#im sure

Now, as the members begin their solo careers and prepare for military enlistment, the stakes have never been higher. Y/n is tasked with her most ambitious project yet: Creating the choreography and performance identity for Jungkook’s global solo debut. What begins as late nights perfecting choreography and playful banter turns into quiet moments that blur the line between professionalism and something much more personal.

Their journey unfolds alongside Jungkook and Jimin’s newest travel show, Are You Sure?!, where Y/n travels with the Busan Brothers through the heat of a New York summer, the coastal winds of Jeju, and the deep snows of Sapporo.

Between the raw, unfiltered footage of life on the road and the quiet vulnerability that lingers after the cameras finally stop rolling, the show becomes the backdrop for Y/n and Jungkook’s evolving story.

As the seasons shift, they are pulled closer through creative passion, industry jealousy, and the looming shadow of distance. Amidst the chaos of global stardom and the quiet fear of a long goodbye, they are forced to make a choice only they can answer: Are they truly sure about each other, no matter what the world might say?

Word count: 9.6k

Warnings: Jimin and Taehyung have zero chill...again, alcohol consumption (it's a celebration!!!) Mentions of a past abusive/toxic ex(ew), emotional insecurity/Imposter Syndrome (reader), Namjoon sharing his older brother/leader wisdom, soft tipsy jungkook, reader in a dress (Is it hot in here or is it just you?), accidental(?) bedsharing, that's about it(lmk if I missed anything!)

Playlist: here

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Author's note: Posting this as a birthday present to myself(and to keep me honest and stick to my posting schedule) I hope you enjoy this chapter as you learn a little bit more about y/n and her role, along with a little bit of her past....lmk your thoughts and of course, enjoy!

Hoseok’s flat

The air in Hobi’s living room was coated with the scent of beer and the remnants of Korean BBQ. It was February 18th; Hoseok’s birthday, and the vibe was relaxed, a rare moment of peace for the group to just exist as a family without prying eyes. 

However, there was a empty seat on the sofa that everyone kept eyeing.

"Is it just me, or is she later than usual?" Taehyung asked, leaning back and checking his watch for the third time. "Even for a casual get-together, she's usually the first one here."

Hoseok looked up from his phone, grinning. "She’ll be here. Jimin and I saw her at the studio earlier when he crashed my Live. She said she just had something she needed to do of beforehand."

Jungkook, who had been quiet while nursing his whiskey, looked up sharply. "Did she say what?"

Jimin let out a little laugh, stretching his legs out on the rug. "No. Just that she'd see us tonight. She looked nervous, though. She kept playing with her fingers." 

"Probably ran out to get Hobi-hyung’s gift last minute," Taehyung joked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"No, Tae," Jimin retorted with a smirk, "that was you."

Just as the conversation was about to veer into a debate about who was the better gift-giver, the doorbell chimed. Hoseok jumped up to answer it, but before he could reach the handle, it swung open.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HOBI!" you yelled, voice full of energy as you burst through the entrance.

The birthday boy froze mid-step, his jaw dropping. The "Thank you!" he was about to shout died in his throat. He stood there for a second, his eyes going wide. 

"Wow..." Your name left his lips, confused at your attire. 

The rest of the guys crane their necks to see, and a collective silence fell over the room. You weren't in your usual oversized hoodie and cargo pants. Instead, you were wearing a silk, black dress that hit just above the knee, paired with heels and hair that looked too polished for the casual celebratin. In your hand was a clutch and his present. 

"Wowww!" Jimin called out, standing up to give her a hug and eyed the outfit. "Why are you dressed so fancy? Did we miss a memo about a dress code?"

Taehyung leaned over the back of the sofa, his jaw nearly on the floor. "Did you have a hot date before this or something?"

You break the hug with Jimin, kicking off your heels with a sigh of relief. "He was hot," you admitted, smoothing down the fabric of the dress, "but I don't know if I’d define it as a date, seeing as it went absolutely nowhere."

The room exploded. Well, mainly Jimin and Taehyung. 

"A date?!" Jimin shrieked, looking like he’d just been told the sun was going to explode. "Since when do you go on dates without telling us?"

“Guess that something was a someone, huh?” Hoseok teases, recalling her earlier statement to him the studio. “And here I thought you were dressing up for me!”

You didn’t notice how Jungkook’s hand tightened around his glass. Or how his eyes were dark and fixated on you, scanning the dress. 

‘Who was he? How did you meet him? Why didn't we know?’ The questions started flying around the room like rapid-fire.

You laughed, waving them off as you walked toward the kitchen to find a glass. "It was a blind date. One of the colleagues at work thought their friend and I would get along. I haven't been on one in forever, so I figured... why not?" You sighed, leaning against the counter. 

"Why didn't you tell us?"

The question didn't come from Jimin or Taehyung this time. It came from Jungkook. 

He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, knuckles slightly white from gripping his glass. The room went quiet, the other members shifting their eyes toward him. It wasn't just the question; it was the sharp, protective tone in his voice that caught everyone off guard.

Jungkook seemed to realize the weight of the silence. Clearing his throat, looking down at his drink before glancing back at you. "You know... just so we’d know you were safe. It’s a weird world out there."

Tae and Jimin nodded in agreement, though they still exchanged a side glance to each other, unknown to everyone else. 

"I told Namjoon and Yoongi. They knew where I was." you said, offering a small, apologetic smile as you poured yourself some water.

Five heads whipped around to the far end of the lounge, where Namjoon and Yoongi were perched in their armchairs. Yoongi, swirling the ice in his whiskey, and Namjoon leaning back, looking like he was caught in deep thought.

“Oh, really?” Jimin asked sarcastically before directing his next question to his leader, “And why are we just hearing about this now?”

Namjoon cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. "She mentioned she was nervous about it a few days ago. We talked her through the nerves."

"So, when we were wondering where she was for the last hour," Taehyung said, his voice rising in mock-betrayal, "you weren't going to bring up the fact that she was currently out with some random guy?"

Yoongi shrugged, leaning back with a lazy smirk. "Didn't feel like the right time. Besides, it was her business to tell."

"Her business is our business when it involves 'hot' strangers," Jimin grumbled, though he was mostly teasing. 

"Well, I made sure she shared her location with me," Namjoon added calmly, finally looking up at the rest of the group. "It didn't feel like my place to broadcast it to the rest of you. We didn't want to make her more nervous than she already was."

Taehyung threw his hands up in the air. "I feel betrayed. I feel like there’s a hierarchy of trust here that I didn't agree to."

"There is no hierarchy, tae," you laughed, walking back into the living room. "I just knew they wouldn't stage an intervention before I even left the house."

You glance around the room, eyes landing on the tatted long haired boy who’s been staring at Namjoon and Yoongi with a look you couldn’t name. Annoyance? Maybe…envy? He didn't say anything else, but the tension in his shoulders were noticable.

You brush it off with a light chuckle, the busy day finally catching up to you. 

Balancing on the balls of your feet, you looked around the circle. "Does anyone have some spare clothes I can borrow? I was in such a rush…” to get to the date “I left my gym bag back at the studio."

"I have my bag in the guest room," Jungkook said, immediately standing up before anyone else could offer. "I've got some clean sweats and a hoodie you can have."

He didn't wait for an answer, already heading toward the hallway. You followed, leaving the muffled sounds of Jimin and Taehyung still badgering the older boys behind you.

When you entered the room, Jungkook was already kneeling by his duffel bag, pulling out a pair of grey joggers and a thick, oversized black hoodie. He stayed on the floor for a second, his back to you, before he spoke. 

"Why didn't you tell me about the date, y/n?" 

His voice was quiet, lacking the protective edge from earlier. Now, it just sounded... small.

You leaned against the doorframe, sighing as the weight the question settled in the air. He only ever called you by your name when necessary, mainly when you were around staff or something serious had happened. Hearing it now made the lighthearted chaos of the living room feel miles away. 

Why does he sound so hurt? You wondered, a flicker of confusion crossing your mind. 

It wasn’t the first time you’ve gone on a date, it’s been awhile but definitely not unexpected. 

You’d like to say you were pretty open with the boys about your personal life. Especially when you’re close in age and work with them; you all were bound to get close. You never felt entitled to a briefing on their’s lives but none the less they felt comfortable with you. They on the other hand, love prying into yours. In a loving brotherly way of course. 

It all started about a year in, when you had accidentally let it slip that you were going to a late-night movie with a guy you’d met at a local gallery. The reaction had been instantaneous and overwhelming and it’s been that way since. 

Namjoon and Jin were usually the ones to go into full overprotective-parent mode. Hoseok and Yoongi were arguably the most "normal" about it. Yoongi would usually just offer some advice and a reminder to stay alert, though you knew he’d be the first to answer his phone if you called him at three in the morning. 

Hoseok, on the other hand, was your unofficial stylist for those occasions. While he’d remind you to stay safe and required a debrief after, he was more concerned with making sure you felt confient. He’d spend an hour helping you pick the perfect outfit, making sure your jewlery and shoes tied it together.  

The maknae line, however, was a different story. Taehyung and Jimin treated every date like an interrogation, bombarding you with questions, while simultaneously plotting how they’d crash the date "accidentally" if you didn't text them every 30 minutes. 

Jungkook, though, was always the wildcard. While the others were loud about their opinions, he was quiet, watching the chaos from the sidelines. He’d offer a small, polite nod when you left and a quick "Have fun". He was the only one who didn’t demand a full briefing or a background check before you walked out the door. 

Instead, he’d just send a single text halfway through the night: “How is it going? Make sure you eat lots of yummy food!! 🍕🍜” 

It had become a bit of a tradition for you to send him a photo of your meal in return. You’d snap a quick, blurry picture of a fancy pasta dish or an over-the-top cocktail—a habit that occasionally caught your dates off guard. They’d watch you pull out your phone with a sudden, genuine smile, and you’d just brush it off with a casual, "Just showing a friend the food," before sliding it back into your bag. To you, it was just Jungkook—the person who cared more about your comfort and your appetite than the boys interrogation.

You couldn't fathom why your attempt at a blind date on a Saturday night had caused this shift in him, when he barely bat an eye at prior suitors. 

"I don't know… I guess I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. It was just a last-minute thing, you know? I haven't put myself out there in a while, and I felt like I should try."

He turned around, the clothes clutched in his hand. "And?"

"And it was a bust," you said with a weak shrug. "I kind of knew it wouldn't work out five minutes in, but I stayed to be polite. He just wasn't the right guy for me."

Jungkook stood up, the tension in his frame bleeding out as he finally held the clothes out to you. A tiny, lopsided smirk tugged at his lips, returning some of that familiar warmth to his face. "Well, if he couldn't even keep the conversation going with you, he definitely wasn't 'hot' enough to deserve that dress."

You let out a genuine laugh. "He tried to tell me about his crypto portfolio for forty minutes. It was tragic."

"Crypto?" Jungkook groaned, his nose scrunching up in that way you found adorable. "Yeah, definitely the wrong guy. You need someone who actually knows how to talk to women, not a computer." 

He paused, shifting his weight as he looked at the clothes wrapped in your hands and then back at you. "Was the food at least good?"

"Oh, it was actually really good," you admitted, a small, sheepish smile tugging at your lips. "I actually took a photo of the dessert to show you, but I… I got worried about sending it. I knew you were all at Hobi’s already, and I was afraid the guys might see it and start the interrogation via text before I even got there." 

You looked down at your feet, feeling a sudden prickle of guilt for breaking your little tradition. "I’m sorry for not telling you, at least. I know you usually check in. I’ll do better next time, I promise."

Jungkook went quiet for a second, watching you. The hurt that had been clouding his expression seemed to soften into something else; relief mixed with an awareness of the small space between you.

"It's okay," he said softly, his voice dropping into a low, steady register. "You don't have to apologize for having a life. I just… I’m glad the food was at least good."

A familiar, playful glint returned to his eyes as he looked you up and down, taking in the silk dress one last time before you disappeared to change.

"And honestly?" he added, a lopsided smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I think it was a blessing in disguise.”

“Yah! What does that mean?” You asked, huffing a laugh.

“I mean,” he started, the smirk deepening as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe next to you. “If that guy was too busy talking about market graphs to realize he was sitting across from someone like you then he definitely didn't deserve a second date.” 

A surprised laugh escaped you. “Koo! You’re being mean.”

“What? It’s true,” he defended, holding up his hands in mock innocence. 

“Especially not when he has a pretty girl in a pretty dress sitting right in front of him,” he added, his voice dropping into a smoother, more deliberate cadence. “Total lack of vision.”

That part caught you off guard. You felt the heat that had been prickling at your cheeks flare up into a full-blown flush. You looked at him, searching for the usual teasing glint, but his eyes were grounded and oddly sincere.

It’s the alcohol, you told yourself, mind scrambling to find a logical exit from the sudden tension. He’s definitely had one too many of Yoongi’s pours. He’s just being a supportive friend... in a very blunt, slightly tipsy way. 

“You’re definitely drunk,” you managed to get out, though your voice was a little higher than usual as you tried to laugh it off and brush past the comment.

He went quiet then. He didn't move away. He just stood there, his thumb rubbing the soft fabric of his sleeve. Maybe it was the few drinks he had earlier, or maybe it was the jet lag from his constant traveling and late-night lives, but his gaze remained softer, more honest than you were prepared for.

“I mean it, though,” he said, his voice dropping back into that low, resonant register that made the guest room feel twice as small. “The dress... it’s a good look on you. I think I forgot you had that side of you outside of the studio.”

You blinked, looking down at the silk fabric. "What does that mean? I probably looked like a penguin trying to walk in those heels."

"No," he said, and the way he said it stopped any further self-deprecating jokes in your throat. He stepped a fraction closer, the scent of his cologne—warm, woody, and expensive, hitting you instantly. "It’s not just the dress. It’s... you. You look like you belong in it. I’ve seen you in baggy sweats for years, but this?" 

He paused, his gaze lingering on the line of your neck before snapping back to your eyes. This wasn't the usual “you look cute” he’d toss your way when you were both laughing over a shared joke or with the boys when they teased you. This was heavy; a grounded observation. It was the look of a man noticing a woman, and it made the air in your lungs feel dangerously tight.

"It’s just different, gg," he murmured. "That’s all."

You stood there, momentarily stunned, clutching the grey joggers and heavy hoodie to your chest like a shield. You weren't used to this version of him—the one who didn't just see his best friend and colleague, but saw someone striking.

The silence stretched a second too long, becoming heavy enough to swallow the room. Jungkook seemed to realize it too. He blinked, the intense focus in his eyes flickering as he took a step back, clearing his throat and looking suddenly interested in the doorframe.

"Anyway," he muttered, his voice hitching as he tried to find his usual teasing tone again. "Go change. If Hobi has to come looking for us, I’m telling him you were the one stalling."

The spell didn't just break; it shattered. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. 

"Right. Stalling. Of course," you managed, your voice still a little breathless. “I’ll meet you back out there.” 

After a few minutes, you emerged from the guest room, finally feeling like yourself again. 

The dress was folded away, replaced by Jungkook’s heavy grey joggers and an oversized black hoodie that practically swallowed you whole. You’d taken the time to scrub the makeup off your face, too; the eyeliner and bold lip were gone, leaving your skin clean and a little flushed from the hot water. Definitely the hot water. 

The energy in Hobi’s living room shifted from relaxation to pure, unadulterated chaos the moment the strawberry cake hit the table. Taehyung was buzzing around, holding his phone at the perfect angle to capture Hobi blowing out the candles, while you all provided a loud, off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday." 

You stood to the side, leaning against the wall with a soft smile as you recorded a quick snippet for your own Instagram story. You captioned it “The Sun’s Birthday ☀️🎂” with a heart emoji, knowing the fans would treasure the rare glimpse of them just being a family.

"Y/n-ah, over here!" Hobi shouted, spotting you in the corner. He was already scrolling through his phone, his eyes bright with that familiar, restless energy. "I want to do this new TikTok challenge before the night ends. You have to do it with me. Please?"

You immediately tried to hide your face behind the hoodie's oversized sleeves, the fabric still smelling faintly of Jungkook’s laundry detergent. "Hobi, no! I already took my makeup off. I look like a total mess compared to earlier."

"No way," Hobi insisted, laughing as he hopped over and grabbed your wrist, gently pulling you toward the center of the room. "Tae, get the light ready! It’s my birthday, you can't say no to the birthday boy."

"I look gross, Tae, don't you dare point that camera at me," you groaned, but Taehyung was already grinning behind his screen, adjusting the focus.

"You look fine," Taehyung countered, his voice muffled by the phone. "Besides, the fans love seeing you. It's authentic."

"You look amazing," Hobi added, giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze. "You're glowing. Natural beauty, right guys?" 

"Turn around, let me see the back of that hoodie," Jimin teased from his spot on the rug, reaching out to tug at the massive hem of the sweatshirt that reached your mid-thigh. "Balenciaga. Definitely Jungkook’s. You could fit a whole second person in there."

You shot a quick, instinctive glance toward Jungkook. He was leaning against the kitchen island, nursing his drink, watching the exchange with a quiet, unreadable expression. For a split second, your eyes met, and the memory of the tension in the guest room flared up again—the way he’d looked at the dress, the weight of his voice when he called you 'gg.'

He didn't say anything, but he didn't look away either. He just raised his glass slightly in a silent, private toast before the rest of the group’s noise swept the moment away.

"Fine," you let out a defeated sigh, finally dropping your hands from your face and shaking out your hair. "But if this goes viral for the wrong reasons, I’m blaming both of you."

For the next ten minutes, the living room became a makeshift studio. You ran through the footwork with Hobi, and even though you were exhausted, your movements were sharp and instinctive. You nailed the transition, the two of you moving in perfect sync before Hobi finished with a signature peace sign, leaning down so you could rest your elbow on his shoulder. You dropped into your signature send-off; a two-finger kiss turned into a salute flicking outward with a lazy, knowing smirk.

When filming was done, Hobi pulled you into a side hug, beaming at the screen. "Perfect. This is going up tonight."

Hobi was the main dancer for a reason; he had high energy and an eye for detail that mirrored your own. Over the last few years, the two of you had bonded over that shared obsession. While Jimin had eased your nerves on day one, Hobi proved that your work was worthy of being noticed.

As he checked the playback on his phone, he gave you that quiet, dimpled nod—the same one that had become your anchor during high-tension rehearsals. It was the only validation that truly made your heart stop racing, a silent signal that you weren't just a shadow in the room, but a peer on the floor.

As the chaos of filming subsided, the group drifted back toward the plush sofas, the air humming with the high energy. You were about to head to the kitchen to refill your water when a cold glass was pressed into your hand.

You looked up to see Yoongi leaning against the counter, having slipped away from his spot unnoticed. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched the others with that quiet observation. 

"Spiced cranberry vodka," he murmured, his raspy voice barely audible over Taehyung and Jimin’s bickering. "I added a good amount of lime. Figured you’d need something sharp to wash away the bad date."

"It’s perfect. Thanks, yoongi-ge," you whispered, taking a much-needed sip of the drink.

He gave you a lazy, knowing smirk, his eyes flicking toward the guest room for a fraction of a second before returning to his whiskey. He didn't ask what had happened in there, but Yoongi never had to ask to know the energy in a room had shifted. "Don't mention it. Just sit down before Hobi starts a riot over the gifts." 

With a final, supportive pat on your shoulder, he gestured toward the center of the lounge. You followed him back to the circle, settling onto the floor near the coffee table as Hobi took his place in the middle of the sofa.

"And now..." Hobi said, his eyes scanning the pile of packages until they landed on the small, hand-wrapped wooden box you’d set on the table earlier. "The final one."

Everyone leaned in. You felt a sudden prickle of nerves, tugging the sleeves of the large hoodie over your hands. His fingers were careful as he peeled back the paper. When he saw the vintage, polished wood, his eyebrows shot up. 

"I found this at a flea market months ago and spent way too long fixing it up," you said as you watched him. 

He opened the lid, and a soft, mechanical melody began to play. It was a custom-made music box. Instead of a generic song, the internal cylinder had been pinned to play the bridge of his solo track "MAMA." Inside the velvet lining lay a small, hand-painted ceramic figurine of a street dancer; one you’d commissioned to look exactly like him in his favorite vintage bucket hat.

The room went quiet as the delicate notes filled the air. It was a stark contrast to the loud music that usually defined your lives.

"I know things are going to get busy," you said softly. "And things are going to get quiet soon. I wanted you to have something that sounds like home, even when you're not there."

Hobi stared at the spinning dancer, his usual bright expression softening into something deeply vulnerable. He didn't say anything for a long moment, just listened to the music box play until the spring wound down. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were suspiciously bright.

He whispered your name, his heart-shaped smile trembling just a little. "This is... I’m going to keep this by my bed every night. Thank you."

"Group hug!" Taehyung yelled, sensing the emotional weight, and the members piled onto the birthday boy in a chaotic tangle of limbs and laughter.

In the middle of the scramble, you felt a hand wrap firmly around your ankle; a grounding touch that kept you from being swept into the dog-pile. You looked down to see it’s Jungkooks; he was sitting beside you on the floor and currently looking at you. 

He didn't join the pile immediately. He just stayed there, his thumb tracing a small, absentminded circle against your skin over the fabric of his own joggers. That soft gaze from the guest room was back, his eyes lingering on you.

"Best for last," he murmured, his voice so low it was lost to the loud cheers of the others.

You felt your face heat up, thankful the room was dim. There was something about the way he said it—and the way he was looking at you in his clothes, that felt a lot more significant than a comment about the gift-giving order. 

I’m reading into it. You think to yourself. 

"You should get in there," you whispered, nodding toward the large pile of the boisterous boys.

He gave your ankle one last squeeze before letting go and lunging into the fray with a shout. You watched them for a moment, happy to take part in this chosen family. 

The emotional weight of the group hug eventually shifted back into comfortable lounging. They all settled back into their spots, and the conversation naturally drifted toward the whirlwind of the last few weeks.

"Wait, are they really going to give you an unlimited supply of underwear?”

Taehyung’s voice cut through the soft jazz and the clinking of glasses in Hobi’s living room, his eyes wide with genuine, curiosity. 

You nearly choked on your drink, pressing a hand to your mouth to stifle the laugh. Now sitting beside you on the sofa, Jungkook froze, a piece of birthday cake halfway to his mouth. The tips of his ears turned a faint shade of pink—a telltale sign that, despite the tats and piercings, he was still the same guy who got flustered when his hyungs put him on the spot.

“It’s a global campaign!” Jungkook defended, finally shoving the bite of cake into his mouth as a shield. "And it’s not unlimited... I think."

“Oh, it's definitely unlimited,” Jimin chimed in from his spot on the floor, leaning back against the coffee table. “I saw the contract on his kitchen counter. I’m expecting a fresh pair in my stocking this Christmas, JK."

Somehow, we got onto their upcoming schedules. One of them being Jungkook’s, as he has to fly to New York next month for his Calvin Klein shoot as their new Global Ambassador. 

"Hyung, stop," Jungkook groaned, the lopsided grin on his face betraying how much he actually enjoyed the attention. He shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours, and for a second, the heat from his body felt like a physical brand through the heavy fabric of the hoodie.

"I think the real traitor here is y/n," Taehyung added, pointing a chocolate-stained finger in your direction. "I saw her coming out of the meeting room at the company last week right after the CK reps left. And you didn’t say anything!"

You rolled your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your foot. “I wasn't in there for that, tae. I only stepped in because Son wanted to discuss background dancers for July.” 

“So you did know,” Jimin teased, wagging his eyebrows as he reached for a strawberry from the cake platter. “And you didn't give us a single hint? Not even a ‘hey, Jungkook is about to be on a five-story billboard in his underwear’?”

“Yah! Not just underwear!” Jungkook states before turning to you, “Right?”

“I…I don’t think so,” you stuttered out, your brain momentarily short-circuiting as you tried to remember the exact wording of the brief you’d skimmed. “There’s… denim. I remember them mentioning that. Lots of denim.”

“See?” Jungkook said, pointing a finger at Jimin as if he’d just won a court case. “It’s high fashion. It’s about the silhouette.”

“The silhouette of your six-pack, maybe,” Yoongi added drily. The room erupted in another round of laughter, and you saw Jungkook’s neck turn a deeper shade of red.

“Anyway,” you said, trying to steer the ship back to safety, “I’m only going out there in June once the dancers are booked. I have to prep the performance for the summer release.” 

The conversation hummed around you, a comfortable mosaic of the whirlwind that had been their start to 2023. Namjoon talked about Indigo's lingering success, while Yoongi recounted the progress of his Suchwita recordings and preparing for the release of his D-Day album and tour soon.

“I still can’t get over Hobi-hyung on New Year’s Eve,” Taehyung noted “Times Square was crazy, but you looked like you owned the city. It almost made me want to head back to Paris with the Celine team just for the adrenaline rush.”

“It was the perfect way to kick off the year,” Hobi said, his hand unconsciously drifting over the wooden box you gave him. “A final burst of the stage before the military.”

A brief, heavy silence settled as the reality of Jin already being at the training center and Hobi being next hit the room. It was the kind of silence that usually only hit when the cameras were off and the reality of their lives caught up to them. Hobi’s mention of April felt like a countdown clock ticking in the corner of the room. 

You looked around the circle at the faces of the men you’d spent the last five years with. Your mind involuntarily drifted back to December, to the day Jin had officially left. The image was still burned into your brain: the seven of them standing together, and Jin—usually the one cracking jokes to keep the mood light, standing there with a shaved head. Seeing him in that uniform had made the reality of him leaving a little too real. They had all cried at the base, a rare moment of collective vulnerability.

You hadn't gone to the base with them. You’d said your goodbye at the studio the day before. You remembered how he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, his familiar scent of expensive soap and soft goodbyes that lingered in the air.

“Don't let these brats give you a hard time while I’m gone,” he’d whispered, his voice uncharacteristically thick. “And remember the secret to the jjigae I taught you. Don’t rush the broth.”

Out of all of them, Jin and Namjoon had taken you under their wing the most when you first moved to Seoul. You had been a young choreographer in a foreign country, struggling with the language and the isolation of being an outsider. They both treated you like their younger sister; Jin spending hours in the kitchen teaching you recipes to feel more at home. Namjoon on the other hand was the one to help you learn the language to break the barrier between you and the boys. While you still struggle to read it, he has helped you in the become fluent in speaking terms in the last few years. Both taught you the traditions, the etiquette, and the heart behind the language and food. 

You’d gotten a little teary-eyed then, realizing that one of your "big brothers" wouldn't be around to critique your cooking skills while making you laugh for a while. 

Now, looking at Hobi, you realized the cycle was starting again.

“We’re going to miss you, Hyung,” Jungkook said, his voice breaking the silence. 

“I’m not gone yet!” Hobi laughed, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. 

“We still have a few months,” Jimin said softly, sensing the dip in energy. “We have Yoongi-hyung’s birthday in March.”

“Which means yoongi has one month to send me his request for what dessert he wants for his brithday” you announced, trying to shake off the heavy atmosphere. You sat up straighter, a determined look on your face. “I’ll make sure its extra yummy.”

“Will you?” Jungkook dodged the pillow you sent his way with a laugh, his eyes glinting with mischief. “The last time you ‘baked’ something, we had to call Namjoon-hyung just to see if the smoke detector was working properly.” 

Once upon a time, a long time ago (a year), you went through an intense baking phase. It had started innocently enough after you’d watched a particular baking show, and despite having no formal training, you’d convinced yourself to try otherwise. However, baking is not your strong suit. 

“It was one time!” you defended. 

Jimin chimed in, leaning back with a grin, “You tried to make macarons for Jin-hyung’s birthday, and they came out looking like neon-pink hockey pucks. I’m pretty sure Hobi-hyung still has one in his studio as a paperweight.” 

“I do,” Hobi jokes, giggling as a pillow was thrown in his direction, where it hit his chest. 

“Laugh all you want,” you huffed, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at the group. “But mark my words, I am going to redeem myself. The next time I bake, it’s going to be perfect. You’ll all be begging for seconds.”

From the corner, Taehyung snorted, barely looking up from his phone. “Or begging someone to call the fire department.” 

You didn't even hesitate. You reached behind your back, grabbed yet another pillow, and launched it straight at his head with terrifying accuracy.

Taehyung caught it mid-air, looking at you with mock shock and wide eyes. “Yah! How many pillows do you have under there?”

“I have as many as it takes to defend my honor!” you fired back, though you were starting to crack a smile.

Jungkook leaned over, snagging one of the stray pillows and tucking it behind his head as he settled deeper into the couch, watching the chaos with a fond, tired grin.

"I won't be here to taste the practice runs," he noted, a hint of a pout touching his lips. "You're going to give all the good cake to the other hyungs while I'm stuck eating room service in Manhattan."

"I'll save you a slice, koo," you teased, nudging him back. "Assuming I don't burn the kitchen down while you're gone."

“If the fire department survives your redemption arc,” Yoongi finally spoke up, his voice low and raspy from the armchair, “we’ll celebrate properly. I’m not in any rush to turn thirty anyway. Just... maybe keep a fire extinguisher near the oven, okay?”

"I'll have two," you quipped, sticking your tongue out at Yoongi.

Taehyung, suddenly sat up, eyes gleaming with a dangerous kind of mischief. A look you were too familiar with. 

"Okay, enough about the kitchen hazards," He said, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm. "Let’s talk about something actually interesting."

He paused for dramatic effect, his gaze sliding from the crumbs on the table directly to you.

"How was the date?"

"Tae, leave her alone," Namjoon interjected, though a small, amused smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "She already told us how it went"

“Barely! Just that he was hot!” Jimin intervened, also invested in knowing more. 

"Yah, let the girl breathe," Hobi added from his armchair, his sharp eyes flicked toward you, curious despite himself.

Jungkook, however, remained oddly silent. He was still sitting close to you, his shoulder almost touching yours. But you didn’t noticed the way his body tensed at the mention of the 'hot stranger' again.

"Ugh, what do you even want to know, Tae?" you groaned, pulling the oversized sleeves of Jungkook's hoodie over your hands until only your fingertips were visible.

"Everything!" Taehyung exclaimed. "Starting with: did he try to kiss you?"

he room suddenly felt about ten degrees hotter. You buried your nose into the collar of the hoodie, the scent doing absolutely nothing to calm the frantic beating of your heart.

“Taehyung!” you squeaked, voice muffled by the thick cotton.

“What? It’s a standard first-date metric!” Taehyung defended, leaning in further. “Did he go for it? Was there a lingering moment at the door? Did he do that thing where he tucks your hair behind your ear?”

“He did not tuck my hair behind my ear, this isn't a K-drama,” you muttered, finally peeking over the edge of the collar. “He was...okay? There was no spark. I spent most of the night wondering if I could slip out through the bathroom window without him noticing." 

You go more into detail on how you learned more about his crypto portfolio than he did about you. 

"See?" Jimin said, pointing an accusatory finger at the room. "This is why we need to vet them. Your track record is a disaster."

The room shifted into a familiar, lighthearted rhythm of teasing. Over five years, they’d seen the highs and mostly lows of your attempts at dating. They knew about the law student who was too intimidated by your job to ever relax, and the architect who was so boring you’d accidentally fallen asleep during dinner.

“Who was the guy that went to karaoke with us?” Namjoon pondered to the group. “Jack, Jacob..?”

“Jason,” You corrected, taking a slip of your drink, feeling your cheeks flush not sure if its from the teasing or the cran-vodka. 

“Jason!” Half the group explains in realization.

“Yeah!” Taehyung turns to you, “Wasn’t that the day he asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Um correction, serenade her to be his girlfriend” Namjoon answers before standing up from his spot to stand in front of you, putting his hand up to his mouth as if he was holding a microphone. 

“He was like ‘All I really waaaant is to be your…” He drops his face closer to yours, mimicking your now ex-boyfriend “Your boy boy, b-b-boy, b-b-boy, friend.”

“Yah!” You exclaim, face blushing from embarrassment as all the guys started singing along with him; Hobi and Jungkook being the closest to you, so they both held your shoulders swaying you side to side as they sang the chorus. 

Yep, your ex-boyfriend asked you to be his girlfriend by singing a song from one of your favorite boy bands when you were twelve. Not only did he do this in front of your seven guy friends, but you only went on a few dates prior to this outing. It was also the boys idea to invite him, not yours. You didn’t think anything of it as you thought it was cute and that he was a good listener. 

“Hey, to be fair,” You point out after they chilled out, “He did a good performance considering who he was up against.” 

“Oh yeah! He did good,” The birthday boy exclaims before his took a sip of his drink stating, “You know minus the toxic masculinity and abusive behavior but pros and cons.”

Yeah, there was that. 

You and Jason were about 8 months into your relationship when you noticed some…patterns.

He thought it was weird how often you hung out with the guys outside of the studio and would constantly text you when you were with them asking what you were up to or if you could facetime him. Maybe it was a little weird to someone outside of your circle and guys you’ve dated were intimidated by them. I mean…look at them. Totally understandable. However, Jason was the worst of exes. 

What really got to you was when he started showing up to the studio unannounced while you were working or to your apartment unanonuced. Even when your girl friends were over when you told him you couldn’t hang out some nights cause you had plans. 

The last straw was when you went out with said friends to a club one summer night. You sent him a photo of your dress, thinking he would admire it cause it was indeed a very sexy type of outfit and you were trying to ‘spice’ things up with him. 

He did not reciprocate those feelings. 

He was blowing up your phone with texts and voicemails saying; you shouldnt be wearing that, you look like a slut (Not the sexy way), you shouldn’t be out clubbing, who are you linking up with, I’m going to come pick you up— You get the picture.  

"I still can’t believe you didn't let us handle it," Jimin grumbled, the memory clearly still bothering him. "We were ready to stage a very different kind of intervention."

“Well, I didn't need seven of the most famous men in Korea showing up at his door to tell him he was a prick," you countered, throwing a soft smile at Jimin. 

“His ego was definitely bruised after that talk you had with him.” Taehyung, a small, satisfied smirk playing on his lips. 

“And his face.” Jungkook snickers. 

You swiped a hand at his arm, hitting him lightly, but you couldn't hide the growing smile on your face. You might have given Jason a very firm tap to the jaw during that final 'talk'— he was cutting it close when he started insulting you and the boys that pushed you over the edge. 

You already tried the verbal way with how he was talking about you but clearly he needed a little nudge in the right direction to know you weren’t the girl to fuck with. He got the message after that and you never saw each other again. 

“Your right hook was spot on y/n-ah. He was like…” Tae demonstrated the look on your ex’s face as he was getting punched in slow motion, causing everyone to crack up laughing. 

“His face after was even better!” Namjoon was on the edge of his chair mimicking a crying face as he held his jaw. 

"They just weren’t good fits," you stated weakly after the laughter died down, "It's hard to find someone who gets... all of this," you gestured to the room and the seven icons surrounding you. 

"You know who I really liked? Stacy," Hobi noted, his voice turning nostalgic. "She was cool. She actually challenged Yoongi-hyung on music theory." 

“She did have some bit to her, it was refreshing.” Yoongi noted. 

"I liked her because she brought us those donuts from the place in Itaewon," Jimin added with a grin, rubbing his stomach.

You smiled softly at the mention of her. "Stacy was great. She was the only good one, honestly."

Jungkook shifted beside you, now the one asking questions. "Why'd you guys break up again? Was everything okay?"

"Mmm, it didn’t end on a bad note, we still talk every once and awhile," you explained, looking at the ceiling. “Just better off as friends.”

Stacy was an international student here in Korea, you met in a cute cafe down the street. You both would be there on your computers doing work until one day, you both ended up at a table talking. It was history since. She had to move back to the States as she wanted to complete her masters after finishing undergrade. Long distance became a nightmare, and both you realized you were better off as best friends. It was short, but definitely the healthiest relationship you had. 

"So," Taehyung leaned in, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, "does this mean Lead y/n is back on the market? Are you planning on going on more dates with 'hot strangers' while in New York? Maybe a tall American with a dog?"

Jungkook’s gaze snapped to yours, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly as he waited for your answer.

You let out a long, tired sigh, leaning your head back against the sofa. "No. I don't think so, tae. Honestly? Tonight reminded me why I stopped trying for a while. It’s exhausting trying to explain my life to people who don't live in it."

The rigid tension in Jungkook’s shoulders finally melted away, and he settled deeper into the cushions, a soft, almost invisible smile playing on his lips. Unknown to you, but the other five people in the room noticed instantly. Hm. 

“Besides,” You lift your head, “New York is for work, I have to make sure these dancers are ready for the summer. Including you.” 

Your gaze moves to Jungkook, who’s sipping his whiskey as he looked at you, pointing at himself as if to say, ‘who me?’ causing you to giggle. 

"Spoken like a true choreographer," Namjoon teased, watching the two of you with a look of quiet admiration. 

"I'm serious!" you laughed, feeling warm from your drink and the familiar comfort of the group. "No more dates. Just rehearsals making sure Jungkook doesn't lose his passport again."

"I lost it once!" Jungkook defended, nudging your shoulder with his, his eyes bright and teasing once more. “Namjoon has done that too! Hyung defend me!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” The leader leans back in his armchair, shrugging his shoulders, “I haven’t done such a thing.”

“Wh- Hyung…” Jungkook weakly states, feeling defeated by his leader. 

You pat his shoulder in reassurance, “There, there, we’ll get you a money belt before we go.” 

“...I already have one.” He states, causing the room to erupt in laughter again as a bunny smile breaks through his lips. 

Clink-Clink-Clink

“I want to make a toast,” Hobi smiled and raised his glass. “To new changes, good and sad. And to making every second count.”

“To making it count!” everyone echoed, the clink of glasses masking the sound of the ticking clock for just a little while longer.

The celebration had long since devolved from structured toasts into a messy, joyous blur of drunk karaoke and laughter. Hobi’s living room, once pristine, was now cover with empty plates, glasses, blankets and a few stray pillows.

Hours later, the high-energy had faded into the quiet hum of deep sleep. Yoongi was slumped in his armchair, snoring softly. Taehyung and Jimin had formed a tangle of limbs on the large rug, sharing a throw blanket between them. Hoseok had retreated to his bedroom an hour ago, finally defeated by the excitement of his own birthday.

You, however, found yourself wide awake, leaning against the balcony railing of his flat. The cold February air was sharp against your skin, a necessary to clear the brain fog from the spiced cranberry vodkas you lost track of counting. You were still wearing Jungkook’s hoodie, the sleeves pulled tight over your hands as you watched the distant lights of Seoul.

“The cold is going to make the hangover worse, you know.”

You didn't need to turn around to recognize the voice. It was steady, thoughtful, and slightly raspy from hours of singing. A voice that sounded like old books and late-night thoughts.

Namjoon stepped out onto the balcony, a steaming mug in his hands. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and his hair was a chaotic mess from where he’d been rubbing it all night—a telltale sign of a restless mind. He leaned against the railing, offering a dimpled smile that didn't quite reach the gravity in his eyes.

“Thought you were asleep on the floor with the others,” you whispered, voice sounding thin and scratchy against the night.

“I tried. But my brain is keeping me up,” he admitted, his gaze drifting over the city. He took a slow sip of his tea, the steam swirling into the freezing air like a ghost. “You okay? You’ve been out here a long time.”

“Just thinking,” you admitted, your breath blooming in a white cloud before the wind swept it over the railing.

You leaned your weight into the metal, the silence stretching between you. In truth, your mind was a crowded mess. You were thinking about the travel series, about the looming reality of being on camera for weeks, but mostly, you were thinking about a meeting from ten hours ago. The board of directors had sat across from you and the creative leads, laying out the blueprints for Jungkook’s official solo debut.

Performance Director Son had sat you down before the board meeting and told you, point-blank, that he wasn't co-leading this one. He was stepping back to focus on the overall direction of the music videos, leaving the entire performance identity for Jungkook’s solo debut in your hands.

“You’re both perfectionists,” Son had told you. “You’ve been the lead for the group for a long time, and I know you’re ready to carry this solo debut without me as your shadow. I think it’s time for you to stand on your own. This is a massive opportunity, y/n—not just for Jungkook, but for you. If you pull this off, the board of directors will finally see your full potential. It could open doors to a Performance Director position of your own.”

He hadn't needed to say the rest. A higher position meant moving away from the day-to-day grind with the seven of them. It meant overseeing multiple teams, insteading of just being a sub when a groups lead is out. Perhaps even moving into a more executive creative role within the company. It was the dream you’d worked for since moving to Seoul, yet it felt like a heavy stone sitting in your stomach.

“It’s the solo project,” you said softly, finally answering Namjoon’s unspoken question. “Son-ssaemnim is handing the reins over to me completely. He told me it’s my chance to show the board what I can do... to see if I’m ready for the next level.”

Your grip on the sleeves tightens as you confess when’s been swirling in your head to the leader. He hummed, a low, grounding sound that seemed to vibrate in the cold air. Out of everyone, he was the only one that knew. He knew that Jungkook’s success in his performance could mean a promotion that would eventually take you out of their immediate circle.

“He’s right, you know,” Namjoon said, leaning his weight on his elbows. “You’re a creator. You’re ready for the next step. But I that’s not what’s keeping you up.”

“I’m terrified of failing him, Joon,” you confessed, your voice barely a whisper as it was swept away into the Seoul night. “I’ve seen him in the studio lately while they’re filming for the documentary. He stays in the recording booth until he’s hoarse, obsessing over every single ad-lib. He’s pushing himself to be a global icon, and if my choreography doesn't match that evolution... if I push him too hard because I get in my head on trying to prove my own worth to the board...”

“You won’t,” Namjoon interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours with a heavy sort of wisdom. “You’ve never done that with this position and you won’t do that with this either.”

“How do you kno—”

“I know you, y/n.” His deep voice cuts you off, “And so does Jungkook. And Jimin. And Tae. Hobi, yoongi, Jin. We all see the way you prioritize the artist over the ego. You don’t create for the sake of being clever; you create to make us look invincible, memorable.”

You looked away, a lump forming in your throat. Hearing Namjoon say it so plainly—felt like both a shield and a burden at once. You’d spent so many late nights in the studio agonizing over the smallest transitions, wondering if anyone noticed the adjustments you made to favor a dancer’s old injury or to highlight their specific flair.

Apparently, they had noticed. All of them.

“Jungkook doesn't want a ‘Global Pop Star’ choreographer,” Namjoon continued, his voice dropping an octave as he looked back out at the skyline. “He wants the person who knows him through and through. Who knows that when he gets frustrated with a sequence, he just needs ten minutes and a distraction, not a lecture. To him, this is about not losing himself while the world tries to turn him into a brand.”

You bit your lip, the realization hitting you harder than the winter chill. To the board, this was a test of your professional value—a way to see if you could be a Director. But to Jungkook, this was about survival in a lonely spotlight. Even now, with the I AM STILL cameras trailing his every move, capturing the grueling process of him finding his own voice, you knew he felt the crushing weight of standing alone.

“He’s going to be in New York, in LA, surrounded by strangers who only see the icon,” Namjoon said, his tone softening. “He needs his best friend to be the one telling him when to push and when to breathe. Don't let the fear of where this might lead you professionally stop you from being his anchor right now.”

"What if I end up being a distraction?" The words came out before you could stop them, small and fragile in the vast, cold air. "If I’m the 'Lead,' then I’m responsible for his focus. But if we’re out there and we’re filming this travel series, and the fans see how we are... what if the noise around me gets so loud it drowns out everything he’s trying to achieve?"

Namjoon didn't answer right away. He took a final sip of his tea, the ceramic mug clinking against the railing as he set it down.

"You've never been a distraction. You’re the focus," he said, turning his head to look at you. 

He went quiet for a long moment, his expression turning pensive. “The world is smaller for us, I know. And I won’t lie to you—people will always have something to say. But the fans who truly love us? They’ll see how much he— we rely on you. They’ll see you as part of the family.”

He turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “And sometimes, you just have to say fuck it and just do it!”

The bluntness of the curse caught you off guard. You stared at him before a startled laugh burst out of you.

He joined in, his shoulders shaking well. The heavy, suffocating tension that had been building in your chest shattered, scattered into the wind by the absurdity of his delivery.

“Spoken like a true leader,” you managed to choke out between giggles, repeating his own words from earlier. 

"If the fans see that, they see the truth. They see the person who makes him feel human enough to actually do the work. Don’t let the 'what-ifs' keep you from the 'right now.' He chose you to lead him into this new chapter because he knows you won't let him drift away."

"Okay" you whispered, the cold air finally starting to bite through the thick cotton of the hoodie. "I won't let him down. Either of you."

“I know you won’t,” He reached out, patting the top of your head in that familiar, brotherly way. "Now, go to sleep. Before you freeze and I have to explain to the board why their future Director is sidelined with a cold."

You managed a small, tired smile. "Goodnight, Joonie."

The sliding door clicked shut, sealing out the wind and leaving you in the warmth of the snoring bodies that covered the living room. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of the city through the glass. Exhausted, you picked your way through the maze of blankets and sleeping limbs, heading for the far end of the sectional where an open spot besides the pillows remained.

You collapsed onto the cushion, pulling a stray throw over your shoulders. You were just starting to drift off when the space beside you shifted.

A heavy, solid weight draped across your middle— a long arm, specifically one withe a full sleeve you were all too familiar with. You froze as you realized the "pillow" you’d curled up next to was actually Jungkook. He was deep in sleep, his breath steady against your neck, even when he was a good arms length away from you. 

His hand moved instinctively, fingers finding the hem of the thick hoodie —his hoodie that you’re wearing. He bunched the fabric into his palm, gripping it tightly as if anchoring you there. His thumb tracing a slow, unconscious pattern against the cotton even in his sleep.

You lay still in the dark, surrounded by the scent of his laundry detergent and the lingering trace of his cologne. You should move. You should definitely move before the others woke up to see this. But the weight of his arm was steadying, and the heat radiating from him was the only thing keeping your racing heart a bay. 

Letting out a slow breath, you finally closed your eyes. You let the rhythm of his breathing pull you under, his hand still clutched firmly in the fabric of his clothes.

---

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