s-verse

The battlefield had gone quiet by the time the sky faded into a somewhat darker shade.

Jungkook stood at the center of it all, his swords were finally lowered, and around him, the North's soldiers had begun to regroup, going back into their previous formations as what remained of the Lee army retreated across the territorial line, dragging their wounded and leaving their dead. It now became clear to them that whatever Seokjin had promised them had died the same moment Seokjin died.

Jungkook watched them go but there was no triumph in him, he just wanted the day to be over so he could go back to you. It has been way too long since the two of you just sat down and talked to each other without any distraction, without anything getting in the way. Now all he wanted to do was go back to the room where you were and finally let himself stand before the very real and very much alive, you, again.

Woojin approached Jungkook carefully as he still didn't know if he was about to be forgiven or executed, "Master," he said, “the North has won this war and the garrison posts report no further movement from the Lee forces. All followers of Seokjin’s have been executed as well."

"Good," Jungkook answered, not wanting to interact more with the Demon who used to be his right hand Demon. 

Woojin hesitated, clearly wanting to say something else, but Jungkook was already turning away from him.

All Jungkook could think about was you.

So he walked faster than his dignity allowed towards the citadel and towards you. And by the time the North Citadel came into view, the tightness he felt in his chest had already begun to ease.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You heard Jungkook before you even saw him. Over the course of your time in Kratos, you have learned the sounds of his footsteps and the unmistakable weight of his presence.

You stood by the window when the door opened, your wings folded loosely behind you. In the dark glass, your reflection stared back at a face and a Demon who was, at last, with you.

Jungkook stopped in the doorway as you turned around to look at him. He still had blood on him, some dried against his armour and some fresh along his jaw where a blade had caught him hours earlier. His eyes found you and he didn’t look away for the longest time.

For a moment, neither of you moved, as though some part of you both still expected the other to vanish.

"I love you," Jungkook said.

It came out before anything else could. He didn’t greet you, call your name, or stop to choose his words carefully. Jungkook’s confession came out the moment he saw you, as if it had been trapped behind his mind for hours or perhaps longer, and he was just waiting for the sight of you, for the real you, to stand before him.

You remained still, uncertain of how to respond as this was no small confession, not from Jungkook, and certainly not from a Demon. This meant he has become aware of his feelings with a clear clarity that few of his kind ever achieved. Jungkook has achieved the same kind of awareness The King has, and even Demons who have mastered all seven traits rarely reached such a state.

You understood then, that what he just said to you was more than a confession. It was something rare, almost sacred, and far too significant to treat lightly.

For a moment, neither of you seemed to know what to do with what he just said, least of all Jungkook. Surprise flickered across his face, as if he has not fully decided to confess until the words were already out in the air between you.

"I love you," Jungkook said again, quieter this time, “I don't know when it happened. I don't know if I could point to the exact day I became aware of this. But I love you, and I have never said that to anything or any other creature in my entire existence, and I am not going to waste another second not saying it now that I have you back."

"Jungkook.." 

“I missed you too,” he added, cutting you off before you could even form a response. This time, the words came out more softly, almost awkwardly, as if the smaller confession were somehow harder to say than the first one, “I know it’s only been a few hours. I know, but I missed you.”

That was all it took.

You closed the remaining distance between you, and Jungkook met you halfway. His one arm locked around your back while his other hand was at the back of your head. You didn't notice how relieved Jungkook was when he felt the physical proof that you were whole, solid, and alive against him. 

“I love you too,” you whispered into his shoulder, “I love you, Jungkook. I watched you fight. I saw everything from wherever The Ancient One kept me, and even when I didn’t know whether I would ever make it back to you, I love you through all of it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands framing your face now, thumbs brushing along your cheekbones like he was checking, one more time, that you were real. Something in his expression softened into something almost like relief, as if saying the words aloud, and hearing you say it back, finally led him to believe that you were truly here and not something his hallucination made up.

"Say it again," Jungkook said.

"I love you," you said, smiling at him.

Jungkook kissed you then, slowly, as his hand slipped into your hair while the other remained firm against your back, as if loosening his hold might undo whatever miracle had returned you to him. You kissed him back with the desperation of someone who was forced to watch, from an impossible and unknownable distance, the man you loved lose himself completely, and who now understood, more clearly than ever, exactly what it had cost him.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead still pressed to yours, his breathing still heavy from the kiss, “Tell me everything,” Jungkook said, “tell me what happened. Tell me how you’re here, alive.”

So you did.

You told him about the white space, about The Ancient One's voice that came from everywhere and nowhere, about the choice it had given you and the second transformation that very nearly killed you for real this time. You watched something in Jungkook's jaw tighten every time you described the pain, and you reached up to brush your thumb along his cheek, silently asking him not to spiral into guilt over something that was already finished.

Then you told him about his father.

"He knew," you said quietly, sitting now on the edge of the bed, Jungkook across from you with his hand still wrapped around yours like he couldn't quite bring himself to let go of the physical proof of you, "The King knew Eris was in the citadel. He knew what she was going to do before she did it. He let it happen."

Jungkook’s reaction did not change in the way you expected, because he had known, or at least suspected, before he left for the cave.

“I suspected as much,” Jungkook said, “he has always seen more than he chooses to tell anyone.”

“He told me something else,” you continued, “we talked about love, about how rare it is for Demons who have mastered all seven traits to truly feel it, rather than simply mistake obsession for devotion.”

You hesitated before going on, “He said he loved you and Seokjin too, though differently. And he said no one had ever loved him in the same way, not your mother, not truly anyone in his life.”

Jungkook remained silent as you continued, “He said that was the price of being aware enough to feel love completely. You end up surrounded by beings who can desire you, need you, even worship you, but never truly love you.”

Jungkook fell silent for a few minutes, his expression unreadable as if he was silently battling his own thoughts in his mind, “He, The King, told you all of that?”

“He did. I think he wanted me to understand why he allowed it to happen. Not so that I would forgive him, but I would understand why he made the choices he made.”

“And do you?” Jungkook asked, “do you understand why?”

“I do,” you answered carefully, “but I don’t forgive him. But I understand what that choice cost him and I think I understand, a little better now, why he became the way he is. He told me something else too. He said he was relieved, more than he would ever admit, that you had found someone capable of loving you in return. Not merely wanting you, but loving you. That was when I knew he wasn’t bluffing. He said he loved you, and even though he had never found anyone capable of loving him in the same way, he was still glad that you had.”

Jungkook’s gaze dropped, his jaw tightening as he absorbed what your words meant, “He was happy for me,” he said quietly, almost as if he was checking whether the thought could be true, “even knowing I had found the one thing he never did.”

He was silent for several minutes, seemingly at a loss for how to respond. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before, “What am I supposed to do with that?” Jungkook asked.

You reached for his hand, “Whatever feels right to you,” you said softly, “understanding him doesn’t mean you have to forgive him. You’re allowed to feel both things at once. And if you ever decide you want to work through what happened with him, you can. But you don’t owe him forgiveness before you’re ready.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on your joined hands.

“And Woojin,” you continued, watching him carefully, “he knew too, he fucking knew the entire time, and he never told me. He never once let on that he was part of it.”

Jungkook's jaw tightened again, "I already confronted him," he said, "and I nearly killed him for it."

"But you didn't," you replied.

You were still angry with Woojin, perhaps more than you knew how to express, but beneath it was a feeling of relief that he was still alive.

“No.” Jungkook exhaled slowly, ”it was my father’s order. Woojin has served this citadel longer than I’ve been alive, and he was raised to believe that obedience to The King of the North is not optional, not even when it costs him something he never wanted to give.”

Jungkook’s thumb moved absently over the back of your hand as he said, “I understand the logic behind what he did but that doesn’t mean I’ve decided what to do about it.”

“What are you going to do?” you asked.

Jungkook looked at you for a long moment, “I don’t know yet,” he admitted, “but whatever I decide, you deserve to be there.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

An hour later, the King’s study was more crowded than it has ever been.

The King sat behind the broad stone desk, his hands folded neatly before him. His expression remained composed, as it always does, as if nothing that happened in the past day; the war, the death of his eldest son, and the near loss of the woman his youngest son loved, have disturbed him at all.

Jophiel was standing near the window with his arms crossed, while Woojin stood a few steps away from the desk, his posture rigid and his tail unnaturally still as if he was awaiting his sentence.

You sat beside Jungkook, his hand resting over yours. Even now, barely a day removed from the battlefield, you could feel the power beneath his skin, the lingering aftershock of the North’s founding energy that had awakened when he finally allowed himself to become as powerful as he always refused to be.

"I assume," The King said, looking between the two of you, "that you've had your conversation."

"We have," Jungkook said.

"Then I would like to say, before anything else," The King continued, his gaze settling on you, "I meant what I told you. I do not ask for forgiveness. I only hope that, in time, you will understand that everything I did was in service of an outcome where both of you survived it."

"I already told you I understand it," you said, "I still don't forgive you completely, but I understand it. For what it's worth," you added, "I don't think I could have survived being you. Loving that clearly to only have it buried under a strategy because the alternative might cost your whole territory. I don't think that's a small thing, even if I hate how it played out for me."

Something changed across The King's face as he never expected sympathy to be extended to him, "You are kinder than my own sons have ever been to me," he said.

Jungkook turned towards Jophiel then, ignoring what The King said, giving Jophiel his full attention, "Jophiel," Jungkook said, "I don't know how to properly thank you for what you did."

Jophiel raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by the sincerity of the Demon prince, "You don't need to thank me."

"I do," Jungkook cut in, "you killed Eris, someone you once loved, because she took from me the one Demon I couldn't survive losing.”

"She's my friend and you are my dearest friend too," Jophiel simply said, "I would do it all again. A hundred times over, if that was what it took to bring her back to you.”

"I know," Jungkook said, "that's why I'm thanking you."

“You’ve never or rarely thanked me for anything,” Jophiel said, letting out a small disbelieving laugh, “I carried you out of a room to stop you from committing several war crimes at once, and I stopped you in doing many other things that you would’ve regretted doing and not once I received a thank you.”

"That was different," Jungkook said.

"Was it?" Jophiel smiled.

"Yes," Jungkook answered, "That was you saving me from myself, this was you saving her. Those aren't the same debt."

Jophiel looked at him for a moment. Whatever he had been about to say, he seemed to think better of it, “You’re welcome,” Jophiel said quietly, “for everything, even though you really did not need to thank me, my friend. I don’t regret any of it.”

Jungkook's attention shifted at last to Woojin, who has not moved from his place near the desk, who has said nothing since entering the room.

"Woojin," Jungkook said.

"Master," Woojin answered immediately, his head bowing slightly.

"I understand why you did it," Jungkook said, "you have served my father for a long time and you obeyed an order from your King, one that came from a place of trying to protect this territory, however much it cost the rest of us. So I will not punish you for that."

Woojin's shoulders eased, just slightly, though he didn't fully relax.

"But," Jungkook continued, and his voice hardened, "there will not be a next time where something happens to her and I don't know about it. Not from you. Not because my father commanded your silence, not because you believed it served some greater outcome you couldn't share with me. If anything ever concerns her safety again, you come to me first. Not my father. Me."

Woojin looked up, meeting Jungkook's eyes fully for the first time since the confrontation in the armory, "Yes, Master," he answered, "I swear it. There will be no next time."

Jungkook nodded once, and the tension in the room finally loosened.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

It was The King who broke the silence that followed, his gaze moving over his son with a proud expression across his face.

"I felt your energy on that battlefield," The King said, “it has never reached that height before. Not once, in all your years of living."

"I know," Jungkook agreed.

"You understand what that means," The King continued, “you are close now, closer than you have ever been. I do not know if you have already surpassed me, or if it will take another year, or another decade. But it will not take you centuries to take the throne."

The room went very still, as each creature in the room sensed the shift in the air.

"I am prepared to offer you the challenge now, if you wish it," The King said, and there was no reluctance in his voice, no fear that the answer might lose him his throne, "you would not be wrong to ask for it, you have more than earned the right. If you wanted to take the throne today, no Demon in this citadel would question why."

Your pulse quickened at the thought of Jungkook and his father facing one another, deciding between them who was strong enough to rule a territory that throughout its long and violent history has never tolerated weakness on its throne.

"No," Jungkook finally answered.

The King's eyebrows lifted slightly, "No?"

“I’ll become stronger than you first,” Jungkook said, "not because I doubt what I’m capable of now, but because I want to take the throne knowing, without question, that I earned it. I want the North to witness me surpass you cleanly, with no room for dispute.”

“I think every demon in the North already considers you my equal in strength,” The King replied.

“Equal,” Jungkook said without hesitation, “not stronger.”

His gaze remained fixed on his father, “I will not sit upon a throne I have not earned beyond question. You taught me that yourself, a king who holds power he has not proven he can defend is not a king. He is merely a delay waiting to be overthrown.”

For a long moment, The King said nothing. Then, slowly, he let out a laugh warmer than his composed features creatures would think he was capable of showing.

“I expected nothing less from you,” The King said and for the first time since you have known him, he looked almost at peace, “Very well. I will hold this throne until you come for it and when you do, I will not surrender it easily. I owe you that much.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Jungkook replied.

The father and son held each other’s gaze across the stone desk, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, something between them finally settled into place.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

It was Jophiel who brought up Earth, later that evening, once the four of you; you, Jungkook, Jophiel, and Woojin, left The King’s study. 

"I could take you," Jophiel said, looking at you carefully, the way he always does when he is thinking whether a suggestion might do more harm than good, "I could take you to see your family, friends, and students. Now that you're settled, I think it might help or it might not. I genuinely don't know which, but the option is there, if you want it."

Earth was once the only home you knew. Now, the thought of returning felt almost as frightening as the thought of never seeing it again. You imagined your family continuing their lives without you, your friends learning to live around your absence, and your students sitting in classrooms where your name had never even come up.

And if you went back, you did not know whether you would feel as if you had returned home or merely stepped into a life that no longer belonged to you.

You felt your chest tighten at the thought, "Could Jungkook come?" you asked, before you fully decided to do it.

Jophiel glanced at Jungkook, then back at you, and something softened in his expression, "Yes," he said, “of course he can."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

That night, you lay beside Jungkook in the too-large bed of the North Tower, his arm resting loosely around your waist, and neither of you had managed to fall asleep.

“You’re still awake,” Jungkook murmured into the darkness.

“So are you.”

Jungkook shifted beside you, propping himself up on one elbow so he could see your face, “Are you sure you’re ready for tomorrow?” he asked quietly, “to go back to Earth?”

You thought about the question longer than you meant to,"I don't know," you finally admitted, "I want to see them. I've wanted to see them since the day I woke up in North Kratos, but I'm nervous, Jungkook, and I don’t think I fully understand why I’m so nervous yet. I don't know what it's going to feel like, standing in front of my mother and having her look through me like I'm nobody. I don't know what it's going to feel like watching my students grow up a little more without me. I don't know if I'm ready, even after everything and maybe I won’t ever be ready no matter how long I wait. But I think I need to do it anyway."

Jungkook was quiet for a moment before his hand found yours in the dark, his fingers lacing through yours, “I’ll be with you.”

You squeezed his hand before finally allowing yourself to close your eyes and fall asleep.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The next morning, before Jophiel arrived, Jungkook stood across from you in the middle of the North Tower room, he was so focused on the way he was teaching you something he deemed to be very important for me to do.

"You need to learn this before we go," Jungkook said, "Demons don't walk through earth looking like this,” he said as he gestured vaguely at your horns, eyes, and the wings folded behind you, “not unless we want a very different kind of chaos than the one we're trying to avoid."

"How do I do it?" you asked.

“It isn’t complicated,” Jungkook said. “It’s about control, the same way nearly everything in Kratos is. You draw the parts of yourself that might frighten them inward, like closing your hand around something to hide it instead of leaving it exposed.”

He reached out and tilted your chin up slightly, “Try it. Remember what you looked like before. Hold that image clearly in your mind, then choose to let the world see only that.”

You closed your eyes and summoned the memory of your reflection from your previous life, your face without horns, your eyes free of the red veins threading through their endless black. You felt something shifting beneath your skin, it felt subtle and unfamiliar, and when you opened your eyes, Jungkook was smiling at you.

“There,” Jungkook said, “you look like a human again.”

You walked across the room to the mirror against the wall. For a moment, the woman you had once been stared back at you. It was the human version of you and a version close enough to make your chest ache.

Jophiel arrived a few minutes later, glancing between the two of you with an approval, "Good," he said, “you'll need that."

"How long has it been?" you asked him, “how long has it been on earth? I know the time in Kratos and time on Earth do not match, but how long has it been?”

Jophiel gave you a small smile before answering, "In Kratos, it's been a few weeks since you were first taken. Time here runs strangely, but on Earth it has been nearly two years.”

Your stomach dropped hearing his explanation, "Two years?" you repeated.

“I know,” Jophiel said gently. “I wanted you to understand before we arrived. Nothing catastrophic has happened. I’ve been checking on them, as I always have. Your family, your friends, your students, they’re all safe.”

Jungkook placed his hand against your back, a quiet reminder that you would not face this alone, "We don't have to do this," he said quietly, “not today or not ever if you decide you don't want to."

"No," you steadily said, "I want to, I need to see them for myself."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The park was exactly as you remembered it; the same worn wooden benches, the same crooked path that cut along the edge of the small pond where children fed ducks on weekends, and the same overgrown hedge near the entrance that your father always complained the city council should trim.

It was a Sunday and your family was there. Your mother was sitting on the bench with a paper cup of coffee, your father just a few feet away tossing a ball towards one of your younger cousins, while your siblings lay scattered across the grass, laughing over something on someone's phone screen. It was all so ordinary and so achingly familiar that for a moment your knees nearly gave way.

They were fine, and they were laughing.

The world had continued exactly as it always had, indifferent to your absence, and the realisation felt like being erased all over again.

You watched your mother tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, the same gesture she has made a thousand times throughout your childhood, and you felt something breaking wide open in your chest. 

There was no recognition when her gaze passed over the place where you were standing, close enough for her to see you, yet too concealed to ever be seen in return. Nothing changed in her expression, you were nothing but a stranger to your own mother.

You thought you were prepared for this, but you were so wrong.

You believed that witnessing everyone’s life from a distance wouldn’t be as hard. But really, nothing could have prepared you for standing this close, breathing the same air as your family, closer to them than you have been in months, and being nothing at all to them.

Your father’s laugh could be heard across the park, and you listened harder than you meant to. You noticed the familiar sound of his laugh and the way his shoulders shook when he was genuinely amused, as if memorising those small things could somehow make them yours to keep.

One of your younger cousins ran past, close enough for you to touch. You could have called their name and they would have stopped, looked up at you, and seen only a stranger standing too close to the family.

You looked away before the tears could fall, turning your face into Jungkook's shoulder instead, and he wrapped an arm around you without a word, drawing you closer and letting you cry against him.

"We can go," Jungkook murmured against your hair, "if it's too much, we can always leave.”

You pulled back, wiping your eyes, and shook your head, “No," you said, “let's continue. I want to see my friends."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Your girlfriends were at the small cafe you used to vist every other Sunday. You saw them through the window first, huddled around a small table, one of them laughing so hard she nearly knocked over her drink, and another scrolling through something on her phone and showing it to the others.

It was the same laugh on the same table that had once, in another life, included you.

You stood outside the window for a long time, watching them talk and laugh as if nothing were missing. There was no empty chair left for you and no sign that they felt the absence of someone they could no longer remember.

They were together, their lives were complete without you, and that hurt more than you had prepared for.

It was such a small, devastating thing; to watch people you loved not be broken by your absence, because they had never known they lost you at all to begin with. 

You didn't know which was worse: the idea of them grieving you forever, or the reality of them simply moving on without ever knowing there was anything to move on from.

One of your friends glanced towards the window, and for one foolish second, you thought she had seen you. Then her eyes moved past you to someone walking along the pavement, and she smiled.

You pressed a hand to your chest, your heart was still beating as it always had despite everything you had become and everything they had forgotten.

You let yourself watch for a few seconds longer before turning away, “They’re happy,” you said quietly, more to yourself than anyone else, “they look happy.”

Jungkook did not answer and only reached for your hand.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You found Hoseok and Namjoon outside the school gates.

The school should have been empty on a Sunday, but it was report-card collection day. Parents moved in and out of the entrance with folders tucked beneath their arms with the students trailing behind them.

They were the same gates you once walked through every morning with takeaway coffee in one hand and a stack of ungraded worksheets in the other. 

You spotted Namjoon near the courtyard, leaning against the wall while he waited. And not long after, Hoseok emerged from the main building a few minutes later, waving a bundle of papers in the air as he complained about something.

“Three separate parents asked why their child didn’t get the highest mark in every subject. Three, Namjoon.”

Namjoon laughed, shaking his head as Hoseok reached him.

The exchange was so familiar that, for a moment, you expected your own voice to join theirs. You could almost remember what you would have said and how Hoseok would have rolled his eyes before laughing anyway. Instead, the two of them began walking toward the parking lot without you.

You told yourself you should feel relieved. They were fine and still best of friends, still complaining about parents and paperwork. Nothing about them looked broken. Nothing about them suggested they lost someone.

That should have comforted you. But instead, it left you hollow.

Hoseok said something that made Namjoon bend forward laughing. You remembered how Hoseok used to throw cushions at you whenever you annoyed him. You remembered Namjoon’s voice over the phone the night your studio first felt haunted, promising to drive over and let you stay with him if you saw so much as one Victorian child.

But both of them remembered none of it now.

As far as they knew, there has never been a haunted studio. There has never been a Demon prince. There has never ever been you in their lives.

Namjoon checked his phone, and his expression softened at whatever he saw. A bittersweet thought came before you could stop it: perhaps he had found someone else and you hoped he had.

Jungkook’s hand found yours the moment he felt your grief deepen. His fingers slipped between yours as Hoseok and Namjoon passed only a few feet away without looking at you.

“I was a teacher here,” you muttered quietly, “and I loved it.”

Jophiel stood several paces behind you, giving you both what little privacy he could.

“I know,” Jungkook said.

The children who had once sat cross-legged on the floor while you read to them would be in third grade now. You searched their faces in the crowd before you could stop yourself. You looked for the boy who always forgot where he had left his water bottle, the girl who cried whenever she made the smallest mistake, and the child who needed you to check beneath his desk every morning because he was convinced spiders lived there.

Nearly two years have passed for them; their faces had changed, their voices had changed, and some of them might have moved schools entirely.

A teacher stepped out of a classroom behind the last family and called after them, reminding a parent about the beginning of the next term. You did not recognise her as she stood outside what had once been your classroom, holding a folder against her chest as if the room had always belonged to her.

Perhaps, in this version of the world, it is hers.

The school had replaced you without ever knowing there had been anyone to replace. Your name would not appear on old staff lists or beneath class photographs. None of those children would remember the teacher who had encouraged them, worried over them, or taken their drawings home and kept every one in a binder tucked inside a drawer.

The world simply closed over the space you left behind.

“I’ve seen enough,” you said, your voice breaking as you plead, “please. Can we go back to Kratos?”

Jophiel was already walking towards you before you finished your sentence. His expression was gentle as if he has always known this would be the one place that would hurt you most, “Of course,” he said.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You didn't talk much on the walk in the corridor leading up to the North Tower, or as you settled onto the edge of the bed in the room that had, somehow, over these past weeks, become the closest thing you had to a home.

"Are you okay?" Jungkook asked, sitting beside you, his hand hovering near yours like he wasn't sure if you wanted to be touched.

"I'm fine," you said.

Jophiel lingered in the doorway longer than necessary, he felt guilty once he realised his well-meant kindness has caused you more pain than either of you had expected, “I’m sorry,” Jophiel said quietly, “I thought… I hoped it would help more than it hurt.”

“It’s not your fault,” you told him, and you meant it, even with the pain still sitting heavily in your chest, “I asked to go. I needed to see them, even if seeing them broke something in me.”

You held Jophiel’s gaze, wanting him to understand and reassuring him he wasn’t at fault, “You truly didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Jophiel said, “or whenever you want me to. Not to take you back there to Earth. But I’ll just sit with you, if that’s what you need.”

A few minutes later, when he could no longer delay returning to his obligations in Heaven, you gave him a small smile, “I’m fine,” you said, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt. 

Your gaze moved between him and Jungkook, “I just need some time alone.”

Jophiel hesitated before nodding, while Jungkook lingered a moment longer, watching you carefully, but eventually followed Jophiel out.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

“I’m fine,” you said it a third time, quieter, to yourself, once you were finally alone, sitting by the window and watching the red sky of North Kratos settle into its version of evening.

You weren't fine, you knew you weren't. 

But you didn't have the words yet for what you actually were feeling. You didn’t know how to describe the specific feeling of having confirmed, in the worst possible way, exactly how thoroughly your existence had been erased from the world you spent your whole human life building. 

You told yourself that you understood what you were choosing when you chose to come back as a Demon instead of returning to earth as a human stranger to everyone you loved. You believed you understood the cost of choosing not being a human anymore.

You didn't really understand it until you saw it in front of your eyes.

You didn’t understand it until you stood beneath that tree in the park and watched your mother's eyes pass over you like you were nothing but another stranger. Not until you watched Hoseok and Namjoon laugh at something that had nothing to do with a life they no longer remembered sharing with you.

You finally understood what it meant to never exist in the minds of the people you loved when you realised they were all unaware that there had once been a life they shared with you.

An hour passed, maybe more. 

You lost track of the time, as you sat there with your knees pulled to your chest, your wings drawn tight around yourself as if it was the only comfort available to you.

The door opened quietly and you didn’t need to turn your head towards the door to know who it was. You felt the familiar weight of Jungkook’s presence the moment he walked up the stairs to your room.

He hesitated for a moment, uncertain whether you needed company or silence, but then the door clicked shut, and his footsteps moved closer to where you were. He didn't say anything at first. Jungkook simply walked across the room and sat down beside you at the window, close enough that his shoulder pressed against yours. 

And after a moment, Jungkook reached over and pulled you gently into his side, "You don't have to say you're fine," he said quietly.

That was all it took. 

The tears you've been holding back all day finally broke loose as you turned your face into his chest and let yourself cry.

Jungkook didn't try to fix it or rush you through it, he only held you in his arms, his hand moving slowly over your back, his chin resting against the top of your head, giving you the safest place in North Kratos to fall apart in.

"I keep thinking," you eventually said, "I think I understand your father in a different way now. I understand what it feels like to love people when they can’t love you in the same way. Hell, they don’t even know there’s someone left for them to love."

"I’m sorry," Jungkook said, "I wish I could tear apart every realm that exists if it meant giving you back even one memory someone on earth still carried of you.”

"How do I carry this for centuries, Jungkook? However long I live now, how do I carry a grief that never gets smaller, that just gets older?" you asked.

Jungkook was quiet for a moment, his hand still moving slow and steady along your back, "I have never experienced a grief so deep, so I couldn’t teach you how to go through it, but I don't think the grief goes away, but you don't have to hold all of it by yourself, not while I'm here."

"I knew it would hurt," you said, "I told myself I was prepared for it. I thought that meant I already understood what it would feel like. But standing there, actually standing there, close enough to touch them and having none of it matter.. it was so much worse than I imagined."

"But I don't regret it," you added, "I don't regret choosing this. Choosing you. Because if I'd gone back to earth as a human, I would have had to build an entire life from nothing, surrounded by people who used to love me and now don't even know my face. I would have been alone in a world that used to be mine. Here…” you pulled back slightly, looking up at him, "...here I'm not alone. I have you. I have Jophiel. Even Woojin, insufferable as he is. I have a life that chose me back, even if it's a strange one, even if it costs me things I never wanted to give up."

Jungkook studied your face for a long moment, "That studio," he said finally, "the one you rented because the commute was short and the rent was cheap, do you ever think about how strange it is? That out of every decaying attic in that city, every haunted room some tenant might have chosen instead, you were the one who walked into mine."

"All the time," you admitted, "306 Surry Street gave me you."

Jungkook's mouth curved into a smile, "I used to think that room was a prison," he said quietly, “for centuries, I thought it was the cruelest thing that had ever happened to me. Now I think it might have been the only good thing my brother ever accidentally gave me."

You leaned your head against his shoulder, watching the sky outside darken further into its version of night, and for the first time since you'd stepped through the portal onto earth that morning, you felt peace.

You thought about how strange it was that grief and gratitude could sit so close together without canceling each other out.

You had spent your first weeks in Kratos believing the two things were opposites, that being grateful for Jungkook somehow meant betraying everything you'd lost, that missing your old life meant you couldn't fully choose this new one.

Sitting here now, wrapped in the arms of a Demon prince who had once terrified you and now felt like the only steady thing in any realm you ever lived in, you understood that the two feelings have never been opposites at all. 

You had lost an entire world. 

But you had found this one; a life you would never have asked for and now, impossibly, wouldn't trade for anything.

You were happy, even though your happiness had grief all the way through it, something you would have to carry for the rest of whatever impossibly long life stretched out ahead of you.

But it was happiness all the same. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Three Months Later

"You're overthinking it," Jungkook said, circling you slowly across the wide stone training ground behind the North Tower.

You could tell Jungkook was trying his best to be patient with you. 

"Stop trying to predict what I'm going to do, react to what I'm actually doing," Jungkook warned.

"Easy for you to say," you shot back, shifting your weight the way he had shown you, your wings flaring slightly for balance, "you've had thousands of years of practice, while I've had three months."

"Three months of training with the second strongest Demon in North Kratos," Jungkook corrected, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth, "you should be better than this by now."

"I will end you," you said, half jokingly as you lunged at him.

Training had become routine over the past few months.

Jungkook had made it clear that if you were going to spend the rest of your unnaturally long life in Kratos, you needed to learn how to protect yourself. Properly this time, not like that day in the courtyard, when grief and panic had driven you to verbally attack him without thinking. Jungkook wanted you to understand technique and control.

It had started, if you were honest, as something closer to therapy than training. 

In those first weeks after you returned from Earth for the last time, Jungkook noticed how easily you startled in the citadel halls. Your shoulders would tense whenever a soldier passed too close, as if some part of you was still back in that cave, tied to a rock with Eris’s knife at your throat. He never said that was the reason but you knew it was why one quiet afternoon as you sat by the window staring at the sky, he suggested teaching you how to fight.

“Come outside,” Jungkook said, “I want to show you something.”

He had taken you to the training grounds and taught you, slowly and patiently, how to stand, breathe, and keep your balance when fear took over. For weeks, every fall brought back the cave, the stone floor, the blood, and Eris’s laughter into your mind. 

It took even longer before you began to enjoy training.

There was something satisfying about feeling your body react to something instead of freezing in place, and an undeniable thrill in managing to land even the softest blow on a Demon who had once torn through an entire battlefield without slowing.

You have gotten better, at least way better than what you expected of yourself. Your reflexes were quicker now, and your instincts felt less like panic-driven and more skillful. 

Woojin joined a few of your training sessions too, mostly to criticise your footwork in the same flat tone he used for everything. Still, when you finally landed a clean hit on him, you could have sworn he looked almost proud.

But Jungkook was still Jungkook. And you were still, comparatively, a very new Demon trying to land a hit on a Demon prince who had survived armies, sieges, and centuries of war.

You swung, he sidestepped. You tried the low sweep he taught you last week, and he simply lifted his leg over it, catching your wrist mid-attack and used your own momentum to send you tumbling onto the packed dirt of the training ground.

You hit the ground hard and felt the air knocked out from your lungs. Your wings spread awkwardly beneath you as you stared up at the darkening red sky.

For a moment, you did not move out of defeat. Then Jungkook's face appeared above you, blocking out the sky from your view entirely, and he had the audacity, the absolute audacity, to laugh.

Hearing him laugh always caught you off guard every time, because it was so different from the emotionless, battlefield version of Jungkook you once watched from the white space, cutting through an army with nothing left in his eyes. 

"That's not funny," you said breathlessly, glaring up at him even as your own mouth betrayed you into smiling.

"It's a little funny," Jungkook replied, crouching down beside you, still grinning, "you looked so certain that sweep was going to work."

"I hate you," you said, without any meaning behind it at all.

Jungkook reached down and brushed a bit of dirt from your cheek, his hand lingering there longer than required, his thumb moving slowly and gently along your cheeks, "You're getting better and better" he said, “I mean it."

"I just got thrown on the ground," you rolled your eyes at him.

"You lasted four exchanges longer than yesterday," Jungkook said, “that's an improvement."

You reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down towards you before he could say anything else, and kissed him.

Jungkook let out a small sound of surprise against your mouth before he melted into the kiss completely, one hand bracing against the dirt beside your head, the other sliding beneath you to pull you closer and deepening the kiss.

You laughed against his lips and felt him smile in return. Once this would have seemed impossible, the same Demon who haunted an attic in silence was now smiling mid-kiss because of you.

The training ground, war, and throne were still waiting somewhere ahead of him and you could still feel the grief you carried for a world that no longer knew your name, yet all of it faded for a little while and none of it felt so heavy. There was only the warmth of his mouth against yours and the simple truth that the two of you will always choose each other. 

You had lost an entire world once. 

But lying there on the training ground with Jungkook's hands in your hair, you understood that you found something worth every single thing you have sacrificed you to get here.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Six Months Later

You had, by now, stopped expecting the North Citadel to warm up to you.

Things weren’t bad, exactly. They simply settled into a quiet discomfort you have learned to live with, like a cold apartment without a heater in winter. 

Some Demons still called you the dirty-blood one, though never where you could officially hear them.

You noticed their hatred in other ways; soldiers stared at your horns, conversations stopped when you entered a corridor and started again once you were gone, and certain Demons addressing you with a formality so stiff it felt like an insult.

Jungkook has made it very clear, in the weeks following the war, exactly what would happen to any Demon who said something to your face, or worse, put a hand on you. 

He didn’t shout it from the top of the North Tower or issued some grand decree, though he would have been within his rights to. Jungkook simply let it be known that anyone who touched you, or spoke ill about you where you could hear it, would not live long enough to regret it.

It had worked, in the ways that mattered most. You haven't been struck, or haven't been openly insulted to your face, not once, in six months.

But threats couldn’t change what they believed, they only made them more careful about saying it. So you learned to notice the things they tried to hide: the soldier whose jaw tightened as he stepped aside, the flash of disgust in someone’s eyes before their face went blank, and the silence that followed you into a room and lifted only after you left.

You didn’t tell Jungkook about most of it. Not because you were hiding it from him, he could usually sense your frustration before you said anything, but because you had already told him not to act on it. 

You didn’t want Jungkook to live his life by killing every Demon who insulted you. He could punish one Demon, but he couldn’t kill thousands of them for quietly believing you didn’t belong.

Not every Demon in the North saw you that way. That was what surprised you most as over the past six months, the ones who didn’t think negatively of you slowly began to find their way to you.

Some of it, you suspected, came down to strength. Word had spread through the citadel about what happened at the border; that you had come back fully mastered all seven traits. Okla had mentioned once how rare that kind of control was in a Demon your age and news like that never stayed inside a healer’s building for long.

Some Demons, it seemed, respected strength more than bloodline. A few soldiers started nodding to you in the training yard instead of pretending you weren’t there. Even one of the artisans, a Demon who made wing braces for injured soldiers, began greeting you by name whenever you passed her stall when for the first three months, she didn’t acknowledge you at all.

And then there was Demeter.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You met Demeter in the training yard three months back, on a day Jungkook was pulled away by some matter involving the garrison reconstruction along the southern border and Woojin was standing in as your sparring partner instead. 

Demeter was watching from the sidelines. She was tall, with sharp features and pale red irises set against her black eyes. The first time Woojin knocked you flat on your back, her bright and adorable laugh could be heard across the training yard.

"He's not being gentle with you," Demeter said, walking over uninvited, crouching down beside you with an amused smile, "most Demons would be especially with someone who's only been fighting a few months."

"I told him not to be," you replied, still catching your breath, "being gentle doesn't help me learn."

Something in her expression changed then, giving you a look of approval, “I like that,” said Demeter, “most Demons underestimate you before they have even seen you train. It’s refreshing to meet one who doesn’t underestimate herself.”

She introduced herself properly after that, and over the next few months became something you never expected to find in North Kratos: a friend who was entirely your own. She wasn’t Jophiel or Woojin. Her loyalty never belonged to Jungkook first. Demeter sought you out because she wanted to, and she never made you feel like a duty or a debt she had to repay.

She was also, you slowly come to realize, absolutely relentless when it comes to flirting with you, or anyone really.

It started so subtly that you almost missed it. First, she commented on how good you looked after a sparring session.

Then she stopped trying to hide it. Demeter stood closer than she needed to, her hand lingered on your shoulder a little too long, and she would say things like, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Jungkook was hoarding you on purpose,” with a grin that made it clear she wouldn’t have minded stealing you away.

You mostly laughed it off as it felt harmless, and more of an easy kind of affection that asked nothing of you.

You liked Demeter as she reminded you of your girlfriends on Earth. The way you both would gossip on other Demons and consume the same entertainment. She made you laugh in a citadel that has given you very little reason to. 

So, you never thought much more of it.

But, Jungkook, apparently, had thought about it a great deal.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

At first, you didn’t notice the way Jungkook’s jaw tightened whenever Demeter’s name came up, or how he went quiet for a little too long when you repeated something she had said. It took you even longer to realise that he always seemed to arrive at the training yard in a worse mood whenever Demeter was there.

It finally came to your head after an otherwise ordinary evening.

You returned to the North Tower still laughing at something Demeter said as you left the training yard, only to find Jungkook by the window with his arms crossed and an expression he hasn’t directed at you in a long time.

"You're in a good mood," he said, and it didn't sound like a compliment.

"I am," you said, pulling off your training gloves, oblivious for exactly as long as it took you to actually look at his face, "Demeter was telling me about this ridiculous thing that happened to her during a border patrol,” when you finally looked up at him, you realised something was off, “Jungkook, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Jungkook said, but you knew from his tone alone that something was very clearly wrong.

You set the gloves down slowly, turning to face him fully, "Jungkook."

Jungkook stayed silent for a few minutes, his jaw tightening as if he already knew how petty it would sound and hated that he was going to say it anyway.

“Demeter,” Jungkook said at last, “she constantly flirts with you and I’ve been watching her do it in front of me for weeks, ____.”

You blinked at him, genuinely caught off guard, "She flirts with everyone," you said, "it's just how she talks, and I am sure it doesn't mean anything."

“It means something to me,” Jungkook said, he seemed to finally realise how he sounded and looked away embarrassedly towards the window.

“I don’t like it,” Jungkook continued, “I don’t like how close she stands to you, or the way she looks at you. I don’t like walking into the training yard and seeing her hand on your shoulder before I have even spoken to you.”

“You’re jealous,” you said, unable to hide your surprise.

In the six months you have known this version of Jungkook after the war; in the months of knowing the calm, controlled, master of all seven traits, Demon prince, you have never seen jealousy get under his skin like this.

“Yes,” Jungkook said without hesitation. He turned back to look at you, looking almost helpless and adorable, “I am jealous and I don’t enjoy it. I have spent thousands of years learning not to feel things I can’t control, but when she touches you, I want to tear her hands off and I don’t know if I can stop myself from doing that the next time I see her.”

You almost laughed, not at Jungkook but at the absurdity of it.

The Demon prince of North Kratos standing in front of you looking genuinely thrown by the fact that he was capable of something as mundane as jealousy. But you stopped yourself, because underneath the absurdity there was something that deserved to be taken seriously.

“Jungkook,” you said as you walked closer to stand right in front of him. The moment the two of you were close enough, you ran your thumb along his cheek, knowing it usually helps him relax, “Demeter is my friend. She flirts with everyone. She isn’t trying to take me from you. Heaven, baby, even death couldn’t take me away from you. I love you and that isn’t going to change because someone touched my shoulder.”

“I know,” Jungkook said, though he didn’t sound pleased about it, “logically, I know. I trust you completely.”

His softened expression then changed when Jungkook continued, “It’s Demeter I do not trust.”

"Then talk to me about it instead of standing here brooding at a window," you said gently, “tell me what you actually need, instead of just being annoyed and hoping I notice."

Jungkook went silent as his hand rose to cover yours where it still rested against his jaw, “I don’t know exactly,” he admitted, “I don’t need her gone from your life. I can see what she means to you, and I would never ask you to give that up, not for something as small as my own discomfort.”

He paused, searching for the words before continuing, “I think I only need you to understand that it isn’t nothing to me, that when it comes to you I’m not as composed about everything as I may look from the outside. You make me capable of feeling something as undignified as jealousy.”

You smiled at the sight of Jungkook, who once drove tenants crazy in an attic and now standing before you, jealous of a Demon woman flirting with you in a training yard, “I understand,” you said, “and, for what it’s worth, I think it’s a little cute that you’re jealous.”

“It is not cute,” Jungkook replied, showing as much dignity as he could manage, “it is a serious character flaw that I am actively attempting to master.”

“Sure,” you said, your smile widening into a grin, “keep telling yourself that.”

He scoffed, then pulled you against him, resting his chin on top of your head, “Fucking Demeter,” Jungkook muttered playfully.

Beneath the irritation, though, you caught the faintest note of satisfaction. Now that you knew how he felt, he was probably assuming he would not be seeing quite as much of Demeter around the training grounds; not that he would ever admit the entire conversation had begun over something as undignified as jealousy.

Later that night, lying beside him, you found yourself thinking about the six months that had brought you here. The whispered slurs you had learned not to flinch at, the Demons who had slowly and cautiously decided you were worthy of their respect, the strange and unlikely friendship you had formed with a woman who flirted with everyone including you. 

And beside you lay a Demon prince who just confessed, with visible discomfort, to something as painfully human as jealousy.

None of it had been easy, the citadel still has not fully accepted you, and some part of you suspected it never would.

But you have built out a life here anyway, a home, friendships, and a love that has survived war, death, and a transformation that should have killed you twice.

And as you closed your eyes beside Jungkook, you knew it was worth every quiet and unspoken burden you still have to carry until The Ancient One knows when.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

One Year Later

"I want a job," you said as you sat into the chair across from Jungkook's desk. You have practiced saying this sentence several times before actually saying it out loud.

Jungkook didn't look up from whatever he was reading, "You have a job," he said, “you spar with Woojin twice a week and terrify half my court," he chuckled. 

"That's not a job," you answered, "that's a necessity with a little violence in it."

"It is still very productive," Jungkook said.

"Jungkook."

He finally set the report aside, giving you the his full attention in the way he always does once he realised you were serious, “What kind of job are you talking about?” Jungkook asked carefully as he already suspected he was not going to like the answer.

“An actual job,” you said, “something with purpose? I don’t know Jungkook. I’ve spent a year in this citadel doing little more than training, reading, and occasionally being glared at by soldiers who still seem convinced I’ll contaminate their bloodline simply by standing too close to them.”

You sighed before continuing, “I want something that belongs to me, something I’m good at.”

"You could join the garrison," Jungkook answered, though even as he said it you could see him already regretting the suggestion, "you've gotten strong enough. Woojin says-"

"No," you said, before he could even finish, "I am not patrolling a border. I am not doing 'army shit,' Jungkook. I didn't survive two transformations and a knife to the throat to spend the next several centuries standing at a garrison post staring at rocks."

"Then what exactly do you want, baby?" Jungkook asked, and you could hear, underneath the question, that he has decided he didn't want you anywhere near a battlefield for the rest of either of your very long lives and was trying not to say so outright.

You stood still and silent for a while, thinking about the question Jungkook just asked. What exactly do you want? You knew the answer but didn’t know if it was even possible to do here. 

You took a breath before finally answering his question.

“I miss teaching,” you said at last, “I miss it so much that some days it physically aches. The second I walked into that classroom, I knew exactly who I was and I had a purpose. I had children who needed me, and I was good at teaching them what they needed to know.”

You looked down at your hands, “I haven’t had anything close to that since I lost it. I don’t know how to explain what it’s like to have once been so certain of your place in the world, and then to simply… not have it anymore.”

Jungkook didn't say anything right away, he knew you still had more things to convey to him.

“There’s no school in the North,” you continued, “Demon children learn from their families, from whoever happens to be around and they absorb things by instinct instead of being taught properly.”

You paused before adding, “I used to think that made sense in a place like this. Now I only think it sounds lonely. I keep imagining some little Demon child in the lower districts, curious about something and surrounded by people who are too busy, or simply not patient enough, to sit down and explain it to them.”

“You want to build a school,” Jungkook repeated slowly, as if he was testing whether the idea was even possible.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “maybe. I don’t even know whether Demon children would want someone like me, a ‘non-pure Demon’ teaching them, or whether their parents would let them anywhere near me.”

You exhaled, frustrated by your inability to explain what you were actually feeling underneath this boredom, “I’m just tired of having no purpose here beyond being your…” you gestured vaguely between the two of you, “...whatever I am, your girlfriend, your consort or whatever else the North chooses to refer to us.”

"Beloved," Jungkook said, smiling at you, "that's what the Demons of the North refer to you as."

"Beloved, then," you said, smiling back at him, "I love being that. I really do, but I want to be something else too. I was something else, once, and I miss it."

Jungkook was silent for a long time, his eyes fixed on you as something unreadable changed behind his expression. Then he stood up, came around the desk, and pulled you from the chair into his arms, “Give me a week,” he said.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, “A week for what?”

“Just give me a week,” he insisted.

There was something in his voice, a rare restrained excitement he seldom allowed himself to show, that made you decide, against your better judgment, to trust him and ask no further questions.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

It took closer to two weeks, in the end, though Jungkook never once admitted the estimate had been wrong.

He led you there himself, on a morning when the red sky was brighter than it usually was, walking you down through the upper districts toward a section of the North you have not spent much time in before. Jungkook led you to an open plot of land near the edge of the artisan quarter, close enough to the lower districts that families wouldn't need to travel far yet far enough from the training grounds that the sound of the soldiers training wouldn't be heard from it.

What stood there now was a building.

It was not large, at least not by the standards of the North Citadel’s looming stone towers, but it looked more like a house from Earth than anything else in North Kratos.

The building was wide and only a single storey, constructed from stone several shades paler than the rest of the territory. Its windows were large enough to let in actual light from the red sky, and a broad set of doors stood at its centre, carved with a design that made your breath stop when you stepped closer and finally understood what you were looking at.

Small engravings ran along the doorframe. There was a sun, though Kratos had none; an open book; and a cluster of stars like the ones you used to see from your studio window on clear nights, back when the sky above you had been blue instead of red.

"Jungkook," you breathed out.

“I had the builders work on it while I handled the North’s affairs,” he said, watching your face to see how you would react because he was uncertain how one of his gestures would be received by you.

“Woojin and Demeter found the plot, Okla advised them on the ventilation, apparently young Demons run hotter than adults because their energy hasn’t fully settled yet, and she insisted the building be designed around it.”

His mouth smiled when he realised you were happy with it, “And Jophiel insisted on the engraving you see on the doors. He said he wanted you to have a piece of Earth’s sky here, even if it wasn’t real and everything from Earth that you see inside, Jophiel brought here himself.”

You pushed the doors open with shaky hands and stepped into a room. Sunlight, or the closest thing Kratos had to it, shined through the tall windows and stretched across a floor scattered with tables for kids and cushions were scattered around the floor. Shelves lined the walls, already half-filled with books written in a script you now read as easily as you had once read English.

And at the far end of the room stood a chalkboard, an actual chalkboard.

"I asked Jophiel to bring one from earth," Jungkook admitted, watching you trail your fingers along its edge, "I didn't know what else you would need. I thought….  I don't know. I thought it might make it feel more like a piece of your old school from Earth."

You turned to him and found him already watching you. For once, there was none of his usual composure, none of the careful restraint he wore around everyone else. He just looked hopeful and a little uncertain as if he had spent the past week building this for you and had only now realised you might not want it.

"You built me a school," you said it out loud because you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

"I built you a place to be something other than my beloved," Jungkook corrected you, "something that's entirely yours. I know it doesn't erase what you lost and I know it isn't the same classroom, the same children, and the same life you had. I'm not trying to replace what being a Demon took from you. I only wanted you to have somewhere to teach again, I wanted you to have a piece of Earth with you, and everything you're good at, everything you love, everything that made you you long before you ever knew what I was."

You did not trust yourself to speak. Instead, you walked across the room and wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest the way you have done a hundred times before.

The tears fell anyway, you felt happy and relieved that for once, something was being returned to you instead of taken away, “Thank you,” you finally managed to say.

Jungkook’s hand moved slowly over your back, “Three families from the lower districts have already asked if six of their children can attend,” he said, “Woojin spread the word without telling me. I think he wanted this to work as much as I did.”

"Demon children," you said, letting out a small disbelieving laugh, "I'm going to be teaching Demon children how to read."

“You’re going to teach them everything,” Jungkook said, “just like the way you taught your students on Earth. You are authorised to teach them about Kratos or even Earth. Teach them about creatures other than themselves, and teach them about restraints.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, “Wait.. what if I’m not qualified to teach them about Kratos? I know how to teach them how to read and teach them about numbers, but I can’t exactly stand in front of a room and explain Demon history when I’ve only lived here for a year… and what did the King say about all of this?”

“You are qualified,” Jungkook said, as if the matter has already been settled, “and if you’re anxious about teaching anything specific to Kratos, bring Okla with you. She knows more than most scholars and enjoys correcting Demons far too much to refuse.”

“And the King?”

“He approved it,” Jungkook answered.

“Just like that?” you asked in disbelief. 

“No,” Jungkook’s mouth tightened, “there were several questions, but most of them were unnecessary.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Whether teaching children to question what they are told might eventually become inconvenient for the Crown,” Jungkook said, shrugging his shoulders. 

You stared at him, “And what did you say?”

“That if the Crown cannot survive a literate seven-year-olds asking why, then it has larger problems than your school,” Jungkook said non-chalantly. 

You gasped, “You said that to The King?”

“I phrased it more diplomatically,” Jungkook muttered. 

“You absolutely did not,” you said, rolling your eyes, “so he really agreed?”

“He agreed to a six month trial. You’ll begin with the families who have already volunteered, and Okla will help you build the lessons involving North Kratos history, law, and culture. But it will be yours to manage and control,” Jungkook said, smiling at you. 

You felt something in your chest finally eased. It did not erase the ache of everything you have lost, you did not think anything ever would. But there was now room for something else too. Something that is only for you in this long life ahead of you.

"I love you," you said.

"I know," Jungkook said, looking far too pleased with himself, kissing your forehead, "Go set up your classroom, little teacher, your first students arrive tomorrow.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The first week of teaching was chaotic in all the best ways.

One boy spent nearly half an hour asking why the sky was blue on Earth but red in Kratos. A girl with the smallest, sweetest horns you have ever seen burst into tears because her handwriting kept leaning to one side. You knelt beside her and told her that the first step towards learning and doing something well is usually by practicing no matter the outcome. She stared at you with wet and startled eyes, as if no one has ever spoken to her that gently before.

By the end of the lesson, she had written her name across an entire page.

Jophiel came in on Wednesday as a guest teacher to explain Heaven, Hell, Earth, and the other realms. He arrived with three books, several maps he drew himself, and the confidence of someone who believed Demon children would be fascinated by the political structure of celestial territories. You told him these were children and they might not be interested in the politics of it all, but he insisted that Angel children found it fascinating too. 

The Demon students you taught were, in fact, not impressed at all. They were, however, deeply interested in whether angels could fly upside down.

By Friday afternoon, you were exhausted. There was chalk dust on your sleeves, a stack of unfinished drawings on one of the tables, and at least three cushions that ended up on the opposite side of the room.

You were putting the last of the books back onto the shelf when you caught yourself humming.

“You do that when you’re happy.”

You turned and found Jungkook leaning against the doorway, watching you.

“What?” you asked as you couldn’t hear him the first time.

“You hum when you’re happy,” he said, pushing himself away from the frame, “I don’t think you realise you’re doing it.”

You looked down at the book in your hands, “I used to hum all the time when I was teaching on Earth.”

Jungkook walked across the room and pulled you into his arms, “You know,” he said after a moment, “I would gladly be cursed in that damned studio again.”

You pulled back enough to look at him, “That is a terrible thing to say.”

“It is true. I would do it again in another life,” Jungkook said, “If it led me to you.”

“Well, I’m also glad you were cursed,” you murmured, then you frowned when you realised what you just said before adding, “that sounded better in my head.”

Jungkook let out a small laugh before saying, “It usually does, my little teacher.”

♡━━━THE END━━━♡

one: close, but not too close

Jungkook nearly chokes on his ramune soda, the fizz catching at the back of his throat as his fingers fumble to pause the very intense anime scene playing on his monitor when he hears you kick his door open. 

"Kook!! Code Red!! Nail Crisis—We're Talking National Emergency!!" you announce, eyes wide as you wag your phone in the air, making your way towards him. He blinks, his brain struggling to catch up but you're already in his space, shoving your phone dangerously close to his face. 

"Choose." you command and Jungkook leans back against his gaming chair, adjusting his glasses as he tries to focus on the screen. 

Two nail designs stare back at him. Right side: pink, glittery, bow charms—so sweet it looks like it might summon a fairy princess. Left side: silver chrome, the tips are pointy and probably even sharp enough to lowkey stab someone.

Nail lingo? Yeah, he's heard you ramble about it—coffin something, almond something, acrylic something—words that sound more like architectural blueprints or dessert flavors than beauty terms. 

Honestly, trying to keep up with your world sometimes makes his brain overheat, but this? This he can manage.

He's used to this by now since it comes with the territory of being your roommate. The unofficial side quest of being your personal beauty advisor. Nail designs, outfit dilemmas, lipstick shade debates... he's seen it all. 

Sometimes he feels like he's living inside a live-streamed Vogue consultation, except the model is you, and the consultant is him—armed with nothing but vibes and the occasional "Yeah, that looks cool."

As of now, his inner gamer kicks in as he nibbles on his lower lip, observing the two pictures closely. Chrome looks like it could belong to a cyberpunk warrior or, at the very least, serve as a cool weapon so that's what he goes for. "This one." he taps the silver nails with a sense decisiveness. "It looks very cool." he adds with a smile. 

"Oh my god, YES. I was literally thinking the exact same thing." you squeal, clearly overjoyed making Jungkook chuckle under his breath. He knows—has known for a while now—that even if he picked the pink set, you'd probably still go with the design you wanted anyway. 

But that's fine. He's just happy to be here.

He watches as you move away from his chair and casually flop onto his bed like it's your own, scrolling through more inspo pics as you ramble on about appointment slots and some nail tech named Jiwon. 

You glance over, catching Jungkook listening—really listening—despite the fact that none of this is remotely relevant to him. He's nodding along with the corners of his lips faintly curved. 

He doesn't interrupt, doesn't tell you to leave, doesn't look the slightest bit annoyed because he's simply patient like that and that's what makes him so special. 

It's been a little over a year since you became roommates with Jungkook. 

Two months into freshman year, when you were drowning in campus chaos, you desperately needed a place... something close to university, something that didn't involve suffocating dorm curfews, passive-aggressive bathroom schedules, and the horror of communal showers.

Apartment hunting was hell, but then you somehow stumbled upon Jungkook's listing. He was a computer science major at your university, had a vacant room, and was looking for someone to split the rent. 

Practical. Convenient. 

But still, you were skeptical mainly because moving in with a guy felt weird and well, not to forget... guys can be very very gross. 

But the rent was affordable. The place seemed nice. And it was practically hugging campus. So, you took the leap of faith and decided to move in.

And much to your surprise—and relief—Jungkook turned out to be an amazing roommate.

For starters, he was clean. Immaculately so. Borderline obsessive. The boy worshipped his laundry detergent and had the entire apartment perpetually smelling like fresh cotton most of the time. 

He was religious about doing the dishes, cleaned the bathroom when it was his turn without needing reminders, and—bless his soul—put the toilet seat down after he was done using it. Every. Single. Time.

He was a bit of a nerd. No, scratch that—he was a full-fledged nerd. Now that you've lived with him long enough, you can confidently say so and honestly, it's so fucking endearing. 

He mostly keeps to himself, stationed in front of his monitor, either binging some random documentary or anime, playing some random game or just furiously coding. He's the kind of guy who could build a fully functional app over the weekend... just because he was bored.

His shelves are lined with books, mangas and also with rubik's cubes in every possible variation... 3x3, 4x4, 5x5, pyramid-shaped, and some monstrosity with like, twelve sides. You stopped keeping count because at some point, you convinced yourself that they just multiply when you're not looking.

He's super shy and introverted, but wickedly smart. Sometimes, he's fixing the WiFi like a tech wizard and other times, he's helping you with an economics assignment, despite having zero reason to know anything about supply curves. 

But that's just Jungkook. Quietly capable of doing anything and everything. 

And speaking of capable—Jungkook's greatest feat, by far, might be his effortless ability to put up with you.

For someone who had a mile-long checklist for what a good roommate should be... clean, respectful, non-creepy, someone who wouldn't turn your kitchen into a biohazard zone— you were, if you were being honest, not exactly the easiest person to live with.

Not in a nightmare roommate from hell kind of way, but... let's just say, you had a presence. A loud one. 

You took up space... in every sense of the word. You were the kind of person who moved through life with a little extra volume, a little more color, and a whole lot of unapologetic flair.

You were, by most standards, the "it girl" of your university. Effortlessly cool, perpetually well-dressed, the kind of person everyone either wanted to be or be around. You didn't just follow trends... you set them.

Your Instagram is basically a curated mood board that half the campus tries to copy. You party hard, ace your classes when you feel like it, and always look good doing it.

You loved being a girl. You loved everything about it—the glittering ritual of makeup, the art of perfecting your nails, the thrill of styling the perfect outfit, the satisfaction of filming a flawless GRWM tiktok, the way a swipe of gloss could make you feel invincible.

And being roommates with Jungkook meant that, willingly or not, he had been drafted into your little glam army. He was your unofficial cameraman, your personal consultant, your human swatch palette.

You would burst into his room—mostly without knocking—waving a lip tint or eyeshadow palette in hand. "Hold still." you'd say, before smearing color across the back of his hand or, on more ambitious days... directly onto his lips. 

He had, as you once declared: "The most perfect lips—zero pigmentation. Every color looks good on you. It's honestly unfair."

Sometimes, you dragged him in front of the camera for random tiktoks—the now-iconic Roommate Series, which has somehow become a huge sensation on your account overtime. 

The series includes a bunch of videos like: "Doing My Roommate's Makeup (He's Nervous LOL)"   "My Roommate Picks My Outfit (Pray for Me)"  "Trying my Roommate's Gym Workout Routine (Send Help)"  "Cooking With My Roommate (We Almost Burned the Apartment Down)." And so many other classics that your followers absolutely loved.

Jungkook, your shy, introverted, perpetually hoodie-clad computer science major roommate—had somehow become the unwitting co-star of your social media life.

And the wildest part? He never complained. Not once. Never sighed out of frustration. Never rolled his eyes. Never told you to back off.

He just... went along with it.

He let you dust highlighter along his cheekbones because you were "testing undertones". Let you draw little eyeliner hearts under his eyes because you thought "it was cute". Let you turn his forearm into a rainbow of lipstick swatches because you were "deciding on a vibe."

He took your outfit photos with an almost alarming level of precision, learning your angles better than some of your actual friends. He gave honest opinions when you held up two skirts and asked which one was giving. 

You even managed to convince him to record voiceovers for a few of your GRWM videos, purely because you thought it would be hilarious and thankfully, his soft, awkward narration had now become a fan favorite.

Jungkook was everything you weren't... quiet, reserved, more comfortable behind a screen than in front of one. He didn't seek attention, didn't chase validation. He was happy existing in the background.

But for you, he stepped into the spotlight. Over and over again. 

And you absolutely adored him for it. For his patience. For his kindness. For the way he always—always—made you feel like you weren't too much, even when you knew you probably were.

You know that most of the things you say, most of the things you do, barely register as important in his world. But he listens and helps you do it anyway, only because it matters to you. 

Jungkook watches you with a small, almost imperceptible smile as you lie sprawled across his bed, legs lazily kicking in the air while you continue to ramble on about Jiwon and how it's so hard to secure an appointment with her because she's always booked. 

It's endearing. The kind of domesticity he never thought he'd find so... warm. You're nothing like him... bright where he's quiet, bold where he's reserved, yet he likes it. 

Likes you.

Jungkook remembers the first time he saw you so vividly, like it's burned into his brain. It was on the 2nd day of freshman orientation. 

You were wearing these loose, low-waisted jeans that somehow looked effortless instead of sloppy, paired with a top that flashed just a sliver of your hips every time you moved. Your hair fell in layered waves, makeup sharp and glossy, but honestly... he barely registered those details.

What really caught him was your energy. You had this magnetic confidence, the kind that commanded attention without even trying. You laughed easily, made friends within minutes, and seemed to glide through the crowd like you belonged everywhere.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had blended into the wallpaper that day. Shuffling around with his laptop bag, adjusting his glasses every few seconds, hoping no one would talk to him for more than two minutes. 

But he had watched you, just for a little longer than he probably should have and thought to himself, wow.

The thing about Jungkook is, he's always been a hopeless romantic. The kind of guy who cries over romance animes at 2 AM, thinks holding hands in winter is peak intimacy, and genuinely believes kissing in the rain might cure the world's problems. 

He's also the kind of person who believes that when you meet the one meant for you, the universe will let you know with soft bell chimes in the air, a gentle ringing in your chest, like some cosmic signal only you can hear.

And that day, when his eyes first found you in the sea of strangers, he swore he heard bells.

But unfortunately, Jungkook was also more hopeless than romantic.

Approaching girls? Nope. Eye contact? Terrifying. Flirting? That was an urban legend he had only seen in movies. 

Jungkook's never had a girlfriend and high school had been a blur of random girls seeking him out because they thought he was cute, mainly drawn in by his adorable smile and doe eyes. But their interest fizzled out just as quickly as it sparked, the moment they realized he wasn't some effortlessly cool bad boy or charming heartbreaker. 

He was just... him. Quiet. Awkward. 

The boy who took too long to respond to texts because he was overthinking every word, who blushed when someone sat too close, who found more comfort in rotting in his room solving a sudoko puzzle over the weekend, than navigating the social labyrinth of teenage romance.

So, that day at orientation, all he did was admire you from a safe distance, fully convinced you existed in a league he wasn't even qualified to spectate. He brushed it off, telling himself that you'd never ever notice a guy like him and he was almost certain he'd never see you again.

But fate is funny like that.

Because two months later, you were standing at his door with a fresh set of nails and a cool jacket, asking him if his roommate listing was still open. 

And suddenly, the girl who was once nothing more than a fleeting dream was now stealing his WiFi, using his arm as a makeup palette, and casually making him fall for her just a little more every single day.

He loved it when you asked him to take your pictures, loved the way you trusted him so instinctively with your angles, your poses, your vision. Loved that you valued his input, sought his opinions like they actually mattered. 

Loved that you pulled him into your silly little videos, even when he was red-faced and stiff, fumbling through whatever tiktok dance or GRWM voiceover you'd roped him into.

Yes, he was shy. Yes, he was awkward. Always unsure of where to place his hands or how to soften his default nervous smile. 

But it felt good... really good to be included. To be wanted. To be someone you liked having around. 

Because for someone who usually dreaded conversations lasting more than two minutes, talking to you, laughing with you... just being with you, felt like the easiest thing in the world.

"Oh my god, Y/n !!" Jimin exclaims as both of you weave through the econ building, making your way towards the last class of the day. You glance at him and notice the way he's clutching onto his phone, scrolling with his eyes widened in shock.

"What now?" you ask, already giggling as you lean in to peek at his screen. "Your recent tiktok—the one with Jungkook?" He spins his phone around, shoving it in your face. "One. Million. Views. You're both famous, babe."

Your eyes widen, and you fumble for your own phone, unlocking it. The video you'd posted just last week, titled "Styling My Shy Roommate" had absolutely exploded. You scroll through the the screen flooded with heart emojis and a bunch of comments. 

"WHY IS HE BLUSHING LIKE THAT?? I'M WEAKKKKK" "Softboy era activated." "Tell him he doesn't need to pay rent—he can just stand in my living room." "Is he okay? He looks like he's being held hostage but also kind of loving it??"

You can't help but grin as your mind flashes back to the memory of filming it. How Jungkook stood in your room like he was awaiting sentencing, stiff as a board while you fussed over his sleeves and buttoned up the cardigan you had handpicked from the men's section after dragging him through three different stores

He had looked so painfully nervous, wide eyes consciously darting to the camera while you just told him to act natural. Well, spoiler alert, he did not act natural. He looked like he was buffering.

"I swear..." Jimin starts again. "You need to start paying him royalties at this point. That poor boy is practically your unpaid intern." he says, making you laugh because honestly, he's not wrong.

"The comments are killing me." Jimin continues. "He's practically the internet's emotional support introvert right now." he cackles while you snort, flicking through more comments yourself. "I should show him these. He'll pass out." you joke. 

"Or he'll delete all his social media and go off the grid." Jimin deadpans. "He's so shy, Y/n. Every time I come over, he looks like he's deciding whether to greet me or make a break for the fire escape."

"He's like that with everyone. It's just who he is." you say fondly with a giggle. "Uh-huh. But with you? He isn't so shy." Jimin grins, making you furrow your brows. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying... you seem to be the only one who gets him to break out of that socially awkward equilibrium. Everyone else gets market stagnation, but you? You trigger an expansion." Jimin animatedly explains as both of you enter the lecture hall.

"Oh my god, not you sneaking in an econ joke right before class... please, have some shame." you click your tongue, the mock disappointment on your face making Jimin snicker. 

"But... maybe you're right. We've lived together for over a year now, so I guess he's just used to me. Besides, I annoy him 24/7, he kind of doesn't have a choice." You chuckle. 

"But seriously though... he looked so good in that video, right? Like, you can't tell me the supply-demand curve wasn't absolutely peaking in the comments section." you giggle, nudging Jimin with your elbow.

"Of course you had to drag market behavior into this." Jimin groans. "What can I say? Consumer preferences are shifting heavily towards soft boys in cardigans." you shrug as you settle into your seat.

"And you—" Jimin points accusingly. "—are monopolizing the supply." he finishes, taking the seat right next to you. 

You both dissolve into laughter as you pull out your iPads, getting ready for class. As you settle in, Jimin leans over one last time. "Seriously though, next time you get him into a vest or whatever, you owe him dinner. Or, like... a retirement plan." he says, raising his brows. 

"Deal. But if he quits, you're my backup model." you grin. "I expect hazard pay." he jokes. 

After what feels like an eternity, class wraps up as students shuffle out of the lecture hall. You and Jimin gather your things, falling into step like clockwork, until you reach the point where your paths diverge.

"Yoongi's waiting." Jimin singsongs with a smile, fingers already flying across his phone, no doubt texting his boyfriend. "You literally saw him this morning." You tease, but there's no real bite to it. "And I'll see him tonight. And tomorrow. And forever." Jimin says sassily like he's rubbing it on your face. 

Yoongi, Jimin's beloved boyfriend is a music composition major, and they've been in a relationship for as long as you can remember. They moved in together a few months ago, and though they practically breathe the same air from dawn to dusk, Jimin is still giddy every time Yoongi's name rolls off his tongue. 

Like he's tasting sugar. Like it's new, every single day. 

It's nauseating, really. But... God, you adore it so much because you want that. You want that so badly it aches.

The kind of love that seeps into every corner of a life. 

Because beneath the curated facade... the effortless 'baddie' aesthetic you've crafted so carefully for your social feed, the glossy veneer of perfection, the sponsored posts with captions that take you twenty minutes to get just right, the flawless outfit, the perfect make up, beneath all of that, you're still just... a girl.

A girl who dreams of something gentle. A story that doesn't just make your heart race, but one that holds it. Cradles it. 

You'd had your fair share of relationships back in high school—though, looking back, you weren't even sure you could call them that anymore. They felt more like fleeting situationships, placeholders for something that never quite materialized. 

None of them had ever left you feeling full, like you'd found what you were looking for. 

The guys were either maddeningly nonchalant, treating you like an option rather than a choice, or they messed up in ways that left fractures too deep to overlook—texting other girls behind your back, swiping through dating apps while still feeding you lines about how much they liked you. 

Some didn't approve of the way you carried yourself, the way you dressed, the way you took up space so unapologetically. And instead of embracing you for you, they tried to mold you into something smaller, something easier—something you were never meant to be.

It was like you were always almost there, almost close to something real, but every time, it slipped right through your fingers because no one ever quite aligned with what you thought love should feel like—the kind you'd dreamed of, the kind you still believed was out there.

A love that feels like stepping into the warmth of home after a long day. A love where they peel oranges for you, open a pomegranate for you, or perhaps shell pistachios just so your fingertips don't hurt. 

It's something simple, something almost unnoticed, yet it's there as a quiet proof that they care, that they'd do those little things for you, just because.

Built not on grand gestures, but in the smallest details... like bringing you coffee with your order memorized perfectly, playlists made on lazy sunday afternoons titled with inside jokes only the two of you would understand, the way their arms hold you not just when you're breaking, but simply because you're there. Because they want you close, always.

The kind of love that wraps around you like a blanket, never asking you to be anything other than who you truly are. Something that feels like you were always meant to find each other, like the universe stitched your souls together long before you even met.

A love that makes "forever" feel less like a promise and more like a certainty, like no matter what happens, no matter how hard the world pushes or pulls, you'll always end up back in each other's arms because you're just... stuck together, but not in the way that feels like a trap but in the way that feels like home. 

You've always wanted that. Something like that. And maybe one day, you'll have it. You'd like to believe so.

When you started college, you found yourself investing more into yourself...your style, your confidence, the way you carried yourself through the world. You became your own priority, and it showed. Not just on your meticulously curated social media, but in real life too. 

People noticed—especially guys. They approached you constantly. Some with that awkward, endearing charm, asking for your number or trying to secure a date. Others? Not so much. Your DMs became a war zone... filled with weird, borderline unhinged messages that made you cringe so hard you had to physically put your phone down sometimes. 

Most times, it was a reply to a thirst trap—one that, to be fair, was strictly meant for the girls—yet there's always some random guy trying to shoot his shot or it's a string of desperate comments flooding in, all vying for your attention.

But you knew, deep down, that if you were ever going to meet your soulmate, it sure as hell wouldn't be through a sloppy DM or a thirst-driven comment.

You shake off the thought with a small sigh as you continue walking while the sun hangs low, casting a warm, golden hue over the pavement. The evening breeze is warm as you near your building. 

The minute you unlock the door to your apartment, the familiar sight of Jungkook's sneakers neatly lined up by the doorway makes you smile, signaling he's already home. 

And when you walk further in, you instantly sense him in the kitchen. You carelessly drop your bag onto the couch and drag yourself towards the kitchen, resting your elbows on the island as you watch him by the stove, cooking.

"Oh, hey." He smiles, once he notices your presence. "You're home."

You smile back, moving around the island as you inch closer to him and hop onto the counter, a little away from the stove. "What're you making?" you ask, peering at the dish curiously. It's obvious he's making jajangmyeon—but you want to hear it from him anyway.

"Jajangmyeon." he answers, his lips curling into a small smile. "How was class?"

"Same old." you sigh, swinging your legs lazily over the edge of the counter. He nods at your words, his attention drifting back to the food.

"Also!" you suddenly exclaim, pulling your phone out of your pocket. "Kook, your tikok—the one I posted last week—it hit a million views!! Look, you're famous!!!" You shove your phone in his direction, practically vibrating with excitement.

Jungkook's eyes widen in shock, his hands instinctively reaching out to hold your phone, bringing it closer for a better look. "One... One million views?" he stammers, utterly dumbfounded.

Jungkook doesn't even have a tiktok account. Social media was never really his thing, but he kept Instagram around mainly for the reels... the kind that catered perfectly to his inner nerd. 

His algorithm had him in a chokehold, feeding him everything from bizarre mating facts about deep-sea squids to oddly soothing videos of people assembling custom-built mechanical keyboards. Sometimes, it was a guy 3D-printing a fully functional wrench that looked like it could survive a whole trip to Mars.

And, well, he followed you too. 

So, amidst all that nerdy and geeky stuff...your stories, your pictures, your reels (that occasionally included him ofc) were his absolute favorites. But that's a conversation for another time.

He rarely posted anything about himself so it was safe to say his social media presence was practically nonexistent. 

Well... that was until you came along. Because, apparently—duh—he's internet famous now?? The fact that one million people had seen his face was nothing short of mind-boggling.

"Read the comments. Everyone's gushing over you." you laugh, and Jungkook scrolls through the barrage of responses.

"Soft boy aesthetic but he looks like he's seconds from passing out?? #needTHAT"  "Tell him rent is FREE if he stands in my kitchen looking nervous."  "Protect him at all costs."  "I'd give him my kidney"

Jungkook doesn't even know what half of these mean, but he can feel his ears growing hotter by the second. 

"Some of them are crazy, but they're so right. You do look cute." you giggle, looking over at him. At that, Jungkook lifts his gaze to meet yours, his heart pounding in his chest. "I'm... cute?" he asks, as if he misheard you. "Yeah, you're so cute." you nod, a smile spreading across your face, and Jungkook gulps. 

The way you say it so casually, with that pretty smile of yours... god he's so fucking cooked.

"You think... I'm cute?" he asks again as he adjusts his glasses, just to make sure he heard you right. "Duhhh, Kook. Haven't I established that already? You're like the cutest guy I know." you say, your smile widening with every word.

Jungkook swears his whole system just came to a screeching halt. The girl who caught his eyes on the 2nd day of orientation, the girl who he was convinced was miles out of his league, the girl who somehow, magically, became his roommate, the girl of his dreams thinks... he's cute. 

She thinks he's cute.

It's like his mind just short-circuited and it's enough to leave him speechless. He wonders if you know the effect you or your words have on him and all he can do is just stare at you in utter disbelief.

"This calls for a celebration!!" you suddenly declare, hopping off the counter and striding towards the refrigerator. Jungkook blinks, still processing the whole 'You're like the cutest guy I know' thing as he watches you yank open the fridge and pull out two bottles of soju.

Of course. 

He should've seen this coming the moment you made a beeline for the fridge. He's lived with you long enough to know that your version of a celebration involves downing shot after shot until the living room magically transforms into a karaoke room, and you're belting out some sappy '80s love song like your life depends on it.

But he still smiles because the sheer, unfiltered happiness on your face as you clutch the two bottles of soju close to your chest and pull out two shot glasses from the cabinet above, makes his heart do that thing again.

That stupid thing. Where it feels like it's going to burst.

"PUTTTT YOURRRR HEADDDD ONNN MYYY—" A cough cuts through your performance, but you soldier on, determined. "MYYYY SHHHOULDDERRR!"

Jungkook winces slightly, squinting as your voice pierces through the room, raising goosebumps on his skin—not the good kind. 

Now he might be hopelessly, head over heels for you, but for the love of all things holy, you cannot sing. He's convinced that when the universe was crafting you, perfection in every way, it must've thrown this one flaw in, just to keep things fair.

That's what he tells himself anyway as he makes his way over, watching your drunk self standing on the coffee table like it's your stage as you clutch onto the TV remote like it's a microphone.

"Okay, Y/n..." he murmurs, voice soft, hands hovering at your waist, ready to steady you if your balance falters. "I think that's enough for tonight. It's almost 2 a.m. You've got an early class tomorrow, remember?" he tries but you're still going on.

He shakes his head, a quiet laugh escaping his lips as he gently pries the makeshift microphone from your grasp. "Come on." he coaxes, guiding you down from your precarious perch. 

You mumble a string of complaints, the words tangled together in your tipsiness, nearly tripping over your own feet.  But Jungkook's right there, strong and steady, his arm slipping around your waist, holding you up like he always does.

With careful steps, he leads you to your room, the door creaking open as you lean into him, your cheek brushing against his shoulder. You're humming now...some incoherent melody, but he's used to this. 

He's taken care of you like this more times than he can count. And if he's being honest, he doesn't mind. Not one bit. Because even now, with your cheeks flushed from the alcohol and your eyelids heavy with sleep, he thinks you look unfairly pretty. 

"Here we go." he whispers, lowering you onto the middle of your bed. You groan in protest, wriggling like a petulant child as he tries to pull the blanket over you. He can see it—the exhaustion you're fighting so hard to push away just because you want to keep this night going.

"Kookie... I don't wanna sleep yetttt." you whine, your voice muffled against the pillow. He only smiles, his heart doing that ridiculous thing again... tightening and swelling all at once, as he tucks you in with gentle hands.

"Kookieee..." you draw out his name again, pouting this time, but he stands on business, adjusting the blanket around you. "Kookie, come onnn..." You try one last time, your fingers curling around his wrist, tugging weakly. "At least stay with me until I sleep. Pleaseeeee?"

And just like that, he's done for because, if Jungkook's being honest, when it comes to you, his resistance has the structural integrity of a wet tissue paper. So, with a soft defeated sigh, he straightens up.

"Okay, fine. I'll stay." he murmurs, already eyeing the chair by your desk in the corner, thinking he'll just drag it over and sit by your side until you drift off. It's what he usually does on nights like this... close enough to soothe you but keeping a bit of space, because, well... boundaries.

But apparently, you have other plans because before he can even take a step towards the chair, your hand shoots out as your fingers wrap around his wrist and you yank him with a surprising force for someone who, mere seconds ago, could barely stand.

It's clumsy and sudden. His balance tips, heart lurching for a split second, and then before he can even process it, he lands right next to you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

"That's better." you sigh tiredly still holding his wrist as you nuzzle into the pillow and inch just a little closer to Jungkook's warm body. 

Jungkook knows you don't even realize what you're doing, that you'll probably have no memory of this tomorrow but his heart doesn't seem to care about any of that. It's racing like he's just run a marathon, each thud echoing in his ears as he stares at the ceiling with wide eyes. Because, this? This, he definitely did not see coming.

He lies there, stiff as a board, every muscle tense, trying to will his heart into calming down. Minutes pass... though they feel like hours, before he finally works up the courage to glance over at you.

You're still. Eyes closed, breathing soft and even.

Asleep.

He exhales slowly, relief and something else... something dangerously close to disappointment washing over him. 

But this is his chance to finally get up and put some distance between his rapidly deteriorating heart rate and your sleeping form. Because, honestly? Being this close to you is doing things to him and he might actually be on the verge of a cardiac event.

Carefully, he lifts his hand, fingers moving to gently untangle yours from his wrist. But the moment he tries, you let out a small, sleepy whine and your grip tightens instinctively.

Okay. So, not asleep.

Jungkook freezes, hand hovering midair, before letting out the quietest, most defeated sigh known to man. Fine. He'll stay. Just until you fall asleep completely.

How hard can that be?

"Mmm... flowers...? Why does it smell like flowers? Am I... dreaming of a garden?" Jungkook's half-asleep mind stirs, thoughts weaving through the haze of slumber as his sleepy imagination spirals, picturing himself twirling through a meadow, maybe exchanging pleasantries with a particularly charming sunflower.

But the scent isn't fading... it's getting stronger. And it's getting too real.

Then, something soft brushes against his nose, making him twitch. He scrunches his face, trying to escape it, but the gentle tickling continues and suddenly the feeling of something warm and solid pressed against his chest hits him. 

And that's when his eyelids flutter open, pupils adjusting to the faint morning light, only to be met with a cascade of hair. 

Your hair. All over his face.

As realization settles over him like a crashing wave, Jungkook's eyes trail downward... and that's when he sees it. His arm, draped snugly around your waist. His hand resting against the soft fabric of your shirt. Your lower bodies pressed flush together, tangled under the sheets like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Jungkook's jaw practically unhinges.

Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.

Did he actually fall asleep last night? Fuck. He was only supposed to stay until you drifted off—not fall asleep with you. But that's not even the real problem right now because... did he really fall asleep like this? Holding you? Spooning you? His brain short-circuits, running frantic laps between sheer panic and the undeniable warmth pooling in his chest.

And just when he's still in the middle of processing this ridiculous situation, you shift, pushing back into him, your body pressing even closer, and Jungkook's breath hitches sharply in his throat. His jaw clenches, lips pursing just enough to swallow down the pained noise threatening to escape.

God, you were too close. Too fucking close. 

And his body? Yeah, it's reacting. Predictably. Involuntarily. In a way that makes him want to fling himself into the sun.

He screws his eyes shut, mentally begging for divine intervention or at the very least, for you to stay asleep. Because if you wake up right now and find him like this? In your bed? Spooning you? With that pressing against you?

There's no explanation in the universe that could get him out of this one. No amount of stammering or panicked rambling could justify the very obvious, very mortifying problem currently happening beneath the covers.

Because Jungkook knows this isn't just his usual morning wood. In fact, this has very little to do with the morning and everything to do with you... and your ass currently pressed against him.

It's almost like his body made an executive decision to completely betray him the second you leaned back into him, and now he's left here... stiff in more ways than one, praying to every higher power that you stay asleep.

He knows he can't stay here any longer. Not like this. Because if we're being honest, this is toeing the line of violating all kinds of boundaries, and Jungkook respects you far too much to risk that. The most practical, the most decent thing to do is to slip away quietly before you wake up and find him in this compromising position.

So, with painstaking caution, he begins to move. He peels the covers back just enough, carefully untangling his arm from around your waist and this time, thankfully, you remain in your deep slumber, no sleepy whine of protest like last night.

He exhales a low sigh of relief when he finally pushes himself off the bed, standing up straight. His heart is still racing, but at least he's free. He spares a glance back to find you still curled on your side, blissfully unaware of his internal crisis and then he glances at the clock—there's still a little over an hour before your morning class. 

Perfect. 

Enough time to retreat to his room, take a cold shower (because, God, does he need one), and then start making breakfast. That way, by the time you wake up, everything will look perfectly normal. Like he had the most uneventful, innocent night ever.

So, he steps out of your room, making a swift retreat to his own and then storms into the bathroom, strips off his clothes and steps into the shower. He sighs softly, letting the water rush down his body letting it drown out the chaotic rhythm his heart has adopted ever since he woke up. 

By the time he's dressed in a fresh set of clothes, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, he finally feels somewhat normal again... like his body and mind have called a temporary truce.

But that fragile calm nearly shatters when he opens the door and spots you standing by the fridge, chugging a bottle of water.

"Oh, hey." you croak, lowering the bottle when you notice him. Your voice is thick with sleep, scratchy, and with the way you squint your eyes against the morning light, Jungkook knows the hangover is hitting you hard.

"Just whyyyy did you let me drink so much last night?" you whine, shoving the bottle back into the fridge. 

By the way you're acting, it's obvious you have no idea what happened last night or this morning... how Jungkook woke up with his arm wrapped around you. Spooning you. With... other complications involved.

Jungkook forces a chuckle, a wave of relief washing over him as he quickly regains his composure. "I tried to stop you, but I gave up when you went back for the fourth bottle like a woman on a mission." he teases, gesturing towards the battlefield that is your living room, with empty soju bottles scattered across the floor like war casualties.

"I have class in an hour, and I swear my head is splitting open." You groan, pressing your fingertips to your temples. Jungkook smiles softly, already moving towards the mess to start cleaning up. He would've done it last night, but, well—things had taken a different turn.

"Why don't you freshen up? I'll make you some soup." he offers and you pause, leaning against the island as you watch him bend down to pick up the bottles. 

You've lost count of how many times Jungkook has cleaned up after you, nursed your hangovers, made you breakfast, made sure you were okay. He's like an angel in disguise, you think. And you have no idea how he hasn't gotten tired of you yet.

"Thank you, Kook. Seriously..." you say, voice softer this time, laced with sincerity. He glances up, pausing his movements just to give you one of those warm smiles, the kind that always makes your heart feel full. "Anytime." he says simply.

With that, you shuffle off to your room to get ready for the day. By the time you're out the door, stomach full of warm soup, your headache is nothing but a distant memory. And it's all because of your amazing roommate.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Taehyung's voice slices through the quiet hum of the library, pulling Jungkook's scattered thoughts away from the screen in front of him. For the last thirty minutes, he'd been attempting to focus on the leetcode assessment in front of him, but no matter how hard he tried, all that's occupying his mind is you. 

He just can't seem to stop thinking about you... how you called him cute last night, how you leaned into him when you were tipsy, the scent of you hair, how warm and soft you felt pressed against him this morning. 

Jungkook clears his throat, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and quickly brings his focus back onto the screen, eyes darting across the lines of code, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as if trying to will himself into action. But it's no use.

"Yeah... I just... I was just trying to figure this code out." he lies, forcing the words out as smoothly as possible. But Taehyung, ever the perceptive one, doesn't buy it even for a second. He leans back in his chair, narrowing his eyes, clearly not convinced. "It's Y/n again, isn't it?" he raises an eyebrow.

Taehyung was one of the first friends Jungkook made at university. They shared the same major, and if Jungkook was being honest with himself, he liked to think of them as kindred spirits. Of course, calling them similar might be a bit of a stretch, but it was safe to say they were the same person, just in different fonts.

For starters, they both shared the same nerdy interests... coding, anime, and all things geeky, but when it came to personality, they were worlds apart. 

Unlike Jungkook, Taehyung was bright, outgoing, and confident. He had this infectious charisma that seemed to draw people in effortlessly, and on top of that, he was also the star player of the university's soccer team. 

It was Taehyung who first approached Jungkook for a paired assignment at the start of the first semester, and that's how their friendship began to form. Over time, they grew close, and now, after spending so much time together, Taehyung had become well aware of Jungkook's deep feelings for you... something Jungkook had reluctantly confessed after a lot of prodding.

Taehyung was, unfortunately, very good at getting people to open up, and Jungkook was no exception. He could be annoyingly persistent when it came to matters of the heart.

"No." Jungkook scoffs, but Taehyung, ever the observant one, immediately catches the bright red hue creeping up his ears. A grin spreads across Taehyung's face as he leans in, elbowing Jungkook. "Come on, tell me what happened now?" he prods as usual.

"Nothing, Tae. Leave me alone and focus on your work." Jungkook mutters, his tone flat, hoping to brush the conversation aside.

Taehyung, however, isn't so easily deterred. "Hey, come on, is it really that bad? I just want to know how things are going with your roommate." he says, with a pout. "You know, the roommate you're so hopelessly in love with." he adds with a smirk.

Jungkook throws a sharp glare at him. "Watch your mouth." he warns, though a part of him knows Taehyung is only doing this to get a rise out of him. 

"Honestly..." Taehyung starts again, resting his chin on his hand. "I don't know how you do it. Living in the same house with the girl you've liked since the very first time you saw her, all while concealing your very real romantic feelings for her...." He pauses, giving Jungkook an exaggerated once-over. 

"That is not for the weak, Kook. You're just built different because seriously I would have combusted by now."

Jungkook keeps his eyes on the screen, fingers tapping the keys though he's barely processing what he's typing. "It's not that easy." he says casually, trying to brush off the weight of the conversation. 

"It's... kind of sickening sometimes, you know? Being under the same roof with her.. seeing her every day... and knowing I'm probably nowhere near her league..." He sighs, meeting Taehyung's gaze again, an almost resigned look in his eyes.

Taehyung's playful expression softens and he leans in a little, lowering his voice. "Hey... don't do that. Don't sell yourself short." His words are gentle but firm. 

"I'm pretty sure Y/n isn't the kind of person who cares about stuff like 'leagues.' And honestly, that whole idea? It's bullshit. No one's out of anyone's league, Kook. Relationships aren't about rankings. They're all about connection. About how you make each other feel."

Jungkook's fingers slow to a stop, his eyes flicking towards Taehyung, searching for something—reassurance, maybe. "If you're genuine, if you care about her the way I know you do, that's what matters. It's not about being the 'best' or 'coolest' guy. It's about being the right person for her.

Jungkook inhales slowly, carefully absorbing Taehyung's words. Maybe he's right. Maybe everything Jungkook has built up in his mind... the leagues, the what-ifs, the invisible walls, maybe they're all just ghosts of his own making.

But still... that gnawing insecurity, the self-doubt that's burrowed so deeply into his chest, it clings to him like a second skin. 

Because, god, he wants it. He wants everything with you. He wants to hold your hand, wants to hold you close.  He wants to do all the little things for you, the ones that might seem trivial to someone else but mean everything to him. 

Like making you your favorite breakfast, folding your laundry because you forgot again, or fixing your ring light when it flickers out right before you film. 

He always wants to be the one you pull into your silly tiktok dances or the one you use as a human swatch palette, drawing streaks of lip stains and eyeshadow along his arm for as long as you please.

He wants to be there—not just as a passing presence—but a constant. Someone you can always rely on, someone who always brightens your day, someone who always feels like home.

But wanting and having—they still feel like two entirely different worlds.

And the thought of losing what little he already has with you... the impromptu friendship, the effortless laughter, the quiet comfort of existing in the same apartment, it terrifies him.

So, he stays where he is. Close, but not too close. Wanting, but never reaching. Because taking that first step feels like standing on the edge of a cliff—one wrong move, and everything could come crashing down.

"Alright, everyone. It's that time of the semester again—time to talk about your upcoming research paper on macroeconomic market trends." Mr. Jang, your eccentric yet strangely endearing macroeconomics professor, announces just as the lecture is nearing its end.

His words send a collective groan rippling through the lecture hall as heads drop onto desks, pens clatter, and someone even mutters a dramatic "Nooo..." like they're being sent to war.

Beside you, Jimin lets out an exaggerated huff, slumping down in his seat like he's just been personally victimized. "Just take me out now. This is where I die." he mutters under his breath. You sigh, nodding in solidarity. "Literally, same."

"You'll be working in pairs." Mr. Jang continues, unfazed by the chorus of complaints. At that, the mood shifts and a subtle spark of hope lights up the room. Pair work is always better than slogging through a solo paper.

People immediately start throwing side glances at their friends, silent pacts being made through nods and raised brows. You and Jimin exchange the same look. It's obvious—you're a team. You've been surviving Mr. Jang's chaotic assignments together for multiple semesters now, and besides, you barely know anyone else in this massive lecture hall.

But then, just as people are settling into the relief of pre-determined partnerships, Mr. Jang's voice cuts through again like a dagger. "But... I'm feeling a little adventurous this time." he grins and a new wave of dread passes over the room. Everyone knows exactly where this is going.

"I'm all about broadening horizons, getting you guys out of your comfort zones. So... I've decided to switch things up. You won't be picking your own partners." he says and the collective mood plummets again and some students visibly deflate in their seats.

Mr. Jang grins, clearly enjoying this far too much. "I've made a list of the pairs myself, and I'll be emailing it to you all by this evening." 

Jimin lets out a suffering groan. "Like this couldn't possibly get any worse." he says and you nod, just as disappointed. The last thing you want is to be paired with some random person in class who either has no clue what's going on or is just impossible to coordinate with.

You've always been the kind of person who loves making new friends, striking up conversations with strangers, and weaving your way into different social circles with ease. But when it came to assignments? That was a different story. You'd rather stick with your best friend, Jimin or at least someone you know, because there's always a silent understanding of each other's work styles. 

No awkward debates over who would do what, no last-minute panicing because someone forgot their part. You just knew how to get things done, efficiently and without the headache.

"Alright, settle down!" Mr. Jang claps his hands to regain control as the students continue to protest. "Once you get your partner, I expect you to reach out, collaborate, and submit the assignment by the end of next month. That's two whole weeks before the finals, so that should be plenty of time, right?"

A few half-hearted nods follow, but it's clear most people are already bracing themselves for the impending awkward small talk and the inevitable "So... uh, how do you wanna do this?" conversation.

"Good. I expect great things from you guys. Class dismissed!"

As you gather your things, Jimin leans in, his voice thick with impending doom. "I swear to god, if I end up with someone who does nothing, and I have to write the entire paper myself... just know, this might actually be my end." 

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you chuckle. "I'll put flowers on your grave." you joke, giving him a wink. "Make sure it's daisies, please." he shoots back as he follows you out of the lecture hall.

The warm afternoon sun greets you as you step out of the building, its golden rays spilling over the campus like honey. You walk beside Jimin, already caught up in some random conversation but it doesn't take long before you hear your name being called— all high-pitched and excited. 

You glance up to see a group of girls waving at you from across the courtyard, their smiles as bright as the sun. You know them, or at least you know their usernames because they're the same ones who're always flooding your comment section every time you post, hyping up your nails, your outfits, asking for makeup links, or DMing you to say you "ate" and left no crumbs.

You giggle and wave back just as enthusiastically, earning a chorus of delighted squeals in return.

Jimin clicks his tongue beside you. "Oh god. Here we go. Ms. Influenza. Ms. Campus Celebrity. Ms. 'Get Ready With Me for my 8 AM Lecture.'—"

"Don't start." you cut him off, laughing.

"I'm just saying..." he holds his hands up, grinning. "Should I get my camera out? You wanna do a quick fit check? Maybe we should go live—'Hey guys, just walking across campus, breathing oxygen, being gorgeous.'"

You swat at his arm, making him snort.

"You're just mad because no one's ever asked you where you got your jeans from." you quip and Jimin gasps, clutching his chest like you've struck him. "Excuse you, these are vintage—thrifted with love. For all we know, the previous owner died in them. Their ghost is probably hovering around right now, deeply offended by your slander."

You snort, but he's on a roll. "And, for your kind information, not everyone can pull off thrifted cargo pants also—what is that? A baby tee? Are you auditioning for Bratz: The Resurrection?"

You gasp dramatically, hand flying to your chest. "It's called style, Jimin."

"Right, right. My apologies, Ms. Vogue."

You both burst out laughing, as you continue walking, ready to head home. You pull out your phone, mindlessly scrolling, until you suddenly realize what day it is today. "Shit." you mutter under your breath.

Jimin's head whips towards you, immediately on high alert. "What? Did someone comment some weird shit again? Is this about that guy who said he'd drink your bathwater?"

You freeze, turning to him slowly, face twisted in horror. "Chim, why the hell would you remind me of that?" 

"Hey, I'm traumatized too, okay ??"

You shake your head, trying to banish the cursed memory. "No, it's not that. It's just... it's grocery shopping day."

You and Jungkook have this little system where you both take turns grocery shopping and keep the cabinets and fridge stocked with all the essentials. He had tried to convince you, more than once, that he could handle it every time, but you wouldn't let him. 

After all, you were roommates and it was only fair the responsibility was shared equally. And since he made the last trip, it obviously means it's your turn now. 

"Wanna accompany me??" You glance at Jimin, hopeful and he doesn't even hesitate. "Girl, you're on your own." he says. "Besides, I've got plans with Yoongi." he adds after a beat, making you roll your eyes. 

"Come onnn, you see that man every hour of the day." you groan, throwing your head back, exasperated. "All I'm asking for is one measly trip to the grocery store."

You shift your stance as you loop your arms around his, giving him your most pleading pout, paired with fluttering lashes, hoping it might be enough to convince him. But all your best friend does is look at you with disgust. "Girl, you can literally go with your roommate." he shoots back, unfazed.

"Come on, Chim, you know we take turns grocery shopping. He went last time, so I have to go this time, I have no choice but I don't wanna go alone. So come with me pleeeeaseeee." You drag out the last word, hoping your puppy-dog eyes will seal the deal.

Jimin groans, exasperated with a disgusted look but let's out a resigned sigh as he pulls his arm out of your grip. "Ugh, fine." he relents and his expression changes almost immediately. "But let's go with Yoongi. He can drive us there. You know, in his new car." he adds, already getting giddy at the mention of his boyfriend.

It's your turn to give him the disgusted look now, but you know walking to the store is a far less appealing option and third-wheeling the insufferable couple is a little price you'll have to pay for convenience.

Jungkook rises from the couch the moment he hears the front door creak open. His eyes immediately land on you, followed closely by Jimin and Yoongi, each of you juggling oversized bags filled to the brim with groceries.

"Oh, hey Kook." you exhale, slipping off your shoes. "Hey, JK." Jimin offers a bright smile, while Yoongi gives a small, acknowledging nod as the three of you shuffle inside the apartment. 

"Today was grocery shopping day?" Jungkook asks, his gaze softening as he steps forward, instinctively relieving you of the heavy bag in your hand, his fingers brushing faintly against yours, before you can even nod. 

Jimin and Yoongi exchange a knowing glance, trying to hold back their smiles, before making their way towards the kitchen island. "Yeah, so I had these two help me out." you answer following them as they set the bags down and Jungkook follows suit. 

"You know what happened today, JK?" Jimin suddenly begins, and you immediately roll your eyes, already knowing where this is headed. "Come on Chim, you're overacting" you sigh, moving towards the fridge to grab a bottle of water. 

Jungkook blinks, slightly confused as he looks at Jimin. "What happened?" he questions softly. 

"We were supposed to be done with grocery shopping an hour ago, okay? But this one—" Jimin pauses to accusingly jab a finger in your direction "—decided to go on a quest for Twinkies."

"Twinkies?" Jungkook tilts his head. That's his favorite snack. 

"Yeah, Twinkies." Jimin echoes, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. "They weren't in any of the aisles, and you know what she did?" he pauses again, his lips twitching.

"She caused a full-blown search operation in the store. Had half the staff combing through the shelves like we were looking for some buried treasure." he explains animatedly.

"And then—get this—someone finally dug them out from the stockroom in the back." Jimin finishes while Yoongi leans against the island, watching his boyfriend with a fond smile, as if Jimin's exaggerated storytelling is the most adorable thing in the word. 

Well, though Jimin was being his usual overdramatic self—spinning the story more for entertainment than accuracy—there was still truth in his words. 

You knew exactly how much Jungkook loved Twinkies. He hadn't exactly made a big deal out of it, but you remembered, because he'd casually mentioned once, in a passing conversation that Twinkies were his comfort snack. 

It was a small, fleeting detail, but it had stuck with you and since then, every time it was your turn to handle the groceries, you made it a point to grab a pack—sometimes even three—just to see that contented smile grace his cute face when he found them in the pantry.

And today was no different. Well, maybe just a little because you'd had to put in some extra effort—scour the aisles, rally a few employees, and stir up more commotion than you intended—but in the end, you got them. Because it was for Jungkook. 

"I literally just asked if they had more in stock." you defend yourself as you close the fridge and cross your arms. "Oh, please." Jimin scoffs, though there's no real heat behind his words.

"Come on, baby." Yoongi chimes in. "You know she just wanted to get the Twinkies because Jungkook likes them." he says. "Yeah, like, forgive me for trying to get his favorite snack." you shrug, a light laugh escaping.

"I get that." Jimin concedes with a sigh, though his eyes are still playful. "But was it really necessary to rally the entire staff? You were going, 'No, I need the Twinkies. Jungkook loves Twinkies. I'm not leaving until I get the Twinkies.' Like, girl I'm sure he would've survived a day without them." He shakes his head in disbelief.

"Why even go to such lengths for Twinkies of all things?" he continues, exasperated and you simply smile at him, shrugging. "Just because."

Jimin stares at you, utterly unimpressed. "Just because?" he echoes, looking personally offended. "You dragged us through an entire covert operation just because?"

You laugh at that and Yoongi joins in too, but Jungkook only half-hears the rest of the banter because all he can think about is... You did that? All of that... for him?

The grocery trip took longer, not because you were being difficult, but because you cared. You cared enough to hunt down his favorite snack—Twinkies, of all things—like it actually mattered.

He swallows, feeling an unexpected lump in his throat. It's such a small gesture, something others might dismiss as trivial. But for fuck's sake, this is Jungkook we're talking about. He feels all tingly, almost giddy, because you really went out of your way, just for him, just for his silly little Twinkies. 

Soon enough, Yoongi and Jimin bid their goodbyes, slipping out the door and you turn to Jungkook with a soft smile. "I swear, Jimin's so annoying." you shake your head, though the fondness in your voice betrays any real annoyance.

Jungkook chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he follows you into the living room. "Yeah, but he's still your best friend." he says making you playfully roll your eyes. 

"Anyways, I'm gonna be in my room. Need to film this tiktok for some skincare brand." you sigh, already mentally preparing yourself for the ordeal and Jungkook nods, leaning lazily against the couch. "What do you wanna do for dinner? Takeout?" he asks. 

You pause, glancing over your shoulder. "Yeah, takeout sounds good to me." you agree and he gives a thumbs-up, pushing off the couch to head towards his own room. But just as your hand wraps around your door knob, his voice gently calls out to you. "Y/n."

You hum in response, turning to find him standing by his door. His eyes are warm and his expression is softer than usual, almost tender. There's a brief pause before he opens his mouth. "Thanks for getting me the Twinkies." he says.

His words catch you off guard and you can't help but laugh, though it's more bashful than anything. "I swear, Jimin was just being so overdramatic. It's really not that big of a deal, Kook. I'll always get you Twinkies." you say, shaking your head and trying to brush it off, though the way Jungkook's gaze lingers on you makes your heart flutter just a little.

"Anyways, let me know when you're ordering the food, okay?" you say softly after a beat and before he can respond, you slip into your room, closing the door behind you. And as you lean back against it for a brief moment, a small smile tugs at your lips because somehow, a simple thank you from Jungkook feels like the sweetest thing you've heard all day.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes in your pocket, pulling you from your thoughts. You reach for it, already anticipating the email notification that greets you. 

Sure enough, it's from Mr. Jang, subject line unmistakable—his list of partners for the assignment. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, the familiar sense of dread settling in as you brace yourself for the inevitable revelation. 

You swipe to open the email, preparing for whatever name awaits you on the other side, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.

"So, who's your partner?" Jimin questions, sliding into his usual spot beside you. "Some guy named... Jaehyun?" you answer, unsure. "Jaehyun?" Jimin echoes, trying to see if the name sparks any recognition, but nothing comes to mind. 

This class is so huge that it's nearly impossible to keep track of everyone's name and face.

"Yeah, I have no clue who he is." you say, shrugging. "Anyways, who's yours?" you ask and Jimin's grin widens. "It's Namjoon."

You gasp. Namjoon—the genius of the class, the one whose name you've heard so many times that it's become a staple in your memory. That explains why you recognize his name and face in this sea of unfamiliar ones.

"You lucky bastard." you say, shaking your head. "I know, right?" Jimin leans back, practically glowing with excitement. "Being partners with Namjoon means that an A is already in the bag."

You exhale a resigned sigh, because all you can do right now is only hope that this Jaehyun guy is someone kind and easy to work with but before you can get further lost in your thoughts, a voice interrupts. 

"Hey."

You and Jimin both look up to see a man standing in front of your desk with his gaze fixed on you. You blink, wondering what he wants. You've seen him around class a few times, but you genuinely have no idea who he is.

"Hi...?" you say, unsure, and the man chuckles softly, quickly realizing that you don't recognize him. "I'm Jaehyun... You're Y/n, right?" His tone is steady, and that's when it clicks, He's your partner for the assignment. 

"Oh hey! Sorry, I'm just so bad with names and faces." you giggle sheepishly as you stand up. "It's alright." Jaehyun replies with a reassuring smile. 

"Anyways..." he continues. "Since we're working on the assignment together, I just wanted to know how you'd like to start." His voice is calm and serious, and the sincerity in his tone brings an odd sense of relief because he sounds like someone who actually cares about the work.

"Oh, um..." you pause for a second, thinking. You know that most people prefer working in the library or just doing it remotely over video calls. But you'd prefer a more personal, comfortable setting, a place where both of you can freely share your ideas and thoughts without feeling rushed.

"We can start working on it at my place... it's near the campus." you suggest. "But if you have any other preferen—"

"Your place sounds fine." Jaehyun interjects with a smile and you nod at his words. "Here's my number." he says, sliding a small piece of paper on your desk. "Text me the address."

Before you can respond, the professor strides into the room, commanding everyone's attention. The casual chatter across the lecture hall dissolves into the rustling of notebooks and the scraping of chairs as people rush to their seats.

"I'll catch you later, yeah?" Jaehyun says smoothly, flashing you one last smile before turning on his heel. 

You offer a polite smile back, but the moment he's out of earshot, Jimin leans in, exhaling dramatically like he's just witnessed a divine apparition. "Wow. That is one good-looking man." His eyes are wide with faux awe, clutching his chest like he's been personally affected.

You snort, giving him a pointed look. "Bro, you literally have a boyfriend." you deadpan, narrowing your eyes playfully and Jimin gasps, clutching his imaginary pearls. "What, I can't admire God's work? Yoongi would understand." He winks, and you roll your eyes, fighting back a laugh.

But honestly? Jaehyun's face is the last thing on your mind right now. Looks mean nothing if he turns out to be unreliable.

At this point, all you care about is getting this assignment done. As long as he's easy to communicate with and doesn't disappear off the face of the earth when deadlines hit, you'll be more than satisfied.

Jungkook is perched on the couch, his brows furrowed in deep concentration as he stares intently at the ridiculously huge 17x17 rubik's cube in his hands. He's been trying to solve this for a month now, with no tutorials or help, and he's starting to wonder if he's just too dumb for it.

Each twist feels like it could either be a small victory or an impending catastrophe, and the stakes couldn't feel higher. Every so often, he flicks his wrist or makes some bizarre hand motion that only he understands, like he's performing a ritual to appease the rubik's cube gods.

But just as he's about to make a breakthrough, the doorbell rings, and Jungkook hisses in frustration, as if the universe itself is conspiring to distract him. He reluctantly places the cube on the coffee table, and just as he starts to rise from the couch to answer the door, you're already darting towards it.

He sits back down, wondering if it's just one of those PR package deliveries again and brings his focus back on the cube. But his concentration flickers and dies the moment he hears a deep and unfamiliar voice floating in from the doorway.

"Come on in." he hears you say and Jungkook's head snaps up, curiosity prickling at his chest as he cranes his neck towards the entrance. 

He's expecting maybe a delivery guy asking for a signature, or one of your friends like Jimin or someone, dropping by to gossip, but instead, he sees you stepping inside with someone unknown trailing closely behind you.

The guy is tall and lean, with a backpack hanging loosely off one shoulder, moving with that effortless kind of charm and the moment he steps in, his gaze sweeps over the room, before landing on Jungkook on the couch. 

There's a flicker of something in his eyes but it shifts almost immediately to the oversized rubik's cube sitting on the coffee table and Jungkook is quick to notice the way the guy's lips twitch, pressing together like he's clearly holding something back.

"Oh, Kook! This is Jaehyun." you say when your eyes catch his from across the room. You gesture back at the guy, who offers a lopsided smile. "We're working on an assignment together."

Jungkook blinks, scrambling for a response, but his tongue feels annoyingly slow. "Sup, dude?" Jaehyun greets, casual, a little too confident. There's a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, subtle but it's definitely there—the kind that's easy to miss if you aren't looking closely but the thing is, Jungkook is looking closely.

And for some reason, it rubs him the wrong way.

He's no stranger to you bringing study or assignment partners home—it's normal, part of your routine. He's done the same, though every time it feels like he's navigating social quicksand, stumbling through small talk and hoping the other person doesn't pick up on his awkwardness.

Still, he stands, out of habit more than anything, flashing a small, awkward smile. "Hey."

Jaehyun exhales a soft, amused huff, like he's holding back a laugh, and Jungkook can't tell if it's just his usual demeanor or if there's something else laced beneath it. Something condescending. But before Jungkook can figure it out, you're already moving.

"Anyways, we'll be in my room, okay?" you inform him with a quick smile, not waiting for a reply as you lead Jaehyun down the hall and before Jungkook can muster a response, the door to your room clicks shut.

He drops back onto the couch, the rubik's cube long forgotten on the coffee table. 

There's this thing—this gut feeling people talk about. This instinct, this unspoken warning system buried deep in your subconscious. Sometimes it's a tightening in your chest, a sudden shift in your pulse, or just a quiet, nagging whisper at the back of your mind, hinting at something your conscious brain hasn't quite caught up to yet. 

It's primal, wired into human nature... the kind of feeling that makes you hesitate before stepping into the dark, or glance over your shoulder without knowing why.

And right now, that very feeling is sinking its teeth into Jungkook.

He can't explain it, can't put his finger on a single, tangible reason, but something about Jaehyun, his eyes, his stance, the way he carries himself—feels... off.

Not in an obvious way. Not in a way he could call out without sounding ridiculous.

He runs a hand through his hair, shaking it off. Maybe he's overthinking it. Maybe he's just being protective... or worse, maybe he's being jealous.

But his gut is still whispering.

And Jungkook's learned not to ignore that.

Surprisingly—and to your great relief—Jaehyun turns out to be an easygoing and cooperative partner. The last hour has been spent deep in discussion, bouncing ideas off each other, sifting through potential research topics, and, somehow, it doesn't feel suffocating.

Jaehyun listens attentively, considers your inputs, and offers his own without steamrolling over yours. It's honestly refreshing.

"So, I guess this is it, then." you say, nodding in satisfaction once the final topic is settled. Jaehyun mirrors your nod, a small grin playing at his lips. "Didn't peg Miss Popular as the type to actually lock in when it comes to assignments." he teases.

You gasp dramatically, placing a hand over your chest. "Excuse you, I take my academic life very seriously."

"Oh yeah?" He tilts his head. "So if I check your screen time right now, I won't find an ungodly number of hours spent on tiktok and Instagram?"

"First of all...." you say, pointing a finger at him. "That's classified information. Second of all, it's kind of like my job at this point."

Jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. "Right, right. Job."

You roll your eyes but can't help but chuckle along.

"Anyways..." he leans back in his chair. "How'd you even get into this whole content creation thing?"

You know you should probably steer the conversation back to the assignment, but honestly? You don't mind. Jaehyun seems reliable enough, and besides, a little break never hurt anyone.

"Well...." you start, a little sheepishly, "I was a Vine kid." you say but before you can continue Jaehyun's eyes widen in an instant. "Wait, Vine? As in, six-second goldmine Vine? The superior app?"

"You know about Vine too ?!??!" You gasp, placing a hand over your heart again. "Oh my god. I thought I was alone in this cruel world."

Jaehyun scoffs. "Are you kidding? I lived on that app. To this day, I still quote Vines like it's a second language."

"No, because same." You lean forward, suddenly excited. "Like, I can't go one day without referencing 'It is Wednesday, my dudes—'"

Jaehyun, without missing a beat, throws his head back and screams. "AAAAAAAAH."

(A/N: SORRY GUYSFGJERHG, I WAS A VINE KID—I JUST HAAAD TOOOO. anyways, if you don't get the reference, check this link out hehe)

You burst out laughing, slamming your hand on your desk. "Oh my god. A fellow Vine scholar."

"Finally." he sighs dramatically. "Someone who understands."

You shake your head, still chuckling. "But yeah, I used to make Vines of my own too—though we are not going to talk about that." You cringe at the memory, suppressing a shudder. "So that's where my whole content creation passion came from. Except now, my content is more... I don't know, just stuff I actually enjoy doing." You shrug, and Jaehyun nods in understanding.

"I follow you on tiktok, by the way." He grins, tilting his head slightly. "And I gotta say, your content's pretty fire."

"Oh, really?" You smirk, narrowing your eyes playfully. "Then tell me—what eyeshadow palette did I review in my last video?" You cross your arms, arching a brow because you know damn well your content isn't exactly tailored for a guy like Jaehyun. But teasing him is too tempting to resist.

Jaehyun groans, throwing his head back. "Hey, come on, don't do me like that." he protests, laughing. "I was talking about your other stuff—like your random vlogs, your outfit checks, oh, um—your little roommate series."

"Ah, yes." You nod. "The roommate series' main star was the poor soul you saw in the living room earlier." You giggle, thinking of Jungkook's stiff face every time your camera is in his personal space. "He's my little unpaid intern." You grin, and Jaehyun laughs along.

"Yeah, I noticed. He's on your page a lot." Jaehyun muses, eyes narrowing slightly like he's piecing something together. "I've been wondering though... How do you even convince him to join in? He seems like the... shy type."

You giggle, leaning back into your chair. "Oh, he is shy—painfully so. But..." your voice softens, "He's also the sweetest person you'll ever meet. Never complains. Even when I make him do the dumbest skits, he just goes along with it." A fond smile tugs at your lips.

Before Jaehyun can respond, his phone buzzes. He checks it quickly, before letting out a breath. "Ah, looks like I gotta head out." he says and you nod understandingly. He stands and you follow suit as he slings his backpack over his shoulder in one fluid motion. "Cool, we'll see each other again..." you start.

"Day after tomorrow." Jaehyun finishes with a small smile, and you nod.

"Right. See you then." And with that, he walks out.

Once the door clicks shut behind Jaehyun, you linger for a moment before stepping further into the living room and your gaze naturally falls on the oversized rubik's cube, still half-solved on the coffee table and you wonder what Jungkook's up to right now.

And just then, it's the soft, rapid staccato of mouse and keyboard clicks that draws your attention, so you make your way towards Jungkook's room and as expected, he's there— perched at his desk, headset on, eyes locked onto the screen, fingers moving furiously as he navigates through his Minecraft world. 

You inch closer. "Hey." you call, giving his shoulder a gentle poke. Jungkook jumps slightly, wide eyes snapping to you as he hurriedly pulls off his headset. "Oh—hey." he breathes out, his voice tinged with the faintest trace of surprise.

His eyes flicker past you, towards the door, and for a brief moment he wonders if Jaehyun's  gone. You don't notice it, but Jungkook's chest eases a little when he realizes the guy's probably left.

He won't admit it out aloud, but the only reason he'd abandoned his rubik's cube and holed himself up in his room with the volume cranked up on his game, was to drown out the sound of your laughter echoing from behind the closed door of your bedroom.

He'd told himself not to think too much about it, but the longer he sat there, the more the warmth in your voice with Jaehyun grated against something he couldn't quite name. So, he'd escaped, to blocks and biomes, anything to block it out.

"What do you want for dinner?" you ask. "I was thinking... ramen?"

"Ramen... yeah, ramen sounds good." He nods, already starting to push himself up from his chair, ready to help. But you wave him off with a soft laugh. "Hey, I've got this. You can keep playing. I'll handle the ramen." you assure him, already turning towards the door to leave.

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest, because he always wants to help out, but you're gone before he can.

He stays there, watching the spot where you stood for a beat longer than he needs to, before sinking back into his chair. The Minecraft screen flickers at him, but his focus is elsewhere as his fingers hover over the keys.

That gut feeling... the one that first crept in when Jaehyun walked through the door, still stubbornly sits heavy in his chest. But Jungkook exhales, shaking his head as if to clear it. It's not that deep.

He's just an assignment partner, after all.

Right?

Days drift by, and Jaehyun's visits have grown more frequent—so frequent that his presence has begun to settle into the corners of your shared apartment like it belongs there.

Jungkook has started to notice things—small, seemingly insignificant at first, but they begin to pile up like pebbles forming a mountain he can't ignore.

It's hard to miss how comfortable you've grown with Jaehyun. There's an ease to the way your laughter bubbles up at his jokes, the way your hand instinctively swats at his arm or chest when he teases you. It's playful—sure—but it leaves Jungkook with a faint, inexplicable unease.

He tries to brush it off. He really does.

Most days, he sees you both working, heads bent together over your laptops, furrowed brows, quiet discussions filling the living room or your bedroom. There's a seriousness to the project that he can't deny, especially in you because Jungkook knows how dedicated you are when it comes to assignments and projects.

But even then, Jaehyun has a way of slipping in like tossing a joke here or a teasing comment there and suddenly, the air visibly shifts. The work pauses and laughter spills out.

And then there are moments—moments like yesterday—that cling to Jungkook's memory like a thorn.

He had walked in to see Jaehyun playfully locking you in a loose headlock while you laughed, elbowing him in the stomach to break free, but the sight lodged itself in Jungkook's chest like a stone.

It was harmless, he told himself. Just friends messing around. But it was the details that lingered—the way Jaehyun's grin stretched wide, the way your laughter rang unrestrained, the way you leaned into his touch instead of pulling away. The way you didn't seem to mind him being so close.

And then there's the other thing. The part that unsettles Jungkook the most.

The look.

Every time Jaehyun is over, he throws a look at Jungkook and he instantly catches it. A look, which is fleeting but definitely intentional. The kind that seems casual on the surface but holds an undercurrent of something else. Something off.

It's not an open challenge, not exactly. Nor is it the the casual acknowledgment guys sometimes exchange to break the ice. It's subtler, more calculated... like Jaehyun's sizing him up, or worse, like he already knows something Jungkook doesn't.

It's the kind of look that worms under his skin.

The kind that feels like someone is quietly staking a claim on something you thought was yours.

And Jungkook hates it. He hates the way it's taking root inside him, how it makes his chest tighten and his jaw clench. He hates that he cares this much. That he even feels like he has something to lose.

But no matter how much he tries to rationalize it, how many times he tells himself he's imagining it... that gut feeling, that unrelenting instinct—remains.

Something about Jaehyun just doesn't sit right.

Right now, Jungkook remains perched on the edge of the kitchen island, one hand resting on the cool surface while the other hovers over his laptop's trackpad. He's trying—really trying—to stay focused on the test flashing across his screen, some tedious but necessary module assessment that's part of his course requirements.

But he can hear your voice, and Jaehyun's, drifting from your room nearby like an unwelcome undercurrent. Jungkook clenches his jaw, trying to drown it out. He knows it's nothing, knows that you're just working on your project. But the sound gets under his skin anyway.

A few minutes pass before he hears the creak of your door opening, followed by footsteps padding down the hallway. Within seconds, Jaehyun appears—tall frame moving with that easy confidence that's begun to grate on Jungkook's nerves. His eyes sweep the room lazily before landing on Jungkook.

"Sup, dude?" Jaehyun greets, casual, almost dismissive, and there's something in the way his gaze flicks over Jungkook that feels vaguely patronizing. Like he's acknowledging him out of obligation, not respect. Like he's the one who lives here and Jungkook's the guest. 

Jungkook forces a nod in acknowledgment, fingers tightening around his laptop. Without waiting for a response, Jaehyun strolls past him, straight to the fridge. "Just grabbing some water." he mutters over his shoulder—like he's entitled to whatever's in there.

Jungkook says nothing, eyes flicking back to his screen. He taps his keyboard, more out of habit than intent, willing himself to tune it all out.

The cap of the water bottle twists open with a soft crack, followed by the sound of Jaehyun taking a long sip. Then he moves closer... almost too close, positioning himself beside the island, his body leaning in ever so slightly as he peers at Jungkook's screen.

"What you up to, man?" he asks, voice still light but carrying that underlying tone, like he already knows whatever Jungkook's doing is probably boring. Probably beneath him.

Jungkook stiffens, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. He can feel Jaehyun's eyes trailing over his laptop screen, taking in the lines of code and multiple-choice questions.

"It's just a test. Course requirement." Jungkook mutters, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"Ahhh... you're a computer science major, right?" His tone is laced with curiosity, but not the genuine kind. It's the kind that holds the faintest trace of mockery. The kind that makes you feel like you need to justify yourself.

Jungkook nods, curtly. "Yeah."

Jaehyun lets out a low, drawn-out whistle, followed by a chuckle. "Damn. Computer science, huh? That's... intense." He laughs before taking another sip of his water, the bottle crinkling slightly under his grip. "Must be tough. All those... codes and... what? Algorithms?" He gestures lazily towards the screen, eyes narrowing.

Jungkook doesn't like the way he says it—like it's a joke, like it's something trivial. Like Jungkook's effort is something to be amused by. "Yeah. Algorithms." he mutters, trying to sound unaffected, though he can feel his patience thinning.

Jaehyun leans in a little, his shadow creeping over the laptop screen. He squints at the test, eyes skimming over the technical jargon as though he's deciphering it, though Jungkook doubts he understands much of it.

"Man... that looks brutal. Don't know how you guys do it. I'd probably lose my mind staring at that stuff all day." He laughs, but it's laced with something condescending, like he's making it clear that he wouldn't waste his time on something so tedious.

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek.

"Guess you gotta be built different for that whole... nerd life, huh?" Jaehyun adds, smirking as he takes another sip.

Jungkook forces a tight smile, but his fingers tighten against the edge of his laptop. He feels the implication of it—the way Jaehyun's not just making conversation. He's dissecting him. Testing him. Seeing what gets a reaction. Measuring him up like he's weighing his worth and already finding him lacking.

Jungkook breathes slowly through his nose, fighting the urge to snap back. He's not going to give Jaehyun that satisfaction. Instead, he shifts slightly in his seat, subtly angling his screen away.

"Yeah." he says flatly. "Guess you do."

Jaehyun lingers a moment longer, like he's waiting for more—like he's hoping for a crack to show. But when none comes, he finally steps back, draining the rest of his water.

"Respect, man. Couldn't be me." He the proceeds to clap Jungkook on the shoulder—harder than necessary, his hand lingering for just a second too long before he pulls away. There's something weird about the gesture, like he's asserting dominance.

Then he steps back, water bottle still in hand, eyes sweeping over Jungkook one last time like he's taking stock—cataloging him, filing him away under less than. Like he's already decided he's better.

"You keep doing your thing, though." Jaehyun adds, voice dripping with false encouragement. "The nerd life's gotta pay off someday, right?" He laughs, turning on his heel, and before Jungkook can respond, he's already strolling back towards your room.

Jungkook stares at his laptop screen, but the words blur into a mess of symbols and frustration. His chest tightens with a mix of anger and something closer to humiliation.

Jaehyun knew exactly what he was doing.

And it worked.

Jungkook forces himself to return his focus to the screen. There's no reason—no logical reason—why he should let a guy like Jaehyun get under his skin and make him feel bad about himself—his major, his choices, or anything else for that matter.

He knows exactly the kind of guy Jaehyun is.

The kind who carries himself like he's untouchable, like he's a step ahead of everyone else. The kind who doesn't even have to say it outright to make you feel like you're somehow beneath him.

Guys like Jaehyun think they're on another level... effortlessly charismatic, naturally better, always in control. And maybe, for the most part, they are. But Jungkook refuses to be another person who feeds into that delusion.

So he brushes it off, squares his shoulders, tightens his grip on his laptop, and forces his attention back to his test.

Nearly half an hour passes.

He's managed to focus, even if it took effort, even if his brain kept replaying snippets of the earlier conversation in the background. But then, the sound of your bedroom door opening breaks his concentration again.

This time, it's you walking out first, your laptop tucked under one arm. Jaehyun follows a few seconds later, slinging his backpack over one shoulder with the ease of someone who doesn't have a single worry in the world.

"So, now that we have enough data collected on consumer spending trends across different income brackets, we should start working on the outline of the paper by next week." you say, your voice casual but firm as you lead Jaehyun towards the door.

Jungkook glances up just in time to catch the usual faint smirk Jaehyun throws his way. The same smug, knowing look that makes his skin prickle. Still, as usual, Jungkook ignores it, his fingers tightening against the laptop's edge as he looks back at his screen.

As you reach the doorway, Jaehyun continues to nod at your words. "Cool." he mumbles, proceeding to slip into his shoes. He straightens up as his fingers adjust the strap of his backpack.

He turns around, ready to leave, but suddenly, his hand reaches for the doorknob but stops midway, and you, noticing the pause, tilt your head slightly in question. "Everything good, Jae?" you ask.

Jaehyun turns around, a sheepish smile creeping onto his lips, like something just occurred to him. "Oh, um..." He rubs the back of his neck, playing it off casually. "I was just wondering... it's pretty late, so do you maybe wanna grab dinner together?"

Jungkook, still perched at the kitchen island, picks up on the sudden question instantly and his fingers halt over the keyboard. His back stiffens but his eyes remain fixed on the screen as he waits for you to respond.

"Dinner?" You echo, blinking as though you need a second to let it register. "Oh... yeah, dinner sounds good." you say with a small nod.

Jaehyun's lips twitch into a subtle grin—an almost imperceptible curve of victory, like he's already claimed what he was after. But before he can solidify his win, before he can turn that small triumph into something more, you cut through it with your gentle, unaffected voice.

"Let me ask Kook to join us too!" you chirp, turning back towards the living room without a second thought. "Wouldn't want him to cook alone, you know?"

Jaehyun freezes for half a beat, blinking as the easy confidence slips just slightly from his face. That? That was not what he had in mind.

He was envisioning something different... just the two of you, a quiet dinner where he could lean in close and talk, make you laugh, maybe inch his way into something more. What he wasn't expecting was for you to bring your nerdy roommate along.

Jungkook, from his place in the apartment, hears the shuffle of your feet as you approach him, and he already knows what's coming. He knows you so well. Knew you'd never leave him behind.

For a moment, he lets himself exhale, the knot that had been coiling in his chest loosening just a little. He had braced himself for the possibility of you heading out alone with Jaehyun, braced for the discomfort, the overthinking that would haunt him for the rest of the night.

But you, being you, the sweet angel that you are, would obviously never leave him behind. And that thought, even if it's just for dinner, makes him feel all giddy.

He can already picture the mild irritation on Jaehyun's face. The guy's probably seething behind that polite mask, regretting ever asking in the first place. That thought alone tugs a subtle smirk onto Jungkook's lips... small and barely noticeable, but it's still there nonetheless.

"Kook, me and Jaehyun are going to grab dinner. Wanna come with?" You say it so casually, so sweetly, like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like his presence would only make the evening better.

So, who the hell is he to say no to that? Not when you're looking at him like that—eyes sparkling like stardust, lips curled into that soft, pretty smile that feels like it was made just for him. Like you hung the moon without even trying.

And sure, on any other night, he'd probably hate the thought of sitting through a meal with a stranger, especially someone like Jaehyun, but tonight? Tonight, he wants nothing more than to tag along and be there.

Even if it means enduring Jaehyun's smugness. Even if it means biting his tongue until his jaw aches. Even if it means sitting through forced conversations and subtle digs, pretending not to notice the way Jaehyun acts like he's beneath him or whatever. 

Because in the end, being there with you, will always outweigh all of that.

Jaehyun clenches his fists at his sides, as he struggles to maintain the polite, easy-going smile he's perfected over time. It's taking every ounce of self-restraint not to let his irritation seep through as he watches you animatedly chatter about some random show, while your arm remains casually looped around Jungkook's.

Not only does he have to tolerate the presence of this insufferable nerd, but he also has to witness the two of you nestled so comfortably together? This was definitely not the kind of evening he was looking forward to.

Jungkook, on the other hand, barely registers Jaehyun's existence anymore.

He's too caught up in you—smiling to himself as he listens to your endless rambling, the kind that always veers off into tangents, hopping from plot twists to character arcs, and somehow looping back to an inside joke only the two of you understand.

He's so absorbed, so content, that he's forgotten Jaehyun is even trailing along beside you.

"Oh! There's the diner!" you suddenly exclaim, your eyes lighting up as you point towards the familiar spot, the little place you and Jungkook have frequented on countless lazy nights when cooking felt like too much work.

"Let's go." Jaehyun forces out with a nod, plastering on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He trails behind as you tug Jungkook forward, still holding onto his arm, leaving Jaehyun feeling like the third wheel he never expected to be.

When you step into the diner, you and Jungkook instinctively drift towards your usual table by the window, the one that's practically become yours over time and Jaehyun trails behind, his eyes briefly scanning the place before settling on the two of you.

"You guys get comfortable—I'll go place the order." you chime, your voice light with excitement as Jungkook nods, taking a seat. "Me and Kook are getting our usual burgers... what about you, Jaehyun?" you ask, your smile bright.

Jaehyun shifts in his seat, lowering himself across from Jungkook. "Oh... yeah, I guess I'll have the burger too." he replies, attempting casualness. "Perfect!" you beam, giving a little thumbs-up before turning on your heel and heading towards the counter.

Jungkook and Jaehyun sit face to face, the absence of your warmth leaving a tangible void between them, like the air itself cools the second you step away.

Jungkook has never been good at eye contact; it's always made him feel exposed, like someone could see right through him. But this time, he forces himself to hold Jaehyun's gaze. It's not confidence, it's defiance.

A quiet, stubborn refusal to let Jaehyun think he holds any power here. That his presence, his smirks, his calculated little victories, could ever rattle him.

Jaehyun leans back slightly, arms crossing over his chest, eyes narrowing just the faintest bit. He lets out a breathy scoff and neither of them say a word, but the tension hums louder than any conversation could.

Their eyes lock like two opposing forces testing the limits of the space they share. It's almost childish, this silent standoff, but they're both not willing to be the first to look away. It's as though they're shooting invisible lasers through their pupils, measuring each other in the quietest, most passive-aggressive battle known to man.

"Here we go..." you sing-song, balancing a tray with three burgers and a generous side of fries as you make your way back to the table. You're blissfully unaware of the silent warzone you're about to walk into.

Both Jungkook and Jaehyun immediately snap out of their intense, wordless staring contest, their gazes shifting to you with something alarmingly close to desperation. The air between them, once brimming with unspoken rivalry, pauses, suspended by a single, all-important question.

Where are you going to sit?

There's an empty spot beside each of them, and for a brief second, they're both holding their breaths, like their entire evening depends on this one moment. It's ridiculous, really, two grown men waiting like nervous schoolboys to see which side you'll choose, as though your choice is about to crown the evening's winner.

You place the tray on the table, eyes flitting between the two empty seats as if you're carefully weighing your options.

Truthfully, you're not.

Your phone’s battery is barely hanging on, and the seat beside Jaehyun just so happens to be the closest to the charging socket—that’s all there is to it.

 You need your phone to keep up with your little ritual of posting an Instagram story of your meal, something you’ve done every time you visit this diner. And since you forgot to bring your power bank, the charging socket is your only saving grace.

So when you step towards the chair next to Jaehyun, he shifts slightly, trying to mask his triumph under the guise of casual nonchalance.

He raises a hand to his mouth, rubbing at his jaw and the subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook who, watches the scene unfold from across the table, already mentally preparing himself for an evening of internal suffering.

But when you pull out the chair—you pause.

Your nose scrunches, eyes narrowing as you spot a faint, dried-up glob of what looks suspiciously like mayo crusted onto the edge of the seat. It's small, barely noticeable, but enough to make you grimace.

"Hey, Jae... would you mind shifting there?" you question, pointing to the seat next to Jungkook.

Both men freeze.

Jaehyun's smirk drops so fast it's almost audible, replaced by wide-eyed disbelief while Jungkook's brows flick upwards in surprise, mouth parting slightly before he schools his face back into something neutral, though the barely-there twitch at the corner of his lips betrays him.

This... this was not the outcome either of them had prepared for, but it's safe to say Jungkook's partly satisfied.

Jaehyun however, hesitates, like he's considering protesting, but you quickly flash him that sheepish, apologetic grin, the one that makes it impossible to say no to you. "I'm so sorry... This seat's a little dirty plus I really need to charge my phone, and the socket's right here." you explain, pointing to the outlet on the wall.

Jaehyun forces out a tight smile. "Yeah, of course... No problem." he says, standing up to move to the other seat, landing next to Jungkook with the enthusiasm of someone being sentenced to life in prison.

You flash him a sweet, oblivious smile before finally settling into the seat and plugging in your charger with a small, satisfied hum.

Soon enough, the meal is underway. Conversation flows easily—well, mostly between you and Jaehyun. The two of you chat about random classes and how brutal last week's quiz was, nothing too deep, but enough to make Jungkook feel like a third wheel at a study date he never agreed to.

He picks at his fries, half-listening, half-zoning out, until suddenly, you burst into laughter—loud and unfiltered, the kind that makes your eyes squeeze shut and your hand fly up to cover your mouth and it jolts Jungkook back into the present. 

His gaze flicks to you instantly because when you laugh like that, everything else just fades. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes crinkled at the corners, that light, breathless giggle spilling out like music.

And dammit, Jaehyun, out of all people, is the one who made you laugh and somehow, that realization makes Jungkook bites into his burger a little too aggressive, like it personally offended him.

"No, but seriously..." Jaehyun continues, fighting back his own laughter. "First week of college, right? I'm at this super boring seminar. Room's packed. Everyone's dead silent and the professor's giving this whole speech about the meaning of existence or whatever—like, proper 'stare into the void' kinda stuff."

Jungkook has no idea where this is going, and even though he doesn't particularly want to care, he still listens. Because, seriously, what could possibly be so funny?

"But I was bored out of my mind, right? So, I sneak out my phone—'cause obviously, I'd rather watch something on my phone than spiral into an existential crisis." Jaehyun says and you giggle, nodding along, fully invested.

"But guess what? My phone's on full volume. And out of nowhere—like, cutting through all this profound silence, it goes: 'HURRICANE KATRINA? MORE LIKE HURRICANE TORTILLA!'"

(vine reference link)

You absolutely lose it, slapping the table as laughter erupts from you. "STOP—NOT HURRICANE TORTILLA—" you wheeze, clutching your stomach.

Jungkook pauses mid-chew, eyes narrowing slightly as he wonders what the hell is a... hurricane tortilla? He glances between you two, trying to decode what exactly has you guys dying.

Jaehyun keeps going. "The professor stops talking and the whole room just goes... dead silent and everyone's looking at me like I just committed a crime while I'm just sitting there like—'welp, guess I'll drop out.'"

"I—oh my god—I can't—'hurricane tortilla'—I'm actually cryinggg." you gasp between fits of laughter, wiping at the tears gathering in your eyes. Jungkook just blinks, utterly lost. He leans in slightly, brows furrowed. "...What's a hurricane tortilla?"

Jaehyun's head snaps towards him, eyes widening with exaggerated disbelief. "No way. You're joking, right?" He lets out a sharp laugh, dripping with condescension. "Y/n, you're telling me you live with this uncultured man who doesn't know what a hurricane tortilla is?"

You don't dignify Jaehyun's snide remark with a response. Instead, you turn to Jungkook with a soft smile, the kind that instantly disarms him. Your eyes hold nothing but warmth, no trace of ridicule.

You know he doesn't keep up with this kind of stuff, and that's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of.

"Oh, Kook." you murmur. "It's just a vine. Remember? Those short, funny videos I showed you? Like six seconds long?"

Jungkook's expression softens as the memory washes over him. Of course, he remembers.

That afternoon on the couch, when you had excitedly told him you wanted to show him some "vines". Truthfully, he hadn't really gotten most of them. Some flew right over his head, and he barely found them funny. But he'd never admit it aloud because, honestly, it was never about the vines.

It was about you. The way you had curled up beside him, so close that your shoulder pressed into his while your bright laughter spilled freely, like music that played just for him. The way you'd nudge him with your elbow whenever you found something extremely funny, your pretty eyes crinkling with joy as if inviting him to share in that happiness.

He remembers how his heart raced more from the warmth of your thigh brushing against his than from anything on the screen. How every time you leaned in, laughing so hard you could barely breathe, felt like he could drown completely in the sound of it and never come up for air.

And most of all, he remembers how he didn't want it to end. 

How he could've stayed there, just like that, for hours—watching videos that barely made any sense to him, but that's okay, because getting to hear you laugh like that was all that truly mattered. 

"Yeah... I remember." he says after a beat, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah so, the hurricane tortilla thing? It's just from one of those." you explain, still sweet, still patient, like you're always willing to meet him where he's at.

Eventually, you all wrap up at the diner and step out. The tension between Jungkook and Jaehyun still remains unnoticed by you while they exchange subtle glares, every few minutes, each one laced with unspoken rivalry.

"So, I guess we'll head back now." you say, standing on the pavement with your hands inside your pockets, protecting yourself from the night breeze. Jaehyun gives Jungkook one last look, a brief, pointed glance that's more challenge than farewell, before turning to you with a smile.

And then, without warning, he steps forward, arms looping around you in an embrace. It catches you off guard, but you don't hesitate to return the hug, your arms wrapping around his shoulders with ease, though there's a flicker of surprise in your eyes.

Jungkook, on the other hand, stiffens. His jaw tightens, fists curling at his sides as he watches Jaehyun's arms settle a little too comfortably around your waist. It's not just the hug that gets to him—it's the way Jaehyun looks at him over your shoulder, a smug, knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Like he's winning.

And maybe he is. At least, that's what it feels like to Jungkook in that moment.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow." Jaehyun breathes out as he pulls away, his hand lingering a second too long on your waist. You nod, smiling, completely unaware of the silent battle that's just taken place right behind your back.

"See you around, dude." Jaehyun adds, tossing Jungkook a dismissive nod before turning on his heel and strolling away with all the confidence of someone who thinks he's just claimed victory.

Jungkook exhales slowly, forcing his fists to uncurl at his sides, trying to tame the little green goblin of jealousy that a single hug has so effortlessly stirred to life.

"Let's go, Kook?" Your gentle voice pulls him out of his thoughts. He blinks, looking at you, your eyes bright under the streetlights and his silly little heart stumbles over itself as usual. "I—uhh... yeah. Of course." he stammers, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

The night air is cool, wrapping around you in a gentle breeze as the streets hum with distant traffic. Neon shop signs flicker, casting fleeting shades of color onto the pavement as you and Jungkook walk side by side.

You let out a satisfied hum, rubbing a hand over your stomach. "I swear, I'm never getting tired of that diner." you giggle, and Jungkook glances at you, the corners of his lips curling up. "I think at this point, they should just name a booth after you." he teases.

You gasp dramatically, placing a hand over your chest. "That would be the dream, honestly. But it's not just me, you know? You've been there as much as I have. So I guess we both deserve a picture on the wall that says Most Loyal Customers of the Decade."

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head. "That would be nice, I guess." he says sheepishly.

A comfortable silence settles between you for a moment before you stretch your arms over your head. "Honestly, I'm glad I was able to make Jae try it out." you add casually, glancing at Jungkook and he nods, but his smile dims just slightly.

Maybe it's the way Jaehyun has so easily made his way into this conversation, or maybe it's the casual way you use his nickname... whatever it is, it makes Jungkook's stomach churn in a way he doesn't particularly like.

Plus, the uneasy thoughts have been there for a while, lurking in the back of his mind, but he's always pushed it away. Tonight, though, it feels impossible to ignore. He suddenly wants to know what you really think about Jaehyun—wants to know if you see what he sees or if you're just oblivious to the way Jaehyun acts around you or the way he acts around Jungkook.

Jungkook exhales quietly, debating whether he should even say anything. But before he can stop himself, the words slip out. "So this... Jaehyun guy..." he starts, voice careful, like he's weighing each word before releasing it. You glance at him, curious. "Yeah?"

Jungkook hesitates for a second too long, his gaze fixed ahead as if avoiding your eyes will make this easier. "You guys have gotten pretty close lately." he says, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"Oh, yeah..." You nod, swaying slightly as you walk. "Ever since we became partners for that assignment, we've been hanging out a lot. I mean, it's not anything too deep. It's just... our vibes match, you know?"

Vibes match.

Jungkook draws in a long inhale, his fists tightening inside his pockets. He wonders if his vibe has ever matched yours. You've lived together for so long... have spent late nights talking on the couch, have shared countless meals, have fallen into a rhythm so natural it almost feels like breathing.

But have you ever thought about it like that? Have you ever thought your vibes batch? Yours and His?

You're everything he's not and if Jaehyun's vibe matches yours, then where exactly does that leave Jungkook?

"He's funny." you continue, lips curving into a small smile. "And he gets my humor."

Jungkook hums at that, but the sound comes out a little sharper than he intended. He knows Jaehyun makes you laugh, he's seen it firsthand. Loud, breathless laughter that makes your eyes crinkle, the kind that shakes your whole body.

"But..." Jungkook exhales slowly, trying to sound casual even though the words feel like they're getting stuck on the way out. "I mean... I've noticed he's gotten really... comfortable around you."

He doesn't even know where he's going with this. He just knows it's been bothering him, gnawing at him like an itch he can't scratch. You blink, tilting your head. "What do you mean?"

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck, feeling utterly, painfully awkward. He wants to drop it, but at the same time, he doesn't.

"Like... like how he is at the apartment." he says, forcing the words out. "He just... makes himself at home. Like, he sits on the couch like it's his. He raids the fridge. He—" Jungkook stops himself, brows furrowing. "He acts like he lives there."

You let out a soft laugh, but not in a way that makes him feel dismissed. "Ah, yeah, that's just how he is." you say with a small shrug. Jungkook presses his lips together, the unease still sitting heavy in his chest.

"But what's wrong?" you ask, your voice gentler now, sensing there's more to this than what he's saying. "Does he make you uncomfortable?" You tilt your head, genuine concern etched in your features.

"No... um, no, nothing like that." he denies way too quickly. "I was just wondering if you're comfortable with how he is." He turns it back on you. You smile at that. "Oh, Kook, were you worried about me?" you tease, nudging him playfully.

"Yeah... you... you could say that." His ears burn, and he wishes his mouth would just shut up. "I was just wondering about your dynamic, that's all." he adds, trying to sound nonchalant and you blink at him, amused. 

"Our dynamic?"

Jungkook nods stiffly.

"Like I said, our vibes match." you repeat. "But again, he's just my assignment partner, you know? He's nice to work with and joke around with."

Jungkook nods along, forcing himself to absorb your words, to let them settle the gnawing feeling inside him.

"But if he makes you uncomfortable at the apartment, then I can just go to his place for the assignment, you know? He did ask me to—"

"No !!" Jungkook blurts, way too fast, way too loud and your eyes widen for a brief second.

God, that would be worse. Having you go to Jaehyun's place, where Jungkook wouldn't be around, where he wouldn't know what was happening—where Jaehyun would have the liberty to do anything. That's not even the last thing Jungkook wants.

"No... I meant, he doesn't make me uncomfortable. So please..." He exhales shakily. "Please continue working at our apartment." He doesn't even try to hide the urgency in his voice making you laugh. "Okay, okay." you say, nodding your head. "But do tell me if you're uncomfortable, alright?"

Jungkook nods, lips pressing into a thin line as he watches you. 

You don't see it, don't see the way Jaehyun looks at you, don't see the way he treats Jungkook like an afterthought.

Maybe it's nothing. Maybe he's just overthinking. Maybe he's just being paranoid, reading too much into things that don't mean anything. Maybe it's all in his head. But the irritating, tormenting feeling remains like a dull, nagging weight in his chest that refuses to settle

It feels like something is lodged between his ribs, pressing against his lungs, making every breath feel just a little too tight.

Yet, he exhales slowly, shuts his eyes, and tells himself to let it go, to swallow all the weird thoughts and bury them somewhere they can’t reach him.

Jaehyun's just an assignment partner. 

Nothing more. Nothing deep.

part 2 ->

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part (1/2)

“Yoooo, Tae! Guess who’s on the news again!” Jimin’s voice calls out from the living room as Taehyung steps out of the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder, still drying his hands. His gaze instinctively shifts to the television where the news is going on.

“Masked Vigilante Foils Bank Robbery, Outpaces Authorities Yet Again!” the headline blazes in big bold letters at the bottom of the screen.

The low quality footage right above the headline is shaky, clearly recorded by a bystander’s phone. Amid the chaos, a red-and-blue masked figure moves with effortless agility, a blur of motion against the grainy backdrop.

He swings from lampposts and somersaults over obstacles, his web-like strands ensnaring weapons and disarming the robbers with precision that feels almost cinematic. The anchor’s voice overlays the footage, tinged with awe.

“This mysterious figure, operating outside the bounds of law enforcement, has once again saved the city. Witnesses say he intervened at the last moment, preventing a potentially catastrophic bank robbery. Who is he? And what drives this masked vigilante to risk his life, time and again for a city that doesn’t even know his name?”

Taehyung leans in, his brow knitting together as he studies the screen. He doesn’t need to guess who it is, he already knows who this "masked vigilante" is.

The fluid acrobatics, the flawless precision, and, above all, the iconic design of that red-and-blue suit leave no room for doubt. “Holy shit.” he mutters under his breath, eyes still glued to the screen. “Wasn’t he supposed to meet Y/n?”

Jimin chuckles from the couch, his posture relaxed as if this is just another Tuesday. “Yeah. But you know him, he probably saw the commotion on the way and couldn’t help himself.”

Taehyung’s gaze remains fixed on the television as the news anchor's voice fills the room again.

“Dubbed ‘The Amazing Spiderman’ by fans online, this masked hero has become an enigma. While officials remain silent, the public praises his ability to achieve what even trained authorities cannot. Love him or hate him, one thing is certain— Spiderman always saves the day.”

Just as Taehyung is about to say something, a faint yet distinct thud echoes against the window right behind the couch where Jimin's seated. Both of them snap their heads towards the sound and... there he is.

Perched on the narrow windowsill is the masked vigilante himself—The Amazing Spiderman a.k.a Jeon Jungkook.

The red-and-blue suit clings to his body, glistening with sweat from exertion. His chest heaves, each breath labored, as he presses his forehead against the window glass.

His mask is in his hand, revealing his sweaty disheveled hair and a face that speaks of exhaustion mixed with determination. With a weak knock of his head against the glass, he signals his roommates to let him in.

Taehyung gasps at the sight and instantly strides towards the window, sliding it open. “Kook, are you insane?” he exclaims and Jungkook practically tumbles inside, catching himself on the edge of the couch before collapsing into it beside Jimin.

“What... time is it?” Jungkook rasps, his voice hoarse, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “Seven.” Jimin replies nonchalantly, his attention still half on the news broadcast.

“Shit.” Jungkook mutters throwing his head back as he continues to pant, struggling to catch his breath. He rises from the couch after a few seconds, trying to balance himself. “Shit, shit, shit.” He repeats, hurrying towards his room.

Taehyung follows behind, leaning against the doorframe as he watches Jungkook throw his mask onto the bed and quickly yank off his gloves, tossing them haphazardly onto his desk.

“Weren’t you supposed to meet Y/n? For that art club thing?” Taehyung asks, raising an eyebrow. “Exactly!!” Jungkook whines, quickly undressing himself. As he pulls a hoodie over his frame, he glances at Taehyung.

“I was supposed to meet her at SIX, but then…” He pauses as he takes a seat on the bed and proceeds to slip on a new pair of socks along with his shoes.

Once he's done, Jungkook looks back at Taehyung, his frustration still palpable. “But there was this huge chaos at the bank, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop myself.” he admits as he stands up once more and heads towards his vanity.

Taehyung chuckles softly, watching his friend pace around the room, doing his best to salvage his disheveled appearance. That fight must’ve been exhausting.

Jungkook's one hell of a character... by day, just another regular college student... by night, the city’s elusive hero, Spiderman.

Taehyung often finds himself marveling at how his best friend, also his roommate, manages to juggle it all... his regular life and his double life... while keeping his true identity locked away tight, hidden from everyone.

"Knowing her, she won’t be too mad, I guess." Taehyung says with a casual shrug. “Let’s hope.” Jungkook mutters under his breath, clearly unconvinced.

After a few more moments of hurriedly fixing his hair into something more presentable, Jungkook strides towards the balcony door and opens it wide.

“Kook, you can literally use the front door.” Taehyung laughs, following him to the balcony, amusement in his voice. “This is faster.” Jungkook replies, already stepping onto the narrow ledge, looking down into the darkened street below.

Before Taehyung can protest any further, Jungkook leaps into the night, vanishing into the shadows with practiced ease.

Your gaze remains fixed on the canvas, eyes locked in concentration as your hand moves with fluidity, the paintbrush gliding across the surface.

The rhythm of your wrist matches the steady flow of the brush, leaving behind trails of vibrant color. You’ve been working on this piece for over two months now, meticulously crafting every detail for the upcoming college exhibition next month.

Jeon Jungkook, your partner, was supposed to be here today at six to help you with the finishing touches on the painting. But as you glance at the time, it's already 7:09 pm.

A soft sigh escapes your lips because he's still not here and frankly, this is so typical of him. Jeon Jungkook is always late.

But beyond his chronic tardiness, there’s something else about him.

He’s the campus heartthrob... the boy with the dreamiest set of eyes and the kind of smile that could make knees buckle.

Since your freshman year, he’s been the talk of the town, effortlessly climbing the social ladder. It’s baffling how, within just two weeks of college, he had managed to make himself one of the most popular guys on campus.

What surprised you more, though, was how, while girls seemed to swoon at his every move, desperately trying to catch his attention, this handsome, almost untouchable man was inexplicably fixated on none other than... you.

You don't exactly know how to explain the dynamic between you and Jungkook. You wouldn’t call yourselves friends... not when the way he acts with you goes far beyond what a friend would do.

For as long as you can remember, ever since the moment your paths first crossed, Jungkook has been nothing short of a flirt. But calling him just a flirt now feels like an understatement, a mere label that doesn't come close to capturing the way he actually makes you feel.

There’s something magnetic about him, something that draws you in against your will. His confidence, oozing from every word and glance, is impossible to ignore.

He doesn’t just flirt, he performs it as though he has an unspoken understanding that you’re his audience. And though his every word seems designed to get under your skin, there’s a strange kind of charm to it, one that makes it impossible to stay guarded, no matter how hard you try.

At first, you told yourself he was just another guy obsessed with his own reflection, someone who thought his good looks could win him anything, someone who believed he could have any girl he wanted.

But over time, it became harder to dismiss the undeniable pull this annoyingly handsome boy seemed to have on you.

He was everywhere. In almost every class you attended, always just a few steps behind you in the cafeteria, trailing you to the library when you tried to bury yourself in your studies, and somehow, no matter how hard you try to stay focused, his presence is impossible to ignore.

Hell, the guy even joined the art club just because you were in it and somehow managed to persuade you to be his partner, despite the countless other girls who were practically begging for the chance to take your place.

But it’s not just his presence that lingers.

It’s the way your heart beats louder in his presence, the way you find yourself gulping when he leans just a little too close, when his fingers graze your hair as he brushes it away from your face, his touch sending an electric jolt through you.

But that was nothing compared to the way he’d casually whisper provocative things in your ear... sometimes it was a simple compliment, like how stunning you looked in your new skirt, and other times, it was something much... bolder, like how he could... kiss you against the wall if you’d just let him.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel weak, your knees trembling in a way that felt completely foreign to you. And every time he’s near, your heart seems to race in a silent war with the walls of your chest, as if fighting to escape and be nearer to him.

But deep down, you know too well that you can't give in. No matter how dreamy and ecstatic he makes you feel, guys like Jungkook were nothing but trouble.

Good-looking, charismatic, and fully aware of the effect they had on people and guys like him were a perfectly packaged recipe for heartbreak and chaos.

The way he makes you feel is electric, a sensation that clouds your mind and leaves you breathless, but there’s always that nagging thought in the back of your mind... that maybe, to him, it’s all just a game. A silly way to pass his time.

For all you knew, he was probably doing the same with countless other girls because though you hadn’t believed it at first, you were beginning to see the truth now.

Guys like Jungkook could truly have any girl they wanted.

And yet, you can’t seem to push him out of your life, no matter how much you tell yourself you should. You let him follow you around, you let him flirt, you let him talk to you... because, despite the outrageous teasing and the sneaky comments, Jungkook is undeniably a nice guy.

Sometimes, the two of you have real conversations, ones that leave you smiling without even realizing it. He’s fun to be around, with the kind of humor that could lighten anyone’s mood, and there’s no denying he’s a good person underneath it all.

There’s also no denying the tension between you. It’s thick, tangible, and sometimes too tempting to ignore. But somehow, over these past few months, you’ve become a pro at holding back... at resisting what feels inevitable, even when it’s so very hard to do.

As you continue to work on your canvas, the swirl of racing thoughts crowding your mind, you suddenly hear a faint zapping sound at the entrance of the campus art studio. Your gaze shifts instinctively towards the door, and there he is... Jungkook.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, clearly trying to catch his breath. The way his chest rises and falls with every pant makes it obvious that he ran here.

You can’t help but watch him as he slowly regains his composure. The moment his eyes lock with yours, that familiar grin of his spreads across his face. That damn smile, the one that makes everything inside you stir.

"Did I keep you waiting for too long, Ace?" His voice is playful, teasing, as he strides towards you with that effortless confidence.

Ace. The nickname he’s given you, because in his eyes, you excel at everything you touch. Or at least, that’s how he always puts it with that knowing grin, as if it’s the simplest truth in the universe.

You roll your eyes, pretending to focus on your work, though you can feel the unmistakable flutter in your chest. "You’re a whole hour late, Jeon." you mutter, deliberately turning your attention back to the canvas, doing your best to ignore the effect he has on you.

Jungkook pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he notices the way you tense under his gaze. It's a reaction he’s grown all too familiar with, yet every time, it still amuses him in the most endearing way.

The way you get flustered, desperately trying to mask it, your cheeks flushing just slightly as you feign annoyance, scrunching your nose as if it could hide the effect he has on you... he loves it.

To Jungkook, you're the center of his webbed thoughts, occupying full residence in his mind ever since the very first time he laid eyes on you.

Jungkook had always been used to attention from girls. It was almost second nature for him, the charming, effortlessly charismatic guy who could turn heads without even trying. But you? You were a different kind of challenge, one he couldn’t ignore, even if he tried.

When he first saw you, something shifted. You weren’t like the others. While the rest of the girls seemed to fit into a predictable pattern of admiration, you stood out.

You were a mystery he couldn’t unravel, a riddle he couldn’t stop thinking about. Your beauty wasn’t just skin-deep... it was in the way you moved, the way your laughter sounded like a melody that stayed with him long after you were gone.

It was in the kindness that poured out of you effortlessly, how you treated everyone with a warmth that felt like home.

From the moment your smile met his, Jungkook knew he had to make you his. It wasn’t a question of whether you’d be interested... it was a certainty in his mind that somehow, someway, you would be.

The intensity of his feelings was undeniable, and it made him feel alive in ways he hadn’t before. He was confident, almost to the point of arrogance, but there was something about you that made him feel more vulnerable than he'd ever let on.

For months now, Jungkook has been pining over you, showering you with flirtations, occasional date invitations, and endless compliments. Yet, no matter how hard he tries, you haven’t given in.

It doesn’t frustrate him, though... in fact, it only fuels his desire. To him, it’s a challenge, and if there’s one thing Jungkook loves more than anything, it’s a challenge.

He thrives in the chase, relishes the moments when he flusters you, sees the subtle changes in your demeanor when he's around. The effect he has on you is very obvious, and it only makes him more determined.

He knows you're not one to fall easily, that you probably need time, need to build some kind of trust in him, to feel that giving him a chance would truly be worth it. And that’s perfectly fine with him.

No matter how long it takes, how many games of flirtation and teasing he has to play, Jungkook is more than willing to keep pursuing you. Because to him, you’re worth every second.

"So, you missed me, huh?" Jungkook teases, leaning effortlessly against the table behind you. His voice is smooth, dripping with that familiar cocky charm that always manages to get under your skin.

You scoff, not daring to let yourself get distracted from your painting. "Not only do you come a full hour late, but now you're wasting time with your stupid flirting." you hiss, turning your head over your shoulder to glare at him, but even that doesn't seem to faze him.

"Oh, please, Ace. Flirting with you is never a waste of time." he replies, the mischievous wink he shoots your way causing your heart to stutter. You groan, frustration bubbling up inside you as your insides twist and turn at his words, the very ones you know are meant to get a rise out of you.

"Why were you late, anyway?" you ask, trying to refocus your attention on the painting. You dip the brush into the water, switching to another color, but your mind is nowhere near your work. There's a gnawing curiosity in the back of your mind... something that feels just a little bit off.

For a moment, there’s no answer. But then, Jungkook's voice breaks the silence, low and a bit too casual. "Just got a little busy... with something." His words hang in the air, and you can’t help but feel that tug of suspicion at your chest. Something? A woman, perhaps?

Jungkook watches you work, eyes tracing your movements with a soft, almost reverent gaze. There's something about the way you carry yourself, so effortlessly graceful as you focus on your art, that makes his heart leap in his chest.

He can’t help it... every angle, every direction you’re in makes you look like something out of a dream, and it drives him absolutely crazy.

"Hey, Ace." he calls out, his voice light, but you don’t look back, still intent on your canvas. You hum in response, not trusting yourself to say anything more.

"I’ve got two tickets to a concert this weekend. Wanna join me? Could be a cute date." The words hang between you like a dare, a challenge. You pause mid-stroke, the brush suddenly halting as if your body has betrayed you.

You’ve heard him ask you out like this before, casually, with that easygoing charm of his. But every time, it leaves you breathless... nervous, excited, and undeniably conflicted.

The idea of going on a date with Jungkook, of letting your guard down and seeing where it could go, is like a dream, but it’s one you can’t seem to step into without hesitation, without feeling scared.

You don’t respond right away, nibbling on your lower lip as your eyes remain fixed on the colorful canvas in front of you, your mind a flurry of emotions you can’t quite make sense of.

"It’s… getting late." you mutter, clearly trying to steer the conversation in another direction, anything to avoid acknowledging the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

Jungkook watches you carefully, his eyes never leaving your face as he observes your subtle shift, your attempt to hide the nerves you always try so hard to control. He can’t help but find it amusing, that cute little fluster of yours. It’s endearing. Hell, it’s the part of you he loves the most.

As you set the brush down and hastily begin to remove your apron, trying to make it seem like you’re just wrapping things up, Jungkook can't stop the grin that spreads across his face.

You're so cute when you’re flustered, so adorably oblivious to the effect you have on him. But that just makes him want to chase you more.

"Hey, I just got here. Leaving already?" Jungkook asks, falling into step with you as you grab your bag and head for the door. You don’t spare him a glance, keeping your eyes forward as you reply, "Well, blame yourself. You came late, and I want to go home now."

He chuckles, his footsteps quickening to catch up with you. "Well, let’s get dinner then." he suggests, his tone light, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. "No." you respond flatly, not even bothering to look at him.

"Alright, what about ice cream?" His grin never falters, the mischievous gleam in his eyes making it clear that he’s not giving up that easily.

You can’t help but feel that warm flutter in your chest despite yourself. It’s something about his persistence, his charm, that always seems to melt away your resolve, even when you’re determined to stay unaffected.

You feel the corners of your lips twitch, a betraying smile threatening to break free, and you try to keep your expression serious. "Also, no." you manage to say, keeping your gaze fixed ahead as you both walk down the long hallway.

"Can I at least walk you to your apartment?" Jungkook asks, the hopeful tone in his voice undeniable. You narrow your eyes, glancing at him with a raised brow. "At this point, will saying "No" even make a difference?" you ask, the teasing edge to your voice not lost on him.

He just smiles wider, as if he knows he’s already won.

The moment you step into the open campus, the late evening breeze brushes against you, cool and refreshing, yet it does little to ease the heat bubbling inside.

As you walk, Jungkook casually falls into step beside you, his presence somehow making the air around you feel warmer.

"So, when are you gonna answer me?" he suddenly asks, his voice playful as you both pass by the soccer field, nearing the gates of the campus.

You know exactly what he's talking about, but you decide to act oblivious. "Answer?" you ask, not daring to glance at him, keeping your gaze ahead as if the question is of no consequence.

"Come on, Ace, you know what I’m talking about." His chuckle is unmistakable, and you feel a nudge on your arm as he inches closer to you.

You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to stay composed, yet your pace doesn’t falter. "Why me?" you ask, feigning nonchalance. "I’m sure tons of other girls would want to go instead of me."

He pauses, matching your stride as he looks at you with that same confident grin. "But none of those girls are you, so it quite literally doesn't matter." he says simply, and though the words should comfort you, your doubts still creep up.

It’s hard for you to believe him, to fully trust his intentions. Your trust issues keep you cautious, always questioning the sincerity behind every smile and every word.

"Whatever, Jeon. I’m not interested." you reply, trying to steer the conversation away. "Plus, I have a test on Monday."

"Oh, please." he retorts with a teasing glint in his eyes. "I’m pretty sure you’ve already finished studying the entire syllabus and revised at least a thousand times by now. You could use a break."

You can’t help but smile despite yourself. "That’s not true. In fact, I still have an entire chapter left." you answer honestly.

"Just a chapter? Ace, I have the whole syllabus left. You don’t see me stressing, do you?" he grins as the two of you step onto the familiar pavement, cars passing by on the street every now and then.

"You say that like you don’t manage to ace the tests even when you don’t study. You call me Ace, but honestly, I think it’s you." you joke, though there’s truth in your words. Jungkook is effortlessly good at so many things, and that includes academics.

Jungkook grins at the subtle compliment, warmth spreading through his chest. Suddenly, you pull out your phone, scrolling through your notifications. He walks quietly beside you, relishing the simplicity of this moment.

Somehow, just doing mundane things like this with you feels exhilarating... like a high he never wants to come down from. Being near you feels like heaven.

"Wow, Spiderman’s on the news again." you suddenly remark, stumbling upon an article as you scroll through your phone.

At this, Jungkook’s shoulders tense slightly. You’ve never mentioned Spiderman before, and now he doesn’t quite know how to react. He knows you have no idea about his double life, but hearing the name still makes him feel just a little paranoid.

"Oh... really?" he asks, leaning in slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of your screen. "Yeah." you reply, eyes still fixed on the article. "He apparently stopped a bank robbery."

Jungkook sneaks a glance at your face, noting the faint smile tugging at your lips. It tugs at his heart. Then, curiosity gets the better of him.

"What... are your thoughts on him?" he asks carefully. He knows exactly what he’s doing... he’s just a little greedy to know what you think about his alter ego, his other side. You glance up from your phone, eyebrows furrowed. "About Spiderman?"

He nods, his eyes searching yours as you look away, seemingly deep in thought. "Well, you know, a lot of people think he’s in the wrong," he begins, testing the waters.

"They say he’s reckless, breaking laws, making hasty decisions, taking justice into his own hands instead of letting the legal system do its job. So... I was curious... what do you think about that?"

You hum thoughtfully, your gaze distant. "Honestly speaking... I think he’s pretty cool."

Jungkook’s heart races slightly, but he doesn’t say anything, keeping his expression neutral. He assumes that’s all you have to say until you speak again, clearly not finished.

"I understand why people would think that..." you say, your voice softer now as you turn back to him. "But... I think what he does is extraordinary."

His heart skips a beat, though you don’t notice.

"I mean, think about it..." you continue, your voice gaining quiet strength. "He's someone who could use his powers to live an easy, selfish life. He could focus on himself and never worry about anyone else. But instead, he puts himself in danger every single day to protect people he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t have to do any of it, but he chooses to because he believes it’s the right thing to do. That kind of selflessness? It’s rare. And it’s brave."

Jungkook swallows hard, his throat tightening as your words sink in.

"Sure, maybe he doesn’t always follow the rules, but sometimes, doing the right thing means bending them. At the end of the day, he saves lives. And I think that’s what really matters." you finish, a soft smile gracing your lips.

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on yours. For a moment, he forgets everything... his fears of being unmasked, his doubts, his double life. All he can think about is you and the way you see him, even without realizing it.

"Yeah..." he finally murmurs, his voice quieter than usual. "I think you’re right." he adds. You give him a curious glance, noticing how moved he seems, but before you can question it, he clears his throat, masking his emotions with a playful grin.

"So... are you saying Spiderman’s your type?" he teases. You narrow your eyes at him, a small laugh escaping your lips. "What kind of question is that?"

He shrugs, trying to look nonchalant. "I mean, you just gave this whole heartfelt speech about how selfless and brave he is. Sounds like your dream guy to me."

You roll your eyes, shaking your head in amusement. "Just because I admire what he does doesn’t mean he’s my type. For all we know, Spiderman could be... I don’t know, the kind of guy who puts pineapple on pizza."

Jungkook gasps, clutching his chest in mock horror. "Whoa, hold on. Pineapple on pizza is elite. Are you saying Spiderman’s taste might actually disqualify him?"

"Exactly." you reply with a teasing grin. "Hero or not, some things are just dealbreakers." you shrug, giggling. Jungkook raises an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Seriously what's wrong with pineapple on pizza?"

"Everything." you reply with a smirk. "But anyways... he might not even be my age or someone I could actually hold a conversation with. Just because someone’s a hero doesn’t mean we’d click, you know?" you add, returning back to the conversation.

"Fair point." Jungkook concedes, though his smirk doesn’t falter. "But let’s just say, hypothetically, Spiderman showed up right now, unmasked, and he was your age, charming, and funny. Would you give him a chance?"

You bite your lip and narrow your eyes, pretending to think about it. "Hypothetically?" you ask. He nods, leaning in slightly, as if your answer means more to him than he’s letting on.

"Maybe." you admit with a small smile. "But only if he’s not cocky about it." you say. Jungkook chuckles, looking ahead as you both continue walking. "Noted." he says softly, the faintest hint of relief in his tone.

The walk towards your apartment continues, his playful flirtations refusing to take a pause. At one point, he casually takes your hand while crossing the road, and somehow, you don’t pull away.

Jungkook’s heart feels like it’s hosting a full-on festival in his chest, but he works super hard to play it cool, hoping you don’t suddenly get self-conscious and snatch your hand back.

As your apartment building comes into view, he feels an ache in his chest. He doesn’t want this to end. These little moments, these stolen evenings when he manages to walk you home, are everything to him. He treasures them more than you’ll ever know.

When you finally stop outside your building, you turn to him, flashing him a soft smile. "Thanks for walking me home, Jeon." you say, your voice warm but casual. That’s when you realize your hands are still intertwined... so naturally, so deeply.

You can feel his thumb lightly brushing against yours, and though you’re hyperaware of it, you don’t pull away. It feels too… right. Hopefully, he doesn’t hold this against you later and claim you're like... madly in love with him or something.

Jungkook looks at you, and there’s a flicker of reluctance in his eyes. He clearly doesn’t want to let go. "Well then... I’ll see you tomorrow?" he asks, his voice almost hopeful. You nod, smiling back at him.

You think he'll let go of your hand first but somehow, neither of you move. The world around seems to blur, leaving just the two of you standing there in the golden glow of the streetlights. Seconds tick by in silence before he speaks again.

"Ace, think about that concert date, okay? I really... really want to go with you." His voice is soft, but the weight of his sincerity makes your heart feel unsteady, as if it might tip over any second.

You let out a quiet sigh, your gaze dropping to the pavement. You want to say yes. You really want to say yes. But that familiar paranoia, that nagging voice in the back of your mind, refuses to loosen its grip. It holds you back, whispering doubts you can’t quite silence.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way your brows knit together, the subtle hesitation in your posture. He notices how your fingers unconsciously tighten against his, as if reflecting the weight of the thoughts racing through your mind.

But then, like an unwelcome intruder, a sound cuts through the quiet night... the faint, distant wail of a siren. His focus shifts instantly, and he knows what it means. Somewhere in the city, someone needs him.

The conflict in his chest is palpable. He doesn’t want this moment to end, this fleeting bubble of time where it’s just the two of you, but the sense of duty outweighs his desires.

Reluctantly, he lets go of your hand, his fingers brushing yours one last time, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle. He offers you a small, almost apologetic smile. "Sleep on it and let me know tomorrow, okay?" he says, stepping back.

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s already grinning, that playful, heart-melting grin that always leaves you breathless. "Goodnight, Ace. I’ll miss you until tomorrow."

And just like that, before you can even think of what to say, he’s jogging off, the rhythm of his steps fading into the night. You stand there, rooted in place, staring after him as he turns the corner near your apartment.

The words you wanted to say hang in your throat, unspoken. Something inside you stirs... a flicker of impulse, and you instantly feel the undying need to call out to him, to stop him, to at least reassure him that this time… you would truly think about it.

You find yourself taking a step forward towards the corner of your building, your feet carrying you towards the direction he ran. You peer into the dimly lit alley that stretches endlessly ahead, the streetlights casting long, faint shadows. But to your surprise, Jungkook is nowhere in sight.

You blink, your brows furrowing. The stretch of road is empty, eerily quiet except for the distant hum of the city. It’s as if he’s vanished into thin air. You linger there for a moment, the cool night air brushing against your skin, and you wonder with a small, bemused smile...

Just how fast can Jungkook run?

Your pen moves swiftly across the page, the sound of it scratching against paper blending with the hum of the classroom around you. You’re fully immersed in Mr. Choi's lecture, absorbing every word with precision.

While everyone else around you is still shaking off the fog of sleep, struggling to find their rhythm, you’re deep in the flow, your thoughts sharp and disciplined. The lecture hall, with its rows of slumped, half-conscious students, seems like a distant world to you, as if you’re the only one who’s truly awake.

Suddenly, the smooth cadence of Mr. Choi’s voice falters, interrupted by the abrupt sound of a door creaking open. “Late again, Mr. Jeon?” Mr. Choi’s voice is laced with the usual mix of amusement and annoyance as his eyes narrow in mock disapproval at the figure standing at the doorway.

Of course, he's late. Jeon Jungkook is always late.

You lift your gaze, your focus momentarily broken, and you catch the playful, almost apologetic bow he gives Mr. Choi before he makes his way through the aisles.

With practiced ease, he navigates his way through the rows, his presence so familiar, so effortless, that it feels almost like the room adjusts itself to accommodate his presence.

And just as always, his eyes find yours, as if drawn by some invisible thread, and a mischievous smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. He gives you a wink, subtle but unmistakable, before he settles into the seat right behind you.

“Good morning, Ace.” he whispers, the soft murmur of his voice cutting through the ambient noise of the lecture hall. You hear the faint shuffle of his bag as he slides into his seat and despite yourself, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

You fight it, focusing back down at your notebook, your fingers still gripped tightly around the pen.

Soon enough, the lecture wraps up, and Mr. Choi gathers his things, his footsteps echoing through the quiet room as he exits. As you stand to pack your bag, your eyes naturally drift towards Jungkook, who is already in the process of putting his belongings together.

You don’t say anything at first, the familiar rhythm of his presence next to you doesn’t need words. But just as you turn to head down the steep stairs of the lecture hall, you feel his arm slip around your waist with that effortless familiarity.

“Hi.” he greets, his voice low, the sound of it so casual yet intimate. It’s not the first time he’s done this. In fact, it’s something he’s done countless times before, despite the many times you’ve asked him to stop.

Not because you dislike it... even though you tell yourself to, you just can't, not when his touch feels so natural, so right... but because of the unwanted attention it draws. The way all eyes seem to latch onto the simple act of him holding you close.

“Heading to the cafeteria ??” he asks, turning his head to meet your eyes, his expression full of that unshakable playfulness that always makes your heart beat a little faster.

You carefully reach for his wrist, gently peeling it away from your waist, the skin beneath your fingers suddenly tingling with warmth. You step a little further from him, trying to steady the swirl of emotions coursing through you.

God, why does the touch of his skin against yours make your insides feel like jelly? The warmth of his hand lingers, even though he's already let go, and it makes your chest tighten with something you can’t quite place.

“Yes.” you manage to answer, keeping your tone steady despite the storm brewing within you. You turn back towards the stairs, forcing yourself to walk at a pace that’s somehow slower than usual.

But, as always, Jungkook follows. He trails behind you like a puppy, each of his footsteps matching yours, and you can feel the weight of his attention even without looking at him.

He just can’t help it. His devotion to you is palpable, an invisible thread that binds him to you in the quietest, most powerful of ways.

There’s something so deeply affectionate in the way he always tries to be around you, so undeniably tender in the way he never lets you go, even when you don’t always ask for it.

Once you step into the bustling cafeteria, the scent of freshly made food fills the air, making your stomach grumble despite just having a light breakfast. Jungkook, ever observant, glances around before turning to you with that signature playful smile of his.

"Why don’t you go ahead and sit over there?" he suggests, pointing at an empty table tucked in the corner near the windows. "I’ll grab your strawberry milk and—" He pauses, eyes scanning the cafeteria for something. "Maybe that pastry you like too."

You smile softly at his attentiveness, nodding in agreement as you part ways and walk towards the table. As soon as you sit down, the familiar warmth of the cafeteria wraps around you, and just as quickly, two figures approach your table.

"Hey, Y/n !!" Soomin’s voice cuts through the air, bright and infectious. Yeji follows closely behind her, her smile just as warm. They’re two of your closest friends from university, and you share quite a few classes with them, making their presence all the more comforting.

You smile and wave them over, the three of you exchanging greetings as they take their seats across from you.

"God, I have a test at two, and I’m so unprepared." Soomin groans, flopping her head onto the table. Yeji chuckles beside her, clearly used to Soomin’s antics. You let out a soft laugh, reaching across the table to pat Soomin’s hand reassuringly. "You’ll do fine, don’t worry. You always do."

Soomin groans even louder, but it’s clear she appreciates the reassurance. "Did you have a morning class?" Yeji asks, taking a bite of her sandwich as she looks at you with curiosity. You nod. "Yeah, Mr. Choi’s lecture." you reply.

"Ah, Mr. Choi..." Soomin says, nodding knowingly and soon enough she's slipping into casual conversation with Yeji as you listen, comfortably sinking into the rhythm of the discussion.

Amidst their chatter, your attention shifts to the far side of the cafeteria behind Soomin and Yeji. You spot Jungkook, navigating through the crowd with ease, a tray of food balanced carefully in his hands.

On the tray, you can already see the familiar strawberry milk and your favorite snack from the cafeteria... things he’s memorized with startling precision. It makes you smile without thinking.

He’s always so thoughtful, remembering even the smallest details about what you like to eat. And though you’ve always tried to resist letting him fetch your food, his determination, combined with how cute he looks doing it... eventually won you over. Now, you just sit back and let him.

Soomin, ever the observant one, notices your gaze and follows the path your eyes are tracing. She turns her head to look over her shoulder and spots Jungkook making his way towards you, a grin spreading across her face as she leans closer.

"Oh, so you're here waiting for 'loverboy' as usual." she teases. You roll your eyes, fighting a smile. "Oh, come on. He’s not my loverboy." you say, trying to dismiss her comment, though there’s a warmth that creeps into your voice that betrays your calm demeanor.

"Here she goes again." Yeji laughs, shaking her head knowingly. "You always say that, and yet he’s never not by your side." she adds, her voice full of amusement.

You look down at your lap, suddenly shy under the weight of their teasing. "He’s just… a good friend." you mumble, though deep down, you know the truth... Jungkook is just so much more than that.

"Hey, guys." Jungkook says, his voice easy and casual as he approaches the table, unaware of the playful conversation that had just taken place.

He flashes a grin at Yeji and Soomin before placing the tray of food in front of you, his movements natural and fluid as he takes a seat right beside you. They greet him cheerfully, and once you begin eating, the topic shifts seamlessly.

"Guys, oh my god, did you see the news yesterday? Spiderman stopped a bank robbery!! He looked so cool doing it." Yeji exclaims, eyes wide with excitemen.

Jungkook hides a grin behind his hand, amused by their enthusiasm, while Soomin jumps in, agreeing wholeheartedly. "He's sooo hot, oh my god." she says, her tone filled with admiration.

You chuckle at their exaggerated reactions, and Jungkook's gaze flickers to you. There's a warmth in his eyes, something deeper than before.

Ever since last night, when he discovered how you truly feel about his alter ego, his feelings for you have intensified. It’s as though a switch has been flipped, and what he feels now is so much more than before... more profound, more intense.

"I so badly want to see his face." Yeji continues, her voice dripping with longing as she playfully covers her mouth with her hands. "Like, think about the amount of handsomeness he's gatekeeping from the world under that mask." She giggles, the thought clearly thrilling her.

Jungkook can't help but smirk at the conversation, his heart thumping a little faster as his eyes linger on you. He wonders, with a hint of curiosity and something more, how you would react if you ever found out who he truly is.

Once you're ready to head to your next class, you bid your goodbyes to Soomin and Yeji, making your way out of the cafeteria. Unfortunately, this is one of those rare moments when you don’t share a class with Jungkook, but, as always, he insists on walking you all the way there.

The walk towards the classroom is filled with silence, the only sound being the soft shuffle of your steps and the occasional hum of distant conversations. Jungkook walks beside you, that familiar, easy smile still on his face, while you're trapped within your own mind, battling the conflicting emotions swirling inside you.

Each day, it becomes harder to ignore the growing pull towards him. You’ve always been able to keep your feelings at bay, but lately, every moment with him feels like a thread tightening around your heart.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop pushing him away. You’ve been fooling yourself, trying to deny what’s so obvious now. There’s something real here, something deeper than you ever let yourself admit.

The small things he does for you... the way he remembers the smallest preferences, the subtle gestures that show how much he cares... these are not signs of a passing flirtation.

Probably Jungkook isn’t playing games. His kindness, his attentiveness, it all feels genuine, too sincere to be anything else. Could it be possible that he’s been this dedicated all this time because what he feels for you is actually something real?

“I’ll catch you after class, Ace?” his voice breaks through the storm of your thoughts, and you suddenly realize that you've reached your classroom. You look at him, meeting his gaze, and see that same, unshakable smile. You nod, offering him a small smile in return.

“Okay then...” he trails off before playfully saluting you with a grin and turning on his heels, ready to head to his own class. But as he starts walking away, something shifts in you.

You feel the weight of everything you've been holding back for so long... the hesitation, the reluctance, the fear and suddenly, it becomes too much to bear. In that moment, you realize you can’t do it anymore. You can’t keep holding back.

“Wait !!” you call out before you even realize what you’re doing. Jungkook stops in his tracks, turning around to face you with wide eyes. He’s standing a few feet away now, the hallway suddenly feeling too quiet, too still, save for the distant murmurs from the nearby classrooms.

“What’s up, Ace? All good?” he asks, stepping closer. You swallow hard, locking eyes with him, your gaze steady, conveying an unspoken determination to finally unpack everything you’ve been feeling.

There's no going back from this. No more hiding, no more second-guessing. You’ve wrestled with your doubts long enough, and now, it’s time to be honest with yourself... honest with him.

“What time are we meeting at the concert venue?”

You gaze at your reflection, a soft smile tugging at your lips. You’re about to do the unimaginable... finally giving Jungkook a chance. A chance to take you out, to show you a good time.

Your mind drifts back to his reaction when you finally gave in.

He had been so shocked, his happiness so genuine that he couldn’t contain himself. He had practically swept you off your feet, spinning you around in excitement, his cheers echoing so loudly that even the professors in neighboring classrooms had peeked out to see what the commotion was all about.

Smiling at the memory, you grab your bag, running your eyes over your reflection one last time. Everything feels perfect... just the way you imagined it would be.

It's about 6, and the concert is set to start at 6:30pm. Jungkook had suggested that he'd meet you outside the venue at 6:15pm and after the concert, he’d take you out for dinner and then walk you back home.

It’s simple, but honestly, it’s perfect for you. Though giving in to him was a difficult choice, the excitement building within you now makes it all worth it. You can’t wait to see where this night takes you, to finally spend time with him in a way you’ve always wanted.

You take a cab, and before you know it, you arrive at the concert venue. The place is alive with energy, bustling with fans, people roaming around holding posters and chatting excitedly. You wait near the entrance, a smile fixed on your face, your heart racing with anticipation.

He should be here any minute now, and the mere thought of him sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You glance at your phone, the time flashing in front of you— 6:21 p.m.

He’ll probably be here soon, and since Jungkook has a reputation for always showing up late, you decide to give him some extra time... after all, you're nice like that.

You remain in the same spot, eyes fixed on the entrance, watching the crowd shuffle by as people get their tickets verified and enter the venue. Each person who passes by only adds to the knot in your stomach. You try to stay calm, hoping that any second now, you’ll see Jungkook running towards you with that bright smile of his.

But somehow, that moment never comes. You keep glancing at your phone, the seconds creeping by. 6:25... 6:27... 6:32...

And then, before you realize it, you're standing alone near the entrance. The crowd has long since filtered inside, and you’re left in the growing emptiness.

The guards, noticing your solitude, kindly inform you that the concert is about to start. You force a smile, awkwardly explaining that you’re waiting for a friend who’s bringing the tickets.

You cross your arms, a sense of vulnerability washing over you as you realize how small you feel in this vast sea of people who have already moved on with their evening. Another glance at your phone—6:45pm.

He’s still not here. Maybe it’s time to call him.

But of course, as if the universe itself has conspired against you, the call goes straight to voicemail. You try again. Same result. A wave of frustration builds in your chest, mixing with a strange sense of abandonment.

By the time it hits 7:00, impatience starts to bleed into worry. You expected him to be late, but not... this late. The music from inside the venue filters through the walls, a distant reminder of what you should be experiencing right now, with him.

Instead, you're left standing outside, alone, while the night continues without you. The excitement that had once bubbled within you now feels hollow, replaced by an uncomfortable sense of being left behind. You were supposed to be inside, enjoying the concert with him, not stranded here like some forgotten afterthought.

You find a nearby bench and sink onto it, feeling the weight of your own exhaustion pulling you down. The night has already taken a turn you never imagined, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to leave.

Something inside you clings to the hope that he might show up, even though deep down, you know the truth. Still, you force yourself to stay, to wait, just in case.

But time drags on. 8:00 p.m. passes in a blur, and then 8:45 p.m. follows soon after. He's still not here. The longer you sit there, the more the crushing weight of your emotions presses down on you. It’s like something inside you is slowly breaking apart, unraveling piece by piece.

Your chest tightens, and you feel nauseous... not from the food you didn’t get to eat, but from the overwhelming wave of hurt that seems to take over every inch of your body.

You've lost count of how many times you've called him. At first, it was in the hope that maybe something came up, maybe he just needed a minute. But after the countless unanswered calls, the realization hits you like a freight train... Jungkook had stood you up.

And it stings more than you ever imagined it could.

By the time it’s 9:36 p.m., you finally notice the crowd emerging from the concert venue. They all look so happy, so full of life, with bright smiles and hazy eyes, as if the night was everything they hoped it would be.

But for you? It’s like everything had shattered. The sharp contrast between their joy and your deep, empty ache is enough to make your heart feel hollow.

You feel like a fool. All this time, you were waiting for someone who never showed up, for someone who clearly didn’t value your time or your feelings.

With your head down, you begin to follow the crowd out of the venue. You don’t make eye contact with anyone... you don’t want them to see the quiet hurt written all over your face. All you can do is walk, every step heavier than the last, as you try to hold yourself together.

As you walk further and further from the concert venue, the quiet of the night wraps around you like a cold, suffocating blanket. The hum of the city feels distant, the bustling crowd now far behind you.

And with that silence, a single tear escapes your eye, trickling down your cheek. You quickly sniffle, wiping it away, furious at yourself for letting it fall. This... this is exactly why you were so paranoid, so hesitant in the first place. You were scared of this. Scared of letting someone in, only to be left standing alone.

Your vision blurs with the mix of emotions swirling inside, but you force yourself to look up at the sky, willing your tears to stop, praying they won’t fall anymore.

With a shaky breath, you pull out your phone, desperate to distract yourself. Your thumb scrolls aimlessly through the screen, trying to avoid the thoughts that threaten to consume you. But then, the latest news catches your eye.

"Spiderman Rescues Family from Burning Building"

The headline stands out among the others, and for a moment, you're frozen. You scroll further, reading more articles, hoping the news will help you forget the mess of your own emotions.

"Spiderman Dashes into Fiery Inferno to Save Trapped Children" "Masked Vigilante in Action: Spiderman Saves Dozens from the unexpected fire."

But as you read the headlines, a deep sense of irony gnaws at you.

Well, at least this Spiderman guy was showing up on time to save people’s lives, you think bitterly to yourself. Here’s someone who doesn’t make excuses, someone who actually follows through with what he promises.

And then there's Jungkook. The one who had practically begged you for a chance to take you out, only to leave you waiting, completely abandoned and alone.

You're so engrossed in the article you're reading that the world around you begins to blur. The flashing images of Spiderman saving lives seem to temporarily distract you from the sinking pit in your stomach.

But as you continue to scroll, an unsettling shift in the atmosphere pulls you from your thoughts. You suddenly realize the alley you're walking through has grown eerily quiet. The bustling sounds of the city seem to fade into nothingness, replaced by an unnerving stillness that sends a chill down your spine.

Just as you register the ominous change in your surroundings, an unfamiliar voice cuts through the silence. "Well, well, well... What do we have here?" The words drip with malice, each syllable sending a shiver down your spine. You snap your head around, your heart immediately leaping into your throat.

There, standing in the shadows, is a group of four men. Their eyes are fixed on you, their smiles twisted into something dark and predatory.

A sharp intake of breath escapes your lips as your pulse quickens, and instinctively, you step back, your feet heavy and uncooperative. Your mind screams at you to run, but your legs feel weak, as though they’re unwilling to obey.

The cold air around you seems to freeze, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. You curse yourself silently, realizing too late how foolish it was to carelessly venture into this alley... one that looks too shady, too quiet, too dangerous.

"Don’t be scared, sweetheart." one of the men says, his grin widening, his teeth glinting under the bright moonlight. His voice drips with cruel amusement, and the other three step forward, the sound of their footsteps sending a tremor through your already fragile composure.

Your body instinctively takes another step back, but the weight of their gaze pins you in place. Every instinct in your body screams at you to run, to escape, to get away... but the terror coursing through you is paralyzing.

You can't think. You can't move. The fear is suffocating, and you're trapped under their gaze, unable to do anything but stand there, frozen.

"We just wanna have fun, beautiful." the same man calls out again, his voice a twisted mockery of sweetness. The words slither in the air, sending a rush of panic through your chest.

Your breathing grows erratic, shallow, as the weight of their intentions becomes painfully clear. You can feel the blood in your veins turning cold as your fight-or-flight instincts surge to life.

In an instant, it's as if a fog has cleared, and your body reacts before your mind even registers. You whirl around and start running, your feet pounding against the rough ground.

Your heart races, the beat hammering in your ears, the only sound louder than your frantic footsteps is the deafening laughter of the men right behind you as they mercilessly chase after you.

It’s as if they thrive on your fear. The sound of their boots slapping the ground echoes in the alley, relentless and close, sending a fresh wave of terror surging through you.

This alley is like a maze to you, completely unfamiliar, and the more you run, the more hopeless it feels. You don’t know where you’re going... just hoping for some miracle, some escape.

Every turn you take feels like you’re running deeper into the trap, their laughter reverberating around you, a sickening reminder of how far out of your control this has gone.

Tears spill down your face now, hot and stinging, mixing with the fear clawing at your chest. You just wanted a normal night, a fun time, a simple date. Instead, you're running for your life, your every breath coming out in ragged gasps.

This was the worst possible turn of events, and you absolutely hate it.

In the chaos, your foot catches on something, your ankle twisting painfully as you lose your balance. You don’t have time to react, your body toppling forward as the ground comes up to meet you.

A sickening scrape sounds as your knee crashes against the rough, jagged concrete, the sharp sting of pain shooting through your leg.

For a split second, everything is frozen... your breath caught in your throat, your body sprawled on the ground, knees scraped and bloody. The echoes of the familiar laughter seem to grow louder, nearer, filling the space around you like a nightmare you can't wake from.

And just like that, the men close the distance, their boots stopping mere inches from you as they loom over your crumpled form. Their smirks are triumphant, twisted with a sense of sick satisfaction, as though they've already won whatever vile game they’re playing.

"You shouldn't have ran like that, princess." the leader sneers, his voice dripping with mockery. He tilts his head, staring down at you as if you’re a pathetic little thing he’s cornered.

"Look at you... all scraped up and trembling. Such a shame." His words slither through the air, making your skin crawl.

You’re shaking uncontrollably now, your hands bracing against the cold, rough ground as you instinctively push yourself back, desperate to create even a shred of distance. But they move forward with you, step by step, their shadows stretching over you like a suffocating shroud.

"Please..." The word falls from your lips, broken and barely audible, a breathless whisper of desperation. Your tears blur your vision as they keep streaming, unchecked and unending. "Please leave me alone..." you plead, your voice cracking under the weight of your fear.

One of them chuckles darkly as he strides closer. "Oh, we will, darling." he says, his grin widening with something cruel and sinister. He crouches down, his knees cracking slightly as he brings himself eye-level with you.

The proximity makes your breath hitch. "But not so soon." he says, his smile is razor-sharp, the kind that makes your stomach churn.

"Look at you..." he murmurs, his voice low and taunting. Slowly, he raises a hand, the movement making you flinch violently. But it doesn’t stop him. He drags the back of his knuckles down your cheek, his touch slow and burning, like he’s savoring your helplessness.

You gasp, the air caught in your lungs as you jerk your head back, straining to pull away. "Don’t be shy..." he coos, leaning closer, his breath fanning your face.

The metallic tang of your scraped knee mixes with the acrid stench of sweat and smoke clinging to him, making you feel even more nauseous.

You try to glance over his shoulder, frantically scanning for someone... anyone, to come to your rescue. Your heart pounds as your eyes dart around, searching for an escape route that doesn’t exist.

The moon shines bright tonight, illuminating the men’s devilish smirks, making their expressions even more menacing. As the man’s hand inches closer to your face, the air behind the gang seems to shift, a subtle disturbance that pulls your focus.

Your breath hitches, and your tear-filled eyes widen as you catch a clear sight of a figure descending through the air... a silhouette both strikingly familiar and entirely surreal.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, a sharp, wet squelching sound cuts through the tense air.

The man crouched in front of you lets out a muffled yell, his voice quickly stifled as sticky, glistening webbing splatters against the back of his head and encases his entire face.

He stumbles back, clawing at his face, but the more he struggles, the tighter the strands seem to stick.

You gasp, frozen in place, your heart pounding against your ribs. The sudden movement has drawn the attention of the other three men, and they whirl around, their shock evident as they come face-to-face with the figure that has just landed, only a few feet away.

Their expressions twist into disbelief, and one of them stammers. “Is... is... th-that... is that...S-Spi... Spiderman?”

The name reverberates in your mind, almost surreal. You blink, still trying to make sense of the situation. Was this really happening right now?

The man at your feet continues writhing, desperate to peel the webbing from his face, but your focus shifts. Spiderman doesn’t give the others a chance to react.

With a swift, effortless motion, he launches himself into the air, his body moving with a fluidity and precision that you’ve only ever seen in the numerous viral clips circulating on social media.

Before the nearest thug can draw his weapon, Spiderman swings low, his legs extended, catching the man square in the chest. The force sends him sprawling backward, crashing into a stack of crates that splinter on impact.

The remaining two men shout in alarm, their bravado crumbling as they scramble for some semblance of control. Spiderman doesn’t stop. Launching himself onto the wall of the alley, he runs along its surface, the soles of his boots clinging effortlessly.

He shoots another web, snagging a metal trash can, and hurls it with precision. It connects with the second thug’s hand, sending a knife skittering across the pavement. The man yelps, clutching his wrist, but before he can retreat, Spiderman flips through the air, landing right in front of him.

A quick jab followed by a sweep of his leg sends the man crumpling to the ground.

The final thug, now trembling, looks between his fallen companions and Spiderman. “I... I don’t want any trouble!” he shouts, raising his hands.

“Oh, you’ve got plenty of trouble.” Spiderman retorts, his voice calm but laced with authority. With a flick of his wrist, another web shoots out, pinning the man’s arms to his sides. He stumbles back, stuck against the brick wall, writhing futilely.

You sit frozen on the cold ground, unable to look away as Spiderman surveys the scene. His movements are controlled, efficient, as if this is just another routine patrol.

Finally, he turns towards you, his masked gaze locking onto yours. Though his eyes are hidden behind the opaque lenses of his mask, the slight tilt of his head exudes concern. He doesn’t say a word, just quietly observes you, or at least that’s what you assume he’s doing.

With slow steps, he moves closer, crouching down in front of you. Yet, unlike the men who had terrified you moments ago, his presence doesn’t evoke fear. Strangely, you feel a sense of safety. Your breathing remains uneven as you stare at him, catching a fragmented reflection of yourself in the glossy eyes of his mask.

“Thank… thank you.” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling.

He doesn’t reply. Instead, his hand moves hesitantly, almost unsure, before brushing a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture is gentle, and for a fleeting moment, it feels oddly familiar... like a memory or a déjà vu you can’t quite place.

But your mind is too frazzled, too overwhelmed to make sense of it.

Still silent, he rises to his full height and extends his hand towards you. The gesture is simple yet reassuring, his gloved palm outstretched as if to say, Trust me.

You hesitate for a second, searching his masked face for answers you know you won’t get, but eventually, you place your trembling hand in his.

With a careful tug, he helps you to your feet. The moment you shift your weight, however, a sharp pain shoots through your leg, and you let out a small yelp, nearly losing your balance.

Instinctively, his other hand settles around your waist, steady and reassuring, as if he anticipated your faltering step. The contact is firm yet gentle, grounding you in a way you didn’t realize you needed.

He pulls you closer, his presence commanding yet calming, and guides your arms around his shoulder.

“Hold on tight.” he murmurs, his voice low, a quiet reassurance that leaves no room for doubt. You blink, startled, still trying to piece together what he’s about to do.

Before you can even question him, he raises his free hand, aiming it with precision. A sharp thwip cuts through the air as a strand of web shoots out, latching onto the edge of a distant building.

And then, with a sudden jolt, you’re airborne.

A gasp escapes your lips as the ground disappears beneath you. Instinctively, your grip tightens around him, your fingers clutching at his suit as if your life depends on it. Well in this case, it does actually.

The rush of wind tears through your hair, and your heart pounds in your chest as he swings effortlessly between the towering buildings.

Despite your initial panic, his hold around your waist is unwavering and firm like he's silently assuring you that he won't let you go, won't let you fall.

It’s surreal... the way he moves with such fluidity, his motions precise and calculated, almost as if he’s done this a thousand times before. Each swing feels like a dance between gravity and defiance, the world blurring around you as he carries you through the cityscape.

Before you can fully process the ride, he lands with practiced precision on the pavement outside your apartment building.

The abrupt shift from soaring through the air to solid ground leaves you momentarily disoriented. You exhale shakily, your heart pounding relentlessly from the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

His hands release their steady grip on your waist, but he doesn’t immediately step back. Instead, he lingers, watching you closely, as though ensuring you won’t falter.

Your fingers are still clutching at his suit, a reflexive hold from the chaotic blur of moments before. It takes a few seconds before you register that you’re safe, your mind catching up to the fact that you were literally flying just moments ago.

That was, without a doubt, the most insane thing you’ve ever experienced in your life.

Finally, your gaze drifts away from him, focusing instead on the familiar outline of your apartment building. The normalcy of it feels almost jarring after the surreal turn your evening has taken.

You take a cautious step forward, putting some distance between you and the masked hero as you try to untangle the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind.

How did Spiderman know where you lived? Did superheroes have some kind of uncanny ability to figure out people’s addresses? Or was it just a lucky guess? The absurdity of the question makes you pause mid-step, your mind scrambling for some kind of explanation.

You turn around to face him again, your thoughts still a jumble. "How... how did you know where I—"

But before you can even finish, the familiar thwip slices through the quiet night. Your words falter as you watch him propel into the sky, his silhouette a fleeting shadow against the dim glow of the city.

He’s gone. Just like that. Swinging effortlessly through the labyrinth of buildings, leaving you rooted to the spot, your unfinished question dissolving into the stillness around you.

Maybe he was in a rush... he’s a superhero, after all. People probably needed him more than you did now. But the thought doesn’t soothe the ache of unfinished gratitude sitting in your chest.

You didn’t even get to thank him properly... for saving your life, for pulling you out of the nightmare of that alley, and for bringing you home safely.

The faint echo of his departure lingers, merging with the soft hum of the night, as does the strange medley of emotions swirling within you.

Gratitude and confusion take the forefront, but there’s something else, something deeper and unnameable, tugging at the edges of your thoughts.

You glance up at the sky where he disappeared, your heart heavier than it was just moments ago. A superhero had saved you, yet all you can think about is how familiar something about him felt... and how impossibly far away he seemed now.

part 2 ->

check out-> drabble 1; the one with the damn suit

my masterlist <3

🕯️

Summary : Some stories are written in ink. Others are written in blood.

As a journalism student, you've always believed every myth hides a sliver of truth. But when you're assigned to investigate the legend of vampires, what begins as an ordinary article quickly unravels into a trail of impossible clues, forgotten records, and a mysterious man who seems to know far more about you than he should.

The moment your paths cross, his eyes hold a familiarity you can't explain, while fragments of memories that don't belong to this lifetime begin to haunt you. The deeper you dig, the more dangerous the truth becomes. Because some stories were never meant to be uncovered... And some love stories refuse to die.

Series!

Pairing : vampire jk x f. Reader

Genre : vampires, reincarnation, gothic, soulmates, lovers, fantasy, dark academia, dark romance, magic.

Note :

• the seperate character aesthetics and summary is already posted on my Wattpad. I will be mostly updating this story on Wattpad than on Tumblr. Depends honestly on what you guys choose.

• this is a work of fiction and doesn't have any relation with the artists mentioned.

"Mhm, I will tell him you're studying… whatever," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "He'll probably believe it. You're the smart one."

Then, the heavy oak doors of the library swung open, and a very specific brand of chaos walked in. Or more accurately, two brands.

Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin. Slytherins. Pure-bloods.

"I'm telling you that it's a terrible idea," Jimin's voice was a strained whisper.

"All of my ideas are terrible, that's why they're fun," Jungkook said, his voice loud enough to carry.

You didn't need to look up. You knew that voice. Jeon Jungkook's eyes scanned the room until they landed on your little corner. He quickly looked away, a disinterest that was more telling than a stare.

"Besides, what else are we supposed to do? Study?" He snorted, leaning against a bookshelf, his arms crossed over his chest. He paused, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "I heard Whitmore's new strategy involves trying not to fall off his broom this time. It's revolutionary, really."

Jimin let out an exasperated sigh. "Keep your voice down JK, for Merlin's sake."

Taehyung mumbled just loud enough for you to hear, "He has the emotional range of a teaspoon, I swear."

Jungkook's head snapped toward your table, his smirk widening. "What was that, Taehyung? Working on your NEWTs in stating the obvious?"

Jimin grabbed Jungkook's elbow. "Oh, we're leaving now, before you make a scene and Madam Pince bans us for life."

You finally looked up as Jimin was steering Jungkook toward the door, but not before Jungkook shot a sharp look in your direction and called over his shoulder, "Don't strain yourself, Y/n. It would be such a shame if a Ravenclaw Head Girl failed her exams."

The library door finally shut.

Taehyung closed his book with a soft thump. "That was so subtle."

You muttered, "What's his problem anyway?"

Taehyung laughed a bit. "His problem is about 5'10", wears red and gold, totally reminds him of a golden retriever, and he can't help but bring up Quidditch at the worst moments."

He gave the book cover a little tap. "But honestly, I'm more worried about into these books you’re getting. They read from bottom to top, you know."

You shut the book, a bit embarrassed. "Come on, quit it."

While you were packing up, Minjae burst into the library, his usual lively energy brightening the mood.

"There you are! I've been searching everywhere for you!" He waved from across the tables, completely unaware of the drama that just unfolded. "You won't believe the new formation I've come up with for the Hufflepuff game, it's genius, and I need your help to map it out."

"Oh, sure," you said, the words feeling hollow.

Minjae plopped down in the chair next to you, pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment from his robe pocket without even noticing the upside-down book or how flustered you were.

"Alright, picture this: instead of doing a regular starter formation, we flip it. Chasers fly in reverse! It’s a bit risky, but if we pull it off…"

Taehyung cleared his throat as he packed up his stuff. "I’m outta here. Try not to burn the library down with all this revolutionary brainstorming."

You nodded. "Catch you later." Then you looked back at Minjae. "It's a bold move..."

Minjae was grinning, totally wrapped up in his 'genius' idea, scribbling messy lines on the parchment with a quill that was leaking ink everywhere.

He was so focused on his plan that he didn’t see Jungkook come back into the library this time without his usual buddy, Jimin. Jungkook leaned against a bookshelf, not looking at you at first. He was too busy fixing the cuff of his green robes, his silver Slytherin tie just loose enough to seem a bit rebellious.

"A starter formation...? How ambitious of you. Did you come up with that all by yourself, Whitmore, or did you have help from a first-year's Quidditch practice picture book?"

Minjae was startled and turned to face him. "Jeon, we're in the library."

Jungkook pushed off the bookshelf and took a few steps closer. "I know, I can smell the desperation from here." His eyes flickered to you for a split second.

"Can you two take this somewhere else?" Your voice cut through the tension like a knife. Both boys turned to look at you, Minjae with surprise, and Jungkook with a mask of indifference that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Minjae held up his hands. "Sorry, you're right." He turned back to Jungkook. "This isn't the place."

"Don't sweat it, Y/n. We definitely wouldn’t want to interrupt your… studying," he said, giving you a pointed look at the upside-down book on the table.

Minjae let out a sigh. "What’s his deal? Seriously, he’s been acting like this for ages." He glanced at you, his expression softening. "Anyway, sorry about that. Let’s hit the Great Hall, I'm starving."

You nodded, grabbing your bag while Minjae quickly picked up his crumpled parchment.

"Lead the way, beautiful. I swear no more Quidditch talk for at least ten minutes," he said with a grin.

As you both headed out of the library, you noticed a quick shimmer of a disillusionment charm hastily casted . Next to where Jungkook had been standing was a small, crumpled piece of parchment. You bent down and snatched it up fast, folding it clumsily and shoving it into your robe pocket before Minjae noticed it.

The walk to the Great Hall was filled with Minjae chatting about random stuff, the upcoming Hufflepuff match, the treacle tart he was hoping would be dessert, and a funny story about a Gryffindor first-year. He didn’t mention Jungkook again, and he totally missed how often your fingers brushed against that folded parchment in your pocket.

Once you got to the Great Hall, it was loud and warm, buzzing with the usual dinner noise. Minjae walked you to your table and hung out with you for a moment. Across the hall, Jungkook sat at the middle of the Slytherin table, surrounded by a bunch of younger Slytherins who were clearly hanging on his every word. His eyes were locked on you.

Jimin elbowed him sharply. "You're staring, again."

Jungkook's gaze snapped back to his friend, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm observing; it's called strategy."

Jimin sighed. "Right. The only thing you're strategizing is how to not get another detention for hexing Minjae."

Jungkook's jaw tightened, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the table as he tried his best to look casual.

You sat down at the Ravenclaw table, Minjae next to you as he wanted to stay a little longer.

"Here, tart," Minjae said, pushing a small plate toward you.

You thanked him and took the food, trying to pay attention to his story about the team’s latest practice, but your mind kept wandering. A table over, Jungkook had his arm casually draped over the back of the bench, cracking up at something a seventh-year girl said, but his laugh didn’t reach his eyes.

He raised his voice just enough. "-think the best parties are the ones Filch doesn't find out about until the next morning, right, Jimin?"

Jimin stabbed a roasted potato. "I think the best parties are the ones where you don't set anything on fire."

Jungkook chuckled, his cocky grin showing. His eyes caught yours again, and he raised his goblet in a mock toast in your direction before returning to his friends.

Minjae finally noticed your distraction. "Oh, don't let him get to you. He's just trying to get a rise out of you. Out of everyone."

At the Slytherin table, Jimin whispered to Jungkook, "What do you think you're doing?"

Jungkook shoved him lightly away. "I'm having dinner."

Jungkook stood up suddenly, his chair scraping across the stone floor. The Slytherin side of the table went silent. He didn’t look at you again. Instead, he stuck his hands in his pockets and left the Great Hall. Jimin let out a sigh, rubbing his face in frustration, before getting up to go after him.

Minjae shook his head. "See? Drama. Everything is a performance with that guy." He cleared his throat. "More tart, pretty?"

You shook your head, your heart pounding. "No, thank you. Excuse me, I have to use the bathroom."

You quickly ducked into the girls' bathroom, hoping there wasn’t a ghost hanging around tonight. You leaned against the sink and pulled out the parchment you had in your pocket.

As you unfolded it, the writing was all over the place. It wasn’t a letter; it was a list.

• Charms essay (ask her for notes? Stupid) • Check broomstick polish • Tell Jimin to mind his own business • Don't look at her in the Great Hall • Don't look at her in Potions • Don't look at her. Period. • Yule Ball (who is she going with? Don't care.) • I care • Stop caring • Her hair is beautiful in the sun. • Merlin, I'm pathetic.

The last line was crossed out so violently that the quill had torn through the parchment in one spot. At the very bottom, written smaller, was:

• Tell her

Everything except one thing was crossed out, and that one thing was circled over and over, with the ink soaking through the paper. Suddenly, the door creaked open. You jumped, clenched the paper in your fist, and quickly shoved it back into your pocket.

And then Moaning Myrtle decided to make her entrance with a dramatic sob. "Oh, what's that in your pocket? Is it a secret? I love secrets!"

Myrtle swooped down, her translucent form passing close to your pocket. You clutched the paper instinctively.

"Nothing and nobody wants to hear you wail for the next hour," you said, your voice sharper than you intended. "Go bother someone in the prefects' bathroom. I hear they have better bubbles."

Myrtle let out a piercing wail and flew into a nearby toilet. You took a shaky breath, your mind racing. The list, the messy and crossed-out thoughts of the boy who tormented you at every turn. The boy who, it seemed, was just as tormented by you.

You stepped out of the bathroom, the crumpled paper crammed in your pocket feeling like a heavy rock. The Great Hall was still loud, but it all felt far away, like it was muffled. Minjae was still at the Ravenclaw table, chatting excitedly with one of your classmates. He noticed you and his face brightened up with a smile.

"Hey! Everything okay? You were gone a while," he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

You forced a smile, the muscles in your face feeling foreign and stiff.  "Everything's fine. Just a headache." The lie tasted like ash in your mouth.

Minjae, bless his oblivious heart, accepted it immediately, his brow smoothing out as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"Ah, the perks of being the smartest and the most beautiful witch in the room. Come on, let's get you back to the common room, you need rest."

You let him guide you, you couldn't bring yourself to glance at the Slytherin table to see if Jungkook had returned. You weren't sure you could handle it. The walk to the Ravenclaw tower was a blur of Minjae's comforting chatter. You murmured noncommittal and monosyllabic responses, your mind a thousand miles away, replaying the crossed-out words on the parchment.

Finally, you reached the bronze eagle knocker. Minjae waited patiently for you to answer

"I have cities, but no houses live there. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?"

"A map," you answered automatically.

The door swung open, revealing the circular common room. Minjae followed you in.

"Well," he said, dropping onto one of the blue sofas. "That was… eventful. Jeon really needs a hobby." He leaned back, lacing his hands behind his head. "You know, I sometimes wonder what his deal is. We could probably be friends if he wasn't so… Slytherin about everything."

You froze by the window, your hand tightening on the sill. The crumpled parchment in your pocket seemed to burn.

"He's not just 'Slytherin', Minjae," you said, your voice quiet but sharp. "He's cruel."

Minjae sat up, his easy-going expression replaced by one of confusion. "Cruel? He's just an arrogant boy who takes the house rivalry too seriously. It's not personal."

"It's always personal with him," you whispered, turning to face him. "Don't you see that? The hexes, the comments… It's all aimed at you."

"Because I'm the Gryffindor Captain and he is the Slytherin Captain! It's part of the game!" Minjae insisted, his voice rising slightly in frustration. "Why are you defending him all of a sudden?"

"I'm not defending him!" you shot back, "I'm just… I'm saying it's not just a game to him. Nothing with him is just a game."

The silence that fell between you was heavy and unfamiliar. Minjae was looking at you like he'd never seen you before, a flicker of hurt and confusion in his hazel eyes.

"What's going on with you, Y/n? You've been distant for weeks. And now you're defending Jungkook? Is this about that note he passed you in Potions? Because that was just him being a jerk as usual."

You stared at him, and he remembered the note Jungkook had "accidentally" dropped on your desk that simply said, "Your tie is crooked, Head Girl." You had seen the way Jungkook's fingers had brushed against yours, the panicked look in his eyes before he'd masked it. You had thought it was a strange moment, now you knew it was a desperate move.

"I'm tired," you said finally, turning away from him and heading towards the girls' dormitory. "I'm going to bed."

"Y/n, wait," Minjae called out, standing up.

 But you didn't stop and walked up the spiral staircase, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the common room.

You flopped onto your bed in your dorm, leaning back against the headboard. The room was quiet; your roommates were already out cold. You pulled the crumpled paper from your pocket, feeling your fingers shake as you laid it out on your lap. You read it over and over again.

Your eyes wandered to the bedside table, where a photo of you and Minjae was sitting. He had his arm around you, and that grin on his face was just full of happiness. It was a perfect snapshot of a couple in love.

You picked up the frame, tracing Minjae's smile with your thumb. You glanced back down at that frantic, ink-stained paper in your lap, and a scary thought crept in: maybe being safe just wasn’t enough anymore. Maybe it never was.

The prince in the dungeon

The decision was born of a desperate, reckless curiosity. For two days after you had found the list, the piece of parchment in your pocket felt like it was burning a hole through your robes.

 "You've been a million miles away,” Minjae said on Friday afternoon, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you stared out a window. "Is it NEWT stress? Because if it is, we can have a fun study session with snacks."

You forced a laugh, leaning back into his warmth. "Something like that, just tired."

It was always the same damn excuse, and he bought it every time.

That evening, as you sat in the Great Hall, the announcement came. Jungkook was throwing a party tonight in the Slytherin common rooms.

"He's going to get himself expelled," Minjae muttered “and probably take half his house with him."

Taehyung, sitting across from you, caught your eye. He gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod. He knew, he knew you knew, and he knew this was your chance.

"I think I'm going to skip the study session tonight" you said.

Minjae looked at you, surprised. "Oh? Okay, we can just relax then, maybe sneak up to the Astronomy Tower?"

"No," you said, a little too quickly, "I mean… I heard about that party in the dungeons."

Minjae's fork clattered onto his plate. "You want to go to Jungkook's party? Y/n, why? It's just going to be a bunch of Slytherins getting drunk and being… well, Slytherins."

"I'm curious," you lied, your heart starting to pound. "I'm Head Girl, maybe I should… make an appearance, show them I'm not afraid."

It was a flimsy excuse, and you both knew it, but Minjae wanted to believe it.

"Okay," he said slowly, "If you think that's a good idea, but I'm coming with you. I'm not letting you go down there alone."

Panic flared in your chest. This wasn't part of the plan. You needed to see him, to talk to him, alone.

"No, Minjae, it's fine, really. You hate that stuff anyway. I'll just pop in, make a scene, and leave. It'll be good for my reputation."

He looked unconvinced, but you gave him your most convincing smile, the one that usually made him agree to anything.

"Alright but be careful.”

You nodded, your throat tight. "I got it."

An hour later, you find yourself wandering down a dark, unfamiliar hallway, your footsteps echoing off the stone walls. . You're making your way to the dungeons, drawn in by the muffled music. As you reach the bottom of the last staircase, the noise hits you first, and the air is thick with the smell of Firewhiskey.

The password, told to you by a cheeky Slytherin, is "Pureblood."

When you step into the common room, it's like a whole different world. The place is packed with students, a sea of Slytherin green mixed with a few from other houses, all dancing, laughing, and drinking. You can’t help but feel like you stand out in your blue and silver colors.

And then you notice him.

Jungkook is up on a raised platform, drink in hand, looking like he owns the place. His gaze sweeps over the crowd. He definitely gives off the cocky pureblood prince vibe, and you think about bailing.

But then he spots you.

His eyes lock with yours, and the smirk he had disappears for a moment. He looks genuinely surprised, but then a slow, confident grin spreads across his face. He says something to Jimin, who’s next to him, and starts pushing through the crowd, still keeping his eyes on you.

"Well, well," he said, his voice low and raspy, just for you. "Look at you, come to bust the party, Head Girl?"

"I came to see what all the fuss was about."

"The fuss is about not caring. You should try it sometime." His eyes flickered down to your pocket. "Or maybe you already are."

Your breath hitched. He knew you'd taken the list, he had to. This was a game of cat and mouse. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't you?" He was so close now you could smell the Firewhiskey on his breath. "You're in my world, Y/n. You should learn the rules."

"And what are the rules?" you challenged him, your chin held high, your arms crossed.

His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a heart-stopping moment, you thought he was going to kiss you right there, in the middle of his own party, but then he smirked.

"The first rule is that you don't belong here."

He looked entirely too proud of himself. He was playing with her, treating the conversation like a Quidditch match where he already had the lead. He liked the way she crossed her arms, it was a defensive gesture, but it didn't hide the way she was still flushed.

"Besides, if you leave now, you're just proving me right. You're just a little bird who's too scared to stay in the dark for more than five minutes."

"Fine," Y/n said, the word defiant.

"Now that's more like it."

Your gaze shifted without meaning to a couple making out in the corner of the room. His eyes followed your line of sight to the couples, and Jungkook let out a low, mocking hum.

"Careful, Y/n. If you stare too long, you might actually learn something. What's the matter? Is the Gryffindor too gentle? Does he only hold your hand and kiss your forehead?"

Y/n felt the heat creep up her neck. "None of your business."

Jungkook chuckled sarcastically. He turned away from you and rejoined his friends. You didn't leave, and you grabbed a bottle of something that smelled like cinnamon from a nearby table and took a sip. It burned all the way down.

You spent the next hour watching him from across the room. You saw him charm a pretty sixth-year girl, saw him win a round of wizard's chess, saw him laugh with Jimin, and through it all, you felt his eyes on you, quick glances that he thought you didn't notice.

Finally, you'd had enough, you set your bottle down and pushed your way through the crowd towards the exit. You'd seen enough for tonight and you knew what you had to do.

You were almost at the door when a hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you into a small, dark alcove behind a tapestry. He slammed his other hand against the wall beside your head, caging you in. The noise of the party was suddenly muffled, replaced by the sound of your own breathing.

“What the-”

"Where do you think you're going?”

"Home," you said, your voice trembling.

He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours. "You shouldn't have come here," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "You shouldn't have seen that."

"Seen what? The perfect party?"

"This," he said, gesturing vaguely at the party beyond the tapestry. "This is all I have. This is all I am, a joke, a performance. Is that what you wanted to see?"

"No," you whispered, your anger melting away. "That's not what I see at all."

His eyes searched yours, desperately "Then what do you see?"

You saw the boy who wrote the list, the boy who was desperately lonely, the boy who thought he was unlovable.

"I see you-," you whispered, the words hanging in the charged air between you.

"You don't, you see him." He jerked his head in the direction of the party, in the direction of where Minjae would be. "You see the charming Gryffindor hero. You don't see this."

"This?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. "What is this, Jungkook? This party? This… mask? Is this all you think you are?"

"It's all I'm allowed to be!" he said angrily, his eyes blazing.  "Do you have any idea what it's like? To be told, every single day, that your worth is tied to your name, your blood, your ability to be ruthless?”

He was so close, his body trembling with the force of his confession

"I look at you and I see everything I'm supposed to hate, everything I can't have. You're good, you're brilliant, you’re beautiful and kind, and you're with him, the perfect Gryffindor. It's a fucking fairytale, and I'm the monster in the dungeon."

"You're not a monster," you breathed, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, over the frantic beating of his heart.

He didn't pull away. "Aren't I?" he challenged, his voice a bitter whisper. "I hex your boyfriend in the corridors, I spread rumors about him, I do everything I can to make his life miserable because I'm jealous of him. I'm jealous of the way he gets to hold your hand, I'm jealous of the way you look at him, I'm jealous of the air he breathes because it's the same air you're breathing. If that's not a monster, what is?"

"Why?" you asked, your own voice shaking. "Why do you do it? Why not just… tell me?"

"And say what?" he laughed, a harsh, broken sound. " 'Hey, Y/n, I know I've been a bastard for the past seven years, but I'm secretly in love with you, please leave the wonderful, decent guy you're dating for the messed-up son of a Death Eater sympathizer who doesn't know how to feel anything without hating himself for it?' How well do you think that would go?"

"I would have listened" you said, your heart aching for him.

"No. You wouldn't have. You would have seen me as a joke. A pathetic Slytherin pining after something he can't have. It's better this way, the enemy part, at least that's real."

"It's not real," you insisted, your fingers curling into the fabric of his robe. "None of it is real. This…" you said, gesturing to the space between you, "…is real. This is the realest thing I've felt in years."

For a moment, you thought you had reached him. The wall of arrogance and cruelty crumbled, leaving just the boy who was lost and scared and so incredibly in love with you, it was destroying him. He leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut, his lips parting slightly. He was going to kiss you. And you were going to let him.

You licked your lips

You swallowed

Your stomach did the flip thing

But then, a loud cheer erupted from the party, followed by the sound of a shattering bottle, and Jungkook's eyes snapped open, everything you’ve tried to build tonight crashed down.

"No," he whispered, pulling back from you, running a hand through his hair, his eyes wild. "No, we can't, I can't."

"Jungkook, wait-” you reached for him, but he flinched away.

"Don't," he said, his voice flat "This was a mistake, a big stupid mistake.” He straightened his robes, the mask was back on. "You should go."

"Jungkook, please…," you begged, your heart breaking.

"Go back to your tower, Y/n." He didn't look at you, he looked at the stone wall behind you, as if you were no longer there. "Go back to your boyfriend.”

He turned his back on you and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of laughing, Slytherins. He had pushed you away, but not before he had given you everything.

You stumbled out from behind the tapestry. You didn't look back, you couldn't. The walk back to the Ravenclaw tower was a nightmare.

The rest of the weekend drifted by in a quiet silence. You stayed away from the Great Hall, saying you had a terrible headache at the NEWT level, and Taehyung kindly brought your meals to your room. Minjae kept sending owl messages, each one cheerier than the last, checking in on how you were feeling and letting you know he was thinking of you. But, somehow, you just couldn't find the words to reply to any of them.

By Monday, the bubble of your isolation had to burst. You had Charms with the Gryffindors, and you knew you couldn't avoid Minjae forever. Walking into the classroom felt like marching to your own execution.

"Hey! You're back!" he whispered as you sat down, his hand immediately finding yours on the desk. "I was so worried. Are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine," you lied, pulling your hand away to retrieve your wand. "Just needed some quiet."

"Right," he said, his smile faltering slightly. "Well, I'm glad you're here, maybe you can help me with the wrist flick, I always mess it up."

You tried to focus, you really did. You tried to listen to Flitwick and to perform the practiced flicks of your wand, but all you could think about was the way Jungkook's body caged you in, and the sound of his voice as he confessed everything.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a concerned whisper. "Y/n, seriously. What's going on? Is this about Jungkook's party? Did he say something to you? Did he hurt you?"

"I think we should talk, Minjae," you said, your voice barely audible over the chatter of the class. "Meet me by the Black Lake, after class."

He didn't know what, but he knew something was fundamentally wrong. "Okay, the Black Lake, after class."

The next twenty minutes were the longest of your life. When the bell finally rang, you packed your bag with shaking hands and walked out of the castle. He found you a few minutes later, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold. He looked at you with those honest, hazel eyes.

"So, this sounds serious."

"Don't," you whispered, turning away from him to look at the water. "Please don't be kind right now."

"What? Why? Y/n, whatever it is, we can fix it. Just talk to me."  

"I am trying to talk to you! I'm breaking up with you."

"You're… what? No, you're not. You're just stressed."

"It's not that," you said, finally turning to face him. His face was pale. "This isn't working, Minjae."

"Not working?" he repeated, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "What does that even mean? We've been working for years! We work!"

"We were," you corrected gently. "But we're not anymore."

"Is this because of him?" he demanded, his voice rising with anger. "Is this because of Jungkook? That party? What did he do to you?"

"He didn't do anything!" you insisted, the words feeling more and more like a lie. "This is about me. This is about… us. We're a fairytale, Minjae. We’re a lovely story, but it's not real."

"It is real!" he shouted, stepping closer. "What I feel for you is real! Is this a joke? Are you breaking up with me because you're bored? Because you've decided you want some drama in your life? Is that what this is?"

"No!" you cried, tears finally welling in your eyes. "It's because I don't love you! Not the way you deserve, not the way I should."

"You don't… but you said…"

"I know what I said," you whispered, the tears now streaming down your face. "And I meant it when I said it. But things change, and people change."

"So you've changed," he said, his voice flat. " You've changed so much that you just throw away two years? Don't I deserve a real reason? Don't I deserve the truth?"

"The truth is that I'm not the person you think I am. And you deserve someone who is, someone who can give you all of this, without hesitation." You gestured between you, to the life you had built together. "I can't. I’m sorry."

"So that's it," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Just like that."

"I'm so sorry, Minjae," you choked out. "I am so, so sorry."

He shook his head, a sad, broken little smile touching his lips. "Don't be. Just… go. Please. Just go."

You didn't want to. You wanted to stay and explain, to take the pain away, but you knew you couldn't. You turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone; the perfect hero had just lost its heroine.

You skipped dinner that night and found yourself hiding in the back of the library, acting like you were researching some potion you already knew by heart. You felt like such a coward for breaking a good guy's heart, and now you were just avoiding the fallout. Every time the library doors opened, you freaked out, hoping it wouldn’t be Minjae or, even worse, Taehyung, showing up and wanting to know what the hell happened.

It was nearly curfew when a shadow fell over your book.

"Rough day, Head Girl?" He slid into the seat opposite you, his movements fluid and predatory. He looked rested, composed, a stark contrast to the emotional wreckage you had become.

"What do you want, Jeon?" you asked, not looking up from your book. Your voice was hoarse from crying.

He reached across the table and deliberately closed your book.

"I want to know why," he said. “I want to know why you did it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you lied, your voice a pathetic whisper.

"Don't even think about lying to me. You dumped him, the so-called hero of your fairytale. So I'm gonna ask you again. Why?"

You had no answer. How could you explain that his confession changed everything?

"I… I had to," you stammered, looking away.

"Had to?" He laughed harshly. "No one has to do anything, Y/n. You wanted to end it. Why? Was it because of me?"

Your head snapped back to his. "What?"

"Was it because of me?" he repeated. "Did you see me on Friday night and decide your perfect little life wasn't so perfect anymore? Did my 'performance' finally get to you?"

"It wasn't a performance!" you shot back, your own anger rising to meet his. "I saw you, Jungkook. The real you."

"The real me?" he laughed again, that same broken, bitter sound. "You saw a pathetic, drunken mess in a dungeon who spilled his guts because he couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut. That's not the real me. The real me is the one who hexes your boyfriend and makes your life hell. That's the one you should be afraid of."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be," he hissed, leaning even closer. "You took it, the list. The one thing, the one stupid, pathetic piece of parchment in the entire world that was just for me, and you took it. You read it, and then what? You decided to do what? Pity me? You felt so sorry for the monster in the dungeon that you threw away your prince?"

"No," you breathed, shaking your head.

"Then what?" he demanded, his voice rising in frustration. "Give me one good reason why you would throw away everything for… for this."

You couldn’t tell him the whole story. You couldn't admit that all those mean things he’d said now felt like love notes. You couldn’t say that his broken confession stuck with you more than two years of Minjae being all sweet and easygoing. So, you did the only thing you could think of: you dug into your pocket.

His eyes followed your movement, his breath catching in his throat. You pulled out the crumpled, worn piece of parchment, his list. You didn't unfold it.

"This," you said, your voice shaking. "This is why."

"I don't understand," he whispered.

"You told me to tell you what I see. You said I see the hero, and honestly, you’re right, I did. I saw that boy who was kind, good, and safe. But he wasn't really mine, not really." You glanced down at the parchment in your hand. "This… this is mine. This chaotic, messy, broken thing. This is real, and I'm over pretending it's not.

He looked at the paper, then back at you, his eyes wide with realization. He hadn’t pushed you away; he’d actually pulled you in.

“No,” he whispered, like it was both a prayer and a curse. “You can’t. You shouldn’t.”

“I already did,” you replied softly.

The days after the breakup blurred into a week. You were… on your own. The castle felt off. Minjae kept his distance, which was both good and bad. You’d catch sight of him in the Great Hall or outside on the lawns. Taehyung was always around, his sharp eyes catching everything, but he gave you your space.

And then there was Jungkook.

Nothing much happened, at least on the surface. He went back to being Jeon Jungkook, the cocky Slytherin prince, but it felt different now. You noticed the cracks, you saw how his eyes searched for you across a crowded room, not with his usual teasing. He was giving you space, which had to be tough for him. He was waiting, you realized. Waiting for you to make the next move. The ball was in your court.

However, things hit a boiling point on Friday morning.

The Great Hall was buzzing with the pre-weekend energy. You were picking at a piece of toast when Taehyung slid onto the bench beside you.

"You look like a dead pufferskin," he stated, not unkindly. "Have you even slept?"

"Shut it, Taehyung," you mumbled, pushing your plate away.

He sighed, pulling a bowl of porridge towards him. "Look, I know you're going through… whatever this is. But you can't just exist on air and angst forever.”

"I'll be fine."

"No, you won't," he said flatly. "And neither will he."

You didn’t need to ask who ‘he’ was. Your eyes automatically shifted to the Slytherin table. Jungkook was staring blankly at his plate, pushing food around like he was annoyed but didn’t have the energy to care. Jimin was chatting with him, looking worried, but Jungkook wasn’t really paying attention. He looked just as miserable as you felt.

Just then, the main doors of the Great Hall creaked open, Minjae. He wasn’t his usual bubbly self. He scanned the Ravenclaw table and finally locked eyes with you. For a moment, you could see a flash of something cross his face before it turned cold, and he focused on someone else.

Jungkook.

Before you could even wrap your head around what was going on, Minjae was confidently walking across the Great Hall.

Taehyung grabbed your arm under the table. "Oh no. Y/n, don’t just sit there."

But you were totally frozen. You could only watch as Minjae stopped right in front of the Slytherin table, staring straight at Jungkook.

"We need to talk, Jeon," Minjae said.

Jungkook slowly lifted his head. The tired look was gone. He leaned back in his chair, throwing an arm over the back in a way that showed he didn’t care.

"What’s up, Whitmore?" Jungkook said with sarcasm. "Your amazing new plan to lose tomorrow’s match?"

A few of the younger Slytherins laughed. Jimin looked like he was about to be sick.

"This isn't about Quidditch," Minjae said, his voice tight with restraint. "This is about Y/n."

At the sound of your name, Jungkook's entire posture changed. He sat up straight.

"Ah," Jungkook said, his voice now dangerously soft. "The Head Girl. What about her? Did she come crying to you, telling you the big, bad monster scared her in the dungeon?"

Minjae's fists clenched at his sides. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Jungkook stood up, towering over Minjae. "I saw you sulking around for a week. I know she finally got fed up with pretending to be happy with the perfect Gryffindor. She woke up and realized she wanted something real."

That last part hit hard. A gasp went through the students nearby. You felt your face go pale.

"You're lying," Minjae shot back, stepping closer. "You manipulated her. This is all your fault."

"My fault?" Jungkook chuckled, but it sounded nasty. "How's it my fault she finally realized you're just a boring, safe placeholder? I didn't even have to lift a finger. You messed up all on your own."

That was all Minjae needed to hear.

He charged at Jungkook, hands stretched out, ready to grab the collar of Jungkook's fancy robes. But Taehyung was quicker. "Immobulus!" A blast light hit Minjae mid-lunge, freezing him in a goofy pose.

Jungkook didn’t even blink. He ignored Taehyung, the professors rushing in. He locked eyes with Minjae. Slowly, he raised his wand.

“Finite Incantatem,”

The spell hit. Minjae stumbled forward, nearly losing his balance before he caught himself, breathing hard, embarrassment flaring in his eyes. Jungkook just saved him from making things worse.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” Minjae growled, his voice strained. “Don’t even look at me after what you’ve done.”

“What I’ve done?” Jungkook took a step closer, stepping into Minjae’s space, holding his wand loosely at his side like a casual threat. “I haven’t done anything. That’s the issue, right? I stayed out of it. I kept quiet. And she still left you.”

"You messed with her head!" Minjae shot back, his voice shaking. "You've been filling it with your garbage for years!"

Jungkook laughed, “Garbage? I told her the truth. I told her I was a wreck. I told her I was a monster. The only thing I’m guilty of is wanting her. What about you? You had her! You had everything anyone could want, but you were so boring that you let her slip away."

"I loved her!" Minjae yelled, fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, "I would have done anything for her!"

"Anything except what she actually needed," Jungkook shot back, his words hitting hard. "You loved the idea of her, the smart, pretty girlfriend to make you look good. Did you ever really see her? Did you notice how she bit her lip when she was deep in thought? Did you know she hates treacle tart but ate it every time you offered it because she didn't want to hurt your feelings?"

Each question was a fresh blow, and you watched Minjae's face crumble. He didn't know. He didn't know any of it. And Jungkook, the boy who supposedly hated you, knew everything.

"She was happy with me," Minjae whispered, a last, desperate defense.

"Was she? Or was she just comfortable? There’s a difference. She was settling for a life that was easy, safe, and a bit empty. I just… I gave her a reason to stop."

Minjae looked completely shattered. He locked eyes with Jungkook, pleading for him to deny it, to tell him it was all a lie. But Jungkook said nothing. Eventually, Minjae’s gaze slipped past Jungkook to you across the silent hall. The anger had faded from his eyes, replaced by deep sorrow. He understood now, he saw everything. With that final, heartbreaking look, he walked out of the Great Hall.

Jungkook's shoulders drooped for a moment, the weight of his victory pressing down on him. Every eye in the room was on you, judging silently. You were the reason for this chaos, the girl at the center of a storm you hadn't known how to stop.

In that crowd, his eyes found yours. His eyes locked onto yours, and in them, you saw not a question but a command. Come.

You pushed your chair back, the sound slicing through the quiet like a shout. Keeping your head up and your expression blank, you made your way over to him. You didn’t glance at Taehyung’s worried expression or Jimin’s cautious look. All that mattered was reaching him.

He met you halfway, right before the huge doors of the hall. He didn't say a word; just turned and brushed past you, and you fell in step beside him. Instead of dragging you down to the dungeons or some creepy hidden spot, he took you up on the moving staircases. As you climbed higher, the noise of the castle faded away, replaced by the sound of your own racing heartbeat. He was guiding you to a place filled with ghosts and memories, somewhere you hadn’t been in ages.

The Room of Requirement

"Are you happy now?" you finally asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He turned slowly. "Happy?" he repeated, the word a bitter taste on his tongue. "No. I'm not happy."

He closed the distance between you in two long strides.

"I'm furious. I'm furious at him for being so blind. I'm furious at you for being so stupid. And most of all, I'm furious at myself for thinking for one second that this could ever end well."

"You didn't have to do that," you shot back, he grabbed your wrist.

"Didn't I?" he chuckled. "What was I supposed to do? Let him keep living in his little fantasy? Let him keep looking at you like you were his trophy? I had to show everyone. You’re not his. You never were."

"And I'm yours?" you whispered.

His eyes grew dark as he lifted his other hand, fingers gently tracing your jaw, his touch surprisingly soft compared to the tight grip he had on your wrist.

"You've always been mine, little raven," he said quietly, his thumb brushing your bottom lip.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn't soft or sweet at all. His mouth was demanding, pushing against yours with an urgency that took your breath away. He pressed you back until your shoulders hit the cool stone of the wall, trapping you in.

He let go of your wrist and tangled his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to make the kiss deeper. His other hand moved down your back, pulling you against him so you could feel his arousal through your robes. A gasp slipped out, and he seized the chance, slipping his tongue inside to explore and claim you.

 Your hands flew around his neck, pulling him closer. You wanted to crawl inside his skin, to consume him, to be consumed by him.

He broke the kiss, both of you panting, your foreheads pressed together. The night air was cold on your swollen lips.

He leaned in again, but this time his kiss was softer. It felt different, almost like he was cherishing the moment after that intense passion from before. His lips moved against yours slowly, setting a rhythm that made your legs feel a little wobbly. One of his hands slid from your back to your hip, his thumb drawing little circles, sending shivers all over you.

"Y/n," he murmured against your lips, making your name sound almost sacred. "You’ve gotta tell me this is real."

"It's real," you promised.

That was all the permission he needed.

His mouth reclaimed yours with a renewed hunger, his hands growing bolder. He found the clasp of your school robes, his fingers fumbling with it for a moment before it came undone with a soft click. The heavy wool pooled at your feet, leaving you in the thin white blouse and skirt.

He reached out and slowly, deliberately, began to unbutton your blouse. His fingers were calloused from Quidditch, rough against your skin. One button. Two. Three. He took his time, his eyes never leaving yours, watching your every reaction.

When your blouse was open, he pushed it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the stone floor. You stood before him in your simple white bra and skirt.

"You're so beautiful, little raven." He reached out and traced the lacy edge of your bra with his fingertips. "Merlin, I've thought about this. About what you'd look like. In bed, under me."

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He leaned down and kissed the hollow of your throat. His kiss felt warm and open, and he traced a line down your neck to your collarbone. You tilted your head back, letting him have better access, a soft sigh slipping from your lips. His hands were on your waist, holding you steady.He found the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you couldn't stop the moan that rose in your throat. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound against your skin.

"I knew you'd be sensitive here," he murmured. "I spent an entire Transfiguration lesson once just watching the way you'd twist your hair when you were concentrating, wondering if you'd make that same little sound if I put my mouth right… here." He punctuated his words with a sharp nip of his teeth, and you jolted, a gasp torn from your lips.

"Jungkook," you breathed.

"Tell me what you want, pretty," he commanded, his mouth moving back up to claim yours in a searing kiss. "Tell me, Y/n."

You couldn't form the words.  All you could do was hold on tighter, arching against him, a silent, desperate plea for more.

He seemed to understand. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, "Can't talk? That's okay. I can do all the talking."

His hands moved from your waist to the small of your back, tracing the curve of your spine before sliding down to grab your ass through the fabric of your skirt. He squeezed, pulling you tight against him, and you gasped as you felt his hard cock pressing into your stomach.

"You feel that?" he said, his lips close to your ear. "That's what you do to me. You've been doing it for years. Every time you walked into a room, every time you answered a question in class, even when you just breathed in my direction."

His hands were restless now, roaming over your body, learning the shape of you. He slid one hand up your side, his thumb brushing against the side of your breast. You whimpered, pushing into his touch, needing more.

"Patience, I've waited too long for this to rush it."

But his own patience was running out. He let out a frustrated groan, reached behind you, and struggled a bit with your bra's clasp. It clicked open, and he tossed it aside with the rest of your clothes. The night air hit your bare skin, and your nipples instantly got hard.

Jungkook stilled, his gaze fixed on your chest. "Fuck, you're perfect."

He reached out, his hand lingering for a second before he grabbed one of your breasts, his palm warm and heavy. He ran his thumb over your already hard nipple, and you let out a gasp.

"Shh," he murmured, leaning down to take the other into his mouth. "We don't want to bring the whole castle up here, do we?"

His mouth was hot and wet, a shocking contrast to the cold air. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive peak, then sucked, hard. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands, holding him to you.  He gave attention to your breasts, alternating between them, his mouth and hands working in rhythm.

Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he pulled back, his breathing ragged.

"I need to see all of you," he said, his voice a raw, rough command.

He dropped to his knees before you, He looked up at you from his position. He reached out and placed his hands on your hips, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your skirt. You nodded.

Slowly, he peeled your skirt down your legs, his fingers tracing the path of the fabric as it went. He followed it with his mouth, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your hips, your stomach, the tops of your thighs. You were trembling.

When your skirt was around your ankles, you where in nothing but your simple cotton underwear.

"You're shaking," he observed, his voice soft.

"You're doing this to me," you managed to say, your voice barely audible.

"I haven't even started yet."

He hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties and slowly pulled them down. You stepped out of them. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss under your navel, his lips soft and gentle. You gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself.

"Jungkook," you pleaded, not even sure what you were begging for.

"I know," he murmured against your skin. "I know."

He shifted, settling between your thighs. He looked up at you one last time, and then he lowered his head.

The first touch of his tongue against your clit was a lick and it sent a shockwave of pleasure through you so intense your knees buckled. He held you steady, his hands gripping your hips, while his mouth working its magic.

He didn’t hold back. He explored you with his. He circled your clit, then flicked it, then sucked it into his mouth. Your world was just the sensation of his mouth on you, the rough slide of his tongue, the desperate sounds of your own breathing.

You were babbling now, a stream of incoherent pleas and praises. "Please, Jungkook, yes, don't stop, please, please, please…"

He didn't stop. He increased his pace, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding. He slid one hand from your hip, his fingers finding your entrance. He teased you for a moment, circling the opening, before sliding one long finger inside you.

You cried out, your inner walls clenching around him. He began to move his finger in time with the movements of his tongue while you were closer to the edge. He added a second finger, stretching you.

"Come for me, Y/n, let me feel it, let me taste you."

With a final, desperate cry, you orgasmed. It left you breathless and shaking, and he held you through it, his mouth and fingers milking every last drop of your slick.

Once the shaking finally stopped, he stood up and wrapped his arms around you. You sank against him, your head on his chest, listening to his heart. He just held you for a while, gently running his fingers through your hair.

"You're gorgeous," he murmured.

You looked up and kissed him. You could taste yourself on his lip, his tongue sliding into your mouth. He was still fully dressed, and the rough texture of his robes felt amazing against your bare skin. All you could think about was wanting to feel him fully, wanting to see him.

You pulled back, your hands going to the front of his robes. "Your turn."

He watched you as you fumbled with the clasp of his robes. Your fingers were clumsy with urgency, but you finally managed to get it open. You pushed the heavy fabric off his shoulders, and it joined yours on the stone floor.

He was wearing a simple black shirt underneath. You made quick work of the buttons, your hands brushing against the warm, hard plane of his chest. He was lean and muscular, his body a testament to years of Quidditch training.

Your fingers trembled as they traced the lines of his chest, feeling the steady, rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. You pushed the black shirt off his shoulders, and it joined the growing pile of discarded clothing on the cold stone floor. You reached out, your fingers tracing the lines of his abs, feeling them tighten under your touch. He sucked in a sharp breath, his hands coming to rest on your waist.

"Your hands are cold," he murmured, a low rumble in his chest.

"Sorry," you whispered, but you didn't stop touching him.

"Don't be," he said, his voice thick.

His skin was warm, and you could feel the fine tremor running through him, a mirror to your own. He was magnificent, and he was all yours.

Your gaze drifted downward, to the very obvious bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers. You swallowed hard.

"Like what you see, little raven?" he asked, his voice a low, husky rumble.

Instead of answering, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his chest, right over his heart. You could feel it thumping against your mouth. You kissed your way across his chest, your tongue darting out to taste the salty skin, to trace his collarbones. His hands came up to rest on your back, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he needed to anchor himself.

With a surge of confidence, you let your hand drift lower, palming him through his trousers. He groaned. His hips jerked forward instinctively, seeking more friction.

You knelt before him, just as he had done for you, your gaze fixed on the button of his trousers. Your hands shook as you undid it, the sound of the zipper loud. You looked up at him, your eyes wide, and saw the raw, naked hunger on his face.

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled them down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick. It was bigger than you'd imagined, the head flushed, a bead of moisture glistening at the tip.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You'd seen boys before; you’d seen Minjae, but this was different.

You reached out a trembling hand and wrapped your fingers around him. He was hot and hard in your grasp, the skin velvety soft over the rigid core. He let out a harsh groan, his hips bucking forward instinctively.

"Fuck, Y/n," his head falling back. "Don't… don't tease."

You weren't teasing. You were exploring. You ran your thumb over the head, smearing the bead of pre-cum over the sensitive skin. He shuddered, a full-body tremor that ran through him like a wave.

"You don't have to."

“Shut up, Jeon, I want to.”

You leaned in and flicked your tongue against the tip, tasting the salty, slightly bitter flavor of him.

He hissed, his hands flying to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. "Y/n," he warned, his voice strained. "I'm serious. If you… if you do that…"

You looked up at him, your lips hovering just a breath away from his cock. "If I do what?" you whispered boldly.

"Gods," he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut. "If you put your mouth on me, I won't be able to control myself. I'll… I'll fuck your mouth. And I don't want to do that. Not yet."

His words sent a fresh wave of heat to your core. He wanted you so much he was afraid of his own reaction.

You took a deep breath and made your choice. You wanted to taste him, to feel him, to give him the same mind-blowing pleasure he had just given you. You wanted to see him lose control.

You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip. He cried out, his fingers tightening in your hair, his hips jerking forward. You took more of him into your mouth.

 You couldn't take all of him, not at first, but you tried. You relaxed your jaw and took him deeper, your hand working the base of his shaft in time with the movements of your mouth. He was breathing heavily now, his head thrown back, his eyes closed. The sounds he was making were driving you crazy.

He was right. He couldn't control himself. His hips began to move, a slow, shallow rocking at first, then faster, deeper, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

"Y/n, fuck, your mouth… so good… gods.”

"Fuck, yes, just like that. Your mouth is so fucking good."

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and he cried out, his whole body tensing. You could feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

“Y/n, I'm gonna…"

He tried to pull back, to warn you, but you held on. With a final groan, he came, his hot, salty release flooding your mouth. You swallowed, your throat working, milking him for every last drop.

“You crazy little witch,” he murmured against your lips, his voice hoarse.

You chuckled softly.

He shifted, his body covering yours. He was already hard again, his cock pressing against your thigh.

"I need to be inside you. Are you ready for me, little raven?" he murmured against your lips.

You nodded frantically. He reached between your legs, his fingers finding your clit. You were still wet from your earlier orgasm, and his fingers slid easily through your folds. He circled your clit, then slid two fingers inside you, testing your readiness.

"Mhm, You're so wet for me," he said.

"All for you," you echoed.

His fingers stroked and teased you until you were squirming beneath him, begging. He reached between you, guiding his cock to your entrance.

"Look at me, clever girl," he commanded, his voice low and intense.

You forced your eyes open, and he held your gaze as he slowly, deliberately, pushed into you.

There was a brief, sharp sting as he stretched you, and you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders. He stilled.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You took a deep breath, the pain already starting to fade. "I'm okay," you said. "Don't stop."

He began to thrust slowly and deeply at first, then faster, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the silent room.

"Harder," you gasped, your voice a raw, desperate plea. "Jungkook, harder."

His movements becoming almost brutal, his cock pounding into you, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"You're so tight, sweetheart," he gritted out, his fingers digging into your thighs. "So fucking perfect."

He reached between you again, his fingers finding your clit. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, and you felt your orgasm building again. Your entire body tensed, your muscles locking up as the pleasure increased.

"Come for me, Y/n," he commanded, his voice strained. "Come with me."

With a final, brutal thrust and a hard pinch of your clit, you orgasmed. You screamed his name, your body shaking underneath him, your inner walls clamping down on his cock in a series of powerful, rhythmic spasms.  He fucked you through it, his thrusts becoming erratic, his control finally breaking as your body milked him. With a loud, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his own orgasm crashing over him, and you felt the hot, powerful pulse of his release as he spilled into you.

He collapsed on top of you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You were both panting, your bodies sweaty and trembling. He didn't move for a long time, and you didn't want him to. You wrapped your arms around his back, holding him close.

“Hi," he whispered, a small, crooked smile playing on his lips.

You laughed, a breathy, soundless puff of air. "Hi," you whispered back.

He leaned down and kissed you gently. "Are you okay?" he asked again, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

"I'm more than okay," you whispered.

He smiled, a genuine, brilliant smile that lit up his entire face. He kissed your forehead, your nose, your lips.

“Me too," he murmured against your skin.

With a soft sigh, he carefully withdrew, the loss of his warmth making you shiver. He grabbed the heavy wool of the discarded school robes and draped them over you both.

"You’re going to have bruises," you murmured. "I'm sorry," you said, your voice thick with regret. "I got... carried away. I didn't hurt you, did I? Truly?" You shifted, propping yourself up on your elbow to look down at him.

He reached up and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking his skin. "No, little raven. You didn't hurt me. Plus, I like them, they're a reminder."

"A reminder that you’re mine?" you asked.

"Mhm, always," he confirmed. "So. What do we do now, Y/n?"

"We walk out of here, and tomorrow, we sit together at breakfast. And I’ll sit at your table, and you’ll hold my hand, and we won't care who sees."

"Just like that? You know…Y/n, my father-"

"Just like that," you confirmed.

He buried his face in your hair, his arms tightening around you like he was afraid you might disappear.

"I love you," he whispered, the words muffled against your skin. "I think I've loved you since the 4th year.”

You laughed, "I thought you were an arrogant, Quidditch-obsessed boy. and I love you too."

"I am," he said, pulling back to grin at you. "But I'm your arrogant, Quidditch-obsessed boy."

Eventually, you knew you had to move, because the night couldn't last forever, but this time you risked it for the biscuit and walked down with him in the dungeons. Jimin had luckily gone somewhere, maybe also dealing with his little secret.

When morning came, Jimin's jaw practically hit the floor, his eyes darting from Jungkook's smug face to the copper hair peeking out from the duvet.

Jungkook pulled the duvet higher over the still asleep Y/n, shielding her, and looked at Jimin with a look of absolute, smug triumph. His voice was a low, morning rasp.

"Morning, Jimin. Close the door."

"Close the door? JK, you have a Ravenclaw, a Head Girl, in your bed!" He gestured wildly with one hand. "Do you have any idea what happens if a Prefect walks in? Or a professor? Or the entire school?"

Jungkook yawned lazily, not moving an inch, his arm remaining locked around you. His voice was thick and rough, devoid of any guilt.

"Then they'll know." He looked down at you, his gaze softening into something sweet, before he looked back at Jimin. "Now, I said, close the door, Jimin. Unless you want to be the one to tell the Gryffindor Golden Boy that his ex-girlfriend spent the night in the snake pit."

Jimin scoffed and left the room.

Jungkook didn't move to get up. Instead, he shifted, his chest vibrating as he chuckled. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a teasing, low vibration. "Wake up, little monster. We have an audience."

Y/n groaned and buried her face deeper in his chest. "Five more minutes. Are we doomed?"

"We're not doomed," he said, his eyes soft. "We're just beginning." He leaned in and kissed you. When he pulled back, he was smiling. "Now, get dressed, Head Girl. You have a castle to run. And I have a rumor to start."

You looked at him, "What rumor?"

He grinned, "The one that says Jeon Jungkook finally got his girl."

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a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed this. i have been obsessed with H.P. and Hogwarts Legacy lately, and I couldn't bring myself to not write something, even if I'm graduating next month and my mind is everywhere ;-;

he growled against your ear, thrusting hard, one hand sliding up to squeeze your breast.

“so tight for me baby, been waiting forever for this pussy.”

you moaned loudly pushing back against him, lost in the feeling of his huge cock stretching you, you could barely breathe and it felt like he was inside your stomach.

“jungkook oh god y-yes.. harder...”

that's when the door suddenly flew open.

your ex, his son stood there frozen, eyes wide with shock, phone still in his hand like he'd been about to call you once again.

“what the actual fuck?!”

jungkook didn't stop, not even for a second, he just smirked, hips snapping forward again so hard that you squealed not being able to stay still.

his one hand stayed on your hip while the other tangled in your hair, tilting your head up so his son could see your tear streaked face twisted in pleasure.

“surprise.” jungkook said casually yet roughly.

“took you long enough to show up.”

“dad what the hell are you doing with her?!”

he yelled, his face turning red with rage and disbelief.

the embarrassment made you want to pull away for a bit but jungkook held you firmly in place, starting to pound into you now with perfect rhythm and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your pussy clenching hard.

“what does it look like i'm doing?”

jungkook chuckled darkly, not missing a beat, he leaned down, biting your shoulder lightly before looking back at his son.

“i'm fucking the girl you were stupid enough to cheat on.. she came to me crying about your sorry ass, figured i'd show her what a real man feels like.”

his son took a step forward, fists clenching, not even registering the words properly.

“get the fuck off her! that's my girlfriend!”

“was.” jungkook corrected.

his pace picks up again while you whined helplessly, the thrill of being watched while being owned by the man that you've always wanted made you even hornier and wetter.

the sick twisted part of you loved that jungkook was taking his revenge so sweetly.

“jungkook...”

you gasped, shame no longer left in you as your back arched more for him.

he leaned down and pressed his chest to your back, placing open mouthed kisses almost lovingly against your shoulder blades.

“shhh baby, let him hear how loud you get for daddy.”

his son looked like he might just hit someone but was not being able to do anything about it, clearly intimidated by his father like he always was.

“you're sick, both of you.”

jungkook laughed low, enjoying it a little too much.

“sick? nahh this is payback.”

jungkook glares, his jaw clenched, tongue poking the inside of his cheek hotly.

“for every time you lied to her, every time you made her cry… i'm making it right. you think you deserve her huh?”

you cried out from his words and also when the tip of his cock nudges on that spot inside you that makes your brain reduce to a mush, your hand scratching against the bed sheets, fisting it and pulling it until it bunches around you.

you both felt absolutely crazy and wild for each other.

“hahhngh jungkook!”

“that's it.” he praised, eyes locked on his son the whole time.

“tell him whose cock you're creaming on baby, loud enough for him to hear.”

your voice breaks, your body trembling uncontrollably.

“yours, it's yours!” you sobbed.

“atta girl... now let's give him a real show.”

[ to be continued... ]

You're currently sitting in one of the most grand and luxurious ballrooms in the city. tonight is supposed to be something neutral - a friendly ceremony. one of those where every major family in the underworld pretended civility for a few hours before going back to fortresses to plan their next betrayals.

the jeon family is occupying the left side of tables, whereas your family is occupying the right - as far away from each other as possible. your father is standing near the bar, looking every bit the rich, powerful and dangerous mafia, he is, while glaring at his rival - the head of the jeon family, jungkook's father. who, in return, stares back at him with the same cold, hateful look.

they hate each other so much. if there's a feeling stronger than that, then that is exactly what they feel for each other.

your eyes continue to roam around the room until they find jungkook. he's leaning against a pillar near his family's side, looking so fuckable in that tailored suit he's wearing, with the first few buttons left open, giving you a glimpse of his chest and the ink on his shoulder. his hair is a bit longer than the last time you ran your fingers through it, which you're thankful for because it looks even better than it usually does.

he looks bored until his eyes find yours. you hate how your heart stutters at the eye contact. it's been three weeks since he last had you pinned against his office desk, three weeks since he had you whimpering beneath him, three weeks since he fucked the living daylights out of you.

you tear your gaze away first, accepting champagne from one of the servers who happens to be too scared to even meet your eyes. every few minutes you would catch him staring holes into you, eyeing you. you knew that he'd be here drinking you in and that's exactly why you've decided to wear an elegant gown that's just a little revealing - cut low at the back with a slit running up your thigh. easy access.

after minutes of sitting, you've decided it's time to slip away for a little while. you excuse yourself and no one questions it. heirs disappear all the time, whether it's to powder their noses, make discreet calls or converse with family allies, so it's a normal thing to do without getting suspicions.

you walk through the crowd until you reach the long corridor that leads to the private restrooms, inside the women's restroom is pristine and polished. there's a massive mirror stretched across the wall above the vanity. you set your bag down and study your reflection. you look perfect, but still, you tuck a small strand of hair behind your ear and adjust your hair - not because you need to, but because you know that he'll be here soon.

and right in cue, the door opens slowly, closes once he's inside and locks. instead of turning to face him, you watch him in the mirror. he leans against the wall with his arms crossed and head tilted, watching you watch yourself.

"still primping?" his voice is rough and a little mocking. "thought you'd at least pretend that you weren't waiting for me."

you roll your eyes at him. "thought you'd at least pretend that you aren't desperate enough to follow me into the bathroom like some horny teenager."

he huffs out a laugh. "three weeks is a long time, princess."

"don't call me that."

"why not?" he pushes off the wall and approaches you slowly. "you know you love it when i call you that."

"i love a lot of things you do with your mouth. talking isn't one of them."

he stops directly behind you, his hands settling on the vanity on either side of you, caging you in without touching you. his scent fills your lungs, something that isn't too strong, but still expensive, that signature smell of his that's grown to give you some kind of comfort you're unable to explain.

"look at you," he murmurs. "all dressed up, standing there and trying to convince yourself you hate me."

"i do hate you."

"yeah?" his lips brush your earlobe. "then why're you shaking? nervous?"

you scoff before speaking. "because i'm imagining all the ways i can kill you."

he chuckles against your skin. "liar."

your breath hitches when you feel one of his hands sliding up one of your thighs, under the slit of your dress, until he finds your core and cups it over your underwear. his palm rests there, making you suck in a breath.

"i missed you," he says quietly,

your eyes snap to his in the mirror. he doesn't have that cocky look on his face. his eyes roam your body with that hunger that makes you feel weak.

"three weeks," he repeats. "way too fucking long."

his lips find the side of your neck.

"don't." you warn.

"don't what?" he leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. "don't tell you the truth? or don't do this?"

"both." you breathe out.

"too late,"

his other hand goes up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging it back so your head is leaning on his shoulder. in the mirror you watch your reflection, noticing how your lips part and eyes darken.

"look at us," he rasps against your throat. "look how fucking perfect you look with my hands on you."

you try to glare at him, but unfortunately your eyes look more pleading than anything.

"shut up, jeon."

"why don't you make me?"

you gasp in his mouth when he suddenly kisses you roughly and passionately, showing you just how much he's been needing this the past few weeks. you arch back into him without thinking, your ass pressing against his cock through his slacks, making him groan into your mouth.

your hands thread through his hair, angling his head where you want him so you can lick deep into his mouth. he groans again, and rewards you by cupping your core harder, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit causing your hips to buck forward.

"fuck," you gasp into his mouth.

he swallows the sound and kisses you harder while his fingers slip into your underwear. two of them caress your folds, gathering your wetness before circling your clit the way you like. he starts off slow at first then picks up the pace, going faster. you can't help the needy moan that slips out of you and the way your pussy clenches around him.

he breaks the kiss to murmur against your lips. "so wet already. been dreaming about this pussy for three weeks straight.

"oh, shut up," you hiss.

he pushes two fingers inside you until they're knuckles deep. your eyes flutter closed as you let out soft moans of pleasure that become more audible when he starts pumping his fingers inside you deeper. you meet the thrusts of his fingers shamelessly.

"how nice that you're clenching around my fingers in a bathroom while our families are a couple feet away plotting each other's deaths."

again, you try to glare at him but miserably fail when he curls his fingers inside you.

"jeon-"

he pulls his fingers out of you and your eyes open widely at the loss. you whip your head around to glare at him properly now. he just smirks down at you, looking all cocky again. that sight makes you want to slap him and ride him at the same time.

without breaking eye contact with you, he brings his hand to his mouth and sucks your arousal off his fingers. his tongue swirling around each of them slowly. you stare at him. he's so filthy and you love it.

"asshole," you say.

he ignores your rude comment and spins you back around so fast your hands slap down onto the vanity to steady yourself. you're facing the mirror fully now with him behind you. eyes locked on yours in the reflection again. he doesn't say anything, he just reaches down and unbuckles his belt, opens the buttons of his slacks then pulls down the zipper.

you watch every single thing he does in the mirror. watching as he pulls his pants and boxers down halfway. watching as his hard length springs free. your mouth goes dry (even as you mentally salivate at the sight). he wraps a hand around himself, giving himself a few strokes, from the base up to the tip, spreading his precum with his thumb. he reaches down between your legs again, collects more of your arousal and uses it as lubrication on himself as he keeps stroking his cock. you clench around nothing just watching until he stops touching himself.

with one hand he reaches for the hem of your dress and pulls it up over your hips, bunching it at your hips. the other hand he uses to pull your underwear down, so it pools at your ankles. the cool air hitting your soaked core and the anticipation make you tremble a little. jungkook groans at the sight of you like this -trembling, your ass bare and pussy glistening.

"so fucking pretty." he mutters mostly to himself.

after admiring you for a few more seconds his fingers are on you again rubbing your clit until you twitch and chase the pressure for a short while before he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth again, sucking them clean with a hum of satisfaction.

"you're disgusting." you whisper.

he leans over so his chest presses against your back and talks near your ear.

"don't act like you don't love it."

you want to say something to argue, but he's right. very much right.

hi pookies, don't mind me posting this teaser again, it's just that i posted this a long time ago and want to see if it'll get a few reads before i post the actual story. the first and second part were supposed to be out a long while ago, but i didn't post them because of the flagging situation. anyways, i'm so fr now, it's coming real soon!

There's a specific kind of loneliness that exists exclusively in university boys who project their fear of intimacy onto women and ruin their perceptions of love solely to keep their fragile egos away from slipping through their fingertips and breaking down like blades of glass. 

Not because they're incapable of being loved. I'd say the situation is quite the opposite, actually. People like them are usually loved too loudly, too quickly. They become socially unavoidable before they become emotionally available— having mastered the art of making people feel personally seen while remaining uniquely difficult to access in return.

And maybe, that's where the actual problem begins.

Charm is easier to preform than vulnerability, attention is more addicting when you've never experienced a form of raw intimacy, and a real conversation probably feels worse than a pair of red, glossy lips. 

Every generation repackages the same socially gifted boy with commitment issues and calls him different names, swearing this one is different than the last.

But surprise, it's not.

This year's version just happens to wear leather jackets and lip rings to nine a.m lectures while also somehow possessing actual analytical skills in addition to social ones— perhaps the most alarming thing about Jeon Jungkook is that he isn't a business major. 

Because boys like Jeon Jungkook learn early that if they remain entertaining enough, nobody will notice how carefully they avoid stillness; as though silence might physically harm them. Does an engineering major make him interesting? Maybe. But does it fuel his hedonistic lifestyle? Not exactly. 

The bass is thudding loud enough to make the kitchen cabinets tremble with every beat, pulsing through the frat house in uneven waves that settle through your body like a second heartbeat. Alcohol that's cheap enough to poison you on an empty stomach spills over sticky counter tops, and the room reeks with the smell of warm beer mixed with something disgustingly similar to your ex boyfriend's cologne— you're going to throw up.

But you don't. Because, well, you can't. 

So you keep holding a cup of cranberry vodka in your hand despite accommodating a strong dislike for the drink, you keep your smile warm and flirty even though deeply missing the comfort of your bed and wanting nothing more than to rewatch Mamma Mia for the third time this month. And you keep bobbing your head along to the music even though you swear any house beat without proper lyrics would be enough to kill a fly. 

You keep your chin high and your posture straight because you need this. You need something tangible. A reaction, anything capable of sitting inside your palm until you can carry it home and pour into words later. Because you've already wasted at least three hours of your precious friday night here and you are not leaving unless you find something worth pocketing.

Luckily for you, said Jeon Jungkook is standing at the center of it all. 

His back is pressed against the kitchen counter as a girl keeps on kissing him as if the birth and death of her universe lies somewhere between his lips. Her fists are tangled in the collar of his leather jacket, tugging his body closer and closer into her smaller frame like distance is completely unnecessary, like she needs his body to melt and mold with hers to embody the entirety of proximity itself.

A familiar voice shouts his name from the living room, but Jungkook doesn't budge until someone else reaches over to steal the drink straight out of his hand, laughing into her mouth unapologetically.

He pulls away just enough to see whoever it is that's calling him, hands firming up on the girl's waist to stabilize himself. "Give me thirty seconds!" He shouts back casually.

The response is immediate. "You said that twenty minutes ago!"

"Then clearly I'm busy."

The girl in front of him rolls her eyes, hands loosening on his collar before dropping down to his chest. "You're an asshole."

"Mhm, you think?" He asks with a smirk playing on his lips, looking down at her. 

"Do you ever take a break or is your case of over sexuality a medical condition?" Mingyu complains, drinking the beer he has just taken from Jungkook's hand as their shoulders bump into each other.

Jungkook finally pulls away fully, shifting closer to Mingyu. "You're obsessed with me." 

Mingyu scoffs. "Unfortunate for Seoul's female population."

"Guys," Yugyeom interrupts, looking up from his phone with a sudden delight on his face, as if the light from his phone's screen has traveled and bloomed again behind his pupils. "Wave posted." 

The reaction arrives in less than a second, because Wave had long stopped being just another anonymous campus blog sometime during sophomore year. It became something students enthusiastically refreshed during lectures, sent feverish screenshots to group chats at ungodly hours. Because everyone somehow grew to love Wave— until they became the subject of it.

Jungkook closes his eyes briefly, sparing a fraction of a second to recollect the exasperation in his heartbeat, inhaling slowly. "I swear if this psychopath wrote about me again—" 

Yugyeom's grin widens. "Bad news, superstar." 

"For fuck's sake." Jungkook mutters, snatching the phone away from Yugyeom's hand while Mingyu's laugh echos loudly from besides.

The familiar layout of wave flashes straight into his eyes, light blue and dreamy and so fucking pretty for a blog this cruel. Well, cruel would be an exaggeration, if you weren't Jeon Jungkook.

"Oh my god." Mingyu gasps. "Second paragraph is crazy." 

"Crazy accurate." Jaehyun corrects, reaching over Jungkook's shoulder to keep reading.

"This person needs psychiatric help." He says flatly.

"Mhm." Jaehyun hums, taking a sip of his drink. "You say that because you secretly agree with everything." 

Okay, you see, that's the problem with Wave. 

The issue had never really been the concept itself, because Wave has always been undeniably good. Jungkook can survive a day or two of public embarrassment. God knows he has spent the last two years of university building an almost concerning amount of immunity to people's uncalled opinions. The problem is that whoever it is that's sitting behind that stupid light blue website is unsettlingly gifted at noticing things they absolutely shouldn't. The tiny, quiet things people lock somewhere safe beneath their hearts and reveal only when they trust someone with their lives. 

It suffocates him sometimes, not that he'd ever say it like that.

"I'd rather die than agree with this hypocrite." He says instead.

Jaehyun nods dismissively. "Right."

The girl beside Jungkook leans over his shoulder, eyes laced with curiosity. "Wait, keep reading." 

"Use your damn phone." He shuts her off immediately, handing the phone back to Yugyeom.

Yugyeom grabs his phone in one hand while he shakes Jungkook's shoulder dramatically with the other. "Did you do something to this writer we don't know of?"

"Why are you acting like i personally asked to be publicly humiliated?" 

Mingyu shrugs. "Because you clearly enjoy it a little.

"I actually don't." Jungkook argues. 

Majority of the people around him dissolve slowly, disappearing into the crowd to find their own group of friends to gossip on the article that just got posted, leaving Jungkook with his own group of friends who unfortunately do not make up the IQ of a normal person even when merged together.

"Hey," Jungkook says like he suddenly remembered something so crucial, angling his body towards Jaehyun. "Have you seen Mark?" 

Jaehyun's brows pull together. "Thought he was coming later."

"He texted me like an hour ago." 

"Your secret little rendezvous?" Yugyeom asks knowingly, wiggling his eyebrows.

Jungkook scoffs lightly, rolling his eyes. "Shut the fuck up."

Mingyu gasps dramatically. "You're cheating on us with the music major?"

"None of you are funny." Jungkook says, shaking his head once before letting his gaze drift around the kitchen while Mingyu and Yugyeom start arguing about something else entirely.

Then he spots you.

Oh. 

Jungkook knows you. Okay, he doesn't exactly know you, but he knows of you. Through Mark, through Yugyeom, through this and through that but never truly by heart.

You, with a face carefully designed by gods, standing there mindlessly as if you aren't the textbook definition of beauty itself. You, who'd without a doubt get his cock rock solid in mere seconds by rolling your eyes and laughing at how dumb he is. You, who'd pretend to not be fazed by him while very obviously blessing him with flirty smiles and inviting eyes.

You would be…mildly inconvenient for him.

"Why are you staring at her like that?" Jaehyun asks from besides him. 

Jungkook tears his eyes away immediately. "You're seeing things."

Mingyu laughs loudly, chiming in a beat later. "You literally are." 

"Shut up." 

"You don't even know her like that." Yugyeom adds, grinning. 

"I know enough." 

Jaehyun lifts his brows accusingly. "That is?"

Jungkook opens his mouth, but closes it again in no time. Because somehow saying prettiest girl on campus who'd drop him to his knees by casually using words he has to mentally spell twice feels a little excessive for a girl he's never had a proper conversation with in his life. 

"Mark's friends with her, right?" He asks instead. 

Jaehyun nods slowly, a little suspicious. "Yeah." 

"Cool." Jungkook replies. And before any of his friends can say another word, he's pushing himself away from the counter and walking towards you. 

Mingyu gasps dramatically behind him. "Oh my god, he's approaching." 

"Act natural!" Yugyeom shouts over the music. 

Jungkook scoffs in exasperation, but he doesn't turn around, walking towards you as he flips them off by waving a hand behind. 

You notice him coming over almost immediately. Because Jeon Jungkook isn't exactly one to go unnoticed by many, and that sadly seems to cover you too. There is something annoyingly conspicuous about him, visible even in places that are so crowded you lose your friend within the bare minute of getting there. 

Maybe it's the broad shoulders, maybe it's the tattoos and the lip rings that usually wink at you before even he gets the chance to, or maybe it's the fact that everybody seems to orbit around him with a push and pull so heavy it feels like he's the center of gravity itself.

It's probably the shoulders. 

Miyeon, your gorgeous best friend, notices him too as his steps get closer and closer to where you are standing. Her lips twitch knowingly around the rim of her cup. "Well," She murmurs into her drink. "This should be interesting." 

Jungkook stops right in front of you before you can reply to your friend. "Hey." He greets easily. And annoyingly enough, his voice sounds exactly the way the rest of him looks.

You tilt your head slightly, half empty cup swaying between your fingers. "Hey yourself."

Jungkook blinks once before letting out a breathy laugh. "Oh, this is already going badly for me." 

Miyeon snorts into her drink, but you quickly nudge her arm before she says something she shouldn't. "I'm looking for Mark." Jungkook continues, gaze shifting back towards you. "Have you seen him?" 

"You're looking for Mark?" You repeat, cocking a brow. 

And for some reason, Jungkook's smile widens. "We were supposed to meet." 

The answer catches you a little off-guard. Not because Jungkook knowing Mark is strange. It's not, everybody knows Mark. But because there is something in the way he says it. He's saying it seriously, with intention. Like whatever they're meeting about actually matters to him and that's not something you can coherently place somewhere solid in your head.

"You sound committed to that." You say before you can stop yourself.

Jungkook squints his eyes. "I can commit to things."

You take a sip of your drink, taking your time with the action as your brows raise with something laced with accusation. "You sure?"

Jungkook's eyes widen just slightly as Miyeon turns away, trying to hide her laughter. But she cackles anyway. "That's crazy." He says, a loose grin forming on his face. "You know absolutely nothing about me." 

"You don't exactly strike me as somebody mysterious." 

"Yeah?" He breathes. "What do i strike you as?"

You roll your eyes, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. And whatever that happens in Jungkook's chest— it's deeply unfortunate. 

This is exactly his type, horrifically so. Pretty has never been an issue for Jungkook, he has been surrounded with pretty all his life. Pretty and mean, on the other hand, is apparently where the problem in his pants begin. 

But before either of you can continue, Jungkook's name is yelled from across the room. "There you are!" Mingyu shouts, throwing an arm around Jungkook's shoulders after he makes his way towards you. "Some girl is throwing up on Jaehyun's shoes because you disappeared." 

Jungkook closes eyes briefly, inhaling a long breath. "See? What's commitment if not that?" 

You laugh despite yourself, loud and real and so fucking pretty Jungkook thinks he might've forgotten how to breathe properly. 

"I'll tell Mark you were looking for him." You say. 

"Appreciate it." He says before stepping backward towards the kitchen, then pauses suddenly. "By the way," He starts, causing you to raise a brow. "You're prettier than your articles sound." 

Your expression freezes for a beat, lips parted and head still tilted. A lazy smirk dances on Jungkook's features before disappearing back into the crowd behind Mingyu, leaving you standing there with your drink still halfway raised. 

Miyeon slowly turns towards you. "What the fuck was that about?" 

Your eyes linger on the hallway Jungkook disappeared into, gaze floating like you've just wandered into an ocean with no trace of the start and end. Because no, you don't have an idea on whatever the fuck that was either.

Your phone buzzes before your thoughts can swallow you up any further.

namjoon: still awake?

Your eyes flick between the small digital clock on the corner and the text in the middle of your screen before your fingers move over the keyboard.

you: i'm at yugyeom's party

namjoon: you posted during a frat party?

You roll your eyes even though he can't see you, though you're sure he feels it behind the screen.

you: it was queued

namjoon: ah

namjoon: coffee at mine?

namjoon: you can sleep over

You lift your head at something Miyeon says, nodding your head without really listening to what she's talking about. You tuck your bottom lip into your teeth, weighting your options before deciding to give in.

you: wow, the honor

you: on my way

The city feels different after midnight.

Maybe not quieter, because noise never really dies down on friday nights. People like to laugh, dance, live. Because modern time doesn't really allow love anymore. Because people spare friday nights for themselves and keep it tucked somewhere they know it belongs. Because people yearn to belong and time doesn't like to stretch and bend around desire. It just moves. 

The city feels softer, as if somebody reached over and mellowed the space so that everyone could find a place for themselves. At least, that's exactly the way you feel when your uber drops you off outside of Namjoon's apartment building twenty minutes after you leave Yugyeom's place. The clock is ticking past two in the morning, and by the time you make your way upstairs, your feet are aching and your social battery has officially ran out.

When the door opens, Namjoon greets you with that same old warmth you've had memorized for nearly four years— almost the entirety of your college years. He gives you a hug before disappearing back into the hallway, informing you of how the coffee is almost done. 

His place is dim except for the kitchen, where a warm light spills in and drapes over the entire apartment in a yellow hue. It always smells the same here. Not in a weird way, not at all. Just very…specific. It smells like books that have already been read at least twice and expensive coffee beans that are too niche for you to have any understanding of— because to the normal person, they all just taste the same.

Definitely not to Namjoon. 

You slip your heels off by the door, following him into the kitchen after dropping your purse somewhere on the couch. "Do you want to lose all the sleep left in your system?" You ask, gaze dragging over the empty coffee mugs on the counter. 

Namjoon stands in the kitchen with his back turned to you, dressed comfortably in some gray sweatpants and a dark colored hoodie. His glasses sit low on his nose, hair falling onto his forehead in messy strands. "I'm writing something." He says, a soft smile forming on his face as he pours in the hot liquid carefully. "How was the party?"

You climb onto the counter, plopping your body onto the marble as your legs dangle above the height. You unashamedly stare at him for a moment, taking in the sweats and the glasses and the fact that he somehow still looks put together despite the hour. Because Namjoon looks a little unfair like this— annoyingly intelligent and completely at home.

"It was loud." 

Namjoon hums, handing you the mug. "The alcohol was terrible, i spent the whole night trying to keep Miyeon away from Yugyeom, and someone cried in the bathroom after throwing up on the floor."

"Sounds typical to me." 

You take a sip of the coffee, then groan immediately because it's still too hot to drink, before setting it down with exaggerated annoyance dancing on your face. You trail behind him into the living room, pulling your legs beneath yourself as you sink into the couch while he settles right next to you with his laptop balanced over one knee.

"You're actually writing." You say, eyeing him over the rim of your mug.

"I told you." Namjoon says, giving you a brief glance before he turns his attention back onto the screen. 

Your eyes absentmindedly drift towards the screen of his laptop, floating over the margins that are filled with notes, sections that are highlighted, pages filled with comments and edits that are all very Namjoon. And for a second, for the entirety of a thousand milliseconds that feel way longer than it actually is, your own laptop sitting abandoned inside the void of your apartment suddenly feels eccentrically heavier. 

"My advisor hates me." 

Namjoon doesn't look up. "Did he say that?"

You sink lower into the couch, sipping your coffee slowly without forgetting to blow onto it. You can not burn your mouth again, not a chance. "No, but he looked disappointed." 

Namjoon sighs. "I know it sucks and you want to strangle him to the depths of death, but he just has high expectations from you."

You groan dramatically. "It's so annoying." 

Namjoon hums, nodding along as his eyes scan through the screen. "How's the thesis going?" 

That's when you gift him the pleasure of absolute silence. Because unfortunately, deeply unfortunately, somewhere along the way, your thesis and Wave started bleeding a little too much into each other and now everything feels way too personal and disgustingly intimate. 

Not entirely, of course. Wave is still just a tool for you to learn and observe without tracing everything back to yourself. But lately, it has started to feel a little less objective and a little more on the edge. 

You didn't lose the hang of it, not really. You're still the same girl writing with the same devotion for the same purpose. Just…there has been small slips here and there, noticeable only to people who know you well enough to search for them. 

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. "It's progressing." 

Namjoon's eyes drift towards you, and your gaze lifts until it catches his own in the air. "Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask when he stares at you for a second too long. 

"You don't sound too truthful." 

You scoff, then roll your eyes before grabbing the nearest pillow and throwing it in his face. But being the man he is, Namjoon catches it without looking. Damn him. 

"You write about Jungkook a lot." He says suddenly. 

You shrug. "He's easy material." 

"You've written about him four times by now."

You pause, squinting your eyes as every piece of writing you've ever published in the last two years flashes through your eyes. Because there is no fucking way you've written about that tattooed excuse of sex on legs for four entire times. "Four?" 

"Four." He repeats. 

You drop your shoulders in defeat. "You're very unlikeable tonight." 

"I'm just providing you with my opinions." He says, typing while speaking. "You can't ask for help if you aren't going to take my advice." 

You pull your knees closer against your chest. "I don't ask for your opinions." 

"You called me crying over an econ elective last year." 

You sit up immediately, placing the mug onto the coffee table. "Okay, first of all, it wasn't entirely like that—" 

"I distinctly remember you saying, and i quote, what do i do now, Joon, my future is over." He states dramatically, voice disgustingly sweet and high pitched as he mocks you.

You stare at him, frozen and absolutely horrified. "I was vulnerable." 

Namjoon hums, and you let yourself fall backwards dramatically against the couch cushions, throwing an arm over your face as if that's enough to physically protect yourself from embarrassment and humiliation. 

It doesn't, of course. Because nothing ever really preserves you from embarrassment when it's Kim Namjoon you're talking about.

A comfortable silence settles into the living room, allowing you drown yourself inside the small indicators of life around you. You can hear his keyboard clicking softly as he keeps working on something you have no idea about, the occasional scratch of the ceramic mug against the wood table, the faint jazz pieces playing from the speakers hidden somewhere further inside the apartment. And just as you were about to part your lips and make a comment on how his furniture is so outdated, he beats you to it.

"Oh." 

Your arm slowly lowers from your face, eyes squinting and peaking above it. "What?" 

"Are you still helping Mark with that project?" 

Oh yourself.

Everything in you physically stills, slowly and painfully, like dread is begging to be felt properly until your bones ache and sizzle with the weight of it. Because you— catastrophically, miserably, terribly; had forgotten all about it. Not in a small, oops, i should probably text him back way either. No, you had forgotten in a way that bordered on a severe case of friendship betrayal and negligence. 

You close your eyes, inhaling a long breath. "Hypothetically speaking…" 

Namjoon finally looks up. "You forgot, didn't you?"

You did, and of course he notices. Because if Kim Namjoon has spent four years studying journalism, he has spent six studying you.

Namjoon had become one of those people that had entered your life quietly yet stayed just as loudly, making himself impossible to imagine a life without in absolutely no time. Just like wine or Wave or the concerning amount of mediocre sex you've been having since your last boyfriend. 

You had met him during the first few weeks of your freshman year when he was already a junior and head editor of the university journal. Back then, he existed in your head less as a person and more as a terrifying academic urban legend you'd never admit looking up to. But you didn't have to admit it out loud, because even the older students spoke about him with an obnoxious amount of respect.

You hated him. 

But obviously, that didn't last long. As you kept sharing nights filled with stories, words and worlds no one knew existed besides the two of you, he started to matter. He'd remembered your exam dates, bought you coffee during finals, edited your essays at three in the morning. He'd answer your phone calls involving emotional breakdowns over electives and boys and broken sink pipes, then solve whatever crisis you were having in little to no time. 

So naturally, somewhere along the way, your editor had turned into an older brother and became annoyingly good at reading you— so much that you're sure he keeps a version of you that's all bare and vulnerable somewhere hidden in his furthest drawers.

Because he knows you. Good enough to notice the tiny moments where Wave feels a little too personal. To notice the way that sometimes, your thesis blurs into the rest of your life and you get caught up in the gravity of it all, so much that the project you'd promised to help with weeks ago somehow slips away from your mind despite Mark being one of your dearest friends. 

Because Namjoon doesn't forget, and Mark will definitely kill you if you don't show up at his studio with breakfast and two cups coffee by tomorrow morning. 

Musicians who are brave enough to lay their souls open between rhymes and harmonies have always felt intimate.

Music is vulnerable, always has been. Everyone knows that. But there is something utterly naked and personal beyond the in reach vulnerability of it all. 

It's the little things.

The version of them that existed on a random Tuesday in October, the argument they never really recovered from yet still shaped them into whoever they are today. The person they almost loved, the one they did love…They leave pieces of themselves behind between late nights and early mornings, and it never matters whether it's accidental or not. Because everything they touch transitions into something that carries their traces and that's enough to feel their souls on top of your own.

And, i think, that truly sums up Mark Lee as a person. 

Because Mark has always felt like someone composed of the little things. He'd attach songs to memories you won't realize matters until months later, respond to texts even if it wakes him up from his sweetest dreams. He'd turn feelings into poems and records then archive them in anything that's permanent. 

In college, people tend to think popularity belongs to the loudest person in the room. But despite being loved through the depths of the ocean until the very end of Milky Way, Mark Lee has never really been loud.

Just unforgettable. 

Three days later, you find yourself standing outside of Mark's studio with two iced coffees in one hand and a kind of resentment that's loud yet entirely unserious in the other. Because Mark has spent the last forty eight hours guilt tripping you through frantic phone calls and dramatic text messages. And you, for some reason, can not for the life of you bring yourself accept the fact that you've forgotten your promise and properly apologize.

At least you got the coffees. 

You push the studio door open without knocking, because Mark has never once respected your privacy and therefore doesn't exactly deserve it in return. As the door falls unleashed and sunlight spills until it drapes over you in a golden glow, there are a few things you expect. A Justin Bieber song Justin Bieber himself has probably forgotten about, unfinished coffees and half empty beer bottles scattered around the room, maybe even his ex girlfriend lounging somewhere in the corner because you're almost entirely certain Mark would slip straight back into her heart if she ever left it even slightly open. 

But Jeon Jungkook is not one of them.

He's sitting besides the mixing desk, leaned back comfortably in his chair wearing a black hoodie with headphones hanging around his neck, one leg bouncing lazily beneath the table while he scrolls through something on his phone.

He looks up from the screen when the weight of your presence becomes impossible to ignore. He blinks once, twice, then smiles. 

Shit, he has dimples.

"Well," Jungkook says slowly, leaning back further into the chair as he drags his eyes over you. "This just got better than i expected." 

Your reply comes immediately. "No." 

Jungkook blinks, eyes widening just slightly. "I…didn't even say anything." 

"You thought of it." 

He cocks a brow. "Thought of what?" 

You roll your eyes, dropping your purse onto the table before leaning your hip against it. "You know what." You say, and he silently stares at you for a second longer before the corner of his mouth starts twitching. 

This doesn't make sense. Not at all. 

Because certain people feel attached to certain places long before they step into them. Mark belongs in studios and beneath the stars and somewhere right in the middle of your heart. Namjoon belongs beneath the warmth of yellow kitchen lights and homes that silence everything else until it's quieter than the rest of the world. Miyeon belongs anywhere between flowers and pretty cafes that somehow never match up to her beauty. 

And Jungkook…Jungkook belongs beneath flashing lights that paint his features in colors that would look good on nobody but him. He belongs in crowded spaces and with girls who lean in a little too close whenever he speaks. He belongs anywhere loud and alive.

Just not here. Because music feels too intimate for him somehow. 

"You know." He says after a moment, still smiling. "I thought there was a chance i imagined you." 

You let out a low chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest after placing the coffees onto the table. "That's a little dramatic." 

"I'm being dead serious." 

"Well, you approached me." You say, tilting your head slightly, letting your eyes drift over him before they return back to his face. "And you don't seem to have that strong of an imagination."

"You're mean."

You groan playfully, leaning your hip against the armrest of his chair. "That's so not true." 

A small smirk plays out on his lips. "Good thing i like my girls with a little attitude." 

Pardon? Your girls?

"You're being very brave today." 

Jungkook stares at you for a second, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek in a way that's not rude, just playful enough to carry traces of something cocky beneath it. He lets the silence melt and sit right in the middle of your bodies for a beat too long, then speaks.

"You're flirting with me right now." 

Your head snaps towards him immediately, and you almost choke on your own saliva. Not because you're shocked. How can you be when he has built a whole persona on candied words and pretty girls and an ego that's definitely bigger than what's between his legs. It's because he says it so easily, and you hate that. 

So no, absolutely not. You, flirting with Jungkook? No way in hell. 

You narrow your eyes. "No, I'm not." 

"Mhm." He hums, swinging left and right in his seat with a growing grin on his face. 

Okay, no. That's enough. You're not doing this any longer. You don't want Jeon fucking Jungkook to think he has a chance at having you naked and open and wide on his stupid iron man mattress. You don't want to demonstrate the size of his cock with your hands when Miyeon asks on girls night, and you most definitely don't want Mark walking in on you bickering like two horny teenagers with the self control of fucking rabbits in heat. 

So you change the subject. 

"You sing?" Brilliant. 

And peculiarly, his smile softens a little at your question. Not drastically, not enough for the entire room to shift and bend around him until it's his breath only you're drowning inside. But it's enough. Enough for you to notice the way something gentler briefly peeks through before hiding again. And you, for some reason, find yourself reaching over and folding it carefully to hide somewhere safe amongst all the other precious details people accidentally leave behind. Somewhere only you carry the map of and know how to find again. 

Jungkook glances up. "Sometimes." 

Sometimes. 

It's funny how he says it, like it matters too much that his tongue can not carry the weight of it, so he just shrugs it off like it's anything. Sometimes, he says. As if Mark would ever involve someone who does it just whenever. As if Mark would ever reach for something that's sitting right in middle of his soul and hand out a piece of it to just anyone. 

"You look judgemental." He adds.

You shrug. "I'm just surprised." 

Jungkook's eyebrows lift at your answer, like he knows there is another thought sitting beneath it, quietly waiting for the permission to exit. But before he can get the chance to ask about it further, the studio door suddenly swings open. 

Mark walks into the room with an amount of rush that should be concerning for this time of the morning. His hair is messy, bag is tucked beneath his arm and an iced americano is trying to balance clumsily between his fingers as he tries finding a place to squeeze himself in.

"Okay, first of all. Traffic should be considered the worse case of masochism the human kind has done to itself." Mark rambles, barely waiting for the door to close behind him before speaking, words tumbling out of his mouth in consecutive complaints. 

"And you," He kicks the door shut with his foot before continuing, pointing a finger at you. "After forty eight hours of emotional neglect, show up with iced lattes? I don't drink lattes. That's for pussies who don't understand coffee." 

You roll your eyes. "I do something nice and you still complain." 

"You completely forgot me and brought coffee out of guilt."

You pause, looking down at the table before speaking again. "It's still coffee."

Jungkook laughs quietly besides you before Mark cuts in again. "Okay, so basically," He breathes, gesturing around the room. "This is my senior project, the one I told you about three weeks ago and you forgot because you apparently don't care about me anymore. It's a short film of my album with a narrative concept." He turns to Jungkook. "He's singing." 

Your eyes drift around in silence, taking in the headphones and the sheets filled with lyrics and the fucking sometimes he threw at you as if it meant nothing.

"And you," Mark angles his body towards you. "Are helping with the writing." 

"Mark," You argue, because what can you possibly be writing? Music? You don't do music. You write people, you write anything between stories and analysis but not music.

"Don't Mark me right now. You agreed to this weeks ago." He says as he rolls his eyes, chugging down his coffee. "The story. You're writing the narrative and the emotional structure, obviously."

Oh. Right. 

Because of course Mark wouldn't just make music. No, he has always been incapable of touching one art form without dragging five others to it. Because Mark Lee is a man of passion and he won't do anything without making it entirely his. 

"Apparently you said music without context feels lonely to Yoongi's trap arrangement last week." Jungkook says without really looking at you, swinging mindlessly in his chair. 

Your head snaps towards him. "How do you know that?"

Jungkook blinks once, like he hadn't expected to say that out loud yet did anyway. His eyes flicker between you and Mark before he collects himself back together and shrugs casually. "Mark talks about you." 

That's…annoyingly sweet of him. 

"You talk about me?" You coo with a voice disgustingly candied, head tilted as you reach for Mark's arm. 

"Oh my god." Mark groans dramatically, but he doesn't pull his arm away. "No, because Jungkook, don't let her fool you. She acts all nice and sweet then suddenly you're buying her food and driving her to places." 

You open your mouth immediately, ready to defend yourself. You turn towards Jungkook, response already on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spilled— only to stop.

Because Jungkook is already looking at you. Not in a weird way, not in the way boys usually look at pretty girls when they think nobody is noticing. Just…gentle. His smile is still there, only now it has grown and molded into something smaller. The kind that doesn't really ask for attention, the kind that simply stays there because it wants to. His eyes feel softer too, like's he's really listening, sitting through the spaces of your presence until he feels it permanently engraved into his mind.

It feels a little precarious. 

And perhaps the most annoying thing about Jungkook is that the disappointment never really arrives.

Because eventually, the conversation shifts and folds itself until time starts passing in a kind of haziness where it melts into something thinner. Mark disappears into one of his passionate spirals regarding symbolism and the basics of music theory and you somehow find a way to contribute just as passionately despite not exactly having the qualifications to do so. 

That's normal. That doesn't surprise you, it has happened enough times to not be the slightest of a deal. But Jungkook, Jungkook surprises you. 

Maybe not dramatically, maybe not in ways worth writing Wave articles about. It's the little things, tiny things that somehow fill in the entire space and make their way into the dearest corners of your heart. 

Like how he listens with his entire body, the way he turns towards whoever it is that's speaking and stays there, like he genuinely thinks people deserve to be heard all the way through. The way he never interrupts Mark despite the fact that Mark tends to over explain things as if he himself personally invented art and human emotion. The way he nods along quietly, asks questions at exactly the right moments without ever interjecting anyone and reaches over to hand you your drink when you start looking for it. 

And somewhere in the middle of the complexity of it all, Jungkook sings. 

Mark points towards the recording booth in the middle of his nth rant today, and Jungkook pushes himself up from the couch besides you with a small sigh before disappearing behind the glass doors of the booth. And for some reason, your eyes follow him through each passing second, because simply standing behind a microphone with overhead headphones should not look this different on somebody. 

Because suddenly, he's stripped out of everything you've subconsciously built for him. And for some stupid, sick, twisted reason, Jungkook looks ridiculously hot like this. 

He adjusts the headphones over his ears before leaning towards the microphone slightly, eyes lowering as Mark presses something on the screen. 

His voice happens a beat of two after the music starts, and it happens big. Like waves crashing into rocks, like starts falling down the sky, like spring melting into summer and summer clashing against fall. 

It's stupid. 

He's not bad, god, you wish he was bad. No, not at all. Because Jungkook sings exactly the way the listens. Softly, fully, like he throws himself into it before realizing he's doing it. Like somewhere in the middle of every rhyme and every note and every breath, there are pieces of him patiently waiting to be discovered. 

You understand why Mark chose him. 

Jungkook drops beside you onto the couch with a tired groan after Mark decides he's poured enough of his soul for today, and you find your eyes grazing over him as he scrolls through something on his phone. 

"You're staring." Jungkook says, not even looking up from his phone.

You blink. Fuck. "Excuse me?" 

He hums, lips twitching beyond his control. "Mhm." 

You angle your body a little more towards him. "I literally wasn't." 

He nods, still not looking at you, but he's still smiling. 

You stare at his profile for a little longer as Mark works over the keyboard in silence, then find the words escaping your mouth before you can hold them in. "You sound different when you sing." You say quietly. 

Jungkook stills a little. Just a tiny, little falter that happens in his body. His eyes lift slowly from the screen, then catch yours before speaking. "Different?" He asks.

You shrug immediately, trying to fold the conversation into something drastically more casual. "Just less annoying." 

Jungkook laughs, shoulders shaking beside you. "Less annoying." He repeats, grin growing. 

You roll your eyes immediately. "Don't let it get to your head." 

"You know," He says after letting a beat pass, and you turn your head back towards him. "You say very mean things for someone who can't seem to stop staring." 

Your brows lift in offense. "I do not stare." 

He blinks. "You do." 

You scoff. "You're delusional." 

Jungkook hums softly. "Earlier, when Mark was talking—" 

You don't let him speak. At least, you try. "No."

"And then when i was recording—" 

"Jeon." 

He's fully smiling now, like he's getting the most ridiculous amount enjoyment he possibly can get from this. You stare at him in silence, lips parted and expression faltered. Jungkook stares right back at you, that stupid smile never really leaving from his lips. And for some sick and twisted reason, your stomach does a tiny little flip that irritates you through the entirety of your skin and bones. 

Then, as if god has finally acknowledged the depths of your suffering, Mark cuts in exactly at the right time. "Oh my god." He gasps. 

Jungkook blinks from next to you, gaze drifting onto him. "What?" 

Mark doesn't respond for a moment, and that's deeply concerning for a man who'd speak even at the verge of death.

You slowly sit up. "Mark?" 

His frozen state continues for a beat longer before he suddenly springs up from his chair. "No no no." 

"What's wrong?" Jungkook asks as his brows pull together, leaning onto his knees. 

"I," Mark starts, looking down at his feet before he slowly, dreadfully searches for your eyes. "I'm late." 

Jungkook scrunches his nose. "You're late for what?"

Your eyes widen when the realization slowly stretches then breaks through you. "Oh my god." You breathe dramatically. 

"Stop saying oh my god!" Jungkook snaps, thoroughly lost. 

Mark closes his eyes, taking in a long, guilty breath. "I'm supposed to be meeting up with Yerin." 

Jungkook's phone falls onto the couch. "You're meeting your ex?"

"You're late to meeting your ex." You correct. "And you're wearing that?"

Mark looks down, eyes taking in the gray sweatpants and the black hoodie he has worn so much it's practically another color now. "Oh my god." 

He quickly gathers up his belongings, then slings his bag over his shoulder before making his way to the door. He's able to take approximately three steps before he suddenly stops, and slowly, very slowly, turns to you.

"Can i take your car?" 

You blink a few times before responding. "Absolutely not." 

"Please," He begs, bending above his knees with impatience. "Please, I'll do anything. Imagine if she thinks i stood her up. She's going to leave me for good this time and I'll be left to crumble and die in my own sorrow." 

After two or five separate sequences of long inhales and deep consideration, you give in. "If you scratch it, I'll kill you."

He runs over to you fast. "Thank you, thank you. Oh my god, i love you." 

"Okay, okay. Stop." Before you even get the chance to return his hug, he's already grabbing your keys and shoving it into his bag. Jungkook stares from besides you silently until the very last second of Mark's departure, then bursts into laughter the moment the door closes shut. 

"Stop." 

"I'm trying." Jungkook says between fractions of laughter. 

You sigh. "No you're not." 

"I'm literally trying my hardest." 

Liar.

Because now, he's laughing properly and somehow it's the prettiest thing you've heard all week, minus his singing— which is a whole another problem of its own— and you feel yourself physically falter at the sound of it. 

You stare at him for a minute longer before eventually drifting your eyes towards the studio doors instead. It's irritating how you're now painfully aware of everything else all over again. Spring air brushing softly against your skin through the window, the distant sound of laughter and conversation somewhere across campus, the way Jungkook is seated close enough that if you shift half an inch closer your shoulders would probably brush. 

"So," Jungkook has finally, and thankfully, stopped laughing. Though the smile is still sitting there loosely. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys, swinging them around his finger. "Guess I'm driving you home." 

You were about to mindlessly give into defeat when suddenly, you remember one, tiny little detail. 

Jungkook doesn't have a car.

You breathe slowly. "You ride that stupid motorcycle." 

His brows lift immediately. "That stupid motorcycle?" 

Your lips part, then close again when he cuts you off, lips twitching cockily. "You remember."

You scoff loudly. "You spent like twenty minutes talking about it." 

"Mhm." 

"And your personality is unfortunately very loud." 

"Mhm." He hums, tucking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans as he mindlessly collects his things. "You remember." He repeats with a growing grin.

"Stop saying that." You complain, following him behind through the door. 

And ten minutes later, you hate yourself. 

Genuinely.

Because now, you're standing outside beneath spring air and bright streetlights while Jungkook straddles his motorcycle like this isn't singlehandedly the worst thing that has ever happened to you. 

Because suddenly you're surrounded by things you've never considered before. Like leather jackets and silver rings and tattooed biceps you want to suffocate and die inside. 

You don't tell him that, of course. 

He glances at you over his shoulder before slipping on his helmet. "You coming?" 

There is a moment where he is met with a complete, utter silence. Because, first of all, you've never been on a motorcycle before. And second of all, there is a very physical, very obvious problem with motorcycles. 

Where the fuck are your hands supposed to go? 

Jungkook watches the way something between conflict and irritation flashes across your features, expression faltering slowly. He pauses along with you, then smiles knowingly. "You've never been on one." 

And the way he says it is absolutely stupid. Because he doesn't ask, it's not a question. He has somehow read you devastatingly well and has made a statement about it. One that is entirely correct. 

"I have not." 

"And you're scared." 

Excuse you? 

You blink. "Scared?" 

Jungkook says nothing, then places both of his legs on the sides of the vehicle as he patiently waits for you. You stare at him for long enough, then with the amount of dignity one can preserve in situations involving pussy clenching tattoos and massive biceps, you walk over. 

"Need help?" Jungkook asks as you struggle deciding how to position yourself. 

You shake your head immediately. "No." 

Lies.

Because an entire thirty seconds later, you're still trying to figure out how people get on these things without publicly humiliating themselves. 

"You know," He starts carefully, voice softer now." "I can help."

You look up slowly. "How?" 

"Come here." 

Your eyebrows pull together. "What kind of instruction is that?" 

He sighs softly, calling your name. And for some stupid reason, the way your name rolls and falls out of his mouth does something irritating to your nervous system. 

You hate that. 

Because suddenly, the air feels warmer than it did thirty minutes ago. Because suddenly, he is patiently looking at you with those pretty brown eyes of his and the space between you feels so small that the lack of distance physically blows your breath away. 

He holds a hand out towards you. "Come here." He repeats. 

You stare at his hand, then at him, then back at his hand. And for reasons you will absolutely be denying later, you place your hand in his.

Jungkook's fingers close around yours immediately. Warm, firm and unreasonably effortless, as if he doesn't even think about the action twice. 

He gently guides you forward and suddenly you're standing between his arms for one devastating second too long as he explains something about where to place your foot and how to balance and honestly—

Honestly, you don't hear a single fucking word. 

Because Jungkook is standing too close. Because his voice is low and his presence is warm. Because somewhere above you, he quietly lets out that sweet laugh again and you think that's the exact moment you realize this might be becoming a bigger problem than you ever thought. 

"You listening?" He asks. 

No, you're not. Not even a little.

Some men are just plain irritating.

The kind of men who make you think you're special after two dates. The kind of men who act as if their love and desire for you is past the lethal dose, long sitting far away from what's acceptable after taking you out for one drink. 

They start remembering your birthday, then your coffee order, and then the stories you tell absentmindedly. They pay attention in all the ways that matter until suddenly, they don't. 

They start disappearing slowly. Late responses transition into cancelled dates and cancelled dates drag over white lies and empty promises. And before you know it— they're gone. 

Some people become memories and some people insist on staying as habits. Unfortunately for Kim Yugyeom, habits are significantly harder to quit.

Campus looks a little prettier at night, with string lights tangled carelessly around trees to soften the sharp corners of concrete sidewalks and buildings that usually look painfully monotone and disgustingly gray beneath daylight. Music that's floating around blends into laughter and conversations until everything feels like it's dipped into something warmer, casting the green scenery in a dimly golden hue.

People become prettier at night too. Like darkness reaches over to soften and hide all the sharp edges daylight stubbornly insists on exposing. You think it has something to do with poor lighting and the desire to dress each other up in a way that's aligned with our own fucked up fantasies, but that doesn't change the fact that you'd much rather time stops at nine in the evening instead of morning.

Miyeon walks beside you with a cup of vodka and something fruity in her hand, complaining passionately about one of her professors as if he has something personal against her and is failing her out of spite. When, in reality, she has been way too caught up in toxic ex boyfriend drama and seasonal depression.

Anyone who says spring depression is not real is lying. Because your best friend has been going through one for the entirety of march and april and may and you're not sure if it'll pass by july.

But it's fine. You love her and Mark loves her and you're sure she will be fine. Yeah, maybe Yugyeom is six feet tall with a face carefully structured by the higher powers above us. But he's utterly stupid and completely undeserving of the crazy stupid love provided by your gorgeous best friend.

"No because explain to me why participation counts in my grade." Miyeon complains beside you, taking another sip of her drink as if she has the attendance and exam results to cover up the mess caused by her miserable participation grade. 

You blink. "Because participating matters?" 

Miyeon stops walking like you've offended her beyond all measure, then turns to you very slowly. "The institution has corrupted you." 

You let out a laugh immediately, shoulder bumping against hers as the crowd thickens around you. "Maybe your GPA is a little important and passing isn't always enough." You add with a playful smile. 

"You've changed." 

"Okay." You drag out the word until she physically can not hear anything after the o.

"Namjoon did this to you. You were fun and sexy until junior year and now you're a disgusting hard copy of that man." 

You scoff. "Leave Namjoon out of this." 

Instead of responding to you, Miyeon narrows her eyes through the crowd before you can properly defend both yourself and Namjoon's imaginary honor. Your eyes follow her line of sight without thinking too much of it, and you still just a second after Miyeon does. 

Because standing near one of the food trucks with drinks sat carelessly in their hands are Mingyu and Jaehyun. But that's not the point, Mingyu and Jaehyun are fine, you've actually shared that infamous econ elective with Jaehyun during junior year and he surprisingly turned out to be sweet and worth a couple hours of your precious time. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, is not ideal. But not ideal is also fine, you can bear with non ideal to an extent. What's thoroughly, completely, utterly impossible, is Yugyeom.

God truly does not love you. 

Miyeon physically freezes besides you. And, I repeat, she doesn't subtly falter. She stills. 

Then, Jungkook looks up at exactly the wrong moment, finding your eyes and catching them in air before anyone else gets the chance to steal them away. His eyebrows lift slightly in amusement before a smile slowly spreads across his face, and it feels a little concerning the way he does it. Because Jungkook smiles like he means it. Like the smile happens to him before he can realize and reconsider. 

His line of sight is followed before any of you can do anything about it. It starts with Mingyu, then Jaehyun. Which is fine, because we've already established that Mingyu and Jaehyun are harmless. 

But Yugyeom? Not even close. 

"Oh no." Mingyu says the moment he spots you. And honestly? Very fair reaction. 

Because unfortunately, Kim Yugyeom has always had an exceptional talent for creating versions of Miyeon you hate. 

Jaehyun lifts his drink awkwardly. "Hi?" Very brave of him. Very brave.

Miyeon smiles immediately, too animated and too polite, before you can even think of interfering and softening the impact of it all. 

"Hi Jaehyun." She says, tone too normal despite the situation.

"Miyeon," Yugyeom greets, voice casual and light like her name belongs naturally inside his mouth. Fucking hypocrite.

"You cut your hair." 

No.

No, you're not doing this right now. Absolutely not. Because, okay, first of all, what kind of thing is that to say to your ex girlfriend of two whole years? And the worse part of it all? Miyeon cut her hair three months ago. Three, entire, months.

Yugyeom blinks one whole minute after the words leave his mouth when no one responds to him, like the sentence leaves his mouth and arrives back to him sixty seconds later. But it's already late for realization. Too fucking late. 

A long silence passes, and you feel it physically sizzle and slice right through the surface of your skin. "Right." Miyeon mutters a beat later, and you close your eyes with a long, suffering inhale. 

Somewhere in the middle of the discomfort settling over everybody like a layer of second skin, you catch movement from the corner of your eye as if the situation isn't terrible enough. 

Jungkook, of course, is already looking at you. Because he seems to have made it into a habit. 

Miyeon laughs beside you. "Three months, by the way." 

Yugyeom falters. "What?" 

"My hair," She starts, letting her eyes drag over him. "I cut it three months ago." 

It's a little funny now. You know, the entirety of the situation. You do everything in your power to not stare at the two of them, gaze drifting around your surroundings instead. And it turns out that you, as of right now, are not the smartest person in the room. Because across from you, Mingyu suddenly becomes deeply interested in the swirl of his drink, and Jaehyun seems to be counting the birds in the sky. Jungkook? That, you don't know. Because you're sure he's still looking at you and that's the second thing your eyes are trying to avoid. 

"Right." Yugyeom says again, like saying right enough times might eventually make the situation right, even though it won't. Because none of you are stupid— well, except for Yugyeom himself, it seems. 

Then, Mingyu suddenly claps his hands once, and the sound echoes so much louder than he intended it to. "Okay!" He exclaims with an amount of enthusiasm that should genuinely award him an Emmy. "Amazing! Love this energy. It's so deeply casual." 

Miyeon laughs again, a little softer than the one she let escape minutes ago. It's not enough to bounce and spill and take over the atmosphere the way it usually does. But for now, it's enough to let you breathe.

"Sorry," She says through another laugh, shaking her head. "No because, you're unbelievable." 

Yugyeom squints. "What did i even do?" 

You scoff. Obviously, that's not surprising. Kim Yugyeom deserves a hundred more of those. But Mingyu and Jaehyun scoff along with you. And, oh, Jungkook too. 

Maybe society has hope after all. 

That's when you stop keeping up with their conversation, because their steps slowly get closer and closer to each other and farther and farther away from you until the volume of their voices lower down enough and exist only for the two of them.

Not that you're complaining. Not at all. You're thoroughly relieved and you do not want to hear another word of this pointless conversation.

Mingyu leans over and lowers his height next to you. "How traumatized are we?" 

You laugh, relaxing a little. "A solid eight out of ten." 

He places a hand over his chest dramatically. "Thank god." He exhales. "For a second i thought i was alone in this." 

You laugh again, and peculiarly, somewhere in the middle of cheap drinks and Mingyu defending his dignity like his life depends on it, your shoulders begin dropping one by one.

Everything softens after that.

Mingyu gets distracted after spotting somebody from one of his classes and suddenly starts passionately discussing basketball statistics with Jaehyun. Miyeon and Yugyeom slowly become figurines in your peripheral vision— still there, still existing, but further now. And somehow, Jungkook ends up right besides you. 

Maybe not intentionally, maybe not obviously— but he does. It happens in that natural way he seems to be very adamant on keeping recently. 

You become aware of him in pieces. The warmth of his shoulder besides yours, the sound of his laugh whenever Mingyu says something ridiculous, the traces of alcohol and masculine cologne in his scent whenever wind shifts in your direction…Tiny, stupid things people leave behind accidentally.

And unfortunately, you've spent your entire life collecting them. 

"You're less guarded tonight." 

You blink, then turn around slowly, eyes locking with Jungkook who is looking at you over the rim of his drink, a smile sitting loosely against his mouth.

"I'm always like this." 

Jungkook lets something between a breathy laugh and a scoff through his lips. "Liar." 

You roll your eyes. "You think you've got me all figured out." 

He shrugs. "I just pay attention to you sometimes."

Fucking flirt. 

You're only half listening to Mingyu's latest spiral on getting cheated on with a girl when Jungkook's phone vibrates against the grass. Jungkook glances down, picks the phone up, then groans when he reads whatever text that has been sent to him.

"What?" You ask.

"Mark," 

Your brows pull together in confusion. "What did he do?" 

Jungkook lets his head fall back slightly. "He forgot the hard drive at the studio." 

Jungkook stares at his phone for a beat longer, exhales, then turns towards you. "Come with me." 

And he is met with silence. Because for a moment, for a long, dreadful sixty seconds, silence surrounds you too. Music still continues behind you but it feels distant now. People laugh, lights glow, but all of it feels very far away. Solely because of the way he says it.

Because Jungkook doesn't ask. No do you want to come? No you can if you want. He just tells you to come with him as if he already knows the answer. 

You narrow your eyes, trying to play it off. "Is that confidence i'm seizing?"

"No." He says, smile growing into something gentler. "I think it's hope." 

Oh.

Jungkook pushes himself up from the grass, then extends his hand towards you. Not dramatically, not enough to create a whole deal out of it, but enough for your eyes to drop down to it automatically then back to him as if a hundred different scenarios have just flashed across your mind. 

You take his hand. 

By the time you reach the studio, you're a little warm. Not because of walking, not because of the weather, but because of something you absolutely can not say out loud. 

Jungkook pushes the door open, then lets you walk in first. Warm light spills through the room and reaches straight into your pupils the moment you step in, and you physically have to tap your thigh twice to recollect yourself back together. 

Space feels a little different when it's just the two of you. 

Jungkook walks ahead towards the mixing desk, still looking through his phone. "Mark said he left his hard drive somewhere." 

You hum, eyes drifting around. But it all feels absent, a little pointless. Because you're painfully aware of the tiny things all over again. Jungkook pushing his sleeves up, the way strands of hair falls into his eyes, how the sound of his voice fills in the empty room…

Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's exhaustion, or maybe it's the way spring nights make people a little delirious. Stupid pollens.

You let a quiet breath escape and turn away before your brain decides to become any more humiliating than it already has tonight. "How does a music major forget a hard drive?" You ask, voice bouncing a little too loudly through the empty studio.

Jungkook shrugs. "It's Mark." 

Fair.

You snort quietly and drift towards the couch instead, letting yourself drop against the cushions while Jungkook continues opening drawers and moving papers around an unnecessary amount of concentration. 

For a minute, for the short time being, neither of you says anything. And maybe that's your first mistake. Because lately, silence with Jungkook has become as dangerous as vodka on an empty stomach.

Your eyes lift before you can stop them. That's definitely your second mistake. 

Because Jungkook had pushed his sleeves higher at some point and now his forearms are exposed beneath the dim lights of the studio and you miserably need those long, tattooed fingers curling inside your pussy. 

He crouches beside the desk, pushing his hair back before another strand immediately falls over his forehead again. "Found it." He says, and your head snaps back up.

Jungkook, unfortunately, is already looking at you. Not at the hard drive, not at the desk, just you. And for a second, neither of you says anything. Because maybe this is one of those moments where silence becomes too delicate for words. Moments that sit so carefully between people that speaking feels like touching glass with bare hands.

Your stomach tightens embarrassingly beneath your ribs as Jungkook's eyes drag all over you before they settle and stay on your face. He takes a step closer, then another, and then speaks softly. "What?"

Your brows pull together despite yourself. "What what?"

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You keep staring." He says, voice lower now. 

"And you don't?" You reply, voice barely above a whisper as you rise up to your feet. 

"I do." Jungkook replies. There is barely an inch between your bodies now, his breath hot and heavy on your skin. "But i don't lie about it, pretty girl." 

Your entire body stiffens at that. But it's not the pretty girl, not at all. It's the way he says it. Because Jungkook doesn't rush you, he never does. He doesn't smirk, doesn't tease. Just stays there looking and waiting. Like he is giving you room, like stepping away is still an option. 

And the worst part is, you don't want to step away. 

Silence stretches and stretches until it begins feeling alive. His eyes drop down to your lips, then lifts back up. For one devastating second, Jungkook looks at you like he is trying to memorize something. Like he's collecting little things too. 

His hand lifts, thumb softly tracing over the line of your jaw. "I've been patient for so long." He speaks over your lips. "And i know you feel it too. But i need to hear your words if you really want this to happen." 

Your breath catches and flips over halfway through your throat, chest rising and falling in a slow, heavy rhythm. "Jungkook," 

"Tell me," He starts, thumb stopping by the bottom of your lip. "If you want me as bad as i want you. Because— fuck, I've been good, i've been patient but i'm terribly desperate and i need to know if you are too."

"Please," You try, but you've already stopped thinking altogether. 

"Please what, baby? I need you to use your words."

"Kiss me." You fit the entire weight of those words in a tiny little breath and Jungkook's lips are on yours in an instant. 

The kiss starts out slow, his lips moving against yours gently as if he is savoring every ounce of its taste on the farthest corners of his tongue. Your hands find the nape of his neck, pulling and pressing him closer until distance can't bear existing anymore. 

Jungkook's hands drop down to your waist, tugging you closer so that your hips clash against his. You whimper into his mouth, and he swallows it without wasting a single second. 

Because Jungkook has been waiting.

This isn't what the does, not at all. Jungkook has never been a patient man. Not with desire, not with girls. He takes and gets taken in blinks and fractions and seconds— easy, casual, weightless. 

But you, you've turned into something devastatingly different. Because for weeks now Jungkook has been wanting without touching, looking without taking— ever since you laughed and rolled your eyes prettily at Yugyeom's party that night. He has spent nights thinking about your lips, mornings replaying the sound of your laugh and entire conversations searching for traces of hidden meanings beneath your words like a man slowly losing his goddamn mind. 

Jungkook doesn't wait. He doesn't ache over girls. He doesn't sit awake late at night remembering the way they looked at him beneath dim studio lights or think about the possibility of their hands touching his. But with you— fuck. 

With you, he has become unbearably aware of himself. You've made him patient in the cruelest way possible. Because now he notices everything and god, the pretending has been killing him. 

And now you're kissing him back as if you've been just as gone. And that thought alone is enough to fold and mold his brain into something disgustingly mushy and achingly dizzy.

"More," You moan between kisses, body practically begging for his touch. 

Jungkook's stomach flips upside down. "Yeah? Want more, pretty? Want me to touch you?" He squeezes the plump meat of your ass through your jeans, and your hips jerk into his with the feeling. 

His hands roam all over your body before stopping right at the hem of your top. His fingers fiddle with the fabric before he pulls away to look at you properly, and you give him your consent dressed up as a weak nod. 

Jungkook pulls your tank top over your head, eyes stuck on the way your boobs bounce beneath the lace of your bra with the movement. He physically, loudly, groans at the sight before plastering wet, open mouthed kisses on the soft skin. Your head falls back in pleasure, hands tangling in his soft locks. Jungkook pushes his head further into your tits before he reaches over your back and unclasps your bra in one swift motion. 

Your ass hits the armrest of the leather couch when he lowers himself to take a nipple into his mouth, fingers toying with the other. You moan in short, consecutive whimpers as his tongue laps and flickers over the hardened nub, the wetness in your panties growing and growing. 

His cups your pussy over the your jeans, fingers pressing into your core over the fabric. The pressure is utterly mind blowing because the course denim stretches and digs into you further, causing you to cry out in pleasure. 

"Touch me properly, Jungkook." You force out, desperate to feel him on your bare skin. 

Jungkook scoffs between kisses. "Greedy, aren't you?" 

He unbuttons your jeans, fondling with the zipper for a beat too long before he can unzip and get you out of it. 

He pushes your panties aside with two fingers before sliding them into you. Your cunt sucks him in immediately, already way too wet and way too impatient for any form of foreplay. 

Jungkook tilts his head to look at the way his fingers are slipping in and out of you. "Shit, pretty. Look at that. You're gripping me." 

"Jungkook," You cry out, hands curling around his biceps for support. "Need— need your cock, please." 

He lifts his eyes up to look at your face properly, then sketches and carves every line of your expression onto the deepest corners of his heart. 

He slowly pulls out his fingers, then draws circles on your swollen clit before pulling away to take off his own clothes. His shirt flies away first, and you can't help but gawk at the bare sight of his chest. Arms, shoulders, abs— you're lucky if you don't cum right then and there. 

He gives you a small, knowing chuckle before unbuckling his belt, tossing the jeans somewhere across the room along with his boxers. Your lips are parted beyond your knowledge, eyes stuck on the hardened sight of his length. 

You've never seen a cock as pretty as that.

You're not sure if you'd ever even thought a cock was pretty— because usually, to you, they're far from that. But Jungkook, god, Jungkook is so fucking pretty with a tip so pink you think you want to suckle on it like a lollipop and a length so massive you desperately want it to choke you. 

You wouldn't be mad if your cause of death had suffocated on cock written on it all uppercase in bold letters. 

And Jungkook just laughs. He fucking laughs. 

"Don't worry, pretty. It's all yours." He says, kissing your lips once more before motioning to turn over. "Now turn around and bend over for me." He adds, pushing your back lightly so that you're completely bent over with both hands gripping on the armrest of the couch. 

Jungkook drags his tip across your folds, spreading your slick all over your cunt before he slowly pushes it in. You feel his tip first, letting you adjust to the stretch as he sucks in a sharp breath at the warmth of your walls. You moan loudly when he presses half of his cock into you, fingers firming around the cushion. 

"Oh god," You breathe, uncontrollably pushing your ass higher into the air. He slams in the rest of his length at your movement, and your back arches even deeper. "Fuck, Jungkook. You're so— so big. I can't."

"You can, princess. I know you can. You'll take every inch like a good girl. Gonna make me proud, aren't you?" 

He completely slides out out slowly, and before you can whine at the emptiness Jungkook slams himself back in. You moan loudly, head empty and thoroughly dizzy. 

Jungkook starts fucking into you, one had gripping firmly onto your waist as the other toys with your nipple from the back. He is filling you up so good you're going to lose your goddamn mind. You feel so full, stretched and stuffed to the fucking brim. Your walls suck him in desperately, walls clenching and tightening around his fat cock as he pounds into you recklessly.

"Yes, fuck. Wanna be good for you." You mutter messily as his thrusts get deeper and deeper, cock twitching inside your wetness. 

"I'm close." You breathe. 

"I've got you." He says, and you hate how assuring the words sound. 

You let yourself go just as he starts playing with your clit from behind, stimulating you as you milk your juices around his cock. He helps you ride out your high, chest pressing onto your back as he plasters small, reassuring kisses on your shoulder.

You feel physically nauseous at the domesticity. 

"Switch with me." You say after coming down from your orgasm, straightening as his cock slides out of you.

Jungkook's body falters, brows pulling together. "What?"

You roll your eyes, pulling away. "Sit, Jungkook." 

Jungkook somehow obeys without another word, dropping his body onto the couch beneath you. You hold his shoulders from above, placing your legs at both sides of his hips before reaching for his cock. 

Jungkook's breath stutters when you take him into your hand, pumping him a few times before aligning him with your entrance. You slowly sink down onto his length, and you both moan simultaneously when you take every inch of his dick into your pussy. 

"Shit," He moans, your name dancing prettily on his tongue. "You're so hot." 

His fingertips dig into the soft skin of your hips, head thrown back lazily as he moans through parted lips. You bounce on his dick with every ounce of energy that's left in you, thighs aching as he twitches inside your walls. 

Jungkook lifts his head a little to properly take in the sight of your bouncing tits, nearing his high. 

"Where do you want me?" He asks, voice low and breathy. Your stomach churns at the question, nails scratching his broad shoulders. 

"You can cum inside." 

He's going to die. He is going to fucking die but at least he'll die a proud man with his cum stuffed inside you. 

And just as Jungkook was about to close his eyes and release inside you, your phone rings.

His lips part to say something, but you beat him to it. "Just shut it off." 

Jungkook's hand weakly finds your phone, pressing the close button twice without looking at it. Of course he doesn't look, he'd be insane to drift his eyes away from the way your soft, perky tits are bouncing up and down in his own hold. But the ecstasy lasts so long as fifteen seconds until your phone rings again.

Jungkook flips it over this time. The name on your phone's screen flashes right through his eyes and he feels his heart stumble and drop straight into the rock bottom of his stomach

joon <3

“…and please remember that the upcoming project next month will count heavily toward your final grade, so make sure to familiarize yourselves with the material early enough. okay, that’s it for today. class dismissed.”

The professor gives the class a small smile before chairs immediately screech across the floor and students begin gathering their things. Conversations slowly fill the lecture hall while bags zip shut and notebooks disappear into backpacks. You shove your notebook into your bag and are just about to leave when you hear your name.

Your head turns toward the professor instantly.“Yes?”

“Do you have a minute?”

You nod quickly, and she waits until the last student leaves the room before taking a paper from the stack beside her and sliding it across the desk toward you. Your essay.

“I reviewed your paper from last week,” she says carefully, pushing her glasses slightly higher up her nose, “and unfortunately… I still don’t see much improvement from your previous work.”

Your stomach sinks immediately. You stare down at the paper while folding your hands in your lap, trying not to cringe at the red markings scattered across the pages.

“I know you’re trying,” she continues gently. “You always take notes, you participate in discussions… honestly, you’re one of the few students who actually listens to everything I say.”

The small compliment barely softens the blow.

“…but this,” she sighs softly, tapping a finger against the paper, “is not enough to pass. and the essay next month is worth even more.”

“I understand,” you mumble quietly. And you do. That’s the worst part.

Every other class comes naturally to you. You’ve never struggled academically before, never needed help, never been anything less than one of the best students in the room.

Except here.

The professor studies you sympathetically for a moment before speaking again. “I may have a solution.”

Your brows lift slightly.

“There’s someone who could tutor you,” she explains. “One of my best students. Honestly, probably the most naturally talented writer I’ve taught in years.”

You nod automatically. “That would actually be really helpful, thank you.”

She gives you a small smile before reaching for another paper on her desk. “I’ll send him your contact information then.”

You grab your bag and finally leave the lecture hall, already mentally preparing yourself to spend the next month studying with some pretentious academic nerd who probably corrects people’s grammar for fun.

Unfortunately for you… that is not who waits in the cafeteria downstairs.

The cafeteria is loud when you walk in, music blasting from someone’s phone in the corner while groups of students crowd around tables laughing over lunch and unfinished assignments. Your friends wave you over immediately from one of the tables near the windows.

“There she is,” Soomin grins. “Took you long enough.”

You drop into the empty seat beside her with a sigh. “Mrs. Higgins held me back.”

“Uh oh.” Minji winces dramatically. “That bad?”

You stab your straw into your iced coffee harder than necessary. “She basically told me my essay sucks.”

“Ouch.”

“She’s assigning me a tutor.”

That gets everyone’s attention immediately.

“A tutor?” Soomin blinks. “You?”

“Exactly.” You slump back in your chair with a groan. “This is humiliating.”

“Maybe he’ll be cute,” Minji offers unhelpfully.

“I don’t need cute. I need someone to stop me from failing.”

“Fair.”

You grab your drink and glance around the cafeteria absentmindedly while your friends continue talking, only for your gaze to suddenly snag on a familiar figure sitting several tables away.

Black hoodie. Tattooed arms. Pierced lip. One boot lazily hooked over the empty chair beside him. Jeon Jungkook.

Unfortunately.

He leans back in his seat while one of his frat friends talks loudly beside him, a cigarette tucked behind his ear despite campus rules he very obviously doesn’t care about.

And somehow, even from across the cafeteria, he looks arrogant. Like the human embodiment of bad decisions.

You’ve never spoken more than three sentences to him before, but honestly, that’s already been more than enough.

Everybody knows Jungkook- The frat boy with perfect grades. The asshole with scholarship-level academic scores. The guy professors adore despite the fact he looks like he should be kicked out of at least three establishments daily.

Your eyes narrow slightly.

“Why are you glaring at Jungkook?” Minji asks immediately.

“I’m not glaring.”

“You are absolutely glaring.”

Before you can answer, your phone buzzes against the table.

Unknown Number: ‘mrs. higgins gave me your contact. jungkook’

Your entire body stills.

No. Absolutely not.

You look up instantly. Across the cafeteria, Jungkook is already staring directly at you like he knew the exact second you’d read the message.

The bastard even smirks.

“Oh my god,” Soomin gasps beside you. “NO WAY.”

“There’s no way what?” Minji immediately asks.

Soomin points dramatically across the cafeteria.“THAT’S her tutor.”

Your friends collectively lose their minds while you stare at Jungkook in horror.

“No.”

“Yes,” Soomin wheezes. “Oh, you are SO fucked.”

You ignore her immediately and push yourself up from the table before your irritation can cool off, because absolutely not. There is no universe where you let Jeon Jungkook think he has any sort of power in this situation.

His friends notice you approaching first. One of them lets out a low, entertained: “Ooooooh.”

Another outright laughs.

Jungkook doesn’t move though. He just watches you approach slowly, expression unreadable while lazily spinning his phone across the table. The closer you get, the more annoying he becomes.

Too pretty. Too calm. Too aware of himself.

You stop directly beside his table. “You’re going to tutor me for the essay Mrs. Higgins mentioned.”

No hello. No politeness. Jungkook’s eyebrow lifts slightly.

“So let’s just get this over with,” you continue smoothly. “My place tomorrow night. Six o’clock. Be on time or-”

A hand suddenly covers your mouth- your entire brain short-circuits.

The cafeteria goes dead quiet around you.

Jungkook doesn’t even look remotely bothered. One tattooed hand rests lazily over your mouth while he leans back in his chair, eyes half-lidded with boredom.

“Be quiet,” he says calmly. Your eyes widen immediately. Nobody moves, nobody speaks.

Apparently nobody in this cafeteria is insane enough to interrupt Jeon Jungkook once he decides something.

Slowly, his gaze drags over your face before he tilts his head slightly. “Has no one ever taught you manners?”

Heat floods your face instantly, humiliation and anger twisting together with something much worse. You shove his hand away immediately.

“Excuse me?” you snap. “Who the hell do you think you-”

“Yeah, no,” Jungkook interrupts casually. “I’m sacrificing my free time for you, princess.”

Princess.

The nickname lands somewhere dangerous in your stomach.

“My place,” he continues smoothly. “Tomorrow. Six o’clock.” Then finally:

“Be late and we’re done.”

For a second you just stand there, completely stunned while your brain struggles to catch up with what just happened. The feeling of his hand against your mouth still burns into your skin while a few of his friends exchange amused looks, one of them outright snorting into his drink.

Jungkook ignores all of them. He already looks done with the conversation, like dismissing you publicly was the most natural thing in the world. Which somehow makes it even worse.

Heat crawls furiously up your neck as you glare at him one last time before turning sharply on your heel and stomping back toward your table. The second you sit down, your friends practically launch themselves at you.

“Oh my god,” Minji whisper-yells immediately. “What the fuck just happened?!”

“Did he seriously put his hand over your mouth?!” Soomin gasps.

“He did NOT just call you princess.”

Your face burns hotter. “Who the hell does he think he is?” you hiss furiously while throwing your bag down beside you. “The fucking audacity of that asshole-”

Across the cafeteria, Jungkook glances toward you again. Just once. And the smirk tugging briefly at the corner of his mouth is enough to make your stomach twist violently because he knows.

The bastard actually knows; knows you’re angry, knows you’re humiliated. And somehow knows exactly what that did to you too. Then he looks away again, attention shifting back toward his friends like you’re no longer important enough to focus on.

Which should not irritate you this much. It absolutely should not make heat pool low in your stomach either. But unfortunately, your body seems deeply committed to betraying you today.

You shift slightly in your seat, thighs pressing together instinctively while trying to focus on literally anything else.

God.

You hate him already. You hate the way he talks, the way he looks at you, the way he somehow managed to shut you up in front of an entire cafeteria without even raising his voice.

And worst of all? A tiny, deeply embarrassing part of you is already replaying:

be quiet.

over and over and over again…

Thursday somehow passes even slower than usual, mostly because you spend the entire day irritated. At Jungkook. At Mrs. Higgins. At yourself for thinking about him way more than necessary.

Unfortunately, none of that stops you from showing up at your sorority house later that evening while helping your friends prepare decorations for tomorrow’s party. Music plays loudly from someone’s speaker while streamers and fairy lights are scattered all over the living room floor.

Minji sits cross-legged on the couch blowing up balloons with visible regret. “This is how I die,” she mutters dramatically before tying one off.

“You’re so brave,” you deadpan while taping another decoration to the wall.

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket.

Boyfriend 💙: good luck with tutoring tonight :) call me later?

A tiny smile pulls at your lips automatically.

You quickly type back:

i will 💕 miss me while i’m suffering pls

Minji notices immediately. “Ooooooh.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“How is he?” Soomin asks from the floor. “Is he coming tomorrow?”

“Yeah, probably.”

Minji grins immediately. “And?” she asks. “Will you finally do it?”

You blink. “Do what?”

“Oh please.” She throws a balled-up ribbon at you. “You’ve been dating for what now? Three months?”

You raise one eyebrow slowly. “So?”

“So,” Minji repeats dramatically, “normal people would’ve slept together by now.”

A laugh escapes you.

“Please,” you scoff while reaching for another strand of lights. “Just because we’re dating doesn’t mean i’m gonna throw myself at him.”

“So cruel,” Soomin gasps.

You shrug casually. “Maybe i want him desperate enough to get on his knees for me first.”

The room erupts immediately:

“DAMN.”

“OH MY GOD.”

“You little menace.”

You grin proudly while your friends whistle and holler dramatically around you. “Yeah yeah,” you laugh. “You all love me for it. Now help me with the decorations.”

Minji suddenly pauses. “…wait.”

Your stomach sinks instinctively.

“You have tutoring with Jungkook in like thirty minutes, don’t you?”

Immediately your mood worsens. “Ugh,” you groan loudly. “Don’t remind me.”

“You better not be late,” Soomin warns.

You wave her off dismissively while grabbing another balloon. “Please. I’m sure a few minutes won’t kill that asshole.”

Forty minutes later, you stand outside his apartment with an iced coffee in your hand while waiting for him to open the door. The hallway smells faintly like smoke and you barely have time to adjust your bag before the door swings open.

And there he is- Black shirt. Grey sweats. Piercings glinting underneath the dim hallway light.

Jungkook leans against the doorframe lazily before his eyes immediately flick toward the clock behind you and then back to your face.

“You’re late.”

No hello. Of course.

You shrug casually while taking another sip from your iced coffee. “Had errands to run.”

“Hm.” His eyes drop toward the drink in your hand.“Iced coffee?”

Before you can react, he takes it straight from your fingers and lifts it above his head casually.

Your jaw drops. “Hey!” You immediately reach for it, but Jungkook easily steps back out of range. “Give it back!”

He presses two fingers lightly against your forehead, stopping you from getting closer while looking completely unimpressed.

“You’re late,” he repeats calmly. “And i’m not wasting my time with you today.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “…what?”

“Come back tomorrow when you learn how to read a clock, dumb little girl.”

And then he slams the door directly in your face.

Silence.

You stand there staring at the closed door for a full second, your brain visibly lagging behind reality.

“…what?!”

You knock once. Then harder.

“Jungkook!” Nothing.

“You cannot be serious right now!” Still nothing.

Your irritation spikes violently. “You bastard!” you yell while pounding against the door again. “Open the fucking door!”

A muffled voice finally comes from inside. “Get lost.”

You let out a genuinely high-pitched sound of frustration before glaring at the door like you might commit actual violence. And somehow your stomach twists anyway.

God. You hate him.

You hate how calm he sounded, how easily he dismissed you, how your pulse immediately sped up when he pushed you back with two fingers like you weighed nothing.

Worst of all? The asshole kept your coffee.

By the time you stomp back into the sorority house twenty minutes later, your friends immediately look up in confusion.

“…back already?” Minji asks slowly.

Your face burns instantly. You quickly look away while tossing your bag onto the couch. “Yeah, ugh,” you mumble. “He got sick apparently. We’re meeting tomorrow instead.”

Nobody looks convinced. “Right…” Soomin says suspiciously.

You immediately start walking toward the stairs.“I’m in my room,” you announce dramatically. “Do not disturb me.”

Then you disappear upstairs before anybody can ask more questions. Your bedroom door closes behind you with a sharp click and immediately you throw yourself onto the bed with an irritated groan, burying your face into the pillow before rolling onto your back dramatically.

What an asshole. An actual, genuine asshole.

You stare up at the ceiling while replaying the entire interaction against your will.

‘you’re late’

God. The worst part is how calm he sounded. Not angry, not annoyed, just completely unimpressed by you.

Your phone buzzes against the bed beside you before you can spiral any further.

Boyfriend 💙 calling…

The tension in your shoulders softens automatically. You answer after the second ring.

“Hey,” you mumble quietly.

“There she is,” his warm voice laughs softly through the speaker. “How’d tutoring go?”

Your stomach twists instantly. “…fine.”

Lie. Complete lie.

You roll onto your side while tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder, absentmindedly tracing circles into your blanket with your fingertips.

“Just boring?”

“Mhm.”

Another lie.

Your boyfriend hums softly. “Well, at least you survived your first session.”

Barely.

You close your eyes briefly and unfortunately, instead of focusing on your sweet, patient boyfriend, your brain decides to replay Jungkook leaning against the doorway again.

Black shirt. Pierced lip. Tattooed fingers holding your iced coffee just out of reach.

‘dumb little girl’

Heat curls low in your stomach instantly. Oh god. You squeeze your eyes shut harder.

“What’re you thinking about?” your boyfriend asks softly.

You nearly choke. “Nothing.” A sigh slips out before you can stop it. Not romantic. Frustrated.

Your boyfriend immediately notices. “Sweetheart?” he asks gently. “You okay?”

Your eyes snap open. “Yeah,” you answer quickly. “Fine, sorry. My laptop just froze on me.”

A beat of silence passes before a soft laugh comes through the speaker. “You sound traumatized.” If only he knew.

You force out a weak laugh before sitting up abruptly. “I still have homework to finish,” you mumble quickly. “I should probably go.”

“Alright.” He sounds slightly disappointed but still sweet about it. “Call me tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you answer immediately. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, pretty girl.”

The call ends.

And the second the room falls quiet again, your brain goes right back to him.

Jungkook.

Annoying. Arrogant. Mean.

The kind of guy you’d normally avoid on instinct.

And yet your thighs press together anyway as you stare blankly at the wall. You should be angry.

Instead you’re still thinking about:

‘be quiet’

Still thinking about the way he pushed you back with two fingers against your forehead like you were something irritating and manageable.

Your stomach twists harder.

“This is so embarrassing,” you mutter to yourself and yet your hand wanders down beneath your pants, fingers dipping between your soaking folds as you bite back a moan. You find your sensitive nub, starting to circle around it while imagining his large hand wrapped around your neck, whispering filthy, degrading things into your ear.

‘dumb little girl…’

His voice loops through your brain like a broken record.

‘i’m not wasting my time with you today…’

Your fingers increase their speed instinctively, bringing you closer and closer to your release as you imagine yourself kneeling before him, letting him use you however he pleases.

“Oh fuck…” you choke out softly, your orgasm approaching rapidly while his face burns itself deeper and deeper into your mind.

‘be quiet ’

‘dumb little girl’

‘get lost’

You shove your face into your pillow as a string of moans and curse words spills from your lips, your orgasm crashing over you in intense waves while humiliation and pleasure twist together painfully inside your stomach. You stare up at the ceiling again, cheeks burning while your pulse slowly settles.

All that… over Jeon Jungkook.

A guy you’ve known for less than two days. An asshole who stole your coffee and slammed a door in your face.

You drag both hands over your face with a miserable groan. “…i hate him.”

Friday evening arrives way too quickly.

You spend far too long standing in front of your closet before finally settling on an outfit that’s technically for the sorority party later tonight.

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

Not the fact that you redo your hair twice. Not the fact that you spend extra time on your makeup. Not the fact that your stomach twists nervously every time you think about seeing him again.

It’s for the party. Obviously.

Five minutes earlier than yesterday, you stand outside Jungkook’s apartment while mentally preparing yourself not to let him get under your skin this time.

Then the door opens and your brain immediately short-circuits: he’s hirtless.

The first thing you notice are the tattoos stretching across his chest and arms before your gaze drops lower toward the grey sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips.

Oh. Oh, fuck me.

For one horrifying second, your mind flashes back to last night- your hand between your legs, his voice in your head: ‘…dumb little girl…’

Heat rushes through your body so fast it’s almost humiliating.

Jungkook catches you staring instantly. Of course he does. A slow smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Want a picture?” he asks lazily. “Lasts longer.”

Your brain snaps back into focus immediately.“Shut up,” you mutter while brushing past him into the apartment.

Behind you, he laughs quietly under his breath.

The apartment looks annoyingly organized; his desk is already set up neatly with papers, books and highlighted notes spread out across the surface like some kind of academic crime scene.

Jungkook gestures toward the chair. “Sit.”

“You know saying please won’t kill you.”

“You know being annoying won’t make you smarter.”

Your jaw tightens instantly. That asshole. You drop into the chair anyway while Jungkook casually grabs a black shirt from the couch and pulls it over his head. Unfortunately, that somehow makes him even more attractive, which feels deeply unfair.

He notices you staring again in the reflection of his dark computer screen. “You always this distracted around hot people?”

“I’m distracted by how unfortunate your personality is.”

“Hm.” Jungkook sits down beside you before glancing at your outfit slowly. “Interesting choice of clothes for tutoring.”

You immediately roll your eyes. “I’m going to a party afterwards.”

“Sure you are.”

Your brows furrow instantly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jungkook leans back lazily in his chair. “It means you spent two hours getting ready to sit at my desk and pretend you hate me.”

Heat creeps up your neck immediately. “I did not spend two hours getting ready.”

“Mm.” Completely unconvinced. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, princess.” You glare at him.

He ignores it effortlessly before pulling your essay toward himself. “Alright,” he sighs. “Let’s see how bad this actually is.”

“I passed.”

“Barely.”

Your eye twitches. Jungkook flips through several pages quietly before suddenly tapping one paragraph with his pen.

“This sentence is awful.”

“Wow,” you deadpan. “What inspiring tutoring.”

“It’s repetitive, overexplained and trying too hard to sound intelligent.” He glances at you briefly. “Kinda like you.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet,” he says calmly, “i’m still the one fixing your grade.” God. You hate him.

You hate how good he is at this too. Because unfortunately… the second Jungkook actually starts explaining things properly, you immediately understand why professors love him so much.

He’s annoyingly smart.

Not textbook smart, not memorization smart but naturally smart. The kind that makes difficult concepts sound easy while barely even trying.

And somehow that’s hotter than the tattoos. Which is deeply upsetting.

“You keep doing this thing,” Jungkook says while leaning closer to your laptop screen, “where you write what you think sounds smart instead of what you actually mean.”

His arm brushes against yours lightly and your brain immediately stops working.

“…what?”

“There.” He taps the screen. “You overcomplicate everything because you’re scared simple writing won’t sound impressive enough.”

Your brows slowly pull together because annoyingly enough… he’s right.

Jungkook notices your expression instantly. “Oh wow,” he murmurs mockingly. “Look at that. Tiny little brain finally working.”

“Fuck you.”

“See? That sentence was clear and concise.”

Your glare deepens immediately while Jungkook only smirks faintly before turning back toward the screen. “Alright,” he says casually, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Rewrite this paragraph.”

You scoff softly. “Right now?”

“No,” he deadpans. “Next year.”

The irritation bubbling inside your chest only gets worse as you aggressively pull the laptop closer, fingers immediately flying across the keyboard while Jungkook leans back in his chair beside you.

The silence lasts all of thirty seconds. Then:

“Wrong.”

Your head snaps toward him. “You didn’t even read it yet!”

“I saw enough.”

“Oh my god, you are insufferable.”

“And you’re dramatic. Keep typing.”

You mutter something deeply insulting underneath your breath while deleting half the paragraph again.

Beside you, Jungkook looks entirely too entertained. “What was that?”

“I said you have horrible teaching methods.”

“Hm.” He leans forward slightly, one tattooed arm resting against the desk while his eyes drag slowly over the screen. “And yet you’re listening to everything i say.”

Your fingers pause briefly over the keyboard. Jungkook notices immediately.

“You get all quiet when you’re thinking too hard,” he murmurs lazily.

“I’m trying to work.”

“No,” he says calmly. “You’re trying not to react.”

Heat crawls straight up your neck but you refuse to look at him. “That ego is insane.”

“And i’m right.”

Unfortunately… he is.

The problem is that every single interaction with Jungkook feels like getting backed into a corner slowly.

Not rushed. Not obvious. Just controlled. Intentional.

Like he enjoys watching you lose composure piece by piece.

You force yourself to focus back on the essay instead. Ten whole minutes pass before Jungkook suddenly reaches over you, grabbing your wrist lightly before you can type the next sentence.

“Don’t use that word.”

Your entire body stills instantly. His hand is warm. Firm. Way too distracting.

“…why?”

“Because it sounds stupid.”

You slowly turn toward him. “You know, most tutors don’t insult people this much.”

“Most students aren’t this spoiled.”

The word lands directly in your stomach.

Spoiled.

Not princess this time. Not dumb little girl. Spoiled. Like he’s figured you out already.

Your eyes narrow slightly. “You think you know me after two conversations?”

Jungkook hums softly while finally letting go of your wrist. “I know enough.”

“Oh yeah?” you shoot back immediately. “And what exactly do you know?”

“That you hate hearing no.” His eyes flick toward you calmly. “That nobody tells you what to do.”

Your jaw tightens. “And?”

“And I think you secretly enjoy that I do.”

The room suddenly feels way too warm. You stare at him for a second too long before scoffing and turning back toward the screen.

“You’re delusional.”

“Mm.” That stupid hum again. Like he doesn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth. It’s infuriating.

And somehow your pulse still jumps when his chair rolls closer beside yours again.

“You missed another mistake,” he says quietly, leaning in just enough that his shoulder brushes yours once more. Your breathing catches slightly.

Not because of the mistake. Because he smells unfairly good. Clean laundry. Smoke. Something warm underneath it.

“You gonna keep staring at the screen,” Jungkook murmurs lazily, “or are you actually gonna fix it?”

Your grip tightens around the pen immediately. “I hate you.”

A quiet laugh leaves him. “No you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Hm.” Jungkook leans back slightly in his chair, eyes dragging slowly over your face before settling on your mouth for one dangerous second too long. “Then focus that dumb little brain of yours.”

And before you can react his hand lands lightly against your thigh.

A quick slap.

Not hard. Barely anything. But your entire body freezes instantly.

Oh.

Jungkook notices too: The way your thighs tense. The tiny hitch in your breathing. The split second where your brain completely shuts off.

A slow smile spreads across his face. Dangerous. Interested.

“Well, well…”

Heat floods your entire body immediately. “Shut up.”

“That did something, huh?”

“No, it didn’t.” The lie sounds weak even to your own ears.

Jungkook leans closer slowly, elbow resting against the desk while his gaze stays fixed directly on your face now. “You’re terrible at hiding things.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

“You almost stopped breathing.”

Your stomach twists violently. God. This is humiliating.

Jungkook watches you for another second before finally leaning back again, looking deeply entertained now.

And then-

“Oh.”

The sound leaves him softly. Thoughtfully. Like he just solved something.

Your brows furrow instantly. “Oh what?”

His tongue presses slowly against the inside of his cheek before he grins. “You like being talked down to.”

Your face burns immediately. “I absolutely do not.”

“Hm.” Completely unconvinced. “That’s interesting.”

“You’re insane.”

“No,” Jungkook says calmly while spinning the pen between his fingers again. “I just pay attention.”

And unfortunately… he does. Way too much. The atmosphere shifts after that. Subtly. Dangerously. Like Jungkook suddenly starts testing reactions on purpose now:

“You missed another mistake.”

“Jesus, are you even trying?”

“Use your head, princess.”

“There you go. Tiny brain’s finally waking up.”

Every insult sends irritation and heat crashing together violently inside your chest. And the worst part? Jungkook can tell.

Every single time.

Because now there’s amusement lingering underneath every word he says. Like he’s slowly figuring you out piece by piece.

Then finally-

after an hour of him bullying your essay into something readable, you fix a sentence before he can correct it.

Jungkook stills slightly. “Huh.”

You glance toward him suspiciously. “What?”

“That was actually good.” The praise hits you so hard it’s embarrassing. Your entire body softens instantly before you can stop it.

And Jungkook catches it immediately:

The brief widening of your eyes, the way your shoulders relax, the tiny shift in your expression.

Silence.

Then slowly… his grin returns. Oh no.

“Oh my god,” he murmurs softly.

Your stomach drops. “What?”

“You’re even worse with praise.”

Heat explodes across your face instantly. “I hate you so much.”

Jungkook laughs quietly under his breath while leaning back in his chair again, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Cute.”

The atmosphere shifts completely after that. Not playful anymore. Not even teasing. It turns sharp.

Dangerous.

Every little comment from Jungkook feels deliberate now, like he’s carefully pressing against invisible buttons just to watch how you react.

And the worst part? You think he enjoys your reactions more than the tutoring itself.

“There,” he says lazily while pointing at your screen. “That sentence doesn’t sound completely stupid anymore.”

You glare at him immediately. “You are such an asshole.”

“And yet your legs squeeze together every time i insult you.” Your entire body locks up.

Jungkook smirks slowly. “Thought so.”

“Shut up.”

“No.” The answer comes instantly, casually, and somehow that only makes heat crawl higher up your neck.

You turn back toward the laptop quickly before he notices how badly your pulse just jumped again. Unfortunately… he notices everything.

The room falls quiet for a few seconds except for the sound of typing before your phone suddenly vibrates loudly against the desk.

You barely glance toward it before Jungkook grabs it first. “Hey-”

He leans back in his chair while reading the screen casually. Then he huffs out an amused laugh.

“Oh, cute.” His eyes flick toward you lazily. “Your boyfriend’s asking where you’re at.”

“Give me that!” you snap immediately while lunging toward him.

Jungkook catches both your wrists effortlessly before you can grab the phone back and suddenly you’re shoved back down into the chair again.

Your breath catches sharply.

“Unbelievable,” he murmurs while shaking his head slightly. “You got a sweet boyfriend and still came here dressed like a slut.” Heat explodes through your body instantly.

“You really are desperate, huh?”

“Are you insane?!” you snap furiously while trying to pry his hand off your wrists. “As if i’d waste my time with some asshole like you-”

Suddenly Jungkook yanks you forward by your wrists hard enough that you nearly end up in his lap. Your breath stutters instantly.

Way too close- his face hovers right in front of yours now, dark eyes locked onto yours while his grip tightens slightly around your wrists.

“Careful with that attitude, princess,” he says lowly. “I don’t fucking care that you got a boyfriend. Imma put you into place right here, right now.”

Your stomach twists violently.

Jungkook’s tongue drags slowly across his lip piercing while watching your expression unravel in real time. “So,” he murmurs softly, “what’s it gonna be?”

Your pulse pounds harder.

“You gonna apologize for that attitude,” he continues quietly, “or should I actually put you over my knee?”

Your brain completely stalls. “Oh my god…” you whisper breathlessly.

Jungkook only tilts his head slightly. “Well?”

“You wouldn’t da-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” he interrupts with a low chuckle. “We both know I absolutely would.”

And somehow? That’s the problem. Because looking at him right now… you believe him.

Completely.

The realization sends another wave of heat straight through your body while embarrassment and arousal twist together so intensely it almost makes you dizzy.

Jungkook watches the entire internal battle happen across your face. And he enjoys every second of it.

You stare at him for several long seconds, trying desperately to think straight again before finally whispering:

“…i’m sorry.”

His eyebrow lifts slightly. “For?”

Your cheeks burn hotter. “The attitude…”

Silence.

Then slowly Jungkook nods once. “Good girl.”

The praise hits infinitely worse than the degradation ever did. Your entire body softens involuntarily before he suddenly lets go of your wrists completely.

You stumble backward into the chair while trying to catch your breath and Jungkook just watches you calmly for a second before standing up from his seat.

“We’re done for today,” he says casually like he didn’t just completely destroy your ability to think.

Your eyes snap toward him. “What?”

“I’m not in town over the weekend.” He grabs his cigarettes and lighter from the kitchen counter. “See you monday. Six o’clock sharp.”

Then finally, while glancing back toward you:“Don’t be late or else.”

Your stomach twists again. The threat shouldn’t sound as attractive as it does.

Jungkook heads toward the balcony before sliding the door open. “I’m sure you’re smart enough to find the door yourself,” he says lazily over his shoulder. “Have fun at the party, princess.”

The smirk he sends you is devastating. Then he steps outside onto the balcony and leaves you sitting there alone in complete silence.

For several seconds, you can’t move. Can barely breathe properly. Your wrists still tingle where he held them while your brain desperately tries to process what the hell just happened in this apartment.

Eventually you gather your things with shaky hands before standing up from the chair.

And even while leaving his apartment… you can still hear his voice looping through your head:

‘good girl’

By the time you arrive at the sorority party, the music is already shaking the walls. The house is crowded, warm and loud, bodies packed together beneath dim lights while alcohol spills freely through the rooms and someone immediately drags you toward the kitchen the second you walk in.

For a while, things actually feel normal again. Your friends surround you instantly, music drowning out your thoughts before they can spiral too far, and soon you’re laughing, dancing, drinking, letting yourself sink into the chaos of the evening instead of thinking about tattooed hands and degrading comments that still linger far too vividly in your head.

Eventually your boyfriend arrives too, and the second he sees you, his entire face softens.

“There’s my girl,” he smiles warmly while pulling you against him.

Your chest aches unexpectedly at the sight of him because he’s sweet. So sweet. The exact opposite of Jungkook.

You spend most of the evening attached to him after that, sitting on his lap while your friends tease the two of you mercilessly. His hands stay respectful and warm against your waist while he kisses your cheek occasionally and smiles every time you laugh. Everything about him feels normal, easy, safe. It should feel perfect.

And yet Jungkook keeps creeping back into your head anyway- every time someone jokingly calls you princess. Every time someone grabs your wrist. Every time your pulse jumps unexpectedly for absolutely no reason at all.

It’s exhausting.

Later in the evening, you end up tucked against your boyfriend again on one of the couches while people dance around you, his hand resting gently against your thigh as he kisses you softly, sweetly, and suddenly your brain flashes back to Jungkook’s hand landing sharply against your leg earlier that evening.

‘That did something, huh?’

Heat rushes through you instantly. Without thinking, you bite down lightly against your boyfriend’s lip during the kiss and he immediately pulls back with a surprised laugh.

“Ow,” he grins. “Sweetheart, i didn’t know you liked that.”

Your stomach twists painfully. “Yeah well…” you murmur, still slightly dazed from the comparison flashing through your head again. “What if i do?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widen slightly and honestly, the reaction alone tells you enough. Cute. God, he’s so cute. And somehow that only frustrates you more tonight.

Still, he kisses you again eagerly after that and you let yourself sink into it, trying desperately to focus on him instead of dark eyes, tattooed fingers and degrading whispers that keep poisoning your thoughts. The kisses grow messier after a while, needier, and eventually your frustration starts boiling over completely until, before you can think too hard about it, you grab his hand and pull him upstairs toward your bedroom.

Your boyfriend nearly stumbles after you in surprise. “Someone’s impatient tonight,” he laughs breathlessly. If only he knew.

The second your bedroom door closes behind you, he kisses you again immediately, hands fumbling awkwardly against your waist while you melt against him for a moment before frustration creeps back in all over again.

Too soft. Too careful. Your brain keeps comparing and you hate it.

Eventually you pull back slightly, still flushed and restless while your boyfriend looks at you with visible confusion.

“You okay?”

You hesitate for a second before awkwardly mumbling, “Could you maybe be… I don’t know… a bit mean?” Silence.

Your boyfriend blinks at you. “…mean?”

Immediately you feel stupid. “Agh, nevermind-”