hellooo my name is tee ππ½βΊοΈ
she/her
audhd
aquarius β94
infj-a
a safe space for kindness, equality, diversity, & inclusion β‘
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Three Goblin Art
Not today Justin
occasionally subtle

Origami Around
wallacepolsom

oozey mess
Xuebing Du

if i look back, i am lost
Show & Tell

romaβ

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ojovivo

blake kathryn
Monterey Bay Aquarium
dirt enthusiast

Andulka
Sade Olutola
One Nice Bug Per Day
I'd rather be in outer space πΈ

@theartofmadeline
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@mrsvante
hellooo my name is tee ππ½βΊοΈ
she/her
audhd
aquarius β94
infj-a
a safe space for kindness, equality, diversity, & inclusion β‘
masterlist

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
b t s f i c r e c s β β’ . * γ
t a e h y u n g
waterloo by @kinktae (art prodigy!taehyung x art student!reader; romcom vibes)
snow flower by @luaspersona (himbo!taehyung, college!au, holiday!au; extremely funny, love it sm)
under all that shy (1) (2) by @mrsvante (office!au, coworkers to lovers, just PERFECT)
j u n g k o o k
just friends (1) (2) (3) by @kinktae (bff!jungkook, roommates!au; i don't play when it comes to this fic, it's classical literature)
β β’ . * γβ β’ . * γcredits to the authors!!
thank you for the feature! βΊοΈπ
I donβt think you realise just how perfect A Gentle Kind of Forever and the song recs are! Buffalo 66 has been on repeat since the new chapters.
i had such a horrible day at work today, and this was a treat to read. thank you so much for reading. i loooove that you like buffalo 66! itβs such a good song, iβve been listening to her stuff heavy for the last few weeks βΊοΈ
even though that song inspired the chapter extension, i wanted to keep with the theme of classical music for this series. i was in the band in middle school and have been addicted to classical music ever since. itβs nice to know thereβs other classical lovers out there ππ«Άπ½β¨
pairing: jungkook x reader
kinks: role playing, rough sex, dubcon
warnings: married life, sprinkle of cnc, simulated stalking & obsessive behavior, dirty talk, praise kink, bondage, masturbation, oral f!receiving, squirting, fingering, hair pulling, an ass slap, rimming f!receiving, aftercare
word count: 4,429
a word from our sponsors ππ½ββοΈ: i honestly had so much fun writing this. i was nervous about the idea i had for how i wanted this to be narrated, but i think i was able to accomplish it. thereβs not much else to say, so i hope you enjoy π
**************
The morning light slants through your bedroom curtains like a hesitant touch, pulling you from a dream you can't quite grasp. It's the kind of dawn that feels too quiet, too ordinary, but something nags at the edges of your mind.
You stretch under the cool sheets, your bare legs brushing against the empty side of the bed where Jungkook should be.
He's been gone for weeks on that promotional tour, or whatever excuse he gave this time. Something about schedules and flights that left you with half hearted video calls and the faint echo of his laugh on speakerphone. Marriage has its rhythms, comfortable ones mostly, but lately, they've felt a little flat, like a song stuck on repeat.
You pad barefoot to the kitchen, the hardwood cool under your feet, wearing nothing but his old black band tee thatβs more of a dress on your than a shirt.
The scent of his cologne clings to the fabric, a ghost of him that makes your chest tighten.
Coffee firstβstrong, black, the way you like it to kickstart the day. But as you flick on the machine, a faint floral note hits you, sweet and unexpected, wafting from the front hallway. Frowning, you follow it, flipping on the light switch.
You peek through the mail slot and the scent intensifies, you look down to find something unexpected.
There, on the faded welcome mat just outside your door, sits a bouquet of deep red roses. Not the cheap grocery store kind, these look handpicked, petals velvety and full, wrapped in crisp black tissue paper that rustles when you pick it up. The thorns are neatly snipped, like whoever left it knew you'd grab it without thinking.
No card, no name.
Your heart gives a little jolt. Delivery mix up?
You scan the empty porch, the quiet street beyond, but nothing stirs. The neighbors are at work, birds chirping like it's any other Tuesday. Shaking it off, you bring the flowers inside, setting them on the kitchen counter. They brighten the space, but as you pour your coffee, that prickling sensation starts. The one you've felt on the subway lately, like eyes boring into your back from across the car.
Paranoia, you tell yourself. Jungkook's absence playing tricks.
Work is a blur of emails and conference calls from your home office, the bouquet mocking you from the corner of your eye. By noon, your phone buzzes on the desk, screen lighting up with an unknown number. You swipe it open, expecting spam.
Unknown [11:48 PM] You're even more stunning in the sunlight. Don't let anyone else see that smile today.
The words hit like ice water, your fingers freezing just before taking a sip of lukewarm latte.
Who the hell?
You block the number without replying, but the message burrows in, replaying as you stare out the window at the passing pedestrians. Beautiful? It's flattering in a twisted way, but the intimacy of it, the assumption that they know your routine, makes your skin crawl.
Or does it? A weird warmth blooms low in your gut, unbidden, like the rush of a bad decision you can't quite regret.
You push through the afternoon, but by evening, scrolling Netflix alone on the couch, the roses catch the lamplight, and you wonder.
Who left them, and why you?
Two days later, the unease has settled into something sharper, a constant hum under your skin. You've told yourself it's nothing, maybe a secret admirer from the office, or one of those prank apps kids use these days.
Jungkook's latest text was sweet but distant. Thinking of you. Tour's kicking my ass. Love you.
No mention of coming home soon, just that vague promise hanging there. You miss the way he'd pull you close after a long day, his hands rough from dance practice, mapping your body like it was his favorite map.
You're late leaving for work, heels aching from the extra client meeting the day before, when you spot the paper bag on your doorstep. It's from that little cafΓ© two blocks from the office, the one you hit every morning for your ritual. Everything bagel, toasted just right, with an iced latte, extra espresso shot, no foam.
The bag's still warm, grease spotting the bottom, like it was timed perfectly to your commute. Heart slamming, you snatch it up and bolt inside, locking the door with both deadbolts. Another day working from home.
How?
You've never posted about it online, never bragged to coworkers. It's your quiet indulgence, the one thing that feels like yours in the grind. Sitting at the kitchen table, you unwrap it, the sesame seeds crunching as you bite in. Salt and cream cheese explode on your tongue, but it's tainted now, every chew laced with questions. Who knows you this well?
Your phone dings before you finish. Same unknown number, or a new one, you can't tell anymore.
Unknown [7:43 AM] I know what you need before you do. Eat up, beautiful. Save some energy for me.
The fork drops from your hand, clattering against the plate. Energy for what? The words slither through you, bold and unapologetic, stirring that same forbidden flutter. You shouldn't read into it, shouldn't let it twist in your mind like this.
But as you lick the last of the cream cheese from your thumb, imagining a stranger's gaze on your lips, heat pools between your thighs. It's sick, craving the obsession of someone who doesn't even exist in your life.
That night, alone in the king sized bed that feels too big without your husbandβs weight beside you, another text comes through as you scroll mindlessly.
Unknown [10:56 PM] Remember, no one touches what's mine. If they try, I'll make them regret it.
You stare at the ceiling, breath shallow. The possessiveness should scare you straight to the cops, but instead, it ignites something dormant.
Your hand drifts down, slipping under the waistband of your shorts, fingers brushing your clit in tentative circles. Just once, you think, to chase away the tension. But the fantasy creeps in, faceless hands claiming you, rough and demanding. You arch into your touch, gasping softly until release washes over you, leaving you flushed and guilty.
By Friday, the gifts have woven into your routine like a dark thread, pulling tighter with each one.
You've started checking your locks twice, peeking through blinds before bed, but part of you anticipates it now, the thrill of the unknown, sharper than the fear. Jungkook called last night, voice tired over the line, promising he'd be back soon. "Miss your laugh," he'd said, and you'd faked one, mind elsewhere.
Yoga class helps, or at least distracts. The stretch and burn of downward dog pushing the paranoia to the edges. But as you ride home, sweat cooling on your skin, dread mixes with curiosity.
Will there be something waiting?
There is.
A sleek black box on the porch, no bag this time, just elegant ribbon tied in a bow. Inside, nestled in tissue are a dozen artisanal chocolates, dark with flecks of sea salt. The exact kind you hoard in your desk drawer for stress eating. Your guilty pleasure, the one you discovered on a trip last year and never shared.
But tucked beneath them, like a punch to the gut, a photo.
It's you.
Asleep on the living room couch, head lolled back, lips slightly parted in that vulnerable way you hate seeing in mirrors. The angle is from across the room, close enough to catch the faint freckles on your collarbone, the way your tank top rides up to expose a sliver of stomach.
Taken inside your house.
Recently, last Tuesday, you remember now, dozing off after a glass of wine.
Bile rises, hot and sharp. This isn't flirtation; it's violation.
You drop the box, chocolates scattering across the floor like accusations. Phone in hand, you dial the non-emergency line, but hang up before it connects.
What would you say?
Some weirdo leaving treats? They'd laugh. Instead, you pace the dim living room, curtains yanked shut, the polaroid clutched like evidence.
The phone rings then, unknown number.
Your thumb hovers, then presses accept. "Hello?" Your voice comes out small, edged with tremor.
Silence.
But not emptyβthere's breathing, like someone's savoring the sound of yours. It fills the line, intimate, as if they're in the room. Heat or chill? You can't tell anymore. "Who is this?" you demand, sharper now. Nothing. Just that rhythmic inhale, close enough to imagine warm breath on your neck.
You end the call, heart hammering, but a text pings immediately.
Unknown [7:20 PM] You looked so peaceful. I could watch you forever. Dream of me tonight.
The audacity of it, claiming your sleep, your space, should send you running. But in the shower, steam clouding the glass, you let the water pound your shoulders, and your mind betrays you.
Fingers trail down your belly, dipping between your legs, finding your pussy already slick. You lean against the tile, cool against your heated skin, and circle your clit with more purpose, imagining those unseen eyes on you now, stripping you bare. "Ohβfuck," you whisper, sliding two fingers into your hole, thrusting in time with the fantasy of rough hands replacing yours.
The pressure builds, coiling tight in your core, until you come with a muffled cry, legs shaking, water rinsing away the evidence but not the ache. Toweling off, you avoid the mirror, but the want lingers, twisted and alive.
Who is he?
And why does the danger feel like the most alive you've been in months?
The week crawls to its end, your wedding anniversary slipping under the radar amid the chaos. Jungkook's texts have trickled to nothing, Busy, talk soon, leaving you to fend for yourself. You've half convinced yourself to report it, but the gifts stopped after the polaroid, like heβs waiting, watching from afar.
It gnaws at you, that silence, making every shadow in the house feel heavier.
You decide to mark the day anyway, solo style. Thai takeout from the spot downtown. The basil chicken with extra chilies that leaves your lips buzzing, pad see ew for the noodles you crave. The cab ride home is tense, city lights streaking past, your reflection in the window dull and drawn. You've dressed up a little, a fitted skirt, blouse unbuttoned just enough, hoping to shake off the week's weight, but it clings.
Your street looks the same, quiet under the glow of streetlamps. But as you approach the house, keys jingling, your stomach drops.
The front door is unlocked.
You always double check, it's habit after years of living here. Hand trembling, you push it open a crack, the hinge giving a low creak that echoes in the still air.
"Hello?" Your voice barely carries, swallowed by the dark foyer. The takeout bags rustle in your grip, greasy and heavy, as you step inside, nudging the door shut behind you. It clicks softly, but the house feels wrong. The air is thick, charged, like the moment before a lightning strike. You flick the hall light, but it buzzes once and dies, leaving only the faint glow from the street filtering through windows.
You're not alone.
The certainty hits like a slap, raising the hairs on your arms. Footsteps? No, just the thud of your own pulse. You set the bags on the entry table, hands clammy, and edge toward the kitchen, mind racing through escape routes.
Call 911? But your phone's in your purse, buried under napkins.
A shadow shifts in the hallway.
Tall, hooded, materializing from the gloom like he'd been part of it all along.
Your breath catches, backpedaling until the wall stops you cold. "Stay back," you warn, voice cracking, but he closes the distance, fluid and predatory. A gloved hand clamps over your mouth, firm but not crushing, the leather cool against your lips. The other pins your wrists above your head, his body pressing full against yours. Hard muscle, heat radiating through dark clothes.
You thrash, muffled protests vibrating against his palm, but he's stronger, unyielding, his erection grinding insistent against your hip through the fabric.
"Shh," he rasps, voice low, like it's run through gravel. "Finally. I've waited long enough."
His breath fans hot over your neck, sending unwanted sparks down your spine. You buck again, knee aiming for his groin, but he anticipates, thigh wedging between yours to still you. Panic surges, but so does something darker, your pussy clenching at the dominance, traitorous wetness soaking your panties.
He nips your earlobe, teeth grazing just enough to sting, and his free hand slides down, bunching your skirt up your thighs. "It's me who gets to taste you first," he murmurs, fingers tracing the edge of your lace before dipping inside, finding your clit with unerring accuracy. You gasp into his hand, hips jerking involuntarily as he circles it, slow and teasing.
"So wet already. You knew I'd come for you."
The takeout is forgotten on the entryway table as he releases your mouth just enough to let you breathe.
You don't scream, can't, with his lips crashing onto yours, devouring you, tongue invading like he owns every inch. It's rough, demanding, tasting of mint and something hungry, and you kiss back despite yourself, moaning as his fingers plunge into your cunt, stretching your hole with a curl that hits deep.
He lifts you then, your legs wrapping around his waist, ankles crossing at the base of his spine while your skirt rides up, exposing the damp cling of your panties to the friction of his body.
The hallway walls blur in the low light, his boots thudding heavy against the floor as he carries you like a prize finally claimed, his grip bruising your thighs just enough to make you gasp. The bedroom door bangs open with a forceful shove from his shoulder, and he tosses you onto the bed, the mattress shifting under your weight. You scramble back on your elbows, heart hammering a frantic rhythm, skirt hiked scandalously to your waist, but he's already on you, shedding the hoodie in one fluid pull to reveal a black shirt stretched taut over broad shoulders that flex with every breath, his pants tented obscenely, the thick ridge of him straining against the fabric like it's seconds from breaking free.
"Been watching you," he growls, crawling onto the bed with the slow, deliberate grace of someone who's savored this moment in his mind a thousand times.
But he doesn't dive in recklessly, no, he takes his time, hands capturing your ankles to drag you back toward him, spreading you like an offering on the rumpled sheets. Your knees hook over his shoulders, thighs trembling as he settles between them, his breath ghosting hot over your inner skin, eyes locked on the soaked lace barrier with a hunger that makes your core clench. The cool air kisses your exposed heat when he hooks a finger under the edge, tugging it aside just enough to expose you fully.
His mouth descends, tongue flat and warm as it drags a long stripe up your pussy, tasting the slick evidence of your arousal with a hum that sends shivers racing up your spine.
You buck, fingers flying to his hair, but he pins your hips down with one strong palm splayed across your pelvis, holding you open and still. "Such a messy thing," he murmurs against your clit, the vibration pulling a sharp gasp from you before his lips seal around the swollen nub, sucking with a rhythm that's equal parts tender and tormenting. Soft pulls that build the ache, then flicks of his tongue that make stars flicker behind your eyelids.
His free hand joins the feast, fingers sliding past your entrance with ease, curling upward to stroke that sensitive ridge inside, pumping tantalizingly slow.
The wet sounds of his lust fill the room like obscene music.
The orgasm sneaks up fast, coiling tight in your gut until it snaps. Your walls fluttering around his fingers, a cry spilling from your lips as you arch off the bed, pleasure crashing in waves that leave you breathless. He doesn't relent, his tongue laps greedily at the flood, humming as he works you through it, fingers scissoring gently to draw out every tremor.
"Thatβs right, give me all of it," he rasps, voice muffled against you, and then he's doubling down. Thumb circling your clit in firm presses while his mouth delves deeper, tongue thrusting alongside his fingers to fuck you open.
The second one builds quicker, hotter, your thighs quaking around his head as you grind shamelessly against his face. Chasing the edge until it cracks you open again, sobs tearing free as your body convulses, nails scraping his scalp.
He pushes further, relentless, adding a third finger to stretch you, his sucking turning insistent, teeth grazing just enough to spark that delicious sting.
Pressure mounts, the hand on your pelvis adds pressure as his fingers press upwards inside, until the third orgasm sends you careening over the edge of release and you squirt in a sudden, gushing release that drenches his chin and the sheets below, your vision blurring at the edges as ecstasy whites out everything.
Leaving you delirious, limbs heavy and limp, a boneless puddle in the aftermath of his worship.
βMy filthy fucking girl.β
In that hazy drift, he flips you over, maneuvering your body like it's precious even in its ruin. Ass up, face pressed into the pillow that muffles your whimpers, the scent of your own shampoo grounding you faintly amid the fog. His palms spread your ass cheeks wide, thumbs parting you further, exposing every inch to his gaze, and then his tongue circles your tight ring of your asshole, teasing the sensitive ring of muscle with featherlight laps that make you jolt, a fresh wave of heat blooming despite the overload.
He works you methodically, tongue probing inside, a hand snaking between your thighs to rub firm circles over your throbbing clit, syncing the dual assault until the pleasure twists sharp and all encompassing.
It's too much, the rimming sending sparks up your spine while his fingers pinch and roll your clit, building you toward a precipice you didn't know existed. Your body tenses, then explodes in a climax so fierce it yanks the air from your lungs, vision tunneling to black as you cum harder than ever, passing out for a suspended moment in the void of bliss.
He uses the time wisely, slipping from the bed without a sound.
Quick steps to the en suite where water runs briefly, the faint swish of his mouth rinsing clean.
Back in the room, fabric rustles as he undresses fully, shirt and pants discarded in a heap, his cock springing free, thick, veined, balls heavy below. He strokes it once, eyes locked on your swollen cunt, precum beading at the tip.
From the nightstand drawer, he grabs a silk scarf and loops it around your wrists, tying them securely behind your back with a knot, testing it once before settling behind you again.
You come back to your senses in fragments.
The cool air on your skin, the tug at your hands, a low hum vibrating near your ear. His fingers dip into your pussy once more, shallow, teasing, gathering your endless slick.
"Please," you slur, not sure if it's stop or beg for more.
He chuckles, fingers stroking your dripping walls a few times more before slipping from you to slide past his lips. A deep moan rumbling through him as your taste covers his tongue. "You want this," he says, not a question.
The retraction pulls a sleepy moan from you, eyes fluttering open to hazy awareness, but before you can fully orient, he's there. Thick head of his cock nudging your entrance, then sliding in deep with a groan that echoes your name like a curse. You cry out, nails digging into your palms, as he sets a hungry rhythm. Hard snaps of his hips, balls slapping against your ass with each drive. He fucks you wildly from the start, hips snapping unrelentingly, the angle hitting every nerve as your bound hands flex uselessly against your back.
"Fuck, look at you, pussy so slick and swollen. Taking me so deep," he pants, words filthy praise spilling hot against your neck.
"My filthy little secret, creaming all over my fucking cock like thereβs nothing else youβre meant to do. Gonna fill you up, mark you inside outβmine, all fucking mine." Each thrust punctuates the claims, driving you higher, the praise weaving through the haze until you're lost again to pleasure, his hand fisting your hair to arch your back.
"Fuck, you make me crazy," he grunts, pounding into your hole. βCum, give me another one, baby.β
You push back, lost in it, your clit throbbing, begging you for attention. His free hand smacks your ass, a sharp sting blooming into heat, and you come undone, pussy spasming around his cock.
He doesn't stop, drawing it out until you're sobbing into the pillow, then pulls out, flipping you again. "Look at me," he demands, straddling your chest, jerking his cock over your lips. You open, flicking the head dripping head, tasting salt and yourself, as he groans and spills across your tongue, hot spurts filling your mouth.
You swallow, dazed, as he collapses beside you, pulling you close to untie your wrists.
The room spins in a haze of bliss, aftershocks rippling through your limbs like distant echoes of thunder, his cock softening warm and heavy against your thigh.
Sweat clings to your skin, mingling with his, the air thick with the scent of you both. Musk and salt and something sweeter, like the roses from days ago. He doesn't pull away yet, just shifts his weight carefully, propping himself on one elbow to gaze down at you, his dark eyes softening from the feral intensity they held moments before.
Gently, he brushes a damp strand of hair from your forehead, his thumb lingering to trace the curve of your cheek.
"You okay, lovebug?" he murmurs, voice stripped of any growl. Now itβs just him, just your Jungkook, concern etching faint lines around his eyes. He reaches for the tangled sheet at the foot of the bed, drawing it up to drape over your bodies like a cocoon, tucking it around your shoulders with that familiar tenderness that always grounds you after a scene.
You're breathless, chest rising and falling in uneven waves, utterly spent but glowing from the inside out, a lazy smile tugging at your lips despite the ache in your muscles.
He leans in, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your jaw, then down to the faint marks blooming on your collarbone. Murmuring sweet praises across them as he soothes with the lightest touch of his lips, an apology wrapped in affection.
His hand finds yours under the covers, fingers interlacing, and he rubs slow circles into your palm, easing the last tremors from your body.
"Did I...play my part okay?" he asks after a beat, his breath warm against your ear, a hint of shy vulnerability creeping in now that the role's curtain has fallen. He's still close, body heat chasing away the night's chill, but there's a boyish tilt to his head, waiting for your verdict.
You laugh softly, the sound bubbling up from your core, turning your head to nuzzle into his neck.
"Okay? Baby, you were incredible. Terrifying, in the best wayβlike, I actually forgot it was you for a second there." Your voice is raspy, words tumbling out in a rush of praise as you squeeze his hand.
"The gifts? God, the roses, the coffee... that picture? You nailed the obsessive vibe so perfectly. I was on edge all week, craving more even when I knew I shouldn't. Your dedication... it's hot as hell. You made me feel wanted, chased, like I was the only thing in your world."
He chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, relief and pride lighting up his face as he pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you flush against him. "Yeah? Good. I wanted it to feel real, to build that fire."
His free hand drifts up, cupping the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair in lazy strokes. You melt into it, the gesture weaving a spell of quiet intimacy, your bodies syncing in the slowdown. His heartbeat steady under your palm, your sighs syncing with his.
"Happy anniversary. I love you, so much," he whispers then, lips brushing yours in a featherlight kiss, the words carrying all the love that's been simmering beneath the game's thrill.
"Happy anniversary, my love," you echo, glowing brighter, sealing it with a deeper kiss that tastes like forever.
β
Sunlight creeps in the next morning, painting stripes across the bedroom. Your body aches in places you didn't know could. Thighs sore, a faint bruise blooming on your hip from Jungkookβs grip. But it's a good ache, the kind that reminds you you're alive, desired. You stir, blinking against the light, and feel arms tighten around your waist, pulling you back into a warm chest.
Jungkook's chuckle rumbles against your ear, lips brushing your shoulder. "Morning, beautiful. Howβre you feeling?"
You twist to face him, his dark hair mussed, eyes sparkling with that boyish mischief. The hoodie and gloves are gone, replaced by the man you've loved for years. His hand slides lower, cupping your ass, squeezing. "I can't get how you looked last night out of my mind. So sexy and wrecked." He rolls you beneath him, cock already hardening against your belly, and kisses you slow, like he's memorizing you all over again.
You part your thighs, guiding him to your pussy, still slick from dreams of the night.
He enters you slowly this time, inch by inch, filling you with a groan of your name. Thereβs no urgency, just rocking hips and his mouth on your neck, whispering how much he missed you, how you're his everything. You wrap around him, legs locking at his back, clit grinding against his pelvis with each thrust.
It builds soft, then fierce, your core tightening until you snap, crying his name as he follows, spilling deep.
After, tangled and sweaty, you trace the tattoos on his arm, the ones you've memorized a thousand times. "Next year, something less intense?"
He smirks, nuzzling your hair. "Maybe. It was hard sleeping at Taehyungβs place all week."
masterlist
hellyeah!!!!
thank you for reading π«Άπ½πβ¨
The Grumpy Girlfriend Protection Program | One-shot
Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre: sunshine bf x grumpy gf, golden retriever! jungkook, black cat! reader, office worker! reader, veterinary student! jungkook, fluff, comedy, thriller, mystery (slight), action, angst.
Summary: Jeon Jungkook has always been the sunshine in every room; warm, kind, and completely oblivious to danger. Luckily, you, his grumpy, overprotective girlfriend have made it your personal mission to keep him safe. But when the threat shifts to you instead, Jungkook proves that even sunshine can scorch, and for you, heβd burn.
Word count:Β 22.8k+
Warnings: reader is very protective, themes of stalking and obsession, usage of drugs (not reader or jungkook), fight scene, violence, multiple flashback scenes.
MOODBOARD
A/N: hugeeee thanks to my dear friend sy (@btswit7 ) for going through my fic and suggesting edits! ilysm. sorry this took so long for me to write. i swearrr this fic was supposed to be fluffy, cute and around 10k words but I got carried away π (not sorry for that). i might've absolutely butchered the tattoo shop scene pls forgive me (I've never been to a tattoo shop before idk how it works) this is also my first time writing an action scene it prolly sucks but wtv.
The sun hung high in the cloudless sky, casting a golden glow over the city. A gentle breeze drifted through the streets, the warmth of the morning wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, just the right kind of day that practically demanded an escape from the ordinary. And what better way to spend it than sprawled out on a checkered blanket, a basket full of food beside you, and your ever-so-enthusiastic boyfriend, Jungkook, grinning at you like this was the best idea in the world?
Thatβs right. It was picnic day. After a gruelling week at work, all you wanted was to stay in bed, sleep until the afternoon, have a late lunch, and then (ideally) go right back to sleep. But Jungkook, being the ever-optimistic, early-rising, productivity-loving man that he was, thought weekends were best spent on morning picnic dates at whatever random park he had decided on that week.
There was nothing you hated more than disappointing your sweet boyfriend, so cancelling the picnic dates altogether wasnβt an option. After extensive negotiations (read: you groggily whining while he laughed and refused to budge), you managed to compromiseβmorning breakfast dates became brunch dates. Because letβs be real, every extra second of sleep counts.
On the way to your picnic, you were stopped by a teenage boy, probably 17 or 18, who practically shoved a clipboard into your faces. With the practised enthusiasm of a seasoned salesman, he introduced himself, flashing a grin as he extended a hand in greeting. Then came the pitch.
βDonations for a local animal shelter,β he announced, voice laced with urgency. A shelter you had never heard of.
βThe puppies and bunnies are all sick, sir, and the kittens are underfed,β he continued, his face contorting with the sheer heartbreak of it all. The kind of expression that would probably work on unsuspecting souls. Jungkook, being Jungkook, was already pulling out his wallet. And you were having none of it.
Before he could hand over a single bill, you yanked the wallet straight out of his hands. Jungkook blinked at you, stunned.
βDid you even check if itβs a real shelter?β you asked, unimpressed.
Jungkook glanced at the boy, then back at you. βLooks pretty real to me.β You sighed, taking a look at the "official website" the scammer eagerly pulled up on his phone. One glance was all it took.
βThatβs a Wix template, you dumbass,β you deadpanned, shooting Jungkook a look. And to drive your point home, you dialled the actual shelterβs number. A moment of silence.
Then, like clockwork, the boyβs phone started ringing. The scammer stiffened, eyes wide with panic. And then, without as much as another word, he bolted down the street before you could report him to someone.
Jungkook pouted, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket. You rolled your eyes. βI canβt believe you almost fell for that.β
βOne of these days,β he muttered, crossing his arms, βyouβre gonna stop me from donating to a real shelter.β You snorted, nudging his shoulder as you started walking again. βYeah, well, until that day comes, Iβll keep saving you from getting scammed by guys who probably spent five minutes on Google slapping together a fake charity.β
Jungkook huffed, kicking a loose pebble down the sidewalk. βHe had a clipboard. People with clipboards always seem legit.β
βOh, right, because clipboards are the universal sign of trustworthiness,β you deadpanned. βNext time, Iβll be sure to scam you with one myself.β
He shot you a playful glare. βIβd see through you in a second.β You smirked. βWould you, though?β
Jungkook opened his mouth, then shut it again, squinting at you like he wasnβt entirely convinced. You just grinned, patting his arm. βExactly.β
You sit cross-legged on the checkered blanket, arms crossed, watching as Jungkook digs through the picnic basket like a child on Christmas morning. Heβs practically vibrating with excitement, pulling out sandwiches, fruit, and what looks like an obnoxiously yellow thermos you donβt remember packing.
You squint. βDid you sneak in banana milk?β
Jungkook pauses, looking entirely unrepentant. βNo.β You stare. He stares back. The thermos stares between you, the undeniable evidence of his crime.
Finally, he grins. βOkay, maybe.β
You let out a slow exhale, reaching for one of the sandwiches while he happily pours himself a cup of his beloved banana milk.
βI donβt get how you function sometimes,β you mutter, unwrapping your food.
βI function beautifully,β he corrects, flashing you a smile thatβs far too bright for someone who just lied to your face. βYouβre just too grumpy to appreciate it.β
You roll your eyes. βRight. Because nothing screams βfunctioning adultβ like getting scammed five minutes before a picnic.β Jungkook gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. βI was being charitable!β
βYou were being a prime target,β you deadpan. He huffs dramatically, taking an exaggerated bite of his sandwich as if itβs the ultimate form of protest. Cheeks puffed out like a bunny, he mumbles through his mouthful, βYou stress too much.β
You raise a brow. βI wonder why.β He ignores your sarcasm, swallowing before continuing, βMaybe if youββ He suddenly stops, mid-thought, his eyes lighting up with a spark of mischief.
Oh no. Youβve seen that look before. It never leads to anything good.
"You should feed me."
You nearly choke on your drink. Coughing, you set your cup down with a thud and blink at him. βWhat?β Jungkook leans forward, resting his chin in his palm with the most infuriatingly smug expression. βYou know,β he drawls, wiggling his eyebrows, βsince you like taking care of me so much.β
You stare at him, unamused. Then, without breaking eye contact, you take the smallest, most unimpressive bite of your sandwichβjust to spite him.
Jungkook groans, slumping back. βYouβre no fun.β
βYou knew that when you fell in love with me.β
His lips curve into something thoughtful, eyes flickering over your face like heβs considering something. Then, in one swift motion, he reaches over and swipes a strawberry from your plate, popping it into his mouth before you can react.
You gasp. βJungkook!β
He grins, entirely unapologetic. βYeah, but I like a challenge.β Without hesitation, you swat his hand, aiming for another grab. He yelps, laughing too hard for someone who just got smacked, dodging your next attempt with the reflexes of a seasoned strawberry thief.
"Unbelievable," you mutter, shaking your head. "A menace to society."
Jungkook only grins wider. "And yet, you still love me."
And just like that, itβs the both of you, bickering, teasing, him being too soft, and you pretending you donβt secretly like it. Despite everything, youβre glad he dragged you here. Because for all his nonsense, for all the chaos he brings into your life, Jungkook makes the world a little brighter.
You hated Monday mornings with a burning passion. If you walked into work and saw someone being all cheerful and optimistic, youβd have the overwhelming urge to dump ice-cold coffee over their head, just to make their day as miserable as yours. Of course, you wouldnβt actually act on that particular intrusive thought. Not unless you had a sudden desire to get fired.
Every day, it was the same soul-sucking routine. Log into your computer, answer emails, prepare for meetings, and trudge through an endless list of mind-numbing tasks that make you question all your life choices. You were staring blankly at your screen, fingers moving mechanically as you typed up a report when your phone buzzed.
Kook π°π [11:10 AM]: Miss me yet?
Your fingers pause on the keyboard. Buzz.
Kook π°π[11:10 AM]: Or are you too busy being all serious and grumpy at work? Kook π°π[11:11 AM]: Bet youβre smiling right now, though.
You bite your lip. You are not smiling. Absolutely not.
βOkay, what is that face?β
Jiminβs voice cuts through your concentration like a knife. You snap your head up to find him leaning against your desk, arms crossed, a knowing smirk already in place.
βThere is no face,β you say quickly, locking your phone screen and shoving it away. Jimin gasps dramatically. βOh my God, itβs him, isnβt it?β
You groan, rubbing your temples. βI swear toββ
βOhhh, it totally is!β Jimin snatches your phone before you can react, scrolling through the notifications like he has every right to be nosy.
If thereβs one person who never lets you live in peace, itβs Jimin. Coworker, best friend, professional pain in your ass, heβs all of the above, wrapped in a smug little package. You first met him when you started this job, and somehow, between the forced team projects, shared complaints about the boss, and mutual hatred for monday mornings, you ended up stuck with him for life. Not that youβd ever admit youβre grateful for it.
Unfortunately, he knows it anyway.
βJimin, I will end you.β
But itβs too late. Heβs already grinning like the devil himself. βLook at you. Getting all giddy over a text. My, my, how the mighty have fallen.β
βIβm not giddy.β
βOh, you absolutely are.β He mimics your earlier expression, clutching his phone to his chest with a dreamy sigh. βOh, Jungkook, my sweet precious sunshine, text me more. I canβt possibly get through this workday without knowing youβre thinking about me.β
You throw a stapler at him.
He dodges effortlessly, laughing. βRelax, lover girl. Itβs cute. Gross, but cute.β You huff, snatching your phone back. βI hate you.β
βNo, you donβt.β Jimin plops down in the chair next to you, still smirking. βNow tell me, whatβs golden boy up to?β
You hesitate. But your phone buzzes again.
Kook π°π [11:13 AM]: Hey. Donβt overwork yourself. Iβll call you later, okay?
You stare at the screen for a moment, fingers hovering over the keyboard before you eventually settle on a simple reply.
You [11:14 AM: Okay.
β¦Okay, maybe you are smiling a little.
Jimin sees it immediately. And you already know youβre never going to hear the end of it.
The moment you step into the break roomβfinally free from Jiminβs relentless smirking, you let out a breath and pull out your phone, scrolling through your recent calls before dialling Jungkook. It barely rings twice before he picks up, his voice warm and teasing, like he already knew youβd call.
βHey, baby,β he greets smoothly, amusement lacing his tone. βMiss me already?β
You roll your eyes, setting your lunchbox on the table with a thud. βIn your dreams, Jeon.β
Flipping open the lid, the rich, savoury aroma of bibimbap immediately washes over you. The vibrant colors of the ingredients are neatly arranged, looking almost too perfect to eatβalmost. You can tell Jungkook took his time making it, carefully placing each topping exactly where it should be, ensuring it looked as good as it tasted.
Your heart does something traitorous in your chest, but you ignore it. Jungkook chuckles at your silence, clearly pleased with himself. βI assume this is your way of telling me my cooking is amazing?β
βNot even close,β you say, grabbing your chopsticks. βJimin wouldnβt shut up about you, so I figured Iβd call and annoy you instead.β A deep, rumbling laugh comes through the speaker, the sound sending warmth curling through your stomach. βMhm. Sure, love. You couldβve just admitted you wanted to hear my voice.β
Your eye twitches. βThatβs notββ
βShh, no need to be shy. I wonβt judge.β You groan, tilting your head back against the chair, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you. Heβs impossible, and worse, he knows it.
βWhatever,β you mutter. βWhat are you doing this weekend?β
βMmm.β Thereβs some shuffling on his end, followed by the faint rustling of sheets like heβs lying down and getting comfortable. βI was thinkingβ¦ instead of our usual park picnic, you could come with me to get my sleeve reworked.β That makes you pause, chopsticks hovering mid-air. βOh?β
βYeah,β he says, voice a little more casual. βItβs been a while, and I wanna touch up some parts. Maybe add something new.β
You lean back in your chair, considering it. Youβve seen his tattoos up close plenty of timesβtraced them absentmindedly, let your fingers follow the inked lines whenever he had an arm wrapped around you. Thereβs something mesmerizing about them, the way they flow seamlessly over his skin, each design an intricate part of him.
You definitely wouldnβt mind watching the process.
βThatβs fine with me,β you say after a beat. Then, under your breath, you mumble, βBut if the artist messes up, Iβm fighting them.β Jungkook snorts. βOf course you will.β His voice takes on that teasing lilt that makes you want to reach through the phone and flick his forehead. βYouβre so cute when you get all protective.β
Your face heats up instantly. βOh my god, eat your lunch.β
βI will. But only if you say you love me first.β You nearly choke. βExcuse me?β
βYou heard me.β His grin is obvious, even through the phone. βSay it, and Iβll go eat.β You huff, glancing around the empty break room just to make sure no oneβs around. Then, in the lowest possible whisper, you mumble, ββ¦Love you.β
A beat of silence.
And then, even quieter, βLove your bibimbap too.β
Jungkook hums, unreasonably satisfied. βLove you too, baby. Now go eat before Jimin catches you blushing.β Your eyes widen, and you hang up immediately.
Unfortunately, when you turn around, Jimin is standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking far too smug for your liking.
βSo,β he drawls, tilting his head. βHowβs Jungkook?β You groan, slamming your head onto the table. You are never going to live this down.
Jiminβs laughter echoes in the room, pure evil.
Jungkookβs apartment is the kind of place that makes it dangerously easy to never leave. Itβs cozy with warm lighting, soft blankets draped over the couch, and the faint scent of vanilla and fabric softener lingering in the air. You tell yourself thatβs the main reason you always find yourself here instead of your own place, but, if you were being completely honest, there are a few other factors at play.
For one, his snack collection is legendary. His kitchen cabinets are stocked with an endless supply of goodies, including a lifetimeβs worth of Twinkies, your weakness. And then thereβs Jungkook himself, but youβre not about to admit that. Especially not to him.
Curled up on his couch, you lazily flip through his Netflix, eyes scanning titles without really registering any of them. The ambient noise of the apartment, the hum of the heater, the occasional rustling of pages from Jungkookβs workspace, only adds to the drowsy comfort settling over you. Just as youβre about to give up on finding something to watch, Jungkook suddenly plops down beside you, sketchbook in hand.
The cushion dips under his weight, and you barely manage to suppress a startled flinch. He doesnβt say anything at first, just leans back against the couch with a content sigh, flipping the sketchbook open across his lap. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, curiosity piqued despite yourself.Β "Okay," he says, grinning as he settles beside you on the couch. His fingers drum against the edge of his sketchbook before he flips it open, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "Wanna see what Iβve been working on?"
You nod, humming in interest. "Mhm. Sure."
The moment the pages spread out before you, your breath catches. Intricate designs fill the book, some half-finished, others shaded to perfection. There are fine, precise lines, bold strokes, and an almost obsessive attention to detail in every drawing. You can tell he's poured hours into this, into crafting something that isnβt just art but a reflection of himself.
"Damn," you murmur, fingertips tracing lightly over the paper. "You did all these?" Jungkook grins, his dimples making an appearance. "Yup," he says, clearly pleased with your reaction.
You take your time flipping through the pages. Thereβs a sketch of a skeletal hand doing the rock on sign, a detailed microphone showcasing his love for music, lyrics from his favorite songs inked in elegant script, and the word Bulletproof scrawled in a graffiti style, right beneath it, a note written in his unmistakable handwriting: cover-up for eye tattoo. And then, sitting proudly in between these edgy, personal pieces, is a woozy face emoji.
You huff out a small laugh. His tattoo ideas range from deeply meaningful to outright ridiculous.
But then you pause. Nestled between his designs is a rework of his tiger lily tattooβhis birth flower. But entwined around it, curling gracefully between the petals, is another flower. Chrysanthemums.
Your birth flower.
The realization sinks in, slow and warm. Jungkook goes still beside you, barely breathing. You donβt miss the way his fingers twitch, or the way his ears turn bright red when he realizes that you understood. Then, like a man caught in the act he snatches the sketchbook away, snapping it shut so fast you barely have time to process it.
"Ahaβ! Anywayβ" He clears his throat, ears burning. "That one wasnβt, uhβI wasnβt supposed to show you that yet."
Your lips twitch. "Mhm. Jeon, I see what you did there."
"What?" he says too quickly. "Itβs just, you know, it looked nice with the lilies." His voice cracks. You arch a brow. "Looks nice? Thatβs all?" Jungkook nods a little too fast. "Yeah. No big deal."
You donβt believe him for a second.
So, naturally, you lean in, lowering your voice just enough to watch him squirm."You sure about that, baby?"
Jungkook.exe has stopped working.
With a groan, he buries his burning face into your shoulder, mumbling something incoherent against your sweater. You laugh, warmth blooming in your chest, fingers threading absentmindedly through his hair. Yeah. No big deal.
The weekend sun was just beginning to climb when Jungkook pulled up outside your place, the low hum of his car engine a familiar sound by now. You barely had time to lock your door before he leaned over, effortlessly pushing the passenger door open with that usual bright grin of his. βMorning, baby,β he greeted, fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. Without missing a beat, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against your cheekβwarm, lingering just a second longer than necessary. βYou sleep well?β
You slid into the seat, closing the door behind you with a huff, eyes narrowing at him. βNo, because someone was blowing up my phone with memes and βfun factsβ about toxic tattoo inks at two in the morning.β Jungkook had the audacity to look proud. βI just thought you should know! What if they use cheap ink, huh? Gotta protect this masterpiece.β He gestured vaguely at his arm, where his tattoos peeked out from under the sleeve of his shirt.
You sighed, clicking your seatbelt into place. βJust drive.β
As he shifted gears and pulled onto the road, you let your gaze wander around the car, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne, the faint hum of the engine, and the steady rhythm of the music playing low through the speakers. His hand, warm and absentminded, found its usual place on your thigh like it belonged there, thumb tracing gentle patterns against your skin. It was peaceful. The kind of easy, comfortable silence that only came from knowing someone so well.
But then, something caught your attention.
Your eyes drifted to the backseat, where his sketchbook sat, slightly ajar as if hastily tossed there. A few loose sheets stuck out from the pages, filled with the intricate designs youβd seen before. You reached for it instinctively, but before you could grab it, the scenery outside made you pause.
β...Wait.β Your brows furrowed as you looked out the window. The streets werenβt familiar, the route different from what you expected. You turned back to him. βThis isnβt the way to your usual place.β Jungkook hummed, like heβd been waiting for you to notice. βWeβre trying a new one today.β
You turned to him, suspicious. βWhy?β
His grin widened, full of mischief. βJin got a job there.β That took you a second to process. βSeokjin?β
βMy cousin, yeah.β Jungkook drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, glancing at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road. βHeβs a receptionist now. Lured me in with staff discounts.β You scoffed, shaking your head. βSo, let me get this straightβhe got a job there yesterday, and today youβre already showing up to cash in?β Jungkook gasped, all faux offense, clutching his chest as if youβd just wounded him. βI would never use my dear cousin like that.β
You gave him a deadpan look.
His lips twitched, the act crumbling instantly. ββ¦Okay, maybe a little,β he admitted, flashing you a boyish grin. βBut hey, cheaper tattoos, and I get to support my hyung? Win-win.β You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the amused smile pulling at your lips. βDoes he even know weβre coming?β
βHe does,β Jungkook replied, his grin not fading. βHe actually told me to wait for him before I get started with the consultation.βΒ
And thatβs how you and Jungkook ended up stuck in the lobby of the tattoo shop, waiting for over thirty minutes for Jin to show up.
Jungkook exhaled loudly, rolling his shoulders before pulling out his phone and dialing Jin for the sixth time. His other hand absentmindedly tugged you closer by the wrist, a small, unconscious habit of his whenever he was growing impatient. βJin said heβd be here soon,β he muttered, eyes flickering to the entrance yet again, as if willing his cousin to walk through the door. βTold me to get comfy and wait.β
You smirked, shifting slightly in your seat. βHe did? So, naturally, heβs gonna be late.β Jungkook groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. βHe promised, okay? Swore he wouldnβt ditch me this time.β
βThatβs cute.β You patted his thigh mockingly. βYou still believe him.β Jungkook shot you a halfhearted glare before flicking his gaze to the empty reception area for what had to be the hundredth time. His foot bounced impatiently against the floor, but before he could make another complaint, the sound of a door opening drew both of your attention.
A woman with sleek, silver-dyed hair emerged from one of the back rooms, her sharp gaze scanning the lobby before landing directly on Jungkook. Her expression immediately shifted into a perfected customer-service smile, one that didnβt quite reach her eyes. She crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. βWhat are you here for?β
βSleeve rework,β he replied casually, rolling his shoulder as if to emphasize the ink beneath his sleeve. βYouβre the one getting the sleeve reworked?β she asked smoothly, completely ignoring your presence. βSeokjinβs cousin, right?
Jungkook nodded, his own expression polite but confused. βYeah, but he isnβt here yet. Jin told me to waiββ
βOh,β she cut in, her lips curving just slightly, a little too knowing. βWell, thatβs okay. Iβm sure he wouldβve referred you to me anyway. I could start taking care of you now.β
Something about the way she said it made your jaw clench.
Jungkook, oblivious as ever, only hummed. βUh, I meanβ¦ I guess we could start the consultation?β
You didnβt like the way she was looking at him.
As she moved closer, the glow of the overhead light caught on her name tagβNari. The name meant nothing to you, but something about her demeanor put you on edge.
Jungkook settled into the chair, stretching his arm out as Nari prepped her station. You remained seated across from him, phone in hand, pretending to scroll while keeping a close eye on the exchange. Nari pulled on a pair of gloves, her movements fluid and practiced as she leaned in, examining Jungkookβs inked skin. βYour ink is solid,β she murmured, fingers ghosting over the intricate designs. βWhoever did this knew what they were doing.β
Jungkook grinned, clearly pleased with the compliment. βYeah, my old artist was great. Just wanted some refinements, you know?β
βMm,β Nari hummed in agreement, grabbing a marker to outline a few areas. Her gaze lingered on his arm longer than necessary, her lips curving slightly. βYouβre adding new work too, right?β
Jungkook nodded. βYeah, just some floral details around the tiger lily.β
That was supposed to be the end of it. But then Nari tilted her head, eyes flickering up to his face before dropping back to his arm, and subtly, but not subtly enough she licked her lips.
βI love doing florals on guys,β she said, voice dipping into something softer. βThereβs just something about the contrast, you know?β
Your grip on your phone tightened. Jungkook, completely unaware of the shift in tone, simply lifted his arm to show her the faded edges. βYeah, I wanted to add some chrysantheββ
Before he could even finish, Nari reached out, fingers wrapping around his arm, her touch lingering.
βOh, your skin is so nice,β she murmured, smoothing her fingers over the defined muscle as if she were admiring it rather than prepping it for work. Your eye twitched.
Jungkook blinked, a little startled by the comment but still too polite to pull away. βUhβ¦ thanks?β Nari only smiled, nails grazing his forearm ever so slightly as she adjusted his position. βGood canvas makes all the difference.β
You swore you could hear your patience snapping like a twig. Jungkook looked slightly uncomfortable but still handed over his sketchbook, flipping to the page with his design. βThis is what I had in mind for the rework,β he said, tapping the paper.
Nari barely glanced at the intricate details before tilting her head, her gaze flickering back to him instead. βYou drew this yourself?β
Jungkook nodded. βYeah.β
βWow,β she hummed, leaning in slightly, the corner of her lips quirking up. βThatβs impressive. Not many clients walk in with this level of detail.β From where you sat, you rested your chin on your hand, unimpressed.
Jungkook offered a small, polite smile. βI just like having a clear idea before I commit.β Nari's smirk deepened. βThatβs really attractive,β she mused, fingers skimming the edge of the sketchbook instead of actually turning the page. βA guy whoβs artistic and decisive? Rare find.β
You blinked. What.
Jungkook cleared his throat, shifting in his seat like he wasnβt quite sure how to respond. βUhβ¦ thanks?β Nari finally flipped to the next pageβthough at this point, it felt more like a courtesy than genuine interest. βAnd you did all of these?β
Jungkook nodded again. βMhm.β
βThatβs insane,β she gushed, dragging her fingers over the lines like they were worth framing. βYou could easily be a tattoo artist yourself.β Jungkook chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. βI donβt think I have the patience for it.β
βThatβs a shame,β Nari sighed, her fingers lingering a little too long on the sketchbook. βWith hands like yours, I bet youβd be amazing at it.β
Your expression went flat. Jungkook just coughed into his fist, visibly flustered. βUhββ
You snapped before you could stop yourself. βIf youβre done with the consultation, I think you should get started with the sketching.β Your voice was even, but the words were clipped. βUnless this is just a fan club meeting now.β
That made Nari pause.
Jungkook turned to you, lips twitching as if he was trying not to laugh.Β Nari dared to send you a sharp glare, like you had just interrupted something sacred. But she grabbed a fineliner anyway, her movements slow and deliberate, as if making a point.
You didnβt waver. Arms crossed, you kept your gaze locked on her hands, watching every unnecessary adjustment she madeβeach one turning into soft, lingering touches against Jungkookβs skin. It was infuriating, the way her fingers skimmed his arm like she had every right to.
And then she bit her lip.
A coy smile played at the edges of her mouth, subtle but unmistakable. Jungkook, completely oblivious as always, remained relaxed in the chair, only wincing slightly when the cold surface of the fineliner pressed against his skin.
You were far from relaxed.
Shifting in your seat, you clenched your jaw, fingers curling against your arms. Maybeβmaybeβshe was just a touchy person. Maybe you were overanalyzing this. Maybe it was nothing.
βSo,β Nari began, her voice light and conversational, βdo all your tattoos have a meaning?β Jungkook, still staring at the ceiling like this was any other consultation, nodded. βMost of them, yeah.β
βWhat about this one?β She tapped the tiger lily, her fingertips trailing over the ink just a little too leisurely. Jungkook smiled, unaware of the way your patience was fraying. βThat one represents passion, confidenceβ¦ all that stuff. Itβs also my birth flowerβ
Nari hummed, like she was committing that information to memory. βAnd the chrysanthemums?β
At this, Jungkook hesitated. For the first time, he flicked his gaze toward you, something unreadable passing through his eyes. Your posture stiffened, waiting. He cleared his throat. βThey mean a lot to me.β
Nari tilted her head, expectant.
You leaned forward, expectant.
But Jungkook just chuckled lightly before answering, βTheyβre my girlfriendβs birth flower.β His tone was proud, almost smug, as if relishing the chance to say it out loud. A smirk tugged at your lips. That should be enough to shut this down, enough for her to finally get the messageβ
Except Nari barely reacted.
If anything, she just hummed again, dragging her eyes across his arm like she hadnβt even heard him. βHm. Bet theyβd look really pretty on you,β she mused, her tone as sweet as syrup. Then, without missing a beat, she added, βThen again, I bet a lot of things do.β
Your head snapped up. Jungkook tensed slightly but played it off with an awkward laugh. βUhβ¦ thanks?β
Oh, hell no.
Maybe it was the way she said it. The way her voice dripped with something just a little too sweet, like she wasnβt just appreciating his tattoos but the person wearing them. Maybe it was the fact that her fingers were still lightly dragging along his forearm, slow and deliberate, like she had every right to touch him like that. Or maybeβjust maybeβit was the fact that Jungkook, ever polite, ever oblivious, wasnβt saying anything to stop her. Either way, your patience is officially gone.
You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, voice smooth but sharp enough to cut. βSo, is this your usual customer service?β you asked, tilting your head. βOr is my boyfriend just getting the VIP treatment?β
Nari barely spared you a glance. βOh, donβt worry. I take very good care of my clients.β Your smile was saccharine, all teeth. βI bet you do.β
Jungkook shifted, fingers gripping the armrest as if bracing himself. βBabyββ You ignored him. βI thought professionalism was a basic requirement for tattoo artists. But I guess itβs optional here, huh?β
Nariβs smirk twitched, but she held her ground. βIβm just making conversation.β
βRight.β You nodded slowly, voice dripping with faux understanding. βBecause flirting with your client while his girlfriend is sitting right here is so normal.β
Jungkook, bless his clueless heart, looked between the two of you like heβd just walked into a battlefield with no armor. His lips partedβhe should say something, anything, should try to calm you down before things escalated, but the words never came.
Because truth be told, seeing you like this, so protective and so fierce was kind of hot.
Nariβs eyes narrowed, her confidence flickering just a little. βI wasnβt flirting.β You let out a mock gasp, pressing a hand over your chest in exaggerated horror. βOh, my bad.β Your tone was syrupy, dripping with fake innocence. βI must have misheard when you basically drooled over my boyfriend while I was sitting right here.β
Nari let out a sharp huff, her irritation finally surfacing. She set the fineliner down with a little too much force, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and condescension. βLook, do you want me to finish this or not?β
You opened your mouth, already armed with a sharp retortβ
βNo.β
Jungkookβs voice cut through the air, calm but unwavering.
Nari blinked. βWhat?β
Jungkook rolled his shoulder back as he sat up straighter, his usual easygoing expression replaced with something unreadable. βIβll get it done somewhere else.β
She scoffed, crossing her arms. βSeriously? Just because sheβs insecure?β
Oh. That did it. A slow, burning heat unfurled in your chest. The audacity, the sheer nerve to say something like that when she had been the one crossing every possible line. You barely registered standing up, only aware of the way your pulse pounded in your ears as you took a step forward.
βExcuse me?β
But before you could let loose, Jungkook was already moving. His hand found yours, his grip warm and steady as he gently pulled you back. βLetβs go,β he murmured, his voice low but insistent. Nari rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair like she couldnβt care less. βYour loss.β Jungkook didnβt bother responding. He just grabbed his jacket, intertwined his fingers with yours, and led you out of the shop without a single backward glance.
The second the door shut behind you, the tension that had been coiling in your muscles finally snapped.
βI swearββ you started, still fuming, but Jungkook sighed, squeezing your hand in his. βI know, baby,β he said, his voice softer now, the warmth of it cutting right through your frustration. βI know.β
You exhaled sharply. βShe was touching you.β Jungkook let out a low chuckle, rubbing his temple. βI literally had no idea she was flirting.β
βYou never do.β
That earned you a grin. Jungkook tilted his head slightly, leaning down just enough that his nose nearly brushed yours. His eyes locked onto yours with a familiar fondness. βBut you do.β His voice was teasing, but there was something else there too. Something softer. Something that made your breath catch, just a little.
You scowled, but he just wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. βJealous?β he teased. You scoffed.Β
His smile turned fond. βCute.β You smacked his chest. βShut up.βΒ
Jungkook barely flinched at the hit, his grin only widening. He tightened his hold around your waist, pulling you in until there was hardly any space left between you. βThatβs not a no,β he murmured, his voice dipping just enough to make your stomach flutter. You narrowed your eyes, tilting your chin up defiantly. βI wasnβt jealous.β
Jungkook hummed, unconvinced. His fingers skimmed over the small of your back, the touch light but deliberate. βMhm. Sure.β
You huffed, crossing your arms. βShe was unprofessional.β
βTrue.β
βAnd disrespectful.β
βVery.β
βAnd her eyeliner was uneven.β
Jungkook snorted, finally breaking into a full laugh. βOkay, now youβre just being mean.β You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but the way he was looking at you, like you were the most amusing thing in the world made your face heat up. His laughter faded into something softer, something unbearably fond. βYou know youβre cute when youβre all worked up, right?β
You scowled, jabbing a finger into his chest. βI said shut up.β Jungkook grinned, catching your hand with ease before lacing his fingers through yours. βMake me.β
Your breath hitched. His gaze flickered to your lips for the briefest second, and suddenly, the air between you shiftedβ
βYou guys done with the tattoo already?β
A loud, familiar voice shattered the moment like glass hitting the pavement.
Both you and Jungkook turned your heads in unison, only to find Jin standing a few feet away, looking between the two of you with an expression far too amused for your liking. Jungkook groaned, running a hand down his face. βHyung, seriously?β
Jin blinked. βWhat? I was just asking.β His gaze flickered over Jungkookβs arm, eyes narrowing as he took in the faint ink lines still marking his skinβthe rough sketch of the tattoo, untouched by the needle. His brows furrowed.
βWait. You didnβt actually get it done?β
Jungkook huffed, crossing his arms. βNo. Because the tattooo artist was too busy flirting with me.β
Jinβs face twisted in confusion. βHuh?β
You, still somewhat bristling from the whole ordeal, rolled your eyes. βShe was all over him. Barely even looked at his designs before trying to eye-fuck him.β JInβs jaw dropped. βWait, are you serious?β
Jungkook nodded, his expression flat. βDead serious.β Jin winced, rubbing the back of his neck. βDamn. I had no idea she was like that.β
At least he had the decency to look sorry.Β
Jin sighed, rubbing his temple dramatically. βAlright, fine. Since I unknowingly threw you both into the lionβs den, I owe you.β He clapped his hands together. βLunch is on me.β Jungkook raised a brow. βYou? Paying for food? Willingly?β
Jin scoffed. βI can be generous, you know.β
You snorted. βThatβs new.β
Jin ignored you. βCome on, letβs eat. My treat. Think of it as compensation for the mess I accidentally dropped you into.β
Jungkook hummed, pretending to consider. βI meanβ¦ if youβre paying, Iβm definitely ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.β
Jin rolled his eyes. βAs if you wouldnβt do that anyway.β
Jungkook just grinned. βTrue.β
You laughed, your earlier irritation melting away. βAlright, fine. Youβre forgiven. But only if I get to pick the place.β Jin groaned. βWhy do I feel like Iβm about to regret this?β Jungkook laced his fingers through yours, his thumb brushing against your skin. βBecause you probably will.β
Jin sighed but motioned for you both to follow. βHurry up before I change my mind.β With that, the three of you headed off, leaving the unpleasant encounter behind in favor of good food.
Nari leaned against the counter, arms folded tight as she glared out the shopβs large window. Outside, you stood near the curb, your gaze fixed on Jungkook and Jin as they chatted. You werenβt speaking, just watching with that quiet, unreadable expression. But somehow, that made Nari even angrier.
βUnbelievable,β she muttered under her breath.
βWhat is?β
The question came lazily from the man who had just strolled up beside her. He shook out his wrists after finishing with his last client, pulling off his gloves and tossing them into the trash. His attention remained casual, uninterested until Nari gestured toward the window with a sharp tilt of her chin.
βHer.β
His eyes followed her gaze. His posture was still loose, still easygoing until he saw you. For the briefest moment, his entire body went rigid. His casual demeanor cracked, just slightly, before he smoothed it over with a slow smirk.
βHuh.β
Nari, oblivious to the shift, let out a scoff. βShe threw a whole fit because I was being nice to her boyfriend. Completely embarrassed me in front of him and acted all possessive, like I was some kind of threat.β She tapped her nails against the counter, still glaring at you through the window. βAnd now, thanks to her little tantrum, he refuses to get his tattoo done here.β
The man hummed, tilting his head. βJealous girlfriend type, huh?β
βExactly.β Nari huffed before turning to him with a slow, calculating smile. βYouβre good at handling people, right?β He lifted a brow. βDepends on what you mean by βhandling.ββ
She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. βDo you think you couldβ¦ I donβt know, do something about her? Save Jungkook from her?β For a moment, he didnβt respond. His gaze flicked back toward the window, settling this time on Jungkook himself.
And just like that, his smirk thinned.
Jungkook stood beside Jin, hands in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he listened to whatever Jin was rambling about. But every so often, his attention shifted to you. The way his fingers brushed absently over your back, the way his expression softened whenever he glanced your way, like keeping you close was second nature.
The manβs fingers curled into a fist. βFigures,β he muttered under his breath.
Nari frowned. βYou know him?β A sharp exhale. A shake of his head. βNot personally. But I know of him.β
She perked up at that, her curiosity piqued. βOh?β
His tongue ran over his teeth, jaw working as he leaned against the counter. When he spoke again, his smirk had returned but there was nothing amused about it. βLetβs just sayβ¦ I have unfinished business with her.β
Nari blinked at that, lips parting slightly as she took in the underlying venom in his tone. Then, as if catching on, she let out a slow, delighted hum. βWell then,β she murmured, turning back to the window, watching you through narrowed eyes. βWouldnβt it be fun to mess with her a little?β
His gaze never left you. He watched as Jungkook reached out, tugging the sleeve of your jacket into place with an unconscious sort of familiarity, the kind that spoke of years spent together.
The kind of familiarity that should have been his.
The corner of his lips lifted, the smirk sharpening into something colder. βOh, sweetheart.β His voice was smooth and teasing, laced with something far more sinister.
βIβd love to.β
You groggily blink your eyes open, immediately regretting it as the soft glow of the morning filters through your curtains. Too bright. Too early. Tooβ¦ awake. You bury your face into your pillow, grumbling incoherently, unwilling to leave the comforting warmth of your bed. Itβs Sunday. A day meant for sleeping in, doing absolutely nothing, and ignoring all responsibilities.
Then, you feel itβthe weight of an arm loosely draped over your waist, the warmth seeping through your thin shirt. Your sleep-addled brain takes a moment to process before it clicks. Jungkook.
Right. He stayed over last night.
A sleepy sigh escapes your lips as you shift slightly, pressing closer to his warmth. His scent lingers on your sheets, wrapping around you like a second blanket. You peek up, still half-asleep, and catch the sight of him lying beside you, propped up on one elbow, his phone held in his free hand. The soft glow of the screen illuminates his face, casting delicate shadows over his sharp jawline. Heβs already awake, completely engrossed in whatever heβs scrolling through.
Too awake for your liking.
βFive more minutes,β you mumble sleepily, voice muffled against the pillow. Your words slur together, more of a plea than a statement, as you instinctively nuzzle into Jungkookβs chest, seeking warmth.
A deep chuckle rumbles from him, low and fond, the kind that makes your heart squeeze without permission. His arm tightens around you in response, fingers lazily tracing light circles against your back. βFive more minutes? Baby, you said that likeβ¦ an hour ago.β
You donβt respond, only snuggling deeper into his embrace, fully intent on ignoring him. Jungkook exhales dramatically, an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. βYouβre gonna sleep the whole day away.β
βThatβs the plan.β
βYouβre literally wasting the morning.β
βMm,β you hum noncommittally. βNot wasting if Iβm warm and comfortable.β Jungkook pokes your cheek, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tries to stir you. βCβmon, letβs go out. We could get breakfast, maybe go on a walkββ
βNo.β You blindly swat his hand away.
Jungkook groans, flopping onto his back in frustration. βWhy did I fall for someone lazier than me?β You crack one eye open, just enough to see his pout. Smirking, you shift slightly and mumble into the pillow, βBecause Iβm cute.β
Jungkook huffs. ββ¦I mean, yeah, but thatβs not the point.β
Jungkook finally manages to wrangle you out of bedβa feat that takes a ridiculous amount of whining, bribing, and sheer force of will. He practically drags you across the apartment, his grip firm around your wrist, ignoring every single one of your grumbles and half-hearted protests.
βYou are,β you mumble as he steers you into the kitchen, βthe absolute worst.β Jungkook snorts, already rummaging through the cabinets for coffee beans. βOh, Iβm sorry. Was I supposed to let you rot in bed for eternity?β
βYes.β
Jungkook ignores you, expertly working the coffee machine like a man on a mission. You slump against the counter, still half-asleep, head lolling dramatically to the side as you watch him move around like an overly energetic golden retriever. Then, your phone buzzes on the counter. You lazily glance at the screen, skimming the weather forecastβ
Rain incoming.
Your spine straightens, sleepiness vanishing in an instant as you whip your phone up to show Jungkook, shoving the screen in his face with an almost evil sort of glee. βOh no~β you sing-song, tone dripping with faux disappointment. βLooks like we canβt go out.β
Jungkookβs brows furrow as he squints at the screen, reading the forecast. His expression quickly morphs from mild confusion to full-blown horror. ββ¦It wasnβt supposed to rain today,β he says slowly, almost like he can will the reality away.
βGuess we have to stay in.β You sigh dramatically, clutching your chest like it pains you. βDamn. What a shame.β
Jungkook groans, slumping against the counter like his entire soul has left his body. His dreams of a fun, eventful day were shattered. βYouβre lying,β he accuses weakly. βThis is a personal attack.β
You shake your head, voice dripping with fake sympathy. βI donβt control the weather, baby.β
Jungkook glares. βBut if you could, youβd make it rain every day, wouldnβt you?β A smirk tugs at your lips. βAbsolutely.β
Jungkook throws his head back with a dramatic, suffering groan, sliding down the counter like a man defeated. You watch him in amusement, lifting the coffee cup he had just made for himself and taking a slow, satisfied sip. The moment the taste hits your tongue, Jungkookβs entire body snaps upright.
He watches, utterly betrayed, as you lower the cup with a pleased hum.
ββ¦Did you just steal my coffee?β
You blink at him, all innocence. βYou made this for me, didnβt you?β
Jungkook scoffs, expression scandalized. βNo! I made it for me!β
You shrug, taking another sip as you meet his glare with zero remorse. βTastes great, babe. Thanks.β
Jungkook clutches his chest like youβve personally wounded him. βYouβre the actual worst.β
βAnd yet,β you hum, leaning against the counter with a satisfied smirk, βhere you are, hopelessly in love with me.β
Jungkook stares at you for a long second, lips pursed. Then, without warning, he lunges. You yelp as he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you with ridiculous ease and tossing you over his shoulder.
βJUNGKOOKββ
βNOPE,β he interrupts, already marching towards the living room. βIf I canβt have fun outside, Iβm gonna make you suffer with me inside.β You kick your feet uselessly, fists pounding against his back as he effortlessly carries you away. βPut me down, you muscle bunny!β
Jungkook only laughs, completely unfazed, before spinning on his heel and tossing you onto the couch like you weigh nothing. You land with a soft βoof,β bouncing slightly against the cushions as he flops down beside you, stretching out like a starfish. βYou are so dramatic,β you grumble, attempting to shove him away with your foot.
Jungkook just grins, easily catching your ankle and tugging you closer instead. βAnd yet, you love me anyway.β
You huff, too lazy to argue.
Before you can protest further, he shifts, rolling onto his side and resting his head comfortably on your lap. His eyes flutter shut almost instantly, his breath evening out as he settles in like he belongs there. At first, you stiffen, but as the seconds pass, your fingers instinctively weave through his soft, dark hair. You barely even realize youβre doing it, the motion coming as naturally as breathing.
Jungkook hums at the feeling, half-conscious, but content. His face is completely relaxed and unguarded in a way that makes your chest ache. He looked so soft like this. So warm. So⦠safe. And something deep inside you just melts.
Your fingers slow, combing gently through the strands, nails lightly scratching his scalp. A soft scowl tugs at your lips. Because this? This is a version of Jungkook youβd fight the entire world to protect.
Jungkook must feel your gaze because, after a moment, he cracks one eye open and peeks up at you. βYouβre staring,β he murmurs, voice still laced with sleep. You blink, quickly masking your expression with a huff. To cover up the warmth creeping up your neck, you flick his forehead. βJust making sure youβre still breathing.β
Jungkook snickers, stretching lazily. βAww, are you worried about me?β
You cross your arms, unimpressed. βObviously. Youβre fragile.β
Jungkook immediately bursts out laughing, full-bodied and carefree, his entire frame shaking against your lap. βMe? Fragile? Baby, I could bench press you.β
You roll your eyes, completely unfazed. βYeah, well, I could stab someone for you.β
Jungkookβs laughter dies instantly. His eyes widen slightly, blinking up at you as if processing your words. Then, ever so slowly, a grin spreads across his face.
ββ¦Okay, thatβs really hot.β
You scoff, flicking his forehead again. βPervert.β
Jungkook just smirks, completely shameless. βWhat can I say? I like my girlfriend a little unhinged.β You roll your eyes, but before you can retort, a deep rumble of thunder echoes outside.
Jungkook groans, throwing an arm over his face. βGreat. So we really are stuck inside all day.β
You donβt even bother hiding your glee. βTragic.β
With an exaggerated sigh, Jungkook shifts, burying his face into your stomach like a sulking puppy. You try to shove him off, but he only clings harder, grumbling nonsense against your his hoodie.
βYouβre ridiculous,β you murmur, fingers idly threading through his hair again. Eventually, he shifts, lifting his head to look at you properly. His expression softens laced with something so fond it makes your breath hitch. He doesnβt say anything. Just laces his fingers through yours, absentmindedly tracing patterns against your palm.
Then, suddenly there's a sharp poke to your side and you jolt with a squawk, trying to wiggle away. βJungkook!β He grins, eyes twinkling with mischief. βIf weβre staying in, we should do something.β
You glare at him, still half-prepared to smack him upside the head. βLike what?β
His smirk deepens. βYou know exactly what.β For a second, you just stare at him. He stares back.Then, without breaking eye contactβhe grabs the game controllers.
Jungkookβs sunshine boyfriend energy disappears the second the race countdown starts. Gone is the sweet, cuddly man who had been wrapped around you like a koala just minutes ago, now, heβs leaning forward, brows furrowed, fully in the zone.
βLoser does the dishes in both apartments,β he announces, rolling his shoulders like heβs prepping for war. You scoff, cracking your knuckles for dramatic effect. βYouβre about to regret that.β
The moment Lakitu drops the starting light, Jungkook launches forward like heβs been possessed by the spirit of every pro gamer ever. Meanwhile, you barely get past the first turn without slamming into the barrier. You spam every single item box you can get your hands on, determined to take him down with sheer pettiness if not skill.
Then thereβs a miracle. Jungkook is just about to cross the finish line when you hit him with a perfectly timed blue shell.
BOOM.
His character spirals into the air, crashing down just inches from victory. You zoom past him at the last second.
βIN YOUR FACE, JEON.β You throw your arms up like you just won an Olympic gold medal. Jungkook stares at the screen in stunned silence. Then, slowly he turns to you. You suddenly get the feeling youβve made a terrible mistake.
βOkay, sweetheart,β he murmurs, cracking his knuckles. βNo more playing nice.β
The next race starts and you get absolutely destroyed.
Jungkook goes full demon mode, drifting around corners with terrifying precision, dodging every single attack like he can see the future. He launches red shells, banana peels, lightning boltsβ you donβt even know how heβs getting this many power-ups.
Itβs a massacre. One round. Two rounds. Three. You lose every single one. By the end, your controller is nearly embedded into your palm from how tightly youβre gripping it. Jungkook, on the other hand, is lounging back against the couch, arms stretched behind his head, smug as hell.
He tilts his head, smirking. βDo you yield?β
You scowl. βI hope you step on a Lego.β
Jungkook just laughs, grabbing your wrist and yanking you into his lap before you can escape. The controllers are discarded, forgotten as you end up tangled together on the couch. His arms snake around your waist, holding you in place as you halfheartedly struggle.
Thenβhe boops your nose.
You blink. Once. Twice. Then groan, flopping dramatically against his chest. βI take back every nice thing Iβve ever said about you.β
Jungkook only hums, smug and unbothered. βEven though you lost, I still think youβre the cutest.β
You smack his arm. βI will actually fight you.β
βMm. As long as itβs not in Mario Kart, I like my chances.β
Jungkookβs phone buzzes against the coffee table, the vibration cutting through the comfortable silence. He lazily reaches for it, glancing at the screen. His brows knit together for a second before his face smooths over into a grin.
βOh, my momβs planning a family dinner. She wants you to come.β
You, mid-sip of your newly-made coffee, nearly choke.
ββ¦Huh?β
Jungkook tilts his head, amused. βWhat? You act like this is the first time sheβs invited you.β
You pause, tapping your fingers against the cup. His family liked you. You knew that. His mom always sent you home with extra food whenever you visited, and his dad made it a point to tease Jungkook about βfinally settling downβ whenever you were around. Jungkook leans closer, watching you expectantly. βSo? Youβll come?β
You exhale dramatically, pretending to be deep in thought. ββ¦Maybe.β
Jungkook narrows his eyes. βMaybe?β
You smirk. βIβll go on one condition.β
He leans in even more, suspicious. βWhat?β
You set your cup down with a slow, deliberate motion. Then you look him dead in the eye. ββ¦Admit that Iβm better at games.β
Jungkook snorts. βNot happening.β
You grin. βThen Iβm not coming.β
Jungkook blinks. Then, before you can react, he pounces.
βYOUβRE COMING.β
βJUNGKOOKββ
You barely have time to throw your drink onto the table before he tackles you down onto the couch, arms caging you in as he buries his face into your neck. His weight presses you into the cushions, his laughter muffled against your skin.
βYou little brat,β he mutters, nuzzling into you. You squirm, but heβs relentless, peppering lazy kisses against your jaw just to distract you.
βSay youβll come,β he murmurs, voice laced with amusement.
βSay Iβm better.β
Jungkook grins against your neck. βHmm. How about thisβyou come to dinner, and Iβll let you win next time.β You gasp, shoving at his chest. βLet me win?!β
His laughter shakes both of you, but he doesnβt budge. βIβm trying to be generous, baby.β
βJungkook, I swearββ
The argument quickly devolves into a mess of tangled limbs and laughter, neither of you backing down. Jungkook is still half on top of you, his arms lazily wrapped around your waist, completely unwilling to let you escape. His warmth seeps into you, making it harder to even think about moving. You sigh, dramatically slumping against the couch cushions. βFine. Iβll go to dinner.β
Jungkookβs head snaps up instantly. βReally?β
You roll your eyes, poking his cheek. βYeah, yeah. But Iβm expecting VIP treatment.β
Jungkook grins, wide and bright, before leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. βDeal.β
Outside, the rain picks up, sheets of water blurring the world beyond the glass. The streetlights flicker, their glow reflecting off the puddles collecting on the pavement. But just beyond the window, Neither of you notice the figure standing on the balcony of the building across the street a dark silhouette barely visible through the downpour.
He watches. He waits.
The overhead lights in your office cast a dim, sterile glow, humming softly in the near silence. The usual buzz of the workplace has long since faded, leaving only the occasional click of your keyboard and the distant sound of the air conditioning whirring. You rub your tired eyes, exhaustion settling deep in your bones as you scroll through the last few emails of the day.
Just as youβre about to tackle the next document in your never-ending pile, your phone vibrates against your desk, the soft buzz cutting through the quiet. You glance at the screen, and a familiar name lights up:
Kook π°π [6:15 PM]: Still working? Kook π°π [6:15 PM]: Come over after work?
A small smile tugs at your lips despite the fatigue weighing on you. You reach for your phone, letting your gaze drift to the towering stack of documents beside you before sighing. Thereβs no way youβre finishing up anytime soon. With a resigned exhale, you type out a response.
You [6:16 PM]: Working overtime. Iβll text when Iβm done.
His reply comes almost instantly, as if heβd been waiting for your response.
Kook π°π [6:16 PM]: Itβs late. Want me to pick you up?
Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a second before you shake your head, rolling your eyes fondly. It wasnβt like you werenβt capable of getting home on your own. The walk to your apartment was barely ten minutes, and youβd done it countless times before without issue. You hated the idea of relying too much on someone else, even if that someone was Jungkook. He was always eager to drop everything for you, to take on your burdens like they were his own, and while a part of you adored that about him, another part resisted it. You never wanted to feel like you needed saving. You could handle yourself.
You [6:16 PM]: Iβm fine. My apartmentβs nearby, remember?
Thereβs a brief pause before his next message comes through.
Kook π°π[6:18 PM]: At least text me when youβre home.
You bite back a smile, shaking your head.
You [6:18 PM]: Yes, yes, Mr. Protective.Β
A second later, your screen lights up again with a message thatβs nothing but a row of emojis. You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head as you set your phone down. Stretching your arms over your head, you glance back at the unfinished work in front of you. The night is far from over, and exhaustion lingers in your limbs, but you push through.
Two hours later, the office is nearly deserted. Rows of empty desks stretch out before you, their monitors dark, abandoned by coworkers who were lucky enough to call it a day. Somewhere in the distance, the faint murmur of a janitor echoes through the halls, a quiet reminder that youβre not entirely alone. Still, the stillness feels heavy, pressing against your shoulders as you rub your tired eyes and blink at your laptop screen.
βStill here?β
The familiar voice startles you, pulling you from your work-induced daze. You look up to see Jimin standing by your desk, a bag slung over his shoulder and an amused expression on his face.
You let out a sigh, leaning back in your chair. βUnfortunately.β
He crosses his arms, leaning casually against the cubicle wall. βOvertime?β
βYeah.β You stretch your stiff fingers before clicking through your files. βTrying to get ahead of things since Iβm taking a day off for Jungkookβs family dinner.β
Jimin raises a brow, clearly holding back a smirk. βYou? Taking a day off? Who are you, and what have you done with my workaholic friend?β
You snort, rolling your eyes. βItβs one day, Park.β
βStill. Didnβt think youβd willingly take time off for a boyfriendβs family event.β
You shrug, shifting your attention back to your laptop. βIβm being a supportive partner. And also avoiding Jungkookβs pout if I donβt go.β
Jimin chuckles. βYeah, that tracks.β He checks his watch, then nods toward the exit. βWell, itβs already past eight. I can drop you offβmy carβs in the basement.β
You pause for half a second, tempted. It would be easy, safe. A quick ride home without having to walk through the dark streets alone. But something in you resists. Youβve always prided yourself on being independent, on handling things yourself. You werenβt about to start needing an escort home like some helpless protagonist in a thriller movie. Besides, your apartment wasnβt far, and you could take care of yourself just fine.
You shake your head. βIβve still got work left. Need to refine a client presentation before tomorrow.β
Jimin frowns, clearly debating whether to push the issue. βYou sure? I donβt mind waiting.β
You give him a small, reassuring smile. βGo home, Jimin. Iβll be fine.β
He hesitates for a moment longer before exhaling in defeat. βAlright. Text me when you get home, yeah?β
βI will.β
Satisfied, he ruffles your hair in a way that makes you swat at him, laughing as he dodges your weak attempt at retaliation. βNight, workaholic,β he teases before heading out, his footsteps fading down the hall.
And just like that, youβre alone again, the dim glow of your laptop screen casting long shadows across your desk.Β
Itβs nearing eleven o'clock by the time you finally leave the office, exhaustion pressing down on your shoulders like a weight you canβt shake. The automatic doors slide shut behind you, sealing the building in eerie silence. Outside, the streets stretch before you, quieter than usual, the world dipped in shades of silver and black under the dim glow of the streetlights.
The scent of rain lingers in the air, damp and heavy, even though the drizzle had stopped hours ago. The pavement glistens under the flickering glow of streetlights, reflecting the distorted shapes of the empty road ahead. A chilly breeze whispers through the deserted streets, curling around your skin like invisible fingers. You shiver, tugging your coat tighter around you, telling yourself itβs just the cold. You exhale slowly, watching your breath fog in the night air, and begin your walk home. Itβs not farβbarely a ten-minute walk. Youβve done this route countless times before. It should feel familiar. Safe.
But tonight⦠something feels off.
At first, itβs just a small shift in the air, a faint prickle at the back of your neck that strange, creeping sensation of being watched. It crawls up your spine, makes the hair on your arms stand on end.
You shake it off, adjusting the strap of your bag. Youβre just tired. Paranoid. Thatβs all. The streets are always eerie this late of course they are. Thereβs no one around, just the distant hum of traffic blocks away, the occasional flicker of a neon sign from a closed shop. But then when youβre halfway home, just as you pass the turn near the old bookstore you hear it.
A faint, subtle sound, a footstep, echoes just a second too late after your own. Your breath catches in your throat as you freeze, and the sound stops too. The silence is suffocating, pressing in from all sides. Slowly, so painfully slowly, you turn to glance behind you.Β
Nothing.
Just an empty sidewalk, stretched too long and too dark behind you. The streetlights buzz faintly, their glow flickering, casting strange, distorted shadows on the wet pavement. Your own heartbeat pounds against your ribs, a heavy drumbeat in the stillness. You swallow, trying to shake the feeling creeping under your skin. Youβre imagining things. You have to be. The city is full of noises like cars in the distance, leaves rustling, a stray cat darting between alleyways. Thatβs all it is.
Stillβ¦ your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag as you push forward, steps quicker now. But the feeling doesnβt go away. It lingers. Pressing against your skin like static, buzzing at the edge of your awareness. Youβre not alone.
You almost pull out your phone. Almost. Jungkook would pick up in an instant and heβd tell you to stay on the line, that he was coming to get you. But you donβt.
Because what would you even say? Hey, I think Iβm being followed, but Iβm not sure, and I donβt want to sound like an idiot? No way. Jungkook would freak out, and you werenβt about to send him into a panic over something that was probably nothing. So instead, you pick up your pace, each step sharper, more urgent. The streetlights above seem dimmer now, their glow barely cutting through the shadows pooling at the edges of the road.
Your building is just a few turns away. You make it past the first one, then the second. Then you hear it againβnot just a sound this time, but a shift, a presence. Someone is there. Your heart hammers as you whip around faster this time.Β
Nothing.
Your own shadow stretches long on the pavement, its shape warping under the flickering lights. The alleyway to your right is yawning and dark, a gaping mouth of blackness that seems to pull at the edges of your vision. Your pulse is a thunderous roar in your ears.
Youβre not imagining this. This is real.
And now, your body knows it too and every instinct is screaming at you to move. So you do.
You rush forward, walking as fast as you can without breaking into a sprint. Your breath quickens, your fingers curling into fists, every nerve in your body on high alert. Just a little further. Just one more turn.
And then finally your apartment building comes into view, looming in the darkness like a beacon. Relief crashes over you so forcefully that you nearly stumble. You donβt turn around again. You donβt want to know if someone is standing there. Watching.
You force yourself to stay calm as you punch in the buildingβs entry code with unsteady fingers, stepping inside the safety of the lobby. The door shuts behind you with a heavy click, locking out the night.
You practically rush inside, the cool air of the lobby offering little comfort as your fingers tremble over the keypad. Your breath is shallow, coming in uneven gasps as you punch in your passcode. The numbers blur slightly in your vision, whether from exhaustion or the lingering tension clawing at your mind, youβre not sure. The beep of the lock disengaging feels deafening in the stillness. You push the door open, stepping inside so quickly that you nearly stumble over your own feet. The door swings shut behind you with a soft but final click, sealing you in the safety of your apartment. Or at least, thatβs what you tell yourself.
For a moment, you just stand there, listening. Nothing but the hum of your refrigerator, the faint creak of the building settling, and the sound of your own breathing, ragged and uneven in the silence. You donβt stop moving until every lock is in place.
Click. Click. Click.
Each one echoes louder than it should, like an affirmation that you are, in fact, secure. That no one followed you. That no one is outside, waiting. Still, the unease gnaws at you, refusing to settle. So, you make your rounds. Checking. Double-checking. Triple-checking.
You pull the curtains shut, firmly, ensuring no sliver of the outside world can seep in. You check the windows next, pressing your fingers against the glass, as if expecting to feel warmth from another presence, a breath on the other side. But thereβs nothing. No shadow moving in the darkness, no faint imprint of something or someone having been there.
Finally, with a deep breath, you force yourself to move, shedding your coat, kicking off your shoes with sluggish movements. The exhaustion from the long day crashes down on you all at once, dull and heavy. Your limbs feel leaden as you shuffle toward your bedroom, every step slower than the last.
The warmth of your bed is almost enough to chase away the unease, the mattress soft, inviting and safe a stark contrast to the cold anxiety curling at the edges of your consciousness. You exhale, forcing yourself to relax, letting your body sink into the familiar comfort of your sheets.
But even as your eyes grow heavy, your mind refuses to let go completely. That nagging sense of being watched still lingers. Faint but present. And just before sleep claims you, a final thought slithers through your mind.
What if you werenβt imagining it? What if someone was still out there? Watching. Waiting.
Jungkook drives with effortless ease, one hand lazily gripping the steering wheel while the other taps against the radio in rhythm with the song playing softly through the speakers. The hum of the engine blends with the melody, filling the quiet space between you, neither of you needing to speak. The road stretches ahead, endless and open, disappearing into the horizon. A faint trace of salt lingers in the air, creeping in through the half-open window, a quiet reminder that youβre getting closer to Busan.
You sit in the passenger seat, your gaze flickering between the blur of passing scenery and the man beside you. The steady motion of the car, the warmth of the moment, it all feels oddly soothing. After days of unease, of tension wound so tightly in your body that even sleep felt like a battle, you finally feel yourself exhale.
βCanβt believe you actually agreed to take a day off for me,β Jungkook teases, his grin nothing short of triumphant as he spares you a glance. βIs this what love does to people?β
You roll your eyes, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you. βOne time, Jeon. Donβt get used to it.β
Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head like he doesnβt believe you for a second. His smile spreads wide, bright enough to make your chest ache with something unspoken. He reaches over without hesitation, his fingers giving your knee a playful squeeze before returning to the wheel. The touch is fleeting but warm, grounding in a way you hadnβt realized you needed.
You should tell him.
The past few days have been unbearable due to the creeping paranoia, the feeling of eyes tracing your every move and the subtle shifts in your apartment that made your skin crawl. Itβs like living with a shadow just out of reach, something you canβt see but can feel pressing in from the edges. You donβt scare easily, but this has been different.
Your fingers twitch against your lap. One word. Thatβs all it would take. Jungkook would listen like he always does. Heβd furrow his brows, tilt his head in that concerned way he does, and tell you not to brush it off. Heβd probably get all worked up, insist on staying over, refuse to let you out of his sight.
And yet, looking at him now being so carefree, his bunny-like smile tugging at his lips as he taps his fingers against the beat makes you hesitate. Heβs happy. Peaceful. This moment is untouched by the weight sitting on your chest, and for once, you donβt want to taint something good.
So you take a slow breath, forcing yourself to relax against the seat. You tell yourself itβs fine. That youβre just being paranoid. That if anything truly happens, youβll deal with it.
You exhaled slowly, willing yourself to stay in the present, to focus on the soft hum of the radio, the rhythmic tap of Jungkookβs fingers against the steering wheel. But the memory pulled at you, dragging you under before you could stop itβ
You had come home after another long day at work. Your shoulders were aching from hours spent hunched over your desk. You had barely registered the familiar scent of your apartment as you pushed the door open, the soft creak echoing into the stillness inside.
Everything had looked normal at first.
Your shoes sat neatly by the entrance, exactly where you had left them. The kitchen counter was cluttered with the remnants of that morningβs rushed breakfast.
But the air had felt⦠different. Slightly off. As if someone had been there. Your heartbeat had stumbled, picking up speed before you could rationalize it. You had told yourself it was nothing. Just the exhaustion making you paranoid.
And yet, as you had stepped further inside, you couldnβt shake the feeling that something was wrong. The sound was the first thing that struck you. Cheerful, repetitive, out of place.
Your TV was on.
Not just on but playing Mario Kart. The character selection screen looped in the background, the upbeat jingle clashing against the heavy silence that filled your apartment. You hadnβt touched your console in days. Not since you and Jungkook played together last Sunday. Your pulse quickened.
Your eyes flickered to the couch. It had been moved just slightly. Barely an inch out of place, but enough for you to notice.
A slow, creeping unease settled into your bones as you stepped further inside, your movements cautious. Your apartment wasnβt large. There werenβt many places for someone to hide. And yet, your skin prickled with the overwhelming sensation that something or someone had been here.
Your breath hitched as your gaze fell on your bedroom door, slightly ajar. You had closed it that morning. You were sure of it. With measured steps, you pushed the door open fully. And thatβs when you saw it.
Your bedβcompletely in ruins. The sheets were tangled, pillows tossed carelessly, the once-smooth blankets now bunched in the center as if someone had been lying there. Your stomach twisted with unease because this morning, just before leaving for work, you had made your bed. Yet now, the sheets were rumpled, disturbed in a way that sent a chill crawling up your spine. Someone had been here.
Your pulse thundered in your ears as you took a shaky step back, your eyes darting around the room. Everything looked normal aside from the bed, the couch and the TV but the air felt wrong. Tainted. Like someone had occupied this space in your absence.
Your mind raced as you checked the locks. Still in place. No broken windows. No signs of forced entry.
So howβ Your breath hitched as a thought struck you. With trembling fingers, you grabbed your phone and immediately dialed Jungkook. He picked up after a few rings, his voice slightly breathless, like he had been running. βHey, baby. Everything okay?β
You swallowed the lump in your throat, gripping the phone tightly. βYeah,β you lied, forcing your voice to stay steady. βWhere are you right now?β
"Still at the clinic," he answered easily. "Was assisting with a surgery on a Pomeranian. Poor guy had a blockage so it took longer than expected." Your stomach dropped.
If Jungkook wasnβt hereβ¦ then who was?
Your fingers curled around your phone, knuckles whitening as you fought to keep your breathing even. βGot it,β you said, trying to sound casual. βJust checking.β There was a pause. Then, Jungkookβs tone softened. βYou sure youβre okay?β
βYeah.β Another lie. βIβll see you tomorrow.β Before he could press further, you ended the call.
The only sound left was the distant loop of Mario Kart, mocking you.
The weight of the memory lingered, suffocating, but the warmth of the car, the low hum of the radio, and Jungkookβs familiar presence slowly pulled you back. You blinked, staring at him.
Jungkook was happily rambling about his momβs cooking, hands moving animatedly as he drove. ββand she always makes extra, like extra extra, because she knows I eat a lot. But now sheβs even more excited since youβre comingβoh! She even tried making those cookies you loveββ
His voice was light, full of an excitement you didnβt want to taint. A small part of you wanted to tell him. But another part, the part that didnβt want to see that deep crease of concern on his forehead, didnβt want to take away his peace, told you to keep it to yourself. For now.
You turned your head, looking out the window, watching the scenery blur past. You didnβt notice the way Jungkookβs eyes flickered toward you, his brows knitting together for just a moment before he forced his usual smile back onto his face.
Jungkook pulled into the driveway, parking with practiced ease. You had been here more times than you could count, yet there was always something comforting about stepping into his childhood home like the faint scent of home-cooked meals wafting through the air and the familiar sight of the wind chime swaying gently by the door.Β Β
Jungkook turned to you with a grin, one hand still resting on the steering wheel. βMom probably made enough food to feed a small army.βΒ Β
You chuckled, already knowing that was true. βShe always does.βΒ Β
Before you could even step out of the car, the front door swung open, revealing his mom waving enthusiastically. βYouβre finally here! Hurry, come in before the food gets cold!β His mom pulled you into a hug the second you stepped inside, squeezing you tight.
βYouβve lost weight,β she huffed, pulling back just enough to inspect you with a critical eye. βAre you eating properly?β
Jungkook groaned beside you, already exasperated. βSheβs fine, Mom.β
You laughed, but before you could respond, his dad stepped forward with a warm smile, offering a firm handshake. βItβs good to see you again,β he said, his voice as steady and kind as ever.
βItβs good to see you too, Mr. Jeon,β you replied politely. βMrs. Jeon, thank you for having meββ
Before you could finish, his mom smacked your arm lightly, her expression scandalized. βYah! How many times do I have to tell you? Itβs Mom and Dad.β
Your face heated instantly. βR-Right. Sorryβ¦ Mom.β
Jungkook snickered under his breath at your obvious embarrassment, and his mom beamed, clearly pleased. βThatβs better,β she said, linking her arm with yours as she led you further inside. βYouβre family, sweetheart. No need for formalities.β
The house smelled incredible of rich simmering broth and freshly cooked rice. The warmth of it all settled deep in your chest, making you realize just how much you had missed this. As you stepped into the living room, your gaze landed on a few baby toys scattered near the couch, a soft blanket draped over the armrest. Before you could ask, his mom sighed.
βJunghyun and his wife wanted to come with the twins, but the girls were too fussy today.β
Jungkook pouted dramatically, crossing his arms. βI still havenβt met my nieces.β
His mom shook her head, unimpressed. βYou could visit them, you know.β
βI will,β Jungkook mumbled, already defeated. βJustβ¦ eventually.β
The dining table was packed with dishes his mom had gone all out, as always. Various side dishes, steaming hot soup, perfectly grilled meat, and a mountain of rice sat invitingly before you. It was a feast, one you had grown familiar with over the years, yet it never failed to impress you. Before you could even reach for anything, Jungkook was already piling food onto your plate, stacking it with precision. βEat,β he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. βYou know the rules.β
His mom beamed, clearly pleased. βAt least someone in this house listens to me.β
You chuckled, picking up your chopsticks, but the moment was shattered when your phone lit up beside your plate, vibrating with an insistent ping. You glanced down, your stomach twisting into a knot.
Your pulse quickened. The messages came one after the other.
Unknown [1:10 PM]: You think you can stay safe by staying away from here? Unknown [1:10 PM]: You think heβs gonna save you? Unknown [1:10 PM]: I am always watching you, doll.
Your breath hitched. Cold fingers of unease crawled up your spine, but you forced yourself to stay composed. Your hands thankfully didnβt shake as you turned your phone upside down and set it to silent. Jungkook had noticed. His gaze flickered to the screen before you flipped it over, his brows knitting together in quiet concern. He looked like he wanted to ask, but you didnβt give him the chance.
The vibration had caught his parentsβ attention too. βOh dear, is that work?β his mom asked, concern lacing her voice.
βYeah,β you lied smoothly, forcing a small smile. βJust some messages I need to deal with later.β
You werenβt sure if Jungkook believed you, but he didnβt press. Instead, he reached out under the table, squeezing your knee reassuringly before focusing back on his food. You tried to do the same, pushing down the paranoia clawing at your chest.
Dinner flowed with easy conversation. His parents asked about your work, laughing when Jungkook grumbled about how much time it took away from him. They also teased him relentlessly about how attached he was to you.
βThree years, and he still acts like youβre going to disappear if he looks away,β his dad joked, shaking his head fondly.
You snickered, nudging Jungkookβs foot under the table.
But Jungkook just shrugged, completely unbothered. βCan you blame me?β he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Dinner continued with warmth and laughter, his parents seamlessly shifting the conversation to Jungkookβs studies.
βSo, howβs school going?β his dad asked, scooping some more rice onto his plate. βThird year already, huh? Feels like just yesterday you were running around pretending to be a zookeeper.β Jungkook groaned. βDad.β
His mom chuckled. βWhat? You were obsessed with animals. You even tried to βrescueβ the neighborβs cat by sneaking it into your room.β
You gasped dramatically, turning to Jungkook. βWait, I didnβt know about this!β
Jungkook sighed, shoving a bite of food into his mouth like he could physically escape the conversation. βThat was years ago.β
His dad laughed. βAnd now look at you, halfway to becoming a real vet.β
βNot halfway,β Jungkook corrected between bites. βBut yeah, itβs been tough. Classes are intense, and the practicals are even harder. Two days ago, I had to assist with a surgery, and letβs just say I wasnβt prepared for how long it would take.β
His momβs eyes softened with pride. βYouβll be amazing, sweetheart. Youβve always had such a big heart for animals.β
Jungkook ducked his head, ears tinged pink. You smiled, nudging his foot under the table again. βSheβs right, you know. Youβre going to be an incredible vet.β
Jungkook glanced at you, his bunny-like smile appearing for just a second before he returned to his food. But the warmth of the moment did little to push away the unease creeping up your spine. The phone lay silent beside your plate, but you couldnβt shake the eerie feeling.
Just as the conversation was settling into a warm, familiar rhythm, the front door slammed open with the force of a small explosion.
βThe prodigal son returns!β
Jungkook groaned, not even bothering to look. βWhy. Are. You. Here.β
Jin strutted in like he was making a grand entrance at an award show, tossing his jacket onto the couch with an unnecessary flourish. βHeard there was food,β he announced before turning to you with a smirk. βAnd obviously, I had to make sure my dear cousin hasnβt scared you off yet.β
Jungkook scoffed. βYou scared me off first.β
Jin ignored him completely, already making a beeline for the dining table. His mom, unfazed by the theatrics, clapped her hands together. βOh, perfect timing! Sit, eat.β
βDonβt mind if I do,β Jin said cheerfully, dropping into the seat beside you. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks like a warrior unsheathing his sword, ready for battle.
βSo,β he drawled, nudging you playfully. βThree years and you still havenβt run for the hills? Impressive.β
You smirked, taking a sip of your drink. βIβve considered it.β
Jungkook gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like you had personally stabbed him. βBetrayal! In my own home!β
βTechnically, itβs our home,β his mom corrected.
βExactly!β Jin said, pointing his chopsticks at Jungkook before shoving a mouthful of rice into his mouth. Jungkookβs dad, ever the composed one, leaned back in his chair and regarded Jin with an amused shake of his head. βSo, howβs the tattoo shop? Are you still working reception?β
Jin waved a dismissive hand. βOh, that? I quit.β
Jungkookβs mom sighed, as if she had already seen this coming.
Jungkookβs dad pinched the bridge of his nose. βJin, you just started that job.β
βYeah, and I just quit that job,β Jin said brightly. βBut donβt worryβIβve moved on to better things.β
Jungkook raised a brow. βShould I even ask?β
βI now work at a pastry shop.β Jin declared, as if he had just announced a groundbreaking scientific discovery.
Jungkook blinked. βYou?β
βYes, me.β
Jungkookβs dad sighed. βJin, you have to start thinking about stability. You canβt keep jumping from one job to another like this.β
Jin only laughed, waving him off like the thought of responsibility was a foreign concept. βOh, please. Stability is boring. I get bored too fastβI need thrill, excitement, the rush of something new.β
βYou sell croissants,β Jungkook deadpanned.
βAnd I do it with flair,β Jin shot back, popping a piece of fried chicken into his mouth. βSpeaking of which, I brought some samples! The head baker said they were too βexperimentalβ for customers, but I figured you guys would appreciate my artistic vision.β He reached into his coat pocket because of course he carried pastries in his coat pocket and plopped two small, questionably green muffins onto the table.
Jungkook recoiled. βWhat is that?β
Jin grinned. βMatcha and kimchi fusion.β
Jungkookβs dad sighed again. His mom simply patted Jinβs hand, as if she had long since accepted his chaotic ways. Jin wipes his hands dramatically after placing down his abomination of a pastry creation, then immediately turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
βSo,β he starts, leaning in with the air of someone about to cause chaos. βOn a scale of one to dear god, someone save me, how difficult is he to live with?β
You barely have time to react before he fires off another.
βAny plans to upgrade from βboyfriendβ status?β Jin asks, voice dripping with faux innocence.
Jungkook chokes so hard on his food that you have to thump his back. His mom gasps in concern, while his dad just continues eating like this is any other Thursday night.
Jin smirks in triumph. βAh, so is there a wedding?β
Jungkook, still recovering, glares murderously. βYou are so not invited to the weddingββ
Jin claps his hands together. βConfirmed!β
Jungkook doesnβt hesitate. He grabs a spoonful of rice and hurls it straight at Jin. Jin dodges like a seasoned warrior. βOh, itβs war now.β
A second later, a piece of kimchi smacks Jungkook right in the cheek. Jungkook gapes at Jin. βYou did notββ
βOh, I did.β Jin wiggles his eyebrows before launching another attack. What starts as a petty sibling squabble escalates into all-out warfare. Jungkook lobs a dumpling; Jin retaliates with a piece of radish. Rice goes flying. You duck just in time to avoid getting hit by a rogue piece of tofu.
βJeon Jungkook!β his mom shrieks, voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. βKim Seokjin!β
They both freeze mid-throw, like guilty kids caught red-handed.
His dad sighs, a long and tired sigh, the kind that speaks of years of dealing with this exact scenario. He calmly reaches for his drink. βCan we please have one dinner without someone launching food across the table?β
Jungkook and Jin exchange glances.
Then, as if telepathically synchronized, they both lift their chopsticks and point at each other. βHe started it.β
You snort. His mom groans. His dad sips his tea in silent resignation.
The night air is crisp, carrying the distant hum of crickets and the occasional rustling of leaves in the trees that line Jungkookβs backyard. The stars above twinkle through gaps in the branches, their light soft and distant. Out here, away from the cityβs chaos, everything feels quieter like the world has shrunk to just the two of you. Jungkook slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. βSorry about him.β
You chuckle, leaning into his warmth. βI like him. He makes things interesting.β
βInteresting until heβs grilling you.β
βTrue,β you admit, grinning. βBut I can handle him.β
Jungkook huffs a quiet laugh, resting his chin atop your head. You exhale, letting your eyes flutter shut for a moment, savoring the security of his presence. Itβs moments like these that make you forget the paranoia and the unease clawing at the edges of your mind.
But it never truly leaves.
The feeling of being watched. The weight of unseen eyes crawling over your skin. The messages youβve ignored all night. They all linger in your mind. You glance up at Jungkook. Heβs still smiling, talking about how his mom packed you extra leftovers. βShe thinks you donβt eat enough,β he says fondly, shaking his head.
You should tell him.
The words sit heavy on your tongue, pressing against your teeth. One sentence, and it would all be out in the open.
But you donβt.
Instead, you nod, forcing a small laugh. βShe really doesnβt take no for an answer, huh?β
βNever,β Jungkook confirms, squeezing your waist. His touch is warm, grounding. But even that warmth doesnβt reach the cold pit in your stomach.
βJungkook!β His dadβs voice calls from inside. βCome here for a second.β
Jungkook groans, reluctant to move. βStay here, Iβll be back,β he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before disappearing inside.
The moment heβs gone, the silence presses in. You hesitate before pulling out your phone, unlocking it with a swipe of your thumb. The notifications are still there, messages from Unknown piled up like unanswered warnings.
The last one catches your eye.
Unknown [1:10 PM]: I am always watching you, doll.
Your breath stutters.
The phone suddenly feels heavy in your hands, like a weight dragging you down into something inescapable.
No.
Your pulse pounds in your ears, drowning out the gentle chirping of crickets, drowning out reason. A suffocating sense of dread settles in your chest as you stare at the word, doll. There was only one person who ever called you that.
Only one voice that had whispered it against your skin, had laughed it into your ear, had let it drip from his tongue like a slow poison.
Kim Taehyung.
The room was thick with the stench of alcohol and sweat, the air heavy with cigarette smoke that coiled toward the ceiling in lazy spirals. Dim lighting flickered from a dying bulb, casting long, distorted shadows across the stained walls.
Taehyung sat slouched in a tattered armchair, his body sinking into the worn-out fabric. His limbs felt like lead, the weight of intoxication pressing down on him, making his movements sluggish, his thoughts hazy. A half-empty bottle dangled loosely from his fingers, the condensation dripping onto his jeans, but he barely noticed.
Around him, his friends were strewn across the room in various states of intoxication, some laughing at nothing, their voices slurred and senseless, while others lay sprawled out, lost to the world. Taehyung exhaled a slow, heavy breath. Everything felt distant and detached until a stray thought cut through the fog: you.
His lazy smirk faltered. His fingers twitched against the armrest, tightening before relaxing again. His vision blurred at the edges, but the memories were sharp. Unwelcome. Unrelenting. His jaw clenched. He willed himself to push it away, drown it in the haze, let the high carry him somewhere else. But it never worked.
It never did when it came to you. His body was here, slouched in a torn armchair, but his mind was somewhere else. Three years ago.
"I donβt love you anymore."
The scent of espresso and warm pastries was suffocating. The quiet hum of conversation around them felt like static in his ears. But none of it fucking mattered. Not when you were sitting across from him, staring at him like he was nothing.
The words barely registered at first. His mind lagged behind reality like a glitching tape, playing back a version of events where this wasnβt happening.
"What?" His voice was sharp, disbelieving. "What the fuck did you just say?"
Your gaze didnβt waver. "I said I donβt love you."
The words cut. They didnβt hit all at once they sank in slowly, like a blade sliding between ribs.
Taehyung laughed. "Bullshit."
He leaned forward, jaw tight, fingers curling into the edge of the table. "Youβre being dramatic. You always do this shit when you want attention."
Your expression didnβt change, but something about it made his stomach turn. You werenβt crying. You werenβt shaking. There was no hesitation or guilt or any of the things he had relied on to keep you in line. This wasnβt like before.
Your voice was flat. "You ruined this, Tae. You ruined me."
His laugh was louder this time, bitter and sharp. "Oh, so Iβm the villain now? After everything I did for you?"
"Everything you did to me."
His breath stuttered.
And then you kept going. You fucking kept going.
"You controlled me. You isolated me. You made me feel like I was insane every time I called you out on your bullshit."
His hands curled into fists. "Oh, fuck offβ"
"You threatened me, Tae. You threw shit. You punched walls, grabbed me so fucking hard I had bruises for days. And every time, youβd crawl back, begging, saying you didnβt mean itβ"
His teeth clenched, fury bubbling beneath his skin. "Because I didnβt!"
"You dangled your own life over my head like a leash."
His blood turned cold, the first sliver of panic slicing through the rage that had consumed him moments ago. He wasnβt winning. The realization struck hard. His grip tightened on the table, nails digging into the cheap wood as if he was bracing for impact. You werenβt supposed to fucking say that. You werenβt supposed to know.
He forced a laugh, but it came out desperate. "And what, you're suddenly a fucking therapist? Psychoanalyzing me like Iβm some fucking monster?"
Your voice was quiet, but it sliced straight through him.
"I donβt need to psychoanalyze you, Taehyung. I lived through you."
The air left his lungs. His vision blurred at the edges, rage and panic clashing, drowning him.
All of a sudden, βhisβ name fell from your lips like a gunshot.
Jungkook? That pathetic little nerd? The one he used to shove into lockers, humiliate just for the fun of it? The same one who flinched if someone raised their voice too loud?
He let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh, but there was nothing funny about this. His hands shook from the effort of holding himself back.
"So thatβs what youβve been doing, huh?" His voice was sharp, venomous. "Nursing him back to health after I fucked him up?"
You exhaled, shaking your head, unimpressed.
Then, he snapped. "You fucked him, didnβt you?"
He spat the words like a curse, like they burned his tongue. Even as he said it, he knew you wouldnβt. You were a self-righteous bitch with all your morals, your bullshit standards. You wouldnβt dare. But the thought of it, the idea of you with him made his head spin, made his vision go dark at the edges.
His voice dropped to a hiss. "That little fucking loser? You let him touch you? You let himβ"
His hands ached. He wanted to grab you, to shake you, to make you look at him.
"Heβs a pussy, doll." His voice cracked, something wild and desperate bleeding through. "He wonβt take care of you like I did."
You scoffed, expression unreadable. "You never took care of me, Tae."
"What the fuck does he have that I donβt?" His voice rose, teetering between fury and desperation. "Tell me."
You just stared at him, and that lookβthat fucking lookβ
It was over.
It was fucking over.
Panic clawed at his ribs, lodged itself in his throat, made his vision blur and his hands shake. So he did what he always did when he lost control.
"Iβll kill myself if you leave me."
The words came out fast and sharp, a desperate lifeline thrown into the storm. It had always worked before, always made you hesitate, always made you stay. But this time, you simply exhaled a breath of relief, as if you had finally broken free.
And then, for the first time, you smiled.
"Look at you." Your voice was soft. Almost pitying. "Still trying to manipulate me."
Something inside him snapped.
His vision blurred, his body moved and the next thing he knew, the coffee cup on the table was in pieces, shattered porcelain scattering across the floor.
The cafΓ© had gone silent.
The whole fucking world had gone silent.
You stood, your chair scraping against the tile. Unbothered.
You walked away. No hesitation. No tears. No fucking remorse.
And for the first time, Taehyung had nothing.
Nothing left to say. Nothing left to hold onto.
The cigarette burned down to the filter, searing his fingers. He didnβt flinch. Taehyungβs jaw clenched, knuckles turning white as his fists curled against the armrest. The high didnβt feel so numbing anymore, just agitating. His skin felt too tight, his thoughts too sharp, too loud.
For almost a year, he had drowned you out with drugs, alcohol, distractions, anything to blur the edges of what you had done to him. To make himself forget the way you walked away without looking back. But the moment he saw you again it all came rushing back.
The obsession. The hunger. The need to undo it all.
You thought you walked away for good?
No. You were always his. Even when you hated him. Even when you ran. And now he was going to take back what was his.
One way or another.
After returning from Busan, you stayed over at Jungkookβs place.
You didnβt want to sleep alone. Not after the messages. The number was blocked now. You hadnβt received anything since. But stillβ¦ you didnβt feel comfortable going back home yet.
Jungkook hadnβt questioned it. He just smiled and let you in, happy to have you around. But the more time you spent with him, the harder it became to ignore the guilt settling in your chest.
Because Jungkook didnβt know.
You hadnβt told him about the messages. About the unease creeping up your spine every time your phone vibrated. About the name that had resurfaced in the form of a single word:
βDoll.β
It shouldnβt have meant anything. Anyone could use that word. It was common, impersonal.
But not to you.
Not when you could still hear his voice saying it. Not when you remembered how it had dripped from Taehyungβs lips sometimes sweet, sometimes cruel.
βBe good for me, doll.β βYou know I only act like this because I love you, doll.β βYouβre nothing without me, doll.β
The thought alone made your stomach churn. You werenβt even sure if it was him. Maybe it was just paranoia. Maybe it was just a coincidence.
Yeah. It had to be. So you pushed it down, shoved it into the corners of your mind where you didnβt have to look at it. You told yourself you were keeping this from Jungkook to protect him.
But now, as you sit at your office desk, your mind is miles away from the reports in front of you. You tap your pen against the surface, gaze unfocused.
You donβt notice Jimin watching you from across the room until he finally speaks.
βEverything okay between you and Jungkook?β
You blink, snapping out of your daze. βWhat?β
Jimin leans against your desk, arms crossed, expression unreadable. βYou seem off. Thought maybe you two had a fight or something.β
You force a small laugh, shaking your head. βNo, nothing like that. Everythingβs fine.β
Jimin doesnβt look convinced. His sharp gaze lingers for a second too long, like heβs waiting for you to crack. But he doesnβt press.
And youβre grateful for that.
Lunchtime rolls around when you finally check your phone.
The morning had been filled with client meetings, thankful for the welcome distraction. For a few hours, you managed to keep your mind from spiraling. But the moment your screen lights up with a string of unread messages from an unknown number, reality crashes back in.
Your stomach plummets.
Unknown [10:28 AM]: Did you really think blocking me would make me disappear, doll? Unknown [10:28 AM]: How cute. Almost as cute as you playing house with your little pet. Unknown [10:29 AM]: Speaking of petsβ¦ your boyfriendβs been working so hard. Diligently studying to save all those poor, dying animals. Unknown [10:30 AM]: How pathetic. Unknown [10:31 AM]: Wanna see?
Your breath catches.
The next message has three images attached. With shaking fingers, you tap them open.
First image: Jungkook in class, focused, scribbling down notes. Second image: Him in the lab, sleeves rolled up, handling equipment with practiced ease. Third image: Now. Jungkook at lunch, head slightly tilted as he listens to someone, chopsticks resting in his hand.
Your blood turns to ice as your vision tunnels, the world narrowing to a single horrifying realizationβJungkook is right there. Someoneβ¦ no, not just anyone. It has to be Taehyung. He is near. He is watching. And if he is close enough to take these photos, then he is close enough to do something worse. Your phone nearly slips from your grip as pure, heart-stopping terror crashes into you. Jungkook is in danger. The first message was sent almost an hour ago, which means Taehyung has been near him this whole time. Watching him. Stalking him.
Your first instinct is to call the cops. Your fingers hover over the dial pad, heart hammering until your screen lights up again. As if he had been waiting for you to see his messages.
Unknown [12:01 PM]: I know what youβre thinking, doll. Unknown [12:01 PM]: Call the cops, and Iβll slit your pretty boyfriendβs throat right where he sits.
Your breath locks in your chest, hands trembling so violently you almost drop your phone.
No. No, no, no.
You donβt think you just move.
You bolt out of your office, barely registering Jimin calling after you. His voice is distant, but you canβt stop. You donβt have time. You race to your car, hands fumbling with the keys as you throw yourself into the driverβs seat. The second the engine roars to life, youβre speeding down the street, ignoring every traffic rule, every red light.
Thereβs only one thought pounding in your skull, louder than the frantic beat of your heartβ
Get to Jungkook. Now.
You pull up to Jungkookβs university, barely throwing the car into park before shoving the door open. Your legs feel unsteady as you rush out, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Your hands tremble as you fumble with your phone, fingers slipping as you dial Jungkookβs number again and again. No answer. You try once more, the ringing tone stretching unbearably before it goes to voicemail.
The campus is alive with movement students chatting, laughing and going about their day, blissfully unaware of the sheer terror gripping you. You push through the crowd, scanning faces wildly, your heart pounding against your ribs. Where is Jungkook?
People glance at you, their whispers buzzing at the edge of your hearing, but you donβt care. You try his number again. Still nothing.
A sickening thought slithers into your mindβ What if Taehyung already got to him? What if youβre too late?
Finally, your eyes land on him.
Jungkook stands in the courtyard, laughing with a couple of friends, completely oblivious to the danger shadowing him. The world around you blurs as relief crashes over you like a tidal wave.
Alive. Unharmed.
Your knees almost buckle, the tension in your body unravelling just enough for you to let out a sharp, shaky exhale. Your breath stutters as the panic begins to subside, but the urgency still thrums beneath your skin. Then Jungkook sees you.
His laughter dies mid-sentence, his brows knitting together in concern as his eyes rake over your disheveled form. His friends glance at you curiously, but Jungkook is already moving toward you.
"Y/N?" His voice is gentle but urgent. "Whatβs wrong?"
You shake your head quickly, forcing a weak, unconvincing smile. "Itβs nothing," you say, voice tight. "But we need to leave. Now."
Jungkook blinks, his confusion evident. "What? I have an afternoon lecture."
You tighten your grip on his wrist, desperation seeping into your voice. "Jungkook, please. We need to go home."
His brows draw together, concern deepening in his soft gaze. "Why?" His voice remains gentle, but there's a quiet insistence beneath it. "Whatβs going on?"
When you donβt answer, Jungkook exhales softly before taking your hand, leading you away from the courtyard and into a quieter corner. His touch is firm but never forceful.
"Y/N, talk to me." His voice is barely above a whisper, but thereβs an edge of worry to it. "Whatβs wrong?" His dark eyes search yours, trying to unravel the truth you refuse to say.
You swallow, avoiding his gaze. "Itβs nothing, I swearβ"
His jaw tightens, his fingers twitching at his sides. "Thatβs not true."
Jungkook doesnβt raise his voice, but the frustration is clear. He takes a slow step closer, his warmth now suffocating. "Youβve been acting different for weeks. Distant. Jumpy. And now you show up here looking like youβve seen a ghost and expect me to just go along with it?"
You flinch at the quiet intensity in his words, but still, you donβt answer. Jungkookβs voice rises just a little, but the hurt in it is undeniable. βDo you not trust me?β
You bite your lip, guilt pressing down on your chest like a heavy weight. βOf course I do, Jungkook, itβs justββ
βThen tell me.β His fingers rake through his hair, his brows drawn together, frustration flickering in his dark eyes. But his voice stays soft, laced with something almost pleading.
βIβm not a child, Y/N.β
The words land harder than you expect, sinking deep. Silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken truths and the weight of his quiet disappointment. You know you should tell him. You should warn him. Butβ¦ you canβt.
Jungkook exhales slowly, his jaw tightening as he watches you struggle with whatever it is youβre refusing to say. His frustration is evident, but his voice remains gentle, laced with quiet insistence.
βIβm not leaving until you tell me whatβs going on,β he says firmly. βIf you wonβt, Iβll just stay here.β
Your stomach drops. No. He canβt stay here. Not when you know Taehyung is watching. βJungkook, please,β you whisper, gripping his wrist tighter.
βThen tell me, Y/N.β His gaze softens, but the unwavering determination in his eyes sends a surge of panic through you. You have no choice. You have to tell him somethingβanythingβjust to get him to listen.
βSomeoneβs been watching you,β you admit in a rush, your voice barely above a whisper. βI donβt know who, but itβs not safe.β
Jungkook stiffens. His expression shifts from frustration to shock, then to something unreadable. βWatching me?β he echoes. βY/N, whatβwhy wouldnβt you tell me earlier?β
You look away, guilt gnawing at you. βI didnβt want you to worry.β
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. Heβs still skeptical, still confused, but he can see the genuine fear in your eyes. And that alone is enough to make him give in.
βAlright,β he finally murmurs. βLetβs go.β
Relief washes over you, but just as you think youβve convinced him to leave, your phone vibrates. It's another message.
Unknown [12:17 PM]: Ah, there you are, doll. So desperate to save your boyfriend? Cute. But Iβm not done playing yet.
Your breath hitches.
Taehyung is watching you right now. Your fingers tighten around your phone as your eyes dart around the campus, paranoia seeping into your every movement.
Jungkook immediately catches the way your face drains of all color. His fingers gently close around your wrist before you can react, his other hand swiftly taking your phone from your grip.
βJungkook, waitββ
But itβs too late. His eyes scan the message, and you feel his entire body go still. His brows knit together, his lips parting slightly as he rereads the words, processing the threat laced between them.
βWhoβ¦β His voice is quiet at first, controlled. Then, a little sharper. βWho the hell is this?β
You swallow hard, panic clawing at your chest. You shouldβve been more careful. But now thereβs no avoiding it. Jungkook looks up at you, eyes searching. βY/N,β he says softly, but thereβs an undeniable firmness in his tone. βTell me.β
You take a shaky breath, forcing the words out before you can hesitate.
βIβ¦ I think itβs Taehyung.β
Jungkook blinks. For a moment, he just stares at you like youβve said something completely incomprehensible. Then, he shakes his head, a disbelieving scoff leaving his lips.
βTaehyung?β He lets out a breath, his brows furrowing. βNo. Thatβs impossible. We havenβt seen him in years.β
You can see the way his mind is racing, trying to rationalize it, trying to convince himself that it canβt be true. But then piece by piece it all starts to click. The way youβve been acting. The paranoia. The half-truths. Everything makes sense now.
Jungkookβs expression shifts, his grip tightening slightly around your phone. He looks at you again, this time with quiet intensity. βTell me everything.β
You take a deep, unsteady breath and finally let it all out. Every message. Every chilling threat. The way Taehyung has been watching, lurking in the shadows, getting closer and closer. How youβve been living in constant fear, too terrified to sleep, too paranoid to breathe. How you blocked him, but he always found a way back. The photos of Jungkook the proof showing that Taehyung has been near him all along.
Jungkook doesnβt say a word. He just listens. His hands slowly curl into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening, but his eyes stay locked on you, soft and unwavering. By the time you finish, your throat is tight, and your vision blurs slightly. You blink rapidly, forcing back the tears threatening to spill. You quickly wipe at your eyes before Jungkook can notice.
But he does.
Without a word, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his warmth. You freeze for a second, startled, but then you let yourself sink into the embrace. His arms are strong and steady, anchoring you as if heβs shielding you from everything thatβs been haunting you.
βItβs okay,β he murmurs, his voice softer than ever. βYou donβt have to hold it in, Y/N.β
Your breath shudders. βI-Iβm fine,β you whisper, even though your grip on his hoodie tightens. Jungkook shakes his head slightly. βNo, youβre not. And thatβs okay.β His hand runs up and down your back in slow, soothing motions. βYou donβt always have to be strong on your own.β
Something in you cracks at his words. A single tear slips down your cheek, and this time, you donβt wipe it away. Jungkook holds you tighter, his voice firm but gentle. βYou shouldβve told me sooner.β
βI know,β you whisper. βI was scared.β
βI get that.β He exhales, resting his chin lightly on top of your head. βBut youβre not alone in this. Iβm here now. And I wonβt let him hurt you.β
When you finally pull away, his hands stay on your shoulders, grounding you. Now, you have to decide.
Go to the police? Itβs the logical choice, but Taehyung already made it clear what would happen if you did. Jungkookβs life isnβt something youβre willing to gamble with. Confront Taehyung yourself? Itβs reckless, dangerous, and probably a mistake. But part of you feels like itβs the only way to put an end to this.
Jungkook watches your face carefully, reading the thoughts swirling in your head. Then, his jaw tightens, his voice steady but firm. βIf you think Iβm letting you do this alone, youβre out of your mind.β
For the first time in weeks, the suffocating loneliness eases because no matter what happens next, Jungkook is with you. Suddenly your phone vibrates again.
Unknown [12:51 PM]: Such a heartwarming moment. But how far will he go to protect you?
And then another message. A photo.
Itβs a picture of you and Jungkook. Right now.Β
Heβs still here.
"Y/N?" Jungkookβs voice is soft but sharp with concern. "What is it?"
You turn the phone toward him, and the moment he sees the message, his entire body stiffens. His jaw clenches, fingers curling into fists. His voice is low but firm when he speaks.
"Weβre leaving. Now."
You donβt argue.
Jungkook grabs your wrist, pulling you through the crowd of students, his grip tight but reassuring. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you scan the area frantically, eyes darting from face to face.
But you donβt see him. He could be anywhere.
Jungkook doesnβt slow down until you reach his car. He unlocks it in a rush, practically shoving you inside before slamming the door shut behind him. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. Only when he locks the doors and exhales a shaky breath does he turn to look at you.
"Heβs here, Y/N." His voice is quiet, but thereβs an edge to it.
You swallow hard, gripping your phone. "I know."
Jungkook starts the car. "Weβre going home. Then we figure out our next move." You nod, but the unease lingers.
Because Taehyung isnβt done playing yet.
Jungkook paces the length of his living room, fingers running through his hair in frustration. You sit on the couch, gripping your phone tightly, going over every possible option. Jungkook is still talking, still trying to come up with a solid plan but his voice fades into the background as your eyes remain glued to your phone screen.
Unknown [1:37 PM]: Come alone. Midnight. Your apartment. Unknown [1:37 PM]: Donβt make me repeat myself, doll.
Your grip on the phone tightens. Your pulse roars in your ears. If Jungkook sees this, thereβs no way heβll let you go. Heβll insist on coming with you. And thatβs exactly what Taehyung wants, a reason to hurt him. Swallowing hard, you quickly lock your phone and shove it into your pocket before Jungkook notices.
βY/N?β
You snap back to reality to find Jungkook watching you carefully. βYeah?β
βI was sayingβ¦β He sighs, running a hand through his hair. βMaybe we should stay at a hotel tonight. Just in case. I donβt want you anywhere near that apartment if Taehyungβs been watching you.β
Your stomach churns with guilt, but you shake your head. βNo. I think we should just stay and act normal. If we start running now, heβll know weβre scared.β
Jungkookβs eyes darken. βWe are scared, Y/N.β
You force a small, tired smile. βBut we canβt let him know that.β
He exhales, clearly frustrated but unable to argue. βFine. But Iβm not letting you out of my sight.β You nod, pretending to agree.
But deep down, you already know that the moment Jungkook falls asleep tonight, youβre leaving.Β
Alone.
Itβs a little past midnight when you finally slip out of Jungkookβs apartment.
You hesitate at the door, glancing back at his sleeping form. Even in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, you can see the tension on his face. He had been restless for hours, his body stiff with unease, as if sensing that something was wrong.
You had pretended to fall asleep just so he could relax. It worked eventually. But now, as you step out into the cold night, a bitter weight settles in your chest.
Jungkook would never forgive you for this.
But this is the only way.
You move quickly, keeping to the shadows as you make your way to your apartment. The streets are eerily quiet, the distant hum of the city muffled by the pounding of your heart. Every step you take feels heavier like you're walking toward something inevitable.
Suddenly you hear aΒ second set of footsteps.
You donβt have time to react before a hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your startled gasp.
Before you can struggle, an arm wraps around your waist in a vice-like grip, dragging you off the sidewalk. The world tilts as you're yanked into a dark alleyway. Your pulse hammers against your ribs as you thrash against the hold, but itβs uselessm his grip is unyielding, effortlessly strong.
A low, deep chuckle brushes against your ear, sending a sickening shiver down your spine.
"Took you long enough, doll."
Taehyung had grown impatient waiting for you to show up. Without warning, he forcefully turns you to face him, his grip unrelenting. The sudden contact sends a jolt of fear through you, and seeing him again after all these years feels like being doused in ice water.
Time has changed him, but not enough. His face is still achingly familiar from the sharp jawline, the tattoos that snake up the expanse of his neck to the piercing eyes that burn with something much darker.Β
A part of you always knew this day would come. You had told yourself that the way Taehyung left without so much as hurting you was too good to be true, but maybe, just maybe he had realised he was in the wrong and disappeared into the past like a bad dream. But now, standing here with his breath hot against your skin, you realize how foolish you were to think heβd ever let you go.
"You thought I wouldnβt come back for you?" he whispers against your ear, his voice sickeningly soft.
Your breath stutters. You try to shove him away, but heβs faster amd stronger. His grip tightens as he forces you back, slamming you against the cold, unforgiving brick wall of the alley. The impact knocks the air from your lungs, and before you can recover, his fingers press into your jaw, tilting your face up toward him.
The streetlamp above casts a sliver of light over him, illuminating the twisted smile on his lips.
"I gave you everything, and you threw me away for him?"
Resentment drips from every word, his voice cracking with something raw.
"I shouldβve taught you a lesson years ago."
Your heart hammers in your chest, panic locking your limbs in place. But before you can even reactβ
A force rips Taehyung away from you, sending him crashing onto the pavement with a brutal thud.
Jungkook stands over him, breath uneven, fists still clenched from the impact. His usual softness is nowhere to be foundβhis expression is cold, lethal.
βYou thought I wouldnβt notice?β His voice is quiet, but thereβs an edge to it that makes the air feel heavier.
Taehyung chuckles darkly. βI knew youβd come running.β
Jungkook doesnβt take the bait. His eyes flick to you, scanning for any sign of injury, before settling back on Taehyung with something dangerously close to disgust.
βYou donβt get to lay a hand on her,β Jungkook says, his voice steady. βNot now. Not ever.β
Taehyung chuckles again, pushing himself up with an air of arrogance. He rolls his shoulders, cracking his knuckles as if this is all a joke to him.
"You?" He scoffs, eyes glinting with amusement. "Defending her?" His gaze flickers to you, sharp and accusing. "I bet she never even told you what she did to me."
Jungkook doesnβt flinch nor does he hesitate. His voice is calm, unwavering. "She didnβt do anything." He steps forward, eyes locked onto Taehyung like heβs daring him to try again. "I know sheβs mine. And I know youβre just a lying, manipulative piece of shit."
Taehyung's smirk vanishes.
In a flash, he lunges.
Jungkook barely dodges, twisting to the side just in time, but Taehyung is relentless. He moves fast, and Jungkook isnβt a fighter he doesnβt have brute force or years of experience throwing punches. But what he does have is speed, quick reflexes and the sheer, unshakable will to protect you.
A fist catches Jungkookβs side, making him stagger back, but he barely registers the pain before Taehyung moves toward you again.
And thatβs when Jungkook stops thinking.
His hand finds a broken pipe lying in the dirt. In one swift motion, he grips it tight and swings, slamming it straight into Taehyungβs stomach.
A sharp gasp rips from Taehyungβs throat as he doubles over, coughing violently. But heβs not down. Not yet.
Jungkook doesnβt wait. He reaches for you, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist. His eyes meet yours, urgent and fierce.
"Run."
The pounding of your footsteps echoes against the pavement, your lungs burning as you push yourself to keep running. The night air is thick, every breath heavy with exhaustion and fear.
Behind you, Taehyung is gaining. His ragged breaths cut through the silence, his footsteps unrelenting.
βYou think you can run from me?β His voice is sharp, twisted with amusement and fury. A metallic glint catches the dim streetlights indicating he has a knife now.
Panic seizes your chest.
Jungkookβs grip tightens around your wrist. He doesnβt slow, doesnβt hesitate just yanks you sharply to the side. Your vision blurs as he drags you toward a dark, skeletal structure.
A construction site.
You stumble into the half-built building, weaving through stacks of bricks and steel beams. The scent of dust and concrete fills your lungs as you press yourself into the shadows, trying to quiet your frantic breathing.
Jungkook releases you only to crouch down, scanning the ground. His fingers curl around a rusted wrench, heavy in his grip. Itβs not much, but itβs something.
βStay behind me,β he whispers, his voice steady despite the fear you know he must be feeling. Your heart slams against your ribs. Your thoughts are spiralling. You should have been more careful, quieter when slipping out of the house. You can't believe you're the reason Jungkook is in danger, that he is the one standing between you and the threat. It should be you protecting him, not the other way around.
The footsteps slow. Taehyung has followed you inside.
A chilling silence settles over the space.
Then, a low chuckle.
βYou canβt hide forever.β His voice is laced with amusement, the scrape of his knife dragging along metal making you flinch. βCome on, Jungkook. You really think you can protect her?β
Jungkook doesnβt move, his stance solid, wrench gripped tightly, shoulders squared. The tension is suffocating, every second stretching unbearably. You donβt dare breathe. Then Taehyung moves. The knife slices through the air.
Jungkook barely dodges, instinct driving his body before his mind catches up. The blade misses him by inches, but thereβs no time to think, theres no time to breath, only react.
With everything he has, he swings the wrench. It connects hard against Taehyungβs wrist.
The knife clatters to the ground.
But Jungkook doesnβt stop this time.
His fist collides with Taehyungβs jaw, the impact ringing in the empty construction site. The force of it sends Taehyung staggering back, his body slamming against a stack of bricks. Heβs weak now, unsteady, but still smiling like heβs enjoying this.
And then, in a last, desperate attempt, he speaks.
βYou really think youβve changed, Jungkook?β Taehyung breathes, voice laced with mockery. He spits blood onto the dust-covered ground, laughing through the pain. βYouβre still the same pathetic kid I used to toy with. Weak. Spineless.β
Jungkookβs breath hitches.
βYouβll never be enough for her.β
The words land heavier than any punch ever could. For a split second, Jungkook falters. The old wounds, the taunts, the bruises, and the humiliation come rushing back. The memories claw at the edges of his mind, threatening to pull him under.
He remembers the way they used to laugh at him, the cruelty in their voices, the way they looked at him like he was nothing. Like he would always be nothing. He was the loser, the punching bag, the boy who never fought back. Every insult had carved itself into his skin, every shove had left something deeper than just bruises. They made him believe it. That he was worthless. That he would never be enough.
And then there was you. You. The only light in the darkness, the only person who had ever looked at him without disgust. He fell so hard, so helplessly in love with you, even though you belonged to Taehyung. It was cruel, really. The way fate played its hand. You were Taehyungβs girlfriend, yet you were the only one who saw Jungkook. The only one who stood up for him when Taehyung and his gang pushed him down. When he was at his lowest, you were there, offering kindness.
But how could you have chosen him? Him? A pathetic loser who had spent years as the butt of every joke, the weakling who was too afraid to fight back. He hears the echoes of their laughter, the mocking whispers that still live inside his head. Maybe they were right. Maybe he really is nothing. Maybe you made a mistake choosing him.
Taehyungβs voice is smooth and insidious, wrapping around him like a noose. The doubt, the shame, the years of self-hatred it all pulls him under, dragging him back to a place he swore heβd never return to. His fists loosen at his sides, his body feels too heavy, like heβs sinking into the past, like he's losing himself all over again.
But thenβyou.
You, standing behind him. The warmth of your presence, the unwavering belief in your eyes. The way you never once hesitated to love him, to choose him. His heart pounds against his ribs, pushing away the suffocating weight of the past.
No. No.
He is not that boy anymore. He is not weak. And he will not let Taehyung twist his mind, not when he has you to protect.
The hesitation vanishes as Jungkook moves, striking once, then again, each blow fueled by something raw, something deeper than angerβsomething desperate. His jaw is clenched, muscles taut, as if he is holding back years of something buried deep inside, something he never let himself feel until now. You have never seen him like this. Then another hit. And another.
His knuckles split, blood dripping onto the cold concrete, but he doesnβt stop. He canβt stop. Not until Taehyung stops moving.
The only sound left is Jungkookβs ragged breathing. His chest heaves, his hands shaking.
His eyes, dark and unfocused, burn with an intensity you have never seen before. It is not just fear, nor is it just anger. It is something far more terrifying in its certainty, something that does not waver, something that does not break. It is an unrelenting, all-consuming protectiveness, the kind that leaves no room for hesitation, no space for doubt. And the most haunting part of it allβyou know he did it for you.
βJungkook.β
Your voice is sof t but it cuts through the chaos like a blade.
He freezes.
His chest rises and falls in uneven bursts, his knuckles raw and bloodied. His grip on the wrench trembles, muscles locked so tightly you wonder if he even hears you.
Then he looks at you, and in that moment, something inside him fractures. The fury that had burned so fiercely in his eyes splinters, crumbling into something far more fragile: fear. But it is not fear for himself. It is for you. For what could have happened. For what he almost became.
You take a step closer, carefully, like youβre approaching a wounded animal. His breathing is ragged, his body strung so tight it might snap. But he doesnβt move away when you reach for him.
Fingers brushing against his wrist, you gently pry the wrench from his grip. His hand is still trembling when it slips from his grasp, clattering onto the ground.
βItβs over,β you whisper, your voice steady even as your own hands shake. βIβm okay.β
Jungkook swallows hard, his throat working around unspoken words. The wail of sirens cuts through the heavy silence, distant but growing closer. Someone must have heard the commotion and called the police.
Taehyung groans from where he lies sprawled on the ground, too weak to move, too beaten to fight. But you barely spare him a glance.
Jungkook exhales shakily, his entire body trembling with the aftermath of it all. His fists are still clenched, his knuckles still bleeding, but his eyes are different now.
They are not just the eyes of your sweet, oblivious boyfriend anymore.
He steps closer, hesitant, hands hovering over your arms, your waist, checking, searching, needing to convince himself that youβre still here. That youβre real.
βI couldβve lost you,β he breathes, his voice rough, breaking at the edges.
The weight of his words settles deep in your chest.
You reach up, cupping his face, your thumb skimming over the small cut on his cheek. He flinches at the touch, but not from pain he just wasnβt expecting something so gentle.
βBut you didnβt,β you murmur.
Jungkookβs breath shudders out of him. His lashes flutter shut for a second, his jaw tightening like heβs holding something in, something overwhelming, something too big to put into words.
Then, in a voice so quiet, so broken, it almost shatters you
βI was so scared.β
And just like that, everything collapses.
The rage, the adrenaline, the fear everything he had forced himself to carry, to bury, it all crumbles in one breath.
You donβt hesitate. You pull him into you, arms wrapping around him, and he clings back just as tightly. His grip is almost desperate, his fingers pressing into your back like heβs afraid youβll slip away if he lets go.
Then, suddenly, he tilts his head down, capturing your lips in his.
The kiss is not careful. Itβs not soft.
Itβs raw. Desperate. Heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.
His lips press against yours with an urgency that steals your breath, like heβs trying to pour everything he feels into this moment. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he wants to lose himself in you, in the feeling of you alive and warm in his arms.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, anchoring him to you, and he sighs into your mouthβa broken, trembling sound that sends a shiver down your spine.
When you finally pull back, foreheads pressed together, Jungkookβs breath is warm against your skin, uneven and ragged.
Heβs still shaking.
And you hold him tighter, letting him feel it all.
The flashing red and blue lights spill across the pavement as the police cars screech to a stop.
Jungkook pulls away just enough to look at you, his hands still cradling your waist, like heβs reluctant to break contact. His eyes search yours, and for the first time since this nightmare began, you see something unshakable in them.
Taehyungβs screams cut through the air as he thrashes against the officers, his wrists locked in cold steel. His voice is hoarse, spewing empty threats, venom dripping from every syllableβ
βThis isnβt over!β he snarls. βYou think you can take her from me?β
Jungkook doesnβt react. He doesnβt even spare Taehyung a glance.
Instead, he lifts a hand, brushing his fingers lightly against your cheek, grounding himself in the fact that youβre safe.
His voice, when he finally speaks, is low, steady. A quiet promise.
βI wonβt let anyone hurt you again.β
And for the first time you believe him.
Because this isnβt the same Jungkook who was oblivious, who used to let things slide, the one who always saw the good in people even when they didnβt deserve it.
This is the Jungkook who stood his ground.
The Jungkook who fought for you.
And if the world ever tried to take you away from him again, he wouldnβt hesitate.
The park is quiet, bathed in the soft glow of late morning light. Birds flit between the branches, their songs blending with the gentle rustling of leaves. A cool breeze brushes against your skin, carrying the scent of freshly baked pastries from the open basket beside you.Β Β
Jungkook sits across from you on the checkered picnic blanket, absently poking at his croissant with a fork. His knuckles are bandaged and a faint bruise lingers on his cheek just below the strip of medical tape.Β Β
You watch him, waiting.Β Β
He hasnβt said much about it. But the way he holds himself now, shoulders squared just a little more, gaze a little steadier it feels different.Β Β
βYou know,β you start, plucking a strawberry from the fruit bowl and tossing it into your mouth. βFor once, I wasnβt the one saving your ass.βΒ Β
Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. βDonβt remind me,β he mutters, but thereβs a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. βIβm still getting used to it.βΒ Β
βYou should be proud,β you tell him, shifting onto your knees so youβre closer. βNot just because you fought. But because you didnβt let him win.βΒ
Jungkook exhales, rolling his jaw like heβs still processing the weight of it. βI used to thinkβ¦β He hesitates, gaze flickering down to his hands. βThat Iβd never be the kind of guy who could protect someone. That Iβd always be the loser who let things slide.βΒ Β
You reach out, fingers curling over his bandaged knuckles, squeezing gently. βYou were never a loser, Jungkook.βΒ Β
You trace a light touch over the bruise on his cheek. βAnd if youβre measuring strength by how many fights you win, youβre missing the point.βΒ Β
Jungkookβs lips twitch, his fingers tightening around yours. βOh yeah? And whatβs the point, then?βΒ Β
βThat you were strong even before this,β you murmur. βYou didnβt need to throw a punch to prove that. But I thinkβ¦ you finally see it now, donβt you?βΒ Β
He doesnβt answer right away, but the tension in his shoulders eases. Then, with a soft chuckle, he tilts his head and smirks. βSo what youβre saying isβ¦ youβre swooning over me right now.βΒ Β
You roll your eyes, but your laugh gives you away. βUnbelievable. One heroic moment and your ego skyrockets.βΒ Β
βWhat can I say?β He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. βIβm basically a knight in shining armor now.βΒ Β
You groan. βYouβre literally covered in bandages, Jungkook.βΒ Β
βBattle scars,β he corrects smugly.Β Β
βYou are soββΒ Β
He cuts you off with a kiss.Β Β
His lips taste like the strawberries you were just eating, but thereβs something else too, something warmer. The quiet relief of knowing youβre here. That youβre safe. That you chose him, again and again.Β Β
When you finally pull away, Jungkook rests his forehead against yours, exhaling quietly. βI wouldnβt hesitate,β he murmurs. βIf it ever happens again. If the world ever tries to take you away from me.βΒ Β
Your heart clenches. You press a kiss to his bruised cheek, whispering against his skin. βI know.βΒ Β
For a while, you just sit there, basking in the quiet hum of the park, in the way his fingers stay laced with yours. The past still lingers, but it doesnβt hold you down.Β Β
Youβre here together.Β Β
And for now, thatβs all that matters.
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lmk ur thots <3
Reblogging this masterpiece again in case anyone hasnβt read it yet. Itβs a must, okay? You wonβt regret it!

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λ¨μ€! π₯°π₯°π₯°
μ...ν κ·Όμ‘π»
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kooligan β‘
drunk jungkook is the cutest thing ever β‘
JIMIN in G.C.F Las Vegas

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LMAO TAE
Oh my god???
and thatβs all i can publicly say
this just melted my heart π₯Ή
260523 Β© SLOW STARTER | Do not edit or crop logo.
literally the definition of ethereal β¨
cr. hobibaragi_yumi

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Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
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two peas in a pod..π


