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BTS MASTERLIST
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SCENARIOS
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Chapters
01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08….
SCENARIOS
When I was your man [Angst]
For Tonight [Smut, Angst]
Crystal Nights [Smut, Angst, Exes]
Kissing on my tattoos [Smut]
The boys opting out of the Grammys makes me want to cry.
The GROWTH!
The CONFIDENCE!
The SELF-RESPECT!!
Fuck the Grammys and their racist award show.
CRYSTAL NIGHTS II | J.JK
Ex!Jeon Jungkook × Black!Reader
Genre: Angst | Romance | Drama | Wedding AU | Exes | Emotional Conflict
Warnings: Infidelity/Cheating, Mature Themes, Explicit Language, Alcohol Use, Deflection, Emotional Angst, Moral Ambiguity.
Part I
This is about to become a multi chapter, that wasn’t intention but it’s fine lolol.
____________________________________________
The wind seemed to still with them as the question hung in the air.
“Y/N… is it mine?”
Neither of you moved.
Behind the glass doors the music continued as if nothing had changed—laughter, applause, someone shouting over the DJ. It felt almost cruel.
Your acrylics dug into your palms until your knuckles blanched against your brown skin. You wanted to answer him. You really did. But every answer that rose to your tongue felt incomplete.
“…I don’t know.”
The words barely made it past your lips.
Jungkook frowned. “What?”
“I don’t know.”
He stared at you, waiting for you to take it back. Instead your eyes filled as they met his.
“I wish I did.”
The certainty he had carried onto the balcony drained from his face all at once.
“You…don’t know?”
You shook your head. “No.”
A shaky breath left you, and for the first time in days the weight on your chest eased by a fraction. “I’ve spent so many nights trying to figure it out.”
Jungkook opened his mouth, then closed it again. For the first time all evening he looked genuinely lost.
Silence settled once more. You turned toward the gardens below, unable to face him.
“My husband…” You hesitated over the word, as if saying it aloud somehow made everything worse. “…Jaxon and I were together that same week.”
Jungkook’s jaw flexed. The words landed harder than he expected. He had known you were taken. He had known you were getting married. He had just watched it happen. He knew, logically, that your relationship hadn’t paused because of one night with him.
Still—hearing it said aloud struck something raw.
For two months he had tortured himself over that night, wondering if it had meant as much to you as it had to him. Meanwhile you had gone home… back to the man whose last name you now carried.
His stomach turned. Not because he had expected anything different—though some quiet, foolish part of him had—but because imagining it hurt far more than he had prepared for.
You looked at him. “I feel like I know what you’re thinking.”
His eyes met yours. “No,” he said quietly. “You don’t.”
He rubbed a hand across his face before letting it fall.
“I thought…” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “I thought I’d prepared myself for today. For watching you marry him. For watching him kiss you. I even convinced myself I could manage it.”
His gaze drifted to your stomach for only a fraction of a second before returning to yours.
“But this…” He exhaled through his nose. “I didn’t prepare for this.”
Your chest tightened. “Neither did I. I haven’t slept properly in a week.”
Jungkook’s attention sharpened.
“I close my eyes and I count dates,” you continued. “I wake up and count them again. I convince myself one answer makes more sense…” Your eyes flicked toward the glass doors where Jaxon stood among his friends. Then they found Jungkook’s again. “…then by morning I’m sure I’m wrong.” You laughed weakly, wiping beneath your eyes. “It’s exhausting.”
His shoulders dropped. “You’ve been doing that alone?”
“Who else could I tell?” The question came out sharp. “Jaxon doesn’t even know I’m pregnant.”
The admission hung between you.
Jungkook blinked. “…He doesn’t know?”
You shook your head, arms rising and falling uselessly at your sides. “I found out a week ago. Shit, even I’m still processing it.”
You sighed, tilting your head toward the sky. “I wanted today. I just wanted one day where I wasn’t thinking about it. But then you had to notice I was only drinking water.”
“I noticed because I know you,” he said simply. “You’ve always been the first person to accept a drink. You used to tell me weddings were only fun after the second glass of champagne.”
A tiny, unwilling smile touched your lips. “I did say that.”
“You said it at Hoseok’s sister’s wedding. You made me carry your heels to the car because you insisted dancing barefoot felt ‘more authentic.’”
You rolled your eyes, embarrassed. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“I remember everything.”
The words settled between you—not as a confession, but as a simple fact.
He continued quietly. “When the waiter came around tonight, I expected you to take one. You didn’t. Then another server came… you smiled, yet still no.” His expression softened. “I thought maybe you just weren’t in the mood. But then I realized you never even looked tempted.”
Your eyes drifted downward. “I wasn’t.”
“I know.”
Silence.
“And then…” He hesitated.
“Then what?”
“You kept touching your stomach.”
Your head snapped up. “I did not.”
“You did.” His voice was gentle, almost amused despite the heaviness surrounding them. “It wasn’t obvious. Not like this.” He placed his own hand dramatically over his abdomen, drawing the smallest unwilling laugh from you. “It was unconscious.”
His fingertips hovered a few inches in front of your waist, never touching. “Every few minutes you’d rest your hand here for a second… then pull it away. As if you were reassuring the child—or maybe even yourself.”
You looked down. Almost on cue, your own hand had drifted there again. You quickly dropped it.
“…I didn’t even notice.”
“I don’t think you were supposed to.”
You stared at your fingers. “I’ve really been doing that?”
He nodded once. “You’ve always had little habits. When you’re upset, you shut down. You deflect. When you feel cornered, you ball up your fists—I always used to scold you for it because you’d cut yourself with your nails. When you’re nervous, you play with your rings.” His eyes flicked to your left hand. “You’ve been twisting your wedding band since I walked out here.”
Your breath caught.
“When you’re thinking too hard, your eyebrows do that.” He pointed at the slight crease between them. You reached up instinctively. He smiled. “You still bite the inside of your cheek when you’re trying not to cry.”
Your tongue immediately found the sore spot inside your mouth. You froze. He noticed and gave a sad little smile.
“See?”
A tear escaped before you could stop it. “You remember all of that?”
His expression turned impossibly soft. “Y/N…” His voice barely rose above the wind. “I loved you.”
Not love. Loved. Past tense—because he was trying to respect the vows you had just made.
“When you love someone,” he continued, “you start memorizing the things they don’t even know about themselves. So no… I didn’t watch you tonight and automatically think, ‘She’s pregnant.’ I looked at you and thought… something’s different. I just kept asking myself what it was.” He let out a slow breath. “And when I realized you hadn’t touched a single drink… my heart sank.”
You looked away, blinking back fresh tears. “It scares me,” you admitted quietly.
“What does?”
“That you still know me this well.”
He swallowed. “It scares me too.”
“Why?”
“Because I spent the entire day convincing myself that I don’t know you anymore.” A bitter smile crossed his face. “And then I walked onto this balcony… and remembered I still do.”
Your eyes lingered on him. For a long moment neither of you spoke. A tear slipped free; you brushed it away quickly, frustrated with yourself.
“I’m tired of crying.”
“I know.”
You let out a quiet scoff. “Of course you do.”
His lips tugged into the faintest smile before it disappeared just as quickly.
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Just heavy.
“When I found out I was pregnant… I was terrified. I panicked.” You admitted. “Not because I’m pregnant.” You shook your head. “I’ve always wanted children. I’m excited to have this child…” Your voice caught. “It’s the not knowing.”
Jungkook listened without interrupting.
“I look at Jaxon and…” You swallowed hard. “I feel guilty. Then I think about you…” Your eyes met his. “…and I feel guilty all over again.”
His chest tightened. “You don’t have anything to be guilty about.”
A sad smile crossed your face. “You really believe that?”
“I do.”
“I slept with my ex two months before my wedding.”
“You came to me because you were falling apart.”
“I still made the choice.”
“So did I.”
The words stopped you. He didn’t look away.
“I could’ve told you no. I didn’t. I knew you were engaged.” His jaw flexed. “I knew exactly what could happen.”
You stared at him. He wasn’t trying to absolve you. He was carrying half the blame.
“I’ve replayed that night over and over,” he admitted quietly. “A part of me tried to figure out where I should’ve stopped us.” His eyes dropped to the stone beneath his shoes. “I can’t put all of this on you when I made the same decision.”
You looked at him for a long moment. “…I’ve replayed it too. Every conversation. Every kiss. Every choice we made that night.” Your voice cracked. “If I could go back, I’d tell myself to leave before I knocked on your door.”
A flicker of hurt crossed his face, but before he could speak you quickly shook your head. “Not because I regret you. God, I wish I did. I don’t regret a single thing—except not staying and talking it out.”
His expression softened.
“I regret what happened after.” Your shoulders sagged beneath the weight of the confession. “I walked down that aisle today knowing…” You swallowed hard. “Knowing there’s a chance the baby growing inside me isn’t Jaxon’s.”
The words tasted bitter.
“I kept telling myself I was doing the right thing. That marrying him was the right thing.” Another tear slipped free. “But every time I looked at him today…” Your eyes drifted toward the ballroom. “…I felt like I was lying to him.”
Jungkook followed your gaze. Inside, Jaxon laughed as one of his groomsmen clapped him on the back, completely unaware of the conversation happening only a few feet away.
“He looked so happy,” you whispered. “So proud. So excited.” Your breathing faltered. “And all I could think was… what if this isn’t his baby?”
Silence.
“I stood there making vows…” Your voice trembled. “‘Honesty. Faithfulness. Building a family together.’” A broken laugh escaped you. “And I already broke those vows before I finished saying them.”
“Y/N…”
“I should’ve told him.” The confession came out as a whisper. “I should’ve waited. I should’ve postponed the wedding until I knew.” You covered your face with trembling hands. “But I was scared.”
“Scared he’d leave?”
You slowly lowered your hands. “No.” You shook your head. “Scared of the moment I have to look at the man who’s done everything right…” Your eyes found Jaxon through the glass. “…and tell him that two months before our wedding, I slept with someone else, got pregnant, and that there’s a chance the baby isn’t his.”
Your shoulders sagged. “Jaxon has been everything I told myself I needed. He was patient. He was dependable. He never made me question where I stood with him. He loved me without making me chase him.” A bitter smile crossed your face. “So I convinced myself that was enough.”
You laughed softly, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “I kept telling myself that this is what growing up looks like. That love isn’t supposed to feel… consuming. That choosing the man who made me feel safe instead of the man I couldn’t let go of was the mature decision.”
Your eyes welled with tears. “I spent an entire year trying to make my heart catch up with the choice I’d already made.” You looked at Jungkook. “It never did.”
The confession hung between you.
“I loved Jaxon.” You paused. “I do love him.” Your eyes drifted back toward the ballroom. “But…” Your voice cracked. “…I’ve never loved him the way I loved you.”
Jungkook closed his eyes. He let out a slow, unsteady breath.
“I wish you hadn’t told me that.”
You blinked. “You said earlier…that I stopped looking for someone I couldn’t live without and started looking for someone I could survive with. I’m just admitting that you were right.”
His eyes never left yours. “Yeah. But now I have to spend the rest of my life knowing we both wanted the same thing…” His jaw tightened. “God, Y/N… how did we get here?!”
You shushed him as his voice rose. “Jungkook,” you whispered urgently, hands darting toward him as your eyes flicked to the ballroom doors. “Please.”
His chest rose and fell unevenly. For a second you thought he might ignore you. Instead he dragged both hands over his face, forcing himself to breathe. The muscles in his jaw worked as he swallowed everything threatening to spill out.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”
Both of you heard your name being called. You’d been gone too long.
Jungkook’s hands finally dropped from his face. His eyes found yours again—raw, unguarded, and burning with something that looked dangerously close to desperation.
“I don’t want him there,” he said quietly.
You blinked. “What?”
“The first ultrasound.” His voice was low, almost rough. “I don’t want another man sitting beside you when you hear the heartbeat for the first time. I don’t want him holding your stomach and talking to my child like it belongs to him.”
Your breath caught. “Jungkook—”
“I don’t want him kissing the top of your head while the screen lights up with something that might be half of me.” He took a step closer, the space between you shrinking. “I don’t want him to be the one who gets to feel it kick. Or the one who gets to tell people he’s going to be a father when I—” His voice cracked. He swallowed hard. “When I already know.”
You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “You don’t know. You can’t know. Not for sure.”
“I can feel it.” The words left him like a confession he’d been holding in his chest for weeks. “I know it’s mine.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs. “You can’t just—”
“I know,” he repeated, firmer this time. “I felt it the second I realized. Something in me just…settled. Like it already knew.” His eyes dropped to your stomach again, soft and aching. “I just know it. It’s mine, Y/N. I can feel it.”
The night air suddenly felt thinner.
You opened your mouth to argue—to remind him of timelines and probability and the fact that nothing was certain—when a new voice cut through the quiet.
“Knows what?”
Both of you froze.
The balcony door stood partially open. Jaxon stood in the threshold, one hand still on the handle, the other holding a half-empty champagne flute. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, tie slightly loosened, the easy smile he’d worn all night already fading as his gaze moved between the two of you.
The distant bass from the reception pulsed behind him. Laughter still floated out from the ballroom. But out here, under the soft glow of the string lights and the cold autumn air, everything had gone painfully still.
Jaxon’s eyes lingered on the tear tracks on your cheeks. Then on Jungkook’s rolled sleeves. Then on the space that still felt too charged between you.
“Knows what?” he asked again, quieter this time.
Neither of you spoke.
Jaxon stepped fully onto the balcony, letting the door ease shut behind him. The muffled bass from the after-party pulsed against the glass. He set his champagne flute down on the wide stone ledge without looking at it, eyes never leaving the two of you.
“I asked a question,” he said, voice calm in a way that felt deliberate.
You wiped your cheeks quickly with the back of your hand, forcing a shaky smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Nothing. We were just—”
“Talking,” Jungkook finished, his tone carefully even. He didn’t step back, but the intensity in his posture shifted, shoulders squaring as if bracing for something. His eyes stayed on Jaxon, cool and unreadable.
Jaxon’s gaze flicked between you. “About what?”
The silence stretched. A cool breeze stirred the decorative leaves along the railing, sending a few amber ones drifting to the floor.
You tried again. “Old memories. That’s all.”
Jaxon’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Old memories that made you cry on our wedding night?”
The words landed softly, but the weight behind them was unmistakable.
You opened your mouth, then closed it. No easy lie came.
Jungkook’s voice cut through, low and flat. “She needed air. I followed to make sure she was okay.”
“And then you stayed,” Jaxon said. Not a question.
“Yeah.” Jungkook’s reply was clipped. “I stayed.”
Something flickered across Jaxon’s face—confusion, then a sharper edge of unease. He looked at you again, really looked, taking in the redness around your eyes, the way your arms were folded tightly across your middle as if holding yourself together.
“You’ve been gone a while,” he said, softer now. “People are asking where the bride disappeared to.”
You nodded quickly, grateful for the opening. “I should go back inside.”
You moved to step past him, but Jaxon didn’t shift out of the way. His hand came up, light but firm, resting against the doorframe as if to stop you without touching you.
“Y/N.” His voice dropped. “What’s going on?”
Your pulse hammered in your throat. You could feel Jungkook’s presence behind you like a second heartbeat—silent, watchful, waiting.
“Nothing’s going on,” you managed. “I just needed a minute. It’s been a long day.”
Jaxon’s eyes searched yours. For a moment he looked like the man who had stood across from you hours earlier, promising forever with a soft, certain smile. Then the certainty faltered.
“You don’t usually look this shaken,” he said quietly. “Not even on hard days.”
The observation was accurate.
Behind you, Jungkook remained still. You didn’t dare look at him.
Jaxon’s gaze drifted past your shoulder, landing on Jungkook once more. “I know you said you were close with the boys, but I didn’t realize you two were this close.”
It wasn’t an accusation. Not yet. Just a statement weighted with everything he didn’t know.
You swallowed. “We’ve known each other a long time. Through mutual friends.”
Jungkook said nothing. He didn’t offer a softer explanation. He simply held Jaxon’s stare, expression carefully blank, almost cold.
The air between the three of you tightened.
Jaxon’s brow furrowed. He looked at you again, something uncertain settling behind his eyes. “Is there something I should know?”
Your stomach twisted. The secret pressed against your ribs like it was trying to claw its way out. You could still feel the phantom weight of Jungkook’s earlier confession—I know it’s mine—echoing in your ears.
You forced your voice steady. “No. There’s nothing.”
But even as you said it, your hand betrayed you—drifting, just for a second, to rest protectively over your lower stomach before you caught yourself and dropped it.
Jaxon noticed.
His eyes followed the movement. Lingered for a beat too long. A flicker of something—concern, confusion—crossed his face, but it didn’t settle into understanding. Not yet. He knew you well enough to sense the wrongness. Just not well enough to name it.
“…Y/N,” he said slowly, almost carefully. “Are you feeling okay?” His hands darting towards your stomach, and Jungkook lips curved into a deep frown—you noticed and your hand grabbed Jaxon’s wrist softly and held his hand instead.
He never got an answer.
Because in that moment, the balcony door swung open again, and Taehyung’s bright voice cut through the tension like a blade.
“There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere. The party’s still going strong and Hoseok is two seconds from starting another round of shots if you don’t get back in there.”
Taehyung’s smile faltered as he took in the scene—your tear-streaked face, Jaxon’s rigid posture, Jungkook standing a few feet away with his hands clenched at his sides and that unreadable coldness still hanging around him.
The easy energy drained from him.
“…Did I interrupt something?”
Crystal Nights | J.JK
Ex!Jeon Jungkook × Black!Reader
Genre: Angst | Romance | Drama | Wedding AU | Exes | Emotional Conflict
Warnings: Infidelity/Cheating, Mature Themes, Explicit Language, Alcohol Use, Deflection, Emotional Angst, Moral Ambiguity.
___________________________________________
The grand ballroom glowed under the warm glow of golden chandeliers, draped in a stunning fall theme that wrapped the entire reception in burnt orange and deep crimson. Autumn leaves in shades of amber and rust cascaded from the centerpieces, mingling with elegant crystal vases filled with dahlias and dried wheat stalks. Soft string lights twinkled like captured fireflies against the rich, earthy linens, and the air carried hints of cinnamon and spiced wine. It was beautiful—romantic, even.
But Jungkook sat at his assigned table near the edge of the room, elbows on the crisp tablecloth, chin resting on his clasped hands as he watched you.
You moved through it all like a vision in white, your brown skin radiant against the ivory gown that hugged your figure and flowed in soft layers.
You had changed from your initial wedding gown.
But, the first thing Jungkook noticed wasn't the new dress.
It wasn't even the wedding band that freshly found home on your ring finger.
It was the glass.
Water.
Ice melting slowly against crystal.
He watched you smile as relatives toasted your marriage.
Watched you lift that same half drunken glass of water every single time someone shouted, "Cheers!"
His jaw tightened as his mind drifted, pulled back by the weight of a secret that formed two months ago.
At precisely 2 a.m.
________________________
Rapid knocks echoed through the halls of Jungkook's home.
It startled him.
He wasn't expecting any visitors.
He checked his cameras and saw you. You trembled slightly as you stood under the roofing of his entrance to avoid the rain.
Jungkook opened the door to find you standing there, tipsy and unraveling. Your eyes were glossy, cheeks flushed from whatever you'd been drinking earlier, and your coat hung loosely off one shoulder.
You rambled on about how you've been arguing with your fiancé—something about his business schedule, your distance, expectations, the pressure of the upcoming wedding.
The words spilled out in a messy rush as you stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.
He had offered you a towel, and even suggest that you use the dryer to dry your clothing, so you won't catch a cold.
You agreed, and headed to the laundry room, remembering your way around the home.
You were grateful at how warm the laundry room was as you threw all of your clothes into the dryer and wrapped yourself in the towel.
Jungkook sat in the living room—a bit stunned, but mostly confused by your sudden appearance. You guys haven't really spoken since you got engaged. Your last interaction being a fight about how quickly you jumped into a new relationship.
He heard footsteps and looked up, his breathing hitched as your eyes caught his.
The room was tense.
Quiet.
A beat passed.
Then three more.
Then a sudden accusation about him giving up too easily.
He brought up how you didn't give him an opportunity, and moved on too quickly.
He proclaimed that you probably never loved him.
And you repeated the same sentiments back to him, only for him to exposed that he did love you and still do.
Which was unfortunate given the current situation.
You were crying.
He approached you and he wiped the tears that fell, and that's all it took.
You reached for him, fingers curling into his black t-shirt, pulling him close. The kiss was immediate, heated, born from months of unresolved tension since your breakup. Jungkook tried to slow it down, hands framing your face, but the emotion crashed over both of you.
You were emotional, vulnerable, murmuring against his lips about how lost you felt. The towel unraveled, and his hands slid down your waist—pulling you flush against him as he backed you toward the bedroom.
Skin on skin, your warm brown curves pressing into his toned frame. Things escalated quickly, desperately.
He laid you down gently at first, but hunger took over. Jungkook kissed along your neck, your collarbone, worshipping every inch as you arched into him. When he finally pushed inside you, slow and deep, your gasp filled the room. "Jungkook..." You clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he moved, the rhythm building from tender to intense. Sweat-slicked bodies moved together, your nails dragging down his back, his moans echoed in your ear as his name fell from your lips like a confession with every thrust. He made love to you like it was the last time—passionate, raw, filled with all the words neither of you had said since the split. You came undone beneath him, trembling, and he followed soon after, burying his face in your neck as he spilled inside you.
You left before dawn, slipping out while he slept.
No goodbye.
No discussion.
________________________
Until today.
Your wedding.
He almost hadn't come.
Namjoon had convinced him.
"We've all been friends for years," he'd said. "Don't make today about old history."
Easy for him to say.
Jungkook sat at his table while laughter echoed through the reception hall.
Taehyung nudged his shoulder.
"You okay?"
"Mhm."
"Liar."
"I'm fine."
Taehyung followed his gaze.
Straight to you.
You were radiant.
Every guest thought so.
Your husband certainly did.
He couldn't stop smiling whenever he looked at you.
He looked at you like he'd won the lottery.
Jungkook wondered if he'd realize someday he'd been handed someone whose heart had never completely left another man.
________________________
He watched a waiter offer you champagne.
You smiled politely.
Shook your head.
Another refusal.
His stomach twisted.
No...
Surely not.
Right?
________________________
The reception had shifted into full after-party mode. The lights dimmed lower, the music thumped with heavier bass, and guests flooded the dance floor—laughing, spinning, drinks flowing freely.
Champagne towers glittered, shots were passed around, and the BTS members were scattered among the crowd, dancing and charming everyone as always. Your husband was pulled into a group toast, red-faced and grinning.
You needed air.
Slipping away from the noise, you pushed open the balcony doors and stepped into the cool night. The fall breeze rustled the decorative leaves strung along the railing, and the garden below was bathed in soft uplighting. Hidden from the main windows and cameras by a strategic overhang and heavy drapes, it felt like the only private space in the entire venue.
The door clicked behind you.
Jungkook stepped out, closing it softly. His black suit jacket was off, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing his tattoos. He looked at you for a long moment, eyes intense under the moonlight.
"Thank you...for coming. You didn't have to," Your gratitude was genuine.
He nodded, "I almost didn't...if I'm being honest,"
A beat.
"You know....we've been avoiding this conversation for two months," he said quietly, voice cutting through the distant bass from inside. "But I can't anymore. Not after watching you today."
You turned, defensive walls snapping into place. "Not today, it's my wedding for goodness sakes, Jungkook..."
That didn't move him.
"You cried a lot today," he started.
You scoffed softly, "typical bride, won't you say?"
He shook his head, "No...because it wasn't because you were happy,"
Your head snapped to him—jaw slacked. "Excuse me?"
"Am I wrong?" He tested.
"You should go back inside," You straightened your posture as you fully turned to him.
"So should you...why did you leave your husband to celebrate on his own?"
Silence.
Heavy.
Awkward.
Unfinished.
"You look content," he finally said.
"I am."
"Exactly my point."
Your shoulders stiffened.
"I'm not doing this."
A short chuckle left Jungkook's lips as his tongue pushed into his cheek.
"You've been drinking water all night."
You blinked once.
Twice.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Water?"
"Yes.."
"It's just water.."
"You haven't touched alcohol."
"So?"
"You’re a social drinker, Y/N. You used to order mimosas before the appetizers even arrived."
"I changed."
"No." His voice stayed calm. "You didn't."
You laughed once.
Short.
Dry.
"In a year people don't change?"
"They do."
He looked directly into your eyes.
"But not when they're pretending."
Your smile disappeared.
"I don't owe you this conversation."
"You don't."
He nodded.
"But I'm still asking."
"For what?"
"The truth."
"There is no truth."
"You settled."
Your head snapped toward him.
"...Excuse me?"
"You settled."
His words landed one after another.
"You picked the safe guy." He took a step towards you. "The easy guy."
"The one who'd never hurt you."
His eyes fell for a moment.
"You stopped fighting for someone you couldn't live without and started looking for someone you could survive with."
Your breathing slowed.
Dangerously slow.
"You have no right."
"I have every right after that night."
Your face hardened. "Don't. Don't you dare."
"You came to me." You didn't miss the way his voice trembled. "You told me you didn't know who you were anymore. You weren't sure of your decision."
A tear escaped before you could stop it.
You angrily wiped it away.
You shook your head and turned away—you try to compose yourself.
He hated seeing you in tears.
Especially when he was the reason they were falling.
For a moment, every instinct in him screamed to close the distance, to wipe them away like he used to. To tell you he was sorry.
Instead, he stayed where he was.
"You know what hurts the most?" he asked quietly.
You laughed bitterly, your back still turned to him.
"I don't really care."
"I believed you."
You squeezed your eyes shut.
"When you came to me that night..." His voice cracked. "I believed every word you said. I believed you still loved me…although you never said it back."
"I was drunk."
"You were honest."
"No." You turned sharply. "I was emotional."
You point at him, "There's a difference."
"There isn't."
"There is."
Silence settled between you again.
The music inside muffled through the glass doors, followed by cheers and laughter that felt impossibly far away.
"You keep telling yourself it didn't mean anything," Jungkook continued. "If that's what you need to sleep at night...fine."
His eyes searched yours.
"But don't rewrite what happened."
"I've spent two months trying not to think about it." You forced the words from your throat.
"I've spent two months thinking about nothing else." He combatted.
Your chest tightened.
"You don't get to do this."
"I don't get to ask why you showed up at my house?"
"You know why."
"I don't."
"I wanted closure!"
"And I wanted you!"
His confession stole the air from your lungs.
"I wanted the version of us that existed before everything got complicated."
His gaze drifted to your wedding band.
"But instead...I got a wedding invite," he whispered, "...then one night, two months before you said I do to another man."
You looked down at your hands.
The ring suddenly felt heavier than it had all day.
"And I'm sure I know the reason why you won't drink..."
You kept your head down as your eyes squeezed together tightly.
Your heart feels like it's about to explode from your chest.
A tear slid silently down your cheek.
Then another.
Until you finally broke down.
Jungkook stared.
Not because you were crying.
Because you hadn't denied it.
You hadn’t questioned it.
His voice came out, cracked and barely above a whisper.
"...Is it mine?"
The question hung between you, unanswered, as the muffled sound of cheering erupted inside the ballroom—someone calling for the bride and groom.
Out on the balcony, neither of you moved.
For the first time all evening, the celebration inside felt like it belonged to someone else's life.
Part II is posted
ACCESS | CHAPTER SEVEN
Pairing: Jungkook x POC!Reader
Genre: Romance, Thriller, Drama, Angst
Warning: 18+, explicit language, possessive behavior, smut, slow buildup drama
Chapters: 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07
____________________________________________
The arrival gate in Incheon buzzed with the usual chaos of early evening flights—families reuniting, drivers holding signs, the low hum of Korean announcements cutting through the air.
You spotted him before he saw you,
Jungkook
leaning against a pillar just past security, black mask pulled up, cap low, hands tucked into the pockets of an oversized hoodie like he was trying to disappear into the background. But the second his eyes found yours through the crowd, the mask couldn't hide the way his whole face lit up.
You barely made it three steps before he was moving, closing the distance in long strides. His arms wrapped around you so tightly your feet left the ground for a second, and you buried your face in his shoulder, breathing him in—clean laundry, faint cologne, and that unmistakable scent that was just him.
"Finally," he murmured against your hair, voice rough. "Two weeks felt like two months."
You laughed, the sound muffled against his hoodie. "Told you I'd be here."
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes soft and searching, thumbs brushing your cheeks like he needed to confirm you were real.
"You good? Flight okay?"
"Long. But I'm here now." You leaned up and kissed him through the mask—quick, careful. He smiled anyway, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
The drive to his place was quiet in the best way. His hand stayed on your thigh the whole time, thumb tracing lazy circles. Every red light became an excuse for another kiss—deeper, slower, the kind that promised more once doors closed.
By the time you stepped into his home, he barely got the door shut before he pounced on you—kissing you like he'd been starving for it.
Hands sliding under your hoodie, tugging at fabric, walking you backward toward the bedroom without breaking contact.
"You have no idea how much I missed this," he breathed against your mouth, lifting you effortlessly so your legs wrapped around his waist. You laughed softly into the kiss, fingers threading through his hair.
"Show me, then."
He did.
Clothes came off in a messy trail. Your hoodie on the couch, his shirt somewhere in the hallway, your jeans kicked off near the bed. He laid you down gently at first, mouth mapping every inch of skin he'd missed for weeks. But hunger won out quickly. His touches grew urgent, fingers sliding between your thighs, finding you already wet and aching for him.
"Babe..." you gasped as he sank two fingers in, curling them just right, thumb circling your clit with practiced precision. His chin rested on your breast as he watched your face the whole time, eyes dark, lips parted like he was memorizing every sound you made.
"Missed hearing you like this," he whispered, slowing adding a third finger, stretching you open. Your back arched, your hand gripping his wrist as your hips roll against his hand. When you came the first time—shuddering around his fingers—he didn't stop, just kissed down your body until his mouth replaced his hand, tongue working you through the aftershocks until you were trembling.
You pulled him up by the shoulders, he stroked himself as your lips met in a messy kiss.
He aligned himself, rubbing his tip at your entrance.
He pushing in slow and deep until he bottomed out. The stretch was perfect—familiar and overwhelming all at once. You both stilled for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in.
Then he started moving.
It wasn't gentle. Weeks of distance, of missed calls and half-finished conversations, poured out in every thrust. Your nails dug into his back, legs locked around his waist as he drove into you harder, deeper, the headboard knocking rhythmically against the wall. He buried his face in your neck, whispering filthy praises between moans—how tight you were, how perfect you felt, how he'd thought about this every night.
You came again with his name on your lips, clenching around him. He followed right after, hips stuttering, a broken moan vibrating against your skin and echoing in your ear as he quickly pulled away and painted your folds.
For a long minute afterward, you stayed tangled together, sweat-slick and breathing hard. He pressed lazy kisses to your shoulder, your jaw, your lips.
"I love you," he said quietly, brushing damp hair from your face. "So much."
You smiled, tracing the line of his jaw—his stumble raking against your fingertips. "I love you too."
He cleaned you up gently, then pulled you into his chest under the covers. Sleep came easy for the first time in days, wrapped in him, the city lights of Seoul faint through the curtains.
___________________________________________
You met Mina at a quiet café in Gangnam, one of those hidden spots with warm lighting, wooden tables, and the kind of pastries that made you forget about calories. She was already there when you arrived, looking effortlessly put-together in a cream blouse and tailored trousers, waving you over with a bright smile.
"You made it!" She stood and pulled you into a quick hug. "How was the flight? And more importantly—how's the reunion?" Her brows jumped in a teasing manner.
You laughed, settling into the seat across from her. "Flight was fine. Reunion...very good."
Her eyes sparkled with amusement as you both ordered. Once the drinks arrived, she leaned in slightly, voice dropping into that warm, confiding tone she did so well.
"I'm so glad you're here. I've been meaning to tell you something—nothing bad, it’s the same thing we spoken about over the phone, but I was just...i wanted to tell you the full story in person."
"You know I said that ran into Jungkook the other night at the club..." She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear. "My friends ditched me completely. I'd had way too much to drink—stupid, really. I could barely remember my own address. Jungkook stepped in like it was nothing. Made sure that creepy guy left me alone, got me out of there safely...and ended up letting me stay at his place because I was in no state to go anywhere else."
She shook her head, cheeks tinting pink as if she were still mortified...
little did you know, she was blushing. Pure ecstasy at the close proximity she had to him.
"I was such a mess. I even embarrassed myself trying to get out of my dress—he helped me with the zipper and the dress slipped and I don’t even have anything on beneath besides underwear of course....it was humiliating. I don't remember everything clearly, but I woke up in his guest room the next morning feeling like the biggest idiot. He was so sweet about it, though. Made me coffee, let me pull myself together, didn't make it weird at all. Just...took care of everything without expecting anything. You're such a lucky girl to have a boyfriend like him. Really. Not many people can be trusted in that situation…."
Mina smiled at you—open, genuine, a little shy like she was sharing something vulnerable between friends. "I didn’t mean any disrespect, it won’t happen again and I didn't want there to be any weirdness, especially since we're all friends now."
On the outside, you smiled back, warm and easy, nodding as you sipped your cappuccino.
"Yeah...that’s Jungkook for you, he is pretty amazing. I'm glad he was there for you."
Inside, though, your stomach twisted. Stayed at his place. Guest room or not, she'd been there—drunk, half-undressed, slipping out of her dress in front of him. He had told you he'd put her in a taxi and made sure she got home safe. Not that she'd slept over. Not the dress. Not the morning coffee.
The details he'd left out hit like a slow punch, feeding the exact insecurity you'd confessed to him weeks ago: the gaps, the things left unsaid, the fear that distance made room for moments you weren't part of.
You kept the smile in place, laughing lightly when Mina shifted the conversation to your brand plans in Seoul and a new restaurant she wanted to try together. You engaged, asked questions, even teased her gently about her "adventurous" night.
Your mind kept racing.
Why didn’t he tell you she stayed at his apartment?
Why didn’t he tell you he helped her with her dress?
Why didn’t he tell you that she was still there the next morning.
Maybe there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of it.
Maybe everything happened exactly the way Mina described.
So why didn't he tell you?
It wasn't the night itself that was getting under your skin.
It was the omission.
The fact that you had to hear it from someone else and pretend that you were knowledgeable about the extent of the night made every detail feel bigger than it probably was, and with each passing second, you couldn't stop wondering what else had been left unsaid.
____________________________________________
Two days passed.
Two days of trying to suppress the emotions stirred up by your conversation with Mina.
You'd spent the time trying to act normal—cooking breakfast together, letting him pull you into his lap during movie night, smiling when he kissed the top of your head. You laughed at his jokes, asked about the album sessions, even initiated lazy morning sex like nothing was weighing on you.
But the effort was exhausting.
Every time he touched you, Mina's words echoed in the back of your mind.
He helped me with the zipper...the dress slipped...woke up in his guest room...
You hated how much it lingered.
Jungkook noticed. Of course he did.
He always did.
He noticed the way your smile never quite reached your eyes.
The way you'd stare at him for a second too long before looking away.
The way you seemed lost in thought whenever he mentioned going out with friends.
And most of all...
The way you stopped telling him what was on your mind.
That bothered him more than anything.
He found you standing on the balcony just after sunset, Seoul glowing beneath the skyline. You were scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, though he doubted you'd read a single word.
He slipped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.
"Talk to me."
You leaned back against him. "I am."
"No." His voice stayed soft. "You're talking...just not talking to me."
You forced a small laugh. "You're overthinking."
"I'm not."
Silence settled between you.
"You've been different since your day with Mina."
"I'm tired."
"You've been sleeping fine."
"I'm just...thinking."
"About what?"
"Nothing specific."
He sighed, tightening his hold for a moment before letting go. He stepped around until he was standing in front of you.
"You know I hate when you do this."
Your jaw tightened.
"When I do what?"
"When something's bothering you and you shut me out."
"I'm not shutting you out."
"You are." His frustration began to creep into his voice. "I've asked you a dozen times. Every time it's 'nothing.' I know you. I know when something's wrong."
You looked away.
"Why do I have to beg," he said firmly. "Just tell me."
"I said it's nothing."
"It isn't."
"It is."
"It's not."
The words came faster now, bouncing between you.
"Why won't you just tell me?"
"Because I don't want to argue."
"We're arguing anyway."
You let out a sharp breath, finally meeting his eyes.
"You really want to know?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Fine."
Your voice cracked with restrained frustration.
"You lied to me."
His brows knitted together instantly.
"...What?"
"You lied."
"About what."
"Really Now?" That came out snarkier than you intended.
He stared at you, completely thrown.
"What are you talking about?"
"You told me you put Mina in a taxi and made sure she got home."
His face changed.
Not necessarily guilt.
Recognition.
"And then I find out from her that she spent the night here." Your voice rose despite your efforts to stay calm. "That she was drunk. That you helped her out of her dress, which in turn almost gave you an eye full. That she woke up here the next morning and you made her coffee."
He opened his mouth.
You didn't let him.
"So tell me, Jungkook..." Tears stung your eyes as memories of bottled-up insecurity spilled over. "Why did I have to hear all of that from someone else?"
He ran a hand through his hair.
"I wasn't hiding it."
You let out a disbelieving laugh.
"You weren't?"
"No."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"I was going to tell you. In person. I didn't want to drop all that over the phone when you were still days away—"
"Bullshit," you cut in, the word slipping out before you could stop it. Your heart hammered.
"I’ve been here for four days. Two whole days of us being together, talking, being close...then two days since I’ve met with Mina, and you still didn't say anything. I had to hear it from her. Do you know how that feels? Like I'm the last one to know what's happening in your life again?"
"It wasn't like that," he said quickly, reaching for you.
You shifted back.
"Nothing happened. She was wasted, her friends ditched her, some guy was bothering her. I helped her get out of there. The dress thing—it was just a zipper, she was struggling, and yeah, it slipped a little, but I turned away immediately. She slept in the guest room. End of story. I didn't tell you the full details because I knew how it would sound, especially after everything we went through in LA. I didn't want to give you something to overthink right when you got here."
"So you lied by omission instead?"
Your voice rose. "That's exactly what makes me overthink, Jungkook! The gaps. The things you decide I don't need to know. I told you I'm scared of losing you, that the distance makes everything feel fragile, and your solution is to hide more shit?"
He stood up, frustration flashing across his face. "I wasn't hiding it to hurt you. I was trying to protect you—from exactly this. From turning a nothing night into something it wasn't. I handled it responsibly. I told her I'd mention it to you. I didn't want you spiraling while you were still packing for Seoul."
"Protect me?" You stood too, arms crossing tightly over your chest. "By letting me hear it from Mina, who made sure to paint the whole picture? How sweet you were, how lucky I am to have you? It made me feel like an idiot sitting there smiling while my stomach dropped."
Jungkook's jaw tightened. "I can't control what Mina says. But I can tell you the truth now—nothing happened. I would never do that to you. You have to believe me."
Jungkook looked at you with equal parts hurt and disbelief.
"I would never cheat on you."
"I didn't say you would."
"You don't have to."
The words landed heavily between you.
"Because right now..." he said quietly, "...it sounds like you don't even trust me."
You swallowed hard.
"I trusted you enough to believe what you told me."
You regretted those words as soon as it left you mouth.
Bad timing for that honesty.
Another silence.
Long.
Painful.
Neither of you knew what to say next.
An involuntary scoffed and a small "wow" left his lips as he retreats back into the home.
Next Chapter >
ACCESS | CHAPTER SIX
Pairing: Jungkook x POC!Reader
Genre: Romance, Thriller, Drama, Angst
Warning: 18+, explicit language, possessive behavior, smut, slow buildup drama
Chapters: 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07
____________________________________________
Seoul welcomed Jungkook back with warmth and ease—relieving after months of navigating a different city.
The first week back was consumed by the things that was in wait, studio sessions running long into the night, album reviews, the particular intensity of a group that had spent three months building something and was now ready to shape it into its final form. He fell back into the rhythm of it quickly.
The work had always been the easiest thing to return to.
He called you every night without fail.
Sometimes long, an hour of nothing specific, just the sound of each other moving through the tail end of respective days.
Sometimes short, ten minutes squeezed between a session ending and sleep pulling at him, just enough to hear your voice and confirm that the distance hadn't changed anything.
You were counting down.
He was counting down.
Twelve days.
Then nine.
Then seven.
________________________
Jiho, a producer Jungkook had worked with during his solo album threw a party at his place. Celebrating an accomplishment within his career.
Korean Music Industry people were mostly in attendance
Jungkook almost didn't go.
He went because Taehyung convinced him to attend alongside him and his industry friends.
The party was good.
Not too crazy.
He found a corner with a drink and let the evening come to him the way he'd learned at events like this, waiting to see what the room had to offer.
What the room offered, an hour in, was Mina.
She appeared in his peripheral vision, in conversation with two people he didn't recognize, dressed simply, her composure as intact as it had been at the LA gala.
She looked up at almost the exact moment he noticed her and something crossed her face—genuine surprise, quickly replaced by a warm smile.
She crossed the room.
"Of all the parties in Seoul," she said, in Korean.
He laughed. "Small world."
"Apparently." She glanced around the space. "How do you know Jiho?"
"We've worked together. You?"
"Friend of a friend." She accepted a drink from a passing tray. "How long have you been back?"
"Eight days. You?"
"Two weeks." She tilted her head slightly. "How is it? being home after that long away?"
He considered it honestly. "Comfortable...in a sense that I don't feel like I need to try so hard. I can be more myself...If you know what I mean."
She smiled at that. "I get it, it's understandable"
"Yeah."
They found a quieter edge of the party naturally, the conversation was worth continuing and the room was too loud for it. They talked about the album, about the industry, about the random fun facts and the quality of Seoul during the current season.
She asks a lot of questions, he was intrigued by her interest and how she would actually think about what she was asking, and he answered with more than he usually offered.
He heard a semi-slurred voice behind them, "There you are! Don't do that! I was looking for you everywhere..."
Taehyung's voice dragged off as his eyes caught Mina's.
He turned to Jungkook then back to Mina before his finger waved between them. His lips parted to say something, but it stopped himself before turning fully towards Jungkook.
"Did you and Y/N break up?"
Jungkook blinked, slightly annoyed and offended at the insinuation. He ignored Taehyung and turned his attention back to Mina.
"You should find your people," he advised her as his body moved closer towards Taehyung and Woo-shik, who lurked behind, pretending to not care for the situation.
"Yeah." Her voice came out soft, a bit embarrassed—the reddish tint on her cheeks growing. "It was good to run into you."
"Likewise." He smiled.
"Tell Y/N I said hello. And that I'm counting the days until our Thursday coffee resumes."
He laughed. "I'll tell her."
As Mina's distance grew Jungkook smacked Taehyung's shoulder. "You know Y/N and I are still together, what kind of fucking question was that?!"
The older male exaggerated the pain, rolling his shoulder to ease the sting.
"You were flirting!" Taehyung voiced, "You call that flirting?" Jungkook retaliated swiftly, his eyes squinting at his friend. Taehyung raised his hands in defense, "From where I'm standing,"
"You're drunk,"
"Not yet," Taehyung pointed. Jungkook smacked the finger pointing at him.
"But I came to find you because I got an email, you should've too, BangPD wants a meeting in the morning, we should leave now to get some rest..."
"...I'm sure it'll be some bullshit" Taehyung voice fell into a whisper as if he was speaking to himself.
Jungkook didn't notice the email notification, but once he checked and saw the unread message sitting in his inbox he glanced through it and sighed.
He left alongside Taehyung, and from afar he didn't notice the eyes that followed him out.
________________________
A few nights later, he was pulled in a louder atmosphere.
Mingyu had been the one to insist.
"You've been back in Seoul for how long? and all you been doing is working and calling your girlfriend," he'd complained over the phone. "My schedule has been free and I have yet to see you. I feel abandoned. Let's go for some drinks."
"Very convincing."
"Jaehyun is coming too."
"That somehow makes it worse."
"Exactly. Now get dressed, I'm driving."
And somehow, against better judgment, Jungkook found himself walking into one of the more private clubs in Itaewon with Mingyu and Jaehyun on each side of him, bass vibrating through the floor before they'd even fully stepped inside.
The place was dim, expensive, and crowded—industry people, models, actors, people who looked like they were all three.
Mingyu was already halfway to the bar.
"I'm not trying to get drunk tonight," Jungkook called after him. "I'm serious!"
Mingyu looked back with zero sincerity. "Of course."
Jaehyun laughed beside him. "You should know better by now."
Jungkook shook his head, following them anyway.
For the first hour, it was easy.
Drinks, stupid conversations, Mingyu trying and failing to flirt with a girl who clearly liked Jaehyun more, Jaehyun pretending not to notice. The kind of night that gave him a feeling of...freedom.
It should've stayed that simple.
It didn't.
He noticed her near midnight.
At first, just a familiar silhouette through the shifting crowd.
Then the turn of her head.
Mina.
She was with a group of girls he didn't recognize, all loud laughter and glossy smiles, gathered around one of the lounge sections near the back. She looked different here—less polished than the prior events he'd seen her at, more relaxed, though her dress still carried that same effortless elegance.
He hadn't seen her since Jiho's party.
He wasn't planning to approach.
He just noticed.
And then he kept noticing.
The way her friends slowly disappeared one by one.
The way her smile faded each time she checked over her shoulder.
The way she stood from the booth too quickly and had to catch herself against the table.
Jungkook frowned.
"Does she look okay to you?" He asked the boys.
Jaehyun followed his gaze. "Who?"
He nodded subtly toward Mina.
Mingyu looked too. "You know her?"
"Yeah..."
"She looks drunk."
Jungkook watched as Mina moved toward the hallway near the restrooms, scanning faces that clearly weren't the ones she was looking for.
Something about it sat wrong in his chest.
Her friends hadn't come back.
And now some guy—too close, for someone she clearly wasn't responding to—was leaning into her space, hand low on her back.
She stiffened.
That was enough.
Jungkook set his drink down.
"Where are you going?" Mingyu asked.
He was already moving.
"That guy's bothering her."
Neither of them stopped him.
By the time he reached her, the stranger was smiling too easily, saying something Mina was trying too hard to politely endure.
Jungkook stepped between them without hesitation.
"There you are," he said smoothly, looking only at her. "I've been looking for you."
Mina blinked.
For half a second, confusion.
Then understanding.
"Oh."
Her voice was quieter than usual.
"Right."
The guy looked between them. "You know him?"
Jungkook finally turned, expression flat.
"Yeah. She does."
There was enough in his tone to make the man reconsider whatever game he thought he was playing.
He muttered something under his breath and walked off.
Jungkook waited until he disappeared into the crowd before looking back at her.
"You okay?"
She stared at him for a second, eyes glassy, mascara still perfect somehow.
Then she gave a small, sad laugh.
"My friends said they were coming back." She pointed to the bathroom area.
He glanced around.
They weren't.
"I waited," she said, words slurring just enough. "I thought maybe I just missed them, but..." Her mouth pulled into something halfway between amusement and embarrassment. "I think they left me."
The realization seemed to hit her all over again as she said it aloud.
And for some reason, that made her look younger. Vulnerable, a sight that shook him a bit, because from he met her she always exuded this guarded nature.
Jungkook exhaled.
"Okay. We're not staying here."
"I can manage."
"No."
She blinked at him.
"...No?"
"No."
That finally made her smile, faint and crooked.
"Bossy."
"Only when necessary."
He grabbed her wrist and moved towards Jaehyun and Mingyu, they gave him a look of caution—they know the trouble he would get into if seen in this predicament.
Trouble beyond an upset girlfriend.
He gave a brief explanation, "I'm going to call a cab and get her home. I think I will head home after one time,"
The boys nodded—obvious disappointment glaring in their eyes—he will be ending his night early.
"Send a text when everything is settled," Mingyu voiced.
Jungkook nodded then got her outside first, away from the music and the crowd.
The cold air helped a little.
He called a cab.
She leaned against the wall beside him, heels abandoned besides her in the process, one hand holding onto his sleeve like balance depended on it.
When the taxi arrived, he opened the door for her.
"Address?" the driver asked.
Mina frowned at the question like it was deeply philosophical.
She blinked once.
Twice.
Then looked at Jungkook.
"...I forgot."
He stared at her.
"You forgot where you live?"
"I know where it is," she defended weakly. "I just don't know...where it is right now."
He rubbed a hand over his face.
The driver looked unimpressed.
Jungkook sighed.
He gave the taxi his address.
The ride was mostly quiet.
She fell half-asleep against the window, mumbling occasionally, and Jungkook spent most of it trying not to think about how ridiculous this looked if anyone recognized them.
By the time they got to his apartment, she was barely coherent.
He got her upstairs carefully, unlocking the door while making sure she didn't walk directly into a wall.
The apartment was quiet. Dark. Clean.
Safe.
He left her in a room then returned—handing her a glass of water first.
She drank half of it obediently while sitting at the edge of the bed.
"Thank you," she mumbled.
He hummed in response.
He left once again and returned with a large shirt and a pair of shorts.
"If you need to use the bathroom, there's one over there" he pointed toward the guest bathroom across the hall as he prepared to leave.
She stood.
Paused.
Then turned back to him.
"...Can you help me?"
He blinked. "With what?"
She turned slowly, lifting her hair over one shoulder and exposing the zipper running down the back of her dress.
"Zip."
Jungkook froze.
For exactly two seconds.
Then he told himself to be normal.
It was fabric. Just fabric.
There's nothing inappropriate about it.
"Right."
He stepped closer carefully, fingers finding the zipper.
Her perfume hit him first—soft, flowery and expensive.
He kept his eyes fixed anywhere except where his brain clearly wanted to look.
Slowly, he pulled the zipper down.
The dress loosened.
And then he realized—with immediate, violent regret—that underneath the dress, there was almost nothing.
Just a black thong and bare skin.
Jungkook's entire soul left his body.
He looked away so fast it nearly gave him whiplash.
"Okay—great—I'm done."
He backed away immediately.
Unfortunately, she had chosen that exact moment to start turning around too.
The dress slipped.
He caught exactly enough to know he absolutely should not have.
The bedroom door shut so fast it was almost offensive.
He stood on the other side of it, staring at the wall like it had personally betrayed him.
Jesus Christ.
What the fuck.
He dragged both hands down his face.
She was drunk.
That it. That's all.
She was drunk, vulnerable, and he was overthinking it like an idiot.
He needed to calm down.
Water. Clothes. Bedroom. Distance.
Simple.
From the other side of the door, silence.
Then...
A very slick smile touched Mina's lips as she slipped his shirt over her head.
Perfectly steady.
Perfectly sober.
And very much awake.
________________________
Morning arrived swiftly
He was up before she was.
The apartment was quiet, the city still grey at its edges through the floor to ceiling windows. He made coffee the way he always did in the morning and sat at the kitchen island with his phone and tried not to think too hard about the night before.
He had a message from you.
Good morning. Miss you. Have a great day ❤️
He smiled at it and typed back.
Good morning. Miss you more. 4 days can’t come fast enough.
He set the phone down and wrapped both hands around his mug.
He had almost called you last night.
Had picked the phone up twice. Put it back down twice.
Not because of guilt—he knew with complete clarity that nothing had happened and nothing would.
But because explaining the full sequence of the evening at two in the morning required a coherence he hadn’t had, and more importantly required you to receive it in a state of mind that two AM didn’t lend itself to. You were twelve time zones away. You would have woken up groggy and disoriented and the first thing you heard would have been Mina is asleep in my guest room after almost exposing damn near full blown nudity to him—and even with complete trust, that was an unfair way to start someone’s day.
He’d decided to tell you in the morning. His morning, your evening. When you were both clearheaded and the telling would land the way it deserved to.
That was still the plan.
He heard the guest room door.
⸻
Mina appeared in the hallway in his shirt and shorts, hair loose from whatever it had been the night before, face clean of makeup and glitter.
She looked younger without it.
She stopped when she saw him.
“Hey,” he said.
She stood in the hallway entrance, one hand holding the waist of the shorts that were slightly too big for her, and something moved across her face that he hadn’t seen from her before—shame.
“Coffee?” he offered.
She crossed the kitchen slowly and sat on the far stool, putting space between them that he didn’t comment on. He set a mug in front of her.
She wrapped both hands around it and looked at it for a long moment.
Then she said, “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to—”
“No.” She looked up. Her eyes were wet at the edges. Her jaw tight and her eyes spilled over before she could stop them. “I’m sorry. I was disrespectful. To you and Y/N and—I don’t—” she pressed her lips together. “That wasn’t who I am. Or who I want to be.”
He set his mug down.
“Mina.” His voice was even and quiet. “Nothing happened.”
“I know nothing happened. That’s not the point.” She pressed the back of her wrist to her eye quickly. “The point is that I was—” she exhaled. “I put you in an uncomfortable position. In your own home. And she’s my friend and you’re—” she stopped. “I’m mortified.”
He looked at her for a moment.
She was crying with the particular embarrassment of someone not accustomed to crying in front of people — rigid-shouldered, jaw working, tears falling in spite of her best effort to prevent them.
“Hey.” He kept his voice calm.
“Look at me.”
She looked up.
“Nothing happened,” he said again.
“You had too much to drink. You’re human. I’m not holding anything against you and neither would she if she knew, because there’s nothing to hold.” He paused. “You don’t have to hold onto this.”
She held his gaze. The tears were slowing.
“You’re so understanding,” she said, quietly.
“I’m just honest,” he replied.
A small, wet exhale that almost became a laugh. She looked back at her coffee.
“Did you tell her?” Mina asked.
“That I stayed here…What I did?”
He was quiet for a half second.
“I was going to call her last night but it was late,” he said. “I may tell her today.”
Mina nodded slowly. “She should know.”
“She will.”
Another silence. She was composing herself—visibly, piece by piece—the Mina he’d come to recognize reassembling over the one who had appeared in his hallway five minutes ago.
“I should go,” she said.
“Finish your coffee.”
“Jungkook—”
“Finish your coffee,” he said again, simply. “Then I’ll call you a car.”
She looked at him for a moment.
Then she picked up the mug.
⸻
He called you an hour after she left.
“Hey,” you answered. “You sound awake.”
“I’ve been up a while.” He settled back on the couch. “How was your morning?”
“Good. Long call with Darnell. The Seoul trip are almost sorted.” A pause. “You okay? You have a tone.”
“I ran into Mina last night,” he said. “At the club I was at with Mingyu and Jaehyun.”
“Really?” Your voice lifted with genuine interest. “How is she?”
“She’s good.” He chose his words with the care of someone telling a true thing in an edited way. “Her friends left her stranded at the end of the night. She’d had too much to drink and couldn’t get herself sorted. I put her in a taxi and made sure she got home safe.”
All of that was true.
The part he left out was the destination of the taxi.
He made the decision cleanly and without internal conflict—not because there was anything to hide, but because he knew with absolute certainty that if he said she tried exposing her figure then slept in my spare room, the follow up conversation would consume the next hour of your day and pull your attention into something that had amounted to nothing, four days before you got on a plane to see him.
You were still rebuilding. Still tender in that spot. He was not going to hand you something that looked like a thing to pull at four days before you landed.
He would tell you in person. When you were here, and grounded, and could see his face when he said it.
That when it would land correctly.
As the unremarkable nothing it was.
“That was good of you,” you said.
“She gets like that sometimes when she’s stressed. She told me once that she doesn’t drink often and when she does it hits her fast.”
“Makes sense,” he said, noting that for reasons he didn’t fully examine.
“Did Mingyu and Jaehyun behave?”
He laughed. “Define behave.”
“Did they embarrass you.”
“Only mildly.”
You laughed and the sound of it loosened something in his chest that had been slightly tight since the morning.
“I can’t wait for these four days to fly pass, I can’t wait to see you…touch you” you said.
He felt his heart jump and he snickered.
“Be careful what you wis for darling,” his octave lowering to a tune that sent goosebumps up her back.
“I’ll call you tonight.” She told him softly—her shyness kicking in.
“FaceTime.” He corrected before hanging up.
⸻
Inside the car taking her home, Mina sat with her hands folded in her lap and her composure fully restored.
The crying had been real, she could acknowledge that to herself. The mortification had been genuine—even calculated people experienced genuine things.
She had miscalculated last night.
Had moved too quickly, read the moment wrong, and the result had been embarrassing and unnecessary and had set her back rather than forward.
She had adjusted.
The tears in his kitchen had not been weaponized—they simply happened. But she was precise enough to recognize that they had served her better than the dress dropping to the floor had.
He had softened.
Had told her to stay fo coffee. Had called her a car. Had told her she didn’t have to carry anything.
She had filed that away too.
What mattered now was what she was told in the kitchen.
He hadn’t called Y/N.
Which meant you didn’t know about anything—at least not yet.
She understood why, she had been in enough relationships to recognize the logic of a man protecting his partner from an unnecessarily alarming image. It wasn’t deception. It was consideration
Filed beside everything else you had told her over coffee in LA.
The distance.
The gaps.
The insecurities.
Every silence is louder.
She looked out the car window at each skyscraper moving past.
She should call you tonight.
⸻
You answered on the second ring.
“Mina—”
“I heard you’re coming in four days,” she said. “I want to take you somewhere. There’s a restaurant in Gangnam that I’ve been wanting to try and I refuse to go alone.”
You laughed. “Hello to you too.”
“Hello. Four days. The restaurant. Yes or no.”
“Yes,” you said. “Obviously yes.”
She smiled at her window. “Good. How are you? You sound like you haven’t slept.”
“Three calls today and a fitting this morning. I’m running on coffee and the concept of my upcoming vacation.”
“Seoul will fix that.”
“Seoul better fix that.” A pause.
“How are you? I heard you had a rough night.”
Mina’s smile dropped a bit—did he tell her?
“Jungkook told you,” she said.
“Yeah. He mentioned running into you. Said your friends bailed.”
“They did.” She let a small, self deprecating exhale into the line. “I was not my most composed self last night. Mortifying honestly.” A pause—timed with precision. “He was very kind about it. He’s a good one.”
“He is,” you said, and the warmth in your voice was exactly what she’d expected.
“You’re lucky,” Mina said. “I hope you know that.”
“I’m starting to believe it more,” you said quietly.
She filed that too.
Starting to believe it.
Not there yet. Still fragile in that spot you’d told her about.
“I can’t wait to see you.” Mina said warmly.
“Same, same,” you confirmed.
She hung up and sat in the quiet of her apartment.
⸻
Over the following days the shape of things shifted in ways that were entirely invisible to you.
Jungkook called Mina once, to check in after that night, the way he would have checked in on anyone he’d seen in that state. She answered warmly and without awkwardness and said she was fine, that she was grateful, that she hoped it hadn’t been an imposition.
He said it wasn’t.
She made him laugh twice in the conversation and kept it short enough to feel like nothing more than what it was—a follow up.
Considerate. Appropriate.
He called again two days later. A more specific reason this time—a restaurant recommendation she’d mentioned in passing at the party that he’d forgotten to write down. He wanted to take you there.
She gave it to him and then the conversation ran for forty minutes because it simply did.
He told you about it that evening.
“I talked to Mina today,” he said. “She has good taste in restaurants. I’m making a reservation for when you get here.”
“You two are becoming close,” you said. Jungkook paused, unable to read her tone, “if it makes you uncomfortable—”
“No, no, not at all. I’m just saying,”
There was a pause before she continued.
“I’m glad. She doesn’t trust nor make friends easily.”
“I noticed,” he said.
You hummed and moved on and he let you as the evening continued.
Next Chapter >
ACCESS | CHAPTER FIVE
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
____________________________________________
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.
"Did you sleep at all?"
"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?"
"I'm fine."
"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."
"It wasn't just tired."
"Jungkook—"
"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."
"It's really not—"
"Can you just tell me what it is?"
You opened your mouth.
His phone buzzed on the counter.
You both looked at it.
Namjoon.
He glanced at it, then back at you.
"He can wait." He reached out and turned it face down. "Talk to me."
You exhaled.
"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.
"I'll call him back."
"It's the second time."
"It can wait."
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.
"Answer it," you said.
"We're talking."
"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."
He hung up.
Turned back to you.
"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."
"Okay."
"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.
⸻
Tonight didn't come.
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."
Silence.
Then he broke it, "And you? How are you feeling."
"Fine."
"You keep saying that."
"Because I am fine."
A longer pause.
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."
"Sure," you said.
He didn't make it Wednesday either.
Or Thursday.
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.
⸻
Thursday was Mina.
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."
Her words were honest.
"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."
A pause.
"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.
Then she smiled.
Warm and genuine and entirely composed. "That's wonderful," she said. "Truly. He's—you both seem good together."
"Thank you."
"How long?"
"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."
She paused.
"He clearly adores you."
You looked at your cup. "He does...Usually."
She tilted her head slightly. "Usually?"
You glanced up.
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."
You paused.
"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's learning."
She nodded slowly.
"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.
You nodded.
"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.
"I think so too."
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."
You looked at her.
"Thank you, Mina."
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 distance.
The missed calls.
The way she pulls away instead of saying what she feels.
The gaps.
She lifted her coffee to her lips.
Seoul was in four days.
And Jungkook would be there in two weeks.
Without her.
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.
A late arrival.
An early departure.
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."
"I'm fine."
"You say that a lot lately." He looked up from his laptop.
You sigh as your mind went on Jungkook saying the exact thing.
"You talk to him?"
"We keep missing each other."
"So make an appointment."
You glared at him.
"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."
A pause.
"Okay. Good. Yeah. I'll be there."
Then, after a moment,
"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.
"You don't have to—"
"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."
"Take it or leave it."
"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.
Almost.
⸻
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.
"Talk to me," he said.
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."
"But it bothered you."
"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."
"I do 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."
You felt his gaze.
"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."
You looked at him.
"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.
Tried again.
"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.
You looked at him.
"If it ends," you said. Almost a whisper.
The room was very quiet.
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.
"I know how it sounds."
"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."
Your throat tightened.
"I know," you said.
"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 what specifically."
"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."
He was quiet.
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 said softly.
"Okay?"
"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.
"Good," he said.
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—
God, his gaze.
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 airport?"
"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."
"We can have it again."
"Jungkook." You looked at him sideways.
He shifted closer, knee finding yours.
"I’ll be with you in two weeks."
"I just want more time."
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.
Already missing him.
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.
Final warning.
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.”
You held his gaze.
“I will,”you said. “I promise.”
He nodded.
“Two weeks.”
“Two weeks.”
The door closed.
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.
The car pulled away.
You sat in the quiet of the backseat, the city coming back around you, the seat beside you warm but empty.
Next Chapter >
ACCESS | CHAPTER FOUR
Pairing: Jungkook x POC!reader
Genre: Romance, Thriller, Drama, Angst
Warning: 18+, explicit language, possessive behavior, smut, slow buildup drama, jealousy, envy
Chapter: 01. 02. 03. 04. 05
____________________________________________
Three weeks later
You and Jungkook found a familiar rhythm in your relationship.
The rest of the boys arrived in LA bit by bit.
They had a rental home twenty minutes from you—close enough that Jungkook showed up unannounced and undetected by the public or paparazzi and make it back in time for filming.
A documentary—filming the process of them building the latest album.
Mina had become something you hadn't anticipated, a friend.
It had started professionally.
Check-ins about the deal, emails forwarded through assistants, the occasional voice note from her when something moved faster than expected on her father's end.
But somewhere between the second week and the third, the voice notes got longer. Less business. More informal—more personal.
She was funny in a dry, understated way that caught you off guard every time. Thoughtful. Blunt when she had an opinion and honest enough to say so. You liked that about her.
You'd had lunch twice. Coffee once. She'd shown up to your brand's pop-up event without announcing it, moved quietly through the space, and texted you afterward with compliments.
Things just snowballed from there and suddenly you both were damn near talking everyday about mundane things.
⸻
The call came on a Wednesday afternoon.
You were between tasks, laptop open, second coffee cooling beside you, when her name lit up your screen. You answered on the second ring.
"Tell me you have nothing on the fourteenth," she said, skipping hello entirely.
"Well hello to you too," You voiced with a small chuckle.
You pulled up your calendar.
"I have a fitting in the morning and calls until two."
"After two?"
"...open."
"Good." There was the sound of papers shuffling on her end. "My father is hosting a private event that evening. Annual thing—very small, very exclusive. His way of keeping relationships with the people who matter in certain rooms."
You sat up slightly. "What kind of people?"
"The kind that don't need to introduce themselves."
A pause.
"Multimillionaires. A few billionaires. People building things, investing in things. The kind of room you should be in. Networks.."
The weight of that settled over you slowly. "Mina—"
"Before you say anything," she cut in, "I'm not doing you a favor. I'm bringing someone whose work I genuinely believe in. There's a difference."
You're sure she heard your heart beating in your throat.
"You told me yourself my father’s deal was just the beginning. This is the next room." Mina continued.
You exhaled. "Okay."
"Okay yes?"
"Okay yes."
She made a small satisfied sound.
"You can bring a plus one if that’d make you more comfortable. Dress code is black attire."
The call disconnected and simultaneously Jungkook walked through your front door.
"What's wrong," he questioned as he approached carefully.
"You look like you saw a ghost,"
You stared at him for a moment before grabbing your couch pillow and screaming in it, and before he can ask anymore questions you was blurting out the context of the call you just received.
He looked at you for a moment.
"You want me to come."
"I'm asking if you want to come."
"To an event full of billionaires."
"Multimillionaires too, don't undersell it."
He sat up slowly, something considering in his expression, not necessarily reluctance, just thinking it over as he checked his already jammed schedule, "Yeah. I'll come."
You pushed off the doorframe in pure excitement.
"I didn't come prepared."
"Well, you have four days."
He snickered with a nod.
"A nice suit," you emphasized and he feigned offense.
"I can dress!"
You gave him a look on your way past him toward the kitchen and heard him laugh quietly behind you.
⸻
The fourteenth arrived dressed in a cool evening breeze, LA's sky turned amber before it went dark.
"You look beautiful," Jungkook whispered in your ear as his hands found your waist.
Goosebumps painted your skin as a ghostly kiss tickled your neck.
"You cleaned up nicely too," you teased, because who are you kidding...
He always looked good.
"You ready?" He asked.
You tightened his tie and smoothed out his collar before nodding.
______
The venue was a private estate tucked into the hills, the kind of address that didn't show up in a search, the kind of gate that opened only when someone expected you.
A valet took the car.
You stepped out in a floor length black gown, understated and deliberate, exactly the impression you wanted to make. Jungkook came around from the other side in a fitted black suit, hair pushed back, and you made a point of not letting your expression say too much when you saw him.
You were terrified.
He noticed anyway.
"You were going to say something," he murmured as you walked toward the entrance.
"I wasn't."
"You had the face again."
"I have a lot of faces."
His hand found the small of your back as you stepped inside.
⸻
The interior was exactly what you'd imagined and still managed to exceed it; warm light, dark marble, the low hum of expensive conversation filling rooms that connected into each other like a curated maze.
Waitstaff moved silently between guests.
Mina found you within minutes.
She looked striking.
Deep burgundy, minimal jewelry, her hair pinned back with a few pieces framing her face. She crossed the room with the ease of someone raised to own any space she walked into.
"You came," she said warmly, reaching for your hands briefly.
"I said I would."
"People say a lot of things." She smiled, then her gaze moved to Jungkook beside you.
Something flickered across her face—fast, almost imperceptible.
Recognition.
Then something else moving quickly underneath it before her expression reset into something perfectly composed.
"Mina, this is Jungkook," you said.
He extended his hand. "Nice to meet you."
"You as well." Her voice was smooth and warm and gave nothing away. She shook his hand with exactly the right amount of ease.
"I'm glad you both came."
Her eyes stayed on Jungkook a half second longer than the introduction required. But you weren't completely focused on Mina when it happened.
Your eyes scanned the room of people older than you that had years of business knowledge and successful experience.
"Come," she said, turning to you.
"There are some people I want you to meet before my father makes his rounds."
You followed her into the room.
Jungkook's hand found your back again as you walked, and you sent him a small smile of gratitude—the action kept you calm.
Mina led the way.
And the glance she sent back over her shoulder seemed harmless.
A heir scanning the room…but when she thought no one was looking lingered a second too long on the male whose eyes almost caught hers.
_____
The first hour moved the way these things always did—introductions, names attached to industries attached to family legacies. You held your own the way you’d trained yourself to, speaking when it mattered, listening more than you talked, letting the work speak before you did.
Mina moved through the room with attracting confidence like her father, and she was deliberate about who she brought you to.
Not everyone.
The right ones.
A cosmetics distribution executive based between Dubai and New York. A Black woman founder who had quietly built a skincare empire from Atlanta before going global. A venture capitalist whose portfolio read like a wishlist.
Each introduction was purposeful.
“This is who she is. This is what she’s building. I think you should know each other.”
Simple. Effective. Generous in a way that didn’t ask for anything back.
Between conversations you drifted back to Jungkook naturally, and he was always where you’d left him, never too far, never hovering.
He’d found his footing without being told how, falling into easy conversation with a music producer whose work crossed both markets, nodding along, asking questions that showed he’d actually been listening.
He caught your eye across the room once and gave you the smallest look — you good?
You gave him the smallest nod back — I’m good.
⸻
Jungkook had found the windows.
It was a habit of his in rooms like this — finding the edges of them, the places where the noise thinned out and you could exist in the space without being fully consumed by it. The view from here was worth finding.
The city spreading itself out below in a low glow that made LA look almost gentle.
He had his drink in hand, weight settled back on one heel, just looking.
“Homesick?”
He turned.
Mina stood beside him, eyes on the view, expression unbothered, like the question had simply occurred to her and she’d said it out loud without making a thing of it.
She’d said it in Korean.
He looked back at the window.
“A little,” he admitted, in Korean.
“It comes and goes.” He admitted.
“It always does.” She tilted her head slightly. “LA is easy to get lost in. That’s not always a good thing.”
“You spend a lot of time here?”
“Enough.” She glanced at him briefly. “My father prefers to conduct certain business in person. LA has become unavoidable for that.”
“Do you dislike it?”
She considered that. “It’s not home. I’m comfortable here. There’s a difference.”
He nodded slowly. “Home feels very far when you’re in a room like this.”
“It always does at these things.” She turned slightly to face the view more fully. “Everyone is from somewhere else and nobody mentions it. There’s an unspoken agreement to pretend the world starts and ends in this city.”
He laughed quietly at that. “That’s accurate.”
“Most things I say are.”
He glanced at her sideways.
She was looking out at the city with the same composed expression she’d worn all evening, but there was something dryer underneath it now. More relaxed.
“How long have you been in LA?” he asked.
“Six weeks. Possibly two more before I go back. I just want to make sure Y/N has all the connection she needs.” She paused. “What about you? I recognize you…you’re apart of Korea’s pride and joy. The legendary BTS.” She teased.
He scoffed and shook his head at the comment, he never took compliments from others too well.
“What do you miss most?” he asked, changing the topic.
She thought about it.
“The noise,” she said finally. “Which sounds strange because LA is a noisy place as well. But Seoul has a specific kind of noise…the street food stalls at midnight, the way the subway sounds at rush hour, even the particular way it rains there.” She paused. “LA is loud in a different way. It’s performative. Seoul’s noise just…exists. It doesn’t need an audience.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“The Han River,” he said.
She looked at him.
“That’s what I miss most,” he continued.
“Specifically early morning, before the city fully wakes up. I used to run there when I couldn’t sleep.”
He turned his drink slowly in his hand. “There’s nothing here that feels like that.”
“No,” she agreed quietly. “There isn’t.”
The party moved behind them, distant and unhurried from where they stood.
“Do you get back often?” she asked.
“Not as often as I’d like. We go where the work takes us.” He exhaled slowly. “The time we spend working here feels like a long time on paper. Now it feels like it went somewhere without asking.”
“Time in LA does that.”
“Time everywhere does that,” he countered.
She smiled at that, small and genuine. “Fair point.”
He said something then—a dry observation about the particular specific suffering of being Korean in a room where the food was beautiful but completely unrecognizable—and she laughed. A real one, surprised out of her, her composure slipping just slightly at the edges.
He chuckled at the genuine reaction.
She shook her head, composing herself, and came back with something pointed about musicians having no room to complain about catering given what she’d heard about tour riders.
He turned to her fully. “I don’t know about other bands, but we have chefs that travel with us,”
“Diva behavior…what’s the male version of a diva?”
Jungkook sent a playful glare making her laugh again.
“Its better than fast food every night, come on now!” He was defensive.
She found that cute.
Too cute.
She laughed again, and he dropped his head.
“You don’t have to defend yourself, I get it,” she said, clearing her throat, settling back, her hand finding her mouth hiding her blush.
______
The room found you before you could find it.
It started with the Atlanta founder mentioning your name to someone across a conversation. That someone mentioned it to someone else. And within the span of twenty minutes you’d been pulled into three separate discussions — your brand, your film, your Netflix series, the intersection of all three and what it meant for where you were going.
You were present for all of it.
Engaged, articulate, exactly who you needed to be.
But somewhere in the middle of the fourth conversation you became aware, you’d lost track of Jungkook.
You didn’t panic — almost but didn’t.
You wrapped up the exchange with a card exchanged and a genuine smile and let your eyes move through the room.
You found him near the far end of the space, close to the tall windows overlooking the lit hillside.
With Mina.
They were talking — and even from across the room something about it registered before you could name what. The body language was relaxed. Mina was speaking and Jungkook was listening with his head slightly tilted, the way he did when something had his full attention.
You started moving toward them.
You were halfway across the room when you heard it — Korean.
Mina’s voice, fluid and natural, saying something you caught only the end of. And then Jungkook’s laugh, low and genuine and unguarded, his response coming back in the same language without a beat of hesitation.
You slowed without meaning to.
The shift in him was visible even from here—the ease that came with not having to reach for words, not having to translate yourself. His shoulders had dropped. His smile was different. More open. The version of him that didn’t have to put thought at anything.
You stood there for just a second too long.
Then you kept walking.
By the time you reached them they were mid laugh, Mina’s hand coming up briefly to cover her smile, Jungkook shaking his head at whatever had just been said, the tail end of something shared dissolving into the air between them.
They both looked up when you approached.
“Hey,” Jungkook said, and his expression warmed immediately.
He reached for your hand.
You let him take it and smiled — easy, natural, giving nothing away.
“Sorry, I kept getting pulled. This room apparently knows my name tonight.”
“As it should,” Mina said warmly with a slight shoulder nudge. “I told you.”
“You did.” You laughed softly.
The conversation moved forward.
The three of you talked about the event, about the city, about something Mina’s father had said during his opening remarks. It was smooth and pleasant and entirely fine.
And yet.
You were smiling and present and engaged and somewhere just beneath all of it something sat quietly in your chest that you couldn’t put a name to. The laugh you’d walked into. The way the air between them had felt….natural…before you’d arrived.
The sense—irrational, you knew it was irrational—that you had interrupted something rather than joined it.
You pushed it down and left it there.
“It’s nothing”, you told yourself.
You’re being ridiculous.
You squeezed Jungkook’s hand once and he squeezed back and you kept your smile in place for the rest of the evening.
⸻
The car was quiet.
The estate had disappeared behind the hills and the city was spreading itself out below you in lights, and you had your elbow on the door and your temple pressed against the cool glass, eyes closed.
Jungkook drove.
For a while he said nothing. Let the quiet sit. But you knew him, and he knew you, and the silence between you had its own language by now.
“You went quiet,” he said finally.
“I’m tired.”
“You were quiet before you were tired.”
You didn’t open your eyes. “I’m fine, Jungkook.”
A pause.
“Okay,” he said. But the way he said it made clear he didn’t believe you and wasn’t going to push, just leaving the door open in case you changed your mind.
You didn’t.
The city moved past the window and you kept your eyes closed and your breathing even and focused on not pulling at the thing that was sitting in your chest because you knew if you pulled at it you’d have to look at it, and if you looked at it you’d have to admit that it didn’t make sense.
Mina had done nothing wrong.
She’d been warm and genuine and exactly who she’d always been.
Jungkook had done nothing wrong either—found ease in a shared language in a room full of strangers, which was the most human thing in the world.
And still.
The laugh you’d walked into stayed with you. The way the space between them had felt close….intimate. The half second before they’d noticed you.
You pressed your forehead a little harder against the glass.
It’s not about them, you told yourself quietly. It’s not about tonight.
And that was the part that was true, wasn’t it. Because somewhere beneath the irrational unease was the argument still settling in your bones. Resolved but not forgotten.
You were still rebuilding.
And rebuilding made you notice things you might not have otherwise. Made you flinch at shadows. Made an easy laugh across a room feel like something it probably wasn’t.
Probably.
Jungkook’s hand found yours in the dark of the car…no words attached to it. Just there.
The low melody from the radio and hum of the engine breaking the silence.
You turned your palm over and let your fingers fold through his and said nothing.
He said nothing either.
> Next Chapter
ACCESS | CHAPTER THREE
Pairing: Jungkook x POC!Reader
Genre: Romance, Thriller, Angst, Drama
Warning: 18+, explicit language, possessive behavior, smut, slow buildup drama
Chapters: 01. 02. 03. 04
___________________________________________
The bitter smell of coffee pulled you out of sleep before anything else did.
You blinked at the ceiling, momentarily disoriented, then the events of last night settled back over you like a slow tide.
You almost thought you dreamt it.
You sat up slowly, listening.
Sounds from downstairs. Movement. The soft clatter of pans in the kitchen.
You reached for your phone out of habit.
A message from Darnell sent from last night:
Made it home safe. You good?
You typed back a quick yeah and set the phone face down.
It took you a moment before you finally pushed the covers back.
⸻
The kitchen had a savory scent.
Jungkook stood at the stove in his clothes from last night — shirt wrinkled, sleeves pushed up, focused in that quiet, unhurried way he got when he was trying to be careful about something. Your favourite mug was already on the counter. Coffee made exactly the way you liked it — you didn’t even have to check.
He heard you come in but didn’t turn around immediately.
“Good Morning,” he said, voice still thick with sleep.
“Morning,” you replied, drifting toward the counter and wrapping both hands around the mug. The warmth spread through your palms.
He turned, and his eyes did a quiet sweep over you—your silk headscarf, the oversized sleep shirt, bare feet on the tile — the kind of look that wasn’t checking you out…so much as just…taking you in. Like he was making sure you were still there and still okay.
He turned back to the stove. “Sit down.”
You raised a brow. “Excuse me?”
“Please,” he corrected, and the corner of his mouth pulled up just slightly.
You sat.
He plated the food — scrambled eggs, buttered toast with strawberry jam, and sliced fruit.
Simple.
Yours placed in front of you before his. He settled into the seat across from you, and for a while there was nothing but the sound of forks against plates as the soft morning light stretching across the kitchen floor.
“You slept okay?” he asked breaking the tensed silence.
“Mhm.” You pushed a piece of fruit around your plate. “You?”
A short pause.
“Not really.”
You looked up. He was already looking at you, no attempt to pretend otherwise. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes that hadn’t been there yesterday. He was serious.
You held his gaze for a moment, then looked back down at your plate.
Neither of you said anything for a moment.
“I can make more eggs if you want,” he offered.
“I’m good.”
“Okay.”
The silence stretched.
You were both aware of the distance between you and neither of you quite knew how to close it yet without it feeling forced.
He cleared his throat. “What do you have going on today?”
You exhaled slowly, grateful for something to land on. “Light day, honestly. I just need to follow up on the investment meeting I had last night. Make sure everything’s moving in the right direction.”
He tilted his head with genuine curiosity. “The cosmetics thing?”
“Yeah.” You wrapped both hands around your mug. “It went well, actually. Really well. The investor—Mr. Choi, I’ve told you about him—he was hard to read the whole time. Very composed, very formal…intimidating even; but his eldest daughter was there.”
“His daughter?”
“Mhm.” You paused, the memory of the café flickering briefly.
“She’s being groomed to take over the company. She was the one asking most of the questions—good ones too. She clearly did her research.”
Jungkook rested his chin in his hand, watching you. “And she liked what you brought?”
“She did.” You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.
“I found out beforehand that she’d actually tried the sample products my team sent. She already loved them going in. It helped.”
“So she did half the work for you,” he said, and there was a teasing lilt to it, gentle.
You gave him a look. “She was an ally. There’s a difference.”
He raised both hands in a small surrender, the smile on his face a little more relaxed now. “A very important distinction.”
“It really is.”
He laughed and you followed, a quiet, genuine thing, and something in the stiffness between you loosened by a fraction. You felt it and so did he.
“But the pressure was still there,” you continued, a little more honest now. “The Choi family isn’t only big in South Korea’s cosmetics industry, but worldwide. Walking in knowing that if I fumbled it, it wasn’t just a lost deal—it was a door closing.”
Jungkook’s expression settled into something more attentive. “But you didn’t fumble it.”
“No,” you said simply. “I didn’t.”
He looked at you, something certain in his eyes. “You never do.”
You felt as if there was a double meaning beneath his words. It wasn’t flattery. It was just him, saying a true thing the way he always did.
You dropped your gaze to your coffee.
“There’s follow-up paperwork to review, a few emails to send back. Darnell’s handling the logistics side, so it shouldn’t take long.” You glanced toward the window.
“Shouldn’t take up my whole morning.”
An opening.
“Good,” Jungkook said. Then, after a moment, “Can I stay?”
The question was simple. No weight thrown behind it.
You looked at him.
He looked back, patient in that particular way of his that had always made it difficult to stay distant from him for long.
“You’re already here,” you said finally.
“That’s not a yes.”
You picked up your mug. “It’s not a no either.”
The smile that crossed his face was slow and a little relieved, and you carried your coffee toward the living room before he could see that you were smiling too.
⸻
The morning moved at an easy pace.
You settled at the dining table with your laptop, working through the follow-up notes from the meeting, reviewing the drafted contract terms Darnell had flagged, sending a brief but warm email to Mina’s assistant confirming next steps, making a note of two product lines Mr. Choi had shown particular interest in.
Jungkook made himself at home without making himself a disruption. He’d found the TV remote and kept the volume low. Some sports recap playing softly in the background while he scrolled through his phone from the couch, occasionally glancing over at you.
Once, he got up to refill your coffee without asking.
You noticed but said nothing. Just pulled the mug a little closer when he set it down.
“You’re staring,” you said, without looking up from your screen.
“I’m not staring, I’m chilling.”
“You’re chilling and staring.”
A pause. “Your braids are nice.”
You blinked. Looked up slowly. He was looking at the TV, the picture of innocence.
“Thank you,” you said softly.
“Did you just get them done?”
“Last week.”
He nodded like that was important information. Then, “They suit you.”
You stared at the side of his face for a moment.
He kept his eyes on the TV.
You went back to your laptop, pressing your lips together to keep the flustered expression off your face. He was trying. Clumsily, quietly, but he was trying, and it was working, and you weren’t quite ready to tell him that.
⸻
By mid afternoon, the emails were sent and the paperwork flagged and forwarded. You closed your laptop and leaned back, rolling the tension out of your shoulders.
Jungkook looked over. “Done?”
“For now.”
He set his phone down. “You hungry?”
You thought about it. “A little.”
He was already standing.
You watched him move back toward the kitchen, sleeves still pushed up, still in last night’s clothes, which shouldn’t have an effect on you the way it did, but did.
You pulled your gaze back to the ceiling.
Three months, you suddenly remember. That’s the reason he’s here—well earlier than the rest of the boys.
He has three months in LA to prepare for this comeback album of theirs. It sounds like a long time, but you know how quick times goes—how each moment should be well spent, and you hate that you could still feel the shape of last night sitting between you, not sharp anymore, but present. A bruise that hadn't fully settled yet.
But this morning had been something. Quiet and careful and more considered than you’d expected.
You sat with that for a moment.
Then you got up and followed him into the kitchen.
You stood and watched him in his element.
The kitchen smelled like butter and garlic within minutes.
Jungkook had found the pasta, the pancetta, the parmesan, moving through your kitchen as someone who had cooked in it before. You sat on the counter watching him for approximately two minutes before he looked over his shoulder and raised a brow.
“You going to help or just supervise?”
“I was supervising very effectively.”
“Get down and grate the cheese.”
You slid off the counter.
He walked you through it, how thin to slice the pancetta. You handled the parmesan and the eggs, and at some point the two of you had fallen into an easy rhythm, moving around each other in the space like the morning’s tension had finally decided to set itself down.
“You’re not bad at this,” he teased, tilting the pan.
“I live here. I cook here.”
“You ordered takeout last night.”
“That was an emotional decision. That I still didn’t eat by the way, I forgot I had it.”
He laughed—low and genuine—and nudged your shoulder with his. Then your eyes started watering. You stepped back, pressing the back of your wrist to your face.
“Jungkook, the onions—”
“I told you to stand back when I start cutting them.”
You blinked hard, fanning your face. “Well you didn’t state you were going to start cutting them,”
“Babe, you saw me grab the onions,”
You groan as you walked out of the kitchen with a napkin pressed against your eyes, “I need fresh air,” you whined.
He was laughing, as he tossed the veggies in the pan, “You’re so dramatic.”
______
You ate at the kitchen island like earlier, the pasta still steaming, parmesan piled higher on yours because he’d remembered without asking. The conversation moved the way it had all morning. He told you about the flight. A middle seat mix-up that had Jimin complaining for forty minutes straight. You laughed more than you expected to.
You told him more about yesterday
The way you saved Mina in the cafe, Mr. Choi’s expression when Mina had brought up the café, the way the room had shifted after that. He listened with his chin propped in his hand, genuinely interested, asking follow-up questions that told you he’d actually been paying attention.
“So that’s why she went to bat for you,” he said.
“She did. Without me asking.” You twirled your fork. “It was unexpected.”
“Sounds like good people.”
“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I think she might be.”
He watched you for a moment.
“You seem so lively when you talk about the business.”
You smiled. “It’s mine. I built it. It doesn’t involve my agency or management. It makes sense that it feels good.”
He nodded slowly. “I love seeing it.”
You held his gaze, then looked back at your plate. The compliment settled somewhere warm in your chest and stayed there.
“I love you,” You expressed suddenly. He looked up, “I feel like I haven’t said it in a while…” you mumbled, an excuse for the random outburst.
He leaned over and kissed you, pulling away to move swiftly around the island and pulling you in once again. The kiss was slow and passionate, tasting faintly of parmesan and garlic, and his free hand came up to your jaw and you felt yourself lean into it before you’d made any conscious decision to. His thumb moved along your cheekbone slowly and you exhaled through your nose and kissed him a little deeper.
Then you pulled back.
He chased you slightly before catching himself, opening his eyes.
“What?”
You pressed your lips together. “We just dealt with onions and pancetta.”
He blinked. “…okay.”
“And garlic.”
“It was for the pasta….”
“Jungkook.” You tilted your head, studying him with great patience.
“When did you last shower?”
A pause.
“I came straight from the airport,” he said carefully.
There it was.
“Yesterday,” you said.
“Technically—”
“You got on a plane yesterday. You came here. We argued. You slept. You cooked. And we are now—” you gestured between you both “—in the middle of this. Without you having showered.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
“Well, I need a shower too, but you first.” you said in a slight chuckle. “Go shower.”
He dropped his head with a quiet laugh, the tips of his ears going the faintest pink. “Okay.”
“I’ll find you something to wear.” You were already sliding off the stool. “You still have stuff in the spare drawer.”
“I mean unless you have clothes with you, do you have your suitcase?”
He lifted his head. Something in his expression shifted—softer. He nodded, “I do…I’d prefer to wear what you get me though..”
⸻
You set his clothes on the bathroom counter, the shower already running warm.
You were turning to leave when his voice stopped you.
You looked back at him.
He was peaking through the crack of the shower door, careful to avoid water from leaking through.
“Stay,” he said simply.
You bit your lips then blew air through your lips as a faint smirk fell on his lips before leaving the shower door cracked as he disappeared back into the fog.
You slipped from your clothing and placed a shower cap on before slipping in the shower. He turned to you and your face got heated as his eyes traced your body.
He wasted no time pulling you to him, his lips meeting yours in a hungry kiss—soft whines left your lips from the sudden aggression and it didn’t fail to arouse you.
You feel him against your thigh, hardening and twitching way quicker than usual. “It’s been so long…” he whispered against your lips and you agreed with a hum. His hand slipped from your hips and found your sensitive nub—you gasp at the warmth from the shower and his finger. Your slick coating his fingers as he slowly used one digit to stretch you.
Words struggling to form from the overwhelming arousal he is putting you through. He slowly added a second as his lips hovered over yours. His fingers slipped from your core, and he kisses you as he pulled your legs around his waist, propping you up against the wall before easing his way into you.
He watched as your face contorted—slight discomfort as he fill you. He stilled until that discomfort disappeared and began his strokes. she pulled him closer, her head finding comfort in the crook of his neck and he whimpered at the way your moans echoed so closely in his ear.
His strokes quickened and she found herself reaching climax very quickly—it’s been a while since you both been physical.
Too long.
Her teeth sank into his shoulder and broken whimper left her lips.
Feeling her release Jungkook groaned as he feels his own approaching, he pulled back a bit and placed his forehead on her as his breathing became uneven. Your eyes met and you cupped his face as you kissed him, your walls squeezing around him as your lips meet—sending him over the edge completely.
His grip tightened, as he slammed into you twice—holding both thrust for a few seconds to allow your walls to milk him dry before pulling away—his head collapsing in your neck.
“We should actually shower now…” you whispered coyly, and he nodded in your shoulder, still coming down from the orgasm that slapped him.
He pecked your lips once more before releasing you and you both actually showering.
> Next Chapter
ACCESS | CHAPTER TWO
Pairing: Jungkook x POC!reader
Genre: Romance, Thriller, Angst, Drama
Warning: 18+, explicit language, possessive behavior, slow buildup drama
Chapters: 01. 02. 03.
____________________________________________
“Come on, get up! The doctor won’t let us reschedule another appointment,” Darnell groaned, shaking you awake.
A heavy breath escaped through your nose as you sat up in bed, one eye peeking at your assistant—who also happened to be your cousin.
“Hurry up and go shower. I’ve already picked out an outfit for you—the quicker we see Dr. Randolph, the quicker we leave the office,” he said, pulling you out of bed.
“Because I don’t know who likes getting tattoos but gets scared of a simple needle,” he added.
A soft chuckle left your lips as you started the shower. The irony wasn’t lost on you.
You’d postponed this appointment multiple times to avoid blood tests—you hated them. Your small veins made it difficult for nurses to draw blood, and you always left with an arm full of bruises.
“You can’t take an everything shower, cuz! We are pressed on time!” Darnell yelled.
You sighed, quickly finishing the shower, brushing your teeth, and thanking the heavens you’d gotten your braids done a week ago.
⸻
“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Darnell asked coyly as you settled in.
You glared at him, your arm lying flat across your lap, sore from multiple attempts at drawing blood.
He laughed quietly before clearing his throat.
“So, thankfully, we have a simple day—an investment meeting this evening for your cosmetics line with Mr. Choi.”
Your mind flicked to Jungkook for some reason, but you shook your head quickly, covering it with a nod. You turned to your notes regarding the meeting as Darnell continued.
“I heard through the grapevine that his daughter tried the sample products you had the team send out and loved them. She convinced him to take the deal; he just needs to hear from you.”
You thought the comment about the daughter might make things easier—but it only added pressure. The Choi family was very influential in South Korea’s cosmetics industry.
“So we have time to kill… want to go to the café and discuss the presentation?” you suggested. Darnell shrugged and nodded.
⸻
The café was bustling at its usual capacity. The aroma of savory sandwiches, sweet pastries, and roasted coffee beans filled the air, almost intoxicating.
“I’ll have a ham and cheese croissant and a cappuccino, please,” you whispered to Darnell, who nodded. You wandered in search of a table, exchanging polite smiles with those who recognized you.
You settled into a small booth and connected your laptop to the Wi-Fi and VPN. Darnell returned shortly with the deli items, and you both began reviewing the presentation, making small adjustments as you went.
As the conversation wound down, you leaned back, eyes flicking to the clock near the exit. Time always seemed to move too quickly.
Your phone vibrated.
Incoming call…
Kookie 🍪❤️
You declined.
The weight of ignoring it felt heavier than you expected. You leaned back again, scanning the café for no particular reason.
That’s when you noticed her.
A girl your age was standing to leave, gathering her things. A small gasp left your lips as you spotted a red patch slowly spreading across the back of her pants.
Without thinking, you stepped forward, blocking the view.
Your presence startled her.
“I’m sorry…” you quickly apologized, unwrapping the flannel tied around your waist. You leaned over. “You have a stain.”
“Oh!” she whispered, mortified, glancing around.
You offered her the flannel. “Here, wrap this around your waist. That should help.”
Her eyes softened, and she tied it around her waist.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Do you want to follow me to my car so I can return your jacket?”
You did, walking together and making small talk. She recognized you from your recent film and hit Netflix series.
“She looks familiar,” Darnell murmured as he walked up behind you outside.
“Yeah, she does,” you replied, but both of you had headed to your own cars without exchanging names.
⸻
Later that evening, you found yourself in a sleek conference room, notes and presentation slides laid out neatly before you.
Mr. Choi sat at the head of the long table, his expression sharp and poised, evaluating every detail with the weight of authority. His presence alone was intimidating.
“I’m sorry for the tardiness,” he said, voice calm but firm. “She just messaged that she’s coming up from the lobby.”
His eldest daughter, currently in training to become CEO of Choi Cosmetics, would be in attendance.
The double doors creaked open, and your eyes widened.
It was her.
The same girl from the café.
You slowly turned to Darnell, whose expression mirrored yours. Neither of you needed to speak—the looks you exchanged said it all: That’s why she looked familiar.
She gave a polite smile as she stepped in, apologizing for her lateness and making a light joke about LA traffic. Her father, however, did not look amused. She noticed the slight tension and cleared her throat, straightening her posture before introducing herself formally.
“I’m Choi Mina,” she said, her voice warm yet professional. “It’s great to know that the person we’re meeting with is genuine. Thank you again for earlier.”
Her father glanced between the two of you, eyes narrowing slightly, and Mina explained the situation briefly, highlighting your quick thinking and kindness at the café, emphasizing how it reflected trustworthiness—something she clearly wanted her father to notice.
The meeting moved smoothly afterward.
Mina was engaging, asking thoughtful questions, genuinely curious about your approach. Her father, stoic as ever, was quietly impressed with your research, data, and proposals.
At one point, Mina leaned slightly toward you, whispering just loud enough for you to hear:
“I have to admit, I didn’t expect someone so young to be so prepared.”
You smiled, a little surprised. “Thank you. I guess I’m used to being under pressure.”
She chuckled softly, and for a moment, it felt less like a formal meeting and more like two people connecting.
As the session wrapped up, handshakes exchanged, and final notes taken, Mina lingered for a second, glancing at you with a quiet curiosity.
“I hope we’ll cross paths again,” she said, her tone friendly but with a hint of intrigue.
You nodded, feeling a subtle warmth at the thought. “I’d like that.”
Outside the room, Darnell gave you a quick nod. “Not bad for a first impression,” he whispered.
You couldn’t help but glance back at Mina, who was now talking quietly with her father. Something about her stayed with you—a mixed spark of ease yet unease, a feeling that she might become more than just a passing encounter.
Little did you know, that spark would slowly grow into something that would change everything.
_________
Darnell pulls into your driveway, and both of you pause at the Bentley already parked there.
You let out a long sigh.
“You want me to stay?” Darnell asks, concern in his voice.
You shake your head. “I’ll be fine…”
A soft pause follows, and then he adds quietly, “This was an overdue conversation anyway.”
“Goodnight, D. Text me when you get home,” you say. A habit at this point, a small reassurance.
He nods, pulling away.
Jungkook steps out of his car.
You glance at him, and the small smile you’d had from Darnell’s encouragement fades instantly. Your chest tightens at the sight of him—the man you love, standing there, carrying the weight of something you’ve been dreading.
You unlock the door and step inside, leaving it open for him. He follows without hesitation.
“Hey,” he says softly, closing the door behind him. His voice is cautious, wary—not the teasing tone you’ve grown used to, but a tentative one that already makes your stomach twist.
You rest down the take out, your back still turned to him, “Hey,” you reply, voice tight.
The silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable, full of words neither of you can seem to say at first.
“Can you…look at me?”
You scoff. Confrontation has never been your strength—you usually go out of your way to avoid it—but still, your heart races as you turn. Your eyes meet his, and the intensity of his gaze immediately scrambles your thoughts.
He steps closer. “I… I’m sorry,” he murmurs, voice low.
You tilt your head. “Sorry for what, exactly?”
He runs a hand through his hair, jaw tight. “For going out that night without telling you. For how it looked. I know I’ve said before that you don’t need to worry when I’m with the guys—but I see now that wasn’t enough. I should’ve communicated…everything. I know I should have.”
You step back, chest rising with frustration and hurt. “Jungkook, it’s not just about what it looked like. You know how much I value communication. I remind you all the time that I need to know what’s happening in your life. And yet, here I am, across the world, seeing pictures of you laughing with girls I know are single, with your friends who are… well, you know how they are. And I knew nothing. Nothing! And it feels like a slap in the face.”
He flinches, guilt darkening his eyes. “I… I get it. I really do. And it kills me that you felt like you weren’t important enough to know. That was never my intention.”
You shake your head, trying to calm the storm in your chest. “Intentions don’t erase feelings, Jungkook. I felt excluded, like I wasn’t trusted—or worse, like I don’t matter enough to be in the loop. Like I’m just…here because you refuse to start over.”
He swallows hard, taking a careful step closer. His hands hover near yours, tentative, unsure if you’ll push him away. “You’re everything to me,” he whispers. “I didn’t think it mattered… We were just hanging out, Mingyu, Eunwoo, catching up. The girls—it wasn’t romantic. We were just talking, joking…nothing that should make you question us. I never wanted to hurt you or make you feel left out.”
You study him, looking for the truth behind his words, the part of him that always tries to do right by you even when he stumbles.
“But you see how it looks, right?” you whisper. “To me, it looks like you can communicate easily with them all night, but with me—across the world—you can’t tell me something as simple as going out. This isn’t the first time, Jungkook. And every time it happens, it chips away at my trust, at the sense that we’re really… a team.”
His eyes soften, regret deepening. “I know. I hate that I made you feel this way. I hate that distance made it seem like I don’t care. I do care. More than anything. I should’ve called, texted… I should’ve done everything differently.”
You take a shaky breath. “I just… I need to feel like you’re committed—not just in words but in action. And sometimes, it feels like you’re too easy with everyone else, but distant with me. Like I’m still a stranger.”
He steps even closer, taking your hands gently. You don’t pull away, though your body is tense.
“I hear you,” he whispers, thumb brushing over yours. “I want to do better. I want to show you, every day, that I choose you. That I prioritize us, no matter the distance, no matter the distractions.”
Tears prick your eyes, but you blink them back. “I want to believe you,” you admit. “I really do. But this… it’s going to take more than words.”
He nods slowly, pressing his forehead to yours. “Then I’ll show you. I’ll make it count. I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m distant again.”
Your chest tightens, a small part of you still unsure. But the love you’ve carried for years refuses to let go. “Okay,” you whisper.
“Okay…” he echoes.
His hands cup your cheeks, lingering on your gaze before his lips meet yours.
You go to pull away, but he deepens the kiss. You melt into it, but when his hand slides under your thigh and lifted it to his waist, you gently push him back.
“Not tonight,” you whisper.
He watches you as you put your takeout away, then follows quietly upstairs, giving you space as you pick out your nightgown and underwear before heading into the shower.
He collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling praying this issue between them gets completely resolved.
> Next Chapter
ACCESS | CHAPTER ONE
Summary: Fame brought her love. Trust let the wrong person in.
Pairing: Jungkook x POC!reader
Genre: Romance, Thriller, Angst, Drama
Warning: 18+, explicit language, possessive behavior, slow buildup drama
Chapters: 01. 02
____________________________________________
Access
/ˈaksɛs/
Access refers to the ability, right, or permission to approach, enter, use, or communicate with something or someone.
••
Trust is a sacred thing… don’t you think?
It’s the foundation of every relationship. Every connection.
The easiest way to find out if you can trust somebody…is to trust them.
At least, that’s what people say.
But that’s not always easy.
Especially when it involves its sibling… love.
I think they’re twins.
You don’t really get one without the other. Not fully.
Because love—if that’s even what you want to call it—doesn’t exist in some perfect bubble.
Distance gets in the way.
Expectations get in the way.
People get in the way.
It bends. It stretches.
And sometimes…
it breaks under things you never saw coming.
I didn’t think I was naïve.
I thought I was careful. Intentional. Observant.
But if I’m being honest…
I think I confused understanding someone with knowing them.
And maybe that was my first mistake.
____
I met him at a music festival.
Didn’t know who he was.
Didn’t know who he was about to become to me either.
It was loud.
Not just loud—overwhelming.
Bass vibrating through the ground, lights flashing so fast it almost blurred everything together, people shouting lyrics like they were trying to be heard over the actual artist.
This wasn’t really my crowd, I loved the noise when things go too overwhelming—filming, press, expectations, management…
So yeah.
I needed the noise.
I was somewhere near the side of the stage, not fully in the crowd but not completely out of it either. Close enough to feel it, far enough to breathe.
That’s when I noticed him.
He wasn’t doing anything.
That’s what made it weird.
He held a beer bottle. No phone out. No jumping. No yelling.
Just standing there like he was observing everything instead of being part of it.
Black hoodie, hood down, hands tucked into his pockets like he didn’t really know what to do with them.
I didn’t even realize I was staring until his eyes met mines. Instinctively, I looked away—heart suddenly racing as if I’ve been caught doing something wrong.
I glanced back over and he was gone.
Great.
I probably made the guy uncomfortable.
Sighing to myself, I turned to leave the area and nearly jumped out of my skin as I met the eyes of the same man.
He looked younger up close and he chuckled softly as he muttered an apology over the loud music and crowd.
What was our conversation?
I don’t completely remember…
that was four years ago.
I do remember exchanging numbers and how quickly the relationship progressed.
Texts turned into calls.
Calls into late night conversations.
Conversations into flights.
And flights into stolen time in cities that didn’t belong to either of us.
Somewhere in between all of that I learned who he was and it made me hold on so tight….made me so protective.
Which is funny.
Because if I knew then what I know now…I probably would’ve walked away right there in that crowd.
____
My phone buzzes against the table, pulling me out of it.
Present.
Reality.
“Five minutes,” my manager calls from across the room.
I blink, adjusting slightly in my seat as the noise of the studio settles back into focus.
Makeup artists moving around.
Stylists fixing small details that don’t really matter.
The low hum of people doing their jobs.
“Got it,” I respond, my voice steady like I mentally present.
I glance down at my phone.
A notification.
His name.
For a second…
I just stare at it.
Then I flip the screen over.
Face down.
I’m not ready to talk to him yet.
“Let’s go,” my assistant, Darnell, says.
I stand, smoothing my outfit, slipping back into the version of myself everyone expects.
••
“Jungkook,” Namjoon nudged the youngest to focus. He placed the phone down and exhaled heavily. “Focus, we’re about to start shooting,”
The youngest nodded, and a smile grew on his face as the group voiced their usual uniformed introduction.
The smile only lasted so long as his mind began to wonder.
He’s called.
Texted.
She won’t reply.
And it’s starting to get to him.
Jungkook keeps his expression neutral as the cameras roll, muscle memory carrying him through the interview.
He’s done this too many times to mess it up now.
But his mind isn’t here.
Not fully.
It’s stuck on a screen he can’t stop checking.
A message that still hasn’t been opened.
“Cut.”
The word echoes through the set and he exhales, running a hand through his hair as he steps back.
“Again in ten,” someone calls out.
He nods, barely hearing it.
His phone is already in his hand before he realizes it.
Still nothing.
His jaw tightens.
“Did you talk to her?”
Jungkook doesn’t look up.
He doesn’t have to.
He knows that voice.
“I tried,” he mutters.
Hoseok lets out a quiet sigh from beside him, leaning back in his chair.
“You should’ve expected this,” he says, not harsh, just honest.
“Expected what?” Jungkook finally looks up, frustration flickering across his face. “For it to get twisted like that?” From the other side, Jimin rubs the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable.
“It does look bad,” he admits.
Jungkook scoffs quietly, shaking his head.
“Because of how they framed it.”
And that’s exactly what it was.
Framed.
A night out turned into something else entirely. It was supposed to be simple.
Just drinks.
Just catching up.
Nothing more.
The club had been loud, crowded, the normal atmosphere.
Him, Mingyu, and Eunwoo stayed for a bit, talked, laughed.
Then someone suggested going somewhere quieter.
That’s when it changed.
Not the situation.
Just how it would look to anyone watching.
Three guys.
Three girls.
A private setting.
Drinks still flowing.
On paper?
Yeah.
It looked like a date.
A triple one at that.
In reality?
It wasn’t even close.
Conversations were scattered.
People coming in and out.
Phones buzzing, managers calling.
Half of them barely even sitting in the same spots for more than ten minutes.
But none of that makes it into pictures.
Or footage.
Jungkook presses his lips together, exhaling slowly as he scrolls through the article you sent again.
He shouldn’t.
He already knows what it says.
“Dispatch reveals late-night outing involving top idols…”
“…continued gathering in a more private setting…”
“…suggesting a more intimate atmosphere…”
His grip tightens around the phone.
“Why didn’t you tell her you were going out?” Jimin asks quietly.
That question lingers.
Jungkook leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, phone dangling loosely in his hand.
“…I didn’t think it was something I had to explain. Me hanging out with the guys isn’t anything new…”
And that’s the truth.
It wasn’t a secret.
It just….didn’t feel important.
Not compared to everything else they had going on.
But now?
Now it looks like he was hiding something.
And that’s what hurts the most.
Because he knows you.
Knows how your mind works when something doesn’t sit right.
Knows how quiet and distant you get when you’re hurt.
He’s seen it before….
His thumb hovers over your contact again.
He calls.
It rings.
Once.
Twice.
Then voicemail.
Jungkook closes his eyes, exhaling through his nose as he lowers the phone.
“…she didn’t answer?” Namjoon asks carefully.
He shakes his head.
For a moment, no one says anything.
Then Jimin leans forward slightly.
“You need to fix this before it gets worse.”
Jungkook lets out a quiet, humorless laugh.
“Yeah,” he murmurs.
“…I’m trying.”
But it doesn’t feel like enough.
Because no matter how many times he replays that night, and no matter how clear it is in his head. He knows one thing. If he were in your position…
He wouldn’t like it either.
And that’s what makes it harder to explain.
> Next Chapter
Fanfic writers writing fix-it fics after canon completely ruined and butchered their favorite characters
no longer being in a fandom but still fondly remembering fics u read when u were in it sucks. like damn i'm never gonna experience you the same ever again. oh well
finished watching infinity castle and came onto tumblr just to find out no one’s writing shit bruh 🥀
my dream as a fanfic writer is for one day, one of my fics to be someones comfort fic. like the fic that they reread when they don't feel good and want to be happy. i want my words to comfort someone one day
On and Off (III) | (m)
Word: 4.2k
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: angst, smut, Fluff
Warnings: smut, confrontation, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP!!!!!!!!!!, possessive behavior.
summary: you and jungkook can't seem to break up.
Part 1, Part 2
a/n: Here’s the finale! I hope you guys enjoy! Love all the support it really encourages me to keep writing 🥹🥹🥹💕💕💕
Taglist: @somehowukook , @gipsyg19 , @borahaexoxo
There’s a constant reminder that life moves on quickly when you’re in your late twenties. The reminders are seeing your friends job promotions, or wedding invitation or pregnancy announcements. What you weren’t expecting was a wedding invitation from your ex boyfriend. It lies on the kitchen table and your debating whether you should throw it away or rsvp.
Surely it was a mistake, maybe he accidentally sent it out to you. But how did he know where you lived? Your head aches from the confusion not knowing what the hell he was thinking. Ex’s don’t typically invite their ex to their wedding.
Look, I am a simple woman. You give me a bloody man holding his baby brother and whose desperate to protect the love of his life from his crazy relative and you got me! Like, I can not begin to state how here I am for this.
