know," he said, not harshly, just honest. "Stop preparing for me to leave. Stop pulling back to protect yourself from something that isn't coming."
He squeezed your hand. "I need you here. With me. Not one foot out the door in case I disappoint you."
A tear escaped before you could stop it.
You pressed your lips together, eyes turning towards the roof to control the tears.
"I'm scared," you admitted. "That's the honest answer. I'm just scared."
"Of losing you. Of how much I love you." You looked at him. "It's a lot, Jungkook. It's a genuinely unreasonable amount. And that much love means that much to lose and I—" your voice caught briefly. "I don't know what I'd do with that."
Then he pulled you into him, both arms, he didn't leave space for distance. You pressed your face into his shoulder and let yourself be held.
"You're not losing me," he said into your hair. "You hear me? You're not."
You nodded against his shoulder.
"But you have to stop shutting me out when you're scared," he continued.
"That's the thing that will actually create distance. Not the schedule. Not the miles. You going quiet on me." He pulled back just enough to look at you. "Talk to me. Even when it sounds ridiculous. Even when you think you're overreacting. Just talk to me."
"Okay." You held his gaze. "I'll talk to you."
He searched your face for a moment. Then the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, a little relieved.
He pressed his lips to your temple and held them there and you closed your eyes and let the weight of the past few weeks finally disintegrate.
The last week arrived before either of you were ready for it.
The boys' final days in LA had the particular quality of things ending well.
You spent most of it with Jungkook.
Not doing anything specific. Just together. Moving through the days with each other.
On the second to last night you were at the beach. Late, the water dark, the city noise thinned to almost nothing.
"Two weeks," he said, looking at the water.
"Two weeks," you confirmed.
He gazed at you. "You're really coming."
"I already told you I was."
"I know. I just like hearing it."
You leaned your head onto his shoulder.
He rested his cheek against your hair.
The ocean kept going, rough yet steady, and you sat with him in the dark.
Small kisses was placed on your jaw and you released an unsteady breath as you felt him nibbled on the skin at the sensitive area near your collarbone.
His hands slipped from your waist and crept its way beneath the maxi dress you wore.
You gasp and caught his hands.
You pulled away and he looked at you with confused eyes. "What?" His eyes were darker than usual and you noticed the growing tent in his sweatpants.
"Someone can catch us..." You mumbled. Your eyes scanning the area as you rolled onto your knees and he pulled you towards him. "Then let them enjoy the show,"
His voice was rough, a tone you knew too well—he was far too gone in his lust to care.
And you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on. Your body reacted, but your brain was telling you something different.
However the moment his hands made its way to your throbbing vulva—all the common sense you possessed was lost.
His name left your lips. A mixture of a warning and pleasure. He captured his bottom lip between his teeth as he removed his fingers.
You watched as he freed himself from the restraints of his boxers and sweatpants and slipped your underwear to the side, “come on, we’ll be quick.” He whispered as he brought your hips over his.
Your hands fell on his shoulders as you sank down on him. A small whimper leaving your lips as his girth stretched your walls and filled you.
His right hand pulled your neck forward—capturing your lips as your hips grinded into his. Rolling at a mid pace.
He pulled away from the kiss.
His eyes finding yours as you felt pressure on your mid back from the way his left arm held you.
The crashing surges, the full moon, the salty atmosphere, and the eye contact—
It brought you to climax quicker than you expected.
The morning of departure the Escalade arrived at seven.
Black and quiet, the driver in front, partition up. The city still grey at its edges. Jungkook's bags already loaded.
You slid in from one side, he from the other. The door closed with that solid sound and the morning disappeared completely.
The curtains made the light inside amber and low and entirely private.
He reached for your hand before the car pulled away.
"I hate this part," he said.
"The in between." He looked at you.
"The part where I'm still here but I’m already missing you."
"Then don't leave," you said, and you both knew it wasn't serious and felt the weight of it anyway.
"Come with me." He whispered.
"We've had this conversation."
"Jungkook." You looked at him sideways.
He shifted closer, knee finding yours.
"I’ll be with you in two weeks."
You looked at him in the amber lights that peaked through the curtains, as the rising sun glazed across the city.
"I know," you said quietly. "Me too."
He tucked a loose braid back from your face, his hand staying at your jaw.
"We're good," he said. Not a question. A confirmation.
"We're good," you said back.
He kissed you, slowly, and you kissed him back. Your foreheads found each other and at some point the airport was close.
He pulled you close, his hands tracing the outline of your figure. Taking in every curve.
"Two weeks," you said quietly.
He pulled back just enough to look at you. "Two weeks," he confirmed.
You smoothed his collar. He caught your hand and held it against his chest.
Then a knock was heard on the partition.
The driver’s sign that we had arrived and for you to get in th backseat to not be seen by the crowd that surrounded the entrance.
Jungkook squeezed your hand. His lips capturing yours again in a deep kiss. He held your cheeks and pulled you in closer.
You sighed as tears slowly fell down your face.
Regrets of wasting time being upset.
He pulled away and wiped your tears before pecking your lips once more.
It was obvious tha he didn’t want to leave.
You prepare to climb in the back as a subtle knock was heard outside the door.
You climbed in the backseat.
The door opened to the noise and brightness of the sunlight.
He looked back at you as he adjusted his face mask.
"I will text you when I take off and land and I will call you once I’m settled in at home." he said. Pretending to pack his backpack as his driver took out his suitcase.
“When something sits wrong. Don't wait.”
“I will,”you said. “I promise.”
You watched him through the gap in the curtain—moving through the entrance without looking back, because that was never how either of you did this.
You let the curtain fall.
You sat in the quiet of the backseat, the city coming back around you, the seat beside you warm but empty.
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