Untitled

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, palpitating through the frat house in uneven waves. 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

Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.

"Let's check out the beer house tonight." Hanni said, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "I heard it's packed with rich people on Fridays."

Your brows knitted together. "A beer house?"

A knowing smirk tugged at Hanni's lips. She swept her dark hair into a messy bun before pulling out the chair beside the table, giving the seat a light tap as she gestured for you to sit.

The moment you settled across from her, she propped her elbows on the table and leaned in…There was a familiar gleam in her eyes—the kind that only appeared whenever she had a new scheme brewing. 

"It's one of the most popular beer houses in the city," she explained. "The drinks alone cost more than what we spend on groceries in a week. People who go there don't think twice before throwing money around, which means they're exactly the kind of people we're looking for."

You couldn't help but picture it.

Crowded tables, loud music and half-empty bottles scattered across polished wooden counters. Men laughing far too loudly, their faces flushed from alcohol, expensive watches gleaming beneath the dim lights while thick leather wallets bulged inside the pockets of tailored trousers.

You frowned, unease settling in your chest.

"I'm pretty sure it'll be full of drunk old men, Hanni." you rested your chin against your palm. “Doesn't that sound a little... dangerous?”

Hanni dismissed the concern with a careless wave of her hand.

"They'll be too wasted to notice us," she said with a shrug. "Besides, those are the guys with money. A few missing bills won't even cross their minds."

She leaned even closer, lowering her voice as though she were about to reveal the greatest secret in the world.

"Just give them a sweet smile," she said, the corners of her lips curling into something dangerously playful. "Make them think you've taken an interest in them. Laugh at their terrible jokes, let them believe they're charming..." 

She snapped her fingers between the two of you. "And before they even realize what's happening, you've already walked away with their wallet—or better yet, their credit cards."

A life built on stolen fortunes, calculated manipulation, and carefully crafted deception.

The words no longer sting the way they used to. They've become as familiar as your own name, each one another thread woven into the person you've become. What once filled you with guilt now slips through your fingers as though it was never yours to carry.

Perhaps that's what desperation does.

It doesn't ask you to become someone else. It simply teaches you how to live with the stranger you've become.

Earlier that evening, you and Hanni gathered everything you had stolen throughout the month, laying each piece across the small wooden table between you.

"We only gathered six hundred dollars this month, Y/N... This won't be enough."

A phone, a handful of jewelry, two wallets, and a watch clattered against the worn wood before settling into a messy pile.

"This won't cover this month's rent..." she let out a weary sigh, her manicured nails tapping absentmindedly against the tabletop as she stared at the stolen valuables and the few crumpled bills scattered between them. "And we still have enrollment next month."

Your lips fell into a pout. "But the jewelry I stole is real gold."

You reached for the bracelet, turning it beneath the light. The polished links gleamed against your fingers.

Hanni only sighed again, the exhaustion in her expression deepening.

"It's low-karat gold, Y/N. And there's barely enough of it to be worth anything." she rubbed her temple before glancing at the rest of the pile. "If you manage to steal more next time, maybe we'll actually get something decent for it."

You looked back down at the bracelet, the weight of her words settling heavier than the gold resting in your palm.

You weren't born into wealth…from kindergarten until the day you graduated high school, scholarships carried you through your education. Without them, you doubted you would've made it that far. 

College was different.

Moving out had seemed like the responsible decision at the time. Renting a small apartment near the university was cheaper than spending money on transportation every day between your hometown and campus, and you couldn't bring yourself to ask your parents for more than they were already giving. 

So you packed your clothes into two worn-out bags, hugged your mother goodbye, listened to your father's endless reminders to eat properly, and promised them you would be fine.

Your father spent his days baking homemade bread before the sun had fully risen, while your mother worked quietly as a bookkeeper, carefully balancing numbers that never seemed to balance in your own household. Together, they earned just enough to keep food on the table and a roof over your heads.

Needs always came first.

Wants became something you learned to admire from a distance.

Yet, strangely enough, you never felt deprived.

Your home was small, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood where everybody knew everybody, but it was always filled with warmth. 

While your classmates spoke about family vacations abroad, arrived at school carrying luxury handbags, and replaced perfectly good shoes simply because a newer pair had been released, you found comfort in simpler things. 

The smell of freshly baked bread lingering in the kitchen before sunrise. The sound of your father humming while kneading dough. Your mother's gentle voice reminding you not to skip breakfast, even when she knew you were running late.

You loved that life.

More importantly, you loved the people who gave it to you.

Which was why, when college came, you couldn't bear the thought of asking them for more. Every dollar they handed you felt heavier than the last, weighted by sacrifices they never spoke about but could never hide. 

You watched your father work longer hours. You noticed your mother's tired eyes after another day spent staring at ledgers and receipts. They never complained…not once—but love has a way of revealing exhaustion long before words ever do.

So you promised yourself that you would become lighter.

You moved out. You searched for part-time jobs. You told yourself that no matter how difficult life became, you would survive without asking your parents to carry you any farther.

You really believed honest work would be enough.

Finding a cheap apartment hadn't been easy, and if there was one stroke of luck you could still thank the universe for, it was meeting Hanni.

You found her through a post looking for a roommate. She needed someone to split the rent, and you needed somewhere you could actually afford. 

The apartment sat only a few minutes away from the university, saving you the transportation costs you had spent countless nights calculating over and over again.

Hanni turned out to be easier to live with than you expected. She wasn't the type to spend recklessly or chase after things she didn't need. Like you, she stretched every dollar until there was nothing left to stretch. 

For the first few months, you lived off your savings.

Each rent payment made the envelope thinner. Each grocery trip reminded you that numbers disappeared far quicker than they were earned. You searched for work every chance you got, walking into cafés, convenience stores, restaurants—any place with a "Now Hiring" sign taped to the window.

When a fast-food restaurant finally hired you as a server, you thought things were finally looking up.

You couldn't remember the last time you had been so relieved. The excitement, however, didn't last very long.

The paycheck barely reached your hands before it already belonged somewhere else. Half disappeared into rent. Another portion went to groceries, transportation, and the endless expenses college quietly demanded. 

Scholarships covered your tuition, but not everything else. There were laboratory fees, books that professors insisted were mandatory, printed materials, projects, uniforms, and countless little payments that no one ever warned you about.

The money came in. It left even faster.

And no matter how carefully you budgeted every cent, by the end of each month, you always found yourself staring at the same conclusion.

It still wasn't enough.

Hanni, however, never seemed to struggle the way you did.

For reasons she never fully explained, she always had money tucked away somewhere. Not enough to live lavishly, but enough to ease the constant pressure that settled on your shoulders every time rent was due. 

Naturally, you asked where all that money came from. Hanni would only shrug, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as though the answer amused her.

"I have a lot of sidelines," she'd say, never bothering to explain any further. 

It was vague enough to end the conversation, yet suspicious enough to keep your curiosity alive.

Eventually, you stopped asking…but you never stopped noticing. 

One afternoon she'd come home carrying the newest phone model, casually placing it on the kitchen counter while she searched the refrigerator for something to eat. 

The following day, it would already be gone. 

Sometimes it was a watch. Other times it was a gold necklace or a designer wallet. The items constantly changed, disappearing almost as quickly as they appeared, but you never questioned her. 

It wasn't until the two of you had grown close enough that she finally trusted you with the truth. 

You remembered expecting disgust to settle in your stomach the moment she confessed. Instead, all you felt was curiosity. 

Hanni told her story so casually, as though she were recalling an ordinary childhood memory instead of admitting to a crime.

She learned how to steal when she was still a little girl. Whenever she picked up a toy at a store or tore open a packet of snacks while trailing beside her mother, no one questioned her. People rarely suspected children, and Hanni learned that long before she understood the weight of what she was doing.

What started as childish curiosity slowly became instinct. Instinct became skill, skill became confidence, and confidence eventually became survival. 

By the time she reached adulthood, stealing was no longer something she occasionally did—it was simply how she made a living. 

She wasn't born into comfort either. Her family had struggled just as much as yours, if not more, and perhaps that was why you found it difficult to judge her. 

You knew what it felt like to lie awake at night wondering how another month would pass. 

You knew what desperation looked like because you had seen it reflected in your parents' exhausted smiles, hidden behind reassuring words they never truly meant. Maybe that was why her confession never horrified you.

Desperation has a peculiar way of changing people.

Because somewhere deep inside, in a place you refused to acknowledge, you understood exactly why she had chosen this path.

"You should blend in. Don't wear those ridiculous jackets or black caps." Hanni chuckled, uncapping the marker in her hand before turning to the small whiteboard hanging beside the refrigerator. 

She drew little stick figures and arrows as if she were giving a university lecture instead of teaching you how to commit crimes. There were circles around the words confidence, timing, and exit, each one underlined twice before she tapped the marker against the board. 

It sounded embarrassingly simple…but it wasn’t.

Your first theft had been nothing more than a granola bar from a convenience store, yet your hands had trembled so violently you almost dropped it before reaching the exit. Your heart pounded against your ribs with enough force to convince you everyone around could hear it.

Every customer who glanced in your direction felt like security in disguise, every beep from the cashier sounded like an alarm, and by the time the automatic doors slid open behind you, your palms were slick with sweat around the tiny snack bar you had risked so much to steal.

Hanni, meanwhile…walked out carrying a bottle of wine, two bags of cheetos, and three packs of mini m&m's tucked somewhere beneath her oversized cardigan. She looked utterly unbothered, stopping only to ask whether you wanted to eat at the nearby park before either of you went home. 

You remembered staring at her with your mouth slightly open, unable to understand how someone could steal so much and still have the composure to worry about dinner.

She only laughed. "It gets easier."

You hated how right she was.

Over the following weeks, your trembling hands gradually learned to stay still. You learned that people rarely questioned someone who acted like they belonged. 

Confidence, Hanni often said, was the greatest disguise anyone could wear, and manipulation was nothing more than convincing people to believe the version of you that benefited them most. 

You practiced smiling at strangers. You practiced maintaining eye contact. You practiced walking away without looking back.

Little by little, it became easier to silence the guilt.

Two months later, you could finally say you were improving. Your movements were steadier, your excuses more believable, your lies smoother than they had ever been before. 

Even so, whenever you compared yourself to Hanni, you still felt like an amateur watching a professional at work. She stole with an ease you doubted you would ever possess.

"Hanni, I'm not good at seducing people... you know that." you let out a groan, dropping your forehead onto the table with a dull thud. 

For all the confidence you had slowly learned to fake while stealing, anything involving men was an entirely different story. 

You have no experience.

Your thefts still involved people, but you always kept your distance…especially from men. You waited for moments of carelessness, slipping valuables from unattended bags, distracted shoppers, or pockets left carelessly exposed before disappearing into the crowd.

It was safer that way. The rewards were smaller, perhaps, but it meant you never had to charm, distract, or make someone lower their guard just to steal from them.

After all, you were still an amateur.

Romance had always seemed like a luxury you couldn't afford. 

While your classmates spent their weekends going on dates or gossiping about their newest crushes, you spent yours calculating expenses and wondering whether instant noodles could count as dinner for the fourth night in a row.

Hanni had pointed it out countless times before.

According to her, manipulating people wasn't always about lying. 

With men, it was about making them believe they had a chance with you. 

The problem was…you had no idea how to do that. 

You didn't know how to flirt, how to bat your eyelashes, or how to laugh at someone's terrible jokes without making it painfully obvious you were pretending. The thought alone made your stomach twist into nervous knots.

Hanni rolled her eyes, dismissing every excuse before you even had the chance to finish making one.

"Oh, stop it." she waved a hand dramatically. "You're very pretty, Y/N. Don't give me that bullshit! Just smile at them…one cute little smile and I guarantee they'll be tripping over themselves to impress you."

You buried your face deeper into your arms."But, Hanni—"

"No buts." she sprang to her feet before you could protest again, practically skipping toward her bedroom. A moment later, she returned with two shopping bags swinging from her hands, the grin on her face growing impossibly wider.

"Besides, I already bought us dresses for tonight." she giggled.

Oh, you were doomed.

"This is so short," you complained, tugging at the hem of the black spaghetti-strap dress for what had to be the tenth time. Every time you managed to pull it down another inch, it simply rode back up the moment you took another step, as though the fabric itself was determined to embarrass you.

Hanni had insisted on doing everything herself. Your hair fell in loose, natural waves over your shoulders, soft enough to hide the nervous rise and fall of your breathing. She had done your makeup too, dusting the slightest touch of glitter across your eyelids that shimmered every time the streetlights caught your face. 

Even before you reached your destination, your feet were already protesting against the thin, strappy heels wrapped around your ankles, each step reminding you that beauty demanded sacrifices you had never volunteered to make.

Hanni glanced at you before letting out an amused laugh. "I can't see your panties from here, so you're fine."

You shot her an unamused look, earning another laugh from her.

Unlike you, Hanni looked completely at ease. 

Her dark green off-the-shoulder dress hugged her figure effortlessly, paired with matching heels that clicked confidently against the pavement. Her hair was swept into a messy updo that somehow looked intentionally elegant rather than rushed, and with the confidence she carried herself, no one would ever guess that the two of you struggled to pay rent every month.

Together, you looked exactly like the kind of girls who had never worried about money a day in their lives.

Which was almost funny.

Because hidden beneath expensive-looking dresses and carefully applied makeup were two women desperately hoping to walk away with someone else's wallet, watch, jewelry—or anything valuable enough to buy another month of survival.

"Okay, let's order a drink first and look around," Hanni said, her voice barely audible beneath the chatter spilling out from inside the beer house as she pushed the heavy wooden door open.

You followed closely behind, your heartbeat already beginning to pick up.

You had spent the entire walk convincing yourself that the place would be filled with loud, drunken old men slumped over tables, too intoxicated to notice a missing wallet or an expensive watch. Instead, your expectations dissolved the moment your eyes adjusted to the dim amber lights.

The place was crowded…not just with old men, but with all kinds of people. Groups of friends occupied long wooden tables, raising glasses every time the football match playing on the massive television reached an exciting moment. Couples sat tucked away in quieter corners, talking over bottles of beer, while businessmen who looked as though they had come straight from the office loosened their ties and laughed with colleagues over overflowing pitchers.

Your gaze drifted toward the long wooden bar stretching across one side of the room, shelves behind it neatly lined with bottles you had only ever seen locked behind glass displays. The smell of grilled meat and fried food lingered in the air, mixing with the bitter scent of beer, while a small band adjusted their instruments on the stage, preparing for the night ahead.

You quietly took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous flutter building inside your chest. 

You had been stealing for two months now, yet every new place made you feel like it was your first all over again. The fear of getting caught never truly disappeared—it only learned how to hide beneath your smile.

Hanni walked through the crowd without a hint of hesitation, weaving between tables before claiming two empty seats near the stage. When the server approached, she greeted him with an easy smile, the kind that belonged to someone who had come for nothing more than a quiet drink after a long week.

"Two draft beers, please."

The server nodded before disappearing toward the counter.

Hanni waited until he was out of earshot before her eyes swept across the room once more, lingering only for a second before the corner of her lips slowly lifted.

"I found your table." Hanni raised a brow, the corner of her lips curling into a knowing smile.

You pouted, instinctively following her gaze as your eyes wandered across the crowded beer house. Round wooden tables filled nearly every corner, occupied by groups of men laughing over clinking bottles, scattered glasses, and the remnants of another round.

Of course she'd choose men. You had long grown used to Hanni's reasoning.

Men were easier to distract…and according to her, far easier to manipulate than women.

"Which one?" you asked, squinting as you searched through the sea of unfamiliar faces.

Hanni let out a quiet laugh before leaning closer, her perfume briefly overpowering the scent of beer lingering in the air. "The third table near the bar," she whispered, careful not to draw attention. "They look a little older than us. Not too old, though." 

She grinned mischievously. "I'd say they're giving daddy vibes."

You frowned at her. “Ugh, Hanni!”

Slowly, your gaze followed the direction she had subtly pointed, finally landing on the group she had been watching.

There were seven of them gathered around one of the larger tables, completely absorbed in their own conversation. They couldn't have been much older than Hanni had guessed, perhaps somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties. 

Dressed in simple shirts, rugged jeans, and jackets carelessly draped over the backs of their chairs, they looked more like friends unwinding after a long week than the wealthy businessmen you had imagined on your walk there.

At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about them. Yet the longer you watched, the easier it became to notice the details.

A watch that caught the light every time one of them lifted his beer. A phone left face-up beside an overflowing ashtray without a second thought. Car keys, wallets, and cigarette packs lay scattered across the wooden table between bottles of beer and half-finished baskets of bar snacks, abandoned in the comfort of good company.

They laughed loudly, occasionally teasing one another, while wisps of cigarette smoke curled lazily into the air above them. They were so engrossed in their own little world that they never once looked your way.

"What do you think?" Hanni asked, her eyes never leaving the group near the bar."I say you target that table while I take the one near the door."

Your gaze lingered on the men for another moment before dropping to the table between you. Almost as if on cue, the server returned with your drinks, carefully placing two glasses of draft beer in front of you. Tiny bubbles rushed to the surface beneath a thick layer of foam, the chilled glass immediately collecting beads of condensation.

Hanni thanked him with a smile before wrapping her fingers around her glass. She looked... excited. There was always a certain spark in her eyes before a job, one you had grown familiar with over the past two months. 

While your stomach twisted itself into knots, hers seemed to settle. The closer she came to danger, the calmer she became.

Your fingers traced the condensation gathering around your own glass as you quietly stared into the golden beer. The thought of walking up to a table full of strangers, pretending to be interested in one of them, was enough to make your stomach tighten. 

You had spent the last two months learning how to steal, how to lie without stumbling over your words, how to smile convincingly enough for people to lower their guard. 

But flirting? That was something entirely different.

Still...

You glanced down at the dress hugging your figure before absentmindedly smoothing the fabric over your thighs. Hanni had spent her own money buying it for you. She had curled your hair, done your makeup, and patiently convinced you that you looked like you belonged in a place like this. She had done everything she could to make tonight successful.

The least you could do was try.

The numbers flashed through your mind before you could stop them, reminding you how little time you had left before another payment was due. 

You drew in a slow breath before finally looking back at Hanni, offering her a small smile that carried far more determination than confidence.

"Alright," you said with determination. "I promise I'll do my best."

Her face immediately brightened. "That's my girl!"

She lifted her glass toward yours with a grin so wide it was almost contagious.

"Cheers to that, baby."

The soft clink echoed between you, disappearing almost instantly beneath the laughter, music, and the constant hum of conversations filling the beer house.

Easy…smile, flirt and steal.

After a couple of minutes spent nursing your drinks and quietly familiarizing yourselves with the beer house, Hanni caught your eye from across the table. She gave the slightest nod—a silent signal the two of you had long grown accustomed to. 

It was time.

You rose from your seat, smoothing the wrinkles from your dress before letting your fingers comb through your hair, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear. Hanni disappeared into the crowd without another word, already making her way toward her own target, while you headed in the opposite direction, forcing yourself to wear the kind of smile she had spent weeks teaching you. Soft enough to seem approachable…confident enough to belong.

The barstool closest to their table sat empty.

You slipped onto it, offering the bartender a polite smile as he passed by before pretending to study the rows of bottles displayed behind the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention never truly left the table behind you.

Your heartbeat steadied, not because you were any less nervous…but because your mind had finally begun doing what Hanni had trained it to do.

Observe.

A few wallets lay carelessly on the wooden table, abandoned without a second thought by men too engrossed in conversation to notice their surroundings. Your fingers twitched ever so slightly.

Tonight, maybe two wallets would be enough. Any more than that would only invite unnecessary attention.

Your gaze lingered for another second before drifting higher, carefully studying each of the men one by one. 

If you were going to approach someone tonight, it couldn't be just anyone. You needed the one who looked the wealthiest, the one whose watch alone could cover next month's rent, whose jewelry might be worth more than everything you and Hanni had managed to steal over the past few months combined.

You couldn't flirt with all of them. So if you were going to take the risk, you might as well choose the wealthiest one.

Your eyes drifted from one man to another, careful not to linger for too long. 

One wore a pair of silver earrings that matched the chain resting against his chest. Another—the one with dimples that appeared every time he laughed—had an elegant silver watch wrapped around his wrist, the polished metal glimmering beneath the warm lights whenever he reached for his beer. The man beside him looked much simpler, dressed in an ordinary black shirt without a single piece of jewelry to catch your attention, and you dismissed him almost immediately.

You kept looking.

Until your gaze landed on a tattooed hand lazily wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle.

Silver rings adorned nearly every finger, each one different from the next, and just above them rested a watch that looked far too expensive to belong in your world. Your eyes followed the slow movement of his hand as he lifted the bottle to his lips, only to notice the gold chain disappearing beneath the collar of his dark shirt. 

His ear was adorned with several silver earrings, each one catching the amber light whenever he turned toward one of his friends. When he tilted his head back for another sip, the small silver ring through his lower lip glinted just as brightly.

Then your gaze wandered lower…a pair of Porsche keys hung carelessly from the belt loop of his black jeans, swinging gently whenever he shifted in his seat as though they were nothing more than an ordinary keychain.

You quietly looked away before he could catch you staring, your heartbeat quickening as your fingers curled around the wooden counter.

Target locked.

You immediately order a shot of tequila, not to get drunk, but to act drunk.

Hanni had told you that people lowered their guard around someone who seemed tipsy. A little laugh that lingered too long, a gaze that wandered a little too often, movements just clumsy enough to look believable. It made approaching strangers easier.

You thanked the bartender with a polite smile before resting your elbow against the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention drifted back to the table.

His back was mostly facing you, making it difficult to study him without being obvious. Every now and then he'd turn toward one of his friends, giving you a brief glimpse of his side profile before looking away again, and somehow those fleeting seconds were enough for you to notice far more than you intended.

His jaw was clean and sharply defined, catching the amber glow whenever he tipped his head back to drink. A straight nose balanced his features effortlessly, while soft strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, shifting every time he ran a hand through them. Every so often, you caught sight of his dark round eyes, softened by the alcohol he'd been drinking, their usual alertness replaced by a lazy heaviness that made them unexpectedly... pretty.

Your brows knitted together. 

You were supposed to be memorizing his belongings Y/N! Not his face!

The bartender slid your tequila across the counter. You murmured a quiet thank you before lifting the glass to your lips, taking only a small sip. The burn barely had time to settle in your throat before your eyes sneakily wandered back toward the table.

"Huh?"  

His seat was empty!

Your brows furrowed as your eyes searched the group, confusion replacing the confidence you had spent the last several minutes trying so hard to build.

"Looking for me?” a deep chuckle sounded from behind you.

Your eyes widened, you turned so quickly you nearly knocked your drink over.

Even with you sitting down, he towered over you with ease, one side of his body leaning casually against the polished wooden counter. Up close, the details you had only managed to steal glances of moments ago became impossible to ignore—the silver rings decorating his fingers, the tattoos stretching over his right arm, the small hoop piercing his lower lip, and those heavy-lidded eyes now looking directly into yours.

The corner of his mouth curled upward…amused.

As though he'd caught you doing something you weren't supposed to.

"H-Hi!" you greeted, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended as you struggled to hide how badly he had startled you.

What the fuck.

For a split second, every lesson Hanni had drilled into your head disappeared. Your carefully rehearsed smile, your excuses, the confident persona you had spent two months trying to build—they all vanished the moment he caught you off guard.

He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

"May I help you?"

Your own brows drew together before you could stop them, your smile faltering for the briefest moment.

"Hm?"

"You kept looking at me." he chuckled, low and amused.

There wasn't even a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as though he'd caught you staring several times already and had simply decided to humor you instead of calling you out for it. 

Heat rushed to your cheeks almost instantly, your mind scrambling for something—anything…that would keep your act from falling apart before it had even begun.

Trying to save yourself, you immediately gave him a flirty smile.

"Oh..." a soft giggle escaped your lips, "Was I that obvious?"

You tilted your head ever so slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before looking back up at him through your lashes exactly the way Hanni had told you to. 

When he took a step closer, your breath hitched. 

His thick black boots brushed against the legs of your stool, and with the way he positioned himself, his broad frame nearly shielded you from the rest of the room. It wasn't intentional…or maybe it was—but suddenly the chatter of the beer house seemed much farther away than it had a second ago.

"Uh-huh," he murmured, the single sound barely above a whisper.

The faint scent of mint lingered beneath the beer on his breath, close enough to make your thoughts blur for a moment. Up close, the gold chain resting against his collarbone shimmered softly, layered alongside several silver necklaces that framed the base of his neck. 

Before your courage had the chance to abandon you…you slowly lifted a hand and rested it around the back of his neck, your fingertips grazing the cool metal chains lying against his skin.

"You're cute," you whispered, biting lightly on your lower lip as your fingers idly toyed with one of the necklaces. Every movement had been rehearsed in your head a dozen times before tonight, yet none of them felt natural now that they were happening. You only hoped he couldn't tell.

Fuck, he’s so handsome up close!

His head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering across his face before his gaze slowly drifted downward. It lingered far longer than you were prepared for, tracing the exposed skin above your dress before continuing lower. Instinctively, you fought the urge to tug at the hem that had ridden higher on your thighs.

Don't. Fake it until you make it.

"I am?" he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest smirk. His tongue swept across the silver ring piercing his lower lip before he leaned even closer, his lips hovering just beneath your ear.

"Yeah," you breathed, forcing confidence into your voice despite the frantic beating of your heart. "Want you."

The words felt foreign leaving your mouth. Still, they had the desired effect.

As his attention remained fixed on the spot where your pulse fluttered, your fingers subtly found the clasp hidden beneath the chains around his neck. 

One careful movement...that was all it would take.

You had barely begun to unhook it when his hand closed firmly around your wrist.

Your heart stopped. For one horrifying second, you were certain he'd caught you.

"Let's go to my car."

What?

"H-Huh? I..."

He lifted his head just enough for your eyes to meet his. The lazy amusement from earlier had disappeared, replaced by something darker. 

"I can't fuck you here."

Your eyes widen, fucking was your limit!

Your gaze drifted to the thick gold necklace resting against his chest... the leather wallet tucked carelessly into his pocket... and the sleek black car waiting only a few steps away.

Fuck it.

You followed him in silence, the cool night breeze brushing against your exposed skin and reminding you just how short your dress was. 

Your gaze remained fixed on his broad back as he unlocked the car, your throat tightening around a nervous swallow.

Earlier, when you had walked past Hanni, you had nearly burst into tears at the sight of her giving you an approving nod, silently cheering you on while she remained at her table, busy charming the men around her.

You couldn't back out now. Not after she'd placed this much faith in you.

The parking lot was quiet, a little farther from the beer house…the music fading into the distance. When he turned around, you gathered every ounce of courage you had left and greeted him with the sweetest smile you could muster.

Your mind raced, thoughts crashing into one another until only three remained.

First, find a way to slip the gold chain from around his neck. The wallet would come next, once he finally let his guard down.

Second, you were not going to fuck him. 

It didn't matter how broad his shoulders were, how unfairly handsome he looked, or how pretty his eyes became whenever he smiled.

Your hormones could cry about it later.

Third, whatever happened tonight... for the love of God, do not get caught.

He looked down at you, one brow lifting ever so slightly when he noticed the faint tremble in your legs.

"Get in."

He pulled the backseat door open for you, and you offered him a small, flirty smile before carefully slipping inside. 

The leather seat gave beneath your weight with a quiet creak, and for the briefest moment, you convinced yourself you'd have a second to steady your breathing, to gather the scattered pieces of your thoughts before facing him again.

The hope didn't last.

The car shifted as he climbed in after you, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, final sound that seemed to swallow the last bit of space inside the cabin. 

Your pulse faltered, the hem of your dress had ridden higher than you'd intended, exposing far more of your thighs than you were comfortable with, the fabric inching dangerously close to revealing the lace of your panties. Every instinct urged you to smooth it back into place, but you stopped yourself.

Focus, Y/N! You need to seduce him!

You had barely opened your mouth, ready to deliver one of the corniest pickup lines Hanni had relentlessly drilled into your head, when his hand suddenly pulled your hair. 

Your lips parted in surprise as he tugged you toward him, leaving no room for hesitation before his lips crashed against yours.

A breathless whimper escaped you, your eyes widening for only a second before they fluttered shut. His fingers tightened around the hair above your nape, angling your head exactly how he wanted it, his kisses deep, hungry, and impatient.

The bitter trace of beer lingered on his tongue, flooding your senses until your thoughts blurred at the edges. Your body yielded without resistance, melting effortlessly against his as he drew you closer, the strength behind the movement making you feel almost weightless in his hold.

For a fleeting moment, you forgot your mission.

His tongue slipped against yours with practiced ease, stealing every coherent thought from your mind before instinct finally caught up. 

You slowly lifted your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the softness of his hair as though simply indulging in the kiss. Then, careful not to rush…they drifted lower, brushing over the warm skin of his nape before gliding toward the necklace resting against his neck.

“Open your mouth wider,” he rasped, pulling away just enough to speak. A string of saliva stretched between your mouths as his other hand slid around your neck…his long, tattooed fingers wrapping firmly around your throat in a possessive grip.

Your eyes widened…one of your hands remained tangled behind his nape, your fingers still toying with the chain around his neck, desperately searching for the tiny clasp hidden beneath his hair. 

Too distracted to obey his request… he suddenly tugged your hair harder.

A startled gasp escaped your lips, and he seized the opportunity—his tongue slipping hot and messy into your parted mouth, kissing you with a hunger that left you no chance to catch your breath.

You barely kissed him back, surrendering to the pace he set as your mind gradually emptied. Somehow, through the dizziness clouding your head, your fingertips continued their quiet search along the cool metal resting against his skin, praying to find the clasp before he noticed.

“Mmph!”

A soft whimper caught in your throat when he bit down harshly on your lower lip. The hand around your neck tightened, his fingers pressing deeper into your throat until your breath hitched, the pressure almost choking you.

“What are you doing?” he groaned, pulling you away from his lips before effortlessly lifting your entire body onto his lap. 

Large hands settled on your hips, guiding your legs to either side of him until you were straddling him completely, your dress riding embarrassingly higher over your thighs in the process.

“Hmm?” you murmured, blinking up at him through hazy eyes, your lips swollen and glistening from his relentless kisses.

He tilted his head, studying you in silence. 

The intensity of his gaze made something tighten inside your chest. Your confidence, already hanging by a thread, began to unravel beneath his eyes alone, and without thinking, your hands abandoned the necklace altogether, drifting back into his hair as though that had been your intention from the very beginning.

“Kiss me back,” he rasped.

A quiet breath of relief nearly escaped your lips. He hadn't noticed.

You offered him the sweetest smile you could manage before leaning in again, your heart pounding so violently you were certain he could feel it through your chest. You kissed him as carefully as you could, trying to mimic the way he'd kissed you only moments ago, parting his lips with hesitant eagerness, hoping it looked natural enough to fool him.

To your surprise, he let you…he didn't take control or deepen the kiss. Instead, he simply let you explore him at your own pace.

Heat crept up your neck and settled across your cheeks, embarrassment blooming beneath your skin as the realization slowly dawned on you. 

He wasn't following your lead. 

“Baby...” he chuckled between kisses, his tattooed hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, holding your face steady with a firm grip. “You're not kissing me properly.”

Embarrassment rushed through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy, your inexperience laid bare after only a few clumsy kisses. 

Determination quickly swallowed the humiliation. 

Before you could think twice, you leaned in again, kissing him with far more urgency than before, desperate to prove that you knew exactly what you were doing.

The moment he finally kissed you back, a breathless whimper nearly escaped you. 

He kissed you effortlessly, guiding the rhythm while you struggled to keep up, your breaths already turning shallow enough that you were certain you looked seconds away from hyperventilating.

Determined not to lose yourself completely, you bit down on his lower lip, earning a low, gravelly groan that vibrated against your mouth. The sound alone made your stomach flutter. Taking advantage of the distraction, your trembling hands drifted back to the chain around his neck, fingertips carefully searching beneath his hair for the tiny clasp.

Your eyes fluttered shut when he sucked on your tongue, warmth rushing across your ears and down your neck so quickly it almost burned. It was your first time being kissed like this—his kisses were shamelessly lewd, all heat and desperation. Saliva glistened between your mouths whenever he pulled away, only to capture your lower lip again with another lingering suck that stole the air from your lungs. 

Before long, the only sounds filling the car were the quiet, wet presses of your mouths and the uneven rhythm of your breathing.

You couldn't tell whether he was simply that good at kissing or if your lack of experience made every touch feel overwhelming. Either way, the way his hand remained wrapped around your jaw, firmly angling your head exactly where he wanted it, sent a shiver running down your spine.

A soft, helpless moan escaped your lips when you felt him spit into your mouth without breaking the kiss. The sensation sent heat unfurling through every inch of your body, your knees threatening to weaken even from where you sat on his lap. 

Your thoughts dissolved into a haze, and before you realized it, the fingers that had been so carefully searching for the clasp of his necklace had gone slack, your mission slipping further out of reach with every slow, lingering pull of his mouth.

“Grind on me.” he groaned.

Your eyes widened, before you could even process his words, both of his hands settled around the curve of your hips, guiding your body into a slow, deliberate roll against his lap.

“W-Wait—” 

His mouth found your neck, scattering soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin. Goosebumps rippled across your body as his lips traveled lower, his grip never once leaving your hips as he slowly rocked them back and forth, drawing helpless whimpers from your lips.

Heat rushed to your cheeks the moment you felt the firm outline of his hard cock pressing against the thin fabric of your panties.

“Roll your hips, baby.” he grunted.

His teeth grazed your neck before his tongue soothed the sting, the cool metal of his lip piercing dragging lightly over your throat.

Your eyes squeezed shut…losing yourself completely as you followed the guidance of his hands, the subtle throbs of his cock impossible to ignore through the layers separating your bodies.

“That’s it,” he praised, looking down at your rolling hips.

“Oh, gosh…” you moaned.

You couldn't comprehend how dirty and lewd this was, grinding against a stranger's cock while convincing yourself that you wouldn't fuck him.

His clothed mushroom tip grazed the apex between your thighs as he guided your hips through another slow rub, drawing a startled gasp from your lips. A wave of warmth unfurled low in your stomach, spreading until it settled heavily between your legs.

Fuck, you were getting so wet.

Your body burned with a growing tension you didn't know how to quiet. The fabric of your panties clung uncomfortably against your cunt. When his hands finally cupped your breasts over the thin fabric of your dress, a shaky breath caught in your throat. 

Your fingers instinctively clutched at his shoulders for balance as he continued to maneuver your body with effortless ease.

“Oh my-”

His lips trailed lower…you sucked in a sharp breath when they reached the swell of your cleavage, your heart stumbling the moment you caught sight of his tongue slipping between the soft curve of your breasts, tasting the narrow valley created by the tight fabric hugging your chest.

“Hmm... so soft,” he murmured.

Before you could even process the praise, he leaned back just enough to gather saliva in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing before he leaned down and let a warm bead of spit fall between your breasts. It slowly trailed down the center of your cleavage, disappearing beneath the neckline of your dress.

A startled gasp escaped you, the shamelessness of it sent another rush of heat coursing through your body.

“Spread my spit, baby.” his voice dropped into a teasing murmur as he brushed a lingering kiss against your cheek. “I want you messy.”

He never stopped guiding your hips, slow, patient rubs against his lap while he watched you expectantly.

You swallowed thickly. It felt as though your body had slipped into a trance, your thoughts muffled beneath the haze he'd wrapped around you. 

Almost absentmindedly, your fingers found the warmth between your breasts, gathering the wetness before slowly spreading his spit across the soft skin of your cleavage, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes following every hesitant movement.

Your gaze drifted downward, landing on the gold chain resting against his collarbone.

The necklace!

For a split second, you wanted to slap yourself. 

You'd become so hopelessly lost in him that you'd nearly forgotten why you were here in the first place.

Trying to keep up the act, you smiled and gathered the warm trace of his spit onto your fingertips before slowly bringing them to your lips. A flicker of nervousness stirred in your chest as you parted your lips, letting your tongue glide languidly over your damp fingers, never once breaking eye contact with him.

His lips parted. “You like it?”

You nodded. “Hmm…”

“Want more?” he cooed, his voice rough with satisfaction. 

Your cheeks heated, a little self-conscious under the way he stared at you before leaning in to kiss you again. You whimpered when he spat into your mouth while kissing you, trying to focus as your hands finally found the chain around his neck. Your fingers worked quickly beneath the curtain of his hair, your heart pounding so violently you feared he would hear it.

Then—the clasp gave. 

Relief crashed over you.

You carefully eased the necklace free, letting the chain slip from your fingers onto the leather seat beside you with a faint clink before your hands returned to brace against his chest. 

Your pulse hammered in your throat, so distracted by stealing the jewelry that you didn't feel his fingers hooking beneath the thin straps of your black dress until they were already sliding down. Cool air kissed your skin a second before you realized the straps had fallen from your shoulders, the dress bunched at your waist, your bra laid bare beneath his dark, hungry stare.

"Ohh—" a moan ripped from your lips when his hands grabbed your tits through the bra, his palms kneading the soft flesh as his fingers pinched and rolled your stiff nipples through the thin lace. 

"So pretty," he praised, his eyes never leaving the swell of your breasts spilling over the cups.

His hand slid behind your back, his fingers flicking the clasp open. Your bra sprang loose, your tits bouncing free, your nipples peaked and aching.

“Keep grinding, baby.” he rasped.

Your hips moved before your brain could catch up, rolling against his lap. His hard cock formed a thick ridge beneath his pants, pressing right against your soaked panties. 

The delicious friction made your cunt leak, slick pooling in the gusset as each slow roll of your hips rubbed your clit across his length until your panties clung to your wet, chubby slit.

“Mhm,” you whined as his mouth locked onto one nipple, his tongue lapping at the bud before sucking hard, his teeth scraping lightly while his other hand squeezed your breast, his fingers twisting the neglected nipple until it throbbed.

Wet sounds filled the car—the slurp of his mouth around your nipple and the squelch of your dripping cunt rubbing against his cock through the fabric. 

You forced yourself to look down, your heavy-lidded eyes searching for anything that might help you finish what you had come here to do. Then your thigh brushed against the square outline beneath the fabric of his pants.

His wallet.

You drew in a shaky breath before rolling your hips against him with a little more desperation. A low groan vibrated against your nipple the moment he felt the change in your rhythm, the sound sending another wave of heat through your body. 

A helpless whine slipped from your lips as your own hands wandered over him, trying to appear just as consumed by the moment. Your palms skimmed over his shoulders, down the firm planes of his chest, and lower still, making you swallow hard at the realization of just how toned he felt beneath your touch.

“Ouch,” you whimpered when his teeth suddenly bit into your nipple.

He only chuckled against your skin.

The sting disappeared beneath a lingering kiss before he lifted his head just enough to murmur.

“Slow down, baby. You're gonna make me cum.” 

The teasing words had barely left his lips before his attention shifted back to your breast, his mouth closing around the swollen nipple with harsh, eager suction that made your thighs instinctively tense around him.

Even through the layers of his pants, you could feel how big and hard he was beneath you, the firm outline of his thick cock pressing insistently against your soaked panties with every shallow movement. 

Fuck, focus Y/N.

His wallet had shifted dangerously close to the edge of his pocket, almost slipping free from the constant movement of your bodies.

You rolled your hips against him again…another soft moan escaping your lips as the friction sent a dizzying pulse of pleasure through you. 

“Oh my…” 

For a fleeting second, you almost forgot the wallet, your body threatening to lose the battle your mind was still desperately trying to win.

“Baby…” he groaned harshly.

His hands tightened around your waist, pinning your hips firmly in place before you could move against him again.

Confused, you instinctively tried to move again, but his hand beat you to it. It slipped between your thighs before firmly cupping your pussy over your soaked panties, his palm pressing against your wet cunt as his fingers slowly dragged against the damp fabric. A soft, unmistakable squelch filled the quiet cabin, and your breath caught in your throat.

“I said stay still, fuck.” he whispered, mercilessly squeezing your pussy through the thin fabric until another helpless moan spilled from your lips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct, your mouth falling open as his slow, deliberate touch only made you wetter, the soaked fabric sticking embarrassingly to your folds with every movement of his hand.

A startled gasp escaped you when his free hand suddenly rose to your face, firmly squeezing your cheeks together. 

“Keep your eyes open. Look at what I'm doing to you,” he commanded, his thumb finding your clit through the damp fabric and rubbing slow, lazy circles that sent a violent shiver through your body.

“Oh... gosh,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a breath. 

Your thoughts were beginning to dissolve all over again until something caught your eye.

His wallet had finally slipped free from his pocket, landing quietly on the leather seat beside him. Relief surged through you, and you almost smiled in triumph, the sight nearly distracting you from your mission's success.

Before you could dwell on it, he hooked a finger beneath the damp gusset of your panties, flipping the fabric aside just enough to expose your slick pussy. His fingertips returned, meeting your bare cunt directly, and the sudden skin-to-skin contact tore another breathless gasp from your lips.

Your eyes rolled back as his long fingers slowly rubbed against your sensitive cunt. The cool metal of his rings grazed your slit with every stroke, sending a sharp shiver through your body and drawing another helpless whimper from your throat.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Enjoying yourself?"

You could only nod, slow and breathless, your chest rising and falling beneath uneven breaths. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, your face burning from every filthy thing you had let him do to you.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a whisper. "You like my fingers, baby?"

Before you could answer, his middle finger slowly pressed into your tight, untouched hole.

A broken whimper escaped you, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as your body instinctively tensed around the unfamiliar stretch. For a fleeting second, your hand nearly came up to push him away, your inexperience heightening every overwhelming sensation. But he caught your face first, his fingers tightening around your cheeks, forcing your gaze back to him.

He inhaled softly before hollowing his cheeks, gathering saliva in his mouth, then leaned closer and messily spat between your parted lips.

"Swallow."

You obeyed without hesitation, your throat bobbing as you swallowed, your walls fluttering tightly around his finger at the command.

His hand slipped lower, lifting the hem of your skirt before his gaze settled between your thighs. He watched with quiet fascination as his finger slowly disappeared inside your virgin hole before drawing back out again, only to repeat the motion at an unhurried pace.

"You're so tight, baby." he tilted his head, his eyes never leaving your pussy. "When was the last time you fucked?"

The question alone nearly brought tears to your eyes, embarrassment burning through you just as intensely as the confusing mixture of pain and pleasure his touch continued to pull from your body.

“L-Long time ago.” 

As if Y/N! 

He licked his lower lip, a quiet whimper slipping past your lips as the pad of his middle finger reached deeper inside your warm tight hole. His movements remained slow until his fingertip brushed against your spongy spot, the sharp ache of the stretch gradually melting into a pleasure so warm it made your body soften around him.

"Aww, is that why you're so tight, baby?” he whispered.

God, this was so wrong.

“Maybe you need me to stretch your hole again, hmm?" he cooed, lowering his head until his lips wrapped around your swollen nipple, sucking gently while his finger continued to work deeper into your tight cunt.

"Y-Yes," you mumbled incoherently, your rational thoughts dissolving as your hips instinctively rolled forward, chasing the slow rhythm of his finger.

The moment he felt you move, his free hand settled firmly around your waist, stilling you with ease. He released your nipple with a soft pop before a quiet chuckle escaped him, his dark eyes lifting to meet yours with unmistakable amusement.

"Patience, baby. I'm still having fun."

A pout tugged at your lips, ready to answer back, but the words never came. His left hand slipped between your thighs instead, slowly parting your folds before drawing back the hood revealing your glistening clit, exposing it completely beneath his dark gaze.

"Wanna suck this clit so bad," he whispered, his gaze fixed between your thighs as your clit pulsed beneath the weight of his stare.

He leaned down and spat over it, a slow trail of saliva slipping down your slit until it met the middle finger buried inside your hole. A helpless whimper caught in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut as he spread the saliva over your exposed clit with slow, pressured strokes, every messy rub sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

Both of his hands were devoted to you now. His tattooed fingers continued to work your tight hole with an unhurried rhythm while his other hand circled your swollen clit, spreading your growing wetness together with his saliva. His eyes never left your cunt, watching every tiny twitch, every shiver that rippled through you as though he wanted to memorize your pulsating pussy.

"You wanna cum?" he asked, lifting a brow as he watched your chest rise and fall with uneven breaths. His middle finger emerged coated in a thick ring of your white milky juices before disappearing back inside you, while your legs trembled uncontrollably beneath every slow sweep of his thumb across your swollen clit.

You nodded desperately, “Y-Yes…”

He pursed his lips, studying you for a long moment.

"You sure?"

"P-Please," you pleaded, your hips instinctively rolling in search of more.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" a small smile tugged at his lips, though there wasn't a trace of humor behind it.

Confusion barely had the chance to settle before he slowly inserted a second finger into your cunt.

A loud moan tore from your throat as the sudden stretch stole the air from your lungs. His fingers paused only briefly, allowing your body to adjust before they began to move together, scissoring you open with slow, rhythmic strokes while his other hand never stopped rubbing your clit.

The lingering ache of the stretch gradually melted beneath the mounting pleasure, your body surrendering to it completely. Your thighs quivered uncontrollably around his hand, your back arching as your orgasm crashed through you. Your eyes rolled back, your walls fluttering helplessly around his fingers while wave after wave of pleasure left your entire body trembling.

“Well done, baby.” he praised.

Even after the intensity began to ebb, your cunt continued to pulse around him, your legs still shaking from the aftershocks.

Only when your breathing had become nothing more than uneven gasps did he slowly withdraw his fingers from your hole, drawing another helpless whimper from your lips as the sudden emptiness met your lingering sensitivity.

Then he leaned in, his teeth grazed the shell of your ear in a soft bite before his lips brushed against it.

"I’m so proud." he whispered.

As your gaze drifted downward, it caught on the slight opening of his wallet, the sight striking you like a quiet reminder of why you had approached him in the first place.

Your fucking mission.

You bit down hard on your lower lip, gathering what little composure remained before forcing the words past your throat.

"C-Can I drink some water? I'm kinda thirsty," you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your thighs were still trembling from your release, your heart pounding so loudly against your chest that you were certain he could hear it.

You expected him to refuse…Instead, he simply nodded.

"Hmm sure, baby. Let me get it for you."

His tongue swept across his lower lip before he gently tucked a few loose strands of hair away from your flushed cheeks, his touch unexpectedly tender as his eyes lingered on yours.

You swallowed hard, relief flooding through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy.

"I'll wait for you here," you said with a small smile, leaning forward just enough to steal a quick kiss from his lips before he stood.

His eyes narrowed, smiling a little, but there was something in them that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

The moment he climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him before disappearing into the noisy beer house in search of a bottle of water, you sprang into action. 

You quickly fixed your dress before reaching for the thick gold necklace that had slipped onto the leather seat during everything that had happened between the two of you. Your fingers wrapped around it before darting toward his wallet, still resting exactly where you had dropped it after deliberately sitting on it when you asked for water. 

Your pulse thundered in your ears as your gaze frantically swept across the interior of the car, searching for anything else of value. It didn't take long before your eyes landed on a small, heavy bag tucked beneath the passenger seat. 

Without wasting another second—or even bothering to look more....you snatched it as well, clutching the necklace, the wallet, and the bag tightly against your chest before quietly pushing the car door open.

With shaky, trembling hands, you slipped out of the vehicle and hurried toward the nearest sprawling tree beside the parking lot, its thick trunk shielding you from anyone who might glance in your direction. Only then did you allow yourself to stop, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as you hugged your stolen belongings close, desperately trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart. 

The necklace alone felt expensive in your hands, its weight unmistakable, and you couldn't help but admire the rich gleam of the gold beneath the parking lot lights. 

This has to be high-karat. 

Your eyes practically sparkled at the thought, relief and triumph swelling inside your chest as you silently congratulated yourself. You had actually managed to steal from him without getting fucked... and without getting caught.

Almost.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you slipped the thick gold necklace into your pocket, the reassuring weight of it pressing against your thigh. 

Your attention soon drifted to the heavy bag you had grabbed from beneath the seat, curiosity getting the better of you. You crouched beneath the tree and slowly pulled the zipper open, your brows knitting together at the sight of something black and metallic nestled inside. 

Frowning, you reached to get a better look, only for your breath to catch in your throat.

It was a gun. 

What the fuck?

Your hands instantly began to shake. The bag slipped from your grasp, hitting the ground with a heavy thud that echoed far louder than it should have in the quiet of the parking lot. 

You stared at it in horror before your gaze darted to the wallet still clutched tightly against your chest, your pulse pounding so violently it made your fingers numb.

"Oh God... this is a bad idea," you whispered to yourself, panic clawing its way up your throat.

For one reckless moment, you considered running back, returning the necklace, the wallet, the bag….everything—and pretending none of this had ever happened. 

Maybe you could leave them inside his car before he noticed. Maybe you could still walk away.

But it was already too late.

If there was one thing Hanni had drilled into your head from the very beginning, it was this: once you stole something, you never gave it back. Going back wasn't bravery—it was stupidity. 

And stupidity was exactly how thieves got caught.

With trembling hands, you slowly opened his wallet, your brows immediately knitting together when an identification card tucked behind a gleaming gold badge came into view. 

Your stomach dropped. This wasn't a wallet at all—it was a badge holder. 

A cold chill crept down your spine as your fingers shakily flipped the leather, your eyes scanning every detail printed across the identification. The words blurred together at first, your racing heart making it impossible to focus, until your gaze landed on the line that mattered most.

CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT

Rank: Captain  | Name: Jeon Jungkook

For a long, terrifying second, your mind went completely blank, your pulse pounding so violently it drowned out every sound around you. 

"F-Fuck! Oh God—fuck!"

The words tumbled out in a frantic whisper as your hands shook so violently you could barely keep hold of the badge holder. 

Your breathing grew shallow, your mind racing through every possible escape, each one ending worse than the last. 

You stared at the polished badge in horror, your heart threatening to beat straight out of your chest, when the sound of approaching footsteps suddenly reached your ears.

Panic surged through your body, and you instinctively turned, ready to run for your life, but a firm hand wrapped around your wrist before you could take a single step.

"Where are you going?" he asked with a quiet chuckle from behind you, amusement lacing his voice.

You froze.

Your gaze remained fixed straight ahead, too terrified to look back at him. Cold sweat trickled down your spine as your heartbeat thundered in your ears. 

The heavy bag still lay on the ground at your feet. The gold necklace weighed against your pocket. And clutched tightly between your trembling fingers was his badge holder, still opened to the identification that had shattered every ounce of confidence you had only moments ago.

You had been fucking caught.

Not just by any random stranger. 

But by a goddamn police captain.

"I got your water, baby," he said, his voice coated in quiet amusement. You flinched the moment the cold bottle brushed against the back of your thighs, the chill a cruel contrast to the heat of your panic.

"O-Officer, I—"

"You forgot something, didn't you?" he whispered against your ear, his grip never loosening around your wrist. 

The bottle of water lazily traced the length of your trembling thigh, as though he had all the time in the world.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your legs threatened to give out beneath you, hot tears gathering until they spilled freely down your cheeks. Every frantic thought crashed into the next, leaving you unable to form a single coherent sentence.

He leaned in even closer, his warm breath ghosting just below your ear.

"You forgot my wallet, baby." his voice dropped into a slow drawl. "That's my badge holder."

A broken sob caught in your throat. Your future flashed before your eyes in vivid, terrifying fragments. 

You could already see the cold metal of handcuffs locking around your wrists, the flashing red and blue lights, the backseat of a patrol car, a holding cell, your family finding out, your future slipping through your fingers before you had even been given the chance to fight for it. Everything you had worked so hard for, every dream you had stubbornly clung to despite your circumstances, all of it seemed to crumble into pieces in the span of a few unbearable seconds.

You had just thrown your entire life away.

“P-Please, I-’’

"Is my poor baby too dumb, or does that pretty little head of yours just want to get fucked?"

You shook your head frantically, tears spilling faster down your cheeks. "N-No, no, Officer, please... I'm sorry. It was a mistake—"

A startled gasp escaped you when he suddenly spun you around, your back pressing against the rough bark of the tree. Your tear-clouded eyes instantly met his dark ones, the amusement lingering in them only making the panic clawing at your chest grow worse.

He raised a brow, studying your face for a long, agonizing moment.

"Aww, look at you…so scared, baby." he cooed.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“Want me to give you a chance?’’ he tilted his head.

Hope bloomed inside your chest so suddenly it almost hurt.

Jungkook took another step forward, his broad frame caging you against the tree until there was nowhere left to run. Your entire body trembled beneath his gaze, your heart pounding so violently you could barely hear yourself think, and you looked up at him with desperate, pleading eyes, clinging to the smallest possibility that he might actually let you go.

"P-Please, Officer… I-I'm sorry..." you stammered, the words tumbling over one another in your haste. "I-I know it was wrong, a-and that—"

‘’Run.” 

Your lips parted in disbelief.

"W-What?"

He slowly licked his lower lip, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that carried no warmth whatsoever. Stepping closer until there wasn't even a breath of space left between you, he brushed the pad of his thumb across your trembling lips, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Run, baby. Run as fast as you can.” his voice dropped into a low murmur, his tone as though he were talking to a child. "And when I catch you, I'm gonna take you to prison. I'll fuck you every day behind those rusty metal bars. I'll use your tight little pussy until your hole is gaping and leaking. Maybe I'll even let my comrades fuck you too. We'll take turns fucking that slutty, manipulative pussy of yours."

Desperation made people do reckless things. 

It silenced reason, drowned out fear, and left nothing behind but the instinct to survive.

You spun around and bolted before your mind had the chance to catch up, your legs carrying you as fast as they could through the dimly lit streets. Instead of following the brighter roads, you veered into the narrow, shadowed alleyways, your panicked thoughts convincing you that the light was far more dangerous than the dark. 

People could help you—but the moment they learned why you were running, they wouldn't see a terrified woman. 

They would see a thief.

A criminal…and they would hand you right back to him.

Your lungs burned, each desperate breath sharper than the last, your feet throbbing against the unforgiving pavement as you forced yourself to keep going. When a tall chain-link fence came into view, fear surged through your exhausted body. You stumbled toward it, your shaking hands already reaching for the metal, frantically searching for a way to climb over it.

You never got the chance.

A powerful hand suddenly seized both of your wrists from behind, wrenching them backward before you could react. A startled cry tore from your throat as your body was dragged away from the fence, only to be slammed against it a heartbeat later.

 “L-Let me go!” you cried.

The rough metal dug painfully into your cheek, your breath knocked from your lungs as he forced your arms higher behind your back. Then you heard it—

A sharp metallic click…cold steel closed around your wrist.

You were handcuffed.

He secured the other cuff around the metal fence, leaving your wrists restrained above your head. The cold steel bit into your skin as you instinctively struggled against it, your cheek pressed harshly against the chain-link, the rough metal scraping your flushed skin every time you tried to pull away. The handcuffs refused to budge, each desperate tug only making them dig in deeper.

"N-No... no, please," you cried, your voice breaking into helpless sobs.

Instead of hurting you, he reached up and gently combed a few loose strands of hair away from your face, the unexpected tenderness making your entire body flinch. His fingers lingered for a moment, idly twirling a lock of your hair around them before giving it a soft tug.

"Shh, it’s okay…" he said in a mocking tone.

"I-I’m sorry, please…I’ll do anything—"

The plea died on your lips when you felt him lower himself behind you.

“Anything, baby?” he whispered.

He settled onto one knee before slowly gathering the hem of your dress, inch by inch, until your damp panties were fully exposed beneath the cool night air. His large hands slid down to your thighs, spreading your legs apart with an effortless firmness that left your body trembling against the restraint. 

Your eyes widened as you pulled uselessly at the handcuffs, your legs instinctively trying to close, but there was nowhere to go. A warm tongue suddenly pressed against the fabric between your thighs, dragging slowly over your sticky panties.

His nose remained buried in your tight hole, drawing in a slow, deep breath as though savoring every scent of you. His tongue dragged languidly along your slit from behind, the damp fabric of your panties doing little to dull the sensation.

"O-Oh gosh-" you cried, fresh tears spilling down your flushed cheeks as you felt him inhale against your clothed cunt again. His tongue swept over you once more, leaving your panties even wetter than before.

“Let me play with you.” he murmured before diving in.

You bit down hard on your lip, another wave of warmth pooling between your thighs despite yourself. More tears slipped from your eyes, the overwhelming pleasure tangling with the fear coursing through your body.

I am not enjoying this, I am not-

A low groan rumbled behind you as he spread your legs farther apart. His pointed nose brushed against your puckered hole, inhaling deeply. 

You craned your neck to look around, but there was no one in sight. Only the lonely yellow glow of a streetlamp stretched across the empty street, casting long shadows around the two of you.

When he flipped your panties aside, you instinctively tried to close your legs, but a startled gasp escaped your lips as his palm suddenly came down against your inner thigh with a sharp smack, the sting urging your legs back open for him.

“Open up for me, baby. Let me taste your little pussy,” he murmured, giving your thigh another light tap as he silently coaxed you to spread yourself wider.

You were getting wetter, but the thought of someone's tongue directly against your pussy was beyond your virgin imagination.

When you still didn't move, a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest.

You felt him rise behind you, the warmth of his body disappearing for only a brief moment before the unmistakable click of metal made your breath hitch. Before you even had the chance to turn your head, the cold barrel of the gun was pressed against your temple.

A broken cry caught in your throat, your entire body trembling. 

“W-What-”

"Spread your legs."

His voice was firm, leaving no room for hesitation. The barrel pressed more insistently against your temple, and with another shaky sob, your knees slowly fell farther apart.

A satisfied hum vibrated from his chest. Only then did he pull the gun away, tucking it back into the holster at the back of his belt before lowering himself between your thighs once more. His hands wrapped around them, holding you open exactly how he wanted, and the moment he buried his face between your legs, a deep groan escaped him.

“Oh, gosh!” you moaned.

You were already leaking, his broad tongue dragged slowly up and down your chubby, swollen folds before slipping between them, teasing your slit as it delved deeper, massaging your inner walls with slow, deliberate strokes that only left you wetter.

“Pretty.” he leaned back and spat onto your cunt, watching the thick strand of saliva mingle with your slick wetness. “Do you regret what you did, baby?”

His fingers hooked beneath your outer lips, spreading them apart just enough to watch his saliva disappear deeper into your cunt. He spat again, his gaze fixed on the way it slipped between your folds, leaving your sensitive inner walls glistening.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned shamelessly, the torture only making you wetter.

“Would you let me do anything I want?” he asked, staring at your fluttering cunt.

You bit your lip, feeling your milky juices drip from every degrading thing he'd been saying to you.

“Yes.” you said in a tiny voice.

He chuckled, “You wanted to be used like this, didn't you?” 

He leaned in, his tongue flattening as he licked from your perineum to your clit in one slow, vulgar stroke, spreading his spit until his own drool began to trail down his chin. 

“You wanted this…you sat on my lap, ground your filthy cunt against my cock, acted like a good little decoy so you could rob me. But your hole's been thanking me the whole time, hasn't it?”

You shut your eyes tightly when you felt him continuously spitting on your cunt, your pussy was getting so wet that you felt it dripping on your inner thighs down to your ankles.

He held your folds apart, leaving you completely exposed for his hungry gaze. Leaning back, he watched the way they trembled and pulsed beneath his eyes before leaning down again, his tongue already darting out to lap up every drop of your juices. Each time he swallowed, he would only spit over you again, coating you until you were slick enough for him to start all over.

Your eyes widened as the muzzle of the gun pressed against your inner thigh, cool, unforgiving steel sending a shiver through your body. It slowly slid higher until it settled against your entrance, the tip quickly growing slick with your wetness.

"O-Officer—"

“Shh, you wanted me to catch you, didn’t you? To rape your thief little pussy.” he mocked, his eyes fixed on the way the tip of the gun glistened with your milky juices as he slowly dragged it up and down your chubby slit.

Desperation was a frightening thing. 

It stripped away reason piece by piece until all that remained was the helpless anticipation of whatever came next.

When you didn't answer, too absorbed in the feeling of the foreign gun against your pussy, he pressed it harder against you, drawing a pained whimper from your lips as tears stung your eyes.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you," he said firmly, applying just a little more pressure.

"Y-Yes," you whimpered.

He tilted his head. "Yes, what?"

You bit your lip. "Y-Yes, O-Officer."

He hummed in approval before pulling the gun away. His tongue darted out to taste the tip, sucking your wetness from the cold metal before releasing it with a soft pop.

A low groan rumbled from his chest as he buried himself between your thighs once more, diving back into your exposed pussy with relentless hunger. The obscene sounds of slurping, sucking, and the occasional spit echoed through the place, each one making you feel weaker, more helpless beneath him.

You bit down hard on your lip as you felt your orgasm creeping closer. You tried to hold it back, to keep control, but your body betrayed you. 

Every flick of his tongue, every slow suck, every warm trail of spit sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you, making your pussy convulse beneath his tongue. 

“F-Fuck-” you whimpered.

Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your arms ached against the restraints, and your eyes rolled back as the pulsing sensation deep within you grew stronger with every passing second. You wanted to pull away from his mouth, to escape the overwhelming pleasure, but his grip remained firm, holding you exactly where he wanted as he sucked out every last tremor, refusing to let you move even as the overstimulation left your body trembling.

“Mhm, you taste so good, baby,” he whispered, leaning back just enough to pinch your folds together, as though squeezing every last drop of your milky white juices from your pussy before leaning in again to catch it on his tongue.

A helpless whimper escaped your lips. Your legs were on the verge of giving out beneath you, your arms still held captive by the restraints while your pussy throbbed with overwhelming sensitivity. As he rose to his feet, his palm landed against your cunt in a careless slap, making you flinch before he lazily wiped the sheen of your juices from the corner of his mouth.

His hand found your hair again, fingers threading through the strands before tightening into a firm fist. He tugged until your head tipped back, exposing the line of your throat, and his lips brushed against your tear-dampened cheek.

“Wanna steal more, baby?”

His grip twisted tighter, pulling your head back until your neck arched painfully. 

He slowly dragged his tongue along the salty trail of your tears, licking your cheek with slow strokes, savoring the taste of your cries as another quiet hum of approval rumbled in his chest.

You whimpered, your body trembling as you felt the hard outline of his clothed bulge press against the plush of your ass. He slowly ground his erection against you, a low grunt vibrating beneath your ear while his hand kept a firm hold on your hair, tugging your head back just enough for him to suck and leave harsh bites along your neck.

“What do you want, baby?” he whispered, grinding his cock more firmly against your bare ass. “My money? My jewelry?”

“O-Officer-”

His fist tightened in your hair, forcing another helpless whimper from your lips as he dragged his tongue along your throat, feeling the way you swallowed hard beneath him. “You wanted all of it, didn't you?”

His teeth sank into your neck once more as his clothed bulge rutted harder against the cleft of your ass, the seam of his pants catching against your skin with every slow roll of his hips. At the same time, his free hand slipped beneath your dress, yanking the fabric higher before grabbing a full handful of your bare ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises.

"My pretty, pretty thief," he praised, pressing a kiss to your cheek as his hips rolled against you with even more force.

He wrenched his pants open just enough for his hard cock to spring free, the heated length slapping against one ass cheek before the other. Pre-cum glistened over the swollen tip as he slowly ground the shaft along the plush curve of your ass, coating your skin with every deliberate roll of his hips.

"Feel that? I'm so hard for you, baby."

A helpless mewl slipped past your lips as you weakly shook your head, your entire body trembling while he continued rubbing against your ass.

“Fuck, you make me so fucking horny.” he grunted.

Your cheeks burned crimson, the same flush spreading across your neck, and another whimper escaped you when he suddenly jerked your head back by the hair. 

"Grind back, baby, or I'll fuck this tight little ass of yours."

You cried harder, your body trembling as you reluctantly began to move your ass against his cock. A deep groan escaped him, his right hand settling firmly on your hip as he looked down, watching the way his hard length slid slowly through the cleft of your ass with every hesitant grind.

He spat over the curve of your ass for added lubrication, and a helpless cry caught in your throat when you felt the warm saliva land against your puckered rim. Despite the humiliation, your pussy only grew wetter.

His tattooed hand suddenly snaked around your waist, trailing lower until it reached your cunt. You gasped as his fingers cupped your pussy before hooking between your folds, spreading your lips apart into a lewd V-shape for him to admire.

“Look down and watch your clit, baby.” he rasped, tilting your head down so your gaze fell between your legs.

“P-Please...” you croaked, your body growing weaker by the second, your pussy aching for more even as the rest of you threatened to give out.

“Wanna be fucked so bad, huh?”

You gasped as his middle finger suddenly pushed between the V-shaped hold of his fingers, slipping inside your tight cunt. Your walls fluttered helplessly around the thick digit as he slowly worked it deeper.

“Oh! Mhmp!” you screamed.

His cock left your ass, the slick tip dragging slowly down until it notched against your entrance, smearing pre-cum and his spit over your swollen folds.

“Gonna fuck you good, baby…you’ve been a very bad girl.” he yanked your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue traced a slow path from your neck to the shell of your ear. “Need to fuck some sense into you, hmm?’’

“Mhmp!” you whimpered.

“Shh... moan for me, baby. It'll feel good.” his finger pressed deeper one last time, stretching your walls before he slowly withdrew it. The emptiness lasted only a heartbeat before he replaced it with the thick, leaking head of his cock, nudging its way against your entrance.

“Ahhh!” you screamed at the sudden stretch, his thick cock forcing its way into your tight pussy until you could feel every pulsing vein dragging against your walls as he pushed deeper.

He thrust halfway, then stopped, watching your cunt spasm around him, a thin ribbon of milky white release clinging to his shaft like a ring. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” he slowly pulled back before driving into you harder, bottoming out in one deep thrust, his pelvis slamming against your ass hard enough to make the fence rattle.

“Need to use this cunt every day. Maybe I’ll let my comrades fuck this tight little cunt so they can loosen you up for me, yeah?” he grunted, pushing even deeper until his balls rested snug against your cunt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against the curve of your ass with every shallow grind.

“U-Ugh, p-please...” you screamed, trying to wriggle, but he only answered with a low grunt against your ear. Then, without warning, he withdrew his cock completely.

For one fleeting moment, you thought he was finally going to let you go.

But your eyes widened the instant you heard the unmistakable clink of his leather belt being unclasped.

Your eyes widened as you felt him wrap the leather around your neck, fastening it just snug enough for him to tug whenever your cries grew too loud, cutting off your words with every sharp pull.

“Behave, baby.” he chuckled, easing himself inside you once more while keeping a firm grip on the belt for leverage. Every now and then, he gave it another deliberate tug, silencing your screams as his hips continued to drive into you.

The moment his hips began to roll against yours, your eyes fluttered back, pleasure blooming beneath the sting until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. 

“O-Oh, O-Officer!” a shaky sob escaped your lips, born as much from the humiliation as the sensation itself. Your pussy ached for more, clenching helplessly around his thick girth, betraying you with every pulse.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from behind you. His arm slid around your waist, holding you firmly against him as he circled his hips into yours, each relentless thrust threatening to lift your body off your feet.

“Is my baby enjoying this?” he whispered, giving the leather another measured yank, just enough to cut your sob short. The strap bit into the flushed skin of your throat as his hips snapped forward again, his balls slapping wetly against your cunt with every forceful thrust.

“This is turning you on, huh?”

You shook your head, but your pussy only grew wetter, your cries slowly dissolving into helpless moans as he continued to fuck you from behind.

“Want me to stop?” he whispered.

“N-No, Officer.” you whimpered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you gave a slow, trembling shake of your head.

“Yeah? You like getting used?”

He gave the belt another sharp tug, cutting off your whimpers before loosening it just enough to let a broken moan spill from your lips. Then he drove into you even deeper, his mushroom tip grinding against your spongy walls until you could feel your own milky juices coating his shaft.

"Gonna lock you up in a cell, baby… you'll be the precinct's little fucktoy."

The moment his thick head brushed against your g-spot, your entire body spasmed around his cock. A harsh groan tore from his throat as your walls clamped down on him, forcing him to pull out almost immediately. His movements turned urgent, one hand fumbling for the keys clipped to his belt while the other steadied you. Your hazy eyes fluttered shut as you felt the handcuffs finally come undone from your wrists.

You thought he was done.

A weak gasp escaped your lips when he suddenly flipped you over to face him, your exhausted arms falling limply to your sides as he stripped away the rest of your dress. Without a word, he lifted you with effortless strength and pinned you against the cold metal fence before guiding his hard cock back inside you. A broken whimper slipped from your throat at the oversensitivity left behind by your previous orgasm, your body instinctively tensing around him as his mouth found your exposed nipples, sucking them greedily while he chased his own release.

Your body bounced helplessly with every powerful thrust, like a toy being used exactly as he pleased. Your tongue nearly lolled from your parted lips, your mind reduced to nothing but scattered pleasure as his larger frame manhandled yours with ease. Low grunts and strained moans vibrated against your swollen nipples, each sound muffled by the way his mouth refused to leave them.

A rough growl tore from his throat as his climax finally overtook him. You felt the thick warmth of his release spilling deep inside your already used hole, his hips continuing to roll against yours in slow, deep motions, as though determined to push every last drop of his cum even deeper. 

“Fuck, baby,” his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your breast, the sharp sting blending seamlessly with the lingering waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Some of it trickled down the insides of your thighs, warm against your skin. Your eyes fluttered, barely able to stay open…your body hanging limply in his grasp.

When he finally set you back on your feet, your legs nearly gave out beneath you. Before you could steady yourself, he was already kneeling between your thighs again, firmly spreading them apart as though he hadn't just reduced them to trembling. 

“W-Wait-” you panicked.

A helpless cry escaped your lips when his mouth found your swollen pussy once more, lapping up the mixture of his release and your milky wetness, slurping every drop with relentless hunger. The overstimulation sent your body reeling, your clit already so unbearably sensitive that the moment his tongue slid upward to wrap around it, your pussy pulsed against his mouth, another orgasm crashing through you before you could stop it.

He looked up at you with heavy lidded eyes, watching every twitch and shudder that overtook your body as you came around his mouth. 

You could see the way his cheeks hollowed with every slow suck on your clit, and somehow the sight of his discarded gun and badge lying carelessly on the floor beside him made the moment feel even dirtier—

A police officer on his knees, devotedly eating out the very thief he had caught.

Only when he was satisfied did he rise to his feet. His hand slipped into your hair, gently tugging you toward him until his lips claimed yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you with greedy desperation. Your eyelids grew heavy, your knees threatening to buckle again, your body barely able to remain upright.

You flinched when you felt his hardened cock brush against your inner thighs even as he continued kissing you, a wave of panic surging through your exhausted body. Your pussy already felt swollen and unbearably sensitive, every nerve still humming from the relentless orgasms he had pulled from you.

As though sensing the fear creeping into your expression, he let out a low chuckle, slowly pulling away from your lips to study your face.

"Aww, is my baby tired?" he cooed, the words dripping with mock honey as he nudged your chin upward. 

You shook your head, your body instinctively yielding to whatever he was going to do next.

The corner of his mouth twitched before he bit down on his lower lip, your quiet submission enough to make his cock throb.

"Kneel for me."

Your knees trembled beneath you as you slowly lowered yourself, a startled gasp escaping your lips the moment the swollen tip dragged a lazy streak of pre-cum across your cheek.

"Open up, baby…daddy's not done." he gathered your hair into one hand with a gentleness that belonged to a lover rather than the man standing before you, tilting your face toward his groin, a smile tugging at his lips that never quite reached the darkness in his eyes.

"Clean up the mess you made, hmm? Open wide for Officer."

The swollen head nudged past your lips, and a mock-pitying sigh slipped from him as your mouth slowly yielded around his cock, your tongue flattening instinctively beneath the weight before a helpless gag caught in your throat.

"There, there," he murmured, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your hair. "Suck nice and slow, pretty girl."

He began to rock his hips into your mouth in slow, shallow thrusts, while his free hand continued to pet your hair with a tenderness so painfully at odds with the degradation spilling from his lips.

"That's it, baby," he praised softly. "Tongue flat, like the dumb, cute slut you are."

He pushed his cock deeper until the swollen mushroom tip nudged the back of your throat, the prominent veins along his shaft dragging against the roof of your mouth with every slow thrust, the upward curve making each movement reach even deeper.

"I can give you everything you want, baby," he whispered, a groan slipping past his lips as his thrusts gradually became sloppier, his grip on your hair tightening with every push. Saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth as you fought the urge to choke, wet, muffled gargles escaping your throat each time he buried himself deeper. Your eyes burned, quickly turning red as tears pooled along your lash line.

He cradled your hair once more, the tenderness of the gesture clashing with the relentless pace of his hips.

"I can provide for you... spoil you with all of my money," he murmured, easing himself forward until your nose brushed against the coarse hair at his pelvis. 

He held your face snugly in place for a brief moment before slowly rolling his hips, then gently pulled you back just enough to let you catch your breath, his saliva-slick cock dragging across your flushed cheeks.

"Do you want that?" he asked, tilting his head as he lazily ground his cock against your swollen cheek.

You nodded eagerly, your tear-filled eyes never leaving his.

He chuckled, giving your cheek a light tap with the head of his cock. "Do you understand me, baby?"

You pouted…your cheeks burning red, your eyes swollen, your lips wet with his precum. 

“Mhm..” 

“Mhm?” he chuckled.

He bit his lower lip as he stared down at you, quietly admiring the mess he'd made. “Cute.” 

Without warning, he yanked your head forward until he was fully seated inside your mouth, your nose pressed into his pubic hair as his balls slapped against your chin with each shallow roll of his hips.

"Gurk—gurk—"

You choked around him, tears immediately spilling down your cheeks, but the only response he gave was a deep groan as he slowly began to fuck your face, each thrust forcing another muffled gargle from your throat.

"Fuck, baby...I'm gonna cum."

He pulled out just enough to lean down and spit onto your tongue before pushing his cock back into your mouth in one smooth thrust, the loose belt still hanging around your neck, its end dragging through the dirt every time your head was forced forward.

You gagged helplessly around him, your cheeks hollowing as your eyes rolled back, your head rocking back and forth with every relentless thrust while he used your mouth however he pleased. And when you felt his rhythm begin to falter, his thrusts growing rougher and increasingly sloppy, he suddenly pulled free with a low groan. Before you could even catch your breath, he hauled you to your feet, one arm wrapped firmly around your body as he guided his cock against your cunt, his other hand positioning himself before pushing his hard cock back into your tight hole.

“I’m gonna cum inside baby, a reward for being a good little toy for daddy.”

A broken cry escaped your lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his body shuddering the moment he came. Thick, warm spurts filled you one after another while your body trembled from the lingering overstimulation, his hips continuing to jerk and roll against yours as he emptied every last drop inside you.

"These are worth thousands, Y/N! Oh my God."

Hanni's eyes widened in utter disbelief, her gaze sweeping across the worn wooden table as though she couldn't decide which stolen treasure to look at first.

A thick leather wallet, its compartments stuffed with crisp bills. Heavy gold necklaces lay tangled together beside matching rings, each piece gleaming with the unmistakable richness of high-karat gold. A limited-edition watch rested nearby, its polished face catching the kitchen light with every slight movement. And a duffel bag overflowed with expensive perfumes, bottle after bottle worth more than most people's monthly salary.

A slow smile tugged at your lips as your gaze wandered over Jungkook's belongings scattered across the table.

You never told Hanni that you'd gotten caught. 

Instead, you let her believe everything had gone according to plan.

Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.

He had given you far more than you had ever planned on stealing.

Tucked beneath your bed, hidden inside an old shoebox, were stacks of cash and signed checks worth enough to keep you comfortable for a long while—buying you the time to find a better path for yourself.

You hadn't even told Hanni about them.

Not because you didn't trust her, but because you knew the moment she saw that kind of money, questions would follow. Questions you couldn't answer without admitting where it had come from. So you kept the cash hidden, the checks tucked safely beneath it, and carried the secret alone.

He still hadn't turned you over to the authorities, even though it was painfully obvious he'd known exactly what kind of person you were from the very beginning.

From the moment he'd let you reach for the clasp of his necklace, he'd already known.

No high-ranking police officer—especially not a captain…would've failed to notice what you were trying to do. He had seen through you from the very beginning, long before you'd ever managed to slip a single thing into your hands.

Why did he let you?

You smiled seductively, slipping the watch and wallet beneath your dress before taking another sip of your now-warm beer, your gaze lingering on your target, who was far too drunk to notice the way your attention had never truly been on him.

Perhaps you hadn't changed.

Because here you were, stealing again…chasing the same thrill, the same rush, while somewhere beneath every excuse you made for yourself, another reason quietly waited.

Maybe you wanted to see him again.

You left the crowded club with the stolen watch and wallet hidden beneath your dress, weaving through the lingering crowd until the music faded behind you. The cool night air greeted your flushed skin as you made your way toward the smoking area, where you and Hanni had agreed to meet.

You had been stealing for six months now. 

You managed to steal from a shopping mall, a restaurant, a boutique, and even a high-end store—your usual targets where men were rarely involved.

Tonight, you decided to try flirting again…attempting to seduce someone despite the fact that your only experience had been with him.

Before you could even pull out your phone to text Hanni, someone pushed you against the cold brick wall.

Familiar dark, round eyes stared back at you, the same pierced lips curled around a cigarette as smoke drifted lazily into the night. Tattooed arms caged you in on either side, leaving nowhere for you to go.

Your eyes widened.

Seeing him dressed in the crisp navy uniform of a police captain stole the air from your lungs. 

Gold captain's bars gleamed from the epaulets on his shoulders, while a polished metal badge rested proudly over his chest. His duty belt sat low around his waist, crowded with the familiar weight of handcuffs, a radio, holster, and the rest of the equipment that came with his authority. The neatly pressed fabric, the black tie tucked beneath the collar, the nameplate pinned above his pocket—it all transformed the man you remembered into someone far more intimidating.

Power looked infuriatingly good on him.

Before you could utter a single word, his left hand slipped under your dress. Your breath caught as his fingers found the watch and wallet strapped against your thigh with effortless precision.

“Looks like my baby didn't learn her lesson, hmm?”

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© 2026 ggukiebar, all rights reserved

There was the oversized bunny with floppy ears you’d won at a carnival last summer next to the pastel unicorn with the sparkly horn that always seemed to watch over you, and dozens more, teddies, kitties, and dreamy-eyed creatures in every hue of pink, lavender, and cream, all piled around you like loyal guardians. You loved them fiercely; they brought a sense of comfort and whimsy to your otherwise busy college life, softening the edges of late-night study sessions like this one.

Your fingers tapped steadily across the keyboard as you finished up the last few paragraphs of your assignment, the cursor blinking patiently while you refined your citations. String lights hung in delicate loops behind your headboard, their warm white bulbs twinkling like captured stars, wrapping the room in a soft, ethereal ambiance that made everything feel a little more magical, just the way you loved it to be. They reflected off the glossy surfaces of your plushies and the faint sheen of your pink comforter, creating a haven that was entirely yours.

Over your ears sat your favorite headphones, the cushy ones that blocked out the rest of the house, filling your mind with the elegant strains of classical music. A piano concerto flowed through you, the sounds of rich, intricate melodies by Chopin that soothed your thoughts and kept your focus sharp even as fatigue tugged at the corners of your eyes.

A gentle knock sounded on your door, soft but distinct enough to cut through the music. You paused, lifting your head and sliding one side of the headphones off your ear. The door creaked open just a bit, and there stood your father, his familiar silhouette framed by the hallway light. He leaned against the doorframe with that warm, tired smile he always saved for moments like these, when he was proud of you. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he took in the scene of you in your oversized hoodie, with your laptop balanced on a pillow, plushies scattered like a protective circle, and the soft glow of the string lights. You smiled back at him, a genuine, sleepy curve of your lips that mirrored his own.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere you’d built. “Just wanted to check in before we turn in. Your mom and I are heading to bed. Looks like you’re powering through that homework, huh? I’m proud of you, burning the midnight oil like that.”

You felt a little rush of warmth at his words, the simple validation settling comfortably in your chest. “Yeah, almost done,” you replied. The classical music still played faintly from the headphones around your neck, a delicate backdrop to the moment. You set your laptop aside carefully, mindful not to disturb the plushies, and gave him your full attention. “Goodnight, Daddy.”

He chuckled softly, that fond nickname always drawing out his gentler side. Stepping a little further into the room, he reached out to ruffle your hair lightly, careful not to mess up the cozy nest you’d created. “Goodnight, muffin. Don’t stay up too much later, okay? Get some rest. Love you.”

“Love you too,” you murmured, The latch clicked softly, leaving you alone once more with the piano melodies and the comforting weight of your stuffed companions. You turned back to your laptop with a soft sigh, slipping your headphones fully back over your ears. Your fingers resumed their steady rhythm on the keys, polishing the final sentences of your assignment. The house was quiet now, your parents’ footsteps having faded down the hallway minutes ago, leaving only the occasional creak of the old floorboards and the distant hum of the refrigerator downstairs.

You were just about to save the document when your phone buzzed softly against the comforter beside you, the screen lighting up with a familiar name that made your heart skip.

Jungkook ❤️: wyd angel?

A little smile tugged at your lips as you quickly typed back, thumbs flying over the screen. “Finishing up some homework. Why, what’s up?” You hit send and waited, biting your lip in that absentminded way you always did when thinking about him. The reply came almost immediately.

Jungkook ❤️: Come outside. I’m parked out front.

Your eyes widened, and before you could even process it, the low, unmistakable rumble of his motorcycle engine cut through the stillness of the night. The sound of it was deep, throaty, and way too loud for this hour. Vroom, it vibrated through your window, sending a jolt of panic straight through your chest. You froze, heart hammering as you strained to listen for any movement from your parents’ room down the hall. Had they heard? Were they getting up? You snatched your phone again, typing frantically.

“Babyyyy my parents are sleeping 😭”

His response popped up with a little teasing edge that you could practically hear in his voice:

Jungkook ❤️: Better come out before I wake them then...

You let out a quiet, nervous giggle, the thrill mixing with the rush of adrenaline. There was no saying no to him— not when he showed up like this, not when the pull between you was this strong. You moved quickly but carefully, setting your laptop aside on the nightstand and peeling off your oversized hoodie. Underneath, you kept things simple and cute: just your delicate lace bra, the material soft and barely-there against your skin. You slipped on your favorite baby pink off-the-shoulder cozy sweater as it draped gently over your curves and exposing the smooth line of your collarbones and one bare shoulder.

Your silk sleep shorts stayed on, paired with your fluffy bunny slippers that made little padding sounds as you moved. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed it, you looked adorable, soft even, and impossibly tempting, a look that always made Jungkook’s eyes darken with want.

With one last check to make sure the hallway was clear, you crept downstairs, avoiding the creaky third step like you’d done a hundred times before. The front door eased open with barely a whisper, and the cool night air kissed your skin as you stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind you with a soft click. The moment you spotted him leaning against his sleek black motorcycle under the streetlight, your feet carried you faster. You broke into a light run across the lawn, and Jungkook opened his arms just in time for you to jump straight into them.

His strong hands gripped your ass possessively as he caught you, pulling you flush against his chest with a low chuckle. A firm smack landed on one cheek, the sound sharp in the quiet night and sending you into a fit of breathy giggles against his neck. “Missed you, angel,” he murmured, voice rough and warm, his breath tickling your ear as he held you there, your fuzzy slippers dangling off the ground.

“I missed you too,” you mumbled shyly into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with leather and that faint hint of motor oil that always clung to him. His tattoos peeked out from under the sleeves of his jacket, dark ink against his skin, a stark contrast to your soft pink sweater and innocent bunny slippers.

He set you down gently but kept one arm looped around your waist, that signature smirk playing on his lips as he looked down at you. “Wanna go for a ride?” The question was laced with suggestion, his eyes gleaming under the streetlight.

You nodded eagerly, no hesitation. He handed you the spare helmet, helping you secure it before swinging his leg over the bike. You climbed on behind him, pressing your body close and wrapping your arms tight around his toned waist, feeling the heat of him even through his clothes. The engine roared to life again with that powerful vroom, and you held on even tighter as he pulled away from the curb, the wind whipping past as you left your quiet suburban street behind.

This was your secret rhythm, two years strong. Sneaking out almost every night once your parents were asleep, letting the older boy with the dangerous tattoos and the rumbling motorcycle whisk you away. They’d never approve of him, not in a million years: the way he looked, the way he lived, the way he fucked you stupid and left you breathless and addicted every single time. But none of that mattered when you were with him. The familiar streets blurred by— neighborhood lights giving way to wider roads and eventually the path toward his apartment building. You rested your helmeted head against his back, savoring the speed and the closeness, your thighs squeezed around him as the night air rushed over your bare legs.

Finally, he slowed and turned into the underground garage of his building, the engine’s growl echoing off the concrete walls before he killed it and parked in his usual spot. You climbed off, legs a little shaky from the ride, and he took your helmet off for you, setting it aside. Instead of leading you straight upstairs like usual, he turned to face you fully, his hands settling on your hips as he backed you gently against the bike. His expression was serious now, something heavier in his dark eyes.

“I need to ask you something,” he said, voice low and steady.

You looked up at him expectantly, tilting your head, still riding the high of the ride and the thrill of being in his arms. “What is it?”

Jungkook’s thumb brushed over your hip, tracing small circles through the soft fabric of your sweater. “When are you planning on telling your parents about us?”

The question hung in the air, catching you completely off guard. Your breath hitched, the cozy pink haze of the night suddenly sharpening as you stared back at him, heart pounding for a whole new reason. You looked down at the soft hem of your baby pink sweater, fingers nervously twirling the fabric between them as the weight of Jungkook’s question settled over you like the cool concrete air of the underground garage.

The fluorescent lights overhead hummed faintly, casting long shadows across the sleek black motorcycle and the painted lines on the floor. Your bunny slippers shifted against the ground as you fidgeted, the silk of your sleep shorts brushing teasingly against your thighs. The thrill of the ride and the warmth of his earlier touches still lingered on your skin, but now a different kind of nervousness bloomed in your chest. Now, you felt vulnerable and exposed under his steady gaze.

“I… you know how my dad is, Jungkook,” you began softly, voice barely above a whisper, eyes still fixed on the pink fabric twisting in your hands. “He’s so strict, and Mom too. They have all these expectations about who I should be with, someone from college, someone stable and safe. They still see me as their little muffin who needs protecting. They’d never understand this… us.” The words tumbled out in a rush, laced with the familiar guilt of your double life, the late-night escapes, and the two years of hiding something that meant everything to you.

Jungkook stepped closer, his tall frame casting a gentle shadow over you. With tender fingers, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the touch lingering as he cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. His thumb stroked slowly along your jawline, the touch felt warm and reassuring, the rough pad of it a contrast to your soft skin. “I don’t care about any of that, angel,” he murmured, voice low and sincere, dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I love their daughter. I’m in love with you, the real you, with your plushies and your pink room and the way you light up when you see me. I want them to know I exist. I want to be part of your life, not just the secret part.”

The words hit you like a warm wave, sending a deep blush blooming across your cheeks and down your neck. You weren’t fully used to hearing him say it so openly—“I love you”—even after two years. It still made your heart race wildly in your chest, butterflies erupting in your stomach like a flock of wild things taking flight. Your lips parted slightly, a shy, overwhelmed smile tugging at them as you leaned into his touch, savoring the way his palm felt against your flushed skin. The garage felt smaller, more intimate, the distant echo of city sounds far above fading into nothing.

Suddenly, his hand dropped from your cheek, and his expression shifted. His voice came out softer than you’d ever heard it before, sounding vulnerable, almost hesitant, a rare crack in his usual confident demeanor. “Are you… ashamed of me?”

Your eyes widened instantly, heart clenching at the raw edge in his tone. “No! Of course not, Jungkook,” you exclaimed, reaching up to grab his hand and hold it tightly between yours. The words rushed out with fierce determination. “I could never be ashamed of you. You’re everything to me. It’s just… my parents are so uptight. They have this perfect picture in their heads, and you, with your tattoos, and your bike, the whole vibe— they wouldn’t approve right away. But if you really want this, if you want to meet them… I’ll do it. I’ll be strong for us. I promise.”

Jungkook studied your face for a long moment, taking in the way your brows furrowed with resolve, your cheeks still pink, and your eyes bright with sincerity. You looked so adorably determined, standing there in your sweater and bunny slippers in the middle of his gritty garage, you were like a sweet dream crashing into his reality. A low, affectionate chuckle rumbled from his chest, the sound of it warm and relieving as the tension eased from his shoulders. “Okay, baby,” he said, nodding slowly, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “We’ll talk about it again soon. No rush.”

The heavy conversation dropped like a curtain falling, leaving the air between you charged. You felt a surge of relief and affection, grabbing at his hand more firmly and tugging him gently toward the elevator that would take you upstairs to his apartment. “Come on,” you whispered playfully, trying to pull him along with a small, hopeful smile, your fluffy slippers padding softly on the concrete.

But Jungkook shook his head, that familiar smirk returning to his face, full of intent. He didn’t budge, rooted in place like he had all the time in the world. You tilted your head, curiosity sparkling in your eyes. “What are you thinking about in that big head of yours, huh?”

He stepped even closer, backing you against the motorcycle again, his hands finding your waist as he leaned in. His voice dropped to a husky murmur, eyes gleaming with that fantasy he was about to confess. “I’ve always had this fantasy of you… sprawled across my bike. naked and needy for me. Right here in the garage, where anyone could potentially walk by if they’re not careful.”

You looked down shyly, heat flooding your face in a fresh, deeper blush that spread all the way to your ears. The image he painted sent a thrill racing through you, mixing nervousness with undeniable excitement. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your sweater again as you peeked up at him through your lashes. “Really?” you asked softly, voice breathy and uncertain but undeniably intrigued.

Jungkook hummed in confirmation, a deep, satisfied sound that vibrated through his chest. Without warning, his hands gripped your ass firmly again, squeezing the soft flesh through your silk shorts and pulling you flush against him. Another sharp smack landed on your cheek the sound echoing slightly in the garage and drawing a little gasp from your lips. A low growl escaped him, raw and hungry, as he lifted you effortlessly, strong arms flexing under his jacket as he sat you right on the seat of the motorcycle.

The cool leather of the bike pressed against the backs of your thighs. Before you could fully adjust to the new position, Jungkook’s hand grabbed your jaw with just the right amount of firmness— guiding, not forcing— and he kissed you hard on the mouth. The kiss was deep, demanding, and full of pent-up passion, his lips claiming yours as the garage faded away around you.

The kiss deepened instantly into something hard and consuming, as Jungkook’s mouth claimed yours with a hunger that stole the breath from your lungs. His tongue pushed past your lips, tangling with yours in a sloppy, heated dance. The taste of him flooded your senses. You moaned softly into his mouth, the sound vibrating between you as your manicured nails, pretty pastel pink to match your sweater, raked down the front of his clothed chest. The fabric of his shirt and leather jacket bunched slightly under your touch, but you could feel the solid, sculpted muscle beneath, the skin warm and firm. Each pass of your nails drew a low rumble from deep in his throat, encouraging you to press harder, to explore more.

His strong hands gripped your waist possessively, fingers digging into the soft curve there through the thin pink fabric. With effortless strength, he leaned you back along the sleek length of the motorcycle, guiding your body until the cool metal and leather of the seat supported you. The back of your shoulders pressed against the sturdy handlebars, arching your torso in a way that left you deliciously exposed and vulnerable under the dim garage lights. The position felt thrillingly precarious— the bike steady beneath you but the risk of the open garage adding an edge of excitement that made your pulse race.

Your bunny slippers dangled from your feet, one slipping slightly as your legs parted just a little for balance. The silk of your sleep shorts rode up higher on your thighs, and the cool air kissed your exposed skin, contrasting sharply with the heat radiating from Jungkook’s body hovering over you.

He broke the kiss only to trail his lips along your jawline, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses and gentle nips that made you shiver. His breath was hot against your skin as he moved lower, lavishing attention on the elegant line of your collarbone now beautifully exposed by the off-the-shoulder sweater. The soft fabric had slipped further down one arm, baring more of you to him, and he took full advantage of it as his tongue traced the delicate bone, sucking lightly at the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder.

Your hands wandered greedily over his broad shoulders, sliding along the smooth, worn leather of his biker jacket. You could feel the powerful muscles shifting underneath as he moved, admiring how incredibly toned he was, every inch of him sculpted from hours on the bike and in the gym. The way the jacket hugged his frame, the faint scent of leather and cologne mixing with the garage air, made him look so dangerously hot, like the ultimate forbidden fantasy come to life right there between your thighs.

“God, you’re so huge,” you whispered breathlessly, your fingers squeezing at his biceps through the jacket, marveling at the sheer size and strength of them. They flexed under your touch, hard as steel yet warm and alive, and the words slipped out in a reverent, needy little murmur that made your cheeks burn hotter.

Jungkook pulled back just enough to let out a deep, amused laugh, “Yeah? You like that, angel?” Before you could respond, his hand shot up to grip your jaw firmly, tilting your face up to his. With a wicked gleam, he leaned in and spit directly into your open mouth, the act so bold and intimate that it sent a fresh wave of heat straight to your core. Then his lips crashed back onto yours, kissing you even harder, tasting himself on your tongue as the sloppy makeout resumed with renewed intensity.

His hands moved with purpose now, sliding under the hem of your sweater. In one smooth, practiced motion, he lifted it up and over your head, the soft fabric whispering against your skin as it was tossed aside onto the nearby workbench. You were left in just your delicate lace bra and silk sleep shorts, the cool garage air raising goosebumps across your newly exposed torso.

Jungkook’s gaze darkened with lust as it roamed over you, drinking in every inch. His large hands cupped your breasts over the intricate lace, squeezing gently but firmly, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks that were already hardening under his touch. The sensation pulled a sharp gasp from your lips, your head lolling back against the motorcycle’s handlebars, eyes fluttering half-closed as pleasure sparked through you. Your back arched instinctively into his palms, offering more of yourself to him, the position leaving you beautifully displayed with your shoulders pressed back, chest pushed forward, and pink lace straining against his fingers.

The garage felt smaller, hotter, every sound amplified: your heavy breathing, the faint creak of the bike beneath you, and the low, appreciative growls escaping Jungkook as he continued to explore your body with reverent hunger. Jungkook’s mouth stayed fused to yours for a long, heated moment, the sloppy makeout growing even messier as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth with dominant hunger.

His hands never left your breasts, cupping the soft, lace-covered mounds fully in his large palms, squeezing and kneading them with just the right pressure that made sparks of pleasure shoot straight down your spine. He pulled back from the kiss with a wet pop, his lips shiny and breathing ragged, dark eyes locked on your flushed face before drifting lower. With a low, appreciative hum, he tugged the delicate lace cups of your bra downward in one smooth motion, freeing your tits to the cool air of the garage. Your nipples pebbled instantly under his gaze, and Jungkook didn’t hesitate, he latched onto one sensitive bud with his mouth, teeth grazing lightly before sucking hard, tongue swirling around the peak.

“Fuck, I love these tits,” he growled against your skin, the vibration sending shivers through you as he switched to the other nipple, nipping and sucking with greedy devotion. “So fucking perfect for me, angel. Always so soft.” His words were muffled against your chest, each pull of his mouth drawing louder, breathier moans from your parted lips.

You arched your back further against the motorcycle’s handlebars, pressing your chest eagerly into his face, one hand tangling in his dark hair while the other gripped the leather of his jacket for support. The position left you beautifully stretched out— shoulders braced, hips shifting restlessly on the bike seat, silk shorts riding higher up your thighs as pleasure built in slow, pulsing waves.

His free hand began a teasing descent, sliding down your stomach and slipping beneath the waistband of your silk sleep shorts. Jungkook groaned deeply the moment his fingers brushed against your soaked core, the sound raw and masculine, echoing softly in the underground garage. “So fucking wet already,” he murmured, voice thick with lust as he rubbed along your folds through the thin barrier of your panties. “This little pussy is dripping for me, isn’t it, baby?”

You whined his name desperately, “Jungkook, please…” the sound needy on your lips, as your hips bucked toward his hand practically begging for more friction. Your manicured nails scratched lightly at his scalp, tugging at his hair while your head lolled back again, exposing the elegant line of your throat. The cool metal of the handlebars dug into your shoulders, grounding you even as everything else felt like it was spinning with heat and want.

Jungkook chuckled softly against your breast, before he unlatched with one final, slow lick. He pulled back just enough to look up at you, eyes gleaming with dark affection. “So needy,” he cooed, voice dripping with mock sympathy as he continued to stroke you lightly. “My adorable little thing, always so desperate for my touch. Such a good little whore for me.” The filthy praise made your cheeks burn hotter, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you at his words. He finally gave you what you craved, his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties to circle your swollen clit with slow with deliberate stroke, firm enough to make your thighs tremble but not enough to push you over the edge just yet.

Your whines grew louder and more impatient, filling the quiet garage as you rocked against his hand. Jungkook grinned at your reaction, then suddenly dropped to his knees in front of the motorcycle, the move fluid and eager. He yanked your body forward on the seat with strong hands on your hips, pulling you closer to the edge so your pussy was perfectly positioned for him. You gasped sharply at the sudden shift, gripping the handlebars for balance as your slippers brushed against his sides.

He started slow with pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the first one side, then the other, nipping gently at the soft flesh while his hands held your legs apart. His breath ghosted over your clothed center, making you squirm.

Then his mouth was on you, trailing kisses directly over your soaked panties. He moved the fabric of your silk sleep shorts fully to the side but left your panties in place, pressing his tongue flat against the thin, damp material and licking a long, slow stripe up your center. The sensation was wet heat through the fabric, the teasing barrier, had you gasping loudly, your hand flying to his hair again and yanking hard as pleasure jolted through you.

Jungkook groaned in response, the sound vibrating right against your core, and then he began making out with your pussy over the panties like it was your mouth, deep, sloppy kisses, tongue swirling and sucking at your clit through the lace, nose pressed against you as he devoured you with filthy enthusiasm. Every lick and suck was deliberate, drawn out, building the ache inside you higher and higher while keeping you right on that delicious edge.

He knelt between your spread thighs, completely focused on your pleasure, the motorcycle steady beneath your arched body. Every swirl of his tongue around your swollen clit sent jolts of electric pleasure racing through your body, the barrier of the panties only heightening the teasing friction.

His large, tattooed hands gripped your soft thighs firmly, fingers digging into the plush flesh as he spread them even wider apart, opening you up completely for him. The rough handling made your silk sleep shorts ride up further, the fabric bunching uselessly at the side as he held you exactly how he wanted, now vulnerable, exposed, and utterly at his mercy. The motorcycle creaked slightly beneath you from the shifting of your weight, your shoulders still braced against the handlebars, back arched in a graceful curve that pushed your chest and hips forward. Your fluffy bunny slippers dangled helplessly in the air, one of them nearly slipping off as your legs quivered under his strong grip.

Soft, breathy moans spilled from your lips without restraint, filling the quiet garage with the sweetest sounds. “Jungkook… oh god, that feels so good,” you praised him in that gentle, angelic voice he adored so much, the one that always made his cock twitch and his possessiveness flare.

“You’re so good to me. I love your mouth, baby… please don’t stop.” Your words were laced with genuine adoration and desperate need, each moan and whimper encouraging him further. Your fingers threaded deeper into his dark, silky hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp in rhythmic motions that drew low groans from him, the vibrations traveling straight to your core. You pushed his head deeper into your needy pussy, hips rolling subtly against his face as you chased more of that delicious pressure, completely lost in the sensation of his tongue worshiping you through the damp lace.

Jungkook responded with renewed hunger, his growls muffled against your soaked panties as he devoured you like a man starved. He sucked your clit through the fabric with just the right amount of intensity, then flattened his tongue again for broad, messy strokes that left the material drenched and nearly translucent. His hands kept your thighs pinned wide open, thumbs stroking the sensitive inner skin in soothing circles even as his grip remained firm and commanding.

Your praises continued in that soft, melodic tone, broken only by little gasps and whimpers whenever his tongue hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Yes… just like that, Koo…I’m so wet for you…” The words seemed to spur him on, his movements growing sloppier, more passionate, as if your voice was the only thing he needed to stay right there on his knees for hours.

Jungkook finally pulled back from between your thighs with one last, lingering lick over your soaked panties, his lips shiny and his breathing heavy. He rose slowly from his knees, towering over you as he stood between your spread legs. His hands made quick, impatient work of shedding the rest of his clothes, first shrugging off his leather jacket with a rustle of fabric, then yanking his shirt over his head in one fluid motion.

The sight of his toned, tattooed torso coming into view made your mouth water. He pushed his pants and boxers down his powerful thighs in one go, kicking them aside along with his boots until he stood completely naked before you, every inch of his muscular, inked body on full display under the dim garage lights. His cock stood hard and heavy, thick and flushed, curving slightly upward as it throbbed with need.

You leaned up on your elbows, the cool metal of the motorcycle’s handlebars still pressing into your shoulders as you watched him with wide, hungry eyes. With a shy but determined little smile playing on your lips, you reached behind your back, unhooking your bra and pulling the delicate lace down your arms. You flung it somewhere behind you, not caring where it landed, leaving your bare tits fully exposed to the cool air and his burning gaze. Your eyes stayed locked intently on his the entire time, soft and sweet, and full of adoration even as desire darkened them. A small, innocent smile curved your mouth, your angelic expression and the filthy position you were in making Jungkook’s cock twitch visibly.

He wrapped a large hand around his thick length, stroking himself slowly up and down as he drank in the sight of you; sprawled half-naked across his bike. The way his fist moved over his cock was mesmerizing, veins standing out along his forearm, tattoos shifting with each stroke.

He leaned down to kiss you, but you shook your head gently, placing a small hand on his firm chest and pushing him back just enough. “Wait,” you whined softly, voice breathy and needy. “I want to suck you off, Jungkook… please.”

“You don’t have to, angel,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint, still slowly pumping his fist over his length.

You huffed cutely, bottom lip pushing out in a pretty pout. “But I want to… like, really bad.”

Jungkook let out a deep, affectionate laugh at your determination, the sound warm and husky as he nodded. “Alright, baby. Come here then.”

You slid off the motorcycle with shaky legs, the cool concrete of the garage floor meeting your slippers as you dropped gracefully to your knees in front of him. His dark eyes followed every movement, intense and possessive, watching as you replaced his hand with your own smaller one. Your manicured fingers wrapped around his thick cock, barely able to close fully around his impressive girth. You looked up at him sweetly as you leaned in, spitting directly onto his throbbing length, the warm saliva dripping down his shaft. Then you began jerking him off slowly, your fist gliding smoothly with a wet, obscene sound, twisting gently at the head on every upstroke.

You tapped the swollen tip of his cock against your soft, bare tits, smearing the mixture of your spit and his precum across your skin in teasing little slaps. Jungkook groaned deeply, hips twitching forward as he watched the filthy sight. “Fuck, you’re so sexy like this,” he rasped, voice thick with lust. “My pretty little angel on her knees for me… so fucking perfect.”

You hummed happily at his praise, the vibration traveling through your throat as you finally leaned forward and took him into your warm, wet mouth. Your lips stretched around his girth as you began sucking him off with slow, devoted bobs of your head, tongue swirling around the underside of his cock while your hand continued to stroke what you couldn’t fit yet. The garage filled with the wet, sloppy sounds of your mouth working him, mixed with his low groans and your soft, muffled moans of enjoyment.

Jungkook’s large hand cradled against your jaw and cheek, his thumb gently stroking the flushed skin there as he felt the bulge of his own thick cock moving inside your mouth with every bob of your head. The sensation seemed to drive him wild, his dark eyes fixed intently on the way your cheek hollowed and swelled, a low, continuous groan rumbling from deep in his chest.

“Fuck, angel… you have no idea how perfect you look right now,” he praised, voice hoarse and dripping with lust. “That sweet little mouth stretching around me, taking me so deep. You’re such a good girl for me, baby. My pretty princess on her knees, sucking my cock like you were born for it.” His words wrapped around you like velvet, making your pussy clench with fresh arousal even as you focused entirely on pleasuring him

Your smaller hand worked tirelessly along the thick base of his shaft that wouldn’t fit fully into your mouth, stroking with smooth, twisting motions while your lips and tongue lavished attention on the rest. The blowjob grew increasingly sloppy and wet, saliva dripping freely down your chin, coating his length, and spilling onto your bare tits in shiny trails.

Your nails occasionally grazed his thighs or cupped his balls lightly, adding another layer of sensation that made his hips jerk forward instinctively. You moaned around his cock, the vibrations traveling straight through him as you lost yourself in the act, eyes watering slightly but never breaking the sweet, adoring gaze you kept locked on his face.

Emboldened by his praises, you pushed yourself further, relaxing your throat and sliding all the way down until your nose pressed flush against his abdomen. You held there for a few intense seconds before shaking your head slowly from side to side, the movement making his cock rub against every sensitive part of your throat. The feeling was overwhelming, but you loved it, loved the way it made him curse under his breath and tighten his grip on your jaw.

Finally, you pulled back with a dramatic gasp, strings of thick saliva connecting your swollen, glossy lips to his throbbing, glistening cock. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, hand immediately returning to stroke him fast and slick while you looked up at him.

A soft, breathless giggle escaped you at the sight of his absolutely fucked-out expression, his eyes heavy-lidded and glassy with pleasure, lips parted and jaw slack, dark hair messy from your fingers earlier. He looked completely wrecked, and the power of knowing you did that to him sent a thrill racing through your body.

“Shit, baby… I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” Jungkook warned, his voice strained and rough, hips twitching into your fist as he fought for control.

Still giggling softly, you tapped the swollen, leaking tip of his cock against your soft, spit-covered tits again, smearing the messy combination of your saliva and his precum across your skin in teasing little pats. The filthy sight made his cock jump in your hand. You tilted your head innocently, batting your lashes up at him with that sweet, needy expression he could never resist. “Will you fuck me now, Koo?” you asked in that soft, breathy voice, still gently stroking his length. “Please? I need you so bad…”

He nodded almost immediately, a dark, predatory smirk breaking through the haze of pleasure on his face. “Yeah, angel. I’ll fuck you real good. Gonna give this tight little pussy exactly what it’s been begging for.”

Without another word, his strong hands grabbed your waist with effortless power. In one swift, fluid motion, he flipped you over onto the motorcycle. You let out a surprised little gasp as your body was maneuvered, ending up lying back along the sleek, cool body of the bike once more. The leather seat and metal frame pressed firmly against your bare back and shoulders, the handlebars digging into your upper back and shoulder blades in that familiar, slightly uncomfortable but thrilling arched position. Your head tilted back over the front of the motorcycle, hair cascading down, while your bare tits heaved with anticipation and your legs parted naturally around his hips. The cool garage air kissed every inch of your newly exposed skin, making you shiver as you looked up at him with wide, needy eyes.

Jungkook didn’t waste a single second. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your sleep shorts and panties, yanking them both down your thighs in one rough, impatient tug. He pulled them all the way off, tossing the delicate fabrics aside somewhere on the garage floor, leaving you completely naked and spread open on his motorcycle. His gaze raked hungrily over your body. You skin flushed and your nipples hard, dripping pussy glistening under the dim lights, as he stepped fully between your trembling thighs, his thick cock brushing teasingly against your inner thigh.

He wrapped one strong hand around his thick, throbbing cock, stroking it slowly as he gazed down at your dripping pussy with dark, hungry eyes. Then, with deliberate teasing, he tapped the swollen, leaking tip firmly against your swollen clit. The sudden contact made you yelp sharply, a high-pitched, needy sound that echoed softly in the underground garage. Pleasure sparked hot and electric through your core, your hips jerking instinctively upward.

Your hands flew up to his arms, sliding reverently up and down the toned, tattooed muscles there— feeling them flex and shift under your palms as he held you in place. The feeling of your soft, delicate touch and his hard, inked strength only made everything feel more intense.

He hooked one of your legs up and over his broad shoulder with ease, the new angle opening you up even more and stretching the muscles in your thigh deliciously. Your other leg he bent toward your chest, folding you nearly in half on the motorcycle seat so that your soaked pussy was completely exposed and presented to him. The position left you feeling vulnerable yet incredibly desired, your body folded and offered up like his personal feast. Jungkook dragged the thick head of his cock up and down your slick slit slowly, coating himself in your wetness, nudging teasingly against your entrance and then back up to your clit. The wet, obscene sounds of it filled the quiet space, making your cheeks burn hotter.

“You want it, angel?” he asked, voice low and rough, eyes locked on yours with that intense, commanding stare. “Want my cock stretching this pretty little pussy?”

You whined desperately, nodding your head quickly, hair shifting against the motorcycle as your hips tried to chase the teasing pressure. “Yes… yes, please, Jungkook,” you breathed out, voice trembling with need.

He smirked, still sliding his tip along your folds, pressing just slightly against your entrance before pulling back again. “How bad do you want it, baby? Tell me.”

You cried out, the words tumbling from your lips in a needy rush. “Really bad! I want it so bad, Koo… please, I need you inside me. I can’t take it anymore…”

Satisfied with your desperate plea, Jungkook slapped the thick head of his cock against your clit again, harder and rougher this time. The sharp smack sent a jolt of overwhelming pleasure-pain shooting through you, drawing a loud, broken moan from deep in your throat. Your back arched sharply against the bike, nails digging into his arms as your body trembled.

Without any further warning, he pushed inside you in one powerful thrust, burying himself to the hilt in your tight, dripping heat. He set a rough, quick pace right from the start with deep, punishing strokes that made the motorcycle creak beneath you with every snap of his hips. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the garage, mixed with your breathy moans and his low, guttural groans. Each thrust dragged perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you, the angle from your folded position making him feel impossibly deep, stretching you open so deliciously that stars burst behind your eyelids.

His large hands greedily grabbed at your tits, squeezing the soft, bouncing flesh roughly as he pounded into you. “Fuck, you’re so fucking hot like this, angel,” he growled, voice deep and strained with pleasure, eyes devouring the sight of you falling apart on his bike. “Look at you… taking my cock so well. You love me fucking you like this, don’t you? Love how I tear this tight little pussy up?”

You could only nod weakly at first, head lolling back against the motorcycle as overwhelming pleasure rendered you nearly speechless. Your mouth hung open, soft whimpers and broken moans spilling out with every deep thrust that punched the air from your lungs. Jungkook wasn’t satisfied with your silent response. He leaned over you slightly, still driving into you hard, and demanded, “Speak up, baby. Tell me.”

“Yes— yes, I love it so much!” you cried out, voice shaky and breathless. “I love your big cock so much, Jungkook… it feels so good, you’re so deep”

A sharp slap landed on one of your tits, the sting blooming beautifully across your skin as he tweaked and pinched your hardened nipple between his fingers, rolling it roughly. The mix of pain and pleasure made your walls clench tightly around his thrusting cock. He kept up the merciless pace, hips moving roughly, your entire body jerking and bouncing with every powerful stroke. You were being fucked dumb, eyes glassy, thoughts scattered, reduced to nothing but moans and the overwhelming sensation of him ruining you so perfectly on his motorcycle.

You mumbled incoherently about how good it felt, “So good… Kook, it’s so deep… feels amazing…” Your hand drifted down between your bodies, fingers desperately seeking your clit to chase even more pleasure, but Jungkook was faster. He smacked your hand away with a firm swat, replacing it with his own rough fingers.

He circled your swollen clit with expert pressure, matching the rhythm of his hips while his other hand continued smacking and groping your tits, alternating between sharp slaps and soothing squeezes. The combination sent you spiraling— pain and pleasure blending into one intoxicating wave that made your thighs shake and your pussy flutter around him.

His cock continued hitting so deep inside you with every thrust, the head brushing against that sensitive spot over and over, building the pressure higher and higher. Your bunny slippers bounced helplessly in the air, your nails digging into his arms as you held on for dear life, completely lost in the raw, filthy ecstasy of being claimed so thoroughly by him. His groans and growls grew louder and more primal, vibrating through his chest as sweat glistened on his tattooed skin under the dim garage lights.

The wet, filthy sounds of his thick cock driving into your soaked pussy filled the air, skin slapping skin, your juices coating his length and dripping down with every brutal thrust. You lifted your head weakly, eyes glassy and half-lidded, staring down the length of your folded body to watch in mesmerized awe as his glistening cock disappeared completely into your tight, stretched pussy only to pull back out shiny and wet before slamming in again. The sight was obscene and intoxicating, your soft folds parting around his impressive girth over and over.

He noticed your dazed gaze and let out a deep, breathless chuckle, still pounding into you. “You like how that looks, angel? Watching my cock wreck this pretty little hole?”

You nodded weakly, barely able to form words. “Yes…” you mumbled, voice hoarse and broken.

Jungkook slowed his pace for a moment, drawing out each thrust into a powerful, deliberate slam that jolted your entire body. The change in rhythm made you tremble uncontrollably, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Your hands moved shakily upward, reaching above your head to grip the cool metal handlebars behind you for support. Your knuckles turned white as you held on, back arched even more dramatically, tits bouncing with every deep impact. Soft, breathy whines spilled from your lips as the pressure became overwhelming. “I’m gonna cum… Koo, I’m gonna cum…”

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby?” he growled, voice thick with lust as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

“Uh huh, uh huh— fuck, don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” you begged desperately, nodding frantically, tears of overwhelming pleasure pricking at the corners of your eyes.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Jungkook picked up speed again, fucking you even faster and harder, chasing his own high with deep, animalistic thrusts. His hands gripped your hips bruisingly, holding you in place as he drove into you. “Look at you… so small under me, so fucking beautiful,” he rasped, eyes roaming over your flushed, writhing form. “I love this pussy so much, love this body, love fucking you stupid like this. You take me so perfectly every time, angel.”

You couldn’t even form real words anymore. The pleasure had melted your brain into a hazy fog, and all you could manage were soft, repeated little affirmations. “Uh huh… uh huh… uh huh…” The sounds slipped out with every brutal thrust, your head tossing weakly against the motorcycle as your body shook.

“My dumb little whore,” he cooed affectionately, voice rough yet tender as he slammed into you. “Gonna cum on my cock? Tell me.”

“Yes— yes!” you cried out, the word breaking into a loud, drawn-out moan as your orgasm crashed over you hard. Your pussy clenched violently around his thrusting cock, walls fluttering and spasming as waves of intense pleasure ripped through your entire body. You writhed and trembled beneath him, back bowing sharply off the bike, nails scraping against the handlebars while broken moans and whimpers poured from your lips. Your thighs shook, bunny slippers flopping wildly as the climax consumed you completely.

Jungkook followed right after with a deep, guttural groan. He pushed himself as deep as possible inside you, hips flush against yours as he came hard, thick ropes of cum flooding your pulsing pussy. His cock twitched and throbbed with every spurt, his body tensing above you as he rode out his release, growling your name under his breath. The garage fell into a heavy, satisfied silence broken only by your shared ragged breathing.

Jungkook stayed buried deep inside you for a few long, lingering moments, savoring the way your pussy continued to flutter and milk every last drop from him. Finally, he pulled out slowly, obscene slap of his cock leaving your soaked entrance making you whimper softly at the sudden emptiness. A thick trail of his cum mixed with your own arousal leaked from your pussy, dripping down your thighs and onto the leather seat of the motorcycle beneath you.

His hands immediately moved to caress your sides with surprising gentleness, sliding up and down your flushed, sweat-slicked skin as if grounding you after the intensity of your shared orgasms.

He leaned down over your arched body, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue fought against yours in a slow, messy battle, tasting, claiming, and soothing all at once. The kiss was hungry yet tender, full of the deep affection he held for you even in the middle of something so filthy. His cock, still hard and glistening, stood tall and proud against your thigh, twitching with renewed interest. It wasn’t unusual for him to stay ready for multiple rounds; your nights together often stretched on for hours, and tonight felt like one of those nights.

You whined softly against his mouth, pulling back just enough to look up at him with hazy, needy eyes. Your chest heaved, tits still flushed from his earlier attention, and your body trembled slightly from the aftershocks.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” Jungkook murmured, voice low and rough, one hand gently cupping your cheek as his thumb brushed your swollen bottom lip. His dark eyes searched yours with that perfect mix of dominance and care.

Shyly, despite everything you’d just done, you averted your gaze for a second before whispering, “I want you to take me from behind… please.”

A wicked smirk spread across his face. “Yeah? Turn around for me then, angel.” He helped you up with strong but careful hands, maneuvering your boneless body into the new position on the motorcycle. He guided your upper half to drape along the seat and sleek body of the bike, your cheek and chest pressed against the cool leather, face turned toward the handlebars. Your knees rested on the padded seat, back arched deeply, and your ass raised high in the air, perfectly presented to him as your knees sunk slightly into the seat as you gripped the edges for balance.

Jungkook’s fingers immediately found your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles as he spat on his other hand. He rubbed the saliva up and down your dripping entrance, spreading the mixture of your combined fluids. You were already soaking wet, his cum still leaking steadily from your pussy, making everything slick and messy. He lined the thick head of his cock up with your entrance, ready to slide back into your heat, but you let out a needy little whine.

“Noooo, baby…”

He paused instantly, pulling back slightly, confusion flickering across his face. “No?”

You wiggled your ass back toward him invitingly, biting your lip as heat flooded your cheeks. It took him a second, but understanding dawned in his eyes, darkening them further with raw lust.

“You sure?” he asked, voice dropping even lower, one hand gently squeezing your ass cheek.

You nodded at first, then remembered what he wanted. “Yes… I’m sure. Fuck my ass, Jungkook. Please.”

A deep, guttural groan tore from his throat at your words. He sent a firm smack to your ass, the sharp sound echoing in the garage as the flesh jiggled under his palm. “Fuck, angel… you’re gonna kill me saying it like that.” He took his time, spitting on his cock and rubbing the head against your tight entrance, teasing and preparing you carefully even as his breathing grew heavier with anticipation.

Jungkook took his time, knowing it had been a while since you’d done this. He rubbed the thick, spit-slicked head of his cock against your tight entrance in slow, teasing circles, pressing forward just enough for the tip to breach the tight ring of muscle before gently pulling back out. The shallow thrusts were careful and deliberate, stretching you open little by little. Each time he pushed in, only the head and a couple of inches sank inside before he retreated, letting your body adjust to his impressive girth. The sensation was intense, burning pleasure mixed with that familiar fullness that made your head spin and your breath hitch.

His hands roamed soothingly up and down your waist and sides, fingers stroking your soft skin in long, comforting caresses. “Relax for me, angel,” he murmured, voice low and husky. “That’s it… you’re doing so good. Taking the tip so nicely.” He coaxed you gently onto his cock, hips moving in that slow, shallow rhythm while his palms mapped every curve of your body, grounding you and helping you ease into it.

You were breathing heavily, soft moans slipping from your lips with every careful push. After a few moments, you whispered breathlessly, “I’m okay… you can go deeper, but slow please.”

“Of course, baby,” Jungkook replied tenderly, leaning down to press a kiss between your shoulder blades. He gradually sank a little deeper on the next thrust, still moving at that measured pace, giving you time to adjust. The slow drag of his thick cock inside your ass had your toes curling in your fluffy bunny slippers, overwhelming pleasure building deep in your core. He listened intently to every sound you made, your heavy, shaky breathing and the soft, needy moans that grew louder as he worked himself further inside you.

You flipped your hair to one side, turning your head to look back at him over your shoulder. The moment your eyes met his, his gaze darkened with raw lust, pupils blown wide. He glanced down to where your bodies were joined, watching intently as your tight hole stretched around his cock. “Fuck, look at you,” he groaned. “You’re opening up so good for me, angel. Taking my cock in your pretty ass like such a good girl.”

Emboldened by his praise, you wiggled your ass back against him, pushing yourself further onto his length. Jungkook let you take control, holding still as you began to fuck yourself back onto his cock. “That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, voice rough with restraint. “Use me. Fuck yourself on it.”

You whined desperately, whispering a string of “yes yes yes” as your hips started moving faster. You took more and more of him with each backward push until finally, after several moments of breathless effort, you sank all the way down, taking him completely inside your ass. Your hips moved of their own accord, rocking and grinding back against him in a needy rhythm, chasing that deep, full pleasure.

“It feels so good,” you gasped, tripping over your words as the sensations overwhelmed you. “Your dick is so big… so deep… it’s the best dick I’ve ever had, Koo… fuck, I love it…” You were going dumb again, babbling praises between breathy moans, completely lost in the feeling of being stuffed so full by him.

Jungkook’s cocky smirk returned as he watched you fuck yourself on him. He brought a firm hand down on your ass with a sharp smack, the sound ringing out in the garage. He gripped the soft flesh hard, molding and spreading your cheeks between his strong fingers, admiring the way you stretched around him. “That’s my girl,” he growled, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Taking every inch like you were made for it.”

Each backward roll of your hips drove him deeper, the stretch and fullness making your head spin with overwhelming pleasure. Finally, Jungkook’s patience snapped. His strong hands pressed down on your shoulders, sinking your upper body lower until your cheek was pressed flush against the cool leather seat of the motorcycle. The new angle arched your back even more dramatically, ass raised high and presented to him like an offering. Without warning, he took full control and began a sharp, punishing pace, thrusting hard and fast, using your ass like his own personal fleshlight. The sudden intensity made you cry out loudly, your body jolting forward with every brutal snap of his hips.

His hand tangled into your hair, fingers twisting in the strands as he yanked your head up, forcing you to arch even further. “Oh my fucking god—” you groaned, the words tearing from your throat in a broken, desperate sound as he fucked you relentlessly. The pace was merciless now, deep and powerful, his thick cock driving into your ass over and over, stretching you wide and hitting spots that made your vision blur. Tears of overwhelming pleasure streamed down your flushed cheeks, dripping onto the leather seat beneath you.

You were babbling complete nonsense, words melting into incoherent moans and whimpers. “Koo— ah, fuck, it’s so much— too good, please” Your voice cracked and trembled with every thrust that punched the air from your lungs. Jungkook’s free hand slid down between your trembling thighs, his fingers finding your swollen, dripping clit and rubbing fast, tight circles that made your legs shake violently. The dual stimulation, his cock ruining your ass while he played with your pussy, pushed you right to the edge again.

Suddenly, he sent a sharp smack directly to your soaked pussy, the wet slap landing right over your sensitive folds and clit. You jolted forward hard with a loud, broken cry, fresh tears spilling down your face as the sting bloomed into white-hot pleasure. Jungkook didn’t slow down for even a second. He kept fucking you hard and fast, hips slamming against your ass, hand still tangled in your hair while his fingers continued rubbing and occasionally smacking your pussy, mixing pain and pleasure until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

Jungkook kept his sharp rhythm. His hand stayed tangled in your hair, keeping your head arched up while your cheek occasionally pressed into the cool leather seat. Sweat slicked both your bodies, the garage air thick with the scent of sex and leather. His voice came out rough and breathless as he leaned over you, lips brushing near your ear.

“You gonna cum again for me, angel?” he growled, voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. “Tell me, baby. You close?”

You nodded weakly against the seat, face half-buried in the leather, tears still streaking down your flushed cheeks. “Fuck yes…” you mumbled, voice hoarse and broken, barely coherent. “Yes, Koo… so close”

He continued for a few more powerful seconds, driving into you with deep, punishing strokes that made your vision spark with white-hot pleasure. Your second orgasm crashed over you even harder than the first. A loud, shattered moan tore from your throat as your body seized up, ass clenching tightly around his thick cock. Waves of intense pleasure ripped through you, making your thighs shake violently and your knees buckle slightly on the motorcycle seat. You writhed beneath him, slippers flopping helplessly as your pussy gushed and your ass pulsed rhythmically around him, milking his length with every spasm. Tears flowed freely now, mixing with the sweat on your face as you cried out his name over and over.

Jungkook groaned loudly at the feeling, his hips stuttering for a moment before he chased his own high with renewed ferocity. “Fuck— yes, just like that,” he grunted, gripping the soft flesh of your ass hard with both hands, fingers digging in deep enough to leave marks. He pushed in as deep as he could go, grinding and thrusting through your orgasm as his own release hit him hard. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded deep into your ass, pulse after pulse as he kept moving, fucking his release into you with shallow, possessive thrusts. “Shit, your ass feels so fucking good wrapped around me… milking me dry, baby. Taking every drop like such a good little whore.”

He kept groaning and grunting with each spurt, hips pressing flush against your ass as he emptied himself completely. “That’s it… my princess loves taking my cum deep in her ass, doesn’t she? Fuck, you’re so perfect, squeezing me so tight.” His hands kneaded and spread your cheeks, holding you open as he gave a few final, lazy thrusts to push his cum deeper inside you, savoring the way your body continued to flutter around him.

The garage fell into a heavy, panting silence, broken only by your shared ragged breathing. Jungkook stayed buried inside you for a long moment, one hand gently stroking down your spine while the other kept a possessive grip on your hip, both of you coming down from the intense high.

Finally, with a soft, reluctant groan, he pulled out of your ass carefully, his cum leaking out of you in a warm, messy trickle that dripped down your thighs and onto the motorcycle seat. The sudden emptiness made you whimper softly, your body completely spent. You flopped limply against the leather seat of the bike, cheek pressed to the cool surface, limbs loose and trembling. Your chest rose and fell with heavy, satisfied breaths, hair messy and sticking to your flushed skin, a dreamy, fucked-out smile playing on your lips.

For a few moments, there was nothing but comfortable silence between you— just the distant hum of the city above the garage and the sound of your slowing heartbeats. Then, out of nowhere, a soft, bubbly giggle escaped your lips. It started small and quickly grew into quiet, happy laughter that shook your shoulders.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, a fond smile tugging at his own lips as he watched you, one hand still gently stroking along your spine. “What’s so funny, angel?” he asked, voice warm and amused, leaning down to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

You turned your head slightly to look at him, eyes sparkling with affection despite how wrecked you felt. “Nothing… I just… I love you,” you whispered sweetly, the words slipping out so easily and sincerely that it made your chest feel warm and full. “So much.”

His expression softened instantly, that signature cocky smirk melting into something tender and genuine. “I love you too, baby. More than you know.” He helped you up with careful, strong arms, supporting your shaky legs as he lifted you off the motorcycle. You leaned heavily against his chest, letting him hold most of your weight while he grabbed a clean rag from his workbench. He wiped you down gently, first between your thighs, then your ass, cleaning away the mess with slow, attentive strokes, murmuring soft praises the whole time. “You did so good for me tonight… my perfect girl.”

Once you were cleaned up, he slipped his leather jacket around your bare shoulders, the warm fabric engulfing you in his scent. He pulled you close again, cupping your face with both hands and kissing you deeply, slow and sweet this time, full of love rather than hunger. His lips moved softly against yours, lingering, pouring every unsaid feeling into the kiss.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, noses brushing. “Let’s get you upstairs, yeah? Shower, cuddles, and all the plushies you want when we get back to your room later.” He scooped you up bridal-style with ease, feet dangling as he carried you toward the elevator, pressing one last gentle kiss to your temple. “My sweet angel… I’m never letting you go.”

perm taglist ﹐ → @merakoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @littlejeanskirt @mikrokookiex @sugak00kie134340 @alondra6011 @stars4kooo @namgimini @b-tangkitten @celliez @kyljjk @lovingkoalaface @unbibiased @chwrrybby @divakoo @mar-lo-pap

You’re walking home from school when you pass by each other, and Jungkook is carrying the chocolate cone he bought from the ice cream truck that parks outside his school. Normally, if there is food anywhere in sight, the zombie apocalypse could begin without him noticing. You, on the other hand, catch his attention and pull it away from the melting goodness. His heart leaps into his throat as he hopes you notice him, too. But much to his chagrin, your eyes lock onto the two large scoops sitting atop his sugar cone instead.

“That looks delicious,” you say.

He’s fairly certain you didn’t mean to say the phrase out loud and therefore responding would only embarrass you, but alas, his brain short circuits when pretty girls walk by, and so he replies.

“You want a lick?”

Your jaw practically unhinges like a snake while his free hand comes up to slap his own forehead. He should’ve hit himself harder. Then maybe he could’ve knocked the stupidity out of himself. But then, like a beacon of light breaking through the mountain of embarrassment he is being buried under, comes the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. A laugh that rings like a bell. To be more specific, the bell he’s been waiting to hear his whole life.

Jungkook removes the appendages blocking his view and sees you partially bent over; a hand covering your stomach as you laugh heartily. As mortified as he is, he can’t stop the smile your laughter creates.

“What?” he says. You allow your laugher to fade before answering,

“That is the most inappropriate thing you could’ve said,” you say. A residual giggle still lingers in your tone.

“Well, I mean,” Jungkook flounders. “What am I supposed to say when someone compliments my ice cream?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but maybe offering a complete stranger a lick isn’t the right answer?”

Jungkook can’t help but agree, and as he nods, a laugh escapes from his own chest. Suddenly, two complete strangers are laughing together while chocolate ice cream slowly drips onto the concrete.

A second ice cream cone later, and the rest is history. The exchanging of names and numbers turns into a first date, which leads to sharing a first kiss, and ends with you moving to the same college town together.

But nothing good lasts forever, and it would be easy to blame fate for the reason he’s sitting alone right now, but the truth is it’s his fault. There wasn’t some changing of the tide or gust of wind that swept you away from him. It was his own ego that led you right into the arms of another man; leaving him utterly heartbroken.

Taehyung doesn’t think much of it when he sees you at the coffee shop around the corner from campus. Neither of you drink coffee and this place has the best hot chocolate, so it only makes sense you’re here.

After grabbing his drink and the one with your name on it, he strolls over to where you’re standing and offers the larger cup to you.

“I hope you’re the only Y/N in here or this is going to get really awkward,” he jokes.

He’s pleased with the way your eyes widen and a smile appears, especially after four months of radio silence. Being the mutual friend caught in a bad breakup is never ideal, but even so, Taehyung missed you.

“Tae,” you sigh. “Hi.” Your hand reaches to take the drink from him; head bowing briefly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just here for some good ‘ole hot chocolate, same as you,” he answers.

“Oh, I actually drink coffee now. This is some sort of latte... Mocha, maybe? I don’t remember,” you laugh, but not the way he remembers. An awkwardness fills the air that causes Taehyung’s face to contort. It’s clear you take note of his reaction, as your mouth closes to stop the laugh at the source.

In the five years Taehyung has known you, there’s never been an awkward moment. You both share a weirdness and admiration for life that others just don’t. Even after the breakup, before you began seeking attention elsewhere, you spoke as though nothing had changed. Which leaves him wondering why you’re suddenly treating him like a stranger from math class.

His answer comes in the form of a looming shadow over your right shoulder.

The man that joins you is nothing like your ex. Jungkook, even with his muscles, piercings, and tattoos, looks like the boy next door. He has an uplifting presence and his smile is downright contagious.

This guy, on the other hand, is the personification of a rain cloud. His expression has Taehyung wondering if he wronged him in a past life because he hasn’t even uttered a word and the man reeks with contempt for him.

“Who’s this, baby?”

Taehyung notes that he’s likely your new boyfriend and not a hired hitman, based on the pet name and overall possessiveness.

“Oh, this is Taehyung,” you point with your free hand. “He went to my high school.”

Ok, that was weird, Taehyung thinks. Why would you refer to him that way? You’ve been thick as thieves since Jungkook introduced you.

Taehyung raises his eyebrow at you, but either you don’t notice or pretend not to.

“Yeah,” Taehyung stretches out the syllable. “She dated my best friend for quite a while.”

A beat.

Uh oh.

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Your presumed boyfriend’s jaw locks, veins noticeably protruding from his neck, and Superman’s laser eyes couldn’t succeed in blowing a hole through Taehyung’s skull better than he is right now. Similarly, your face is screaming ‘shut up or else.’ The behavior from both parties immediately has Taehyung suspicious. All he did was mention Jungkook, not even referencing him by name, and yet your boyfriend looks pissed and you look downright terrified.

Sleuthing, Taehyung analyzes your appearance for the first time. You’re dressed in a black long-sleeve top and light-wash jeans. In fact, he’s seen this exact outfit on you before, but it’s usually worn during your favorite season when the leaves change. So why are you wearing it in the middle of May?

Maybe he’s jumping to conclusions; the guy hasn’t even spoken to him directly yet. But Taehyung made a promise to Jungkook that he’d keep an eye out for you, and right now there are alarms going off.

“Well, uh, it was nice seeing you, Taehyung.” Your reply breaks the silence, but before Taehyung can even respond your guard dog is shoving you out of view.

Even though the uncomfortable exchange is over, Taehyung can’t shake his nerves. Overprotective boyfriends might be a dime a dozen, but something isn’t right. He owes it to his best friend and you to follow up.

The shop’s location is unfortunately on a street corner, so realistically you could’ve gone in any direction, but familiar voices to his left capture his attention. Taehyung catches you both behind the building in an alleyway. So, he ducks around the corner and attempts to make out what you’re saying.

“What the fuck was that, Y/N?”

“I didn’t know I’d run into him,” you defend.

“Yeah well you definitely could’ve shut it down a lot quicker than you did,” he says.

“What am I supposed to say?” Sighing, you run your fingers through your hair. “I can’t exactly tell someone I’ve known for half a decade to fuck off.”

“Why the hell not? Are you keeping him in your pocket for later?” He takes a step closer and snatches your wrist. Even from his position, Taehyung can see how tight he’s gripping you. Deep down he wants to be heroic and tell this guy to fuck off, but fear of making the situation worse keeps him hidden. “Do you wanna fuck him or something?”

“What? Of course I don’t.”

Ouch.

“Whatever. Just know if I ever see that fucker around you again someone will be paying for it.”

Taehyung doesn’t need to hear any more for his suspicions to be confirmed. He watches you leave to ensure you’re safe before heading to his apartment. One question plagues him during his walk: what does he do about this?

There’s a rerun Jungkook stopped caring about three episodes ago playing on the flatscreen. He’s lying sideways on the couch yet refuses to move no matter how uncomfortable. By nature he’s a hardworking perfectionist, but when you left you took his motivation with you. Now, this couch potato routine is all he knows. He doesn’t even budge when Taehyung comes bolting into the apartment.

“Kook, we gotta talk,” Taehyung says as he throws off his outdoor shoes and slides into his slippers. “I just saw Y/N.”

Jungkook’s interest piques at the sound of your name. Sitting up, he eagerly awaits his roommate’s arrival in the living room. Taehyung places himself where Jungkook’s head was before steadying his breathing with a hand to his chest.

Did he run here? Jungkook wonders.

“Where did you see her? Is she alright?” A million ideas swirl in Jungkook’s brain. Taehyung doesn’t rush for anything, so whatever he knows must be important.

“She was with her new boyfriend,” Taehyung begins. Heartbroken, Jungkook’s eyes begin to water. Nothing breaks through his waterline, but the threat is imminent. He already knows you’ve moved on. Some mutual friends told him a few months ago, but it still stings to hear about it again. Although, the bomb hasn’t even dropped yet. “And I think he’s hitting her.”

“WHAT?”

Jungkook is instantly moving towards the door without a destination in mind. He has no idea where you are or even who your boyfriend is, but it’s impossible to stay still. Luckily, Taehyung convinces him to listen before he flies off the handle. He gestures for Jungkook to sit again, but he refuses.

“She was at the coffee shop I always go to,” Taehyung says. “I handed her drink to her and we talked for less than a minute before this guy descended on us. He never even spoke to me, just asked her who I was and got livid when I mentioned being friends with her ex.” The gears in Jungkook’s brain are working overtime as he listens. “Anyway, it was suspicious as hell, so I followed them when they left. He took her to some alley behind the shop and started berating her about her five second conversation with me. He even had the audacity to ask her if she was interested in me.” Jungkook’s head snaps to attention; his roommate raises his palms in surrender. “Relax, she denied that she is, of course.” A sigh of relief from the younger one. “The last thing I heard him say is that if he ever sees me around again ‘someone’ will pay for it.”

“Someone? And you think he meant her?”

“He had her wrist in a vice grip and she was wearing long sleeves in spring, Kook.” Taehyung finally takes a sip of the hot chocolate he’d nearly forgotten about.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is spiraling. His selfish actions already led to a breakup, but now they’ve sent you straight into the arms of an abuser? It’s imperative that he finds out if this is true, because if it is, he’ll never forgive himself.

The tears from before make a comeback, and Jungkook plummets to the couch with his head in his hands. Taehyung already knows his best friend is crying. The shaking that occurs when he's holding back sobs is all too familiar to him by now.

“Jungkookie,” Taehyung rests his hand on the younger man’s back. “If it is true, it isn’t your fault.”

“Of course it is, hyung,” Jungkook says. He looks up then, and his eyes are already bloodshot and swollen. “If I hadn’t messed up the best thing to ever happen to me –”

“Hey,” Taehyung interrupts. “You’re human. You made some mistakes.”

“Mistakes that cost me her! And now mistakes that could be hurting her, too.”

Jungkook’s head falls back into his hands, and his roommate decides to leave it for now. There’s not going to be any convincing him otherwise tonight.

The library is a place of solace for you in this mad, mad world. With your books flared out and your laptop placed in the center, the setup looks like an academic flower. Your music penetrating your ears through your headphones causes you to miss the sound of footsteps approaching. It’s only once a hand taps your shoulder that you realize you’re no longer alone.

“Y/N,” the newcomer whispers.

You jump and pull out a single headphone. Facing the intruder, the person that comes into view sends an electric shock through you.

Oh, that face.

He’s still as perfect as you remember him from six months ago. That thought alone is forbidden, though, so you shove it into the dark hole from whence it came.

“Jungkook? What are you doing?”

“We need to talk,” he says.

Panicking, your eyes search your surroundings.

“Not here,” you reply.

This place is too public and your ex is too close for comfort. Spotting a study room across the hall, you gesture towards it and allow him to follow you inside. Jungkook closes the door behind him and pulls the confidentiality blind down before you even ask him to.

“Taehyung told me he saw you the other day,” he starts. No objections, you nod. Jungkook takes a deep breath. “He told me you were with someone.”

“Mmhmm.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you prepare for a fight you weren’t expecting to have today. He must know by now you’re seeing someone, so this feels somewhat out of left field.

“And well, Taehyung said that he seemed pretty… controlling,” he says cautiously.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” you respond.

Jungkook sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. A habit you recognize immediately; he’s done it as long as you’ve known him.

“I mean, Taehyung thinks he may be hurting you. As in physically,” he finishes.

At first, you want to be angry. You want to scold him for daring to accuse your boyfriend of such sins. Then, a tidal wave of sadness overtakes you because he’s right. Four months have come and gone while you’ve suffered unspeakable pain at the hands of someone who’s meant to love you.

You never imagined life would be this difficult. How could it be when you met the person of your dreams at only sixteen? With such a wonderful head start, you assumed the race was yours for the taking.

Dreams are bittersweet, though, because at some point they end. If Jungkook is a dream, then Seongmin is your wake up call. A brutal and cruel wake up call that never ceases its ringing.

Even so, Jungkook can’t know the truth behind your relationship. This is a man who would do anything for you. Although that should be a comforting thought, you can’t risk him getting involved. Seongmin made it abundantly clear that you were to never have contact with your ex again. If Jungkook showed up one day trying to be your knight in shining armor, Seongmin would know immediately that you’d met with him at some point.

“That’s a ridiculous accusation,” you finally say.

“Is it?”

“Yes, and it’s frankly none of your business,” you add.

“None of my –” Jungkook scoffs. “If someone is hitting you I think I have a right to know. We may not be together anymore, but we’ve still known each other for over five years. You were my best friend!”

“Well no one is hitting me so you don’t need to worry about it,” you say.

“Then roll up your sleeves. It’s May,” he retorts.

“No! I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“Jagi –”

“Don’t you dare.” You pause and inhale deeply because making a scene would only threaten your safety. “After everything we’ve been through, you do not get to call me that.”

Silence.

After a moment, you make the grave mistake of looking up. Jungkook is blinking in rapid succession to fight away the salty liquid that threatens his eyes. He makes further attempts to control his emotions by pursing his lips. The average onlooker may not notice, but you’d recognize the telltale mannerisms anywhere. You know your words stung him like a vengeant bee, and it shatters you. If only you possessed the ability to hold him until the pain relinquished its curse on you both.

The realization that breaking up with Jungkook was a mistake hit you only days into your relationship with Seongmin.

As with all relationships, there were some issues. Jungkook would often overwork himself to the point of exhaustion, which then caused mood swings so volatile it gave you whiplash. There was always an apology that followed his crankiness, but words can only go so far. Another trait you resented was his jealousy. Although, after experiencing Seongmin’s jealousy, you miss the way Jungkook would pout with his arms crossed whenever another man tried catching glances. The parables are absolutely right that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Jungkook is the only person you’ve ever dated, so when the problems started, your frustration led you to believe the grass may be greener on the other side. You would ponder if staying with Jungkook simply because he’s your high school sweetheart meant you’re settling. At the time, your problems seemed so insurmountable that you couldn’t comprehend them being the fights of a normal, healthy couple. So one night when your emotions drowned out your reason, you ended things. You visualize that night as bear trap locking in place because barely two months later, a terrible poacher ensnared you and there’s no escape.

By the time Seongmin hit you for the first time, it was too late. You’ve read enough statistics on domestic violence to know leaving would be more dangerous than staying. Statistics aside, you mentioned it once and Seongmin promised you and Jungkook would end up six feet under. A bruise here and there seems worth it to keep the man you truly love safe from the one you pretend to.

In truth, all you want is for Jungkook to keep calling you jagiya. The sound of it rolling off his tongue breathes life into you like a prayer. He’s the only person to ever call you that, and in your dreams he’s still next to you whispering it in your ear. But feigning offense at the nickname is your only chance to convince him you’ve fallen out of love.

“I think you should go,” you say.

“Y/N, please, if you need help I can –”

“I’m fine, Jungkook,” you cut him off. “Now, please go. I have an exam I’m studying for.”

Removing the chance of a retort, you exit the study room and shut the door behind you. Your eyes do an intake of the library, but it doesn’t look like anyone saw you together. A sigh of relief fills your lungs until you remember you’re never truly safe. Seongmin is a popular guy on campus, and anyone who saw could snitch on you. You distract yourself with studying since you won’t know until you see him again, anyway. But if Seongmin does find out, you can only pray he believes whatever excuse you conjure up.

The urge to scream at the top of his lungs has possessed Jungkook since the moment he left you. He knows you and therefore he knows you were lying through your teeth. Taehyung attempts to remind Jungkook that nothing is for certain yet. But any question as to the validity of Taehyung’s theory was answered as soon as Jungkook spoke with you. There’s not a secret in the world you could conceal from him.

He could see it clear as day in the way you spoke, how you held yourself, and most importantly your eyes. They say eyes are windows to the soul, and that applies to you better than anyone else he knows. Maybe others can’t see through you the way he can, but you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve.

Even so, knowing the truth doesn’t do much for him other than cause insanity. He needs you to trust him enough to open up. If you don’t, then saving you from this nightmare is impossible. For the last six months his only goal has been winning you back, but now he couldn’t care less. Even if he’s never bestowed the honor of loving you again, he needs to know you’re safe.

After some time of Jungkook descending into the madness of his mind, Taehyung is able to pull him above the surface and get him to speak with him.

“There’s nothing you can do right now, so just breathe.” Taehyung says as he hands him a second beer. Jungkook still hasn’t finished his first one. “We’ll find a way to get her out of there soon.”

“Soon, hyung? He could be beating her senseless right now.” Jungkook can’t focus on anything else for more than a second. Taehyung even turned on Jungkook’s favorite movie, but his eyes haven’t turned towards the screen once. “I need a plan of some sort. I don’t think she’ll ever admit to it unless someone sees it with their own eyes.”

“I’m pretty sure if you ever saw someone hurting Y/N you’d see red and slaughter them,” Taehyung says. “So, maybe that isn’t the best idea.”

Jungkook sighs while crossing his right arm over his left. He’s not the type to sit on the sidelines, but you’ve given him no choice.

Eventually the beers Taehyung is spoon-feeding him are enough to calm his nerves. Jungkook catches the latter half of the film, but even with a distraction as enticing as superheroes fighting aliens, you’re living in the back of his mind. Although, that’s not an affliction brought on by the news of your current predicament.

A good night’s sleep isn’t something Jungkook has experienced since you left his side. You were so much more than a girlfriend to him, and maybe that’s why he took you for granted. Breakups are a natural existence in the world, but it’s not everyday you lose your best friend. It’s obvious to him now that his confidence in you two staying together forever caused him to become lazy with his love. His heart is filled with regret for his actions during the penultimate months of your relationship. If only he had seen you with eyes wide open and recognized how much you were hurting, he could’ve saved you from all this.

Jungkook retreats to his bedroom once the credits roll. His bed looks different now that you aren’t there to keep it made and filled with stuffed animals. Although, there is one he couldn’t bare to stuff inside the back of his closet with the others. Placed gently in the center of his bed is a hand crocheted bunny that you’d made for him. It’s dressed in his usual fashion, with the bunny’s ears sticking out of a black bucket hat. Jungkook treasures the gift like no other and seeing it resting on his pillows the way you used to has his heart clenching.

After completing his nighttime routine, he ventures out for some water. Great minds must think alike because Taehyung is in the kitchen, too. His roommate greets him with a nod while spooning cereal into his mouth.

Jungkook sets his phone down on the counter while he reaches for a cold bottle from the fridge. The clock on the wall reads 10:13 and he scolds himself for being such a loser. His younger self would be disgusted that he’s going to bed before midnight. While turning back around, he notices his phone light up. Taehyung leans over to see who it is and Jungkook watches with confusion as his best friend’s eyes widen.

“It’s… it’s Y/N.”

Jungkook practically leaps over the counter to reach the phone before it can stop ringing. His fingers shake as he slides them across the glass to answer the call.

“Hello?”

There’s no answer right away, just the sound of shuffling and heavy breathing, but then Jungkook’s heart stops beating.

“HELP!”

A crash loud enough for Taehyung to hear from where he sits is followed by the sound of your pained whine. Taehyung glances at Jungkook for the briefest of moments before they’re both sprinting towards the door.

“Do you have her location?” Taehyung asks. Their shoes are barely secured to their feet as they make a mad dash for the parking lot. The older one fishes his car keys out and they slide into the car.

“On Snapchat,” Jungkook answers. Jungkook checks the social media app while Taehyung peels out of his parking spot towards the main road. “She’s at her apartment.”

With that, Taehyung checks both ways before turning down the road that leads to your apartment complex.

A text from Seongmin informing you he’s coming over appears on your phone only moments after getting home. It’s a common occurrence for him to come over without previously planning to, so you don’t fret too much. But when he shows up with the fires of hell burning in his eyes, you realize he must know what happened.

This certainly isn’t the first time he’s come over angry, and you’ve learned by now not to say anything until he brings it up. So, you play coy until he decides to release his grievances on you.

“How was your day?” You ask while traveling to the kitchen. It’s already 9:52, but you skipped dinner to study.

“Fine at first,” he answers. Humming in response, you keep yourself busy in the kitchen, but it’s only to hide that his presence alone terrifies you. “But, then I heard something that kind of ruined my day.” Rather than answering, you simply gesture for him to continue. “Were you alone in a study room with your ex today?”

Your heart plummets into your gut. It should be impossible, but someone must have seen or heard you earlier. You should regret the exchange, especially knowing the consequences, but you can’t bring yourself to. Seeing Jungkook today is number one when listing the highlights of the past four months. Maybe you’re crazy, but you’d do it over again just to be near him.

“Yes,” you answer.

Suddenly, Seongmin is behind you with his arms on either side of yours. His knuckles are white from how tight he’s gripping the counter. The position makes you feel like a zoo animal; caged in. Leaning down, he whispers right into your ear.

“And why the hell were you with him?”

“He found me there while I was studying,” you start. A hum in acknowledgment is heard from your boyfriend. “And the thing he wanted to say was really personal, so I went into the study room with him.”

“And what was that?”

“His mom,” you say. Lying isn’t your forte, but there’s no way Seongmin can know the real purpose for your meeting. “She’s really sick and she and I were very close so he thought I should know.”

Seongmin sighs before slamming his hands down on the counter. You practically jump out of your skin, but your reactions are what he feeds off. Forcing yourself to stay calm is a skill you’ve had to learn only recently.

“And he couldn’t text you?”

“You made me block him.”

“He could’ve had someone else do it.”

“Yes, he could’ve, but it isn’t my fault that he didn’t.”

Seongmin grabs your forearms and spins you to face him. The sheer force of his fingers around your skin has you wincing. One unanticipated consequence of your relationship is that each violent interaction hurts more than the last, since you’re usually still healing from the previous one.

“Not your fault?” Seongmin shakes you once. “You should’ve told him to fuck off the second you saw him.”

“It’s his mom, Seongmin.”

A dry chuckle comes from your boyfriend before he releases his hold on you with a shove. Your lower back hits the counter and an involuntary hiss escapes.

“I don’t give a shit.”

The conversation needs to end here. You’ve been through this a thousand times now and if it escalates any further he’ll start doing more than just shoving you. Fear is coursing through you same as the blood in your veins, but that feeling is second nature to you now.

“Seongminie, can we please just move on. I’m –”

“No, we can’t move on!” The volume of his voice sends a shudder down your spine. “I only have a few rules for you, and yet you can’t seem to stay in line to save your life.” You scoff at his comment involuntarily. It’s not smart, but you do it anyway. Instantly, his eyes narrow and he encroaches on your space. “Is something funny?”

“I ‘stay in line’ all the time,” you retort. “Like I said, it’s not my fault Jungkook came to –”

Your sentence finishes with a cry as Seongmin snatches your left arm and twists it behind your back, forcing you against the counter again. You instinctually bend over the marble to alleviate the pain pulsing through your limb.

“Don’t you dare say his fucking name.” His voice drips out like venom, and he presses down harder as he speaks.

“I’m sorry,” you sob. At your emotional response, Seongmin grows angrier and pulls your arm as far as he can take it. You’ve been practicing breathing techniques to help with pain, but between your lower body pressed against the counter and your twisted arm, it’s practically unbearable. “Please, I promise I’ll be good.”

Apparently that was the wrong answer because Seongmin decides to tug your arm up instead of over, and due to his strength and the speed at which he does it, you feel your shoulder dislocate. A scream pierces the air, but only for a moment before your boyfriend is covering your mouth with his hand to silence you.

You’re hysterical now because you’ve never felt pain like this in your life. Seongmin has punched, slapped, and even burned you, but never broken a bone or dislocated anything. He's reaching new levels of violence tonight and deep down you know it’s far from over.

You’ve never fought back before, but your body is screaming at you to resist. There’s not a doubt in your mind that he will kill you tonight if it continues this way.

Acting on pure instinct and adrenaline, you bite down on the hand used to muffle your screams. Seongmin curses and steps back just enough for you to break free. The pain radiating from your shoulder is immense, but it has to be ignored for now. You duck under his arm, but his reflexes are quicker than yours, and you miss his flexed foot blocking your escape.

Heading face first to the floor, Seongmin doesn’t give you any reprieve before he’s pulling you by your ankles back to him. He kneels over you, placing one hand on your right knee and slamming the other next to your head. Your breath catches as he lowers his face inches from your own.

“I hope you said goodbye to that fucker today, because you’re never going to see him again,” he threatens. Then, he puts all his weight on your kneecap, shattering it. You throw your head back as a scream rips through your throat. A wet warmth soils the area, and you know he crushed it hard enough for the bones to break through your skin.

Death is knocking on your door, and Seongmin seems hellbent on allowing them inside. His threat replays in your mind, and the idea of never seeing Jungkook again sparks a flame inside you. With all the strength at your disposal, you send your uninjured knee into his groin. Luckily, his pained reaction gives you enough time to slide out from under him. The adrenaline controlling your actions leads you to the door, but your conscience warns you that it’s too far. Therefore, calling for help becomes your next plan of action.

Inch by inch you crawl towards the table where your phone lays. The pain is overwhelming, but your only hope of survival is still an arms length away. Using the strength of your good leg, you rise from the floor. Seongmin is still recovering from your blow, so you know you have a few more seconds. The phone is unsteady in your palm due to your hands shaking. Opening your emergency contacts, you aim to click your best friend’s name, but Seongmin is on top of you again before you can complete the task.

When your attempt to call for help fails, you do the next best thing and hope someone in your apartment complex will be a good samaritan.

“HELP!”

Just as the word breaches the air, Seongmin takes an empty vase and smashes it against your upper back. You topple down again and he returns to his previous position over you. Making no mistakes, this time he uses his legs to pin yours to the ground.

There’s a pause that gives you time to wonder what’s coming next, but he answers your question by wrapping his fingers around your throat. Gasping, you attempt to reach his face with your hands. Perhaps if you can scratch him hard enough you’ll have a chance. But this is apparently not Seongmin’s first rodeo because he stretches away from you so that your efforts are futile. Still, you claw at the air in front of him like an enraged kitten. With both hands squeezing, he constricts your airway further, completely silencing your cries for help.

This is it, you think. The cold floor of your apartment will be your final resting place. With that in mind, you decide you deserve a moment of peace before you go. You grant your eyes the permission to close as you ignore the way your oxygen supply slowly dwindles.

Among all your friends and family, there is one person you wish you could see once more. It’s not that you love him more than the others, but he’s the one person who’d cause you to leave this world with regret.

Jungkook. Your Jungkook. He’s the reason you’re the woman you are today. The oceans could rise or the sky could fall and you’d still love him just the same. It would shatter you inside and out if you never got to see him again. Sending a prayer up to the heavens, you wish for the ability to tell him you love him one last time.

A kaleidoscope of memories projects across your mind, and maybe this is what people mean when they say your life will flash before your eyes. Surprisingly, you aren’t scared because in the worst moment of your life at least you get to see him. And just like always, his presence alone brings you solace.

This is it, you think again; peacefully this time.

Jungkook is thankful Taehyung is driving like a racecar driver, and that your apartment is nearby. His knee hasn’t stopped bouncing since his body hit the seat. Currently, adrenaline is the sole provider of fuel for his body. If Taehyung, his voice of reason, hadn’t been there he would’ve found himself running to you. It’s impossible for him to think straight right now, which only causes poor decisions on his part.

The complex comes into view only a few minutes later, and Taehyung is maneuvering his car like a pro as he pulls up next to the front door. Jungkook gets out, but turns around when he notices his roommate not following.

“I’ll wait here just in case. You go,” Taehyung explains.

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice as he makes his way to the door. It may have been purposeful, but you never asked him for your key back. He thanks the stars for that foresight and opens the main door. He skips multiple steps at a time as he ascends the stairs, and once your door is in sight, he charges towards the finish line. There’s no noise coming from inside, and the deafening silence chills him to the bone. His fear is validated when your apartment door swings open, and the sight makes his heart stop.

Your boyfriend is over you with his legs keeping yours flush to the floor. A trail of blood leads from the kitchen to your current position. Pieces of a broken vase litter the room. But what starts a fire inside Jungkook is the large hands wrapped around your neck. Thankfully, although your eyes are closed, your chest is rising and falling in a shallow rhythm.

Without a second thought, and before the bastard spots him, Jungkook grabs the lamp from your coffee table and swings it at your boyfriend’s head. He’s careful to avoid unleashing his full strength on him because as much as he wants to, murder isn't the answer.

Jungkook’s attack allows you to inhale and a breath of fresh air fills your lungs. Hearing your sign of life, he checks that your boyfriend is fully unconscious first. Not taking any chances, Jungkook ties him up with a string of lights and secures him to a desk that’s screwed into the floor.

Finally making his way to your side, he analyzes your features. You’re struggling to open your eyes and even Jungkook can see your lungs working overtime to suck in oxygen from the air. Jungkook moves as close as possible to you without harming you further. Gently, he rests his hand against your face to get your attention.

“Y/N,” he whispers. “Jagiya.”

Whimpering at the sound of his voice, it’s clear you’re still not fully aware of your surroundings. You slowly blink until your eyes gather the strength to open. When they do, they widen in shock at his presence. He realizes then that you must not have known you called him.

“Jungkook?” Your hand reaches up to caress his face, and immediately Jungkook feels warm blood transfer from your hand to the skin of his cheek. He grabs your hand with his free one and inspects it.

“Y/N, you’re bleeding,” he says. “Where are you bleeding from?” He answers himself by looking down and spotting the pieces of your knee cap jutting out through a hole in your jeans. “Oh,” his voice cracks. “Oh, baby.” Jungkook’s face contorts as if he’s the one in pain, and he’s unable to resist the urge anymore. So, he scoops you into his arms. You hiss at the sudden movement, but the feeling of peace that washes over you is almost enough to numb the pain. Jungkook cries into your hair, and in response, your body relies on its muscle memory to sneak your hand into his hair and cradle his head.

“I’m sorry,” you croak through busted vocal chords. It hurts, but your soul won’t rest until he knows how you feel. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh,” Jungkook whispers. “You have nothing to apologize for, baby.” Of no fault of his own, his comforting words have an opposite effect, and you begin sobbing into his chest. His hold on you only tightens as he continues. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” For the first time in forever, his lips press a kiss to your crown. “I’m here now. You’re safe.”

“Jungkook,” you whine. There are thousands of emotions swimming in your heart, but the only one rising above the fray is relief. It’s been an eternity since you’ve experienced Jungkook’s warmth, and even with the pain overtaking you, you’re so happy. He’s become both literally and figuratively your breath of fresh air.

Jungkook pulls away just enough to gaze at your face. His eyes do a once over to check for any more injuries, but all he can see are the blotchy finger marks around your neck that will soon turn to bruises.

“We have to get you to a hospital, jagi,” he says.

“No!”

“What? Y/N, you –”

“If I go to the hospital they’ll make me report it,” you say.

“Well, of course,” Jungkook replies.

“No, you don’t understand,” you begin. “Domestic violence is only a 90 day misdemeanor and that’s only once he’s found guilty and sentenced. His family is wealthy so he’ll bond out right away.”

“But –”

“Jungkook, he's threatened to hurt me and you if I ever left him or told anyone about him,” you explain. “As soon as he gets out, he’ll come for us. For you. I can’t risk that. I don’t know what I’d do if he ever hurt you.”

“Then we’ll go somewhere, anywhere. I’d run away to the ends of the earth with you, baby.” You're overwhelmed and scared, but you have Jungkook, and that means everything will be alright. “As long as I’m alive he will never come near you again. Do you hear me? Never.” He inhales. “I promise you, Y/N.”

Before you can start crying again, you nod and agree to go with him.

As gently as he can, he lifts you into his arms. You tuck your dislocated arm into your body so it doesn’t jostle, and Jungkook makes sure to avoid your knee with his hands underneath your legs. As he moves towards the door, a dizzy spell forces you to close your eyes.

“You can’t fall asleep on me, baby,” Jungkook explains. “Just keep your eyes on me, can you do that?” You groan as your head lulls against his shoulder. Jungkook stops to ensure you follow his directions.

“Remember when I took you to that amusement park our first summer in college?” The slightest smile appears on your lips; giving Jungkook his answer. “And I made you ride the pirate ship?” The corners of your mouth turn down at the mention of it. “You were so scared, but I told you to look at me, just me, and because of that you weren’t scared anymore.”

“I remember,” you say.

“I need you to do that for me again, okay?” Nodding, you open your eyes and are met with his own. You sigh and cuddle as close as you can to his chest. Jungkook raises an eyebrow causing you to nod once more. No exchanging of words is necessary for you two.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Jungkook begins to walk again as you focus all your attention on him. He takes more than double the time to descend the stairs than he did coming up them, but eventually you make it outside where Taehyung is still parked.

Taehyung gasps and exits the car when he sees you, but Jungkook instructs him to get back in and drive straight to the hospital. Jungkook situates you and him in Taehyung’s backseat. He sits directly behind the driver’s seat with you on his lap. Your head falls to rest on his shoulder, and Jungkook keeps one hand on the outside of your leg to keep them from moving during the ride.

“Who’s driving?” you wonder aloud.

“It’s me, Y/N, Taehyungie.”

“Tae,” you gasp in delight. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, bug,” he replies.

You cuddle further into Jungkook then, and Jungkook responds in kind by holding you as close to him as humanly possible. His head comes to rest atop yours; leaving soft kisses in your hair every now and then.

When you reach the hospital, Jungkook carries you inside where he’s instructed to place you on a stretcher. Taehyung follows only a few moments later after valeting his car. The nurses warn them that they won’t be allowed back with you and this causes you to panic. So, you reach for Jungkook’s hand before they can wheel you away.

“Koo,” you cry.

“It’s ok, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here when you get out,” he explains.

“No, no,” you argue. “Please, I don’t want to be away from you.”

“I know,” he says. The hand not intertwined with yours brushes your hair back. “But they’re gonna take good care of you, I promise.” He bends down and kisses your forehead. His lips linger there. “Tae and I will handle everything back at your place while we wait for you.”

The nurse states they need to take you now, and you reluctantly loosen the grip you have on Jungkook’s hand, but your eyes never leave his as they move you to a separate wing of the hospital.

It’s nearing three in the morning when the nurses allow Jungkook back to your room. Taehyung went to your apartment to meet the police and promised to bring food as soon as everything is settled there.

As he walks to your room, the nurse informs him you had surgery to fix your knee cap, and they popped your shoulder back into place while you were under anesthesia. They also had to remove small shards of the vase from your back and neck. The list of injuries causes Jungkook’s blood to boil, and he’s glad Taehyung went back to your apartment instead of him.

When he enters the room, you’re conversing with a nurse while she draws your blood. A brace rests securely on your neck to prevent further injury. Your eyes immediately light up when Jungkook comes into view. His name falls from your lips, and he swears it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

“I’ll leave you to it,” the nurse says while exiting.

Jungkook comes to your bedside, but stops short. With a loving smile, you gesture for him to sit. He’s terrified of hurting you, so he stays farther away than his body yearns for.

“How are you feeling?” Jungkook plays with his hands over his lap, but you take them in your own.

“So much better now,” you answer. You continue before he can interrupt. “Jungkook.” His big eyes find yours. “Thank you.”

Jungkook smiles only briefly before shaking his head.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for you,” he says.

“Yeah,” you respond. “Me, too.” There’s a pause. And then, “I love you.” Jungkook's eyes go from big to huge. His mouth opens to speak, but then closes a minute later when he realizes he doesn’t know what to say. “I never stopped, Koo, and I won’t ever stop. Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake of my life and I’m so, so sorry.”

Tears escape from the safety of your eyes and roll down your cheeks. Jungkook removes one of his hands from yours to gently brush them away.

“Please don’t apologize,” he says. You go to argue, but he stops you. “Breaking up with me was the right thing to do, jagiya. I didn’t treat you the way you deserve. But believe me when I say that after experiencing what it’s like to lose you, I will never treat you like that again.” Now it’s your turn to wipe his tears. Your delicate hand caresses the apple of his cheek as it smooths away the wetness. “I took what we had for granted, and I’m so sorry for that.”

“So, we can try again?” Jungkook is taken aback by the question. He’s the one who ruined everything, therefore he should be the one asking you that.

“Y/N, are you insane?”

“Well, I –”

“You’re the love of my life, and you think there’s a chance in hell I wouldn’t want to try again?” Jungkook sighs and finally moves closer to you. “I’ve wanted you back since the moment you walked out my door, baby.” He leans down, leaving your lips mere inches apart for the first time since your last night together. The proximity has you both holding your breath. “I love you so, so much, and I always will.”

Jungkook was planning to go in for the kiss, but you beat him to it. Leaning forward just enough to press your mouth to his, you kiss him fully.

The nervous system inside Jungkook’s body is on fire the instant he feels your lips. If not for the neck brace, he’d take your face in his hands and devour you whole. Your lips quench a one thousand year old thirst inside him. He can only imagine this is what the last drop of water in a vast desert tastes like. You’re just as soft as he remembers, and you taste the same, too. His Y/N hasn’t changed at all, and he’s unbelievably thankful for that.

Seongmin was taken into custody by the police that night, and although he bonded out, there was a restraining order put in place. You were terrified that it wouldn’t be enough to stop him, but he was smart enough not to break it, or else his bond would be revoked. He was sentenced to 90 days as the law states, but along with his conviction came the loss of his scholarships and expulsion from school. Apparently his parents were so angry they completely cut him off. So even if he dares to break the restraining order, he has no transportation and now lives a few hours away in a town he can afford.

There’s still a residual fear that lives inside you, but right now you feel safe. Jungkook only leaves your side when absolutely necessary, and whenever he does, Taehyung keeps you company. Originally you rejected the idea, but after Jungkook explained the anxiety he feels whenever he’s away, you gave in. Afterall, you both experienced the horrors of that night, albeit in different ways.

The physical wounds have healed, and you see a counselor once a week to ensure you’re mentally healing, too. During the weeks following the incident, you spent hours crying into Jungkook’s chest until you wore yourself out. Your poor boyfriend was terrified you’d never recover from what Seongmin put you through. You always remind him, though, that he’s the reason you have recovered. Your relationship with Seongmin forced you to bury yourself, and only with Jungkook’s outstretched hand pulling you from the rubble were you able to break free.

Now, as you’re getting ready for date night, your past feels a lifetime away.

You’re finishing putting in earrings while Jungkook laces his combat boots. How someone who seemingly trips on air can walk in those things is beyond you. Catching one last glance in the mirror, you meet Jungkook near the door where he’s waiting. He holds your coat open and you slip your arms in. Then, he gently spins you to face him. Before you can dissent, he begins buttoning it on your behalf. You’d complain, but the way he pouts in concentration has you swooning. When he’s done, you thank him with a kiss. You’d think it was the first time by the way a smile breaks out across his handsome face.

“You ready, jagi?”

“That depends,” you say. “Where are you taking me?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but his annoyance is clearly feigned because he pulls you into him.

“Come on, you know I don’t ruin my surprises,” he answers.

“Fine, fine,” you acquiesce. “I suppose I’ll follow your lead.”

Like magnets, your hands find each other as you exit, flipping the lights off as you go. As you walk down the hallway, Jungkook glances your way and brushes a stray hair from your face. A content sigh escapes you while resting your head on his shoulder. He follows suit, gently placing his atop your own.

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

“Happy anniversary, Koo.”

"Then, by the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife." The priest's voice echoed through the chapel, a strange numbness settled over you.

The stained glass windows bathed the aisle in coloured light, painting shades of gold and crimson across the marble floor. Everything looked beautiful almost dreamlike. If only you felt the same.

"And now," the priest said with a smile, "you may kiss the bride."

A nervous flutter stirred in your stomach , the chapel fell silent. You slowly turned towards Jeon Jungkook. Up close, he was even more intimidating than the newspapers made him seem. Tall , Broad-shouldered , Dressed impeccably in black. There was something unsettling about how composed he remained while your own heart threatened to beat straight out of your chest. Not once throughout the ceremony had his expression changed , not when you exchanged vows , not when the rings were placed upon your fingers.

He stepped forward, you became painfully aware of every pair of eyes watching. Your parents , Margaret , Cecilia , The priest. The staff standing quietly at the back of the chapel. Jungkook's gaze lingered on your face, as though searching for something.

His hand lifted, resting lightly against your cheek. Then he leaned in his lip touches yours, Merely a formality carried out before witnesses. The sort of kiss exchanged by two strangers fulfilling an obligation rather than a promise. When he pulled away, the chapel erupted into polite applause.

Your attention remained fixed on the man standing before you. The man society whispered about. The man accused of murdering his first wife.

Six months ago, if someone had told you that you would become Jungkook's third wife, you would have laughed in their face. You had other plans, your world revolved around architecture. Endless sketches covered your desk, half-finished models occupied every spare corner of your room, and your greatest concern was whether your final project would impress your professors.

Marriage was nowhere on the list. Certainly not marriage to a man eleven years older than you. Yet one evening, your father sat you down and informed you that your future had already been decided. You were to marry Jeon Jungkook , you remembered staring at him in disbelief.

Everyone knew who Jungkook was. One of the most influential businessmen in the country. Owner of countless companies, estates, and investments. A man whose name appeared in newspapers almost weekly. A man who already had two wives and according to society, a dead one.

You refused at first you argued , pleaded , cried. None of it mattered. The agreement had already been made. In the end, you were left with no choice but to accept. That was how you found yourself standing in a chapel, exchanging vows with a man you barely knew.

His first wife, Margaret, was another matter entirely. Margaret Jeon was elegance personified. At thirty-five, she carried herself with a grace that made everyone around her feel slightly inadequate. Kind-hearted, patient, and endlessly composed, she possessed none of the bitterness one might expect from a woman sharing her husband with others.

Jungkook had married Margaret years ago not for love. Margaret's mother had been his own mother's closest friend. When she fell gravely ill, she had only one final wish , that her daughter would never be left alone in the world. Jungkook had honoured that wish and from what little you had observed, Margaret had never once regretted becoming Mrs. Jeon.

His second wife Cecilia was entirely different. Beautiful in the way storms were beautiful. At thirty, Cecilia possessed a sharp tongue and a sharper mind. Unlike Margaret, she made no effort to hide her displeasure regarding your presence.

Jungkook's marriage to Cecilia had been born from another arrangement. Her father, a powerful businessman whose health had rapidly deteriorated, had made a rather extraordinary declaration. Whichever man married his daughter would inherit everything. His companies ,estates , investments, fortune an empire worth billions. Many men had sought Cecilia's hand for precisely that reason. Jungkook had simply been the one chosen. Whether Cecilia had ever wanted the marriage was another question entirely.

And now there was you. The third wife the unwanted addition to an already complicated household.

The journey to the Jeon estate passed in near silence. You spent most of it staring out of the carriage window, watching the countryside blur past while a single thought repeated itself in your mind.

By the time the iron gates appeared, dusk had already begun to settle. Your breath caught the estate was enormous , not a house , not even a mansion. An estate.

Stone walls climbed towards the evening sky, ivy curling around ancient pillars. Tall windows reflected the fading sunlight, while perfectly trimmed gardens stretched farther than the eye could see. It looked less like a home and more like something from a novel.

The moment you stepped inside, that feeling only intensified. The entrance hall was magnificent. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead. Marble floors gleamed beneath your feet. Portraits lined the walls. You found yourself glancing around uneasily.

"Welcome home." Margaret's gentle voice broke the silence. Before you could respond, you felt another gaze. Cecilia , she stood a few steps away, arms folded across her chest. The look she gave you could have frozen a river. You quickly looked away. Jungkook removed his gloves before turning towards Margaret.

"Would you show her to her room?"

"Of course." Margaret smiled warmly. Then, as though struck by a thought, she added .

"Although, darling, shouldn't she be staying in your room tonight?"

You nearly choked. Jungkook's expression didn't change, but his eyes lifted towards Margaret. A warning glance. Margaret immediately looked amused.

A laugh escaped Cecilia "How considerate of you, Margaret."

Margaret sighed "Cecilia."

"No, please continue," Cecilia said sweetly. "You've always been so invested in Jungkook's marriages." The sweetness in her voice somehow made the remark worse.

Margaret rolled her eyes "You make everything sound scandalous."

"Only because everything here usually is."

You suddenly felt as though you had walked into the middle of a conversation that had been ongoing for years. One filled with private jokes and old grievances. Jungkook looked entirely unimpressed.

"Enough." The single word was calm. Yet both women immediately fell silent. An impressive achievement, considering Cecilia looked capable of arguing with a brick wall.

His gaze shifted towards you. For the first time since arriving, he seemed to notice how uncomfortable you were.

"You needn't worry." His voice was even. "There will be no expectations placed upon you tonight."

You wished the marble floor would swallow you whole. Across the room, Cecilia muttered something beneath her breath. Margaret elbowed her.

"What?" Cecilia complained.

"You are behaving terribly."

"I'm being honest."

"You're being insufferable."

Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose. You almost felt sorry for him.

"Margaret," he said, clearly choosing patience over murder, "please show her the room."

Margaret immediately brightened "Come along, dear." As you followed her towards the grand staircase, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

Margaret's room was on the east wing. Yours, apparently, was not far from it. As the two of you walked through endless corridors, she pointed out various parts of the estate along the way.

"The library is downstairs." You nodded. "The conservatory is at the back." Another nod. "And if you ever get lost,which you absolutely will, just find a servant. I've lived here for years and still take wrong turns." A surprised laugh escaped you.

Margaret smiled, looking rather pleased with herself. The room she eventually led you to was beautiful. Far larger than your bedroom back home. Tall windows overlooked the gardens. A fireplace occupied one wall. Fresh flowers rested on a small table near the bed.

"It's lovely," you admitted quietly.

"I'm glad you think so." Margaret moved towards the wardrobe. "Would you like some help with those dreadful wedding layers?"

You laughed softly "Please."

Within minutes, she was helping you unfasten buttons and remove various pieces of your wedding attire. The atmosphere remained surprisingly comfortable. Not once did Margaret make you feel embarrassed. In fact, she seemed determined to avoid awkwardness altogether.

"So," she began casually, folding a piece of fabric, "architecture."

You glanced up "What about it?"

"I heard you're studying it."

A smile appeared before you could stop it "I am."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"I love it." The answer came instantly. Margaret noticed of course she did.

For the next several minutes, she asked question after question. What buildings inspired you? What was your favourite project? How long had you wanted to become an architect? The conversation flowed so naturally that you almost forgot where you were. Almost forgot that only a few hours ago you had married her husband. Margaret listened attentively to every answer. By the time you finished changing into a comfortable nightdress, some of the tension had finally left your shoulders.

Margaret seemed to notice "Better?"

"A little."

"Good." The older woman smiled. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room felt strangely peaceful. Then Margaret stepped closer. Before you could react, she gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture reminded you painfully of your mother. Something softened in her expression.

"You've had quite a day. That's one way to put it."

A small laugh escaped her. Then, unexpectedly, Margaret leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. The gesture was entirely maternal. When she pulled back, her eyes were kind.

"So listen to me carefully. This house can be overwhelming at first." Her gaze drifted briefly towards the door. "And the people inside it can be even more overwhelming."

That earned a reluctant smile from you. Margaret smiled back. Then she took your hands in hers.

"This is your home now, alright?"

The words caught you off guard. Nobody had said them since you arrived nobody except her.

"If you ever need anything, come to me."

Your throat tightened unexpectedly "Anything?"

"Anything." There was no hesitation in her answer.

Margaret left your room only after making certain you had everything you needed. The corridors were quiet as she made her way towards Jungkook's . She wasn't surprised to find him there. He stood beside an open window, a cigarette between his fingers. The night air drifted through the room, carrying away the smoke.

"You really should stop doing that."

Jungkook glanced over his shoulder "Good evening to you too, Margaret."

Margaret rolled her eyes before walking over and taking the cigarette from his hand "You know the doctors keep saying the same thing."

"And yet here I am."

"Unfortunately." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Margaret moved closer, straightening the collar of his shirt before wrapping her arms around him from behind. It was an old habit. Neither thought much of it anymore.

"New bride is frightened."

Jungkook's expression softened slightly "I know."

"She's twenty-four, Jungkook."

His gaze remained fixed on the darkness beyond the window "I know."

Margaret rested her chin against his shoulder. "Please don't let anything happen to her. She wants to study. Let her finish."

Jungkook sighed "Margaret."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

She frowned. He finally turned towards her. The door suddenly swung open. Cecilia entered carrying a bottle of wine. She stopped her eyes immediately landed on Margaret standing close to Jungkook. A flicker of irritation crossed her face.

"There you are." Without waiting for an invitation, she crossed the room and placed herself directly between them. Margaret sighed.

"Cecilia."

"What?"

"You've interrupted a conversation."

"You were hugging my husband."

"Our husband."

Cecilia ignored her. Jungkook looked exhausted already. Margaret immediately reached for the bottle "No."

Cecilia pulled it away . "Margaret."

The two women stared at one another. Jungkook looked as though he'd rather attend another board meeting. Margaret pointed towards the door.

"You should go and speak to her."

"Who?"

"The new bride."

Cecilia laughed "I would rather not."

"She's new here."

"Not my problem."

"She's alone."

Cecilia uncorked the bottle "Still not my problem." Margaret folded her arms "At least make an effort to know her." That earned a sharp look. Margaret opened her mouth. Cecilia continued before she could speak.

"Leave it alone. He doesn't love her."

The room went silent. For a brief moment, nobody spoke. Then Margaret tilted her head.

"Neither does he love you." The words landed with remarkable precision. Jungkook closed his eyes. Cecilia stared at Margaret in disbelief.

Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose. "Must the two of you do this every evening?"

The following morning, you woke earlier than expected. For several moments, you simply lay there, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above you. There was little point attempting to fall back asleep. After getting dressed, you slipped from your room and wandered through the corridors. The house was surprisingly peaceful at this hour.

Eventually, a warm scent drifted through the air. Fresh bread , Tea, something sweet. Curious, you followed it. The scent led you towards the kitchens. You paused at the doorway.

Margaret stood at the centre of the room, sleeves rolled neatly to her elbows. A servant was helping prepare ingredients nearby, but Margaret herself was occupied with a mixing bowl. She looked remarkably at home. As though she belonged there more than anywhere else. You couldn't help smiling.

"Good morning."

Margaret looked up immediately. A smile spread across her face "Good morning, darling."

You stepped inside "I didn't expect to find you here."

"Most people don't." She wiped her hands on a cloth. "Welcome to my kitchen."

You glanced around the enormous room. At least half a dozen servants were already moving about.

"My kitchen?"

Margaret looked thoroughly pleased with herself "Yes." You laughed softly "You're cooking?" She nodded.

"But there are so many servants."

"I know."

"Then why are you doing it yourself?"

Margaret looked genuinely confused by the question "Because I enjoy it."

"As simple as that?"

"As simple as that."

She stirred something before continuing "The servants are wonderful, but I've always loved cooking." A fond smile appeared on her face. "And besides, I only cook for everyone."

Margaret poured tea into a delicate porcelain cup. Without warning, she held it out towards you. You blinked. She blinked back.

"...What's this?"

"Tea."

"I can see that."

"Excellent."

You narrowed your eyes. Margaret looked innocent. A dangerous sign.

"Margaret."

"Take it upstairs."

Your stomach sank "To whom?"

"Jungkook."

You stared at her. She smiled. You continued staring. Her smile widened.

"Absolutely not."

"Oh, come now." You lowered your voice. "I barely know him and it's awkward."

Margaret laughed "You're married."

"That doesn't make it less awkward. If anything, it makes it more awkward."

The older woman considered that "Fair point." You looked victorious. For approximately three seconds. Then Margaret placed the cup directly into your hands. The warm porcelain nearly made you drop it.

Balancing the cup of tea carefully, you followed Margaret's directions through what felt like an endless maze of corridors. The estate was far too large for any reasonable person. Eventually, you found the door.

You hesitated then knocked. You knocked again. Still nothing. After a moment's consideration, you carefully pushed the door open. The room beyond was surprisingly simple compared to the rest of the estate. A large bookshelf occupied one wall. Papers were neatly arranged across a desk near the window. Everything was orderly.

Your gaze drifted towards the bed and froze. He was asleep. You hadn't expected that. For a man who always seemed perfectly composed, there was something strangely human about seeing him asleep. The sharp edges of his expression had softened. You quietly crossed the room and placed the tea on the bedside table.

"Mr Jeon?"

No response. You tried again.

"Jungkook?"

Margaret had sent you all this way. You couldn't exactly return downstairs carrying the tea. But taking a breath, you stepped closer.

"Jungkook."

Just as you reached out to lightly touch his shoulder, your foot caught against the edge of the rug.

"Oh—" Your balance vanished instantly. Before you could stop yourself, you stumbled forward. A startled sound escaped you. The next thing you knew, you had landed against the mattress. Far closer to Jungkook than was remotely appropriate. His eyes opened immediately. Dark eyes meeting yours from only inches away. For a brief, mortifying second, neither of you moved. The world seemed to stop. You could hear your own heartbeat. Feel the warmth radiating from him. Feel the embarrassment rapidly taking years off your life.

Jungkook blinked once then twice. Clearly trying to understand why his newest wife was suddenly hovering above him at seven in the morning. Heat flooded your face. You scrambled backwards so quickly you nearly fell a second time.

"I—" Wonderful start "I brought tea." Excellent recovery. Your face burned. The corner of Jungkook's mouth twitched ever so slightly.

"The tea attacked you?" You stared. He stared back. For the first time, you realised he was teasing you. Very subtly , Very rarely. But definitely teasing.

"It was the rug."

"Of course. The rug is dangerous. I'll inform the staff immediately."

You narrowed your eyes. Jungkook sat up, looking far too amused for a man who had just been awakened in such a ridiculous manner. Your gaze immediately darted towards the cup.

"The tea will get cold." he reached for the cup. "Thank you."

You awkwardly folded your hands behind your back. "Margaret made it."

"I know." Of course he knew. Something about that answer felt unexpectedly familiar.

You took a step towards the door then another.

"I should go."

Jungkook nodded.Yet as your hand reached the handle, his voice stopped you.

"Good morning." You glanced over your shoulder. He was holding the cup of tea, looking considerably more awake now.

"Good morning, Mrs Jeon."

An hour later the dining room was already prepared. The table seemed to stretch endlessly beneath a glittering chandelier. Silver cutlery gleamed beneath the morning light, while servants moved quietly around the room, placing dishes in their proper places.

Margaret was already seated. She smiled the moment she saw you. You took the seat beside her. A few moments later, Cecilia entered. Elegant as always not that she looked pleased to be there. Her eyes swept across the table before settling on Jungkook. Without hesitation, she pulled out the chair beside him and sat down.

"Good morning, Cecilia," you said politely. Cecilia looked up from pouring herself coffee. For a second, you wondered if she would ignore you entirely. Then she gave a short nod.

"Morning."

A servant began serving breakfast. For a while, the table remained quiet. Until Cecilia decided silence was unacceptable.

"Jungkook."

"Hm?"

"You're leaving for the office today?"

"After lunch."

Cecilia immediately brightened . To your surprise, Cecilia reached over and adjusted his tie. The action seemed completely natural. The sort of thing someone did after years of familiarity. Jungkook didn't even react clearly this was normal. You focused very hard on your breakfast.

Margaret, however, looked entertained. "You do realise he's capable of adjusting his own tie."

Cecilia didn't even glance at her. "He's capable of many things. That doesn't mean he'll do them properly."

Jungkook sighed "I am sitting right here."

Margaret nearly choked on her tea. You hid a smile. Cecilia noticed Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Something amusing?"

"No."

"You're smiling."

"I'm not."

"You absolutely are."

Margaret laughed outright. Jungkook folded his newspaper.

"You've frightened her."

"She's still here, isn't she?"

You decided that was probably the closest thing to affection Cecilia was capable of expressing. Margaret leaned towards you slightly.

"That's Cecilia being friendly."

You blinked "Friendly?"

"Terrifying, isn't it?"

Breakfast eventually came to an end. The household seemed to move with practiced efficiency the moment Jungkook prepared to leave. You found yourself unsure whether you were expected to do anything at all.

Margaret, apparently, knew exactly what was expected. She approached Jungkook carrying his watch. "You forgot this."

Margaret looked entirely pleased with herself as she fastened the watch around his wrist. Cecilia appeared moments later. She stepped forward, adjusted his collar, and pressed a quick peck on his lip .

"Don't work too late."

"I'll try."

"You always say that."

"And yet you keep asking."

Cecilia huffed dramatically. You remained where you were. A few steps away. After all, what exactly were you supposed to do? You had known the man for barely a day.

Jungkook's gaze drifted across the hall. For a brief moment, his eyes met yours. Then they shifted towards Margaret. Something unspoken seemed to pass between them. Before you could think about it further, he turned towards the door. The massive front doors closed behind him.

Margaret immediately clapped her hands together. "Come along, darling." She linked her arm through yours before you could protest. "I shall show you the estate. Trust me, you'll need a tour."

Cecilia snorted. "She'll get lost within an hour."

Margaret shot her a look. "Cecilia."

"What?"

"Be nice."

Cecilia folded her arms. Then her gaze landed on you. You weren't entirely sure how a single person could communicate so much judgement without speaking. It was almost impressive. You found yourself pouting slightly.

Margaret looked at you. Then looked at Cecilia. Then back at you. The tiny pout on your face was so unexpectedly sulky that her heart nearly melted.

Margaret immediately reached over and patted your cheek. "There, there."

You looked scandalised "I am not upset."

"Of course not." Margaret smiled sweetly. Across the hall, Cecilia stared at the interaction. Then, for reasons known only to herself, looked even more annoyed.

"Oh, for heaven's sake."

With that, she turned sharply and marched away. The sound of her heels echoed through the corridor. You watched her disappear.

"Does she always do that?" Margaret considered the question. "Every day"

Then she tucked your arm through hers once more. "Come along."

"Where first?" A mischievous glimmer appeared in her eyes. "The library." Your face immediately brightened. Margaret smiled.

For the next hour, Margaret guided you through what felt like half the estate. The west wing , the library , the conservatory. A music room nobody seemed to use anymore. Several drawing rooms you were fairly certain all looked identical. By the end of it, your feet hurt. Margaret looked perfectly fine. You suspected she possessed supernatural abilities.

"You'll get used to it eventually," she said.

"To walking five miles just to find breakfast?"

Margaret laughed "Precisely."

The two of you turned another corner before she suddenly stopped. A door stood at the end of the corridor. Unlike the others, it was locked. The brass handle gleamed untouched. Something about it felt different. You glanced at Margaret.

"What's in there?"

For the first time all morning, her smile faded. "That was Eleanor's room."

Your heart skipped. Eleanor The name seemed to linger in the air. You hesitated then curiosity got the better of you.

"I've heard about her. What was she like?"

A strange expression crossed Margaret's face. A little later, the two of you found yourselves seated on a garden bench overlooking the rose gardens. The morning breeze carried the scent of flowers through the air. For several moments, Margaret simply stared ahead. Then she spoke.

"Eleanor was beautiful. The sort of beautiful people write poems about." A faint smile touched her lips.

"When she entered a room, everyone noticed. She was kind too," Margaret continued. "Very kind." The smile on her face became genuine. "Most people assumed she'd hate me."

You frowned "Why?"

"Because I was another wife."

"Oh."

Margaret shrugged "Instead, she became my friend."

You blinked "A close friend?"

"My best friend."

The answer came without hesitation. A small ache settled in your chest. Margaret looked down at her hands.

"Eleanor never treated me like a rival. Nor Cecilia. Oh, Cecilia was impossible back then. She argued with everyone. I find that very difficult to believe."

Margaret gave you a look. You both burst out laughing. When the laughter faded, Margaret continued.

"Eleanor always knew how to handle her. She knew how to handle all of us."

You looked towards the estate. Towards the countless windows.

"You loved her."

Margaret's eyes grew suspiciously bright "Very much." Margaret's gaze drifted towards the gardens. Towards nothing at all.

"She loved Jungkook. So much that it was almost frightening."

Then Margaret's expression darkened. "The day she died..." Her voice trailed off.

You felt your stomach tighten "Margaret?"

She exhaled slowly "One day she was here and the next...We found her dead."

The words landed heavily between you. You didn't know what to say. What could anyone say? Margaret stared ahead. Lost somewhere in the past.

"I remember thinking the house had become too quiet and somehow it never stopped being quiet after that."

That evening, the estate felt quieter than usual. Jungkook had returned one look at him told you the day had been difficult. His tie had been loosened, his hair slightly dishevelled, and there was a weariness in his eyes that even his usual composure couldn't hide.

Margaret immediately stood "Long day?"

"The longest." His answer earned a sympathetic smile. Before either of you could say anything else, Cecilia appeared. As though she had been waiting.

"There you are."

Jungkook glanced at her. Cecilia took his coat from his shoulders before any servant could. Her arms travel on his chest she push her body closer to him , she took his hand place on her lower waist .

"Come upstairs."

"Cecilia—"

"No arguments." She put her index finger tip on his lip looking directly in his eyes in a seductive way .

Jungkook seemed too exhausted to argue. With a quiet sigh, he allowed Cecilia to lead him towards the staircase. The two disappeared upstairs.

Margaret lowered her gaze. For a brief moment, her expression looked unbearably sad. As though she were trying very hard not to feel something. Your heart squeezed. Without thinking, you moved closer and wrapped your arms around her. Margaret froze. Then slowly relaxed into the hug.

"Oh, darling." Her voice was soft. You rested your chin on her shoulder.

"Come to my room. We'll watch a film."

"A film?"

"Yes."

Margaret smiled despite herself "I believe that's your solution to everything."

"It usually works."

The older woman shook her head affectionately. "You are ridiculous."

"Maybe."

"But very sweet."

The film had been Margaret's choice. It was some impossibly romantic story involving stolen glances, handwritten letters, and a handsome gentleman who spent half the film staring longingly at the heroine.

You had spent most of the time making sarcastic remarks. Margaret had spent most of the time telling you to be quiet. By the end of it, neither of you were paying much attention to the screen. The two of you sat cross-legged on the bed, sharing biscuits and tea.

Margaret glanced at you "So. Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

You nearly choked on your tea. Margaret looked delighted. "Oh, there was someone."

You groaned "A very long time ago. I was practically a child."

"You still are."

You stared at her "Margaret. "I'm twenty-four."

"Exactly." She smiled sweetly "So what happened?"

You rolled your eyes "He moved away."

"Tragic."

"It wasn't tragic."

"Heartbreaking?."

"It really wasn't."

Margaret laughed. The sound filled the room. For a moment, you simply watched her. It struck you how easy it was to speak with her. As though you had known her far longer than a day. Margaret studied your face.

The following morning was unusually peaceful. You were curled up on one end of the drawing-room sofa, a book resting in your lap. Margaret sat nearby, carefully slicing fruit for breakfast. The estate was quiet. Then Cecilia entered. One glance at her face told you she was in an exceptionally good mood.

Which, somehow, was far more concerning. Margaret didn't even look up.

"Good morning, Cecilia."

"Good morning."

You lowered your book "Morning."

Cecilia sat down and helped herself to a strawberry. A smile lingered on her lips.

"Honestly husband didn’t let me sleep last night , he was so much in mood "

Margaret's knife paused briefly. You shifted uncomfortably.

"Cecilia." You snap "Maybe we don't need to discuss this."

The room went quiet. Cecilia slowly turned towards you. Her smile vanished.

"What did you say?"

You immediately realised your mistake "I just meant—"

"No."

She look so offended "What exactly did you mean?"

Margaret looked up "Cecilia."

But Cecilia wasn't listening anymore.

"You've been here for what? A few days? And suddenly you're telling me what I can and cannot talk about? You really are ill mannered."

You swallowed "I wasn't trying to—"

"OF COURSE YOU WERE." The words came sharper now. "You walk into this house and immediately start acting as though you belong here."

Margaret stood "Enough."

"No." Cecilia's voice cracked through the room. "No, I'm tired of pretending. You know what your problem is?"

You blinked rapidly "Cecilia..."

"You think being young makes you special." The words struck harder than they should have. "You're not the first wife. You're not even the second."

Margaret looked horrified "Cecilia!"

"But somebody should tell her."

The older woman stepped forward "Cecilia, stop." Yet Cecilia continued. As though every insecurity you'd carried into this marriage had suddenly been given a voice.

By the end of it, your vision had blurred. You hated that. Hated that tears had appeared at all. You looked away quickly. Margaret saw. Her expression immediately softened.

"Oh, darling..." At that exact moment, footsteps echoed through the hall. Everyone turned. It's Jungkook he stopped the moment he entered the room. His gaze moved from Margaret... to Cecilia...and finally to you. Your eyes were red and suddenly, every single person in it looked guilty.

Cecilia moved first as she always did. She crossed the room quickly and wrapped her arms around Jungkook. " Honey ." To your astonishment, her eyes were suddenly shining with tears.

"She disrespected me."

You stared. Margaret stared. Even Jungkook looked mildly unconvinced. Cecilia buried her face against his shoulder. "I was only talking and she told me to stop."

Margaret looked as though she wanted to throw a fruit bowl. Instead, she walked over to you. "Look at me."

You tried looking away. Margaret gently cupped your face. She wiped away a tear that had escaped despite your best efforts. Across the room, Cecilia continued her performance.

Slowly, his gaze shifted towards you. Your eyes were still red. Your book still lay abandoned on the sofa. For several seconds, he simply studied you. Then he stepped away from Cecilia. Jungkook stopped in front of you.

"Look at me." Reluctantly, you did "Did you disrespect her first?"

You shook your head "No."

His expression didn't change "Did you insult her?"

"No."

"Raise your voice?"

Another shake of your head "No."

Jungkook nodded once. Then his gaze moved towards Cecilia. A terrible sign Cecilia immediately straightened.

"What?"

"Did she?" The room became very interested in the answer. Cecilia opened her mouth. Margaret folded her arms. Finally, Cecilia huffed.

"No."

Jungkook sighed quietly "Cecilia."

"What?"

"Apologise."

Cecilia looked genuinely offended.

"To her?"

"Yes."

"But—"

"Cecilia."

She stared at him. Then at you. Then at Margaret.

"I'm...sorry."

The evening settled over the estate in uneasy stillness. You sat curled on the sofa with a newspaper. At first, you only skimmed it. Then your eyes caught the headline.

JEON HOUSEHOLD SHROUDED IN MYSTERY: FOURTH MARRIAGE, DEAD FIRST WIFE, AND WHISPERS OF CRIME

Your stomach tightened. The article went on and on exaggerations, rumours dressed up as facts, cruel speculation about Jungkook, about Eleanor, about you. You turned another page.

A sharp voice cut through the room.

“Don’t read that.”

You flinched. Jungkook stood near the doorway, tie loosened, expression unreadable but his tone wasn’t. “Don’t read that bullshit.”

Your fingers tightened around the paper. A question had been sitting inside you since the morning, growing heavier with every whispered rumour, every locked rooms . You lifted your gaze.

“…Did you really kill Eleanor?”

The air changed. Jungkook’s expression shifted not slowly, not subtly. It hardened his eyes darkened in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“What did you just say?”

Your throat tightened you stood up.

“I just—people say—” You didn’t get to finish.

In a single stride, he crossed the distance between you. The newspaper slipped from your hands. Your back hit the wall before you fully registered what was happening. Jungkook’s hand came up fast but it wasn’t around your throat. It was against the wall beside your head. The impact made your breath stutter. His other hand caught your cheek , not gently, but firmly enough to make you still.

“Don’t you dare,” he said, voice low and shaking with something dangerous, “take her name again.”

Your chest rose sharply. Fear spread through you before you could stop it “I didn’t mean—”

“Do you hear me?” His grip tightened slightly, not hurting you but close enough that your mind couldn’t tell the difference.

“Never. Say that. Again.”

Your eyes burned. You nodded quickly, breath uneven “Okay… okay…”

From the side of the room “JUNGKOOK.” Margaret’s voice. She had entered without you noticing. Her eyes moved from him… to you… to his hand still near your face.

“Let her go.”

Jungkook didn’t move at first. Then, slowly, he stepped back. Like something inside him had snapped loose. You slid down the wall slightly, shaking. Margaret was there in an instant. She pulled you into her chest.

“It’s alright,” she murmured softly, stroking your hair. “You’re alright.”

You clung to her without thinking. Across the room, Jungkook stood very still. His breathing changed. His hand pressed against the edge of the table. His jaw tightened. Margaret noticed immediately.

“Jungkook…”

But he wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was staring at you. Or maybe through you. His breath became uneven like he couldn’t catch it properly.

“No…” he muttered under his breath. Margaret’s grip on you tightened. “Y/N, don’t move.”

Jungkook took one step back. His hand went to his chest. He looked… lost. For the first time since you’d known him he panicked and then his breathing broke completely and then he fell. Hard. The sound of it snapped through the room.

“Jungkook!” Both you and Margaret moved at once. You reached him first, dropping to your knees beside him, your hands shaking as you tried to steady his shoulder.

“Hey hey, look at me,” you said quickly, though your voice trembled. “Breathe… just breathe.”

His eyes were unfocused, chest rising unevenly. Margaret was already there, grabbing a glass of water from the side table and splashing a little on her palm before pressing it gently near his face.

“Easy,” she murmured. “You’re okay. Just breathe.” Slowly, his breathing began to settle. The sharp panic in his eyes dulled still there, but no longer consuming him.

Only when his grip loosened did you realise how tightly you’d been holding him. Jungkook pushed himself upright, though unsteadily. The silence that followed was heavier than before. Then his gaze snapped to you. Something in him hardened again.

“Don’t ever mention her name like that again,” he said, voice low and rough. “Do you understand me?”

You flinched slightly. He continued before you could answer.

“If you do… you’ll see something you won’t like.” The words landed like ice. “Go to your room.”

Your throat tightened. You didn’t argue. You stood slowly, eyes lowered “…Okay.” And then you left.

Margaret stayed behind. Jungkook was still sitting on the floor, one hand pressed to his forehead, trying to steady himself.

“You scared her,” Margaret said softly. His jaw tightened. “She crossed a line.”

Margaret didn’t look away “Truth is always bitter.”

Ever since Rayne spilled her glass of water over the table — the air inside the dining room hadn't been quite the same. The once white tablecloth was now a dull gray as it soaked up the wasted water, some of it dripping against the carpet below in a quiet, steady rhythm. 

The glass itself had rolled across the table's surface before clinking softly against Cassian's plate, like it too, was afraid to break this moment of fragility. You reach for it. Wordlessly placing it back up before withdrawing your hand to your lap once again. 

It had been nearly five minutes since one of the doors upstairs were slammed shut. No one spoke a word, and from here, you could hear the vintage clock all the way in the living room as it ticked, counting each second like it was your last. 

Cassian's chair creaks when he fidgets in his seat. His dinner, half eaten on his plate, was all but forgotten about. He avoids looking at anyone, keeping his attention on his legs, swinging back and forth slowly, like if he kept moving even just a little — then maybe he wouldn't have to think about what had just transpired between his father and sister. 

By the high end of the table, Jungkook hasn't as much as flinched. His dark eyes never once stray from where they slice through the porcelain plate in front of him. The twitch of his fingers as they rest on the table is the only thing giving away what lingers beneath his carefully conducted mask of stoicism. 

You swallow, wondering if you should perhaps do something about the mess his daughter had left behind — urge Cassian to still finish his meal, even though neither of you were hungry anymore, or perhaps you should just take your leave and give them the space they all seemed in dire need of. 

Another minute of daunting silence follows. You had expected yelling, frustrated groans and chairs scraping against the floor, followed by heavy and determined steps up the stairs. But when none of that comes, you decide that you've finally had enough.

The splinters in your chair snap and twist when you rise to your feet, your chest is tight with everything you could and should say. Nothing makes it past your lips and the dining room remains just as eerily still when you begin clearing the table, piling unfinished plates onto your arms before disappearing into the kitchen.

When you return, you can feel Cassian's big eyes on you, following your every move with the ghost of a pout. His tiny fingers are clutching at his pants, almost like he was itching to reach out and try to help — only to stop himself short when his gaze flickered over to his father, who had yet to move a muscle. 

You save Jungkook's plate for last, hesitating a second too long, enough for it to be painfully obvious in the otherwise unmoving environment. He doesn't comment on it, doesn't as much as flinch or raise a brow when you do reach out, carefully pulling the abandoned meal away. 

"Take this to the kitchen for me, sweetie." The term of endearment slips from your tongue without second thought when you hand Cassian his father's discarded plate. You blame it on the sudden overwhelming urge to make sure he was okay, to try and patch together a self inflicted wound that ran far deeper than a plaster could ever begin to cover. 

But Cassian doesn't seem to mind — and if he does, he makes a point not to show it as he turns and walks out of the dining room quietly. 

Left alone are you and a statue-like Jungkook, who still sits where he had for the past ten minutes. Had it not been for the steady rise and fall of his chest, you would have thought him to be carved out of stone. But he was very much alive, and right now his presence seems to swallow the entire room. 

Your fingers brush the table cloth, curling around the thin fabric softly. "I'll hang this up to dry." It wasn't a question, more so a warning for him to get his hands out of the way as you tugged the table cloth away from underneath them. 

It's not until you've got the damp fabric bunched up into your arms that he finally makes himself known again. A deep sigh is pulled from his chest when he leans back in his chair, his face still a clean slate, void of any emotion as he stares ahead blankly. 

The hold you have on the table cloth tightens as you regard him, "Do you…" 

"No." 

He snaps the word out, jaw clenched tight when he suddenly pushes himself from his chair. The tension in his shoulders would surely be enough to break walls, if he should so try. For just a second he lets his dark eyes drift down to the wet fabric in your hands, something other than indifference swirling within those seemingly bottomless irises. Just as quickly as it came, it's gone again, and Jungkook turns his back to you as he, too, heads out. 

You study his retreating frame, your attention lingering on the way his fingers curled into a tight fist before loosening again. Then he's gone, and the heavy weight of his being, is lifted from the room. 

The upstairs is a hollow shell of what a home should be. It looks like one — with the soft carpet that runs down the long hallway, the gentle glow of the chandelier that hangs above, and yet it feels cold, so very cold. 

Placing one foot before the other, you tip toe silently across the rug. Rayne's door is shut, an unspoken barrier that separated her from the rest of the house, the way she intended for it to. You knew that you could not force your way past the walls she had put up, not without her letting you inside first. 

So you knock. Soft at first, but deafening in the silence that surrounds you. The gentle rasp of your knuckles against the hard wood sounds three times: 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

There's no response at first. For a while, you think there might not be one at all. But then, after what feels like forever and not nearly long enough, a sharp voice pierces the quiet air. 

"Go away." 

She tries to hide it, that much you can tell — but the hurt is clear as day as she cracks on the last syllable. You're tempted to listen to her, to just turn around and head out the door. This was not your battle to fight, her feelings were not your responsibility. You were not her mother, she had said so herself. 

And yet… 

"I'm not going to leave, Rayne." You're surprised by how gentle you sound, almost the way one would talk to a skittish animal to show they were not a threat. 

She doesn't answer, at least not right away, giving you enough time to rethink your decision of coming up here in the first place. Maybe you should have just left it for Jungkook to deal with anyway, but the man in question had locked himself in his office fifteen minutes ago without showing any signs of re-emerging soon. 

The wood is cool against your forehead when you rest it to the door, your palm pressing flat on top of its smooth surface. "We don't have to talk if you don't want to, but I don't want you to be alone," A second later you add, "…And I know you don't want to be alone either." 

You were grasping for straws by this point, but it didn't matter — anything was better than noting, no matter how small and insignificant seeming. 

Minutes pass where nothing but your quiet breaths fill the long hallway. Your fingers have gone slack against the cold wood, shoulders slumping as the last flicker of hope slowly drains out of you. 

Then, so quiet that you almost missed it, had you not been listening intently to each rustle that came from beneath the small crack, you heard it. Rayne sighs, her voice no longer laced with heat but something much closer to sadness, "Fine." 

It wasn't much, not by any means, but it was enough. You twist the handle without thinking, slowly pushing the door open as the wall between you is torn down. 

Her room is basked in darkness. Shadows climb up the walls, overtaking the four corners as they regard you without words. Rayne is sitting on the edge of her neatly made bed, the sheets are wrinkled from where her hands had been clutching at them, though they were now limp by her sides — like the fight had gone out of her. 

Shutting the door behind you with a soft, barely audible click, you cross the room until you reach the corner of the mattress. She doesn't look up, not even as you take a seat beside her, the weight of your body further jostling the covers as they crinkle under you. 

It had always been so difficult to read Rayne, whenever you thought you caught a glimpse of something on her face, she would quickly school her features back into neutrality, possibly a frown. She reminds you of Jungkook, and not for good reason. 

The moon that already dominated the sky was spilling through the parted curtains, and when the pale streaks shed light on her face, your heart twists uncomfortably in your chest. 

On her cheeks trail a messy pattern of now dried tears, and judging by the irritated flush across her skin, you could guess that she had been wiping at them furiously with the hem of her sleeve. A few stubborn droplets still cling to her lashes, telling you that she was still not okay, even if she should try to claim otherwise. 

Her lips are pressed into a thin line, mimicking a false sense of stoicism as Rayne avoids your gaze. She doesn't say anything, none of you do for a while. Somewhere in the distance, the ticking of the clock on the bedside table repeats its own monotone pattern. 

Finally, you exhale, shifting awkwardly where you sit on the soft bedding. "It's a nice shirt you've got on," Nodding toward the red blouse with its polka dot pattern. The deep color compliments her nicely, bold in its intensity but gentle and timid just the same. It's a shame you hadn't noticed it sooner. 

Beside you, Rayne scoffs, her face twisting into a slight grimace at the sudden attention directed to her choice of wardrobe. "It's alright," She practically spits the response out, "That's not why you came here, so just get it over with, will you?" 

Judging by the way her jaw clenches it seemed almost as though she was bracing herself for the conversation to come. Like this was just another one of those inevitable ones you have to sit through whenever you stepped out of line. This wasn't her first and by her standards met, it wouldn't be her last either. 

You barely register the frown that creeps its way onto your face, fingers intertwining with one another where they rest on top of your knees. "I just pointed out that I like your shirt, no harm in that is there?" You hum, cocking your head to the side as you study her. 

She rolls her eyes, like the entire situation annoyed her. Something almost like impatience flashing behind her eyes as she waits for you to just get started with your lecture. 

Only… It never comes. 

Silence settles over the two of you once more, the room remains just as dark, the tension that lingers between you never reaching its climax point. While Rayne seems to be growing increasingly agitated by this, you simply lean back on your hands, letting your gaze wander across the variety of books gathered on her shelves. Had she read all of them? That's impressive for someone her age. 

"Well?" Rayne suddenly bites out, meeting your eyes for the first time since you entered her room, if only to give you a sharp glare. 

Deciding not to play into her hand, you hum obliviously, "Well what?" 

This only seems to rile her up further as she clenches her hands into tiny fists against the bedsheets. "Well," She drawls, taunting you with each syllable, "Aren't you going to tell me off about not eating?" Folding her arms across her chest, she continues, "I spilled my water on the table, on purpose. Aren't you going to say anything about that?" 

There's resentment in her voice, she thought she had this entire conversation figured out already — presumably guessing each fault you were going to find her guilty of before you even start. 

Instead, you shrug, carelessly so. "I told you, we don't have to talk if you don't want to." You regard the frown as it deepens over her brows when she gives you a guarded look. Though her shoulders relax, if only a fraction. 

She keeps quiet for a long while after that. Her gaze flickers to a point on the wall, her dark eyes would probably burn holes through it if they could. Then she breathes out through her nose, "I don't regret spilling my water," A pause where she considers her words, "And I won't apologize for it." 

You nod, listening to what she has to say as you try to pinpoint the spot she was watching. "I don't care." 

Rayne's gaze feels heavy when it falls on you a second time, "Why?" 

There's nothing you can do but shrug once more, fingers tapping absently against the bed you both sit on. "Why should I?" 

This time her response is almost instant, "Because it's messy. I ruined the table cloth." There's a quiet challenge within the way she says it, like she was daring you to prove her right, to lash out and begin the lecture she had already prepared herself for. 

But you only hum, an easy smile pulling across your lips. "You didn't ruin it," Tilting your head to the side, you steal a glance at her over your shoulder, "It'll dry, and then it's going to be like brand new again." 

And though neither of you shone light on it — it was clear that it wasn't the table cloth you were talking about. 

Time moves slowly, the curtains sway occasionally and it's only when a chilly breeze draws past, that you realize her window was open. The bed creaks when you rise to your feet, padding across the soft carpet and over to the culprit of the goosebumps rising on your skin. 

Fingers sliding around the metal hatch, you're in the midst of pushing the window back in place when Rayne suddenly speaks up behind you: 

"Do you think there are some messes that can't be fixed?" 

Her voice is a low, hushed murmur — the words clawed out of her throat without her consent. You don't turn around, giving her the grace of at least moderate privacy as you focus on latching the window shut, trapping the little warmth that remained inside the bedroom. 

"No." Your soft sigh carries through the air, simple at its core yet laced with meaning. Turning your back on the cool glass, you rest your hands against the windowsill as your attention returns to Rayne, still perched on the edge of the bed. Her legs had begun swaying back and forth mindlessly. 

"But if… If it's not just about letting it dry." She lifts her head, dark eyes finding yours through the shadows, "If they're torn in places?" 

The corner of your lip tugs upward at that, your head tilting to the side as you ponder this new perspective. "Then you just patch it together again," You make it sound so simple, even when the truth lays bare between you. 

Rayne frowns, a muscle in her jaw ticking. Her fingers are clenched tightly around the blanket which she sits on, her knuckles just as pale as the moonlight that intrudes on the intimidating shadows without fear. "What if there's a piece missing. You can't patch that up." She lifts her chin slightly, as if to prove a point. 

You could tell that she was looking for a loophole, a way for you to admit defeat and agree with her. But you wouldn't give in that easily. The drumming pattern of your fingers return, this time against the wooden sill behind you, signaling that you were deep in thought. 

"Then you find another piece that fits." Nodding to yourself, you remain relaxed even as the tension in the bedroom seems to spark. 

Giving you another half-hearted glare, she scoffs sharply. "It doesn't work like that," She states as a matter-of-factly, a hint of finality in her tone. 

All you can do is give a lazy shrug, the smile never fading from your lips. "Sure it does." Pushing off the windowsill, you approach her on the bed. 

The carpet is dangerously soft under your knees when you sink to them in front of her, your joints protesting slightly at the jostling motion but you're quick to brush it off. For a second you think about taking her hand in yours, but the guarded expression on her face makes you think better of it, instead you just smile, the same careless smile you'd been giving her since walking into the room — the complete opposite of the anger she had expected. 

"How do you know if the piece fits?" She finally asks after another moment of silence. Her eyes are no longer filled with hot fury, all that remains is a quiet ache that you don't know how to soothe. 

This time you can't hold back. Your hand finds the blanket she clutches so tightly, fingers gently loosening her deathly grip before your skin meets hers. She's warm to the touch, tense too, but despite the flicker of surprise that strikes her features, Rayne doesn't pull back. 

"You'll know," Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, you gaze up at her, watching as the moonlight dances across her tear streaked face. She doesn't have a response to that, and she doesn't squeeze your hand back, but it didn't matter, for you caught the way the corner of her lip twitched. 

It had taken a little longer to get the kids to bed tonight, both of them were still wound up over what had happened during dinner. Cassian had went through five bedtime stories before finally succumbing to sleep, which was a new record. And though Rayne had done her best in keeping her distance, the remnants of your conversation still seemed to linger as she allowed you to tuck her into bed for the first time. 

Now it was nearing nine, and as the upstairs fell silent, you had returned to the kitchen — only to find it already spotless. The dishes were made and put aside to dry, the counter top wiped down and the ingredients you had carelessly left out were back inside the pantry. 

There wasn't a question of who's doing it was. Despite having made no efforts to talk to his own daughter, traces of Jungkook could still be found throughout the house. A pillow tucked back into its place, the dining chairs neatly placed around the table, like they had never been sat on in the first place. 

You follow his trail, which leads you to the porch that looks out over the garden. The initial surprise had faded from your face when you slide the door open and step onto the wooden boards, the evening breeze instantly greeting you with a cold chill that runs down your spine. 

This was the last place in which you had expected to find Jungkook, but when your gaze falls on his broad, tense shoulders, you came to realize that it made perfect sense for him to be out here. Close enough to have a watchful eye over his children whilst keeping enough distance to never truly be present. 

He stands by the railing that loops around the porch, arms folded across his chest as he stares out into the darkness of the night. The table cloth, now dry, hangs on the wood fence, swaying back and forth as the wind tugs on it tauntingly. 

There's no chance he hasn't heard you come, the obnoxious creaking of the porch gives you away before you get the chance to. Still, he does not turn to face you, not even as you come to a halt beside him, fingers tracing over the white fabric with feather-like touch. 

You wonder if you should say something, ask how he was doing or inquire about the argument between him and Rayne. But when your lips part you suddenly feel like a coward, the words lodged in your throat as they refuse to come out of hiding. Instead, you opt for grabbing the table cloth, and you've just barely lifted it from the railing when Jungkook's voice breaks the silence. 

"You don't have to do that." 

His tone is gruff, strained with something that had little to do with the fever he'd been running yesterday. He still has yet to look at you, keeping his attention someplace far away whilst somehow being painfully aware of your every move. 

The fabric slips from your grasp again, landing back on the fence with an inaudible thud, your fingers soon follow as they curl around the wood. You glance at him through the corner of your eye, watching the tight line of his lips where they press together, his shoulders are rigid, stiff with something you knew he wouldn't name even if you dared to ask.

You wondered how he wasn't shivering by this point. The freezing air was biting into your arms, numbing your fingers where they clench around the railing. Yet Jungkook shows no signs of discomfort, other than the thoughts that undoubtedly haunted his mind. 

"You shouldn't be out in this cold, you're still sick." 

Jungkook scoffs at that, his brows furrowing before relaxing again. "You come out here to lecture me?" The low drawl of his tongue was the closest to sarcasm you think he'd ever gotten, not that anything about the situation seemed to amuse him in the slightest. 

Shaking your head slowly, you, too, let your eyes drift out over the garden. The lawn was mowed to perfection, the bushes trimmed and despite fall season being in full swing, there wasn't as much as a leaf astray. "No," You say, biting back another shiver as a particularly harsh gust of wind blows at you. 

Beside you, Jungkook shifts just enough for the wooden boards to creak beneath his weight. "Kids asleep?" He wonders, though doesn't sound actually interested in finding out if they were or not. 

You simply hum, ignoring the way your face had begun to sting as the chilly evening tore its way through your skin. Minutes pass, minutes of suppressed shudders and an endless cold that did not have anything to do with your lack of a coat. The next question comes tumbling out together with your shaky exhale. 

"What happened?" 

The night around you grows darker, even the moon seemed to cower back behind a few clouds. Next to you, Jungkook remains perfectly still, not moving as much as a muscle, save for the way his arms tightened over his chest. 

"You saw what happened." His replies curtly, it's clear that he expects you to drop the topic again after receiving such a dismissive response. 

Only you don't. Your feet are near frozen but you force them to move anyway, turning your body in his direction, leaving one of your hands to clutch at the railing, anchoring you to the reality of this moment. "That is not what I meant," And he knows it, of course he does, Jungkook was not oblivious — far from it. 

His jaw clenches, and in that second he looked almost identical to his daughter. He's still not meeting your gaze, perhaps he was dreading what he would find if he did — perhaps he was dreading what you would find. 

The cold had become almost unbearable by this point and just as you're about to give up and letting the matter go entirely, does he speak. His words are low, nearly disappearing as the wind carries them away, but you catch every single one before it can. 

"She's got her eyes." 

Jungkook huffs, shaking his head like the thought ridiculed him. "That's not her fault, of course," He pauses, his gaze moving quietly over the trees in the distance, "Still doesn't help." 

You watch as his fingers drum against his elbows, tapping almost restlessly — like he was trying to shake something he couldn't quite rid himself of. Rubbing a hand down his face, he lets out a ragged exhale. There was a noticeable crack in his otherwise stoic demeanor tonight. You could tell that Rayne's words had stung deeper than he wanted to let on to. 

This was the first time he'd even remotely touched on the subject of the children's mother, if only ever so slightly. His eyes are dark, a lot like Rayne's but lacking that fiery light that would shine within hers, that spark of defiance and playful challenge.

Her mother's eyes. 

That thought plays on loop in your head, over and over as you study him. The reminder seemed to pain him, but why, you didn't know. 

You must have been too lost in thought to notice the way Jungkook pushed himself off the railing, the way he took a step forward, coming to stand just as close as he had in the kitchen, even when he shouldn't need to. Only when he suddenly speaks up, does he manage to grab your attention back on him. 

"You're cold." He delivers it as a statement, not a question, gaze lingering on the shivers you were failing to hide. 

Shaking your head, you try to deny the blatant truth. "I'm fine." Though it was obvious you weren't. Having walked out without shoes on your feet, your jacket still hung up by the front door and dressed in nothing but a loose sweater and jeans that did little to block out the cold. 

Jungkook's eyes linger on your arms when you wrap them around your torso, a futile attempt at forcing warmth that would not come. "Tch," Brows furrowing together in that signature frow of his, "You should go back inside." It's not a command per se, but in that moment it sure feels like one. 

Glancing toward the table cloth, your lips part, "Yeah, I was just going to—" 

"I'll take care of it," He grunts, no longer meeting your gaze when he reaches for the door leading back into the living room, clearly waiting for you to make a move. 

Reluctantly you tear yourself from the spot you had been rooted to, frozen feet carrying you over the threshold and back inside the comfortably warm house that feels almost heavenly to step back into. Behind you, the door to the porch slides shut once more, sealing you away from Jungkook again. 

Your legs are propped up comfortably on the couch when he does finally return inside, the table cloth clutched in his arms as he does. Jungkook walks past you without acknowledging your presence, long legs carrying him to the dining area that opened up on the other end of the room. 

From your spot on the soft cushion you could clearly make out the shadow of his figure as he settled the cloth back over the naked table. He works methodically, palms smoothing over the white fabric, flattening out the corners and removing any creases. You wondered briefly if he was simply prolonging the moment, if only to avoid you a minute longer. 

Finally he straightens up, his back is turned to you where he stands, shoulders rising and falling slowly for each breath he takes. You think about calling out to him, but before you get the chance to, he's heading back toward you. 

His steps are heavy with exhaustion when he approaches, coming to a stop just shy of the couch you're currently occupying. He doesn't sit down, doesn't attempt to. All he does is regard you with dark eyes that hold too many emotions yet none, all at once. The sigh he lets out almost reaches you where you lean back against the sofa. 

"It's late." He states, the words you should go home, likely resting on the tip of his tongue, though never making it past his guarded lips. For a split second it looks almost like he wants to say something else entirely, his mouth opening before snapping shut again. He averts his gaze for a moment, fingers clenching into a fist where they rest by his sides, "I'll pay you extra for today." 

Your eyes widen at his words, the idea of getting paid extra, especially when you were in such dire need of the funds, should entice you. And yet, for some reason it only makes you frown, your face twists into a small grimace before you manage to school it back into something more detached. 

"There's no need," Shaking your head, you regard the way Jungkook's gaze draws back to you, a flicker of surprise, or maybe confusion, hiding behind those sharp features of his. You hum, shoulders rolling in a dismissive shrug, "I didn't come here because of the money, not today." 

Accepting payment somehow felt like putting a label on the rollercoaster of emotions you had experienced during the short twelve hours of your stay. Cassian's laughter when you played board games would become nothing but a transaction. Rayne's quiet voice and the feeling of her tiny hand in yours would be nothing but another part of your job as her nanny. 

Saturdays were not on the work schedule you and Jungkook had agreed on. Today you had come here, not as the children's caretaker, but as yourself. Though your wallet argued against it — you could not find it in yourself to take his offer. Especially not when your gaze meets his, and you see the way conflict fills his entire being. 

Were you making this something more than it was by declining the money he gave? Possibly. Come morning, you might find yourself regretting your decision, but right now, this felt right. 

Without waiting for him to respond, you rise to your feet. Your chest nearly brushes his, the warmth of his body feels intimate — far more intimate than it should, especially given your very professional relationship, if that is what you could even call it. 

Saturdays were fun. They were sleeping in without setting an alarm. They were walking around in your pajamas all day. They were playing board games in the living room rather than doing homework by your desk. They were crumpled candy wrappers and chocolate milk around your lips. 

But Saturday's at the Jeon house were different — that much you learned as soon as you stepped over the threshold that morning. It wasn't part of your paid agreement, the one that stretched only between the afternoon and evening hours from Monday to Friday. Weekends were for you to pick up an extra shift at the restaurant or to cram as much information on the human body as you possibly could. 

And yet, after yesterday's events, which had left you with more questions than answers — you decided that today was going to be an exception. 

Jungkook hadn't asked you to come, but you could tell by the way his jaw unclenched when he first opened the door that morning, that he was grateful for your unexpected appearance, if only just a little. That gratitude quickly dissolved again as his face fell back into its default, unreadable mask of stoicism. 

The bags under his eyes had faded just enough to only be noticeable from up close. But it was still obvious that he had been up for the past few hours, though wether that had to do with himself or the two children he was meant to raise, you didn't know. 

He's dressed in casual attire, the loose fabric of his shirt moving over his chest when he steps aside to let you in. Despite that, his hair is still neatly made — making it known that he was not planning on staying bedridden another day. 

"You did not have to come," His voice is gruff, strained by the disease that still plagued him. 

You hum, already sliding out of your jacket as you place it up on a coat hanger. "I know," Shrugging, you press the tip of one foot against the other's heel to slip out of your shoes, "I should have called, but I didn't want to wake you in case you were still sleeping." 

Jungkook scoffs, shutting the door behind you before twisting the lock. His gaze strays by the sight of your worn sneakers next to his own polished shoes — for a moment it looked almost like he wanted to remark on it but chose to swallow it down instead. "You're right," He folds his arms across his chest, "You should have." 

The large hallway with its high ceiling and grand chandelier suddenly seemed cramped, the air feels dense and charged with unspoken tension as it presses against you from all sides. 

Nodding mutely, you adjust your grip on the bag flung over your shoulder. You can feel his eyes as they linger on the leather. It's torn in places, patched together by your unskilled fingers in an attempt to save money on a new one. Jungkook cocks a brow in its direction, a silent question lingering between the two of you. 

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, fingers tightening around the strap before relaxing again. "I brought entertainment," You explain, not oblivious to the heavy weight of the multiple board games you had stuffed into the bag. 

"Entertainment?" Jungkook drawls, brows furrowing before he tears his gaze from the bag and back to your face. "That will not be needed." Dismissing the idea before even letting it fully surface, he turns his back to you, making his way down the large hallway in long, determined strides that has you scrambling after him as best as you can. 

He doesn't slow down until he reaches the living room, his eyes sweeping across the tidy space before taking a seat in one of the armchairs. You watch from your spot in the doorway as he leans back against the cushion, flinging one leg over the other like he was preparing for a business meeting rather than a quick debrief with the nanny he'd hired to look after his children. 

The floor creaks under your weight when you take a step forward. "Are the kids still asleep?" You ask, glancing toward the vintage looking clock by the fireplace when Jungkook shook his head. It was no more than 8:30 am. 

Reading the frown on your face like the back of a book, he hums. "Their study hours are between eight and eleven during the weekends," Jungkook simply states, not even batting an eye at the surprised exhale you let out. 

"They do homework on weekends too?" You splutter, unable to grasp why such young children should have to spend what little free time they had on studies when they already placed well ahead of their peers. 

Jungkook watches you with a quiet intensity, like he was silently daring you to stick your nose into how he raised his own children yet again. "They do. Cassian has a lot to catch up on after being sick." Waving a hand in the direction of the stairs dismissively, he proceeds to relax further into the armchair. 

Your jaw was sure to be dragging against the floor at this point. What would be next, military camp during the summer holidays? The worst part was that you wouldn't put it past him — not with the way he was training them to become full fledged CEO's before they turned twelve. 

He doesn't say anything as he regards you with an expression that made it impossible to tell what he was thinking. He did not bring up any of yesterday's events — and his distant body language made it clear that he had no intention of doing so. You, too, avoid asking him about the blanket that had been draped over your shoulders in your sleep, even when a masochistic part of you longed to. 

The picture you had found in his wallet last night is still fresh in your mind. But no matter how hard you tried to fit the image of him in that photo together with the man currently sat before you — you simply couldn't. Perhaps whatever fleeting glimpse of vulnerability the previous evening had brought, had been simply that, a passing thing. 

It's the sound of his stifled cough that brings your attention back on him as Jungkook tries to conceal a grimace of discomfort. It was clear that the fever still had its claws sunken into him, not that he would ever admit to it of course. 

"I have work to do," Quickly dismissing himself with a grunt, his hands brace themselves on the armrests as he pushes himself to his feet. "I'll be in my room," He announces, not waiting to hear a response from you as he heads for the stairs. 

Only when he passes the archway leading out of the living room does he pause. "Don't feel obligated to fuss over me today," His expression hardens as he says that, like the memories of yesterday were a painful reminder for him, "So don't come knocking unless something's up with the kids." 

With that he turns and heads up the steps, forcing you to stay rooted to the spot as you listen to the sound of his departure. 

You had sat with the children as they studied, helping out as best as you could when Cassian came with quiet and hesitant questions. Since last night there had been a tiny but noticeable shift in his demeanor. His big eyes would linger for a moment longer, his chair was scooted just a little closer to your own and he'd let you help him cut out another cloud to stick on his poster. 

When 11am rolled around, Rayne had abruptly closed her textbook — the sound deafening in the otherwise silent room. She had not looked to any of you as she jumped off her chair, gathering her materials into her arms before dismissing herself with a half-assed nod. 

Four days ago you would have let her go. You would have pushed down the feeling of disappointment and plastered on a weak smile. Not today. 

She's about halfway down the hall when you catch her — fingers wrapping around her arm as you halt her mid step. 

"Where are you going?" 

Your voice is not unkind, never that, but there's a firmness to it that you hadn't used with either of the children before. She pauses, sending you a look of disbelief as her tiny brows furrowed over her forehead. "I'm going to read," She says flatly, attempting to shrug free of your grasp to no avail. 

Cassian, who had stayed behind as he put away the supplies he'd used for his poster, was now standing awkwardly by the library doors as he watched the scene before him unfold with wide and confused eyes. 

Shaking your head, your grip loosens just a fraction. "It's Saturday;" You hum, like you were relaying a secret code word of sorts. 

Rayne only huffs, "So?" 

With your continued efforts of showing up, even stretching over the weekends, it seemed she was beginning to realize that you were not disappearing any time soon and that both she and her brother would be stuck with you for an indefinite period of time. Whether that appeased her or not was hard to tell but she was growing all the more outspoken with you for each encounter. 

"So," You say, still holding onto her, "That means it's family time. We'll be playing games in the living room, together." 

There's a flicker of defiance within her dark eyes at your words as Rayne tries to forcefully tug you off this time around. "I have no interest in playing ridiculous games," She snaps, something almost like frustration vibrating on the tip of her tongue, "And you are not my family."

Her words made something unfamiliar twist in your chest, not because they weren't true but because of the way she had said them — with so much intent that it nearly made her tremble. She was still watching you with a hint of a challenge, half expecting you to keep pressing the matter. 

You bite back a sigh, trying your hardest to hide how much this little girl managed to test your patience. "It's not a question of want, it's a matter of doing," Keeping your tone calm, you try your best to convince her. "Besides, you might end up having fun." 

Rayne actually scoffs at that. "I don't have to do anything," She bites out, her voice suddenly growing hot with fury, "You're notmy mother." 

Ouch. Your grip on her goes lax and she wrings herself away from you with enough force to send her stumbling backward a few steps. Her chest is heaving for each breath she takes and she sends you a sharp glare before turning on her heel and storming off to her room. 

The door slams shut behind her with enough force to rattle the paintings on the walls, leaving behind a hollow silence that feels much too oppressive. 

You're still standing rooted in place, your gaze having fallen to the floor as you watch each strand of the carpet beneath you. Anger would not be the right word to describe the mix of emotions swirling within your heart — neither was disappointment. Guilt? Maybe. Or perhaps sympathy for a girl far too young to be acting the way she does. 

You feel almost helpless when your eyes flicker back toward the door she had just disappeared behind. What could you possibly do to make her understand that you only had her well being in your best interest? 

A quiet inhale pulls your attention over to Cassian who still stands awkwardly by the library opening. The poster he had been working on is clutched tightly between his tiny fingers and you can see his throat bob when he swallows. There's a flicker of uncertainty that crosses his features. 

"Rayne…?" 

He whispers his sister's name like something forbidden, bottom lip jutted out into a small pout and you could tell that he was mulling the situation over in his head on loop. 

Sighing, you approach him on unsteady feet. "She needs a moment to herself right now," You hum when you crouch down before him, "So let's give her that." 

Cassian gives a hesitant nod, his gaze drifting down the hall before returning to meet yours. "She will be okay?" He murmurs, waiting desperately for your next words like he prepared to cling onto them. 

Truth is, Rayne hadn't been okay to begin with. But that was something her little brother was too young to understand, and perhaps even she. Instead you smile, your hand squeezing gently around his shoulder. "She will." 

As it turns out, Cassian was a natural at most things, and board games were no different. The living room was basked in a quiet stillness, with the early afternoon sun peeking through the thin curtains as it caressed the floor. There was not as much as a trinket out of place and not a single speck of dust in sight. 

Order ruled the house, all except for the coffee table — which was currently subjected to Cassian's triumph. Board games are stacked into a not-so-neat pile and in between the two of you sits the one you're currently playing. 

The little boy himself is perched on the very edge of the couch, his brows tugged together in a frown as he nurses his bottom lip between his milk teeth. He'd been on a winning streak for the past hour, and he was not about to let himself be dethroned now.

"Does your person…" He pauses, the crease on his forehead deepening as he chooses his next words carefully, "…Have glasses?" 

Humming softly, you glance down at the board set up in front of you, nodding. "Yep." 

Cassian beams at that, one tiny finger flicking out to cover any of the faces that didn't fit the clue he'd just been given. 

You had planned on 'letting him win' as you guessed that playing against a five year old wouldn't prove much of a challenge — but Cassian had surprised you in an instant as he effortlessly turned the tables back around on you. Now you were in the midst of a heated "Guess Who" game, and judging by the progress he'd made compared to yours… A clear winner was already in sight. 

"Hm…" Scratching your chin thoughtfully, your eyes drift across the variety of faces in front of you, then back to Cassian's expectant expression in the hopes of catching a hint behind his big eyes. You come up empty handed, of course. "Does your person… Have long hair?" 

Cassian shakes his head, the grin on his face only growing in size when you let out a defeated sigh. You were back to square one, flicking down a measly two people whilst your five year old opponent covered much larger ground. 

A moment later he clears his throat, "Does your person have a red tie?" There's a smugness to the drawl of his voice that tells you he's already won. Gaze dropping down to the person you had chosen only confirmed that, yes, he had a red tie, and glasses, and the same short brown hair Cassian had asked about three rounds ago. 

Clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you lean back into the armchair, "Yes." 

"Hah!" Cassian practically squeals as he squirms in his chair, unable to sit still as he itches to seize his win. "I know now! I know now!" 

"Hey—" You surge forward, swatting his eager hand away. "It's my turn. I have one shot left." 

At that he frowns, clearly frustrated at the prospect of you getting one final guess before he could crush you. "Fine," He huffs, fingers tapping restlessly at his knees as he waits for you to ask another question or take a guess. 

You, on the other hand, take your time, drawing the suspense out as your gaze roams the alternatives in front of you. Should you just take a gamble and guess on one of the many faces in front of you? If you didn't get it right you'd lose — but any other route seemed futile. 

Taking a quick and mindless pick, your eyes flicker up to meet his. "Is your person Casey?" 

The smile on Cassian's lips told you everything you needed to know and a second later he shakes his head. "No…" He giggles, his feet kicking excitedly back and forth. Dammit. 

"Alright," You sigh, "Your turn." 

Before you can get another breath out, Cassian jumps from the couch. "It's Mister Bradley! Your person is Mister Bradley, isn't he?" He's already peeking over at your side of the board, beaming with excitement when he confirms that he'd been correct.

"I won!" He exclaims, not giving himself the time to savor the victory as he dives straight for the stack of games in search of a new one. 

You watch him with a small smile, the sight of him so involved in something as simple as a board game made warmth tug at your heart strings. Never had you seen him as much as lift the corner of his lip — now the grin that stretched far into his cheeks seemed unable to fade. 

Each game was new to him, uncharted territory, which made you wonder if he had ever played anything like this at all before today. The innocent fascination he had for the games made losing all the more worth it, long as the look of laughter didn't fade from his face. 

His overtly excited demeanor almost made you forget about your conversation with Rayne — almost. The silence that echoed from upstairs still felt heavy with tension, you had not heard a word from her since the bedroom door had been slammed shut in your face and you wondered if you should go check on her. 

"Do you think your sister would want to play with us?" 

The question makes Cassian freeze from where he'd been unboxing another game. His fingers pause over one of the player pieces, dark and big eyes meeting yours as he goes quiet for the first time since you had begun playing. 

He hesitates for a moment, nibbling on his bottom lip as he fiddles with the pieces in his hands. "Rayne doesn't like to play. Not since mommy…" Stopping himself halfway through the sentence, like he'd just said something he shouldn't have — Cassian refuses to meet your gaze as he keeps it fixed on the game in front of him. 

Exhaling through your nose, you reach out to take one of the pieces from his hand, placing it down on the table before helping him unbox the rest of the game. Cassian seems to relax a fraction, silently picking up the dice and twisting it between his fingers. 

"Did you play games like these with your mom?" You murmur, watching him through the corner of your eye when pulling out the game board onto the table, unfolding it neatly. 

Cassian purses his lips, the frown on his face creasing further before he shrugs. "Not exactly…" The admission is almost inaudible, so silent that you barely catch it. Part of you wants to ask another question, to try and pry even more information out of him, but the way he shifts slightly in his seat makes you hesitate. 

After another minute of stiff silence he speaks, "Mommy liked card games. I don't understand the rules so she would let me sit on her lap and play with her…" He trails off, seemingly deeply lost in a memory now far away. 

You watch him without interrupting, the game momentarily forgotten about. There's a sense of longing behind his eyes, like he was missing something he could never have back. That only caused your curiosity to grow. 

He suddenly shakes his head, blinking twice as he fiddles with the dice. "I don't want to talk about it." Cassian mutters, his tiny body shrinking back in on itself like it was trying to protect him from an unknown threat. 

Nodding slowly, you place out the player pieces on the game board. "Then we won't," Giving him a small smile, you nudge the board in his direction. "Which character do you want to be?" 

Cassian glances up at the question, the melancholy expression washing off his face almost instantly. "The red one," Pointing to the red player he snatches it before placing it down on the starting block. 

You hum, grabbing the green one for yourself as you put it alongside his. Just as you're about to explain the rules of the new game to him, a creak in the floorboards catches your attention. It's soft, far too quiet to have been Jungkook. 

The two of you listen to the slow approach of footsteps and a moment later Rayne's figure appears in the doorway. She lingers just out of sight, half her face peeking out from behind the frame which her fingers clutch tightly. Her dark eyes are fixed on you and Cassian, regarding you wordlessly from where she stands. 

"Rayne!" Her brother is the first to speak, still reeling with excitement from his previous victories, "Will you play with us?" 

She stiffens at having been caught, fingers curling a little tighter around the doorframe. There's a flicker of hesitation as it crosses her features before they're overshadowed by a tiny frown. She takes a cautious step forward, then another. 

"What kind of stupid game are you playing?" Rayne mutters when she approaches, stopping just short of the couch as she eyes the board you had just finished setting up. She looks fairly uninterested but the fact that she had come downstairs to begin with was enough motivation for you. 

"I was just about to explain the rules to your brother," Gesturing toward Cassian on the couch, "Have a seat." 

Rayne pauses, her gaze flickering between Cassian, then over to you and lastly over to the spot on the couch beside him. Reluctantly she sits down, her body stiff on top of the cushion as she pointedly avoids looking you in the eye. 

Her distance did not faze you, instead you lean forward as you nudge the remaining player pieces in her direction. "Which color do you want?" 

Despite her best efforts to hide it, Rayne was having a lot more fun than she wanted to let on to. Huffing whenever she rolled a six and smirking triumphantly when she managed to knock her brother out a second time, it was clear that she was having at least a decent time playing. 

"That's cheating!" Cassian whines when his character gets pushed off the game board once again. 

Rayne scoffs, "Ain't cheatin' if I'm playing by the rules. I'm winning fair and square." 

"You haven't even won yet!" Her little brother objects, crossing his arms as he reclines back in his seat. The new competition of his sister was clearly getting to him as his streak of victory was suddenly threatened. "I don't want to play anymore," He declares with a petulant pout. 

Rayne rolls her eyes, muttering something about him being a 'dramatic crybaby' but you were hardly listening. No, your attention was fixed on the dark shadow lingering just outside of the living room, a looming presence that the children had yet to notice. 

Jungkook had been hovering in the hallway for a couple of minutes now. You hadn't heard him come down the stairs and you nearly jumped out of your seat when you caught sight of him by the archway. 

His arms were folded across his chest, his expression unreadable as ever from where he regarded the three of you. He'd made no attempt to announce his presence, much less join in on the fun. There was a small crease between his brows, just enough to betray the inner conflict he battled. 

Your gazes cross paths for a fraction of a second, long enough to send a shiver down your spine before you quickly looked back to the kids. "Come on Cassian, you're not giving up now are you?" 

The little boy only huffs, his pout growing as he glares down at the game board on the table between you, "But she's going to win." Beside him, Rayne hums, twirling the dice between her fingers. It seemed your previous argument had been forgotten in favor of the prospect that was beating her little brother. 

"So?" You say, grabbing his discarded player and placing it back on the board. "Quitters never win do they?" 

There's a moment of silence as Cassian mulls over your statement, his lips moving in a wordless whisper before straightening up. He snatches the dice from Rayne, throwing it onto the coffee table with a little more force than necessary before continuing to play. "I'll show you," He mutters, sticking his tongue out at his sister before moving his character forward another four steps. 

You smile, sitting back in the armchair as Rayne takes her turn, throwing the dice albeit more gently. Somewhere in the distance the sound of footsteps against the wooden floorboards catches your attention and you just manage to catch a glimpse of Jungkook's back as he disappears down the hall again, stifling another cough on his way. 

Dinner was cooked with Cassian perched on the counter top, legs swinging back and forth as he watched you intently. Occasionally he would comment on the seasonings you used, demanding constant taste-tests and helping to stir the stew cooking in the pot. 

You had been surprised when he'd first asked to join after wrapping up your last game. While his big sister had returned to her room, Cassian seemed unable to let you out of his sight for more than a minute, constantly needing to be on stand by for whatever mundane task you preformed. You would be the last to complain though, in fact you could hardly keep the smile off your face as you went about the kitchen. 

Cassian had not brought up his mother again, but every now and then you would catch him frowning, his eyes distant like he was thinking about something else — something he refused to tell you. 

You wondered what kind of memory he was trapped in, your gaze drifting over to him more than once as you lowered the heat on the stove. A few times you almost asked, lips parting in a silent breath where no words followed — a greater part of you knew better than to keep pushing when he wasn't ready. And so you kept quiet. 

"Do you want to set the table?" 

Cassian perks up at the question, bright eyes widening before he quickly nods. "Yeah," He jumps off the counter, scurrying over to the other side of the large kitchen before pulling a drawer open as he rummaged through it for cutlery. 

You watch him with a small smile that faltered slightly when you noticed him hesitating. His tiny fingers were counting the forks, clutching three in one hand as the other hovered just short of grabbing the fourth. A second later he shakes his head, like he was remembering himself before grabbing the last fork and moving over to the adjoining dining room. 

Heaving a sigh, you reach for one of the top cabinets in search of plates. They were all porcelain, stacked neatly together on top of each other, just out of reach. The tips of your fingers brush against their cold surface, a huff of frustration leaving your lips, and you rise to your toes in an attempt to avoid having to bring out a chair to stand on. 

Just as you think you might've gotten it, a much larger hand suddenly replaces your own. Inked fingers curl around the plates when Jungkook grabs them. You hadn't heard him come down, or maybe you had just been too lost in thought to pick up the sound of his heavy footsteps against the stairs. 

But right now, it was impossible to ignore his imposing presence as he stands right behind you — close enough for his chest to press into your shoulder. His breath is warm when he speaks, brushing against the side of your forehead in a silent caress. "Careful with those," He mutters, setting the plates down on the counter he was currently caging you against. 

You blink, too stunned to even speak as you awkwardly turn to glance at him. He's completely invading your space and from here you could clearly make out each individual lash that surrounds his dark eyes, as well as the faded scar marring his cheek. 

"I…" You stagger, mentally cursing yourself for how stupid you sound, "I was. They were just difficult to reach." 

Jungkook doesn't respond, save for a soft grunt. He had yet to take a step back, and his dark eyes linger on your face — it seemed he had no intention of backing off anytime soon. 

"But I guess that tends to happen when you keep them on the top shelves," Your attempt to poke fun at the situation doesn't seem to land and for each passing second you become increasingly aware of your proximity. 

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, it looks almost like he's about to say something when Cassian's voice suddenly pierces the silence. 

"Nanny!" He calls out, the title he'd adopted for you falling from his lips like second nature. "We need glasses too!" His tiny frame emerges from the dining room on quick legs, this time empty handed — skidding to a halt when he sees his father in the kitchen with you. 

His expression quickly morphs from excitement to something almost bashful as he peers up at his dad shyly. 

Jungkook huffs out a sharp breath through his nose, fingers curling around the counter top where they rest beside the abandoned plates. "We don't run indoors, Cassian," He scolds, "And we don't yell." 

Looking more than chastised, Cassian bows his head in apology, arms hanging limp by his sides as he stares at the floor. When he finally lifts his gaze, his attention flickers keenly between where you stand and where his dad lingers closer than he probably should. 

Pursing his lips, he waits for either of you to explain what's going on. When no one does, he hums. "We still need glasses, daddy." 

There's an almost unnoticeable twitch of his jaw as Jungkook inhales. Then he's pushing away from you like he suddenly realized it burnt, marching over to the other side of the kitchen as he pulls a cabinet open. 

With your heart in your throat you regard him as he pulls out glasses with jerky and rough movements, turning sharply on the spot before heading to the dining room with them. 

Cassian watches his dad go with a confused frown, wisely choosing not to comment on it as he heads for the stairs, likely in search of his sister. You're still standing by the counter, the scent of Jungkook's expensive cologne clouding your senses despite his absence — shaking your head, you reach for the plates he'd helped you take down as you, too, head for the dining room. 

The dining room felt far too extravagant for the simple dinner you were eating. A sparkling chandelier hangs above the large table, illuminating what the darkness outside the window tried to dim. Silence rules the four of you as forks and knifes touch on the porcelain plates. 

You had tried to follow Jungkook's strict meal plans as best as you could when cooking. Choosing non fat ingredients and non-dairy as to not upset Cassian's stomach. It was still impossible to tell if any of them actually enjoyed the meal — apart from the youngest of the family who was eating hungrily. 

Rayne sat opposite you, picking at her food lazily. Her head was propped up on her palm, a bored expression on her face. Despite the rare fun she'd had when playing games, the prospect of a family dinner seemed less appealing to her. 

"Elbows off the table." 

Jungkook's voice is gruff as he barks out the order. He's seated by the far end of the table, like an emperor looking out at his servants. There's a stiffness to his movements as he eats, a rigid tension locking his shoulders in place and an almost permanent crease between his brows. 

At his sharp command, Rayne sighs, reluctantly lifting her head from her hand as she lets her arm fall from the table again. Her appetite doesn't grow in the span of those short seconds as she continues to shovel her food around on the porcelain with an impassive look on her face. 

Cassian, who sits beside you, seems fairly oblivious to the tension — or he simply did his best in ignoring it, even as Jungkook spoke up again. 

"Eat." His tone leaves no room for argument, but Rayne somehow finds a way to do so anyway. Her shoulders roll in a dismissive shrug when she mutters out a comment about not being particularly hungry. 

Jungkook's dark gaze snaps to her in a split second, the grip on his fork tightening hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. "I don't care if you're hungry or not. Eat your dinner." 

You swallow down a bite of food, your throat suddenly feeling dry as you reach for your glass to take a sip of water. Even Cassian had gone still beside you, his constant chewing slowing down to hesitant nibbles as his wide eyes flickered between his dad and big sister. 

Rayne doesn't even seem to register that all attention has been shifted toward her. The sound of her fork clattering against her plate when she forcefully drops it feels deafening and final, she was not budging on this. "I'm not hungry," She stubbornly repeats, refusing to look her father in the eyes. 

At that, Jungkook sets his own fork down, making a very futile attempt at hiding his frustration with his own kid. "I wasn't asking. Eat your food or your study hours will be from eight to three tomorrow." 

The threat blows right past her as Rayne pushes her plate away, close enough for it to nudge your own. Her gaze is ice cold when she finally turns it to her dad, "If mother was here she wouldn't make me eat. And she wouldn't make me study as punishment either." 

The silence that settles over the table feels like the calm before a mean storm — one you had no idea how to take shelter from. Cassian shifts nervously in his seat next to you, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation playing out in front of him. The glass between your fingers was held with an iron-like grip, and you were surprised that you hadn't dropped it yet. 

But Jungkook remains eerily calm — too calm for what she had just said. The only noticeable difference lingers in his gaze, no longer fixed on his daughter but the plate of food in front of him. 

"Go to your room." 

It's all he says, his voice harsh enough to command an entire army. 

Rayne huffs, pushing her chair out with so much anger that it scrapes the floor. "Fine," She snaps, making sure to knock her glass over in the process, the water spilling out onto the white tablecloth and darkening it. Before she takes her leave, she makes sure to throw her dad one last glare, "I wish it was you that left, not her. Maybe then things would actually be different." 

Then she storms out of the dining room, leaving behind a hot trail of fury in her wake. You listen to the sound of her footsteps as she rushes up the stairs, the sharp echo of a door slamming somewhere in the distance until there was nothing but silence that ached like the aftermath of a hard punch. 

Cassian is chewing on his bottom lip worriedly, his gaze jumping between you and his dad — who had yet to speak. 

"Two principal subdivisions, presenting certain individual features." Your lips move silently as your gaze travels across the open page in front of you. "The axial, such as the spine and much of the skull…" The yellow marker leaves a sloppy trail in its wake when you highlight the line. "And the appendicular, where the pelvic and pectoral girdles as well as the cartilages of the limbs belong." 

Hunched over the scrawny desk in your small apartment, you beat your brain with information on the human skeleton as you crammed as much as possible for your exam that upcoming week. Having missed out on your lecture two days ago, you had a lot to catch up on to be properly prepared — you couldn't afford to flunk this, quite literally. 

Your past 48 hours had been spent doing nothing but studying. It was bad enough that you had started seeing branchial arches on the back of your milk packages, though that might have had something to do with your insufficient sleeping habits. 

Thoughts of Jungkook and the kids kept you awake late into the night. The way he had looked at you that evening, the tension radiating off of him when you spoke up for Cassian. Arguably worse were the children's cold detachment to anything that didn't involve the schedule their father had set. 

The guilt of having brought up their mother so inappropriately still gnawed at you as you tossed and turned for hours in the dark. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook had called you early that very next morning — informing you that you would not need to show up that day, or the day that followed. 

He hadn't fired you, not officially at least, but it sure felt like being let go without even being offered the grace of an explanation. The landline sat quiet on your desk, untouched for a full two days. You kept stealing glances in its direction, teeth chewing your bottom lip to pieces as you considered calling him and asking if you had perhaps done something wrong. 

Maybe he'd already found a new nanny for the kids? Would you look like a complete idiot if you disturbed him when he'd been clear that you weren't needed? Fingers drumming restlessly against your open textbook, its contents already forgotten about, you go over the sequence of numbers you had memorized, the ones going straight to his house. 

You itched to reach for the phone, to dial for him and hear the line go through. The pads of your fingers brush against its cool surface, hesitating for a moment before grimacing and pulling back. "Don't be stupid now," You mutter, shaking your head as you grab your marker and turn back to your studies. 

He would call if he wanted you there, you would just have to be patient. Deciding then that if you didn't hear from him by next Monday, you would allow yourself to give him a call. Turning back to the maze of the human skeleton in front of you, you continue to read. 

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes later when the ear piercing ring of your landline suddenly broke the silence. Jolting from your seat, the marker slips from your grasp as it clatters against the desk. You turn to the small machine, eyes wide and disbelieving as you watch it ring. 

Slowly reaching for it, almost like one would a skittish animal, you pause just before picking it up. "It could be anyone," You tell yourself, heaving a breath as your fingers curl around the phone and you bring it to your ear. Whispering out a meek, "Hello?" You wait for whoever was on the other end of the line to speak. 

Except it's not just anyone. 

You instantly recognize the low rasp of Jungkook's voice. "Hey. Did I wake you?" He asks, but does not sound in the least apologetic, more like he was fact checking on how long it would take for you to be out the house if that had been the case. Glancing over at the clock, you realize that it was no more than 6:30. 

"I— No, I'm awake." You didn't need to go into detail about the sleepless nights you'd been experiencing thanks to him. Instead you remain silent as you listen to the sound of his slightly unsteady breathing on the other side. 

Jungkook clears his throat, "Can you be here within the hour?" 

That was the earliest he'd ever asked you to come — not to mention the shortest notice he'd ever given you. But that wasn't what caught you off guard, no, it was the barely noticeable strain that laced his words. He didn't sound quite like himself, though whatever was wrong, you couldn't place your finger on. 

Nodding, you're already rising from your chair as you close your textbook. "Yeah, sure. I'll be there," You pause, biting the inside of your cheek before asking, "Is everything alright?" 

But the line had already gone silent. 

The front door is unlocked when you arrive, it glides open under your hand without as much as a sound — contradictory to your own back at home, which would creak and whine. With caution you step over the threshold, half expecting someone to jump out on you at any moment. But the house is eerily still. 

"Hello?" You call out, shrugging off your coat before hanging it up next to Jungkook's untouched one. The hallway was vacant, everything neatly put together in place yet not a single soul to be seen. That was strange. Slipping out of your shoes, your toes curl into the carpet as you awkwardly stay rooted in the spot, glancing back and forth as you waited for someone to come. 

But no one did. 

Finally you force yourself to venture further, peeking inside the empty kitchen as you call out. Without any response you head over to the living room, only to find it just as desolate as the rest of the house. Had you been mistaken? Surely not. Jungkook's voice over the phone still echoed in your head. 

You turn toward the stairs, carefully moving up to the second floor. The steps groan under your weight, if anyone was home and had somehow missed your previous attempts at getting their attention — this was sure to. 

The upstairs is still, the air thick and unmoving. Cassian's bedroom door is left ajar and your curiosity peaks as you approach. Hushed murmuring can be heard when you near, but what was being said still remains a mystery. Stopping just short of the threshold, you push the door open just enough to take a peek inside. 

Cassian's room was just as tidy as it had been during your previous visits. His desk was clean and void of any clutter, save for the small hoodie that was folded over the accompanying chair. The only thing left unmade was his bed — currently occupied by the tiny boy as he laid under the thick covers. 

His face was flushed with color, his nose a bright red like he'd been rubbing it constantly. And when he inhaled shakily, you could tell that he had trouble breathing. 

Jungkook sits on the edge of the mattress, wearing a conflicted frown as his large hand rubs his son's head carefully. You pause in the doorway, eyes widening a fraction as you take in the unfamiliar sight of the kids and their father present in the same room at once. With the way he spoke of the children, you had expected Jungkook to be just as cold and brooding to them as he was to you — but he was awfully gentle as he tucked the blanket a little tighter around Cassian. 

Neither of them seemed to have noticed your presence, and you took advantage of that as you watched them a moment longer. 

"What about today?" Cassian croaked as he peered up at his dad from where he lay on the bed. There was an almost hopeful expression on his otherwise miserable face. 

Jungkook shook his head, thumb brushing a strand of hair from the boy's forehead, "You won't go to school today." 

The little boy pouted at that, the same pout you had grown so accustomed to. "But I already missed two days," He whines, tiny fingers clutching the bedsheets a little tighter. 

Giving a light knock to the door, you draw both of their attention toward you in a second. Cassian's eyes widen like he hadn't expected you to be there — his father on the other hand, only glanced over his shoulder as his firm gaze found yours. 

You step inside, feet moving soundlessly over the carpet as you come to a halt by the bed. "The front door was unlocked so I let myself in," You say, the statement directed at Jungkook who was watching you with quiet intensity. 

He nods slowly before turning back to his son, "I left it that way." His fingers are still brushing through Cassian's hair, and you found yourself fixed on the tattoos that adorned his knuckles — how come you hadn't noticed them before? It didn't seem at all fitting for the man he presented himself as, your guess was that he'd gotten them years ago. 

Cassian's strained cough is what snaps you from your momentary trance. His face scrunches up and he lifts a small hand to rub at his already irritated nose. Next to him, his dad sighs, the frown on his face etching deeper. "Is he feeling unwell?" You ask, taking another step closer and joining them both on the bed without thinking. 

There's a noticeable tension to Jungkook's shoulders when your knee brushes his on the rather cramped mattress. He doesn't tear his gaze away from his son, the back of his hand pressing against his forehead to check his temperature. "He's been running a fever since Wednesday," 

Your eyes widen at the information, but when your focus returns to Cassian, you find that he was right. The tiny boy looked absolutely wrecked where he laid under the blankets, his small frame shivering slightly as he looked between you and his dad. 

"I've been working from home," Jungkook continues in an almost monotone voice, "But I need to go in for a few meetings today." There was a slight rasp to his voice that hadn't been there before, and upon closer inspection you could make out the bags under his eyes and the slump of his otherwise stoic shoulders. 

He doesn't wait for you to respond, giving Cassian's head one final pat before rising from the bed. When he turns to peer down at you, that same mask of cold indifference is back in place. "I'll be taking Rayne to school, there's medicine in the bathroom cabinet." 

Nodding slowly, you shift a little closer to Cassian on the bed, hand smoothing over the covers. "Alright," You hum, watching silently as he turns and heads for the door. 

With one foot on the threshold he pauses, eyes lingering on you a moment longer. His expression flickers with something unreadable before schooling itself back into detachment, like he was about to say something but then deciding against it. 

The door shuts with a soft click behind him. 

Cassian was not doing good. He kept coughing and sniveling — by 10am you had gone through two boxes of tissues, constantly wiping at his snotty nose as you mumbled gentle reassurances. It was impossible to tell exactly how he was feeling, he'd made no more comments about missing school after Jungkook had left, only letting you tend to him with a defeated acceptance. 

You had whipped together a poor attempt at soup, hoping that the warm broth would help ease his sore throat and hydrate him a little. Sat on the edge of his bed, you were currently feeding him small spoonfuls. 

"It's not too hot is it?" You ask, blowing on the food before bringing it to his lips. 

He only shakes his head after swallowing, tiny hands clutching his teddy tightly. "It's okay," Cassian murmurs, his gaze fixed on the plushie as he fiddled with one of its fluffy ears. 

You hum, preparing another spoonful. "How are you feeling?" 

A quiet pout forms on his lips as he shrugs, "Tired." He wasn't very talkative like this, not that he ever was but now so even less. Since Jungkook left he'd barely even glanced in your direction, keeping his eyes stubbornly on the teddy or his own hands. 

"You need to rest, how about a nap after you finish your food?" Bringing the spoon to his lips, you feed him another bite of the soup. Dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a tissue, you can't help but sigh as you watch him. 

Unlike his sister and father, Cassian was very quiet — almost shy. It seemed like no matter how gentle the approach, he would always find a way to shrink back in on himself whenever he was given the opportunity. It was almost impossible to get through to him and a small part of you feared you never would. 

Cassian gives a small, barely noticeable nod in answer to your question, wordlessly accepting the next spoonful you fed him. The dark circles around his eyes indicated that he seemed to have slept just as little as his father — if not less. 

"Did your dad take care of you these past two days?" You wonder when stirring the soup around in the bowl. 

"Mhm," He hums, eyes still on his teddy as he caresses its head softly. "He's not very good at it though." Fiddling with the teddy bear's paw, his brows draw together in a frown. "I wish mommy was here, she knew how to make me not sick." 

The spoon in your hand clatters against the side of the bowl, the sound deafening in the quiet bedroom. You freeze, eyes flickering up to glance at Cassian where he sits. He had never brought up his mother before — not since your first day where he'd mentioned her briefly. 

Swallowing down the flood of curios questions that waited on your tongue, you regard him with silent intrigue and sympathy as Cassian chews on the inside of his cheek. You knew better than to prod at the subject, especially since the abscense of his mother clearly seemed to bother him. 

Your hand is gentle as it brushes against his arm. His skin is feverishly hot under your touch, the heat seeping through his thin pajama shirt. "I'm sure your daddy is doing his best." 

The frown on Cassian's face only deepens, his grip on the plushie tightening. "It's not enough," He mutters, his voice cracking on the last syllable. There's a thick silence that follows his statement and you hold your breath as you wait for him to continue, or break into tears. His next words are so quiet that you barely catch them: 

"It's not the same…" 

He doesn't say anything else after that. And you don't push him to. Instead you feed him another spoonful of soup, trying to get his mind on anything other than his parents. Whatever had happened between his mom and dad, it must have been pretty serious for him to open up about it like this. 

"How about we read a story before your nap, would that be nice?" You hum as you set the now empty bowl aside. Cassian gives a tiny nod, hugging his teddy to his chest as he settles back against the pillow. 

"Uh-huh," He says, pointing in the direction of the bookshelf, "I have a pirate one over there." 

The front door clicks open a little after noon. You could hear it from where you were still perched on the edge of Cassian's bed. He'd fallen asleep about an hour ago and you had stayed to keep him tucked in and occasionally check his temperature. But he slept soundly with no signs of waking anytime soon. 

Listening to the sounds of heavy footsteps climbing the stairs, you wait with quiet anticipation for their approach. A moment later the bedroom door creaks open and you turn just in time to see Jungkook's tall frame appear in the doorway. He's still in his work attire, the usual button up neatly made and his hair in place. Though the exhaustion on his face didn't pass you unnoticed. 

Folding his arms across his chest, he leans against the doorframe. "How is he?" He asks, his voice low and raspy as he nods toward Cassian. 

You follow his gaze, one of your hands reaching out to caress his forehead the same way Jungkook had earlier that morning. "Tired," Sighing softly, your gaze lingers on his tiny figure under the covers, "But he'll be okay." 

Turning back to him, you withdraw your hand again, letting them both rest in your lap. Jungkook gives a nod, jaw tensing slightly as his gaze wanders between you and his son. It was impossible to tell what was on his mind and it frustrated you. 

Just as you were about to ask what he was doing home at such an unusual hour, Jungkook stifles a cough against a clenched fist. His face twists into a grimace when another fit of coughs attack him, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Worried, you immediately rise from the bed as you approach him, stopping halfway when you realized what you were doing. "Are you okay?" You ask, fingers twitching at your sides as you fought the urge to reach out. The answer was written all over him, of course, his neck was beginning to flush in that same color as Cassian's face had. 

But Jungkook merely shakes his head, brushing your concern off like it was nothing. "I'm alright," He mutters gruffly, dark eyes meeting your conflicted ones. 

"I don't know, you sound sick." Taking another step forward, you push the subject as your gaze roams his figure. Exhaustion was seeping through every part of him, in a way he was unable to hide, and you weren't late to pick up on it. 

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth when you don't immediately drop the matter. "Tch, don't fret." Nodding in the direction of Cassian, "Just make sure he stays asleep. I'll be in my room." Without another word he turns on his heel, walking out of the bedroom and leaving you behind, standing awkwardly in with your hands limp by your sides. 

Leaving him alone wasn't an option of course. Five minutes later you find yourself in the bathroom, rummaging through the cabinet in search of medicine. It didn't take you long to find the labeled package, for everything inside were neatly organized on the shelves — just like the rest of the house. 

Having already taken a quick trip to the kitchen, you'd acquired a glass of water to help wash the pills down. Popping two into your palm before placing the package back in its designated spot, you turn to head down the hall. 

Jungkook occupied what you assumed to be one of the guest bedrooms just across the locked door you had attempted to break through on your first day. It was firmly shut, a clear sign for anyone and everyone to keep out. Still, you approach, feet moving soundlessly across the floor. 

You pause just short of stepping inside, hesitating as you weigh your options. In the end you decide that it was worth a shot and the worst thing he could do was fire you on the spot for daring to show an ounce of compassion. Fingers curling into a fist, you give the wood a soft knock. 

Silence follows after that and you're forced to awkwardly linger in the hall for a painful minute. When no reply comes you thought he might be asleep, nearly aborting your mission before another fit of coughs could be heard on the other side. 

"Screw it," You whisper before twisting the handle and opening the door. 

You don't know what you had expected his room to look like, but you shouldn't have been surprised to find that it resembled the rest of the house. Only this room was sparsely decorated, with nothing but a large bed in the middle and a single dresser opposite it. 

Jungkook was sprawled on top of the covers, but he looked different. Gone was the put together man you had always seen, replaced with someone much more… human. He'd shed himself off his work clothes, now dressed in a thick hoodie like he was trying to block out the cold, paired with gray sweats. 

He had one arm flung over his face, jaw tense and his lips pressed into a firm line. He didn't look up at the sound of your arrival, only sighing quietly under his breath. "Yes?" The acknowledgement was begrudging, it was clear that if he had it his way, he'd be left alone with no disturbances. 

But you weren't one to back down. Taking a step in his direction, and then another, you don't stop until you reach the edge of his bed. "I brought you medicine," You hum, still clutching the glass and the painkillers in each hand as you wait for him to finally look at you. 

The breath he exhales is nothing short of annoyed. Letting his arm fall from his face, Jungkook peers up at you through dark lashes. His eyes narrow when they land on the water you had brought, then over to the pills in your open palm. "I'm fine," He grunts, rolling over on his side as he turns his back to you. 

The floorboards creak under your weight when you move closer. "Now isn't the time to act righteous. How are you going to take care of the kids if your head is killing you?" You knew that you were probably pushing further than you should, but leaving him to suffer his fate wasn't an option. 

Jungkook scoffs, making no attempt to turn back around as he bites out, "Isn't that what I pay you to do?" 

"So that's your excuse to not take care of yourself?" You huff, unable to hide the frustration in your voice as you grip the glass a little tighter. 

A moment later you hear him exhale a sharp breath before he finally steals a glance at you over his shoulder. His expression is conflicted, clearly torn between throwing you out and accepting your help. Then he reluctantly pushes himself up onto his elbows, though not before sending you a look cold enough to freeze over hell. "Fine, give it here." 

He practically snatches the glass of water from your hand, popping both pills into his mouth before swallowing them down in one big gulp. When he's finished he sets the glass aside on the otherwise empty bedside table, head crashing back against the pillow with a strained sigh. 

Your gaze flickers across his face, noting the subtle flush that painted his cheeks, the ragged inhales he took as both his nose and throat protested. He looked downright horrible to put it lightly. 

Without thinking you reach out, placing the back of your hand on his forehead. Jungkook's brows furrow at the gentle touch, but he doesn't object as he lets you check his temperature. "You're burning up," You murmur, fingers absentmindedly moving to brush a stray strand of hair from his face. 

Jungkook scoffs, "I'll be alright. I just need to rest for a little bit." He looks strangely defeated as he stares blankly at the ceiling, his jaw clenched tight when he swallows with a grimace. Rubbing a tired hand across his face, he exhales a sharp breath. "Just go check on Cassian or something," He grunts, clearly eager to get you out of his vicinity sooner rather than later. 

You were torn between wanting to stay and make sure he was actually alright and wanting to give him the space he desperately seemed to crave. After a few moments of silence you finally give in with a small nod, "Alright. Call for me if you need something." 

He doesn't offer a verbal response to that, only a quiet grunt as his arm returned to cover his eyes. If he didn't want your help then you couldn't force it onto him. So you turn and head out of the room once more, leaving the glass behind in case he got thirsty before closing the door behind you. 

It was safe to say that Jungkook was highly unenthusiastic when you came knocking half an hour later. And even less so when he laid eyes on the bowl of soup you were carrying — having reheated the one you made for Cassian earlier that day. 

Not even bothering to acknowledge you further than a displeased huff, Jungkook shuts his eyes as he exhales through his parted lips. The evidence of his struggle lay scattered on the bedside table in the form of crumpled tissues, the empty package having fallen to the floor. It was an unusual mess that you didn't associate his clean freak antics with. 

"You need to eat something," Your voice is soft when you approach him. Pausing for a second before taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. Jungkook had tucked himself under the covers, and you could see the slight shiver that he tried hard to suppress. 

He gives a weak attempt at shaking his head, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. "The soup will do your sore throat good," You press, resisting the urge to reach out and check his temperature a second time. 

Jungkook makes a low noise of disagreement, somewhere between a strained groan and a failed cough. But when he realized that you weren't budging, he finally cracked an eye open. His dark gaze is fixed on you as he watches you with a scrutinizing glare that reminded you far too much of Rayne. 

"Alright," He scoffs, pushing himself into a sitting position as he leans back against the headboard with a sigh. Despite the evident exhaustion on him, his shoulders were still stiff with that familiar tension that never seemed to leave him. He eyes the bowl in your hands, like he was daring you to force the soup down his throat. 

You stir the spoon quietly, avoiding his intense gaze when you clear your throat. But Jungkook beats you to it. "Give it here," One large hand reaching out, he takes the bowl from you with something that resembled a scowl. "You've patronized me enough." 

With that he begins to eat in small reluctant spoonfuls, where each swallow looked like it pained him greatly. He doesn't comment on the food this time, forcing it down simply because he had to. Neither of you speak, and the silence that falls over you might be the thickest one yet. 

Your fingers busy themselves with picking at a loose thread on your shirt, your gaze looking anywhere but at him. You did not mention Cassian's words earlier that morning — his quiet plea for his mother's return nor his disappointment in his own father. Part of you suspected that Jungkook was well aware of it already. 

When he was about halfway done with the soup, his movements slowed. The grip he held on the spoon loosened just a fraction and the frown on his face eased up. "You need to rest," You say, hands itching to reach out before you managed to get them under control again. 

Jungkook huffs, taking another unsteady bite as he shakes his head. His attention flickers over to the small watch around your wrist. "What time is it?" He grunts, nodding in said direction. 

Glancing down to where he was looking, you hum, "Almost two." 

There's a small sigh that follows your words as Jungkook stares down at the soup in front of him. His free hand runs through his now mussed hair, "I need to pick up Rayne from school." He moves to place the bowl down on the bedside table, but you stop him halfway. 

"What you need to do is finish your meal," You prompt when pushing the food back in his direction. Jungkook's jaw clenches as his dark eyes fixate on you. For a long moment he doesn't say anything, letting only the slight rasp of his shaky breaths fill the silence. 

Chewing on your bottom lip, you think of a way to solve the situation at hand. "What times does she get out?" You ask, glancing toward the watch around your wrist once more. 

"Two-thirty," He grunts, reluctantly bringing the spoon to his lips. 

You nod, "Okay. So I'll go pick her up." 

Jungkook nearly chokes on his soup, his eyes snapping over to yours as the frown on his face returns in an instant. "What?" He says, disbelief etched onto his every feature. 

But you only shrug, shifting slightly where you sit on the edge of the mattress. "I could pick her up, you're in no condition to leave this bed." He looked like he wanted to protest at that, but something seemed to make him think better of it as he slumped back against the headboard. 

After a few moment's of silent contemplation he finally spoke up, his voice low and gravelly. "You got your license?" He wonders, arching a brow when you nod. You could see the gears turning in his head, the crease between his brows deepening as he gripped the spoon tightly. 

"Fine," He finally mutters, "Latham Row 37, the keys are on the dresser in the hallway." 

Cars and you weren't exactly friends. They had this annoying habit of doing the opposite of what you asked, whether that be giving out at red lights or going empty on gas at the most inconvenient of times. And Jungkook's flashy piece of metal was no different. It had a variety of buttons you had never before seen, pressing one of them had made the car beep loud enough to alert the entire street. 

Though after a bit of bickering, the two of you seemed to find a middle ground that allowed you to safely pull out of the driveway. You had to admit that despite owning your license for over two years, your driving experience was… somewhat lacking. After running two yellow lights and avoiding the curb by a hair when turning, it was safe to say that you were covered in sweat when you finally arrived at the kids' school. 

The building was nothing short of what you would expect, all things considered. A massive and imposing gate stands before you, behind it the school — which was made out of red brick. Neatly trimmed bushes ran around the perimeter, and outside a hoard of children waited for their parents, all chatting among each other. 

It wasn't difficult to spot Rayne. Standing off to the side by herself, she clutches her school bag tightly in her arms, her gaze fixed on the pavement where her shoes kick at a few loose rocks. Part of you thought her friends might have already been picked up, you were ten minutes late after taking a wrong turn, though the more reasonable side of you argued that she'd been standing alone all along. 

Pulling up next to her, you fingers fumble for the button that would roll down the window. Amazing, you thought to yourself as you pressed the tiny black thing, far more luxurious than the lever you'd had to wind on in your grandpas old truck. 

"Rayne!" You call out, leaning over to wave at her through the open window. She glances up at the sound of your voice, a small frown on her face as she looks left and right before hesitantly approaching. 

"What are you doing here?" She asks when the car door closes behind her, placing her bag on the floor between her legs before reaching for the seatbelt. The uncharacteristic confusion in her voice was evident, especially when she leaned back to study you with dark and intense eyes. 

Shrugging, your fingers drum against the steering wheel. "Can't I come pick you up?" You ask, stealing a glance in the rear view mirror before pulling out on the street. 

Rayne huffs, fiddling with the fabric of her pants. "You're driving father's car," She states, throwing a pointed look toward the dashboard. 

"Yeah," You hum, pursing your lips thoughtfully, "Your dad couldn't come get you today." Giving her a a small smile, "So here I am." 

Between her and her brother, Rayne definitely posed more of a challenge for you. She was ridiculously smart, a lot smarter than any seven year old should be. Her answers always felt calculated and it was clear that she saw you as nothing but a temporary nanny her dad had hired. 

By picking her up today, you thought you'd get some much needed quality time together. "How was school?" You wonder without taking your eyes off the road. 

Rayne only sighs, like the matter wasn't of any importance. "It was fine." She doesn't allude to anything else, and when you stop at a red light, you glance over to find her staring out the window with a blank expression on her face. 

"Just fine? Did you play with any friends?" 

She scoffs, "School is for studying, not playing." 

You frown at that, making a left turn as you navigate back to the house without trouble this time around. "No? I remember playing all the time." Sharing snacks at lunch, competing for marbles out in the yard and or building tree houses out of whatever material you found laying around — school had always been a place for fun in your books. 

But Rayne only shakes her head, "Figures." You didn't know if that had been an insult or not, though you decided not to pry further. By the looks of it, Rayne had about as many friends as Jungkook had compliments — which were far and few in between. That fact saddened you greatly as you kept driving in silence. 

When arriving back home, Rayne went straight to the library to study, despite four pm being an hour away still. She had said she needed to practice for her test the upcoming day. When you had offered to help her she had politely declined, shutting the door behind her with a firm click. 

You had been left to tend to Cassian, who was still very much miserable where he laid in his bed. Though his fever seemed to have gone down somewhat, and you were relieved to find that he could eat dinner without problem. 

There hadn't been as much as a sound from Jungkook's room, you guessed he was sleeping the illness off. Despite earlier complaints he must have succumbed to his symptoms in the end. 

In the meantime you cooked, cleaned up after yourself, prepared Rayne's bag for school the very next day and made sure she got in bed at an appropriate time. The house was spotless and silent by 7:30 and you wiped the sweat from your brow as you paused to admire your hard work. 

The sound of the tap running is the only thing to fill the quiet air as you prepare a glass of water. It wasn't until now, when everything had finally settled down that you realized you had been here the entire day. 

From stepping through the unlocked front door early that morning, to tending to both Cassian and Jungkook, picking Rayne up from school and then running the rest of the house on top of that. There hadn't been as much as a second to spare for yourself. Even now, you were getting ready to check on Jungkook one last time before leaving. 

The stairs are gracefully silent when you climb them, an unusual phenomenon. Each door on the upstairs were firmly shut but your feet already knew where to go. 

You don't bother knocking as you step inside. The bedroom is dark, save for the small light on the bedside table. Jungkook's large and imposing figure is still sprawled on the bed where you had last left him. His arm had fallen from his eyes, and you could clearly make out the harsh contours of his face. 

Even in sleep he looked troubled, and when you set the glass of water down, you have to hold yourself back from reaching for him and smoothing out the crease between his brows. Instead you busy yourself with cleaning up the tissues scattered on top of the small table and picking up the discarded package from the floor. 

The bowl of soup from earlier that afternoon sits next to the lamp, empty. The corner of your lips tugs into a faint smile. Despite his many protests he had in fact finished the entire meal — it shouldn't please you as much as it did. 

You pause when your gaze catches on something that hadn't been there before, or perhaps it had and you had simply missed it. Putting the used tissues aside in the empty bowl, your fingers carefully reach out before brushing against the smooth leather. Hesitating for only a second, you pick up the wallet belonging to Jungkook. 

It's light between your fingers, and yet it weighs like stone in your open palm. Trapping your bottom lip between your teeth, your thumb prods at the sharp corner. Was it really okay to be prying like this when the man who paid you lay asleep not even two feet away? It went against everything you should do — and yet your hands move before your mind can catch up, opening the wallet to peer inside. 

The sight that greets you is almost alien. Something you never thought you'd see, much less be possible. It's a single picture, bright and much too happy to resemble anything of the family you had so briefly gotten to know. 

Jungkook sits in an armchair, he looks younger — or maybe it was the wide smile that stretched across his lips that deceived you. He was smiling so intensely that dimples dented into his cheeks, Jungkook had dimples, who would have thought? 

On his lap sits a tiny girl, she too, is grinning from ear to ear. The picture had to be at least a couple of years old but you could still recognize the fiery glint in Rayne's eyes. She hugs her dad tightly, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as Jungkook's hand rests on her hip. 

In his other arm he holds a baby, a little life so tiny and pure. Cassian, you think, your own lip twitching as you peer down at the photo. Jungkook held him so carefully, his son's tiny head fitting perfectly in his palm. 

The picture was everything they weren't — not today at least. It felt like family, like home. But your face falls when you spot the hand resting on Jungkook's shoulder. It's a woman's hand, a shiny ring on her finger, bright enough to catch even on the photograph. 

But where her hand leads you can't tell. Your finger brushes over the jagged edge of the photo, where someone had torn it. Out of anger? Sadness? Maybe even regret? It remained a mystery. 

You force your eyes away from the picture, glancing back at Jungkook's sleeping form on the bed. For a long moment you just stand there, silently watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. You try to imagine him as the man in the photo — imagine what he might have been like back then. When he was peacefully resting like this, it wasn't too hard. 

Setting the wallet down where you had found it, you take another step toward the bed. Jungkook doesn't stir when you pull the blanket a little higher over him, tucking him in as best as you could without taking the risk of waking him and facing those dark and intimidating eyes. 

Then you turn your back on him, deciding that you had lingered long enough as you grabbed the empty bowl and the used tissues. The door slides shut soundlessly behind you, leaving the house to bask in silence once more. 

Before leaving you check on Cassian one final time. Ever since his earlier words about his mother that morning, you had been in constant worry for him. Of course, there was nothing you could do to soothe the seeming ache in his heart, but staying just a moment longer — felt like a good place to start. 

His room is pitch black when you tiptoe inside. You expect to find him fast asleep but to your surprise, a tiny, familiar voice greets you through the shadows. "You're still here?" Cassian's whispers, there's an underlying tension to the quiet question, one so stark that you could feel it seep through your own bones. 

"I am," You say when you sink to your knees beside the edge of his bed. 

"Oh," he sighs, but he sounds almost relieved. 

Your heart practically stops when you feel his tiny hand brush against yours. His fingers move slow and hesitant, like he was half expecting you to pull away at any moment's notice. When you don't, he takes your hand in his — the size difference making the action somewhat awkward but he seems to have no intention of letting go. 

"Could you stay?" The question is so quiet that you barely hear it, but the way his fingers tremble against yours tells you everything you need to know. After a moment's of hesitation he adds, "…Just until I fall asleep." 

You smile, even though he couldn't see it through the darkness. "Of course, I'll stay," Giving his hand a small squeeze, you shift to get comfortable on the floor. Your thumb brushes over the back of his hand in slow, soothing motions, in a way that was most unfamiliar for you but Cassian seemed to relax as he let out a shaky breath. 

It wasn't much, not by far — but it was enough to light a small flicker of hope somewhere deep inside your chest. So you stay rooted to the spot, even as your knees begin to ache and your back starts to hurt, you stay. 

You don't know when you dozed off. But somewhere between Cassian's sleepy breaths and your fingers brushing over his hand, your eyes had began to feel heavy. 

Now you were laying with your head on the mattress, Cassian's hand still in yours and feeling more than a little disoriented. Your entire body is in pain, your legs numb and your shoulders stiff from the awkward position in which you had been crouched in. Pushing yourself up with a tired groan, you glance toward the clock on his bedside table. 9:15 pm. You had been out for well over an hour. 

Cassian was fast asleep in his bed, his fingers limp against your own from where he'd been clinging onto you so tightly earlier. Giving his hand one last squeeze, you prepare to stand up when you suddenly realize that there was something thick and heavy draped over your back. 

Frowning, you reach a hand up to brush over the soft fabric of the blanket that covered you. That's odd, you couldn't remember grabbing it on your way in. Bringing it to your nose, you inhale the familiar scent of Jungkook's cologne, your heart stuttering in your chest as realization dawned on you. 

Standing on unsteady feet, you pull the blanket tighter around yourself like it could protect you from the thoughts running through your mind. Then without glancing back, you turn to walk back out into the hallway. 

Jungkook had looked far from pleased when he opened the door for you that very next day. His jaw had been clenched so hard you worried his teeth would crack from the pressure. He said nothing when stepping aside to let you in and he had slammed the door shut behind you with a little more force than necessary. 

You made no comment on the blatant tension that seemed to simmer beneath his skin. Instead you busied yourself with taking off your shoes and slipping out of your coat. Mirroring your movements, Jungkook bent down to tie his own shoes as he prepared to take his leave. He seemed in no rush but there was a certain stiffness to the way he yanked on the shoelaces. 

"It's awfully cold out today," You hum when hanging up your coat on a spare hanger. Beside you, Jungkook gave only a small grunt of acknowledgement, not even sparing you as much as a glance when he reached for his own jacket. It was then you learned that he wasn't a fan of small talk — or any talking at all for that matter. 

You watch as he shrugs on his coat, straightening out the cuffs around his wrists with methodical care. "Kids aren't in school today?" Throwing a glance down the hall, you strain your ears to catch sight of the young ones. 

Jungkook gives a curt nod. "School's closed for inspection," He heaves a sigh, fingers curling around his car keys. "I'll be back at nine." Turning his back to you, Jungkook opens the door, letting the chilly air inside. With one foot past the threshold, he pauses, tilting his head to peer at you over his shoulder, "Don't waste your time on locked doors today." 

With that he walks out and shuts the door behind him, leaving a tense silence in his wake. You swallow, wiping away a patch of imaginary sweat from your forehead as you glance toward the ceiling. Cassian must have told him about your unsuccessful break in attempt last night. How embarrassing — though he had yet to fire you over one mishap, perhaps there was still hope. 

Having called in sick for your noon-class, you had officially prioritized your job as a nanny over your own education. And you were only on your second day. Fingers tapping restlessly against your thigh, your attention flickers toward the ticking clock on the bureau. 

Twelve fifteen pm. The kids' study time wasn't scheduled for another four hours. That left your entire afternoon to entertain two children — who both seemed painfully disinterested in anything that could be viewed as even moderately fun by the average toddler. 

You pace the large hall for a moment as you think of anything to occupy them with. The thought of a movie crosses your mind, but then Jungkook's words echo somewhere in the back of your mind. Don't let them spend time in front of the big screen, right, because God forbid they learned the significance of Lady and the Tramp. 

Then another idea blooms and your face lights up. 

Your feet are heavy on the stairs as you make your way up the steps. "Children!" You call, not bothering to knock as you swing past their open doors. A moment later, Cassian's small figure peeks out from behind the doorframe. There's a tiny frown etched onto his forehead as he regards you with a blank expression. 

"Yes?" Comes Rayne's voice from where she stands by her own door. Her arms are folded across her chest, almost accusingly — like you had disrupted a perfect part of her free afternoon. 

You knew not to take their displeased pouts to heart, they were only kids after all. Instead you plaster on the biggest and most convincing smile you could muster. "What do you guys think about going to the park? We could go on the swings, play in the sand, I'm sure they have a slide too!" 

Your brave enthusiasm is met with silence as both Rayne and Cassian were looking at you like you'd grown a second head. 

"The park?" Rayne finally echoes, her voice filled with skepticism. She arches a tiny brow when you nod, sending her brother a glance which he returned with one of his own. It was almost like they were silently communicating, coming to a unanimous decision before turning back to where you stood dumbfoundedly. 

Finally they both nod. "Okay," Rayne hums. 

It was far from convincing but it was also way better than a 'no'. You took whatever you were given, your smile widening as you gesture between the two children, "Let's go get ready then!" 

Everything was going suspiciously well. They made no fuss when you told them to put on their coats. Cassian had needed some help with tying his shoelaces but neither of them hesitated when heading out the door as soon as they were fully dressed. You had been in the midst of locking up with the help of the spare key, when Rayne suddenly spoke up. 

"Where is your car?" She asked from where she stood on the empty driveway. Her younger brother swayed beside her, one of his hands restlessly fidgeting with the top button of his coat. 

You paused, glancing between the expectant look on her face and over to the street that ran outside the house. With a small scoff you shoved the keys in your pocket and walked over, "I don't have a car. We'll have to walk there." 

Cassian frowned at that, bottom lip jutted out into a small pout. "Why don't you have a car?" He wonders as he peers up at you through his long lashes. 

Scratching the back of your neck awkwardly, you think of a way to explain your financial situation and the costs of a car to two kids. After some thought you decided to just be blunt, "Because cars are expensive." You give Cassian a small smile before grabbing his tiny hand in yours, "Come on, let's go." 

You think you might have made it about two steps when Rayne suddenly huffs behind you. "Are you poor?" 

Your pace stutters before faltering to an awkward stop as you turn to glance at her over your shoulder. She stands with her feet firmly planted against the pavement, arms folded across her chest and her brows furrowed, she watches you with calculating eyes — far too reminiscent of her father. 

With an awkward chuckle that sounds more like a strained call for help, you shake your head. "Not exactly. But I still don't have enough money for a car." You pause, letting your answer linger in the air for a moment before you ask, "Does that bother you?" 

Rayne remains quiet for a long moment, like she could sense the weight of the question and was thinking over her response carefully. After another long and painful silence she shakes her head. "No," She says as her arms unfold to hang limp by her sides, "I've just never met a poor person before." 

You almost snort at the implication of her words, suddenly feeling like a zoo animal on display. It was for the better to drop the subject as quickly as possible. "Why don't we focus on heading to the park?" Beckoning her over with your free hand, Rayne reluctantly obliges as she lets you intertwine your fingers with hers. 

Hand in hand, the three of you head down the street and for the first time since last night, you felt hopeful. 

You didn't think it was possible for kids to not enjoy themselves whenever placed in front of something with even a remote sense of movement. But you were proven wrong approximately two and a half minutes upon reaching the park. 

Despite the low temperatures and the early afternoon hour, the park was bustling with life as children ran all over the place. Some took turns pushing each other on the swings. Others were racing their friends down the slide and a small party were building sand castles out in the sand box. 

Lined up on the accompanying benches were parents who all watched their children play with mild amusement. Some were snapping photos whilst others prepared snacks. But you weren't sitting on one of the benches, no, you were stood next to two unmoving, tiny figures. 

Rayne and Cassian had not as much as attempted to approach any of the facilities for them to play in. While Cassian had glanced at the swings for half a second before promptly turning away, Rayne still hadn't took her eyes off of the ground in front of her. 

"Don't you want to play?" You try to encourage, giving them both a slight nudge in the direction of the swings when the kids playing there gave it a rest. 

Rayne shakes her head stubbornly. "It's stupid." She throws the other children a pointed look, as if to emphasize what she thought of the matter. 

You pause, turning to the young girl with a perplexed frown. "Then why did you two agree to come here if you didn't want to go in the first place?" 

It's Cassian who speaks up next, a small pout still present on his lips when he turns to peer up at you. "Because you asked," He says matter-of-factly, "Daddy says not to say no when being asked to do something." 

Your mouth opens and closes several times as his words register. "Oh," Exhaling a quiet breath, your gaze wanders across the park. "So you came along out of… courtesy?"

Both of them nod silently, their expressions indifferent as they continued to regard you. You on the other hand, were still unable to wrap your head around the fact that they weren't even slightly interested in playing like the other kids. 

"Alright," Straightening up, you start walking toward the swings with determined steps. 

"Where are you going?" Rayne calls for you, the confusion in her voice evident. 

But you merely shrug, snatching one of the swings as you flop down on it. "You guys don't have to play if you don't want to. But I didn't walk all the way here for nothing." 

With that you kick your feet off the sand as you start swinging back and forth. It was surprisingly fun — you couldn't remember the last time you had went on a swing just because you could. Picking up speed, you swing higher and higher as you peer up at the cloudy sky. 

Cassian and Rayne were standing off to the side, their eyes following you back and forth as they looked on silently. Neither of them made a move to join you, but they weren't outright asking to go home either. 

Five minutes later your legs grew tired of swinging back and forth. Sighing to yourself, fingers curling around the handles a little tighter, you dig your feet into the sand as the swing comes to an abrupt stop. 

Pausing for a moment, you turn to the kids. "Well?" You hum, cocking your head to the side as you wait for them to blurt out a complaint — except, it never comes. You're met with even more silence as they both continue to stare at you with equally unimpressed looks on their tiny faces. 

Scoffing to yourself, you push up from the swing. "I'm going on the slide." You announce, turning sharply on your heel as you make your way over. 

Admittedly the playground wasn't exactly built to accommodate for adults. You had to awkwardly climb the steps up before proceeding to squeeze yourself through a narrow door in order to get to the slide itself. Finally at the top, you stop to peer down to at the children. 

Cassian was watching you with a small frown while Rayne looked impassive. Though you thought you could make out a flicker of embarrassment flashing across her features as she scrunched her brows in slight distaste. 

"I'm going down now!" You call out to them, waving enthusiastically with one arm as you send them a smile. Rayne turns to the side, avoiding to even as much as look at you, whereas Cassian gave a tiny and hesitant wave back. 

Cramming yourself through the opening, you kick off as you go down the slide. It wasn't half as fast and exhilarating as you could remember — given it might have something to do with the fact that you were quite a bit heavier and taller now. 

When reaching the end, you do so with a small squeal as if to seal the deal. Cassian was waiting by the end of the slide, his lips still turned into a pout. Rayne on the other hand, had walked over to one of the nearby trees, standing firmly by the trunk as she refused to even glance in your direction. Typical. 

Turning to her younger brother, you give one last attempt at getting him to play. "You wanna go on it?" You ask, bracing your hands on your knees as you lean down. 

Cassian only shakes his head, his dark eyes trailing down your body before he mutters out: "Your clothes are dirty." 

Following his gaze, you find that your shoes were covered in a mixture of wet sand and mud — as were your jeans. "I guess they are," Shrugging nonchalantly, you grin, "Means I had a lot of fun." 

Cassian only frowns, "What fun is there in getting mud on your clothes?" He fiddles with the hem of his coat — his very much spotless coat that looked like it just came from the dry cleaner's. 

"So? I can just clean them when I get home," You muse, not understanding why this was such a big deal to him. Weren't kids supposed to enjoy getting dirt and food all over their new clothes to piss off their parents? 

When he doesn't give more than a grimace in response, you sigh. Straightening back up, you wipe your hands on your thighs before extending one of them to him. Cassian allows you to intertwine your fingers, albeit reluctantly before letting you lead him over to Rayne. 

"Let's get your sister and go home then," You say, realizing that the park had been a failure. 

When you came home the kids went straight to the library for their study session. You were left to tend to your muddy pants as you stood over the bathroom sink — scrubbing at the denim in vain as you tried to rid yourself of the stain. 

"It's just mud, how is it stuck on here like this?" You mutter under your breath as you rub at the stubborn patch of dirt. The water had been running for at least ten minutes now and once you began to worry that it would affect the water bill, you turned it off. 

Heaving a sigh as you lean back against the counter, you let your gaze wander across the bathroom. The tiles were marble, the mirror free of toothpaste stains and the porcelain bathtub seemed to sparkle under the light. 

Had it not been for the three toothbrushes placed in the small cup on the sink, and the towel hanging on the nearby rack — one would have thought the house to be uninhabited. 

There wasn't as much as a trace of the kids anywhere but their own bedrooms. No toys scattered around, no dirty socks laying under tables and no family photos. You wondered if the latter had anything to do with the absence of their mother. It was a topic you had yet dare to breach but still desired to nonetheless.

Pushing the bathroom door open, you step back out into the hallway. The children were basically self sufficient which made your job all the more pointless. They would not need help with their homework but your feet still led you toward the library. 

Rayne and Cassian were sitting by the only desk in the room, their feet not quite reaching the ground as their legs swung back and forth lazily. Textbooks were spread across the table as they worked quietly. The sound of a pen moving softly on paper came from Rayne as she took notes of the pages she was reading. 

But what caught your attention was the pop of color in front of Cassian. He had what looked like a poster laid out on the wooden surface, his tiny hands clutching a glue stick as he smeared the glue over one of the corners. 

"What are you doing?" You ask when taking the seat next to him, resting your elbows on the table with mild interest. 

Cassian doesn't look up from his poster as he glues on the cloud he had cut out from another piece of paper. The poster had wonky and handmade trees, a yellow sun and one cloud on it. Its mid section was still void of any detail, having only the plain, blue background to fill the space. 

"It's for our Career Day," He explains quietly, pressing his fingers over the cloud to let the glue set in place. 

"Career Day?" Cocking a brow, you lean forward to take a closer peek at his artistic work. "What is that?" 

Cassian hums as he reaches for the white paper, grabbing a pen as he began to draw a second cloud. "It's when your parents come to talk about their jobs." He pauses before adding, "Mateo's dad is a firefighter. He was there yesterday and he brought his helmet." 

You're unable to hide your surprise at that. Career day, huh? You couldn't remember ever having such a thing in school. When your gaze returns to the poster, you can't help but let it linger on the empty space in the middle. "What are you planning to put there?" 

Following your line of sight, the corner of Cassian's lips tug downward. "I'm supposed to put daddy's job there," He murmurs, almost petulantly. 

"And what does your daddy work with?" You ask, curiosity lacing your words. 

He merely pouts, like the topic of his father's career brought him displeasure. "He's a boss man," Cassian murmurs, still drawing the wonky shape of his cloud as his bottom lip juts out even further.

"A boss man?" You chuckle, slightly endeared at his choice of words, "What does a man boss man do?" 

He doesn't give a response to that, keeping his eyes firmly on the drawing as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. 

"He means that father is a CEO," Rayne flatly states, having looked up from her own studies as she sends her brother a pointed look. 

Cassian scowls, his grip around the pen tightening impeccably, "But it's not a cool job. Not like Mateo's dad." 

You hum as your gaze shifts between the two children, silently watching their conversation unfold. It became obvious that Rayne and her brother didn't see eye to eye when it came to Jungkook's work — that was new. 

"Sure it is", Shifting in your seat, you try to ease the tension with a smile, "Your daddy makes sure that a lot of people know what to do and when to do it. That's not an easy task, not everyone can be a boss." 

Truth to be told — you had no idea what CEOs actually did, the business of higher ups had never interested you beyond the widespread knowledge that they were all pretentious adult-bullies. Of course, that was not something you could tell a five year old, so you opt for placing a gentle hand on his shoulder instead, giving it a soft, reassuring squeeze. 

Cassian doesn't say anything for a while, but he doesn't attempt to shrug you off. Huffing under his breath, he reaches for the scissors. "It doesn't matter. He won't come anyway." 

Rayne, for once, does not comment on that. Her attention was back on her books, like she was trying to erase herself from the conversation again. 

"Why do you say that?" You ask, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. 

This time he turns away from your touch and you're unable to see his expression. Cassian sighs, "Because he works a lot. He won't have time for career day." 

For children so devoid of emotion — you still thought you could make out the hurt in his voice, if only for a second before he schooled himself back into his usual self. 

Everything is silent after that, both kids working quietly on their separate homework. You're left to wallow in thought, fingers tapping slowly against the table as your gaze lingers on the trees outside the window. Orange hues were bleeding into the sky, signaling the rapidly approaching evening. 

And yet, there was one question that had been on your mind since you had tried in vain to open the locked door down the hall. One you knew you could not and probably should not ask but still longed to… 

"What about your mom? Could she come and talk about her job?" 

It blurts out before you can stop it, and as soon as it does, the air inside the library seems to grow colder. Neither of the kids speak, in fact they both refuse to as much as glance in your direction. 

Cassian's grip on the scissors was so tight that his knuckles had turned white. He was frozen mid cut, brows tugged into a conflicted frown. Rayne, being his older sister, seems to take it upon herself to address the seemingly loaded question. She shakes her head slowly, pen dropping to her notes. 

"She won't come." Her jaw is tightly set as she avoids your gaze. She doesn't give you more than that and when you lean forward to ask why that was, her expression hardens, "She won't come." 

Flipping a page in her book, her eyes returns to the words written there. "Father says we don't have to talk to you about her." It was her way of saying, drop it. So with a reluctant nod, you do. 

Sitting back, albeit a little stiffer, in your chair — you continue to regard the kids as they study in silence. Only this time, none of you break it. 

That evening you decided to cook for Jungkook. It was an impulsive decision you had made after putting the kids to bed. You told yourself that if you had almost two hours to spend before his return, you might as well make use of yourself. And perhaps it had something to do with the fact that you were desperately trying to gain bonus points after your small mishap with the children earlier today. 

That's how you found yourself in front of the stove. Having grabbed the first thing you came across, which ended up being a box of pasta — you were now watching the noodles cook in the boiling water. 

You were a far cry from an actual chef, most of your meals, if not all, were cooked only for yourself. Though you had picked up a thing or two during your shifts at the restaurant, which did fuel your confidence just a tad. 

Jungkook had not asked you to cook for him, it was not on any of his long and detailed lists which might insinuate that you were doing something you shouldn't. But who was he to decline a home cooked meal, especially when coming home late? Draining the pasta water into the sink, you tell yourself that you were doing the right thing. 

The sound of the front door unlocking came at nine pm sharp — just like it had last time. You listen to the sound of fabric rustling and the approaching footsteps, heavy on the hallway carpet. 

A second later, Jungkook appears in the doorway. His shoulders are sagged with exhaustion, the hair he seemed to keep so neat was now falling in messy strands across his forehead. The shirt he wears is unbuttoned around the collar, enough to expose a sliver of skin. 

He stops in his tracks when he sees you, gaze flitting between where you stand and the saucepan filled with pasta on the kitchen island. His expression remains unreadable when he folds his arms across his chest, leaning against the doorframe as he regards you with dark eyes. 

Clearing your throat, you shift your weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. "I thought I'd make you dinner," you pause, "Unless… You already ate?" 

Jungkook doesn't say anything as his attention slowly drifts back to the food you had prepared. His face is void of any emotion, save for the subtle crease between his brows. "That is not part of your job." His voice is low, betraying neither anger nor disapproval. 

"I know," You swallow, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. "Didn't have anything to do after putting the kids to bed so I thought I'd save you the trouble." It was a long shot, you half-expect him to brush your efforts off and tell you to leave again. 

But Jungkook scoffs, his shoulders rising slightly as he does. "Trouble," He tsks to himself when he pushes off the doorway. Arms uncurling from his chest, he wordlessly steps toward the kitchen island. 

You watch as he takes a seat, gaze flickering between the empty plate you had laid out and the food. There's a flash of something behind his dark eyes, and you could practically see his decision being made. Then he reaches for the tongs as he begins piling pasta onto his plate. 

You had garnished it with a variety of things found in the kitchen, taste testing about a hundred times to make sure it was at least edible. Now your heart was practically beating out of your chest as you stood on the opposite side of the marble island, looking on quietly as Jungkook reached for his fork. 

Picking some up on the utensil, he brought the food to his lips. For a moment his eyes drifted from the fork in front of him and over to you, his gaze sending a chill down your spine before he took a bite. 

He chewed slowly, eating in that same well-mannered fashion as his children did. When he didn't say anything you felt yourself begin to sweat. Your hands were clammy and you resit the urge to wipe them on your jeans. 

Jungkook had paused after swallowing, fork moving slowly through the pasta as he studied it. Then without another word, he continued to eat. You look on silently, something close to relief blooming in your chest as he takes another bite. 

His gaze shifts up to meet yours, nearly burning holes through you with its intensity. Your breath hitches halfway when his tongue flicks out to wipe some of the sauce from his bottom lip. "It's good," He grunts, his attention returning to the food as he picks up more onto his fork. 

Exhaling a breath you didn't know you were holding, you have to force back a small smile. It felt strangely like progress, slight but significant. Another thick silence falls over the two of you after that — filled by only the sounds of his fork touching the porcelain plate. 

You wondered if he was waiting for you to excuse yourself and head home, perhaps ask about how the kids had been today — show at least some interest in his own children. But he said nothing as he kept eating. 

A few minutes of even more stiff and quiet awkwardness later, you manage to clear your throat. "Cassian said they're having career days at school." You hold your breath, waiting for him to give a response beyond the small twitch of his jaw — and yet again, nothing. Continuing, you clasp your hands behind your back, "He hopes you'll come." 

Jungkook finally sighs, setting down his fork as he reaches for the glass of water you had prepared. "When is it?" He asks as he brings the glass to his lips, dark eyes fixed on you over the rim when he takes a sip. 

"Tuesday two weeks from now", You hum, fingers fiddling nervously with one another where they rest behind you. 

Still seated by the kitchen island, Jungkook heaves a breath as he sets the glass down with a barely audible thud. "I'll be working," He says without looking up from his plate as he takes another bite. 

You can't hide the disappointment that flickers across your face at that. Cassian's words are still fresh in your mind, the endearing pout on his lips and the poster he had spent so long preparing. There was an almost frustrated feeling that gnawed at you when your gaze flickered back to Jungkook who was finishing his dinner, seemingly without a care in the world. 

The corner of your lip twitches and you're unable to stop yourself from blurting out: "Surely you could take some time off to be there for him? It would mean a lot to him if you showed up." 

The look Jungkook sends you makes you instantly want to eat that statement back up and hide behind the kitchen island. His eyes narrow, something dangerously cold searing through them as he watches you. 

"I don't need you to lecture me on how to raise my children." The fork clatters against the now empty plate as he rises to his feet — the sudden movement causing his chair to scrape against the floor with an uncomfortable sound that made you wince. 

The tension in the room is palpable as he grabs the dirty dishes and carries them over to the sink, setting them down with a little more force than needed. His back is turned to you, but you could clearly make out each slow breath he took as his shoulders drew up. 

"I didn't mean to overstep," You murmur, the frown on your forehead deepening until it physically hurt. Gaze flickering to the doorway, you had silently begun to plot your leave when Jungkook suddenly spoke up again, his voice leveled: 

"It's fine." 

Turning on his heel, he comes face to face with you. It was then you realized how close you were standing. Without the kitchen island to separate you and the food to serve its function as a distraction — there was suddenly nothing left between the two of you. 

The scent of his cologne hits you sharply when he takes a step forward, woody and painfully masculine in a way that felt just like him. From here, you could clearly make out each button on his shirt, all staring back at you blankly. Swallowing, you force your eyes to meet his, your fingers uncurling as your hands fall limp by your sides. 

Jungkook suddenly frowns, like he'd seen something you hadn't. "Your pants are dirty," He nods toward the stains of mud on your jeans that you had failed to wash off. 

Following his gaze, your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. "I… Yeah, we went to the park." You chuckle nervously when glancing back at him, "Guess I didn't realize how muddy the swings were." 

There was a brief pause where he didn't say anything at all, simply watching you with an unreadable expression. "You went to the park?" He finally asks, cocking a brow as his attention jumps between you and the stain on your jeans. 

Right, you hadn't called to ask if that was allowed — though judging by his prolonged silence, you could only hope you were in the clear. When you nod, something in his expression shifts. "And the kids played?" He sounded disbelieving, hands stuffing themselves into his pockets. 

You shake your head, sending him an apologetic look, like their disinterest had somehow been your fault. "Not exactly. They weren't too fond of the dirt either." Giving an awkward laugh that quickly dies down when it wasn't reciprocated, you cover the embarrassment up by coughing into your fist. 

One glance at the clock on the microwave has you straightening up like you had just remembered yourself. "I should probably get going," You say, stepping around the kitchen island without waiting for him to speak as you head for the hallway. 

It's Jungkook's voice that makes you halt in the doorframe, rooting you to the spot as you turn to face him. He's leaned against the stove, hands still deep in his pockets as he regards you with those same intense, dark eyes. "And you?" He muses, chin jerking toward the mud on your pants, "You don't mind it?" 

His question catches you off guard, much so that you let out a quiet breath that sounds more like a 'huh?' from where you stand. But Jungkook's continued silence makes you realize that he was being very serious. 

"Yeah," You hum, glancing down at yourself once more. "It's just dirt isn't it? I'll wash it off when I come home." You pause to study him a moment longer before nodding to yourself, "I'll be off then." 

Mansard roofs were quite ugly. They had this abrupt sort of feeling to them as they sloped down on each side of the house. One could even suggest that such a roof be carved out of foam, that was how utterly simplistic the shape was. 

As you stand just short of the gate, you peer up at said disappointing sight. The house before you was plain as could be. White concrete walls run three floors high. All complimented with large windows which appeared to hold no movement inside. A burglar might think the estate was empty and make for a break in. 

Though you were hardly a burglar. There was too much risk going into a profession like that, and you could hardly open a window without fuss, let alone smash one to pieces. No, you were just looking to make some extra money, and starting today — you suppose you could call yourself a nanny. 

The prospect of looking after kids never did entice you if you were being honest. They were cheeky little bastards, always finding new ways to slobber all over important documents or shove non-edible objects into their drooling mouths. 

But your monthly budget was currently stretched thin enough to rip. The hours you spent cleaning tables at the restaurant downstairs to your apartment only gave so much and you were growing all the more desperate for a second income. 

That's when Mr Jeon's advertisement had so conveniently fell into your lap. "Help Wanted — Nanny Position" True to your previous words about children, you had been prepared to brush past the simple post when your gaze had landed on the pay — and holy shit was it too good to pass up on. 

Now, there were two reasons someone paid such a ridiculous sum for the simple act of babysitting. They were either absolutely loaded, or, the kids in question were absolute nightmares. Though judging by the eerie stillness of the house in front of you, your hopes were rising in favor of the former option. 

The note in your pocket had become somewhat crinkled during your journey and you flatten it out in your palm as you read the address one last time. Your eyes flicker between the number on the paper and over to the cursive '7' that sits next to the front door. This was the place. 

Without further contemplation you push the gate open and make your way over to what could potentially end up saving your current financial predicament. 

The three stone steps leading up to the front porch are climbed with ease and you make sure to straighten out your wrinkly coat before ringing the bell. You can hear the soft tune as it carries through what could only be a maze of rooms inside, alerting the residents of your arrival. 

To say that you were nervous would unfortunately be quite the correct statement. It wasn't like you weren't used to meeting new people. The long mornings spent out on the floor of the restaurant had you sure to be greeted with at least two angry customers each day. And yet you find yourself exhaling sharply through your nose as your nails dig into the heel of your hand. 

In front of you wasn't Mrs Lee waiting to argue about the pickles in her food — but more money than seven hours spent cleaning tables would ever get you. This had to go well, for your financial state might just depend on it. 

The wait is long and unbearable when, in reality, it was a mere ten seconds until the door was swung open. Sucking in a quiet breath, your eyes snap up to meet with who you could only presume to be Mr Jeon himself. He's dressed in all black, his hair slicked back to expose his forehead and the thick brows that were already set into a most judgemental frown. 

He doesn't say anything and only when the silence becomes dangerously prolonged to you manage to clear your throat. "Hello, I'm here for the—," 

"You're the nanny," He simply states, not bothering to hear you out as he steps aside to make room for you beside him on the threshold. Talk about a pleasant greeting, you thought to yourself as you made your way inside. 

The hallway is a lot warmer than the unforgiving October air and you let out a shuddering exhale. Somewhere behind you, the sound of a lock clicking into place is heard and before you can blink, Mr Jeon has walked past you and headed down the hall. "Shoes by the door," He gruffly calls before rounding a corner and disappearing entirely from sight. 

You rush to get your old sneakers off, grimacing when you have to place them next to his neatly polished shoes. The carpet is soft under your feet and you curl your toes in an attempt to hide the hole in your sock. There's two pairs of considerably smaller shoes alongside yours, which you could only presume to be the children's. 

Not wanting to waste more time, or money, lingering by the entrance, you carefully start making your way down the hall which Mr Jeon had disappeared. The house was absolutely breathtaking inside, much contradictory to its plain exterior. Its high ceiling had a sparkling chandelier hanging from it and your gaze lingered on the detailed wall trims that ran along both sides of the hallway. 

When rounding the same corner Mr Jeon had just a moment prior, you suddenly find yourself in a grand living room. The space enough made your entire three room flat look pathetic and you almost scoffed as you regard the expensive looking vases that held nothing at all, effectively defeating their purpose. 

The head of the house himself waits by the fireplace, shoulder leaning against the cold brick and his arms folded across his chest. From there, he looked every bit the rich and arrogant upper class he was. "Have a seat," He gestures toward one of the pristine armchairs, and by the tone of his voice, it was clear he wasn't making a suggestion. 

You oblige without complaint, sinking down onto the cushion before folding your hands in your lap. It smelled faintly of lavender, a most soothing scent which you generously inhaled. Letting your gaze wander across the room, your attention lingers on the tall bookshelves, all neatly organized. 

In fact the entire living room was freakishly clean. There wasn't as much as a single speck of dust to be seen, not one feather out of place. You wondered if perhaps he had a hired maid — no way could a home with children be this spotless without a pair of extra hands. 

Mr Jeon shifts where he stands by the fire place, clearing his throat enough to bring your eyes back on him in an instant. "You got my email I presume," He says, not waiting for a response as he continues in a brisk manner, "I won't waste our time by going through the contents." 

He pushes himself off of the fireplace and takes a step in the direction of the large windows which looked out into the garden. His hands find their way back into his pockets, the crease between his brows had yet to ease up. 

"Today's meals are already prepped, they're in the freezer with a note on each," He points vaguely toward the archway leading into the kitchen. "Cassian is lactose intolerant, don't feed him dairy." 

Then he turns and nods toward the TV. You follow his gaze, eyes widening when they fall on the black screen. You had never seen something like this inside a home before, growing up television had been a luxury your family had been unable to afford. But Mr Jeon shrugs it off like it was nothing but an inconvenience. "Feel free to use it as you please when the children are asleep, though they are not to spend time in front of it." 

"Homework hours are between four and five thirty in the afternoon. They study Mandarin for an additional thirty minutes after that. They eat their dinner between six and six thirty before washing up. Have them in bed by seven and turn the lights off no later than seven thirty." 

As you listen to him ramble you recount the details of the email he'd sent you that same morning. It had included a lengthy and detailed list of things the children weren't allowed to do as well as an attached scheduled counted down to the second where not as much as a single moment was spent in vain. 

It all seemed a little… extreme, but you were in no position to judge a father for the way he raised his kids. You were only the nanny, after all. 

Mr Jeon turns back to you, his lips pressed into a thin line as he regards you with dark and calculating eyes. "Any questions?" 

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. "No, I think I've got it. Thank you for this opportunity Mr—" 

"Call me Jungkook," He grunts, arms flexing slightly against his sides. Straight past the formalities it seemed. You weren't opposed, titles did make things awkward after all. 

Before you can proceed to thank him for the position, he's already walked past you and headed for the hall once again. "I'll be at work until nine, you can reach me on the number in the notebook next to the phone." He pauses, throws a pointed look over his shoulder at you, "You do know how to use one?" 

The question makes you splutter and you twist in the chair. "I— Of course I do!" 

Jungkook clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth before giving an almost unnoticeable nod that was more a jerk of his head. "The children are in their rooms upstairs," He pauses, "Third floor is not in use so there's no point in you going up there." 

Then he's turned on his heel and disappeared down the hallway. A moment later you hear the front door open and close, the sound of the lock mechanism falling into place following shortly. 

The house is eerily silent after that, with only the ticking of the old clock by the fireplace to fill the quiet air. You remain sitting on the armchair a moment longer, thumbs rolling over one another absentmindedly as you glance around the living room one more time. 

He was certainly a character. You could only wonder what his kids would be like, if they were anything at all like their father then you were in for a ride. With a sigh you heave yourself from the comforts of the plush cushion, wandering back down the hall to discard yourself of your coat. 

So far this seemed like an easy enough job — especially considering the pay. All you would have to do was follow the strict plan Mr Jeon— Jungkook, had laid out for you, and leave with your check by the end of the night. Piece of cake, really. 

With that you turn your attention toward the stairs by the end of the hall. Past them awaited the children. You quietly brace yourself as you approach, one hand wrapped around the railing, you begin the journey to the second floor. 

The upstairs did not disappoint. It matches the running theme of the house, an expensive carpet going down the hall where doors lined both of the walls. Two of them were left ajar, the kids' rooms you guessed. 

When reaching the first one you stop to peer inside. The room looked nothing like that of a child's. With plain tapestry and only a bed, bookshelf and a desk to occupy the space. By the desk sits a young girl, her back is turned to you and she's hunched over what you presumed to be a book. From here you could only make out her long, black hair that was gathered into a neat ponytail. 

Hand curled into a loose fist, you give the doorframe a light knock. She turns to face you, big and round eyes meeting yours. "Hi," You smile, stepping over the threshold as you greet her. She doesn't appear surprised by your sudden appearance, in fact she seems almost annoyed with your presence and she quickly turns back to whatever held her attention on the desk. 

You frown, your steps faltering slightly as you regard her backside a moment longer. Jungkook had not bothered to introduce you to his children which you had found odd, but his daughter's lack of response was all the more concerning. 

Walking up to her, you come to a halt beside her chair. "Rayne, was it?" You hum, sliding your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. 

The girl mutely nods, her gaze firmly fixed to the book laid out on the desk. Her arms are folded over the table and tucked against her chest as she reads. "You're the new nanny," She states in a monotone voice without taking her eyes off of the pages in front of her. 

You nod, rocking back and forth on the sole of your feet as you peek at the contents of her book. "That's right," You muse, wondering what could possibly be so interesting that she couldn't spare you as much as a glance. It takes you but a minute to realize that this wasn't a children's book. The words on the page were far too advanced for any child before high school at least to be indulging in.

"What are you reading?" You can't help but ask, leaning just a bit closer as you skim through one of the paragraphs. 

Rayne shrugs, "The Great Gatsby." She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world for her to be reading something like that one afternoon. 

Your eyebrows shoot high on your forehead, your jaw slacking just a little as your gaze flickers between the open book and her. "Rayne, how old are you again?" 

She sighs, clearly fed up with your questions as she pushes back in her chair. "I'm seven," She simply states, "I'll be eight in December." 

Seven years old and she's reading The Great Gatsby, for fun? Sure, her father seemed strict about the television and you did suppose it was beneficial for kids to be reading rather than consuming mindless nonsense on a screen. But wasn't this a little extreme? 

Rayne peers at you through the corner of her eye when she notices that you're still here. "You should go check on Cas," She huffs, "He's probably getting himself into trouble now that father isn't here." 

"I…" You blink, stunned by the fact that she had just dared give you such a blunt command. "I guess I should." Straightening back up, you throw her book one last skeptical glance before heading back out into the hallway. 

Cassian's room was next to his sister's. And it was just as plainly decorated, save for the stuffed teddy bear that sat on top of his neatly made bed. Repeating the same procedure as you had with Rayne, you give the doorframe a quiet knock before stepping inside. 

Perched on the edge of the mattress, Cassian sits with his legs swinging back and forth aimlessly as his hands pick at a loose thread on his pants. His gaze is downcast but at the sound of your approach he lifts his head to look at you. 

You nearly falter in your steps, eyes widening a fraction as you take in his appearance. He was the spitting image of his father, with the exception of a gentleness to his eyes that his dad lacked. 

Just like his sister, he doesn't seem surprised by your arrival. He gives but a tiny nod when you greet him. "Are you our new nanny?" He wonders, his voice is surprisingly soft, not at all what you had expected after your conversation with his sibling just moments prior. 

"Yes, I am." You smile, crouching down in front of him where he sits. Your attention drifts back to the teddy bear and you reach for it. "This one's cute, does it have a name?" Fingers brushing over the small bow that sat around its neck, you boop the plushie's tiny nose. 

Cassian only shrugs, not sparing the toy as much as a glance when he says, "It's nothing special." 

His dismissal makes you hesitate and you carefully place the teddy bear down. When turning back to him, you find that he's gone back to picking at his pants with his tiny hands. "Don't do that, you'll ruin your clothes," You hum in an attempt to grab his attention. 

He lets his hand drop to his side, dark eyes meeting yours through his lashes. "Your sock has a hole in it," He said, like he was one-upping you for commenting on his fidgeting. 

The remark makes you grimace and you shift slightly where you crouch on the floor. Kids were too perceptive for their own good. Throwing a glance toward the clock on his nightstand, you realize that it was already past four. "How about we go down to the kitchen and do homework?" Slapping your hands on your knees, you prepare to rise from your crouch when Cassian suddenly interrupts you: 

"We study in the library." Is all he says. And with that he jumps off of the bed, walking over to his desk by the window as he gathers a couple of books in his arms along with a notepad and pencil. He doesn't wait for you to follow along as he heads through the still open bedroom door. 

Stunned into silence, you watch after his retreating figure. You had expected him to put up a little more of a fight, given that he was only five, but Cassian seemed indifferent about the prospect of homework. 

You found that the children were awfully independent. They took to studying like it was second nature, never once letting their attention stray from their work nor complaining about the time. On the contrary, you found yourself awfully bored as you sat on a chair beside them for two hours, watching as they worked diligently. You could not remember ever putting that much effort into something so mundane. 

When you had asked them if their dad made them study everyday they simply nodded. Neither of them made an attempt to indulge in any conversation with you. For all you knew, you could have been a ghost in their presence, nothing but a shadow left to linger in a corner. 

Homework finally came to an end by six pm and you urged them downstairs for dinner — eager to have something to do and perhaps get to know them better. 

Though you were quickly dumbfounded when standing in front of the microwave, trying to reheat the meals that were left prepared inside glass containers. Cassian and Rayne are both standing behind you, their eyes boring into your back as they study you silently. 

The frown between your brows only grows and you pull your lip between your teeth as you try to decode the variety of buttons on the damned electric box. How difficult could it be? Just as your finger hovers over a suspiciously round button, Rayne suddenly speaks up. 

"Do you even know how to use it?" 

You scoff, "Of course I do." A brief pause follows before you dare a glance over your shoulder, "It's this button, right?" 

Rayne rolls her eyes but gives a curt nod. You press it and the microwave beeps to life. Breathing out a small sigh of relief, you slump back against the counter. 

"Daddy never cooks our food in the microwave," Cassian suddenly quips from where he stands next to his sister. His lips were pressed into a small pout as he regards the container behind the glass. 

"Well," Giving a small shrug, you turn toward the children, "You'll find that me and your daddy are quite different." 

Neither of the kids seem very impressed with learning that. Instead they wordlessly begin rummaging through a close by drawer for cutlery. They set the table themselves, leaving you to guard the food in the microwave which felt like a completely useless task, though you followed through with it nonetheless. 

The children spoke even less as they ate, with only the sound of knives and forks scraping against porcelain to fill the stiff silence. Their table manners surprised you, both of them chewed with their mouths closed, wiping their lips with the corner of a folded napkin between bites and sipping their water elegantly. 

You found yourself watching them like some sort of wildlife documentary. Their behavior was almost uncanny, nothing at all what you would expect of a five- and seven year old. 

Halfway through their meal, Cassian finally speaks up. "How long will you be staying?"

You frown, "What do you mean?" 

But Cassian has already taken another bite of his food. His sister answers in his place, "My brother is asking how long you plan on working here." She takes a sip of her water before putting the glass down without making a sound. 

"Well I… I don't know. For a good while I hope," You hum. The pay was too good for you to let the offer just slip from your grasp, not that the kids needed to know that. "Why do you ask?" 

The small boy shrugs, picking through his vegetables mindlessly. "Our last nanny came only twice." He sends you a glance, "Will you come three times?" 

Twice? Was he implying that their last caretaker had worked a total of two days before taking their leave? You blink, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you think of a way to answer his question. 

"Father will probably fire her tomorrow," Rayne shakes her head. 

Fire you? Sweat beads on your forehead at the thought of losing your job just as quickly as you had gotten it. What on earth were these kids telling their dad to have him fire their nannies. It had to be only the worst of a child's imaginative mind. "Why do you say that?" You ask, unable to hide the concern in your voice. 

Rayne only sighs, like the answer was written in the stars, "Because that's what he did to the last ones." She sends you an almost condescending look, "What makes you any different?" 

That one snide remark made you walk on eggshells for the remainder of the evening. You brought the kids upstairs, helped them wash up and laid out their pajamas on their beds before fussing with the pillows — all the while Rayne's words kept playing on loop in your head. 

The children were just as obedient when it came to brushing their teeth as they had been with their veggies and homework. Not as much as a frown or a single complaint left their lips and you wondered what kind of military training their father had put them through to have them act like this, with a nanny no less. 

And though you would admit that your knowledge on kids went no further than your own cousins, which you had babysat a handful of times — even you could tell that there was something seriously wrong with these two. 

So you stand outside the bathroom upstairs, arms folded across your chest as you glance up and down the hall whilst Cassian used the toilet. Rayne had already retired to her bedroom, insisting that she would be heading straight to bed and that there would be no need for you to check on her. 

The house is unnervingly quiet. Outside the sun had set, leaving only the chandelier above to light up the long hallway. Your gaze drifts from the shut bathroom door and down toward the window by the very end of the hall. There, to the left, was a door you had yet to walk through. 

You had kept your word and stayed away from the third floor, trusting that it held no more than dust and spiderwebs — which you were not too keen on exploring. But this door was on the second floor, and Cassian was in the bathroom. 

On tip toes you pad over, throwing a glance over your shoulder, you make sure that Rayne was still in her room before reaching the closed door. It looked no different from any of the others, its white paint staring back at you without an ounce of emotion. You regard the doorknob, the invitation waiting on the tips of your fingers. Wrapping a hand around the cold metal, you inhale a shuddering breath before twisting the handle. 

Nothing happens. 

Puzzled, you try the doorknob again. But the door is locked. That was odd. Jungkook had not mentioned anything about any locked doors, nor had he forbade you from going inside any of the rooms, long as they weren't on the third floor. 

In the midst of your confusion, you fail to catch the sound of a toilet being flushed and the running water of the sink. A moment later the bathroom door is swung open and tiny feet pad down the hall. 

"Miss, what are you doing?" 

Whirling around, you nearly give yourself whiplash as you turn to face a wary-looking Cassian. He takes a couple of steps toward you, small hands drying themselves on the pants to his pajama as his dark eyes flicker between you and the locked door. There was a deep crease between his brows, showcasing his suspicion toward you. 

"Oh," You exhale, wiping your clammy hands on your thighs as you swallow. "I was just—" Gesturing between yourself and the door, you send him a smile you hoped convinced him of your innocent intentions. 

When Cassian remains silent, you take it as your window to shoot a tentative question. "What's behind that door?" You didn't expected him to even respond, he was scarily smart for a five year old — undoubtedly seeing right through you. 

He regards you a moment longer, the frown between his brows deepening. Finally he sighs, giving a small nod in the direction of the locked door. "It was mommy- and daddy's room," He simply states, bringing his mother up for the first time since your arrival. 

Taken aback by the mention of her — you almost brush over one of the key details he'd used. "Was?" You echo, arching a brow just enough to disclose your interest. 

Cassian nods, his expression betraying nothing of what he felt. "Daddy doesn't sleep in there anymore." 

He yawns then, stretching his tiny arms over his head before blinking up at you tiredly. "I need to sleep now," He murmurs before turning on his heel and heading down the hall toward his own room. 

You're left standing with a gaping mouth as your gaze flickers between the child and the door which you had just attempted to break through. Shaking off the confusing thoughts that Cassian's statement had left behind, you turn to follow him inside his room. 

It's silent as you tuck him in, your hands moving gently across the blanket when you pull it over his tiny frame. Cassian sinks back against the pillow and you can feel his big eyes on you as you fiddle with the corner of the duvet. 

"Will you be alright?" You hum, glancing over at him where he lays hugging his teddy bear. For a second it looks as though he's about to say something, his lips are parted and there's an almost anxious edge in the way his gaze darts around the room. 

A moment later though, he's nodding his head, murmuring a quiet 'yes' as he snuggles closer to the plushie. Choosing not to prod further, you settle for a gentle pat to his cheek before flicking the bedside light off. 

It was seven forty five and even though you had the entire house to yourself for at least another hour, you found yourself curled up in the same armchair you had been sat in just a few hours earlier. Having busied yourself with cleaning up after dinner and scrubbing the kitchen until it was spotless — you now had nothing left to distract your thoughts with. 

Could it really be that Mr Jeon would fire you that following morning? Had you not done a good of enough job — perhaps the children were dissatisfied with you, would they tell him that? Chewing anxiously on your bottom lip you walk yourself through all kinds of possible scenarios, each one of them ending with your possible termination. 

Your mind wanders back to the locked door by the end of the hall, Cassian's words resurfacing the longer you thought about it. "Daddy doesn't sleep in there anymore." Neither him nor Rayne had brought up their mother at all today, come to think of it, Mr Jeon hadn't either. 

Had she passed away? Would that be insensitive to ask? Probably. It would be best to refrain from prying, you tell yourself as you settle back against the cushion. 

The hour ticks by faster than you would have hoped. None of the kids come down — and when you went up to check on them, they were both peacefully asleep in their respective beds. Perhaps you had nothing to worry about after all?

By nine pm sharp, the sound of keys rattling inside a lock can be heard. Shooting up from the armchair, you turn toward the hallway as you listen to the front door opening and closing. His punctuality was quite terrifying. 

You make your way out of the living room, turning down the hall just in time to see Jungkook hanging off his coat. He crouches down to undo the laces on his shoes, a few loose strands of hair falling down his forehead. Quietly approaching, you come to a slow stop next to the dresser on which the phone rested. You had yet to call him all night, mostly because nothing eventful had happened — you could only hope he wasn't upset with you for not being in touch. 

But Jungkook appears indifferent as he places his shoes next to the children's' with a small huff. He straightens up, then he turns to you. "Everything went okay?" He phrases it like a question but when it reaches your ears it hardly sounds like one. 

Nodding, you hum out a small 'yes' as you rock back and forth on your feet awkwardly. It is then you remembered the book Rayne had been reading previously that afternoon. "Rayne was reading The Great Gatsby", You say, unable to mask the frown that crept its way onto your face. 

You expected him to be at least slightly surprised, but Jungkook simply shrugged when he heard that. "Then that's good," He muses as he fishes up the car keys from his pocket and throws them onto the dresser — that was probably the biggest mess the house had seen all day. 

"You're not… worried?" You ask, turning to follow him with your gaze as he walks past you. 

Jungkook scoffs, "Why should I be? Kid's just reading." 

You wanted to argue that his seven year old daughter was reading literature someone her age should not even think about touching. Not to mention the fact that his two children were behaving like tiny adults, you hadn't seen either of them crack as much as a smile all day — and they hadn't even suggested playing with any kind of toys at all. That was not normal. 

And yet you keep silent. Because for all you knew, this could cost you your job. That, you were not ready for. 

Jungkook had disappeared down the hall, leaving you to wallow in silence for a moment before he returned with a small envelope in one hand. He comes to a stop before you, close enough to where you could pick up the musky scent of his cologne. Wordlessly he hands you the envelope and you take it with a nod. It feels heavy in your palm — your promised payment rewarding as it rests between your fingers. 

"I need you to come by around noon tomorrow," Jungkook says as his hands slip inside his pockets. 

That makes you pause, your gaze lifting from the envelope and over to meet his dark eyes. "Noon?" You splutter, perplexed by the idea of arriving nearly four hours early the day that followed. That wouldn't work, because outside of working part time at the restaurant under your apartment, you were a med student. It just so happened that noon tomorrow was in the middle of one of your three classes a week. 

Jungkook cocks a brow, "Is that a problem?" 

Ah. Well. You rub the back of your neck sheepishly, avoiding his piercing gaze to the best of your abilities. Now might be a good time to mention the last bit of his lengthy email — the one tiny, tiny paragraph stating that he would not hire a high school graduate.

Suppose you might have stretched the truth a little when you called to apply for the position… You justified the lie by telling yourself that you desperately needed the money, that any sane person would do this, that the idea of refusing to hire someone simply because they were a high school graduate was ridiculous. And it wasn't like you didn't have a degree. You would have it. In about eight months. That still had to count for something, right? 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you quickly shake your head. "No! No, no, not at all. Noon is perfect for me!" You give an enthusiastic nod, silently praying that he couldn't see the inner turmoil soaring through you. Noon would be just fine — when you figured out how to attend both class and watch over his children at the same time without surgically splitting yourself in half. 

But then you're reminded of the heavy envelope in your hand. Your fingers curl a little tighter around it. Think about the money. Think about the money. You could figure this out, you would figure this out.