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"She is in danger, Jeon!" Hoseok shouted, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "She isn't just dealing with rival syndicates! She is being followed by a fucking underground police officer!”

Madam Jeon stepped forward, her heavy walking cane striking the marble floor with a sound, that cut through the air like a blade. "By whom!?" she demanded.

Hoseok breathed heavily, his jaw tight as his gaze flicked from Madam Jeon back to Jungkook.

"Park Jimin," Hoseok spat, the name dripping with absolute poison. "He's an undercover operative from the Special Crimes Division. He's been trailing Y/N for over a week, using a fake identity to get close to her. he's building a complete profile on the Jeon network through her!"

Jungkook didn't shout. He didn't slam his fist into the table. Instead, he simply stood there, his dark, pitch-black eyes locking into a dead stare. The memory of you walking through the front door just hours ago—holding that bright bouquet of white tulips, smiling innocently as you talked about your new 'friend'—flashed behind his eyes.

The flowers.

A vein pulsed at Jungkook’s temple.

"Park... Jimin," Jungkook rasped, his voice dropping into a growl so cold it made the hair on the back of Hoseok’s neck stand up.

.Taehyung strode into the dining hall, a black tablet clutched tightly in his hand, his usual relaxed demeanor completely replaced by a grim, urgent intensity.

"Jungkook," Taehyung called out softly, stopping dead in his tracks as he felt the razor-sharp tension in the room. He looked down at the tablet, then up at Jungkook. "We just finished running the background check on the friend who bought Y/N those flowers today."

Jungkook slowly turned his head toward Taehyung, his eyes burning with a silent, murderous command. "Speak."

Taehyung swallowed hard, his thumb sliding across the screen. "His name isn't a civilian identity, Jungkook. His credentials are completely blacked out by federal clearance. He’s underground law enforcement... and his current assignment is the Jeon syndicate."

Hoseok let out a bitter laugh. "I told you. He's using my sister as a fucking wedge to tear your empire down."

Jungkook didn't listen to Hoseok. He slowly raised his hand, pulling his phone from his inner suit jacket, and dialed a rapid command to his head of tactical security.

"Lock down every exit of the estate," Jungkook ordered into the receiver, "Nobody enters. Nobody leaves. Pull two squads from the perimeter and post them directly outside my wife's bedroom door."

He ended the call and slid the phone back into his pocket. He turned his terrifying gaze onto Hoseok.

"You're going to tell me every single detail you have on Park Jimin," Jungkook commanded, stepping toward Hoseok, "And then, Jung... you're going to stay right here while I clean up the mess your sister was dragged into."

"She's my sister, Jeon! I'm coming with you—" Hoseok started, taking a aggressive step forward.

"You step one foot out of this house without my permission, and I'll have my men put you in chains," Jungkook cut him off coldly, his broad frame completely blocking the exit. "Taehyung, keep him in the study. Don't let him leave."

Without waiting for a response, Jungkook turned on his heel and began ascending the grand marble staircase, his footsteps echoing like a death toll toward the bedroom where you were currently weeping, completely unaware that the sweet friend who bought you tulips was the deadliest enemy your husband has to face.

The door clicked open softly, breaking the quiet sniffling echoing through the dim bedroom.

You were sitting on the edge of the mattress, your knees drawn to your chest, wiping hot tears from your flushed cheeks with the sleeves of your sweater. You didn't look up when the door shut, assuming it was Hoseok or one of the estate maids.

Then, the soft sound of slow, heavy footsteps crossed the hardwood floor.

A shadow fell over you. Before you could turn away, Jungkook sank down onto his knees right in front of you, bringing himself lower than where you sat.

You froze. The dangerous man, the man who commanded dozens of men with a single look—was kneeling on the cold floor between your legs, looking up at you with eyes completely devoid of anger, filled only with a raw tenderness.

"Y/N," he murmured.

You tried to turn your head away, still hurt and overwhelmed by everything downstairs, but his large hand gently reached up. His calloused thumb brushed softly across your cheek, tenderly wiping away a stray teardrop.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he pleaded softly, his fingers cupping the side of your face with care.

Slowly, you looked down into his eyes. The fire from downstairs was completely gone. In its place was a vulnerability.

"I'm sorry," Jungkook rasped, his voice thick with genuine emotion. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I lost my temper... seeing another man give you flowers, seeing your brother in here—I let the anger get the better of me. I scared you, and that is the last thing I ever want to do."

"You... you yelled at me," you whispered, your voice cracking as fresh tears threatened to spill over your lashes. "You made me feel like I didn't matter, like I was just someone you could control."

Jungkook’s heart clenched painfully. He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against your knees, letting out a shaky exhale.

"You are the only person that matter to me," he confessed, his voice muffled against your dress as his hands slid up to rest gently on your waist. "You are my entire world, Y/N. When I saw you put yourself in front of a gun for your brother... it terrified me. The thought of anything ever happening to you... of losing you... it drives me insane. I don't want to control you. I just want to keep you safe."

He slowly lifted his head, his dark gaze locking onto yours. He reached up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles lingering against your warm cheek, "I don't even know when I started feeling this. I don't know ..how," he pressed his thumb against your bottom lip, "you became my entire world. I feel anger when someone insults you. I feel ...jealous when you get close to taehyung. I want you. All for myself. Even after death parts us." He breathed out.

Your lips parted in surprise at his confession.

"Can you forgive me?" he murmured, searching your face desperately. "Please, baby."

The sincerity dripping from his words melted you. The anger vanished, replaced by a wave of affection. You lowered your legs, leaning closer to him and gently rested your hands on his broad shoulders.

"Just... don't ever glare at me like that again," you whispered softly, a tiny pout touching your lips.

A faint smile cracked through Jungkook’s serious features—a rare, devastatingly handsome sight. "Never again. I promise."

Without giving you time to breathe, Jungkook shifted up onto his feet, gently sliding his arms beneath your lower back and thighs to lift you effortless off the bed. You let out a quiet gasp, instinctually wrapping your arms around his neck as he sat down on the edge of the mattress, pulling you right into his lap.

He held you tight against his broad chest, burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your sweet scent like a starving man. His hands traced warm, soothing circles over your back, anchoring you to him.

"You're mine, Y/N," he whispered against your skin, his lips brushing the delicate pulse point at your jawline, sending a shiver straight down your spine. "Every part of you."

You leaned into his touch, your heart pounding wildly against your ribs as you pulled back slightly to look into his dark dilated eyes. "Jungkook..."

He didn't let you finish.

Jungkook cupped the back of your neck, tilting your chin up as his lips captured yours in a deep, slow, breathtaking kiss.

It wasn't rough or demanding—it was filled with an overwhelming desperateness. His lips parted yours gently, tasting you with an intoxicating passion that made your head spin. You could feel him everywhere. In your head. In your mind. In your heart. He was a messy kisser and you liked it.

Your fingers tangled into the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him back.

A soft mewl escaped your mouth as he tugged your bottom lip, sucking it and licking it back.

Jungkook let out a low satisfied rumble against your mouth, deepening the kiss as his arms tightened possessively around your waist, sealing the unstated vow between you in the quiet darkness of the room.

The kiss deepened, shifting from a tender apology into a possessive heat surged between you two.

Your hands slid down from the nape of his neck, your fingers knotting tightly into the crisp collar of his shirt.

You pulled him closer by collar, closing every remaining inch of space until his muscular chest was pressed flush against your boobs.

You kissed him back with a breathless hunger—parting your lips and letting your tongue slide against his in a sweet, filthy rhythm that sent a wave of heat straight to your pussy.

A moan slipped from your throat right into his mouth, "mmhhhg"

That needy sound completely shattered the last thread of Jungkook’s restraint.

A growl vibrated deep in his chest. His hands gripped your hips, his palms pressing you down hard against the hard ridge of his lap.

You gulped looking into his eyes. All you can see is how much he wants you. The desire.

"You're driving me fucking insane, Y/N," he rasped against your mouth, his breath hot and ragged as his lips dragged down your jawline, biting softly at the sensitive skin of your throat.

You arched your back, a gasp escaping your lips as his hands swept up your thighs, bunching up the fabric of your dress until it was gathered around your waist.

He didn't waste a second. He shifted you back onto the soft mattress, pushing your knees apart as he dropped to his knees between your spread legs on the edge of the bed.

The view of you under him, your dress bunched up to your waist and those delicious thighs on view made his chest heave. He licked his lips.

You were flushed, disheveled, panting for him with your thighs wide open.

Jungkook's eyes shamelessly went your parted thighs, seeing your pink cotton panties and the wetness soaking through it. He took an immediate breath, his hands clenching at sides.

"J-Jungkook..." you whimpered, your fingers clutching the silk bedsheets as the cool bedroom air hit your exposed skin. You felt shy under his gaze. The way he was unwrapping you with his eyes. You could feel the wet slickness pool down your pussy. It made you more shy and more turned on.

"Look at me," he ordered, his fingers hooking into the lace of your panties and pulling them down your legs in one fluid motion.

Your chest heaved and your lips parted in anticipation.

The next he did made your pussy clench around nothing. He brought the wet soaked cotton panties to his face, inhaling your arousal like a starved man. His expression turned into one of relief as he breathed your arousal through panties.

You squirmed under his gaze. He didn't even look between your legs yet but his dirty actions made you moan and red all over.

Jungkook placed the cotton panties on the bed next to you with gentleness. He leaned down, controlling his balance on his arms as he parted your thighs further.

You closed your eyes in embarrassment. He held your thighs apart firmly. Not giving you any chance to close them.

Jungkook's cock twitched at how your folds were glistening with wetness. Your hole clenched around nothing and how the wet slickness leaked out every time you clenched around nothing.

"So fucking wet for me," he purred, his voice a dirty and deep, "You have no idea what you do to me."

"J-Jungkook." You whimpered.

"look at this clit, I wonder how good it will look with a piercing, hmm? want me to give you one?" You made a whiny sound at his dirty words. Jungkook parted your folds with his two fingers. You tried to close your thighs but Jungkook held them apart, glaring up at you. "Don't close. Let me fucking look at what's mine."

You obeyed immediately. your stomach fluttered at how possessive he was. The dirty image of Jungkook giving you a piercing made you more wet.

Before you could form a sentence, Jungkook dipped his head and laid his warm tongue right against your clit, flicked it right. A gasp tore from your mouth at his action. He smirked and flicked his tongue again right over your clit before giving you a long stripe from the clit to bottom.

A sound of pleasure ripped from your throat.

Your back arched dramatically off the mattress, your hands flying to hishair, your fingers tangling into his soft locks to either pull him closer or push him away—you couldn't even tell.

Jungkook didn't slow down, his tongue working over your swollen clit in filthy, relentless circles. He ate you out with hunger, sucking your sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips until your thighs trembled.

"Ah! Jungkook!" you cried out, your hips rolling helplessly into his face, completely undone by the intense friction of his tongue.

He let out a muffled hum against your slick folds, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your buttocks to hold you completely still for him. Jungkook rubbed his nose against your hole, your wetness oozing onto his chin.

Jungkook pressed his two fingers against your hole, slowly rubbing the wetness all over in circles.

You lifted your head to look at him. He was smirking. He looked like a devil between your legs. "M-more." You begged.

He hummed and pressed a soothing kiss to your clit all while his fingers caressed the skin around your hole.

A gasp tore out of your mouth as he thrust two thick fingers deep inside your tight, soaking pussy, pumping into you with a hard rhythm while his thumb pressed firmly against your aching clit.

He curled his two fingers inside you, stretching you out well. He was deep inside you. You could feel him in your abdomen.

Your jaw hung low, head thrown back. Your toes curled and hands fisted at sides. Jungkook loved the view. The way your mouth was wide open and the sinful noises you were making. "Jungkook!" You gasped out loudly. He scissored his fingers, making you scream loudly. You made incoherent sounds.

Jungkook fastened his pace. Moving his two fingers in and out, hitting your spot at every thrust of his fingers. Your legs trembled and eyes widened in pure bliss.

You were leaking out. His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing it deliciously.

"it's just my fingers, babe. Imagine how good my cock will stretch you." He smirked against your thigh, biting it.

The sensation was too much—the intrusion of his fingers paired with the filthy, wet work of his mouth drove you straight over the edge.

"I'm—I'm gonna—" you sobbed out, your voice cracking with overwhelming pleasure.

"Do it, baby," he growled against your core, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that sweet spot over and over until you broke. "Cum for me. Let me taste how good you are."

With a desperate stretch of his tongue against your hole along with his fingers deep inside you, your entire body locked up. A wave of intense orgasm slammed through your lower half, your walls clamping down tightly around his fingers as a loud scream of his name echoed.

"Jungkook! Ah....feels g-good!"

You whimpered loudly as he didn't stop. He rubbed his lips all over your cum, letting it paint his lips and jaw, as he smeared it all over your pussy. "Mhmm, baby." He pulled his fingers out, the cum oozing out of your hole made his cock hard. He was already so hard and the sight of your cum leaking so deliciously out just drove him off the cliff.

He parted his lips and licked your cum, tasting the saltiness of it. You were gone. You were staring at the ceiling in pure bliss, tears staining your cheeks as he gently licked you clean. You held back little sounds.

Jungkook made satisfied sounds while licking you. Your whole body heated up and you wanted him again. Wanted to come all over him.

The wave of pleasure left your body completely exhausted. Your eyelids grew impossibly heavy as the lingering exhaustion of the night finally caught up to you.

Nestled safely in the center of the plush mattress, your breathing slowed into a soft rhythm as sleep pulled you under.

Jungkook stayed beside you for a long time, silently watching your face soften in sleep. The dark edge in his eyes had completely melted into a protective adoration.

He reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his knuckles tracing your soft cheek. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss against your forehead, murmuring a quiet promise into your skin before pulling the duvet up over your shoulders.

Silently, he stood up, adjusting his hard cock and stepped out of the bedroom.

°

The moment the lock clicked, his demeanor shifted instantly back into that of the cold head of the Jeon syndicate.

He walked down the long lit corridor into his private study. Inside, Taehyung and Hoseok were waiting. Hoseok was pacing back and forth near the desk, his jaw set, while Taehyung stood near the window with his tablet, watching the perimeter cameras.

"How is she?" Hoseok asked immediately, his voice tense as he stopped pacing.

"Sleeping," Jungkook replied coldly, stepping behind his desk. He didn't offer any further details, taking his seat as his dark eyes locked onto the two men.

"I've got three squads on standby," Taehyung spoke up, leaning over the desk and sliding a black file toward Jungkook. "The moment you give the word, we can raid the safehouse Jimin is using as an undercover base. We take out his comms, grab him, and—"

"No," Jungkook cut him off.

Hoseok frowned, stepping forward aggressively. "What do you mean 'no'? That bastard lied to my sister, used her to dig up your routine, and is setting up a trap for your entire network! We take him down now before he pushes further!"

"If we kill a high-ranking undercover officer right now, the Special Crimes Division will flood this city with every asset they have," Jungkook said, "And Y/N will be caught right in the middle of a bloodbath."

Jungkook leaned back in his leather chair, a dangerous smirk touched the corner of his lips.

"We aren't going to strike him," Jungkook rasped, a chill lacing every word. "We are going to play with him."

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "A counter-operation?"

"He thinks his cover is flawless. He thinks Y/N is his little, oblivious key into my estate," Jungkook said quietly, his voice dripping with sinister amusement. "So we let him believe it. We act like we don't know a damn thing."

He pointed a finger at Taehyung. "Feed false intelligence into the channels he’s tapping. Alter our shipping manifests, leak fake coordinates for our Busan drop, and give him fabricated financial documents that point straight to a dead end. Let him waste every single resource his division has chasing ghosts."

Jungkook then shifted his gaze to Hoseok. "And as for you... you make sure Y/N stays completely out of the crossfire. Jimin will keep reaching out to her, expecting information. We will dictate every single piece of data she unknowingly feeds him."

Hoseok stared at Jungkook, the initial anger in his chest slowly giving way to a grudging respect. It was a vicious, brilliant move—completely neutralizing the threat while systematically destroying Jimin’s career and network from the shadows.

Hoseok now understood how dangerous Jungkook is. How he can ruin a person with a single decision all while sitting in his house like a king.

"He tried to use my wife against me," Jungkook growled with a cruel smile, "By the time Park Jimin realizes he was the one being hunted... he won't even have a badge left to protect him.”

° 

You hurried through the iron gates of the estate, breathing a little heavily as Max, trotted happily beside you. Your little walk to the nearby park had been so peaceful and meeting Jimin there had made it even better. He was such a comforting friend to talk to, always listening so intently whenever you caught up.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the courtyard. Dark clouds rolled in with lightning speed, and within seconds, raindrops began pouring from the sky, splashing against the cobblestones.

You gasped, your eyes lighting up with pure, childlike excitement. Instead of rushing inside to stay dry, you laughed out loud and sprinted right into the open green lawn of the garden!

"Max, come on!" you cheered, splashing through the wet grass. Max barked joyfully, chasing his own tail and leaping around your feet as the rain completely drenched your clothes in a matter of moments. The fabric of your dress clung to your skin, but you didn't care at all—the cool water felt incredible against your flushed face.

the sliding doors clicked open.

Jungkook stepped out, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. He had intended to head straight to his study, but the sound of your bright laughter immediately drew his gaze toward the lawn.

He froze, a rare soft smile breaking across his features.

Watching you spin around in the middle of a downpour, looking so radiant, carefree, and utterly beautiful, completely washed away every bit of dark stress weighing on his mind. He slowly walked out toward the garden, stepping up to the edge of the roofed gazebo to stay under the shelter, his hands resting casually in his pockets as his fond eyes followed your every move.

Your dress became see through. Your curves were visible and it brought back last night's memory back to him.

You bent down near the rose bushes, plucking a small flower glistening with rainwater. Smiling to yourself, you delicately tucked the flower behind your ear, brushing a few wet strands of hair back from your face.

That was when you spotted him standing under the dry shelter, watching you with that soft affection.

A cheeky grin spread across your lips. "Jungkook! Come out!"

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Y/N, you're going to catch a cold. Come inside."

"No way!" you called back. Without waiting another second, you darted across the wet grass, sliding right onto the dry wooden floor of the gazebo. Before he could react, you grabbed both of his wrists with your slick, rain-soaked hands and pulled him hard out into the open downpour!

"Y/N—" Jungkook gasped as the heavy rain instantly drenched his hair and soaked straight through his shirt, sticking the fabric to his broad chest and shoulders.

You threw your head back and laughed at his shocked expression, taking his hands and placing them on your waist while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Dance with me!" you demanded happily, swaying your hips right there in the mud and wet grass.

Jungkook stood there for a split second in absolute disbelief. The most feared, ruthless man in the underground... standing in the middle of his garden, dripping wet, dancing in the rain. It was utterly absurd, completely uncharacteristic, and yet, as he looked down at your glowing, laughing face, he felt happier than he had in his entire life.

A deep laugh vibrated in his chest.

His large hands tightened around your waist, pulling your wet body flush against his as he began to turn you around in a slow, graceful rhythm under the falling rain.

He dipped you low, making you squeal with laughter, before pulling you back up into his broad chest. As you spun together, the small flower you had tucked behind your ear loosened, falling softly onto the wet grass beneath his feet.

Jungkook stopped spinning, holding you close as the rain poured over both of you. He looked down at the tiny flower on the ground, and then back up into your sparkling eyes, his heart swelling with a warmth. He didn't care about the rain, he didn't care about the danger waiting outside his gates—in this exact moment, holding you in his arms, the entire world belonged only to the two of you.

Jungkook stood frozen in the pouring rain, his heavy breath mixing with the cool mist hanging in the air. His eyes swept over your glowing face—admiring the pure, untamed joy radiating from you, how utterly innocent and beautiful you looked in a world so full of blood and deception.

Then, his gaze naturally drifted lower.

The rain had completely soaked through the thin, delicate fabric of your dress, clinging to your curves like a second skin and rendering the light material practically transparent in the dim light.

Jungkook gulped. A wave of heat rushed straight to his gut, making his chest heave slightly. The possessive beast inside him roared to pull you into the dark house and hide every inch of you from the rest of the world, but he forced himself to tear his eyes away, his dark lashes casting long shadows across his flushed cheeks as he looked off toward the wet trees.

You saw the subtle shift in his posture, a soft, mischievous smile curling on your lips.

Stepping even closer, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes, wrapping one slick arm around his shoulder, and placed a sweet, lingering kiss right on his high cheekbone.

Jungkook’s head snapped back to you, his eyes widening in complete surprise.

As he looked down at you, your breath caught slightly in your throat. Under the dim lights, with the downpour streaming over his sharp jawline, he was breathtakingly handsome. His thick, dark hair was thoroughly wet, dark strands falling tousled and messy across his forehead, clinging to his temples in a way that made him look raw, dark, and attractive.

You knew who this man was. He was the head of a ruthless empire, a man who commanded absolute control, who would never in a million years stand out in a storm, soaking through a tailor-made suit, getting mud on his shoes.

Yet here he was. Dancing with you. All because you asked.

You wrapped both of your arms tightly around his neck, lacing your wet fingers together behind his head and leaning your weight fully against his solid chest.

"You know," you murmured softly, your voice carrying over the patter of the rain, "you look dangerously handsome right now, Mr. Jeon."

A smirk broke through his sharp features, his hands settling heavily on the small of your back, pulling your damp body flush against his.

"Is that so?" his deep voice dropped into a raspy hum against your ear.

"Mm-hmm," you nodded, tilting your head up to look right into his dark eyes. "I know you hate this. I know you'd rather be inside doing serious business... but you stayed out here with me anyway."

Jungkook’s gaze softened completely. He leaned his forehead gently against yours, his warm breath mingling with the cool raindrops sliding down your face.

"I'd stand in a hurricane if it meant keeping that smile on your face, Y/N," he whispered, his thumb softly tracing the wet skin of your hip. "There is nothing in this world I wouldn't do for you.”

A dusty pink flushed across your cheeks at his words, your eyes fluttering shut for a second as his warm confession hit you right in the chest.

Before you could say another word, Jungkook’s hands slid down to your thighs. In one effortless motion, he lifted you right off your feet. You let out a soft gasp, your arms instantly locking tighter around his broad shoulders as he cradled you securely against his chest.

"Time to get you inside, sweetheart," he murmured against your wet temple, his long strides effortlessly carrying you across the soaked lawn toward the warmth of the estate. "Before you end up catching a cold."

Max trotted behind as Jungkook kicked open the patio doors, carrying you straight past the grand foyer and up the marble staircase.

he brought you straight into the master bedroom, shutting the door behind him with his foot.

He set you down gently on the edge of the bed, taking care not to let your wet clothes soak through the duvet too much.

Standing right in front of you, Jungkook shed his heavy, rain-drenched suit jacket, tossing it into the hamper near the bathroom. His wet, dark hair clung to his forehead as his long, tattooed fingers reached for the buttons of his shirt. With slow, practiced ease, he unbuttoned it down to his waist, peeling the wet fabric away to reveal the broad, muscular expanse of his chest, glistening with stray droplets of rainwater.

You sat on the edge of the mattress, your eyes wide as you watched him, your cheeks burning just a little hotter.

Jungkook walked over to the bathroom, returning a second later with a white towel. He didn't focus on himself at all—instead, he dropped next to you in bed and pulled you onto his lap.

"Come here," he rasped softly.

He draped the towel over your head and began drying your hair with gentleness. His large hands worked in soothing motions, rubbing the fabric against your damp locks, taking extra care not to pull a single strand.

Your legs were on each side of his waist. You were straddling him completely. You could feel the hard boner under his pants. It was pressed right against your ass.

Sitting there under the towel, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes and a tiny pout on your lips, you looked so incredibly small, soft, and cute that Jungkook’s heart clenched in his chest.

A chuckle escaped his lips. He paused his movements, leaning in close so the towel formed a little warm cocoon around both of your faces, isolating the two of you from the rest of the world.

"You look so precious like this, Y/N," he whispered, his eyes brimming with an affection so intense it made your heart do a quiet flip.

He reached out, his warm thumb gently pressing against your lower lip, wiping away a stray bead of water.

"So cute," he added. he leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. "My sweet, helpless distraction.”

Under the soft cocoon of the towel, Jungkook continued to gently dry your damp hair, his hands moving.

"So," he began casually, his voice dripping with an easy, relaxed tone, "did you enjoy your walk with Max today?"

"Oh, it was wonderful!" you beamed, completely unaware of the shadow that flickered across his dark eyes. "Max had so much energy. And I ran into Jimin at the park again! He's honestly so nice, Jungkook. He was telling me about this little bakery near his place, and he’s just so funny and easy to talk to. He even offered to bring me those sweet pastries next time—"

As you rambled on, gushing about your new friend, you didn't notice the way Jungkook’s hands gradually slowed their gentle rubbing.

His shoulders tensed. His jaw set into a tight, hard line, a dark, dangerous pulse ticking wildly at his temple. Every word spilling from your sweet lips about Park Jimin felt like a hot iron pressing into his chest.

When you paused to take a breath, you finally caught sight of his face. His eyes were narrowed into stormy slits, staring down at you with a cold, possessive glare that was practically radiating green-eyed monster fury.

A chuckle escaped your lips as you realized what was happening. "Wait... are you jealous?"

"I am not jealous," Jungkook replied quickly.

"You totally are!" you giggled, leaning closer to tease him, tapping his tense jaw with your index finger. "Look at your face! You look like you want to bite his head off just because he mentioned pastries—"

"Y/N."

Before you could finish your sentence, Jungkook snapped.

His large hand shot out, gripping your hip, and with one swift motion, he shoved you backward flat onto the bed. The towel flew off your head as he hovered over you, his towering half-naked body pinning you down into the soft mattress.

Before you could even gasp, his lips slammed over yours in a rough kiss that instantly silenced your laughter.

It was possessive, demanding, and utterly ruthless. His tongue invaded your mouth, drinking down your sweet squeals as his hand hooked into the collar of your damp, clingy dress. With one powerful, violent jerk of his wrist, the wet fabric ripped apart down the middle with a tear, exposing your flushed, bare skin to the cool bedroom air.

"J-Jungkook—" you gasped as he broke the kiss, your breath ragged and hot against his neck.

He didn't give you a second to recover. His mouth dragged down your jawline, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive collarbone before he latched onto your bare skin. He bit down firmly, leaving a dark, bruised mark right over your pulse point, making you let out a sharp, sinful whimper.

"Say his name again," Jungkook rasped against your skin, his voice thick with raw, dangerous desire. "Let me remind you whose marks you wear."

His eyes darted to your cleavage. Water droplets trickled down the pathway of your boobs. His cock twitched. He licked your lips instinctively.

His head dropped lower, his tongue licked the path down to your cleavage. He tore the bra away and took one swollen, pink nipple into his warm mouth, sucking hard while his teeth grazed the sensitive tip.

A loud moan ripped from your throat, your back arching violently off the bed as your toes curled tight into the sheets.

"Ah!" you cried out, your hands flying to his tousled wet hair, pulling him closer as the unbearable heat spread straight to your lower belly.

His tongue felt so good against your boobs. All the memories of last night rushes back your pussy clenched. Your hips bucked closer to him. You pressed his face closer to your boobs, making him moan at how good the friction was between your hips.

He didn't stop. He moved to the other side, biting and marking every inch of your boob. He squeezed them close, licking the stretch of your cleavage and biting your nipples.

It was painful. The way he squeezed and pinched your perky nipples but it was pleasurable at how good he licked and sucked it back.

Jungkook could remain like this forever. He could keep sucking on your tits daily.

Your eyes were filled with desire. He looked so cute, sucking your boobs with hunger. As if your boobs were the only thing he wanted. He looked so damn good with his tongue flicking down your nipple and back to the curve of your heavy boobs, weighing them and squeezing them.

His mouth traced down the curve of your ribs, swirling his wet tongue into your navel while his hands gripped your waist, digging into your soft hips to hold you completely still under his ruthless licking and sucking.

Every kiss was harsh, every bite a silent claim, leaving you breathless, squirming, and completely completely undone beneath him as your body shuddered with need.

Jungkook stared down at your flushed, marked body, his heavy chest heaving with every ragged breath. Seeing you completely undone beneath him—your pale skin covered in his bite marks, your eyes glassy with pure desire—driven him past the point of no return.

"You're mine," he growled,"Only mine, Y/N."

He didn't wait another second. Dropping down between your widespread thighs, he gripped your hips and brought his face right back to your aching, slick core. He tore the panties and threw them somewhere in the room.

His tongue hit your sensitive pussy with a long, wet, filthy stroke.

You let out a scream, your back arching off the mattress as your fingers tangled frantically into his damp hair. Jungkook didn't hold back. He ate you out with a desperate hunger, swirling his hot tongue around your swollen clit before plunging two fingers deep inside your tight warmth.

"god! Hahmmm!" you whimpered, your toes curling tightly into the bedsheets as he pumped his fingers into you, his thumb working over your center until you were whimpering, sobbing, and completely dripping for him.

Just as you felt the peak of an orgasm building in your belly, he pulled back, licking his two fingers shamelessly.

He stripped away his remaining clothes in a single fluid motion. Reaching into the nightstand, he grabbed a foil packet, tearing it open with his teeth and rolling it over his thick, throbbing length.

You stared in awe. Your mouth watered at how good he looked. The way his muscles were flexing and the way his cock throbbed with need. The pre-cum leaked out of the mushroom head of his cock. The thick veins of his dick. God, he looked delicious. You licked your lips unknowingly.

Hovering over you, he guided his heavy tip to your soaking entrance. He looked down into your wide, glassy eyes and saw the tiny, nervous flutter in your chest. The realization hit him immediately—you had never been with anyone before.

The animalistic hunger in his eyes instantly softened.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he whispered softly, his broad, warm hands sliding up to cup both sides of your flushed face, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. "I'll be gentle. I promise."

"Jungkook..." you breathed, your voice cracking as your arms wrapped around his muscular neck, pulling him down close.

He pressed his lips to yours in a slow, deep, reassuring kiss, and as your mouths merged, he slowly, painstakingly began to push himself inside you.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as you felt the thick, stretch of his cock, your body instinctively tightening around him. Jungkook froze instantly, his jaw clenching hard as he held back his own hungry urges, refusing to move an inch until you adjusted.

"Shh... I've got you, baby," he whispered against your lips, kissing away the tiny tear that slipped from your eye, his hands stroking your hips with care. "Breathe for me, Y/N. Just breathe."

As the sting began to melt, you could feel the fullness of it. How full you were with his cock. He stuffed you well. It was burning yet every time you squeezed around the length of his cock, he would moan, his posture breaking and eyes shutting close.

You bit your bottom lip, loving the expression on his face. The way he was undone for you. The way he moaned out every time you squeezed your walls.

"b-baby. Don't." His voice cracked.

"Okay..." you whispered breathlessly against his neck. "Okay..."

Jungkook let out a shuddering exhale. Slowly, he began to move.

He slid all the way out before pushing back in with a deep, slow, agonizingly thorough stroke that hit every sensitive nerve inside you. A loud, sinful moan escaped your lips, completely different from before—it was soft, needy, and filled with pure pleasure.

It hurt but god you wanted him. You wanted all of him.

"That's it," he growled low, his voice thick with devotion as he set a steady pace. "You feel so fucking good, Y/N... so tight and warm."

With every slow thrust, the pleasure built higher and higher. He wasn't rough anymore; he was thoroughly, completely worshipping your body, driving deep inside you with a slow pace that made you feel him everywhere all at once.

The sound of skin against skin and the grunts, moans filled the room. His sweat-glistening chest rubbed against yours, his lips constantly finding yours, your jaw, your neck, filling the quiet bedroom with the wet, filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin and your helpless, breathless whimpers.

"J-Jungkook! Right there—ah!" you sobbed out, your hands clutching his broad shoulders, your nails digging into his back as he hit that sweet spot deep inside you over and over again.

You were pressing your nails onto his back. Marking him up. He might be bleeding at how roughly you were scratching against his back. Your legs wrapped tightly against his waist.

"fuck!" He grunted loudly when you squeezed your walls around his cock. His balls hit your ass with every thrust.

"Cum for me, baby," he rasped, picking up the pace just a fraction, his hips snapping into yours with a firmer, deeper friction that sent electricity straight to your core. "Let me feel you squeeze around me."

Your lips sucked his shoulder, biting and licking him up to not make sounds but that was impossible. He was so good at this.

It felt so good to not make sounds. You screamed his name out and Jungkook absolutely loved every second of it.

He was on cloud nine. You were tight and squeezing his cock perfectly. Driving him crazy with every rotation of your hips.

Your inner walls clamped violently around his thick length as a shattering orgasm ripped through you, making your entire body tremble and shake in his arms.

Watching you break completely beneath him broke the last of his restraint. With a few final, deep, desperate thrusts, Jungkook growled low into the crook of your neck, his entire frame tensing as he came hard, holding you impossibly tight against his chest as the climax crashed over both of you in waves of pure, overwhelming bliss.

The bliss of your first climax had barely settled.

Jungkook’s chest heaved, his pulse hammering against your chest. The gentle lover who had taken his time with your innocence had vanished, replaced by the dark, possessive man driven wild by the scent of your release and the sight of your marked, flushed skin.

Before your breathing could even slow, his large hands gripped your hips with sudden, unyielding pressure. He flipped you effortlessly onto your stomach, pulling your hips high into the air while your face sank into the soft pillows.

"J-Jungkook—" you gasped, your voice weak, your mind still hazy from the intense wave of pleasure.

"You thought we were done, sweetheart?" his deep voice ropped into a filthy, dangerous rasp right beside your ear. His heavy chest pressed flush against your back, pinning you down as his hand reached around to cup your sore, wet core, spreading your slickness over your entrance. "I told you... you're mine. Every single part of you."

He rubbed his fingers against your cunt, smearing the release all over you. Your thighs tensed. He bought his fingers back which were smeared with a mix of white and red.

His chest flared.

Without a second warning, he lined himself up and thrust all the way inside you from behind in one hard, relentless plunge.

A piercing scream tore from your throat, echoing off the bedroom walls as your back arched dramatically. There was no slow adjustment this time; he took you with a wild fury, his hips snapping against yours in a fast, brutal rhythm that made the bed frame creak violently against the floor.

"Ah! Jungkook! Jungkook!" you cried out, your hands clutching at the silk bedsheets as white-hot pleasure exploded behind your eyes.

Every single thrust was deep, punishing, and utterly ruthless. His large palm flattened against the small of your back, holding you firmly in place while his other hand reached around to pull your hair back, exposing the curve of your neck so he could sink his teeth into your skin, leaving deep, bruised claims over your collarbone.

"Look at how good you take me," he growled low into your ear, his breath ragged and scorching hot as he drove into you harder, faster, completely filling you up until you were seeing stars. "Say it, Y/N. Who do you belong to?"

"Y-You! Ah! Yours, Jungkook, only yours!" you sobbed out, completely overwhelmed by the intense friction, your mind fragmenting under the relentless pace he set.

Tears filled your eyes.

Your body was so full of him. You can feel him everywhere.

The sensation was too vast, too consuming. The sheer, overwhelming pleasure combined with his unbridled, possessive strength pushed your body far past its limits.

"too m-much!" You screamed, pushing your head into the pillows.

Jungkook grunted, "you can--" thrust, "take." thrust. "It, baby!" Thrust.

Your inner walls stretched around his thick length in a second, earth-shattering orgasm. Sparks danced across your vision, your toes curling as a loud, breathless whimper slipped from your lips.

Right as the violent waves of your release peaked and Jungkook thrust hard inside you one last time to hit his own deep climax, your strength completely vanished. The intensity overwhelmed your senses, and darkness swept over you, knocking you out cold in his arms.

Silence gradually returned to the master bedroom, broken only by the steady patter of rain against the windowpane and Jungkook’s heavy breaths.

Realizing your body had gone soft and limp against him, he instantly slowed his movements. He pulled out gently, softening his dark eyes as he looked down at your unconscious, peaceful face nestled in the plush pillows.

"My woman, my wife." he whispered softly, his voice thick with raw affection.

He didn't wake you. Instead, he pulled the heavy silk duvet over your bare, marked shoulders, tucking you in with tender care. Pulling your limp body close to his sweaty chest, he wrapped a protective arm around your waist, resting his chin on top of your head as he let you sleep peacefully in the safety of his arms.

Previous Part

The next morning, the tension from the night before still hung in the air, but you were determined not to let the atmosphere ruin your mood. After a quiet breakfast with Madam Jeon—who gave you an approving, if subdued, nod—you managed to convince Jungkook’s head of security to let you step out for a few hours. He agreed only on the condition that two discrete bodyguards followed your car at a distance.

You met Jimin at a cozy, light-filled cafe that doubled as a high-end flower shop in the heart of the city. Sunlight streamed through the glass windows, surrounding the tables with lush ferns, fresh roses, and pastel floral arrangements.

When you walked in holding a small, beautifully wrapped gift box with a designer bow, Jimin’s face lit up. His eyes crinkled into sweet crescents as he stood up to greet you.

"You actually came," Jimin said, sounding genuinely touched as he pulled out a chair for you. "And you brought a gift? Y/N, you really didn't have to."

"Of course I did! It's your birthday," you chimed brightly, sitting down across from him with a beaming smile. "Happy Birthday, Jimin!"

"Thank you," he smiled, taking the gift and setting it on the table. "You have no idea how long it's been since someone celebrated my birthday with me."

You both ordered tea and sweet pastries, chatting effortlessly. Jimin was charming, attentive, and laughed at all your little jokes. To you, he felt like a breath of fresh air—a sweet, normal friend in a world that had suddenly become full of guns, bodyguards, and dark syndicate secrets.

After tea, you both walked around the flower shop section of the cafe. "I want to pick a bouquet for you," you said, browsing through the rows of vibrant blooms.

"You're too good to me," Jimin chuckled, walking alongside you as he casually picked up a stem of blue hydrangeas. "So... how did your husband's birthday go last night? Did he like your gifts?"

"He loved them!" you replied happily, adjusting a bundle of white tulips. "We had a small cake in the back garden under the string lights. It was really sweet."

"In the back garden?" Jimin repeated softly, his voice smooth and conversational. "Sounds lovely and private. I imagine a man like him has top-tier security around the clock, though. Does he keep guards posted right inside the garden, or do they just watch the main gates?"

"Oh, they're usually just at the main gates and perimeter walls," you answered casually, completely oblivious to the precision of his question. "It's super quiet in the back garden at night. Just me, him, and Max."

Jimin’s fingers paused on the flower stem for a fraction of a second. "Max?"

"Our puppy," you giggled.

"Ah, cute," Jimin smiled warmly, taking a step closer as you picked out a ribbon. "Must be hard, though. Living in such a huge, secluded estate. Don't your parents or your family ever worry about you being all the way out there with someone so cold like him?"

"My mother passed away a while ago," you said softly, a fleeting shadow of sadness crossing your face before you smiled again. "And honestly, Jungkook takes such good care of me. Even when he has to leave early for places like Busan, he makes sure I'm safe."

"Right... Busan," Jimin murmured. He tilted his head, his tone dripping with innocent curiosity. "He must be away a lot for business, then? Like late at night? It must get lonely in that big house when he's working late in his study."

"A little," you admitted, handing the selected flowers to the florist behind the counter. "He works so hard, especially late at night. Sometimes he stays up past two in the morning in his east-wing office just going through papers."

"East wing, huh?" Jimin noted with a soft, affectionate chuckle, leaning against the counter. "You really know his whole routine, don't you? You must love him a lot."

"I do," you confessed, your cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink as you paid for the bouquet.

"He's a very lucky man," Jimin said softly.

As the florist handed you the wrapped bouquet of tulips and eucalyptus, Jimin reached over to take the heavy bag for you. For a split second, as his hand brushed yours, his smile faded into an intense, unreadable stare—his dark eyes scanning your face with a cold, calculating depth that made a sudden, instinctual shiver run down your spine.

"Jimin?" you asked, blinking in surprise.

Instantly, the cold look vanished, replaced by his bright, crinkle-eyed smile so fast you thought you had imagined it. "Sorry! Just admiring how pretty the bouquet turned out. Thank you, Y/N. Truly. Let me buy flowers for you too."

"Of course!" you beamed, completely pushing the momentary weirdness out of your mind.

°

You both walked out of the flower shop into the cool afternoon air. As you stood on the sidewalk waving goodbye to Jimin, your eyes accidentally drifted across the street.

Parked quietly by the curb was a sleek, black tinted SUV. The driver's window rolled down slightly, revealing one of Jungkook's senior security guards watching your every move with sharp, unblinking eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat. You realized then that no matter where you went, Jungkook’s protective web was wrapped tightly around you.

Beside you, Jimin’s gaze followed yours across the street. Looking at the black SUV, the sweet, warm smile completely melted off his face, leaving behind a sharp smirk that you were far too distracted to notice.

°

Clutching the bouquet of white tulips and eucalyptus, you pushed open the grand front doors of the estate, a small, cheerful hum humming in your throat.

The atmosphere of the main foyer immediately hit you. Standing near the sleek marble coffee table in the grand living room were Jungkook and Taehyung. Both men were dressed in sharp, tailored suits, surrounded by scattered documents on the table, their faces locked in serious, dark expressions as they discussed business.

The moment the heavy doors clicked shut, both of them snapped their heads toward you.

Jungkook’s eyes immediately landed on you and then locked tightly onto the delicate bouquet resting in your arms. A deep, prominent frown instantly knitted his brows together, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. The tender warmth from last night was completely gone, replaced by his usual intimidating aura.

"Where were you?" Jungkook asked, his deep voice cutting through the quiet room.

"I went out for a bit," you answered softly, holding the flowers a little closer as you stepped further into the living room. "I told the security detail."

Jungkook’s eyes didn't leave the bright white petals. "Who gave you those?"

"Oh, a friend," you smiled innocently, oblivious to the sudden drop in temperature in the room. "We went out for tea to celebrate birthday and my friend bought these for me."

Beside him, Taehyung’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. He leaned his arm against the back of the sofa, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and utter disbelief.

"You have a friend?" Taehyung echoed, his eyebrow arching high. "In this city?"

You instantly pouted, crossing your arms defensively over the wrapped stems. "What is that supposed to mean? Am I not allowed to have friends?"

Taehyung let out a breathless chuckle, shooting a subtle, cautious glance over at Jungkook, whose expression had darkened significantly. The thought of anyone—especially someone whose identity they hadn't personally vetted—getting close enough to give you flowers was enough to set off every alarm in his head.

Jungkook cleared his throat sharply, a warning rumble vibrating in his chest that instantly silenced Taehyung.

"Go upstairs and freshen up, Y/N," Jungkook commanded, his tone low, firm, and completely unyielding as his dark gaze remained pinned on you.

Jungkook didn't move an inch. He stood motionless in the center of the room, his eyes fixed on the empty staircase where you had just disappeared. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, his jaw set.

Taehyung slid his hands into his suit pockets, his playful demeanor instantly vanishing, replaced by the sharp focus of a high-ranking syndicate lieutenant. He knew that look on Jungkook's face all too well.

"She's too innocent for her own good," Taehyung spoke quietly, breaking the heavy silence. "In a city like this, nobody approaches someone in our circle by pure coincidence."

Jungkook turned his head slowly, his pitch-black eyes cold and devoid of any warmth.

"Find out who it is," Jungkook commanded, his voice dropping into a guttural rasp that sent a chill straight through the room. "I want a complete file by tonight. Every address, every connection, every single step they've taken in this city since the day they arrived."

"Already on it," Taehyung nodded grimly, pulling his phone from his inner suit jacket pocket. "If this 'friend' so much as breathed near her with a hidden motive, they won't make it to sunrise."

"Don't touch them yet," Jungkook growled low, his dark eyes burning with a possessive, dangerous fire. "If anyone is playing games around my wife... I want to tear them apart with my own hands.”

°

You stepped over to the vanity, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached up to unclip your earrings.

Clatter.

The metallic scraping sound echoed from the balcony doors.

Your breath hitched violently in your throat. Your hands jerked, slipping on the delicate jewelry and sending your diamond earrings crashing to the hardwood floor, rolling beneath the vanity.

Someone was outside.

Your heart slammed violently against your ribs, terror seizing your throat before you could even scream. Memory of last night’s chilling note, flashed behind your eyes in a blinding wave of panic. You backed away slowly, your eyes wide with absolute horror as a tall, dark silhouette blocked the moonlight streaming through the open glass door.

A heavy boot stepped over the threshold, pulling a leg over the wrought-iron railing.

You opened your mouth, a blood-curdling scream rising from your lungs—

"Shh! Y/N, it's me! Don't scream!" a whisper cut through the dark.

The figure dropped into a low crouch, pulling off the black hood covering his face and holding his hands up in a desperate gesture for silence.

The scream died instantly in your throat. You froze, your jaw slack, your eyes wide in utter disbelief as the dim ambient light caught his familiar features and heart-shaped smile.

"H-Hoseok?!" you gasped.

Your brother.

Hoseok let out a sigh of relief, quickly closing the glass balcony doors behind him and pulling the sheer curtains shut. He looked exhausted, dressed entirely in tactical black, his breathing ragged as if he had just scaled the perimeter walls and evaded dozens of guards.

"Are you insane?!" you whispered frantically, rushing over to him, your hands trembling as you grabbed his shoulders. "How did you get up here?! If Jungkook’s men see you, they will kill you!"

Hoseok’s playful expression instantly melted, replaced by a fierce, desperate gravity in his eyes as he grabbed both of your arms, pulling you close.

"I don't care about his men, Y/N," Hoseok rasped, his voice tight with fear. "I had to get to you. You need to pack your things right now. You are in danger staying in this house.” 

You stepped back, wrenching your arms out of Hoseok’s tight grip and shaking your head vigorously.

"No, Hoseok! Stop it!" you hissed in a frantic whisper, taking a protective step backward. "He protects me! You don't know him, you don't know what he's been through, so don't come into his house sneaking through balconies accusing him!"

Hoseok froze, his jaw dropping as he stared at you in absolute shock.

He looked at you as if a stranger was standing in front of him. The sister he had grown up protecting—the girl who used to flinch at the mere mention of the underworld—was gone. Standing in her place was a woman with a sharp, fiercely loyal fire burning in her eyes, standing her ground in the middle of a ruthless syndicate boss's bedroom, defending him without a single second of hesitation.

"Y/N..." Hoseok rasped, his voice laced with disbelief and a painful, growing fear. "What did he do to you? You sound like a completely different person."

"I haven't changed, Hoseok, I'm just seeing things clearly!" you argued softly, your hands trembling, though your voice remained firm. "He is my husband. He is my family now. I'm not running away, and I'm certainly not leaving him."

Hoseok took a slow step back, his dark eyes searching your face for any sign of fear or coercion, but finding only pure, unyielding devotion. He let out a low, breathless laugh—a sound of sheer frustration and defeat.

Before he could speak another word, sharp footsteps echoed from the hallway outside, approaching the master bedroom door.

The bedroom door swung open.

Jungkook stood on the threshold, his broad frame blocking the light from the hallway. His dark eyes instantly swept the room, locking onto Hoseok standing near the open balcony curtains. A terrifying, lethal fury ignited in his eyes—not just because a man was in his bedroom, but because an intruder had somehow breached his perimeter and bypassed dozens of his top guards.

In a fraction of a second, Jungkook’s hand blurred to his holster. The metallic sound of his gun racking echoed violently off the walls as he pointed the barrel directly at Hoseok’s chest.

"Jungkook, No!"

Before he could even take a breath to speak, you threw yourself in front of Hoseok, spreading your arms wide to shield your brother with your own body.

"Move, Y/N," Jungkook growled. His chest heaved, a muscle twitching wildly in his cheek as he stared at you.

"Please! Don't shoot him! He's my brother!" you pleaded frantically, tears springing to your eyes as your voice cracked. "He's Hoseok! Please, Jungkook, put the gun down! Please!"

Jungkook froze. His eyes flicked from your pale, desperate face down to his gun, then back to you. The sight of you crying and putting yourself in the way of gun slammed the brakes on his murderous fury. Slowly, his grip loosened on the trigger, and he lowered the weapon to his side, though his face remained stoic.

"Hoseok?" a calm, authoritative voice suddenly spoke from the open hallway behind him.

Madam Jeon stood in the doorway, resting her hands on her ornate walking cane. Her sharp eyes took in the scene—the open balcony, the drawn gun, and you trembling in front of your brother. Instead of showing anger, a faint, knowing smirk touched her lips.

"Lower your weapon, Jungkook," the grandmother commanded smoothly, stepping into the room with quiet grace. "If he managed to slip past your useless security guards, then he certainly has talent."

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but he holstered his gun without arguing, his glare still fixed on Hoseok with pure venom.

Madam Jeon turned her gaze to Hoseok, looking him up and down. "Since you are Y/N's brother, that makes you family now. And family does not break in through balconies when the front door is wide open."

She turned on her heel toward the hallway, her walking cane clicking against the floor. "Come downstairs, Hoseok. You will join us for dinner.”

°

Hoseok stood frozen in the middle of the room, his eyes darting between you, the matriarch walking down the hall, and the dangerous syndicate lord currently glaring daggers at him. To say he was bewildered was an understatement. He had scaled three walls, dodged armed patrols, and risked a bullet to rescue you, only to end up invited to a formal family dinner.

You quickly grabbed Hoseok's arm, tugging him down the grand staircase before Jungkook’s terrifying patience ran out completely.

As you reached the main foyer, the sheer weight of Jungkook’s wrath shattered the silence of the estate.

"Taehyung!" Jungkook’s roar echoed off the high marble ceilings, sharp and deadly.

Taehyung appeared almost instantly from the study, looking surprisingly tense.

"Fire every single one of them," Jungkook growled, his dark eyes pitch-black with unbridled anger, his broad chest heaving. "Every guard on the perimeter shift tonight. Strip their badges and get them off my land before I put a bullet through their heads myself."

"Consider it done," Taehyung replied quietly, shooting Hoseok a cold, evaluating glance before stepping away to execute the order.

Your heart thudded wildly in your chest. The air downstairs was suffocatingly thick, practically crackling with tension as you, Hoseok, and Jungkook took your seats around the massive, polished dining table.

Endless courses of hot, aromatic dishes were served by staff, but the exquisite food did little to ease the heavy atmosphere.

Hoseok sat stiffly across from you, his dark eyes shifting between the opulent dining room and the presence of your husband at the head of the table.

"So, Hoseok," Madam Jeon spoke up calmly, setting her heavy silver spoon down with a soft click. "How are the Jungs faring these days? I trust your family's operations are running smoothly?"

Before Hoseok could even process the casual mention of his family's business, your head snapped up. Anxious desperation flooded your chest, completely overriding your caution.

"How is Dad?" you asked eagerly, leaning forward across the table, your voice trembling with genuine concern. "Is he doing okay? Is his health—"

A sharp, warning clear of the throat cut you off instantly.

Jungkook turned his head slowly toward you, shooting you a terrifying, ice-cold glare that sent an immediate chill straight down your spine. His pitch-black eyes bore into yours, carrying a silent, absolute command.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

The overwhelming weight of his eyes made you freeze. You instantly slumped back into your chair, lowering your gaze to your lap and zipping your mouth shut, not daring to utter another single word.

Across the table, Hoseok’s hands clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists beneath the tablecloth.

rage flared in his chest as he watched the way you shrank under Jungkook’s glare. Seeing his sister reduced to complete, submissive silence by a single look from the man at the head of the table made Hoseok's blood boil.

Jungkook wasn't just protecting you—he was completely controlling you, and Hoseok promised himself right then that he wouldn't let it stand.

Hoseok couldn't hold it in any longer. The sight of you shrinking back under Jungkook’s cold glare pushed him past his breaking point.

"You don't get to look at her like that," Hoseok snapped, slamming his palms flat against the table. The fine china rattled loudly in the heavy silence. "She just asked a simple question about our father. You don't own her, Jeon."

Jungkook slowly set his wine glass down with a chilling quietness. He leaned back in his leather chair, his eyes lethal as he fixed his gaze on Hoseok.

"You came into my house through a balcony like a common criminal, Jung," Jungkook replied, "You're sitting at my table eating my food only because my grandmother invited you. Know your place before I remind you where you are."

"My place is protecting my sister!" Hoseok barked back, standing up from his chair, his broad shoulders tense. "She isn't your prisoner! I see how you control her, how you make her walk on eggshells in her own damn home—"

"Enough! Both of you, shut up!"

Your furious scream shattered the room, echoing off the high marble walls. You slammed your hands onto the table, standing up so fast your chair scraped violently against the floorboards. Tears of pure frustration and anger brimmed in your eyes as you glared between the two men.

"I am sick and tired of both of you treating me like I'm some pawn to fight over!" you yelled, your voice cracking with emotion. "Hoseok, stop provoking him! And Jungkook, stop acting like you can just order me around!"

The entire room dropped into silence. Madam Jeon didn't even flinch, casually dabbing her lips with a cloth napkin as she watched the storm unfold.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. The anger in his eyes flared dangerously as he slowly rose from the head of the table, towering over you with an imposing, suffocating presence.

"Watch your tongue, Y/N," Jungkook warned, growl that sent a cold shudder down your spine. "You bear my name now. Start behaving like a Jeon."

"I don't care about your name!" you shouted back, completely consumed by raw anger and refusing to back down from his intense gaze. "You can threaten anyone you want in your syndicate, but you do not threaten my family! No matter what happens, Hoseok is my brother and I will always protect him, whether you like it or not!"

Jungkook’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, stunned by the defiance burning in your tear-filled eyes. Hoseok looked at you in awe, while the air in the dining hall turned bone-chillingly cold.

Your furious footsteps echoed through the quiet halls of the grand estate as you ran up the marble staircase, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. The bedroom door slammed shut behind you with a loud, resounding thud, cutting off the suffocating atmosphere of the dining hall.

You collapsed onto the edge of the plush mattress, burying your face in your trembling hands as hot tears spilled through your fingers.

°

Downstairs, the atmosphere in the dining room dropped to an absolute, sub-zero chill.

The moment you disappeared around the landing, Hoseok pushed his chair back violently, ready to storm upstairs after you.

"Step away from those stairs, Jung," Jungkook growled low, stepping directly into Hoseok's path. His towering frame completely blocked the doorway, his broad chest rising and falling with a terrifying fury. "You've caused enough chaos in my house for one night."

"Get the hell out of my way, Jeon!" Hoseok barked, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides. He took a bold, aggressive step forward, ignoring the sheer danger radiating off the syndicate boss. "She's crying because of you!"

"She is my wife," Jungkook rasped, his voice dropping into a dark, gravelly register, his pitch-black eyes fixed on Hoseok with pure, unadulterated venom. "Which means whatever happens between us is none of your fucking business."

"It becomes my fucking business when her life is on the line!" Hoseok yelled back, his voice cracking with desperate panic that sliced right through the thick tension in the room.

Jungkook froze. His eyes narrowed into lethal slits. "What did you just say?"

Hoseok leaned in, his chest heaving as he stared right into the eyes of the man he hated, laying out the terrifying reality he had breached the estate to deliver.

"She is in danger, Jeon!" Hoseok shouted, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "She isn't just dealing with rival syndicates! She is being followed by a fucking underground police officer!"

Previous Part

You couldn’t sleep.

It had been a full day since you’d been brought home from the hospital yet rest refused to settle into your bones. Your body lay heavy against the thin mattress, exhausted in that deep, aching way that came from painkillers and shock and too many emotions left unprocessed but your mind stayed stubbornly awake, circling.

The cot your parents had set up for you sat inside the storage room on the ground floor. It wasn’t really a room meant for living. Boxes were stacked along the walls, some neatly labeled, others collapsing under the weight of forgotten years. There were winter blankets sealed in plastic, a broken chair missing one leg, photo albums your mother had promised herself she’d organize someday.

But they had made space for you.

The cot had been pushed close to the large window that overlooked the front of the house, its thin curtain pulled halfway back to let in the night air. Someone, Sam, most likely, had layered extra blankets on top, tucking them in carefully around the edges like you were a child again.

Your leg lay elevated on a stack of cushions, the cast heavy and unforgiving. Every small movement reminded you of it, a dull throb that pulsed in time with your movements. You shifted carefully, biting back a hiss and stared up at the ceiling.

The house was quiet. Somewhere upstairs, your parents slept. Earlier in the evening, your mother had hovered endlessly, asking if you needed water, adjusting your blanket, smoothing your hair back from your forehead with trembling fingers. Your father had tried to act normal, making dry comments about how at least now you had an excuse to skip chores but you’d seen the tightness in his jaw when he thought you weren’t looking.

Sam had stayed late, sprawled on the floor beside your cot, scrolling through her phone and pretending not to watch your face too closely. She’d helped you to the bathroom, helped you settle back in, scolded you gently for apologizing too much.

You had never felt so cared for.

And somehow, that made everything heavier. Now, alone, the weight of the day pressed down on you. You tried to push it away, telling yourself you were safe now.

Your thoughts drifted instead to college. Exams were coming up. You could almost see the dates printed in bold on the syllabus, indifferent to fractures and accidents. You wondered how much you’d fallen behind already, how many lectures you’d missed, how long it would take to catch up once you were back. The idea of navigating campus on crutches made your chest tighten with quiet dread.

You swallowed, blinking hard.

Outside the window, the street was still. The faint glow of a streetlamp spilled across the sidewalk, painting everything in muted gold. The front of your house looked unchanged. A place that had always meant safety.

You let your head sink deeper into the pillow, listening to the rhythm of your own breathing, the distant hum of the world continuing without you. For the first time since the accident, there was no immediate crisis demanding your attention.

You were still staring out the window when something shifted in your line of sight.

At first, you thought it was nothing. Just a trick of the light, your tired eyes misfiring the way they had been all day. The antibiotics made everything feel slightly unreal like the edges of the world were softened, dulled. You blinked once. Then again.

There was someone sitting on the sidewalk.

Your spine straightened instinctively, a sharp jolt of alertness cutting through the fog in your head. You pushed your palms into the mattress and scooted up on the cot, ignoring the protest from your leg as you leaned closer to the window.

The man sat a short distance from your front gate, just beneath the streetlamp. His back was to you, his posture folded inward in a way that made him look smaller than he probably was. Broad shoulders were hunched forward, covered in what looked like a dark jacket, catching faint highlights under the yellow light. His head was bowed, chin nearly to his chest.

His shoulders were moving.

Not much. Just enough that after a few seconds of watching, you realized they were shaking.

Your stomach dropped.

A rush of half-formed thoughts collided in your mind. Recent news reports your father had muttered about at dinner, talk of break-ins a few neighborhoods over. The memory of that home invasion movie you’d watched far too young crept up uninvited: shadows outside windows, men waiting patiently in the dark. Your pulse quickened, loud in your ears.

You glanced instinctively toward the door, half-expecting to hear footsteps inside the house. Everything remained quiet.

The man didn’t move from his place on the pavement. He didn’t pace, didn’t look around. He just sat there, elbows braced on his knees, head down like he was staring at the ground, almost in a position of praying.

A strange mix of fear and confusion tightened in your chest.

Who sat on a sidewalk at midnight like that?

Your fingers curled into the blanket, knuckles whitening. You told yourself to look away, to pull the curtain closed and wake your parents if you had to. But your gaze stayed locked on him, as if breaking eye contact would make something worse happen.

There was something undeniably miserable about the way he held himself. Not threatening. Not aggressive. Just heavy. And still, unease prickled along your skin.

You leaned closer to the glass, trying to make out more- his build, the angle of his head, the length of his arms. Something about the silhouette tugged at a place in your mind you didn’t want to examine too closely.

Before your thoughts could catch up, before recognition could fully form, the latch on your window shifted.

The sound was sharp in the stillness. A dry, protesting creak split the quiet as the window latch gave way under your hand, impossibly loud in the dead of night. The noise seemed to echo, bouncing off the walls of the small room, slipping out into the open air.

You froze.

Outside, the man reacted instantly.

His head snapped up, movements abrupt, almost violent in their suddenness. For a fraction of a second, you only saw the angle of his jaw as he turned, the streetlight catching the edge of his face. Then he looked directly at the window.

At you.

Your breath caught painfully in your throat.

Recognition hit you with the force of something physical, knocking the air out of your lungs. That face sharp, familiar, unmistakable even in the low light. The way his eyes widened just slightly before softening into something unreadable.

Taehyung.

The world tilted.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t smile, didn’t wave, didn’t look surprised in the way a normal person would when caught somewhere they shouldn’t be. He just stared up at you, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment, as if the night had finally given him what he wanted.

The glass between you suddenly felt very thin.

Your heart slammed against your ribs, dulled panic and something far more confusing tangling together in your chest. You pulled your blanket tighter around yourself without realizing it, fingers curling into the fabric like it could anchor you in place.

What was he doing here?

Of all places. Of all nights.

His expression shifted, subtle but unmistakable. The rigid tension in his shoulders eased, just a little, like a man who had been holding his breath for too long and was finally allowed to exhale. Even from this distance, you could see it- the faint sheen in his eyes, the way they reflected the light too brightly.

Glassiness. Vulnerability. Something raw and unguarded that you had never seen on his face before.

It unsettled you more than anger ever could have.

You opened your mouth before your better judgment could stop you, your voice cutting through the night, hushed but sharp all the same.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer.

Taehyung just stood there, looking up at you as if the sight of you framed by that window had stolen whatever words he’d brought with him. The streetlight caught his face fully now, washing him in a dull amber glow that softened his sharp lines in a way you weren’t used to seeing. His eyes, dark, usually so alert, so calculating, looked glassy amd unfocused, like he hadn’t slept properly in days. Which, well, he probably hadn’t, considering he had spent a good part of the last week at your bedside like a slightly creepy and intrusive nurse.

There was something exposed about him, something almost boyish in the way his mouth parted slightly like he was unsure whether to speak or simply keep looking.

The sight of it unsettled you deeply. This wasn’t the Taehyung who hovered at the edges of your vision on campus or the one whose presence made your skin prickle with unease. This version looked disarmed. And maybe that was what made you brave.

“Are you insane?” you called out, your voice coming out sharper than you felt. “It’s the middle of the night. What are you doing sitting outside my house, you fool?”

The words left your mouth before fear could clamp down on them. They echoed faintly down the empty street.

Taehyung startled- actually startled.

He straightened abruptly, as if jolted back into his body. A strange expression flickered across his face, something between relief and disbelief and then his lips twitched. Not quite a smile. More like a reflex his body remembered before his mind caught up.

In the next second, he moved.

His hands gripped the iron fence effortlessly, fingers curling around the cold metal. There was no hesitation, no pause to judge the height. He vaulted it in one fluid motion, his body lifting and folding with an ease that made your breath hitch. For a split second, he was airborne, long limbs taut, controlled, before landing lightly on the other side, boots barely making a sound against the ground.

You stared, stunned, a ridiculous thought flashing through your mind about how he didn’t even stumble, didn’t even brush against the fence on the way down. He moved like someone who trusted his body completely, like someone who’d done reckless things often enough to know he’d survive them.

The bushes weren’t as forgiving though. There was a soft rustle, followed by a sharp intake of breath as a thorn caught skin. Taehyung barely reacted, only glancing down at his hand as he straightened again. You saw it then: a thin line of red welling against his skin, blood sliding slowly down his palm as he walked nearer to your window with quick steps. Your stomach lurched.

Any threat you’d been forming, any instinct to yell again, to tell him to leave, to threaten the police, evaporated instantly. The sight made your head spin, nausea curling unpleasantly in your gut. Your fingers tightened against the windowsill as you swallowed hard.

“Idiot” you muttered, more to yourself than him.

Before he could even lift his head to speak, you were already reaching for the medicine box on your bedside, movements rushed and clumsy.

“Give me your hand” you said sharply, the urgency in your voice cutting through the night.

He blinked, genuinely confused, as if the pain hadn’t registered until you acknowledged it. Taehyung looked down at his hand again, as if seeing the blood for the first time through your reaction rather than his own. The cut was shallow, barely more than a thin gash where an unruly branch had caught him but the blood kept seeping, bright and unmistakable against his skin. It slid along the lines of his palm, dripping once onto the stone path below.

The sound made your vision tilt. Your breath came out wrong and you had to brace your elbow against the window frame to steady yourself. The night felt suddenly too close, too thick. You hated this about yourself. Blood did this to you every time, turned your stomach traitorous and your limbs unreliable.

“Don’t just stand there” you snapped, even as your voice wavered. “Come closer.”

He obeyed instantly.

Taehyung stepped into the faint spill of light from your window, close enough now that you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers flexed once like he was debating something. His jacket hung open, dark leather creasing where he’d bent and there was something about the way he stood, completely still as if any movement might scare you away and cause you to shut the window on his face, that made it feel like the world had narrowed to just the two of you and the thin space between your window and the ground.

“You’re bleeding” you said unnecessarily, fumbling with the latch. Your hands shook as you pushed the window open wider, the wood creaking loudly in the quiet. The sound echoed and for a brief, irrational second, you panicked about waking your parents. But Taehyung didn’t even glance toward the house. His eyes never left you. His feline eyes, so contrasting in their coy shape and the all consuming, trusting look that currently resided in those dark orbs.

“Looks worse than it is” he said lightly, though his voice sounded rough around the edges like he hadn’t used it much today.

The night air rushed in as he stepped closer, close enough now that you could reach him without leaning dangerously out. The smell of him hit you: cold air, leather, something faintly metallic. You swallowed hard and held out the medicine box.

“Hand” you repeated, firmer this time.

He hesitated, then let out a soft, surprised laugh. “Maybe take me out to dinner first, madam.”

Normally, that would’ve flustered you. Tonight, it only irritated you.

You shot him a look sharp enough to cut. “Taehyung.”

Something shifted in his expression at the way you said his name. The teasing drained away, replaced by something quieter. He lifted his hand slowly, palm open, offering it to you like a fragile thing.

Up close, the blood looked worse. Your head swam again but you forced yourself to focus, fingers moving on instinct as you pulled out cotton and antiseptic. You pressed the cotton to his palm a little too abruptly, your touch rougher than intended.

He sucked in a breath and shivered. You couldn’t believe you were treating the wound of a man who had been, just now, stalking your house like some killer in the night.

“Hey” he murmured, eyes flicking up to your face. “Easy.”

“I’m fine” you lied, concentrating fiercely on the task. “You’re the one who decided to jump fences like some-some idiot.”

Your fingers brushed his skin as you cleaned the cut and the contact sent a strange jolt through you. His hand was warm, solid, far too steady compared to yours. You wrapped the small bandage around his palm, movements brisk, almost scolding.

He watched you the entire time. Not the wound. Not the bandage. You.

There was an intensity to his gaze that made your skin prickle, even as he stood there quietly, letting you tend to him. Like this moment- your hands on his, your focus drawn tight and careful- was something he wanted to preserve.

When you finished, you tied the bandage with a little more force than necessary and finally released his hand, relief washing through you now that the blood was gone.

“There” you said, exhaling. “Don’t be dramatic about it.”

But when you looked up, the way he was looking at you made your chest tighten. Almost awed.

You wiped your fingers against the edge of the medicine box, as if the act could also scrub away the unease curling in your chest. With the bleeding dealt with, the reality of him being here settled back in, heavier now that the distraction was gone.

“So,” you said, folding your arms over the sill, trying to reclaim some distance. “What are you doing outside my house, Taehyung?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked around at the quiet street, the sleeping houses, the shadows pooling beneath trees before his gaze returned to you. There was something restless in it like he hadn’t quite decided which version of himself to present.

“I couldn’t sleep” he said finally. “So I came here.”

Your mouth twisted. “That’s not an answer.”

His shoulders lifted in a small, careless shrug but his fingers tightened around the bandage you’d just wrapped. “I was restless,” he repeated. “Being near you helps.”

You stared at him like he’d just admitted to something deeply embarrassing.

“That’s-” You cut yourself off, letting out a sharp breath. “That’s not normal. Do you hear yourself?”

His jaw flexed but he didn’t interrupt.

“You can’t just sit outside someone’s house in the middle of the night,” you continued, frustration bleeding through your words. “Do you know how that looks? It’s harassment. It’s a violation of my privacy.”

The word ‘violation’ landed between you like a slap.

For the first time since he’d looked up at your window, Taehyung went very still.

The faint smile he’d been wearing faded, his gaze dropping to the ground as if he were genuinely considering it. The night hummed around you, distant and indifferent.

Then he looked up again.

“Tell me something” he said quietly. “How far away do I need to be for you to not call it an invasion?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“How many miles?” he pressed, head tilting slightly. “A street away? A neighborhood? Another city?” His voice wasn’t mocking. It was earnest in a way that made your chest ache despite yourself. “Because if I don’t come to you, I don’t see you at all.”

You felt irritation spark, sharp and defensive. “That’s not my problem.”

He let out a short breath, almost a laugh. “Isn’t it?” His eyes searched your face. “You disappeared for a week. Wouldn’t come to college. Wouldn’t answer me. What was I supposed to do- hope you’d remember I exist?”

“That was my choice,” you shot back. “And it was justified.”

He watched you closely, something dark flickering beneath the surface. “Was it?”

“Yes,” you said immediately, heat rushing to your face. “I don’t owe you access to me just because you want it.”

The silence that followed was thick, charged.

You could see him swallowing, his throat working like he was holding something back. His posture was still deceptively relaxed but there was tension coiled through him now, a restrained edge that made your pulse quicken despite your resolve.

You tightened your grip on the window frame, suddenly very aware of how close he still was, how easily his hand could reach yours again if he wanted. Before you could close the window on his face, his hand fell on the sharp window sill, dislodging much of the bandage.

You reached for his hand again and as you did, his hand caught yours in a strong grip, fingers curling stubbornly.

“It’s fine,” he said. “It’s nothing.”

You felt irritation spike, sharp and immediate. “Don’t.”

Your grip tightened before you quite realized you were doing it, tugging his hand back toward you with more force than necessary. The movement sent a faint jolt up your arm, his skin warm against your palm, the bandage rough beneath your fingers.

“I said it’s fine” he repeated, but there was no real conviction behind it this time.

“You dislodged the bandage” you snapped, already leaning forward as much as your leg allowed. The motion pulled uncomfortably at your body but the sight of red seeping through the cotton made your stomach churn. “And I told you, I don’t like blood.”

He stilled at that. Something in your voice must have cut through him because he let you take control without another word. His hand stayed where you held it, palm open now, pliant. You worked more roughly than you meant to, fingers clumsy with urgency as you reinforced the bandage, wrapped it tighter, made sure the bleeding had stopped.

His other hand hovered near your wrist, not touching, like he was afraid that if he moved too suddenly you’d disappear. His gaze followed every motion you made- your fingers, your concentration, the small crease between your brows.

“You don’t have to” he murmured.

“I do,” you said, not looking up. “If you won’t take care of yourself, someone has to.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. You had said them your entire childhood, whenever Sam would scrape her knee after falling down and you would run after her to put some band aid on the wound. You wondered why, at this time, this instinct had resurfaced.

When you finally glanced up, you caught him staring at you with an expression that made your chest tighten painfully. His eyes were soft, dark lashes lowered, mouth parted just slightly as if he were on the verge of saying something dangerous.

He didn’t move. Just kept looking at you like you were something fragile he’d been trusted with and had no idea how to deserve.

When you finished tying off the bandage and tried to pull your hand away, his fingers closed around yours suddenly.

“Let go” you hissed, startled.

He didn’t. Instead, he stepped closer, close enough that you could feel his body heat, the solid presence of him crowding your space. His thumb brushed lightly against your knuckles, intimate enough to make your breath hitch.

“What would it take?” he asked.

You looked up, meeting his gaze, and nearly forgot how to breathe.

“To show you that I’m serious” he continued, voice low, intense. “That I’m not lying. That I can be good to you.”

The way he said it like a vow, like a plea sent a shiver through you that had nothing to do with fear.

You searched his face, seeing past the reputation, the rumors, the menace everyone whispered about. What you found instead was raw want, barely contained, coiled tight beneath his skin. You had the strange feeling of seeing a feral stray animal, begging to be let in after being fed scraps two days in a row. Pity stirred in your chest, unwelcome and heavy.

You squeezed his hand once, gently.

The reaction was immediate. His breath stuttered, shoulders going rigid as if the simple contact had shocked him.

“It’s late” you said softly. “Go home. Sleep.”

His grip loosened, though he didn’t let go right away. “And then?”

“We’ll talk,” you promised, even as part of you screamed that you shouldn’t. “When I’m back at college.”

He studied your face, searching for something- hope, maybe, or permission. Finally, he released you.

As he backed away toward the fence, you called out, “But only if you promise not to lurk outside my house like a ghost.”

He turned, the moonlight catching his expression: boyish, adoring, dangerously pleased.

“No promises” he said lightly.

You're Y/N, a name that dominates the city. Everyone in the business world knows you, fears you, and respects you. But you weren't born into this wealth. You built this multi billion dollar empire entirely from the ground up, scratching and clawing your way out of total poverty.

You spent your teenage years completely sacrificing your youth, working grueling twenty hour days as a broke freelance writer. That hustle eventually got you noticed, leading to a corporate job where you learned to outsmart everyone in the boardroom. Finally, you took a massive gamble and launched your own company as an entrepreneur. Today, you are one of the richest and most powerful businesswomen in the country.

Yet, you didn't do any of this for fame or greed. You did it all for Rachel.

Rachel your younger sister, and she is autistic. Because your parents left the picture long ago, she has only ever had you, and you have only ever cared about her. Rachel is your absolute everything, your heart, your soul, and the sole reason you built a giant financial fortress.

But this heavy crown has made you incredibly cold, and isolated. You don’t trust anyone, you don’t date, and you don’t let anyone close to your private life.

The car pulls up to the curb, and your driver steps out to open the door. You look out the window and see the small, quiet café you visit every single day around this time, the only place where you can briefly step away from the stress of the corporate world.

You pushed open the glass door, the familiar ring of the small bell cutting through the quiet café. As soon as you sat down at your usual corner table, Jungkook saw you. He didn't rush over anxiously like your assistants do, nor did he put on a fake, polite smile. He casually picked up a cup of black coffee exactly how you liked it, and walked over, setting it down in front of you.

Before you could even say thank you, his sharp eyes dropped to your wrist. You were wearing a massive, luxury watch that cost more than most people make in a year.

"The watch looks too bold," Jungkook said, his deep voice completely relaxed as he leaned slightly against the edge of your table. "Honestly, it doesn't suit you at all."

You immediately glared up at him, your eyes narrowing. No one dared to criticize your choices. But Jungkook didn't flinch. Instead, he let out a low, teasing purr.

"True though," he added carelessly. He turned on his heel and walked right back behind the counter to wipe down the espresso machine.

You sat there, staring at his back, your heart doing a strange, unfamiliar flutter. In your everyday life, everyone was terrified of you. Your employees, your business rivals, and even your house staff talked to you systematically, calculating every single word so they wouldn't anger you.

Jungkook was the exact opposite. He was just a guy working a part time job here, yet he always corrected you, talked to you freely, and said whatever he felt with absolutely no filters. And somehow, you secretly loved that.

A small, breathless smile tugged at your lips. Looking down at your wrist, you unclasped the watch. Without a second thought, you slipped it off and dropped it deep into your bag, completely proving him right.

You finished eating, the sweet taste still lingering on your tongue. Standing up, you pulled bill from your wallet and dropped it on the table.

"Keep the change," you said, adjusting your blazer. Jungkook looked at the money, then looked up at you with that same confident smirk. Without a word, he picked up the bill, walked right up to you, and grabbed your hand. He pressed the money back into your palm.

"I don't need your charity," he murmured directly, looking you dead in the eye. "Pay the exact amount next time."

You were completely speechless. You quickly turned around and walked out of the café, your heart hammering against your ribs as you climbed into the backseat of your limousine.

Later that night, the moment you stepped into your high security mansion. You took off your high heels, let your hair down, and walked down the quiet hallway toward the sunroom.

You gently pushed the glass door open. Rachel was sitting on a soft beanbag chair surrounded by her favorite sensory lights, her long hair falling over her shoulders. At twenty two, she had grown into a beautiful young woman, possessing the same sharp family features as you, but her eyes held a pure, untamed innocence that the cruel business world had never been able to touch.

You walked over silently, making sure not to disrupt her rhythm, and sat cross legged on the floor right beside her. Rachel didn't look up immediately, she rarely did when she was focusing but she instantly recognized your scent. Without stopping her sorting, she reached out her left hand, blindly reaching into the space beside her until her fingers found yours.

She hooked her pinky finger tightly around your pinky, a secret code the two of you had shared since you were children. It was her unique way of saying, I know you're here, and I feel safe.

You squeezed her finge back, a lump forming in your throat. You loved her so much it physically ached in your chest. She is your heart, your soul, your absolute weakness, and the sole reason you became a ruthless billionaire.

"Look," Rachel suddenly murmured, her voice soft and melodic. She picked up a sapphire stone and held it up to the light, turning her face to look at you with a bright smile. "It looks like the sky when the rain stops."

Your eyes filled with tears of pure affection. You leaned in and gently pressed your forehead against hers, rocking her slightly. "It's beautiful, Rae. Just like you."

For the next hour, you sat on the floor, helping her sort the stones, letting her soft hums wash away all your stress. Rachel let out a tiny, sudden cough, her shoulders shaking just a little bit. The moment that small sound cut through the quiet room, you completely lost your mind. Your calmness vanished instantly, replaced by absolute panic. Your face turned pale, and your heart started hammering against your ribs like crazy.

"Rachel! Baby, what happened?" you gasped out, your voice shaking as you grabbed her shoulders and looked into her face. "Are you sick? Does your throat hurt? Oh my god, let me call the doctor right now. I'll get the best specialist in the city here in ten minutes."

Rachel blinked at you, completely confused by your sudden outburst. She just shrugged her shoulders and went right back to sorting her blue glass stones, totally unfazed. But you couldn't calm down. The protective wall you built around her was so tight that even a single cough felt like a massive threat. You stood up, your breathing heavy as anger took over your panic.

"I am going to scold the nanny and the housemaids!" you snapped, pacing around the room angrily. "What do I pay them for? They are supposed to keep this entire mansion temperature controlled! If they let you catch a cold, I am firing every single one of them tonight!"

Seeing you spin out of control, Rachel reached out and gently tugged the edge of your pants. She didn't like loud noises or chaos. You instantly stopped pacing, took a deep breath, and knelt back down beside her, forcing yourself to calm down so you wouldn't scare your precious sister. You kissed her forehead, checking her temperature with your lips, your heart still racing because she was your ultimate, fragile weakness.

The next morning, you woke up with Rachel’s head resting gently against your chest. As you softly stroked her hair, Rachel blinked her eyes open, yawning sleepily. She snuggled closer into your embrace and looked up at you with a small, knowing smile.

"You know, Sis," Rachel murmured, her voice filled with lazy morning comfort. "I have been drinking a lot of coffee nowadays. But the housemaids here just don't make a good one. It doesn't taste like the one you bring home."

Your heart did a sudden, chaotic flip. You knew exactly why your coffee phase had started it was all because of that stubborn, handsome boy at the café.

"I'll fire them all," you said instantly, as you hugged her tighter. "If they can't even make a decent cup of coffee for my sister, I will hire a whole new kitchen staff by this afternoon."

Rachel let out a giggle, rolling her eyes in that cute, dramatic way she always did. "Ooo hoo! There you go again, firing everyone." She poked your cheek gently with her finger. "Maybe you just need to bring the actual coffee maker to the house instead."

Her innocent words sparked a brilliant idea in your mind. If the mansion lacked good coffee, and your lonely life lacked real company, why not just hire the source? You could bring Jungkook out of that simple café and place him right inside your empire.

The next afternoon, you pushed open the door of the café. As soon as you sat at your usual corner table, Jungkook walked over with your black coffee. He didn't smile, but his sharp eyes scanned your face carefully.

"You didn't come yesterday," he said, his voice carrying a slight edge, as if he had actually missed your daily arguments.

"I had some work," you replied smoothly, trying to look completely professional. You took a slow sip of the coffee, then looked him dead in the eye. "Jungkook, how much do they pay you here?"

Jungkook frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at you with total suspicion and didn't say a word at first. He hated when people brought money into things. "Just tell me," you insisted, leaning forward. "I'm asking for a reason." QHe let out a dry chuckle and finally named his small hourly wage.

You didn't even blink. "I will pay you triple that amount. No, you know what? I will pay you five times more than what you earn here. All you have to do is come live at my mansion, cook, and make coffee for me and my sister."

Jungkook’s expression instantly turned cold. His smirk vanished, and his eyes filled with absolute pride. He shook his head. "No, I told you before, I don't need your charity. You think because you have billions you can just buy people and bring them into your house like property? Find someone else to control."

"It's not about control!" you gasped out, You stood up, your voice shaking with genuine emotion as you looked at him desperately. "It’s for my sister. Please, Jungkook. She’s... she’s very particular, and she loves your coffee. I just want her to have the best. Please do this for her."

Jungkook froze. He stared at you for a long, silent moment. He let out a low, defeated sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Fine," Jungkook muttered, looking away to hide the small, curious smile tugging at his lips. "Five times the amount is ridiculous, but I'll do it for your sister. I'll move into the mansion on Monday."

Four months passed by like a beautiful dream. Having Jungkook in the mansion changed your entire life. You and him became close, no, super close. He didn't just look after the house; he became a true friend to Rachel. He learned exactly how she liked her glass stones sorted and never got annoyed by her quiet routines. Because of him, your big, lonely mansion finally felt like a real home. Your cold, icy aura broke completely every single time he was near you, and your assistants noticed you were smiling way more nowadays.

One evening, you walked through the front doors completely exhausted after a brutal, stressful day at the office. Your head was throbbing, and your shoulders felt incredibly heavy. Guided by the delicious smell of warm food, you walked straight past the living room and into the large kitchen.

Jungkook was standing by the stove, humming softly to himself while cooking dinner. A soft smile took over your tired face. You walked up silently behind him, wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, and buried your face into his broad back. You pressed a warm, lingering kiss right against his shirt, leaning all your weight into him.

Jungkook let out a low, happy chuckle. He immediately turned around in your embrace, his powerful arms wrapping under your thighs. Before you could even gasp, he easily picked you up and lifted you onto the kitchen counter. He stepped in close, locking himself between your knees, his dark eyes looking up at you with pure affection.

He leaned in and captured your lips in a loving kiss that instantly melted away all your exhaustion. His hands rested on your waist, his thumbs gently rubbing your skin through your clothes. He gently suck them not rushing to put his tongue in , but you open your mouth slightly ask him to put it inside, and he did, your tongue collides you let out your lazy moans.

When he finally pulled back to let you breathe, you leaned your forehead against his shoulder, pouting like a little girl.

"Everyone was so annoying today," you complained, whining shamelessly. "My board members keep arguing about the new budget, my secretary messed up my schedule twice, and the investors are being completely unreasonable. I swear, if I didn't have to pay for Rachel's elite care, I would have fired everyone and burned the corporate building down today."

Jungkook let out a rough laugh, his fingers gently tracing the back of your neck to soothe your tension. "There you go again, wanting to fire the whole world," he teased softly, "But you're home now. Forget about them. Let me take care of you tonight."

You smiled, "What did you make for dinner?" you asked softly, smelling the delicious aroma coming from the pots. Jungkook’s smirk softened into a warm, genuine smile. "Rachel's favorite," he murmured, "Creamy pasta with garlic bread. I made sure to cut the vegetables exactly the way she likes them so the texture is perfect."

Your heart melted completely at how much care he put into your sister's happiness. You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him close to give him a tight hug, and pressed a sweet, loving peck right onto his cheek. "You are amazing, you know that?" you whispered against his skin.

Jungkook chuckled, his hands squeezing your waist one last time before he gently lowered you off the kitchen counter back onto your feet. "Go take a shower and get out of that tight suit," he said, swatting your ass playfully as you stepped down. He looked at you with pure affection in his dark eyes. "Change into something comfortable. We will all eat together as soon as you're ready."

The sky didn't just rain that evening, it completely broke open. You were trapped in the backseat of your limousine, staring out at the heavy thunder. Your heart was pounding wildly, not because of the storm, but because you knew exactly what this weather meant for your home. Rachel had a phobia of thunder. For her mind, the sudden, deafening crashes weren't just loud noises, they were terrifying, physically painful assaults on her senses that threw her into extreme, dangerous panic attacks.

Usually, you were right there to lock her in your arms, put on her noise canceling headphones, and rock her until it passed. But tonight, you were miles away.

Suddenly, your phone screamed with a ringtone. The screen flashed Rachel’s name. You answered it on the very first second, pressing the phone hard against your ear.

"Rachel? Rachel, baby, I'm here! I'm right here on the phone!"

The sound that came through the speaker instantly shattered your heart into a million pieces. Rachel was crying hysterically, her breathing fast and shallow.

"Y/N... the sky is breaking," Rachel sobbed, her voice sounding like a terrified little girl. Another massive boom of thunder roared, and Rachel let out a blood curdling scream that made you flinch. "It's too loud! The lights are blinking! please make it stop! The monsters are hitting the windows! Please come home, please, please!"

Tears flooded your eyes, blurring your vision as you looked at the cars outside. You felt completely helpless, trapped in a gold cage while your entire world was burning.

"I'm coming, baby! I'm on my way, I swear!" you cried out, tears streaming down your face as you tried desperately to keep your voice sounding steady and comforting. You hated letting her hear you cry.

"Listen to my voice, Rae. Just listen to sister. Inhale... exhale. Remember the blue glass stones? Think about the smooth stones, baby. Cover your ears and close your eyes. I'm right here with you."

"No! No stones! The house is shaking." Rachel shrieked, coughing violently as her panic attack tightened her chest. The way she was talking to you, gasping for air, begging you to save her from the sky was the most painful thing you had ever experienced. It made you sob uncontrollably, your hand gripping your seat so hard your knuckles turned white.

"It's too dark... I can't breathe, sister. Where are you? Why aren't you here? Please, the loud noise is inside my head—"

"Rachel, listen to me! Is Jungkook there? Where is Jungkook?" you yelled over your own tears, praying to God that he was with her.

"Ju-Jungkook..." Rachel choked out, her voice trembling so badly you could barely understand her. "He... he went to check the power... it's a big flash! It's coming again—"

The line went dead. The screen on your phone snapped back to the lock screen, displaying the words: Call Disconnected.

"Rachel? Rachel!" you screamed into the phone, your voice breaking completely. You frantically redialed the number, but a mechanical voice instantly answered: "The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable." The storm must have knocked out the cell towers near the mansion.

Your limousine screeched to a halt in the driveway, and you didn't even wait for the driver to open the door. You burst out into the pouring rain, running blindly throwing the front doors open. Your breath was stuck in your throat, your heart hammering.

You threw her door open, your eyes wide with pure panic, prepared for the absolute worst. But the terrifying scene you expected wasn't there.

In the center of the bed sat Jungkook, his large frame completely enveloping your sister. He had his powerful arms wrapped securely around Rachel, holding her tight against his chest in a protective hold. Her noise canceling headphones were placed gently over her ears.

Jungkook was slowly, rhythmically rocking her back and forth. His lips were moving right against her hair, whispering soothing, quiet words that you couldn't hear, but you could see the profound effect they had.

Looking at this beautiful, deeply intimate scene from the doorway, the crushing weight in your chest instantly vanished. Your legs went completely weak from the sudden emotional overload. You literally collapsed onto the floor, as a massive sob of pure relief escaped your lips.

Rachel turned her head. When her eyes landed on you, her face lit up. She quickly slid out of Jungkook’s arms and crawled across the bed, lowering herself onto the floor right next to you.

"Y/N" Rachel murmured softly, throwing her arms around your neck.

You wrapped your arms around her like a mad woman, pulling her so tight into your lap that there was absolutely no space left between you. You lost all your control, sobbing as you showered her face, her hair, her forehead, and her cheeks with desperate, loving kisses. You held her head, checking her over and over again.

Jungkook slowly stepped off the bed and walked over, looking down at the two of you with a quiet, unreadable expression.

After a while, Rachel’s breathing became slow and steady. Together, you and Jungkook gently tucked her into her blankets. You adjusted her pillows and kissed her temple one last time before stepping out of the room. The moment the door clicked shut, the adrenaline completely left your body. You staggered slightly, your head spinning from the sheer exhaustion of the night.

Before your knees could buckle again, Jungkook moved. He slid his powerful arms under your knees and back, effortlessly scooping you up into his chest like a tired kid. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder as he carried you down the quiet hallway and into your master bedroom.

He laid you down gently on the center of your bed. The room was dark, lit only by the distant flashes of lightning outside. Jungkook didn't say a single word. He sat on the edge of the mattress and leaned over you.

With incredibly gentle fingers, he reached up to your ears, carefully untwisting your diamond studs. He unclasped the delicate gold necklace from around your neck, placing the minimal jewelry safely on the nightstand. Then, his hands moved to the buttons of your blazer. He slowly slid the heavy suit jacket off your arms, followed by your tailored trousers, leaving you resting on the sheets in just your silk lingerie.

You shivered slightly from the cool air, but Jungkook immediately leaned down, covering your body with his own warmth. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs softly wiping away the dried tear tracks on your cheeks.

He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss on your left cheek, then your right, before moving up to press a long, deep kiss against your forehead.

"You're okay, darling," he whispered huskily against your skin, his deep voice carrying a comforting rhythm. "Rachel is safe. You're home now. I've got you."

He began to baby you completely, holding you close, stroking your back, and whispering sweet things into the dark. Tonight, for the first time in your lonely life, he was letting you just be small. He was letting you surrender all that heavy weight into his arms.

You clutched his shirt tightly, your eyes closing as a warm, safe feeling washed over your entire soul. You both lean and kissed intimately slowly.

The next evening, You were sitting on the edge of the bed, gently running a wooden comb through Rachel’s long, soft hair. Rachel was sitting on the floor in front of you, humming a sweet, happy melody while playing with a smooth emerald glass stone. Suddenly, Rachel stopped humming. She tilted her head back, looking up at you with a mischievous, wide grin.

"You like that guy, don't you, Sis?" Rachel asked out of nowhere, her voice full of playful excitement. Your hand froze mid stroke, the comb stopping right in her hair. Your heart skipped a beat, and a sudden wave of heat rushed straight to your face. You tried desperately to pull your cold, unbothered businesswoman persona back on, shaking your head.

"Rachel, no," you said quickly, your voice a little too high as you resumed combing her hair, trying to act completely normal. "It’s not like that at all. Jungkook is just working here. He’s an employee."

Rachel let out a loud giggle, rocking back and forth on the floor. "Ooo hoo! Lies!" She turned her whole body around to look you dead in the eye, her smile widening. "I saw you both kissing in the kitchen the other day. And last night..."

Rachel leaned in closer, whispering teasingly, "from your bedroom, I heard voices like... ah, Jungkook, please..."

Your eyes went completely wide in absolute shock. Your entire face burned a deep, "Rachel! Shut up!" you scolded her loudly, your voice cracking as you quickly covered her mouth with your hand, your heart beating fast.

"Oh my god, stop saying such shameless things! You are absolutely not allowed to listen to things like that, do you hear me? You need to keep your ears shut!" Rachel just bit her lip to stop herself from laughing then she hug you.

"I really like Jungkook, Sis," Rachel whispered against your chest, "You know why? Because he makes you smile just like you used to. Before you became so busy and sad."

Hearing those words from your sister made the last of your defenses crumble. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You hugged her back, burying your face in her hair.

"I love him, Rae," you confessed softly, press a loving kiss onto her cheek. "Last night, when I was stuck in that traffic and the storm was so bad... I was terrified. But when I came home and saw how he took care of you, how he held you and made you feel safe... that’s when I realized it. It’s love."

Rachel looked up at you, her eyes wide as she processed your words. A tiny pout formed on her lips, and she tilted her head. "Do you love him more than me?"

"No! Never," you said instantly, you cupped her face in your hands. "I can never love anyone more than you, Rachel. You are my whole world. I built everything for you, and no one will ever take your place. Not even him."

It was well past midnight. You and Jungkook were sitting on the plush lounger in the master bedroom balcony, wrapped together under a thick blanket.

You were leaning against his broad chest, your eyes closed as you felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His arms were locked around your waist, his chin resting softly on top of your head. Jungkook began tracing lazy, slow circles on your bare arm. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his voice dropping to a casual, low murmur.

"Hey, darling?" he whispered. "Hmm?" you answered sleepily, snuggling deeper into his chest.

"I was just thinking about how incredible you are," he said softly, his fingers shifting to intertwine with yours. "You built this entire massive empire from nothing. But it must be exhausting. Tell me... what is your one absolute weakness in your business? Like, if that one specific thing stops or breaks, your entire company will just collapse?"

The question was highly confidential. In the ruthless corporate world, revealing a detail like that was like handing an enemy a loaded gun. If any of your business rivals were asking this, your cold, guarded instincts would have shut them down instantly. But this wasn't a rival. This was Jungkook. The man who made you smile again, the man who protected your sister.

You let out a soft, tired chuckle, tightening your grip on his hand. "My business doesn't have a weak point, Jungkook," you whispered confidently.

"My logistics are perfect, my funds are secure. But if you're asking about my life... my only true weakness is Rachel. If anything ever happens to Rachel, or if someone takes her away from me, my entire world will stop," you confessed emotionally, your voice cracking slightly. "I wouldn't care about the billions, the empire, or the company anymore. I would completely collapse. She is my heart, Jungkook. She is the only weak point I have."

Jungkook froze for a split second. The steady rhythm of his fingers on your arm stopped completely. You didn't notice the sudden, chilling coldness that washed over his face, or the way his dark eyes turned completely sharp and predatory. He quickly forced a soft smile back onto his lips, leaning down to press a deep, lingering kiss to your forehead to hide his expression.

"I see," Jungkook murmured smoothly, pulled you tightly back against his chest. "Rachel is your everything. I'll make sure to remember that, darling."

Two months passed, lately, your health had been taking a turn for the worse. You found yourself constantly exhausted, your limbs felt heavy, and you were hit with sudden waves of morning sickness that left you completely drained before you even made it to the office.

One evening, the fatigue was so intense that you couldn't even sit up. You lay stretched out on the master bed. Jungkook sat at the edge of the mattress, his hands gently massaging your aching legs to ease the tension. He was quiet, his sharp eyes watching your pale face with a calculating, deep focus.

He stopped his hands for a moment, sliding them up to rest on your knee. He let out a low, serious sigh.

"Sweetheart," Jungkook murmured, "Your health has been completely off lately. Look at the symptoms... the nausea, the exhaustion, the way your body is holding fluid. It’s weird. It’s like... well, I don't know for sure, but can you please do a pregnancy test?"

Jungkook’s chest tightened as the words left his mouth. Inside his head, his thoughts were racing. He fully expected you to flip out. He thought you would get angry, shout at him for being reckless.

But your response completely caught him off guard. You didn't shout. You didn't get angry. Instead, tears instantly flooded your eyes, blurring your vision as you looked at his handsome face. With the last bit of your strength, you pulled yourself up and threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. You clung to him tightly, your heart hammering against his chest.

"Baby," you sobbed out softly, your voice cracking with an overwhelming amount of raw emotion. "If it's true... promise me you will never leave me. I know you won't, I know you love us, but still... please promise me. I love you so much, Jungkook. I've loved you for a very long time, and I will be the absolute happiest woman alive if I am carrying your baby."

Jungkook froze entirely in your embrace. His arms slowly came up to wrap around your waist, but his face went completely blank, he tightened his arms around you, burying his face in your hair.

"I love you, Y/N" he whispered huskily, his grip almost crushing you. "I love you a lot more than my own life. Don't ever doubt that." You smiled through your tears, completely comforted by his words.

A few minutes later, you walked into the bathroom with a test in your hand, your fingers trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. Jungkook waited right outside the door, pacing the floor. When you finally stepped out, holding the little stick out to him, the screen clearly displayed a bold, permanent symbol: Positive.

The realization hit you both like a massive wave. You burst into tears of pure happiness, and Jungkook immediately grabbed you, lifting you off your feet. He kissed you over and over again fierce, passionate smooches that tasted like tears. You both cried in each other's arms, completely locked in a world of love and excitement.

"I'm going to go tell Rachel first," you breathed, a happy smile breaking across your face as you wiped your cheeks. "She’s going to be so excited to be an aunt."

Jungkook smiled softly and nodded his head. "Go ahead, darling. I'll clean up here."

You turned and practically floated out of the bedroom, heading down the hallway to find your sister. The moment the bedroom door clicked shut behind you, the warm, loving atmosphere in the room instantly vanished.

Jungkook's smile dropped completely. His face went dead silent and chillingly blank. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His fingers trembled slightly as he quickly wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks.

He dialed a private number. The line ringed once, and a deep, cold, authoritative voice answered from the other end. It was Mr. Jeon the multi billionaire head of Jeon Enterprises, your fiercest, most dangerous business rival, and the man who had been trying to destroy your empire for years.

Jungkook swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a low, cold rasp that sounded nothing like the sweet boyfriend who had just been babying you.

"Dad, it's done," Jungkook whispered "She just took the test. It's positive. She's pregnant now. She loves me deeply, Dad... I can see it in her eyes. She trusts me with everything."

On the other end of the phone, a dark chuckle echoed through the speaker. Mr. Jeon sounded incredibly proud of his son.

"Brilliant work, Jungkook," his father praised him ruthlessly. "You have completely dismantled her defenses. She thinks she built an unshakeable fortress, but she just handed us her fatal flaw. Now that she is carrying a Jeon heir and completely blind, we have both her and Rachel right where we want them. Prepare for the final phase. We are going to take everything from her."

Jungkook closed his eyes as his father hung up the phone. He stood alone in the dark bedroom, the weight of his massive vendetta finally ready to crush the woman who loved him more than life itself.

You're Y/N, a name that dominates the city. Everyone in the business world knows you, fears you, and respects you. But you weren't born into this wealth. You built this multi billion dollar empire entirely from the ground up, scratching and clawing your way out of total poverty.

You spent your teenage years completely sacrificing your youth, working grueling twenty hour days as a broke freelance writer. That hustle eventually got you noticed, leading to a corporate job where you learned to outsmart everyone in the boardroom. Finally, you took a massive gamble and launched your own company as an entrepreneur. Today, you are one of the richest and most powerful businesswomen in the country.

Yet, you didn't do any of this for fame or greed. You did it all for Rachel.

Rachel your younger sister, and she is autistic. Because your parents left the picture long ago, she has only ever had you, and you have only ever cared about her. Rachel is your absolute everything, your heart, your soul, and the sole reason you built a giant financial fortress.

But this heavy crown has made you incredibly cold, and isolated. You don’t trust anyone, you don’t date, and you don’t let anyone close to your private life.

The car pulls up to the curb, and your driver steps out to open the door. You look out the window and see the small, quiet café you visit every single day around this time, the only place where you can briefly step away from the stress of the corporate world.

You pushed open the glass door, the familiar ring of the small bell cutting through the quiet café. As soon as you sat down at your usual corner table, Jungkook saw you. He didn't rush over anxiously like your assistants do, nor did he put on a fake, polite smile. He casually picked up a cup of black coffee exactly how you liked it, and walked over, setting it down in front of you.

Before you could even say thank you, his sharp eyes dropped to your wrist. You were wearing a massive, luxury watch that cost more than most people make in a year.

"The watch looks too bold," Jungkook said, his deep voice completely relaxed as he leaned slightly against the edge of your table. "Honestly, it doesn't suit you at all."

You immediately glared up at him, your eyes narrowing. No one dared to criticize your choices. But Jungkook didn't flinch. Instead, he let out a low, teasing purr.

"True though," he added carelessly. He turned on his heel and walked right back behind the counter to wipe down the espresso machine.

You sat there, staring at his back, your heart doing a strange, unfamiliar flutter. In your everyday life, everyone was terrified of you. Your employees, your business rivals, and even your house staff talked to you systematically, calculating every single word so they wouldn't anger you.

Jungkook was the exact opposite. He was just a guy working a part time job here, yet he always corrected you, talked to you freely, and said whatever he felt with absolutely no filters. And somehow, you secretly loved that.

A small, breathless smile tugged at your lips. Looking down at your wrist, you unclasped the watch. Without a second thought, you slipped it off and dropped it deep into your bag, completely proving him right.

You finished eating, the sweet taste still lingering on your tongue. Standing up, you pulled bill from your wallet and dropped it on the table.

"Keep the change," you said, adjusting your blazer. Jungkook looked at the money, then looked up at you with that same confident smirk. Without a word, he picked up the bill, walked right up to you, and grabbed your hand. He pressed the money back into your palm.

"I don't need your charity," he murmured directly, looking you dead in the eye. "Pay the exact amount next time."

You were completely speechless. You quickly turned around and walked out of the café, your heart hammering against your ribs as you climbed into the backseat of your limousine.

Later that night, the moment you stepped into your high security mansion. You took off your high heels, let your hair down, and walked down the quiet hallway toward the sunroom.

You gently pushed the glass door open. Rachel was sitting on a soft beanbag chair surrounded by her favorite sensory lights, her long hair falling over her shoulders. At twenty two, she had grown into a beautiful young woman, possessing the same sharp family features as you, but her eyes held a pure, untamed innocence that the cruel business world had never been able to touch.

You walked over silently, making sure not to disrupt her rhythm, and sat cross legged on the floor right beside her. Rachel didn't look up immediately, she rarely did when she was focusing but she instantly recognized your scent. Without stopping her sorting, she reached out her left hand, blindly reaching into the space beside her until her fingers found yours.

She hooked her pinky finger tightly around your pinky, a secret code the two of you had shared since you were children. It was her unique way of saying, I know you're here, and I feel safe.

You squeezed her finge back, a lump forming in your throat. You loved her so much it physically ached in your chest. She is your heart, your soul, your absolute weakness, and the sole reason you became a ruthless billionaire.

"Look," Rachel suddenly murmured, her voice soft and melodic. She picked up a sapphire stone and held it up to the light, turning her face to look at you with a bright smile. "It looks like the sky when the rain stops."

Your eyes filled with tears of pure affection. You leaned in and gently pressed your forehead against hers, rocking her slightly. "It's beautiful, Rae. Just like you."

For the next hour, you sat on the floor, helping her sort the stones, letting her soft hums wash away all your stress. Rachel let out a tiny, sudden cough, her shoulders shaking just a little bit. The moment that small sound cut through the quiet room, you completely lost your mind. Your calmness vanished instantly, replaced by absolute panic. Your face turned pale, and your heart started hammering against your ribs like crazy.

"Rachel! Baby, what happened?" you gasped out, your voice shaking as you grabbed her shoulders and looked into her face. "Are you sick? Does your throat hurt? Oh my god, let me call the doctor right now. I'll get the best specialist in the city here in ten minutes."

Rachel blinked at you, completely confused by your sudden outburst. She just shrugged her shoulders and went right back to sorting her blue glass stones, totally unfazed. But you couldn't calm down. The protective wall you built around her was so tight that even a single cough felt like a massive threat. You stood up, your breathing heavy as anger took over your panic.

"I am going to scold the nanny and the housemaids!" you snapped, pacing around the room angrily. "What do I pay them for? They are supposed to keep this entire mansion temperature controlled! If they let you catch a cold, I am firing every single one of them tonight!"

Seeing you spin out of control, Rachel reached out and gently tugged the edge of your pants. She didn't like loud noises or chaos. You instantly stopped pacing, took a deep breath, and knelt back down beside her, forcing yourself to calm down so you wouldn't scare your precious sister. You kissed her forehead, checking her temperature with your lips, your heart still racing because she was your ultimate, fragile weakness.

The next morning, you woke up with Rachel’s head resting gently against your chest. As you softly stroked her hair, Rachel blinked her eyes open, yawning sleepily. She snuggled closer into your embrace and looked up at you with a small, knowing smile.

"You know, Sis," Rachel murmured, her voice filled with lazy morning comfort. "I have been drinking a lot of coffee nowadays. But the housemaids here just don't make a good one. It doesn't taste like the one you bring home."

Your heart did a sudden, chaotic flip. You knew exactly why your coffee phase had started it was all because of that stubborn, handsome boy at the café.

"I'll fire them all," you said instantly, as you hugged her tighter. "If they can't even make a decent cup of coffee for my sister, I will hire a whole new kitchen staff by this afternoon."

Rachel let out a giggle, rolling her eyes in that cute, dramatic way she always did. "Ooo hoo! There you go again, firing everyone." She poked your cheek gently with her finger. "Maybe you just need to bring the actual coffee maker to the house instead."

Her innocent words sparked a brilliant idea in your mind. If the mansion lacked good coffee, and your lonely life lacked real company, why not just hire the source? You could bring Jungkook out of that simple café and place him right inside your empire.

The next afternoon, you pushed open the door of the café. As soon as you sat at your usual corner table, Jungkook walked over with your black coffee. He didn't smile, but his sharp eyes scanned your face carefully.

"You didn't come yesterday," he said, his voice carrying a slight edge, as if he had actually missed your daily arguments.

"I had some work," you replied smoothly, trying to look completely professional. You took a slow sip of the coffee, then looked him dead in the eye. "Jungkook, how much do they pay you here?"

Jungkook frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at you with total suspicion and didn't say a word at first. He hated when people brought money into things. "Just tell me," you insisted, leaning forward. "I'm asking for a reason." QHe let out a dry chuckle and finally named his small hourly wage.

You didn't even blink. "I will pay you triple that amount. No, you know what? I will pay you five times more than what you earn here. All you have to do is come live at my mansion, cook, and make coffee for me and my sister."

Jungkook’s expression instantly turned cold. His smirk vanished, and his eyes filled with absolute pride. He shook his head. "No, I told you before, I don't need your charity. You think because you have billions you can just buy people and bring them into your house like property? Find someone else to control."

"It's not about control!" you gasped out, You stood up, your voice shaking with genuine emotion as you looked at him desperately. "It’s for my sister. Please, Jungkook. She’s... she’s very particular, and she loves your coffee. I just want her to have the best. Please do this for her."

Jungkook froze. He stared at you for a long, silent moment. He let out a low, defeated sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Fine," Jungkook muttered, looking away to hide the small, curious smile tugging at his lips. "Five times the amount is ridiculous, but I'll do it for your sister. I'll move into the mansion on Monday."

Four months passed by like a beautiful dream. Having Jungkook in the mansion changed your entire life. You and him became close, no, super close. He didn't just look after the house; he became a true friend to Rachel. He learned exactly how she liked her glass stones sorted and never got annoyed by her quiet routines. Because of him, your big, lonely mansion finally felt like a real home. Your cold, icy aura broke completely every single time he was near you, and your assistants noticed you were smiling way more nowadays.

One evening, you walked through the front doors completely exhausted after a brutal, stressful day at the office. Your head was throbbing, and your shoulders felt incredibly heavy. Guided by the delicious smell of warm food, you walked straight past the living room and into the large kitchen.

Jungkook was standing by the stove, humming softly to himself while cooking dinner. A soft smile took over your tired face. You walked up silently behind him, wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, and buried your face into his broad back. You pressed a warm, lingering kiss right against his shirt, leaning all your weight into him.

Jungkook let out a low, happy chuckle. He immediately turned around in your embrace, his powerful arms wrapping under your thighs. Before you could even gasp, he easily picked you up and lifted you onto the kitchen counter. He stepped in close, locking himself between your knees, his dark eyes looking up at you with pure affection.

He leaned in and captured your lips in a loving kiss that instantly melted away all your exhaustion. His hands rested on your waist, his thumbs gently rubbing your skin through your clothes. He gently suck them not rushing to put his tongue in , but you open your mouth slightly ask him to put it inside, and he did, your tongue collides you let out your lazy moans.

When he finally pulled back to let you breathe, you leaned your forehead against his shoulder, pouting like a little girl.

"Everyone was so annoying today," you complained, whining shamelessly. "My board members keep arguing about the new budget, my secretary messed up my schedule twice, and the investors are being completely unreasonable. I swear, if I didn't have to pay for Rachel's elite care, I would have fired everyone and burned the corporate building down today."

Jungkook let out a rough laugh, his fingers gently tracing the back of your neck to soothe your tension. "There you go again, wanting to fire the whole world," he teased softly, "But you're home now. Forget about them. Let me take care of you tonight."

You smiled, "What did you make for dinner?" you asked softly, smelling the delicious aroma coming from the pots. Jungkook’s smirk softened into a warm, genuine smile. "Rachel's favorite," he murmured, "Creamy pasta with garlic bread. I made sure to cut the vegetables exactly the way she likes them so the texture is perfect."

Your heart melted completely at how much care he put into your sister's happiness. You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him close to give him a tight hug, and pressed a sweet, loving peck right onto his cheek. "You are amazing, you know that?" you whispered against his skin.

Jungkook chuckled, his hands squeezing your waist one last time before he gently lowered you off the kitchen counter back onto your feet. "Go take a shower and get out of that tight suit," he said, swatting your ass playfully as you stepped down. He looked at you with pure affection in his dark eyes. "Change into something comfortable. We will all eat together as soon as you're ready."

The sky didn't just rain that evening, it completely broke open. You were trapped in the backseat of your limousine, staring out at the heavy thunder. Your heart was pounding wildly, not because of the storm, but because you knew exactly what this weather meant for your home. Rachel had a phobia of thunder. For her mind, the sudden, deafening crashes weren't just loud noises, they were terrifying, physically painful assaults on her senses that threw her into extreme, dangerous panic attacks.

Usually, you were right there to lock her in your arms, put on her noise canceling headphones, and rock her until it passed. But tonight, you were miles away.

Suddenly, your phone screamed with a ringtone. The screen flashed Rachel’s name. You answered it on the very first second, pressing the phone hard against your ear.

"Rachel? Rachel, baby, I'm here! I'm right here on the phone!"

The sound that came through the speaker instantly shattered your heart into a million pieces. Rachel was crying hysterically, her breathing fast and shallow.

"Y/N... the sky is breaking," Rachel sobbed, her voice sounding like a terrified little girl. Another massive boom of thunder roared, and Rachel let out a blood curdling scream that made you flinch. "It's too loud! The lights are blinking! please make it stop! The monsters are hitting the windows! Please come home, please, please!"

Tears flooded your eyes, blurring your vision as you looked at the cars outside. You felt completely helpless, trapped in a gold cage while your entire world was burning.

"I'm coming, baby! I'm on my way, I swear!" you cried out, tears streaming down your face as you tried desperately to keep your voice sounding steady and comforting. You hated letting her hear you cry.

"Listen to my voice, Rae. Just listen to sister. Inhale... exhale. Remember the blue glass stones? Think about the smooth stones, baby. Cover your ears and close your eyes. I'm right here with you."

"No! No stones! The house is shaking." Rachel shrieked, coughing violently as her panic attack tightened her chest. The way she was talking to you, gasping for air, begging you to save her from the sky was the most painful thing you had ever experienced. It made you sob uncontrollably, your hand gripping your seat so hard your knuckles turned white.

"It's too dark... I can't breathe, sister. Where are you? Why aren't you here? Please, the loud noise is inside my head—"

"Rachel, listen to me! Is Jungkook there? Where is Jungkook?" you yelled over your own tears, praying to God that he was with her.

"Ju-Jungkook..." Rachel choked out, her voice trembling so badly you could barely understand her. "He... he went to check the power... it's a big flash! It's coming again—"

The line went dead. The screen on your phone snapped back to the lock screen, displaying the words: Call Disconnected.

"Rachel? Rachel!" you screamed into the phone, your voice breaking completely. You frantically redialed the number, but a mechanical voice instantly answered: "The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable." The storm must have knocked out the cell towers near the mansion.

Your limousine screeched to a halt in the driveway, and you didn't even wait for the driver to open the door. You burst out into the pouring rain, running blindly throwing the front doors open. Your breath was stuck in your throat, your heart hammering.

You threw her door open, your eyes wide with pure panic, prepared for the absolute worst. But the terrifying scene you expected wasn't there.

In the center of the bed sat Jungkook, his large frame completely enveloping your sister. He had his powerful arms wrapped securely around Rachel, holding her tight against his chest in a protective hold. Her noise canceling headphones were placed gently over her ears.

Jungkook was slowly, rhythmically rocking her back and forth. His lips were moving right against her hair, whispering soothing, quiet words that you couldn't hear, but you could see the profound effect they had.

Looking at this beautiful, deeply intimate scene from the doorway, the crushing weight in your chest instantly vanished. Your legs went completely weak from the sudden emotional overload. You literally collapsed onto the floor, as a massive sob of pure relief escaped your lips.

Rachel turned her head. When her eyes landed on you, her face lit up. She quickly slid out of Jungkook’s arms and crawled across the bed, lowering herself onto the floor right next to you.

"Y/N" Rachel murmured softly, throwing her arms around your neck.

You wrapped your arms around her like a mad woman, pulling her so tight into your lap that there was absolutely no space left between you. You lost all your control, sobbing as you showered her face, her hair, her forehead, and her cheeks with desperate, loving kisses. You held her head, checking her over and over again.

Jungkook slowly stepped off the bed and walked over, looking down at the two of you with a quiet, unreadable expression.

After a while, Rachel’s breathing became slow and steady. Together, you and Jungkook gently tucked her into her blankets. You adjusted her pillows and kissed her temple one last time before stepping out of the room. The moment the door clicked shut, the adrenaline completely left your body. You staggered slightly, your head spinning from the sheer exhaustion of the night.

Before your knees could buckle again, Jungkook moved. He slid his powerful arms under your knees and back, effortlessly scooping you up into his chest like a tired kid. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder as he carried you down the quiet hallway and into your master bedroom.

He laid you down gently on the center of your bed. The room was dark, lit only by the distant flashes of lightning outside. Jungkook didn't say a single word. He sat on the edge of the mattress and leaned over you.

With incredibly gentle fingers, he reached up to your ears, carefully untwisting your diamond studs. He unclasped the delicate gold necklace from around your neck, placing the minimal jewelry safely on the nightstand. Then, his hands moved to the buttons of your blazer. He slowly slid the heavy suit jacket off your arms, followed by your tailored trousers, leaving you resting on the sheets in just your silk lingerie.

You shivered slightly from the cool air, but Jungkook immediately leaned down, covering your body with his own warmth. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs softly wiping away the dried tear tracks on your cheeks.

He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss on your left cheek, then your right, before moving up to press a long, deep kiss against your forehead.

"You're okay, darling," he whispered huskily against your skin, his deep voice carrying a comforting rhythm. "Rachel is safe. You're home now. I've got you."

He began to baby you completely, holding you close, stroking your back, and whispering sweet things into the dark. Tonight, for the first time in your lonely life, he was letting you just be small. He was letting you surrender all that heavy weight into his arms.

You clutched his shirt tightly, your eyes closing as a warm, safe feeling washed over your entire soul. You both lean and kissed intimately slowly.

The next evening, You were sitting on the edge of the bed, gently running a wooden comb through Rachel’s long, soft hair. Rachel was sitting on the floor in front of you, humming a sweet, happy melody while playing with a smooth emerald glass stone. Suddenly, Rachel stopped humming. She tilted her head back, looking up at you with a mischievous, wide grin.

"You like that guy, don't you, Sis?" Rachel asked out of nowhere, her voice full of playful excitement. Your hand froze mid stroke, the comb stopping right in her hair. Your heart skipped a beat, and a sudden wave of heat rushed straight to your face. You tried desperately to pull your cold, unbothered businesswoman persona back on, shaking your head.

"Rachel, no," you said quickly, your voice a little too high as you resumed combing her hair, trying to act completely normal. "It’s not like that at all. Jungkook is just working here. He’s an employee."

Rachel let out a loud giggle, rocking back and forth on the floor. "Ooo hoo! Lies!" She turned her whole body around to look you dead in the eye, her smile widening. "I saw you both kissing in the kitchen the other day. And last night..."

Rachel leaned in closer, whispering teasingly, "from your bedroom, I heard voices like... ah, Jungkook, please..."

Your eyes went completely wide in absolute shock. Your entire face burned a deep, "Rachel! Shut up!" you scolded her loudly, your voice cracking as you quickly covered her mouth with your hand, your heart beating fast.

"Oh my god, stop saying such shameless things! You are absolutely not allowed to listen to things like that, do you hear me? You need to keep your ears shut!" Rachel just bit her lip to stop herself from laughing then she hug you.

"I really like Jungkook, Sis," Rachel whispered against your chest, "You know why? Because he makes you smile just like you used to. Before you became so busy and sad."

Hearing those words from your sister made the last of your defenses crumble. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You hugged her back, burying your face in her hair.

"I love him, Rae," you confessed softly, press a loving kiss onto her cheek. "Last night, when I was stuck in that traffic and the storm was so bad... I was terrified. But when I came home and saw how he took care of you, how he held you and made you feel safe... that’s when I realized it. It’s love."

Rachel looked up at you, her eyes wide as she processed your words. A tiny pout formed on her lips, and she tilted her head. "Do you love him more than me?"

"No! Never," you said instantly, you cupped her face in your hands. "I can never love anyone more than you, Rachel. You are my whole world. I built everything for you, and no one will ever take your place. Not even him."

It was well past midnight. You and Jungkook were sitting on the plush lounger in the master bedroom balcony, wrapped together under a thick blanket.

You were leaning against his broad chest, your eyes closed as you felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His arms were locked around your waist, his chin resting softly on top of your head. Jungkook began tracing lazy, slow circles on your bare arm. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his voice dropping to a casual, low murmur.

"Hey, darling?" he whispered. "Hmm?" you answered sleepily, snuggling deeper into his chest.

"I was just thinking about how incredible you are," he said softly, his fingers shifting to intertwine with yours. "You built this entire massive empire from nothing. But it must be exhausting. Tell me... what is your one absolute weakness in your business? Like, if that one specific thing stops or breaks, your entire company will just collapse?"

The question was highly confidential. In the ruthless corporate world, revealing a detail like that was like handing an enemy a loaded gun. If any of your business rivals were asking this, your cold, guarded instincts would have shut them down instantly. But this wasn't a rival. This was Jungkook. The man who made you smile again, the man who protected your sister.

You let out a soft, tired chuckle, tightening your grip on his hand. "My business doesn't have a weak point, Jungkook," you whispered confidently.

"My logistics are perfect, my funds are secure. But if you're asking about my life... my only true weakness is Rachel. If anything ever happens to Rachel, or if someone takes her away from me, my entire world will stop," you confessed emotionally, your voice cracking slightly. "I wouldn't care about the billions, the empire, or the company anymore. I would completely collapse. She is my heart, Jungkook. She is the only weak point I have."

Jungkook froze for a split second. The steady rhythm of his fingers on your arm stopped completely. You didn't notice the sudden, chilling coldness that washed over his face, or the way his dark eyes turned completely sharp and predatory. He quickly forced a soft smile back onto his lips, leaning down to press a deep, lingering kiss to your forehead to hide his expression.

"I see," Jungkook murmured smoothly, pulled you tightly back against his chest. "Rachel is your everything. I'll make sure to remember that, darling."

Two months passed, lately, your health had been taking a turn for the worse. You found yourself constantly exhausted, your limbs felt heavy, and you were hit with sudden waves of morning sickness that left you completely drained before you even made it to the office.

One evening, the fatigue was so intense that you couldn't even sit up. You lay stretched out on the master bed. Jungkook sat at the edge of the mattress, his hands gently massaging your aching legs to ease the tension. He was quiet, his sharp eyes watching your pale face with a calculating, deep focus.

He stopped his hands for a moment, sliding them up to rest on your knee. He let out a low, serious sigh.

"Sweetheart," Jungkook murmured, "Your health has been completely off lately. Look at the symptoms... the nausea, the exhaustion, the way your body is holding fluid. It’s weird. It’s like... well, I don't know for sure, but can you please do a pregnancy test?"

Jungkook’s chest tightened as the words left his mouth. Inside his head, his thoughts were racing. He fully expected you to flip out. He thought you would get angry, shout at him for being reckless.

But your response completely caught him off guard. You didn't shout. You didn't get angry. Instead, tears instantly flooded your eyes, blurring your vision as you looked at his handsome face. With the last bit of your strength, you pulled yourself up and threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. You clung to him tightly, your heart hammering against his chest.

"Baby," you sobbed out softly, your voice cracking with an overwhelming amount of raw emotion. "If it's true... promise me you will never leave me. I know you won't, I know you love us, but still... please promise me. I love you so much, Jungkook. I've loved you for a very long time, and I will be the absolute happiest woman alive if I am carrying your baby."

Jungkook froze entirely in your embrace. His arms slowly came up to wrap around your waist, but his face went completely blank, he tightened his arms around you, burying his face in your hair.

"I love you, Y/N" he whispered huskily, his grip almost crushing you. "I love you a lot more than my own life. Don't ever doubt that." You smiled through your tears, completely comforted by his words.

A few minutes later, you walked into the bathroom with a test in your hand, your fingers trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. Jungkook waited right outside the door, pacing the floor. When you finally stepped out, holding the little stick out to him, the screen clearly displayed a bold, permanent symbol: Positive.

The realization hit you both like a massive wave. You burst into tears of pure happiness, and Jungkook immediately grabbed you, lifting you off your feet. He kissed you over and over again fierce, passionate smooches that tasted like tears. You both cried in each other's arms, completely locked in a world of love and excitement.

"I'm going to go tell Rachel first," you breathed, a happy smile breaking across your face as you wiped your cheeks. "She’s going to be so excited to be an aunt."

Jungkook smiled softly and nodded his head. "Go ahead, darling. I'll clean up here."

You turned and practically floated out of the bedroom, heading down the hallway to find your sister. The moment the bedroom door clicked shut behind you, the warm, loving atmosphere in the room instantly vanished.

Jungkook's smile dropped completely. His face went dead silent and chillingly blank. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His fingers trembled slightly as he quickly wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks.

He dialed a private number. The line ringed once, and a deep, cold, authoritative voice answered from the other end. It was Mr. Jeon the multi billionaire head of Jeon Enterprises, your fiercest, most dangerous business rival, and the man who had been trying to destroy your empire for years.

Jungkook swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a low, cold rasp that sounded nothing like the sweet boyfriend who had just been babying you.

"Dad, it's done," Jungkook whispered "She just took the test. It's positive. She's pregnant now. She loves me deeply, Dad... I can see it in her eyes. She trusts me with everything."

On the other end of the phone, a dark chuckle echoed through the speaker. Mr. Jeon sounded incredibly proud of his son.

"Brilliant work, Jungkook," his father praised him ruthlessly. "You have completely dismantled her defenses. She thinks she built an unshakeable fortress, but she just handed us her fatal flaw. Now that she is carrying a Jeon heir and completely blind, we have both her and Rachel right where we want them. Prepare for the final phase. We are going to take everything from her."

Jungkook closed his eyes as his father hung up the phone. He stood alone in the dark bedroom, the weight of his massive vendetta finally ready to crush the woman who loved him more than life itself.

Last night you had a very fitful sleep. Though you can’t remember, you’re certain you had a nightmare. You were in your room, there was someone else in there who was about to drag you away. You were screaming for help. And it was your very own mother who was the only other person there and not so surprisingly she did nothing to help you. She didn’t even look your way. 

Of course. She’d fail you even in a dream. She’d failed you in reality. Over and over again. Ever since your dad left. She’s the most selfish person you’ve ever seen. From the very beginning she chased men and men only. Her own daughter was just a byproduct of the past mistake who sat there and received any kind of abuse that came her way. If it wasn’t for Jungkook, you would’ve given up on your life. Not anymore though. No. You’re strong now. At least in that aspect. Even though you still have nightmares. You hate your mother. Which is why you’re annoyed to death when someone shakes you out of your sleep and it’s your mom’s face staring at your sleepy face, you want to go to war early this morning. 

“Jesus, thought you were fucking dead or something.” She hisses. She smells of cigarettes. “Do you know what time it is?” 

You groan in annoyance. Since when did she start worrying about your well being? Certainly didn’t do so when you needed her to. As a kid you missed school more than you can imagine because she never bothered to wake you up and send you to school. It was Jungkook’s mom who made sure you went to school until you grew up and made it your own responsibility. You don’t think your mother would’ve even let you be in the house if it wasn’t for the fact that your father–though he was never around–paid child support which quite didn’t spend on you for anything other than the basic necessities like food. Everything else? It was up to you to figure it out.

You don’t know your father very much but he’s still paying your mother for you even though he’s no longer legally obligated to do so as you’re an adult now. And he’s paying for your tuition too. The only reason why you’re studying. Your mother would’ve never even bothered to do so. Technically, you can move out of this shit hole now. The reason you don’t is the boy next door. You don’t want to stay away. Jungkook seems to be content to live in his parents’ house until he finishes college as they’re not at home normally, and also the best parents someone could ask for. He practically lives like he’s in a frat house while still in his parents’ house. Which is good for him but not for you. Yet you’ll be living here as long as he lives there. 

“Just go away!” You groan in answer to your mother’s sudden nagging. Surely, she needs something. Maybe she wants you to ask for more money from your father. 

“It’s eleven in the morning you brat!” She doesn’t move an inch. “When did you sleep last night? You look like shit!” 

“What the hell do you want?” You finally snap. 

“I’m your fucking mother—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” You yell as you finally sit up. Your mother’s jaw clenches as she regards you with a look in her eyes that you can’t quite decipher. A few years ago, this would’ve ended in a slap across your face. But now, she knows she can’t. Probably the reason why she sighs and decides to speak in a much gentler tone. “I thought you were getting better.” 

Not this shit again!

During the time where Jungkook was dating Ysela you were positively miserable which somehow gave her the impression that you were in some kind of toxic relationship. You’re surprised to even think that she noticed. Nonetheless, the only thing she did was make your life even more miserable, demanding you stop it and even walking into a length where she outright called her own daughter a whore. Then when their relationship ended, you were more miserable. You shared Jungkook’s pain as if it was your own. You got drunk with him every night. Skipped classes with him. Your mom didn’t ask anything about it. Maybe she thought your toxic relationship–which never existed–had ended and you were simply heartbroken. Either way, you’re certain she’s talking about that now. 

“I was just sleeping, Mom. Can you just not–I don’t know–don’t try to become a Mom. It doesn’t suit you. I was doing fucking fine and now I’m not.” You throw a pillow down to the floor. She waits in utter silence for a second and then throws her hand in the air. 

“Fine! Do whatever the fuck you want.” Then as surprising as it is, she storms away, slamming the door behind her. You fall back onto the bed, cursing. Mourning your interrupted sleep and trying to go back to your slumber again when your phone pings. Despite your grumpiness you fish under your pillow for your phone, expecting—hoping it’d be Jungkook. The only person who could make this morning a better one, though, all he talks about these days is Kim Taehyung. 

Rolling onto your side, you glance at your lock screen, instantly frowning to see an unsaved, unknown number flashing there. Slowly you unlock your phone to check the message. 

Unknown Number: Need help! (11. 15 a.m.)

Your frown deepens. Who the hell is that? Wrong number? Probably because who’d ask for help that way. You almost ignore it with your crushed hopes when a second message pops in. This time an image. Without a second thought, you tap on it to download it and the frown on your face almost becomes a permanent fixture on your face when the photo reveals a mirror selfie. Of none other that Kim FUCKING Taehyung. 

It’s a mirror selfie of him. Looking absolutely, inhumanly, gorgeous as he stands there with ruffled hair and a white T-shirt. A part of his face is visible as the rest is covered by the phone. Fucking hell!!! How could someone look that good? From that untamed hair to his long fingers clutching the phone. If you didn’t already hate him with a passion, then maybe you’d have appreciated this beauty like someone should. But unfortunately for both of you, you hate him. So you hate this picture. Hate how good he looks. 

Besides, why is he sending you this? Before you can question things further, another image pops in. This time, it’s another mirror selfie. Same posture and almost the same expressions minus the T-shirt. In this one, it’s black. You stare at the image with an expression torn between a glare and a frown when a third message follows. 

Unknown Number: Which one is the best? Black or white?(11. 17 a.m.)

Okay what the actual fuck! Why would he send you this? Why on earth would he want to ask you? Sure you’ve been seeing each other a lot lately whether you like it or not. He’s always there at the gym. You’ve accidentally bumped into him a couple of times on campus too. But you know you never gave him any impression that you’re best friends now. You didn’t even give him your number or ask for his. 

Wait, how's he texting you then?

With a soft curse you take a screenshot of the chat, ignoring his Godly looking mirror selfies and the stupid question as you open your chat with Jungkook. You send him the screenshot first and shoot a text next.

You: Did you give him my number 😑(11. 18 a.m.)

Jungkook reads the message almost instantly and three dots appear down the screen. His reply is very quick. 

Kookie: Maybe 😓(11. 18 a.m)

Your frown deepens. You are about to give him a piece of your mind when he sends you an image too. Another screenshot. Of his and Taehyung’s chat. And the same two images and the same question sit there with just different wordings. The way your heart drops is insane that you’re certain you’d be able to pick it up from the floor. 

Taehyung called him Kookie. 

Kookie!

You call him Kookie. It’s your Kookie. 

Now, you already knew what was happening all right? You knew Jungkook wanted Taehyung. But there was a tiny hope that Taehyung might not be into him. The nickname changes it all. 

You can see Jungkook had sent Taehyung a goodnight text before the images along with a red heart. Not pink. Not purple. Fucking red. So he replied to Taehyung– unlike you– with a ‘white for sure’ and another text saying ‘where you going?’. You don’t see a reply from Taehyung to that. But what you see is enough to crack your heart open. Leave it bleeding. It’s always been bleeding. You believed there was no space for it to get cracked anymore. Apparently, it can. You tilt your head up to drain your tears before focusing back on the screen and trying to think what to say when Jungkook sends another message. 

Kookie: Damn 😒 I thought he was asking only me!!! (11. 19 a.m.) 

Kookie: Do you think he’s asking everyone in his contacts? 😣(11. 19 a.m.)

Your own pain sinks into guilt immediately. The last thing you want is to make Jungkook feel bad. You hadn’t thought it would be the case when you sent him the screenshot at all. Fuck! You’re such a bitch. See what you’ve done. Why can’t you just understand he doesn’t see you any way other than a friend? Why can’t you let him just be happy? 

Nibbling on your lower lip, you go into crisis mode to salvage his feelings. 

You: Maybe he didn’t want to make it weird by asking only you? Yk like maybe he thought you’d find it weird (11. 20 a.m.) 

Kookie: You think so? (11. 20 a.m.) 

You: Yes!!! (11. 20 a.m.)

You: Which wouldn’t have happened if you hadn't given him my contact btw! 😒(11. 21 a.m)

A few minutes pass before he replies again.

Kookie: It would’ve been fucking weird if you didn’t have each other’s contacts (11. 23 a.m.) 

You are about to ask how the hell that is weird when he sends another text. 

Kookie: Besides this is good. (11.23 a.m.) 

Kookie: Now we both can discuss SCIENTIFICALLY how fucking mouth watering he looks in those goddamn selfies (11.24 a.m) 

You cringe visibly. Oh, hell no! 

You: Ewwww!!! (11.24 a.m.)

You: I’m not going to drool over your crush Jeon Jungkook! 11. 25 a.m.)

He sends you a sticker of a man looking thoroughly offended and clutches his chest. 

Kookie: Why the hell not? (11. 25 a.m.) 

You: Um… because that’s your crush???!!!! (11. 25 a.m.)

Kookie: So what? (11. 25 a.m.)

Kookie: I totally don’t mind my best friend drooling over my crush. Some people are worth two people drooling over (11. 26 a.m.) 

You frown at his message. Your mind gets stuck somewhere between disgust and disbelief. Maybe, if you were actually his best friend as he says, you would’ve drooled over that God of a man. Just to show your support. But you’re not just his best friend. Not in your mind anyway. The only man who you want to drool over and will drool over is the one who’s texting you right now. 

Kookie: We can use this in our favor anyway… (11.27 a.m.)

Not wanting to explain why you absolutely don’t want to drool over his crush, you simply let it go and reply. 

You: How????? (11.27 a.m.) 

Kookie: Tell him the black looks good. Let’s see if he’d choose my choice (11.27 a.m.) 

No. No way! This is a terrible idea. For many reasons but mainly for two. First, you don’t want to talk to Taehyung. If you text him now, he’s gonna keep texting you and treat you like a friend. You don’t want that. Second, if he actually wears white that means he actually has something for Jungkook. Well, you can’t say that for sure but it means he listens to Jungkook. It has to mean something. And it’ll break your heart. Besides, Jungkook shouldn’t be choosing this method either. Beating around the bush. Waiting for something to happen. Hoping Taehyung would just reciprocate his feelings by a miracle. You’ve been on that path. It doesn’t end well. Though you’re too much of a selfish bitch to tell him that. 

You get up from your bed. It’s a completely inexplicable feeling that makes you walk over to your window and draw the curtain aside. Maybe it’s a hunch. But somehow you knew he'd be  there. And sure enough, he is. Shirtless. Those goddamn tattoos on display. Hair still ruffled from bed and sticking in funny and odd directions. The most bunniest grin appears on his face as he waves to you with his eyes scrunched up. You give him a look that clearly says that you won’t do as he says. His grin falters, a pout that’s so adorable it makes your body ache appear in its place. He clasps his hands, rubbing his palms together as he begs. Or pretends to do so. You know he’s buttering you up. The thing is, though, he looks too damn cute to say no.

With a heavy sigh, you relent. This is a bad idea. But things can’t get any worse than him getting together with Taehyung. You already knew that this would be the end anyway. Known that you’d be heartbroken no matter what. So, you pick up your phone and shoot a text to the unknown number that sits on your chat list under Jungkook’s chat. 

You: Black. (11.35 a.m.) 

You glance back at the man who you’re ready to give your entire life. Noticing that you’ve texted, his grin returns to his face. Oh so damn adorable. He mouths a ‘thank you’ and, making your heart skip a whole series of beats that borders on a heart attack,  he blows a kiss your way before grinning like a maniac and biting on his lower lip to contain it. Then he walks inside. Leaving you rooted on your spot. Heart breaking. Fuck, it hurts! Hurts so much that you want to drop to the floor and scream. 

Because he doesn’t mean it the way you want it to. He’s just happy because you helped him with landing Taehyung. He’s always been touchy. Of course. Would flirt with you sometimes. But never serious. Never romantic. Just for fun. And he never sees the pain. Never. 

…………….

White! 

Kim Taehyung is wearing white. And you don’t know what you should feel about it. Jungkook on the other hand, is visibly trying and effectively failing to hide his excitement. He has dragged you out tonight. That’s how you ended up in a club. Taehyung said he'd been visiting a friend that morning and came to join you right after. You wonder who that friend is. A friend who made him think hard about what he wears. You hope it’s a special friend. Like Jungkook is to you. Oh, how selfish. But you can’t help it. Can’t help but wish that things would turn around. Taehyung will vanish from your lives just like he came. 

Jungkook, however, doesn’t seem to mind or wonder even a tiny bit who that friend is. He doesn’t question. Doesn’t look bothered at all. They're each nursing a bottle of beer.You’re pretty sure it’s their second or third. Meanwhile you’re still sipping from your cocktail which you don’t even know the name of. 

It’s not very often that you go clubbing. Among many and countless things you’ve changed for Jungkook, being an introvert hasn’t changed much. It never became a problem considering he was an introvert too. You both always prefer to get drunk in his room or yours. Sometimes on his rooftop. Whenever you did go clubbing or anywhere out, it was normally with whichever other friends Jungkook had. Not your friends. But they all knew you. You’ve been a part of Jungkook’s life forever. Of course everyone knew you. When you did go out with those people, you didn’t hate it as much as you thought you would. Unless of course there was Ysela. But even then it wasn’t insufferable as this is. At least she didn’t try to become friends with you. 

Unlike Kim Taehyung!

You don’t know why he’s trying. There’s a message from him that you never replied to sitting ugly on your phone. Just as you’d expected, he’s sent you a reply after you asked him to wear black this morning. He asked if you were sure it was the best option. Out of pure pettiness you’ve shot a very aggressive “Why the hell would you ask me if you didn’t want to believe me?”. To which he had replied with a “Fucking feisty 😏”. You ignored that. Then after a few minutes he sent another text asking what your plans are for Saturday night. You read it and left him on read. Maybe he asked so he could invite you to this night and despite your lack of enthusiasm you showed him, he had managed to get what he wanted. 

Your train of thoughts gets disrupted when Taehyung suddenly slides the dish of roasted cashews towards you. “You’re gonna stick to that one drink?” He asks, gesturing at your still full glass of cocktail. See? This is exactly what’s bothering you. Why would he even try? Can’t he just drink his own drink and enjoy? 

“C’mon, (__)…” Jungkook gives a soft whine too. “That’s not fun, we’re in a club. What got you so wound up anyway?” He scrunches up his face adorably.

“Nothing. I just don’t feel like drinking.” You frown at them. 

“Bullshit! You never feel like not drinking.” Jungkook huffs, to much of your annoyance. You open your mouth to protest but Taehyung steals your drink at that moment. 

“Okay, I’m ordering shots. We’re getting wasted and we’re having fun.” He stands up. Then bends down to your height, bringing his face closer to you. “Especially you. You look like you need all the fun in the world.” 

“Fuck, yes!” Jungkook chirps as Taehyung disappears in the mass of bodies. The moment he gets out of your sight Jungkook turns to you and scoots closer to you at light speed. “He’s wearing white!” He practically yells in your face that you flinch. You almost roll your eyes but he cups your face between both of his hands. Your heart stops. So does the time. Your eyes go wide as you stare at his awfully beautiful and devastatingly adorable face. “See…it was a good idea!” He grins from one ear to the other. And your stopped heart returns to its normal beating so hard that you feel like someone punched you in the chest. The stopped world comes into motion as well. So suddenly that it’s all a blurry noise in your ears. 

He is drunk. And happy. So happy. Because Teehyung wore the T-shirt Jungkook wanted him to wear. He is happy because he’s reading too much into it and jumping  into his own conclusions. Something you’ve always done. You still do it. Reading into every little thing. A look. A touch. A smile. Anything and everything. Not that they ever meant what you wanted with Jungkook. Maybe you should advise Jungkook not to do that. But then…maybe, in his case, he’s right to read into it. 

The place where your heart forgot to beat for a second, now lies a stinging pain. Before you can process that pain Taehyung walks back with a black tray and six shot glasses. He places it on the table with a grin. 

“Tequila.” He announces. Jungkook scoots away from you again. Like a moth drawn to flame, he’s instantly back at Taehyung’s side. Of course. That stinging pain worsens. Oh, how pathetic you are? You look at the pure joy on Jungkook’s face. And Taehyung’s. You sweep your eyes over the club. So many people. Smiling. Laughing. Dancing. Chatting. Drinking. Enjoying. Everyone except you is actually living a life. Here you are. Being heartbroken for almost all your life. Waiting for a person who never was yours. Never will be yours.

Pathetic.

You look like you need all the fun in the world!

True. You couldn’t agree anymore. You do need fun. Because this is enough. Maybe, this should be the night you should get over with this pathetic love of yours. Yes. You should. So fuck this! Fuck everything! You want to numb the pain anyway. 

You reach for a shot glass like you’re a robot. Waste no time at all before you bring it to your mouth and tip it back. Scrunching up your face at the bitter taste you reach for the second one and down it in one go again. When you look back at your companions, both of them are blinking at you heavily in disbelief. 

“Okay…” Taehyung chuckles first. “Gonna make a toast, but that works too.”

Oh, he wanted to do that?

“Well, we can!” You snatch a third glass, knowing very well you’re stealing one of their drinks considering Taehyung only brought six and there’s three of you. Not that you care. Jungkook does, apparently. 

“Yah!” He exclaims, almost reaching for the glass when Taehyung forcefully clinks his glass against his. 

“Looks like we need more shots.” He says with a grin that’s so wide and joyful it nearly infects you with joy too. “C’mon!” He invites you to join the toast too. So you do, bringing your own shot glass toward theirs. “Cheers!” Taehyung bellows first and Jungkook does it even louder. 

“Cheers to what?” You ask softly. Taehyung stops grinning for a second, pursing his lips as he considers. 

“To us?” He asks cautiously. As if he’s not sure whether you’d like it. His eyes on you. Careful. Curious. But before you can decide whether you like it or not, Jungkook steals your opportunity. 

“To fucking us!” He practically yells through the top of his lungs, causing a few other clubgoers to startle and throw weird looks your way. 

“Jesus!” You mumble but a smallest of smiles ghosts across your lips. 

“C’mon, (___)…. Everyone needs to say it.” Jungkook gives you those puppy eyes that make you weak in the knees. You groan yet relent without much persuasion. You are weak for him. 

“To fucking us!” You repeat with less enthusiasm than Jungkook but with a grin nonetheless. See, alcohol is already working, which is concerning since you need substances in your blood to feel happy. But as the night progresses you don’t care about it. Not when you’re actually hollering in laughter. Not smiling. Not grinning. Not pretending. Actually laughing until your eyes prick with tears. So do the two men. Taehyung is slumping lower in the booth as you’re describing how that one time six year old Jungkook started a fight with a girl and came back home with a black eye. Jungkook is evidently mortified that you bring this up now. In front of his crush. The man he wants to impress. But he doesn’t look offended. If anything, he looks touched by Taehyung’s reaction. As if he’s glad he could make him laugh even through a memory he’d rather bury thirty feet underground. 

“No way, Kook!” Taehyung gasps for air as he rights his position again. 

“Oh, but yes way! He did that.” You say matter of factly before throwing a roasted cashew in your mouth. You don’t know why you’re so happily engaging in conversations with Taehyung. It’s probably the alcohol’s doing. Come tomorrow morning, when you have a killer hangover and blurry memories, you would absolutely go back to being a hateful bitch and start to dislike him again. Until then though, you’d have this moment. 

“She was fucking strong, all right?” Jungkook defends. “She was this tall and trust me she even had muscles.” He shows the said girl’s height by holding his arm at least four feet off the floor.

“Bullshit!” You bellow. “She was this tall.” You argue holding your hand so close to the floor that you have to duck beneath the table. Jungkook gasps in pure offense, trying to reach you under the table. You shriek in panic, hastily trying to straighten up when a hand lands on top of your head, warm fingers slipping through your hair before you hear Taehyung’s bubbly voice with a little drunken slur to it. 

“Head, sweetheart! Watch your head!” He yells through his laughter. You freeze in your spot for a second before Jungkook gets a hold of you under the table and starts tickling you. 

“Say she was bigger.” He demands with some other drunken gibberish that quiet don’t reach you as you’re doing your best to escape him, giggling and squealing while Taehyung tries his damn best to protect your head so you won’t hit it and bleed to death. 

“Okay! Okay!” You yell after trying and failing to escape Jungkook for the ninth time and giving up before all these tickling would make you piss yourself. “She was way bigger and older than you.” You gasp and pant as you finally manage to come out from under the table, Taehyung still keeping his hand over your head. He doesn’t take it away even after you sit back properly and Jungkook reaches for another beer. All he does is grinning at you with that strange kind of glint in his eyes. Then he turns those eyes to Jungkook. 

“Dance?” He asks. Jungkook perks up. Doesn’t give you any time to consider that as he grabs your hand, hauls you up into your feet and starts dragging you towards the mass of bodies on the dance floor who are swaying to the loud, obnoxious music. Within ten seconds you find yourself among those swaying bodies, facing Jungkook–the man in your dreams. You’re both grinning like fools as he takes your hands in his, pulling you into a silly dance. A loud laugh escapes you. Jungkook copies it. Then he drops your hand, just to place them on your waist so he can take the dancing seriously. 

Just like that, your smile drops. Not giving way into a frown or sadness though. It completely turns into a breathless gasp. You’ve danced with him before. Hundreds of times. But today? Today something feels different. Maybe it’s the way his smile drops too. Or the way he grips your waist a little too tight. Or maybe, just maybe his gaze drops to your mouth. Or it’s completely in your head. You won’t complain, however. Even if it’s in your head, you won’t complain. A strange kind of electric feeling sparks where his hands are currently on your body. You decide that you like it so damn much to be able to complain about it. You probably shouldn’t make your past mistakes. Reading too much into this. Make this into something that it isn’t. But how? How could you do that when he tugs you closer, a slow smile appearing in his pink lips? 

The world slows down again. The loud music turns into an incessant thump in your ears. A shudder runs down your spine. 

Okay…this is not normal. Something’s not okay.

The way your body reacts to him? Yes, normal. Completely. This is how you’ll always react to his close proximity. Body frozen. Heart thumping. Ears ringing. In a very good way. A fire licks at your insides keenly. But what’s not normal is the way Jungkook acts. He’s been touchy. Flirty even. Yet you always knew he never meant anything. At least nothing that suggests he wants to do something more than being silly and innocently flirting with his best friend. 

At this moment? It’s not normal. Why? What’s happening? Are you hallucinating? Are you too drunk? Are you—

Another pair of hands land on your body. A little further down from where Jungkook’s hands are. Those spiraling thoughts of yours crash down into a rumble. A gasp escapes you. Even before you can process anything Taehyung’s voice comes right next to your ear that it equally leaves you breathless and flinching. 

“When you have two friends, it’s a jerk move to ignore one, sweetheart.” He says in a really low voice, you’re surprised that you even heard it over the million other sounds in the club. You open your mouth, to say what you have no idea. Though nothing whatsoever leaves your parted lips when Taehyung tugs you to him, your back plasters with his chest, creating a few inches of distance between you and Jungkook. 

You frown immediately. You might have been having a good time. Hell, you even forgot that you don’t like Taehyung as you’ve been drowning in drinks. But this? This is unacceptable. Sure, you have no idea what Jungkook meant when he pulled you closer like that. It’s probably nothing. It doesn’t matter in the end. Because even if Jungkook is making a drunken mistake. Even if he’s completely out of his mind. Or even if he’ll come to you tomorrow morning and admit that he regrets even laying a finger on you. You don’t care. This could be a dream for all you care. What you want is Jungkook. What you need is Jungkook. You want to be closer to him even for a fleeting second. Which is exactly what you almost do. Trying to get closer to him again when Jungkook softly chuckles and eats up the distance between you. In a blink he’s pressed against your chest, sandwiching you between two warm bodies. 

In another time, if you were sober, you would’ve panicked. Blanched. As much as you want Jungkook, you despise the man behind you. Or you wouldn’t. Maybe it has nothing to do with the alcohol but everything to do with the man in front of you. He makes everything else fade away. Any protests or questions fail to form in your brain. He makes your brain a scrambled mess. Makes him the only person alive in your mind. 

Then why the hell are you so fully aware of the presence behind you? 

Your breath hitches as Taehyung starts to sway you into the music, Jungkook soon following the rhythm. You’re keeping your eyes on Jungkook, fully immersed in him. Only him. Right? It should be only him. But Taehyung’s presence is demanding attention. You can’t ignore his hands on you. Can’t ignore his warmth. Can’t ignore his breath tickling your neck. 

This is not good. Something is wrong. You hate Taehyung. 

You close your eyes for a split second, trying to control the tremors running down your body. Strangely or not, this feels so good. Really good. Especially, when Jungkook presses more and more into you, causing you to shove more into Taehyung. 

Fuck! Fuck! What’s happening!

Taehyung squeezes your hips, making you snap your eyes open. Your eyes land back on Jungkook. He’s not looking at you. His eyes are fully on the man behind you. Pupils obviously so dilated it’s all black in his eyes. Soft pants are escaping his lips. It takes you a second to realize that his hands are no longer on your waist. With an effort, you train your eyes down to find them on top of Taehyung. 

Oh!

Oh!!!!

The reality comes crashing in to you. Jungkook is not pressing into you. Or he is physically but this whole thing is revolving around the man who gently guides your movements from behind. Maybe he’s not trying to press into you either. Maybe his sole focus is on the man before you. Maybe in their heads, you don’t exist at all. Or…simply they are using you as an excuse. An excuse to be closer without actually doing it with each other. Testing the waters. Neither of them probably doesn’t know if the other is into men, right? Of course they don’t. It’s too risky to make a direct move. So why not use the woman as a stepping stone. 

The high you’ve been feeling pops out. That familiar pain you’ve been trying to avoid replaces in your chest, ten times worse. Even your eyes start burning as you place a firm hand on Jungkook’s chest and push him away. He doesn’t even budge for a second, his eyes fully on Taehyung. His mouth agape. A bead of sweat lining on his forehead. He looks delicious. Likes sin. Not for you, though. Never for you. 

“Move, Jungkook!” You finally find your voice and grumbles through gritted teeth. Still he doesn’t even look your way. “Fucking move!” So it leaves you no other options but to yell. That gets his attention. His head snaps to you. Confused and heavily blinking as if he sees you only now. 

“(___)? What–” He begins but you push him away as you step away from both of them. 

“Sweetheart!” Taehyung tries too. You take a look at his face for the first time after you come into the dance floor. And fuck! If Jungkook looks like sin then this man looks like the devil himself. 

“I want to go home.” You state firmly, ignoring the memory of how good it felt to be in their arms. Their arms. Including Taehyung. Not just Jungkook. 

Fuck your life!

“Of course, let me book a ride.” Jungkook says as he searches for his phone. You nod, gazing back at Taehyung momentarily and finding disappointment written all across his features.

Well, of course, he’s disappointed. You just ruined his chance, didn’t you? 

Good!

He can fuck off!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week had passed.

Jungkook was officially the Chairman of the syndicate now. His name alone seemed to carry a dark weight that chilled the air wherever he went. Every man under his command feared him. The mansion staff whispered among themselves in quiet huddles, scattering and hiding in the hallways whenever his heavy footsteps echoed through the corridors. Even Madam Jeon refused to leave her wing, completely absent from the long dining table during meals.

To you, the whole thing was a confusing blur.

Chairman. Syndicate. Blood. Power.

None of it made real sense to you, outside of the hushed rumors you occasionally overheard from the maids and guards.

With all that newly claimed power, Jungkook was rarely ever at the mansion. He left for work early in the morning, long before you even opened your eyes and only returned in time for dinner on a few scattered nights.

You quickly learned how to pass the time on your own. You told yourself you didn't crave his presence, but the truth was, that kiss—the suffocating heat of it—never truly left your mind.

It stayed tucked away in your thoughts, ambushing you at random moments during the day, making your cheeks burn bright red like a fool.

Ever since that night, he hadn't spoken to you properly. He was simply too busy.

Your only real comfort was the little puppy. You named him Max, and he quickly became your sole companion in the massive, lonely house. You stopped hiding him in your bedroom and started letting him roam, spending your days feeding him proper puppy food, warm milk, and playing with him across the sprawling estate.

"Oh! Can you stop by the park over there?"

You leaned forward in the back seat of the sleek black SUV, pointing through the window toward a sunlit park along the road.

The personal guard at the wheel hesitated, eyeing the location through his rearview mirror. "It's a public park, Mrs. Jeon."

The title made your stomach do a familiar flip.

Mrs. Jeon.

It was a constant and subtle reminder that you belonged to him now. No matter how distant he was, a small part of you was always wondering where he was, what he was doing, or if he had even bothered to eat lunch.

"Oh, please," you pleaded, leaning closer to the driver's seat. "I just want Max to have a real walk like other puppies! Look!" You pointed out the window at the various dogs running around the green grass with their owners.

The guard still looked unsure. Moving cautiously, he pulled out his phone and quickly typed out a text to Jungkook, asking for permission. It was standard procedure—the guards kept Jungkook updated on your exact whereabouts at all times.

Where you went, what you were doing, even what you had for breakfast. Every single night, Jungkook would call the head butler to ask if you had eaten properly.

A moment later, the driver's phone buzzed with a short, positive reply from the boss.

Relaxing his posture, the guard pulled the SUV to the curb and stepped out to open your door. "I will be right at the entrance, Mrs. Jeon. One call, and I will be by your side instantly."

"Thank you!" you cheered, carefully cradling Max in your arms as you stepped out into the fresh afternoon air.

Carrying the little puppy into the park, you finally set him down on the lush green grass. Max let out an excited, high-pitched woof, his tiny tail wagging like crazy as he trotted in playful circles around your feet.

You spent the next half hour chasing Max around the park.

Suddenly, Max spotted a butterfly and took off in a wild sprint toward a shade tree near the edge of the paved walking path.

"Max! No, stop!" you called out, laughing as you jogged after him.

Before you could catch up, the little puppy bumped right into the polished shoes of a young man sitting quietly on one of the wooden park benches. Max let out a soft woof and immediately sat down on his feet, looking up with his tail wagging furiously.

"Oh, I am so, so sorry!" you gasped out, breathless as you reached them, reaching down to grab the little dog. "He's still really young and doesn't know his manners yet—"

"Hey, it's completely fine," a soft, warm voice interrupted.

You paused, looking up.

The man sitting on the bench offered you a gentle, reassuring smile that made his eye corners crinkle softly. He was dressed casually in an oversized cream-colored sweater and dark trousers, looking completely harmless and relaxed under the afternoon sun. Without a hint of annoyance, he leaned down and gently scratched Max behind his ears, making the puppy let out a happy sigh and lean straight into his touch.

"He's a friendly little guy," the man chuckled softly, his voice full of easy charm as he looked up at you. "You don't need to apologize at all."

A wave of safe and comforting energy seemed to  radiate off him, instantly putting you at ease.

You offered him a genuine smile, relaxing your posture as Max happily rolled onto his back at the stranger's feet.

"Thank you for being so understanding," you said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Most people would be annoyed if a strange dog ran up to them."

"Not a chance," he smiled, running his hand over Max's soft fur again before looking up at you with friendly curiosity. "What's his name?"

"Max," you replied softly, feeling a pleasant warmth in your chest. "His name is Max."

"Max," the man repeated, giving the puppy one last gentle pat before offering you a warm, polite nod. "It suits him. I'm Jimin, by the way.”

"Y/N," you introduced yourself with a bright, genuine smile, leaning down to scoop Max up from the grass and into your arms. "I should get going now. It was really nice meeting you, Jimin."

"Nice to meet you too, Y/N," Jimin replied softly, giving you a friendly wave as you turned around.

Carrying Max toward the shaded side of the park, you caught sight of a bright red vending machine standing under a wide oak tree. A wave of thirst hit your throat, making you realize just how long you had been running around under the sun.

you walked over to it.

The truth was you had never actually used a vending machine before.

You set Max down on his leash, stepping closer to study the glass display filled with cold sodas, juices, and water bottles. Spotting a bottle of peach green tea, you reached into your small shoulder bag and pulled out the black card Jungkook had given you.

Setting the bottle number, you swiped the black card into the narrow coin slot on the machine.

Nothing happened.

You frowned, pulling the card out and trying to slide it sideways through the tiny gap but the machine just let out a sound and nothing happend.

You tried again, tapping it desperately.

"I don't think black cards work on twenty-year-old vending machines," a amused voice chuckled from behind you.

You whipped around to see Jimin jogging up the paved trail, his grey hoodie slightly damp at the collar as he slowed to a gentle stop near the tree.

"Oh! We meet again!" he laughed, his eyes crinkling into those same warm, crescent shapes as he stretched his arms.

Your face instantly flushed a deep, burning red. Embarrassed, you quickly hid the expensive black card behind your back, looking down at your shoes. "I... yeah. I was just trying to get something to drink but it's not working..."

Jimin’s smile softened into something incredibly kind as he stepped up to the machine beside you. "Vending machines are old-school," he explained gently, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small palmful of silver coins. "They don't take fancy credit cards. They only accept cash or these."

He held up a few shiny coins, flashing you a playful wink before sliding them into the thin slot one by one. The machine instantly clinked to life, the digital screen lighting up with a cheerful hum.

"See? You just put the coins in here," Jimin pointed to the slot, walking you through the simple process with easy patience. "Then you push the button for the drink you want right here."

He pressed the number for the peach green tea you had been eyeing. A loud thump echoed from the bottom compartment as the cold tea plastic bottle dropped into the metal tray below.

Jimin crouched down, retrieved the bottle, and turned around to hand it to you with a warm smile. "Here you go. My treat.”

"Oh. Thank you," you said, a amused laugh escaping your lips as you bowed slightly and took the cold plastic bottle from his hand. "I owe you one."

"Consider it as a small treat," Jimin replied with a easygoing smile, leaning back against the side of the machine with his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

Before you could pop the cap off the tea, Max let out a happy little bark and bounded straight for Jimin’s legs. The small puppy circled around his ankles, playfully nuzzling against his sneakers and wagging his tail so hard his whole body shook.

Jimin chuckled softly, immediately crouching down to meet the dog at his level, letting Max lick his fingers as he gently scratched behind his fluffy ears.

You stood there watching them, a strange and quiet thought creeping into your mind. Max had warmed up to Jimin instantly, practically throwing himself at the stranger's feet for affection.

He never did that with Jungkook.

You couldn't help but notice the difference. Whenever Max was near Jungkook, the puppy would either tiptoe nervously around his heavy leather shoes or get completely ignored.

Jungkook never crouched down like this. He never laughed softly at the dog's antics and he certainly never offered this kind of easy and effortless warmth.

Jungkook was all cold marble, sharp suits, dark shadows, and suffocating tension. Standing next to Jimin felt like sitting in the afternoon sun—safe, bright, and completely uncomplicated.

A tiny, bitter ache settled in your chest as you looked at the simple scene, your fingers tightening around the cold tea bottle.

"He really takes a liking to you," you murmured softly, trying to shake off the sudden, heavy wave of thoughts about your husband.

"I guess I just have a good vibe with animals," Jimin smiled, looking up at you through his dark bangs with that same gentle, harmless expression. "Or maybe Max just knows a good guy when he sees one.”

"Well, since you saved me from a fight with a vending machine," you smiled, gesturing toward a small coffee kiosk near the park entrance, "let me buy you a coffee. There's a proper care over there, so I can actually use my card."

Jimin laughed softly, standing up and dusting off his knees. "I’d never turn down free coffee. Lead the way."

A few minutes later, the two of you were sitting side by side on a secluded wooden bench overlooking the wide park lawn. The afternoon sun was slowly dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in soft streaks of pink and deep violet. Max had finally run out of energy and was curled up asleep on your lap.

You took a slow sip of your warm latte, watching the golden light fade.

"It must be nice," Jimin murmured casually, leaning back against the bench and taking a sip from his cup. "Having a quiet evening like this. Do you get out much?"

"Not really," you admitted softly, looking down at your hands. "My life is... pretty ...." You shrugged not knowing how to finish the sentence. "My husband works a lot. Almost all the time, honestly."

"Ah, a busy man," Jimin replied, his tone smooth, completely non-judgmental. "Must be tough, being home alone so often."

"It gets lonely," you confessed, a bitter little smile tugging at your lips. "Our marriage isn't... normal. It started cold. Really cold. He's an intense man. People are intimidated by him, and half the time, I am too."

Jimin tilted his head, watching your side profile carefully. "Intimidating? What does he do that makes him so scary?" he asked, his voice laced with gentle curiosity.

"He's just... A businessman. Cold and intimidating one." you said vaguely, pulling back from revealing too much. "He carries the weight of a huge organization on his shoulders. He doesn't bow to anyone and he expects everyone around him to fall in line."

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening as the memory of the kiss flashed unbidden into your mind. Your cheeks flared hot in the dimming twilight.

"Yet..." you continued, your voice dropping to a low whisper, "there are these rare moments. He’s cold, he’s dangerous but then he looks at me a certain way, or touches me... and my heart just completely loses control. It’s terrifying because I know who he is but my body just flutters like a fool around him."

Jimin took a long drink from his cup, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he processed your words.

"Sounds like he holds a lot of control over you," Jimin said softly, his voice dripping with easy empathy. "A man that powerful... he must have a lot of people keeping an eye on him. Does he have a lot of enemies? Or people who want to bring him down?"

"I don't really get involved in his work," you sighed, shaking your head. "I just hear rumors around the house. News reports, hushed whispers from the guards. He just took over the main position recently, so everything is busy."

"The main position, huh? Like company ceo something?" Jimin repeated quietly, nodding as if just reflecting on your words, though a sharp, hidden focus flickered behind his eyes for a fraction of a second. "That’s a heavy burden for a wife to carry alone. You shouldn't have to walk on eggshells in your own life, Y/N."

You looked over at him, touched by his kindness. "Thank you, Jimin."

Jimin offered you a warm, gentle smile, reaching over to lightly pat your shoulder. "Anytime, Y/N. I'm always around here.”

Talking to Jimin brought back an unexpected wave of nostalgia. There was something about his easy warmth and gentle presence that reminded you so much of Hoseok—that same comforting, bright energy that made you feel safe and heard without even trying.

You carefully scooped Max off your lap, cradling the sleepy puppy in your arms as you stood up from the bench.

"I should go now," you said softly, offering him a warm smile as you looked up at the darkening sky. "It's getting late, and my guard is probably getting anxious."

Jimin stood up with you, dusting off his dark trousers before looking down at you with a soft, affectionate expression.

"Yes, go on, my little friend," he nodded gently, his hands tucked casually into his sweater pockets. "And don't worry about being alone anymore. You’ve got a friend now in this lonely vast world."

He flashed you his signature eye-smile, his dark eyes crinkling into two tiny crescent moons.

A soft giggle escaped your lips, the heavy knot in your chest feeling lighter than it had in weeks. "Thank you, Jimin. For everything."

You gave him a cheerful wave before turning around and walking toward the park entrance where the sleek black SUV was waiting.

°

You were lying awake on the plush bed, staring up at the ceiling. Max was curled into a small ball at the foot of the mattress. The night air usually brought peace but tonight your mind was spiraling. Jimin’s gentle voice kept echoing in your head.

You got a friend now in this lonely vast world... You shouldn't have to walk on eggshells.

His words felt like a soft blanket, a reminder of just how cold, distant, and terrifying your marriage to Jungkook really was.

The bedroom was clicked open.

You froze, pulling the duvet higher up your chest as a tall shadow slipped into the room.

It was Jungkook.

He didn't turn on the lights. He just stood by the door for a long moment, his broad shoulders rising and falling in heavy exhausted breaths. Even in the dim moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains, you could see how undone he looked. His dark hair was damp and messy, his expensive suit jacket missing, and his white dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest.

As he stepped closer to the bed, a distinct scent hit your nose—the sharp, metallic tang of cold blood mixed with stale cigarette smoke and his musky cologne.

He didn't say a word. He didn't look like the ruthless, terrifying man who held the entire syndicate in his fist. He just looked painfully drained.

Your heart hammered against your ribs as he kicked off his shoes. The mattress dipped heavily behind you as he unceremoniously climbed into the bed, shifting until his body was flush against your back.

Before you could even draw a breath, his thick, tattooed arm slid around your waist, hauling you backward until your spine was pressed firmly against his solid chest.

You gasped softly, your hands instinctively flying to clasp his forearm. "Jungkook..."

"Shh," he rasped, his voice so low, rough, and broken it sent a physical shiver straight down your spine.

He buried his face deep into the crook of your neck, taking a long, ragged inhale of your soft vanilla scent, like a drowning man finally breaking the surface for air. His body was tense, radiating a dangerous, frantic heat but his hold on you was almost desperate—seeking your warmth, burying himself in you just like he had done that night.

You bit your lower lip, fighting the overwhelming urge to pull away. You wanted to remind yourself of how dangerous he was. You wanted to remember Jimin’s soft, safe comfort, to guard your heart against the monster holding you.

But as his heavy chest heaved against your back, his thumb slowly stroking the silk of your nightgown over your hip, your traitorous heart completely betrayed you.

A sharp flutter burst in your stomach.

The fear, the confusion, the anger—it all melted under the dark intimacy of his touch. He was a ruthless killer, a man who commanded fear with a single glance, yet here he was, weak and silent, holding onto you as if you were the only real thing left in his blood-stained world.

"Jungkook," you whispered again, your voice softening as you felt his heartbeat against your shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

He didn't answer right away. His grip on your waist tightened just a fraction, pulling you so close there was no air left between you.

"Just stay still," he murmured against your skin, his hot breath fanning over your pulse point. "Let me stay like this for a minute."

Your eyes fluttered shut. Sighing softly, you stopped resisting, letting yourself sink backward into his firm chest, your fingers lightly tangling into his tattooed arm as the warmth of your husband consumed you completely once again.

You turned around in his arms to face him, the soft rustle of the sheets breaking the quiet room.

Jungkook slowly opened his eyes. The breath was instantly knocked right out of your lungs when your gaze collided with his pitch-black orbs. Your cheeks flared with a sudden burning heat and you subconsciously bit down on your lower lip, trying desperately to quiet the frantic beating of your heart.

Jungkook’s dark eyes dropped, tracking the movement of your teeth sinking into your lips.

He leaned in closer, his head tilting just a fraction as his hot breath fanned over your skin. "Stop biting your lips like that," he rasped, his voice dropping into a husky, low register that vibrated straight through you. "It does things to me."

He had tried so hard to keep his distance this past week. He had buried himself in meetings and work, trying to stay away from this room. But he couldn't stop watching you. He found himself constantly checking the cameras on his phone—watching you laugh and play with Max in the garden—or interrogating the staff every night about whether you had eaten.

He was getting attached to you in a way he never intended. A way that terrified him. In his world, attachments were weakness. Attachments got people killed.

His warm index finger reached up, hooking gently over your chin before pulling your bottom lip free from your teeth. His thumb slowlystroked the sensitive skin of your mouth. Your chest heaved with every shaky breath, brushing flush against his hard torso.

Your mind spun out of control, replaying the memory of his kiss from last week. The fear and confusion melted away, replaced by an embarrassing, desperate ache to taste him again. To feel those lips pressed hard against yours.

Jungkook saw the silent longing burning in your eyes, but instead of taking your mouth, he let out a exhale. His large hand slid up to the back of your head, his long fingers tangling in your soft hair, gently pulling your face into the warm hollow of his chest.

"Sleep," he whispered against your hair, his thumb lazily caressing your temple.

Trapped in his protective hold, you closed your eyes.

° 

A group of maids and the head chef stood huddled near the entrance, wringing their hands nervously as they watched you moving around the kitchen.

"M-Mrs. Jeon, please!" the head chef pleaded, looking like he was on the verge of tears. "If Mr. Jeon finds out we let you touch the stove, he will have our heads! Please let us prepare the meal!"

"I just want to do this myself," you said firmly, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand—completely unaware that you were smearing a streak of white flour directly across your cheek.

You were determined. After everything that had happened, you wanted to break the icy tension in the house. You wanted to win over Madam Jeon, or at least show her that you weren't the useless, money-draining parasite she thought you were.

On the counter sat three cold, abandoned cups of tea that hadn't turned out quite right, alongside a giant stainless steel bowl where you were aggressively whisking pancake batter.

Jungkook walked down the stairs, buttoning the cuffs of his dark charcoal suit jacket. Taehyung followed a step behind, holding a leather tablet and briefing him on the morning's schedule.

Jungkook slowed his steps as he approached the dining wing, his sharp brows furrowing. The entire morning staff was gathered outside the kitchen doors, fidgeting anxiously and whispering in low.

Taehyung paused, exchanging a wary look with his boss.

Jungkook raised a single eyebrow and walked further inside.

The scene that met his eyes instantly halted him in his tracks. There you stood in a simple, soft morning dress, hair pinned up haphazardly, aggressively beating a bowl of batter with flour dusted across your nose, cheeks, and even a bit on your lip.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Jungkook’s lips. a rare, fleeting glimpse of genuine amusement that vanished before anyone else could catch it.

He held up a hand, silently waving off Taehyung and the trembling staff. "Out. All of you."

The maids bowed and scurried out.

"What are you doing?"

His deep voice made you jump so hard the metal whisk clattered loudly against the side of the bowl.

You whipped around, holding your breath as you met his gaze. He looked impossibly sharp, put-together and completely out of place standing in a kitchen.

"Jungkook!" you gasped, clapping a hand over your chest. "You scared me!"

He walked over slowly, his heavy leather shoes clicking against the tile. He stopped just a few feet away, his dark eyes scanning the flour-covered counter, the ruined cups of tea and finally settling on your flushed face.

"We have an entire staff paid to do this," he said, his tone dry, though his eyes lingered on the smudge of flour on your cheek. "Why are you making a mess?"

You pouted, lowering the whisk and looking down at the bowl of lumpy batter. "I'm not making a mess. I'm... I'm trying to make breakfast. And proper tea."

"Why?"

You hesitated, biting your lower lip before blurting out the truth. "I wanted to make something for your grandmother. I wanted... I wanted to impress her. To show her I'm not completely useless."

The subtle warmth in Jungkook’s eyes instantly vanished. A cold shadow crossed his face, his jaw clenching so tightly a muscle ticked in his cheek.

The thought of you—his wife—slaving away over a hot stove, stressing yourself out and begging for the approval of a bitter old woman made a irritation flare in his chest.

"You are not here to impress anyone," he growled.

Before you could step back, Jungkook closed the distance between you in a single stride. His large, vein-lined hands shot out, gripping the edge of the marble counter on either side of your hips, completely trapping you against the cold stone.

You gasped, your back hitting the counter as his massive frame towered over you, his intense, pitch-black eyes locking onto yours.

"You don't bow to anyone in this house. You don't cook for them and you certainly don't beg for their favor," he whispered, leaning down until his dark lips were just inches from yours. The scent of his expensive cologne wrapped around you like a cage. "You are my wife. You carry the name Jeon now."

A helpless shiver ran straight down your spine at the possessive threat laced in his voice.

"Act like it," he commanded quietly, his dark eyes dropping to your lips before searing back up to your wide eyes. "Because as long as you belong to me, no one in this world gets to make you feel small. Not even her.”

With a glare that left your blood humming, Jungkook straightened up, adjusted his cuffs, and turned on his heel to walk out of the kitchen.

°

Taehyung stepped inside, his hands casually tucked into his trousers. He took one look at you, standing frozen against the marble counter with white flour smeared across your cheeks, nose, and forehead and burst into a loud, clear laugh.

"Look at you!" Taehyung chuckled, shaking his head as he walked over to the island. "Did you fight a bag of flour, or were you actually trying to make pancakes?"

You snapped out of your daze, your face flushing a burning red. Dropping the whisk into the bowl with an annoyed clank, you crossed your arms over your chest and let out angry pout.

"It's not funny, Taehyung!" you complained loudly, wiping a stray smudge of flour off your chin, only to spread it further. "Your boss is completely unbelievable! I was just trying to do something nice and he comes in here talking all scary like a crazy villain! 'You carry the name Jeon now'" you mimicked in a deep, exaggerated, dramatic voice, rolling your eyes. "He is so arrogant, moody, and absolutely impossible to deal with! How do you even stand working for him every day?"

Taehyung leaned against the counter, his shoulders shaking with silent amusement as he listened to you vent. "Well, Mrs. Jeon, he is the Chairman—"

Ahem.

The clearing of a throat shattered the air from the doorway.

Your entire body went rigid. The words died instantly in your throat.

Jungkook was standing in the doorway. He had walked back in to retrieve his forgotten phone from the counter, only to catch every single word of your passionate rant.

Taehyung’s amusement vanished in a fraction of a second. He instantly straightened his posture, wiping the smile clean off his face, and bowed his head respectfully. "Sir."

Jungkook didn't look at Taehyung right away. His pitch-black eyes were locked onto you, burning with a dark intensity that made your stomach drop straight to your shoes.

You gripped the edge of the counter behind you, swallowing hard, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Slowly, Jungkook stepped into the room. As he passed Taehyung, he halted, his gaze cutting over to his right-hand man with an ice-cold, possessive edge.

"Taehyung," Jungkook said, his voice quiet, low, and laced with absolute authority. "Maintain your boundaries with my wife. You are stepping out of line."

Taehyung’s posture stiffened even further. "Apologies. It won't happen again." He bowed once more and quickly exited the kitchen.

Now, the room was dead silent.

Jungkook didn't grab his phone immediately. Instead, he walked slowly toward you.

Your heart hammered against your ribs like a trapped bird as he closed the distance, stopping right in front of you.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached past your waist, his broad chest brushing against your shoulder as his long fingers casually picked up his phone from the marble counter.

He didn't pull away.

Leaning down until his lips brushed against the shell of your sensitive ear, his hot breath fanning over your neck, he whispered in a low, velvet rasp that sent a violent shiver down your spine.

"So... arrogant, moody, and impossible, am I?"

You held your breath, completely paralyzed under his spell.

"Keep badmouthing your husband, sweetheart," he purred darkly, his thumb lightly grazing your flour-dusted cheek before trailing down to your trembling bottom lip. "Because you're getting punished for every single word tonight."

With a wicked smirk tugging at his lips, Jungkook pulled back, slid his phone into his suit pocket, and walked out of the kitchen, leaving you weak-kneed and breathless .

°

Jungkook sat at the head of the conference table, his long, broad frame relaxed in the leather chair, one hand casually resting on his knee.

Behind him, projected across the giant display wall, was a dark, intimidating logo.

an intricate, sharp-edged skull flanked by two sweeping, raven-like wings on each side. The sight of it alone sent a wave of icy dread rippling through the dark-suited men gathered around the room.

Whispers broke out like wildfire. The syndicate bosses, mob lieutenants, and corrupt officials leaned into each other, their faces pale as they stared at the revived symbol. It was an emblem from a darker, far more brutal era—one they thought had been buried six feet under years ago.

Taehyung stood silently near the corner of the room, his expression unreadable, waiting patiently for his leader to make his move.

Without warning, Jungkook stood up. He slammed both of his hands flat against the polished marble table with a deafening crack that echoed through the vast room.

The entire boardroom instantly froze.

"J-Jungkook, this logo..." a senior underboss stuttered, his voice trembling as he gestured nervously toward the screen.

"Any problem?" Jungkook’s voice was unnaturally calm yet it carried an suffocating weight that crushed the remaining air out of the room. "I am the Chairman now. I will be the one who decides what logo this syndicate will bear."

He paused, sweeping his pitch-black eyes over the trembling men before him.

"This old logo,the one that once ruled the syndicate will rule the syndicate again. I will be the one to reintroduce it," he stated firmly. He leaned forward over the table, his tattoos peaking out from under his crisp cuffs as his tone dropped an octave into a lethal rasp. "If anyone has an objection, speak up now. I will gladly cut your tongue off myself."

No one dared to breathe. No one dared to make eye contact.

"But... it's... your fa-father..." a brave foolish man near the back dared to whisper under his breath, but the quiet words reached Jungkook's ears anyway.

"So what?!" Jungkook snapped, his jaw clenching tightly as his dark eyes flared with an unholy fury. "This seat once belonged to him! And it was always supposed to belong to me! Until that fucking old dead man killed my father and stole this seat from the Jeons!"

He gritted his teeth, a vein pulsing violently against his temple. "Now, I killed that old bastard to bring justice to my father's death and to reclaim the seat that was stolen from my bloodline." He leaned back up, casting a deadly look across the room. "Anyone else who even dreams of laying their eyes on this seat will suffer the exact same fate."

Satisfied with the absolute silence falling over the room, Jungkook turned his gaze slightly toward Taehyung.

"Release the seal again," Jungkook commanded, his tone smooth and cold as steel. "Mark every single one of our drug stocks, the ports, and the shipping containers. No one in the underworld will dare to question us with this seal back where it belongs. Everyone should know who is back. Everyone should know who holds the absolute power."

Taehyung bowed his head respectfully, his voice low and steady. "Understood, sir."

° 

You were curled up on the edge of the massive plush bed, the warm glow of the nightstand lamp illuminating the pages of a romance novel in your lap.

Your eyes skimmed over the lines, lingering on a slow, agonizingly detailed description of the male lead pressing the heroine against a wall, tasting her lips with ravenous hunger.

Heat flushed across your cheeks.

Without warning, your mind betrayed you—replacing the fictional man with Jungkook. The memory of his eyes hovering over yours, his hot breath against your skin, and the sharp drag of his teeth against your bottom lip flashed behind your eyelids with terrifying clarity.

"Ugh, stop it!" you whispered to yourself, instantly slamming the heavy paperback shut and pressing it over your blushing face.

What was wrong with you?

Why couldn't you get him out of your head? He was dangerous, moody, and arrogant yet every time you closed your eyes, your body completely betrayed you, aching for the touch of the very man who owned you.

Click.

The lock turned and the bedroom door opened.

Your breath hitched as you slowly lowered the book.

Jungkook stepped into the room, looking breathtakingly undone. His dark suit jacket was gone, his dark silk tie pulled loose and hanging open at his collar. The top three buttons of his crisp white dress shirt were unbuttoned, revealing his chest while his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the tattoos wrapping around his muscular forearms.

He walked slowly toward the bed, his long fingers casually unbuttoned his cuffs, peeling off the layers of his formal attire in a slow striptease that sent a wave of heat pooling straight to your lower stomach.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of your book as his dark, heavy gaze locked onto yours.

A smirk stretched across his handsome features.

"Did you really think I forgot?" he rasped, his low, velvet voice vibrating through the quiet room. "You had a lot of bold things to say to Taehyung this morning, sweetheart."

Your cheeks burned hot. Instinctively, you threw the book onto the mattress and scrambled backward, but a strange, thrilling surge of pure excitement flared deep in your core, turning your knees weak.

Before you could move an inch further, Jungkook closed the distance in two smooth strides. His large, tattooed hand shot out, wrapping firmly around your waist and hauling you effortlessly across the sheets into his lap.

"Jungkook—!"

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he flipped you over, laying your upper body flush across his lap, his heavy thigh supporting your weight while his large hand pinned your lower back. Before your brain could process the sudden change, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your silk panties, sliding them down your thighs in one swift motion and tossing them aside onto the floor.

The cool night air brushed against your bare skin, sending a delicious and desperate shiver running straight down your spine.

"Time for your lesson," he purred darkly against your ear, his palm resting flat against the curve of your bare bottom. "Every insult costs you a spank. And you're going to count them for me."

SLAP.

The sting of his palm connected with your soft skin.

Instead of a cry of pain, an helpless, airy moan spilled straight out of your mouth, echoing loudly through the silent room.

Above you, Jungkook’s breath instantly hitched. A sudden heat rushed straight to his groin, his dark eyes darkening into pure, unbridled hunger as his shaft hardened instantly against your abdomen. He didn't expect you to make sweet sinful sounds and jt excited him now.

He chuckled.

"Is that so?" he rasped, his voice dripping with dark amusement and deep satisfaction. "You like being punished by your husband, don't you, Mrs. Jeon?"

SLAP.

"Count." He growled.

"Ah! O-One..." you gasped out, your fingers clutching tightly into the fabric of his trousers as a burning heat spread across your skin.

SLAP.

"Two!" you whimpered, your hips lifting involuntarily off his lap, pressing your stomach straight into the thick rigid length straining beneath his pants.

"Good girl," he growled dirty into the shell of your ear, his hand coming down again.

SLAP.

"Tell me what I am. Say it while I make your pretty little ass red. Whar did you dare to call me this morning?"

SLAP.

"Th-Three... Ah! You're... arrogant!" you moaned, completely undone, your body shivering with need as his heavy spanks ignited every single nerve ending in your body.

"Arrogant, hmm?"

SLAP.

"Four," he corrected softly, his thumb caressing the burning skin of your bottom before striking again.

SLAP.

"Five. Look at you... squirming for me like a little sinner."

He leaned down, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his hot, heavy breath fanning over your pulse point as he continued to spank you, each heavy blow making you cry out his name, each moan sending him deeper into a haze of possessive desire.

Your entire body was burning, slick with need, completely trapped under his heavy frame as the thick, hard press of his cock against your stomach reminded you exactly who you belonged to and just how thoroughly he intended to claim you. The fact that he was hard just from spanking you made you moan loudly.

You bit down on your bottom lip so hard you could taste blood, desperately fighting to hold back the loud shameful moans bubbling up in your throat.

SLAP.

Another spank.

It was making your whole upper body jerk forward against his lap.

Jungkook’s pitch-black eyes burned into you, watching with satisfaction as your back arched and your lower stomach rubbed directly against the hard cock every time you moved. It was driving him crazy. He was trying not to moan.

Your eyes rolled back every time you felt his cock against your abdomen. A little lower and you can feel him. And the idea alone was making you feel tingly.

"Count," he growled.

You tried to think but your mind was a dizzy mess. The intense wave of pleasure washing over your body had completely wiped your thoughts clean. This was entirely new to you. You had never felt anything like this before, never imagined in your wild dreams that a punishment like this could make your body thrum with such helpless, thrilling excitement.

Tears trailed down your cheeks. It was too much yet you wanted more.

"Can't speak, dumb girl?" he purred darkly, "Look at you. Can't even remember simple numbers, huh?"

His large, calloused hand slowly began to rub the sore, burning skin of your rear, his palm gliding in gentle, soothing circles. It felt good, making your tense muscles melt beneath his touch until he brought his palm down once more with a sudden slap.

"Six," he reminded you sharply. "Say it."

"S-Six..." you whimpered out, your voice trembling and barely audible.

A sinful smirk stretched across his handsome face. He resumed caressing the red skin, his fingertips running feather-light over the tender red marks. Your lips parted, small whines escaping your throat with every light touch and those sounds were driving Jungkook crazy.

"Every time you think about talking behind my back, remember there are consequences," his low voice vibrated against your back, sounding almost surreal through the haze in your head. "Got it, Mrs. Jeon?"

You nodded desperately, your forehead pressing into his thigh.

Satisfied, Jungkook shifted his weight and gently helped you sit up on the edge of the mattress. Your chest was heaving, your vision slightly blurred and then your eyes involuntarily darted straight down to his lap.

Your throat instantly went bone dry.

An unmistakable tent was stretched tightly against the fabric of his dark trousers.

You swallowed hard, your eyes widening in horror and awe as you noticed the wet patch soaking through the front of his pants right where your core had been grinding against him.

You were soaking his expensive trousers with your arousal.

Jungkook clicked his tongue, a glint flashing in his eyes as he looked down at the damp spot. "Made a mess on my pants, baby," he rasped, his voice dropping into that smooth murmur that sent a fresh wave of heat straight to your core. "You weren't supposed to enjoy it."

You didn't know whether to scream, run far away, or simply dig a hole and melt right into the floor from sheer embarrassment. Your heart hammered violently against your ribs at the pet name, your entire frame shivering with an ache so deep it felt like a physical fever.

You wanted more. You wanted him to touch you. To feel you. Or you wanted to feel him.

Your eyes were droopy with desire. You felt embarrassed that your wetness was clinging to his pants and his own pre cum was leaking and damping the front of the pant. It turned you on more. You pressed your thighs closer and shut your lips clamped to not make any sounds.

Jungkook stood up, leaving you unfulfilled on the edge of the bed.

He walked into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked wide open—an invitation.

Inside, the sound of running water echoed against the marble tiles. He stripped off his shirt and unbuckled his ruined pants, letting them fall to the floor before stepping beneath the icy spray of the showerhead to cool his burning skin.

He wrapped his thick, tattooed hand tightly around his rock-hard length cock, slowly stroking the swollen head that was already oozing with clear pre-cum, before beginning to jerk himself off.

Sitting on the bed, you could hear the heavy sloshing of water mixed with the faint hit of his harsh breathing. You knew you shouldn't look. Every instinct told you to turn away but your betraying body moved on its own.

you silently slid off the bed and tiptoed toward the cracked door.

Your breath hitched softly in your chest as you looked through the gap. There stood your husband, water cascading down his broad, tattooed shoulders and dark wet hair, his face turned upward toward the ceiling as his hand moved in a fast, furious blur over his cock, letting out raw, sinful groans that vibrated through the small room.

Your mouth slightly parted when you looked down at his dick. He was...big. You never really saw a dick in real life or in movies but he was thick and the veins were popping out. The slick wetness around the head of his cock made you shamelessly lick your lips in need. You watched how he jerked himself off. The sounds he made.

You took a tiny step back.

Jungkook’s head snapped toward the door. His pitch-black eyes, clouded with pure lust, locked straight onto yours through the crack.

He didn't stop. He didn't cover himself. Instead, his strokes became faster, harder, his jaw clenching as his dark gaze devoured the sight of you standing outside—wearing nothing but a thin silk pajama top, your bare thighs pressed tightly together.

He watched the way your chest heaved up and down, the way your small hands clenched at your sides, completely hypnotized by him. His eyes found your perky nipples and how your soft lips parted as your eyes darted between his eyes and his dick.

His dark eyes held yours captive refusing to let you look away as his hips thrust forward into his hand one last time. His head snapped back, a loud groan tearing from his throat as his thick length jerked, spilling his cum all over the dark marble tiles beneath the spray.

Your tongue darted out to lick your dry lips, your lower stomach pooling with a heat as you watched him catch his breath, panting heavily under the water.

Realizing what you had just witnessed, a sudden wave of panic crashed over you. You scrambled backward, turning on your heel and sprinting back to the bed.

You dove beneath the heavy duvet, pulling the thick blankets all the way over your head and curling into a tight ball. You shut your eyes as hard as you could, listening to the pounding of your own heart beat echoing in your ears.

You had never known your body was capable of feeling something so dark, so overwhelming, and so dangerously addicting.

Previous part

Opening your eyes feels so different this morning. It’s like you slept for twelve hours straight and your head isn't pounding for the first time since you’ve arrived. Rolling over, you stretch your limbs with a yawn, debating if you should get up or snooze on for a while longer, until a ray of light makes you blink. Ah the sun’s out, peeking in between the curtains. How nice. A lazy smile stretches across your face. Until you remember where you are. 

Wait… The sun’s out?! How? You sit up and whip your head around. No one else is here and all the mess you caused during your meltdown yesterday seems to have been cleaned up and fixed. You rub your eyes, wondering if you are imagining shit now. But no, the mirror is whole again and when you check the windowsill, the little plant is just chilling in its pot, totally unharmed. It’s as if your outburst had never happened. 

When your eyes fall to the empty side of your bed, pillow and duvet all straightened out and puffed up as if no one has ever laid in it, you remember what happened after your rager and blood rushes to your cheeks. 

Did you just dream of having sex with Yoongi?! Did all the horniness make your brain conjure this up? That can’t be, right? It’s like you can still feel him, his touch, his marks that he left all over you - you can even feel him between your legs still, all sore and content.

You swing your feet over the edge of the bed, scoffing incredulously to yourself, then scuffle over to the previously broken mirror and touch the repaired glass with your finger. This is so freaky. You decide to investigate the damage Yoongi has done to you last night to figure out how much concealer you’re going to have to use to badly cover up the bruises.

Huh. They’re all gone. A slight tinge of disappointment pangs in your chest at the discovery. How dumb, why would you want to walk around with hickeys all over your body? Jeongguk would have the time of his life teasing you about them. If Yoongi made the marks all disappear, maybe he doesn’t want them to know that you fucked? Well, maybe he’s just discreet or something. More than the others at least. You’ll have to feel it out at breakfast.

A ray of sunshine reflects off the mirror, making you squint again. Now how is that possible down here suddenly? You walk over towards the window and pull the curtains aside. The depressingly familiar darkness and flickering flames are gone. How are they gone?! Instead there’s nature outside. A meadow and green hills, trees with fucking birds nests - and the sun in the sky, shining brightly at you.

Did Yoongi drug you last night to calm you down or something? Because this is becoming weirder by the second. 

There’s only one way to find out, you have to ask him. Maybe not at breakfast though, in case he really doesn’t want to reveal that he helped you out. 

While you hop in the shower, you ponder if you’d be okay with the others knowing. For now, you’re thankful that you didn’t wake up frustrated for once. Maybe this cured your horn from hell and you’ll feel like a normal person instead of a perverted maniac again. Fingers crossed.

With a newfound spring in your step, you bounce down the stairs and make your way to the dining room where you can already hear chatter in the hallway. Getting ready, you decided to just not get into the topic over breakfast, you’ll just catch Yoongi alone later. 

The second you enter the room, everyone’s eyes immediately snap to you. Taehyung, Namjoon and Hoseok are already seated around the table, Jimin is leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. Jeongguk is pattering around by the stove, you assume by the sounds. 

Somewhat weirded out by their apparent interest in you, you let yourself fall into your chair next to Hoseok. You can tell that he barely manages to hold back a giggle, so you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Girl… you are, um, glowing,” he presses out between chuckles and elbows you into the side gently. 

“Thank you?” Your hand wanders up to the back of your neck at the attention.

“Slept well, huh?” even Namjoon winks at you. 

“No wonder,” Jimin adds with a mischievous glint in his eyes, walking up to the table now as well. “Yoongi is a great fuck, isn’t he?” 

He sits down and plants his chin in his hands, elbows propped up, as if he’s expecting you to give more details. 

“How do…” Did Yoongi tell them?!

“We heard you. You were loud.”

Oh. God.

“Yeah, it was really hot,” Taehyung hums, as if he’s reminiscing about last night. “Had me hard immediately, I had to rub one out.”

“Uh huh, I know,” Hoseok rolls his eyes at him.

“What? If I had known you’re awake I would’ve helped you out too,” Taehyung shrugs all innocently.

You really can’t have one normal breakfast in this hell house, huh?

Not knowing how to counter any of their bullshit, you just fall back into the chair, groaning. 

“Come on,” Jimin begs from across the table. “Give us some details at least. How many times did you come?” His deliriously intimate question makes everyone lean towards you, waiting for your answer. Even the usually composed Namjoon is visibly intrigued. 

“Three times,” Yoongi’s voice suddenly sounds from behind you. “But who’s counting?”

You whip your head around, startled by his voice and even more so by his bold answer just as he’s reaching around you to grab a tangerine from the table.

“Hell yeah, boss,” Hoseok fist bumps Yoongi, making you slide down your chair in embarrassment. Okay, so he’s not shy to have everyone know you fucked, then. 

He sits down at his chair, peeling the fruit all casually and looks back at you when he feels your eyes boring holes into him. “What?” he asks with a slight shrug. “Not my fault you’re screaming the whole place down.”

Jimin cackles, shaking his head. “I’d say that’s actually exactly your fault.”

You just sigh, rubbing your temples. Okay, so this is your life now. Everyone seems happy for you at least. For the first time you’re grateful that Jeongguk enters the room, with a big dish of steamed eggs in his hands that he places in the center of the table. Surely he’s going to change the subject; you can’t imagine him talking about your sexual escapades as excitedly as the others.

“Maybe you’ll finally be less bitchy now that you got the boss to fuck you,” he rolls his eyes at you.

“Seems like you’re the one who needs to get dicked down with that attitude,” you bite back. With less venom than usually, you have to admit.

“Oh, he did, don’t worry,” Jimin lets you know. “Came to my room all flustered like a minute after all that noise came from yours.”

“Shut up,” Jeongguk elbows him in the side.

Yeah cool, so everyone got off to you getting fucked. 

“You’re welcome, in that case,” you sigh but Jeongguk just shoots you an angry look. 

The steamed egg that you just spooned out of the big dish lands in your lap when a short stout man suddenly materializes out of nowhere behind Jimin and scares you half to death. You hear Yoongi groaning next to you as you try to pick the food off your legs. 

The mysterious man shoos Jimin from his chair and takes a seat. 

You look at Hoseok all confused and flustered, so he leans over to whisper, “That’s big boss. Bang PD.”

“You can also call me Hitman Bang,” the boss devil nods his head at you courteously and folds his hands over his knee. 

Hitman? Did he take out people on earth as an assassin before he came to hell, or what?

“Don’t ask,” Hoseok whispers to you. “He gave that nickname to himself.”

Bang PD flattens the lapel of his kind of ill-fitted suit jacket and turns to address you.

“Nice to finally meet the new house guest,” he says and extends his hand towards you without any effort to move closer. You cannot reach from across the table, so you clumsily get up half-way, dropping egg on the floor in the process, and lean over to shake his hand. Better not be rude to the boss. 

So he knew you were here all along then? Is he an all-knowing entity like god? At least he doesn’t seem to mind your presence. Maybe he even has the skill to get you back home.

He adjusts his glasses which you just now realize have a little camera next to the right lens. Of fucking course he’s walking around in those damn data-mining meta glasses. Is he getting updates on the house through them or some shit? The thought of him watching all of you through his creep goggles sends shivers down your spine.

You are glad he averts his eyes from you then, turning towards Yoongi.

“Just give us the details,” Yoongi sighs, already seeming exasperated by the presence of his boss. Relatable. 

Bang PD smiles while looking at his folded hands. “Today. 2 PM. It’s a big one this time, so I need five of you boys. Everyone but Taehyung. Here are the coordinates.” He places a piece of paper on the table, which Joon picks up and takes a look at. 

“And what do I do?” Taehyung asks.

“You stay here and will deal with the aftermath the next day.”

“Why do I always get stuck with clean-up duty?” he pouts, crossing his arms and lets himself fall against the back of the chair. 

“Because a little suffering suits my staff,” Bang PD coldly replies as he gets out of Jimin's seat. His glasses make some ringing noises and he frowns.  “Ah shit, seems like Captain’s back on our turf. Duty calls. Don't let him get in the way of work again.” 

“Wait,” Joon stops him. “We’ll deal with him like always. Just a second though. Do you know how to get her back to earth?”

“That's really not my concern,” Bang PD scoffs. “Figure it out in your time off. Thought you're a smart one.”

And just like that, he poofs away, leaving nothing behind but a faint smell of rotten eggs.

With your face scrunched up in disgust at the waft of fart, you wave your hand in front of your face. When you turn you can see Hoseok pulling the worst stank face you have ever seen, judging the hell out of their boss.

“And that’s Hitman Bang for you,” Jimin says as he lets himself fall into his chair again. 

“Delightful,” you cough. “I’ve had worse bosses before though.”

“I doubt that,” Jeongguk spits as he pushes himself away from the table, making the dishes shake. “Fucking hate him.” He stomps out of the dining room, leaving his breakfast behind almost untouched. 

Your own appetite has somewhat diminished as well, considering your hosts just got assigned what you can only assume is some kind of mission to kill. 

Gulping at the thought, you ogle the piece of paper Bang PD left behind. There’s indeed coordinates on there but also a list of names. Their targets, presumably. Shit, they’re really about to murder some people today?

It's like Joon can read your mind. 

“Don't worry,” he goes to reassure you. “Those are not innocent men.”

He enters the coordinates into his phone and turns the screen towards you. It's some sort of detention center.

“I'm not sure some drug dealers deserve to be taken out though,” you grimace. 

Joon laughs while shaking his head. 

“Oh, it's not some small-time weed peddlers. It's a gang of rapists. Got bought out and set to be released today. Had our eyes on them for a while.”

Oh. Well… “So you’re doing some type of demonic vigilantism then?”

“We try to, mostly,” Hoseok chimes in. 

“Bang PD agreed for us to go for the lowest of the low,” Yoongi tells you. 

“As long as we acquire enough souls,” Taehyung adds. “Which is quite easy with all the bullshit going on on your dear earth.”

“Yoongi negotiated it,” Hoseok nods towards him.

“Let's finish breakfast now,” Yoongi puts an end to the storytime and buries his spoon in some cold sesame-y eggs while Lucy crawls between your feet and not-so-secretly eats the pieces you dropped earlier.

“I’ll go look for Jeongguk,” Jimin lets everyone know before he’s out of the room, once again evading actually eating what's plated in front of him.

Noon rolls around quickly while the guys plan out their mission in the dining room, which you intentionally avoid for a bit, to give them space and because you don’t really want to know all the gory details of what they’re about to do to some lowlife rapists.

They’re on their way to leave on time and send Taehyung to deal with this ‘Captain’ person, whatever that means. You’ve already added him to the neverending list of questions in your mind as you lounge in the living room and weirdly feel like a mob wife sending off her six husbands to fight for the family’s honor. All that’s missing is a fur coat and a cigar at this point.

“Be good while we’re out, alright?” Yoongi says as he steps into the room, fumbling with a chain that got stuck on his leather outfit. Damn, this demon attire is tacky but also incredibly hot. You won’t be admitting that out loud ever.

“I’ll try,” you respond, forcing your eyes away from his ass. 

“Just don't mess up any rooms again please.”

“Don’t give her ideas,” Jeongguk scoffs. “You rewarded her for it last time.”

“Still jealous, huh?” Jimin chuckles while nuzzling his chin into the crook of Jeongguks neck. “Come on, we gotta go.”

And with that, the quintuple infernale leaves Lucy and you to watch over their hell mansion. Like a fucked up house sitter. Okay, you really will not destroy anything this time around. The three orgasms really took the edge off and calmed your nerves it seems. Praying to any entity at this point, maybe even Bang PD, that this will last, you sprawl out on the leather couch with Lucy curled up against you. 

You fumble with the remote of the giant TV mounted on the opposite wall, wondering if there are any hell channels they receive down here. And indeed, after zapping through a few that are just grey noise, you land on what seems to be a sports channel of all things. Ugh. Can’t even escape it 6 feet under. Only lingering long enough to figure out there really are other nationalities here, because they seem to have some smaller scale hell football cup going on, you switch to the next station, which, of course. What did you expect? It’s a porn channel. To be fair, with the whole horn from hell-thing it kind of makes sense. Maybe not all demons work out their sexual frustration with each other. 

Abandoning the unimpressive selection of demon networks, you return to good old Netflix to turn on some stupid rom-com. To your surprise, you find a new profile dedicated to you. And you don’t have to guess who set it up either - it’s called ‘The Stray’ and has a picture of Uncle Fester from Wednesday attached to it. You huff out a laugh. Jeongguk is funny sometimes, credit where credit is due. There’s three other profiles as well, with some strange names. Namgi, Taeminkook and 2Seok. Are those some variations of their names bunched together? If so, cute. Whatever does 2Seok stand for though? Hoseok times two?

Anyway, you enter your Uncle Fester themed profile and put on the first movie that gets recommended.

Towards the end of the film, the mob wife in you really starts to crave a glass of wine to truly match the vibe. You make your way to the kitchen where you dig through every single cupboard, to no avail. Just as you huff a breath of disappointment, slamming the last cabinet shut, you remember Joon telling you that he’s sober. Makes sense that they wouldn’t keep any alcohol around, so you grab a can of white monster energy from the fridge instead and pour it into a wine glass. You get a feeling that it’s probably Jeongguk’s stash. Eh, he won’t miss one.

Wine glass in hand, you decide to abandon Matthew McConaughey and instead start to stroll through the hallways, wandering around like a ghost haunting the estate. The aesthetics are really adding up today and you wish you had on one of those swishy night robes to flutter around you as your naked feet patter along the floor. As much as you’re intrigued, you fight the urge to snoop around the bedrooms and head for the library instead. You’ve never seen it with the lights turned on after all. 

It’s even more impressive now that you can see everything. Heaps of bookshelves that reach up to the high ceiling are mounted along the walls and there’s even a ladder that can be moved around on wheels that are attached to the shelves. There’s two broad sofas and an armchair in the center of the room as well as a desk by the large window at the far end. It would look so nice if sunlight shone through the stained glass but it seems whatever magic happened to your bedroom window didn’t reach the rest of the house. It’s still pitch black outside with the exception of some bursts of fire here and there. Cozy…

Trying to help Namjoon with his research, or to find any other book to read as a pastime, you pull a random one out of the shelves. Huh. It’s Korean. Well obviously it is… You check out the backs of multiple other ones and come to the conclusion that this vast library will be of no use to you until you get the hang of some Hangul. Maybe one of the guys can put some more of their translation sorcery into your head.

Realistically, you doubt that you would have stumbled upon the one spell you need to get home by chance, considering you’re not all that on the whole ritual thing, even if you could decipher the actual words. But there was still that little sliver of hope that maybe you’d get lucky. Guess not. Defeated, you slot the book back into the shelf and make your way back to your room, picking up Lucy on the way.

You spend the rest of the afternoon with the TV on in the back but are mostly on your phone, googling stuff about failed demonic rituals, with little success, since most of the world doesn’t believe in demons, and text your family and friends, subtly foreshadowing your ‘trip’ to who-knows-where in case they want to meet up.

Once the magical sunlight outside your window diminishes and douses the fake sky in pretty colors of pink and orange, you feel a pang of sadness in your chest. When will you get to see the real thing again? After the sun has completely disappeared behind the fake horizon, you figure you could start your nighttime routine and hop in the shower. At least you have a way to distinguish between day and night now. 

Your hair is still damp when you slip into an oversized t-shirt and some panties to settle into bed. It would probably be a good idea to download some e-books you can read on your phone, since you can’t decipher any of the physical ones around, but for tonight, more Netflix will do. On the upside, the selection is actually a lot better down here than back at home. And you bet they don’t even have to pay for the subscription either. Maybe you should hire Hitman Bang to negotiate some of your contracts on earth.  

It’s around nine, you’ve just put on Shrek 2, when there’s a faint knock at your door. You sit up and call for the person to enter, then watch the handle being pushed down to reveal a sleepy looking Taehyung, in his striped pajama shorts and a big white t-shirt standing in the doorframe. He’s holding a fluffy pillow in one hand and rubs his eyes with the other one, like a big, pervy baby.

“You alright?” you ask him, slight amusement in your voice at his unusual demeanor.

“Yeah, I…” Taehyung mumbles, looking down at his bare feet. “Can I sleep here tonight maybe?”

Oh. He’s barely meeting your eyes at the question, looking up through his lashes to somewhere behind you. Surely this isn’t a technique to seduce you, right? He’s too much of a softy right now to even be thinking that. Correct?

Would Yoongi be against it? Now after you’ve slept with him, it didn’t seem like he had any type of claim over you or vice versa, but you haven’t talked to him about it yet. Sure, they all fuck around apparently but you’re new and not part of their demonic gang.

“I um,” you begin. “Look, Taehyung. Just to be clear. I’m not trying to sleep my way through hell.”

He chuckles at your words, shoulders bobbing. “Sure, whatever you say. I won’t try anything, I promise,” he says like he doesn't really believe you. “Yoongi never gave the green light after telling us to stay away from your room so I’m on thin ice already anyway. But I really just need someone to sleep next to me. It’s just about that.”

You watch as he’s explaining himself and he looks more desperate than embarrassed to admit it, honestly. With a sigh you scooch to one side of your mattress and hold up the duvet that’s draped over your lap. “Alright, come here.”

He smiles at the invitation, visibly relieved that you didn’t deny him. How could you, when he looks at you with those big puppy eyes and a pouty mouth? With quick feet he’s walking up to your bed, placing his pillow against the headboard before sliding in under your blanket right up to you. 

“Thank you,” he beams at you, suddenly very close to your face, his bare leg pressed against yours. Okay, he’s definitely not afraid of physical contact then, basically leaving the other half of your bed unoccupied. “What are you watching?”

“Shrek 2,” you tell him. It’s a great movie after all - easily the best one of the series. “Have you seen it?”

“Yeah, it's funny.”

The two of you settle down to enjoy the show and after a few minutes Lucy is jumping up on the bed as well, pawing at Taehyung to make room for him. He usually lies down between your legs but there's barely any space this time so the cat decides on a new spot on Taehyung’s pillow next to his face where he can easily swat his tail against the demon’s temple in slight annoyance. Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind as he sinks further into your side in a relaxed manner as the movie plays on, chuckling with his whole body at the funny parts. When the credits roll, his head is nestled against your shoulder and his eyes are droopy. He blinks a few times, as if to wake himself up and straightens up to stretch his arms above his head.

“You wanna sleep?” you ask the clearly drowsy demon turned baby in your bed, fighting the urge to pat his tousled hair. 

“Mmh,” he hums while sliding down into a horizontal position. “It’s so early though.”

He shifts under the duvet and pulls on your hand to get you to lie down too. 

“Let’s talk a little,” he murmurs. “I’m sure you have some questions in that pretty head of yours.”

You decide to indulge him since you do actually want to ask about a few things, so you place your hands behind you on your pillow and get comfortable. Taehyung doesn’t waste even one second before he’s curled up against your side, startling an already annoyed Lucy from his slumber. There’s no way this is the same person who continuously invited you to a shower orgy. 

But it’s comforting to have someone so close after feeling alone for days, even with all of them around. That’s why you stretch out your arm on Taehyung’s side to let him rest his cheek on it. You’re the designated pillow tonight, it seems. 

“So, who’s this Captain guy?” you ask. “And what did you do about him?”

”Just some freak from another… department,” Taehyung explains. “He’s kind of a psychopath to be honest and tries to fuck with us every now and then. I just went out to check on him, see if he’s plotting something.”

“A psychopath as opposed to… you angels?” you ask him.

“Hey, we’re so nice compared to those creeps,” he gripes.

“There are multiple?”

“Yeah, he’s called ‘Captain’ for a reason... Got a whole crew underneath him, but don’t worry, he can’t get in here. That’s why it’s important you never leave the house alone.”

“I doubt I’ll ever leave this house anyway, to be honest,” you tell him. “Seems scary outside.”

“Ah, it’s not that bad, once you get used to the darkness. It’s kinda fun at some places. There’s clubs and stuff in different realms.”

This whole area gets more confusing and insane, the more you get to know about it.

“Speaking of darkness,” you go on. “Did you see my window?”

“Uh huh. Pretty night sky.”

“Was that Yoongi you think?”

“Yeah, must have been,” Taehyung nods. “He’s the only one with that kind of power.”

Aw. Your chest tightens at the thought. You complained and bitched so much about hell that he decided to make you shut up by giving you a nice view. “That’s really nice of him.”

“Yeah, boss is much nicer than he lets on,” he says. “Also, it’s not like that’s the only thing he’s done for you, huh?”

You can feel him chuckle and then he throws his arm around your waist, shifting around slightly. As he moves, you feel something twitch against your thigh. Something stiff and ginormous. 

Heat immediately creeps up your neck and the tight feeling in your lower abdomen, that you thought you had finally gotten rid off, returns immediately in full force. 

“Oh, sorry,” Taehyung mumbles and reaches down to adjust his apparent boner. “It just happens all the time, I’m not making a move on you. Just ignore it.”

Well, that’s easier said than done. Also what a way to turn somebody down…

It’s not like anyone’s in the house, so no one would hear you this time. You turn away from him in an effort to flee your thoughts but feel him against your ass now, fighting the urge to press harder against him while your breath hitches.

“I don’t like being the big spoon,” he pouts.

“Tae, you’re not making this easy for me,” you sigh, already thinking of where and how you’d like to touch him. 

“That’s the horn from hell speaking,” he tells you, voice steady. “I know it's hard.” He laughs at his accidental innuendo then. “But it gets easier with time. Promise. Just… distract yourself.”

He’s right, so you put on another movie and curse yourself internally for your ever growing libido, then turn back around to face him. Tae smiles at you, not like he’s expecting something but in an understanding way, like he acknowledges your struggle. Also, not having his giant dick pressed against your ass is probably the smarter way to go about this.

“Tell me something then. To distract me,” you say while he brings his hand to your neck. His fingertips start playing with your earlobe. God, what is his deal with being so cute? “Why can’t you sleep alone?”

He breathes out an elongated sigh, his finger momentarily stilling on your ear. 

“Right into the deep end, huh?” he quietly says, but then continues caressing you. “Guess you deserve to know if I’m just turning up at your doorstep like this.”

You figured this might not be the most fun topic, but what he drops next is really not even in the same realm of what you were expecting.

“I never had parents, so I was basically in an orphanage from the start. I don’t remember anything though until I was like ten. And I would delete those memories too if I could, honestly.” 

He pauses briefly as if to brave himself for the next part.

“The orphanage was horrible at keeping us safe. The older kids beat me up constantly, to the point that I was scared to leave the bedroom alone. The staff was also just screaming and cursing at me when I went to them for help. I was terrified all the time.”

Taehyung's voice is wavering as he tries to get through the story and you can't help but put your hand upon his cheek. He leans into the touch before he continues. 

“Then a few years later I was told I’d be going home with some foster family and that got me really excited because I was finally able to leave this shithole behind. I didn’t know that the orphanage was only the beginning.”

You swallow hard, your thumb brushing over his cheek in hopes to comfort him as his tone keeps getting more unsteady. 

“I’ll spare you the details but essentially it only got worse. Felt like I got handed from one foster family to the next and the way they treated the kids under their so-called care was… traumatizing in all kinds of ways. The nights were the worst, always waiting for someone to come in and hurt me. And more often than not, they did.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, not quite sure what else to say about him revealing this to you. How someone could be doing that to anyone, but especially a child is unfathomable and words can’t express just how much you feel for him. “You didn’t deserve that. No one does.”

He hums deeply and takes a breath. There's a faint smile on his face then. “But that's over now. I'm safe, here in hell. Even if it doesn't seem that way at first. Earth felt more like hell to me than down here ever did.”

“I believe that. How did you get here, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Well, during the harder periods I always wished for an out, you know? Every day and night, I hoped that wishing could just make it happen somehow. And one day Bang PD appeared, like out of nowhere. Told me he had this contract for me to sign and would grant me a wish - even if it was something unimaginable. I wished for a real family, one that would keep me safe and signed the thing. Didn’t read the fine print obviously. And years later, when I was almost 30 already and had completely forgotten about it, I suddenly got sucked down here. He just told me ‘There’s the family you wished for but you gotta work for me from now on.’ So that’s what I do.”

You just pull him in for a hug and he readily complies, holding you close for a moment, his breath fanning across your shoulder. Wiping away the stray tear from your eye before you pull back, you put your hand on his cheek again. “Thank you for telling me. You’re really strong for withstanding all that.”

He shrugs with a grin, fingers back on your earlobe. “Now that I’ve successfully ruined the mood, I can tell you some fun stories as well.”

Ruining the mood was the goal, and his boner has gone down to a semi - that thing must be unkillable - so you just chuckle and nod.

“Okay, listen up. One time, after a mission on earth I hooked up with this rich cougar in a bar downtown and she took me to her apartment - sky lounge, view across the whole city and all that. Anyway, she was really hot but I found out she was married mid-deed and teleported back here right when her husband came home. Also made sure to steal her wallet and erase her memories before I left.”

You throw your head back and laugh, slapping his chest in fake aversion, making him giggle as well. “I’d say I’m shocked, but somehow I am absolutely not surprised. You’re the worst.”

“What? It’s her own fault if she cheats on her husband with some random stranger. Serves her right, even though I miss her tits.”

His eyes flicker down to your chest for a second before he regains his senses and apparently remembers that he just talked you out of fucking him. He keeps on telling you about several more shenanigans until you both get too tired to chat. You make sure to keep your hand somewhere near him, for him to hold during the night though.

You wake up from the sensation of someone drooling on your shoulder, slightly confused. When you crack your eyes open, groaning, you remember that you have a certain someone plastered to your side. 

“Taehyung,” you mumble, trying to gently wake him up so you can move your arm. 

“Ugh,” he groans with a gravelly voice before he turns his lower body towards you as well, arm splayed out across your stomach and buries his face in the crook of your neck. 

His morning wood presses against your hip and immediately makes you wake up completely, a hot surge flaring up your spine. Jesus, this dude is hard more hours in the day than he’s not, no wonder he’s a total perv most of the time. You need to create some distance between your bodies, or else you’ll end up the same, already riled up a minute after you opened your eyes.

“I wanted to cuddle for a bit,” Taehyung pouts when you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. 

“I can’t unless you take care of your…,” you turn to look at him and wave your hand towards the tent in his pajama pants. “Of that.”

“Oh,” Taehyung's eyes fall to his crotch and he giggles. “Sorry, you’re right.” Reluctantly he rolls out of bed, grabs the pillow he brought with him and walks over to your side of the bed.

“Thank you for letting me stay with you,” he smiles down at you before he plants a quick kiss on your temple and moves to the door. “Let’s make breakfast in a bit for when the others return.” 

A little while later, after a refreshing shower to not only wash Taehyung’s drool off you but also to clear your mind of the residual horniness his boner left behind, you throw on some comfortable clothes, a soft skirt with a matching top, and make your way to the kitchen, where he is already waiting for you, multiple pans and ingredients strewn about the counter.

He looks pretty helpless and his eyes light up when you walk in. “I wanted to make waffles or something, maybe pancakes. But I don’t know where to start.”

You laugh and sort through his chaos, preparing enough sweet breakfast for the whole group with Taehyung as your eager assistant. 

When the others return from their murderous adventure time, the table is set with everything Tae and you prepared, eliciting a round of appreciative hums from the group. You bite back a smile, happy to be at least a little bit of service until you take a closer look at them. 

Hoseok is cleaning his hands with some disinfectant wipe that’s tinged pink, while Namjoon looks the most decent out of them. Yoongi’s neck is lightly decorated with a smear of dried up blood, that also sticks to one of the chains across his chest. Those three actually don’t appear too bad, but Jimin and Jeongguk look like they’ve been through the wringer. While Jimin has some blood residue on his knuckles and, suspiciously, around his lips, Jeongguk looks like he was doused in blood with deep red splatters all across his face and some even left in his hair, making strands clump together.

The visual of them in their leather and chains, the blood and what it implies - you are simultaneously confusingly turned on and horrified. The shock on your face must be visible as you gulp down a wave of nausea, the conflicting feelings mingling in your brain, because Yoongi steps up and addresses Jeongguk and Jimin.

“You two,” he orders. “Go clean up. We’ll leave you some food.”

Jeongguk just shrugs his shoulders, giggling. He seems to be slightly out of it, more carefree and aloof than you are used to seeing him. He pushes Jimin from behind by his hips, unabashedly attacking his neck with his mouth as they stumble out of the dining room. 

Ew. Did you just witness a weird fetish those two share? And why do you kind of get it? 

“Jeongguk always gets… excited when he can let out some of his pent up anger,” Joon explains, apparently reading your thoughts. 

“And Jimin likes when he’s excited,” Hoseok chuckles.

Understandably.

The three sit down at the table with Tae and you, loading their plates like they didn’t eat for a week.

“So everything went well?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi nods mid bite. “They were pretty stupid. Almost too easy. So everything went according to plan after letting Gguk play with them for a while.”

He then reaches for the dish of pancakes again, at the same time you do and when your faces are basically next to each other, he suddenly halts with a piece of food between his chopsticks, just for a moment, before he plops back down into his chair, letting the pancake fall onto his plate and wrinkles his nose.

“Taehyung slept with you,” Yoongi states matter-of-factly, but his eyes feel like they are boring holes through you.

“Next to me, yes.” You are immediately annoyed by his accusation, badly disguised as an observation. “Is that a problem?” 

“Of course not,” Yoongi shakes his head while getting up, then walks towards the other end of the table. “Couldn't even stay alone for one night, huh, Tae?”

“You know that I can’t,” Taehyung looks at Yoongi with big, sad eyes. Oh, he for sure knows the effect those have, because Yoongi's shoulders immediately sag a little.

“Yeah,” he sighs and reaches out to pat Taehyung's arm while picking up a soda can from next to him. “It’s all good.”

This was bound to get awkward, wasn’t it? You knew you should have talked about boundaries or shit with Yoongi but there simply wasn’t a moment that you could have caught him to do so. And he made no effort to, either. Tae and you didn’t even do anything, so why did he have to comment on it so blatantly in front of Joon and Hoseok? They seemed unfazed, thank god, but he still made you feel bad. And for nothing too - maybe you should have just slept with Taehyung last night. Because you are already feeling the sexual frustration seep back into you that made you lose it once before. 

With your appetite gone and the others seemingly finished with their breakfast, you pull away from the table, making your chair screech across the floor, and start to collect the empty dishes. 

You take the pile of plates to the kitchen, groaning as you place them into the sink to rinse them off. Since you’re still irritated, you clank the porcelain a bit louder than necessary. And then you hear Yoongi’s voice sound from behind.

“You okay?”

You decidedly ignore him and keep on scrubbing leftover food off a plate, just huffing in response.

“We have a dishwasher, you know?”

You drop the sponge into the sink and grab a dish towel to dry off your hands, still not looking up and mumble some incomprehensible curse words to yourself.

“Hey,” Yoongi is now suddenly very close to your ear. “Don’t ignore me.”

He grabs your arm with a firm but gentle hand and turns you around so you have to face him. Yoongi’s frowning. “Why are you so mad?”

“Why am I mad?” you ask incredulously. Men are so fucking dumb. “Why are you pissed about Tae sleeping in my bed?”

“I’m not. I even said that I’m not.”

Yeah, because you totally bought that. And then it clicks. 

“How did you even know?”

“Could smell him on you,” he mumbles, suddenly interested in the marble pattern on the kitchen counter. 

What is he, a dog? Some alpha wolf with heightened senses? At least he seems embarrassed about it.

Then you remember Jeongguk talking about your stench a while back. Seems like they are all dogs in their rut. Men… But okay, it’s not like you aren’t feeling like a bitch in heat as well. 

“Just so you know,” you huff and brave yourself for what you’re about to say. “I didn’t fuck Taehyung because of you - because I wanted to talk to you before doing something stupid with anyone and now I’m horny and frustrated and to top it all off you’re still being an ass about me letting him sleep in my bed, all while knowing about his situation.”

Yoongi is suddenly very much in your space, clicking his tongue and crowding you against the kitchen counter, making the edge dig into your ass cheeks. 

“Thought your attitude was sorted when I made you squirt all over your bed that night… Doesn't seem like a long term solution then. And all that drama for what? A single sentence I dropped in passing?” he hisses into your ear, his arms placed on either side of you, caging you in. “Use me then. Use me, if you’re so frustrated.”

The words have barely left his lips before they are on your neck and his teeth graze over your sensitive skin. 

“Fuck,” is all you can muster in a shaky voice, your knees already threatening to give in. Damn, you’re easy. But his mouth on you is all it takes to have you clench your thighs. 

“My room,” Yoongi mutters and takes hold of your arm again before he basically drags you through the mansion, passing Hoseok on your way who just wriggles his eyebrows at you.

You stumble along until the door to Yoongi’s room slams shut behind you. There’s no time to even check out your surroundings because he already has his hands all over you, moving you towards the edge of his bed, where he pushes you onto the mattress by your shoulders, immediately crawling up, hovering above you. 

“Do you think you can solve all your disputes by getting your dick out? Just assuming I want to fuck you?” you tease him, not really any venom behind your voice. 

“Considering you begged for it last time… yeah,” he flatly replies. His eyes are betraying him though, pupils already blown dark as he’s looking down at you.

“Feels like you’re the one begging today though, doesn’t it?” For some reason, toying with him gives you a rush. 

His chains are dangling over your chest and you pull on one of them with your index finger.

“There’s blood on your neck.”

“Not mine.”

“Too bad.”

Yoongi breathes out a laugh. 

“You’re so bratty today,” he smirks. “You need me to punish you?”

You shrug your shoulders, the nonchalance nothing but an act as you can already feel yourself basically wetting your panties from the prospect of Yoongi fucking some manners into you. 

“Maybe.”

That’s all he needs to hear. Within a fragment of a second he’s off you and turns you over on your stomach, before pulling your ass up by your hips. He grabs the waistband of your panties underneath your skirt and slides them down your thighs roughly, baring you for him to do as he pleases.

“I hate those,” he mutters, discarding your panties off to the side. “Hiding your pretty ass and pussy from me.” With that, he dives in face first, spreading your cheeks with his palms, licking a flat stripe from your cunt to your ass. 

Your immediate moan gets cut off when he pulls away again and a hand lands sharply on your right ass cheek, making you yelp in surprise. It stings, but it also leaves you wanting more. 

“You want to be a brat, huh?” Yoongi says and slaps your other ass cheek. “I’ll treat you like one, then.”

His voice is tinged with a hint of danger and it makes your knees tremble. Why is this demon, dressed in a bloody biker get-up so fucking hot and knows how to push all your right buttons? You feel like you could come just from him spanking you. 

After a few more deliciously burning slaps across your ass, Yoongi gets off the bed and takes off his clothes, clearly in a rush to take this argument-turned-quickie another step further. His dick is already rock-hard when he returns and falls on his back.

He grabs your thigh and urges you to climb on. 

“Told you to use me, didn’t I?” he mutters, one hand wrapped around his cock, languidly stroking while you’re throwing your leg over his thighs. “Keep the skirt on.”

You do as he said and get on top of him, grinding your dripping pussy over his length. “What about my shirt?” you ask in an effort to be good now. 

“Off,” he grins and his eyes widen when your bare tits bounce in his face. His hands travel up over your waist in no time and immediately squeeze the soft flesh. “No bra again? Naughty.” He pulls you down and catches one of your nipples between his lips. “Almost like you expected me to undress you.” 

Yoongi's hand sneaks under your skirt and he squeezes your ass hard, guiding you to glide over his dick again. All the sensations happening at once have you whimpering. The way you’re already falling apart in his hands doesn’t leave him unaffected either, his cock violently twitches against your pussy, eager to be balls deep inside of you.

Yoongi then stops sucking your tits and falls back, apparently deciding to let you take the reins, because he stops guiding your movement and splays his fingers out on your thighs instead. 

He groans with every hard pass of your cunt over his shaft. This is the opposite of dry humping, your arousal mixing with the precum leaking steadily from his cock, creating a nasty glide where your bodies meet. You keep swiveling your hips, the pressure in your lower stomach is already reaching dangerous levels at this point. As if he can feel your orgasm approaching, he starts moving against you from beneath, matching your rhythm. It only takes a few more drags before your mouth falls open in a silent gasp as you press against him as hard as you can. You almost sob as you’re pushed over the edge, white stars blurring your vision as you come. If Yoongi wasn’t holding you down by your thighs, you would have toppled over from how much your body convulses on top of him as your grinding slows until you're a panting mess, collapsing into his chest. 

He lets you catch your breath for a moment, his fingers tracing patterns on your back, but his twitching cock still pressed between your folds reminds you that this is far from over.

Yoongi seems to agree because just as you realize it, his voice sounds up in a whisper.

“You had your fun, now stop torturing me and fuck me, would you?”

Who’s begging now?

You push yourself up with a satisfied smirk, reaching down between your legs to line him up and slide down in a slow but smooth motion. 

“Hah,” is all he’s able to respond as his lids are scrunching up at the feeling of your walls clutching him in cadenced pulses. 

You lean forward for a kiss, twirling your tongue against his and feel his sharp exhales on your upper lip as you roll your hips.

“Shit,” you sigh, feeling how he fills you out so well, the angle making the drag even more prominent. “Like it like this?”

“You really gotta ask?” he grits out between groans, one hand now fisting the sheet next to him, the other landing harshly on your ass again before finishing the slap off with a rough squeeze. 

His unravelled state only compels you to bounce on his dick faster and harder. He curses beneath you and grabs your hand that you're using to hold yourself up on his chest and places it on his neck instead. Oh!

You don't have to be told twice, remembering how he pissed you off earlier, even though the anger has been mostly washed away by your orgasm, so you spread out your fingers and squeeze. Tentatively at first, until his own hand comes up on top of yours, urging you to increase the pressure.

With your hand around his neck you keep riding him in rhythmic movements, your clit dragging so heavenly across his pubic hair with every stroke forward. Your fingers press harder against the sides of his throat the faster you feel your next high approaching.

“Gonna come again I think,” you spit out, words slurred as you are entirely taken apart by everything that’s happening right now.

“Didn't even need to fuck your mouth to shut you up this time,” he presses out, breathing heavily himself while his hand wanders from your ass to your clit, rubbing quick circles over you with his thumb. “Now be good and come for me.”

Your head falls back between your shoulders, the hand on his throat momentarily losing its grip, until he guides it right back to where he wants it. Your fingers tighten on their own as the surge of pleasure shoots through your whole body, limbs twitching while your mouth hangs open and you release a long whine, not caring about who’s going to hear it.

The contractions are still pulsing within you as you reach your peak, making your pussy grip his cock hard.

“Fuck,” Yoongi whimpers and the tone catches you off guard. “Please let me come inside you. Please, shit, please!”

He can't stop his hips from stuttering up into you.

“Yeah... Give it to me,” you breathe out with a weak voice, still choking him like he instructed you to do and you feel his Adam's apple bob against your palm as you keep slamming your ass into his lap.

On the second bounce down he loses it. You don't think you've ever seen anything better than Yoongi coming undone with his dick buried inside you and your fingers around his throat. He should be underneath you more often.

He lets out a strangled moan, eyes squeezed shut while his hips buck up in choppy motions as he releases his hot load inside you and you feel him twitching eagerly with each spurt.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, still grinding up into you, now at a more gentle pace. You soften your hold on his throat before stroking the back of your hand over the reddened skin, like an apology.

“Don't worry,” he chuckles softly before pulling you down against his chest. “I can take much worse.”

All tension from earlier today leaves your body as you're nestled in his arms, breathing in his scent with your face nuzzled against his neck. You can still make out faint metallic notes, but it's almost drowned out in the fragrance that is just so fully Yoongi, it's making your head spin in the best way possible.

He’s still inside of you, slowly going soft and you make no attempts to move as long as he doesn’t either while both your breaths begin to even out. 

“Sorry for being a bit of a bitch,” you say and he chuckles. “But! I still feel like I was right, just for the record.”

“Right about what?”

“About you accusing me of sleeping with Taehyung in front of three other people, all pissy.”

“That wasn’t me accusing, that was me noticing. And asking about it,” he says while his fingertips glide up and down the skin of your spine. “And, for the record, I wasn’t being pissy.”

“I hope so since both Tae and I refrained from doing anything you wouldn't approve of.”

“I never said you couldn't. Don't let me stop you. You can do what you want with whoever you want. We're all adults, right?”

You raise your head at his words, looking him in the eyes. “Really? I didn’t want to interfere with the whole Cullen-esque family bond you guys got going on.”

“Still have no idea who the Cullens are by the way.”

“Well, we’re gonna watch Twilight some time then. But seriously. If that’s okay for you and everyone else, that’s… good to know.”

“Good to know, sure,” he laughs.

A smile forms on your face at the sound and you roll your eyes. “Any recommendations?”

His body shakes beneath you from the chuckles he breathes out. “Depends on what you’re looking for I guess. But honestly, no complaints for any of them.”

“Huh, so you really did fuck all of them?”

“And I will continue to do so,” he tells you, all smug.

“That’s even worse than the Cullens, then,” you reply. “They should make a movie about you guys instead.”

“And who would watch that?”

“Thousands of slightly insane people all over the world, I’m sure.”

“Hm. Might be a business idea for when we run out of money.”

“You should call it Only Fiends.”

His dick shifts from the laughter and you take a second to sort your thoughts. “Oh, I almost forgot. Thank you for fixing everything I broke in Jin’s room. I’m really sorry about my… outburst. And thanks for doing the magic stuff on the window.”

“The spell you mean?”

“Yeah, that one. I love it.”

“Glad to hear it.” 

And with that, he turns his face towards you and closes the distance between your mouths, his fingers finding their way to your jaw. You kiss him back, enjoying the tender moment and how his lips brush against yours. Maybe you should thank him more often. And definitely be a brat more often too. 

Perhaps Jeongguk is also just trying to get a good spanking. The thought makes you giggle against Yoongi and his dick slips out fully, cum trickling out of you slowly and landing straight in his lap. 

“We should clean up,” he mutters, apparently not as keen on getting his own juices on himself as he liked getting splashed with yours. 

That ends the cuddle session and after a quick shower Yoongi tells you that he’s going to take a nap. You leave him to it and make your way back to your own room, horn from hell thoroughly sated. 

The rest of the morning passes by in the blink of an eye - mostly because you decided to follow Yoongi’s lead on taking a nap. Slept like a baby after getting the attitude fucked right out of you. Since everyone is resting following their nightshift, you just grab a snack from the fridge for lunch and pop on another movie. Tae is gone - probably for his clean-up endeavors. 

Later in the afternoon you make your way through the hallways, looking for anyone to chat with. The house is quiet, everyone’s still resting or tiredly wandering around and most doors to their rooms are closed. Except for Joon’s, which is open. His room is empty though, you find out when you peek inside. He could be in the library. Probably, since you haven’t seen him anywhere else around. So that’s where your curiosity takes you.

Your guess was correct and you find him deep in thought at the desk by the window, hunched over a couple of books and writing down some notes by hand. Clearing your throat as you approach, so you don’t startle him by suddenly popping up, you make your way over to him. 

“Oh, hey,” he looks up at you with a smile. “Bored, huh?”

You nod accompanied by a little sigh. “Don’t want to interrupt you though, seems like you’re working on something.”

“Just let me finish this, it’ll only be a minute,” he tells you. “You can sit down while you wait.”

You recognize the arm chair he’s nodding his head towards and grimace, remembering what you found when you first entered the library in the dark.

“Uh, yeah,” Joon says when he sees you hesitating. “Sorry about that again.”

He really has no reason to be, it was you invading after all, so you plop down into the cushions with criss-crossed legs and watch Joon writing away with knit eyebrows until he finally puts the pen down and closes his notebook a little while later. Joon’s pretty, even when his face is all serious and he’s lost in thought. Did Bang PD choose his demon squad by looks? It surely seems that way. His face relaxes now though and he stretches his long arms above his head, cracking his neck. 

“What are you working on?” you ask him, eternally curious about the ongoings of hell.

“Trying to figure out some things about our contracts,” he lets you know. “Don’t worry, I’m also still looking for a way to bring you home.”

“Made any progress on that by chance?”

He apologetically shakes his head. “Sorry, no. I kind of hit a wall there. But I’ll keep trying.”

“I wish I could help out, but I’m useless. I can’t even read any of your books.”

“Oh right,” he nods. “Forgot you actually don’t speak Korean.”

“Could you do another translation spell on me? So that I can read stuff in here?”

“Or how about I just actually teach you Korean?” he smiles with what you take as a slightly belittling shake of his head.

Oof. “How long do you think I’m going to be stuck here exactly?”

“Hm, you’re right. Preferably for you not that long. But languages are so fun and you could surely use it back on earth as well then. I taught myself English and Japanese even before I got the literal gift of knowledge from the devil.”

“Okay, smartypants,” you huff. “I guess you’re well equipped in the brain compartment.”

Joon laughs. “I guess so. Got me through medical school at least.”

“Wait, what?” you ask him, caught off-guard by his humble brag. “You’re a doctor?”

“Yeah. Or I was, back on earth at least. A stupid one that got addicted to opioids…”

“Oh.” You watch his knee bob up and down next to you. “Is that related to how you got here then?”

“You could say that,” he replies, suddenly acting curt. “Well, if you don’t want the full Korean language learning experience, you should ask Yoongi about it. He’s the only one who can do those kinds of spells.”

That reminds you of something you wanted to investigate anyway.

“So, about Yoongi’s powers,” you start. “He did something to my window. Like, it’s all nice and sunny outside, there’s nature and everything. But it’s only outside my room.”

Joon hums. “It takes a lot of power to change the surroundings. Yoongi’s skilled, but to turn the whole area into a meadow would take an insane amount of energy. Just doing your window would have drained him actually.”

You assumed he would have done it with a snip of his fingers. “Ah… So that's why he hasn't restructured the lovely front yard yet. I’ve been asking myself if you all just enjoyed the aesthetics of hell.”

“Not really,” Namjoon chuckles. “I think he’s working on some stuff though. Seen him reading in here more often than he usually does.”

“Did you and the others not get any special powers then?”

“Aside from the immortality, teleportation, healing, imposing amnesia, super-human strength and wisdom you mean?” he grins. “No. Spells, telekinesis and conjugation are for the boss only.”

When he says it like that, your question does sound silly. What powers might Bang PD possess when mid management Yoongi already gets those kinds of perks?

“Could have skipped med school then, now that I can heal with just the laying on of hands, like a true Covid denier.”

You huff a laugh, eyeing his notes, that you can’t make out. “As you said, you can still use it when you get to go back to earth, right? Like Jin did, I mean.”

“Hopefully, yes,” Joon hums as he absentmindedly plays with the ring on his left hand. “That would be the goal at least. Figuring out the loopholes.”

“Loopholes?”

“Yes. So we all got ourselves into a contract, right? Turns out we were all young and desperate and dumb when signing them and no one read it through thoroughly.”

“Not even you?”

“Don’t remind me,” he waves you off, rolling his eyes at himself. “As I said, desperate times. And the contracts were long as fuck. Anyway, Bang PD never showed them to us again but there must have been terms and conditions that make out a way on how to fulfill these contracts. Some sort of loophole that allows us to get out.”

“I have so many questions again already.”

“Shoot.”

“You’re already able to go to earth. Why not just stay there and do your jobs for the devil?”

“We basically feel like shit every second we’re there.”

“Oh?”

“The moment we’re up there it gets so uncomfortably cold, the sun feels like a big, artificial light bulb, that’s way too bright and you just want to come back down immediately. It’s some sort of hex that Bang PD set up, I think. Probably also in the fine print that no one read.” 

“Okay, that makes sense then. And what did Jin do to fulfill his contract?”

“We’re not sure,” Joon sighs. “It’s why I’m working through those books currently. I’m also in contact with him and we’re tracing back the steps he took on that day. I think it has something to do with the reason why we signed in the first place. Like some sort of redemption that’s different for everyone.”

“Sounds reasonable enough, yeah. But why would Bang PD even give you an out? Isn’t the devil supposed to be evil personified with everyone's worst interest in mind?”

“He likes the drama, I think,” Joon says and you laugh. “The whole thing is like reality TV to him probably. I guess he wants a new cast every now and then. And hell would be crowded eventually if everyone stayed here forever. But I’ve also heard of demons who’ve been here for hundreds of years. Probably not able to figure out how to fulfill their loophole. So he enjoys some suffering on the side as well, by the looks of it.”

“I feel like there’s a lot of suffering going around between all of you,” you carefully state.

“Oh, you noticed the copious amounts of trauma?”

“Kinda hard to miss…”

Joon sighs. “We’re working on that as well. Got Tae and Jimin to sign up for online therapy a while back. Some of the others are harder to convince.”

“Can’t imagine who,” you can’t help but joke.

“I’ll get through to them eventually,” he smiles as if to reassure himself more than you.

“What about you? You in therapy too?”

“Of course. For years. Would be hypocritical of me otherwise, wouldn’t it?” he winks at you.

“I really hope you can all find a way to get out of the contract. I’ll let you get back to your research. Thank you for indulging me once again.”

With that, you rise from the arm chair and leave Joon behind, his cute nose already back in his books. Thank god he doesn’t wear glasses or you’d be done for. 

On your way back through the house, you think about offering your help to prepare dinner - although it depends who’s going to cook. Jeongguk will probably not be on duty tonight, as there’s Avril Lavigne playing loudly from his room. You can make out Sk8er Boi even through the closed door. He’s such a poser but still a little teen fangirl behind the facade you think as you laugh to yourself when you open the door to your own room. 

You’re immediately greeted by the jarring visual of a crying Hoseok on your bed, face buried in your pillow and his whole body shaking from the sobbing. 

“What…,” you start, stunned by the heartbreaking surprise not even one step into the room. Hoseok whips his head around and scrambles to get off your bed, wiping at his eyes, but it seems like he can’t stop the tears as he’s mumbling some apology between sobs while trying to push past you and out into the hallway. 

You stop him by gripping his shoulders, trying to get him to look at you but he just keeps his head hanging low. What the fuck happened? 

Before you do anything else, you wrap your arms around his shaking body and hug him tightly to calm him down. You only let go once his crying has gone softer and lead him towards the bed again where you settle on the floor against the wooden frame and pull him down with you. 

“Sorry,” he sniffles, his knees pulled up to his chest. He uses the sleeve of his t-shirt to wipe at his red-rimmed eyes. “I surely look like shit,” he half-heartedly tries to joke. 

“You don’t,” you say as you dab away the remaining wetness on his cheek with your thumb. “Just like you’ve been crying your eyes out.”

You scoot a little closer and nudge Hoseok with your knee. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

His shoulders slump a little more at your question, which makes you reach out and put your hand on his arm that’s slung around his knees. 

“It’s so stupid,” he sighs. “I came to your room to see if you want to hang out, but you weren’t here. And it’s like I looked around for the first time and it’s like… I don’t know.”

You squeeze his arm in reassurance, urging him to go on.

“It’s just, it was Jin’s room before, you know. And he’s been gone for a while but now seeing all your things it’s like the last of him has vanished,” he halts for a moment then, looking into your eyes for the first time since you walked in. “Please don’t think I’m blaming you, I’m not at all, it just… made it real. He’s … he’s really gone.” Hoseok's voice breaks into another sob at the end of the sentence.

“I’m so sorry, Hoseok,” you whisper, putting your arm around him for comfort.

When his shoulders stop shaking again, you can’t hold the question back anymore. You bring a little distance between you, turning to face him properly. 

“So,” you start with a hint of hesitation. You’re probably about to put your foot in your mouth again. 

“Was… is… Jin your boyfriend? You seem really torn up about him being gone. Like, a lot more than the others.”

Hoseok scoffs, followed by another sniffle. “Hah, I wish.”

“So you were in love with him?”

“Change that to present tense,” he groans, burying his head in his knees. 

“Does he know?”

“I’m not really subtle,” he mumbles from between his kneecaps. “He knows.”

For how talkative Hoseok usually is, you really have to pry it out of him today.  

“I’m guessing he didn’t reciprocate your feelings?” 

Hoseok curls into himself even further, slowly starting to resemble a shrimp. After a moment of silence, he finally lifts his head again. 

“Yeah, he’s straight. Let me down really gently too which made it even worse,” he shakes his head. “I’m so fucking dumb, just like me to fall for another straight guy.”

“Hey,” you reach for his face now so that he has to look at you. “You’re not dumb. It’s not like you can decide who you fall in love with.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs. “Everyone keeps telling me this. I still feel like an idiot. He was my best friend too and of course I had to make everything complicated. At least he’s happy now on earth with his girlfriend.” 

“I’m really sorry, Hoseok,” you pat his arm, knowing your words don’t help him with his heartbreak at all.

“Ugh, please stop calling me Hoseok,” he rolls his wet eyes at you. “Call me Hobi.”

“Oh, got an attitude now?”, you giggle, glad that his personality is still coming through even when he’s a crying mess. “You want to tell me a little bit about Jin, maybe?” 

“I do,” he nods eagerly. “The others got a bit sick of me whining about him, even though they would have never admitted it. I can’t blame them - who wants to hear some lovesick loser rambling all day?”

“Go on then,” you nudge him. “I actually do have all day. Gimme all the details.”

Hobi unfolds his body finally, stretching out his legs.

“Honestly, when I first met him, I thought he was just some spoiled nepo baby. We all did. The first impression didn’t do him justice at all though.”

His hand finds yours in your lap and he laces his fingers with yours while his other hand keeps gesturing as he talks. 

“Jin just seemed so… superficial. Aloof. Came from a ridiculously wealthy background, gated community and all. We all wondered why in the world he would sign a contract with the devil. How dumb does he have to be?”

“So why did he?” you wonder out loud.

Hobi lets you in on some details about Jin’s childhood and teenage years, about him being lonely as hell because he was always so bored by his rich peers. Jin figured he’s the same as them, only good for his looks, obviously not having anything else to offer. 

Him signing the contract was actually for shits and giggles, since, what are consequences? Rich kids don’t know about those. So he basically signed away his soul for the devil to make him young and beautiful forever, his only assets, according to himself. 

“Jin’s personality took a while to come out,” Hobi shrugs. “Probably because he was finally around real people, not the polished, fake crowd he was so used to.”

So apparently when Jin got confronted by the group and had to face people with true problems, he struggled to be empathetic in the beginning. In the end he seemed to feel with them though and he turned out to be a really funny and caring person. 

“Basically, hell slapped some sense of reality into him,” Hobi laughs as he recalls the early days. 

“And somehow he found the loophole in his contract by chance?” you conclude.

“Oh, you know about that?” Hobi looks at you surprised. “He did. I’m so happy for him, he deserves to live his life. Even if that means he’s with Yunae now. Instead of me.”

His voice goes a little somber at the conclusion of Jin’s story. 

“He wouldn’t be with me that way anyway, heterosexual and all, you know. It’s a shame he’s not at least bi.”

“It’s not like he had any say in that,” you try to rationalize Hobi’s frustration.

“Believe me, I know that better than anyone,” he scoffs. “Not even the fucking devil would change my sexuality.”

“You tried to have Bang PD make you straight?!” you ask with big eyes. 

He nods, head bowed in what appears to be shame.

“Life would have been a shitload easier if I was,” he mutters. “Also wouldn’t be crying over Jin now like a baby.”

“Hey now,” you address him with a stern tone. “You’re good and perfect the way you are. There’s no need to change.”

“Tell that to my super religious family,” he avoids your gaze by turning his head away from you. “Had me doubting why I was even alive if I was just all wrong.”

You pull Hobi into another hug, even if it’s an awkward one because of how you’re still sitting on the floor. 

“I know they’re your family but they can fuck right off if they made you feel worthless for something you have absolutely no control over. Also, god makes no mistakes, isn’t that a saying? Oh, wait, that was Lady Gaga actually I think, nevermind. Don’t tell me you sold away your life to Bang PD because people made you believe there’s something wrong with you for liking men.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but that’s exactly what I did,” he gives you a tight, huffed laugh. “You have no idea how many years the church and my family, and even the ones who were supposed to be my friends, hammered it into me that my existence is a sin. That something’s wrong with me that needs to be fixed. You don’t know how many summers I spent in some dubious conversion camps hosted by, I don’t know, probably some pedophiles now that I’m thinking about it.”

Your face falters as Hobi tells you about the absolute hell he went through at the hands of what was supposed to be his support system. All you can do is squeeze his hand still in yours tighter, trying to hold back your own tears at this point. 

“Guess they didn’t think the concept of putting a bunch of gay boys together in cabins by themselves through,” Hobi tries to lighten the mood and shoots you a sad smile.

“So, I guess the deal with Bang PD didn’t really work out the way you expected it to?”

“Honestly, the speech he gave me wasn’t that off from yours when he dragged me to hell and I confronted him about it,” Hobi laughs now. 

The devil being an ally is not something you would have expected but somehow totally makes sense.

“Instead of making me straight, he was like, fuck that bible shit, we love sin down here,” Hobi recounts what Bang PD told him. “So now I’m still queer but I’m not religious anymore. Wiped all that stuff that they instilled into me right away. And that's why I’m still cursed to fall for straight men for eternity it seems.”

“Isn’t it good that he got rid of the religious trauma though?”

“I mean, yeah. But somehow I still feel wrong.”

“Even with the others being… well, whatever they are, but it’s not straight?”

“It helped,” he admits. “You’re kinda helping too, with all your wise words,” he elbows you in the side now, slipping his hand from yours. 

You lightly punch his arm in retaliation, but somehow still end up with your arms wrapped around him tightly again. 

Hell Yeah Masterlist | Masterlist | > Next

A/n: Poor Hobi baby :(( Thank you for reading :) How'd you like hell? Interaction in any form is highly appreciated, we'd be so happy to receive your feedback and if you're shy, feel free to send us an anonymous ask.

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Yoongi Tags: @jimintaemin

The heavy, silence of Madam Jeon’s master suite was broken only by the faint sound of the television mounted against the wall.

Madam Jeon sat rigidly in her high-backed velvet armchair, her face an unreadable mask as two young maids hovered around her in terrified quiet. One held a small tray with a glass of water and a array of daily heart medications, while the other carefully measured out a soothing tonic.

Suddenly, the breaking news banner flashed a blinding, emergency red across the screen.

The news anchor’s voice cracked through the silence:

"Breaking News: Chairman Park of the Han-Jin Group, a major political figure and high-profile candidate for the upcoming ministry election, has been found dead inside his private residence early this morning. Preliminary police reports suggest he suffered multiple brutal stab wounds and poison. The authorities have launched a full-scale homicide investigation..."

Madam Jeon’s dark eyes widened, freezing on the screen. The glass of water in her hand trembled, the clear liquid sloshing over the crystal edge.

Stabbed in his own home?

Her heart hammered dangerously in her chest. She knew the truth. It wasn't a sudden break-in or a random street mugging. It was a cover-up. Jungkook hadn't just forced the old man to sign the asset transfer and poisoned him and stabbed him in the hedge maze but he faked the death in the house. He shifted the body back to chairman's house.

A wave of intense paranoia and blinding, furious rage surged through her blood.

He went too far.

A political figure! A man with direct ties to the national government! Jungkook had acted on pure, unchecked greed and arrogance, completely ignoring the careful rules of the Jeon legacy. He was playing with fire that could burn their entire dynasty to the ground before the week was even over.

"Ma'am, please, your medicine—" the maid whispered nervously, holding out the small paper cup.

"Get that filth away from me!" Madam Jeon snapped, her voice like a whip.

With a harsh sweep of her arm, she swatted the maid's hand away. The silver tray clattered against the polished marble floor, sending the pills, glass, and water scattering in every direction.

The two maids gasped, immediately dropping to their knees in absolute terror, trembling as they tried to clean up the mess.

"Out! Both of you, get out!" Madam Jeon breathed heavily, her chest heaving as she pointed a thin, trembling finger toward the heavy oak doors. "And call my grandson right now. Tell Jungkook to get his arrogant ass into my room this instant!”

°

Jungkook moved slightly, feeling a soft warmth pressed against his skin. He slowly opened his eyes, a sharp grimace crossing his features as he felt the tight, uncomfortable prickle of dried blood on his chest and arms. Sunlight filtered softly through the heavy curtains.

Shifting his weight, he noticed his legs were tangled up with someone else's. He tilted his head, his dark eyes landing on you.

You were fast asleep right beside him. One of your small hands was resting against his bare chest, while the other lay draped over your own stomach.

Jungkook closed his eyes, letting out a heavy, silent sigh as the chaotic memories of last night came rushing back. Why the hell had he crawled into bed and snuggled up to you like a clingy kid?

Fuck.

He looked down at your tangled legs. You were still wearing that midnight-blue reception gown. It had to be miserable to sleep in. The heavy silk was pushed up slightly, leaving a long stretch of your bare thigh completely on display in the morning light.

A sharp knock on the bedroom door broke the quiet, making Jungkook’s head snap toward the sound.

You let out a soft, sleepy whine at the noise, turning over instinctively and wrapping both of your arms tightly around his waist. Jungkook didn't fight it. He just lay there for a second, pinned under your grip.

"What?" he called out, his voice laced with pure morning frustration.

The commotion finally woke you up. You slowly blinked your eyes open, freezing the second you realized you were clinging to his chest like a koala. A deep flush instantly rushed up your neck, painting your cheeks a bright, burning red.

"Madam Jeon is calling for you, sir," the maid’s timid voice echoed through the heavy door.

Jungkook didn't bother replying. He just let out another low sigh, his dark eyes drifting down to your wide, panicked doe eyes. Seeing you pull back so fast, your dark hair completely wild and messy from sleep, made the tight annoyance in his chest soften just a fraction.

As you tried to scramble backward, you let out a tiny hiss of pain, wincing as the heavy diamond necklace dug sharply into the delicate skin of your collarbone.

Before you could sit up and retreat, Jungkook’s hand shot out, catching your wrist and pulling you right back onto the plush mattress.

He moved smoothly, kneeling on the bed behind you. His large, warm hands reached around to carefully unpin the heavy clasp of the necklace. As the heavy jewelry came free, his thumb gently brushed over the bright red marks left behind on your soft skin.

You winced again, your breath catching as the sensitive skin stinged under his touch.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his deep morning voice low, husky, and dangerously close to your ear.

You quickly shook your head, unable to squeeze a real word out of your tight throat.

Jungkook let out a quiet scoff, setting the diamonds aside on the nightstand before swinging his legs off the bed. Without a word of warning, he reached down, grabbed your hand, and hauled you out of bed, dragging you straight toward the bathroom.

"W-what?" you stumbled after him, your heart doing a violent flip in your chest.

In the bright light of the morning, his bare torso was on full display. The sharp lines of his abs, the dark ink spilling over his shoulders, and the faint, jagged scars scattering his skin were almost overwhelming to look at up close.

Your stomach fluttered uncontrollably, your breath completely stuttering in your throat as he pulled you up to the grand marble vanity.

Your hands flew behind your back, catching his wrists just as the heavy metal zipper reached the small of your waist. "W-wait—Jungkook, stop," you stammered, your voice barely a breath.

A sharp blush flooded your face as you tried to turn around in his grip, desperate to hide yourself from him. But before you could face him, Jungkook moved with frightening efficiency.

His hand clamped gently yet firmly over yours, twisting you back around in a single smooth motion. In a split second, he pressed your front flush against the edge of the cold marble vanity, his large body trapping you completely from behind.

The cool stone against your stomach made you gasp, but before you could recover, he pulled the heavy silk down. The midnight-blue gown pooled around your ankles, leaving you standing there in just your delicate, lace undergarments.

Mortified, you instinctively wrapped your arms tightly over your chest, trying to shrink away, your heart hammering like a trapped bird.

Jungkook didn't pause to appreciate your curves. He simply reached down, hooked his hands under your arms, and dragged you straight toward the sprawling porcelain bathtub.

His face remained an unreadable, stoic mask—his pitch-black eyes fixed strictly on your face and shoulders, deliberately avoiding looking down at your exposed body. He eased you down into the tub, making you sit on the smooth porcelain before reaching over to turn on the taps. Warm water began to fill the basin around you.

"Jungkook..." you squeaked, your cheeks burning hot enough to leave marks. The utter proximity of him kneeling over the edge of the tub, his bare, tattooed chest hovering inches from your skin, had every nerve in your body screaming. You were shy as fuck, your shoulders tense, trembling under the sheer weight of his presence.

He ignored your protest, picking up a soft, wet sponge and lathering it with a gentle, scented soap.

Moving with a quiet, hypnotic slowness, he leaned in, his warm hand steadying your shoulder as he began to wash your skin. He traced the sponge smoothly down the back of your neck, clearing away the lingering sweat and stale air from last night. He swept the soft lather over your shoulder blades, his long fingers occasionally brushing your skin—a deliberate, soothing touch that made a shiver run straight down your spine.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your hands tightly gripping the rim of the tub as your breathing hitched. He was being so impossibly gentle for a man whose hands had ended a life just hours ago.

Once he was satisfied that every inch of your neck and shoulders was clean, Jungkook set the sponge aside. He didn't say a word as he stood up, stepping over to the walk-in glass shower stall right beside the tub.

He turned the knob, letting the stream of ice-cold water blast directly over his head and body.

You slowly opened your eyes, taking a ragged breath as you watched him through the clear glass. The cold spray washed away the remaining traces of dark, dried blood from his skin, making the dark ink of his tattoos pop sharply against his pale, defined muscles. The water cascaded down the hard ridges of his abs, plastering his wet hair against his forehead.

When he reached up, tossing his head back to run a hand through his dripping dark locks, your mouth went completely dry. A sudden, intense wave of heat rushed straight to your core. Your face flushed all over again, a chaotic flutter rising in your belly as you stared at him—realizing, with a sudden wave of panic, just how devastatingly attractive your dangerous husband actually was. You felt hot, messy, and thoroughly undone.

Jungkook shut the shower off, stepping out onto the bathmat.

Grabbing a towel from the rack, he began drying his torso, his dark eyes finally flicking down to meet yours in the tub. The intense, dark possessiveness was back in his gaze, but his tone was completely flat, almost detached.

"I washed you because you were dirty," he said, his gravelly voice echoing off the tile. "It was blood."

He paused, throwing the towel over his broad shoulder as he locked eyes with you.

"That blood belongs on my hands," he murmured softly, dark and unyielding. "It’s not allowed to stain you.”

Jungkook turned on his heel and walked out, leaving the bathroom door swinging gently in his wake.

You sat frozen in the warm water, your pulse thudding violently in your ears. The lingering heat of his fingers on your skin felt like an invisible burn. Shaking off the daze, you scrambled out of the tub, wrapping a heavy silk bathrobe around yourself and tying the sash tight. The desperate urge to make sense of him, you rushed toward the adjoining walk-in closet.

Jungkook was standing in the center of the spacious room. He looked devastatingly handsome—his dark hair still damp and tousled, his white dress shirt hanging completely open over his broad, tattooed chest as his long, vein-delineated fingers buckled his dark leather belt.

You swallowed hard, the sight making your throat go bone-dry as you took a slow step inside.

"You killed him," you whispered. The words slipped past your lips before you could stop them, low and trembling.

Jungkook didn't pause his movements, but his head tilted slightly, his pitch-black eyes cutting over to fix on you. "That’s what I do. Every single day," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated in the tight space. "You just happened to watch one. Can't digest the fact that you gave your life to a devil?"

Your lips parted, but your voice failed you. The dark thrill radiating off him was suffocating, yet you found yourself taking another small step forward. "That’s not... why did you..."

A slow, dangerous smirk stretched across his lips as he turned to face you completely. Unfiltered and shameless, your eyes dropped, tracing the sharp, carved lines of his abs left on full display.

"Eyes up, princess," he commanded smoothly.

Your gaze snapped instantly back to his.

"I do what I do for power," he murmured, a sinister, pitch-black glimmer flaring in his eyes. "I want his seat. I take what I want."

The cold brutality in his tone made your skin crawl with a sudden spike of fear, but beneath the horror, your mind flashed back to last night. You remembered the heavy, vulnerable weight of his body pressing you into the mattress. You remembered him sinking into your neck, letting you tangle your fingers in his hair as he surrendered to sleep.

There was a side to him he tried so hard to bury—a side that only reached for you.

You took one more step, desperate to break through his cold facade, but Jungkook closed the distance before you could even draw a breath.

In a fraction of a second, his massive frame towered over you, trapping you completely as he backed you straight into the wall. The back of your head hit the hard surface, your breathing hitching as you tried to press yourself flat, avoiding the intoxicating heat of his dark eyes.

"Jungkook..." you gasped, your small hands instinctively clutching the lapels of your bathrobe.

"Stay in this room today," he rasped. His voice dropped into a gentler, far more dangerous register as he leaned down, slanting his face into the crook of your neck. He took a long, heavy breath, greedily inhaling the sweet vanilla scent rising from your warm and freshly washed skin.

An electric flutter seized your stomach.

The heavy, musky scent of his cologne wrapped around you like a vice, filling your lungs until you couldn't breathe without smelling him.

He didn't pull away; his lips hovered a fraction of a millimeter from your sensitive skin, his hot breath fanning over your collarbone and sending shivers straight down your spine. Your chest heaved, rising and falling against his unbuttoned chest.

"You looked gorgeous last night," he whispered directly against your ear, his voice rough and dripping with dark possessiveness. "I wanted to tear the eyes out of every single man who looked at you like you should have been theirs."

His words sent a dangerous wave of heat straight to your core.

Jungkook slowly drew back just enough to lock eyes with you, his hand rising to gently hook a damp strand of hair behind your ear. His long, calloused fingers lingered, lightly brushing down the line of your jaw, leaving a trailing fire in their wake.

You couldn't look away. You were completely paralyzed, your heart hammering against your ribs as you gulped, drowning in the suffocating proximity of the man who held your life in his hands.

"Mrs. Jeon," he purred, a slow, dark smirk breaking across his face.

Without another word, he turned, casually buttoning his white shirt as he strolled out of the closet.

You remained pinned against the wall long after his footsteps faded, your knuckles white as you gripped your robe, trying and utterly failing to pull your scattered senses back together.

°

Jungkook strutted down the grand corridor of the estate’s east wing, his leather shoes snapping sharply against the polished marble floor. On either side, row after row of heavily armed syndicate guards snapped to attention, bowing their heads in unified, absolute deference.

He didn't glance at a single one of them.

An wave of raw pride and untamed ego surged through his veins. The air felt lighter; the estate felt like his personal kingdom. With Chairman eliminated, the last obstacle in his path had been swept away. He held the highest seat in the underworld now. He was the undisputed chairman of the entire syndicate, a man who would never have to bow, answer, or compromise to a single soul ever again.

he stepped inside the office.

Taehyung, who was standing near the desk reviewing documents, immediately straightened his jacket and bowed his head respectfully as his boss entered.

Jungkook unbuttoned his suit jacket, tossing himself back into the executive leather armchair with effortless authority. "What about the emergency board meeting?" he demanded, resting his elbows on the armrests and interlacing his fingers.

"Your grandmother canceled the meeting," Taehyung replied smoothly, his tone cautious.

Jungkook’s brow furrowed into a sharp, dark line. "What?"

The click of a metal-tipped cane echoed from the threshold, cutting through the heavy quiet of the room. Madam Jeon stood by the open doorway, her jaw clenched so tightly the muscles trembled, her eyes blazing with a dangerous, furious storm. With a sudden, violent motion, she slammed her cane against the floor.

"You are being utterly reckless!" she spat, her voice trembling with rage. "That was a weakly planned, barbaric murder!"

Jungkook leaned back, rolling his dark eyes with cool indifference. "It worked. He's dead."

"Chairman was a public figure, unlike you!" she yelled, taking a rigid step into the room. "He was a high-profile political candidate! This won't just stay in our world—it’s a national homicide case now! Do you have any idea what that means? The police will come knocking on our gates!"

Her voice laced with subtle panic, though her posture remained as sharp as iron.

Jungkook slammed his palm against the desk, the sharp crack echoing through the spacious office. He stood up slowly, looming over the room like a dark cloud.

"No fucking one dares to step inside the Jeon house to question me, grandmother," he growled, his voice a low, lethal baritone that made the air freeze. "You should remember that. I hold the power now. The entire syndicate will listen to me, or they will end up in the dirt right next to the chairman."

"And what if there's proof against you?" Madam Jeon hissed, leaning heavily on her cane as she glared at her grandson. "What if they have proof that you did it?"

"Even if there is proof," Jungkook replied through gritted teeth, his authority absolute and unyielding, "no one on this earth will dare to touch me. Or arrest me."

"You have gone completely insane with power, Jungkook!" Madam Jeon’s voice cracked with biting venom. "Just like your father. You are going to get yourself killed—"

*lYip!

A soft, high-pitched woof cut directly through the room.

The deadly argument came to a screeching halt. Everyone’s eyes in the room—Jungkook’s, Taehyung’s, and Madam Jeon’s—instantly dropped down to the floor.

A tiny, fluffy golden puppy was playfully tugging at the hem of Madam Jeon’s expensive silk coat, completely oblivious to the lethal mob bosses standing around it.

Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose in sheer, irritated disbelief, a sharp sigh escaping his lips. His dark eyes flicked up toward the open doorway, and his chest tightened.

There you stood, dressed in a soft, cozy lilac frock, your hair still slightly damp from your morning bath. You looked so delicate, so impossibly innocent against the blood-soaked backdrop of his dangerous world—a world he had explicitly sworn to keep you shielded from.

Madam Jeon whipped around, her sharp glare landing dead on you.

You quickly stepped into the room, ducking down to scoop the tiny puppy into your arms. "I-I'm so sorry—"

"When did a useless, filthy animal step foot into this house?!" Madam Jeon yelled, her shrill voice echoing off the walls.

You visibly flinched at the harshness in her tone, taking a small step back. From behind his desk, Jungkook rounded the wooden frame, his pitch-black eyes fixing you with a cold, piercing glare for disobeying his explicit order to stay in your bedroom.

"It's not useless—" you began softly, trying to defend the little dog cradled against your chest.

"Yes, you are the useless one here!" Madam Jeon snapped, cutting you off with venomous authority. "Don't you have the common sense to know you cannot cross into the office wing? Go back to your room, or go out and drain my grandson's bank account like the parasite you are!"

A sudden, sharp sting of anger flared in your chest. You frowned, lifting your chin. "I'm not here to drain his bank account—"

"How dare you argue back with me!"

Infuriated by your defiance, Madam Jeon’s face twisted in rage. She raised her thin, gloved hand high, swinging it down toward your face to strike you where you stood.

You squeezed your eyes shut, turning your head away as your whole body tensed, bracing for the burning impact of her hand.

1 second... 2 seconds...

The slap never came.

You slowly opened your eyes, your breath catching in your throat. Standing directly in front of you was a broad back, entirely blocking you from Madam Jeon's line of sight.

Jungkook was standing flush against you, his tall frame acting as an impenetrable shield. His large, vein-lined hand had caught Madam Jeon’s wrist mid-air, locking it in crushing grip.

His head was tilted down, his pitch-black eyes boring into his grandmother’s face with a murderous, razor-sharp glare that made even the ruthless matriarch freeze in sheer shock.

"Touch her again," Jungkook growled, his voice dropping into an ice-cold, murderous register that vibrated through the silent room, "and I don't care that you're my blood, grandmother. You will never set foot in this wing again."

His iron grip tightened around Madam Jeon’s wrist just enough to make her gasp, before he roughly shoved her arm away.

Madam Jeon staggered back half a step, her face twisting in pure, venomous shock. "Look at you!" she spat, her sharp voice dripping with malice as her furious eyes cut around his broad shoulder to target you directly. "Defending this pathetic excuse for a woman! She’s nothing but a selfish, spineless gold-digger!"

Your breath caught in your throat as her words sliced right through you.

"She let her own family get slaughtered and locked herself away, and the moment my grandson offered her a taste of the Jeon wealth, she came running with her hands out!" Madam Jeon sneered, stepping closer, her voice laced with absolute disgust. "She doesn't care about you, Jungkook! She left her family to die and came here for the money!"

A sharp, suffocating lump formed in your throat. The accusation hit every raw, exposed nerve from your past. Your eyes burned, but you bit down on the inside of your cheek, fighting with everything in you not to spill a single tear in front of her.

"Madam Jeon, please, that's enough," Taehyung interjected smoothly, stepping forward to put himself between the two before the situation completely detonated.

The heat in the room was suffocating. You couldn't breathe. Clutching the tiny puppy tightly against your chest, you turned on your heel and bolted out of the office, your vision blurring as you ran blindly down the long marble corridor toward your room.

"Y/N!" Jungkook roared, turning to go after you, his face dark with lethal fury.

"Jungkook, don't," Taehyung said firmly, placing a solid, unyielding hand straight against Jungkook’s chest, blocking his path. "Let her go for a second. If you engage with your grandmother right now, you're going to tear this entire house apart before the day even starts."

Jungkook’s chest heaved, his pitch-black eyes burning with a wild, violent rage as he glared down at Taehyung’s hand, then past him to Madam Jeon, who stood her ground with her chin held high. The air in the hallway crackled with dangerous tension, waiting for the final spark to blow.

°

You slammed the bedroom door shut behind you, twisting the lock with shaking fingers before your knees completely gave way.

Crossing the room in a blur, you collapsed onto the center of the massive bed, pulling your knees up to your chest and burying your face into the soft duvet. The tears you had fought so hard to hold back in front of Madam Jeon finally spilled over, heavy and uncontrollable.

She left her family to die and came here for the money.

The words echoed endlessly inside your head, each repetition slicing deeper than the last. The guilt, the grief, and the bitter humiliation pooled in your throat until you could barely catch a breath. You wrapped your arms tightly around the tiny puppy, holding the warm, soft creature against your chest as silent, painful sobs wracked your body. The little dog let out a quiet, comforting whine, nuzzling its small snout against your wet cheek and gently licking away your tears.

You stayed locked in that room as the hours dragged on.

Outside your door, the estate bustled with quiet, ominous efficiency, but inside, the world stood entirely still. Sunlight slowly crept across the hardwood floor, fading from the harsh brightness of midday into the long, cold shadows of late afternoon.

Around two o'clock, a quiet knock sounded at the door.

"Mrs. Jeon?" a maid’s timid voice called through the heavy wood. "I have brought your lunch. May I come in?"

You didn't answer. You just squeezed your eyes shut, burying your face deeper into the pillow, hugging the puppy a little tighter.

"Please, ma'am," the maid tried again after a long pause. "Sir gave strict orders for you to eat."

"Take it away," you whispered, your voice raspy and broken from hours of quiet crying. "I'm not hungry. Leave me alone."

The footsteps outside hesitated before slowly retreating down the hall.

You didn't care about Jungkook's orders. You didn't care about his power, his syndicate, or the mountain of wealth Madam Jeon accused you of craving. All you felt was an overwhelming, suffocating emptiness, trapped inside a gilded cage where everyone viewed you as either a fragile victim, a nameless asset, or a parasite.

As dusk fell and painted the room in deep shades of blue and purple, you lay curled on your side in the dim light, staring blankly at the locked door, waiting for the dark storm outside to finally break through.

°

Jungkook loosened his dark silk tie, stepping off the grand staircase and into the silent corridor of his private wing. He had just returned from the emergency assembly with the syndicate bosses. The room had bowed. Every single veteran mobster, every corrupt politician, and every armed lieutenant had fallen in line, cementing his absolute reign over the underworld. The full weight of the empire was finally locked within his fist.

Yet, as he rounded the corner, his triumphant mood evaporated.

Two maids were hovering nervously outside his bedroom door, holding a silver tray loaded with an untouched dinner setup. Upon seeing him, they instantly bowed, trembling under his sharp gaze.

"She... she won't come out, sir..." the head maid stammered timidly. "She hasn't opened the door since this morning. She refused lunch as well."

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, a dark vein pulsing against his temple. He let out a long, heavy sigh, reaching into his inner suit jacket to pull out his master key ring.

"Leave it," he commanded, taking only the fresh glass of juice from the tray.

Unlocking the heavy brass lock, he pushed the door open and stepped into the dim room, quietly clicking the lock back into place behind him.

You were completely buried under the plush duvet, a tight, motionless bundle curled up in the center of the bed. Sensing a new presence, the golden puppy scampered across the mattress, its tail wagging furiously as it let out a soft bark, greeting Jungkook at the edge.

Jungkook ignored the dog, his dark and tired eyes fixed entirely on your hiding frame.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice surprisingly quiet, laced with a rare, controlled patience.

You didn't budge. You tightened your grip on the thick fabric, hiding your face deeper into the pillows.

"Y/N," he repeated, setting the glass of juice onto the marble nightstand with a soft click.

The mattress dipped heavily beside you as he sat down on the edge. Reaching out, his large, warm hand grasped the top hem of the blanket, attempting to pull it down to see your face. But the moment you felt his pull, you fought back—clenching your fingers tightly into the duvet and yanking it right back out of his grip.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Jungkook’s lips. Your silent, stubborn defiance in the face of the most feared man in the country was almost absurd.

He tried to peel the blanket back a second time, far gentler than usual, but you refused to give an inch, burying yourself deeper like a stubborn child.

His fleeting amusement vanished, his notorious impatience snapping in an instant.

In one swift, effortless movement, Jungkook grabbed the blanket and threw it aside. Before you could scramble away, his heavy, tattooed arm shot out, hooking firmly around your waist and hauling your body across the sheets until you were flipped onto your back.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips at the sudden force, your hands flying up to press against his broad chest as he hovered directly above you, his massive body completely trapping you against the mattress.

Your wide, tear-stained eyes locked straight into his pitch-black orbs. He was so impossibly close—his dark hair falling wildly over his forehead, his hot, heavy breath fanning directly over your trembling lips. The intensity of his proximity made your pulse spike violently, your chest heaving up and down against his half unbuttoned shirt.

Jungkook didn't move away. He just stared down into your swollen, glossy eyes, his grip on your waist unyielding.

"Why did you not eat?" he asked, his voice dropping into a low, quiet rasp—a simple, velvet question that carried the weight of a command.

You turned your head away, a small, stubborn pout gracing your lips as hot frustration flared inside you.

Being so close to him was overwhelming; even through the thick fabric of the duvet, the intense heat radiating off his broad chest and heavy thighs surged straight into your skin.

"I'm not hungry," you muttered, your voice tight and trembling with suppressed anger. "No one in this house takes me seriously anyway. Your grandmother... everyone... they all just think I'm completely useless. Just some fragile parasite you dragged into your estate."

Jungkook let out a low, vibrating hum deep in his chest, his pitch-black eyes never leaving your flushed face as he absorbed every word of your bitter protest.

"Who said you are useless?" he purred, his low, sinful edge wrapping around you like silk and sending a violent, sudden tightness straight to your stomach.

Your breath stuttered in your throat as he inched even closer, his shadow completely blocking out the dim light of the room. "Y-you don't think I am?" you whispered, your wide eyes searching his dark, unreadable expression.

"You are my wife," he murmured softly.

Jungkook tilted his head, his dark gaze slowly tracing every curve and detail of your face, memorizing every feature as if committing you to memory. Before you could process his words, he leaned down and captured your plump bottom lip between his sharp teeth. He pulled and tugged it with a sudden, firm pressure.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as your hands flew straight to his broad chest for support, your fingers clenching into his unbuttoned shirt. A tiny drop of metallic blood trickled from the small bite on your lip, but Jungkook didn't pull away.

With a low growl, he brought his mouth back down, his warm tongue immediately licking over your lip, tasting the sweet copper of your blood before capturing your lips in a deep, agonizingly slow kiss.

He shifted his heavy body completely over yours, settling his weight firmly between your thighs without crushing you. His large, warm hand rose to cup your jawline, his long fingers holding your face steady while his other arm remained locked tightly around your waist, pinning you flush against him. Every nerve ending in your body ignited, a thrilling, tingling heat rushing through your veins.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as the kiss deepened. He moved his lips over yours with a steady, relentless rhythm, licking away the last trace of blood before parting your lips and sliding his tongue deep into your mouth. He consumed you completely—tasting you with a fierce, ravenous intensity, like a man who had been starving for years and had finally found his fix.

The heat pooling in your lower stomach was intoxicating, leaving you thoroughly undone and dazed under his touch. Your heart hammered against your ribs, and soon, the overwhelming heat made it impossible to catch a full breath through your nose.

You desperately tapped your small hands against his broad chest, silently pleading for air.

Jungkook slowly broke the kiss, pulling back just a few inches. His chest was heaving, his breathing heavy and ragged as his pitch-black eyes burned with an unholy mix of dark desire and absolute possessiveness. He casually licked his lower lip, taking in the sight of your swollen, crimson lips and flushed skin, a slow, sinister smirk stretching across his features.

"It's time you become the matriarch of this house," he whispered, his dark voice dripping with lethal promise against your cheek. "The wife you want to be. Useful... and powerful.”

Previous Part

After fixing breakfast for Jeongguk, you return to bed, not knowing if he eats or not. Today, you don’t have the energy to try to force him to eat if he doesn’t want to. Instead, you pop a few pills, writhing in your white sheets. Some months are better than others, and some months, you spend days on end on your bathroom floor, nauseous and desperate for the cool bathroom tiles against your cheek.

When the time comes, you see Jeongguk off again, locking the door behind him and nearly doubling over in pain. Bringing your phone as sufficient entertainment, you retreat to the bathroom.

At two a.m., you hear a tentative knock on the front door, a sound that wakes you out of your half-slumber on the bathroom floor. You get up on shaky legs and approach the door to open it for the hybrid. He looks cautious, as if he’s scared he woke you up although you did tell him to always knock. If you were to guess, you’d say that he probably regrets not taking the key you offered last time.

His eyes trail over you in your sorry state, but he at least doesn’t look angry.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking over him briefly in turn. You don’t notice any obvious injuries, but he does look spent. His body looks like it feels heavy, and his black hair is still damp with sweat.

He nods and actually opens his mouth to speak. “Are you?”

Damn, you must really look like a mess.

“Yeah. Go take a shower,” you usher him inside, closing the door behind him.

Maybe it’s because you look like you’re on death’s doorstep, but he doesn’t seem to want to argue. Or maybe he does and is glaring at you; you can't tell with your exhausted eyes half closed.

While he’s in the bathroom, you do some of the dishes left out during the day, trying not to cry from the intense bursts of pain. The gods obviously didn’t hear you. Or they just didn’t care.

Silently, you hear the bathroom door open and very quiet footsteps exit. You call for him, drying your hands on your cotton shorts.

“There’s food in the fridge, please eat something,” you instruct when he appears half a minute later, wearing only sweatpants. Even in your weakened state, you definitely take notice of his very muscular and thick physique; how the prominent veins span across his arms and hands. But most importantly, you see the way a large bruise is forming over his right side, just over his ribs.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask quietly.

Luckily, he doesn’t take offense and gives you a small nod. Well, you don’t think there’s anything you can really do to help him at the moment, so you return his nod. Then you leave the kitchen, making your way back to the bathroom—that still bears foggy traces of Jeongguk’s shower—just as another wave of nausea hits you. At least you hear the fridge open, which grants you some mental relief.

The cool tiles against your skin help a lot. It also helps that you’re almost too tired to be nauseous. But it hurts. It hurts so much, and you can’t say that you wouldn’t rather be a man at that moment.

Some time passes. You’re not sure how long. It could be fifteen minutes or it could be an hour, but when you open your eyes, he’s standing there, looking worriedly at you where you're lying on your side, sweaty, tired, and tortured.

“Are you sick?” he asks quietly. “Maybe you should go to the hospital.”

“I’m not sick,” you explain, barely lifting your gaze.

“Then what is wrong with you?”

“You know biology? Women’s anatomy?”

He nods, seemingly realizing.

“Yeah. I have… endometriosis. It’s a condition that makes all of that worse, basically. A whole lot of uterine cells outside the uterus. But it’s usually not very dangerous. If I go to the hospital, they’ll send me home with the same kind of painkillers I already have.”

Not looking convinced, Jeongguk’s eyes flit over your body. If you weren’t so tired and in pain, you’d find it sweet how truly worried and unsure he looks.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, closing your eyes again.

For the remainder of the night, you slip in and out of consciousness there on the bathroom floor, always feeling a lingering presence. 

The next few days are easier. The pain and nausea turn more manageable, and your heart warms at how the hybrid also seems more… manageable. Even though you’re doing better, he’s still eating without arguing. Sure, not nearly as much as someone his size and physique should, but it’s something. In turn, you’ve gone back to only talking sweetly to him, no more pretending to threaten him.

And just like that, Jeongguk has been with you for a week.

But when your phone rings one afternoon, it’s Taehyung, asking when he can come pick Jeongguk up.

“Would you sell him to me?” you blurt, realizing that you can’t let them take him back.

“What?”

“I was wondering if you’d sell him to me?” you repeat.

Taehyung still sounds just as confused. “Why?”

You guess you haven’t given off a very interested impression so far.

“Yeah. I actually really like him, and I’ve been thinking about getting a hybrid of my own.”

“Oh. Well, he’s not for sale. At least not for less than 15 000 dollars.”

You blink in shock. That’s not an amount of money you happen to have lying around.

“Oh,” you say, unable to hide your disappointment. 

“Yeah, he’s not really one of those pet hybrids. He’s a highly regarded fighter. Brings us extra cash every week.”

“Fighter? I didn’t know that was…. well, legal?”

“It is. Some people just frown upon it, but he’s a kangaroo hybrid; he was bred to fight.”

“Well… I, uh, I’ll see how much I can come up with.”

“Sure. I’ll see you later tonight then.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

Your heart breaks as you end the call because you know for a fact that you don’t have that kind of money. No matter how much you want to remove Jeongguk from his home situation, what can you do? You can’t refuse to return him; Taehyung and his father legally own him, and if you tried to skip town with him, they’d easily track you down due to the GPS tracker in his chip.

When you turn around, shoulders slumping, you spot Jeongguk.

“You want to own me?” he asks, his softer side vanished in favor of his cold, bordering on emotionless one.

“No,” you start, surprised by his conclusion and the distaste for it. “I don’t want to own you. I want to help you and get you away from them, and since you technically don’t have a lot of rights, yeah, I’d have to buy you. But I think that it would be the lesser of two evils.”

“What about what I want then?”

His follow-up question surprises you even more. Of course, you understand that you don’t know each other very well, but… is he implying that he wants to go back? To a place where it seems a luxury to be allowed on the couch? Where you’re convinced he’s made to feel like a burden? Where he’s forced to fight?

You can’t say you have an answer to his question, and so Jeongguk watches you for a few seconds, but when there is no response, he leaves the room.

Just before Taehyung is supposed to arrive to take Jeongguk to his “activity” himself, you approach Jeongguk in the guest room as he’s finishing up packing his stuff.

“Here.”

He looks at your open hand and the key in it and then he looks at you, his dark eyes emotionless.

“No,” is his answer, and after relaying it, he continues to place the last of his stuff inside his duffel bag. He makes the bed, picking up the hot water bottle, and you don't miss the very slight trace of longing in his eyes as he holds it.

“Take it with you,” you offer.

He puts it down on the bed. “Can’t.”

“Why not? I have more.”

“They’ll think I stole it from you,” he argues, and it hurts your heart to hear that they would immediately jump to such conclusions, not believing him.

“I’ll tell Taehyung I gave you some things.”

“You’ll offend them by implying they don’t take care of me.”

“Well, they don’t?” you’re quick to retort. “I’ll say I was going to get rid of it anyway.”

He peers over at it, and you can easily tell that he wants it. “...No.”

He redirects his focus to his bag, continuing his packing.

“At least take this,” you hold the key out again.

“Why? I’m not coming back here?”

“I know. But… I want you to have it. Just in case. And I want you to know that you’re always welcome here. Always. If you want to come here, for any reason, you can.”

He doesn’t take it but doesn’t say anything either, so you reach for his bag, dropping the key into one of its smaller inner pockets and pulling the zipper shut. “Don’t tell them I gave it to you. If they find it, say you didn’t know about it and have them call me to ask about it. I’ll say I sneaked it in there when you weren’t looking or something.”

Almost expecting him to pull the key out and throw it at you, you’re surprised yet definitely relieved when he doesn’t, only looking at you and biting his lip somberly.

When you first met the hybrid, you had no idea it would be so hard to watch him leave. Still, he walks out that door with Taehyung, and your heart aches, knowing that he’s not well cared for and that there’s nothing you can do about it. As far as you know, at least.

It frustrates you because you don’t actually think Jeongguk is hard to care for. Give him a room with a comfortable bed in it, some appropriate clothes, and enough food, and you’d bet he’s good. Maybe entertainment of some kind as well, and a chance to socialize with other hybrids, and he probably wouldn’t complain about a single thing. If you’re going to strip someone of their rights like hybrids have been, you can at least make sure they have everything they need.

Unsurprisingly, you don’t hear anything from Jeongguk—or Taehyung, rather—in the coming months. You wonder about him, if he’s doing alright, and on multiple occasions, you spend entire nights googling hybrid fighting rings. To your disappointment, there are too many to count. Then, one night you find it. A ring that advertises its fighters, one of them familiar looking.

Jeongguk’s name is there, so is his height and weight, and how many wins versus losses he’s accumulated. And you understand why Taehyung wasn’t very eager to sell him to you.

As you scroll the site, you see other kinds of hybrids as well, a lot of which you had no idea even existed. There are not many derived from house pets; no house cat hybrids, but there are a few big dog hybrids as well as a wolf one, two cougars, a bear, and even a few hyenas. 

For a while, you debate going to a fight, but then again, what would you even do there? Unfortunately, you can’t just try to locate Jeongguk and grab him since he belongs to the Kims and what they’re doing is supposedly entirely legal. If you were to try anyway, they’d just take him back and probably have you arrested. So you stay home, holding onto the fact that, even if it isn’t much, he at least has a key to your apartment in case he needs it.

Tapping your foot, you wait for the red light to turn green and the driver to accelerate. In your pocket, your phone buzzes, and when you pull it out, there’s a text lit up and waiting for you.

'Had a great time tonight'

You ponder over a reply, before settling for a simple ‘me too’ and hitting send. It was an alright date with an alright dude; you’re just not sure he’s the one for you. Still, you decide to give him one more date to be sure. At least the food was great.

At eleven p.m., the car pulls over outside your apartment complex and with a ‘thanks,’ you step out and close the door behind you. Despite the relatively early hour, you yawn as you twist the key in the lock, opening the door to your dark apartment. Swiftly, you flick the light switch on and start to remove your fall jacket before something catches your eye, and you freeze.

On the little stool you keep in the hallway, there’s a key. One that wasn’t there when you left, and one you’re pretty sure you actually gave away half a year ago.

Carefully, you step further into the apartment, not sure what you’ll find in the dark. What your eyes do fall upon however, is something curled up on the couch.

Your eyes adjust to the darkness slowly, allowing you to discern more. It’s Jeongguk, sleeping on your couch. He’s curled up as much as possible, probably to conserve heat. The weather outside isn’t too cold for late September, but it’s certainly cold if all you’re wearing is jeans and a t-shirt. He’s not even wearing shoes, seemingly intentionally keeping his dirty feet hanging over the edge.

Your heavy heart hurts, and you guess that he’s been kicked out for some reason. From what you gathered when he stayed with you, it’s happened before.

Deciding not to wake him, you pull a blanket off the couch and very, very carefully drape it over his freezing body. Then you exit the living room, leaving the lights there off, and head to the kitchen.

Suspecting that he’s probably hungry, you look through your fridge and freezer in search of something to make him, settling on toasting a couple slices of bread and scrambling some eggs for him. As you do, the kitchen fills with the smell, and you hum to yourself. Despite feeling terrible that he’s obviously still not being treated properly, you’re happy to see him and to get the chance to take care of him for however long he’ll stay.

When you return with the food on a tray, Jeongguk is already awake and sitting up, the blanket wrapped around him. He looks tired and a little less… well, a little less than when you last saw him. It’s no wonder he loses weight when he either doesn’t eat as much as he’s supposed to, or just not being fed what he’s supposed to.

“Hi,” you greet quietly as you place the tray down on the coffee table. Besides a glass of water and a big plate with food for him, it also contains an apple and some water for you. Sure, you just ate at the restaurant, but you figure he’ll be more comfortable eating if you are too.

But he pulls away, diverting his eyes from you and the food as if he’s ashamed. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.”

He goes to stand, but you stop him. “No, no, stay, please. I told you; you’re always welcome here.”

Unsure, he licks his lips but settles back down and pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders again.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it?” you say, trying not to place any value in your assumption. “If you do, I’m all ears, but otherwise… don’t sweat it. The guest room is yours, and you’re free to stay as long as you’d like.”

Jeongguk looks almost relieved, and in turn, it brings your own heart relief. You spend a few minutes preparing some clean clothes for him; a set of lounge wear that originally belonged to your dad, and after he’s eaten and is taking a shower, you prepare the bed for him as well. He doesn’t say much, and you don’t pressure him.

The next day, he’s already awake when you step out of your bedroom to pee. Sitting on the couch, still wearing the outfit you gave him last night, but doing absolutely nothing, he looks at you when you approach. 

“I don’t…” he starts, but stops to clear his throat in uncertainty, “I don’t know if I should stay or try to go back.”

“Well, what do you want to do?” you ask, patting your unbrushed hair down and hoping that he’ll decide to stay at least a little while.

“I want to stay, but…”

“Then stay. Keep me company for a while.”

You think you see a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

He does end up staying, at least another night, and you ask him to watch a movie with you, something he agrees to. You let him scroll your streaming services until he settles on Jurassic Park, and you run to the corner store, getting some chips and soda.

“So, how long do you think you’ll stay?” you ask, trying to sound casual and without looking at him directly. “I don’t mind having you here; in fact, it’s more than okay, and I like having you around. I’m just wondering.”

Despite your precaution, you see how his mood turns sour. First angry, then mixed with sadness.

“I don’t know. I didn’t do well at my last fight, and I talked back. Taehyung told me to leave and not come back until I was ready to show some respect. They usually track me down by my chip after a few days and come and get me, wherever I am. So I don’t know.”

“They just leave you to fend for yourself?” you ask, truly shocked.

Jeongguk scoffs. “I’m very capable of surviving on my own. I’m not a child.”

“I know, it’s not… I didn’t mean it like that. Just that they’re making it unreasonably difficult for you. I mean, you didn’t even have shoes on. If you walked here, it probably took you like, half a day? I don’t know how well I would’ve done if I was left alone outside without money or my phone or even appropriate clothes.”

He keeps his eyes on the screen, and you decide to try something he might not like. 

“Maybe tomorrow we can go pick out some clothes for you?” you watch his reaction tentatively, placing another chip in your mouth.

He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the TV, but you can see the internal struggle going on inside him. He doesn’t want you to spend money on him, but he doesn’t want to walk around in dirty clothes in case you think he’s stinking up your home.

“Okay,” he mumbles finally, making you smile. 

“Okay. We’ll get you some shoes as well.”

“I, uhm, don’t have my collar, though,” he informs.

You pause. Even when Jeongguk stayed with you for a week, you never went outside with him, and so you’d completely forgotten that hybrids need to wear collars when out in public. 

“What are the criteria for a collar? Does it only need to contain owner contact information?”

“Yeah. There are a lot of models, but that’s the minimum criteria.”

You contemplate for a second before rising from the couch to look for something in your bedroom. Collecting a few items—one from an old sewing kit—you make your way back, placing them on the coffee table. Jeongguk peers over at the stuff, watching as you place a piece of yellow tape on the inside of a black silk band of about an inch in width. With the ink pen you brought, you write your own name and phone number in small letters and numbers and then blow on the text to dry it.

Curiously but a little carefully, he looks at you when you lift the band toward him. “I don’t know what yours is like, but would this be okay?”

“Uhm… mine is a lot harder.”

“What, like a prong collar?” you joke, realizing quickly that you shouldn’t have.

He nods, “Yeah.”

“I..” you start, unsure of what to say, “I don’t think you need a collar at all, actually, so this would be enough only to comply with the laws. I know I’m not technically your owner but if we were to be separated, I’d rather have someone call me than them.”

Slowly, he moves closer and lets you tie the band loosely around his neck, the information hidden on the inside.

“It doesn’t need to be tighter than this, right?” you ask, inspecting the band that rests at the very bottom of his neck, more like a regular short-chained necklace than a choker.

Jeongguk lifts his hand to judge the tightness. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Does this feel alright then?”

You let your eyes travel over him, and sure, it looks a bit like an odd accessory, but the main goal is to make it comfortable and hopefully also remove the humiliation of wearing an obvious collar. 

Jeongguk nods again, and you see that almost familiar trace of a smile, something that makes your heart beat with happiness.

“Good. We don’t need a leash, so just try to stay close to me, and I’ll try to stay close to you.”

You let a few moments of silence pass, watching Jeongguk out of the corner of your eye as he unties the band to place it carefully on the table again.

The day after, you knock on your neighbors’ door after you’ve returned from work, asking to borrow some shoes and an appropriate jacket for Jeongguk to wear as you go shopping. The hybrid doesn’t look too excited when you return with the goods, but he doesn’t complain, and you think he just tries to accept it even if he doesn’t really want it. Not your favors and not your kindness.

With you both dressed appropriately for the fall weather, you get inside your old car. The short journey toward the closest mall with a good supply of hybrid clothes is spent in silence, Jeongguk sitting in the passenger seat and looking out through the window.

Just as quietly, he follows you from the car and into the big building, keeping close just like you asked him to. Looking through the shopping list you wrote in your phone’s notes app, you decide to start with the clothes. 

Always a step or two behind you, Jeongguk remains quiet as you head toward a specific store, one that’s bigger than any other hybrid-targeted stores you’ve seen but still only a fraction of the stores for humans. There are a few people inside, both with and without accompanying hybrids. 

“Go and look. I’ll keep up,” you encourage him softly when you enter the store, calm music playing from the speakers.

Clearly uncomfortable, he looks down at you with hesitancy in his dark eyes. “Are you sure you want to spend money on me?”

“Yes,” you say determinedly. “Please, let me?”

He considers for a few seconds before giving a small nod. “Okay.”

He looks around, seemingly unsure where to start before he takes tentative steps toward a section with shirts. It's clear how he gravitates toward the cheaper options on the racks. You find it sweet—and you’re relieved he’s not looking at the most expensive garments—but it’s also incredibly sad to you. You realize no one’s probably ever really spent money on him, even though you’ve come to understand that the Kims aren’t exactly struggling. Quite the opposite, actually, and from your recent research, it's definitely partially thanks to Jeongguk.

Staying close without hovering, you watch as he picks out a few things: two t-shirts, a pair of shorts, and two pairs of sweatpants. They’re all black or white and simple in design—not that you expected him to go for pink and sparkles or anything. You also suggest he pick out some underwear, socks, and two pairs of shoes—one to keep at yours and the other to bring with him if he wants since he didn’t have any on when he arrived.

“You wanna try them on?” you nod toward the garments in his arms.

“Uh… Okay.”

You look around the store, scanning. “I think the fitting rooms… there they are.”

He follows your line of sight, and you head toward a small cluster of fitting rooms tucked into the back corner of the store. You wait outside while he steps into one of the small rooms, pulling the beige curtain closed behind him. There’s a soft rustle of fabric as he changes.

“They fit?” you ask a few minutes later as he pulls the curtain open.

“Yeah.” He pauses, looking down at the black and white shirts and sweatpants in his arms. “I’m not sure what color, though? What do you think?”

“We’ll take both, don’t worry about it,” you smile reassuringly. “Let’s pay and then get them tailored.”

He follows you to the checkout, where a friendly woman rings you up, and then you head into a smaller section of the store. There, another woman sits behind a table, an industrial sewing machine in front of her. She’s engrossed in a book, a yellow tape measure draped casually around her neck.

“Hello?” you call out.

She looks up, immediately setting the book down with a warm smile. “Oh, hello. What can I do for you?”

“We’d like to get these tailored, please,” you say, placing the sweatpants, shorts, and even the underwear on the table.

The woman glances at the pile, then shifts her gaze to Jeongguk, who lingers a couple of steps behind you.

“Is he alright with me measuring him?” she asks, her tone considerate.

You turn to Jeongguk, waiting for his reply. He meets the seamstress’ eyes briefly before nodding. “Yeah.”

“Good. Come here, please?” she says, gesturing him forward.

Jeongguk listens and steps up, removing his jacket again and standing still as the woman carefully wraps the tape measure around the base of his tail. She notes the number on a piece of paper before measuring the distance from the top of his tail to his waist, jotting that down too.

Although he’s cooperative, you notice the subtle furrow in his brows. He doesn’t seem particularly fond of having his tail touched. Or maybe he just doesn’t like having anyone’s hands on him in general. You’ve definitely been on the receiving end of that dislike. 

With the measurements taken, she thanks him and begins working on the pants. The rhythmic hum of the sewing machine fills the small space, and Jeongguk steps away, glancing around the store. He doesn’t wander far from you, still keeping his promise. Meanwhile, you look through your phone again, trying to see if there’s anything you’ve missed on your quest to put together a little kit of necessities for him.

Besides clothes to have at your place, you’ll try convincing him to let you buy him a phone. At least a cheap one so that he can call you if he needs to—or just wants to—and some cash so that he can take a cab to your place if he needs to. If he finds anyone willing to drive an unaccompanied hybrid, that is. Maybe you’ll laminate a card with your info on it so that he can give it to someone if he’s ever in trouble and you can help from a distance, maybe convince people he’s nice and just needs help home. Or maybe that's a bit overboard?

“Finished!”

The seamstress’ voice pulls you from your thoughts only a few minutes later. You look up, locking your phone and sliding it into your pocket as she folds the clothes neatly. She slides the pile toward you, a satisfied smile on her face.

“Do you want to try them on?” she asks. “So I can alter them if needed.”

Jeongguk approaches, looks at you, and nods. He takes the pants from the table, and with you in tow, heads back to the fitting rooms. As he closes the curtain again, you lean against the nearby wall, waiting patiently as he tries them on again.

“Good?” you ask after a few moments when he’s taking a little extra time.

“Yeah,” he replies, emerging a second later with a hint of something you think resembles satisfaction.

“Awesome. I think we’re done here then?” you ask, already giving the seamstress a thumbs-up. She smiles warmly, her fingers lifting in a small wave as you both head towards the exit.

“Now… I’m getting you a phone,” you announce as you step out of the store, already steering toward another shop a few stores down.

“What? Why?” he asks, but you’re not met with the strong dislike you would have a few months ago.

“I want you to have a way to contact me if anything happens,” you explain, hoping that he accepts what very well could be too much for him.

At the entrance to the tech store, he seems to weigh his options before nodding shortly, and so you step inside. It’s definitely a surprise—and a relief—that he doesn’t argue.

His quiet acceptance also fills you with relief that maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to realize that he has a safe place with you and that something like a phone would help him. But you’re also heartbroken, imagining what it must’ve taken for such a strong-headed person like him to accept help he probably didn’t want in the first place. 

You walk him through the aisles of displayed devices, each phone looking more expensive under the strong lights. Jeongguk’s eyes dart from screen to screen, a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of options. You can tell he’s unsure, but he’s also doing his best to let you do what you for some reason want to do so badly.

“What about this one?” you ask, picking up one of the older models; something practical but not too expensive. Jeongguk peers at it, his black ears lowering further.

“Isn’t that too much?” he mutters, glancing at you like he’s waiting for you to reconsider. Maybe even hoping. But you shake your head.

“It’s not,” you assure him. “It’s not the flashiest, so it’s still pretty cheap. But you’ll be able to call me.”

You smile, trying to keep things light as you head toward the counter. The employee observes Jeongguk for just a little too long, and you’re reminded of how rare he is. Not only are hybrids as big as him not something you see every day, but you’d never even heard of kangaroo hybrids before you met him.

As you finish up at the counter, you catch Jeongguk sneaking curious glances at the people passing by. There’s another hybrid, a smaller woman, talking to her human. Her long, full tail swishes calmly behind her, and although you can’t see any ears due to her hat, you assume she’s a cat hybrid.

Like most hybrids you’ve seen, she looks… satisfied with her situation. You can’t tell if she’s happy being owned by someone, but you can’t sense any discomfort or anger from her either, at least not in the moment and from your distance. You guess Jeongguk doesn’t see a lot of… normal hybrids, only whatever angry, possibly traumatized hybrid he fights in the ring.

“Ready?” you ask, gesturing toward the door.

He nods, his attention snapping back, and he follows you out of the store. There's a comfortable silence between you as you head home.

“Figuring it out?” your voice is light as you move into the living room. 

“Yeah, kinda,” Jeongguk mumbles, not looking up from where he’s sitting on the couch, his new phone held carefully in his hands. 

You hold your hand out, sitting down next to him. “Here, let me put my number in.”

Without objection, he hands you the phone, and you tap the screen to create a new contact, adding your name, number, and even address. Then you pause, thinking. Who else could he need to call? 

“Okay, I’m putting in Taehyung’s number, just in case you ever need it, but remember that he’ll know of your phone if you do use it to contact him. And maybe… Yoongi’s number, if you can’t reach me. And also the authorities.” 

You pull up the contacts in your own phone to copy the numbers into the new one. “You know how it works?”

“Uhm, yeah. Type number or press contact to call. Or you can text, right?”

“Yeah. Just press this icon, and you’ll be able to text. Keep the volume and vibration off, and check it now and again, maybe. Also remember to keep it charged in case you need to leave quickly.”

Jeongguk nods.

“Good,” you press your contact in the list, waiting a second until you hear the ringtone of your own phone. “It works. I’ll pay the bill for it, and you can use it as much as you want and need.”

He accepts it back, his eyes stuck on the device for a short moment. “Thank you.”

You smile even though he’s not looking at you. “You’re welcome,” you say softly. “Call me anytime. Or text.”

He nods, and you get the feeling that you've made meaningful progress today.

“Why are you so nice to me?” he asks suddenly, his voice blunt but with an edge of vulnerability that catches you off guard.

You take a moment to choose what to say, deciding to just get straight to the point. “Because I want to. You deserve to be treated with respect, just like anyone else.”

You don’t say that you wish someone had been there to show him this kindness—that's not even really anything special—a long time ago. You don’t say how badly you want him to see how much he deserves it.

He looks away, and you let the silence settle around you both again. But then you glance at your phone. More specifically, the time.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

Right on cue, his stomach lets out a low, unmistakable growl. You stand up, turning to him with an amused smile.

“Liar,” you say, chuckling. “Also, I’m probably a lot hungrier than that. Do you wanna help me cook?”

“Uh… I don’t know how to?”

“I’ll show you,” you promise, heading toward the kitchen. When you glance over your shoulder, you catch him following you, hesitant but seemingly at least a little curious. 

You open the fridge to grab a few ingredients—some eggs, a couple of vegetables, and leftover rice. 

“We’ll make… fried rice, if that's okay with you?” you ask, setting everything down on the counter.

"Sure. But I've never…"

Jeongguk hovers nearby, arms hanging loosely at his sides, as though unsure what to do. You grab a knife and a cutting board, holding them out to him. “It's alright. You can chop. I’ll show you how.”

With a few careful instructions, you guide him through slicing the vegetables. His movements are a little stiff at first, but he follows your directions closely, and soon, he’s chopping with a quiet focus.

Meanwhile, you take out a pan and heat some oil. When he's done, Jeongguk brings the vegetables over, watching intrigued as you drop them into the pan.

"Rice?" he suggests when you've stirred a few times and start looking around.

"Yeah."

Without a word, he brings the bowl of rice, and you gesture for him to dump it in. He does, and then takes the spatula when you offer it to him.

His ears twitch slightly as he concentrates on mimicking your motions, stirring the mixture carefully. You watch him for a moment, noticing how the lines of tension in his shoulders seem to soften as he works.

"See? It's very simple. The hardest part is probably the eggs," you say as you approach the carton, picking out a few eggs. "Would you like to crack them? You can do it in a glass first if you're worried about getting shell in the pan."

"Okay."

With a smile, you grab a glass from the cupboard, carefully showing him how you crack the egg against the edge. When it's his turn, he uses too much force, and there's a shard of white egg shell that follows into the glass. He looks at you, unsure, but all you do is hand him a tea spoon and encourage him to fish it out. It takes him a minute, but when he's done, you let him pour the eggs in.

The kitchen is warm, the only sounds being the hiss of the pan and the clink of utensils and plates as you bring them out. It feels peaceful, like you’ve actually found a rhythm together and don't need any words.

That night, you wake to a faint glow seeping under your bedroom door. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you slip out of bed, padding toward the living room. There, you find Jeongguk sitting on the couch, his gaze fixed on the TV. The soft, shifting light casts shadows across his face, revealing the faint traces of exhaustion in his eyes.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask quietly, sitting down beside him.

He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the screen.

“You know,” you start, a smile already growing on your lips. “I read something interesting about kangaroos the other day.”

Jeongguk turns slightly, his brows drawing together in mild curiosity. “Why are you reading about kangaroos?”

“Because I have a partial one living with me? Did you know that joeys like to be swaddled? They’ll practically jump into any dark sack if it’s offered.”

“Are you… suggesting you put me in a dark sack?”

“Maybe,” you grin. 

Before he can object, you disappear down the hallway, returning with a spare duvet cover. You hold it up, tying two of the ends together to make it smaller and hopefully, a cozy, enclosed space. “Try this.”

“No,” he says, but the difference is how he says it. His eyes aren’t brimming with anger anymore, they’re almost a little amused instead.

The next morning, you walk past Jeongguk's door, noticing that it’s slightly ajar. It’s pretty dark inside his room, but you’re still able to discern the shape of a… ball through the crack? Upon closer inspection, you see that, yeah, Jeongguk is bundled up in the makeshift "sack," peacefully asleep with only his large, black ears and a corner of the fuzzy blanket peeking out. The sight tugs at your heart, and you continue into the kitchen to make breakfast.

Half an hour later—while you’re getting ready for work—your phone rings. Your stomach drops as you spot the name displayed on the screen.

Taehyung.

Of course, you knew it was just a matter of time, and you take a deep breath as you answer the call, expecting the worst. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, so, Jeongguk… Why is his tracker showing he's at your place?” he asks, his tone cold.

You swallow, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine at his bluntness. “Yeah, I told him to come here if he got kicked out. It’s inhumane, Taehyung.”

“I’m picking him up.”

A tense silence follows, and without another word, he hangs up. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.

It takes you two minutes to let your boss know that you’re feeling ill and won’t be coming in, something that’s honestly not even that much of a lie. Knowing that Taehyung can and probably will stop by today makes you feel something you can only describe as nausea, and you wouldn’t get anything done at work anyway.

Realizing that you’ll have to break the news to him, you knock gently on Jeongguk's door. When there’s no response, you open it slowly, finding him still curled up inside the duvet cover. You walk over quietly, sitting at the edge of the bed.

“So, it worked?” you ask, your voice light but warm. It's easy to push the thoughts of Taehyung away, at least temporarily, when the kangaroo hybrid is so endearing. It's almost unbelievable that the huge guy even fit inside the sack.

He stirs slightly, still entirely hidden from view with the exception of his black ears and a little bit of black hair.

"Maybe," he mumbles, and you chuckle, reaching over to fluff a pillow nearby. As you do, your bracelet slips from your wrist, brushing lightly against his ear.

“Sorry,” you murmur, carefully picking it up. “I know you don’t like to be touched.”

“Yeah… I don’t like being hurt,” he explains from inside the sheets.

The simplicity of his statement twists something in you. “Is there… anything you do like?” you ask, “when it comes to touch? A scratch behind the ear or something? I read that that's usually enjoyed by most hybrids.”

For a moment, he’s silent. “I don’t know. Isn’t the point that it’s not enjoyable?” 

“No,” you shake your head even if he can’t see it, your heart heavy. “Of course, it’s not.”

The quiet lingers, and then, carefully, you offer, “I can try… if you’ll let me?” You keep your tone light, respectful.

To your surprise, he hesitates only briefly before agreeing quietly. “Okay.”

You lean in slowly, hand moving very carefully to his ear, tracing the curve with the lightest touch. His fur is softer than you expected, and as you run your fingers over it very, very gently, you feel him… relax. He even lets out a deep breath. Encouraged, you scratch lightly at the base, heart warmed by the subtle way he almost moves into the touch.

For maybe five minutes, you keep your hand on him; tracing, scratching, and gently massaging his ears, enjoying his slow, relaxed breaths and body language. Then you sigh, deciding to just rip the bandaid off. 

“Taehyung called.”

Even though Jeongguk doesn’t move or speak, you feel the mood change as you explain. “He didn’t sound too pleased.”

“He’s probably on his way,” Jeongguk mutters.

Watching as he sheds the cozy "sack," your heart hurts, and you wish this small moment could last longer. He sits up—looking very warm and sweet, yet disappointed—and glances at you. 

“Yeah. You should probably consider what you want to bring. Feel free to leave some things here too. In case you need them another time.”

What can you do?

Only an hour later, there’s a firm knock on your door. You and Jeongguk have been sitting together, side by side on the couch, just waiting for the inevitable. His phone, its charger, and your key already lie hidden in the deep pockets of his jacket, and he's not bringing anything else but the clothes on his body.

You look at Jeongguk, trying to stay calm and positive even if you’re anxious and worried. You hope your earlier—quite bold—words to Taehyung won’t make things harder for Jeongguk. The last thing you want is to give Taehyung any reason to retaliate. 

Standing up, you head to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.

As expected, it’s Taehyung who stands there. His face is cold, letting you know that he doesn’t care to put on the charming mask he wore when you first met him. He’s not scared of you knowing what kind of person he really is. His eyes scan the room behind you, immediately finding Jeongguk.

“Put your shoes on,” he instructs stoically.

Jeongguk steps forward to do as told, putting the shoes you got him on.

“I can pay you five thousand now,” you offer, the slight panic you feel definitely heard in your voice. You’ve thought through every angle, already decided that selling your car and emptying your savings is a fair trade if it means being able to give Jeongguk a better life. “And I can make monthly payments—eight hundred dollars a month until it’s all paid off.”

Taehyung’s expression doesn’t change. “No.”

“Please, Taehyung,” you plead, your voice softening. 

“I said no,” Taehyung repeats, more firmly this time. He nods towards Jeongguk, gesturing for him to follow, and so, Jeongguk steps past you, his face blank and eyes focused straight ahead. He doesn’t look back, not even once.

The door clicks shut behind them, leaving you in silence so thick it feels almost suffocating. 

That same night, you find yourself restlessly moving through the apartment, looking through old boxes and drawers to see what you might own that’s just collecting dust. You know it’s a long shot, but you’re determined. If there’s even the slightest chance that you’ll be allowed to buy Jeongguk’s freedom, you’ll have the money.

Among the more valuable items is a camera, a Christmas present from your dad from a few years back. It would hurt to part with it, but you remind yourself that it’s just an object, a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. As you research its current value, you send Jeongguk a text. You know that maybe you shouldn’t in case Taehyung finds the phone, but you can’t help it.

‘You okay?’

You wait for a response, staring at the screen until your eyes feel dry, but nothing comes. So you close your phone, thinking that he probably keeps his turned off. After all, it’s for him to contact you in case he needs it, not the other way around.

In the weeks that follow, you throw yourself into selling as many things as you can. Every sale feels like a step closer, each dollar a piece of hope you cling to. You sell old electronics, clothes you rarely wear, even some furniture, managing to collect about twelve hundred dollars over the next few weeks. Most of it are things you probably should’ve parted with years ago, but like your camera, some things still sting a little.

You also trim down your expenses, cancel subscriptions you can live without, cut back on groceries you shouldn’t buy anyway, and really think about each new purchase. Your car, though old, is appraised at about three thousand dollars, and you know that selling it would bring you closer to your goal. But you hesitate, knowing it’s a last resort. You’d definitely rather keep it, so you don’t sell it just yet, not unless you absolutely have to.

One morning, you wake to a new notification on your phone. 

‘I’m okay.’

Another month or so passes with no other communication, but then, on a Saturday evening just past six, there’s a knock on your apartment door. The sound startles you, and you glance at the clock before setting your laptop aside. Wrapped in a fuzzy blanket on the couch, you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. Rising, you make your way to the door, opening it with curiosity.

Dark eyes meet yours. Jeongguk.

“Hi,” you greet softly, your voice tinged with surprise. You look him over quickly. He looks… okay. Tired, but okay, dressed in a jacket that’s thankfully appropriate for the chill of early November. His hands are tucked into his pockets, and you notice that he doesn’t seem to have a bag of any kind with him.

“Hi,” he replies, his voice quiet, almost unsure. There’s something in his expression that makes you pause, something that doesn’t quite fit the relief you feel at seeing him.

Figuring that something must have happened, and he needs a place to stay, you step back and gesture for him to come inside. He hesitates for a second before stepping over the threshold. 

You shut the door behind him, but it confuses you when he doesn’t make any effort to take off his shoes or remove his jacket. 

“You okay?” you ask carefully, your voice gentle but laced with concern.

“Yeah, I just came to…” He trails off, searching for something in the pockets of his jacket, “... return these.”

You look at what he’s holding out to you in his big hand. It’s the key and the phone. You meet his eyes, confusion and worry rising quickly.

“What? Why?”

Jeongguk doesn’t answer right away, instead looking a little unsure of how to tell you whatever he’s about to say. 

“I won’t be back.”

“Wait, what?” you breathe, stepping closer to him. “Did Taehyung make you do this? Did he find the phone?”

He shakes his head, his expression unreadable. “No. But I won’t be back, so I wanted to return them.”

“But how do you know that you won’t be back? Did he tell you you can’t come here?” The questions spill out in rapid succession, your voice growing increasingly worried.

“No. I…” He falters, looking around before deciding to bend down and gently put the phone and key on the floor when you’re not taking them from him. Straightening up, he licks his lips, seemingly weighing something in his mind before he finally speaks again. “Do you know about the Ultra Games?” 

You blink, the term vaguely familiar. “Uh…yeah, isn’t that…”

You rack your brain, searching your memory. You vaguely remember coming across the term—as well as many other championship and competition titles—during your research months ago. 

He watches you as you remember what you read about it, your stomach dropping painfully when you do.

“...When hybrids fight to the death?” 

Jeongguk’s sad look is the only confirmation you need. He thinks he’ll be dead and that it’s why he’s not coming back.

“Then why won’t he just sell you to me?” you demand, heartbroken desperation bubbling to the surface.

“The prize money is too tempting. This year, it’s a hundred thousand.”

“Then you’ll win,” you say, not even sparing the other hybrids a thought, too upset at the thought of Jeongguk being killed. “I know you can do it. One last time and then maybe Taehyung will let me have you, and you can live here with me.”

“I can’t… kill someone,” he explains slowly and quietly, his head slightly tilted.

The weight of his words settles over you like a heavy blanket. You feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as realization dawns.

“You’re… forfeiting?” you conclude in a whisper.

Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but his silence speaks volumes.

But then, a spark of hope ignites. “Wait. Does Taehyung know that? Won’t he sell you to me if he knows you’ll lose on purpose? There won’t be any money either way if you do?”

“He thinks I’ll fight for my survival when the time comes,” Jeongguk says, his tone soft but certain. “Says it’s impossible not to.”

The spark dies, and the room feels like it’s closing in on you. Your gaze is stuck somewhere in the air between you as you think.

Jeongguk’s eyes shift to the door, like he’s trying to distance himself from the conversation.

“I’m not winning as much anymore,” he admits. “I broke my tail a few months ago, and without it—without it working properly, and being painful—it puts me at a disadvantage. I can't keep up anymore. I cost too much to keep and feed, and if I’m not bringing in money, there’s no use for me.”

“We’ll leave the country,” you burst, taking a quick step forward and reaching for his warm hand. “We’ll leave tonight, okay?”

He gazes at you with understanding, letting you hold his hand, but the way he looks at you also tells you that he doesn’t see how it would work.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he says, his voice gentle but final. He nods toward the items on the floor. “I just came to return these.”

He’s already moving toward the door, and panic surges in your chest. “Jeongguk, wait!”

He pauses. “I can’t,” he says softly. “Jimin’s waiting, and I have a practice to get to.”

He glances at you one last time, his eyes meeting yours with a look that definitely means goodbye. Then he opens the door and steps out, leaving you standing there, tears welling in your eyes as the sound of the door clicking shut echoes in your lonely apartment.

<previous | next>

A massive crystal chandelier hung low over the long dining table, casting a sterile light over the immaculate gold-rimmed porcelain plates and polished silverware.

You sat stiffly on one side of the table, wearing a conservative, perfectly ironed silk dress the maids had picked out to appease the old woman. Jungkook sat at the head of the table, looking effortlessly regal as he cut his medium-rare steak with precision. Madam Jeon sat opposite you, her posture as rigid as a stone pillar, her sharp eyes tracking your every single movement.

"A woman of high society does not rest her elbows on the wood, Y/n," Madam Jeon remarked coldly, barely touching her glass of red wine. "And your posture is slouching. Have the Jungs taught you absolutely nothing about etiquette?"

"My apologies...." you murmured, keeping your voice low as you quietly adjusted your spine, holding back a sigh.

Throughout the entire dinner, the older woman found a way to dissect everything you did. If you picked up the wrong fork, she cleared her throat. If you chewed too slowly, she made a comment about your lack of energy for the upcoming gala. Jungkook remained entirely silent, casually sipping his whiskey, seemingly detached from the domestic critique.

But your mind wasn't even on her insults. Your mind was entirely focused on the puppy.

It had been hours since you checked on the little puppy, and your stomach twisted with guilt thinking about how hungry the poor thing must be. You had to get food to him tonight, no matter what.

You looked down at your plate. It was filled with a lavish assortment of tender roasted chicken breasts and perfectly sliced, premium wagyu beef.

Glancing up through your eyelashes, you noted that Madam Jeon was currently occupied, sharply lecturing Jungkook about a foreign shipping. Jungkook was looking straight at her, nodding slowly, seemingly engrossed in the conversation.

Now's your chance.

Moving with agonizing slowness, you slid your cloth napkin off your lap. Holding it open beneath the edge of the table with your left hand, you used your right hand to quickly, stealthily slide two large chunks of roasted chicken and a thick slice of beef off your porcelain plate and straight into the fabric.

You folded the napkin over the meat swiftly, tucking the secret bundle securely into the deep pocket of your oversized cardigan. You let out a tiny, imperceptible breath of relief, smoothing down your clothes.

What you didn't realize was that Jungkook hadn't missed a single thing. He was sharp.

From the corner of his dark eyes, he had watched the entire clumsy, frantic operation. He saw the way your eyes darted around like a guilty criminal, the quick flick of your wrist, and the way you practically let out a victory sigh after successfully smuggling a handful of meat into your pocket.

A sharp amusement flared in Jungkook's chest. He paused, his fork hovering an inch above his plate. He knew exactly what the kitchen served you for lunch, and he knew you weren't starving. What is she doing?

"Jungkook, are you listening to me?" Madam Jeon’s sharp voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Jungkook smoothly brought the fork to his mouth, chewing elegantly before looking up at his grandmother, his face a perfectly blank, unreadable mask. "Of course, grandmother. Increase the security detail for the port. I’ll handle it personally."

He then slid his gaze across the table, his pitch-black eyes locking dead onto you.

You froze, a piece of broccoli halfway to your mouth as you caught him staring. Jungkook didn't say a word. Instead, he slowly lowered his gaze to the exact pocket where the stolen chicken was hidden, and then looked back up at your face, a tiny, almost invisible smirk playing at the very edge of his lips.

Your heart skipped a beat, your cheeks instantly flushing a bright, guilty pink. You dropped your fork onto the plate with a soft rattle, suddenly realizing that Jungkook had just caught you red-handed picking pockets at his own dinner table.

The moment Madam Jeon wiped her mouth with her silk napkin and dismissed herself for the evening, you didn't waste a single second. Keeping your hand pressed firmly over the heavy, warm lump in your cardigan pocket, you slid out of your chair.

"Goodnight," you mumbled quickly, not daring to make eye contact with Jungkook. You turned on your heel and practically bolted from the dining room, desperate to escape whatever terrifying questionnaire he was undoubtedly preparing after catching you stealing food.

You hurried through the dimly lit corridors of the residential wing, your heart pounding against your ribs. Reaching the room, you slipped inside and quietly clicked the door shut behind you.

The room was pitch black.

"Hey, sweet boy," you whispered softly.

A tiny, muffled boof answered you from behind the bed. You knelt down on the cold floor, pulling the folded napkin out of your pocket. The scent of the warm roasted chicken and wagyu beef immediately filled the cramped space. The little puppy scrambled from behind the bed, his injured paw held slightly aloft, his tail thumping against the floor in pure, unadulterated joy.

"Shh, keep it down," you smiled, tearing the meat into smaller pieces and placing them on the velvet cloth. The puppy began inhaling the food hungrily, his little body trembling with excitement. You leaned your head against the old wardrobe, watching him eat, feeling a rare moment of peace.

A wide shaft of bright yellow light cut through the darkness as the door swung open. Standing in the doorway, his towering silhouette completely blocking the exit, was Jungkook. He had discarded his suit jacket, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, looking incredibly imposing in the narrow frame.

You scrambled to your feet, instinctively stepping in front of the wardrobe to hide the puppy behind your skirt. "Jungkook—I can explain—"

Jungkook didn't say a word. He simply stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. He pocketed his keys, his pitch-black eyes fixed on you with a cool, calculating intensity.

"Move," he commanded, his baritone voice quiet but absolute.

"No," you pleaded, your voice trembling as you stood your ground. "Please. He's hurt. I found him in the garden with a thorn in his paw. He’s not doing anything wrong, he’s just a baby—"

Jungkook didn't argue. He simply reached out, his large hand gripping your waist firmly, and effortlessly moved you to the side as if you weighed nothing at all.

You held your breath, bracing yourself for him to call the guards or throw the animal out.

Jungkook looked down. There, crouched was the tiny puppy, its mouth full of meat, looking up at the most feared mafia boss in the country with wide, innocent eyes. The puppy let out a soft whine, its tail giving a weak, hesitant twitch.

Jungkook stared at the dog for a long, agonizing moment. Then, his gaze slowly drifted to the bandage you had clumsily wrapped around its paw, and finally up to you.

"So," Jungkook murmured, a low, smooth rumble in his chest as the terrifying tension in his posture suddenly relaxed. He crossed his arms, leaning against a stack of old drapes. "This is why the future matriarch of the Jeon family was pulling petty heists at my dinner table?”

You bit your bottom lip, your mind racing as you looked from the puppy back up to Jungkook. Seeing that he wasn't immediately calling the guards or throwing a furious tantrum, a tiny spark of hope flared in your chest. You took a tentative step toward him, deliberately letting your shoulders drop and softening your expression into the most innocent, pleading look you could muster.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, widening your eyes until they were completely round and glossy, mimicking the exact doe-eyed look of the puppy behind you.

"Please, Jungkook," you whined softly, your voice dropping into a sweet, slightly pitched tone you hadn't used since you were a child. You brought your hands together, clasping them beneath your chin, and gave him a tiny, desperate tilt of your head. "He’s so small. Look at his little paw, it was bleeding. If we put him outside, the bigger animals or the cold will kill him."

Jungkook stayed completely still, his arms still crossed over his chest. But as he looked down at you, something shifted.

The cold walls he always kept up around himself suddenly felt incredibly fragile. He looked at your face—your cheeks still flushed from embarrassment, your lips slightly parted, and those wide, impossibly soft doe eyes staring up at him as if he held the keys to the universe.

An unfamiliar warmth melted straight through Jungkook's chest, catching him completely off guard. His heart gave a strange, heavy thud against his ribs. He uncrossed his arms, his pitch-black eyes softening just a fraction as he stared at you, momentarily mesmerized by how fiercely cute you were being just to save a stray animal.

He let out a long, defeated breath, his lips twitching as he tried—and failed—to fight off the small smirk tugging at his mouth.

"Are you seriously trying to manipulate me with puppy eyes, princess?" Jungkook murmured, his voice losing every ounce of its icy edge, replaced by a low, rough amusement.

You blinked rapidly, giving him another subtle, cute little nod, stepping just an inch closer into his space. "Is it working?"

Jungkook chuckled, a genuine, deep sound that vibrated pleasantly in the room, "no."

He reached out, his long fingers gently catching a stray leaf that had been stuck in your hair since this afternoon, flicking it away before his thumb softly brushed against your cheek.

"You're ridiculous," he said softly, though the tenderness in his touch betrayed his words. He glanced down at the puppy, who had finished the beef and was now happily licking its own nose.

Jungkook sighed and turned around, leaving you alone with the puppy in the room.

Does that mean he won't harm the puppy?

°

The grand foyer of the estate was filled with warm, golden light, buzzing with the low hum of the country's most powerful mafia families.

Champagne flutes clinked, classical music floated from a hidden quartet, and men in tailored tuxedos stood in tight circles, discussing territory and blood money under the guise of high society.

Near the base of the grand mahogany staircase, slightly removed from the crowd, Jungkook and Taehyung stood side by side.

Taehyung leaned in, his usual easygoing posture entirely gone, his voice dropping into an encrypted, lethal whisper. "The Chairman’s men have taken their places around the eastern perimeter. Exactly where we wanted them."

"Good," Jungkook murmured, taking a slow sip of his bourbon, his pitch-black eyes scanning the room with cold, calculating precision. "Make sure no one leaves until the contract is signed in blood. I want the old man to realize he’s trapped before he even—"

Jungkook’s voice abruptly cut off.

Taehyung blinked, turning to look at him. "Jungkook?"

Jungkook had completely frozen. The glass of bourbon hovered inches from his lips, his dark eyes locked dead onto the top of the grand staircase.

Taehyung followed his gaze, and his breath hitched slightly as well.

There, standing at the precipice of the grand steps, was you.

You didn't look like a mob boss's ruthless bride. You looked timid, small, and visibly nervous, your small fingers tightly clutching the velvet handrail as you looked down at the sea of deadly, unfamiliar faces below. But despite the quiet, hesitant way you stood, you were utterly breathtaking.

You wore a stunning, minimalist midnight-blue silk gown that hugged your waist before cascading down, a high slit subtly revealing your leg with every small, uncertain step you took. A modest diamond necklace rested against your collarbone, catching the light of the massive crystal chandelier above. Your dark hair was styled softly, only a soft, delicate vulnerability that made every man in the room turn his head.

You looked completely different. A whole different girl.

Jungkook’s grip tightened around his crystal glass so hard the ice rattled. The cold, calculating killer disappeared for a fraction of a second, replaced by a man completely paralyzed by the sight of you. His chest rose and fell in a heavy, silent breath, his dark eyes darkening into something thick, heavy, and dangerously possessive as you slowly began your descent down the stairs.

Jungkook moved before his mind could even register the impulse. Breaking away from Taehyung, he hurried to the base of the staircase, stepping out into the open with his hand extended toward you.

Across the room, Madam Jeon’s sharp eyes tracked her grandson's sudden movement. Her lips pressed into a thin, tight line as she watched him—the usually cold, unyielding head of the Jeon hoise looking completely lost, mesmerized by the beauty of the girl descending the steps.

Up on the stairs, your stomach did a violent flip. Every conversation in the grand foyer died down into a stifled, suffocating hush. Dozens of powerful, dangerous eyes locked onto you. You felt fidgety, your pulse hammering in your throat as the weight of their attention threatened to crush you.

When you reached the final step, you saw Jungkook waiting. Without thinking, you reached out and placed your small, cold hand in his. Your fingers instinctively intertwined with his, gripping him tightly—a silent, desperate plea for grounding amid the terrifying sea of strangers.

Jungkook’s hand closed firmly around yours, his large, warm palm steadying your trembling frame as he guided you off the stairs and into the heart of the ballroom.

But as you stepped into the crowd, the silence shattered into a wave of low whispers.

"Is she the Jung heir?"

"Why was she hidden all these years? She is such a beauty..."

"If only I had seen her first..."

"Jeon is a lucky bastard."

"She is so gorgeous!"

The hungry, appraising looks from the rival bosses and high-ranking business men did not escape Jungkook’s notice. He felt the shift in the room instantly—the way men were staring at the high slit of your dress, the way their eyes lingered on your collarbone, on your face.

A dark, lethal possessiveness instantly surged through Jungkook's blood, entirely erasing the trance he had been in just seconds before. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently, and his grip on your intertwined fingers tightened, not enough to hurt you, but enough to anchor you flush against his side.

He didn't just walk beside you; he pulled you so close that your hip brushed against his with every step.

Slowly, Jungkook swept his pitch-black gaze across the room. The dark and dangerous glare he leveled at the whispering men was cold enough to freeze blood. The hungry glances instantly scattered, men quickly turning back to their drinks and clearing their throats, suddenly remembering exactly whose wife they were drooling over.

Leaning his head down until his lips almost touched your ear, Jungkook’s deep baritone vibrated against your skin, dark and low. "Hold on to me tightly, princess," he murmured, his thumb rubbing smooth circles over the back of your hand. "Because if these men keep looking at you like that, I'm going to start painting this floor red before the toast even begins."

Jungkook led you toward the side of the ballroom, but a crowd of high-society guests and underworld leaders quickly swarmed around you both to offer their congratulations. His possessive grip around your waist was unyielding, pulling you so close against his side that there wasn't a breath of air between you.

The suffocating wave of attention made your head spin. The probing questions, the calculating glances, the quiet whispers floating through the air—it was all too much.

“Is she really a Jung?”

“She looks so soft...”

“How did Jeon manage to tame her?”

You peeked over the shoulders of the surrounding guests, your eyes searching for Madam Jeon. She was across the hall, occupied with a group of elderly matriarchs and diplomats. Was she satisfied now? Seeing you dressed like this, standing by her grandson, you could only hope you hadn't disappointed her or ruined her bloody family name.

Suddenly, the crowd of guests parted, and the energy in the room shifted instantly into something ice-cold and sinister.

Jungkook’s body stiffened against yours, his muscles locking tight.

An older man in his mid-fifties stepped through the clearing, flanked closely by a heavy squad of armed security guards. He looked aged, but his posture radiated a terrifyingbauthority. With a slow, calculated smile, the man held out a lavish bouquet of dark flowers to Jungkook.

"Congratulations, Jeon," the old man rasped, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. "Captured the very fine asset, I see."

Your stomach flipped violently at the word asset.

Jungkook’s face hardened into a razor-sharp smile, his pitch-black eyes locking onto the older man.

"Asset?" Jungkook replied smoothly, though his fingers dug firmly into the soft silk at your side, anchoring you to him. "I think you can see her, Chairman. My wife. I married her for her. Not for whatever you think."

A shudder ran down your spine. The air surrounding this man felt heavy, toxic, and dangerously unpredictable.

"A Jung girl, hmm?" The Chairman’s sharp, predatory eyes darted over to you, judging every inch of your face, your bare shoulders, your trembling lips. "Very fragile. Be careful, Jeon... she can be broken easily."

A violent flicker of pure darkness flared in Jungkook's eyes. His jaw clenched so hard the bone looked ready to snap. "Jeon," he growled through gritted teeth, his tone dripping with lethal promise. "She is a Jeon now. My wife. Mrs. Jeon."

Before Jungkook could lose his temper completely and pull a gun right there in the middle of the hall, Taehyung suddenly materialized at his elbow, placing a firm, steady hand on Jungkook's shoulder.

Sensing the suffocating, deadly tension between the men, you instinctively took a small step backward. The Chairman merely chuckled, a dry, humorless sound and nodded smoothly. "Of course. Whatever you say. Have a great day, children."

You watched in silence as the Chairman turned on his heel, his security detail falling into formation behind him as he strolled toward the far side of the venue. Jungkook didn't take his eyes off the old man's back. He gave a single, curt nod to Taehyung, who tapped the earpiece in his ear and vanished back into the shadows of the estate.

"What's happening...?" you whispered, your voice trembling with genuine fear as you tugged gently on Jungkook's sleeve.

Jungkook didn't hear you. He was completely consumed by a dark storm of rage, pride, and calculated murder, his breath heavy as he watched his enemy cross the floor.

Before you could ask again, a cold, iron-like grip suddenly clamped around your wrist.

You gasped, spinning around to find Madam Jeon staring down at you with a sharp, stern glare. Without waiting for a response, she dragged you away from Jungkook's side and pulled you directly toward a waiting circle of wealthy, formidable matriarchs.

"She is my granddaughter," Madam Jeon announced to the high-society women, her voice echoing with absolute authority as she presented you to the crowd. "The future matriarch of this house. Jeon Y/N."

Madam Jeon held your wrist with a grip that left no room for argument, steering you through the sea of whispering guests and away from the center of the hall. Though her posture remained impeccably rigid and her face a flawless, stoic mask, there was a subtle, deliberate urgency in the way she pulled you along.

She had seen the look in her grandson’s eyes. She knew that look all too well.

It wasn't just anger at the Chairman—it was the dangerous, blinding thrill of the bloodbath about to unleash. Jungkook was slipping into that familiar dark void where nothing mattered except dominance, power, and the greed of winning. In that state, he wasn't a husband or a protector; he was a hurricane. And Madam Jeon knew that standing anywhere near him right now meant risking getting caught in the crossfire.

"Stand up straight, Y/N," Madam Jeon commanded under her breath, her tone icy yet protective as she finally released your wrist, placing herself firmly between you and the direction of the Chairman's guards.

You quickly rubbed your red wrist, your heart hammering against your ribs. Looking back over your shoulder, you could see Jungkook standing near the grand archway. He was completely surrounded by his men now, his face dark, his chest rising and falling heavily as he barked low, ruthless orders. He didn't even notice you had been pulled away. He was entirely consumed by the high of the trap he was setting.

"Smile at Mrs. Kang," Madam Jeon whispered sharply, giving you a warning glance. "Show them no fear. The men are going to play their barbaric games tonight, but as long as you are by my side, no one in this room will dare lay a finger on you."

You swallowed hard, forcing a tight, polite smile as the wealthy matriarchs leaned in to greet you. But beneath the sparkling diamond necklace, your skin was cold with dread.

The air in the manor was getting thicker by the second. The music sounded louder, the laughter felt faker and from across the crowded room.

°

Across the room, the Chairman sat comfortably on a velvet sofa in the elevated VIP lounge. He swirled a glass of vintage scotch in his hand, his sharp, arrogant eyes lazily tracking the wealthy guests mingling below. To anyone watching, he appeared entirely unbothered, a seasoned predator enjoying the spectacle of Jeon’s lavish reception.

A waiter dressed in a crisp black vest passed by his table, setting down a small silver tray to retrieve an empty glass. Unnoticed by the surrounding bodyguards, the waiter slipped a neatly folded, heavy parchment paper onto the marble tabletop right beside the Chairman’s drink before melting back into the crowd.

The Chairman sneered slightly at the intrusion, reaching down to toss the slip away. But as his fingers brushed the paper, he froze.

Inscribed on the outer fold was a seal he hadn't seen in over fifteen years—a mark from a deep-buried past he thought he had successfully slaughtered and erased to build his current empire.

With a sudden, subtle tension in his jaw, he unfolded the paper.

There were only six words written in bold, razor-sharp ink:

The dead remember. Back garden. Alone.

The Chairman’s face drained of every ounce of color. His breath hitched violently in his throat, his hand shaking so badly that his scotch spilled over his knuckles, staining his tailored suit jacket. The ruthless, untouchable aura he had worn all evening shattered into absolute, raw panic.

He didn't call his security. He didn't say a word to his men. Driven by a sudden, terrifying dread, he shoved the paper into his coat pocket and practically scrambled off the sofa.

Stepping hurriedly past his confused bodyguards, the Chairman scurried toward the dim, isolated corridors at the rear of the manor. Pushing through the heavy glass double doors, he rushed out into the cold night air of the back garden, his heart hammering against his ribs as he stepped deep into the shadowed hedge mazes where the music of the reception died down to a distant, suffocating whisper.

°

The cold glass of sparkling juice felt refreshing against your warm palm. Taking a long, heavy chug, you let out a quiet sigh as the crisp liquid washed down your dry throat, instantly cutting through the lingering tension in your chest.

You glanced back over your shoulder toward Madam Jeon’s corner. You had politely excused yourself under the guise of grabbing a drink, utterly desperate for a moment of peace. The endless interrogation from the high-society matriarchs had been suffocating. All they cared about was prying into your past—asking why your father had kept you locked away, probing into how it felt to be hidden from the world, and dropping subtle, cruel jabs about your family’s sudden downfall. It made your skin crawl.

Your eyes swept across the crowded ballroom, searching for a familiar face. But Jungkook was nowhere to be seen. The commanding presence that had practically dominated the room just an hour ago had completely vanished. You even tried spotting Taehyung’s bright hair or sharp suit, but he was gone too. An uneasy, cold weight settled deep in your stomach. Where had they gone? Why did the air in the manor suddenly feel so strangely empty, yet thick with tension?

Determined to escape the whispering crowd and find Jungkook, you began weaving your way past the sea of tailored tuxedos and evening gowns, heading toward the quieter side corridors.

You bumped squarely into a rigid, firm chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry—" you began, stumbling back slightly and catching your balance.

Before you could lift your head to look at the man's face, he reached out with lightning speed. His gloved fingers brushed your palm, pressing a small, tightly folded piece of paper directly into your hand, closing your fingers over it with a firm pressure.

You blinked, a deep frown carving into your forehead. "Wait—what is this?"

The man didn't answer. By the time you looked up, his tall, dark figure had already melted back into the dense crowd, disappearing as if he had never been there at all.

Your heart began to beat a little faster. Unfolding the heavy parchment with trembling fingers, you looked down at the messy handwriting written across the page,

You don't belong to the world of crimes. Your father locked you up for a reason.

A cold chill ran down your spine. You turned around rapidly, your eyes frantically scanning the faces of the nearby guests, looking for anyone who might be watching you. Who was that man? How did he know about your father, or the quiet, isolated life you had been forced to live before Jeon took you?

Holding the paper tightly against your dress, your legs moved on pure instinct, pulling you deeper into the quiet back hallway toward the garden doors, desperate to figure out what was happening before the night spiraled completely out of control.

clutching the crumpled note in your fist, you hurried down the dimly lit hallway, your heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. The muffled bass of the orchestra inside the ballroom faded into a distant hum as you pushed past the threshold, following the quiet corridor that led toward the rear estate.

Your mind was spiraling.

Your father locked you up for a reason.

The words burned in your head, fanning the flames of every unanswered question you’d buried since your world collapsed.

"Excuse me?" you called out softly, your voice trembling as you peered into the shadows of the long hallway.

There was no answer. The corridor was unnervingly empty, the heavy velvet drapes swaying slightly from the cool night breeze slipping in through the cracked glass doors at the far end—the doors leading out into the sprawling back garden.

You took a hesitant step forward, the high slit of your midnight-blue gown brushing against your leg. You knew you should turn back. You knew Madam Jeon was expecting you, and that venturing off alone during a gathering of ruthless mob bosses was suicide. But the desperate, burning need to understand your own past pushed you forward.

You pushed open the heavy glass doors and stepped into the crisp night air.

The back garden was vast, illuminated only by sparse stone lanterns and the pale glow of the moon. Dense, manicured hedge mazes stretched out like dark, silent walls ahead of you.

"Is someone there?" you whispered into the darkness, wrapping your arms around yourself to ward off the sudden chill.

A faint sound echoed from deep within the stone paths—a crunch of gravel, followed by a low, stifled murmur. You froze, your chest heaving as you crept closer to the entrance of the hedge maze, peering around the towering green corner.

Instead of the stranger who had handed you the note, your eyes widened in absolute shock at what lay ahead in the shadows.

A few yards deeper into the moonlit clearing stood Jungkook.

He had shed his suit jacket, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the dark, intricate ink covering his forearms. He looked terrifying—a cold, unyielding shadow standing over the Chairman, who was currently on his knees on the gravel, his security detail nowhere in sight.

Taehyung was standing silently nearby, holding a thick, leather-bound document and a pen, his expression utterly unreadable.

The Chairman was gasping, bleeding from a fresh cut on his lip, his face pale with raw terror as he looked up at Jungkook.

"Sign it," Jungkook commanded, his baritone voice dangerously low, dropping like lead into the quiet night. "Or I end your bloodline right here on the dirt."

you ducked low, scrambling backward and throwing yourself behind a dense thicket of tall boxwood bushes. The sharp leaves scraped against your bare shoulders, but you barely felt it, your heart pounding so loudly in your ears it threatened to drown out the night.

You slammed both hands over your mouth, clamping down tight on your lips to trap the violent scream bubbling up from your chest.

Through the narrow gaps in the dark foliage, you watched the nightmare unfold in brutal, terrifying detail.

The Chairman barely had time to drop the pen onto the signed paper before Jungkook struck. Without a word of mercy, Jungkook’s large, tattooed gloved hand reached out, grabbing the old man's jaw with a sickening, heavy force. He pinned the Chairman's head back violently, exposing his throat.

Taehyung moved with practiced, chilling efficiency. Pulling a small, amber glass vial from his inner suit pocket, he unscrewed the cap and forcefully tipped the dark liquid straight down the Chairman's gagging throat. The man thrashed violently, his fingers clawing uselessly at Taehyung's sleeves, but Jungkook held him in a iron grip until every last drop was swallowed.

Then, Jungkook shoved him back onto the gravel, he kneeled on the ground and stabbed the old man twice in his chest with a sinister smirk.

The old man collapsed, wheezing and choking as the poison tore through his system. Jungkook didn't look away, stepping closer to ensure the man was dead. His pristine white dress shirt was ruined—splattered with fresh, deep crimson blood that soaked into the fabric across his chest and arms.

He looked like an absolute demon standing in the moonlight, completely unfazed by the life ending at his feet.

Your stomach turned violently. Tears spilled over your eyelashes, blinding your vision as pure, unadulterated terror seized your entire body.

You needed to get away.

Taking trembling, silent steps backward, you carefully backed out of the bushes, keeping low until you reached the shadows of the stone archway. The moment your heels hit the hard tile of the corridor, you turned and ran.

You didn't care about the grand gown, the sharp slit exposing your legs, or the heavy diamond necklace bouncing against your chest. You ran blindly through the empty hallways, ignoring the distant sounds of the reception, taking the back servants' stairs two at a time until you reached your bedroom.

Bursting through the heavy wooden door, you slammed it shut, locking it with shaking hands.

The room was pitch black, saved only by the pale light of the moon filtering through the high windows. You slid down the side of the door, your legs completely giving out beneath you. You scrambled across the rug, dragging yourself into the farthest, darkest corner of the room, pulling your knees up to your chest and burying your face in the silk of your dress.

A breathless sob broke from your lips.

The image of the Chairman gasping for air, the slick red blood on Jungkook’s white shirt, and the dark note still crumpled tightly in your trembling fist—it all crashed over you at once. You were trapped in a castle with a monster, and no matter how gentle his touch had felt just hours ago, tonight he had reminded you exactly who he truly was.

°

An hour felt like an eternity in the pitch-black silence of the bedroom. Every creak of the floorboards outside sent a fresh wave of panic through your veins as you sat curled up in the corner, your knees pressed tight against your chest, the paper note still crushed in your fist.

Then, the doorknob turned.

The door swung open, and you scrambled to your feet immediately, your back hitting the wall as you tried to pull yourself into the shadows.

When Jungkook stepped into the room, he looked like the reincarnation of the devil himself. The soft amber light from the hallway caught the harsh, ruthless lines of his face.

He was completely covered in blood. Dark red stains splattered across his chest, his forearms, and even high up on the collar of his white dress shirt. The metallic smell of iron hit your nose instantly, and your head spun with a terrifying, nauseating dizziness.

You pressed yourself flat against the wall, your chest heaving as tears spilled silently down your hot cheeks.

Jungkook paused in the doorway. His pitch-black eyes swept across the room, landing dead on your trembling frame. The violent storm in his eyes flickered, replaced by something dark and heavy as he took in your wet eyes and pale, terrified face.

"Don't be scared of me," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that vibrated through the quiet room. "I won't hurt you."

He took a slow, deliberate step toward you. The sight of the fresh blood on his clothes made your knees go weak, the room tilting slightly around you.

Noticing your gaze, Jungkook reached down without breaking eye contact and unbuttoned his dress shirt. With a single, effortless motion, he peeled the blood-soaked fabric off his skin and discarded it onto the rug. His massive, ink-covered torso was fully exposed now, broad shoulders, defined chest, and dark, intricate tattoos stretching across his skin.

Your body shivered violently, your pulse hammering in your throat as he closed the distance between you.

He walked up until he was standing directly in front of you, his towering frame blocking out the light.

You braced yourself for the worst. Expecting a harsh grip, a rough pull, or something aggressive, you squeezed your eyes shut in sheer terror, your breath hitching in your throat.

Instead, a heavy, warm weight dropped against your collarbone.

Jungkook collapsed forward slightly, burying his face directly into the crook of your neck. He took a long, deep breath, greedily inhaling the soft, sweet vanilla scent of your skin.

A quiet, satisfied sound escaped his throat, followed by a low, contented hum that vibrated straight against your chest.

"Let me..." he rasped against your skin, his tone completely stripped of the murderous edge it had held in the garden.

Before you could react, his large, warm arms wrapped firmly around your waist. Lifting you slightly off your feet, he dragged you toward the plush mattress, tumbling onto the soft silk sheets with you in his arms.

He shifted your body so you were lying diagonally across the bed, hovering over you for a fleeting second. Your lips quivered, your whole body locked tight in extreme tension until you looked up and caught his eyes.

The ruthless monster from the maze was gone. In his eyes was a raw, bone-deep exhaustion, a heavy vulnerability that made him look human again. The adrenaline of the execution had completely burned out, leaving behind a man who was no longer consumed by power, but simply looking for an anchor.

Jungkook let out a slow exhale and dropped his heavy head back down into the crook of your neck. His long lashes fluttered shut, his muscular frame relaxing completely over yours as his breathing slowed into a steady, deep rhythm. He was asleep within seconds.

You lay completely frozen under his weight, the silence of the room returning.

A few seconds passed. Then a minute.

When he didn't move or shift, your trembling hand hesitantly lifted from the mattress. Reaching up slowly, your small fingers hovered over his hair before finally sinking into his soft, dark locks. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, playing with the soft strands as your heart slowly settled down from its frantic beat.

Your eyes drifted to the moonlit ceiling, the crumpled note still resting in your other hand.

What on earth had actually happened tonight?

Previous part

The morning of Margot's wedding, you were woken up before the sun was even up in the sky.

"Wake up, my lady," Daisy said, already laying out three different gowns across the end of your bed, "we have a great deal to do and very little time to do them."

"I am aware of the wedding, Daisy," you said, burying your face back into the pillow, "I have been aware of it for months."

"Yes, well, my lady, then you should know you need to be dressed for this occasion."

You groaned into your pillow and let yourself exactly four more minutes of being glued to the bed. You knew you had to wake up soon either way since Daisy would simply stand there patiently, holding your dressing gown for as long as it takes you.

The gown Daisy had chosen for you was a soft blush pink, embroidered along it was small silver dots that caught the light whenever you moved, and you had to admit that it was a lovely dress even if you resented slightly how much effort was needed to attend your sister’s wedding.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Daisy said, stepping back to admire her work once your hair was done, "Lady Margot will be very pleased."

"Lady Margot is getting married today," you said, "I doubt she will spare a single thought for what I am wearing."

"Perhaps not," Daisy agreed before smiling and said, "but Captain Jungkook might."

You gave her a look with which Daisy immediately busied herself with your gloves instead, though you noticed she did not seem the least bit sorry.

Outside your room, the servants were already hard at work preparing for the wedding. Your mother stood in the front hall directing two footmen struggling with an enormous arrangement of white roses. Your father came out of his study, already dressed, looking overwhelmed by the constant stream of instructions flying around him.

You made your way down to join them, smoothing your dress as you went.

"There you are," your mother said, turning to look at you, “you look lovely, sweetheart. Truly. Though I do wish you would smile more often. It would suit that gown considerably better than the expression you're wearing now."

"I'm smiling, mother."

"No, you are fake smiling my dear, there is a difference," your mother smiled knowingly, "I've been watching your face your entire life, you won't fool me."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You have already known, of course, that you would be expected to be at the wedding with Captain Jeon Jungkook beside you.

Your mother informed you of this arrangement days earlier, you tried to argue back but your mother had no intention of discussing this matter. When you argued, she just listened, nodded once at you, and carried on as if you had said nothing at all to her.

"It is customary," she said, “for a betrothed couple to attend events together, people will expect it."

"People should find something else to concern themselves with," you said, rolling your eyes.

And that was the end of the conversation.

At half past nine, you stood in the entrance hall of the Ashwell townhouse, staring through the front window as a black carriage bearing the Jeon crest stopped just right outside.

Your stomach turned into knots the moment you saw him.

Captain Jeon Jungkook stepped down in full dress uniform. He wore the same navy coat with polished silver buttons that you first saw him by the fountain, though today every seam was pressed perfectly. And there were more medals pinned to his chest than you remembered.

“You are wearing your uniform,” you said as soon as he entered the townhouse, before Jungkook was even finished bowing to your mother.

“I am a soldier, Lady Ashwell,” Jungkook replied as he straightened himself, “it would be rather strange if I wore anything else.”

“It is your future sister-in-law’s wedding, not a military inspection.”

“I assumed the two occasions required much the same thing,” he said, before adding, “standing still for long periods and making oneself presentable.”

You rolled your eyes at him as your index finger pointed to the medals on his chest, “Sure, but you look as if you intend to frighten the guests into behaving themselves.”

His eyes briefly dropped to the medals on his chest, “Would that be such a terrible thing?”

“Half the room will think we are under attack.”

“If the room is under attack,” Jungkook said, completely unbothered, “I would rather be properly dressed for it.”

“There is not going to be an attack at a wedding, Captain,” you scoffed.

“You would be surprised, my lady. I have heard stories.”

"Name one," you said, raising your eyebrows at him.

“I could not possibly. The officer who told me swore me to secrecy, and I take my oaths rather more seriously than you seem to think,” Jungkook said.

“You could have worn anything in your entire wardrobe, and you chose the one outfit designed to remind everyone that you carry a sword and a gun. I clearly underestimated how much soldiers enjoy showing off,” you stated.

"I do not have the sword or the gun with me," Jungkook said, smiling at you.

"How generous of you," you mocked.

"I thought it might be considered excessive for a wedding," Jungkook said.

"And the medals are not excessive?"

"The medals were earned, my lady. They are not ornaments," Jungkook said, "I would have thought a woman of your intelligence would be able to tell it apart.”

"My intelligence is not in question, Captain. Yours might be, if you think I care to admire your medals," you scoffed, "my sister is getting married today, this is not a military meeting."

"If it troubles you so greatly, Lady Ashwell, you are welcome to inform your future husband precisely what he ought to wear to future occasions. I am told wives do this rather often."

"I am not your wife yet," you said.

"No," Jungkook said, you could see the grin on his face deepening as he added, "you are not my wife yet. I guess you could consider this a preview of everything you have to look forward to."

"How dreadful," you responded.

"I thought you might say so,” he said, smiling at you. 

Your mother cut in before either of you could continue, ushering the two of you towards the second carriage and muttering that she had no intention of arriving late to her own daughter’s wedding.

The journey to the chapel was not a long one, but it felt considerably longer. You spent most of it watching Jungkook from across the narrow space between the seats, trying to understand whether the uniform was meant to intimidate everyone he was about to meet or whether it was simply the only formal clothing he owned.

"You are staring," Jungkook said, still looking out of the window.

"I am trying to decide whether to insult you or allow you the comfort of not knowing what I am thinking," you replied. 

"How generous of you to consider the alternative," Jungkook said with a faint smile, "though I confess I find your insults considerably more entertaining than your silences."

“That is only because you have not yet heard a proper one,” you scoffed.

“I look forward to it, then,” Jungkook said, grinning as he finally turned to face you.

“You should not look forward to it. I may wound what little pride you have left.”

“I was not aware you thought I had so little,” Jungkook replied, acting as if he was surprised.

“I was trying to be generous,” you rolled your eyes at him.

Jungkook laughed softly before answering, “You must stop doing that, it does not suit you.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The chapel was already half full by the time you arrived. The sunlight shone through the tall windows and the scent of white lilies struck your nose so immediately that you nearly sneezed as you walked into the chapel. Margot’s wedding was the wedding of the season, and it seemed as if the entire nobles in the city came to judge this for themselves. 

You were seated beside Jungkook, in the second row reserved for family, and you spent the ceremony watching your sister walk down the aisle in a gown so beautiful that you couldn’t help but feel happiness for her. Margot has never once in her life looked so certain of anything until you saw her walking down the aisle towards the Baron of Rohan. 

Despite everything you had said about marriage, you found yourself wondering whether your own wedding might be this joyful. Then you glanced at the man seated beside you and remembered that your wedding would hardly resemble Margot’s.

Of course the Queen had chosen a soldier for you. It seemed fitting, somehow. Margot and your other sisters had always been the proper daughters, while you had spent most of your life as the family’s odd one out. Why should your marriage be any less unconventional?

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The reception was held in the gardens of the Rohan estate, where you spent the first half hour trailing dutifully beside Jungkook as he was greeting what felt like every person in the entire kingdom.

It was exhausting standing beside Jungkook while he charmed an entire garden one guest at a time. You watched as Jungkook bowed to a countess whose name you have already forgotten then he spoke to a retired general about a war he fought thirty years earlier. Jungkook’s questions were so precise that the old man’s face was glowing with the pleasure of being taken seriously. A few moments later, Jungkook complimented a young lord’s coat with such sincerity that the boy’s face turned red and he spent the next several minutes looking back at Jungkook with admiration.

"You are very good at this," you said, once the young lord wandered off far away enough from the two of you.

"At what?" Jungkook asked curiously. 

"Making people feel as if they are the only person in the garden worth speaking to," you answered.

“I am pleased to know you were watching me, my lady,” Jungkook said, glancing at you with a faint smile, “it is a useful skill. You would be surprised how far it carries a man that started with little connections.”

"I am not surprised at all," you said, "I have simply never seen anyone quite so thorough about it."

"Would you prefer I were rude to your sister’s guests instead?"

“I would rather see you behave the same way with everyone,” you said before you could stop yourself, “instead of becoming whoever each of them wishes to meet.”

“Connections are politics, my lady. So are conversations,” Jungkook replied, “if I treated everyone in precisely the same manner, I would not be standing where I am today.”

You did not know how to answer that. And before you could think of a clever way of answering Jungkook, a cluster of young ladies walked towards the two of you.

“Captain Jeon!” called the young woman at the front of the group, a pretty blonde woman you vaguely recognised as some baron’s daughter. She pressed one hand to her chest and smiled up at him, “we simply had to tell you how distinguished you looked during the ceremony!”

“I heard you were very brave, Captain,” said another woman. She was a brunette and she was standing a little too close to Jungkook than necessary. From the way she leaned towards him, making certain Jungkook had an excellent view of her cleavage, it was obvious that she wanted his attention. “My cousin served under a captain in the eastern regiment,” she continued, “he said the northern campaign under Captain Jungkook was the most dangerous one and yet here you are, entirely unharmed and twice as handsome for having survived it.”

“You are too kind,” Jungkook replied.

To his credit, his eyes remained fixed politely on her face. Still, the faint smile at the corner of his lips suggested he was not entirely displeased by the attention.

You let out a small sound before you could stop yourself, something between a scoff and a cough that indicated how disgusted you were at the scene in front of you. You felt three pairs of eyes turning towards you with disapproval, as if you just interrupted a church service.

"Forgive me," you said, "something caught in my throat."

“How unfortunate,” the blonde said, though she did not seem like she believed you even for a second. 

She turned back to Jungkook and lowered her voice, “Captain, I do hope your future wife understands what a treasure she is receiving. You took excellent care of the women fortunate enough to capture your attention. Isabelle told me herself not four weeks ago, and she did not strike me as a woman to exaggerate.”

The third lady, who until this point has said nothing at all, gave a small smile into her champagne glass that told you more than she likely intended, “I am certain whoever marries you will be very well cared for, Captain,” she said, her eyes lifted to his, “in every sense of the word, I can speak from the one night experience I had with you.”

You felt heat across your face, whether it came from embarrassment or anger, you couldn’t really tell. But before you could come up with a response, Jungkook let out a laugh beside you. 

"You are too kind," Jungkook said again, "though I confess, ladies, you have caught me at an unfair advantage. Allow me to introduce you properly to my fiance, so that you might direct your very generous concern for her happiness at the lady herself, rather than at me."

Before you could react, Jungkook placed his hand at your back and pulled you half a step closer to him. The movement somehow felt so familiar, that it startled you into silence.

"Lady Ashwell," Jungkook said, glancing down at you, "forgive me. I should have introduced her sooner.”

Three pairs of eyes swept over you then, from your head to the edges of your gown and back to your eyes again.

"How lovely," the blonde one said, in a voice that suggested she did not find you lovely at all, "we did hear that the youngest Ashwell daughter kept mostly to her books. I confess I did not picture you quite so…” she paused, "...quiet."

"I am considerably less quiet than most people expect," you replied, "though I understand the confusion. I simply prefer to save my opinions for matters important enough to deserve them.”

Beside you, Jungkook turned his face away and bit the inside of his lip, evidently trying not to laugh.

The brunette one smiled at you, entirely unashamed of having spent the last several minutes displaying her cleavage to your future husband in front of you, "Well," she said, "I am sure the Captain will keep you very well looked after."

“I am sure he will try,” you said. Then, with a smile, you added, “Though you need not concern yourselves on my account. I have never been the jealous type. I have no objection to mistresses, provided they are discreet and do not expect me to do anything for them.”

The silence that followed was without question, the most satisfying silence you have had all day.

The ladies’ mouth opened, then closed again, apparently unable to find a suitable reply. While Jungkook went completely still beside you and when you glanced up at him, his expression was somewhere between horror and admiration.

“My lady has a rather strange sense of humour,” Jungkook said smoothly, trying to fix up the mess you have made, “she enjoys making people uncomfortable.”

“I was not joking,” you said.

“Oh, she was,” Jungkook repeated more firmly, and you felt his hand tighten slightly against the fabric around your back.

“Well. How very… modern of you, Lady Ashwell,” the blonde lady said with a stiff smile, clearly not knowing what to make of what you just said, “If you will excuse us, Captain, I believe my mother is looking for me.”

The other two murmured their excuses and followed her, retreating with considerably less grace than they did when they joined the two of you.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

“Mistresses,” Jungkook repeated the word again once the ladies were out of sight. 

He turned to look at you properly for the first time since the word left your mouth, “You have just told three of the most notorious gossips in the kingdom that you would not object to me keeping mistresses.”

“You did not exactly discourage them,” you replied, “you were remarkably gracious to the one showing off her cleavage.”

“I was being polite.”

“You were being admired, Captain, and you seemed perfectly content to allow it.”

“A gentleman simply declines to be rude about where a lady chooses to direct the conversation,” Jungkook answered.

“How very diplomatic of you,” you scoffed.

“I have had a great deal of practice,” he said, looking far too pleased with himself.

“I gathered as much.”

“But whatever you intended, my lady,” Jungkook continued, steering the conversation away, “that remark will be repeated at every dinner table in the city before the evening ends.”

“Good. Perhaps it will finally convince everyone that we are as catastrophically unsuited as I have been saying since the fountain,” you said as you smiled sweetly at him.

“Or it will convince the entire city that you are far more interesting than anyone gave you credit for, and that I am remarkably fortunate in my choice of wife,” Jungkook replied, smirking at you, clearly satisfied with his conclusion.

“That was not my intention,” you let out a small gasp before you could stop it. The most irritating part was that Jungkook might be right. Once the story spread, the nobles would not pity him for being forced to marry you.

They would envy him for it and even found the two of you as being suitable for each other.

“No,” he agreed, smiling again, “I did not imagine it was your intention and yet here we are.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

It was not long afterwards, during yet another round of introductions, that you noticed a man standing near the refreshment table. He was watching you with amusement, as if he had been waiting to see how long it would take for you to notice him.

He was tall, dressed in a deep green coat that stood out among the black and navy worn by nearly every other gentleman in the garden. His dark hair was left slightly untidy, some strands of his hair falling across his forehead. 

The moment your eyes met, he grinned at you.

“Taehyung!” you exclaimed, leaving Jungkook’s side without a second thought, “you came.”

“Of course I came,” Taehyung replied, closing the space between the two of you and taking both of your hands in his, “I would not have missed Margot’s wedding for anything.”

His grin widened, “Besides, I heard my favourite Ashwell daughter somehow managed to get herself engaged.”

"I have missed you!" you said, smiling at him. 

“Me too, I have missed you too,” Taehyung replied and smiled back at you.

Taehyung is now living on the other side of the country, where he spent the past several years managing the estate he inherited from his father. Between tenants and the endless demands of the property, he rarely had a reason to return to the capital. You have not seen him in nearly a year, but you exchange letters every month which has been enough to make the distance feel less severe.

What you did not know was that Taehyung had no intention of returning to his home across the country. He came to settle in the capital for good, a decision made shortly after learning that the woman he always believed he would one day marry is now engaged to someone else. Taehyung also knew that you did not choose the match yourself. You never hid your dislike of soldiers, and he could not believe that, given any choice at all, you would have agreed to marry one.

Jungkook, who followed you just a few steps behind, arrived just in time to hear Taehyung’s confession of missing you. He extended his hand to Taehyung as he introduced himself,  “Captain Jeon Jungkook.”

“Kim Taehyung,” the other man replied, accepting his hand, “a very very old friend of the lady’s.”

“Very old?” Jungkook repeated.

“Since childhood,” you explained.

“I see,” Jungkook’s expression remained perfectly composed, but his gaze moved briefly between the two of you.

It did not take Jungkook long to understand. Taehyung was still holding one of your hands, seemingly unaware of it. Even while speaking to Jungkook, Taehyung’s attention continued to drift back to you, his expression softening each time it did.

Jungkook’s smile did not falter. His grip on Taehyung’s hand, however, lasted a moment longer than necessary. Jungkook spent years learning how to read a room, and Kim Taehyung was not particularly difficult to understand. He watched you too closely, smiled too readily whenever you spoke, and seemed to forget Jungkook was standing there each time you turned towards him. 

Taehyung was in love with you and judging by the familiarity between the two of you, he had been for some time, even long before Jungkook’s name ever entered the Ashwell household.

It was an interesting complication, Jungkook thought to himself, “How do you know one another?” Jungkook asked, mostly to see which of you would answer first.

"We grew up together," you said, "our families' estates share a border. Taehyung used to climb over the garden wall to steal fruit, and I used to pretend I hadn't seen him do it."

"She saw me every single time," Taehyung said, "and always ended up telling her governess anyway."

"You deserved it," you laughed before adding, "you also stole my favorite book once and did not return it for an entire year."

"I was still reading it," Taehyung said, “and I wanted to enjoy it properly."

Jungkook watched the two of you argue and it told him more than either of you seemed to realise. And he felt something uncomfortable somewhere behind his ribs, it was not jealousy because being jealous would have required him to want something, and Jungkook did not want you in any form or any way. 

Jungkook was just feeling cautious. 

Taehyung knew you well enough to recognise when you were lying, or when you were keeping something from him. He knew your habits, history and, judging by the way you spoke to him, had earned a degree of trust from you that Jungkook himself was unlikely to receive any time soon. 

And that could very well become a problem, not because Jungkook cared whom you spend your time with, he did not. But the work ahead would depend on discretion, and if Taehyung believed himself to be responsible for your safety and happiness, he would inevitably begin asking inconvenient questions and watching the Jeon household a little too closely. 

If Taehyung remained in the capital, he would likely be the first person you turned to whenever you discovered something you did not understand. And if he was as devoted to you as Jungkook suspected, he would not simply look the other way.

Kim Taehyung was not yet a threat to Jungkook, but he was a man worth watching.

“If you will both excuse me,” Jungkook said after a moment, “I believe I owe your father a conversation, Lady Ashwell, and I would rather not keep the duke waiting.”

“Of course,” you replied. 

He could hear the relief in your voice at his departure, but Jungkook chose not to say anything about it. He gave Taehyung a slight bow, and made his way towards your father at the other end of the pavilion.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

"So," Taehyung said, the moment Jungkook was gone, leaning against the refreshment table, "that is the military man you are being forced to marry."

"That is him," you said with a sigh.

"He seems," Taehyung said, choosing his words carefully, "very composed."

"That is one word for it," you laughed.

"What word would you use to describe him instead?"

"Insufferable," you said, "arrogant, and entirely too pleased with himself.”

"That does sound like exactly the sort of person you would find intolerable," Taehyung said, grinning, "though I confess it also sounds rather more interesting than I expected, given how the letter your mother sent me described him. She made him sound like a noble war hero out of a children's story."

"He is apparently precisely that to everyone except me," you said, "my father adores him, my mother adores him. And I am, apparently, the only person in the entire kingdom and Ashwell household capable of seeing him clearly."

"And what do you see, exactly?" Taehyung asked.

“I do not know,” you admitted, “only that it is not what everyone else sees. He is different with them than he is with me, and I cannot decide whether that is more unsettling than if he treated everyone equally badly.”

“You think he is hiding something,” Taehyung answered.

“I know he is hiding something. I simply do not know what.”

Taehyung studied you for some time, and the amusement across his face turned into something more serious, "You do not have to marry him," he said, "you know that, don't you?"

“I am fairly certain the Queen of Leon would disagree,” you answered as you glanced around the garden. The guests nearby were far too occupied with champagne and other gossip to notice either of you, but you lowered your voice before adding, “But I have three weeks before the wedding and I intend to spend every one of them finding a way out of it.”

Taehyung’s brows lifted as he noticed the look on your face, “You already have a plan.”

“Yes, I may have one,” you smiled at your childhood friend. 

“Of course you do,” he said, grinning, “you never were very good at waiting for someone else to rescue you.”

“I have found it much quicker to rescue myself,” you replied, smiling back at him.

“And considerably more entertaining for everyone involved,” he added, laughing softly.

"There is a convent, the Sisters of Saint Joseph, it is only a ten hours journey from here,” you said, lowering your voice further.

Taehyung’s grin faded, “A convent?”

“My father keeps several old volumes of Church law in his study. No one else in the house has ever bothered to read them, which meant I could.”

“Of course you did,” Taehyung murmured.

You ignored him as you explained the first part of your plan, “If a woman presents herself to a religious order and declares that she intends to commit herself to the church, she cannot be dragged away. Not without the consent of the presiding bishop.”

“Not even by her family?” Taehyung asked.

“Not by her family,” you said, “and, as far as I have been able to understand, not even by the Crown.”

Taehyung stared at you for a long moment, clearly trying to understand what you were suggesting, “You mean to become a nun.”

“I mean to make myself extraordinarily difficult to marry off,” you replied, “The Queen may write as many letters as she pleases, but she cannot order the Church to hand me back without a fight. And I doubt she will want one over a marriage arranged largely for her own amusement.”

Taehyung’s expression remained serious as he asked, “You believe the convent will protect you?”

“I believe it will delay them in marrying me off,” you lowered your voice, “it will give me time to write to Her Majesty myself and explain why I will not consent to this marriage.”

“And you think that will help you?”

“It might,” you said, “at the very least, it will make forcing me to the altar considerably more inconvenient.”

Taehyung said nothing for a moment. A convent was not the future he imagined for you, but it was not a marriage either. In the convent, you would be beyond Jungkook’s reach, and beyond the Queen’s, at least for a time.

And vows to the church did not have to be permanent. If you changed your mind, or found some way to leave the convent later, Taehyung could take you across the country with him, somewhere far from the capital, where no one would think to look for you until it was too late.

Perhaps the convent was not an ending to Taehyung’s love story with you. Perhaps it was merely a place to keep you until he could take you away.

"That is," Taehyung finally said, "genuinely clever and frighteningly so, if I am honest."

"I have had a great deal of time to think about it, and even if I have the idea, I still cannot execute it unless… you are willing to help me.”

"What do you need from me?"

“I need a carriage no one would connect to either of our families,” you said, “and a driver willing to drive me to the convent without asking questions. I cannot hire one myself without attracting attention, and I certainly cannot use one of my father’s drivers,” you looked at Taehyung whose expression grew even more serious, “but you know people. Could you arrange it?”

“I know exactly the man,” Taehyung replied, “he is quiet, discreet, and has done far stranger favours for me without ever speaking of them again.”

“Good, exactly what I needed,” you answered.

Taehyung smiled faintly at you, “Tell me when and where, and I will have him waiting.”

“Two days from now,” you answered, “there is a pastry shop on Fenwick Lane, near the library. I visit often enough that no one would question it if they see me there. If the carriage waits nearby, I could be outside the city before anyone at home realised I was missing.”

“Fenwick Lane,” Taehyung repeated, “I know where it is.”

“Good. Late morning, then. Around eleven,” you lowered your voice, “I will tell Daisy I want to spend the day at the library. From there, it is only a short walk to the pastry shop.”

“And if the carriage is waiting nearby,” Taehyung continued, “then you could be outside the city before anyone realised you were missing.”

“Precisely!” you answered, a little too excitedly. 

"What happens if the Sisters will not have you? If they ask questions you cannot answer, or send word to your father the moment you arrive?"

"Then I will have lost a day and gained nothing," you said, "but I do not intend to fail for lack of preparation. I have already written the letter I mean to present them,explaining precisely what I wish to pursue in the convent and why. I have even practiced more than once, exactly how I mean to say it."

"You have thought of everything."

"I have thought of it a great deal," you said.

"Do you remember," he said, "when we were children, and you decided the two of us should run away and live in the old boathouse by the lake?"

"I remember you eating all the food we had packed within the first hour,” you answered.

"I was a growing boy," Taehyung answered, laughing at the memories coming back to him, "and you were entirely too focused on your book to notice I was hungry."

"We lasted four hours before your mother found us."

"Four glorious hours," Taehyung said, "the finest afternoon of my childhood, and here we are again, planning the same sort of scheme only with considerably higher stakes,” Taehyung’s expression turned even more serious when he concluded, “I will accompany you to the convent, ____."

"Are you certain?" you asked, looking at him anxiously.

"Entirely," Taehyung said, taking your hand and pressing it between both of his, "I promised you, a very long time ago, that I would always come when you needed me. I do not intend to start breaking that promise now."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The study in the Jeon townhouse was lit by only a few candles. The windows were shut, and the curtains had been drawn tightly across them.

Jungkook returned from the reception an hour earlier, still carrying the faint smell of champagne. He barely finished changing out of his uniform when the first of the revolutionists’ leaders arrived.

Jimin came in first. Seokjin followed soon after, tracking mud across the carpet without the slightest sign of regret. Dennis and Kilian arrived together, still arguing quietly about a shipment. Hana slipped in behind them without drawing attention to herself. And Walter, as usual, came last and appeared to be amused that everyone else bothered to arrive on time.

Owen was already there, seated on the floor beside the fire with his back against the fireplace. He looked far more pleased than he usually seemed. 

“You look rather satisfied with yourself,” Jungkook said, lowering himself into the chair behind his desk. He reached for the small stack of correspondence Jimin had left there earlier, “which usually means something has gone either very right or very wrong.”

“Neither,” Owen replied, “or maybe both. It depends on how you choose to look at it.”

"That is not an answer," Seokjin snorted.

"I will only say it until everyone is seated," Owen said, "I would rather not tell this story twice."

Seokjin, who claimed his usual spot by the fireplace next to Owen, said, "If this is another story about the Duke of Pemberton's new stables, Owen, I swear I will throw you into the fire myself."

"It is not about the stables," Owen confirmed.

“Then I am all ears,” Seokjin said.

Once everyone had settled, Owen leaned forward, looking far too pleased with whatever he had discovered, “You will all remember that I have a man in service at the Rohan estate,” Owen said, “he has been there for a little over two years, mostly pouring wine and pretending not to hear what the nobility says in front of him and as it turns out, they say considerably more than they should.”

“We remember your man at Rohan,” Jimin said dryly, “you have mentioned him once or twice.”

“Yes, well, tonight he earned every mention,” Owen said, overly proud of the man, “he was serving refreshments near the garden this afternoon during the wedding, less than ten feet from where Captain J’s fiance was having a conversation with an old friend of hers, a Mister Kim Taehyung. If I remembered correctly.”

Jungkook was going through the correspondence with only half his attention but at the mention of Taehyung’s name, he stopped and set the letters down, “Go on,” Jungkook said.

"My man did not think much of it at first," Owen continued, "young people talk, and he had a tray of champagne to attend to. But then he heard the word convent, which is not a word young nobles typically mention and he had the good sense to linger a moment longer than necessary."

"A convent?" Dennis repeated, glancing towards Jungkook.

"The Sisters of Saint Joseph," Owen said, “ten hours journey from the capital. Apparently your lady has spent her free time reading Church law in her father's study, and has arrived at the conclusion that a woman who presents herself to a religious order, cannot be dragged away from it. Not by her family, and as far as she has been able to find out, not even by the Crown."

The room went silent.

"She means to become a nun," Kilian slowly said.

"Yes," Owen said, "or to make herself inconvenient even for the Crown to marry her off.”

Seokjin let out a long whistle, "That is genuinely brilliant for a noble lady to come up with," he said, “Captain, your future wife has found a loophole, and she stumbled upon it in her father's study out of what, boredom?"

"Is it true? Could it really work?" Hana asked, turning towards Kilian, who has the closest thing among them to formal legal training.

“It is true,” Kilian said, “the law has fallen out of common use, but it was never formally removed from Church law and no monarch in the last two centuries has cared to challenge it publicly, not when doing so would risk an unnecessary conflict with the church.”

Kilian glanced towards Jungkook, “If Lady Ashwell presents herself willingly and the bishop agrees to accept her, the Crown would need his cooperation to remove her. Forcing the matter could provoke a conflict with the Church, and I doubt the Crown cares enough about this marriage to risk one.”

“So it would work,” Dennis said, “Lady Ashwell could avoid the marriage.”

“It could work,” Kilian agreed, “provided the bishop has no particular loyalty to the Crown and that is not something any of us can determine from this room tonight.”

"I am this close to writing to the woman myself and offering my services," Seokjin said, "purely out of interest. It is not every day one meets a noblewoman capable of citing Church law to inconvenience the Crown."

"You would be wasting the paper," Jimin replied, "she despises soldiers, and I imagine she would despise you within the first three sentences you say to her."

“I am remarkably charming in writing,” Seokjin protested, “far more charming than I am in person.”

Jungkook ignored their bickering and leaned back in his chair, resting one hand against his mouth. For a long moment, he said nothing, but the look in his eyes made it clear that he was considering the matter far more carefully than his silence suggested.

"Well, Captain?" Seokjin said, after the silence stretched long enough, "you have gone very quiet. Should we be concerned?"

Jungkook let out a short and unexpected laugh that startled everyone into glancing up to look at him.

"Look what we are up against," Jungkook said, shaking his head slightly, "she is clearly an intelligent noble lady.”

Jungkook lowered his hand from his mouth, “I have spent the better part of the week wondering whether she might eventually discover what goes on in this house. Now I find she has already devised a way to outplay the Crown, entirely on her own with nothing more than books.”

"You sound almost proud of her," Seokjin said. 

“There is more,” Owen continued, “she does not intend to travel alone. Her friend, Kim Taehyung, has agreed to accompany her. And he will be arranging the carriage and driver through a contact of his own. They are meeting the day after tomorrow, late in the morning, outside a pastry shop on Fenwick Lane. From there, they intend to travel directly to the convent.”

"A driver," Walter answered, speaking for the first time that evening, "did your man happen to overhear a description of this driver?"

"Kim Taehyung apparently described him as someone who has done far stranger favors for him before and never once spoken of them again."

Walter went silent for a moment, and then, slowly, a smile began to spread across his face, "That," Walter said, "sounds a very great deal like Theo."

Every head in the room turned towards Walter.

"Theo," Jimin repeated, "our Theo?"

"How many discreet men in this city do you imagine go about arranging carriages for young lords who cannot be seen doing anything themselves?" Walter said, "Kim Taehyung has used him three times before, to my knowledge. Theo has been moving things and people around the capital for nobles for half a decade which is precisely why he has been useful to us for nearly as long."

"You are telling me," Jungkook said slowly, "that the very driver Kim Taehyung intends to hire to help Lady Ashwell move out of the city already belongs to the revolutionists."

"Yes," Walter confirmed, " the city is smaller than any of the nobles ever care to admit, and that discretion from a servant is a rarer trade than they assume. There are only so many men in the capital willing to drive a carriage and ask no questions.”

Seokjin let out a delighted laugh and clapped his hands together, "This is the finest turn of luck I have heard in months," he continued, "the woman devises a plan clever enough to trouble the Crown, and it will be for nothing because the driver she has actually works for us."

"Here is what I believe we should do," Jungkook said, standing up from his chair, “first, Kim Taehyung cannot be permitted to travel with her. If he is present, he will become a pain in our plan. He clearly cares for her, which means he will not simply stand by and allow anything to happen, however carefully we stage it."

"You want him delayed," Dennis said.

"I want him to be occupied by something else," Jungkook corrected, "somewhere convincing enough that he won’t suspect it was arranged. Otherwise, he will go straight to her, and everything that has just fallen into our hands will become considerably more difficult.”

“An emergency,” Owen interrupted, “something urgent enough to demand his assistance.. an accident, perhaps or a stranger in distress.”

"He strikes me as precisely the sort of man who cannot walk past someone in need without stopping to help," Jungkook said, "arrange it for the morning of. Somewhere along his route to Fenwick Lane, close enough that he will still believe he has time to reach her afterward, and far enough that by the time he realises otherwise, it will already be too late to matter."

“How long a delay are we aiming for?” Dennis asked, already reaching for a scrap of paper and pencil, as he always did once a plan began to take a shape.

“Thirty minutes. She may wait that long, but no longer, she does not strike me as the sort to wait indefinitely when something of this nature is concerned,” Jungkook replied.

“Then we should also think of the possibility that she might not pick Theo’s carriage at all, without Taehyung present,” Dennis said, “if her patience runs out, she may simply hire the nearest available coach herself. In that case, Theo may never be the man who drives her.”

“Then Theo should not be the only man we rely on,” Kilian said, “I shall speak to others besides him, men I trust to take her where she is to be taken. Better more nets than one, Captain, considering how clever she has already proved herself to be.”

"See to it," Jungkook said, "I would rather spend the day bribing every coachman on Fenwick Lane or making sure they are all part of the revolutionists than risk losing track of her because we assumed she would behave predictably. What concerns me is what becomes of every person in this room and everything we have spent years working toward if she succeeds in leaving. because the future of the revolutionists are relying on this marriage.”

“I can deploy two men to delay Kim Taehyung, so consider him handled,” Jimin said, still scratching notes across his his paper.

“Good,” Jungkook said, before turning his attention to Walter, “I shall leave Theo to you. He is to do precisely as Kim Taehyung expects until it no longer serves us for him to do so. She must not suspect the carriage itself, and she is not to be taken to the convent at all.”

Jungkook paused, his expression turning even more serious, “I want her to be brought somewhere more convenient for us, and I would prefer that she discover the change of plans only when it is far too late to alter her own.”

"You are enjoying this," Seokjin said, teasing his Captain.

"I am doing what is necessary," Jungkook said, though the corner of his own mouth curved into a small smile, "the fact that I might also find it entertaining is a separate matter."

Seokjin held up both hands in surrender, grinning as he made his way toward the door, "For what it's worth, I would pay a great deal of money to see her face the moment she realises."

"So would I," Jimin admitted.

Jungkook thought to himself for the second time that week, that it was a great pity you would never know how much your intelligence have impressed him.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The next two days you spent behaving exactly as you always do. But your mother, it turned out, could somehow see straight through you regardless.

Breakfast the following morning was  quieter than usual, Margot already moved to the Rohan’s household, and your father was already gone to his study with a stack of correspondence relating to your marriage. 

Your mother was the only one present, sitting just across from you, "You have not touched your eggs," she said.

"I am not hungry,” you answered.

"You are never hungry the morning after you have decided to do something," your mother said, setting her cup down, "I have watched you do this since you were seven years old, ____. You go quiet, you push your food around your plate, and then, within a week, something will happen."

"Whatever do you mean, mother?" you asked, before adding, "I am simply tired. The wedding required a lot of standing, socialising, and smiling, and I am not naturally suited to these."

"Mhmm..” she answered, “well, what you said to those ladies at the refreshment table, half of the society was still discussing it by the time the reception was over."

You felt your face warming up slightly and busied yourself with the tea in front of you, of course the words have reached your mother, you thought to yourself.

“It was nothing but a misunderstanding," you said.

"Mhm.." your mother said, in a tone that suggested she did not believe you, "you know, I was rather like you once, before your father."

This was, you have to admit, not where you expected the conversation would go, and you looked up properly for the first time since sitting down, "You were never like me, Mother."

"I was more like you than you imagine," your mother said, "I was seventeen, and my own mother arranged a match with a man I met twice, and I spent a full month convinced I would rather run off and live with my aunt in the countryside than marry a stranger."

"Then what happened?"

“Your father saved me, which is not the same thing as what you are going through," your mother said, before continuing, "I am not encouraging you to fall in love with Captain Jungkook. I am only telling you that I understand better than you seem to think I do. He does not seem like a bad guy, it is better than being married off to someone twenty years older than you. Just try to hate him less."

"I do not hate the Captain," you answered, "I find him arrogant and infuriating, and I do not trust him, but I do not hate him."

"That is how a great many marriages begin," your mother said, "and a surprising number of them end rather better than anyone expected."

"This may not end up like one of those marriages, Mother."

"Maybe," your mother agreed, reaching across the table to briefly cover your hand with her own, "but I would ask you, whatever you have decided, whatever it is you are not telling me this morning, to be careful, ____. You have always been the clever one of my daughters. But being clever does not always keep a person as safe as they believe it will."

You held her gaze a moment longer, wondering how much your mother truly suspected, and how much she simply chose, out of some motherly kindness, not to ask outright.

“I will be careful,” you said.

"See that you are," your mother said, releasing your hand, "now eat your eggs. You will need your strength for whatever it is you are not telling me, and I would rather not spend the next fortnight explaining to your father why his youngest daughter has fainted from an empty stomach."

You laughed and picked up your fork.

Your mother did not press the matter further, though you caught her watching you once or twice more over the course of the meal, with an expression you could not entirely read, it was something between concern and a resignation that oddly looked almost like pride.

You spent the rest of the day exactly as you always do: reading in the library, taking tea, eating lunch with your parents, all the while turning your plan over and over in your mind until every detail has been perfected.

You would tell Daisy that you intended to spend the morning at the library, as you so often do that the excuse would not be suspicious at all. From there, you would walk your usual route to the pastry shop on Fenwick Lane, where Taehyung would be waiting with the carriage and the driver he had arranged would arrive around the same time. Together, you would make the journey to the Sisters of Saint Joseph.

Your parents would be searching for you, of course. But by the time they discovered where you were gone, you would already be within the convent walls, under the protection of the Church and beyond their power to bring you home.

You packed a small bag the night before and hid it under your bed, taking only what you think will be necessary: a modest amount of coin, several pieces of jewellery that might fetch a handsome price if needed, two changes of clothing, and the book you have been reading.

And inside of the bed, folded carefully was the letter you have written and rewritten more times than you cared to admit. You intended to place it directly into the hands of whichever Sister welcomed you first. It explained precisely what you meant to pursue and why, leaving no room for anyone to send you home before you have been given the chance to be heard.

You did not sleep well that night, whether from nerves or anticipation you could not entirely say.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Taehyung was planning to arrive at Fenwick Lane earlier. He was dressed in plain clothing to attract less attention from his surroundings. 

What Taehyung did not know, and had no reason to suspect, was that he had been followed for the last two days by a man who reported everywhere Taehyung went, everyone he spoke with, and the hour at which he planned to leave his estate.

He made it exactly four streets before a man stepped directly into his path, breathless with an expression of alarm across his face that stopped Taehyung mid-walk.

"Sir," the man said, "forgive me, I would not trouble a stranger under normal circumstances, but there has been an accident, just around the corner, a woman has fallen and struck her head badly, and I cannot find anyone willing to help me carry her to a physician."

"Where?" Taehyung said, already turning his full attention towards the stranger.

The man led him down a narrow side street, where, sure enough, a woman lay slumped against a wall. Another man knelt beside her, pressing a cloth to what appeared to be a wound at her temple. The entire scene looked urgent and tense that it did not occur to Taehyung, not even for a second, that any part of it might have been staged.

“She needs a physician at once,” the kneeling man said, “there is one only three streets from here, but I cannot carry her alone, and my friend has a weak back. If you would lend us your strength, sir, it should take no more than a few minutes.”

“Of course,” Taehyung was already taking his coat off, folding it carefully beneath the woman’s head, “here, allow me.”

“Bless you, sir,” the woman murmured, her eyelids fluttering weakly, “bless you, truly. I feared no one would stop.”

“You may thank me once we have delivered you safely to the physician,” Taehyung said, “for now, let us get you there.”

Only then did Taehyung think of you, waiting at the pastry shop and searching the street for him. Just a few minutes, surely a few minutes would make no difference. 

This shouldn't take long, please wait for me, I will not take long, I promise, Taehyung thought to himself as he lifted the woman carefully between himself and the kneeling stranger. 

in the end, it took longer than a few minutes. 

The physician's office was further than promised, the streets were more crowded than expected, and once they arrived, the woman herself insisted on thanking Taehyung at such length and with such tearful gratitude that he could not simply turn and leave her mid-sentence. 

It did not occur to Taehyung that the woman’s injury appeared less severe once the cloth was removed from her temple nor did he notice that both men vanished the moment the physician’s door closed behind them.

Once the woman was finally safely delivered into competent hands, Taehyung realised with horror that nearly forty minutes had passed.

"Forgive me," he said to the physician, already backing towards the door, "I am terribly late for an appointment," and did not wait to hear the reply.

He ran the entire way to Fenwick Lane, and when Taehyung arrived at the pastry shop, he only found the street outside it empty.

"____?" he said, to no one, looking for you at every corner of the street. Taehyung then checked inside the shop itself, asked the woman behind the counter whether she saw a young lady waiting outside, and received only a sympathetic shake of her head in response.

He stood there for a long moment afterwards, his hands pressed to his knees, catching his breath. 

Wherever you have gone, Taehyung understood that you have gone there alone.

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You waited exactly ten minutes before you started becoming anxious.

Taehyung has never once in all the years you have known him, failed to arrive when he said he would, and you reminded yourself of this fact with each passing minute.

You tried to divert your focus by pretending to examine the pastries in the shop window, by walking slowly, and by checking the small clock mounted above a shop nearby.

"Will you be wanting anything, miss?" the shopkeeper asked, for the second time in the past ten minutes now.

"No. Thank you," you said, "I am waiting for someone."

Taehyung is coming, you told yourself, he promised.

Ten minutes became twenty and twenty became closer to thirty, and you were doing your best not to count. But you have chosen this street at this specific hour because it would not draw attention, but the longer you stand there, the more aware you became of every person who glanced your way and every possibility that someone might recognise the youngest daughter of the Duke of Ashwell standing alone on a public street with a small bag at her feet.

A woman leaving the bakery looked at you twice, a delivery boy looked at you as if he recognised who you were, and even the shopkeeper started to stare at you from behind the glass of her store.

You could not wait much longer. 

Every minute was a minute in which your absence from home might be noticed. Daisy might begin to wonder why you brought your small bag to the library, even after you told her it’s filled with books. Your mother might send someone after you, worse, your father might learn of it before you could travel far enough.

You looked once more towards the far end of the street and there was still no sign of Taehyung.

A coach stood near the corner, its driver leaning against one wheel. And for one brief moment you wondered whether waiting a little longer might be wiser.

You made your decision and there was no time left to waste. You grabbed your bag, you and walked across the street towards the driver, “I need to travel north, along the river road, to the convent of Saint Joseph,” you told the driver, “as quickly as you are able to get me there.”

The driver was a large man dressed in a plain black coat. He tipped his hat, took your bag from your hand, and opened the carriage door without asking a single question.

At the time, you mistook his silence for discretion.

What you did not notice was the glance he exchanged with a man standing across the street.

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The driver slowed down the horses and glanced back at you through the small window between the carriage and his seat around one kilometre into the journey.

“It is a long journey to Saint Joseph, miss,” he said, “almost a day in good weather, but it would take almost twelve hours since the roads became poor due to yesterday’s weather.”

You leaned forward slightly, “I thought it could be reached in ten hours?”

“It can, ordinarily. But I would not advise travelling the northern roads after dark and in this grey weather,” he said, nodding toward the grey clouds, “there is an inn six hours outside the city where drivers making the journey commonly stop. It is a nice inn, and the road beyond it is safer taken in daylight. I suggest we remain there tonight and continue at first light.”

The suggestion was one you didn’t particularly like because right now every hour mattered, and you hoped to be safely within the convent before anyone at home discovered where you were gone.

For one fleeting second, you wished you were able to take one of your family’s private cars instead. It would have been faster, safer, and far less dependent upon the judgement of a stranger. But at this time and age, traveling by car was reserved only for the head of the household, and a disappearance of one of your father’s expensive vehicles could never be done without the whole estate taking notice. 

Hiring a public coach was the only choice that offered you any hope of secrecy.

“Is stopping truly necessary?” you asked.

“I would not recommend otherwise,” he replied, “the road passes through several kilometres of woodland, and there have been robberies there after nightfall. I would rather lose a few hours than place you in danger, miss.”

You looked through the window at the city gradually becoming smaller behind you. Returning was no longer an option, and seeking another coach would only waste more time. The delay was inconvenient, but not unreasonable and by the following morning, you would still be beyond your father’s immediate reach.

“Very well,” you said at last, “we shall stop at the inn.”

The driver tipped his hat at you, “A wise decision, miss.”

You settled back into your seat as the carriage moved forward, telling yourself that the stop was only a sensible precaution.

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The lobby of the inn was small and warmly lit.

There was a modest sofa arranged near the entrance, occupied by several men in military uniforms who briefly looked up as you opened the door, and returned to their conversation right after.

Except for one of them, who did not look away at all.

He sat in the centre of the sofa, one of his arms stretched along the back of the sofa. 

He was wearing a white shirt with the top three buttons left undone, revealing his chest. He looked as if he has been waiting there for some time.

For one brief moment, you told yourself it could not possibly be him. But the longer you stared, the less room there was for doubt.

It was him.

His broad shoulders, the composed way he held himself, and the way his eyes found yours the instant the door opened and did not once leave them, there could be no mistake.

The plan you spent days carefully arranging collapsed all at once.

Captain Jeon Jungkook slowly stood up from the sofa, and the smile that spread across his face was without question, the most infuriating smile you have ever seen.

"Oh," Jungkook said, slowly approaching you, "fancy seeing you here, my lady."

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You wanted to run. 

But there was nowhere left to go. The driver was already at the desk, talking to the innkeeper. The sky outside was almost dark, and Jungkook was already walking towards you. 

You were furious, how could he possibly have known? Who told him? 

Only Taehyung knew of your plan, and he would never have betrayed you, not after everything the two of you have shared. So, there was only one reasonable explanation.

“You followed me here,” you said, confronting the Captain in front of his men, “you followed me here.”

"Did I?" Jungkook asked, tilting his head as if the accusation genuinely puzzled him, "I was under the impression that I arrived first at this inn, my lady, which would make it rather difficult for me to have followed you."

"Do not lie to me, Captain," you said, taking a step closer to him despite every instinct urging you to not do so, "I can see right through you."

"I rarely lie," Jungkook answered, "it requires far too much effort to keep track of it afterwards. As it happens, I visit this inn often and many of my men live in the surrounding villages, as you can see,” he said as he nodded towards the sofa, and the men seated there raised and waved their hands in greeting.

You did not greet them back. You hated soldiers too much to spare them more than a passing glance, so your attention remained focused entirely on Jungkook.

"Explain yourself," you demanded.

"Well, if you insist," Jungkook sighed, closing the distance between you, as he looked down right into your eyes, “First, I did not lie. I do come here often, ask any one of my men if you doubt me. Second, your mother came to see me two days ago. She told me she feared you might try to run."

Jungkook was telling the truth. 

Even though the leaders of the revolutionists knew of your plan for two days now, your mother's visit to Jungkook's estate was not something any of them had orchestrated. It was something Jungkook and his men did not expect. It was as if the final piece of their plan had simply fallen into their hands.

You remembered your mother across the breakfast table, watching you for far longer than usual. And you clearly remembered the strange warning she gave you about how being clever is not always enough to keep a person safe.

You knew she suspected you running away, but you didn’t realise that your mother would act on her suspicion. It was very out of her character to do so.

You felt as if you have been betrayed. Your mother, who let you keep to your books, silences and excuses, had gone behind your back to the one man in the kingdom you least wanted informed of your plans. 

And yet, she also did not go to your father who would have gone through even greater lengths to prevent you from running away. And you realised, what your mother did was its own kind of protection, but simply was not in the form you hoped for. 

"You should not run from your own house and leave your poor mother to suffer her anxiety alone," Jungkook said, "she was quite beside herself, my lady. I have rarely seen a duchess so sad."

"My mother's mental state is none of your concern, Captain," you said.

"It became my concern the moment she cried in my living room," Jungkook said, "you may resent me for many things. But I came here because a woman who is about to be my mother in law, asked me to make sure that her daughter did not get herself killed travelling alone. 

“Did you even have a plan, my lady?” Jungkook asked, you could tell he was teasing you and it infuriated you even more, “or did you simply just trust the coachman to bring you somewhere far enough?”

"I had a plan," you said, rolling your eyes at him, aware of exactly how little that plan was worth now with your soon to be husband standing three feet away from you.

"Oh?" Jungkook said, tilting his head with what looked like genuine curiosity, "so what was your plan, exactly? I confess I am rather eager to hear how far you intended to run away before someone recognised a duke's daughter travelling alone."

You sighed again. 

There was little point in trying to keep your plans a secret now.

Since you would never have another chance like this. The moment you returned, the estate would be placed on high alert, guards would follow your every step, servants would report your movements, and every door beyond the grounds would be watched.

There would be no second escape.

You have admitted your defeat.

You will soon be marrying the man in front of you, and there was no way for you to escape.

"There is a convent, just ten hours north of the capital and if a woman presents herself and asks to commit to the Church, she cannot be removed from the convent, not by her family, and as far as I could understand, not by the Crown either.”

"You meant to become a nun," Jungkook said, before adding, “and act against a royal decree.. that is the most reckless yet intelligent idea I have heard from a noblewoman.”

"It hardly matters now," you said in defeat.

“You are correct,” Jungkook agreed, with a smile so smug you had to stop yourself from slapping his face.

You suddenly became aware of the innkeeper hovering near the two of you, waiting with an apologetic look of a man who had bad news, "Captain," the innkeeper said, playing with his hands, "forgive me, but I have only just been informed. With the weather tonight, we have considerably more travelers than usual, and I am afraid we have exactly one room left in the house."

"One room?" you repeated.

"One room," the innkeeper confirmed, looking between the two of you, "I truly am sorry, my lady, and Captain Jungkook. I would offer you my own quarters, but my wife would have my head."

You were now even more annoyed and furious at the universe for turning your evening this way. A perfectly good escape plan, days in the making, was reduced to this; an inn, a fiance you did not want, and now, apparently, a single room the two of you have to share.

But beneath the annoyance, you could not entirely erase the satisfaction the moment you noticed the irritation across Jungkook's face at the innkeeper's announcement. 

This was clearly the one thing the Captain failed to anticipate, and you found yourself taking pleasure in watching him realise it.

"Ah," the innkeeper added quickly, sensing the tension, "but the room is an ensuite, it is very spacious. And there is a sofa in the room itself, it is large enough to be used as a bed if the Captain does not mind sleeping on it for a night."

"How reassuring," you stated.

You looked at the man standing next to the doctor and examined him for a while. He was pale, tall and well-built. His hair was a little long and some strands fell over his face catching on his furrowed brows. He was fidgeting, biting his thumbnail. 

There’s a chill that runs down Yoongi’s spine as he watches your eyes roam his form from head to toe. He almost expects to see some kind of anger or resentment on your face. He wants you to be angry, because what he is seeing in your eyes at that moment is much worse than what he was expecting. In your eyes, where he expected to see resentment or hatred or anger, lies nothing but blank confusion. You don’t recognize him. You don’t know him.  

You turn back to the doctor, shaking your head. He opens his mouth to say something but Yoongi beats him to it.

“It’s okay, doc. For now, can you please check if she’s okay?” Yoongi turns to you, “You said your head was hurting, right y/n?”.

Cautiously, you nod at him before looking at the doctor again. You couldn’t decipher the look on his face.

“It feels like a really, really bad migraine. It’s throbbing really bad and my ears are ringing.”

 “This is all completely normal. You were in a pretty severe car accident and sustained a pretty worrisome head injury. Concussion. You were unconscious for about 5, almost 6 days, so your body has already started its healing process. In the coming days and maybe weeks, you might experience some delayed symptoms related to the concussion you received.” 

“What kind of symptoms? Is she going to be okay?” Though shocked as he was with your current predicament, Yoongi couldn’t help but worry even more.

“Mr. Min, if you would just let me continue, I can give you and Mrs. Kim all the answers you need. Now, Mrs. Kim, your body has already started healing a majority of its superficial injuries.However, due to the impact of the crash, you sustained a pretty bad head injury resulting in a concussion I believe to be grade II or III.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked.

“It’s just a way to classify the severity of the concussion you received. 

“It’s just a way to classify the severity of the concussion you received. Since you were in a car accident, you sustained a lot of other injuries but nothing too severe like broken bones. Miraculously enough, you managed to be wheeled away with only lacerations, bruising and a head injury. You were unconscious for about five days and you’re exhibiting signs of amnesia along with sensitivity to light, dizziness and tinnitus. These are all signs of a grade II or III concussion, though we won’t know which one until after a few more days of monitoring. Either way, there is the possibility of delayed symptoms like headaches, nausea and vertigo. We are going to refer you to Neurology. After we’ve monitored your brain activity and symptoms for a few days, we can determine the grade of concussion clearly and proceed with treatment if needed. I’m leaning a bit more towards a grade II because you’re still able to speak and understand in a normal manner, but the memory loss is worrisome so we’ll have to monitor that and see if it lasts for over 24 hours or not.”

You groaned, trying to push yourself to sit up, but your muscles—sore and unused for days—were making it difficult. Yoongi, who had inched closer and closer to you while the doctor spoke, held your hand in one of his while the other helped push you up to sit more comfortably. You murmur a soft ‘thanks’ in his direction.

 “I still don’t understand. You’re saying that I have amnesia, but I feel like I remember everything I should. I know my name, my parents’ name, my friends’ names. I know how old I am…” You begin to explain, not really understanding the whole ‘amnesia’ thing.

“I still don’t understand. You’re saying that I have amnesia, but I feel like I remember everything I should. I know my name, my parent’s names, my friends and my family’s names.” You begin to explain, not really understanding the whole ‘amnesia’ thing.

 “What do you remember doing last before you woke up here?” The doctor asked while scribbling on his clipboard.

“I don’t know, I think I was getting food or getting ready to go to bed. It’s really hard to gather my thoughts right now.”

“How old are you? And what year is it?” You’re asked again.

“19, and it’s 2017.” 

As soon as those words came out of your mouth, Yoongi fell into a quiet shock again. Not only had you not recognized him, but he was completely and utterly erased from your memory. You were only 19 when you guys first met at that studio. In your head, you were 19 and you had no idea who he was, so your memory must have conveniently stopped sometime before you met him. He almost scoffs at the irony of it all.

 “Mrs. Kim, you’re 28. You just turned 28 two months ago, and it’s currently 2026. Today is the sixteenth of November.” The doctor states simply.

 The gasp leaves your mouth before you realize it. Your shaky hands lift up to cover your mouth and you feel the tears immediately well up in your eyes from the impact of the doctor’s statement.

“What do you mean? How can I just lose nine years? That sounds crazy.” Your voice cracks when you ask and through the tears and the shaky breaths, you feel the ghost of a hand on your back.

“That, we don’t know. We haven’t seen a case of memory loss this severe in decades, but that’s why we’re going to be monitoring you. Amnesia in head injury patients is pretty unpredictable, but most people who experience amnesia usually only lose memories within the day or at most a week, and it usually never lasts for more than a couple of days. There are many factors that may contribute to your memory loss. Perhaps you’re only confused at this moment because you just woke up and that was the first thing your brain thought. Or it may actually be a case of amnesia, but losing nine years of your memories has no connection whatsoever to how long it will take to regain those memories back. For all we know, you could get them back tonight, but like I said, it’s very unpredictable.”

It takes a moment for all of it to sink in. Okay, so you lost about nine years worth of memories.. And essentially life. But you might regain them soon. Or not.

You steady your breath before turning to the doctor once again. 

“What’s he got to do with all of this? I still don’t know who he is or why he’s here.” You ask while pointing to Yoongi, who still has one of his hands lingering at the small of your back to keep you steady while sitting up.

The doctor looks at you, then looks at Yoongi as if expecting him to take the floor and explain things himself. 

“I’m Min Yoongi.” He holds out his hand intending you shake yours. You lift your hand to his and he encloses it gently, careful not to touch or move the IV. It’s warm.

“Okay, Min Yoongi, that doesn’t explain how I’m supposed to know you?” You question again, a little bit of attitude in your voice.

It’s silent for a moment. Sensing the tension, the doctor excuses himself, telling them that he’ll send some nurses to help with your pain management.

Yoongi’s grip tightens on your hand. He contemplates for a little while about how to explain who he was in your life and who you were in his. Can he say that you’re his wife? Will that make it easier for the both of you since you were pregnant? But that was a lie, because you were divorced.

 And he had lied to you enough times during the end of your marriage. The only way to move forward now was to be truthful. For your sake, and his.

“We were together for about six years,” he starts. You wriggle your hand out of his, feeling a little too warm.

“It’s hard for me to believe that we were together for that long and I don’t remember a single thing about you.” 

“You lost nine years of memories. There are a lot of things you don’t remember, but I want to be here to help you get those memories back.” He says to you.

You nod your head, still not truly understanding the severity of the situation at all, but you wince obviously after. The bruises are aching and you think it’s because you’ve been sitting up for too long. Yoongi puts his hand on your arm and guides you to lay back down.

 “Here, just lay down and I’ll be right here with you to answer your questions, okay?” He reassures you. 

After laying down, you try to move your body to the side to face him. 

“So how come you’re here and not my friends or my family members?” You asked after a minute’s silence, trying to think of a question to ask. It baffled you that this man you don’t even remember is the only one visiting you in broad daylight after a severe car accident. 

“Jeongyeon was here with me the day of your accident. A few of our other mutual friends came by to visit.”

“What about my family?” You asked. 

Yoongi paused at this. You weren’t close with your parents, but he couldn’t pinpoint where that relationship had become strained. When you two started dating, you had confided in him that you and your parents were not close, and they were never really parents to you.

Yoongi shook his head, not having an answer for you.

 Silence engulfs the room. Part of Yoongi wonders if, despite your strained relationship with your parents, you’d still hoped for them to show some kind of care for their only child. 

A sad, gentle smile graces your lips at his response.

“So you were the last one left on my emergency contacts?” 

“I was your only emergency contact.” He says.

At this moment, Yoongi looked at you with sad eyes. It felt like his gaze was staring straight through your soul. You tear your gaze away from him when it starts to get uncomfortable.

Eager to ease the tension, you ask how the two of you met. Yoongi rests his elbow on the armrest of the chair, plopping his chin down on his palm and staring at you again. 

“Well, I had a music video shoot at a set. I went in early to help the staff set up, but you were doing a photoshoot so I just stayed and waited. That was the first time I met you. I don’t think you knew me. But that was 9 years ago. You were 19. We didn’t really know each other until about 3 years after that when I ran into you late at night at a food hall.” 

There was a smile on Yoongi’s face when he recalled that particular memory. You sat still, simply looking at him and thinking that his smile was breathtaking.

“You remembered the exact moment you saw me, so you must have fallen in love with me at first sight, huh?” You asked teasingly. The atmosphere was just a teensy bit lighter, less tense, than it was before. 

Yoongi glared at you, but as soon as he spotted your little smirk, the glare melted away and a hesitant but gentle smile made its way on his face again. 

“For your information, it was at first laugh.” He stated simply, crossing his arms over his chest. At that, you gave a gentle smile and a quiet giggle into your pillow. 

In that moment, Yoongi was taken back to the early days of your relationship. The appearance of that gentle smile had catapulted him back to the happier days of your life together. The little sparkle in your eyes, though droopy and surrounded by bruises, brought warmth into his chest. It was so different from how you were in the months leading up to your divorce. Though pale and bruised and in a hospital bed, you looked much more youthful than before, as if you had reverted back to that person he saw for the first time on that set, and at the food stall. 

“Right… okay. At first laugh. Never heard that before.” You said sarcastically.  

“I’m serious. It was like hearing bells.”

“That doesn’t sound very appealing.”

“Good bells.”

You laughed again, a little scratchy this time. Yoongi handed you the glass of water on your bedside table.

“Okay, so you fell in love with me at first laugh, then what happened?” You asked, eager to find out more about this story. You really had no inkling of who this man was, or if he was even telling the truth, but if the hospital personnel trusted him with your personal health information, then he must have been someone you trusted too. Plus, it intrigued you to hear about your apparent love story. You loved a good love story.  

Yoongi took the glass of water and placed it back on the table.

 “Well, like I said, we didn’t really come to know each other until a year after when I ran into you at the food stall really late into the night. I recognized you, and we spent basically the rest of that night into the morning eating, talking and getting to know each other. We were close friends after that and then we started dating a year after that, so we were together for almost six years.” Yoongi explained.

“Past tense, so you’re an ex-boyfriend?” This was getting more and more interesting to you. You’ve always associated exes with heartbreak (at least the ones you remembered), so this was interesting. You must have been good friends after the breakup for him to be your emergency contact.  

“Ex-husband, actually.”

 Oh.

That stopped you in your tracks. Divorce was something you had never, ever thought about. Mentally, you were 19. At 19, you were worried about your career. You had suffered your fair share of heartbreaks, cheating bastards and living in the ruins of your parents’ marriage, so you swore off marriage until you got yourself together and if you got married, divorce was not an option. This revelation confused you. He met you when you were 19 but you didn’t get to know him until you were 22. But you married him at a young age, and here you are at—apparently—28 years old, and you’re divorced. That’s actually…unbelievable.

“I always say we were together for almost six years, because I knew I was going to love you that first time I saw you and heard you laugh in between takes, and by the end of the night at the food stall, I knew that I was in love with you. It doesn’t matter to me that we spent a year being best friends before that. I knew from the moment I met you that you were going to be the one I married.”

 “Okay, wait. I’m going to need you to break this down for me more. How long were we married for?” 

“Almost 4 years. We started dating a year after the food stall meeting, in December. I asked you to be my girlfriend there. I proposed to you in May after we started dating. It was a Friday the 13th. You always thought they were lucky. We got married early in December.. It was the first snowfall of that year.” The look on Yoongi’s face makes it obvious that he was recalling these memories with fondness. You can’t help but feel jealous, wanting to feel that same fondness, that same nostalgia, but you were so detached from this memory.

“When did we get divorced?”

Yoongi fiddled with his fingers a bit before answering. “The end of September. We were drifting apart for some months already, so divorce was the best option for us.” 

You nodded absentmindedly. It was a little strange to be here, in a hospital bed, listening to this man—who is apparently your ex-husband—talk about being so in love with you that he knew from the moment he saw you that he would marry you and divorce in the same breath. You felt like you should be feeling more than this, but all you can feel is this nonchalant detachment, like you were listening to a lecture on a subject you didn’t like. Still, this was your love life, something you treasured with all of your heart, and the news of this divorce with a man you don’t recognize or even remember is shocking, but in a detached way. Like you were hearing gossip in the bathroom stall.

“That makes sense. No one should stay in a marriage where the feelings aren’t there anymore.” You say slowly, dazing off to absorb the information he just unloaded.

 From your peripheral, you see Yoongi just nod, not saying anything. The silence that befell the room was comfortable, but solemn at the same time.

Yoongi continued to look at you, and you looked back at him. There was nothing for you to say. You had no response. All you could do was take in and accept the information he’s given you.

He reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face.

“Don’t worry. Even though we’re not together anymore, I’ll still take care of you. You don’t have any immediate family in the area, and I live closest to you. The least I can do is take care of you.”

You look at him and shake your head. The independent part of you wanted to decline his offer. Even though you were mentally 19, you were actually 28, and at 19, you already knew how to take care of yourself.

“It’s fine, Yoongi. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” 

That silences Yoongi for a bit. He remembers you saying that all the time, more so during the time you were thinking about quitting modelling. He was worried about you, but you always reassured him that there was nothing to worry about. You were a big girl. A woman. When these words came out of your mouth, it reminded him that although you didn’t remember much, you were still the woman he knew deep down.

 Before he gets lost in his thoughts again, he lets out a small laugh. 

“Yeah, I know you can take care of yourself, but you don’t even know where you live. Do you even remember how to drive? I remember you learned how to drive when you were 21.” 

You furrow your brows and pout your lips, angry at his statements, but decide you can’t refute since he was telling the truth, technically. 

“Okay, valid. You can go home if you want, though. They said they were gonna keep me here for a couple of days, so you don’t have to come to the hospital until then. You look kind of rich…and famous, so you must be busy.” 

Yoongi smiles. “It’s okay. I’m at the point in my career where I can afford to take days off, but I will need to just go to the company to settle some things before you get discharged.” 

As he talked, your eyes became droopy and slow to blink.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Yoongi asks as he moves closer to your face to examine you. Instinctively, you move back and flinch away, but you’re still close enough to see his eyes. 

Having him this close made you uncomfortable, so you just closed your eyes and nodded, mumbling “Mhm, just sleepy. Head is still hurting.”

He pulls the blanket up to cover you up to your neck and fixes your hair so that it wasn’t in your face. The intimacy is strange, but not unwelcome.

 He runs his fingers through your hair, thumb settling and caressing your temple, all while his eyes roam your face. 

He whispers, “kay, just go back to sleep. I’ll go talk to your doctor, then I’m going to the company. I’ll be back tomorrow to drop off some of your necessities.” 

You could barely hear him, but you nod anyways. The disappearance of his warm hand left a cold and empty feeling. Soon enough, you drifted off to sleep. 

-

Yoongi takes one last look at your sleepy form before he quietly leaves the room. He sees your doctor from the corner of his eyes and walks up to him. Before he could ask anything, the doctor tells him that they have the results from a scan taken the day prior.

“There seems to be no traumatic damage to the brain, so we have high hopes for a smooth recovery. Of course, she is pregnant, so that might make things a bit more delicate, but nothing that is too difficult to adjust to. She’s right in the middle of her first trimester, so you both really need to be careful. It’s already a miracle that the fetus survived. The rest is up to you guys.”

 Yoongi nods. “And what about the amnesia? Do you have any more details on that?” 

The doctor shakes his head.

“We’re still confused about the memory loss. As I mentioned before, the last care of amnesia that was this severe was such a long time ago, and for Mrs. Kim, there is no explanation or pattern that was found in the brain scans to justify the timeline of the memory loss. Nine years is a really long time. We believe she might be more sensitive due to having such a huge gap in her memory. We don’t know what could trigger memories or how she would react to them, but you and the rest of her family or friends should come up with things or events to stimulate her brain activity slowly and remind her of some of the memories that she lost.” 

“That sounds reasonable. I don’t want to overwhelm her too much, so I held back a lot when I was talking to her today. If it’s possible, can we hold off on telling her about the pregnancy? At least until I come back and I can tell her myself. I tried to take the day off today, but I have to deal with some things first just so I can be here when she’s discharged.” Yoongi explained.  

The doctor looked nervous at first, but thought about it for a while.

“Yes, I think that might be for the best. Waking up in an unfamiliar place with no memories of the past nine years can be very overwhelming so it might be easier to slowly introduce her to the current situation. Thank you Mr. Min. We’ll call you when there’s news.” The doctor says before holding his hand out for a handshake. 

Yoongi let out a small smile as he shook the doctor’s hand.

“Yes, please let me know if anything happens and if her situation changes. I’ll be back tomorrow to drop off a new cellphone for her so it’s easier to contact people. I’ll see you then, doc. Thank you so much for your hard work.” Yoongi couldn’t help but praise him for being such a helpful person during a difficult time for the both of you.

“It’s no problem at all, Mr. Min. It makes me happy to see how devoted you are to taking care of your wife and future child.” The doctor smiles at him and pats his shoulder roughly before he walks away whistling.

Yoongi only stared at his back as he walked away from him. Devotion. That wasn’t something he was used to.

-

He’d gone home that night and contemplated the strange encounter that you both had today. The initial shock he received when realizing that you couldn’t recognize him, worse yet remember him, was swept away quickly by your questions about your relationship with him. As the night ended and he settled himself into his bed, he couldn’t stop thinking about your conversation today.

It was the most civil conversation you’ve had since before the divorce. It was basically the only conversation you’ve had since the divorce. The more he thought about it, the more he zoned out of the reality in front of him. He thought about your teasing smile when you asked if he fell in love with you at first sight. He thought about your laugh, like bells, when he corrected you and said it was love at first laugh. It was like the fates turned back time to that cold winter night under the warm lights of the food stall tent. It was like he was seeing you for the first time again, in that studio. 

The you from today was such a stark contrast from the you that Yoongi had lived with in the months leading up to your divorce. Being reminded of what you were like back then and comparing it to the person you turned into after almost six years together made his heart palpitate. He didn’t know what it was, but thinking about how you changed—how you grew—made him nervous. These weren’t fluffy feelings of romance or admiration. It seemed to be more like fear. Something crippling. He looked down at his hands and realized they were shaking. He tightened his hands into fists, but they were numb. Opening them only made the trembling more apparent. As it continued, he noticed his breathing getting shorter and shorter. He didn’t know what was happening, but having these thoughts made him feel so scared.

The tears escaped his eyes before he even realized he was crying. He had never experienced this before. His heart was beating so fast, and he couldn’t stop shaking or crying but all he could focus on was your soft smile today, and every time he saw it in his head, it crumbled into the 28 year old you who sobbed into your hands in front of him. He just kept thinking and thinking and thinking and it made him cry into his trembling psalm more and more. Behind his closed eyes were images of the two of you through the years and the way you had changed from a beautiful, happy, confident woman who could make time stop into a sad, quiet and reserved woman who preferred to stay at home and be alone with your thoughts and your words.

Did he do that? Did he do that to you? Did he make you that sad? Was it his fault that you pulled away from him? Was it his fault that you two fell apart as catastrophically as you fell in love? Was he the reason for your accident?

 No, no, no, no. He cried and cried and couldn’t breathe. I didn’t do that. I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t mean to do that. I loved you. I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. 

-

 At the same time, you woke up in your hospital bed, shocked by a nightmare that eventually dulled and became forgotten as soon as you woke. Clutching your chest and taking deep, stuttering breaths, you feel like there was something important that the dream told you, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Instead of trying to remember, you looked up at the ceiling of your hospital room and contemplated the strange encounter with your so-called ex-husband today. Mentions of the divorce were vague, so you didn’t focus on it too much. He told you a love story you wouldn’t have believed if you hadn’t lost your memories. You smiled as you remembered the way he told you he fell in love at first laugh. There was a twinkle in his eye when he said that, but you still noticed a twinge of sadness and regret lurking beneath it all. 

“For your information, it was at first laugh.”

 You closed your eyes and tried so hard to remember anything, just the smallest thing, to confirm whatever Yoongi had told you today, but nothing came to you except for a barrage of tears that were so sudden it shocked you. You tried to stop crying, but you couldn’t. You tried to laugh, but it only ended in broken sobs. There was a hurt in your chest that you couldn’t precisely describe or even explain. It was sharp, and it hurt your heart, like it was breaking little by little. It wasn’t happiness. Not at all. It felt like a sadness that you hadn’t ever felt before, but you couldn’t possibly remember why you felt like this. The tears kept coming and coming and it frustrated you so much that you didn’t know why you were crying like this. You just wanted to remember something about your marriage, your relationship, and Min Yoongi. You couldn’t understand why you were feeling like this.

Of course, though the memory is lost, the hurt and sorrow couldn’t be forgotten. At least not by your body. It was a sadness deeply ingrained in your bones that not even the loss of the memories associated with the hurt could erase it.

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