beautiful things hurt the most
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LISA — 9teen ⟡ part-time writer ִ ࣪𖤐 she/her
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@archivekoo
beautiful things hurt the most
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LISA — 9teen ⟡ part-time writer ִ ࣪𖤐 she/her
bangtan enthusiast ✧・゚: *✧
Requests are open୭˚. ᵎᵎ
──────────────────────
main m.list ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ headcanons m.list ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟

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WAVE 𝜗ৎ part 1/2
wave— your weekly anonymous psychoanalysis on cute boys with broad shoulders and pretty girls in tiny skirts. make sure to not miss any updates from campus’ favorite emotionally invasive blog!
jeon jungkook is a notorious lady pleaser with a weak spot for pretty girls with big vocabularies. so when he unexpectedly meets you, a journalism major who happens to be the prettiest girl he has ever seen, he terribly, miserably folds.
PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x journalist!reader
GENRE: college au, fluff, smut, angst
WC: 12.5k (for part 1)
WARNINGS/DETAILS: fem!reader, ie major!jk, secret identity reader, jk thinks she’s soo pretty :( forced proximity?, reader’s kinda selfish sometimes, jk’s so horny the entire time, jk briefly kisses another girl, very cheesy college vibes, jealousy, alcohol consumption, smut wise: titty sucking, he hits it from the back, cowgirl, fingering, big d jk always
NOTES: okay you see, i write everything with the entirety of my heart and soul but this one carries details that are a bit too special to me compared to anything i’ve shared with you before. of course it’s just another silly little fanfiction but i got a bit absorbed into the characters and world building. also it feels like i’ve been working on this for ages so i wanted to share it in two parts bcs i was gonna lose my mind if i didn’t post at least parts of it soon enough. i hope you guys feel and enjoy this the same way i did while writing <3
𑣲 banner by 𑣲 divider by
There's a specific kind of loneliness that exists exclusively in university boys who project their fear of intimacy onto women and ruin their perceptions of love solely to keep their fragile egos away from slipping through their fingertips and breaking down like blades of glass.
Not because they're incapable of being loved. I'd say the situation is quite the opposite, actually. People like them are usually loved too loudly, too quickly. They become socially unavoidable before they become emotionally available— having mastered the art of making people feel personally seen while remaining uniquely difficult to access in return.
And maybe, that's where the actual problem begins.
Charm is easier to preform than vulnerability, attention is more addicting when you've never experienced a form of raw intimacy, and a real conversation probably feels worse than a pair of red, glossy lips.
Every generation repackages the same socially gifted boy with commitment issues and calls him different names, swearing this one is different than the last.
But surprise, it's not.
This year's version just happens to wear leather jackets and lip rings to nine a.m lectures while also somehow possessing actual analytical skills in addition to social ones— perhaps the most alarming thing about Jeon Jungkook is that he isn't a business major.
Because boys like Jeon Jungkook learn early that if they remain entertaining enough, nobody will notice how carefully they avoid stillness; as though silence might physically harm them. Does an engineering major make him interesting? Maybe. But does it fuel his hedonistic lifestyle? Not exactly.
The bass is thudding loud enough to make the kitchen cabinets tremble with every beat, pulsing through the frat house in uneven waves that settle through your body like a second heartbeat. Alcohol that's cheap enough to poison you on an empty stomach spills over sticky counter tops, and the room reeks with the smell of warm beer mixed with something disgustingly similar to your ex boyfriend's cologne— you're going to throw up.
But you don't. Because, well, you can't.
So you keep holding a cup of cranberry vodka in your hand despite accommodating a strong dislike for the drink, you keep your smile warm and flirty even though deeply missing the comfort of your bed and wanting nothing more than to rewatch Mamma Mia for the third time this month. And you keep bobbing your head along to the music even though you swear any house beat without proper lyrics would be enough to kill a fly.
You keep your chin high and your posture straight because you need this. You need something tangible. A reaction, anything capable of sitting inside your palm until you can carry it home and pour into words later. Because you've already wasted at least three hours of your precious friday night here and you are not leaving unless you find something worth pocketing.
Luckily for you, said Jeon Jungkook is standing at the center of it all.
His back is pressed against the kitchen counter as a girl keeps on kissing him as if the birth and death of her universe lies somewhere between his lips. Her fists are tangled in the collar of his leather jacket, tugging his body closer and closer into her smaller frame like distance is completely unnecessary, like she needs his body to melt and mold with hers to embody the entirety of proximity itself.
A familiar voice shouts his name from the living room, but Jungkook doesn't budge until someone else reaches over to steal the drink straight out of his hand, laughing into her mouth unapologetically.
He pulls away just enough to see whoever it is that's calling him, hands firming up on the girl's waist to stabilize himself. "Give me thirty seconds!" He shouts back casually.
The response is immediate. "You said that twenty minutes ago!"
"Then clearly I'm busy."
The girl in front of him rolls her eyes, hands loosening on his collar before dropping down to his chest. "You're an asshole."
"Mhm, you think?" He asks with a smirk playing on his lips, looking down at her.
"Do you ever take a break or is your case of over sexuality a medical condition?" Mingyu complains, drinking the beer he has just taken from Jungkook's hand as their shoulders bump into each other.
Jungkook finally pulls away fully, shifting closer to Mingyu. "You're obsessed with me."
Mingyu scoffs. "Unfortunate for Seoul's female population."
"Guys," Yugyeom interrupts, looking up from his phone with a sudden delight on his face, as if the light from his phone's screen has traveled and bloomed again behind his pupils. "Wave posted."
The reaction arrives in less than a second, because Wave had long stopped being just another anonymous campus blog sometime during sophomore year. It became something students enthusiastically refreshed during lectures, sent feverish screenshots to group chats at ungodly hours. Because everyone somehow grew to love Wave— until they became the subject of it.
Jungkook closes his eyes briefly, sparing a fraction of a second to recollect the exasperation in his heartbeat, inhaling slowly. "I swear if this psychopath wrote about me again—"
Yugyeom's grin widens. "Bad news, superstar."
"For fuck's sake." Jungkook mutters, snatching the phone away from Yugyeom's hand while Mingyu's laugh echos loudly from besides.
The familiar layout of wave flashes straight into his eyes, light blue and dreamy and so fucking pretty for a blog this cruel. Well, cruel would be an exaggeration, if you weren't Jeon Jungkook.
"Oh my god." Mingyu gasps. "Second paragraph is crazy."
"Crazy accurate." Jaehyun corrects, reaching over Jungkook's shoulder to keep reading.
"This person needs psychiatric help." He says flatly.
"Mhm." Jaehyun hums, taking a sip of his drink. "You say that because you secretly agree with everything."
Okay, you see, that's the problem with Wave.
The issue had never really been the concept itself, because Wave has always been undeniably good. Jungkook can survive a day or two of public embarrassment. God knows he has spent the last two years of university building an almost concerning amount of immunity to people's uncalled opinions. The problem is that whoever it is that's sitting behind that stupid light blue website is unsettlingly gifted at noticing things they absolutely shouldn't. The tiny, quiet things people lock somewhere safe beneath their hearts and reveal only when they trust someone with their lives.
It suffocates him sometimes, not that he'd ever say it like that.
"I'd rather die than agree with this hypocrite." He says instead.
Jaehyun nods dismissively. "Right."
The girl beside Jungkook leans over his shoulder, eyes laced with curiosity. "Wait, keep reading."
"Use your damn phone." He shuts her off immediately, handing the phone back to Yugyeom.
Yugyeom grabs his phone in one hand while he shakes Jungkook's shoulder dramatically with the other. "Did you do something to this writer we don't know of?"
"Why are you acting like i personally asked to be publicly humiliated?"
Mingyu shrugs. "Because you clearly enjoy it a little.
"I actually don't." Jungkook argues.
Majority of the people around him dissolve slowly, disappearing into the crowd to find their own group of friends to gossip on the article that just got posted, leaving Jungkook with his own group of friends who unfortunately do not make up the IQ of a normal person even when merged together.
"Hey," Jungkook says like he suddenly remembered something so crucial, angling his body towards Jaehyun. "Have you seen Mark?"
Jaehyun's brows pull together. "Thought he was coming later."
"He texted me like an hour ago."
"Your secret little rendezvous?" Yugyeom asks knowingly, wiggling his eyebrows.
Jungkook scoffs lightly, rolling his eyes. "Shut the fuck up."
Mingyu gasps dramatically. "You're cheating on us with the music major?"
"None of you are funny." Jungkook says, shaking his head once before letting his gaze drift around the kitchen while Mingyu and Yugyeom start arguing about something else entirely.
Then he spots you.
Oh.
Jungkook knows you. Okay, he doesn't exactly know you, but he knows of you. Through Mark, through Yugyeom, through this and through that but never truly by heart.
You, with a face carefully designed by gods, standing there mindlessly as if you aren't the textbook definition of beauty itself. You, who'd without a doubt get his cock rock solid in mere seconds by rolling your eyes and laughing at how dumb he is. You, who'd pretend to not be fazed by him while very obviously blessing him with flirty smiles and inviting eyes.
You would be…mildly inconvenient for him.
"Why are you staring at her like that?" Jaehyun asks from besides him.
Jungkook tears his eyes away immediately. "You're seeing things."
Mingyu laughs loudly, chiming in a beat later. "You literally are."
"Shut up."
"You don't even know her like that." Yugyeom adds, grinning.
"I know enough."
Jaehyun lifts his brows accusingly. "That is?"
Jungkook opens his mouth, but closes it again in no time. Because somehow saying prettiest girl on campus who'd drop him to his knees by casually using words he has to mentally spell twice feels a little excessive for a girl he's never had a proper conversation with in his life.
"Mark's friends with her, right?" He asks instead.
Jaehyun nods slowly, a little suspicious. "Yeah."
"Cool." Jungkook replies. And before any of his friends can say another word, he's pushing himself away from the counter and walking towards you.
Mingyu gasps dramatically behind him. "Oh my god, he's approaching."
"Act natural!" Yugyeom shouts over the music.
Jungkook scoffs in exasperation, but he doesn't turn around, walking towards you as he flips them off by waving a hand behind.
You notice him coming over almost immediately. Because Jeon Jungkook isn't exactly one to go unnoticed by many, and that sadly seems to cover you too. There is something annoyingly conspicuous about him, visible even in places that are so crowded you lose your friend within the bare minute of getting there.
Maybe it's the broad shoulders, maybe it's the tattoos and the lip rings that usually wink at you before even he gets the chance to, or maybe it's the fact that everybody seems to orbit around him with a push and pull so heavy it feels like he's the center of gravity itself.
It's probably the shoulders.
Miyeon, your gorgeous best friend, notices him too as his steps get closer and closer to where you are standing. Her lips twitch knowingly around the rim of her cup. "Well," She murmurs into her drink. "This should be interesting."
Jungkook stops right in front of you before you can reply to your friend. "Hey." He greets easily. And annoyingly enough, his voice sounds exactly the way the rest of him looks.
You tilt your head slightly, half empty cup swaying between your fingers. "Hey yourself."
Jungkook blinks once before letting out a breathy laugh. "Oh, this is already going badly for me."
Miyeon snorts into her drink, but you quickly nudge her arm before she says something she shouldn't. "I'm looking for Mark." Jungkook continues, gaze shifting back towards you. "Have you seen him?"
"You're looking for Mark?" You repeat, cocking a brow.
And for some reason, Jungkook's smile widens. "We were supposed to meet."
The answer catches you a little off-guard. Not because Jungkook knowing Mark is strange. It's not, everybody knows Mark. But because there is something in the way he says it. He's saying it seriously, with intention. Like whatever they're meeting about actually matters to him and that's not something you can coherently place somewhere solid in your head.
"You sound committed to that." You say before you can stop yourself.
Jungkook squints his eyes. "I can commit to things."
You take a sip of your drink, taking your time with the action as your brows raise with something laced with accusation. "You sure?"
Jungkook's eyes widen just slightly as Miyeon turns away, trying to hide her laughter. But she cackles anyway. "That's crazy." He says, a loose grin forming on his face. "You know absolutely nothing about me."
"You don't exactly strike me as somebody mysterious."
"Yeah?" He breathes. "What do i strike you as?"
You roll your eyes, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. And whatever that happens in Jungkook's chest— it's deeply unfortunate.
This is exactly his type, horrifically so. Pretty has never been an issue for Jungkook, he has been surrounded with pretty all his life. Pretty and mean, on the other hand, is apparently where the problem in his pants begin.
But before either of you can continue, Jungkook's name is yelled from across the room. "There you are!" Mingyu shouts, throwing an arm around Jungkook's shoulders after he makes his way towards you. "Some girl is throwing up on Jaehyun's shoes because you disappeared."
Jungkook closes eyes briefly, inhaling a long breath. "See? What's commitment if not that?"
You laugh despite yourself, loud and real and so fucking pretty Jungkook thinks he might've forgotten how to breathe properly.
"I'll tell Mark you were looking for him." You say.
"Appreciate it." He says before stepping backward towards the kitchen, then pauses suddenly. "By the way," He starts, causing you to raise a brow. "You're prettier than your articles sound."
Your expression freezes for a beat, lips parted and head still tilted. A lazy smirk dances on Jungkook's features before disappearing back into the crowd behind Mingyu, leaving you standing there with your drink still halfway raised.
Miyeon slowly turns towards you. "What the fuck was that about?"
Your eyes linger on the hallway Jungkook disappeared into, gaze floating like you've just wandered into an ocean with no trace of the start and end. Because no, you don't have an idea on whatever the fuck that was either.
Your phone buzzes before your thoughts can swallow you up any further.
namjoon: still awake?
Your eyes flick between the small digital clock on the corner and the text in the middle of your screen before your fingers move over the keyboard.
you: i'm at yugyeom's party
namjoon: you posted during a frat party?
You roll your eyes even though he can't see you, though you're sure he feels it behind the screen.
you: it was queued
namjoon: ah
namjoon: coffee at mine?
namjoon: you can sleep over
You lift your head at something Miyeon says, nodding your head without really listening to what she's talking about. You tuck your bottom lip into your teeth, weighting your options before deciding to give in.
you: wow, the honor
you: on my way
The city feels different after midnight.
Maybe not quieter, because noise never really dies down on friday nights. People like to laugh, dance, live. Because modern time doesn't really allow love anymore. Because people spare friday nights for themselves and keep it tucked somewhere they know it belongs. Because people yearn to belong and time doesn't like to stretch and bend around desire. It just moves.
The city feels softer, as if somebody reached over and mellowed the space so that everyone could find a place for themselves. At least, that's exactly the way you feel when your uber drops you off outside of Namjoon's apartment building twenty minutes after you leave Yugyeom's place. The clock is ticking past two in the morning, and by the time you make your way upstairs, your feet are aching and your social battery has officially ran out.
When the door opens, Namjoon greets you with that same old warmth you've had memorized for nearly four years— almost the entirety of your college years. He gives you a hug before disappearing back into the hallway, informing you of how the coffee is almost done.
His place is dim except for the kitchen, where a warm light spills in and drapes over the entire apartment in a yellow hue. It always smells the same here. Not in a weird way, not at all. Just very…specific. It smells like books that have already been read at least twice and expensive coffee beans that are too niche for you to have any understanding of— because to the normal person, they all just taste the same.
Definitely not to Namjoon.
You slip your heels off by the door, following him into the kitchen after dropping your purse somewhere on the couch. "Do you want to lose all the sleep left in your system?" You ask, gaze dragging over the empty coffee mugs on the counter.
Namjoon stands in the kitchen with his back turned to you, dressed comfortably in some gray sweatpants and a dark colored hoodie. His glasses sit low on his nose, hair falling onto his forehead in messy strands. "I'm writing something." He says, a soft smile forming on his face as he pours in the hot liquid carefully. "How was the party?"
You climb onto the counter, plopping your body onto the marble as your legs dangle above the height. You unashamedly stare at him for a moment, taking in the sweats and the glasses and the fact that he somehow still looks put together despite the hour. Because Namjoon looks a little unfair like this— annoyingly intelligent and completely at home.
"It was loud."
Namjoon hums, handing you the mug. "The alcohol was terrible, i spent the whole night trying to keep Miyeon away from Yugyeom, and someone cried in the bathroom after throwing up on the floor."
"Sounds typical to me."
You take a sip of the coffee, then groan immediately because it's still too hot to drink, before setting it down with exaggerated annoyance dancing on your face. You trail behind him into the living room, pulling your legs beneath yourself as you sink into the couch while he settles right next to you with his laptop balanced over one knee.
"You're actually writing." You say, eyeing him over the rim of your mug.
"I told you." Namjoon says, giving you a brief glance before he turns his attention back onto the screen.
Your eyes absentmindedly drift towards the screen of his laptop, floating over the margins that are filled with notes, sections that are highlighted, pages filled with comments and edits that are all very Namjoon. And for a second, for the entirety of a thousand milliseconds that feel way longer than it actually is, your own laptop sitting abandoned inside the void of your apartment suddenly feels eccentrically heavier.
"My advisor hates me."
Namjoon doesn't look up. "Did he say that?"
You sink lower into the couch, sipping your coffee slowly without forgetting to blow onto it. You can not burn your mouth again, not a chance. "No, but he looked disappointed."
Namjoon sighs. "I know it sucks and you want to strangle him to the depths of death, but he just has high expectations from you."
You groan dramatically. "It's so annoying."
Namjoon hums, nodding along as his eyes scan through the screen. "How's the thesis going?"
That's when you gift him the pleasure of absolute silence. Because unfortunately, deeply unfortunately, somewhere along the way, your thesis and Wave started bleeding a little too much into each other and now everything feels way too personal and disgustingly intimate.
Not entirely, of course. Wave is still just a tool for you to learn and observe without tracing everything back to yourself. But lately, it has started to feel a little less objective and a little more on the edge.
You didn't lose the hang of it, not really. You're still the same girl writing with the same devotion for the same purpose. Just…there has been small slips here and there, noticeable only to people who know you well enough to search for them.
You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. "It's progressing."
Namjoon's eyes drift towards you, and your gaze lifts until it catches his own in the air. "Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask when he stares at you for a second too long.
"You don't sound too truthful."
You scoff, then roll your eyes before grabbing the nearest pillow and throwing it in his face. But being the man he is, Namjoon catches it without looking. Damn him.
"You write about Jungkook a lot." He says suddenly.
You shrug. "He's easy material."
"You've written about him four times by now."
You pause, squinting your eyes as every piece of writing you've ever published in the last two years flashes through your eyes. Because there is no fucking way you've written about that tattooed excuse of sex on legs for four entire times. "Four?"
"Four." He repeats.
You drop your shoulders in defeat. "You're very unlikeable tonight."
"I'm just providing you with my opinions." He says, typing while speaking. "You can't ask for help if you aren't going to take my advice."
You pull your knees closer against your chest. "I don't ask for your opinions."
"You called me crying over an econ elective last year."
You sit up immediately, placing the mug onto the coffee table. "Okay, first of all, it wasn't entirely like that—"
"I distinctly remember you saying, and i quote, what do i do now, Joon, my future is over." He states dramatically, voice disgustingly sweet and high pitched as he mocks you.
You stare at him, frozen and absolutely horrified. "I was vulnerable."
Namjoon hums, and you let yourself fall backwards dramatically against the couch cushions, throwing an arm over your face as if that's enough to physically protect yourself from embarrassment and humiliation.
It doesn't, of course. Because nothing ever really preserves you from embarrassment when it's Kim Namjoon you're talking about.
A comfortable silence settles into the living room, allowing you drown yourself inside the small indicators of life around you. You can hear his keyboard clicking softly as he keeps working on something you have no idea about, the occasional scratch of the ceramic mug against the wood table, the faint jazz pieces playing from the speakers hidden somewhere further inside the apartment. And just as you were about to part your lips and make a comment on how his furniture is so outdated, he beats you to it.
"Oh."
Your arm slowly lowers from your face, eyes squinting and peaking above it. "What?"
"Are you still helping Mark with that project?"
Oh yourself.
Everything in you physically stills, slowly and painfully, like dread is begging to be felt properly until your bones ache and sizzle with the weight of it. Because you— catastrophically, miserably, terribly; had forgotten all about it. Not in a small, oops, i should probably text him back way either. No, you had forgotten in a way that bordered on a severe case of friendship betrayal and negligence.
You close your eyes, inhaling a long breath. "Hypothetically speaking…"
Namjoon finally looks up. "You forgot, didn't you?"
You did, and of course he notices. Because if Kim Namjoon has spent four years studying journalism, he has spent six studying you.
Namjoon had become one of those people that had entered your life quietly yet stayed just as loudly, making himself impossible to imagine a life without in absolutely no time. Just like wine or Wave or the concerning amount of mediocre sex you've been having since your last boyfriend.
You had met him during the first few weeks of your freshman year when he was already a junior and head editor of the university journal. Back then, he existed in your head less as a person and more as a terrifying academic urban legend you'd never admit looking up to. But you didn't have to admit it out loud, because even the older students spoke about him with an obnoxious amount of respect.
You hated him.
But obviously, that didn't last long. As you kept sharing nights filled with stories, words and worlds no one knew existed besides the two of you, he started to matter. He'd remembered your exam dates, bought you coffee during finals, edited your essays at three in the morning. He'd answer your phone calls involving emotional breakdowns over electives and boys and broken sink pipes, then solve whatever crisis you were having in little to no time.
So naturally, somewhere along the way, your editor had turned into an older brother and became annoyingly good at reading you— so much that you're sure he keeps a version of you that's all bare and vulnerable somewhere hidden in his furthest drawers.
Because he knows you. Good enough to notice the tiny moments where Wave feels a little too personal. To notice the way that sometimes, your thesis blurs into the rest of your life and you get caught up in the gravity of it all, so much that the project you'd promised to help with weeks ago somehow slips away from your mind despite Mark being one of your dearest friends.
Because Namjoon doesn't forget, and Mark will definitely kill you if you don't show up at his studio with breakfast and two cups coffee by tomorrow morning.
Musicians who are brave enough to lay their souls open between rhymes and harmonies have always felt intimate.
Music is vulnerable, always has been. Everyone knows that. But there is something utterly naked and personal beyond the in reach vulnerability of it all.
It's the little things.
The version of them that existed on a random Tuesday in October, the argument they never really recovered from yet still shaped them into whoever they are today. The person they almost loved, the one they did love…They leave pieces of themselves behind between late nights and early mornings, and it never matters whether it's accidental or not. Because everything they touch transitions into something that carries their traces and that's enough to feel their souls on top of your own.
And, i think, that truly sums up Mark Lee as a person.
Because Mark has always felt like someone composed of the little things. He'd attach songs to memories you won't realize matters until months later, respond to texts even if it wakes him up from his sweetest dreams. He'd turn feelings into poems and records then archive them in anything that's permanent.
In college, people tend to think popularity belongs to the loudest person in the room. But despite being loved through the depths of the ocean until the very end of Milky Way, Mark Lee has never really been loud.
Just unforgettable.
Three days later, you find yourself standing outside of Mark's studio with two iced coffees in one hand and a kind of resentment that's loud yet entirely unserious in the other. Because Mark has spent the last forty eight hours guilt tripping you through frantic phone calls and dramatic text messages. And you, for some reason, can not for the life of you bring yourself accept the fact that you've forgotten your promise and properly apologize.
At least you got the coffees.
You push the studio door open without knocking, because Mark has never once respected your privacy and therefore doesn't exactly deserve it in return. As the door falls unleashed and sunlight spills until it drapes over you in a golden glow, there are a few things you expect. A Justin Bieber song Justin Bieber himself has probably forgotten about, unfinished coffees and half empty beer bottles scattered around the room, maybe even his ex girlfriend lounging somewhere in the corner because you're almost entirely certain Mark would slip straight back into her heart if she ever left it even slightly open.
But Jeon Jungkook is not one of them.
He's sitting besides the mixing desk, leaned back comfortably in his chair wearing a black hoodie with headphones hanging around his neck, one leg bouncing lazily beneath the table while he scrolls through something on his phone.
He looks up from the screen when the weight of your presence becomes impossible to ignore. He blinks once, twice, then smiles.
Shit, he has dimples.
"Well," Jungkook says slowly, leaning back further into the chair as he drags his eyes over you. "This just got better than i expected."
Your reply comes immediately. "No."
Jungkook blinks, eyes widening just slightly. "I…didn't even say anything."
"You thought of it."
He cocks a brow. "Thought of what?"
You roll your eyes, dropping your purse onto the table before leaning your hip against it. "You know what." You say, and he silently stares at you for a second longer before the corner of his mouth starts twitching.
This doesn't make sense. Not at all.
Because certain people feel attached to certain places long before they step into them. Mark belongs in studios and beneath the stars and somewhere right in the middle of your heart. Namjoon belongs beneath the warmth of yellow kitchen lights and homes that silence everything else until it's quieter than the rest of the world. Miyeon belongs anywhere between flowers and pretty cafes that somehow never match up to her beauty.
And Jungkook…Jungkook belongs beneath flashing lights that paint his features in colors that would look good on nobody but him. He belongs in crowded spaces and with girls who lean in a little too close whenever he speaks. He belongs anywhere loud and alive.
Just not here. Because music feels too intimate for him somehow.
"You know." He says after a moment, still smiling. "I thought there was a chance i imagined you."
You let out a low chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest after placing the coffees onto the table. "That's a little dramatic."
"I'm being dead serious."
"Well, you approached me." You say, tilting your head slightly, letting your eyes drift over him before they return back to his face. "And you don't seem to have that strong of an imagination."
"You're mean."
You groan playfully, leaning your hip against the armrest of his chair. "That's so not true."
A small smirk plays out on his lips. "Good thing i like my girls with a little attitude."
Pardon? Your girls?
"You're being very brave today."
Jungkook stares at you for a second, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek in a way that's not rude, just playful enough to carry traces of something cocky beneath it. He lets the silence melt and sit right in the middle of your bodies for a beat too long, then speaks.
"You're flirting with me right now."
Your head snaps towards him immediately, and you almost choke on your own saliva. Not because you're shocked. How can you be when he has built a whole persona on candied words and pretty girls and an ego that's definitely bigger than what's between his legs. It's because he says it so easily, and you hate that.
So no, absolutely not. You, flirting with Jungkook? No way in hell.
You narrow your eyes. "No, I'm not."
"Mhm." He hums, swinging left and right in his seat with a growing grin on his face.
Okay, no. That's enough. You're not doing this any longer. You don't want Jeon fucking Jungkook to think he has a chance at having you naked and open and wide on his stupid iron man mattress. You don't want to demonstrate the size of his cock with your hands when Miyeon asks on girls night, and you most definitely don't want Mark walking in on you bickering like two horny teenagers with the self control of fucking rabbits in heat.
So you change the subject.
"You sing?" Brilliant.
And peculiarly, his smile softens a little at your question. Not drastically, not enough for the entire room to shift and bend around him until it's his breath only you're drowning inside. But it's enough. Enough for you to notice the way something gentler briefly peeks through before hiding again. And you, for some reason, find yourself reaching over and folding it carefully to hide somewhere safe amongst all the other precious details people accidentally leave behind. Somewhere only you carry the map of and know how to find again.
Jungkook glances up. "Sometimes."
Sometimes.
It's funny how he says it, like it matters too much that his tongue can not carry the weight of it, so he just shrugs it off like it's anything. Sometimes, he says. As if Mark would ever involve someone who does it just whenever. As if Mark would ever reach for something that's sitting right in middle of his soul and hand out a piece of it to just anyone.
"You look judgemental." He adds.
You shrug. "I'm just surprised."
Jungkook's eyebrows lift at your answer, like he knows there is another thought sitting beneath it, quietly waiting for the permission to exit. But before he can get the chance to ask about it further, the studio door suddenly swings open.
Mark walks into the room with an amount of rush that should be concerning for this time of the morning. His hair is messy, bag is tucked beneath his arm and an iced americano is trying to balance clumsily between his fingers as he tries finding a place to squeeze himself in.
"Okay, first of all. Traffic should be considered the worse case of masochism the human kind has done to itself." Mark rambles, barely waiting for the door to close behind him before speaking, words tumbling out of his mouth in consecutive complaints.
"And you," He kicks the door shut with his foot before continuing, pointing a finger at you. "After forty eight hours of emotional neglect, show up with iced lattes? I don't drink lattes. That's for pussies who don't understand coffee."
You roll your eyes. "I do something nice and you still complain."
"You completely forgot me and brought coffee out of guilt."
You pause, looking down at the table before speaking again. "It's still coffee."
Jungkook laughs quietly besides you before Mark cuts in again. "Okay, so basically," He breathes, gesturing around the room. "This is my senior project, the one I told you about three weeks ago and you forgot because you apparently don't care about me anymore. It's a short film of my album with a narrative concept." He turns to Jungkook. "He's singing."
Your eyes drift around in silence, taking in the headphones and the sheets filled with lyrics and the fucking sometimes he threw at you as if it meant nothing.
"And you," Mark angles his body towards you. "Are helping with the writing."
"Mark," You argue, because what can you possibly be writing? Music? You don't do music. You write people, you write anything between stories and analysis but not music.
"Don't Mark me right now. You agreed to this weeks ago." He says as he rolls his eyes, chugging down his coffee. "The story. You're writing the narrative and the emotional structure, obviously."
Oh. Right.
Because of course Mark wouldn't just make music. No, he has always been incapable of touching one art form without dragging five others to it. Because Mark Lee is a man of passion and he won't do anything without making it entirely his.
"Apparently you said music without context feels lonely to Yoongi's trap arrangement last week." Jungkook says without really looking at you, swinging mindlessly in his chair.
Your head snaps towards him. "How do you know that?"
Jungkook blinks once, like he hadn't expected to say that out loud yet did anyway. His eyes flicker between you and Mark before he collects himself back together and shrugs casually. "Mark talks about you."
That's…annoyingly sweet of him.
"You talk about me?" You coo with a voice disgustingly candied, head tilted as you reach for Mark's arm.
"Oh my god." Mark groans dramatically, but he doesn't pull his arm away. "No, because Jungkook, don't let her fool you. She acts all nice and sweet then suddenly you're buying her food and driving her to places."
You open your mouth immediately, ready to defend yourself. You turn towards Jungkook, response already on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spilled— only to stop.
Because Jungkook is already looking at you. Not in a weird way, not in the way boys usually look at pretty girls when they think nobody is noticing. Just…gentle. His smile is still there, only now it has grown and molded into something smaller. The kind that doesn't really ask for attention, the kind that simply stays there because it wants to. His eyes feel softer too, like's he's really listening, sitting through the spaces of your presence until he feels it permanently engraved into his mind.
It feels a little precarious.
And perhaps the most annoying thing about Jungkook is that the disappointment never really arrives.
Because eventually, the conversation shifts and folds itself until time starts passing in a kind of haziness where it melts into something thinner. Mark disappears into one of his passionate spirals regarding symbolism and the basics of music theory and you somehow find a way to contribute just as passionately despite not exactly having the qualifications to do so.
That's normal. That doesn't surprise you, it has happened enough times to not be the slightest of a deal. But Jungkook, Jungkook surprises you.
Maybe not dramatically, maybe not in ways worth writing Wave articles about. It's the little things, tiny things that somehow fill in the entire space and make their way into the dearest corners of your heart.
Like how he listens with his entire body, the way he turns towards whoever it is that's speaking and stays there, like he genuinely thinks people deserve to be heard all the way through. The way he never interrupts Mark despite the fact that Mark tends to over explain things as if he himself personally invented art and human emotion. The way he nods along quietly, asks questions at exactly the right moments without ever interjecting anyone and reaches over to hand you your drink when you start looking for it.
And somewhere in the middle of the complexity of it all, Jungkook sings.
Mark points towards the recording booth in the middle of his nth rant today, and Jungkook pushes himself up from the couch besides you with a small sigh before disappearing behind the glass doors of the booth. And for some reason, your eyes follow him through each passing second, because simply standing behind a microphone with overhead headphones should not look this different on somebody.
Because suddenly, he's stripped out of everything you've subconsciously built for him. And for some stupid, sick, twisted reason, Jungkook looks ridiculously hot like this.
He adjusts the headphones over his ears before leaning towards the microphone slightly, eyes lowering as Mark presses something on the screen.
His voice happens a beat of two after the music starts, and it happens big. Like waves crashing into rocks, like starts falling down the sky, like spring melting into summer and summer clashing against fall.
It's stupid.
He's not bad, god, you wish he was bad. No, not at all. Because Jungkook sings exactly the way the listens. Softly, fully, like he throws himself into it before realizing he's doing it. Like somewhere in the middle of every rhyme and every note and every breath, there are pieces of him patiently waiting to be discovered.
You understand why Mark chose him.
Jungkook drops beside you onto the couch with a tired groan after Mark decides he's poured enough of his soul for today, and you find your eyes grazing over him as he scrolls through something on his phone.
"You're staring." Jungkook says, not even looking up from his phone.
You blink. Fuck. "Excuse me?"
He hums, lips twitching beyond his control. "Mhm."
You angle your body a little more towards him. "I literally wasn't."
He nods, still not looking at you, but he's still smiling.
You stare at his profile for a little longer as Mark works over the keyboard in silence, then find the words escaping your mouth before you can hold them in. "You sound different when you sing." You say quietly.
Jungkook stills a little. Just a tiny, little falter that happens in his body. His eyes lift slowly from the screen, then catch yours before speaking. "Different?" He asks.
You shrug immediately, trying to fold the conversation into something drastically more casual. "Just less annoying."
Jungkook laughs, shoulders shaking beside you. "Less annoying." He repeats, grin growing.
You roll your eyes immediately. "Don't let it get to your head."
"You know," He says after letting a beat pass, and you turn your head back towards him. "You say very mean things for someone who can't seem to stop staring."
Your brows lift in offense. "I do not stare."
He blinks. "You do."
You scoff. "You're delusional."
Jungkook hums softly. "Earlier, when Mark was talking—"
You don't let him speak. At least, you try. "No."
"And then when i was recording—"
"Jeon."
He's fully smiling now, like he's getting the most ridiculous amount enjoyment he possibly can get from this. You stare at him in silence, lips parted and expression faltered. Jungkook stares right back at you, that stupid smile never really leaving from his lips. And for some sick and twisted reason, your stomach does a tiny little flip that irritates you through the entirety of your skin and bones.
Then, as if god has finally acknowledged the depths of your suffering, Mark cuts in exactly at the right time. "Oh my god." He gasps.
Jungkook blinks from next to you, gaze drifting onto him. "What?"
Mark doesn't respond for a moment, and that's deeply concerning for a man who'd speak even at the verge of death.
You slowly sit up. "Mark?"
His frozen state continues for a beat longer before he suddenly springs up from his chair. "No no no."
"What's wrong?" Jungkook asks as his brows pull together, leaning onto his knees.
"I," Mark starts, looking down at his feet before he slowly, dreadfully searches for your eyes. "I'm late."
Jungkook scrunches his nose. "You're late for what?"
Your eyes widen when the realization slowly stretches then breaks through you. "Oh my god." You breathe dramatically.
"Stop saying oh my god!" Jungkook snaps, thoroughly lost.
Mark closes his eyes, taking in a long, guilty breath. "I'm supposed to be meeting up with Yerin."
Jungkook's phone falls onto the couch. "You're meeting your ex?"
"You're late to meeting your ex." You correct. "And you're wearing that?"
Mark looks down, eyes taking in the gray sweatpants and the black hoodie he has worn so much it's practically another color now. "Oh my god."
He quickly gathers up his belongings, then slings his bag over his shoulder before making his way to the door. He's able to take approximately three steps before he suddenly stops, and slowly, very slowly, turns to you.
"Can i take your car?"
You blink a few times before responding. "Absolutely not."
"Please," He begs, bending above his knees with impatience. "Please, I'll do anything. Imagine if she thinks i stood her up. She's going to leave me for good this time and I'll be left to crumble and die in my own sorrow."
After two or five separate sequences of long inhales and deep consideration, you give in. "If you scratch it, I'll kill you."
He runs over to you fast. "Thank you, thank you. Oh my god, i love you."
"Okay, okay. Stop." Before you even get the chance to return his hug, he's already grabbing your keys and shoving it into his bag. Jungkook stares from besides you silently until the very last second of Mark's departure, then bursts into laughter the moment the door closes shut.
"Stop."
"I'm trying." Jungkook says between fractions of laughter.
You sigh. "No you're not."
"I'm literally trying my hardest."
Liar.
Because now, he's laughing properly and somehow it's the prettiest thing you've heard all week, minus his singing— which is a whole another problem of its own— and you feel yourself physically falter at the sound of it.
You stare at him for a minute longer before eventually drifting your eyes towards the studio doors instead. It's irritating how you're now painfully aware of everything else all over again. Spring air brushing softly against your skin through the window, the distant sound of laughter and conversation somewhere across campus, the way Jungkook is seated close enough that if you shift half an inch closer your shoulders would probably brush.
"So," Jungkook has finally, and thankfully, stopped laughing. Though the smile is still sitting there loosely. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys, swinging them around his finger. "Guess I'm driving you home."
You were about to mindlessly give into defeat when suddenly, you remember one, tiny little detail.
Jungkook doesn't have a car.
You breathe slowly. "You ride that stupid motorcycle."
His brows lift immediately. "That stupid motorcycle?"
Your lips part, then close again when he cuts you off, lips twitching cockily. "You remember."
You scoff loudly. "You spent like twenty minutes talking about it."
"Mhm."
"And your personality is unfortunately very loud."
"Mhm." He hums, tucking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans as he mindlessly collects his things. "You remember." He repeats with a growing grin.
"Stop saying that." You complain, following him behind through the door.
And ten minutes later, you hate yourself.
Genuinely.
Because now, you're standing outside beneath spring air and bright streetlights while Jungkook straddles his motorcycle like this isn't singlehandedly the worst thing that has ever happened to you.
Because suddenly you're surrounded by things you've never considered before. Like leather jackets and silver rings and tattooed biceps you want to suffocate and die inside.
You don't tell him that, of course.
He glances at you over his shoulder before slipping on his helmet. "You coming?"
There is a moment where he is met with a complete, utter silence. Because, first of all, you've never been on a motorcycle before. And second of all, there is a very physical, very obvious problem with motorcycles.
Where the fuck are your hands supposed to go?
Jungkook watches the way something between conflict and irritation flashes across your features, expression faltering slowly. He pauses along with you, then smiles knowingly. "You've never been on one."
And the way he says it is absolutely stupid. Because he doesn't ask, it's not a question. He has somehow read you devastatingly well and has made a statement about it. One that is entirely correct.
"I have not."
"And you're scared."
Excuse you?
You blink. "Scared?"
Jungkook says nothing, then places both of his legs on the sides of the vehicle as he patiently waits for you. You stare at him for long enough, then with the amount of dignity one can preserve in situations involving pussy clenching tattoos and massive biceps, you walk over.
"Need help?" Jungkook asks as you struggle deciding how to position yourself.
You shake your head immediately. "No."
Lies.
Because an entire thirty seconds later, you're still trying to figure out how people get on these things without publicly humiliating themselves.
"You know," He starts carefully, voice softer now." "I can help."
You look up slowly. "How?"
"Come here."
Your eyebrows pull together. "What kind of instruction is that?"
He sighs softly, calling your name. And for some stupid reason, the way your name rolls and falls out of his mouth does something irritating to your nervous system.
You hate that.
Because suddenly, the air feels warmer than it did thirty minutes ago. Because suddenly, he is patiently looking at you with those pretty brown eyes of his and the space between you feels so small that the lack of distance physically blows your breath away.
He holds a hand out towards you. "Come here." He repeats.
You stare at his hand, then at him, then back at his hand. And for reasons you will absolutely be denying later, you place your hand in his.
Jungkook's fingers close around yours immediately. Warm, firm and unreasonably effortless, as if he doesn't even think about the action twice.
He gently guides you forward and suddenly you're standing between his arms for one devastating second too long as he explains something about where to place your foot and how to balance and honestly—
Honestly, you don't hear a single fucking word.
Because Jungkook is standing too close. Because his voice is low and his presence is warm. Because somewhere above you, he quietly lets out that sweet laugh again and you think that's the exact moment you realize this might be becoming a bigger problem than you ever thought.
"You listening?" He asks.
No, you're not. Not even a little.
Some men are just plain irritating.
The kind of men who make you think you're special after two dates. The kind of men who act as if their love and desire for you is past the lethal dose, long sitting far away from what's acceptable after taking you out for one drink.
They start remembering your birthday, then your coffee order, and then the stories you tell absentmindedly. They pay attention in all the ways that matter until suddenly, they don't.
They start disappearing slowly. Late responses transition into cancelled dates and cancelled dates drag over white lies and empty promises. And before you know it— they're gone.
Some people become memories and some people insist on staying as habits. Unfortunately for Kim Yugyeom, habits are significantly harder to quit.
Campus looks a little prettier at night, with string lights tangled carelessly around trees to soften the sharp corners of concrete sidewalks and buildings that usually look painfully monotone and disgustingly gray beneath daylight. Music that's floating around blends into laughter and conversations until everything feels like it's dipped into something warmer, casting the green scenery in a dimly golden hue.
People become prettier at night too. Like darkness reaches over to soften and hide all the sharp edges daylight stubbornly insists on exposing. You think it has something to do with poor lighting and the desire to dress each other up in a way that's aligned with our own fucked up fantasies, but that doesn't change the fact that you'd much rather time stops at nine in the evening instead of morning.
Miyeon walks beside you with a cup of vodka and something fruity in her hand, complaining passionately about one of her professors as if he has something personal against her and is failing her out of spite. When, in reality, she has been way too caught up in toxic ex boyfriend drama and seasonal depression.
Anyone who says spring depression is not real is lying. Because your best friend has been going through one for the entirety of march and april and may and you're not sure if it'll pass by july.
But it's fine. You love her and Mark loves her and you're sure she will be fine. Yeah, maybe Yugyeom is six feet tall with a face carefully structured by the higher powers above us. But he's utterly stupid and completely undeserving of the crazy stupid love provided by your gorgeous best friend.
"No because explain to me why participation counts in my grade." Miyeon complains beside you, taking another sip of her drink as if she has the attendance and exam results to cover up the mess caused by her miserable participation grade.
You blink. "Because participating matters?"
Miyeon stops walking like you've offended her beyond all measure, then turns to you very slowly. "The institution has corrupted you."
You let out a laugh immediately, shoulder bumping against hers as the crowd thickens around you. "Maybe your GPA is a little important and passing isn't always enough." You add with a playful smile.
"You've changed."
"Okay." You drag out the word until she physically can not hear anything after the o.
"Namjoon did this to you. You were fun and sexy until junior year and now you're a disgusting hard copy of that man."
You scoff. "Leave Namjoon out of this."
Instead of responding to you, Miyeon narrows her eyes through the crowd before you can properly defend both yourself and Namjoon's imaginary honor. Your eyes follow her line of sight without thinking too much of it, and you still just a second after Miyeon does.
Because standing near one of the food trucks with drinks sat carelessly in their hands are Mingyu and Jaehyun. But that's not the point, Mingyu and Jaehyun are fine, you've actually shared that infamous econ elective with Jaehyun during junior year and he surprisingly turned out to be sweet and worth a couple hours of your precious time.
Jungkook, on the other hand, is not ideal. But not ideal is also fine, you can bear with non ideal to an extent. What's thoroughly, completely, utterly impossible, is Yugyeom.
God truly does not love you.
Miyeon physically freezes besides you. And, I repeat, she doesn't subtly falter. She stills.
Then, Jungkook looks up at exactly the wrong moment, finding your eyes and catching them in air before anyone else gets the chance to steal them away. His eyebrows lift slightly in amusement before a smile slowly spreads across his face, and it feels a little concerning the way he does it. Because Jungkook smiles like he means it. Like the smile happens to him before he can realize and reconsider.
His line of sight is followed before any of you can do anything about it. It starts with Mingyu, then Jaehyun. Which is fine, because we've already established that Mingyu and Jaehyun are harmless.
But Yugyeom? Not even close.
"Oh no." Mingyu says the moment he spots you. And honestly? Very fair reaction.
Because unfortunately, Kim Yugyeom has always had an exceptional talent for creating versions of Miyeon you hate.
Jaehyun lifts his drink awkwardly. "Hi?" Very brave of him. Very brave.
Miyeon smiles immediately, too animated and too polite, before you can even think of interfering and softening the impact of it all.
"Hi Jaehyun." She says, tone too normal despite the situation.
"Miyeon," Yugyeom greets, voice casual and light like her name belongs naturally inside his mouth. Fucking hypocrite.
"You cut your hair."
No.
No, you're not doing this right now. Absolutely not. Because, okay, first of all, what kind of thing is that to say to your ex girlfriend of two whole years? And the worse part of it all? Miyeon cut her hair three months ago. Three, entire, months.
Yugyeom blinks one whole minute after the words leave his mouth when no one responds to him, like the sentence leaves his mouth and arrives back to him sixty seconds later. But it's already late for realization. Too fucking late.
A long silence passes, and you feel it physically sizzle and slice right through the surface of your skin. "Right." Miyeon mutters a beat later, and you close your eyes with a long, suffering inhale.
Somewhere in the middle of the discomfort settling over everybody like a layer of second skin, you catch movement from the corner of your eye as if the situation isn't terrible enough.
Jungkook, of course, is already looking at you. Because he seems to have made it into a habit.
Miyeon laughs beside you. "Three months, by the way."
Yugyeom falters. "What?"
"My hair," She starts, letting her eyes drag over him. "I cut it three months ago."
It's a little funny now. You know, the entirety of the situation. You do everything in your power to not stare at the two of them, gaze drifting around your surroundings instead. And it turns out that you, as of right now, are not the smartest person in the room. Because across from you, Mingyu suddenly becomes deeply interested in the swirl of his drink, and Jaehyun seems to be counting the birds in the sky. Jungkook? That, you don't know. Because you're sure he's still looking at you and that's the second thing your eyes are trying to avoid.
"Right." Yugyeom says again, like saying right enough times might eventually make the situation right, even though it won't. Because none of you are stupid— well, except for Yugyeom himself, it seems.
Then, Mingyu suddenly claps his hands once, and the sound echoes so much louder than he intended it to. "Okay!" He exclaims with an amount of enthusiasm that should genuinely award him an Emmy. "Amazing! Love this energy. It's so deeply casual."
Miyeon laughs again, a little softer than the one she let escape minutes ago. It's not enough to bounce and spill and take over the atmosphere the way it usually does. But for now, it's enough to let you breathe.
"Sorry," She says through another laugh, shaking her head. "No because, you're unbelievable."
Yugyeom squints. "What did i even do?"
You scoff. Obviously, that's not surprising. Kim Yugyeom deserves a hundred more of those. But Mingyu and Jaehyun scoff along with you. And, oh, Jungkook too.
Maybe society has hope after all.
That's when you stop keeping up with their conversation, because their steps slowly get closer and closer to each other and farther and farther away from you until the volume of their voices lower down enough and exist only for the two of them.
Not that you're complaining. Not at all. You're thoroughly relieved and you do not want to hear another word of this pointless conversation.
Mingyu leans over and lowers his height next to you. "How traumatized are we?"
You laugh, relaxing a little. "A solid eight out of ten."
He places a hand over his chest dramatically. "Thank god." He exhales. "For a second i thought i was alone in this."
You laugh again, and peculiarly, somewhere in the middle of cheap drinks and Mingyu defending his dignity like his life depends on it, your shoulders begin dropping one by one.
Everything softens after that.
Mingyu gets distracted after spotting somebody from one of his classes and suddenly starts passionately discussing basketball statistics with Jaehyun. Miyeon and Yugyeom slowly become figurines in your peripheral vision— still there, still existing, but further now. And somehow, Jungkook ends up right besides you.
Maybe not intentionally, maybe not obviously— but he does. It happens in that natural way he seems to be very adamant on keeping recently.
You become aware of him in pieces. The warmth of his shoulder besides yours, the sound of his laugh whenever Mingyu says something ridiculous, the traces of alcohol and masculine cologne in his scent whenever wind shifts in your direction…Tiny, stupid things people leave behind accidentally.
And unfortunately, you've spent your entire life collecting them.
"You're less guarded tonight."
You blink, then turn around slowly, eyes locking with Jungkook who is looking at you over the rim of his drink, a smile sitting loosely against his mouth.
"I'm always like this."
Jungkook lets something between a breathy laugh and a scoff through his lips. "Liar."
You roll your eyes. "You think you've got me all figured out."
He shrugs. "I just pay attention to you sometimes."
Fucking flirt.
You're only half listening to Mingyu's latest spiral on getting cheated on with a girl when Jungkook's phone vibrates against the grass. Jungkook glances down, picks the phone up, then groans when he reads whatever text that has been sent to him.
"What?" You ask.
"Mark,"
Your brows pull together in confusion. "What did he do?"
Jungkook lets his head fall back slightly. "He forgot the hard drive at the studio."
Jungkook stares at his phone for a beat longer, exhales, then turns towards you. "Come with me."
And he is met with silence. Because for a moment, for a long, dreadful sixty seconds, silence surrounds you too. Music still continues behind you but it feels distant now. People laugh, lights glow, but all of it feels very far away. Solely because of the way he says it.
Because Jungkook doesn't ask. No do you want to come? No you can if you want. He just tells you to come with him as if he already knows the answer.
You narrow your eyes, trying to play it off. "Is that confidence i'm seizing?"
"No." He says, smile growing into something gentler. "I think it's hope."
Oh.
Jungkook pushes himself up from the grass, then extends his hand towards you. Not dramatically, not enough to create a whole deal out of it, but enough for your eyes to drop down to it automatically then back to him as if a hundred different scenarios have just flashed across your mind.
You take his hand.
By the time you reach the studio, you're a little warm. Not because of walking, not because of the weather, but because of something you absolutely can not say out loud.
Jungkook pushes the door open, then lets you walk in first. Warm light spills through the room and reaches straight into your pupils the moment you step in, and you physically have to tap your thigh twice to recollect yourself back together.
Space feels a little different when it's just the two of you.
Jungkook walks ahead towards the mixing desk, still looking through his phone. "Mark said he left his hard drive somewhere."
You hum, eyes drifting around. But it all feels absent, a little pointless. Because you're painfully aware of the tiny things all over again. Jungkook pushing his sleeves up, the way strands of hair falls into his eyes, how the sound of his voice fills in the empty room…
Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's exhaustion, or maybe it's the way spring nights make people a little delirious. Stupid pollens.
You let a quiet breath escape and turn away before your brain decides to become any more humiliating than it already has tonight. "How does a music major forget a hard drive?" You ask, voice bouncing a little too loudly through the empty studio.
Jungkook shrugs. "It's Mark."
Fair.
You snort quietly and drift towards the couch instead, letting yourself drop against the cushions while Jungkook continues opening drawers and moving papers around an unnecessary amount of concentration.
For a minute, for the short time being, neither of you says anything. And maybe that's your first mistake. Because lately, silence with Jungkook has become as dangerous as vodka on an empty stomach.
Your eyes lift before you can stop them. That's definitely your second mistake.
Because Jungkook had pushed his sleeves higher at some point and now his forearms are exposed beneath the dim lights of the studio and you miserably need those long, tattooed fingers curling inside your pussy.
He crouches beside the desk, pushing his hair back before another strand immediately falls over his forehead again. "Found it." He says, and your head snaps back up.
Jungkook, unfortunately, is already looking at you. Not at the hard drive, not at the desk, just you. And for a second, neither of you says anything. Because maybe this is one of those moments where silence becomes too delicate for words. Moments that sit so carefully between people that speaking feels like touching glass with bare hands.
Your stomach tightens embarrassingly beneath your ribs as Jungkook's eyes drag all over you before they settle and stay on your face. He takes a step closer, then another, and then speaks softly. "What?"
Your brows pull together despite yourself. "What what?"
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You keep staring." He says, voice lower now.
"And you don't?" You reply, voice barely above a whisper as you rise up to your feet.
"I do." Jungkook replies. There is barely an inch between your bodies now, his breath hot and heavy on your skin. "But i don't lie about it, pretty girl."
Your entire body stiffens at that. But it's not the pretty girl, not at all. It's the way he says it. Because Jungkook doesn't rush you, he never does. He doesn't smirk, doesn't tease. Just stays there looking and waiting. Like he is giving you room, like stepping away is still an option.
And the worst part is, you don't want to step away.
Silence stretches and stretches until it begins feeling alive. His eyes drop down to your lips, then lifts back up. For one devastating second, Jungkook looks at you like he is trying to memorize something. Like he's collecting little things too.
His hand lifts, thumb softly tracing over the line of your jaw. "I've been patient for so long." He speaks over your lips. "And i know you feel it too. But i need to hear your words if you really want this to happen."
Your breath catches and flips over halfway through your throat, chest rising and falling in a slow, heavy rhythm. "Jungkook,"
"Tell me," He starts, thumb stopping by the bottom of your lip. "If you want me as bad as i want you. Because— fuck, I've been good, i've been patient but i'm terribly desperate and i need to know if you are too."
"Please," You try, but you've already stopped thinking altogether.
"Please what, baby? I need you to use your words."
"Kiss me." You fit the entire weight of those words in a tiny little breath and Jungkook's lips are on yours in an instant.
The kiss starts out slow, his lips moving against yours gently as if he is savoring every ounce of its taste on the farthest corners of his tongue. Your hands find the nape of his neck, pulling and pressing him closer until distance can't bear existing anymore.
Jungkook's hands drop down to your waist, tugging you closer so that your hips clash against his. You whimper into his mouth, and he swallows it without wasting a single second.
Because Jungkook has been waiting.
This isn't what the does, not at all. Jungkook has never been a patient man. Not with desire, not with girls. He takes and gets taken in blinks and fractions and seconds— easy, casual, weightless.
But you, you've turned into something devastatingly different. Because for weeks now Jungkook has been wanting without touching, looking without taking— ever since you laughed and rolled your eyes prettily at Yugyeom's party that night. He has spent nights thinking about your lips, mornings replaying the sound of your laugh and entire conversations searching for traces of hidden meanings beneath your words like a man slowly losing his goddamn mind.
Jungkook doesn't wait. He doesn't ache over girls. He doesn't sit awake late at night remembering the way they looked at him beneath dim studio lights or think about the possibility of their hands touching his. But with you— fuck.
With you, he has become unbearably aware of himself. You've made him patient in the cruelest way possible. Because now he notices everything and god, the pretending has been killing him.
And now you're kissing him back as if you've been just as gone. And that thought alone is enough to fold and mold his brain into something disgustingly mushy and achingly dizzy.
"More," You moan between kisses, body practically begging for his touch.
Jungkook's stomach flips upside down. "Yeah? Want more, pretty? Want me to touch you?" He squeezes the plump meat of your ass through your jeans, and your hips jerk into his with the feeling.
His hands roam all over your body before stopping right at the hem of your top. His fingers fiddle with the fabric before he pulls away to look at you properly, and you give him your consent dressed up as a weak nod.
Jungkook pulls your tank top over your head, eyes stuck on the way your boobs bounce beneath the lace of your bra with the movement. He physically, loudly, groans at the sight before plastering wet, open mouthed kisses on the soft skin. Your head falls back in pleasure, hands tangling in his soft locks. Jungkook pushes his head further into your tits before he reaches over your back and unclasps your bra in one swift motion.
Your ass hits the armrest of the leather couch when he lowers himself to take a nipple into his mouth, fingers toying with the other. You moan in short, consecutive whimpers as his tongue laps and flickers over the hardened nub, the wetness in your panties growing and growing.
His cups your pussy over the your jeans, fingers pressing into your core over the fabric. The pressure is utterly mind blowing because the course denim stretches and digs into you further, causing you to cry out in pleasure.
"Touch me properly, Jungkook." You force out, desperate to feel him on your bare skin.
Jungkook scoffs between kisses. "Greedy, aren't you?"
He unbuttons your jeans, fondling with the zipper for a beat too long before he can unzip and get you out of it.
He pushes your panties aside with two fingers before sliding them into you. Your cunt sucks him in immediately, already way too wet and way too impatient for any form of foreplay.
Jungkook tilts his head to look at the way his fingers are slipping in and out of you. "Shit, pretty. Look at that. You're gripping me."
"Jungkook," You cry out, hands curling around his biceps for support. "Need— need your cock, please."
He lifts his eyes up to look at your face properly, then sketches and carves every line of your expression onto the deepest corners of his heart.
He slowly pulls out his fingers, then draws circles on your swollen clit before pulling away to take off his own clothes. His shirt flies away first, and you can't help but gawk at the bare sight of his chest. Arms, shoulders, abs— you're lucky if you don't cum right then and there.
He gives you a small, knowing chuckle before unbuckling his belt, tossing the jeans somewhere across the room along with his boxers. Your lips are parted beyond your knowledge, eyes stuck on the hardened sight of his length.
You've never seen a cock as pretty as that.
You're not sure if you'd ever even thought a cock was pretty— because usually, to you, they're far from that. But Jungkook, god, Jungkook is so fucking pretty with a tip so pink you think you want to suckle on it like a lollipop and a length so massive you desperately want it to choke you.
You wouldn't be mad if your cause of death had suffocated on cock written on it all uppercase in bold letters.
And Jungkook just laughs. He fucking laughs.
"Don't worry, pretty. It's all yours." He says, kissing your lips once more before motioning to turn over. "Now turn around and bend over for me." He adds, pushing your back lightly so that you're completely bent over with both hands gripping on the armrest of the couch.
Jungkook drags his tip across your folds, spreading your slick all over your cunt before he slowly pushes it in. You feel his tip first, letting you adjust to the stretch as he sucks in a sharp breath at the warmth of your walls. You moan loudly when he presses half of his cock into you, fingers firming around the cushion.
"Oh god," You breathe, uncontrollably pushing your ass higher into the air. He slams in the rest of his length at your movement, and your back arches even deeper. "Fuck, Jungkook. You're so— so big. I can't."
"You can, princess. I know you can. You'll take every inch like a good girl. Gonna make me proud, aren't you?"
He completely slides out out slowly, and before you can whine at the emptiness Jungkook slams himself back in. You moan loudly, head empty and thoroughly dizzy.
Jungkook starts fucking into you, one had gripping firmly onto your waist as the other toys with your nipple from the back. He is filling you up so good you're going to lose your goddamn mind. You feel so full, stretched and stuffed to the fucking brim. Your walls suck him in desperately, walls clenching and tightening around his fat cock as he pounds into you recklessly.
"Yes, fuck. Wanna be good for you." You mutter messily as his thrusts get deeper and deeper, cock twitching inside your wetness.
"I'm close." You breathe.
"I've got you." He says, and you hate how assuring the words sound.
You let yourself go just as he starts playing with your clit from behind, stimulating you as you milk your juices around his cock. He helps you ride out your high, chest pressing onto your back as he plasters small, reassuring kisses on your shoulder.
You feel physically nauseous at the domesticity.
"Switch with me." You say after coming down from your orgasm, straightening as his cock slides out of you.
Jungkook's body falters, brows pulling together. "What?"
You roll your eyes, pulling away. "Sit, Jungkook."
Jungkook somehow obeys without another word, dropping his body onto the couch beneath you. You hold his shoulders from above, placing your legs at both sides of his hips before reaching for his cock.
Jungkook's breath stutters when you take him into your hand, pumping him a few times before aligning him with your entrance. You slowly sink down onto his length, and you both moan simultaneously when you take every inch of his dick into your pussy.
"Shit," He moans, your name dancing prettily on his tongue. "You're so hot."
His fingertips dig into the soft skin of your hips, head thrown back lazily as he moans through parted lips. You bounce on his dick with every ounce of energy that's left in you, thighs aching as he twitches inside your walls.
Jungkook lifts his head a little to properly take in the sight of your bouncing tits, nearing his high.
"Where do you want me?" He asks, voice low and breathy. Your stomach churns at the question, nails scratching his broad shoulders.
"You can cum inside."
He's going to die. He is going to fucking die but at least he'll die a proud man with his cum stuffed inside you.
And just as Jungkook was about to close his eyes and release inside you, your phone rings.
His lips part to say something, but you beat him to it. "Just shut it off."
Jungkook's hand weakly finds your phone, pressing the close button twice without looking at it. Of course he doesn't look, he'd be insane to drift his eyes away from the way your soft, perky tits are bouncing up and down in his own hold. But the ecstasy lasts so long as fifteen seconds until your phone rings again.
Jungkook flips it over this time. The name on your phone's screen flashes right through his eyes and he feels his heart stumble and drop straight into the rock bottom of his stomach
joon <3
would love to hear what you think <3
do you write only for jungkook? loved your first!boyfriend jk head cannons btw
thank you so so much for reading! currently my blog is jungkook focused but I’m ot7! I’ve been wondering if I should start writing for the other tannies….lmk if you’d like that! :<
hiii is there maybe a taglist that I can be added to bcs I really loved the sea does not forgive and I don’t want to miss anything
hii yess im going to make one soon!!! anyone else lmk if you want to be added ! 💗
FIRST BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS; JK
✧ jungkook as your first boyfriend — butterflies, tension & firsts ✧
전정국 x fem!reader | fluff • firstboyfriend!jk • shy!reader • establishedrelationship •
𖤐 hii everyone i hope you all are well :< this was requested! hopefully i did it justice ;) also - first chapter of my new series just came out: inspired by arirang + swim mv…..bye angels!!
• main m.list • headcanons m.list • my archive •
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• the moment he finds out
— jungkook doesn’t find out because you sit him down and tell him that he’s your first love, he finds out because he’s observant, because he’s always watching you, always paying attention.
— it happens one night when you’re sitting together on his couch, your head resting on his shoulder while he scrolls through something on his phone. he’s talking about a relationship he had years ago, not even seriously, just mentioning it in passing.
— and when he glances down at you, you’re suddenly very interested in the blanket covering your lap. that’s when he knows something is up.
— “what?”
— you immediately shake your head. “nothing.”
— “that’s definitely not nothing.”
— and after several minutes of him poking at the conversation, you finally admit it.
— you’ve never had a boyfriend before. ever.
— no first relationship. no first anniversary. no first “good morning” texts. nothing.
— for a second jungkook just stares at you. not because he’s judging you, but because suddenly so many things make sense. the way you got nervous the first time he held your hand. the way you spent twenty minutes choosing a text message before sending it. the way your face turned bright red when someone referred to him as your boyfriend.
— and instead of teasing you, his expression softens. completely, because suddenly he realizes something important. every single relationship milestone you’re experiencing…
— you’re experiencing with him first.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• boyfriend things you never got to experience before
— jungkook becomes very aware of your firsts after that. not in a weird way, in a protective way, because he knows these moments matter to you.
— he remembers the first time he picked you up for a date, the first time he kissed you, the first time you stole one of his hoodies and refused to give it back, the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder during a movie.
— he remembers everything.
— sometimes months later he’ll randomly bring something up. “remember when you were too nervous to call me?”
— and you’ll immediately hide your face, while he’s sitting there smiling because he remembers exactly how cute you looked.
— you’ll complain that he’s embarrassing, he’ll complain that you’re adorable, and somehow neither of you wins.
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• him realizing how much you trust him
— out of everything, this is what affects jungkook the most. the trust.
— because being someone’s first boyfriend isn’t just about cute milestones, it means you’re trusting him with experiences you’ve never had before.
— you’re trusting him with your first relationship. your first heartbreak, if things ever went wrong. your first real love, and that’s not something jungkook takes lightly.
— sometimes he’ll be holding your hand while walking somewhere and the realization hits him all over again. you chose him. out of everyone. him.
— and honestly? it scares him a little, because suddenly he wants to get everything right. he wants your memories of your first relationship to be good ones. he wants you to feel loved, safe, cherished. he wants you to look back years from now and smile when you remember him.
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• your first time sleeping beside him
— The first time you fall asleep together, you’re nervous for absolutely no reason. Well. Several reasons.
— You’re aware of everything. How close he is, how warm he is, how easily his arm settles around your waist.
— Meanwhile Jungkook looks completely relaxed. Which honestly feels unfair, because you’re overthinking every movement while he’s already pulling you closer against his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
— “Comfortable?”
— “No.”
— He laughs immediately. That deep sleepy laugh, the one that makes your stomach flip. Then he kisses your forehead and pulls the blankets higher around both of you.
— “We’ve got all night.” And somehow that makes everything easier, because he never rushes you, never makes you feel silly for being nervous, never acts like you should already know what you’re doing. He just lets you figure things out at your own pace, with him right beside you.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• when he realizes how easily he affects you
— Jungkook discovers very quickly that he doesn’t have to do much to make you flustered. A look. A compliment. His arm around your waist. That’s usually enough.
— Which becomes a problem. Because once he realizes this? He starts enjoying it way too much.
— You’ll be talking about something completely normal and suddenly he’s staring. Just staring, eyes focused entirely on you.
— And eventually you’ll stop talking. “What?”
— “Nothing.”
— “Jungkook.”
— Tiny smile. “No, keep talking.”
— that somehow makes it worse, because now you’re aware of how close he is. How his hand is resting on yours, how he’s looking at you, and meanwhile he’s completely entertained by your reaction.
— The worst part? The second you hide your face, he’s pulling your hands away. “Don’t do that.”
— “Why?”
— “Wanna see you.”
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• the first time he realizes he’s in love with being your first boyfriend
— this is not because of possessiveness, not because nobody came before him, but because every experience feels special.
— The first relationship nickname, the first anniversary, he’s the first person you call when something good happens, the first person you want beside you when something goes wrong.
— Sometimes jungkook’ll catch himself thinking about it randomly. Like when you’re walking together holding hands, or when you steal his hoodie, or when you automatically curl up beside him on the couch.
— he’ll smile to himself, because those things are normal relationship moments for most people, but they’re new for you. And somehow you chose him to experience them with.
— Which still amazes him. Every single day.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• when you stop being nervous
— His favorite moment isn’t actually your first date. Or your first kiss. Or any of the big milestones. It’s the day he notices you’ve stopped hesitating, stopped second-guessing yourself, stopped worrying about whether you’re doing things right.
— Because now you’re reaching for his hand first, leaning against him automatically, stealing kisses from his cheek without getting embarrassed afterward.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• when he realizes how inexperienced you actually are
— At first, Jungkook thinks you’re just shy. Shy about holding hands, shy about compliments, shy whenever he gets too close.
— But the longer you’re together, the more he starts noticing things. The way you secretly google relationship questions, the way you ask your friends whether certain things are normal, the way you overthink every little milestone between the two of you. He notices all of it.
— And one night, while you’re curled against his side in bed watching a movie neither of you are paying attention to anymore, he catches you staring at your intertwined hands. Just staring. Lost in thought.
— “What?”
— You immediately shake your head.“Nothing.”
— “It wasn’t nothing.”
— “It was.”
— “It definitely wasn’t.”
— Eventually you sigh, then admit it. “I just never thought I’d have this.”
— Jungkook’s entire expression changes, because suddenly he understands. You aren’t nervous because you’re uncertain about him, you’re nervous because all of this is new. The hand holding, the cuddling, the good morning texts, the kisses goodbye, everything.
— And for some reason that realization completely wrecks him, because now all he can think about is how much trust you’re placing in him. How every relationship memory you’re making is being made with him first, and suddenly he wants to protect every single one of them.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• your first sleepover as his girlfriend
— The first time you stay overnight with him, you’re so nervous it’s almost ridiculous. You spend an hour deciding what pajamas to bring, you overthink where you’ll sleep, you overthink whether you’ll snore, you overthink literally everything.
— Meanwhile Jungkook thinks it’s adorable. Not that he tells you that immediately, because he knows you’d die of embarrassment.
— Instead he just quietly helps you settle in, shows you where everything is, lets you take your time, and acts completely normal, even though he’s secretly smiling every time you get flustered.
— The thing that finally breaks him? When you emerge from the bathroom looking nervous and immediately ask: “Is this okay?” Referring to your pajamas.
— And Jungkook just stares, because suddenly he’s realizing how badly you want everything to go right. How much effort you’re putting into something that feels effortless to him.
— His chest hurts a little in the best way, so he simply reaches for your hand, pulls you closer, and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re cute, you know that?”
— Then he watches your entire face turn red.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• clingy boyfriend jk after he discovers you’re touch-starved
— Jungkook discovers something very dangerous early into the relationship: You love affection, you just aren’t used to receiving it. Which means every little thing affects you. His arm around your shoulders, his fingers brushing yours, his hand resting on your knee during car rides.
— The first time he pulls you into his lap while you’re both watching a movie, you practically stop functioning, and he notices immediately. Of course he does. He’s Jungkook, nothing gets past him.
— The movie continues playing, but neither of you are watching it, because now he’s distracted by how nervous you are. How your hands don’t know where to go, how you’re trying so hard to act normal. Eventually he wraps both arms around your waist, pulls you comfortably against his chest, and rests his chin on your shoulder.
— “Relax.” Easy for him to say. He’s not the one whose heart is trying to escape through their ribs, but eventually you do relax.
— You settle against him naturally, and once that happens? Jungkook is finished, because now he never wants to sit normally again.
— If you’re nearby, he wants you touching him somehow. Holding hands, curled into his side, sitting beside him. Resting your head on his shoulder.
— Anything. Everything. Because he gets just as addicted to your affection as you are to his.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• when you get shy about relationship things
— Sometimes Jungkook forgets that things which feel normal to him still feel huge to you. Like introducing each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. Or couple photos. Or meeting family members.
— The first time someone asks who he is and you quietly answer: “My boyfriend.” Jungkook almost loses his mind. Not outwardly, internally, because hearing you say it does something to him.
— The shy smile afterward. The way you immediately look away. The tiny blush spreading across your cheeks. He’s completely gone.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• when he catches himself imagining your future together
— This one scares him. A little.
— Because one night you’re asleep beside him. Curled into his chest, wearing one of his shirts. Completely peaceful, and he’s supposed to be sleeping too.
— Instead he’s awake. Watching you. Thinking. Dangerous activity.
— Because suddenly he starts realizing how attached he’s become, how important you’ve become, how natural you feel in his life. And then an even more dangerous thought appears.
— He doesn’t want to be your first boyfriend. He wants to be your last one too. And that realization hits him so hard that he actually laughs quietly to himself.
— Because he’s gone. Completely. Hopelessly. Embarrassingly gone. For the girl who still gets excited when he holds her hand.
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:< thanks so much for reading, requests are always open for new ideas :)

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thanks so much for 500 follows!! I’m super grateful to every one of you who enjoy my work :))) i have some more headcanons ready and I’m hoping to upload the next chapter soon though uni is super stressful rn and I just found out my rent is being raised by 5%, so….
THE SEA DOES NOT FORGIVE- 01.
You are a pirate captain’s daughter caught between your father’s war and Jungkook, the enemy captain you shouldn’t want. After a battle at sea, you’re taken aboard his ship, where tension, loyalty, and attraction blur into something you can’t escape.
전정국 x fem!reader | pirate!au • mentions of weapons • angst • sexism • smut • kidnapping/hostage • 1600s •
explicit warnings for this chapter: sexism • mentions of weapons • mentions of blood • violence •
word count: 6.5k
series m.list • next ->
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The sea had never once loved you gently.
It had raised you on splintered wood and saltwater prayers, on the deep groan of ship hulls during storms and the sharp metallic smell of gunpowder lodged permanently in your lungs. Your earliest memories were not soft ones. They were rough hands tightening ropes during rainstorms, blood being scrubbed from decks before sunrise, sailors laughing too loudly after surviving another battle they should not have survived at all.
Other young women your age learned piano and embroidery and court etiquette beneath candlelit ceilings in warm estates far from danger. Instead, you learned how to brace yourself against violent waves before you learned proper handwriting, you learned how to hold a knife before you learned how to dance, you learned how to spot approaching enemy ships before you learned what love was supposed to feel like.
Your father liked to say the ocean only respected the ruthless, which was probably why he spent more time speaking to his crew than to you. Captain Seo was feared across half the known waters, cruel in the way storms were cruel - not because they enjoyed destruction, but because they did not care enough to stop it. Men whispered his name in taverns with lowered voices and stiff shoulders while merchants cursed him over spilled whiskey and missing cargo.
You had heard the stories constantly whenever your ship docked in crowded ports. “The Black Crest.” “The Sea Devil.” “The Butcher of the South Passage.” Your father? You were naive once, you couldn’t believe your precious father could ever hurt a man, let alone take multiple lives with a flick of his sword.
They never mentioned his daughter, never mentioned the girl standing ten feet away with a dagger hidden beneath her coat and enough fury buried inside her ribs to drown kingdoms whole. Surprisingly, you preferred it that way, because being underestimated kept you alive.
The ship rocked violently beneath your boots as rain hammered against the deck hard enough to sting your skin raw, but you barely reacted anymore because storms had stopped frightening you years ago. Above you, thunder cracked across the black sky while sailors shouted over one another trying to secure ropes before the mast split clean in half. Harsh waves slammed against the hull with terrifying force, seawater spraying across the deck in freezing bursts that soaked through your clothes instantly.
The storm had arrived faster than expected, swallowing the horizon whole until the world became nothing but darkness, roaring wind, and chaos. You should have been below deck. Your father ordered it nearly an hour ago with that cold commanding voice he used whenever he stopped speaking to you like a daughter and started speaking to you like another sailor beneath his authority. But storms always made you restless, they reminded you there was still something larger than your father in this world, something even he could not command or threaten into obedience.
So instead, you stood near the starboard railing gripping soaked wood while rain drenched your coat completely, your braid sticking heavily to the back of your neck. Lightning illuminated the horizon every few seconds, brief violent flashes revealing endless black ocean before darkness swallowed everything again. You closed your eyes briefly and inhaled deeply. Salt, rain, smoke, freedom. It was the closest thing to peace you had felt in weeks.
“Miss!” one of the crewmen hurried toward you through the storm, struggling to keep his footing while water crashed across the deck around him. “Your father said below deck immediately.”
You barely glanced at him because you already knew exactly how this conversation would go. “Then he can come drag me there himself.”
The poor sailor looked exhausted before you even finished speaking, like arguing with you had physically aged him over the years. “Please do not make me repeat that to him.”
“He already dislikes me. One more disappointment won’t kill him.”
“Your father does not dislike you, miss.”
“No?” You turned toward him fully then, rain dripping down your face while thunder growled overhead. “Then why does everyone on this ship act like my only purpose is surviving long enough for him to trade me to someone useful?”
The crewman opened his mouth immediately, probably searching for some comforting lie, but closed it again because neither of you knew how to answer honestly. Your father had never officially promised your hand to anyone, but men spoke openly enough around ships when they assumed women weren’t listening. Political alliances, merchant families, powerful captains.
Your existence was valuable because of your father’s reputation, not because anyone cared what you wanted. You were a woman, after all. Having grown up with no mother, some would say you’ve no proper etiquette or understanding of your role in society, making you appear animalistic and impolite, just like the men on your father’s ship. Sometimes you wondered if he loved you at all or if he simply protected what belonged to him. The thought made your chest ache in ways you never admitted aloud.
Lightning split across the sky suddenly, illuminating the horizon bright enough to burn white across your vision for half a second, and that was when you saw it. Another ship. Massive. Dark. Moving through the storm like it had been born there. Your stomach tightened immediately because there was only one crew reckless enough to sail directly into weather like this.
The Arirang.
It was a beauty. Your father’s greatest enemy. A pirate vessel infamous from the eastern colonies to the northern trade routes, commanded by a captain whose name was spoken almost like a warning prayer in every port you had ever visited. Jeon Jungkook. You had heard stories about him since you were fourteen years old. Some called him a devil blessed by the sea itself, while others swore he had survived executions, mutinies, impossible storms, ambushes that should have killed entire crews. At twenty-two, he was already one, if not the most, feared captain in your seas.
Tavern girls spoke about him with flushed cheeks and dreamy smiles while merchants cursed him for stealing cargo worth kingdoms. Your father spoke of him differently though, with restrained hatred sharpened by reluctant respect he refused to admit existed. “That boy is dangerous,” he once muttered after too much rum and too little sleep. “Not because he kills. Plenty of men kill. He’s dangerous because people want to follow him.”
You were seventeen when you first heard Jungkook’s name. You were twenty now, and somehow fate had dragged his ship directly into yours in the middle of a storm violent enough to swallow fleets whole.
“CAPTAIN!” One of your father’s men pointed toward the approaching vessel while panic spread immediately across the deck like spilled oil catching fire. Cannons rotated, sailors scrambled toward battle positions while others shouted over the storm trying to secure damaged rigging before the ship tore itself apart completely.
Your father emerged from his quarters with fury already carved into his face, long dark coat snapping violently in the wind behind him. The second his eyes landed on the Arirang, everything in him sharpened dangerously.
Then he noticed you standing there. The rage redirected instantly. “I told you to stay below deck.”
“And I told you storms are prettier up here, father.” You weren’t lying. From where you were standing, you could see everything perfectly.
“This is not the time for your mouth.”
You rolled your eyes, turning towards the sea again. “When is it ever?”
“Enough.” Your father strode toward you through rain and smoke, seawater dripping from dark hair while thunder shook the sky overhead. Even exhausted and soaked through completely, he carried authority like a weapon. Men twice your size feared him instinctively, you had your entire life.
“I told you to get inside,” he ordered again, voice low enough to be dangerous.
“I can fight.”
“You can obey.” obey. obey. obey - your life story, to shut your mouth and obey.
“I am not a child.”
“No,” he snapped sharply, stepping closer until you could feel the fury radiating from him despite the storm. “You are my daughter. Which means every man on that ship becomes a threat the second they realise who you are.”
You crossed your arms despite the freezing rain soaking through your sleeves, because refusing him had become an instinct years ago. “Maybe I’m tired of being treated like something breakable, as though I’m not capable of protecting my ship as-well as my life.”
Your father’s jaw tightened immediately, that familiar look crossing his face - equal parts frustration and fear he never admitted existed. “The sea breaks everyone eventually.”
“Maybe I’d rather it break me than lock me below deck forever.”
“Do you think this is about control?” His patience was thinning now, with the Arirang close by and the storm worsening? you were bound to be doomed.
“Isn’t it always?” Another wave crashed violently against the ship hard enough to shake the deck beneath your feet, but neither of you moved. Around you, sailors rushed frantically preparing for battle while cannons were loaded and ropes secured, yet somehow this argument still felt louder than the storm itself.
“You know nothing about what men become during war,” your father said finally, quieter now but somehow more frightening because of it.
“I know exactly what men become during war,” you answered immediately, anger now quickly building up inside you. “I was raised by them.”
Something flickered across his expression then. Hurt maybe. Regret? It disappeared too quickly to study properly. “This conversation ends now.”
You scoff, not surprised your words were enough to shut him up. “Convenient.”
Before he could answer, a cannon blast exploded through the storm violently enough to rattle your bones. The entire ship shook beneath you while screams erupted across the deck. Splintered wood burst through smoke and rain as sailors stumbled backward from the impact. Somewhere above, ropes snapped loudly enough to sound like gunfire. Another cannon roared from the Arirang. Then another. War, as always, came quickly at sea.
The Arirang tore through rain and smoke like something alive, black sails towering against lightning while men moved across its deck with terrifying precision. Even from this distance, you could see the crimson insignia painted near the mast - a crown dripping blood. As far as you knew, around 120 men worked on that ship alongside Jungkook, yet you’d heard that he’d chosen another six sailors to actually command with him, the ones he trusted the most, allegedly.
Cannons erupted from both ships, explosions shaking the ocean itself while smoke swallowed the storm whole. Sailors shouted over one another carrying ammunition, dragging injured men across bloody wood while seawater mixed with blood near your boots. Yet somehow, your attention fixed entirely on one thing.
Him.
Jungkook stood at the helm like the storm belonged to him, tattooed hands gripping the wheel steadily while rain soaked through dark hair hanging across his forehead. He was younger than you expected, that thought struck first. Not soft - never soft - but young enough to still carry traces of boyhood beneath the brutality carved into him.
Gold rings flashed beneath lightning while black ink crawled up one arm disappearing beneath rolled sleeves. He stood unnervingly calm while chaos exploded around him, expression unreadable as cannons roared beside his crew.
Then he looked directly at you. Your breath caught instantly. Impossible. At this distance? Through smoke and rain and darkness? Yet somehow his gaze found yours immediately, sharp enough to feel physical. You should have looked away, every instinct screamed at you to move, but you didn’t.
Something dangerous passed between you then. Recognition maybe, curiosity? The strange terrifying awareness of meeting someone who might ruin, or even end your life completely. A cannon fired beside you suddenly, shattering the moment violently while smoke burst across the deck thick enough to choke on. Your father grabbed your arm hard enough to bruise. “Inside. Now.”
You yanked your arm free immediately despite the pain. “Stop treating me like I’m helpless.”
“And stop acting like the world won’t destroy you for being careless.”
“You think hiding me below deck changes anything?”
“It keeps you breathing.” Hardly, you’ve been the target countless times during a battle or raids, the perfect hostage for any sailor who craves your father’s treasure.
“You mean controlled.” Your tone was accusing, but not untrue.
His expression darkened instantly, eyes narrowing with dangerous warning. “This is not the conversation to have during a battle.”
“Then maybe stop starting them.” For half a second, genuine anger flashed across his face - not captain’s anger, but father’s frustration. The kind he only showed you when you pushed too far beneath his skin. Then another cannon blast interrupted everything again, your father turned sharply toward the battle while smoke swallowed the deck.
Across the storm, Jungkook smiled. Not kindly, not cruelly either, but like he had just discovered something interesting. Like really seeing you there during battle amused him more than it should have. And somehow, despite everything happening around you, your pulse betrayed you instantly.
:<:<:<:<
Your father barked another order across the deck while sailors rushed past carrying cannon ammunition through smoke thick enough to burn your lungs, but your attention remained fixed entirely on the man standing aboard the Arirang. Jungkook still watched you like the battle around him was background noise instead of active warfare.
Rain slid down the sharp line of his jaw while lightning flashed across tattooed skin disappearing beneath his soaked shirt. Even from this distance there was something deeply unsettling about the way he carried himself - too calm, too confident, too alive in the middle of destruction. Men screamed around him, cannons exploded beside him, the ocean itself looked seconds away from swallowing both ships whole, yet he stood there smiling faintly like this was all some entertaining game only he understood properly.
Your pulse hammered painfully beneath your ribs because there was something horribly intimate about being noticed during chaos. Like out of everyone aboard your father’s ship, Jungkook had chosen you immediately. Another cannon blast shook the deck hard enough to send sailors stumbling sideways, but your eyes never left his. You hated yourself for it instantly. Hated the heat curling low in your stomach despite the freezing rain soaking through your clothes completely. Hated the dangerous curiosity spreading beneath your skin every time his gaze found yours again. Most of all, you hated that part of you wanted him to keep looking, wanted his eyes to keep raking over every inch of your soaking skin.
“MOVE!” Your father shoved one of the sailors away from falling debris before turning toward you again with fury written across every sharp line of his face. “This is the last time, y/n. Below deck now before I lock you there myself.”
“You’re impossible,” you snapped back immediately, raising your voice over the storm while seawater crashed violently across the ship around you.
“And you are too reckless.”
“You raised me this way.” The words struck harder than intended. Your father froze briefly, rain dripping from dark hair while cannon smoke curled around both of you thick enough to blur the world. For one small second, something almost guilty flickered across his face before disappearing beneath anger again. “I raised you to survive.”
“No,” you answered sharply, chest tightening painfully. “You raised me to obey.”
Another explosion erupted nearby, sending splintered wood flying across the deck while sailors shouted warnings over one another. Your father stepped closer instantly, lowering his voice despite the chaos surrounding you. “You think I keep you hidden because I underestimate you?”
“Don’t you?”
“I keep you hidden because this world destroys women first.” The confession caught you off guard immediately, he rarely spoke honestly enough for his words to hurt.
“And men?” you asked quietly.
Your father looked toward the Arirang briefly before answering. “Men become monsters trying to survive it.” Then his eyes found Jungkook standing across the storm. “Especially men like him.”
:<:<:<
Across the water, Jungkook leaned slightly against the helm while Taehyung appeared beside him laughing about something completely unrelated to the battle, because apparently pirates aboard the Arirang treated warfare like a casual inconvenience instead of near death.
“Oh? has someone caught your eye, jungkook?” Taehyung remarked with obvious amusement while reloading his pistol lazily. Everyone on the Arirang knew about their captain’s growing interest in you, it was no secret between them that Jungkook was determined to get his hands on you, and not let go. “She’s pretty enough to drown over.”
Jungkook ignored him entirely, eyes still fixed on you standing soaked through beside Captain Seo. There was something deeply wrong about the image in front of him. Captain Seo was notorious for brutality, for cruelty sharpened into leadership through fear and bloodshed. Men like him kept daughters hidden behind locked doors and political marriages, not standing openly on battle decks during storms with fury burning in their eyes brighter than lightning.
Yet there you were refusing to retreat even while cannons fired close enough to kill you instantly. Interesting. Very interesting.
“You’re doing the thing again,” Taehyung continued, grinning wider when Jungkook finally looked toward him.
“What thing.”
“The obsessive thing.” Even though Taehyung was still a sailor supposed to serve and obey jungkook, he didn’t hesitate to call him out on anything.
Jungkook’s eyes immediately went dark, his tongue poking his cheek. “I am not obsessed.”
Taehyung’s eyebrows rose at his denial. “You’ve kept your eyes on her for nearly two full minutes during active combat.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes immediately. “She’s Captain Seo’s daughter.”
“Exactly,” Taehyung answered dramatically. “Which means this ends terribly for everyone involved.”
Somewhere nearby, Jimin laughed loudly enough to be heard over cannonfire while Hoseok shouted from the rigging about damaged sails. The crew moved seamlessly around Jungkook despite the storm, each man terrifyingly capable in his own way. They were pirates, yes, but more than that - survivors tied together by loyalty stronger than blood. Jungkook trusted them with his life. There were few people in the world he could say that about anymore.
Another blast rocked the ship violently while Namjoon approached the helm carrying maps soaked nearly beyond recognition. “The storm’s getting worse,” he warned calmly despite the chaos around him. “If we continue this fight much longer, both ships sink before dawn.”
Jungkook finally tore his eyes away from you long enough to glance toward the horizon where waves rose taller by the minute. He knew Namjoon was right. Continuing this battle would be reckless even for him. But something stubborn twisted inside his chest at the thought of leaving now.
“Board them, then.” Jimin suggested casually while wiping blood from his mouth like he had simply bitten his tongue instead of surviving a fight. “Seo’s crew is already scrambling.”
“And drown halfway there?” Yoongi muttered from nearby while reloading another pistol with practiced calm.
“Brilliant strategy.” Seokjin sighed dramatically before pointing toward Jungkook. “He’s distracted.”
“I am not distracted.” Lie. Lie. Lie.
“You looked personally offended when the girl almost got hit by that cannon blast.”
Jungkook’s jaw tightened immediately, because unfortunately they were not wrong. When debris exploded near you moments earlier, genuine panic had shot through him before he could stop it. Ridiculous.
He did not know you. He barely knew your face. Yet something about watching you stand there beneath the storm made his chest feel painfully tight in ways he disliked immediately. “Not tonight,” Jungkook decided finally, voice quieter now. “We pull back before the storm worsens.”
Taehyung smirked instantly. “Ah. So we’re sparing Captain Seo because his daughter has pretty eyes.”
“We’re sparing Captain Seo because I enjoy surviving.”
“Sure,” Jimin answered with a grin. “That’s definitely the reason.”
The Arirang began turning slowly through the storm while cannonfire finally lessened between both ships, though tension still hung heavy across the ocean thick enough to choke on. You watched the movement carefully, confusion tightening your chest immediately because Jungkook had the advantage now. Your father’s ship had taken heavier damage. Several cannons were unusable. Half the crew looked seconds away from collapsing from exhaustion. If the Arirang continued attacking, there was a real possibility your father would lose.
Yet somehow Jungkook chose retreat instead. Your father noticed it too.
“Coward,” one of the sailors muttered nearby under his breath while watching the pirate ship disappear slowly into rain and darkness. “No,” your father answered coldly, eyes narrowed toward the horizon. “Strategist. He’s intelligent.”
The word settled heavily in your stomach because there had been nothing cowardly about the way Jungkook looked at you moments earlier. If anything, he looked dangerously certain, like meeting you had changed something inside him already. The thought should have terrified you more than it did. Instead, warmth spread low beneath your ribs remembering the faint curve of his mouth during battle.
Remembering the way his eyes held yours through smoke and thunder like he could see straight through every wall you spent years building around yourself. You hated how quickly your body responded to the memory. Hated the way your pulse still raced violently despite the battle ending.
Your father turned toward you sharply then, expression unreadable beneath rainwater and exhaustion. “You were looking at him.”
The accusation landed instantly. “No, I looked at an enemy ship.”
“No,” he answered quietly enough to frighten you more than shouting would have. “You looked at him.”
Before he could say anything, you turned away from the railing and went down below deck to your quarters. Your father’s eyes followed you the whole time, trying to figure something out.
:<:<:<
Your father’s accusation followed you long after the storm finally settled into uneasy silence. Even hours later, after sailors stopped shouting and the wounded were dragged below deck for treatment, the words still echoed painfully inside your head. You looked at him. The problem was that your father was right, and both of you knew it. You had looked at Jungkook too long. Longer than necessary. Longer than safe.
There had been hundreds of things demanding your attention during battle - blood soaking through the deck, cannons splitting wood apart, sailors screaming through smoke thick enough to suffocate on - yet somehow your focus narrowed entirely onto one man standing across the ocean like the storm itself answered to him. You hated how easily he lingered in your thoughts afterward. Hated the way your body betrayed you every single time you remembered his eyes finding yours through rain and darkness.
Your quarters felt unbearably small that night. Candlelight flickered softly against wooden walls while the ship creaked beneath restless waves, but sleep refused to come no matter how tightly you shut your eyes. Every time you tried, all you saw was Jungkook standing soaked by rain with gold rings flashing beneath lightning and that infuriating almost-smile tugging at his mouth like he already knew something about you no one else did.
Worse, your mind kept replaying the exact moment his gaze dragged slowly down your body - brief enough to deny, deliberate enough to ruin you completely. No man had ever looked at you like that before. Not hungry exactly, not soft either, like he wanted to take you apart carefully just to see what lived beneath all your sharp edges. The realization made heat crawl beneath your skin despite the cold air filling your cabin, your cheeks flushed as you began to think about how those gold rings would feel against the soft skin of your-
A sharp knock sounded against your door suddenly, pulling you violently from your thoughts before they could spiral further into dangerous territory. “Come in,” you called quickly, forcing your voice steady while sitting upright on the edge of your bed. The door opened immediately, revealing your father standing there looking older than usual beneath dim candlelight.
Exhaustion carved harsh shadows beneath his eyes while fresh cuts lined one hand from the battle repairs still happening above deck. For a moment neither of you spoke. Silence between you always felt heavier than arguments somehow. Your father finally stepped inside slowly, shutting the door behind him while the storm outside groaned softly against the ship. “You disobeyed me today,” he said at last, voice calmer now but no less dangerous because of it.
You crossed your arms instinctively. “You noticed.”
“Do not start again, y/n.” His exhausted tone made you almost feel bad, almost.
“Then do not come here looking for another fight.”
His jaw tightened immediately. “You think this is amusing?”
“No,” you answered quietly, anger slipping through despite yourself. “Usually your anger isn’t amusing at all.” Another silence settled heavily between you. Your father moved toward the small table near the window where maps and books he had purchased for you lay scattered carelessly across the surface.
His fingers brushed one absentmindedly before he spoke again. “Do you know what pirates do with daughters of rival captains?” The question sent something uneasy twisting through your stomach instantly because you understood what he was really asking. Do you understand what kind of man Jungkook is? You did know what they did; rape, extortion, kidnapping, murder.
You swallowed carefully before answering. “I know what you do with rival captains.”
Your father’s eyes darkened immediately.
“You think because I taught you navigation and knives that the sea will spare you?” he asked quietly, turning toward you fully now. “It won’t. Men out there would tear kingdoms apart for leverage.”
“And what about you?” The words escaped before you could stop them. “What exactly am I here for besides leverage?” The room went completely still. Your father stared at you as if the question physically struck him somewhere deep beneath years of hardened cruelty. For one devastating second, genuine hurt crossed his face so openly it nearly shattered your anger completely.
Then it vanished again beneath the familiar coldness he wore like armor. “You are my daughter.”
“You are my captain before anything else.” The honesty between you suddenly felt unbearable. You watched his throat tighten slightly while he looked away toward the window where black ocean stretched endlessly beyond the glass.
“Do you think I wanted this life for you?” he asked eventually, voice rougher now. Your mother had died soon after your birth. There was no one your father trusted enough on land to keep you, so he took you with him, forever cursing you to a life of danger, uncertainty, and overall lack of peace.
“I think you stopped asking what I wanted years ago.” Another painful silence followed immediately. Somewhere above deck sailors shouted while ropes strained against wind, but inside your cabin everything narrowed painfully between you and the man who raised you to survive without ever teaching you how to feel safe.
“The Arirang has been spotted near Blackwater Port,” your father finally said, changing the subject so abruptly it almost gave you whiplash. “We dock tomorrow.”
Your pulse betrayed you instantly. Your father noticed, of course he did, he was surely not going to let this go. His eyes narrowed slowly while suspicion sharpened across his expression like a drawn blade.
“I know you looked at him too long,” he repeated quietly.
Heat rushed violently into your face. Damn you. “I told you i looked at an enemy ship, our enemy.”
“You were looking at him, the whole time. Not at the ship. I may be ageing, y/n, but my eyes do not deceive me yet.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Men like Jeon Jungkook survive because they know how to charm weakness out of people to get what they want.” Something sharp flared inside your chest immediately at his words.
“Maybe people follow him because he treats them like people, not like conveniences.” The second the words left your mouth, regret crashed into you hard enough to hurt. You didn’t even know Jungkook, only that he was an enemy, but here you were defending him?
Your father stared at you in complete silence afterward, but somehow that silence frightened you more than shouting ever could. The hurt disappeared entirely from his face then, replaced instead by something colder. Disappointment maybe. Betrayal.
“Careful,” he warned softly, and somehow the quietness of it made your stomach twist harder than rage would have. “You know nothing about that boy.”
“And you do?”
“Enough.” He stepped toward the door slowly before stopping beside it without turning around. “Blackwater Port is full of men waiting for opportunities. You will remain beside the crew while we dock.”
“I am not a prisoner.”
“No,” he answered flatly. “You are my daughter. Which means people will use you the second I stop protecting you.”
“Protecting?” You laughed bitterly despite yourself. “Is that what this is?” Your father finally looked back at you then, exhaustion dragging heavily across his face.
“One day you will understand the difference between control and fear.”
“And one day maybe you’ll understand they feel exactly the same.” The words landed brutally between both of you, he said nothing afterward, just opened the door and left quietly while your chest ached with emotions too tangled to separate properly.
The second he disappeared, frustration crashed through you violently enough to steal your breath. You shoved away from the bed immediately and crossed toward the window, pressing your palms against cold wood while staring out at the dark endless ocean. Everything inside you felt restless suddenly. Angry, lonely, guilty.
Because part of you understood your father’s fear even while resenting it completely. The world was dangerous for women like you. Men would use you against him if given the chance. But another part of you burned with fury, because survival had become your entire life before you even had the opportunity to choose anything else for yourself. And somewhere beneath all of that confusion lived the far more dangerous truth - the thought of seeing Jungkook again sent heat curling through your body so intensely it frightened you.
:<:<:<
Blackwater Port smelled like smoke, whiskey, sweat, seawater, and sin. You loved it instantly. Music spilled from crowded taverns into narrow streets while merchants shouted over one another selling stolen goods beside crates of fresh fish and expensive fabrics. Pirates wandered openly here because no kingdom held authority strong enough to stop them. Wanted posters decorated walls like artwork while drunken sailors laughed loudly enough to drown out crashing harbor waves nearby.
Your father hated this place, which made you enjoy it even more. “Stay close, miss.” one of the crewmen warned while escorting you through crowded streets lined with gambling dens and overflowing taverns.
You grinned, too focused on the wild ambience around you to consider his words. “I know how ports work.”
The crewman just shook his head, he had known you for long enough to know you weren’t sensible at all. “You know how trouble works too, and yet somehow you still run toward it.”
“Maybe trouble is more interesting than being guarded constantly.” To you, it was true. You were sick of being followed around everywhere even through adulthood, sick of being treated as if you could not handle yourself.
“Your father specifically said not to let you wander.”
“My father says many things.”
The sailor sighed dramatically like he already regretted being assigned this responsibility. You hid your smile beneath your hood while weaving through crowded market stalls overflowing with stolen jewelry and imported silks. Blackwater felt alive in ways most ports didn’t. Messy, dangerous, honest about its corruption instead of hiding it beneath noble titles and polished manners.
Women laughed loudly here, men fought openly. Nobody pretended morality mattered more than survival, it should have felt ugly and uncivilised. Instead, freedom pulsed through the streets like another heartbeat entirely. You nearly forgot all about the night before while wandering through crowded alleys drenched in golden lanternlight. You nearly forgot about Jungkook, too, until you noticed sailors whispering suddenly near the docks.
“The Arirang arrived this morning.” Your pulse stumbled immediately. “Captain Jeon’s crew took half the eastern taverns already.” Heat curled low in your stomach before you could stop it. The Arirang was here. Jungkook was here, somehow that realization felt less like danger and more like temptation.
:<:<:<
The Arirang cut through Blackwater Port like it had never needed permission to exist in anyone’s waters, and the moment it anchored, the entire harbor changed its rhythm without asking. You noticed it in the way conversations lowered without stopping, in the way merchants suddenly looked twice before shouting prices, in the way sailors stopped laughing mid-sentence as if something in the air had reminded them that survival was not guaranteed here.
The ship itself was darker than anything around it, sails heavy and still like they were holding their breath, ropes creaking softly under the wind as if even wood understood who had arrived. At its edge stood Jungkook, not announcing himself, not performing authority, simply being it in a way that made everything else feel temporary. He didn’t move much at first, just scanned the harbor slowly, deliberately, like he already knew every person watching him was pretending not to.
Then his gaze shifted, cutting through distance, noise, and motion with a precision that felt almost unfair. When it landed on you, everything inside your chest tightened instantly, sharp and involuntary, like your body recognized something your mind refused to name. You told yourself it was anger, you told yourself it was caution, but neither explanation accounted for the heat creeping beneath your skin.
Jungkook didn’t smile, didn’t change his expression dramatically, but something in his eyes shifted - like confirmation, like memory returning, like he had already carried your image with him since the storm. You hated how your breath slowed instead of quickened, how your body didn’t move away even though every instinct said you should. That single second stretched longer than it had any right to, and when he finally moved again, it was only slightly, enough to make it feel like the world had chosen sides.
Your father instantly stepped up beside you like a storm given human shape, and you felt his presence before he spoke, heavy and controlled in a way that always meant he was calculating damage before it happened. His eyes locked onto the Arirang immediately, narrowing in recognition so sharp it looked almost like pain disguised as anger. “So he’s here,” he said quietly, though nothing about his tone was calm beneath the surface.
You didn’t look at him, not yet, because your attention still refused to detach from the ship across the water, from the man who stood there like he had no fear of anything alive or dead. “He was always going to come here eventually,” you answered, your voice steadier than you felt, because admitting uncertainty in front of your father always felt like surrendering something permanent.
“You say that like you’ve been expecting him,” He replied, and there was something in that observation that made your throat tighten slightly.
“I expect all threats eventually,” you said carefully, finally turning your head just enough to meet his eyes. That was a mistake, because he was already watching you instead of the ship.
“That is not what I asked,” he said, quieter now, more controlled, and somehow worse because of it. The wind between you both felt colder suddenly, like it had heard too much. “Do not look at him again,” your father added, not as a request, not even as an order spoken loudly enough for others to hear, but as something more personal than either of you liked acknowledging. You almost laughed at that, almost, because it was already too late for commands like that to mean anything.
Across the harbor, Jungkook had shifted slightly again, and you felt it immediately before you saw it - that subtle awareness, like his attention had sharpened even further as if he could sense the exact moment your father had spoken. And then Jungkook looked at you again, properly this time, longer than before, slower than before, like he was studying something that had already decided not to leave his thoughts easily.
The distance between ships meant nothing anymore. Not in the way it should have. Not in the way logic insisted it did. Because the moment Jungkook held your gaze this time, it didn’t feel like observation - it felt like intrusion, like he had stepped too close without moving his body. You felt it in your ribs first, then lower, then everywhere at once, an unsettling awareness that made your pulse behave incorrectly. His expression didn’t change much, but there was something undeniably focused in it now, something that made your skin feel too exposed even though you were fully clothed, fully aware, fully in control of absolutely nothing.
You should have turned away, you should have stepped back toward your father, toward the safety of structure and authority and rules you understood. Instead, you stayed exactly where you were, and that fact alone made something dangerous settle into place between you and the ship. Jungkook leaned slightly forward on the ship’s railing, just enough to shift the angle of his presence, and your breath caught immediately when you realized he was no longer simply looking at you - he was acknowledging you. Like the storm had not ended for him, like it had simply changed shape.
His lips parted slightly as if he might say something, though distance made it impossible to hear, and still you had the irrational certainty that whatever he was thinking was meant specifically for you. Behind you, your father’s voice lowered again, tighter now. “We leave this port tomorrow.” You didn’t respond immediately, because your attention was still trapped across the water. “Do you hear me?” he pressed.
“Yes,” you answered finally, though it sounded like it came from somewhere else entirely. Jungkook’s gaze held yours a moment longer, and then - slowly, deliberately - he tilted his head just slightly, as if acknowledging something unspoken between you. It wasn’t a greeting, or invitation. Something sharper, something that felt far too close to understanding. Then he turned away from the edge of the ship, but not before that final second of contact burned itself into you like it had weight.
:<:<:<
Night fell over Blackwater Port like a curtain that did not care what it covered. The harbor lights flickered against dark water, ships creaking softly in their moorings, voices fading into tavern walls and alleyways. You should have been asleep, you should have been anywhere else. Instead, you found yourself walking alone along the quieter edge of the docks, hood drawn up, footsteps slow and deliberate as if you were testing whether the ground itself would betray you. You told yourself you were thinking clearly. You told yourself you were simply restless after the day’s tension. But every step felt like it was leading somewhere you had already been warned not to go.
And then you saw him again. Not on his ship this time. On the dock below it. Jungkook stood partially in shadow, one hand resting loosely against a wooden post as if he had been waiting without urgency, without doubt, without concern for time at all. When he looked up and saw you, there was no surprise in his face. Only confirmation again, like earlier. Like always. “You came,” he said, voice low enough that it barely carried over the water.
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thanks for reading :< stay tuned for next chapter
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THE SEA DOES NOT FORGIVE- SERIES M.LIST
You are a pirate captain’s daughter caught between your father’s war and Jungkook, the enemy captain you shouldn’t want. After a battle at sea, you’re taken aboard his ship, where tension, loyalty, and attraction blur into something you can’t escape.
전정국 x fem!reader | pirate!au • mentions of pistols • angst • sexism • smut • kidnapping/hostage • 1600s •
CHAPTERS: 01. 02. 03. 04.
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:<: hii! i hope you all enjoy reading my new series as chapters continue to come out ;) i’ve put down 4 chapters for now but I’m not actually sure how many it’s going to turn into :< please leave suggestions or input if you wish to, it’s super appreciated here!!
hi honey 🌟 l loved jk tour headcanon ,ATEE
So i have a idea for one shots, when jk is your first bf and u are his first gf too, as a young jk and yn, In a funny situation, like RM or Hobi finds them kissing or something like that ;) hahah is My funny idea sis 🌟
📝📝📝📝📝coming up
hiii babes can you do headcanons where jk is your first boyfriend. so the reader has never been in a relationship before which tbh they’re kinda nervous to admit xx
YESSSSSS LET ME GET ON THIS RN

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Hii, If possible can you write okay so you and jungkook are best friends. and have been since childhood! your a dancer and he’s a idol so your schedules are complicated. your very close with each other’s families. so one day you visit his mom like usual and surprisingly he is there with his group visiting home too, which you didn’t know he was visiting. you guys are excited to see each other and everyone can see your chemistry ( you get introduced to everyone properly ) but you guys say y’all are “best friends” even his family see it. y’all flirt. (a lot)
…I like these ideas
Hiii I was the one who requested the Pieces Of Tomorrow fic and wow you definitely gave justice to my concept idea. 💗
I absolutely loved the way you wrote the last paragraph it gave the story a beautiful ending:
Healing didn’t erase the pain you both went through, and it didn’t make the loss disappear or rewrite what happened. What it did instead was something quieter and perhaps even stronger. It gave both of you the space to grow around the grief without letting it destroy everything else. Your story didn’t end in those hospital walls or in the silent nights that followed. It simply changed direction, and as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, Jungkook knows this is only the beginning of the next chapter.
Thank you so much for answering my request and writing this story!!! 💕
YOUREEEEE WELCOME ❤️
MAFIA HEADCANONS; JK
전정국 x fem!reader | mafia au • tattooed jk •
𖤐 some more headcanons for youu ;) guys be honest am i getting annoying with the headcanons now? -_-
headcanons m.list | main m.list | my archive.
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• mafia jk who hides injuries from you
— jungkook would absolutely try hiding injuries from you at first. showing up late at night with bruised knuckles and a split lip while acting like nothing happened. meanwhile you’re glaring at him from the doorway because he’s very obviously injured.
— “it’s nothing.”
— “jungkook.”
— “…looks worse than it is.”
— but the second you start cleaning his wounds? he completely melts.
— sitting quietly while your fingers brush against his skin, eyes locked on your face the entire time with this unreadable expression. because nobody takes care of him gently. nobody touches him softly. except you.
— he’d suddenly get clingy afterward too. pulling you into his lap while you complain about him being reckless, burying his face into your neck while his arms tighten around your waist.
— and when you start crying because you were worried? oh that destroys him completely. he’s immediately apologizing. kissing your hands. promising he’s okay while looking at you like he’d burn the world down just to stop you from hurting.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• the kind of man who always looks composed
— jungkook never raises his voice. that’s the first thing people notice about him.
— no matter how tense a room gets, he stays calm - sitting back in his chair with one hand resting against his jaw, expensive watch catching the low light while everyone else waits nervously for his reaction. he doesn’t need to act intimidating. he just is.
— which is why it’s so noticeable when you affect him, because nobody else can.
— you’ll be sitting beside him during some late-night meeting, legs crossed innocently under the table while he talks business in that smooth, controlled voice of his - and then your hand slides onto his thigh absentmindedly.
— that’s it. that tiny touch. but suddenly his sentence pauses for half a second too long. his fingers tighten slightly around the glass in his hand. his jaw shifts once. dark eyes flick toward you briefly before returning to the room like nothing happened.
— except now he’s distracted, and he hates being distracted.
— later, the second the room empties, he’s standing in front of you already loosening his tie with one hand.
— “you do that on purpose?” low voice. steady gaze. the kind of calm that feels way more dangerous than anger.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• mafia jk after long nights
— there’s something unfairly attractive about exhausted jungkook.
— coming home at three in the morning with his tie loose, hair messy from running his hands through it all night, black dress shirt rolled to his elbows revealing tattoos and veins beneath dim apartment lighting.
— he’d find you half asleep on the couch waiting for him and immediately soften. every single time.
— you can actually watch the tension leave his body when he sees you. his shoulders relax, his breathing slows, his expression changes into something quieter.
— then suddenly he’s standing between your knees while you sit there sleepy-eyed, his hands resting heavily on your thighs as he leans down just enough for his forehead to touch yours.
— “should be asleep.” except he says it while looking at your lips. and no matter how exhausted he is, he always kisses you like he’s been thinking about it all day.
— slow at first, warm hands sliding around your waist automatically, the faint smell of whiskey and smoke still clinging to him while he pulls you closer without even realizing it.
— those late-night kisses always turn dangerous because tired jungkook gets needy. less composed, more honest. he lingers longer, touches more, holds you tighter. like the rest of the world disappears the second he gets home to you.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• the version of him that watches more than he speaks.
— jungkook notices everything about you.
— every expression, every shift in your voice, every glance you think he didn’t catch.
— he could be across a crowded room surrounded by people trying to get his attention and still notice the exact second you start feeling uncomfortable.
— that’s what makes him dangerous, because he’s observant in this terrifyingly quiet way.
— you’ll be sitting beside him at some private party while conversations blur together around you, and meanwhile he’s completely focused on the way your fingers play with the rim of your glass whenever you’re bored.
— then suddenly his hand settles on your thigh beneath the table. firm. warm. possessive.
— not enough to draw attention, just enough to remind you he’s there. and when you look at him? he’s already watching you.
— dark eyes steady on yours while he continues talking to someone else like his hand ISN’T currently sliding slightly higher against your leg.
— that’s the thing about jungkook. he likes control. especially when it comes to you. he likes watching you struggle to stay composed while he remains perfectly calm.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• mafia jk who gets obsessed after realizing he loves you
— before you, jungkook kept distance from people naturally. everything in his life was calculated, careful, detached.
— then somehow you happened, and suddenly he’s acting in ways he never expected from himself.
— calling just to hear your voice for a minute, coming home earlier because he knows you’re waiting for him, sleeping better with your legs tangled together beneath expensive sheets while rain hits the windows outside.
— he becomes addicted to your presence embarrassingly fast. the sound of your laugh from another room immediately relaxes him, your hands in his hair after long nights almost put him to sleep, the smell of your perfume lingering on his clothes always distracts him during meetings.
— and he hates how much power you have over him because of it.
— sometimes he’ll look at you quietly when you’re not paying attention, expression unreadable, like he’s still trying to understand how someone so soft became the center of his entire life.
— then you notice him staring.
— “what?”
— “…nothing.”
— except it’s never nothing. it’s everything.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• mafia jk after arguments
— arguments with jungkook are intense because neither of you raises your voice. everything stays quiet, controlled, sharp around the edges.
— he’ll stand there listening to you with his hands in his pockets, jaw tight, expression unreadable while you tell him exactly why you’re upset.
— and the worst part? he listens. really listens. but when he gets frustrated, his voice drops lower instead of louder.
— “you think i don’t worry about you?”
— “you don’t show it.”
— “…because if i did, you’d realise how bad it actually is.”
— those conversations always end with too much tension hanging in the air, silence stretching, heavy eye contact. both of you still angry but standing too close together.
— then suddenly his hand is gripping your waist and he’s kissing you like he’s trying to end the argument without words. slow at first. frustrated. almost punishing in how intense it feels.
— and afterward he always exhales against your mouth like he’s been holding his breath the entire fight. because no matter how difficult things get, walking away from you is the one thing he genuinely can’t do.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• mafia jk when you wear his clothes
— there’s genuinely something wrong with the way this man reacts to seeing you in his clothes.
— especially after nights together. one of his dress shirts hanging off your shoulders. messy hair. bare legs disappearing beneath dark fabric that still smells like him.
— he completely loses focus. you’ll walk into the kitchen half asleep while he’s drinking coffee and suddenly he’s just staring. silent, completely still, eyes dragging slowly over you in a way that makes your stomach flip instantly.
— “what?”
— “you know exactly what.”
— next thing you know, he’s pulling you between his knees before you can even react properly, hands gripping your hips while his forehead presses against your stomach for a second like he’s collecting himself.
— because despite how composed he acts publicly, in private jungkook gets affected by you constantly. especially in moments like that.
— lazy mornings, quiet apartments. his fingerprints still faint against your skin while he looks at you like he wants to ruin his own self-control.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• mafia jk in bed after difficult days
— after hard days, jungkook gets quieter. less mafia boss, more exhausted man trying to hold himself together. those nights are usually silent.
— him laying behind you with one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the city glows outside the bedroom windows. fingers slipping beneath your shirt absentmindedly just because he needs physical reassurance that you’re there.
— sometimes he’ll press his face into the back of your neck and stay like that for several minutes without speaking. completely still, completely vulnerable in ways nobody else ever sees.
— and eventually he’ll murmur things so softly you almost miss them. that’s the version of jungkook that matters most. not the feared one, not the dangerous one. the one who only lets himself soften when he’s alone with you.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• mafia jk who gets mean when he’s jealous
— not angry. not cruel. just sharper.
— if he’s jealous, you notice it immediately by the way he talks to you afterward. sitting across from you with that calm expression while slowly taking off his rings one by one, listening to you explain that “nothing happened” with this look in his eyes that says he already knows.
— “mhm.”
— “jungkook.”
— “what? i’m listening.” except he’s barely listening at all because he’s too focused on the way your dress rides up your thighs when you shift closer to him.
— and honestly? he likes when you get a little nervous around him. likes watching you lose confidence under his attention, likes how quickly your attitude disappears once he grabs your chin gently and makes you hold eye contact with him.
— the tension with him becomes unbearable during moments like that. because he never rushes, never loses control completely, he just watches you carefully while his hand slides slowly higher against your leg, voice still calm.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• soft mafia jk in private
— nobody would believe how affectionate he is with you. outside, he barely reacts to anything. cold expressions, careful words, emotion hidden behind expensive suits and sharp eye contact.
— but in private? he’s constantly touching you. pulling you onto his lap while he works, resting his hand under your shirt absentmindedly while reading reports, kissing your shoulder whenever he passes behind you.
— jungkook likes having you close. always.
— sometimes he’ll be sitting on the couch late at night with you laying against his chest while one hand traces lazy patterns along your waist beneath your clothes without even thinking about it.
— quiet music playing, city lights outside the windows, his breathing slow against your hair.
— those moments are probably the most dangerous ones, because that’s when he lets himself look at you openly. completely soft, completely ruined by you.
— every now and then, he’ll tilt your chin up just to kiss you slowly for no reason at all - like he needs the reminder that you’re real. that despite everything ugly in his world, there’s still you.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• mafia boss jk who looks terrifying until it’s you
— everyone is scared of jungkook. one look from him across a room is enough to make grown men go silent. expensive black suits, tattooed hands covered in rings, cold eyes that never seem nervous about anything.
— except around you.
— because the second you walk into the room, his entire expression softens almost instantly.
— he’d be in the middle of discussing something serious with his men, then suddenly you appear and now he’s pulling you into his lap without even pausing the conversation.
— one hand around your waist, the other still casually holding a glass of whiskey. completely dangerous, completely obsessed with you.
— everyone notices. the way he keeps touching you absentmindedly, the way his eyes follow you everywhere, the way he gets quieter whenever you’re upset.
— you’re the only thing capable of calming jungkook down.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• mafia jk at formal events
— jungkook at fancy events is honestly unfair. tailored black suit, slicked-back hair, tattoos peeking beneath expensive watches and cuffs.
— everybody watches him when he enters a room. but he only watches you.
— he’d keep one hand on your lower back the entire night while guiding you through crowds like it’s instinct. leaning close to whisper comments into your ear during conversations just to make you smile.
— and the sexual tension? absolutely ridiculous.
— especially when he loosens his tie slightly later in the evening and looks at you across the room with dark eyes while sipping his drink slowly.
— that look alone would ruin you. he’d absolutely pull you into quiet hallways just for a moment alone too. fixing your necklace lazily. hands resting on your hips. murmuring “you look too pretty tonight” against your lips before kissing you slowly enough to make your knees weak.
— then walking back into the party afterward looking perfectly composed while you’re internally falling apart.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• mafia jk who’s obsessed with your attitude
— jungkook would absolutely love when you talk back to him. not disrespectfully, just enough attitude to challenge him. everyone else fears him, everyone else obeys immediately.
— but you? you roll your eyes at him, mock his smug comments, tell him when he’s being dramatic. and he’s obsessed with it.
— he’d sit there staring at you with that tiny amused smile while you complain about him, fingers tapping against his glass slowly like he’s enjoying every second.
— “you done?”
— “no.”
— “cute. keep going.”
— which only makes you more annoyed. sometimes he’d purposely provoke you too just to see your reaction. leaning too close, whispering things in your ear during meetings, smirking when you glare at him from across the room.
— because honestly? your attention is his favorite thing.
:<:<:<:<:<:<:<
• mafia jk behind closed doors
— the thing about this jungkook is that nobody would believe how soft he becomes with you in private.
— outside, he’s cold. controlled. dangerous.
— but alone with you? he’s exhausted.
— he’d collapse onto the couch with you laying against his chest while his fingers trace sleepy patterns along your spine. asking quietly about your day because hearing your voice relaxes him more than anything else. sometimes he’d just stare at you silently for a while like he still can’t understand how something so gentle exists in his life.
— and after hard days? he gets clingy. pulling you onto his lap, hiding his face in your neck, holding you so tightly like you’re the only thing keeping him human.
— he’d kiss your forehead constantly too. slow forehead kisses. sleepy shoulder kisses. silent “i love you” kisses pressed into your hair while the city lights glow outside his penthouse windows.
— because no matter how dangerous jungkook is to everyone else, with you he’s devastatingly soft.
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aaah I feel like I keep rambling on :)) also the repetition of ‘mafia jk’ is killing me rn lol
do you guys want a pirate jk fic first or mafia jk headcanons?
Pirate jk
mafia headcanons
just changed my masterlist + added a headcanons one :< looking back on it i probably should’ve just edited my original masterlist post but oh well

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headcanons m.list ೃ⁀➷
main m.list • my archive •
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JK;
𑣲⋆ TOUR HEADCANONS
𑣲⋆ BIKER HEADCANONS
𑣲⋆ BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS
𑣲⋆ MAFIA HEADCANONS
𑣲⋆ FIRST BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS
:<:<:<
main m.list ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
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s: smut • f: fluff • a: angst • headcanons m.list • my archive
JEON JUNGKOOK.
ONESHOTS;
01. 𖤐 UNPLANNED, UNAVOIDABLE, US. 【 f, a 】 \ 12.4k /
boyfriend!jk x sick!reader
when you fall sick, your beloved boyfriend Jungkook stays by your side as caretaker, but your symptoms turn out to be something neither of you expected - you’re pregnant. What follows is fear, uncertainty, and two people trying to navigate an unplanned future together while holding on to each other.
02. 𖤐 WHERE LOVE LEARNS TO SPEAK. 【 f 】 \ 4.8k /
girldad!jk x mom!reader
In a home filled with tired mornings, messy floors, and gentle kisses between chaos, love grows quietly. Between ‘ma’ and ‘dada,’ between sleepless nights and small victories, you and Jungkook learn that family isn’t built in perfect moments, it’s built in the ordinary ones that feel like home.
03. 𖤐 DEBUGGING YOU. 【 f 】 \ 2.6k /
datascientist!jk x fem!reader
Jungkook has loved you since university, building his life around you. When a frustrating night leaves you quiet over a creative block, he worries he’s done something wrong and tries everything; bad jokes, affection, and silly drawings to make you smile again. In the end, he realizes that sometimes simply holding you close is enough.
04. 𖤐 THE SPRING WE FOUGHT FOR. 【 s, f, a 】 \ 23.4k /
fisherman!jk x fem!reader
Jungkook has nothing but the sea, and you have everything but freedom. Somehow, against your parents, your worlds, and everything in between, you fall in love anyway.
05. 𖤐 ACROSS THE FENCE. 【 f, a 】 \ 15.6k /
idol!jk x ceo!reader
what starts as quiet familiarity with global superstar Jeon Jungkook slowly becomes something more, until a fake dating scandal forces distance, jealousy, and emotional chaos between you both.
06. 𖤐 PIECES OF TOMORROW. 【 f, a 】 \ 9.1k /
nonidol!jk x fem!reader
after a miscarriage, you fall into deep grief while your overwhelmed husband, Jungkook, stays by your side, quietly supporting you as you both struggle through loss. Over time, through patience, love, and small steps forward, you slowly heal and begin rebuilding your lives together.
SERIES;
𖤐 WHERE DUTY MEETS FIRE - 01. 02. 【 s, a 】
prince!jk x princess!reader
forced into a political marriage you never chose, You arrive in a foreign court determined to hate everything about it—especially the prince you’re meant to marry. But Jungkook is not easily dismissed; where you resist, he remains, unwavering and quietly intent on keeping a bond you refuse to accept. What begins as defiance turns into something far more dangerous, as you are faced with a choice you’ve never been given before—to keep running, or to stay and understand the one person who won’t let you go.
𖤐 THE SEA DOES NOT FORGIVE - 【 s, a 】
piratejk x fem!reader
You are a pirate captain’s daughter caught between your father’s war and Jungkook, the enemy captain you shouldn’t want. After a battle at sea, you’re taken aboard his ship, where tension, loyalty, and attraction blur into something you can’t escape.
