The first time you saw him walk out of the studio with Sohee, his hand tangled in hers, you told yourself not to cry. You told yourself you were used to it by now. That the ache in your chest was just a reminder that you were foolish enough to fall for someone whose heart belonged to someone else.
Jungkook loved her. Everyone knew it. Even if it left him bleeding. Even if you were the one who always picked up the pieces.
Still, you waited. With coffee in hand when his practice ran late. With a towel when his shirt stuck to his back with sweat. With quiet smiles when his eyes looked too tired to shine.
“Why do you do this?” he asked one night, his voice rough, frustration bleeding into the words. “Why do you keep… waiting here for me?”
You swallowed hard, staring at the floor. “Because someone has to.”
His jaw tightened. He stepped back, shaking his head as if your kindness was too much for him to carry.
“Stop it,” he said sharply. “Stop looking at me like that. I can’t—” His voice broke, and he turned away. “I can’t give you what you want.”
The words cut deeper than you expected. You pressed your lips together, forcing a smile that trembled anyway. “I know,” you whispered. “I never asked you to.”
But when he walked away that night — his shadow fading into the streetlight — it felt like he had taken something from you anyway.
⸻
Days passed. You didn’t wait at the studio. You didn’t bring him coffee. You didn’t smile at him when his shoulders slumped.
And for the first time, Jungkook noticed the silence.
He noticed how empty the hallway felt without you leaning against the wall. How cold the practice room seemed without your laughter in the background. How his chest tightened when Sohee screamed again, when the cycle repeated, when he looked around after and realized — you weren’t there to hold him anymore.
The guilt came slow, suffocating.
Late at night, he lay awake replaying the look on your face when he pushed you away. The way your smile broke, the way your voice trembled. He pressed a hand over his chest, hating the weight that settled there.
Because in hurting you, he had hurt himself too.
⸻
And still, you waited. Not outside his studio. Not with coffee in hand. But quietly in your heart, loving him in silence. Hoping he’d one day find his way to you.
-
Reader’s POV
You learned to walk past the studio without stopping.
No more waiting outside with coffee cups warming your hands.
No more small notes tucked under his bag.
No more soft smiles when his eyes found yours.
It hurt too much.
Because every time he left, he was running back to her.
Every time his phone buzzed with Sohee’s name, he pulled away.
And every time you caught your reflection in the studio mirrors, you hated how obvious your feelings must have looked.
So you pulled back. Not because you stopped loving him, but because you loved him too much to keep breaking your own heart.
⸻
But loving Jungkook was like breathing. Even when you tried to hold it in, it slipped out in small, unnoticeable ways.
When he showed up to practice looking pale, you quietly left vitamins on the table.
When he skipped meals, you dropped off packed food at the front desk without signing your name.
When he caught a cold, you called his manager anonymously to make sure someone checked on him.
You told yourself it was nothing. Just kindness. Just habit.
But deep down you knew — you’d always care for him, even from the shadows.
⸻
Then one night, fate turned cruel.
You were leaving the café near the studio when you saw him outside, leaning against the wall. His hood was pulled low, his shoulders slumped, his eyes red like he’d been crying.
Your first instinct was to turn away. To hide. To keep walking like you promised yourself you would.
But then his voice broke the silence.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
You froze. Slowly, you turned. He was looking right at you now — tired, broken, but desperate.
“I’m not,” you whispered, even though the lie burned your tongue.
“You are.” He pushed off the wall, his steps unsteady as he came closer. “You don’t wait for me anymore. You don’t… you don’t look at me like you used to.” His voice cracked, raw. “Do you hate me now?”
Your chest tightened, tears stinging your eyes. “No, Jungkook. I could never hate you.”
“Then why—” His words trembled, breaking apart. “Why are you leaving me too?”
For a moment, you almost told him everything — how you loved him, how waiting for him shattered you, how you couldn’t keep bleeding quietly while he gave his heart to someone else.
But instead, you forced a small smile. The kind you always gave him when he was hurting.
“I’m not leaving you,” you said softly. “I’m just giving you space… so you can find what you’re looking for.”
His eyes widened, something sharp flashing in them, like guilt, like regret. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.
And before he could see the tears spilling from your lashes, you stepped back.
“Take care of yourself, Jungkook,” you whispered. Then you turned and walked away, even though every step felt like tearing yourself apart.
⸻
Later that night, Jungkook sat in the empty studio, his head in his hands. He replayed your words, your smile, the way your voice shook when you told him you’d never hate him.
And for the first time, he realized…
You weren’t just kind.
You weren’t just patient.
You were the only one who had loved him without condition.
And losing that was a weight heavier than anything Sohee had ever put him through.
-
The storm had finally broken.
You were sitting on your couch, wrapped in a blanket, trying to convince yourself that sleep would come. That you wouldn’t keep replaying the look in Jungkook’s eyes when he asked if you hated him. That you wouldn’t keep feeling the ache of walking away from him.
Then came the knock.
Soft at first. Then louder. Urgent. Desperate.
When you opened the door, Jungkook stood there, soaked from the rain, hair plastered to his forehead, chest heaving like he’d run the whole way. His eyes locked onto yours, wild with something raw and unguarded.
“You…” His voice broke. He swallowed hard. “You can’t keep avoiding me.”
Your throat tightened. “Jungkook—”
“No,” he said firmly, stepping inside before you could stop him. “I let you go once. I pushed you away. I told myself it was easier… because I was too weak to admit the truth.” His hands trembled as he reached for you, cupping your face like you were something fragile he’d been too reckless with. “But I can’t lose you. Not you.”
Tears blurred your vision. “I told you I never asked you to love me—”
“But I do,” he cut in, voice cracking open. “God, I do. I’ve been so stupid, wasting myself in a place where love only hurt me. And the whole time, you… you were right here. Waiting. Caring. Loving me without asking for anything back.”
His forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling with yours, shaky and warm. “Let me love you now. Please. Let me make up for every moment I didn’t.”
⸻
The kiss came fierce, trembling, almost frantic. Years of swallowed feelings, of stolen glances and unspoken words, all crashing into one desperate moment.
You melted into him, hands clutching at his soaked shirt as if to anchor yourself. His mouth moved over yours like he was starving, like he had finally found the only thing that could save him.
When he lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom, it wasn’t lust that filled his eyes — it was devotion. Redemption.
“Let me show you,” he whispered against your skin. “Let me love you the way I should have from the start.”
⸻
What followed wasn’t hurried, wasn’t careless. It was slow, reverent, aching. Every kiss was an apology. Every touch was a promise. His hands mapped your body like it was sacred, like he needed to memorize every curve, every breath, every sound you made.
Where once he had pulled away, tonight he clung to you. Where once he had broken you with silence, tonight he spoke with his body, his lips, his trembling voice whispering I love you, I love you, I love you.
You felt the guilt melt into something else — something healing, consuming, whole. Because he wasn’t just taking from you this time. He was giving himself back, fully, completely, without fear.
⸻
When dawn came, he was still there, wrapped around you, his head on your chest as if he never wanted to let go. His voice was husky when he whispered into your skin:
“I should’ve chosen you sooner. But I swear… from now on, it’s only you.”
And for the first time, you believed him.
Because this time, his love wasn’t just words.
It was every touch, every kiss, every broken piece of him finally fitting into yours.
-
The steam curled around you, warm and gentle, as the two of you sank deeper into the water. Jungkook’s head rested against your shoulder, his wet hair clinging to his forehead, eyes closed as if he finally allowed himself to feel safe.
You dipped your hands into the water, scooping shampoo into your palms. He cracked one eye open, curious.
“What are you doing?”
You smiled softly, lathering the soap between your hands. “Taking care of you. Close your eyes.”
He chuckled low in his throat, but obeyed, shutting them with exaggerated obedience. You began working the shampoo into his hair, your fingers massaging gently at his scalp. His lips parted, a small sound escaping — half sigh, half laugh.
“Feels… too good,” he murmured. “If you keep doing this, I might fall asleep.”
“Good,” you teased, leaning forward to rub the foam behind his ears. “You never rest enough.”
Suddenly, his hand shot up, tickling at your waist under the water. You squealed, nearly dropping the shampoo.
“Jungkook!” you gasped, laughing despite yourself.
He grinned, eyes still closed but lips curved mischievously. “What? I couldn’t help it. You sound cute when you laugh.”
You shook your head, pretending to be annoyed, but the fondness in your chest ached. Foam clung to his hair, dripping down the side of his face. You reached forward to wipe it away, and in that moment, he opened his eyes.
The world slowed.
His dark, damp lashes framed those wide, vulnerable eyes — looking at you as though you weren’t just someone who loved him, but someone who had saved him.
“I’ve never felt this before,” he whispered, voice quiet but heavy with truth. “Not with her… not with anyone. Only you.”
Your breath caught. You leaned in, heart pounding, and his lips found yours — slow, gentle, almost hesitant at first. Then deeper, like he was sealing a promise. Shampoo lather still clung to his hair, bubbles floating on the surface, but neither of you cared.
It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t perfect. It was messy, wet, slippery.
But it was real.
And for the first time, Jungkook wasn’t lost.
He was home — right here, in your hands, in your love.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
☆ pairing : hybridBunny!Jungkook x hybridFox!Reader
☆ summary: when your best friend appears at your door begging for help, who are you to deny it?
☆ tags: hybrid au (my take on it, at least), childhood best friends, friends to lovers, unrequited love?
☆ warnings: bunny!Jungkook hybrid heat, virgin!Jungkook, DIRTY TALK, soft!dom?yn, subby!kook, heavy praise kink because jungkook loves being told he’s doing good and being called a good boy, tit play, nipple play, tit-fucking, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, handjob, multiple positions, multiple!! orgasms, vaginal penetration, knotting, breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, body worship, somnophilia (he’s needy and wakes her up in the middle of the night), cum eating, cockwarming
☆ wc: 12.7k
☆ yoru's notes: requested by the awesome @dreamersparacosm
Your friendship with Jeon Jungkook is something everyone always finds weird.
Biologically speaking, it doesn’t make sense. You are a fox. A predator. He is a bunny. Prey, soft and historically at the bottom of the food chain. In the natural order, you should be chasing him, not sharing your snacks. But life rarely follows the rules, especially not in the rough neighborhood where you two grew up.
It was a place crawling with apex predators. Wolves, bears, large cats. And then there was Jungkook.
He moved into the house next door when you were seven and he was only six. You knew from the moment you met him, hiding between his mom's legs, that he would be an easy target.
The neighborhood bullies caught on quickly, too. But they learned even faster that if they messed with the bunny, they had to answer to you. You spent half your childhood with scraped knuckles and a bloody nose, standing in front of a trembling Jungkook and daring anyone to take another step toward him.
You’re reminiscing now, scrolling through your phone on the couch, when a violent sound shatters the peace of your apartment.
It’s 9 PM, and someone is slamming into your front door. The pounding is heavy and you're on your feet in an instant with annoyance radiating off you as you march toward the entryway.
"Who the fuck is it at this hour?" you mutter. You're ready to chew out whoever is trying to break the door down. You grab the handle and yank it open, the words already flying out of your mouth. "Someone better be dying or–"
The rest of your threat dies in your throat. You were prepared to fight, but the sight in front of you brings you to a dead stop.
“Noona…”
Your best friend, leaning heavily against the doorframe, breathing as if he just ran a marathon. His skin is slick with sweat, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead.
“Jungkook?” You step forward, feeling your annoyance instantly replaced by worry. “What are you doing here? What happened?”
It’s hard to reconcile the man standing in front of you with the little boy who used to hide behind you. Back then, you were the shield. Now he towers over you. He hit a growth spurt in high school that never seemed to stop, and then he discovered the gym.
He is massive now. His shoulders are broad, tapering down to a waist thick with muscle. He’s easily a head taller than you now, a wall of solid muscle.
Over the years, tired of being seen as "cute," he did everything he could to tough up his image. You were there for all of it. He started hitting the gym religiously. You held his hand when he got his eyebrow pierced, watching the piercer wipe away the blood while you stayed glued to his side for reassurance. You were there when he got the hoop in his bottom lip, telling him he looked cool so he wouldn't panic about the swelling.
And the tattoos. God, the tattoos.
His right arm, currently gripping your doorframe so hard you’re actually worried he might leave a permanent dent in the wood, is covered in a full sleeve of colorful ink.
He even has a matching tattoo with you on his left one. It’s a small, simple star. You’d both gotten them the summer of your second year of college as a permanent reminder of the way you’ve always been each other’s lucky star.
Your best friend doesn’t look like a victim anymore. He looks like someone who could snap a predator in half, at least until someone focuses on his big doe eyes and round face, but you’d never be the one to tell him that.
Jungkook doesn't need you to fight his battles anymore. He has a good life. A solid job. A good group of friends who don’t care about his species. You like them, especially Jimin, a sweet calico cat hybrid he met in college who Jungkook became instant friends with.
But despite the muscles, the ink, the piercings, and the height, he is still looking at you with those big, brown doe eyes. The only difference now is that they’re filled with desperate panic.
“Noona,” he wheezes. “Help… please.”
Before you can get another word out, Jungkook collapses, stumbling forward and practically falling into your arms.
“Whoa!”
You brace yourself, your feet sliding on the entryway floor as you try to catch him. Or rather, as he engulfs you. He wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck, and just... lets go.
He goes completely limp against you, forcing you to stumble back against the wall so you both don't end up on the floor.
“Jungkook!” you hiss, trying to wedge your hands between his chest and yours to get some breathing room. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Stand up!”
Ignoring you, he tightens his grip, pulling you even closer against his body. He inhales sharply, dragging his nose right behind your ear.
“Mmmm,” he whimpers. “You smell so good.”And presses his lips to the side of your neck.
You freeze. Your entire body goes rigid. Heat rushes to your face so fast it makes you dizzy. You’ve had a massive, secret crush on this idiot for years and having him nuzzle your neck is doing things to your heart rate that you do not appreciate.
“Jungkook!” You shove his shoulders, using all of your strength to finally peel him off you, just an inch. “Stop that! What the hell is happening?”
You’re a fox. You know scents. And now that he’s this close, the smell coming off him is unmistakable. It’s thick, musky, and sweet.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you breathe as the realization drains you. “You’re in heat.” You stare at him, stunned. “Did you take your suppressants?”
Jungkook mumbles something, his forehead dropping to rest on top of your head, seeking your contact again.
“I forgot,” he confesses miserably, rubbing his cheek against your hair. “I forgot to refill the prescription. Thought I could... I thought I could wait a few days.”
“A few days? Kook, you’re a bunny. You don't just 'wait out' a hormonal nuke like this,” you mutter, smacking his arm lightly as you look at him. . “You absolute dumbass,” you groan, letting your head thump back against the wall.
He whimpers at your harsh tone, burying his face deeper into your hair as if trying to crawl inside your skin. "I'm sorry, noona! I'm really sorry!"
“Okay, okay, calm down,” you mutter, more to yourself than him. You need help. You need backup. “Come on, you big idiot,” you grunt, wedging your shoulder under his armpit.
It takes every bit of your strength to drag him from the hallway to the living room. Jungkook is dead weight, his feet drag on the floor as he slumps against you, mumbling incoherently about how good you smell.
Once you get him to the couch, you practically dump him onto it. He immediately curls in on himself, clutching one of your throw pillows.
“Stay,” you order, pointing a finger at him.
He looks up at you through his messy bangs. He looks like a kicked puppy, or rather, a very sad, very horny bunny.
You need a solution, and you need it five minutes ago. Patting your pockets, only to realize you left your phone on the entryway table in all the chaos. You definitely won’t leave him alone to go get it because you don’t trust him not to follow you like a lost duckling.
You lean down to where Jungkook is curled up and start patting his pockets, your hands moving over his thighs in a way that is definitely not helping the situation.
"Noona," he whines, his body twitching under your touch. Instead of pulling away, he leans into your hands. "Please... help me, noona... please."
"Oh, stop being so dramatic," you mutter, finally find his phone. You snatch it, the screen lighting up at your touch. Locked. You quickly type in the six digits of your own birthday, and the home screen slides open.
The image staring back at you distracts you. It’s a photo taken during a hike up Bukhansan last autumn. You’re leaning into his side, his arm draped comfortably over your shoulders, heads tilted together, smiling at the camera. To any stranger passing by, you looked like a happy, loving couple.
You wish.
Shaking off the thought, you scroll to his favorites. Jimin is right at the top, sandwiched between "Mom" and your own contact name. You hit call and press the phone to your ear, pacing in front of the coffee table. “Pick up, pick up, you furry little shit,” you hiss.
Suddenly, strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. Jungkook has dragged himself up from the couch and is currently pinning you against him.
“Jungkook!” you yelp, trying to maintain your balance as he pulls you against his chest.
“Hello?” Jimin’s voice crackles through the speaker, sounding amused. “Jungkookie? Are you at–”
“It’s Y/N,” you interrupt him, trying to pry Jungkook’s arms off your stomach, but it’s to no avail. You grunt, wondering how he can be so fucking strong when his brain is clearly melting.
“Oh, hi!” Jimin chirps, sounding far too cheerful.
“I need help,” you say, your voice tight as you wedge an elbow between you and the broad chest pinning you.
“With what?” Jimin asks. “Do we need to bury a body?”
“What? No!” you huff, trying to stay upright. “It's Jungkook. He’s in heat, Jimin,” you say bluntly.
“Oh!”
“He forgot to refill the prescription,” you explain, struggling against the bunny hybrid attached to your back. “Now he’s sweating like crazy and he’s... Jungkook, stop it!” You swat the top of Jungkook’s head. He’s started licking the sensitive spot behind your jaw.
“He’s licking me!” you shout into the phone. “Did you hear that? He’s licking me! Tell me what to do! His pills? Can I go get them for him? Will they work?”
“Uh, no,” Jimin says, his voice turning apologetic. “That’s not how biology works, Y/N. The pills are suppressants. They stop the hormones from spiking. But once the spike happens… you can’t stop it.”
Jungkook groans, rubbing the front of his body against your backside.
“Sit!” you bark, spinning around to push him back towards the couch. “Jungkook, sit down right now! Bad bunny!”
He whimpers but he sits back down on the edge of the cushions. He looks up at you with those wide, glossy doe eyes.
"Don't look at me like that!" you snap, pointing a finger at him to keep him from lunging again. You turn your back on him, trying to ignore the heat crawling up your neck as you focus on the phone. “So what do I do?” you demand, turning back to the call. “I can’t just... leave him like this.”
“Well,” Jimin sighs. “You have two options. Option A: You lock him in a room and you let him ride it out alone. It’ll be miserable for him, bunny heats are painful if they aren't, uh, addressed.”
Unlike predators, who usually get aggressive or territorial, prey hybrids get needy. Desperately needy. It is a biological imperative for them to breed, and when a heat hits, it hits hard.
“And Option B?” you ask. You already know the answer, but you need to hear it.
“Option B,” Jimin says, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “You help him out.”
You choke on air. “Jimin!”
You know exactly how to fix a bunny heat. Everyone does. It is biology 101. They need sex, lots of it. But this is Jungkook. He’s been your best friend since forever. And yes, you might have been in love with him since high school, but you push that thought violently out of your brain. Absolutely not.
“Hey, you asked! He needs release, Y/N. And not just once,” Jimin chuckles, voice low and amused. “He needs to be… attended to.” He pauses, grinning like he knows exactly what he’s saying. “And there is literally no one else on this planet he would want right now but you.”
Then, as if he suddenly regretted saying that, he adds, “Anyways… I gotta go now. Don’t keep him waiting too long, alright?”
You frown, confusion knitting your brows. “Wait, Jimin, what do you mean he'd want to be with me? Don’t you dare–”
“Good luck, Noona! Bye!” The line goes dead.
You lower the phone slowly, staring at the black screen in disbelief. Your gaze shifts from the phone to Jungkook. He’s still pressed close, his body trembling against yours on the couch.
"What am I going to do with you?" you ask out loud, letting out a sigh.
He's getting clingier by the second, his hands fisting the fabric of your shirt. It’s getting harder to resist. You’ve spent the last decade pushing your feelings towards him into a tiny, invisible corner of your brain, locking it away behind a heavy door with a sign that says He’s just your best friend.
But right now, that door is splintering and falling apart under the weight of his gaze. "Noona," he whimpers, nuzzling into your neck. "Please..."
You pull back just enough to cup his face. "Jungkook, what do you need? Tell me."
"I need... I don't know, it just– it hurts!”
"Where?" you ask softly, though you already know.
His eyes drop to his own lap, and you follow the movement just to see the obvious tent straining against the denim of his jeans. Heat floods your face, but you force yourself to stay calm.
Okay. Fine. Let’s do this.
You tell yourself you’re just helping a friend, a desperate attempt to keep your head on straight.
Kneeling between his spread legs, the metal buckle of his belt clinks softly as you work it loose. You grab the zipper tab and glance up. “Lift your hips,” you instruct, sounding firmer than you feel. “Come on, big boy, I can’t do this alone! Help me out here.”
He obeys, arching up with a soft groan as you tug the jeans down his thighs. You kick them aside. His legs are bare now, strong and full of muscle. Your fingers hook into his underwear and you look up at him, heart pounding. "Jungkook... are you sure? Like one hundred percent?"
"Yes, yes, please, noona," he whines, cutting you off before you can ask again. "I need it. Need you."
Pulling the underwear down, his cock springs free. It’s big. It’s thicker than anything you’ve ever dealt with. The predator in you is screaming to take charge, to climb onto those massive thighs and ride him until neither of you can breathe.
The sweetness of his scent fills your nostrils, making you wonder if his heat is affecting you too. No. Control yourself. With a firm grip, you wrap your fingers around the base. He’s so thick your hand barely closes but you start pumping slowly, sliding your palm up to the head and back down, twisting a little at the top.
"Is this okay, Kook?"
Jungkook lets out a whine, his head falls back in pleasure. "Yes... yes!" he gasps, his hips bucking up into your hand.
You keep going, your thumb spreading the leaking pre over the head. "You're doing so good, Kook," you murmur, watching his face. "I'm going to take the pain away, okay? Just let me take care of you."
“Tighter, noona, please. Like that... oh God, yeah.”
He’s panting, breathing hard as he watches your hand move on him. "Fuck, don't stop," he moans, his hands gripping the couch arms. The curse slipping from his lips as you twist your wrist startles you. Jungkook never swears.
The heat must be frying his brain, stripping away that polite filter and leaving nothing but unfiltered need. It’s a side of him you’ve never seen, and it makes your own blood run hot. You speed up, your movements becoming more aggressive as you squeeze him tight.
"Noona!" he cries out. His body jerks as he cums in your hand.
He slumps back with his eyes closed, looking calmer, but when you glance down, your stomach flips. He’s still completely hard. His cock is twitching against your palm like that release didn't even happen.
“Are you kidding me?” you demand, letting go of him as you stare at the mess on your hands. “How long is this going to last?”
Jungkook blinks at you. “I don't know... it's my first time without the pills. With them, it's only one or two hours of discomfort. But like this... I have no idea when it’ll stop.”
He doesn't give you time to process what he just says, because he leans forward, his hands cupping your face and tangling in your hair. He pulls you in, his lips finding your neck, pressing kisses into your skin.
"More, noona," he begs, his voice muffled against your skin. "Please... it's not enough. I still need you. Don't stop now."
He keeps trailing kisses up your neck. You feel a warmth pooling between your thighs, your pussy aching, but you bite back any sound.
But as the weight of his hands and the heat of his mouth press against you, your mind begins to shift. You’re supposed to be just helping him out, but the physical touch and his scent are doing a number on you.
You decide right then that if you’re doing this, you might as well enjoy it too. You stop fighting the pull in your gut and let yourself get just as swept up in it as he is.
Still on your knees, firmly planted between his spread legs with your hands resting on his thick inner thighs, you pull back and meet his eyes. You’ve known him long enough to recognize that look, the one where he’s dying for something but is too shy to say it out loud.
"What do you want?" you ask. "I want to help you, Kook."
Jungkook's eyes drop to your body, then flick back up, his cheeks dark red. "More," he whispers.
"More of what?" You tilt your head as a small smile plays on your lips. “I can’t read your mind, Kook. I need you to tell me what you want.”
"More of you," he breathes, his hands fidgeting on your arms. “I want to see you, noona.”
You stare at him. Jungkook’s eyes are wide and a little desperate, like he’s asking for something he shouldn’t. It makes warmth curl low in your stomach.
You stand up slowly, your pajama shorts riding up your thighs. His eyes follow every movement. "Okay," you say. You grip the hem of your tank top and peel it off over your head, tossing it aside.
You hook your fingers under your bra straps, loosening them before reaching back to unclip it. "Like this?" you ask. You let the straps slide down your shoulders but hold the cups in place, teasing him. "Is this enough for you?"
Jungkook's face falls into a pout, his lower lip jutting out. "No... I want to see everything, noona. Please."
With a soft laugh, you let the bra drop and Jungkook goes still. His mouth parts in silence, his eyes locked on your chest before lifting back to your face, all googly-eyed and dazed.
"Do you like the view, Kook?" you ask, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.
"You have the prettiest tits," he breathes. "They're so perfect, noona."
Your face heats up at his compliment. You kneel back between his legs, wrapping your hand around his still-hard cock and start slowly dragging it from base to tip, over and over. "What do you want now?" you murmur. Your tits bounce gently with each stroke, and he can't tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the movement.
Jungkook’s gaze finally drifts up, leaving your chest to fix on your mouth instead, his lips parting slightly as he watches you. “Do you want my mouth, Kook? You want me to suck your cock?”
"Yes... yes, oh yes, please. Please, noona," he begs, his voice cracking as he looks up at you with wide, desperate eyes.
Leaning in, you part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth. Jungkook gasps sharply, his body jerking as if he's about to snap right then. "Ah!" His hips buck up, thrusting into your mouth. One hand flies to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands. "Noona, your mouth..." he whines.
You take him deeper. You slurp noisily, your free hand massaging his balls. His thrusts get messy, fucking your mouth with desperate snaps. His whole body tenses. "I'm, fuck! Noona, gonna cum," he warns. You pull off just as he's about to reach his climax. Jungkook whines, his hips chasing your mouth. "No, please! I was just about to–"
“Ah, ah,” you say firmly, shifting back just enough to look at him while adding, “I don’t trust you not to choke me because you're being way too aggressive.”
Shifting up, you press your tits together around his length and slide them up and down. You lean forward to lick at the tip. “You like that, don’t you? Such a horny bunny, fucking noona’s tits.”
“Yes... oh, yes.”
You smile, moving faster. Jungkook’s head throws back, a moan ripping from him as he climaxes. Hot ropes of cum shoot out, splashing all over your tits, coating your skin and dripping down into the valley in between.
You grip the base of his cock and drag the still-leaking tip over your nipples, smearing the mess across them. He's still hard, still twitching in your hand, refusing to soften even after all that.
Completely undone, Jungkook stays sprawled out, blinking up at you with nothing but adoration. "Thank you, noona... You're so good to me," he murmurs. "It felt so good..."
You, however, are far from fine, as your shorts are soaked through and you’re aching to be filled. You look down at yourself, then back at him.
“You really couldn't hold back, could you?” you tease, while you watch him try to catch his breath. “Look at the mess you made, Kook,” you murmur, gesturing to your chest where his seed is smeared over your skin.
His eyes follow your hand, staring at the marks of his release all over you. "Sorry, noona," he whispers, though he doesn't look sorry at all.
"Sorry won't buy you out of this one, little bunny," you say. You reach down and drag a finger through the mess on your skin, then bring it to your mouth to lick it clean while you hold his gaze. “What are you going to do about it?” you challenge, tilting your head.
Jungkook’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip. He catches his piercing between his teeth, giving it a tug as his eyes stay fixed on your chest. “Let me clean it,” he says.
“Oh? And how exactly are you going to do that?” You ask, smacking the tip of his cock against your tits. You let go of his length and plant your hands firmly on his thighs. “Tell me, big boy.”
“With my mouth,” he breathes while sitting up, his hands sliding to your waist to pull you closer. You weren't expecting him to be that direct as he adds, “I want to clean your tits with my mouth.”
With a soft chuckle, you move, climbing onto his lap and straddling those thick thighs. The moment you settle, his hard length presses firmly against your pussy, and the way he rubs against you through your shorts makes your blood boil.
Leaning forward, you press your breasts right over his face, offering them up. "What are you waiting for then? Be a good boy and clean noona's tits."
Mouth opening wide, he latches onto your nipple, tongue sweeping over the slick warmth coating your skin. Then back and forth between them, his face buried in your chest as he tastes you.
“Mmm, yeah,” you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair. “That’s it, Kook. Sucking my tits so well.”
Praise is like fuel to him. He whines into your flesh, his mouth working harder. His tongue moves in circles around the peaks to make sure he doesn't miss a spot. When he pulls back, you can see his lips glistening. “Do you like it, noona? Do you like how I'm cleaning you?” he asks with a trembling voice.
“Mmm. You're doing so good.”
He smiles, looking pleased with himself, and goes right back to your tits. As he feasts on you, his hips start to move, driving up and rubbing his hard cock against your clothed pussy.
You pull his hair tighter, forcing his face deeper into your skin while his hands slide from your waist to your ass, digging into your cheeks through the fabric as his hips keep grinding up into you. The angle shifts slightly, his cock dragging right against a spot that makes you moan loudly.
“Am I doing it right, noona?” he rasps as he looks up at you, thrusting up again. “Right there?”
“Yes, right there!” you sob, your body starting to shake as he keeps rubbing against that sensitive spot. “Just like that, Kook. Don’t stop.”
You start moving your hips in sync with him, grinding down hard to meet his moves while his fingers dig so deep into your asscheeks that you’re sure he’ll leave marks.
“You're so sensitive, noona,” he says before latching back onto your breast and sucking even harder. You scream as you climax, and a moan tears from his throat as he slams his hips up one last time before reaching his peak too.
Jungkook stays seated with you straddled over him, hugging you tight with his face buried in the crook of your neck while he tries to find his breath. You can feel the damp heat where his release soaked into your clothes.
"Are you feeling any better, Kook?" you murmur, asking even though you can still feel him stone-hard against your pussy.
"A bit," he rasps. "But... not much. It still feels like I’m lost in a fog."
You pull back to look him in the eye and see his pupils are still huge, looking at you with a stare so heavy with lust and something more that makes your heart hammer against your ribs.
“Aww, my poor bunny,” you coo softly.
His hands are locked onto your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as if he's afraid you'll vanish if he lets go. His eyes drop to your lips. "Noona," he whispers, looking incredibly needy. "Can I kiss you?"
Your brain short-circuits. "W-what?"
You can feel yourself blushing. It’s ridiculous. You’ve had his mouth on your tits for the last ten minutes but a kiss feels like a line you can't – you shouldn't – cross.
Once you find out how he tastes, there’s no going back. You won't be able to forget how his mouth feels, or how that lip ring feels against your lips. You're basically handing him the keys to ruin you if you agree to it.
"We– we can't, Jungkook," you stammer, your voice faltering as you scramble for a reason to say no. Even as your words stumble, every part of you is screaming yes. You’re aching to feel him closer, to kiss him, to let him have you. Your hands itch to reach for him, to pull him in. "I..."
"Please... please, noona. I want to kiss you. Why don't you want to kiss me?” He whines, his lower lip jutting out in a pout.
"I don't know!" you snap, your mind racing for an excuse.
Jungkook lets out a long, pathetic whine. He tugs you forward until your forehead is resting against his.
“If I don't kiss you right now, I think I'm going to explode. Just one. Please,” he pleads, looking up at you from under his lashes.
Your resolve crumbles. "Fine," you breathe. "Okay. Just one."
You lean in slowly and his hands slide up to cup your jaw, tilting your head. When you can feel his breath against your lips, you stop, but Jungkook doesn't. The distance shrinks until his lips finally crash against yours.
His lips are warm, soft, plump. The cool metal of his lip ring presses against your bottom lip, and he’s teasing it with his tongue, sucking gently, dragging it over your lips.
You can’t get enough. You want to melt into him, to drown in this moment.
Your shorts and his shirt feel like a barrier you don’t want there anymore. Every fiber of you aches to feel his skin against yours, to grind into him freely. You want to feel your skin against his.
If this is your last and only chance to have him, you’re going to make the most of it. You’ll deal with the consequences of a broken heart later; right now, you just need him.
You’ll deal with the consequences of a broken heart later, right now, you just need him.
Breaking the kiss, you grab the hem of his shirt, peeling it over his head and tossing it. Now, he's sitting there in nothing but that silver chain you got him for his birthday, and since you gave it to him you’ve never seen him without it.
The fabric falling away reveals his chiseled abs, slick with a fine layer of sweat. Messy from your fingers, he looks devastatingly handsome. You wish you could take a picture, frame it, and put it in your living room just so you could stare at this version of him every single day.
Shifting on his lap, you rub your pussy directly against his hardness, feeling the way he tenses beneath you. “Kook,” you breathe, nipping at his neck, “I want you inside me.”
Jungkook stiffens. He pulls back, his hands freezing on your waist.
“What? What’s wrong?” you ask, your brows furrowing. “Did I say something?”
“No! No, you didn't do anything wrong! It’s just that…” He pauses, his voice turning into a hesitant whisper. “Noona, I've never…”
You blink, stunned. Your brain stutters. No way… he can’t mean what you think he means, right?
“W-what? But I thought that with Sohee... I thought you two...”
Sohee. His ex-girlfriend. They dated for a while after meeting in his second year of college, and during that time, your "best friend" face was working overtime.
You didn't hate the girl, she was cool and nice, which almost made it worse, but you weren't about to be that cliché of the pining best friend trying to snatch a guy away from his girlfriend. You had way too much pride for that.
So, instead of sitting around moping, you went on a mission to distract yourself. It was a period of distraction, rebound after rebound with anyone who could take your mind off the fact that Jungkook was holding someone else's hand and kissing someone else's lips.
You spent every weekend out, waking up in different beds and trying to convince yourself that the variety was better than the one person you actually wanted.
You were trying to drown your feelings in a sea of nameless faces, and for a while, it almost worked. It definitely wasn't your proudest moment, and you’re still not a fan of how you handled it, but at the time, it felt like the only way to survive watching him be with someone else.
They broke up after half a year. Jungkook never wanted to talk about it and you respected his wishes.
“No,” he says nervously. “I... I mean, we never went that far.” He looks up at you.
“Kook, it’s okay,” you say softly, cupping his face. “We don’t have to go any further. I can still help you out with my hands or my mouth.”
You start to shift, moving to climb off his lap, but his hands snap back to your hips, pulling you down hard.
“No!” he gasps. “I want to! I really want to. With you.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you.”
He nods vigorously. “I’m sure. Please.”
You take a breath, trying to calm the pounding in your own chest. “Well, let me take these off first,” you murmur.
You stand up just long enough to slide your shorts and panties down your legs. Once you're bare, you climb back onto him, straddling his thick thighs. Your wet pussy presses directly against his length, and you both let out a moan at the contact.
"Noona," he gasps, his hands shaking as they find your waist. "You're so soft. You feel so good."
"You too, Kook," you whisper, leaning down to kiss him again. "Are you ready?"
He just nods.
You reach down and wrap your fingers around him, lining the blunt head of his cock up with your entrance. Jungkook’s hands are trembling where they grip your thighs.
“Noona, wait,” he gasps. He looks down at where he’s pressing against you, his face full of worry. “I don’t want to hurt you. Are you... are you sure you’re ready to take me?”
You don't even bother answering with words. Instead, you take his hand and press his fingers directly against your soaking wet folds so he can feel exactly how ready you are.
"You're so wet..."
"For you, Kook," you whisper, and as the words leave your mouth, his eyes widen. He looks at you like you’re the only anchor he has in the middle of this storm, his hands trembling where they grip your thighs. “I’m going to be fine. I promise.”
Slowly, carefully, you begin to lower yourself down.
Jungkook lets out a moan and you hiss as the stretch starts – he is so fucking big. It feels like he's going to split you in half, but it's a good ache, so you keep going until you've forced your body to take all of him.
You let out an involuntary whine once you're fully seated. Jungkook, who had been staring at the point where you’re joined, looks up at you, his entire body freezing.
“What? What’s happening? Did I hurt you?” He starts to lift his hips, trying to pull out, but you slam your hands onto his shoulders to keep him pinned.
“No!” you pant, your eyes watering slightly from his size. “You’re just... you’re so big, Kook.”
A bit of cocky pride crosses his face at that. You see the shift in his eyes and decide to bring him back to earth before his ego gets as big as his muscles. You lean down, nipping at his earlobe until he lets out a startled huff.
His hands are gripping the couch as if he’s about to rip the fabric. “I don’t know if I’ll last long, noona,” he confesses. “You feel too good.Everything feels too good.”
“I don’t care,” you encourage as you start to move. “Just enjoy it, Kook. That’s all that matters to me.”
You find a pace, bouncing slowly at first to let your body get used to his length. Jungkook can’t do anything but moan, his eyes fixed on the way your tits bounce with each movement of your hips.
Reaching down to grab his hands and press them onto your tits, making him groan as he immediately starts pinching your nipples. "That's it," you moan, arching into his touch, "play with noona's tits, Kook... you're doing so good."
"Like this?" he asks as he tugs at one nipple.
“Yes, yes!”
You keep up the pace while he works your nipples between his fingers. When you clench your inner walls around him, Jungkook's entire body suddenly stiffens. “Noona… ah… I… I’m… oh fuck…”
The heat inside you intensifies as you feel his release flooding you, and the base of his cock begins to swell, the knot expanding quickly until you are locked together.
“Oh,” he breathes, his eyes snapping open. His hands leave your tits, falling back to his sides. He looks down at where you’re joined, his face turning bright red. "Noona... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He keeps apologizing, looking absolutely devastated that it was over so fast.
You grab his face, making him look at you. “Kook, hey, look at me,” you say, stroking his hair away from his forehead. “It’s okay. Really.”
"Noona, this is so embarrassing," Jungkook blinks, his watery eyes searching for yours while he stays locked inside you. “I wanted to last. I wanted to be better for our first time together.”
"Shh," you whisper, thumbing away a stray tear because seeing him this upset is more than you can handle. "You don't have to apologize."
“But I wanted you to enjoy it,” he insists, his voice cracking with a mix of frustration and shyness while his chest heaves against yours.
“And I did Jungkook! I promise I did,” you reassure him, giving him a smile.
“But you didn't cum,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to where your bodies are joined, and you stay silent because there's no point in lying. “What can I do? Tell me what to do so you can feel like that too.”
“There’s no need, Kook,” you murmur, caressing his cheek and leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to his forehead while you try to pull him back into your space.
“Yes there is! I want to please you, noona.” He insists.
You smile at his stubbornness, taking his hand and guiding his fingers down between your bodies, pressing them right against your swollen clit. “Right here,” you whisper.
“Like this?” he asks, his touch tentative, careful. “Is this okay?”
“Mmm, yes,” you moan, letting your head fall onto his shoulder as he starts to rub. “Just like that, Kook. A little more pressure.”
He looks more confident as he watches your expression. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me.”
“You are,” you gasp when his thumb hits the spot. “You’re doing so good, Kook...”
He follows your lead. He works his thumb over you, watching your face while you melt. You move your hips again, feeling the pressure of the knot inside you.
It takes you by surprise when Jungkook leans in and latches onto your tit, drawing your nipple in. He sucks, his tongue swirling around while his thumb keeps rubbing your clit.
Your walls clamp down on his cock while you sob his name into his neck, your fingers digging into his shoulders and your voice breaking as the orgasm hits. You cry out for him not to stop, and Jungkook keeps his mouth on your breast, his thumb never stopping until you finally go limp against him.
"Was it good, noona?" he whispers against your skin, his voice sounding small and hopeful as he waits for your approval.
"It was perfect, Kook," you pant, trying to catch your breath while you melt into his touch. "You did so well."
The pressure of the knot finally starts going down, and as you look at Jungkook, he offers you a small, shy smile and reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.
As he gets a little smaller, you shift your weight to give him a break. But the moment you move, his length surges back to full strength inside you. You bite your lip. You might not actually survive the night if he keeps this up.
“Noona?” he rasps, his hands sliding to your waist to hold you in place. “Can we...” He pauses then, looking at you with a doubtful expression as if he’s afraid of asking for too much, before he finally whispers, “Can we do it again? It felt so good.” He leans in, pressing a series of kisses to your neck while murmuring, “I want to feel you more.”
You stare at him. You know bunnies have a reputation for high energy but this is borderline ridiculous. "Again?" you tease with a small smirk on your lips. "You're a persistent little thing, aren't you? Such a horny bunny."
Jungkook just nods and hums in response.
"Mmm," you whisper, "but we are moving to the bed. I am not letting you ruin my couch with any more of this mess."
You look at his hands on your waist, enjoying the sight of the big, buffed-up Jungkook begging you for more even though you know you shouldn't.
"And..." He pauses, biting his lip while looking surprised by his own request, but he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he asks, "Could I... can I be on top this time? Please?"
"Well, since you asked so nicely..." you murmur.
You slowly lift yourself off him. As you stand, you feel his release running down your skin. It’s a mess of thick, white streaks of his seed running down the insides of your thighs.
Jungkook watches the trail against your skin. His look shifts. Seeing his seed leaking out of you triggers something in him. He wants to put it back in, to fill you until you can't hold any more and plug you up with his cum.
He decides to keep the thought to himself, but his cock twitches.
You reach down, taking his large hand in yours, and tug gently. "Come on, Kook. Let's go," you murmur, guiding him toward the bedroom.
The walk to the bedroom is short. Your bed is a mess of pink cushions and soft blankets. The moment you reach the mattress, you let go of his hand and fall back onto the pile of pillows, making yourself comfortable.
“Come here,” you say, patting the mattress and offering a small, knowing smile.
Jungkook moves, crawling over you, pinning you down with his weight. He plants both hands at the sides of your head, his arms caging you in like he's making sure you can't go anywhere.
"Noona," he whispers. "Can I... can I kiss you again?"
“Mmm,” you breathe, tilting your head up and bringing your hands to his face, pulling him down to you.
“I need you,” he mutters against your lips.He begins to grind his hips. The hard, hot length of his cock rubs directly against your soaking pussy, and you can feel him twitching. “Please, noona... I need to be inside you so bad,” he whimpers, his hips snapping upward in a desperate attempt to get closer.
“You’re so impatient,” you tease, a laugh catching in your throat as you arch your back into him. “Is the big, bad bunny really that desperate? Are you going to be this whiny every time you want something?”
"Maybe," he gasps, his nose brushing against yours. “If it's you, then yes. Always.”
“You're lucky you're cute, Kook,” you murmur, watching him scramble for your approval. Sliding slightly on his lap, you let his hard length rub against your folds, teasing him just enough to make him squirm.
“I'll do whatever you want. I'll be so good, I'll do whatever you say.”
“Whatever I want... now that sounds like a good deal,” you murmur, trailing your fingers over the sharp line of his jaw. “Maybe I should make you wait just a little longer. Make you beg a bit more for it. You seem to be so good at it.”
Jungkook whines, grinding his hips even harder, the tip of him teasing your folds. He nips at your neck, hands roaming your body.
Every motion, every teasing brush of his cock against you, makes your pulse race faster. You want him inside you so badly, but seeing him beg like this makes it even hotter.
“I'll die, noona,” he groans. “I'll actually die if I'm not inside you right now.” He continues to whine, the tip of his cock poking at your folds. “I need to be inside your pussy.”
You look at him, your own heart slamming against your ribs. You can’t take the begging anymore, not when you’re aching just as bad as he is. “Put it in, Kook.”
“Thank you, noona... thank you,” he breathes.
He maneuvers his large hands to your hips, lining himself up and pushing in, sliding back into your heat in one thrust.
“Ah, fuck! Noona! Oh God…” The moan that tears from his throat is so loud you're sure your next-door neighbor heard it. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his entire body shaking as he feels you surround him again. “I… I can’t… So good”
“Move, Kook,” you whisper, your legs hooking around his waist to pull him deeper. “Move for me.”
He starts to pump his hips. As he moves, the silver chain around his neck drapes down, the metal dancing just above your eyes. You frame his face with your hands, your thumbs tracing his cheekbones as he leans down to press sweet kisses all over your cheeks and forehead.
“Is this okay? Does it feel good?” he asks, pushing deep.
“It feels amazing,” you reassure him,even though the slow pace is driving you crazy. “But I need it harder, Jungkook. Don't you want to please your noona?”
“I want to do everything for you,” he growls. His grip on your hips tightens until his knuckles are white. “I'll give you whatever you want.”
“Then fuck me harder.”
Jungkook shifts his weight, gripping your wrists and pinning them to the mattress, holding you completely still. His chest presses against yours, sweat slicking his skin, hair falling into his eyes as he leans in close. The silver chain around his neck swings with every slam of his hips, and your body arches instinctively, craving more of him.
He adjusts his angle, snapping his hips upward so perfectly it hits that spot inside you you didn’t even know could feel this good. "Yes! Right there! Fuck, Jungkook, yes!" you cry, fingers digging into the sheets.
Every thrust makes you shiver. His hands slide from your wrists to your sides, pressing down, making it impossible to move. You’re gasping, moaning, lost in the way he’s taking you.
“You like that, noona?” he pants. “Do you like how I'm fucking you?”
He grins against your skin, watching your body react, listening to your moans like they’re music meant only for him.
“Yes… fuck! I love it!” you cry out, your head thrashing against the pillow while you arch your back to meet him. “Harder, Jungkook! Harder!”
“I don’t want to hurt you, noona,” he rasps.
"I like a bit of pain, Jungkook. Don’t hold back." you whisper.
He bites his lip and he pulls almost all of himself out before slamming back in. Your walls clench around him. “Oh fuck… yes!”
He keeps going, pulling almost all the way out again, then smashing back in, harder this time. His cock hits so deep your stomach clenches. “Do you like it like this, noona?” he asks. “Does it feel good when I hit you this hard?”
"Yes, yes! God, Kook, it’s so good!" you sob, your fingers digging into the sheets. Since you’ve realized by now that he has a major praise kink, you lean your head back and cry out, “Your cock feels amazing, Jungkook! You’re so big...”
The words seem to electrify him, his pace becoming even more frantic as he tries to chase the high of your approval. “Really? I’m... I’m doing it right for you?”
You smile up at him, your hands sliding up his sweat-slicked chest to his shoulders as you murmur, “Mmm, Kook. The best I’ve ever had.”
“Better than Taehyung?”
The question catches you completely off guard, wondering how he could possibly know about your history with the tiger hybrid. You don't let the surprise slow you down, instead tightening your hold on his shoulders and looking him straight in the eyes. “Yes, yes... so much better than him, oh God!”
His answer is driving into you even harder. “I’m close,” he groans, letting go of your wrists to cup the sides of your face, pulling you into him. “Noona… I’m so close.”
“Me too, Kook,” you gasp, fingers tangling in his damp hair, your chest pressing into his as your own climax starts to overtake you.
He drives into you harder, each thrust sharper, faster, as if trying to memorize every inch of your body, until your muscles clamp down around him.
“Noona!” Your walls clench around him, and you both spiral over the edge together.
Jungkook collapses onto you, his weight pinning you to the bed, but he quickly recovers enough to roll the both of you over. He keeps you tucked against him, shifting until you’re draped over his chest.
The knot keeps him buried deep inside you, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you exactly where he wants you: filled and claimed.
Jungkook seems mostly like himself again. While you know the cycle isn't over yet, the release from the last few hours has granted him a window of clarity. He’s lying there, looking at you with literal googly eyes.
You reach out to run your fingers through his damp hair. The strands are soft, falling in loose waves thanks to that perm he’d been hesitant to try. He’d doubted it at first, worried it wouldn’t suit him, but you’d pushed him, told him it would make him look even more handsome. And damn, you were right.
“What?” you murmur with a tired smile tugging at your lips.
He leans into your touch, letting you tangle your fingers through the soft waves. “Nothing,” he answers. “Just... you're really pretty, noona.”
You huff a laugh, your cheeks warming. As the knot finally recedes, he slides out of you, almost soft now, but not quite. You know the heat is still humming under his skin, waiting for the next spike, but for now, the quiet is a relief.
A yawn stretches his jaw, and his eyelids begin to droop. The physical toll of the night is finally winning.
“Sleepy, Kook?”
“Mmh,” he grunts, already shifting.
He moves behind you, pulling you back against his chest. His thick, muscled arm drapes over your waist, his hand coming to rest firmly over your breast. “Can we sleep like this? I like having you close. I don't want to let go.”
“We can sleep like this, Kook,” you answer, settling back into him. "I'm not going anywhere.”
You can feel his half-hard length tucked between your asscheeks. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his nose brushing against the skin behind your ear.
Before sleep can claim you, you stare out at the shadows on the wall. You’ve crossed a line that’s been there for far too long. You’ve tasted your best friend, and you’ve let him see exactly how much you wanted him.
You feel him twitch against your back, the small jerks of his muscles telling you he’s already asleep. As Jungkook lets out a long sigh and tightens his grip on you, you push the thought away.
That’s a problem for future you to solve. Right now, you’re warm and you’re safe, so you let your eyes drift shut.
When you wake up in the dark, you feel Jungkook hands on your body, fingers rolling and pinching your puffy, swollen nipples.
His cock is rock-hard, dragging teasingly against your ass, twitching with every tiny movement. His breathing is shallow, his lips parting as he nuzzles into your hair.
“Kook?” you mumble, tilting your head toward him, a moan slipping out as he tugs at your nipple. “Back for more already… huh?” you tease, a lazy, sleepy smirk tugging at your lips.
“I… I can’t help it, noona,” he whimpers.
“You’re being so naughty, Kook,” you tease with a smirk tugging at your lips. “Waking up your noona in the middle of the night just because you're needy?”
He nudges his face into your hair, his grip on your waist tightening. “I tried to be good, noona. I really did. I tried to go back to sleep and leave you alone, but I’m dying. I can't stop thinking about how you felt. It’s all I can see when I close my eyes.”
“Oh, really?” you murmur. “My poor, tortured bunny. You spent all that time lying here wanting me while I was dreaming?”
Reaching back, your hand finds his hard cock, fingers wrapping slowly around his length as your thumb traces over the swollen head before tightening into a firm squeeze. “Is all of this for me, Kook?” you ask.
He looks so sweet like this, a massive man reduced to a pleading mess. “Everything is for you,” he answers, his voice trembling as he reaches out to pull you closer.
“Then tell me what you want,” you whisper, idly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
Shifting your weight, you guide him just enough for the tip to brush against your entrance, but stop there, denying him sliding inside. Instead, your hand keeps working on him with a firm grip, moving it slowly up and down his shaft.
“Go on,” you murmur softly. “Say it properly.”
“I want to fuck my noona,” he groans, his hands coming up to squeeze your tits as his hips twitch. “I want to feel you around me again. I want to stretch you open and bury myself in your pussy. I want to taste you too, noona. I want to eat your pussy until you’re screaming my name and then I want to fill you with my cum over and over.”
“Mmm? You want to do all of that to me? So greedy,” you murmur.
“I’m greedy for you, noona,” he pants. “I want to feel you all over me… I want to kiss every inch of you, taste you, hear you scream my name… I want to be lost inside you, noona, only inside you.”
You bite your lip, heart racing at how desperate he sounds.
“Just please, noona. Put it in. I need to be inside you.”
You move your hips, arching and opening up to give him what he wants, helping him put more of his cock inside you until you're completely filled.
A moan slips from your lips at the stretch. “God… Kook,” you whisper, your nails digging lightly into his shoulders, “that feels so good.”
Sinking his full length into your wet heat, he keeps his face pressed into the crook of your neck, his mouth pressing kisses against your skin as he pounds into you. His hips hit yours over and over, until you're both gasping.
“God, noona,” he groans, his hips moving in slow circles. “You feel so good. I can't get over how tight you are, you're so warm.”
At his words, you clench your inner muscles around him, pulling him even deeper.
He’s talking even more now. "I want to stay inside you forever," he mutters, his hand sliding down to find your clit. "I want to wake up with you still wrapped around me. I want to feel you gripping my cock all night long." He begins to grind his hips in slow circles.
"You talk so much when you're horny, Kook," you gasp, your head falling back against his shoulder as his thumb begins to work over your nub. "You're going to talk me into another orgasm if you keep going."
"I want to," he whispers and you feel his breath against your ear. "I want to hear you come just from my voice. I want to tell you everything I’m feeling so you know exactly what you do to me."
You turn your head slightly, catching his eye in the shadows. He looks at you with an intensity you can’t quite name, but he’s smiling at you with a softness that makes your chest ache.
"You're perfect," he whispers. You try to avoid thinking about those words and focus on him instead. "You're so good... you feel so good, noona. I never want to leave. I'm going to stay right here until the sun comes up."
He keeps thrusting, his movements getting faster and more aggressive as he leans over to kiss you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours.
"I'm close, Kook! Don't stop!" you cry out, your fingers digging into his forearms.
Jungkook only grits his teeth in response, driving into you even harder, his hips snapping against your ass with a loud, wet smack each time he thrusts forward.
A moan spills from your lips as your walls suddenly clamp down around him, your orgasm crashing through you. Jungkook follows almost instantly, burying himself as deep as he can as he fills you with his release. "Such a good boy, Kook. You did so well for me."
At the base, his knot begins to swell, slowly expanding until it locks the two of you together in the quiet dark.
Instead of pulling away, Jungkook simply wraps his arms around you, drawing your back tightly against his chest so he can keep himself buried deep inside you. He holds you there, anchored to him, his breathing gradually slowing as sleep begins to take over again, unwilling to let you go even for a second.
When you wake later, the sun is just starting to peek through the curtains. You can still feel the stretch of him inside you, but the moment you stir, Jungkook shifts behind you and finally pulls back.
You expected to feel relief after having him buried in you all night, but instead… it’s emptiness. You miss him. The way he fit inside you perfectly. God, what if you are addicted to this? To him? To the way he makes you feel?
"Morning, noona," he murmurs. His voice is raspy.
"What time is it?" you ask. But you don’t get an answer.
Jungkook grabs your hips and pulls you until you're flat on your back in the center of the bed. He crawls up your body, hovering over you with his arms braced on either side of your head as his eyes search for yours.
"You look so beautiful," he whispers, his thumb tracing your bottom lip with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. He smiles, "I don't think I ever want to let you out of this bed."
"I think I'm spoiling you too much, giving you everything you want." you say back, running your hands over his shoulders and down his back.
He chuckles softly, as he leans down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. His hand slides from your face down to your waist, pulling you close against him. "Can I..." He pauses, biting down on his lip ring as his gaze drops to the space between your thighs. "Can I eat you, noona? I’ve been thinking about it all night while you were asleep."
You bite your bottom lip, “Hmm… yeah” you murmur.
You watch him as he starts to move. He takes his time, keeping his eyes on yours as he leans down to kiss your tits. He swirls his tongue around your nipples, sucking the peaks into his mouth until you’re a moaning mess.
"Mmm, yes... so good, Kook," you moan. He smiles against your skin at the praise, his teeth catching and giving your nipple a playful bite. You let out a scream of pure pleasure at the sudden sting. "You told me you liked it rough, noona," Jungkook murmurs as he looks up at you.
“I did,”you breathe, arching your back toward him.
He moves lower, pausing at your hip. A smile tugs at his lips before he presses a kiss against the delicate star tattoo on your skin. He traces the points of the star with the tip of his tongue, then finally moves to kneel between your legs.
You’re swollen and soaked, his seed still coating your folds. Reaching out, Jungkook uses one finger to catch a stray drip of his cum and slowly pushes it back inside you.
"You took so much cum," he praises, his eyes locked on yours. His fingers curl around your hips to pull you just a little closer, "You're so good, noona. So perfect. I've been dreaming about doing this to you for so long."
You blink, wondering if you heard that right, but the exhaustion is making your brain too foggy to think.
"I want to please you. I want to make you feel as good as you made me," he whispers, and leans, pausing as he hovers just inches away.
You can feel his breath against your skin, but he seems a bit hesitant, his eyes darting to yours as you realize this might be his first time doing anything like this.
“It's okay, Kook,” you murmur, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair and gently tilting his head forward.
His tongue is hot as he licks from the bottom of your opening all the way up to your clit and captures it between his lips, sucking until your hips buck. "God, yes, just like that," you moan, your head hitting the mattress while you guide his movements with your hands on his head. "A little faster, Kook... you're doing perfectly."
He plunges two fingers inside you while using his other hand to spread you wide, keeping his mouth busy and licking and sucking at you until you’re writhing against the sheets.
"Yes! Fuck, Jungkook, right there!" you sob, your fingers digging into his hair. "Are you sure this is your first time?"
Jungkook pauses, his voice muffled. “I just want to make you happy, noona,” before diving back in with even more focus.
"You're such a talented little bunny, aren't you? Using that mouth so well." You pull his hair slightly, forcing him to look up at you while he’s still buried between your thighs. His fingers pumping quickly while his tongue never leaves your clit. "Yes! Oh my God, yes!"
Jungkook keeps lapping at your clit, his tongue relentless even as you start to climax. He ignores your weak attempts to push him away, his fingers driving into you deeper and faster until your thighs finally go still and you’re left shaking.
When he finally pulls back, he looks up at you, his face smeared and wet. He wears a look of immense pride, a smug, satisfied grin on his lips as he watches you try to find your breath.
After your orgasm, you finally find your voice. "Come here, Kook," you command.
He crawls up the bed to kneel by your head.
You look at his cock and reach out, wrapping your hand around the base before taking him into your mouth. You suck him slowly, keeping your eyes locked on his.
Not being able to take all of him from this angle, you just focus on the head, your tongue swirling around the tip while you pump him with your hand.
One of his hands goes to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. "Noona, your mouth feels so good," he groans. His other hand finds your breasts, taking turns at them, tugging at your nipples. His touch is confident now. His fingers slide lower, grazing over your swollen clit as he starts to rub.
You keep sucking but Jungkook suddenly grips your stops. "Noona... wait," he gasps. "I- I want…"
You pull back, your lips glistening. You lean in to lick the side of his length, looking up at him. "What do you want, Kook? Tell me."
He looks away. "I... I don't know..."
"Yes, you do. Don't lie to me," you tease. You drag your tongue slowly up the side of his shaft, making him jerk. "If you don't tell me what you want, I can't give it to you. Should we just stop?"
"No!" he gasps. "I want to be inside you. I want to feel you around me when I cum."
"Good boy," you whisper, giving his cock one last, slow lick before you let him go. You give him a quick kiss, before you shift onto your hands and knees.
The bed creaks as you crawl toward the foot of the mattress. You’re facing the window now, the first light of the sunrise catching your skin as you present your ass to him. You look over your shoulder, arching your back with a provocative little wiggle. "What are you waiting for, Kook? Come here and fuck your noona the way you like it. Or do I have to do everything myself?"
He doesn't need to be told twice. He lunges, settling behind you and claiming your hips with his hands. His fingers dig in and knead the flesh of your asscheeks, making you squirm against him. He grabs his cock and rubs the head against your slit, smearing your mess everywhere until you’re whining for it.
"You're getting awfully bold, aren't you?" you chide, glancing back at him with a lazy, teasing smirk. "Thinking you can just toy with me?"
"Sorry, noona…" he murmurs, almost sheepishly as he shoves his entire length inside you. You scream as he bottoms out. He pulls almost all the way out, then slams back in again.
"Do you want it harder?" he growls. "I'll give you everything you want."
You moan, surprised at how quickly he’s reading your body and how fast he’s catching every little thing that pleasures you. You can't help but wonder how he's managed to figure you out so effortlessly, as if he’s been studying you for years instead of just hours.
“Yes… yes!” Your fingers dig into the sheets, nails leaving little trails as your hips lift to meet him. "Harder, Jungkook! Fucking hit me harder!"
He obliges, pulling nearly all the way out and slamming into you with an explosive strength that steals your breath."Oh my fucking god, Kook! Yes!"
He hits that spot again until you swear you see stars. "Does it feel good, noona?" he pants. "Tell me it feels good."
"Yes!," you moan. "You're doing so good. Such a– fuck!" You’re cut off as he delivers a thrust so deep it hits your cervix. "Such a good bunny... fucking me so hard..."
He leans down, pressing his chest flat against your back. Your hands finally give up, and you have to lay your head against the mattress. "Am I being good? Am I doing it right for you?"
"You're being perfect," you sob, your head moving against the pillows. "So good... so big... fuck."
He gets bolder with every stroke. One hand leaves your hip to grab your tit, squeezing it hard while his breath burns against your neck.
"I'm going to breed you, noona," he whispers into your ear.
You know bunnies are pre-wired to breed, and even though you're on the pill, you want to give that fantasy to him. “Yeah?”
“I'm going to put so much seed in you," he says, his voice strained. "I'm going to fill you up, noona. I'm going to make you so full of me that you can't think of anyone else. You’re going to be mine. I'm going to knot you so deep you'll never forget how this feels."
He’s relentless, burying himself to the hilt over and over until you’re nothing but a shaking mess beneath him.
"I want to see you," he mutters. "I want to see your face when I fill you up."
After pulling out, he shifts and maneuvers you gently until he’s lying on his back, then pulls you onto his lap so you’re facing him. As you settle there, you slowly lower yourself onto him, taking your time until you finally bottom out and remain still.
You look at him, and for a second, the world feels very small. He looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists right now.
"You're so pretty," he whispers. “So pretty.”
His words come out in a way that makes you think it’s not just the heat talking. You aren't able to look him in the eye right now. It’s too raw, too real.
Suddenly hit with a wave of shyness, you duck your head and hide your face in the crook of his neck as you lean down to kiss him. You can feel him trembling beneath you, his heart hammering against your chest.
"Move, noona," he begs against your mouth. "Please move."
You begin to lift your hips, pulling up until he’s almost fully out, before slamming back down again. As you do, you watch his expression crumble, his eyes shutting while you control the way you slide against him.
He reaches for your tits, his mouth catching your nipple and sucking hard. You grab his hair, tugging his head closer to your chest while you ride him.
"I'm going to breed you," he growls again against your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before he adds, "I'm going to put my pups inside you, noona. I want to watch you swell with my seed until you're completely full of me."
"Yes, Kook," you pant, leaning down to his ear. "Breed me. Fill me up. Be a good bunny and put all that cum inside me."
"I will," he promises, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. "I'll fill you so full it'll be the only thing you feel. You're mine... only mine." He starts bucking his hips up to meet you, gasping, "Tell me you're mine! Say it, please!"
"Yes... yes, I'm yours! Oh, Kook, I love you so much! I love you! I'm yours!"
He loses what's left of his control. His hips slam upward, driving into you with everything he has. You climax first, but you keep bouncing. You’re exhausted, your legs are shaking, but you keep moving your hips.
A loud cry rips from him as he cums deep inside you, his knot swelling and locking you together. You can feel him shivering, and you can’t help yourself and lean up and press your lips to his.
Your fingers dig into his damp hair, tugging him closer, and you kiss him like you might lose him if you stop. You want him. You want all of him. Even now, even like this, you can’t get enough.
His arms are locked around your waist, holding you against his chest when his eyes suddenly clear as he snaps back to reality. He pulls back, his brow furrowing as he searches your face. "What did you say?" he whispers. "Right before... when we were..."
Your heart stops as you realize what you let slip in the heat of the moment. I love you.
"I– I didn't say anything!" you stammer. You immediately try to scramble off his lap, your hands pushing against his shoulders, but his grip on your waist is like iron. You’re locked in place, still physically connected to him. "Kook, let me up. We need to... we should probably–"
"I heard you," Jungkook interrupts. He doesn't let you budge an inch. "You said you loved me. You said it more than once."
“Forget it!” you snap. You cover your face with your hands, a groan of pure mortification escaping you. "Just forget it, Jungkook! I was... I was out of my mind. It was the moment! People say things they don't mean when they're–"
“You're going to blame the moment?" he asks, his eyebrows shooting up. "You forget I’m the one in heat, noona? My head is the one that's supposed to be messy, not yours.”
“Well, maybe it's contagious!” you fire back, desperate to find some ground to stand on. “Just... please, Kook. Let's just act like it didn't happen. We can go back to normal. We'll get breakfast and forget I ever opened my mouth.”
I fucked it up, you think, your mind spiraling. Twenty years of friendship down the drain.
"Why should I forget it?" he asks. There’s no mockery in his tone.
"Because it's complicated!" you cry, finally dropping your hands to glare at him through watery eyes. "Because we're best friends, you're in heat and I wasn't supposed to say that! It's a mess, Kook. I messed everything up and I–"
"You didn't mess anything up," he says softly while reaching up, his large hand cupping your jaw and forcing you to look into his eyes as he whispers, "Because I love you, too."
The air leaves your lungs in a rush. You stare at him, your mouth falling open. "You... you what?"
"Why do you think Sohee and I never went further?" he asks, a lopsided smile touching his lips.
"I don't know," you breathe. "You said you weren't ready, or that it didn't feel right..."
“It didn't feel right because it wasn't you,” he confesses as his thumb traces your cheekbone. “I tried, noona. I tried with her, and I tried with others after her, but I couldn't do it. I'd be with them, and my brain would just shut down. My body literally wouldn't let me. I couldn't even stay hard for them because every time I closed my eyes, I was looking for you. I couldn't stand the thought of giving this part of myself to anyone who wasn’t you."
As he says those words, Jungkook searches your face for any sign of rejection while his heart beats like it’s going to come out of his chest. It’s a lot to process, realize how much time you both wasted being afraid.
"When I noticed I'd forgotten the suppressants, I panicked and called Jimin," he admits, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. He was the one who told me to stop being a coward and just go to your house. I was terrified, noona, but I knew it was the only place I wanted to be."
"That little traitor," you murmur with a small, breathless laugh, and even though you're calling him out, you make a mental note to send him a ball of yarn or whatever cat hybrids like as a thank you, before shaking your head and adding, "I can't believe he set us up like that."
"I'm glad he did," Jungkook whispers, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "I love you. I really do."
You’re trembling now, reaching up to tangle your fingers in the silver chain around his neck and pulling him closer until your noses brush. "You're serious? You're not just saying that because your hormones are doing things on you?"
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," he vows, leaning in to kiss you deeply. You kiss him back, your heart racing as you finally let yourself melt into him, and he murmurs against your lips, "I love you, noona."
"I love you too, Kook," you answer, and start moving your hips again. His hands slide down to grip your ass, pulling you firmly against him while you wrap your arms around his neck to keep him close, the silver chain cold against your skin as it swings between your bodies.
He leans in to kiss you again. "And…I'm sorry about... everything I said before," he mutters, looking at you. “About breeding you. My head just went completely crazy for a second. I didn't mean to go that far.”
You let out a laugh, leaning forward to nip at his earlobe while your hips keep their slow, torturous grind. “Don’t be sorry,” you whisper against him, teasing, “Mmm… maybe not right now, Kook, but someday… who knows? You might just get your wish.”
warnings: smut (minors do not interact!), oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex (f/m), intense mutual yearning and vulnerability, depressive undertones, angst
an: this one is for those who have ever felt like the world is generous to you with nothing but solitude.
Shards of diamond bright stars pierce Seoul's obsidian sky, their cold light drowning in the city's neon glow. Jungkook leaves his window open, it is not a choice, but rather a necessity. He stares at his ceiling, counting seconds until the hunt begins. Another night, another feast of fears.
Darkness claims him with a lover's embrace. Seoul's infamous nightmare eater surrenders to sleep, his consciousness already splitting at the seams. A traitorous thought whispers: what if tonight will be different.
But it won’t. Reality fractures and he watches his mortal shell from above: a sight that still unnerves him after so many years. Two versions of one being: the peaceful sleeper below, the predator above. His ethereal form sneers at its human disguise. He observes his sleeping form with dark amusement. Such innocent appearance, such deadly truth. With serpentine grace, he slides through the window into the night's waiting arms. The night was young.
His humanity dissolves, leaving only hollow echoes where warmth once dwelled. He exists between heartbeats now, a creature born of twilight and shadow. They call his kind Dream Eaters - night's elite hunters. He doesn't waste time with sweet dreams; terror is his sustenance. Each nightmare consumed fills the endless void within, a momentary relief for an immortal hunger. True sleep eludes him now. Instead, dusk shatters his being like black ice, releasing his hunting self into the dark.
Seoul spreads beneath him, a fever dream in concrete and steel. Skyscrapers rise like obsidian monoliths, their windows gleaming with artificial souls. In their depths, forgotten screens pulse with electric prayers, while he glides past - a phantom in this vast urban wilderness that still hasn't discovered his true name, even after countless nights of feeding.
Like a shadow made of stardust, he dances across Seoul's skyline, his ethereal form weaving between moonlit spires and rain-slicked rooftops. The city breathes beneath him, each exhalation carrying whispers of secrets too delicate for mortal ears. In his wake, silence blooms, the rich stillness of midnight possibility.
Night after night, he slips into dreams uninvited yet inexorably summoned. These sleeping minds call to him like sirens, their fears pulsing like dark beacons through the city's unconscious web. He moves between them with practiced grace, a thief of terrors, collecting their darkness like black pearls.
The nightmares he finds are symphonies of fear, each uniquely haunting. Here, a father's dream crystalizes into gray horror: baby's breath turned to cinders. There, a bride-who-never-was wanders an infinite gallery of white gowns, each mirror reflecting a different life unlived. A child runs through corridors of betrayal, pursued by a mother's face worn like a mask by something ancient and hungry.
Some dreams twist reality until it snaps: vast oceans swallow the sky whole, wolves with mirror-glass eyes hunt through endless forests, smiles split open to reveal universes of teeth. Each nightmare carries its own signature of dread, and each feeds him differently- sending electric shivers through his being, temporarily filling the endless void within.
Yet this beautiful, terrible dance leaves him hollower with each performance. The feast brings no joy, only momentary relief from an hunger old as starlight. In the quietest hours, when the city holds its breath, he questions whether he has become the very nightmare that haunts other nightmares- a shadow feeding on shadows.
Though neither mercy nor comfort fall within his nature, he continues his eternal duty as a void that consumes the dark.
In the waking world, he is barely there- an outline at best, a quiet presence with a heartbeat too soft to echo. His voice, when used, never quite fills a room. His laughter, when forced, folds in on itself before it reaches the walls.
His sanctuary lies behind walls of code and LED glow, where ones and zeros don't ask questions. IT specialist: the perfect camouflage for someone who exists in binary- human by day, nightmare-devourer by night. Here, in this digital cocoon, the absence of human connection isn't loneliness- it's salvation.
Jimin shows up sometimes, arms full of takeout and stories that move faster than time itself. Taehyung lounges on his couch like he owns it, flipping through half-read books Jungkook never finished. Jin nags him to open the windows and let light in. Yoongi doesn’t say much, but when he does, it lands heavy- sharp and unafraid. Hoseok once cried laughing on Jungkook’s kitchen floor after too much wine. Namjoon leaves poems folded in the spines of Jungkook’s abandoned notebooks, like quiet offerings to whatever ghost he’s become.
He’s grateful for them- a bittersweet anchor to reality- but even in their presence, he feels like a thread unraveling just beyond the edge of fabric. They don’t ask why he’s always tired, always pale, always late in answering, because they know better than to push. Still, none of them understand the weight he drags through each day, the way his hands tremble when someone mentions a dream too vividly.
The thought of accidentally stumbling into their dreams haunts him like a shadow he can't shake. Because what if- what if one night he sees Namjoon trapped beneath dark waters, lungs filling with infinity? Or finds Jimin screaming silently behind walls of glass that won't break no matter how hard he pounds his fists against them? Or watches, paralyzed, as Taehyung runs through endless corridors of flame, feet leaving burning footprints in his wake? He simply couldn't.
Sometimes, in moments when the night feels particularly heavy, he whispers desperate prayers to deities who've long since stopped listening, begging them to keep his friends' dreams far, far away from his hunger.
Reality slips through his fingers like smoke these days, all gossamer-thin and just as substantial. The walls breathe shadows, rooms fold in on themselves. Time stumbles forward in awkward lurches, dragging its feet across calendar pages that mean nothing anymore. The windows collect fog like secrets, exhaling quiet confessions into the dawn. His journals - half-burned, because some truths are too heavy to keep whole- gather dust in corners where light fears to tread. And that mirror in the hallway? It only remembers his face if he stares long enough to make it nervous, catching glimpses of himself like static between channels.
The only thing that ever feels real is the ache beneath his ribs followed by the loneliness: faithful shadows that never leaves.
And the slow, exquisite agony of wearing humanity like an ill-fitting coat.
It begins like breathing - not the shallow gasps of the living, but that bone-deep exhale when your body finally remembers how to let go. The surrender comes easy now, practiced as a prayer, inevitable as nightfall. His consciousness unspools like silk in water, each thread of reality slipping loose until he's floating free of flesh and bone and all those heavy human things.
The city cradles him in her concrete arms as he rises, weightless as midnight fog. Through layers of rust-worn pipes and grief-stained walls he drifts, each molecule of his being singing that ancient song of untethering. Seoul stretches below like a tired goddess, her neon veins pulsing dim beneath a blanket of shadow, her streets winding like whispered secrets. The streetlights flicker their morse code confessions to no one, while towers pierce the darkness like broken teeth, watching with eyes gone dull from seeing too much.
He drifts aimlessly through the night, a moth drawn to the flickering flames of human fear. It's funny, really, how terror became his true north- the only compass that ever made sense anymore. Because fear? That's the sweet poison that keeps his kind alive, the dark nectar they trade in whispers and shadows.
The night unfolds like delicate origami, each dream a different shade of darkness. First comes a whispered tragedy: woman dreams of her mother's voice echoes through a phone's dead silence, each unanswered scream carving valleys of helplessness into her soul. Then, a nightmare painted in motion - man’s caught in an infinite loop of terror, hands white-knuckled on a steering wheel that won't save anyone, least of all the child who keeps appearing in his headlights like a recurring heartbreak. And finally, there's the boy who could be a metaphor for longing itself, standing before an eternally closed door while flowers wilt and die in his grasp, hope rotting petal by petal in time-lapse agony.
He moves through dreams like a ghost through fog - quick, quiet, taking only what he needs to survive. Never lingering. Never looking too long at the faces of those whose fears he consumes. The moment that hollow ache inside him dulls to something bearable, he's already fading away, a shadow slipping between minds like smoke through fingers, nameless and untraceable as midnight itself.
And then your presence washes over him, unexpected and unmistakable in the dark. You are beautiful, he thinks, and the thought flutters like a trapped bird in his chest before he crushes it between his ribs. Dream eaters aren't meant for love, aren't built for the delicate dance of attraction. They consume fear, devour nightmares - they don't yearn for the very souls they feed upon.
It hits different this time. There's no screaming terror clawing at his consciousness, no desperate siren song of fear pulling him in. Your dream? It's barely a whisper, soft and hesitant like the ghost of a first kiss, tugging at something deep in his chest that he thought he'd buried years ago. And gods, isn't that the most terrifying thing of all?
The dream unfolds like an old photograph bleached by time - a street stretching endlessly into nothing, all washed-out greys and misted edges. Faceless figures move in perfect, terrible synchronization, their bodies flowing like water around invisible obstacles. There's something deeply wrong about the way they move, each step too precise, too rehearsed. Their features are smudged away by sleep's careless hand. They march onward, an army of beautiful emptiness, never breaking stride, never glancing down.
And then he sees you, a lonely figure kneeling in the heart of this indifferent choreography. The world spins madly on around you- a blur of faceless bodies moving in their perfect, terrible dance- but you remain still, an island of grief in an ocean of motion. Your hands- trembling like autumn leaves in a storm- cradle something (someone?) in your lap, the weight of it pressing crescents into your palms. A body, maybe, though the face is blurred into nothing, like your mind couldn’t bear to fill in the details.
He lingers at the edges of your dream like a half-formed thought, wrapped in shadows. He shouldn't care- you're just another dreamer, another midnight soul crying out in the dark. But here he is, watching the way grief pools in your hands like liquid silver, listening to the way your voice breaks around words meant for Death's ears alone.
"I'm here... I'm trying..." Your voice catches, breaks, shatters like glass in your throat. "please just- please wake up."
Your hands move with the desperate rhythm of someone trying to hold water, pressing against the faceless form again and again and again. Each motion is a prayer, each touch a plea bargaining with whatever gods might be listening. You're begging for warmth, for breath, for any sign that this horror cradled in your lap isn't as permanent as it feels. But the figure remains still, already dissolving. The crowd around you moves faster now, a tide of indifference with undertow teeth. Their gazes slide past you like oil on water, heads tilting just enough to say: we saw you fail, and we'll remember.
Jungkook can't help but lean closer, magnetized by something raw and familiar in your expression that makes his chest ache in ways he doesn't have words for. There's no panic painted across your features, no desperate thrashing against fate's cruel hand. Just pure, crystalline despair - the kind that settles in your bones like an old friend. He recognizes it instantly: the hollow resignation of someone who's danced this dance before, who knows with certainty that they'll waltz with failure again until the universe finally tires of their stumbling steps.
The colors begin to fade. That’s how it always goes, dreams eroding at the edges once the fear peaks, once the ending arrives. He's about to retreat into the safety of shadows, into the familiar dance of watching-but-never-seen, when something impossible happens.
Your head lifts, eyes finding him with unerring precision through the crowd - not searching, not begging the universe for mercy, but piercing straight through every careful barrier he's built, through the ancient veil between watchers and dreamers. Your gaze meets his with the quiet certainty of a key sliding home, soft as a secret yet steady as truth, seeing him with a clarity that defies all the rules that were ever written.
Jungkook stills.
His breath catches in his throat like a half-formed prayer. His body freezes mid-existence, every particle of his being suspended in perfect, terrible stillness. Because this? This is wrong. Impossible. This breaks every rule written in stardust and shadow.
Dreamers don't see Dream Eaters - it's the first law of their twisted existence, carved into the bones of reality itself. He is meant to be nothing more than a whisper between heartbeats, a shadow's shadow, the thief that slips between dreams like silk through trembling fingers. But your eyes don't look away.
“I’m sorry,” you say, the words barely above a whisper. “I really wanted to help. But I couldn’t. I guess I’m not good enough.”
And with that the dream shatters. Like a mirror hit with reality's sledgehammer. Reality folds like wet origami, space and time collapsing into themselves with the grace of a dying star. The sound doesn't just stop, it un-becomes, each frequency turning to static before dissolving into the void. Gravity forgets its own name, light breaks its promises, and the whole world turns itself inside out like a glove made of nightmares.
And Jungkook wakes.
He bolts upright in a body that suddenly feels too small for him. His breath comes in sharp, broken waves. The room around him doesn’t make sense for several long moments.
The digital clock's red glow illuminates 03:41 as moonlight streams through the perpetually open window, the silence broken only by his thundering heartbeat. His throat constricts as the impossible reality sinks in - dreamers aren't supposed to see Dream Eaters, yet you had not only seen him but acknowledged his presence with an apology that now echoes through his mind.
And he can’t even fall back to sleep now as his body and mind feel fully recharged for the first time in…years?
What the hell even happened and who are you?
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
Daylight always arrived like a mistake in Jungkook’s world.
It slipped in sideways through the window, pale and apologetic, illuminating the floating dust and the edges of his too-quiet apartment. He lay there for a long time, not moving, watching the ceiling blur and sharpen as his vision shifted, over and over again. The sheets clung to him like a second skin, damp with the sweat of something he couldn’t name.
Your voice had followed him into waking. ‘I really wanted to help.”
His chest ached like he’d run miles in a body he hadn’t worn right in years. His limbs felt heavier than usual, but it wasn’t the familiar hunger. It was something deeper. Something quieter. A seed of longing lodged beneath his sternum, pulsing.
When he finally sat up, it was with the dazed caution of someone who’d witnessed a miracle and didn’t trust himself to speak of it aloud. The morning passed in a blur - coffee untouched, the hum of his computer ignored, a dozen emails blinking like signals from a world he no longer felt part of.
By noon, desperation overruled disbelief. He sat cross-legged on the floor, laptop glowing in the dim cave of his living room, typing with fingers that trembled too much to be steady.
dreamers seeing things in dreams?
lucid dreaming hallucination?
can dream figures see you back
person spoke to me in dream is it real
can people share dreams??
dreamwalking
spiritual visitation
ancient dream lore
Each query returned pages filled with contradictions and crystal shops. Forums full of strangers comparing stories of sleep paralysis and shadow men, Reddit threads dissecting shared hallucinations and “astral projection for beginners.” The phrase Dream Eater brought up one anime character, a few urban legends, and a horrifying deep-sea fish.
Each search result felt like chasing smoke - close enough to see but too insubstantial to grasp. None of it rang with resonance of truth, that quiet certainty that whispers "here, finally, are the answers you seek." How could it, really, when his entire existence was a footnote in reality's margins, a story written in invisible ink between the lines of what most people called "normal"? Still, he had to try. Had to know. The soft click of the laptop closing felt like admitting defeat.
But the memory of your eyes finding his through that veil of unreality haunted him like a half-remembered lullaby. You had seen him and that impossible fact echoed through his mind.
For the first time since forever, his thumb hovered over the cursed group chat icon.
[Jungkook]: anyone wanna hang out tonight?
[Jin]: the prophecy.... it's happening
[Taehyung]: screenshots or it didn't happen
[Hoseok]: HELLO??? WHO IS THIS AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH OUR HERMIT
[Yoongi]: squints suspiciously in elder
[Namjoon]: hold up let me check if hell froze over
[Jimin]: do we bring wine or whiskey
[Jimin]: omw with Both because this is clearly an emergency
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
By seven, they arrived- five different energies orbiting his living room like planets around something newly magnetic.
Jimin swept in with enough takeout to feed an army and Taehyung materialized with his camera (because god forbid a moment go undocumented) and approximately one hundred and one questions burning holes in his tongue. Hoseok didn't just enter - he arrived, carrying sunshine in his pockets like it was spare change. Jin brought his particular flavor of chaos wrapped in sarcasm and perfect timing. Yoongi slipped in like a shadow with eyes that read novels in the spaces between words. And Namjoon brought books he forgot to give back two years ago and didn’t mention it.
And they all brought their eyes: wide and curious. Like they were witnessing the birth of something rare and wild and wonderful.
“You look… different,” Jimin said, biting into a tangerine like he was studying Jungkook instead of the fruit.
“Yeah,” Taehyung added, leaning in with narrowed eyes. “You sleeping now or what? The purple zombie rings are gone.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes, though a quiet thrill climbed up his spine at the idea that maybe, just maybe, something in him had shifted enough for them to notice.
“Must be lighting,” he muttered, sinking deeper into the couch.
“Oh, he bites now.” Jin gasped. “Our boy’s got fight in him again.”
There was laughter. Real, echoing warmth. For the first time in ages, Jungkook didn’t feel like he was watching through glass. He spoke and laughed, carelessly. He accepted the second drink and let himself answer questions without flinching. And for a few minutes, the ache inside his chest dimmed, dulled into something almost human. But beneath the buzz and the hum, the stories and the teasing, something itched.
You weren’t there. He needed to try again. Not to see you. Not to hold you. Just… for research. Just to know whether it was a fluke. A misfire. A one-time glitch in a cursed existence.
"Hey," he said, halfway through Jin's story about a botched blind date, "hypothetically…how would you find someone if you only knew their face?"
The silence stretched for exactly 0.3 seconds - just long enough for his words to sink into their collective consciousness.
And then, like a dam breaking under the weight of six years' worth of pent-up matchmaking energy, chaos erupted: “You met someone?”, “Wait, is this about a girl?”, “Who is she? What does she look like?”, “Oh my God, finally!”, “Is she real, or one of your AI clients?”
Jungkook tried to look annoyed, but the heat in his cheeks betrayed him. “She’s just someone I saw… briefly,” he said, and it wasn’t a lie.
Jimin leaned in. “Where?”
Jungkook blinked, the weight of their expectant stares pressing against his skin like static electricity. The truth sat heavy on his tongue, a leaden thing threatening to spill past his lips. "Somewhere near... Jongno," he managed, the lie tasting like copper. It wasn't completely false. "I think."
"You should go back," Namjoon offered with that gentle wisdom of his, like he was suggesting something as simple as retracing steps to find lost keys. "If it was fate or whatever, maybe it'll happen again."
He nodded mechanically, swallowing back a laugh that might have come out too bitter. Fate? No, this was something else entirely - something written in the spaces between sleeping and waking. This was you.
They didn't know. And this should always stay like that. The truth was a luxury he couldn't afford, not when it meant risking the warmth in their eyes turning to horror. Not when it meant watching their smiles crack like porcelain hitting concrete. Better to keep this cursed existence locked behind his sleep deprived eyes where it belonged, where it couldn't hurt anyone but himself.
But after they left- after the dishes were cleaned and the last echoes of laughter faded into memory- he found himself drawn to the window like a moth to streetlight, watching Seoul's fog paint poetry across the skyline in shades of maybe.
His reflection stared back at him, a ghost caught between worlds, and wasn't that just perfectly fitting? Because how do you find someone who exists in the space between sleeping and waking? How do you trace footprints left in dreams?
You looked at his cursed existence and didn't turn away. The fog crawled closer, wrapping the city in its gentle suffocation, and he pressed his forehead against the cold glass. The worst part wasn't the not knowing. It wasn't even the ache of remembering.
No, the worst part was the quiet voice in his head whispering: what if that was it? What if that single moment of being truly seen was all he'd ever get?
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
The next few nights unfolded like a punishment disguised as routine. Jungkook slipped into the dark as he always had, body hollowed out and spirit stretched thin, the hunger beneath his ribs pulsing like it had a voice of its own. But tonight? Tonight wasn't about feeding on fear. Tonight was about finding you.
Never in his years of navigating dreamscapes had he been picky about whose nightmares he consumed. Before you, he'd been content to drift through the dark like some cosmic vacuum cleaner of terror, taking whatever scraps of fear the universe saw fit to give him.
But now he moved through dreams like a lovesick ghost, all his usual grace replaced by desperate yearning. Each mind he touched was just another disappointment, another "sorry, wrong nightmare" in his endless search for you.
A boy dreamed of being trapped in a theater where the seats whispered his secrets aloud. A woman dreamt she was back in her wedding dress, but the aisle stretched endlessly, her legs frozen mid-step. A faceless man sprinted down a corridor made entirely of mirrors, each one showing his worst mistake on loop.
He fed, but it was a hollow thing. Like trying to fill an ocean with raindrops. His essence ghosted through their nightmares as he searched their unseeing faces for something. Recognition? A glimpse of what you'd given him? But their eyes slid past him, unseeing and unknowing.
And wasn't that just the way of things? The natural order he'd accepted since forever? He was meant to be unseen, unnoticed - a shadow between heartbeats, a whisper between worlds, the thing that makes you question whether that nightmare was real or just another bad dream.
So why had you looked right at him and seen straight through to his core?
The ache followed him into daylight like a particularly clingy ghost, settling somewhere between his ribcage and his common sense. It wasn't just hunger anymore, this was yearning - and isn't that just the most inconvenient thing for a nightmare eater to catch?
So he did what any sleep-deprived supernatural being would do when faced with emotions: something absolutely ridiculous.
The notebook emerged from its tomb of tangled cables like some ancient artifact, blank pages accusingly white. The pencil felt wrong in his hands, like trying to hold onto stardust or catch morning fog in a jar.
He tried to draw you. And it was a foolish idea for someone whose artistic peak was stick figures in middle school. But how do you capture the way someone's soul looks when it's breaking? How do you sketch the sound of a voice that doesn't shake even when the world is falling apart?
The first attempt looked like something between a sleep paralysis demon and a badly photographed ghost. Your jaw came out looking like it belonged in a geometry textbook and your eyes were all wrong, missing that galaxy of sadness he'd seen. The mouth was either too soft or too harsh, never quite the perfect paradox he remembered.
But he kept going: page after page, like some possessed art student during finals week. It wasn't about getting it right. It was about holding onto that impossible second when warmth and sorrow danced together in your eyes, when your voice carried steel wrapped in silk, when your apology felt like a key turning in a lock he didn't know existed.
The final result looked less like a portrait and more like someone had given a pencil to a particularly emotional rain cloud. He stared at it, tasting failure like burnt coffee on his tongue, and wondered when exactly he'd lost his mind.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
Then, four nights later, the universe shifted on its axis. The feeling hit like a punch to the soul - not the usual gnawing hunger, but something electric. Something that made his phantom form vibrate like a tuning fork struck against destiny. The very air seemed to bend around him, dream-light filtering through reality's cracks in that impossible shade of lilac that screamed you.
He moved like a man possessed through the dreamscape, muscle memory pulling him across a city that existed only in shadow-space. Past landmarks that belonged to no waking map: a metal spire wearing its rust like a crown of thorns, obsidian rooftops with their hearts of green glass, a water tower that sang silence into the void.
And there you were.
You looked different in this light - clearer, sharper, like someone had wiped fog from a mirror. He watched you with the kind of intensity that would've been criminal in daylight, cataloging every detail like a drowning man counting his last breaths.
God, I'm literally stalking someone through their dreams, he thought, and the realization should've tasted like shame but monsters don't get to play by human rules, do they? And that's what he was now - something that lived in the spaces between heartbeats, feeding on fear like others fed on bread. So maybe this wasn't an obsession at all. Maybe this was devotion with teeth.
He stepped forward, and reality bent. The dream opened its arms like a lover welcoming him home, and he fell into your nightmare like he was always meant to be there.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
He feels it in his bones before his eyes catch up - that telltale whisper of wrong that makes the dream-edges curl like burning paper. Not because anything looks off. But because nightmares are patient things, content to wait until the perfect moment to shatter your happiness into glass.
The lights hit him like a physical thing, a cascade of stark white that makes his world spin sideways for a heartbeat. The air practically vibrates with sound - thunderous applause that seems to shake the very foundations of this dream-space, making reality tremble at its seams. His fingers part heavy velvet curtains just enough to see.
There you are, bathed in spotlight like some ethereal being stepped straight out of a fairytale. Silver and gold paint you in glory as you stand among your fellow dancers, clutching flowers like they're made of starlight. Your smile is soft and wide as you wave to the faceless crowd. Their features are a blur- a sea of mouths and hands and sound- but their adoration is unmistakable. The stage is yours.
And Jungkook forgets how to exist for a moment. Because you're not just beautiful, you're incandescent. Free. The weight of the world has slipped from your shoulders and left pure joy in its wake.
His heart stutters in his chest as he watches you spin across the stage, accepting another armful of flowers with a laugh that could make flowers grow in winter. Your happiness is a living thing, spilling from every movement, every gesture, until you're practically glowing brighter than the stage lights themselves.
This isn't fear or darkness or anything close to a nightmare. For a heartbeat, a dangerous sort of hope unfurls in his chest - what if the rules have changed? What if whatever cosmic force lets him devour nightmares has finally decided to let him taste sweeter dreams too?
Something shifts in the air like a record scratch in slow motion, like the moment before a glass hits concrete. A shiver crawls down his spine with icy fingers, and there's that familiar weight settling behind his ribs, cold and heavy as a tomb.
The applause warps, twisting into something wrong, something hungry. It's too sharp now, too insistent, like a thousand hands clapping in perfect, terrible synchronization. The lights stutter and snap, a violent morse code of white-hot panic. And the audience? Their faces blur and stretch like melting wax, features running together until they're nothing but a grotesque sea of emptiness. Then, cutting through it all like a knife through silk, a voice:
"Get off that stage." The words slice through the dreamlight like shattered glass, and then she materializes - all sharp angles and barely contained rage, heels striking the floorboards. She's a storm in human form, fury written in every line of her face, and when she reaches for you, her fingers are iron bands around your wrist.
"Mom, stop!" Your scream tears through the air, raw and desperate, but she's unmovable as marble.
The scene fractures - dancers reaching with helpless hands, voices rising in a desperate chorus. "Mrs. Y/L/N, don't take her away!" someone pleads into the chaos. "She has a god-given talent- please!"
But she might as well be carved from stone, deaf to everything but her own determination as she drags you backstage. Your sobs echo off the walls like broken music, and Jungkook follows because gravity itself couldn't hold him back now.
The dream twists and writhes around both of you, corridors sprouting like dark veins lined with ghostly posters and mirrors that reflect nothing but shadows. You're fracturing at the edges, voice splintering like crystal as you stumble in her wake, and something in Jungkook's chest aches with an intensity that threatens to tear him apart.
"Why?" Your voice breaks like shattered dreams. "Why are you destroying everything I've worked for?"
"A doctor,"she spits the word like venom, her grip a steel trap around your wrist. "That's what you'll be. This little... Dance fantasy? It dies. Tonight."
And your heart shatters. The sound of it must echo through the dreamscape because your next words come out raw, bleeding, "Please, I can't! I won't survive there. Don't make me live inside someone else's story, please, I'm begging you!"
"Your grandfather's deathbed wish," she wielded the words like a blade, each syllable precise and cutting. "Or did you forget? Did you think you could trade his legacy for…What exactly? Spotlights and pirouettes?"
The word “grandfather” hits you like a physical blow. Your soul folds in on itself like a dying star, grief and guilt gravitational forces too strong to escape. Your sobs aren't just sound anymore - they're poetry written in pain, each breath a verse of despair.
That's when Jungkook materializes from shadow and starlight, his presence suddenly solid as truth between worlds.
"Enough." Just one word, but it does the work. He moves like darkness given form, placing himself between you and her like a shield. And suddenly your dream bows to his will and your mother dissolves.
Reality bends. The backstage dissolves into the empty stage, now a hollow cathedral of shadows. You're there, crumpled on the floor like a discarded dream, flowers scattered around you like fallen stars. A single petal trembles by your ankle, then stills.
Moving silently across the stage, he watches your tears glisten like silver rivers on feverish skin until you lift your head and speak with a raw yet steady voice,"It's you again."
Those three words cascade through his reality like an avalanche, shattering every certainty he's ever known - this isn't merely coincidence or imagination or some flaw in the dream-fabric, but rather an impossible truth: among the billions of dreamers who forget him nightly, you alone can pierce his invisibility, can know him.
In that very moment Jungkook understands something terrifying and beautiful:
You’re not some glitch in his world.
He’s an aberration in yours.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
You're curled into yourself like a wounded bird when you finally meet his gaze again, your eyes tracing the planes of his face with the hesitant reverence of someone trying to piece together a dream from morning-fog memories.
"Where have I seen you before?" The words slip from your lips like a secret.
Jungkook's throat constricts around unspoken truths, but he plays his part like the supernatural being he is. He settles beside you- close enough to count your heartbeats, far enough that the space between you aches like a physical thing. Your sadness wraps around him like smoke, familiar as his own shadow.
"Nowhere," he breathes, the lie tasting like stardust on his tongue. "We're strangers."
But you just laugh, soft and worn around the edges, brushing away a wayward strand of hair with fingers that tremble ever so slightly.
“No way,” you say, shaking your head. “There’s no way I could make up a face like that.
His heart does this stupid little stumble in his chest at your words. You catch his expression, that deer-in-headlights look that makes him seem impossibly young for half a second and suddenly you're laughing, the sound pure and bright enough to make the dream-shadows retreat.
"Oh my god," you say, and there's a warmth in your voice he hasn't heard before, like honey in sunlight. "My subconscious really said 'here's an ethereally beautiful boy who blushes when you compliment him.' That's just... devastating, actually."
He turns away, but not before you catch the way his ears flush pink. It's not the embarrassment that makes his chest ache but the cruel irony of being seen so clearly by someone who thinks you're nothing but a dream.
"I'm nobody special," he murmurs to the floorboards, voice rough with something he can't name. "Just... just a guy."
The laugh you share is gentle as twilight. A fragile thread connecting two souls who shouldn't be able to touch at all.
But beneath his smile, something in Jungkook splinters like stained glass catching sunlight. Because you still don't know. How could you? To you, he's nothing but a beautiful fever dream, a figment spun from stardust and desperate wishes. Just another coping mechanism your mind conjured from the static between sleeping and waking. And maybe that's easier and safer. But it still burns.
He wants to say something about what just happened: about stages and spotlights and the way your mother's ghost left bruises on your dreams, but the words catch in his throat like broken wings.
"This was... a lot," he manages with a soft voice.
You laugh, but it's the kind of laugh that bleeds at the edges. Your eyes find the darkness above, searching for answers in the void.
"This?" The word falls from your lips like a tired prayer. "This is nothing compared to my real life."
And something in him shatters completely. "So this is just the tip of the iceberg?" he whispers, afraid of the answer.
"Yeah." You don’t elaborate further.
The dream-lights have long since faded, the phantom flowers scattered to dust. You sit there in the hollow dark, a masterpiece painted in shades of exhaustion, looking like the world took everything that made you shine and left behind only shadows.
"I haven't danced in six years," you confess to the darkness, each word heavy as lead. "Haven't even stepped on a stage. Med school swallowed me whole right after graduation. Now I work part-time in the emergency department. Night shifts, mostly." Your voice cracks on those last words like ice in spring.
His breath catches. The kind of work where Death sits in the break room, drinking coffee like just another coworker.
"I see things," you continue, voice hollow as autumn wind through dead leaves. "People bleeding out. Crying. Dying. Alone. I patch them up with steady hands and pretend my soul isn't unraveling stitch by stitch." The silence between you grows teeth. "Six years," you whisper to the shadows. "Six years of my life fed to the machine of parental pride while I slowly forget how to breathe."
Something ancient and wounded bleeds into Jungkook's voice. "You don't deserve to be anyone's sacrifice."
Your laugh sounds like glass breaking in slow motion. "And yet."
Then your eyes find his and the world tilts on its axis because you're looking at him like you can see straight through to where his soul should be. Not as shadow-walker or dream-fragment. As something terrifyingly, wonderfully real.
"I remember your last dream," Jungkook's entire being stutters to a halt. "The nightmare with the faceless thing."
"Please don't," you breathe, folding smaller, as if you could origami yourself out of existence. "I don’t want to talk about it."
He watches your breath catch like fabric on thorns and nods. Some wounds are still too fresh to name and he can wait. Or never bring it up again if you wish.
“You know,” he says gently, “this is a dream. You’re not a prisoner here. This world is your world, it can be whatever you want.”
He rises to his feet like morning mist, extending a hand that holds universes in its palm. For a heartbeat, you hesitate, but some offers transcend thought and your fingers find his.
"You can wish," he whispers, voice soft as starlight, and snaps.
In a blink, the lights return. So does the thunderous ovation. The spotlight glows around you like a blessing. Cameras flash, dancers reappear like smoke. The energy floods back into the dream like breath into a drowning chest.
A laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep inside you: pure, untamed, tasting of forgotten summers, and you throw up a hand against the brilliant chaos of it all.
Before you can think better of it, your fingers are tangled with his and you're running backstage, dragging this beautiful fever dream behind you. Your giggles echo off the walls like wind chimes, and for a moment you're seventeen again, before the world taught you how to be silent.
“That was fun,” you breathe, brushing rebel strands from your flushed face. "Wish I could handle my nightmares with that kind of flair."
His answering grin is soft at the edges, but something in your expression shifts before he can speak. "I don't... I don't actually want this anymore."
He blinks, starlit eyes questioning. "Why?"
"Because I grew up," you say, voice barely a whisper now. "I have responsibilities. Real ones. Dreams like this... they're not for people like me anymore. Back then I was seventeen and stupid and…" Your voice catches. "I can't afford to be that person now."
"What do you want, then?" The question hangs between you like suspended stardust.
"Nothing," you finally breathe, the word falling like autumn leaves. "I just want to stop existing in the real world for a while."
And the way you say it - there's no bitterness there. Just bone-deep exhaustion and raw honesty. Something in him fractures, and the words spill out before he can catch them.
"Can I…" he pauses, voice going soft. "I know it's weird but... can I hug you?"
Your eyebrow arches, a spark of mischief dancing in your eyes. "Look at you, consent-king behavior,” you tease, lips curving. "Of course you can, you absolute masterpiece of my subconscious."
He lets out a soft laugh that catches in his throat. His arms find their way around you with gentleness, but when you lean into him something ancient and lonely inside his chest just shatters. The hug deepens and suddenly there's nothing ethereal about it anymore; it's all solid warmth and thundering heartbeats and the impossible reality of two souls finding anchor in each other through the veil of dreams.
For the first time since this curse claimed him, Jungkook feels real. Not a dream-walker, not nightmare-eater, just a boy being held like he matters. You stay tangled in each other's gravity as the dreamscape bleeds away like watercolors in rain, both pretending you can't feel the way your fingers clutch a little tighter with each fading second.
When consciousness claims him back, dragging him gasping into dawn's tender light, something's different. The usual hollow ache is gone, replaced by something electric and alive that makes his whole being sing. And in that moment, with Seoul's sunrise painting his walls in gold, Jungkook knows it with the certainty usually reserved for natural laws:
Even if it takes lifetimes, he's going to find his way back to you.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
Jungkook can't stop thinking about you.
You linger in his mind, seeping into every crack and crevice of his consciousness. Your presence is a ghost that haunts the spaces between keystrokes, between breaths, between the mundane moments when his hands forget their purpose and his thoughts spiral back to you like moths to flame.
He's memorized the cadence of your voice, cataloged every micro-expression that crossed your face, archived the exact weight of you against his chest like it's precious data his heart can't bear to lose. Time stretches like pulled taffy as he sits on his floor, back pressed against an unforgiving wall, absently tracing infinity symbols on a coffee mug that's as cold and forgotten as his attempts at productivity.
There's a quiet irony in how his relationship with sleep has transformed. What was once a velvet-lined prison cell where he performed his gim duty - has become something sacred. Something anticipated. Now he's a lovesick teenager checking his phone every five minutes, except instead of waiting for a text, he's waiting for consciousness to slip away so he can find you again.
But of course - of fucking course - that's when his brain decides to throw an absolute rebellion. Excitement pulses through him like caffeine. His body begs for rest while his mind runs circles. The very thing that once came without effort now eludes him.
When sleep finally deigns to take him, it's with all the grace of a drunk trying to fit a key in a lock. But none of that matters because he finds you. He knows the path now, could walk it blindfolded: past the skylight with its spiderweb cracks, around the chimney that leans like a tired soldier, beneath the neon sign that flickers like a dying firefly. This isn't wandering anymore, it’s muscle memory, this is gravity, the inevitable pull of two stars caught in each other's orbit. And there it is again - your window, soft light spilling through curtains, you're dreaming already.
He steps inside.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
The dream whispers into existence like a secret. Sterile white walls stretch endlessly, their fluorescent veins humming a synthetic lullaby that only hospitals know how to sing. The air tastes of antiseptic and quiet desperation.
You materialize before him - a warrior in wrinkled scrubs, squaring off against a bureaucrat whose clipboard might as well be a shield. Exhaustion paints shadows beneath your eyes, but defiance burns brighter.
"I need a day off," you say, each word precise as a scalpel.
The administrator's sigh could fill a balloon with disappointment. "We're understaffed. Again. Find someone to switch with you, then we'll talk."
Your jaw sets like concrete, shoulders bearing the weight of too many sleepless nights. "I've been on four night shifts in a row," you breathe, your voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken pleas.
He shrugs, armor-plated in indifference. "It's not personal."
Your laugh is sharp as broken glass. "It's exhaustion."
But then - your gaze catches on something beyond him, where Jungkook stands like a shadow. Your expression softens, relief bleeding into your features. "Oh, finally. Maybe you'll help me figure out a perfect excuse to give my boss so I can sleep for more than four hours."
Jungkook glides forward, midnight grace in human form. His head tilts, curiosity dancing in his eyes. "Exploitative boss?" he inquires, voice smooth as silk.
You nod, grave as a judge. "Master manipulator."
He considers this cosmic injustice for a heartbeat. Then, with elegant precision, he lifts a hand. One snap - and reality fractures. The administrator dissolves, leaving only empty air where bureaucracy once stood.
Your eyes spark with indignation. "Hey! I wanted to yell at him. At least here."
Jungkook's smile curves like a crescent moon. "Why waste dream energy on that?"
Before protest can bloom on your lips, the world begins to melt. Hospital walls dissolve like watercolors, sterile white bleeding into impossible color and the air transforms, becoming warm.
And suddenly - sky. Endless, infinite sky. Clouds drift beneath your feet like islands of sugar, while aurora colors paint the heavens in sweeping brushstrokes of pink and violet. You turn slowly, wonder breaking across your face like dawn.
Jungkook watches, memorizing the way joy transforms you. Then, with the gentleness of falling snow, he extends his hand, and you accept it. And together, you run.
You dance through dreams like starlight on water. No destination guides your steps - just pure, unbridled motion and laughter that tastes like champagne bubbles. Each leap between clouds is poetry, your movements fluid as mercury, untethered by earthly constraints. He watches, mesmerized, as this version of you. untouched by life's sharp edges, paints joy across the sky.
When exhaustion finally claims you both, you collapse onto a cloud that feels like silk, your hair a halo against the white. Jungkook settles beside you with careful grace, his hands folded in his lap. Silence stretches between you, sweet and elastic.
A laugh, soft as windchimes, escapes your lips. "I've been dreaming wrong my whole life."
He reclines, moonlight caught in his smile. "Most do."
You pluck a piece of cloud, tossing the ephemeral fluff at his chest. It dissolves like a secret.
"Rude," he grins, starlight dancing in his eyes.
Your gaze lingers on him now, wonder replacing mischief. "You came back."
"I did." His voice carries the weight of secrets that you are not ready to face yet.
"This is different," you murmur. "These dreams... seeing you again and again... it's never happened before."
Something tightens in his chest but he has to ask the terrifying question. "When you wake," he breathes, "do you remember me?"
"Yes." Simple and certain, you don’t even hesitate. The word ripples through him like waves through still water. "I remember all of it," you continue. "Every dream with you. And I never remember dreams - they usually fade."
Relief softens his shoulders; he hadn't realized they were carved from tension.
Your eyes find his, curious as cats. "So," you tease, "who are you, really?"
He hesitates, the question stinging more than expected. "I'm a Dream Eater," he says, leaning forward. "And my name is Jungkook. Did you know that already?"
You catch your lower lip between your teeth, considering. "Dream Eaters? Never heard of them. How did my mind even come up with that?"
He rolls his eyes skyward as you laugh, the sound pure as bells.
"Well then," you say, "I'm Y/N. A pleasure, Mr. Dream Eater."
He nods, something warm unfurling in his chest. "Likewise. Tell me about yourself.”
You hum thoughtfully, stretching like a cat in sunlight. “Imagine a very lonely girl,” you begin. “A girl who has a big, noisy family and few friends, but still feels like no one ever really gets her. Someone who works in a place where everyone is kind but exhausted. We bond over how much we hate what we do. I read romance novels when I’m not too tired, I go on runs to get out of my head, and the only time I feel like I’m me is when I’m asleep and nobody wants anything from me.”
Jungkook watches you as you speak. Every word feels like a note in a song he doesn’t realize he’s memorizing.
“And you, Dream Eater Jungkook?” you ask, inching closer. “Who are you?”
He stares at your hands, then up. “I’m an IT guy. I have friends. I’m not that close with my family, but we stay in touch. And as cliché as it is… I always feel alone. Not in the obvious way. It’s more like… the universe misjudged me somehow. Like I was born with the wrong fate. Like I’m stuck carrying something I never chose, cursed or something.”
You nod. “I know.” Your hand rises, slow and careful, and runs through his hair.
Jungkook's breath catches in his throat, every muscle going taut like a bowstring.
“No,” you state firmly now. “Someone with eyes like yours can’t be cursed.”
He laughs is that kind that wraps around your bones like honey-warm sunlight. His fingers find your retreating hand, catching you in a grip that's gentle as a prayer but sure as gravity. And there's something in your eyes that makes his heart stutter in his chest.
The world tilts and spins as he pulls you both down into the cloud-soft darkness, your combined laughter painting silver ribbons through the air. You land in a tangle of limbs and breathless giggles, his body half-draped over yours like the world's most perfect blanket.
Time stops. Or maybe it's just that neither of you remembers how to breathe properly anymore. His arm brackets your head, careful and strong, while his other hand hovers near your ribs like he's afraid you might shatter if he touches you. Your chest rises and falls beneath him in quick, butterfly-wing movements.
The silence between you crackles like lightning before a storm.
And then you look at him with eyes that Jungkook swears could drown worlds, lashes frozen mid-flutter, and his heart forgets every rhythm it's ever known. Your gaze drops to his lips just for a heartbeat, long enough to set his blood on fire. And he watches your hair catch the dream-light like captured aurora, wondering if his thundering heart might give him away.
Neither of you dares to move. His eyes trace constellations across your features - mapping the soft curve of your mouth, the way your breath catches when his thigh brushes yours. You don't pull away. Instead, you tilt your head, an invitation written in the language of almost-touches.
When you speak, your words ghost across his skin like butterfly kisses. "So..." Your smile returns, shy and knowing all at once. "Can you take me to other places too?"
His lips part but words fail him spectacularly, too busy fighting the gravitational pull of your mouth. You're watching him like he's something ethereal, something that exists beyond dreams and reality.
Words claw their way past the symphony of want thrumming through his veins. "I could," he whispers, each syllable a caress against your skin. "If you wanted me to."
"I think I do," you breathe, and your fingers that are still tangled with his against cloud-silk, tighten slightly. Something inside him unspools at that tiny pressure.
He shifts closer until the space between you becomes nothing but shared breath and possibility. His body settles against yours, solid and real in a way dreams aren't supposed to be. Your noses almost brush. But neither of you bridges that final gap.
The wanting hangs there between you, delicate as sugar, sweet as sin waiting.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
Jungkook wakes like shattered stained glass - all sharp edges and holy remnants, dragged from dreams by reality's merciless hands.
The dream bleeds away too cruel. Your phantom warmth haunts him still. Reality crashes through his consciousness like an uninvited guest: sheets cold as winter frost, his forgotten computer screen humming its electronic lullaby, dawn's sickly green fingers creeping through the blinds like unwanted prophecies. He lies there, a marble statue in rumpled sheets, watching the ceiling as if it holds the secrets to finding you in the waking world.
Time, he thinks, is the cruelest god of all - stretching endless in solitude, slipping through desperate fingers the moment joy takes root.
When the sun claims its throne in the sky, he moves. And it’s not from want but from the mundane tyranny of hours that refuse to pass unmarked. Emails become white noise, lines of code blur into meaningless symbols, breakfast turns to ash on his tongue. There's only one truth that keeps his heart beating: the promise of nightfall.
He counts heartbeats disguised as hours. The light softens like old photographs, his eyes burn like prayer candles. And finally sleep claims him like a lover's kiss.
And there you are, waiting for him.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
In dreams, you are free.
Jungkook makes sure of it: crafts entire universes with gentle hands and a craftsman's devotion. He builds you realms where gravity is just a suggestion, where shame dissolves like morning mist. The rules here drape around you like ribbons, weightless enough to forget they ever existed.
One night you're both cosmic wanderers, dancing through star-scattered void, your laughter echoing across light years as you spin through technicolor nebulae. "My knees!" you shout, delighted, breathless, "They don't even know what pain is here!" and his joy bubbles up like stardust, infectious and pure.
Another dream finds you towering like a goddess, him shrunk to pocket-size, playing an elaborate game of chase through a garden where teacups bloom like flowers. when you (deliberately) crush him beneath your heel, he gives an Oscar-worthy performance of despair.
He shows you the art of dream-weaving. How to coax reality into new shapes, how to whisper your desires into existence, to believe with your whole heart that anything is possible.
"This universe," he reminds you, voice soft with wonder, "it's yours. Completely yours. What do you want to make of it?"
So you create.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
One night, you materialize in wrinkled scrubs, your essence dimmed like a star fighting through smog. "I want something stupid tonight," you whisper, voice raw with reality's weight. So he gives it to you.
The air crystallizes into luxury - a red carpet unfurls like a dragon's tongue beneath your feet. Light fragments into a thousand camera flashes, each one capturing your metamorphosis as couture and tailoring dance across your form. The Met Gala rises behind you like a palace of dreams, while the Oscars beckon ahead, and somewhere beyond the marble horizon, Nobel laureates await your arrival. Your laughter cascades like champagne bubbles.
"We're absolutely shameless," you wheeze through tears of mirth. "Not a humble bone between us."
He sweeps into a bow that would make monarchs envious. “Welcome to your ego’s highlight reel.”
Pure delight propels you forward, arm threaded through his like a lifeline to sanity. The elite of every era gravitate toward you - Einstein debates quantum mechanics while you school him on cellular biology, Rihanna takes notes on your impromptu TED talk about mitochondrial DNA. Jungkook observes your radiance, wondering if happiness has ever worn a face so beautiful.
Then shadow creeps in, subtle as twilight. "If only reality had such magic," you murmur to no one.
The words strike like arrows. What can he say? His power extends to the horizon of dreams - he can architect castles in clouds, orchestrate symphonies in starlight, birth entire cosmos from your smallest smile. But he cannot heal the wounds reality has carved: the suffocating job, the mother's bitter words, the six years stolen from your timeline.
His domain ends where consciousness begins. In these ephemeral realms where you dismiss him as fantasy, a figment born of neurons firing in the dark.
Perhaps that's mercy's greatest gift because knowing his truth would shatter more than the dream. So he offers only a gentle smile.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
That night, he materializes behind you like stardust taking form, his presence a whisper against your skin.
"Close your eyes," he breathes, the words a spell woven in twilight.
His hands eclipse your vision with butterfly-gentle pressure, as if touching a dream too precious to risk breaking. The world shifts beneath his will - air crystallizing with electric possibility, carrying notes of steel and starlight and synthetic sweetness, like neon memories dissolved in rain. He speaks to reality itself, and reality bends.
"Okay, now open," he commands softly. Your eyes flutter open and the gasp tears itself from your throat, pure wonder given voice.
Before you unfolds an empire of light and shadow - a metropolis that touches the stars. Streams of vehicles paint luminous rivers through the sky, weaving between towers that pierce the heavens like silver needles. Landing platforms hover like geometric clouds, while the stars themselves peek through the urban tapestry, diamonds scattered on black velvet.
"Is this…Coruscant?" The question trembles with awe. His silence speaks volumes, curved in a smile you feel more than see.
Laughter bubbles up, bright with revelation. "You remember everything I say?" But reality's chains rattle, even here. Your hand cuts through the air, dismissing magic. "Well, of course. You're just my mind playing tricks, recycling old dreams."
His smile fractures at the edges. "Right," he whispers. "Just mind tricks."
But when your fingers find his, intertwining like fate's own threads, none of that matters.
"Quick," you grin, the universe reflected in your eyes, "we've got worlds to explore before morning steals you away."
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
Jungkook melts watching you stumble through broken alien phrases, your pronunciation absolutely butchering three different languages at once. There's this six-eyed creature that just stares at your earnest bow, probably wondering what strange cosmic phenomenon dropped you into their path. And then, an absolute menace of a droid, barely reaching your knees, starts chasing you down demanding payment, beep-screaming about galactic credits. You scramble behind Jungkook like he's your last hope in the universe, fingers clutching his jacket, breathless giggles muffled against his shoulder. (He pays your debt with a shirt button because of course he does, you disaster.)
Later, you both claim a spot on the edge of a glowing walkway. Your feet dangle over an ocean of lights, streams of vehicles painting stories beneath you like shooting stars learning to dance. The sky above is alive, breathing with the pulse of ship lights, and sometimes a cruiser glides past like a metal whale, momentarily stealing the stars.
Your laughter settles into something softer now, something that fits in the spaces between heartbeats. Neither of you speak. Neither of you need to.
And if Jungkook knows the dream is slipping away like stardust through his fingers? Well. He keeps that knowledge locked behind his teeth. Instead, he drinks in the sight of you: the way city lights paint constellations across your skin, how perfectly you slot into this impossible moment like you were born to exist in worlds that break physics. Like you were meant to dream in technicolor.
But there's a question that haunts him, cruel as dawn's first light: When the sun rises and reality claims you back...
…will even a whisper of him linger in your waking thoughts?
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
Jungkook's life has shifted in ways that feel like poetry written in invisible ink- you can only see it if you know where to look.
On paper, everything's the same: same apartment with its midnight creaks and perpetual scent of dust-and-tea memories. Same 7:30 alarm that screams into existence like an unwanted prophecy. Same mundane rituals: toast crumbs, news static, lines of code marching across screens like obedient soldiers. (And yes, that one stubborn fern that refuses to surrender to his chronic plant neglect.)
But there's something different now that whispers instead of shouts. Something that feels like stardust caught in his bones.
You see it in the way he carries himself, like gravity's finally made peace with his soul. In the way he moves through space like he's remembered how to belong in it. He's incandescent now, lit from within by some strange, soft fire.
His friends notice because of course they do, they're annoyingly observant like that.
"You look," Jimin declares one night, sprawled across Jungkook's couch like he owns it, soju bottle dancing between his fingers, "like God himself came down and gave you a spa day."
"Sleep," Namjoon squints at him, "you're actually sleeping?"
Jungkook's lips twitch. A maybe floats between them like a secret.
"Oh my god," Taehyung breathes, dramatic as always, "you're in LOVE."
The way Jungkook's eyes skitter away is all the confession they need. And then they're all talking at once, voices tumbling over each other like eager puppies: "Who is she?" and "Does she live here?" and "When do WE get to meet her?"
Jungkook smiles, sleeve-covered hands hiding trembles, letting them believe the flush on his face comes from the heater's gentle rage.
But there's this soft, aching thing in his chest. Because how do you tell your best friends that the person who rewrote your whole existence lives in a different layer of reality? That the only one who's ever seen past your skin and bones and into the truth of you... only exists in dreams?
Later, when his apartment's empty except for shadows and memory-echoes, he stands at his window. Forehead pressed to glass like a prayer, watching Seoul's heartbeat flutter beneath him.
The loneliness has evolved into something gentler now - no longer the razor-edged beast that once tore through his chest, nor the arctic waste that froze his bones.
But it's there. Because no matter how many times you laugh in his arms, no matter how many universes you explore together, you're not here. And he is. You both exist but in different verses of the same impossible song.
And sometimes he wonders if he's asking too much of the universe. If he's being greedy. Before you, he was nothing but shadow-stuff and nightmare-fuel, cursed to feed on other people's fears. He couldn't even dream of being perceived, let alone loved. And now he has the audacity to want more? To want daylight happiness?
Greedy, absurd boy.
But every moment he spends awake feels like holding his breath underwater. Every sunlit hour is just time he could've spent learning the constellations of your smile. So he closes his eyes. And waits for sleep to bring him to you.
The moment he slips into the dreamscape he feels your presence hitting him like the first breath after drowning, like gravity remembering its own name. And then you're there, crashing into him with the force of a supernova, arms wrapping around him as if he might dissolve into stardust. He catches you and pulls you close like you're made of moonlight and wishes.
"Thought you wouldn't come," you whisper into his collar, voice rough like you've been holding back for too long.
A laugh escapes him, soft and broken-edged. His hands trace constellations up your spine. "Do you ever…" he starts, then swallows hard. "Do you ever worry that one night we just... won't find each other here anymore?"
You pull back just enough to meet his eyes and there are already tears catching in your lashes. "Every single time I close my eyes."
His smile cracks at the corners because it’s exactly the same for him. Every night he lies awake wondering if the universe will finally notice its mistake- if whatever cosmic glitch allowed him to find you will correct itself. Maybe you'll stop dreaming of him and he'll be left holding nothing but memories and maybes. It's too perfect. You're too perfect. And he's never learned how to trust perfect things to stay.
"Jungkook." Your voice drops to something serious, something that makes his heart stutter in his chest. He meets your gaze. "I don't…I can't," You take a shaking breath. "I don't think I can face reality anymore if I'm not sure you'll be waiting here."
His heart stops. Instead of answering, he lifts his hand and traces your cheek with feather-light fingers, trying to memorize you in atoms and angles.
"I'll be here," he breathes, like a prayer, like a promise. "I don't understand any of this, but I swear I'll find you. Every night. No matter what."
Your eyes flutter closed at his touch, and in that moment, he knows exactly what tonight's dream should be.
The dreamscape ripples like disturbed water, reality shifting beneath your feet with all the grace of a universe rewriting itself. The salt-sweet breeze finds you first, carrying whispers of infinity, and when your eyes flutter open, the night sky stretches above you like a confession written in starlight.
The ocean sprawls before you, endless and moonlit, each wave a silvered promise rolling towards shore. You're both barefoot in the sand, the wind playing with your hair like an old friend while the sea hums ancient lullabies. Jungkook watches you the way people watch miracles unfold - careful, afraid to blink.
You're statue-still, eyes locked on the horizon like it might vanish if you dare to look away. The air between you tastes like possibility.
"You mentioned wanting to see the sea," he murmurs. "Why?"
You sink to the sand, pulling your knees to your chest like armor. "I've never seen it before."
His heart stumbles. "Never?"
A shake of your head, eyes still drinking in the waves that reach for your toes like shy lovers. He wants to ask more - what landlocked piece of the world kept you from this? But dreams have their own grammar, and some questions dissolve like sugar on the tongue. So he sits beside you in comfortable silence, letting the night wrap around you both like a blanket woven from sea spray.
When you finally turn to him, your eyes hold the weight of unspoken galaxies. And gravity seems to lose its grip on reality - the space between you collapses until you're breathing the same air, until his hands find your face like they've mapped this path in a thousand previous lives.
Your lips meet in a hesitant dance of breath and longing until something breaks inside the moment like a dam of restraint giving way to raw need. His hands tangle in your hair as your mouth parts with a soft, stuttering sound, fingers clutching desperately at his shirt while the kiss transforms into something urgent and wild, teeth grazing and breaths mingling as he tilts your head back to taste you deeper.
The sea's roar crescendos with your passion while you shift into his lap, knees straddling him and hands sliding up the curve of his neck, the weight of your body against his making him finally feel real. Your shared heat and the pressure of your hips leaving him dizzy with want.
Jungkook pulls back only enough to look at you, eyes tracing your face like it’s something sacred. Your skin is flushed, glowing under the silver wash of the moon, hair tangled from his hands. You’re still straddling him, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with his. There’s a silence that lives in that moment, but it’s not empty.
Then he grins, soft and breathless. “Good thing this is a dream,” he murmurs, brushing his lips across your jaw. “Sand won’t bother us here.”
You laugh, quiet and giddy, the sound catching in your throat as he leans in again, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then lower. He shifts, laying you back gently onto the soft, impossible sand. Moonlight spills across your skin like liquid silver, turning you into some ancient deity's forgotten masterpiece. He freezes, a worshipper before an altar, lungs forgetting their purpose as his eyes trace the sacred geometry of your existence. Time holds its breath with him.
Then he’s kissing your neck, slow and open-mouthed, leaving heat wherever his lips touch. His hands slide over your body like he’s memorizing you, like he’s terrified you’ll disappear. When he begins to undress you, his fingers move with a kind of careful urgency- unwrapping you like something he’s dreamed of holding all his life.
His lips trail down your collarbone, your chest, and lower, leaving warmth. Your breath catches sharply in your throat as pleasure ripples through you, your back arching delicately from the sand as a soft, yearning moan escapes your lips into the star-strewn night.
And when he comes back to you, body pressed to yours, both of you tangled in breath and want, you meet him with the same hunger. You pull him close, undress him with shaking hands, touch every inch of him with awe.
When Jungkook moves inside you, it feels less like an act of desire and more like the inevitable culmination of something the two of you had been building quietly between shared glances, trembling silences, and the quiet ache of always parting too soon. There is nothing rushed in the way your bodies meet: only a slow, deliberate joining, a stretch of time that suspends itself in the hush between heartbeats, as if the dream itself knows to hold its breath for you.
His weight settles gently over you, his mouth still hovering just above yours, the warmth of his breath mixing with your own as his hands frame your face with a tenderness that feels as overwhelming as it is fragile. Your eyes lock for a long moment, and in them there is no fear, only the echo of something deeper - yearning, devotion, maybe even a kind of wonder neither of you dares to name aloud. And then, without speaking, you arch toward him, and he begins to move.
The rhythm he finds is unhurried but purposeful, a slow, steady push and pull. His body presses against yours with the kind of urgency that isn’t frantic but is no less desperate - an urgency born from knowing how fleeting dreams are, how quickly time unravels beauty when it’s finally within reach.
His lips don’t stay still for long; they trace your collarbone, your throat, the curve of your jaw, trailing warmth that pools and spreads through your chest until your breath begins to shake beneath him. You can feel the way his body trembles slightly as he deepens the rhythm with intensity, as though every inch of his skin aches to be closer to yours, as though touching you more completely could somehow anchor him here.
When you moan his name, it comes out cracked at the edges, too soft and too honest to be anything but real, and he answers not with words but with a kiss that claims nothing, demands nothing, only offers himself and his quiet awe that you are here with him.
The dream sky above flickers faintly as a gentle reminder that even eternity here is borrowed. You feel it in your bones that this moment, as vivid and consuming as it is, will dissolve like sea foam the moment morning claims him back. That awareness sharpens everything. It makes each thrust feel more tender, each stroke of his hands across your sides more necessary, more desperate to memorize. Your fingers slide up into his hair, tugging him closer, your mouths finding each other again with increasing hunger, and when your hips rise to meet his, your bodies move in perfect synchrony.
It builds slowly, swelling until you can’t distinguish where you end and he begins, until the world narrows to the slick heat between your thighs, the throb of his heartbeat against your chest, the soft, breathless groans that pass between your lips like confessions. The pleasure comes in waves: deep and consuming, rising with every movement and whispered sound, until the moment it crests and breaks, flooding through you with a force so overwhelming you have no choice but to let go and ride it.
He follows you into it, burying his face in your neck as he comes undone, his body trembling with the effort of holding back everything he feels and failing in the most beautiful way. There are no words left, only breath and warmth and the weight of his arms around you as he collapses gently beside you, pulling you into him like something he’s afraid to lose.
A blanket materializes like a whispered wish, impossibly soft and warm against your skin. Jungkook pulls you closer, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces finally finding home. Your hands can't help but wander, mapping his skin in the aftermath, memorizing the geography of this moment. His lips ghost against your temple while you rest your cheek against his heart, letting its steady rhythm become your anchor.
The ocean serenades you both with its ancient song, waves kissing the shore in perfect tempo. Above, the stars hang in velvet darkness, too perfect to be anything but dreamscape magic. Words feel redundant here, in this pocket of forever where touch and breath say everything your voices can't.
But dreams, those cruel architects of almost-reality, never let you linger long enough.
The world starts to unravel: the sky loses its certainty, the breeze thins to whispers, and the ocean's voice becomes a distant echo of itself. Reality is calling, persistent as always. You tilt your face up to his, and his fingers find their way to your hair, tucking it behind your ear with a tenderness that aches.
"I wish this part didn't end so soon," you breathe out, voice trembling not with fear but with the weight of knowing what comes next.
He brings his forehead to rest against yours, eyes closed like he's trying to freeze time through sheer will. "So do I," he whispers back.
As the dream dissolves: the beach, the stars, your shared warmth all fading into morning light, he holds onto everything: the curve of your body against his, the ghost of your kiss, and the exquisite agony of loving someone who only exists in the space between sleeping and waking.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
When the dream opens again, it does so like a breath drawn after drowning- sharp and sudden and full of overwhelming relief. You’re already there, standing beneath a sky that isn’t real, though it holds more meaning than any sunrise you’ve ever seen. The moment your eyes meet Jungkook’s, you don’t wait, and neither does he. There is no hesitation or unsure beginning. You run into each other’s arms like you’ve been holding your breath for days, like everything depends on this collision of bodies.
“I don’t want to waste one second of the limited time we have here,” you whisper into the space between his breaths, your arms wound tight around his neck and your chest pressed firmly to his.
He nods, his voice caught somewhere between a laugh and a vow, and with a single brush of his hand against the air, the world changes.
Like mist before sunlight, the dreamscape dissolves - first the endless ocean retreating into nothingness, then the wind falling silent as if holding its breath, and finally the star-strewn horizon melting away.
And in its place appears something smaller and impossibly intimate: a bedroom, quiet and warm, the walls washed in golden light, the sheets still slightly rumpled like they’ve been waiting for you. It’s not dramatic, not grand, but it feels like a secret dream you never dared to say aloud.
“This feels so real,” you murmur, your voice already faltering as his hands begin to move slowly, working their way beneath your clothes as if they’re peeling away layers of exhaustion and everything that’s ever kept you from peace.
He undresses you without words, his fingers trailing down your sides with a patience that makes your skin tremble. When his lips touch your collarbone, your breath catches. When his hands slide lower, your knees weaken. And when he kneels before you, his eyes dark and full of something deeper than want, you whisper his name like it’s a confession.
His mouth is already on you, and he’s not simply tasting but studying the language of your body with the kind of patience that feels rarer than touch itself. Every movement is deliberate, almost aching in its care, as though he knows this is a dream and still doesn’t want to rush through it. His hands grip the backs of your thighs with that same quiet devotion, fingers spreading you open.
He dives in like a man starved of connection, like every slow drag of his tongue is an attempt to carve himself into your memory, so that even when you're awake, some part of your body will still pulse with the imprint of him.
At first, it’s soft, barely there, just the warm press of his mouth against you, lips brushing your folds. But then, when you gasp and your hips lift slightly, when your fingers curl in the sheets beneath you, he groans softly into you, like the sound of your need fuels something deeper in him, something greedy*.*
He licks you slowly at first, flat strokes that leave you trembling, your thighs tensing around his head even as his hands hold you open. But soon he changes rhythm, finding the place where your body begins to stutter and focus, and he stays there, working his tongue in tight, purposeful circles, pausing only to suck gently, and then again, firmer, just enough to make your voice crack when you call his name.
You reach for him without thinking, fingers sliding into his hair, anchoring yourself in him as the heat begins to mount. Your breath comes in shallow bursts, thighs shaking around him, and still he doesn’t let up. He wants this - to see you unravel, to taste what the world outside has never let you give.
“Why…” you whisper, the words breaking apart as your thighs begin to shake. “Why can’t this be real?”
It’s not a question you expect him to answer, it’s rather a confession or cry of longing too deep for reason. And if he hears it, he doesn’t stop, only moans into you, as if your heartbreak feeds his hunger, as if the taste of your pain is folded into your pleasure.
His tongue moves faster now, more focused, and the tension inside you coils to a near-breaking and all-consuming point
Your body begins to shake; can’t form words anymore. Your moans become breathless sounds, fingers digging into his scalp as your hips lift in desperate rhythm with the wave he’s building inside you. His grip tightens, keeping you grounded, and when he draws your clit into his mouth again, sucking slowly, deeply, your entire body snaps.
You come with a cry so raw it doesn’t even sound like your voice. It shudders through you, thighs clenching, stomach fluttering, your hands fisting the sheets and his hair and nothing at all, your back arching as the dream holds you still in its palm.
But he doesn't leave you. Jungkook stays between your legs, lapping at you gently, slowly, kissing you through the aftershocks like he’s coaxing every last tremble from your bones, like your pleasure is the only thing that matters in this moment.
When he finally pulls away and rises to meet you again, his mouth shines with you, and his eyes are dark with a mix of tenderness and awe that stirs something so deep in your chest it almost hurts.
He kisses you slowly and deeply, and you taste yourself on his tongue. You pull him closer, hands sliding down his bare back, and you know that even if this is only a dream, it is more real than anything else your life has ever given you.
When Jungkook enters you, it’s like the world narrowing to a single point of gravity, your body drawing him in with a heat that pulses low and deep in your belly. He presses into you with a slow, deliberate movement, his length stretching you inch by aching inch, and it’s enough to make your mouth fall open with a breathless gasp that doesn’t even sound like your voice. He’s thick and warm and impossibly hard, and the way he completely fills you sends a tremor through your thighs that you can’t control.
Your folds part for him, slick and open, your body welcoming him with the kind of wet, desperate readiness that makes his breath hitch above you. He pauses once he’s buried fully inside, one hand gripping your hip as the other slides beneath your spine, grounding you against the slow burn of pleasure already curling through your abdomen. The stretch stings in the most exquisite way, that sharp-edged fullness melting quickly into something sweeter, something deeper, something that makes your body cry out for more before you even realize what you're asking for.
When he begins to move, it’s a rhythm that’s devastating in its precision: deep, dragging thrusts that grind against your most sensitive places with such focused care you’re not sure whether you want to weep or scream. Each roll of his hips draws a whimper from your throat, your legs trembling as your body adjusts to him again and again, as though each motion is a new kind of claim. He kisses you through it: your shoulder, your jaw, your lips, his mouth greedy and soft and utterly wrecked with affection, like he wants to press himself into every inch of your skin and never come up for air.
He shifts you gently, guiding your body into his hands, pulling your hips back into his lap as he settles you onto all fours. You sink into the soft sheets, your spine curving as his hand steadies your waist, and when he slides back inside you from behind, the angle is so deep and so precise it knocks the breath from your lungs. You clench helplessly around him, the sound of your bodies joining filling the room with a rhythm that feels ancient, necessary, almost holy. His name leaves your mouth again as a cry drawn out and trembling, the only word that still feels real in the haze of heat and motion and want.
Your hands fist the sheets, your knees spreading wider, every nerve ending in your body tuned to the relentless drive of his thrusts. His grip on your hips tightens, and he leans over your back, the heat of his chest brushing your spine, his voice a broken thing in your ear.
“You feel… so fucking good,” he murmurs, not as a boast, but as a reverent truth, like he still can’t believe the way your body accepts him - tight and slick, made perfectly for him.
When his hand slips beneath you again, finding that swollen, throbbing place that already pulses from his mouth and now from his cock, you come apart so quickly and so violently, your entire body stutters around him. You cry out, broken and breathless, your climax crashing through you with a force that turns the world white at the edges. You feel yourself clench around him, wet and pulsing, and it takes everything in him not to follow you right then.
But he’s close and with a few more thrusts, rougher now, less controlled, he spills into you with a sound so low and guttural it feels like it echoes inside your own chest. He collapses against your back, his arms wrapping around your middle as you both breathe through the aftermath, tangled and shivering, still connected, still pulsing with the echo of each other’s release.
And when the high fades and the pleasure ebbs into something slower, quieter, he doesn’t pull away. He stays inside you for as long as he can, holding you in his arms like he’s afraid that if he lets go, you’ll dissolve into smoke with the rest of the dream.
You fall together onto your sides, your legs entwined, the thin dream-woven blanket curling around your bodies, soft and warm as moonlight. You press your cheek against his chest. His hand strokes your back slowly, like he’s still trying to memorize you. The sea outside the window murmurs, and stars flicker faintly above, but neither of you speaks because nothing could possibly be enough.
"I don't want the real world." Your voice cracks. "It doesn't have you in it."
He pulls you closer, like maybe if he holds you tight enough, reality won't be able to pry you apart. When he finally speaks, his voice carries the weight of every 3AM thought that's ever kept anyone awake, "I know. Me too."
You look up at him, moonlight catching on unshed tears. Not crying because what's the point when the sun will rise anyway? Your fingers twist in the blanket like you're trying to anchor yourself to this moment, to him, to anything that might let you stay. "Please," you whisper, "I want to stay here. With you."
This isn't just a dream anymore. It's the truest thing you've ever known, wrapped in fiction because reality doesn't know what to do with something this raw. He says nothing, only presses his forehead to yours and breathes you in like he's trying to memorize the way your souls fit together.
And just as the dream begins to thin at the edges: flickering like film exposed to light, you look up at him, eyes full of that same pleading ache, and he lowers his forehead to yours. If you could stay, you would.
But dreams never ask permission before ending.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ ✭ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✭ . . ˚ . ✦
Jungkook wakes to emptiness, the kind that sits heavy in your lungs like smoke. The silence wraps around him like a second skin, suffocating in its completeness. There's no gentle transition between dreams and reality today - just a harsh snap from one world to another, leaving him raw and aching.
The bed feels too big, too cold, sheets twisted around him like they're trying to hold something that isn't there anymore. His chest feels hollow, carved out, each breath a little too shallow to fill the spaces where warmth used to live.
He lies there, staring at a ceiling he's known his whole life but suddenly feels like it belongs to someone else's story. His body shakes, not from cold (never from cold), but from something that lives deeper, something that has made a home in his bones and refuses to leave.
When he finally moves, it's pure instinct - frustration and grief tangled into one sharp motion. The pillow hits the floor with a soft thud that gets swallowed by the morning quiet. It doesn't help. Nothing helps. He sits up, fingers threading through his hair like he's trying to hold his thoughts together, eyes fixed on the slice of pre-dawn darkness outside his window.
His voice breaks the silence like glass shattering in slow motion, barely a whisper: "Why is it like this..."
But there's no answer waiting in the shadows. And yet, somewhere beneath the weight of his despair, something small flickered: thin, untrustworthy, but still breathing. He told himself he would see you again. A new day would bring a new night, and with it, the possibility of return. That had been the pattern, and though dreams rarely followed logic, hope was a creature that clung to even the most frayed of patterns.
The hours that followed passed in a haze. He moved through the day as though he had been placed behind a pane of glass: everything visible but inaccessible, everyone’s voices distant, every color dull. His body obeyed routine, but his mind remained curled around the shape of your absence.
When darkness finally returned, he didn’t hesitate. Sleep claimed him without struggle, and with it, the familiar ritual unfolded: the rooftops that stretched like memory, the path laid down by repetition and longing, the same constellation of buildings that had always, without fail, led him to your window.
But it was dark. No light pierced the glass, no shadows moved within. The bed lay pristine, untouched - a monument to absence. He waited. Minutes bled into hours as the dream stretched around him, but your silhouette never materialized. The emptiness felt louder than any scream.
Night after night, he returned. Each visit more desperate than the last. The room remained a void, sterile and cold as a tomb. His hope withered, then died. No trace that you'd ever existed. The question gnawed at him: had you been real? Or worse: had something taken you?
The days blurred together, each one weighted with loss and questions that found no answers. Had you chosen to vanish, or had the choice been stolen from you? The uncertainty was acid in his veins.
Before you, he'd been a ghost among the living, feeding on others' darkness, trapped in endless observation. But that emptiness was nothing compared to this. This was different. This was knowing paradise and being exiled. This was having his soul split open, filled with light, then sewn shut around the void you left behind.
The universe had cursed him twice: first with invisibility, then with the memory of being seen. Being known and loved by you. Only to have it ripped away without warning or farewell.
And now, more than ever, Jungkook felt the weight of solitude like a second skin - in a universe that had always been generous in showing him different angles of emptiness.
.
Part 2 here .
Thank you very much for reading my stories. Finding readers who resonate with my writing means the world to me. I can't even put into words how grateful I am. 🖤
Mature / Romance / Angst / Smut R18+ / Happy Ending / Redemption Arc / Heavy Drama / Jungkook Tattoo artist au
New fic! Story and requested by mainstarkoo thank you always for sharing your ideas, plot and story requests. It was really an honor hehe for trusting me on your plot and story ideas. Always thank you and love you as someone who supports me in writing! hehe you are the best!
-Finally! I will post the first part and I've been busy with work and so on and yeah BTS tour soon💜🥹🔥 hope we can all see them soon. 🙏🍀 fighting and rooting for all of us.
Part 1
Jungkook’s tattoo gun hummed steadily as he etched a dragon across his client’s back.
The studio smelled of ink and antiseptic, a familiar comfort amid the chaos of his life.
At twenty-eight, he was a talented artist scraping by in Seoul’s underbelly, but his world revolved around Yuna and their four-year-old son, Jaehyun.
Yuna had been his anchor since high school, her chaebol family’s wealth a stark contrast to his street-raised grit.
They’d eloped young, and her pregnancy with Jaehyun had been a calculated move to defy her parents’ plans for an arranged marriage to some older tycoon. The scandal broke and nearly destroyed her family’s name, but Jungkook promised to build something real between the two of them.
He worked tirelessly—double shifts, inking skin by day and dreaming of stability at night.
But love was never enough.
Love would never be enough as time passed between them.
One day, Yuna’s eyes began to wander. She complained about their cramped apartment, the lack of designer bags, and the isolation from her old social circle.
Jungkook dismissed it as stress, pouring his love into Jaehyun’s bedtime stories and Yuna’s occasional touches.
Then the video leaked.
Blurry footage from a hotel security camera showed Yuna tangled with a slick-haired chaebol heir, her laughter cutting sharply through the audio.
“Jungkook? He’s got a decent cock, fucks me hard enough to forget the bills,” she mocked.
“But he’s no match for real money.”
Jungkook’s stomach twisted as he watched it on his phone during his lunch break.
He confronted her that evening while Jaehyun napped nearby.
“Tell me, Yuna—this is all fake,” he pleaded, voice raw. “What you said in the video… is it? Tell me, please.”
Yuna’s eyes hardened, turning cold.
“To be honest, Jungkook… it’s not,” she said flatly. “You promised, and you know… I deserve better than this. Better than this life—with you. I don’t want it anymore.”
She grabbed a suitcase, hurriedly kissed Jaehyun’s forehead, and left—returning to her parents’ mansion.
She forgot them.
Forgot her life with Jungkook and Jaehyun as the door clicked shut loudly.
—
Months blurred into survival. Jungkook had no choice but to help himself and his son.
He tried to contact her, calling Yuna countless times, but her parents did everything they could to erase him and Jaehyun from her life. To no avail, he moved on as the years passed.
—
He dropped Jaehyun off at preschool, tattooed until his hands cramped, and collapsed into bed alone each night. The betrayal festered, but his son kept him grounded.
One night, after a particularly grueling day, he went to a club for the first time in years.
The thumping bass drowned his thoughts as he downed whiskey at the bar. That’s when you caught his eye.
Shy, nursing a drink with your friends, your simple dress accentuated your soft curves.
You noticed his haunted gaze and slid onto the stool beside him.
“Hi, um… it seems like a rough night?” you asked gently.
Without thinking, his mind dulled by alcohol, he poured his soul out to you—the lies, the loss, the fear of failing his son Jaehyun, of being a single father.
Your empathy drew him in. Soon, his hand covered yours. The alcohol flooding his system fueled a spark, and before long, you were both in a cab headed to a motel.
"This is some rom-com level bullshit . What if I fall in love with you? "
✯Thief by shownunus
"He stole your wallet, then your heart."
✯ Stardust by whippednation
''When you get a new heart will I still be in there ?" she says barely a whisper . ''Will I still be in that heart ? ''
"You are not just in my heart '' Jungkook replies truthfully . " You are in the blood flowing through my veins, you are in my mind, under my skin , around my bones , buried in my soul ."
✯ Shelter by ttaek
" I see dead people "
✯ Cold World by pinkbunny-
"The moment I put this ring on your finger, you became my property."
✯ Mannequin by voongi
'' I would love to wrap you in my porcelain arms "
✯ Your Honour by SwagMeow
" You're in my jurisdiction ,prosecutor . You know what that means ? You do as I f*cking say . No. Questions .Asked "
✯ Jungkook : The Friendly Ghost by annieDD
She moves into a new apartment. He is stuck. No one can see him . But she can.
✯ My Viewpoint by kaakoi
"You are really sick you know . I can't imagine someone being as mean and selfish as you Kim Ivy" he says , as he finally let go of her.
✯ 168 hours by Amaranthine7722
Things JK needs to do in 168 hours.
Be away from everyone.Visit and stay at the countryside . Soul search. Rent a girlfriend.
Fall in love ?
✯ Follow You by _infernalroses
I was born to led wars but he was a battle that I could never conquer.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao
wordcount: 16k
note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33
minors dni // cross posted to wattpad
It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.
Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.
You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.
Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.
From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.
All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.
Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.
It's not that you actively want to see him.
You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.
He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.
God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.
The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.
In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.
Has told you a lot.
Told you far too much.
Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.
Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.
And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.
You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.
But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.
You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.
It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.
But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.
Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?
Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.
The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.
The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.
The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.
For a minute, you feel vindicated.
It doesn't last.
For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.
The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.
He always slept well in your bedroom, though.
Funny, that.
He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.
Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.
The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.
"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.
Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.
"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.
They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.
There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.
It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.
"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"
"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"
"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."
On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.
Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.
Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.
After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.
Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.
Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.
Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.
"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"
"Obviously."
"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."
"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."
Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.
And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.
While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.
But summer was lonely.
Or at least it was.
Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.
Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"
The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.
After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.
When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.
"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.
Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.
Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.
But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.
He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.
A routine grew. Habits formed.
Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.
Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.
The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.
He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.
And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.
Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.
But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.
Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."
"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.
You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.
The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.
But he was, and it was lovely.
The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.
"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."
It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.
Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.
Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.
But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.
Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.
You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.
It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.
"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.
"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.
"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"
On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.
"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."
A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.
"Sure."
There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.
"You think I can't be trusted?"
"I think it's foolish to trust any man."
His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.
"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"
"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.
"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"
With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."
"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.
"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"
"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.
"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.
Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."
Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.
A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.
And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?
His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.
Have you not served him enough?
You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.
"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.
He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.
"Excuse me, sir."
Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.
"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.
More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.
Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.
Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.
You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.
Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.
"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."
Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.
Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.
You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.
You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.
As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.
But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.
Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.
But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.
You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.
Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.
It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.
In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.
"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"
The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.
It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud.
In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.
But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.
You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.
Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.
Where you at? It could read. I'm here.
Or maybe, I miss you.
I can't sleep without you.
This is so stupid. Can I come over?
It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.
Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.
You: you not coming in tonight?
You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x
You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?
Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.
Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.
Jackass Wang: party tonight
You: so????
One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.
Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery
"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.
It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.
Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.
You: i like it better when i don't see you x
Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.
You: they'd rather die :) x
Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
You: you just can't take no for an answer
Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.
You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????
The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.
Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.
You: charming x
Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.
You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.
Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.
The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.
Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.
Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.
Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.
"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.
Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.
"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"
Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"
His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.
Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."
He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.
"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"
"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."
"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."
"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."
Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.
"Don't give me that bull."
"It's not bull!"
"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"
"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"
His expression is flat. You are paper thin.
He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.
He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.
"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"
"No!"
Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.
Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"
"I'm not!"
"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"
Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.
"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."
"Yes, we are."
"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.
"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."
"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.
He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.
"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"
With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.
"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."
You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.
As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.
By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.
"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.
There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.
Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.
Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.
Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.
It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.
But he did, and you damn well know it.
Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.
"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."
But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."
You're silent when he says this.
Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.
But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.
Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.
"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."
Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.
Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.
Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.
He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.
"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."
"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"
"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."
He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.
They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.
Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.
"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."
"Who?" Jimin chirps.
Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."
"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"
"I said leave it."
"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.
"No one."
"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"
"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."
"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."
Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.
"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.
They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?
"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.
It's not that he's ashamed.
It's that you're separate.
When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.
If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.
He doesn't want that.
He wants you to be a safe haven.
A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.
But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.
He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.
"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"
With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."
"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"
"You really have to ask?"
For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.
They always have done.
When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.
Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.
How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.
Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.
When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.
So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.
"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"
"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."
Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.
The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.
It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.
The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.
The irony isn't lost on you.
"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"
"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.
If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.
All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.
One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.
When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.
You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.
Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.
Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.
"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."
"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."
"It's not my new home—"
"MONTGOMERY!"
The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.
"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."
Nothing happened between you.
It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.
"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.
"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."
Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.
Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.
It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.
"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.
Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."
As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.
How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.
"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."
Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.
A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.
"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."
It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.
They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.
And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.
Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.
The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.
Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail.
Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.
In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.
Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.
The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.
Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.
Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.
But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.
A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.
"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.
The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.
Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.
"Cut the bullshit," he says.
"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"
"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"
Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.
"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."
Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.
Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.
You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.
"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"
It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.
"Mistaken identity."
"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"
You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.
He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.
"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.
"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."
"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.
With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.
"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."
Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.
"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."
Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.
He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.
It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.
Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.
This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.
You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.
Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.
As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.
Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.
But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.
"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"
Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."
"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."
And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.
If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.
He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.
But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.
It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.
Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.
"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.
"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."
The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.
"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"
"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."
Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.
"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"
"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"
It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.
But every cloud has a silver lining.
"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."
He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.
"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."
The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.
A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.
And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.
Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.
The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.
"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"
You're gonna kill Taehyung.
In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.
"Safe," you grimace.
Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"
"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.
"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.
"My sentiments exactly."
Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge
"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."
"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."
Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.
"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.
"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."
Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.
"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.
The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.
You wish you didn't.
"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.
"Excuse me?"
"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"
"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."
"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"
Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.
And so he doesn't try.
"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"
You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.
Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.
You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.
"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.
"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"
It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.
"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."
"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.
"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."
"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"
"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"
He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."
Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.
"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"
He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.
"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"
"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.
"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."
"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.
The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.
"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."
"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"
He's silent, now. Cowardly.
"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."
"You know that's not—"
"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.
Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.
Feels like it, too.
"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.
"Tell you wha—"
"That you were a virgin."
Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!
Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.
"Hardly relevant, is it?"
"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"
"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"
"I didn't ghost you."
"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."
"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"
"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"
"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."
"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."
"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"
The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.
"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."
You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.
To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.
With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.
Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.
With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.
Looks down at you.
Is so close you can smell his aftershave.
A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.
"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."
Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.
The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.
"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.
"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."
He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."
The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.
Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.
Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.
"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"
The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?
All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.
"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"
The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.
Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.
And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.
It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.
Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.
An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.
When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.
While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.
He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.
He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.
As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.
And so it's up to him to put you back together again.
"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"
His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to. Also knows that he does need to.
"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."
"But I—"
"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up."
He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.
"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"
His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.
An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).
"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.
The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"
"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"
"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."
Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.
Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.
It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.
"I want you," he husks against your lips.
"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.
"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."
"And what was that?" You encourage.
There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer.
Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."
And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?
Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.
The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.
"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.
"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"
"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."
He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.
"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.
"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.
As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.
"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"
You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."
He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.
"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.
"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.
"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.
There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.
"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."
Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."
"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.
And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.
His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.
"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"
"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.
"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."
With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.
Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.
His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.
Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."
The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.
He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.
When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.
Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.
But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.
"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."
If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.
Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.
Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.
You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.
But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.
As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"
Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.
"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."
The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.
"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.
"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.
"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."
It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.
His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.
"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.
"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.
"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."
"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"
"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.
He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.
"S'all there is. They alright?"
"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"
"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."
His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.
"I don't care. I don't want them—"
You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.
"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"
When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.
"I promise," you swear.
As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.
"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"
"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"
"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.
"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."
With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.
"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.
"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.
"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."
"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.
You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.
"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.
Your argumentative streak wants to fight.
You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."
His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.
The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.
In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.
Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.
Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."
Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.
He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.
"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.
The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.
You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.
"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."
"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"
His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."
And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.
But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.
Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."
"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.
"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."
"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.
"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole.
His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes.
Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"
There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."
But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."
"You're stupid."
"You're stupider."
"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before.
His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"
"Think you were gonna make me cum."
"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."
His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.
The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.
As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.
The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.
"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.
"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."
You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.
"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.
"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"
It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.
"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.
"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."
The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with.
His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.
But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"
That's the thing.
He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.
Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.
"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."
Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.
And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.
"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"
You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.
"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."
It's been half an hour.
He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.
The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck.
Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.
Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.
"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.
"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."
"We?" You question, incredibly confused.
"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.
Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.
As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.
Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.
Genre/Tags: spiderman/ campus heartthrob! jungkook x reader, friends (but not exactly) to lovers, i think they're in a situationship, spiderman au, spiderkook au, angst, fluff, (smut in drabble)
Summary: For as long as you can remember, Jungkook has been the biggest flirt when it comes to you. Despite being the campus heartthrob with a trail of admirers and girls dying for his attention—his focus has always, inexplicably, been on you. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves friends, not with the way he shamelessly flirts and constantly pushes your buttons, but there’s no denying the way he gets under your skin, making your heart race in ways you wish it wouldn’t. When you finally give in, after enduring his endless date requests and ridiculous antics, you expect something special, maybe even something perfect. What you don’t expect is to be left disappointed and hurt in a way that blindsides you. Little do you know, Jungkook’s time is split between charming you and saving the city. And while you’re questioning everything, Jungkook is desperate to prove that his feelings for you have always been real, even if his reality is anything but ordinary.
Word Count: 21.5k+ (don't hate me)
Chapter Warnings: pining, mature themes, mature language, someone's dangling off a roof, lots and lots of fluff
playlist for the vibes <3
cher's notes: should i make a drabble for this? maybe including smut? idk let me knowwwww.
THE PICTURE I USED FOR MY COVER IS NOT MINE !! CREDIT GOES TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNER AND EDITOR !!
<-part 1
part (2/2)
The moment Jungkook tumbles onto the living room floor through the window, Jimin and Taehyung glance up from the dining table where they're eating ramen, their expressions completely unsurprised.
They barely pause eating, already anticipating what's about to come.
"So, I'm guessing you stood her up." Jimin says matter-of-factly, barely glancing up as he takes another mouthful of noodles.
Of course, his roommates had seen the news. With their knowledge of the concert date he'd been planning to take you on, it wasn't exactly rocket science to figure out that he hadn't shown up.
"Please tell me you at least called her." Taehyung adds, his voice tinged with faint exasperation as he sets his bowl down.
Jungkook doesn't respond immediately.
Instead, he yanks off his mask, tossing it onto the couch as he leans against the wall, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. "I..." he starts, still panting.
He swallows hard, his gaze flicking between his two friends before finally admitting, "I messed up." His voice cracks just enough to betray the guilt simmering beneath his carefully constructed facade.
Jimin sets his chopsticks down with a sigh, while Taehyung crosses his arms, both of them watching him intently. Neither looks particularly surprised by his confession, but their silence urges him to continue.
"You guys know how excited I was, right?" Jungkook says, taking a few steps closer to the table. "We know. You've been dying to take her out on a date for months now." Jimin replies as he watches Jungkook plop himself down on the chair nearby.
"Yeah, exactly. And when I finally had the chance..." He exhales sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I blew it."
Jimin raises an eyebrow while Taehyung leans back in his chair, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.
"I was just about to leave..." Jungkook starts, his voice quieter now. "But then these two firetrucks zoomed past me, and I knew there was a fire nearby. I debated whether I should go check it out or just let the firemen handle it, but then I thought, how long would it take, you know?"
Taehyung nods silently, signaling for him to go on.
"But when I got there, the scene was horrific." Jungkook continues, his hands gesturing as if trying to paint the picture.
"It was a whole building engulfed in flames, and there were so many people trapped inside. I couldn't just walk away. By the time I got everyone out and made sure they were all safe, it was already way past the concert time." His voice falters, and he looks down, the weight of the evening pressing heavily on his shoulders.
Taehyung clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well, was she sad when you told her you couldn't make it?" he asks softly.
At this Jungkook's breath hitches as his eyes nervously dart around the room. "Well..." he trails off.
Taehyung's jaw drops as realization dawns on him. "No way..." he breathes, leaning forward. "Kook, you didn't call her?!" he questions. Jimin's eyes widen as well, his voice incredulous. "Seriously, Jungkook?!"
Jungkook winces, the guilt now a tangible weight pressing down on him. "Well... it gets worse." he murmurs softly, almost as if afraid to speak the words aloud. Taehyung and Jimin exchange bewildered glances before speaking in unison. "What do you mean?"
Jungkook inhales deeply, bracing himself. His shoulders slump slightly as he begins, "So, basically... once I was done with the fire scene, I thought I should stop by the concert venue. A part of me was sure she would've left, but... another part of me wondered... what if she's still there, waiting, you know?" His voice dips with self-reproach.
Taehyung nods slowly, as if coaxing him to continue, while Jimin furrows his brows, visibly concerned.
"And I was still in my suit..." Jungkook explains, glancing down at his hands as if searching for the right words. "So, I figured if she was still there, I'd change and go see her. But if she wasn't, then I'd head to her place to explain everything."
Jungkook's voice tightens as the memory resurfaces. "But while I was on my way to the concert venue..." He pauses, his jaw clenching. "I saw this group of men in an alleyway. They were harassing a girl."
At this, both Taehyung and Jimin's eyes widen in shock. "Wait, what?!" Taehyung blurts out, leaning even closer while Jimin's expression mirrors his, but before either of them can fire off more questions, Jungkook continues in a strained voice.
"It was Y/N." he confesses.
The silence in the room feels deafening for a split second, until both of them erupt in unison. "WHAT?!?!" Taehyung yells, his voice cracking with disbelief. Jimin nearly topples out of his chair, his hands slamming onto the table. "Are you serious right now?!"
Jungkook grimaces, the memory of what happened at the alleyway still vivid in his mind. His hands clench into fists as if trying to grasp the weight of his emotions.
"The moment I realized it was her..." he begins, his voice tight. "I didn't think twice. I jumped in and took down those disgusting men." His gaze drops to the floor as he exhales shakily. "After that, I made sure she got home safe... well, if we're getting specific, I flew her home."
Both Taehyung and Jimin stare at him, their jaws slack with a mix of awe and disbelief. "So..." Jimin ventures, leaning forward with a raised brow. "She doesn't know it was you?"
Jungkook shakes his head slowly, the regret weighing down his words. "Of course not." he replies.
Jimin's brow furrows deeper, his incredulity surfacing. "So let me get this straight... she thinks Jungkook—the guy she's been waiting for—stood her up, and Spiderman—the mysterious masked vigilante—saved her from a group of creepy men?"
"Exactly." Jungkook sighs. "And though I was the one who saved her..." he adds, his voice quieter now, tinged with guilt. "I just can't stop feeling like it's my fault that she had to go through something like that."
Taehyung's expression softens, the weight of Jungkook's words sinking in. "Why do you think that?" he asks gently.
Jungkook's jaw clenches as he continues. "She waited all evening for me. She only left when the concert was over. And because of that... she ended up alone in that alley." He pauses, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard.
"When I saw her face, hyung... she looked so fucking terrified. Her eyes, the way she was trembling..."
His voice cracks slightly, and he rubs the back of his neck as if trying to ground himself. "I can't stop thinking... if I'd just called her, if I'd explained that I couldn't make it because of some emergency... maybe she wouldn't have been there at all. Maybe none of this would've happened."
The room falls into an uneasy silence, the weight of Jungkook's guilt hanging thick in the air. Taehyung and Jimin exchange a look, both trying to gauge their next words carefully.
"Maybe..." Jimin starts hesitantly, his voice softer now. "You should explain everything to her tomorrow. And, I don't know..." He pauses, his eyes flicking between Jungkook and Taehyung before continuing cautiously. "Probably... tell her you're Spiderman."
Taehyung lets out a dry scoff, shaking his head. "Oh, sure. Like being a superhero is the most casual, everyday thing to confess. Especially when half the city is obsessed with uncovering Spiderman's identity. That's not just risky, it's reckless." His tone carries a mix of exasperation and concern as he crosses his arms.
"Taehyung's right." Jungkook interjects with a sigh. "It's not the right time for that." He pauses, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing his temples as though the action might soothe his racing thoughts.
"Telling her about Spiderman now... it would feel like I'm using it as a crutch, an excuse to justify standing her up. And yeah, in this case, it is the truth, but..."
"But it wouldn't feel fair." Taehyung finishes for him, his tone softer this time. Jungkook nods slowly, his eyes distant, lost in thought.
"If I tell her the whole truth now, it'll just muddy things even more. I need her to trust me first, to believe in me again, before I can drop something as massive as that on her." he says.
Jimin leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his expression contemplative. "Then what's the plan? You can't just leave things as they are. She deserves an explanation, Kook, even if it's not the whole truth yet."
"I know..." Jungkook admits as he looks up at his friends, his gaze earnest but filled with uncertainty. "I just... I don't even know where to begin."
"You begin by owning up to your mistake." Taehyung says firmly, his gaze locking with Jungkook's. "Don't overthink it. Start simple. Apologize for standing her up, and make it clear that it wasn't because you didn't care. Tell her you had an emergency and couldn't contact her because of how chaotic everything was."
Jimin nods in agreement, his expression softening. "And maybe... just maybe, let her see how much she truly means to you." he says gently. "You obviously don't have to explain everything right now, but you can still show her that she's important. That she matters more than anything else in your world."
He leans back slightly, his tone turning a bit more serious. "Girls take getting stood up really seriously... and it's valid. I mean, what could feel more humiliating than that, right? And in your case, you've been pining over her for ages, practically begging for a chance to take her out. When she finally gave in, she ended up being stood up. Of course she's going to be upset... maybe even really hurt."
Jimin pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in before continuing. "So, like I said, you need to make things right. Show her, don't just tell her, what she means to you."
Jungkook takes a deep breath, his jaw tightening as he processes Jimin's words.
"You're right..." he says after a moment, his voice steadier now. "I owe her that much. No excuses, no distractions... just the truth, as much as I can give her for now."
Jungkook moves quickly through the hallways, his steps echoing in the quiet space as his eyes dart into every classroom he passes. He's already called you twice, but of course, you haven't answered. Why would you? You have every right to ignore him, and he knows it.
Still, the pit in his stomach grows with every passing second, the urgency to find you pressing heavier on his chest.
He racks his brain, trying to remember where you might be. He remembers that you have a test today, so chances are you're somewhere on campus, probably revising your notes.
He checks the library, the cafeteria... even the quietest corners of the campus, but you're nowhere to be found. Frustration starts to boil under his skin, a gnawing sense of helplessness creeping in as his search turns up empty.
Finally, he spots you in one of the computer labs. You're seated in front of a monitor, your eyes intently focused on the screen, the soft glow reflecting off your features.
Jungkook pauses at the doorway, hesitant. Is this the right time to approach you? Would you even want to hear what he has to say? His stomach churns with unease, but he knows he can't turn back now. He has to talk to you, has to try to fix what he's broken.
As he takes a step closer, his gaze flickers to the outfit you're wearing... a cute little skirt that usually drives him crazy but today, something else catches his attention, something that makes his breath hitch... the bandaid on your knee.
He swallows hard, his jaw tightening as the memory of yesterday's horrific incident floods back into his mind. The scrape on your knee, a cruel reminder of what you endured... of what he was partly responsible for.
Guilt coils around his chest like a vice, the weight of it almost unbearable. His fists clench at his sides as he silently blames himself all over again.
But he shakes his head, forcing himself to focus. There's no point in wallowing in guilt now... it won't change anything. What matters is making things right.
He straightens his posture and takes another step forward. All he has to do is apologize, to look you in the eye and promise that he'll never let you down again.
"Hey, Ace." Jungkook calls softly, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness. Your head snaps up instinctively, eyes wide for a fleeting moment before the recognition dawns, and your expression hardens.
The usual warmth in your gaze is replaced with icy detachment as you turn back to the monitor without so much as a word.
You'd been expecting this. You knew he'd call, that he'd come looking for you eventually. Of course, he'd have some excuse ready—some rehearsed set of reasons like I got caught up... something came up... I didn't mean to.
But honestly? After everything that happened yesterday... being stood up by him and then the sheer terror of being cornered by those creepy disgusting men, you've already decided that you're not interested in hearing Jungkook's excuses.
"Ace..." he tries again, his voice softer now, almost pleading. He pulls the chair right beside you and lowers himself into it, leaning closer, his presence undeniable even as you stubbornly ignore him.
Your focus remains fixed on the screen, your fingers nonchalantly scrolling through the document.
"Ace, come on..." he says, his tone carrying a quiet urgency. "Would you please look at me?" His hand reaches out, resting gently on the armrest of your chair, his proximity pressing into your peripheral awareness.
Still, you don't look at him. Your eyes remain fixed on the monitor, your expression unreadable, the tension in the lab thick enough to suffocate.
Jungkook's shoulders slump slightly, the silence stretching on, but he doesn't retreat. Instead, he sits there, waiting, hoping for even the faintest crack in your walls.
"I know you're mad, and you have every right to be..." Jungkook says, his voice trembling slightly, thick with remorse. He leans forward and lightly tugs your chair closer, desperation flickering in his dark eyes.
You click your tongue in irritation, your gaze snapping to him with a sharp glare. Without missing a beat, you scoot your chair back, reclaiming the distance he closed.
Jungkook usually finds your annoyed pout and furrowed brows endearing, a quirky little trait he adores. But today, those expressions weigh heavily on his heart, a visual reminder of how much he's hurt you.
"Ace, please." he nearly whispers, his voice cracking at the edges. "Just hear me out—"
"I don't want to, Jungkook." you cut him off, spinning away from the screen and finally looking at him head-on. Your expression is hardened, your eyes blazing with a mix of hurt and anger. "Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to finally say yes to you?"
Jungkook freezes, the weight of your words rendering him momentarily speechless.
"I know you probably think I was playing hard to get, that I liked having you chase me around..." you continue, your voice steady despite the tremor of emotion beneath it. "But that wasn't the case because I was scared. Do you understand that? Scared."
Your admission lands like a blow, and Jungkook swallows hard, his adam's apple bobbing as he processes your words.
He wants to interrupt, to tell you he never once thought you were playing games, that he knew you needed time to trust him. But the rawness in your voice keeps him silent, guilt rooting him in place.
"I've never had someone show me the kind of attention you did. Never had someone chase after me like that. And it wasn't flattering... it was unsettling. It made me question everything... your intentions, my own feelings. I kept wondering if it was real, if you were real, or if I'd let myself believe in something that would shatter the moment I let my guard down."
Your words are laced with bitterness now, and Jungkook watches helplessly as your gaze flickers to the side, avoiding his. He can see the cracks in your armor, the pain you're trying so hard to mask.
"And then..." you continue, your voice faltering slightly. "When I finally thought you were different, that maybe you were actually being sincere... I decided to trust you. I thought... 'Maybe I can give him a chance.' But you know what, Jungkook?" You pause, looking directly at him, your eyes cold and accusing.
"I was right all along. Guys like you... you don't care. You think you can just say all these flirty, meaningless things, make someone feel special, ask them out like it's no big deal... and then just... not show up."
Jungkook flinches as if you've physically struck him, each word cutting deeper than the last. He tries to open his mouth, to explain, to apologize, but you don't give him the chance.
"Do you even know how long I waited yesterday? How humiliating it was to just... to just sit there, thinking you'd show up? And how I almost got harras—" You stop abruptly, your voice catching.
The memory of what happened after, the fear, the helplessness... you can't bring yourself to relive it, let alone share it with him. You shake your head, anger bubbling back to the surface. "You know what? Forget it. I don't have time for this."
You stand abruptly, shoving your chair back with enough force to make it screech against the floor. You start gathering your things haphazardly, your movements sharp and hurried.
"Ace, wait—" Jungkook stands as well, panic flashing across his face. He reaches out as if to stop you, but you're already pulling away.
"No, Jungkook." you say firmly, clutching your books to your chest. You look up at him, your eyes glistening but resolute. "I'm done. Just... leave me alone and don't ever talk to me again."
And with that, you turn and walk away, leaving Jungkook standing there, the weight of your words and his regret pressing down on him like a storm he doesn't know how to weather.
The moment you step out of the exam hall, your chest feels tight, and your eyes sting with the threat of tears. It's as if the universe has decided to conspire against you.
Yesterday was a total disaster, every moment of it chipping away at your composure. And now, not only had you almost broken down right in front of Jungkook earlier, but the test you thought you could do well on, just went horribly wrong.
Your steps are unsteady as you walk out, your knees weak and your shoulders sagging under the weight of everything. The frustration bubbling in your chest mixes with regret, twisting into a knot of self-reproach.
Maybe instead of waiting at the concert venue yesterday, clinging to some foolish hope, you should've just gone straight home to study. At least that way, you wouldn't have crossed paths with those creeps in the alley, wouldn't have found yourself in the middle of a nightmare that refuses to let go.
You swallow hard, willing yourself not to break down right there in the open, but the lump in your throat grows heavier. Everything feels wrong... too loud, too bright, too much.
"Oh, hey, Y/n !!" a familiar voice slices through the haze of your thoughts. You blink, lifting your head to find Kim Seokjin, your ever-reliable senior, striding towards you with his signature boyish grin.
Seokjin has always been the dependable type, the one who'd send you mock questions late at night or lend you his pristinely annotated notes without hesitation. His easygoing charm was usually a comfort, a beacon of positivity on even the most stressful days.
"How was the test, Y/n-ah? Did the questions I gave you help?" he asks, his brows wiggling playfully, an attempt to tease you as he always does. His tone is light, full of genuine curiosity, but today, it feels like static in your ears.
The world around you blurs as his question echoes in your mind, clashing with the disappointment and frustration roiling in your chest.
You can't even muster a smile. Your throat tightens, and your lips quiver as your gaze drops to the ground, unwilling to meet his.
Seokjin's grin falters. His sharp eyes, so quick to notice the smallest detail, catch the shimmer of tears threatening to spill. Concern washes over his face as he steps closer, his demeanor instantly softening. "Y/n?" he calls again, voice quieter now, tinged with worry. "What's wrong?"
You open your mouth to respond, to brush him off with some excuse, but the words refuse to come. The dam breaks before you can stop it and a single tear escapes, sliding down your cheek, carrying with it the weight of everything you've been holding in.
"Hey..." Seokjin steps closer, his hands gently settling on your shoulders as he leans down, his face level with yours. His gaze is soft, concerned, and without a trace of judgment. It's all it takes for the dam to shatter completely.
Before you know it, your shoulders shake, sniffling giving way to quiet, uncontrollable sobs. Tears spill freely, blurring your vision, but you don't even try to stop them.
Seokjin reacts instantly, his protective instincts kicking in as he wraps an arm around your trembling shoulders. With a quick glance at the throng of students milling about, he guides you away from the bustling corridor.
His movements are careful but firm, shielding you as he steers you towards a quieter spot.
He leads you outside, where the fresh air feels both grounding and overwhelming against the storm inside you. Still holding you close, he walks you to the cafeteria.
Luckily, it's mostly empty at this hour, the silence offering a small measure of comfort. Gently, he sits you down at a secluded table and takes the seat right beside you, his arm still a reassuring presence around your shoulders.
"Jin, I'm sorry... I just—" you manage to choke out between hiccups, your voice trembling with guilt and embarrassment. The last thing you wanted was to burden him like this, to disrupt his day with your sudden outburst.
"Hey, don't apologize." Seokjin says, his voice steady but kind. He tilts his head to catch your gaze, his own warm and earnest. "You don't have to say sorry, okay?"
His words are simple, but they're enough to make you feel seen. Even through the tears streaming down your cheeks, a small, shaky smile begins to tug at the corners of your lips.
Seokjin notices, and his own grin breaks through, soft and encouraging. "I've just been having a really... bad day." you murmur, as if speaking the words aloud might shatter you further.
He nods, his expression softening even more. "I understand." he says simply, his tone gentle but firm, as though he truly does. There's no pressure in his words, no expectation for you to elaborate.
"She won't even look at me." Jungkook murmurs, his voice tinged with frustration and something far more vulnerable. One strap of his bag hangs loosely off his shoulder, swaying slightly as he walks. His gaze is fixed downward, the usual energy in his steps replaced by a weight that drags him down.
Taehyung strolls beside him, his attention divided between Jungkook and his phone. "Maybe she just needs some space." he says, his tone nonchalant but edged with understanding.
Jungkook huffs, his hand raking through his dark hair in agitation. "I think she hates me." he mutters, the words falling heavily between them.
Saying it aloud makes the possibility feel real, and the thought makes his chest ache. His steps falter, his pace slowing as if his own doubts are physically pulling him back.
Taehyung glances up from his phone, a small frown forming as he looks at his friend. "Come on, Kook. That's not true. She's mad, yeah, but she's not the kind of person to hate someone... especially not you. She just needs time to cool off—wait, hold on." Taehyung suddenly halts mid-sentence, his body stiffening as his gaze locks on something ahead. "Is that Y/n ??"
Jungkook's head snaps up at Taehyung's words, his eyes following the direction of his friend's stare. His heart skips a beat when he spots you through one of the large cafeteria windows.
You're sitting at a corner table, and you're not alone. Right beside you is Kim Seokjin, a senior Jungkook knows you've always been close with. His brows knit together as he takes in the scene.
You're wiping at your face, and the movement makes his stomach drop. Even from a distance, it's obvious that you've been crying. Seokjin leans closer, his hands gesturing animatedly as he talks, his expression bright and full of intent. He's clearly trying to comfort you, trying to draw out a smile or a laugh.
Jungkook feels a surge of emotions, each one sharper than the last. The first is jealousy, immediate and searing.
But it's quickly overwhelmed by something far heavier... concern. The sight of your tear-streaked face slices through him like a blade. His heart clenches painfully as questions flood his mind.
Why are you crying? Is it because of him? Or did something else happen?
The memory of yesterday crashes over him, the regret he's been carrying since last night twisting into something unbearable. The thought that you might be hurting because of his mistake feels suffocating.
Jungkook's jaw tightens as he watches Seokjin lean even closer, his smile warm and reassuring. He's trying to make you feel better, and maybe he's succeeding.
Jungkook's fists clench at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he struggles to hold back the urge to storm in there. Every fiber of his being wants to cross the distance, to kneel before you and tell you how sorry he is, to explain everything, to make it right.
"Thanks, Jin." you murmur, a soft smile gracing your lips.
After spending nearly forty minutes unloading all your frustrations about how terribly your test went, a weight feels like it's been lifted.
While you didn't delve into the messier parts... the thing with Jungkook, or how disastrously everything spiraled yesterday, you still feel an undeniable sense of relief. Seokjin's steady presence and his knack for lightening the mood had provided a much-needed balm to your frayed nerves.
"No biggie." he replies, his grin warm as he affectionately ruffles your hair. It's a gesture that draws a small, genuine laugh from you despite everything. "You'll be fine, kid. We'll hit the books together for the next test, alright?"
You nod, his reassurance leaving a comforting echo in your chest. The two of you step out of the cafeteria, the evening sun outside a soft contrast to the heaviness you'd felt earlier.
"I'll head home now, okay?" you say, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. "Sure." Seokjin nods, his hands slipping into his pockets. "I've got plans with my friends anyway. Take care of yourself, yeah?"
With a final wave, the two of you part ways. You walk towards the familiar gates of the campus, the hum of distant chatter and the rustle of trees in the breeze filling the air.
The moment you step outside, your eyes fall on Jungkook almost immediately. He's leaning against the bricked compound wall, the sun casting a faint golden glow over his figure.
His head is tilted down, his thumb scrolling through his phone as his teeth worry his lower lip, a nervous habit you've come to notice over time.
For a moment, you falter, your steps hesitating as a wave of emotions threatens to crash over you. But just as quickly, you steel yourself, tearing your gaze away and forcing your legs to move forward.
As though sensing your presence, Jungkook's head lifts, his sharp eyes locking onto you as he instantly lowers his phone lowers. "Ace!" he calls out.
You grit your teeth at the sound of the nickname, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag. You don't look at him, don't give him even the satisfaction of acknowledgment, and continue walking as if you hadn't heard a thing.
But Jungkook isn't one to give up easily. You can hear his footsteps quickening behind you, the sound growing louder as he closes the distance. Before you know it, he's beside you, slightly winded from the effort.
"Ace." he says again, softer this time, the name rolling off his tongue like a plea. "Don't call me that." you snap, your voice low but sharp. You don't stop walking, though your heart is pounding in your chest.
He doesn't falter, easily matching your pace, his longer strides making it seem like the effort to catch up was nothing to him. "Hey..." he tries again, his voice softer this time, almost tentative.
This time, you glance at him, your glare sharp and unforgiving. "Did I not tell you to leave me alone?" you snap, your tone biting, each word a dagger meant to push him further away.
"I know." he admits, his voice quiet but steady. "But can you please just hear me out, Ace?" The nickname slips out before he realizes it, and when he does, he quickly backtracks. "I mean, Y/n." he corrects, a flicker of uncertainty flashing across his face. "I just want to make things right."
You scoff, keeping your eyes fixed ahead, refusing to give him even a fraction of the attention he's so desperately vying for. "Well, I'm not interested." you reply curtly.
Jungkook's jaw tightens, his steps faltering for the first time as he processes your response. But he doesn't stop. Instead, he keeps walking beside you, a quiet determination etched into his features, like he's unwilling to let this be the end of the conversation.
"I saw you in the cafeteria earlier..." Jungkook begins again, his voice quieter this time, almost hesitant. You don't reply, your gaze fixed firmly ahead.
The evening breeze, though warm, carries a hint of lingering daylight fading into the deep hues of dusk. It brushes past you softly, stirring strands of your hair, yet the gentle ambiance does little to ease the storm brewing within.
"With... that senior..." he continues after a beat, his tone cautious. "His name's Seokjin, right? And... I noticed you were crying." His voice falters slightly, as though he's treading carefully, trying to choose his words in a way that won't set you off.
Your pace doesn't waver, but your scoff cuts through the silence like a whip. "Why do you even care?" you snap, not sparing him a glance. The bitterness in your voice is unmistakable, each word drenched in the frustration you've been holding back.
"If I'm in the cafeteria, if I'm with Seokjin, or if I'm crying—none of that is your business anyway." you say coldly. Jungkook flinches, just slightly, the weight of your words pressing against him. Yet, he doesn't retreat.
A low sigh slips past his lips, but he doesn't slow his pace, stubbornly keeping stride beside you. There's a quiet determination in his steps, a hope flickering within him that maybe... just maybe, you'll give in and grant him the chance he's desperate for.
He pouts slightly, his gaze drifting to your face, noting the resolute expression you wear, the way you refuse to even glance his way.
His shoulders droop as his eyes fall to his feet, sulking like a child who's been denied his favorite treat. The sight would've been almost endearing, had the tension between you not been so palpable.
You catch his dejected demeanor from the corner of your eye, and though a small part of you feels the faintest tug at your heartstrings, you steel yourself.
"Stop following me." you bite out, your tone as sharp as glass, slicing through the tension hanging heavy in the air. But of course, he doesn't listen. His footsteps fall in line with yours, the quiet persistence of his presence an unspoken challenge. It makes your blood simmer.
Finally, you come to an abrupt halt, spinning around so quickly that Jungkook almost walks into you. Your eyes blaze with unfiltered anger, your frustration spilling over like a dam finally breaking.
"You know what? You can't do this." you snap, your voice trembling, not with weakness but with the weight of emotions clawing at your chest.
Jungkook freezes but his mouth opens, a soft breath escaping as if he wants to respond, but you barrel on, refusing to let him derail your thoughts.
"I have every right to be mad at you, Jungkook." you begin, your voice gaining strength with each word. "You can't just force me to listen to you, or follow me around like this, expecting me to magically forgive you."
The wind picks up around you, teasing the loose strands of your hair as you fix him with a glare sharp enough to cut steel.
"I don't know what happened to you yesterday.... why you didn't show up... but you could've called me, Jungkook !! Or maybe a text would've been enough too because just... how long would that have taken?" Your voice cracks slightly, and you hate how vulnerable it sounds, but you push through.
"Is that really too much to ask for? Especially from someone who insisted on taking me out in the first place?"
Jungkook looks as if you've physically struck him, his shiny eyes clouded with regret, his lips parting to speak. But you don't let him.
"So don't just stand there acting like you can fix this by following me around. Leave me alone. At least give me the space I'm asking for, because I am mad at you. I need time to cool off. To think about whether I even want to give you a chance to explain yourself." You pause for a moment, your chest rising and falling with the force of your emotions.
"That's all I have to say." you finish, your tone final, like the slam of a closing door. "So stop following me and go home."
You turn around sharply, your steps determined as you step off the pavement to cross the road and get to the other side. You don't wait for his response, don't care to see the impact of your words etched on his face.
All you want is distance.
Your thoughts are so clouded with anger that you don't notice the sound at first... the low hum of an engine approaching, growing louder by the second.
It isn't until you're halfway across the road that it registers... the sharp roar of a car speeding in your direction, the headlights glaring like molten fire.
Your breath catches, your body freezing in place as the realization crashes over you. There's no time to move, no time to think. The car is coming too fast.
Just as you brace for impact, a sudden force yanks you backward, spinning you around with a strength that feels almost supernatural. The world shifts in a blur, and the next thing you know, you're against something solid... someone solid.
The wind roars in your ears as you're pulled out of the way, the rush of the car passing dangerously close, the draft whipping against your bare legs.
You blink, your chest heaving as you try to make sense of what just happened. Your heart pounds violently in your ribcage, your head spinning.
Jungkook's arms are around you, his grip firm but trembling slightly. His eyes bore into yours, wide and dark, filled with a mix of panic and something deeper, something you can't quite place. His breathing is labored, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.
For a moment, the world seems to narrow, the noise of the street fading into an eerie silence.
"How... did you—" you begin, but the words die on your lips because the way he moved just now wasn't just fast. It wasn't just instinct. It was something else entirely... something that defied explanation.
You couldn't comprehend how he managed to react so quickly, whether his reflexes were simply that sharp or if there was something more to his speed. It was almost unreal, the way he had reached you in mere seconds, as if defying the very limits of human ability.
The car had been barreling towards you with alarming speed, and any ordinary person would have hesitated, stumbled, or arrived a heartbeat too late.
But not him. It was as if he'd moved with purpose, instinct overriding all else, bridging the impossible distance between you in the blink of an eye.
"Are you okay?" His voice trembles with genuine concern as his eyes search yours, his hands now gently holding your shoulders, steadying you as if afraid you might collapse at any moment.
He takes a small step back, his gaze sweeping over you, silently checking for any sign of injury. "Ace, are you okay?" he repeats, this time louder, almost as though his words might anchor you to the present.
You blink, still dazed, your mind struggling to catch up with the chaos of the moment. You try to find your bearings, still feeling the adrenaline pumping in your veins, your heartbeat loud in your ears.
"I..." you begin, the words stumbling over each other as your breath catches in your throat. "I'm fine." you finally manage, though your voice is shaky, betraying the storm still raging inside you.
"God, you almost got knocked over by that car." he mutters, his tone laced with disbelief as he stares at you with a mixture of relief and lingering panic.
His hand reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his eyes never leaving yours, as though trying to ensure you were truly alright.
And suddenly, that strange feeling washes over you again... the déjà vu. It clings to you, an elusive wisp of familiarity that you can't quite pin down. Something about this moment feels like a distant memory straining to resurface, but it's just so out of reach.
"I know you don't want to see me right now..." Jungkook begins, his voice softer than you've ever heard it, laced with hesitation and something akin to vulnerability. He gulps, his eyes scanning yours for even the faintest sign of permission to keep talking.
"But..." He pauses, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Can I please at least walk you home?" he asks, the words spilling out in a way that feels both desperate and determined.
"I can't just leave now, not after..." His voice falters slightly, the weight of the moment pressing on him. "Not after you almost died right in front of me."
You can see how much he means it, how much he's grappling with the thought of what could have happened. And though every rational part of you wants to turn him away, there's another part... smaller, quieter, but persistent... that doesn't want to be alone right now.
So all you do is just give him a small nod, and Jungkook exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Relief flickers across his face, and though it's faint, the corners of his lips lift into the gentlest smile.
Without a word, he reaches for your hand... his grip firm yet careful, like he's afraid you might slip away and guides you across the road. His eyes dart back and forth, scanning for any lingering danger, as though the world itself might conspire to hurt you again.
The silence that follows isn't heavy... it's steady, a quiet agreement between the two of you. The rhythmic sound of your footsteps against the pavement fills the space, accompanied by the distant hum of the city.
He doesn't try to apologize, doesn't flood you with explanations or desperate pleas for forgiveness. Instead, he just walks beside you, his hand warm and grounding in yours.
When your apartment building finally comes into view, a subtle sense of relief washes over you, a small weight lifting from your chest. But beneath that relief, there's something else... a faint pang of bittersweet emotion, an undeniable comfort in his presence that you're not ready to fully acknowledge.
As you stop near the entrance, Jungkook gently releases your hand. The absence of his touch feels oddly noticeable, like you've been untethered.
He offers you a soft smile, one that's equal parts tender and hesitant, as though he's afraid of pushing too far. "Goodnight, Ace." he says quietly.
He takes a few steps back, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer, as if to make sure you're truly safe. Before you can muster a response, he turns around and starts walking away, his figure retreating into the dim glow of the streetlights.
You walk into the lecture hall, your thoughts a tangled mess. You'd spent the entire night tossing and turning, replaying yesterday's events in your mind.
Were you too harsh on Jungkook? Should you have given him a chance to explain himself, to redeem whatever it was he'd done wrong? The questions gnawed at you, leaving you feeling restless and unsure.
As you climb the steps of the lecture hall to your usual seat, your eyes fall on Jungkook. He's already here... early, for once and it's unusual enough to catch your attention.
His head is bent, focused on writing something in his notebook, and for a moment, you're struck by how absorbed he looks. You quickly remind yourself not to stare and continue making your way to your desk.
But as you get closer, you notice something unusual... a bouquet of soft pink tulips resting delicately on your desk. You freeze for a split second, eyebrows furrowing in surprise.
Who could've left them there?
Slowly, you take your seat, eyes scanning the delicate petals before landing on a small note tucked neatly into the paper wrapping.
Curiosity gets the better of you, and you carefully pluck the note free, holding it up to read. The handwriting is familiar, slightly messy but endearingly so.
"I know you said to leave you alone and give you space, and I promise I'm trying... but you didn't say anything about not giving you flowers. Today, it's tulips. Tomorrow, I'm thinking lilies... or maybe daisies? I haven't decided yet but I hope these make you smile, even just a little <3"
Your heart stutters, warmth creeping into your cheeks as you read and reread the words. It's simple, thoughtful, and so undeniably him. You glance over your shoulder, and sure enough, Jungkook is still seated behind you, his gaze fixed on his notebook.
But you don't miss the slight upward twitch of his lips, as if he knows you've seen the flowers, knows you've read his note.
You turn back to the bouquet, running your fingers lightly over the petals. A small, involuntary smile tugs at your lips, and for the first time since yesterday, the weight on your chest feels just a little lighter.
A week goes by, and you find yourself standing in front of your coffee table, staring at the growing collection of bouquets that now dominate the space. Tulips, roses, lilies, daisies... each arrangement more beautiful than the last.
Jungkook had been persistent with his floral deliveries, never missing a day. True to his word, he kept his distance, gave you space. No texts, no begging for forgiveness, no sudden appearances, no overwhelming gestures... just the quiet, steady arrival of flowers that spoke louder than words ever could.
And as much as you tried to brush it off, to remind yourself that you were still upset, you'd be lying if you said the sight of those vibrant bouquets didn't make you feel like the most special girl in the world.
A small smile tugs at your lips as you glance at the bouquets one last time before grabbing your bag.
Since it's Saturday, you need to head to the art studio and get back to working on the painting for the upcoming exhibition. The piece is almost finished but it still needs a few finishing touches.
You don't expect Jungkook to remember your plans for the exhibition, not after everything that's transpired between the two of you.
Since you haven't been texting or communicating much, you've resigned yourself to the idea that you'll have to tackle it alone, just as you always have. Besides, he's always been late whenever you've asked him to accompany you, so it's hardly a surprise.
But when you push open the door to the art studio today, the sight before you catches you completely off guard.
Jungkook is already there.
His back is to you, his broad shoulders relaxed as he stands before the canvas. A paintbrush is poised in his hand, moving with careful precision as he touches up the details on the painting and his head tilts slightly as he steps back to examine his work.
You pause in the doorway, unable to tear your gaze away. The air is tinged with the faint smell of paint and turpentine.
For a second, you debate whether to step in or quietly retreat, but the sight of him working so earnestly on something that matters to you pulls at your chest. You clear your throat softly, breaking the silence.
Jungkook freezes mid-brushstroke, his movements halting with an almost endearing hesitance. He turns his head, glancing over his shoulder to meet your gaze.
For a moment, his eyes widen, caught somewhere between surprise and relief, before a small, sheepish smile curves his lips.
"Hey." he greets, his voice warm, tinged with a softness you can't ignore. There's something almost... hopeful in the way he looks at you, as if your presence alone has made his day.
"Figured you might need a hand with this." he adds, the corners of his lips lifting into a grin that's equal parts playful and genuine.
You finally step into the studio, your gaze lingering on him longer than you'd like to admit. "You're talking like I didn't basically finish that entire painting all by myself." you quip, the teasing lilt in your voice breaking the tension as you walk towards the table behind him.
Setting your bag down, you keep your movements casual, though your heart beats just a little faster than usual. He lets out an airy chuckle, his shoulders relaxing as he turns back to the canvas.
"Fair point." he admits, the brush in his hand resuming its careful strokes.
Leaning back against the table, you cross your arms and let your gaze settle on him. There's something almost mesmerizing about the way he works.
He's ethereal like this, you think, a picture of calm and serenity that feels almost out of place in the chaos of your thoughts. The sunlight streaming through the windows catches on the faint traces of paint smudged on his fingers, and you can't help but marvel at how effortless he makes it all look.
Suddenly, the buzz of a phone rings through the studio and Jungkook instantly stops painting as his hand reaches for his phone in his back pocket.
You watch him, a quiet curiosity pulling at your focus as he glances at the screen and answers. "What's up?" he asks, his voice casual. You can hear a familiar voice on the other end of the line, and when he responds, you realize who it is.
"No, Jimin, you can't wear that because I'm wearing it tonight." Jungkook says with a hint of amusement, rolling his eyes as he continues. "Besides, that jacket's not gonna fit you anyway." he adds with a dry chuckle, clearly used to the back-and-forth dynamic with his roommate.
As the conversation unfolds, you piece together more details about Jimin, who you've heard plenty about over the course of your friendship with Jungkook.
You've listened to him vent about how Jimin, his roommate constantly borrows his clothes without asking, empties his ramen stock with reckless abandon, and perhaps most infuriating of all, sets the alarm for mornings he never wakes up for.
That means it's left to Jungkook and Taehyung to rise with the blaring sound of the alarm, cursed with the sole responsibility of dragging Jimin out of bed, an endless cycle that never seems to end.
You smile to yourself, quietly amused by the mental image of their dynamic and find yourself lost in the memory of those moments when Jungkook would casually spill details about his life... little snippets about his roommates, his frustrations, his moments of laughter.
He never hesitated to confide in you, his words flowing freely as if sharing his world with you was second nature.
It's strange, the way the simplest things can hold so much weight and it's funny how something as simple as hearing his laughter on the phone makes you realize how much you've missed it, how much you've missed him.
When the phone call finally concludes, Jungkook turns his gaze towards you, a soft, almost tender smile gracing his lips. "That was Jimin." he says with a quiet calm "He wants to wear my jacket for the party tonight."
Right. The party.
It had been the talk of the week. Since it was the weekend, a guy from your class, Jackson (A/N: YOU KNOWWWW I HAD TO IT'S BASICALLY A FANFICTION RULE. LIKE, WE NEED TO HAVE A JACKSON WANG PARTYYY I'M SORRY, BUT IT'S A MUST!) had invited a crowd of people to his infamous house party.
Jackson, was known for throwing some of the wildest parties on campus, and the buzz around it had been palpable. Word spread fast, as it always did with him, and soon enough, everyone seemed to have made their plans to attend.
For a moment, the thought of it makes you pause. You hadn't exactly given it much thought when the invitation came, brushing it off as one of those things everyone would show up to, whether they felt like it or not.
Jackson's parties were almost a rite of passage, an event no one truly missed, even if they wanted to. And yet, there was always something about them that made you hesitant.
The flashes of bright lights, the sea of unfamiliar faces, the chaotic energy that permeated every corner of the room... it was all a bit too much at times.
"You're coming, right? To the party?" Jungkook asks, his voice softer than you expected, tinged with something that almost feels like hope.
You swallow hard, your gaze dropping to the floor. "I... I don't know." you murmur, trying to dodge the weight of his question. Jungkook knows better than anyone that parties aren't your scene.
The loud music, the crowded rooms... it's never been your thing. And yet, there's something in his eyes, an unspoken plea that makes it harder to outright refuse.
He shifts slightly, almost nervously, before he speaks again. "Please come." he says, his voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability catches you off guard, and you look up, meeting his gaze.
"I'll pick you up." he continues, his tone steadying as he inches closer, the distance between you shrinking until you can almost feel the warmth radiating from him. "And I promise..." He hesitates for a heartbeat, as if searching for the right words.
Finally, his voice drops, softer but resolute. "I promise I'll show up this time."
The sincerity in his eyes, mixed with that quiet determination hits you in the chest. It's a promise laced with a deeper meaning, one that goes beyond just a party. It's a promise to be there, to not let you down again.
And though every instinct in you screams to tread carefully, you find yourself nodding. "Okay." you say, your voice soft but decisive. Jungkook's eyes widen in disbelief as he looks at you. "Wait—really? You're serious?" he asks, his tone a mixture of surprise and a hint of hope, as if he can't quite believe you've agreed so easily.
You chuckle at his reaction, the warmth in your chest growing, and nod again. "Yes. But I swear, if you're late, even by a minute... let's just say that'll be the last time I'm talking to you." you warn, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to look stern, though the corners of your mouth betray you.
Jungkook's face lights up with a mix of relief and amusement. "Ace, promise you, I'll literally replace all my fingers with Q-tips and my toes with paper clips before I show up late again." he says dramatically, and the absurd image makes you laugh despite yourself.
He watches you with a grin, clearly satisfied with the way he's managed to make you laugh, but before you can even process it, he inches closer.
"I'm not gonna let you down, Ace."
The moment Jungkook presses the brakes, his gaze flicks to the clock on the dashboard—6:47 PM. He promised to pick you up at 7:00, and true to his word, he made sure to arrive early, thanks to the car he was able to borrow from his landlord.
He thinks of this evening as his second chance, an opportunity to finally set things right, to prove to you just how deeply sorry he is and how much he truly wants you.
His heart beats a little faster just thinking about it. The simple fact that you agreed to let him pick you up, to go to the party together, fills him with a quiet sense of relief and anticipation.
He sits in his car, eyes drifting to your apartment building just across the street, a faint sigh escaping his lips and for reasons he can't quite explain, there's a nervous energy crawling up his spine.
He leans back in his seat, closing his eyes for a brief moment, trying to steady his breath, as if that will help calm his racing thoughts. No slip-ups tonight. No fuck-ups. No mistakes. Everything needs to be perfect because he just doesn't want to disappoint you again.
The minutes seem to stretch endlessly, each one heavier than the last. Jungkook steals another glance at the clock, now 7:03. His pulse quickens as he looks towards the entrance of your apartment building, his gaze scanning for any sign of you.
And then, like something out of a dream, he spots you.
You emerge from the building, and time seems to slow. His breath catches in his throat as his eyes drink in the sight of you dressed in a delicate baby pink dress that clings to your figure in the most perfect way.
It's as though the fabric was made just for you, caressing your curves, flattering every line, and giving you an ethereal glow that makes his heart beat faster. Your presence is magnetic, and for a moment, he's completely mesmerized, utterly entranced by the beauty before him.
You don't notice him yet, too preoccupied with fixing your hair, fingers delicately tugging at strands in the most graceful way. Then, your eyes flick nervously to your phone, probably checking your makeup, and Jungkook can't help but smile softly.
You look so incredibly perfect, so radiant, and the sight of you has him nearly breathless.
The moment your gaze meets his, everything stops. His heart, for the briefest moment, completely halts... frozen in awe. His smile falters, not out of disappointment, but because he's utterly captivated, lost in the sight of you.
You smile at him, your face lighting up, and wave as you jog towards the car. The sight of you moving with such effortless grace makes his chest tighten. You approach the passenger seat and open the door, sliding in with such poise.
"Wow, I didn't actually expect you to be on time." you giggle, carefully settling into the seat. "I honestly thought you would show up at least 10 minutes la—"
"God, Ace." Jungkook interrupts you, his voice almost a reverent whisper as his eyes never leave you, his gaze deepening with something far more intense than admiration.
You haven't noticed yet, too busy adjusting yourself in the seat, but he can't tear his eyes away from you. "You look... perfect." he breathes out, his voice thick with awe, as though the words are barely enough to capture the magnitude of what he's feeling.
You laugh softly, shaking your head in playful disbelief, still unaware of just how utterly lost he is in the moment. You're so used to his compliments by now that you brush it off nonchalantly. "Well, you don't look too bad yourself." you reply with a casual shrug.
At this, Jungkook chuckles, as if it's the first time he's truly registered what you said. He finally snaps back to reality, though his gaze still lingers on you... lingers in a way that makes your pulse race, just a little.
His eyes flicker to your seatbelt, or rather, the lack of one. "Safety first, Ace." he murmurs, his voice low, almost playful.
Before you can fully process his words, you're caught off guard as Jungkook leans closer. His arm stretches across you, his hand reaching for the seatbelt latch beside your head.
The sudden proximity has your breath catching in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You can't help but press your back further into the seat, the heat of his body so close to yours sending a flutter of nervous excitement through you.
His movements are slow as every motion seems to stretch the moment longer than it should. He pulls the seatbelt over your body, his fingers slightly grazing your shoulder as he slides it into the buckle with a soft click.
"There." he murmurs, his voice a low hum, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Despite the storm brewing inside you, you manage to force out a small smile, attempting to mask the fact that you're utterly flustered.
But of course, Jungkook notices. His keen eyes catch the flicker of emotion on your face, and though he looks away, the subtle twitch at the corner of his lips betrays his amusement.
Soon, the engine hums to life, and the drive to Jackson's mansion feels fleeting, a blur of streetlights and quiet anticipation. As Jungkook pulls up and parks the car, he's quick to get out, jogging around the front to your side.
He opens the door for you, extending a hand to help you out. His touch is firm yet gentle as he ensures you're steady on your heels, his gaze flicking down briefly to check before locking the car.
A small smile plays on his lips as he tilts his head towards the mansion, silently asking... Shall we?
You giggle softly, nodding in response, and as the two of you begin walking towards the grand entrance, his hand instinctively finds the small of your back.
The gesture is subtle yet possessive, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine.
As you pass by the bustling lawn, your gaze flits to the chaotic scene unfolding around the swimming pool... half-naked people getting drunk, laughing, stumbling, and diving into the water with reckless abandon.
The air is thick with the scent of chlorine, alcohol, and mischief, a typical backdrop for a night like this.
Stepping inside, the energy shifts but remains electric. You don't miss the couples tucked away in shadowed corners, making out or the group of guys fervently playing beer pong, their cheers and jeers blending with the pounding bass of the music.
The house hums with life, every corner alive with people immersed in their own worlds.
"Let me grab you a drink." Jungkook offers, his voice soft against the noise, and you nod in agreement. He gently guides you to the nearby couch before disappearing towards the kitchen, his figure weaving effortlessly through the throng of partygoers.
Left alone for a moment, you can't help but smile to yourself, watching him retreat. You're glad you decided to come tonight. A part of you has missed Jungkook terribly, and maybe you're finally ready to give him another chance. Or at the very least, hear him out.
His persistent flower deliveries for a week straight had seemed to chip away at the walls you'd built, each bouquet softening you little by little.
Soon enough, Jungkook returns with two red cups in hand, his smile soft and almost shy as he passes one to you. "Here." he says, his tone casual, though his eyes linger on you like he's studying your reaction.
The moment you take a sip, the taste hits you and it's awful. Your nose scrunches, your brows knit together, and you stick out your tongue slightly, the bitterness and burn leaving an unmistakable mark on your face.
Jungkook notices instantly, and a laugh escapes him. "What... is this?" you ask, peering suspiciously into the cup, as if the liquid itself might answer for its crimes.
There's no hiding your disdain because alcohol has never truly been your thing. You've always wondered why anyone would willingly endure the bizarre bitterness of it all.
Leaning closer, Jungkook smirks, clearly entertained by your reaction. "That..." he begins, gesturing to your cup. "Is just vodka with a splash of juice."
You shake your head, unconvinced, muttering, "Tastes like regret in a cup." but despite yourself, you lift the drink to your lips for another tentative sip. Predictably, your face contorts all over again, the exaggerated expression drawing another round of laughter from Jungkook.
"Ace..." he says, his voice warm and teasing. "You don't have to drink it if you don't like it." His tone softens as he leans just a little closer. "No one's going to judge you for sticking to soda, you know."
His words make you laugh and even with the unpleasant taste lingering in your mouth, there's a sweetness in the way Jungkook looks at you, like he wouldn't mind spending the whole evening watching you wrinkle your nose at bad cocktails.
You finish your drink with a playful shrug, flashing Jungkook a daring smile that makes his chest tighten. "What's the worst that could happen?" you tease, as if daring the night itself.
The music hums in the background, weaving seamlessly with the low buzz of conversations and bursts of laughter. Before long, you're weaving through the party, bumping into friends here and there.
You expect Jungkook to eventually drift away, to join his own circle of friends now that you're mingling. But he doesn't. His presence is steadfast, his palm a constant, reassuring weight on the small of your back as he guides you through the thrumming chaos of the party.
He's always close, sharing snacks with you and even encourages you to try a few different drinks despite your initial distaste for alcohol. Surprisingly, you're enthusiastic, more curious than hesitant and it makes him grin every time you wrinkle your nose at the unfamiliar flavors.
But as the evening stretches on, it becomes clear to him that your alcohol tolerance isn't quite what he expected. He notices the subtle shift first... the way your laughter grows just a little louder, a little freer, unbound by the careful control you usually maintain.
Then, you're swaying ever so slightly, your balance unsteady as your fingers curl tighter around his arm for support. The warmth of your touch lingers, igniting something deep within him, but he focuses on keeping you steady.
He stopped drinking the moment he realized you were getting tipsy, choosing instead to stay sharp, to look after you. He's never seen you like this... so carefree, so unguarded and it's a side of you that's both unexpected and utterly captivating.
Every new song the DJ plays is met with newfound enthusiasm. "This is my favorite song everrr !!" you exclaim for the fifth time, your words slightly slurred but full of infectious excitement. Jungkook can't help but laugh, shaking his head as you tug him towards the dance floor.
Under the neon lights, you're a vision. Your hair, slightly mussed from the night's revelry, frames your face perfectly. The faint sheen of sweat on your skin catches the light, giving you an almost ethereal glow.
His hands find your waist, steadying you as you sway to the beat, your movements loose and uninhibited. Your hands rest against his chest, featherlight but grounding, and you lean in closer without even realizing it.
Your smile... soft, almost childlike in its drunken charm leaves him utterly spellbound. The way your laughter bubbles up, unrestrained, the way your eyes sparkle with mischief and warmth, the way your presence seems to light up the room... it's intoxicating in a way that no drink ever could be.
Jungkook watches you, mesmerized, as you move with the rhythm, your hands occasionally pulling him closer. The proximity, the warmth, the raw intimacy of the moment... it's enough to drive him to the brink.
Time slips by in a blur, and before long, an uncomfortable warmth begins to creep over you. It feels as though the air in the room has thickened, pressing against your skin and making it harder to breathe.
You shift restlessly, tugging at the neckline of your outfit, your gaze flickering anxiously around the crowded room. The buzz of alcohol lingers in your veins, but a sudden wave of lightheadedness washes over you, making the space feel stifling and claustrophobic.
Jungkook is quick to notice the subtle shift in your demeanor. "What's wrong, Ace?" he asks, his brows knitting together in concern. "Too... too many people." you mumble, inching closer to him as if seeking refuge.
Your voice wavers slightly, and he doesn't need any more convincing. "You wanna get out of here?" he offers, his tone gentle, and you nod instantly.
Without hesitation, Jungkook reaches for your hand, his fingers wrapping securely around yours. He tugs you gently, maneuvering through the throng of partygoers with practiced ease.
He helps you climb the steps with care, his arm subtly supporting you as you wobble slightly on unsteady feet. The hallway above is bustling too, but doors line either side, and Jungkook begins checking them one by one, searching for an empty room.
After a few minutes, he finds one and pushes it open, ushering you inside.
As soon as the door clicks shut, sealing you both away from the chaos, you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. The room is dimly lit, the muffled sounds of the party barely audible through the walls. You sway slightly before stumbling towards the bed, collapsing onto it with a dramatic flop.
Jungkook chuckles softly, leaning against the door for a moment to watch you. "You okay there?" he teases, but his voice is laced with affection. You're sprawled out, your arms flung wide, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes fluttering as you fight to keep them open.
When your hands move to rub at your arms, shivering faintly despite the warmth of the room, Jungkook springs into action. Without a word, he helps you sit up as he slips off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.
The fabric is heavy with his scent, a mix of cedarwood and something unmistakably him, and it instantly envelops you in a comforting cocoon.
"Better?" he asks, his voice softer now as he sits down beside you on the bed. You nod, adjusting the jacket slightly before leaning into him, your head coming to rest on his shoulder.
"God, Ace..." Jungkook breathes, his arm curling around your shoulders to hold you close. "You're so cute, you know that?"
A sleepy smile tugs at your lips, but you don't respond, too lost in the warmth of his presence. Jungkook glances down at you, his chest tightening at how small you look in his jacket, your lashes brushing your cheeks as you hum softly.
He leans his cheek lightly against the top of your head, a contented sigh escaping him as he holds you.
"You know, Ace..." Jungkook begins softly after a few seconds of silence. There's a weight to his tone, one that instantly has your ears perking, even though your eyes remain closed.
You hum in acknowledgment, the quiet sound of encouragement making him tighten his hold around your shoulder. "I'm sorry about that day..." he murmurs, his words gentle yet heavy, laced with regret.
Your brows knit slightly, and though the haze of alcohol still clouds your mind, his voice feels like a lifeline, grounding you. He takes a steadying breath, his hand brushing against your arm as though searching for the courage to continue.
"For not showing up." he adds, his grip tightening ever so slightly, as if afraid you might slip away at the mere mention of his mistake.
That gets your attention. Slowly, you open your eyes and shift, moving away just enough to look at him. Even through the tipsy blur, you can clearly make out the sincerity in his gaze.
"I'm sorry I didn't call or text to let you know I couldn't make it." he continues, his dark eyes locking with yours, his voice thick with remorse. "It was never my intention to blow the chance you gave me. I know how much it must've hurt, and I hate that I let you down... I hate that I made you cry."
For a moment, you just stare at him, your breath caught in your throat as his words sink in.
"So, please..." he says, his voice trembling slightly, as if the weight of his emotions is too much to contain. "Give me another chance. Another way to make this right. Because I want this... I want us... more than anything."
He pauses as he swallows hard, his eyes searching yours with a mix of desperation and hope. It's as though he's laying his heart bare before you, every beat of it beating just for you.
You watch him, your own heart pounding in your chest. The way he hesitates, the way his brows furrow in an almost imperceptible show of vulnerability, it's unlike anything you've seen from him before.
This isn't the Jungkook who always teases you with easy confidence, the one who flirts with you like it's second nature. This is the Jungkook, stripped of pretense, standing before you utterly, irrevocably exposed.
"I..." he continues, his voice dropping lower, thick with emotion, "I really, really like you, Y/n and... and I've never felt this way about anyone before. Not like this."
The words leave him in a rush, and for a split second, he looks away, as if the intensity of his feelings is too much to handle. But then his eyes find yours again, filled with an unyielding sincerity that takes your breath away.
"I've been falling for you in ways I didn't even know were possible..." he admits, his voice a whisper now, trembling but resolute. "And I can't lose you... not without showing you how much you mean to me."
The way he's looking at you, like you're the only person in the universe makes it impossible to look away. For a moment, you're not sure if it's the alcohol or the intensity of the moment making you dizzy, but you can feel something shifting deep inside you.
You're both locked in each other's gaze, time seeming to still as Jungkook processes the weight of what he's just said while you grapple with the enormity of what you've just heard.
The muffled music from the party fades into nothingness, eclipsed by the deafening rhythm of your heartbeat.
It pounds so loudly, you wonder if Jungkook can hear it too... but he's too caught up in the thundering of his own to even notice.
Suddenly, your gaze falls to his lips, the distance between you feeling maddeningly close yet achingly far. Something stirs deep within, a silent yearning urging you to close the gap. Though tipsy, your mind is clear, fully aware of the choice you're about to make.
Perhaps it's the liquid courage coursing through your veins, giving you that extra push, daring you to lean in just a little closer.
Jungkook's gaze dips to your lips as well, and the way you lean ever so slightly forward sends his world spiraling in a blur of chaotic emotions.
His heart throbs, his pulse races, and though a part of him wants to leap up and break into a celebratory dance, he stays rooted, leaning in as well.
The space between you diminishes, your breaths mingling, his features so near you can trace the warmth emanating from him. It feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you, suspended in a moment where nothing else matters.
But then, as if the universe itself is playing a cruel joke, a sudden commotion erupts outside. The sharp sound of gasps and screams pierces the quiet moment, shattering the delicate bubble that had cocooned you.
Both of you flinch, your heads snapping towards the open window where the noise originates.
You don't move at first, your body sluggish with the haze of alcohol and the lingering electricity of the moment. The chaotic sounds from outside grow louder, and you can make out frantic voices rising in panic.
"What's... going on?" you murmur, glancing towards Jungkook. His expression tightens, concern flickering across his face as he unwraps his arm from around you.
"Stay here." he says softly, his tone calm but firm. Rising to his feet, he crosses the room in long strides and peers out the window. His eyes widen, his body stiffening as he takes in the scene below.
A boy dangles precariously from the edge of the roof on the other side of the mansion, one trembling hand clutching to the ledge for dear life. The scene below is chaotic, a crowd gathered on the lawn, their faces painted with horror as they scream and plead for the boy to hold on.
Jungkook takes in the height of the fall and the sheer helplessness of the people below, the pit of his stomach sinking at the thought of what could happen if the boy loses his grip.
It's clear the guy is drunk... his erratic swaying and terrified yells make that much obvious, but none of it changes the gravity of the situation.
Jungkook's jaw tightens as he scans the lawn. The crowd looks frozen, their panic rendering them useless. His gaze flicks back to the boy, whose grip is visibly weakening, the tremor in his arm growing more pronounced.
Jungkook knows there's no time to wait for someone else to act because this is on him now.
He spins back towards you, still seated on the bed with his jacket draped loosely over your frame. Your brows furrow in worry as you look at him, sensing the urgency in his movements. "What's happening?" you ask, your voice tinged with unease.
"Nothing, just some drunk idiot doing something stupid." he says, though the tightness in his voice betrays his nonchalance. He approaches you, crouching down so that he's at eye level. His hand reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch tender despite the situation.
"Ace..." he murmurs, his gaze steady and reassuring. "I'm just gonna go check out what's going on, okay? Stay here for me, please. I'll be right back." His voice is gentle, but there's an underlying edge of determination that tells you this isn't something trivial.
You hesitate, your instincts tugging at you to follow, to see what's happening. But the exhaustion from the night and maybe the alcohol, makes your limbs feel like lead.
"Okay." you whisper. The relief on Jungkook's face is immediate, and before standing, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Before you can process it, he's already out the door.
"Tae, call Jungkook. Fast." Jimin mutters, nudging Taehyung as both of them stare at the boy dangling from the edge of the roof. His hand clutches desperately at the ledge, his entire body trembling as he fights against gravity.
Taehyung hesitates, concern flickering across his face. "But isn't he with Y/n? I don't—" Another anguished yell from the boy interrupts him. His grip visibly falters, and the gasps and screams from the crowd below grow louder.
Taehyung curses under his breath. "Okay, okay, I'll call him." He fumbles for his phone, his fingers trembling as he struggles to find Jungkook's contact. Before he can press the call button, a new sound cuts through the chaos... a sharp and familiar thwip.
Jimin and Taehyung whip their heads towards the noise, their eyes widening as they catch sight of him.
Jungkook, in his red-and-blue mask and suit, is already swinging into action. The crowd gasps collectively, their shock palpable as they watch him soar through the air, moving with an effortless precision that seems almost unreal.
"Holy shit, it's Spiderman!" someone exclaims, their voice cutting through the chaotic murmurs of the crowd.
Jungkook fires another web mid-swing, the silken thread shooting with precision and anchoring securely to a sturdy section of the roof near the dangling boy. There's no pause in his movements, his body twists with effortless agility, each motion fluid as he adjusts his trajectory.
The wind whips past Jungkook, a roaring rush in his ears, but his focus remains razor-sharp, his mind calculating every move with unwavering precision.
In a single, breathtaking moment, he reaches the boy, wrapping one arm securely around his torso. The boy lets out a gasp of relief, clinging to Jungkook as if his life depends on it... which, in this moment, it does.
Jungkook's other hand shoots another web to maintain balance as the two of them swing away from the roof's edge.
The crowd below erupts in cheers and gasps, their eyes glued to the cinematic scene unfolding above them. Jungkook adjusts his grip on the man, ensuring he's held securely, and twists his body mid-swing to aim for a clear landing spot.
With a calculated flick of his wrist, he releases the web and they descend, the ground rushing up to meet them.
As they near the lawn, Spiderman bends his knees, absorbing the impact with practiced ease. He lands gracefully, his feet firmly planted on the ground, holding the boy steady in his arms. The boy collapses, shaking and sobbing, but otherwise unharmed.
The crowd bursts into applause, their earlier panic giving way to awe and gratitude. Phones are out, recording the moment, but Jungkook doesn't pay any attention to the commotion. He gently sets the boy down on the grass, crouching beside him.
He helps the boy sit up, patting his shoulder reassuringly. "You're okay now." he says softly, his masked face tilting as he checks the boy for any visible injuries. "Try to stay off rooftops when you've had a bit too much, yeah?" he adds with a hint of humor, though his tone remains gentle.
The boy nods shakily, muttering a string of thank-yous between his sobs. Jungkook pats his shoulder reassuringly before standing up, his masked face turning towards the crowd.
He raises a hand briefly, signaling that everything is under control before shooting another web and swinging away, disappearing into the night.
Jimin and Taehyung, still standing on the sidelines, exchange a look, their mouths slightly agape. "Did we just—?" Taehyung starts, but Jimin interrupts him, shaking his head with a wry smile. "Yeah, we just watched Jungkook save the day. Again."
Your eyes stay wide, transfixed on the scene unfolding outside. Moments ago, you were too drained to even consider moving from the bed. But as the shouts and screams grew louder, curiosity got the better of you.
Dragging yourself to the window, you peeked out, expecting nothing more than a drunken brawl or some careless antics.
What you didn't anticipate was the sight before you, a familiar masked figure clad in red and blue, swinging effortlessly through the air, the distinct silhouette of Spiderman in action.
For a moment, you wonder if your tired, tipsy mind is playing tricks on you, but the gasps and cheers from the crowd below confirm it's all real.
It happens in the blink of an eye, so fast it's almost surreal.
You stand there, frozen, as you watch a few people helping the man stumble back into the mansion, his trembling form supported by their hands.
The rest of the crowd, still buzzing with excitement, murmurs about Spiderman, who has already disappeared into the night, leaving nothing but the echo of his presence behind.
As the noise begins to settle, you find yourself mesmerized by the surreal events you've just witnessed. How does Spiderman always seem to appear at the most critical moments?
Even in the alley, when you thought you were on the brink of disaster, he showed up, as if the universe had willed it. The fact that you've now seen him not once but twice in real life... it feels almost impossible, like you're living in a dream.
Minutes stretch on, and you remain near the window, watching as the commotion slowly dies down, people returning to their partying and laughing as if nothing unusual happened.
Just when you begin to wonder where Jungkook has gone, the door to the bedroom creaks open. "Oh my God, Kook!" you exclaim without thinking, spinning around to face him.
Jungkook, slightly winded from the frantic dash, freezes in place. He's caught off guard to see you standing by the window, your eyes wide with excitement.
Before he can respond, you rush towards him, now much more alert, the weight of the alcohol clearly wearing off. "Did you see that? Spiderman was here!!" The words spill from your lips, and you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of awe.
Jungkook's heart skips a beat, his eyes betraying a flicker of something... he's suddenly very aware of how much he has to keep up the act. He's trying to catch his breath after changing out of his suit and running back here, but also, he's trying to hide his own involvement.
"Oh... y-yeah, I saw... I saw that." he stammers, doing his best to sound casual, as though he had simply been another spectator on the lawn. "Wow, I can't believe it. He was so cool." you breathe out, almost dreamily, your eyes still sparkling from the adrenaline of the moment.
Jungkook chuckles softly, his gaze lingering on you, studying the way excitement lights up your features. "I'm guessing you're all sober now." he teases, his voice tinged with amusement.
You blink, snapping back to reality as his words register. You touch your temple sheepishly, realizing the alcohol's haze has indeed lifted. "Yeah... I guess I am." you admit with a shy laugh.
"Should we leave?" he asks, his tone gentle. He tilts his head slightly, gauging your reaction. The party suddenly feels insignificant compared to everything that has unfolded tonight, and you nod in agreement. "Yeah, let's go."
Jungkook leads the way as the two of you make your way down the stairs and out of the mansion. The cool night air greets you, brushing against your skin as you follow him to his car.
True to his nature, Jungkook is as chivalrous as ever... again opening the door for you, putting on your seatbelt.
The car hums to life as he starts the engine, and the drive begins, the city lights streaming past the windows in streaks of gold and white.
For a while, you sit in comfortable silence, the events of the evening swirling in your mind. But then, a memory crashes into you... what had happened back in the room, before everything was interrupted.
Your heart flutters at the memory... the moment when his lips had been so tantalizingly close to yours, and the way he had laid his heart bare, confessing his feelings with such raw sincerity.
Your fingers fidget in your lap, your gaze flickering to Jungkook as he focuses on the road. He looks calm, but the faint tension in his jaw and the way his hands grip the steering wheel a little too tightly suggest otherwise.
Is he thinking about it, too? You wonder if his mind is replaying the same confession, the same moment the two of you almost kissed, just as yours is.
When the car rolls to a stop right in front of your apartment, neither of you makes the first move to leave. The quiet is serene, the kind that feels full of unspoken words and lingering glances.
You turn your head to look at him, only to find him already gazing at you with those dreamy eyes and that small, endearing smile that could melt glaciers.
"What?" you ask, a soft giggle slipping out despite yourself. "Nothing." he murmurs, his voice tender as his head tilts slightly. "You're just... so pretty."
Your cheeks burn, and you quickly glance out the window to hide your face, biting down on your lower lip to suppress the giddy smile that's threatening to take over.
"You're even prettier when you're all flustered." he adds, his tone teasing, and when you turn back to him, you lightly smack his arm. "Stoppp." you whine, your voice tinged with playful embarrassment.
Jungkook chuckles, and his laughter only deepens the rosy hue on your cheeks.
"I should go." you finally say, straightening in your seat as you fumble with the seatbelt. Jungkook's smile falters just slightly, a flicker of disappointment passing through his eyes, but he nods, understanding.
His gaze drops to the steering wheel as you gather your purse and prepare to step out.
Just as your hand reaches for the door handle, you pause and glance back at him. "Jungkook..." you call out softly, your voice catching his attention immediately. His head snaps up, and he hums in acknowledgment, his eyes searching yours.
You offer him a small, tender smile before leaning across the console. Your hand cradles his cheek gently, and before he can process what's happening, you press a firm, lingering kiss to his lips. His breath hitches, his entire world narrowing to this one perfect moment.
Then, just as quickly as it began, you pull away, your eyes flickering with mischief and affection. Before Jungkook can say or do anything, you dart out of the car, running towards your apartment building with a laugh bubbling up your throat.
He sits there in stunned silence, his lips still tingling from your touch. His wide eyes stare ahead, his mind racing to catch up. Did she just... kiss me?
He quickly turns his head towards the entrance of the building, and there you are, standing under the warm glow of the lights with the brightest smile on your face. His jacket still swallows your frame, the sleeves hanging past your hands as you wave at him enthusiastically.
"Bye!" you call out, your voice slightly muffled by the distance, yet it carries enough warmth to make his heart skip a beat. Before he can even lift his hand to wave back, you're already turning around, disappearing into the building with a spring in your step.
Jungkook leans back in his seat, a soft chuckle escaping him as his fingers brush lightly against his lower lip. In this moment, with your laughter still ringing in his ears and the lingering warmth of your kiss on his lips... he swears he's just won at life.
Jungkook scans the campus, his eyes darting from one familiar face to another as he searches for you. Ever since Saturday, he hasn't been able to go a single moment without thoughts of you invading his mind. It's maddening, this constant pull towards you.
He's been trying to find you all morning, but with no shared classes today, it's been nearly impossible to catch even a glimpse of you. Frustration gnaws at him as he exits the cafeteria, his steps aimless, his mind preoccupied. That's when his gaze suddenly lands on the soccer field.
A group of boys are kicking a ball around, their shouts and laughter echoing in the air. But Jungkook barely pays them any mind. Instead, his attention is drawn to the bleachers, where he spots a familiar figure sitting alone.
He squints, trying to get a clearer view through the sunlight streaming down. There you are, perched in the middle of the stands, your laptop balanced on your knees, fingers flying over the keyboard.
For a moment, he hesitates. You look so engrossed, so focused, and he wonders if you're too busy for him. But the thought of walking away without talking to you feels unbearable especially after how things turned out between the two of you on Saturday.
Without overthinking it, he strides towards the field, his steps quickening as he crosses the grass. Reaching the bleachers, he takes the stairs two at a time until he's standing just a few feet away from you.
"Ace." he calls out, his voice carrying a warmth that he hopes catches your attention as he moves closer. You glance up, startled, and the corners of your lips twitch into a small smile when you see him.
The sight of you, framed by the sunlight, takes his breath away for a second.
"You busy?" he asks, nodding towards your laptop, though he's already sliding right beside you, completely ignoring the need for an invitation.
You glance at him briefly, a small smile tugging at your lips as you focus back on the screen. "Yeah, I've got this assignment to finish." you reply, fingers dancing over the keys.
He leans closer, just enough for his shoulder to brush against yours, peeking at your laptop screen with childlike curiosity. "What's it about?" he asks, his tone casual but his attention entirely on you.
You laugh softly, nudging him away playfully. "Nothing you'd find interesting." you say, shaking your head. "Try me." he challenges with a grin.
"Were you looking for me?" you ask, changing the subject, your voice light as you keep typing. "Obviously." he says, without hesitation. You stop typing for a moment, tilting your head to look at him. "Obviously?" you repeat, a teasing edge in your voice.
"Yeah." he replies, leaning back slightly, his expression softening. "I missed you."
The words catch you off guard, making your heart flutter, though you roll your eyes to mask your reaction. "Please." you mutter, shaking your head, but your cheeks are already starting to warm.
"What?" he protests, leaning closer again. "I'm serious. I haven't stopped thinking about you since Saturday."
The way he says it, like it's the most normal thing in the world, sends your stomach into a series of somersaults. "And especially after..." he trails off, a sly grin spreading across his face as his gaze locks with yours.
You narrow your eyes at him, already knowing where he's going. "Don't." you warn. "What? I'm just saying..." He shrugs, feigning innocence, though the grin never leaves his lips. "It's kinda hard to forget when you kissed me like that."
"Jungkook!" you whisper-shout, looking around as if anyone might overhear, even though it's just the two of you by the bleacher stands. You hide your face behind your hands, your laughter muffled but unmistakably bright.
He laughs too, leaning closer, gently pulling your hands away from your face. "Why are you embarrassed? I liked it." he says softly, his tone suddenly tender. Your breath catches as his thumb brushes against your knuckles, the playful atmosphere shifting into something more heartfelt.
"I mean it." he murmurs, his voice low and steady, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. "You've been on my mind nonstop." As he leans closer, the world around you fades into the background.
For a moment, all you can do is stare into his eyes while your heart pounds wildly against your ribs, and before you can stop yourself, a small, shy smile tugs at your lips. "Maybe you've been on my mind too." you admit, your voice soft and trembling with vulnerability.
His lips part slightly, and he tilts his head just enough to close the gap between you further. "Yeah...?" he asks, his voice husky and full of something unspoken but undeniably magnetic.
Your eyes flick down to his lips, and before you realize it, you're wetting your own. The air between you feels charged, like a storm waiting to break. You hum in response, your breath hitching as the space between you grows impossibly small.
"Well, that's good." he whispers, his voice dropping to a near growl, his lips so close now you can almost feel their heat.
Your heart skips a beat as your eyes flutter close, anticipation coursing through your veins. Just as you tilt your head, ready to close the final distance, his breath mingling with yours—
THWACK!
Out of nowhere, Jungkook's hand shoots up beside your head with lightning speed, snatching something in the middle of the air.
The sudden motion jolts your eyes open, a wave of confusion washing over you. In his grasp is a soccer ball, which he swiftly hurls with a force that sends it soaring high into the air.
Jungkook clicks his tongue in frustration, clearly irritated that a moment like this was interrupted once again. "Are you kidding me?" he mutters, his glare fixated on the boys on the field, who offer a sheepish apology before quickly rushing off to retrieve the ball.
But you're not focused on them anymore. Your gaze is fixed on him, still in awe of his reflexes. It takes you a moment to process the rapidity of his movements, and your mind is drawn back to that time when he yanked you out of harm's way, pulling you from the middle of the road just when a car was barreling towards you.
His instincts, so sharp and immediate, leave you in a state of quiet disbelief. How does he react so swiftly? It's almost like he has an inhuman sense for danger, a superhuman awareness that requires no thought, just pure instinct.
"How did you... do that?" The words slip from your lips before you can stop them, your voice almost a whisper, as if still in disbelief. Jungkook glances at you, pretending to be clueless, his lips curling into that familiar mischievous smile.
"Do what?" he asks, his tone laced with mock innocence. "Oh, come on..." you say, frustration and fascination mixing in your voice. "You know exactly what I mean. How did you catch that ball with such ease? And how did you even know it was coming towards us?" Your eyes narrow, searching for any hint of an explanation.
Jungkook just shrugs, his gaze shifting lazily as he casually brushes off the question. "I just... sensed it." he responds with a calmness that only adds to the mystery. There's no sign of strain or effort in his voice, as if it's a completely natural thing for him to do.
You stare at him, still not fully convinced, your mind racing as you try to make sense of his words. How could he possibly have known, and how could his reflexes be so... precise?
As the silence between you lingers, your thoughts finally crystallize into one undeniable conclusion. "Well, your reflexes are... impressive." you murmur softly.
"Thanks, cutie." he says with a grin, before adding. "But honestly, maybe you should move to a safer spot. You know, one without flying soccer balls and potential danger zones." His playful tone draws a giggle from you.
"You're probably right." you admit, shutting your laptop and tucking it under your arm as you stand. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you glance at him with a smile. "I guess I'll head to the library." you inform him and begin walking past him.
But as you take a few steps, you hear the familiar sound of his sneakers on the ground behind you. Turning slightly, you arch a curious brow at him. "You're coming?" you ask.
He nods, an almost childlike grin lighting up his face. "Of course." he replies casually. "Kook..." you start, a knowing look on your face, "Don't you have class?"
He shrugs, utterly unbothered. "I think sitting next to you in the library while you finish your assignment is way more important." he says, his tone so nonchalant it makes you laugh.
Before you can protest any further, he wraps an arm around your shoulders, steering you towards the library. "Come on, Ace."
Finally clicking the submit button, you let out a low groan of relief, stretching your arms and rolling your neck to ease the stiffness. A glance at the clock shows it's almost 6 p.m. Your gaze shifts to the figure beside you, and your heart softens at the sight.
Jungkook's head is resting on the table, his cheek pressed against his forearm, his breaths slow and steady as he sleeps. A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him, his peaceful expression making your chest ache in the best way.
When he'd promised to accompany you to the library, you'd braced yourself for endless chatter, playful teasing, and his usual antics.
But instead, he stayed quiet, only speaking when he noticed your frustration, gently offering help or encouragement. Eventually, the stillness must have lulled him into sleep.
You chuckle quietly to yourself, leaning a little closer to his sleeping form. Bringing your hand up, your fingers hover over his bangs, which have fallen messily across his eyes.
Gently, you brush them aside, tucking the strands away. "God..." you whisper, your breath catching as you take in his serene face.
Your eyes trace the soft curve of his features... the way his lips are slightly puckered, the faint rise and fall of his chest, and the way the warm library light casts a soft glow on his skin. He looks so perfect, so at peace.
Your heart flutters, a wave of fondness washing over you. You could stay like this forever, just watching him, soaking in his presence. But as endearing as the thought is, you can't ignore the concern creeping in.
The angle at which he's sleeping looks far from comfortable, and you're almost certain he'll wake up with a sore neck.
"Kook." you call softly, your voice barely above a whisper as your hand gently rests on his shoulder. You give him a light shake. "Kook, wake up. I'm done with my assignment." you say, a tender smile gracing your lips.
He stirs slightly, a quiet groan escaping him as he blinks himself awake, his sleepy eyes finding yours. And for a moment, as his gaze locks on yours, you think this moment might be even more perfect than the last.
"Ace..." he murmurs, his voice groggy as he straightens up, rubbing his face with both hands. His eyes blink open briefly before closing again, clearly fighting off the remnants of sleep.
"I'm sorry... I didn't even realize when I dozed off." he says, his fingers running through his messy hair. You giggle softly, charmed by his sleepy state. "It's alright." you assure him. "Why don't we head home?"
He nods, immediately helping you gather your belongings. In no time, the two of you exit the library, stepping into the dimly lit hallways where the faint buzz of students still lingers.
The evening air feels calm, but snippets of conversations drift towards you, most of them buzzing about the same thing.
"Can you believe Spiderman showed up at Jackson's party on Saturday?" someone exclaims.
Jungkook's posture stiffens ever so slightly at the mention of his alter ego, though he quickly masks it, keeping his expression casual.
"I still can't believe Spiderman showed up that night." you say, falling into step beside him as the both of you pass by the chattering group of students. "Yeah, me too." he replies evenly, his voice steady. "It's crazy he came just in time." he adds.
"Exactly!" you beam, your admiration shining through. "He's doing God's work, I swear. Always jumping in to help people when they need him the most. I admire him so much." you say, glancing at Jungkook with a wide smile.
Jungkook matches your smile, though his is softer, almost shy. "Yeah... he seems like a cool guy." he says, his tone measured.
As the familiar gates of the campus come into view, you slow your steps, turning to look at him again. "You know what? I've been saved by Spiderman too." you say quietly, your voice holding a hint of nostalgia.
Jungkook's breath hitches ever so slightly, his heart racing in his chest. He knows exactly what you're referring to. "Oh... really?" he asks, feigning cluelessness.
You nod, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah. It's something I'll never forget." you say, your gaze distant for a moment before flicking back to him.
Jungkook hums softly, his fingers curling slightly as he resists the urge to say more. The weight of the secret between you feels heavier now, but he forces himself to stay silent, allowing you to keep believing that you don't actually know who the mysterious hero is.
As the two of you walk out of campus, you can't help but notice how Jungkook keeps his gaze down, his eyes fixed on his feet with each step. It's unusual... strange, even.
The Jungkook you know would usually be brimming with curiosity, bombarding you with questions and probably wanting to know every tiny detail about your encounter with Spiderman.
Yet, he doesn't. He remains quiet, his hands shoved into his pockets, his expression unreadable.
You steal a glance at him, wondering why he isn't asking why you needed saving or what exactly happened or when it happened.
But as you take in his slightly slouched posture and the soft shadows under his eyes, you convince yourself that maybe the remnants of sleep are still clinging to him. Maybe he's just too tired this evening, preferring the quiet.
Jungkook walks you home, just like always, his hand brushing close to yours with every step.
When you finally reach your apartment building, there's a familiar ache in your chest, a reluctance to let the night end so soon.
"Well, Ace." he says, his voice soft, lingering like the evening air. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow." He starts to turn away, but something in you doesn't want to let him go so early.
"Kook!" you call out suddenly.
He halts mid-step, turning back with a curious hum. "Yeah, Ace?" His smile is easy, but the way he looks at you... like you're the only thing worth noticing, makes your heart skip.
You chew nervously on your bottom lip, unsure how to voice what's bubbling inside you. Jungkook notices the hesitation immediately, the way your gaze falters, the way your fingers fidget like they're trying to find courage. He takes a step closer, his eyes encouraging.
"Do you... maybe..." you start as you shift nervously. Your eyes dart to your feet for a moment before you muster the courage to meet his gaze again. "Do you wanna come upstairs and have... ramen?"
Jungkook blinks, his expression momentarily blank, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. Then, a wide grin slowly spreads across his face... a little too smug.
"Ramen?" he repeats, his tone lilting with playful disbelief.
"Yeah..." you say, your voice slightly shaky. "I mean, only if you're not busy or something. No... No pressure." You fidget with your fingers, wishing you could sink into the ground when you hear how nervous you sound.
He steps closer, so close that the scent of his cologne wraps around you. He tilts his head, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement and something softer. "You're telling me..." he begins, his voice low and teasing. "That the girl I've been walking home almost every day, the girl I think about all the time, just invited me upstairs... for ramen?"
Your heart stutters at his words, and you glance away, cheeks burning. "It's just ramen, Jungkook." you mumble, trying to downplay how flustered you feel.
He leans closer, his grin widening as he watches you squirm. "Oh no, Ace. Ramen with you? That's not just ramen... it's the highlight of my life."
You let out a soft laugh, rolling your eyes at him, though your heart feels like it's doing somersaults. "Geez, you're so cheesy."
"And you love it." he quips, winking with a smirk that sends your heart into overdrive. "Besides, how could I be busy when a pretty girl invites me to have ramen with her?"
You purse your lips, trying to fight back the smile threatening to take over. Then, before you can stop yourself, you blurt out. "So... if there was another pretty girl here inviting you for ramen, would you say yes to her too?"
Jungkook's teasing demeanor falters just a little, replaced by something softer. He steps even closer, his playful smirk giving way to a tender expression. "Another pretty girl?" he repeats. "That's impossible. Because to me, you're the only pretty girl to ever exist. No one else even comes close."
You feel your breath hitch, your cheeks warming again as his words sink in. "You're such a dork." you mumble, turning quickly towards the entrance of your building to hide your flustered state as you beginning walking.
Jungkook chuckles and follows you, grinning to himself as you both walk up the stairs.
Once you reach your flat and unlock the door, he leans closer, his voice brushing against your ear. "For the record..." he murmurs. "I'd say yes to ramen with you every single time. Always."
Your heart flutters wildly, and though you try to act composed, you know this boy has you completely wrapped around his finger... and you don't mind it one bit.
"Damn, Ace, didn't know you were secretly a professional chef." Jungkook quips, leaning casually against the counter as he watches you pour hot water into the instant ramen containers.
You roll your eyes, scoffing playfully. "Please, professional chef? I can barely cook to save my life. Instant ramen is the height of my culinary expertise." you reply with a resigned sigh, as if you're baring some deep secret.
Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, if this is all you can make, you've already won me over."
You smirk, pushing one of steaming containers of ramen towards him. "Here."
He takes it with a grin, the warmth of the container seeping into his palms. Just as he turns to head towards the couch, you stop him. "Wait." you call out. "Do you wanna go up to the terrace?"
Jungkook pauses, glancing back at you with a curious expression. "The terrace?" he echoes, his eyebrows raised. You nod, setting your own container down for a moment.
"Yeah. My landlord keeps it open all the time, and it's a nice spot to relax. The breeze up there in the evening feels amazing. And trust me, ramen always tastes a hundred times better up there. I do it all the time."
He lets out a low whistle, clearly intrigued. "Well, who am I to argue with the ramen expert? Lead the way, Ace." he says with a lopsided grin.
You shake your head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "Let me grab us some blankets first. It gets a little chilly up there." you say, already moving towards your bedroom.
You pause at the door, glancing back at him. "If you don't mind, could you grab two soda cans from the fridge?"
Jungkook salutes dramatically, his grin widening. "Yes, ma'am." he replies, making his way to the fridge.
As he pulls the cans out, he can't help but smile to himself, feeling oddly delighted by the domesticity of it all. Your random invitation, your apartment, even the small request to grab sodas... it all feels so intimate, so comfortably you.
He pauses for a moment, holding the cold cans in his hands, and lets the feeling wash over him. This is you letting him in, in your own subtle, unspoken way.
It's not grand or flashy, but it's real, and it's enough to make his chest ache with a quiet, unexpected joy. All he can think about is how utterly blessed he feels to be here, in this moment, with you.
Soon enough, you return with the blankets draped over your arms, and before you know it, the two of you are climbing the stairs to the rooftop.
The faint creak of the door gives way to a breathtaking view, and Jungkook steps out first, taking in the expanse of the city sprawled before him.
The horizon glimmers with city lights, and the soft hues of twilight paint the sky in shades of deep blue and fading gold. "Wow, it really is nice up here." Jungkook breathes, his voice tinged with genuine awe.
"I told you." you say, smiling as you glance at him. "The breeze up here is perfect, and the view makes everything taste better."
You both settle on the cool ground, the chilled surface beneath you contrasting with the warmth of the blanket Jungkook drapes over your legs while he keeps the other blanket loosely on his knee.
The quiet hum of the city below rises faintly, mingling with the rustle of the breeze as the two of you dig into the ramen, the steam curling into the cool night air.
You glance at Jungkook, the faint glow of the rooftop lights catching the subtle curves of his face as he eats, his features softened by the serenity of the moment.
But as much as you want to savor the calm, your mind is elsewhere... tangled in the unspoken words you've been carrying since Saturday.
You didn't invite Jungkook over just for ramen. There's a deeper purpose behind this seemingly ordinary evening. Ever since you kissed him that night, the weight of his confession has lingered heavily on your mind, accompanied by the guilt of not giving him a proper answer.
Now that the anger and hurt from that one fateful weekend have finally faded, you can see things clearly. You've realized that his feelings deserve an answer... one you've kept bottled up, partly out of fear, partly out of your own stubbornness.
And tonight, under the vast expanse of stars, you want him to know. You want to tell him that you feel the same.
"Kook..." you call out softly. He pauses, a noodle dangling from his lips as he turns to look at you, his wide eyes meeting yours. There's a hint of curiosity there, but mostly he's just... Jungkook, always patient, always steady, even when you're unsure of yourself.
"I..." you begin, licking your lips nervously, the taste of the warm broth still clinging to your tongue. "I realized I never actually responded to your confession. You know... at the party."
His lips twitch slightly, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he sets his ramen down. The playful glint in his eyes tells you he's already enjoying this, even before you've said anything else.
"Uh-huh." he hums, dragging out the sound as he leans back a little, one arm propping him up effortlessly. "And why's that, huh? I thought that kiss you gave me had already sealed the deal."
Your jaw drops, heat rushing to your face as you gape at him. "What?!" you exclaim. "Sealed the deal? Are you saying—WAIT, we're dating already?!"
He chuckles, a low, teasing sound that only makes your cheeks burn hotter. "What, you didn't know?" he asks, feigning surprise as he sits up straighter. "Wow, Ace. Here I was, thinking I was off the market and everything."
"What?" you ask, still baffled. Jungkook loves the look on your face. God, every time he thinks you can't get any cuter, you prove him wrong, and he just can't resist the urge to tease you.
"Wow, Ace, this is making me sad. You think we aren't dating already while I already told my friends all about my amazing girlfriend and the little kiss she gave me."
You gape at him, heat rising to your cheeks. "Jungkook!" you exclaim, lightly swatting his arm. "You did not tell anyone that!"
"Oh, I definitely did." he says, his voice laced with playful mischief. "Told both Jimin and Taehyung. I mean, I had to brag, right? They were both jealous, by the way."
You sputter, words failing you as he stares at you with the most infuriatingly smug expression. "You're impossible." you mutter, shaking your head in disbelief.
"And yet..." he counters smoothly, his voice dipping into something softer, warmer. "You invited me over for ramen. So, really... who's the impossible one here?"
You roll your eyes, the corners of your lips twitching despite your best efforts to look annoyed. "Kook, I'm being serious." you say, your tone quieter now, the teasing atmosphere fading as you lean forward slightly.
"And I'm listening." he replies, his gaze steady as his teasing smile softens into something more sincere. "Go on, Ace. I'm all ears."
You take a deep breath, the weight of your emotions pressing heavily against your chest. "What I'm trying to say is... I like you too, Jungkook. Like, a lot." Your voice wavers, but you push through, determined to finally let it all out.
"I just... I was scared to let you in. I had all these doubts and insecurities that kept holding me back. It took me a while to realize you were actually being sincere and... I needed time to figure out my own feelings."
Your hands tremble slightly as you set your container of ramen aside, your gaze finally locking with his. The cool night air seems to hold its breath as you take the leap you've been avoiding.
"But now I'm sure." you say. "I want to give this a chance. I want us to work out." A shy smile spreads across your lips, one filled with quiet hope.
For a moment, he doesn't respond, his expression unreadable, and the silence stretches just enough to make your nerves spike.
But then, slowly, his lips curve into a smile... a real one, bright and genuine, the kind that lights up his entire face and makes your heart stutter in your chest.
"Finally." he murmurs, his voice low but brimming with warmth as he leans a little closer, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say that."
The sincerity in his tone sends a rush of emotions flooding through you, and you can't help the small laugh that escapes. "Really?" you ask, your voice soft with disbelief.
"Really." he affirms. "Ace, I've been crazy about you since the beginning. And trust me, you're worth every second of the wait."
Your heart races as he reaches out, his hand brushing against yours, his touch warm despite the chill of the night. "And just so we're clear..." he adds, his tone playful again. "We are actually dating now. No takesy backsies."
You laugh despite yourself, the tension dissolving as you swat his arm lightly again. "You're so annoying." you mutter, though the smile on your face says otherwise.
"And yet, you like me." he quips, his grin softening as he leans back, the stars above reflecting like tiny galaxies in his eyes. You shake your head with a small laugh, returning your attention to your ramen, but Jungkook's gaze lingers on you, his heart feeling impossibly full.
To be here, like this... with you, feels surreal. His chest swells with an indescribable warmth, a mix of joy, gratitude, and something so deep it almost feels sacred.
He's spent so long wanting this, dreaming of this moment where the space between you would no longer feel insurmountable.
Now, sitting beside you under the open sky, your laughter ringing softly in his ears, it feels like he's stumbled into a piece of forever. The stars above pale in comparison to the light he feels radiating from you.
But as his heart revels in this newfound closeness, a pang of unease cuts through him. You've trusted him with so much tonight, your words raw and honest, and yet... he's been keeping something from you.
His alter ego, the double life he's carefully shielded from the world, remains a secret from you too. The weight of it gnaws relentlessly at his conscience, each passing second adding to the burden.
It feels wrong... like he's betraying the very thing he's worked so hard to rebuild with you.
You glance at him suddenly, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside him. “Kook, can I ask you something?” you ask softly, setting your container aside again.
His throat tightens, a mix of anxiety and anticipation building within him. He doesn’t know what you’re about to ask, but he manages a small smile, nodding.
“Why... why didn’t you show up that day?” The words are tentative but heavy, carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. His breath catches in his lungs.
It’s as if your question aligns perfectly with the turmoil in his mind, directly touching the secret he’s been hiding... the very one he so desperately wants to reveal.
“It’s just…” you continue, your voice wavering slightly. “You didn’t show up, and I was so mad at you that I didn’t even stop to think if something might’ve been wrong. Was everything okay that day?”
Jungkook feels his heart crack at the sight of your concern. The genuine worry in your eyes only amplifies the guilt gnawing at him. How could he have kept something so monumental from you?
He swallows hard, his throat tight, and suddenly, the weight of his secret becomes unbearable. The need to confess is overwhelming, pressing against him like a tidal wave he can no longer hold back.
"Y/n..." he begins, his voice unsteady as he sets his ramen aside as well. The way he says your name, low and serious, makes you furrow your brows. His expression has shifted, the playful spark replaced by something heavier, more vulnerable.
"Yes Kook." you say softly, slightly confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. His eyes search yours, as if trying to find the courage to say the words he's been holding back.
"I... I have something to tell you." The words tumble from his lips, as though they’ve been wrenched from the deepest part of him. The urgency in his tone makes your stomach twist with unease.
You watch as Jungkook drags a hand through his hair, his usual air of confidence entirely absent. The nervous energy radiating from him is palpable, and it sets your heart racing.
“Yes, Kook?” you ask gently, your voice soft in an attempt to coax him into sharing whatever’s weighing on him. His eyes meet yours briefly, before flickering away like he can’t bear to hold your gaze for too long.
He opens his mouth to speak but falters, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow. Then, without a word, he abruptly rises to his feet, his movements sharp and restless. You blink in surprise as he takes a few steps away walking towards the parapet, his back turned to you now.
Jungkook exhales shakily, his shoulders stiff as he grips the edge of the parapet. The city sprawls out before him. He stares out at the distant rooftops, the low hum of the city serving as a backdrop to his spiraling thoughts.
"I just…" he starts, but the words catch in his throat, leaving his sentence unfinished. His hands clutch the cold edge of the parapet tighter, the tension in his frame visible even from where you sit.
Your concern grows with each passing second. Rising to your feet, you walk towards him. “Hey... what’s going on, Kook?” You reach out hesitantly, your palm resting on his shoulder. “Talk to me.” you urge, standing beside him now.
He turns to face you slowly, his eyes darting to yours for the briefest moment before looking away "I…” His voice is raw and trembling with emotion. “Y/n, it’s just…” He trails off again, his brows furrowed as if the words are physically painful to say.
You inch closer, your hand brushing against his arm in silent encouragement. “Take your time.” you say softly, your tone patient and understanding.
Jungkook swallows hard, his breathing uneven. “I don’t know how to tell you this...” he admits. “It’s just… it’s hard, Y/n”
Your chest tightens at the vulnerability in his words. Whatever he’s holding back, it’s tearing him apart. “Hey...” you say gently, lifting your hand to cup his face so that he can face you, your thumb brushing lightly along his cheekbone.
“We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready.” you assure him.
God, why did you have to be this understanding? Why did you have to look at him like that... with eyes so full of patience, warmth, and a kindness so profound it pierced straight through him?
It was as if you could see every fragile part of him and chose to cradle it with care instead of turning away. It wasn’t fair. How could you be so gentle when he was so tangled in guilt, fear, and secrets? How could you make him feel seen, safe, and utterly unworthy all at once?
Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the overwhelming emotions surging through him. He steps away from your hold and his hands grip the parapet again.
“No… no, I can’t—” he starts, his voice breaking, but he stops himself, shaking his head more furiously.
You sigh softly, stepping back to give him space. “Kook, it’s okay.” you murmur. “We can talk about it another day if you need more time.” Your voice is calm, soothing, but your heart aches at the sight of him unraveling.
You gesture towards the blankets and ramen waiting for you both on the ground. “Let’s finish eating and head back downstairs, yeah?” you suggest, turning to return to your spot.
But Jungkook knows he can’t wait. The weight in his chest is unbearable now, the truth clawing its way out. He watches you move away, his senses overwhelmed by the thought of losing this chance, this moment.
Before he can think, his body reacts on instinct.
Just as you take another step, you hear a sharp thwip. Something attaches to your hip, and before you can process it, you’re being twirled around and pulled forward with a startling force.
You gasp, the world spinning for a fraction of a second, before you find yourself pressed firmly against a broad, solid chest. Your arms instinctively reach out, your fingers clutching at a pair of sturdy shoulders.
Your wide eyes lock with Jungkook’s, his face just inches from yours. Your breaths come in uneven gasps, your chest rising and falling as you try to process what just happened.
His hands rest securely on your waist, the warmth of his touch grounding you even as it sends your thoughts into chaos. He pulls you just a little closer, and your lips part, words faltering as you try to make sense of it all.
"What just—" you begin, your eyes darting downward to the nonexistent space between your bodies. Your hands instinctively move to his nape, fingers gripping gently, seeking stability in the whirlwind of the moment.
"Kook, what just happ—" Your voice falters, trailing into silence as your eyes search his, desperate for answers, for clarity.
But instead of speaking, a small, almost shy smile curls at the corners of Jungkook’s lips. It’s a smile that’s equal parts tender and mischievous, one that sets your heart racing.
"Come here." he murmurs, his voice low and intimate, carrying the weight of the moment.
His hands slide up your sides gently, until they cradle your jaw, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks with a touch that feels like both a question and a promise.
And then his lips meet yours. Warm, soft, and undeniably certain, the kiss steals every thought from your mind. There’s no space for hesitation, no room for protest... only the way you melt into him, your body responding instinctively as his hands curl around the back of your neck, drawing you impossibly closer.
At first, the kiss is slow, a careful exploration of emotions long kept at bay. But then it deepens.
Jungkook tilts his head, his mouth opening wider as he pours every unspoken word, every buried feeling, into you. Your arms tighten around him, fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him back with a passion that matches his own, your heart pounding like it might burst.
When you finally pull away, your lungs burn for air, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. The reality of it all hits you at once, like a tidal wave crashing over you.
"You’re… you’re Spiderman?" you whisper, the revelation tumbling from your lips in a breathless rush, your eyes wide with both awe and disbelief.
A low chuckle rumbles from Jungkook’s chest, his forehead resting against yours as his thumb brushes over your cheek. "Shut up." he murmurs, his voice teasing but thick with emotion.
And then he pulls you back in, capturing your lips once more, like he’s afraid to let go, like this moment is all that matters.
The kiss leaves your knees trembling, and Jungkook, despite the control he’s trying to maintain, is utterly unraveling.
The way you clutch onto him, desperate and unyielding, the way your body molds against his... God, it’s maddeningly euphoric, almost narcotic in its allure.
Every sensation, every taste, feels heightened, like you’ve set his very being on fire.
When he feels your tongue brush against his, a shiver courses through him, and the soft, breathless gasps escaping your lips only fuel his resolve to pour everything he’s ever felt for you into this kiss.
When he finally pulls away, your lips part from his reluctantly, your eyes remaining shut as if to savor the lingering warmth of his touch. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, and your forehead rests against his, grounding yourself in the moment.
“Wow…” you exhale shakily, the word slipping out of your lips like a confession. “Wow… just…” you attempt to speak, but the words falter. You’re spellbound, caught in the gravity of what just transpired.
The truth, the kiss, the sheer intensity of the moment... it’s all so utterly consuming, like the world has shifted on its axis.
“Well…” Jungkook begins softly as he steps back just slightly, enough to give you space, but his hands remain on your waist as though afraid to let go entirely.
His gaze searches yours, his dark eyes swimming with a mixture of vulnerability and tenderness, as if this moment might shatter under the weight of the truth. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
Your breath catches in your throat as his words hang in the air, heavy and significant.
“And I just knew...” he continues, his voice growing softer. “That I couldn’t keep it from you anymore... especially now. Especially when we’re finally here... when I finally have you this close.” His thumb brushes against your side in a soothing motion, a silent attempt to anchor you as the realization starts to sink in.
“So… this...” you begin hesitantly, your voice trembling. “This is why you didn’t show up that day?”
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks down, as though ashamed. “Yes.” he admits.
Your mind reels as the pieces begin to fall into place. Images flash through your memory... the articles you read, news reports, moments you never fully understood until now.
“Oh my god…” you let out, your hands instinctively gripping his arms as if to steady yourself. “This is why you couldn’t show up. You were…” Your voice falters as the truth becomes undeniable. “You were saving... all those people from that... that fire.”
He nods slowly, his expression softening. “Yes, baby.” he murmurs. “I was. And I’m so sorry. I should’ve just called, I should’ve told you—”
“Wait...” you interrupt, your words coming faster now as another realization crashes over you. “And… so you’re the one who—” You pause, your heart pounding as the memory resurfaces. “You’re the one who saved me that day? In that alley?”
His silence is all the confirmation you need.
“Oh my god, Kook...” you gasp. The memory of being pulled away from danger, of feeling a presence so familiar yet so unrecognizable, the elusive déjà vu that always lingered just out of reach, floods your senses.
“That's how you knew my address... oh my god... that was you. It was you all along.” Your words tumble out in a rush, chaotic and overwhelmed, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes remain fixed on yours, an expression so tender, so full of unspoken love, that it sends a deep ache through your chest.
“I… I don’t even know what to say…” you stammer, your trembling hands moving to cup his face, your fingers grazing the sharp edges of his jaw. “You’ve been there all this time, haven’t you? Even at the party… you saved that guy. And that day on the road when that car almost hit me—oh my god…”
Your eyes widen as the puzzle pieces click into place, every moment you’d brushed off as coincidence now feeling monumental. “No wonder your reflexes are so good! Are those… like… your Spidey senses or something?”
A soft laugh escapes Jungkook’s lips, a sound so comforting that it momentarily steadies your racing heart. He lifts his hands to cover yours, his palms warm against your skin as he leans into your touch.
“Yeah...” he murmurs, a faint smile curving his lips. “I guess you could call them my Spidey senses.”
“You’re incredible.” you confess, your voice trembling with unrestrained emotion. “Do you even realize how incredible you are?”
A soft, almost bashful smile flits across his lips, but it vanishes as his eyes meet yours, raw and unguarded. “I don’t care about being incredible.” he murmurs, leaning forward to peck your lips. “I just care about you. About us.”
Your heart feels as if it might burst, the intensity of his words unraveling something deep within you. You lean forward, your forehead gently pressing against his.
“I know it’s a lot to take in...” he says softly, closing his eyes. “It is.” you admit. “But you could’ve told me, you know...” you murmur. “I would’ve understood.”
His eyes flutter open, glistening with a mixture of regret and relief. “I know...” he whispers, his voice thick with the weight of unspoken apologies. “I know that now.” he says, leaning in, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that leaves you breathless.
The kiss is soft, a mosaic of emotions woven into one unspoken promise. It carries the weight of his regrets, the depth of his feelings, and the strength of his resolve. Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands as you pull him closer, anchoring yourself to this moment.
Jungkook sighs into the kiss, his hands firm on your waist, grounding you both in a reality that feels too fragile and too perfect all at once.
When you finally part, your breaths intertwine in the fragile space between you.
“You’re not just Spiderman to me...” you murmur, your voice trembling with emotion but carrying an unmistakable firmness. “Not the masked vigilante, or whatever these people like to call you…” Your words waver, but you hold his gaze.
“Because before all of that... before everything... you’re Jungkook. You’re my Jungkook.”
His lips curve into a soft smile with his heart somersaulting in his chest.
Slowly, reverently, he raises his hand to cup your cheek, his touch featherlight yet grounding. His thumb moves in gentle circles against your skin, as if trying to memorize the texture of this moment.
Then, with infinite tenderness, he leans in, pressing the softest, most delicate kiss to your forehead... a silent promise, a gesture filled with love too profound for words.
“And you’re my everything.”
check out-> drabble 1; the one with the damn suit
—fin. ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ
my masterlist <3
permanent taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @kimyishin @somehowukook @allie-in-the-moon @nightappple @jksoftii @mimi1097 @yooforeaa @jkaxl @jinglthembalslikethat @puppybunnyjkay @jiijeon97 @ninisica @rerefundslocals @kgamboa11 @lizzikoo @madussthoughts @kelsyx33 @mafersame @yoonstaar @autumnbear @withluvjm (let me know if you wanted to be added !! <3)
Genre/Tags: veterinarian! jungkook x cat mom! reader, exes to lovers, angst, smut, fluff
Summary: When your beloved cat suffers a small injury, you're left with no choice but to call your ex-boyfriend, who just so happens to be a veterinarian. But when you see Jungkook for the first time in five months, the weight of the past comes crashing down and suddenly, you’re left wondering if walking away from him was the biggest mistake of your life. Meanwhile, Jungkook, desperate for a second chance, sees this as the moment he's been waiting for and with a heart full of lingering feelings, he’s determined to set things right and show you the love you truly deserve—if only you’ll let him.
Word Count: 20.1k+
Warnings: JUNGKOOK WEARS GLASSES !! unprotected sex (you know the drill), oral (f. receiving), mentions of feeling neglected and lonely in a relationship, mentions of pet injury, blood, inaccurate veterinary advice and diagnosis (sorry, i'm not a vet so just roll with it), there's so much yearning and hurt and comfort
playlist for the vibes <3
cher's notes: back with another long ass oneshot with my fav trope of all time. i'm so utterly in love with this jungkook and istg idk what took over me when i was writing this. i hope everyone finds a man written by a woman (cher) lmao ALSO I WISH I HAD A CAT AHHHH.
"Make sure you keep Milo hydrated and monitor any changes in his appetite." Jungkook advises gently, his tone professional yet reassuring. The teenage boy in front of him nods earnestly, his hands stroking the small Maltese on the bed with careful tenderness.
"Got it. Thank you so much, Dr. Jeon." the boy says, his gratitude evident in the way he bows slightly before scooping up Milo. The dog's soft, snow-white fur brushes against his chin as it wiggles in his arms, tail wagging enthusiastically.
Jungkook watches them leave, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he exhales quietly and tugs at the knot of his tie, loosening it a bit. The fabric feels constricting, a small annoyance after a string of back-to-back appointments.
Stepping out of the examination room, Jungkook nods briefly at his receptionist, Hwayoung, who greets him with her usual smile. "That was the last one for today, Dr. Jeon." she informs him, her tone light.
"Thanks, Hwayoung." he replies, throwing her a quick thumbs-up before heading towards his office. The familiar quiet of his personal cabin envelops him as he enters, offering a brief respite from the bustle of the clinic.
Jungkook sinks into the leather chair by his desk as the weight of the day clings to his shoulders, but his movements are steady, almost methodical, as he pulls his laptop closer to check his emails one last time.
Each message is a mix of routine and responsibility... follow-ups on treatments, updates on upcoming surgeries, and the occasional thank-you note from grateful pet owners.
After typing out a quick reply to an inquiry about post-operative care for a golden retriever, he leans back, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. His gaze shifts to the corner of the desk where a stack of patient files waits to be filed, but for now, he decides to leave them.
Putting his glasses back on, he stands and reaches for his briefcase, placing his stethoscope neatly inside.
Opening the middle drawer of his desk, Jungkook retrieves an envelope... some important mail he had placed there earlier. But as always, his fingers falter when they brush against something else.
The tiny, velvet-coated blue box.
Jungkook's fingers hover over it, trembling slightly before he pulls it out and stares at it. The box feels heavier than it should, not in weight but in what it represents... a future that never came to be.
He lets out a weak sigh, the kind that seems to carry months of unspoken grief. The box has been there, unmoving, for the past five months, hidden in the depths of his drawer like a ghost he can't bring himself to confront.
He hasn't found the strength to get rid of it or perhaps, deep down, he doesn't want to. A sliver of hope still lingers, faint but stubborn, clinging to him like a shadow. A hope that maybe, just maybe, things could somehow go back to the way they were.
It's been five months since you walked out of his life. Five months since everything he thought he knew about love and forever crumbled in the quietest, most heartbreaking way.
You had sat across from him that evening in your shared apartment, your hands trembling slightly, but your voice, steady and composed, delivered the words that still haunt him."I don't think I'm even a part of your life anymore, Jungkook."
Your tone wasn't laced with anger or bitterness. That was what made it hurt so much more. It was calm, resigned, as though the weight of carrying the pain alone had finally crushed you.
He remembers sitting there, stunned into silence, the truth of your words striking like a cold blade to his chest. He couldn't argue with you because deep down, he realized you were right.
Jungkook had unknowingly let work consume him.
The long hours at the clinic, the endless parade of appointments he volunteered for, and the late nights spent reviewing patient files and various case studies had blinded him to the cracks forming in your relationship.
He thought he was building something meaningful for the both of you... a solid future, but in doing so, he had let the present slip right through his fingers.
He hadn't noticed the exhaustion etched into your face after long days at work, or how you stopped sharing the little stories about your day because you knew he wouldn't be fully present to listen.
He remembers the meals you had prepared, waiting for him to come home and share them with you. But he was always late, and by the time he arrived, the food was cold, and you had given up waiting. He remembers slipping into bed beside you, only to find you already asleep, curled up on the edge of the mattress, your back turned to him.
Neglect wasn't a loud thing... it didn't scream or break things or demand attention. It was silent, creeping in like a shadow, eroding the foundation of a relationship until there was nothing left to hold onto.
And by the time Jungkook had understood that, it was already too late.
As ridiculous as it might sound now, he truly thought everything was fine. In his mind, every long night at the clinic, every extra appointment he took, every ounce of energy he poured into his work, it was all for the future he was building for the both of you.
A future where he could finally give you everything you deserved.
That's also why he had spent months searching for the perfect ring, obsessing over every detail to make sure it was as extraordinary as you were. He wanted it to be a symbol, a promise of the forever he was so certain you both wanted especially after being together for 4 years.
But when he finally found it, he simply held onto it, waiting for the "perfect" moment. He kept convincing himself he'd find the right time to propose, to tell you how much you meant to him and how he couldn't imagine his life without you.
But life isn't patient, and love doesn't wait for perfect moments. By the time he was ready to give you that ring, you were already done with him.
The realization still cuts him like glass. You had loved him with everything you had and so did he, but love alone isn't enough when one person feels invisible.
And now, that tiny blue box sits in his desk drawer, a reminder of everything he lost... not just you, but the life he thought you'd share together.
If only he had noticed sooner. If only he had listened. If only he had made you feel like you were enough, like you were his priority.
If only he hadn't been so blinded by his own ambition, so wrapped up in his work that he couldn't see the loneliness in your eyes.
If only he had paused long enough to hear the quiet pleas in your silences, the way you had stopped fighting for his attention because you had already given up.
If only he had reached out when you started to pull away, if only he had seen how much you needed him to fight for you.
If only he had cared more about the present and less about the future he was trying to build, the future that now felt empty without you in it.
If only he had recognized the signs, the small cracks in your smile, the way you withdrew a little more each day.
If only he hadn't assumed that love could wait until tomorrow, until the perfect moment, until the time was right.
If only he had told you how much you meant to him when you were still by his side. If only he had made the effort to show you that you were everything to him, before you walked away.
If only he had loved you the way you deserved to be loved.
But sadly, "if only" doesn't change anything.
All it leaves behind is regret.
He clutches his briefcase as he walks past the receptionist's desk, glancing at Hwayoung who's wrapping up for the day, gathering her things. "Get home safe, Hwayoung." Jungkook says, offering her a gentle smile.
She looks up, returning his smile with a bow. "You too, Dr. Jeon. See you tomorrow."
Jungkook nods in acknowledgment as he turns and heads towards the exit, his mind still swirling with thoughts of you.
The air outside is cool, the evening sky bathed in the soft, fading hues of twilight. As Jungkook walks towards his car, the weight of your absence presses down on him with each step, an invisible burden that grows heavier as time passes.
He misses you so much and every day, the reality of your absence becomes harder to accept.
Five months have stretched out into what feels like an eternity, and still, he finds himself wishing.... desperately wishing, that he could see you again, hold you close, love you the way he should have before.
He still hears updates about you, filtered through the mutual friends you both shared during the course of your relationship. Namjoon, who works in the same office as you, occasionally mentioned how things at your job had been improving, that the pressure had finally started to lift a little.
Seokjin, who, ironically, was the one who introduced you two, had casually told him how you had adopted a little cat in your new apartment. Taehyung, too, had shared how his girlfriend, Seulgi keeps trying to convince you to go on random blind dates.
The news about the blind dates gnaws at him. He can't help but feel a pang of discomfort, even jealousy, twisting in his chest. But he knows he has no right to feel that way. You deserve to meet new people, to move forward with your life and search for things he couldn't provide.
After all, he had failed you. He had failed to give you the attention, the care, the priority you so desperately needed but still, the mere thought of you with someone else... someone who might be able to offer you the things he couldn't, tears at his heart in ways he never imagined possible.
But, as much as it hurts, he knows he has to accept it. He has to face the reality of his mistakes, the ones that led him here, even if the weight of it threatens to drown him.
Yet, despite it all, a part of him can't let go of the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could have another chance. But he doesn't know how to approach you anymore, how to bridge the gap that has grown between you two.
For months, he has tried to rebuild himself, to make sense of his mistakes. He's started leaving the clinic at reasonable hours, something that had once been an afterthought for him. He takes time now to reflect on his actions, on how he had let his work consume him, how he had taken you for granted.
He understands now that his priorities had been upside down. He sees the things he had overlooked and it aches in ways words can't explain.
He knows that if he is ever blessed with another chance with you, he won't waste it. He will cherish you, love you in the way you always deserved. But the question lingers... how does he even begin? How does he take the first step to prove that he's changed, to show you that he's ready to be the man you need him to be?
Jungkook shakes his head softly, a wave of frustration settling deep in his stomach as he grips the steering wheel, pulling the seatbelt across his chest. The engine hums to life, but as he starts to drive, the city outside blurs into a swirl of distant lights and noise.
He comes to a stop at a traffic signal, his fingers absently drumming on the steering wheel, his gaze drifting towards the chaotic life of the city he's so disconnected from.
Suddenly his dashboard lights up, indication that someone's calling. The name that flashes on the screen hits him like a punch to the chest, sending his heart into a frantic rhythm.
You're calling.
After five long months, this is the first time you're calling.
His breath hitches, his heart leaping into his throat. Anxiety gnaws at him, but there's also a wave of joy so overwhelming it almost feels suffocating. The confusion, the fear, the hope... it all crashes into him in a single breath, and before he can process anything, he presses the screen to accept your call.
"Hel—" His starts, but you speak before he can finish. "Kook..." Your voice crackles through the speakers of his car, barely a whisper at first, but there's something raw and desperate in it that makes his blood run cold.
He leans forward, gripping the wheel tighter, as he hears you sniffle on the other side. His pulse quickens, heart hammering in his chest. "Y/n?" he asks, his voice thick with concern, but it's the quiet, almost choking sound of your breath that cuts through him.
"Kook, please... please, come home..." you beg, and it's like your voice shatters with each word. "Skittles... Skittles is bleeding... and I don't know what to do... please, Kook... I can't—I'm so scared..."
Skittles. He knows that's the name of your cat. The one you adopted after moving into your new place.
The tremor in your voice pierces through him like a dagger to his chest and the sound of your sobs reverberates in the quiet of his car. He can hear every desperate breath you take and it's as if your pain is now his own.
His heart is racing, a wild storm of worry rising in his chest, but he doesn't hesitate even for a second. "I'll be right there, Y/n." he says, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "I'm on my way."
You never thought you'd be contacting your ex-boyfriend after five long months... especially not for an emergency like this.
It wasn't just any emergency, it was Skittles, your cat, who was bleeding through his nose and in distress. The usual vet you took Skittles to, wasn't answering, and with your heart racing and panic clouding your mind, you couldn't think straight.
And then, like a force of instinct, you found yourself dialing Jungkook's number.
You had initially gotten Skittles as a form of coping.
When you moved out of the apartment you'd once shared with Jungkook and into a new place, the silence that followed felt suffocating. The ache of the break up was overwhelming and you desperately needed something, anything, to fill the void that had settled in your heart.
And that's when a friend at work suggested adopting a pet, and suddenly a chunky british shorthair who you named Skittles became the center of your universe.
Though the void left behind by Jungkook was never truly filled, Skittles did his best to heal you, in his own cute little ways. His presence brought some comfort, but the emptiness you felt without Jungkook lingered, persistent and heavy.
You craved the presence of the love of your life... the warmth of his smile, the sound of his voice, the gentleness of his touch. You missed it all so fiercely, and no matter how hard you tried, it seemed like nothing could ever replace what you had lost.
You had loved Jungkook with everything you had, body and soul, and to lose him was like losing a part of yourself. But somewhere along the way, things changed. It wasn't his fault but the growing distance between you both became unbearable.
You started feeling lonely even when he was right beside you. It wasn't that he didn't care, you knew that. It was because he was so consumed by his work, so consumed by his endless hours at the clinic that he didn't even realize you were left behind, watching from the sidelines of your own relationship, a spectator to a life you thought you were building together.
The more you gave, the less you felt seen. The more you tried to reach out to him, the more you felt like you were losing yourself in the process. You felt invisible, as if you were fading into the background of his busy life.
And that ache, that loneliness, started to chip away at you. You kept convincing yourself it would get better, that things would change, but they never did. And in the end, it felt like you were carrying the weight of it all on your own.
It wasn't an easy decision, leaving him. It felt like you were breaking your own heart, but there came a point when you couldn't pretend anymore. You couldn't keep holding on, not when it felt like you were slowly losing yourself.
The love you had for him was still there, still so strong, but you had to let go.
You thought that after the breakup, the emptiness would fade... that you'd find yourself again, rebuild your life, and finally feel whole. But the truth was, it was harder than you'd imagined. The grief lingered, and as much as you tried to move on, you couldn't stop missing him.
No matter how many blind dates Seulgi convinced you to go on, none of those men could ever come even the slightest bit close to what Jungkook was. None of them made your heart race the way he did, and none of them carried that comforting presence that felt like home.
And now as you cradle Skittles in your trembling arms, his tiny body squirming in distress and his nose bleeding, the tears spill uncontrollably down your cheeks as you anxiously wait for Jungkook to arrive.
The instant the doorbell rings, you carefully place Skittles on his little bed beside the couch, making sure he's as comfortable as possible. Hastily, you wipe at your tears with shaky hands and rush to the door, swinging it open.
"Hey." Jungkook pants, his voice slightly breathless, and it's immediately clear that he's taken the stairs... all twelve flights, to reach your apartment. The sheen of sweat glistening on his temples and the way his hair clings to his forehead tell the story.
"I'm sorry I'm late. The elevator... was occupied, and it felt like it was taking forevr to come down." he explains, already stepping inside without hesitation.
"Thank you for coming." you sniffle, your voice barely audible through your tears. He pauses, his eyes softening the moment they meet yours. The tension in his face eases as he takes you in, clearly seeing how frazzled and scared you are.
"Hey..." he murmurs gently, setting down his field bag that contains his emergency veterinary kit against the wall. He slips off his shoes in one smooth motion and steps closer, placing both hands firmly yet comfortingly on your shoulders. "Everything's going to be fine, okay?"
Your eyes begin to brim with tears again, but you take a shaky breath and swallow them back, forcing yourself to nod. Jungkook offers you a soft, reassuring smile before reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Where's Skittles?" he asks.
"In the living room." you manage to reply, your voice wavering slightly. He nods and immediately steps away, collecting his stuff and makes his way into the living room.
The moment Jungkook steps into the living room, his eyes land on Skittles curled up in his tiny bed, his little body trembling and his nose streaked with blood. A pang of concern flashes across his face, but his movements remain calm as he slowly kneels on the floor, lowering himself to Skittles' level without making a sound.
You watch anxiously from a few steps away, your hands clasped tightly together, unsure of how Skittles will react. This is their first meeting and your cat, with his shy nature and cautious disposition, doesn't warm up to people easily.
Jungkook seems to sense this instinctively, his demeanor gentle and unthreatening as he observes the trembling cat. "Hey there, buddy." he murmurs softly, his voice low and soothing, as if he's speaking to a frightened child.
He doesn't reach out immediately, instead giving Skittles a moment to take in his presence. "I'm not here to hurt you, I promise. Let's see what's going on, okay?"
Skittles' ears flick nervously, his tail twitching as he eyes Jungkook warily. But the gentle cadence of Jungkook's voice seems to work some kind of magic. Slowly, cautiously, Jungkook extends a hand, palm up, giving Skittles the chance to sniff him if he chooses.
Skittles hesitates, his whiskers twitching, but before he can dart away, Jungkook makes his move, scooping your cat up with practiced ease.
You hold your breath, half expecting Skittles to claw his way out of Jungkook's arms, but to your surprise, he doesn't struggle much. He wriggles slightly, letting out a small, distressed meow, but Jungkook holds him securely, his hands steady and reassuring.
Carefully, Jungkook places Skittles on the couch just above, making sure to support him with one hand while the other reaches for his veterinary kit. His movements are fluid, efficient, as he retrieves a stethoscope and a few other tools.
You stand frozen, unsure of what to do, watching as Jungkook expertly shifts into vet mode.
"I found him like this when I got home from work..." you blurt out, your voice trembling. "His nose was bleeding, and I don't know what happened. He was fine this morning..." Your words come out in a rush, guilt and fear laced in every syllable.
Jungkook glances up briefly, his expression softening. "It's okay..." he says gently, his voice steady. "We'll figure it out."
He begins his examination, his fingers light yet firm as he tilts Skittles' head up to get a closer look at his tiny nose. "Hey, little guy." he murmurs, his tone soothing as he keeps one hand on Skittles' back to steady him. "This might feel a little weird, but it won't hurt. I promise."
You watch, your heart pounding, as Jungkook works with meticulous care. He checks for swelling, tenderness, or any signs of a deeper injury, all while murmuring softly to Skittles. The sight of him, so focused and patient, tugs at something deep within you.
He's still the same Jungkook you fell in love with, calm under pressure, always putting others at ease.
"He's scared..." you say quietly. Jungkook looks at you briefly, his gaze warm. "He's okay. He's just not sure what's happening. We'll get him through this."
After a few minutes, Jungkook straightens slightly, his brow furrowing in thought. His gaze shifts around the room until it lands on the coffee table nearby and he points towards the sharp edge. "I think this might be what caused it." he says. "The edge is just the right height, and if he bumped into it too hard while jumping or playing, it could've scraped his nose."
Your eyes widen as you follow his gaze. "Oh my god..." you whisper, guilt washing over you like a tidal wave. "I didn't even think about that. He must've hit it when I wasn't there."
"It happens." Jungkook reassures you. "Cats are agile, but accidents like this aren't uncommon. The good news is, it's nothing serious. It's just a small cut, and it's already starting to clot. There's no swelling or signs of a deeper issue."
Relief floods your system, though your chest still feels tight. "So, he'll be okay?" you question, your voice soft. "He'll be fine." Jungkook answers with a reassuring smile. "I'm going to clean the wound and apply some antiseptic to help it heal faster. You'll just need to keep an eye on him for the next few days and make sure he doesn't scratch at it."
You nod, your eyes never leaving Skittles as Jungkook prepares the antiseptic. He works with precision, his touch so gentle that Skittles barely flinches. "You're being so brave." Jungkook chuckles to the cat, his voice filled with warmth. "Just a little more, and you'll be all set."
You've seen Jungkook take care of animals before.
Back when you first started dating, you'd often visit him at his clinic, waiting patiently for him to finish his appointments. During those moments, you'd catch glimpses of him in his element... gently talking to animals, giving them belly rubs, stroking their fur, and soothing them when they were in pain.
It was one of the things that made you fall for him... how naturally compassionate he was, how every creature seemed to trust him implicitly, as if sensing the kindness in his soul.
And now, as you watch him, your heart twists. It's not just Skittles he's calming, it's you.
Once Jungkook finishes cleaning Skittles' wound, he gently places him back in his bed, his hand lingering for a moment to softly stroke the cat's head. "He's going to be just fine." he says as he turns to you. A soft sigh escapes your lips, the weight that had been pressing down on you finally easing.
You step closer, crouching beside Jungkook as your fingers find Skittles' soft fur. Gently, you stroke his head, and he lets out a small meow, making you giggle. "Hi, cutie." you murmur, your voice soft and affectionate. "Feeling better?" It's as if he understands, because he replies with another little meow.
Jungkook watches the exchange, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "You really named your cat after your favorite candy?" he teases lightly.
You glance at him, the teasing lilt in his voice drawing your attention, and it's only then that you realize just how close you are to him. His face is mere inches from yours, and for a moment, your heart stops.
It all comes crashing down now... every suppressed thought, every buried feeling. You're seeing him after five long months, and the sight of him is almost too much.
He hasn't changed a bit. If anything, he's grown even more handsome, the edges of his jaw sharper, his eyes just as warm, yet tinged with something you can't quite place.
The realization hits hard, a bittersweet ache blooming in your chest. You've missed him more than you thought was even possible.
You awkwardly stand up, trying to create some space, your eyes darting around the living room as if searching for an escape. "Uh... yeah, it... it was Jin's idea." you reply, your voice quieter than you intended.
Jungkook notices the sudden shift in your demeanor... the way your shoulders tense, the way you avoid his gaze, nibbling on your lip in that nervous habit he knows all too well.
Though the sight tugs painfully at his heart, he respects the invisible boundary you've drawn. He stands up, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. "That's nice." he says softly, though his tone betrays a hint of wistfulness.
He watches you fidget with your fingers, your unease palpable. He knows this moment isn't easy for you. It isn't easy for him, either.
"I think..." he starts, his voice gentle. "I think I'll head out."
At his words, you finally lift your gaze to meet his. "Um... yeah, sure." you reply, stepping aside as he gathers his things and walks towards the front door.
When he bends down to slip on his shoes, you just stand there, awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to the other, your fingers nervously twisting together. The silence feels unbearably loud.
"Um... Kook..." you call out softly. He pauses, straightening up and turning to look at you. "Hmm?"
"I'm sorry." you blurt out, your words tumbling out in a rush. "I'm sorry I called you like it was nothing after five months. I wasn't thinking straight." Your throat tightens as guilt wells up inside you. "I know the breakup must've been hard on you, and I—" You pause, biting back the lump in your throat. "I know you didn't see it coming."
For a moment, he simply looks at you, and you brace yourself for anger or hurt. But then he smiles... a soft, bittersweet curve of his lips that only makes the ache in your chest deepen.
"You don't have to apologize." he says gently, his voice as warm and understanding as it's always been. "On the bright side..." he continues with a light chuckle. "I finally got to meet Skittles." He shifts his bag on his shoulder and tilts his head slightly, his eyes crinkling with a faint smile.
"Do you know how many stories I've heard from Jin hyung and Tae? I was almost jealous that I was the only one who hadn't met him yet." The playful tone in his voice doesn't mask the lingering melancholy beneath, but his words bring a small smile to your lips.
It's so like Jungkook to ease the tension, even now.
"Anyways, it was good seeing you." he says softly as he takes a step towards the door. "I'll be leaving now." His hand reaches for the handle, but just as he's about to turn it, he hesitates. The pause is so brief you almost miss it, but then he stops entirely, his shoulders stiffening for a beat.
Slowly, he glances back at you, something uncertain but determined flickering in his gaze. "Um... Y/n." he calls, his voice almost hesitant, like he's unsure if he should even be speaking.
"Yes?" you respond, stepping closer on instinct.
He turns fully, facing you with an expression that's softer than you expect. "I'd like you to bring Skittles to the clinic in about a week." he says, his voice soft yet professional, though you can tell he's treading carefully. "I want to check on the healing and make sure there's no sign of infection or lingering issues."
"Of course." you manage to say, nodding. Your voice wavers slightly, and you pray he doesn't notice. "I'll bring him."
Jungkook nods in return, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. "Good. And... if anything feels off before then, call me. I'll come right over."
The sincerity in his words hits you like a tidal wave, and for a second, it's almost too much. You glance down at your hands, fidgeting nervously, then look back up at him.
His gaze hasn't left you, and you're not sure if that makes it better or worse. "Okay... Thank you so much." you reply.
There's a moment of silence hanging between you both, heavy with everything you want to say but can't. You think he might say something else, the way his lips part slightly and his brows furrow as if he's debating it, but then he catches himself.
Instead, he gives you a small nod, one last fleeting smile, and turns back to the door.
This time, he doesn't stop.
The door clicks shut behind him, and the quiet that follows feels deafening. You stand there for a moment, staring at the door as though willing it to open again.
Finally, you let out a shaky breath and turn back towards the living room. Skittles is curled up in his bed, breathing evenly now, looking peaceful. You crouch down beside him, stroking his fur gently.
"Looks like you made quite the impression." you murmur softly, your voice breaking ever so slightly. Skittles meows sleepily, and you let out a quiet laugh, though it feels hollow.
As you sit there, the weight of Jungkook's absence presses down on you even harder. Seeing him again after all these months was like reopening a wound you'd barely begun to mend, yet somehow, having him here, even if it was brief, felt like breathing fresh air after being underwater for far too long.
And now, he's gone again, leaving behind the familiar ache that never truly went away.
"So, you're telling me Jungkook treated Skittles?" Namjoon asks, his tone light but curious as the two of you step out of the elevator.
"Yes." you reply with a small shrug, clutching your bag a little tighter. "I didn't have much of a choice. The usual vet I go to wasn't picking up."
Namjoon hums thoughtfully, falling into step beside you as you walk across the bustling lobby of your office. "How was it?"
"What?" you ask, glancing at him in confusion. "Seeing him after five months." Namjoon clarifies, his tone softer but probing.
You falter for a brief second, your mind replaying the impromptu encounter... the way Jungkook made sure Skittles was okay, the way he looked at you, the warmth in his voice, the way the past five months had melted into nothing in an instant.
"Well..." You let out a slow breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "I didn't even get to process it at first because I was just so scared about Skittles." Your fingers brush absently over your coat, as you nervously lick your lips.
Namjoon gives a small nod, silently urging you to continue. "But then..." you trail off as Namjoon gently guides you through the large revolving doors and the crisp evening air greets you the second you step out.
"But then, we had this—" you pause, searching for the right word, your lips parting before pressing together again. "Moment, I guess? Well, honestly I don't even know if it was a 'moment,' you know?" You shake your head slightly, the memory of Jungkook's gaze flashing in your mind.
"It was brief, but it hit me like a truck. It just... really sank in. That I was seeing him again. That he was right there, in front of me, after five months." Your voice drops slightly, as if saying it aloud makes it more real, as if it solidifies the emotions you've been trying to suppress.
Namjoon watches you, his expression understanding. He doesn't rush you, doesn't fill the silence with empty words. Instead, he lets you sit in your thoughts, lets you sort through the mess of emotions swirling inside you.
"And I just felt so guilty..." you continue after a brief silence. "I called him out of nowhere after five months of complete silence. That was the first time I spoke to him since I moved out, the first time I saw him... and yet, he still showed up without a second of hesitation." You exhale, shaking your head slightly. "And that made me feel so... horrible."
Namjoon watches you carefully, his usual sharp gaze softening as he steps a little closer. "You don't have to feel horrible." he reassures you gently. "Jungkook would've shown up if you needed help, no matter what. Regardless of the situation or how much time has passed."
"I know." you murmur, your eyes drifting towards the dimly lit parking lot, the distant sound of traffic filling the silence between you. "I know... and that's what makes it harder."
"He's always been so understanding, so mature." you continue, your voice thick with emotion. "Even when I was breaking up with him, he didn't fight me on it. He didn't try to come up with excuses or reasons to make me stay. He just... understood." You swallow the lump in your throat, the memory of that evening still vivid in your mind.
"He even apologized. And when he asked me to reconsider, he did it in the gentlest way possible. But I was just so exhausted back then... I refused. I was so sure I was doing the right thing."
Namjoon listens intently. He doesn't interrupt, letting you pour out the thoughts that have been pressing down on you for months.
"But now..." you exhale shakily, running a hand through your hair. "Now, with the way I'm feeling, I can't help but feel so stupid and wonder if I made the biggest mistake. Maybe I should've held on a little longer. Maybe I should've tried harder, understood him better. Maybe—"
Namjoon spots his car up ahead and slows his pace, gently placing a hand on your back as he guides you towards the passenger side. He opens the door without a word, waiting until you slide in before closing it behind you.
The second he settles into the driver's seat and starts the engine, he finally speaks.
"Look..." he starts, his voice steady but filled with something deeper, something reassuring.
"I know you. And I know that when you ended things with Jungkook, it wasn't because you stopped loving him. It was because you were hurting. Because you felt alone in a relationship that was supposed to make you feel safe. And that kind of loneliness?" He shakes his head, taking a brief pause. "It eats you up from the inside. It makes you question everything... yourself, your choices, your worth. You needed space. You needed air. And there is nothing wrong with that."
You swallow hard, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. Namjoon sighs, his fingers gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as he slows at a red light. He turns to glance at you, his eyes filled with quiet understanding.
"You've spent so much time convincing yourself that breaking up was the right thing to do... that walking away meant you were strong, that it was the only way to take care of yourself. And maybe at the time, it was..." he pauses, letting the words settle between you. "But just because it felt right then, doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel differently now."
Your breath catches in your throat, and you turn your gaze towards the window, watching the city outside. "You keep saying you feel guilty, but Y/n... love isn't a math equation that has a solution every single time. It's messy. It's confusing and you can't always justify the way you feel. You don't have to beat yourself up just because your heart still aches for him." he says.
Namjoon exhales and continues. "Maybe breaking up made you realize just how much you need him in your life... not in a desperate way, not in a way that takes away from who you are, but in a way that just makes life feel fuller. Maybe what you had was rare, something worth holding onto, and maybe the space you took was necessary for you to see that."
Your fingers tremble slightly in your lap, and Namjoon notices. He reaches over, giving your hand a comforting squeeze before placing it back on the wheel.
"And yeah, maybe now you're realizing just how much he meant to you, just how much love was really there..." he goes on, his voice softer now. "But Y/n, that doesn't make you weak. It doesn't make you foolish. And it sure as hell doesn't make you stupid."
You bite onto your quivering lower lip, staring down at your hands.
"You don't have to punish yourself for still feeling this way..." he murmurs. "Love doesn't just disappear overnight. It lingers, it settles into the cracks, it makes a home inside of you whether you want it to or not. And sometimes, it takes losing someone to realize just how deeply they were woven into your life."
Tears prick the back of your eyes, and you press your lips together to keep them at bay.
"You don't have to feel stupid for still missing him or even.... loving him..." he says firmly. "Love doesn't just vanish because you decide it should. And it's okay to admit that maybe you were scared. That maybe, in trying to protect yourself, you let go of something you didn't actually want to lose."
You close your eyes for a moment, his words cutting through all the layers of doubt and guilt you had buried yourself under.
"And if you still love him, if there's even a part of you that wonders if there's a way back... then maybe it's not too late to figure that out."
The light turns green, and Namjoon starts driving again, but your mind is stuck replaying his words, every single one of them hitting deeper than you expected.
For the first time in months, you let yourself sit with it. Let yourself feel it all.
Once you've paid the cab driver, you step out of the car, carefully holding Skittles in his transparent carrier. "You okay in there, cutie?" you murmur with a soft smile, lifting the carrier slightly to get a better look at him.
Skittles gazes up at you with wide, inquisitive eyes, his tiny nose—now much better—twitching as he takes in the unfamiliar surroundings.
It's been a week since the incident, and you've followed Jungkook's advice, ensuring Skittles' wound healed properly. You monitored him closely, kept him from scratching the area, and showered him with endless affection.
And now, just as Jungkook suggested, you're bringing him to the clinic for a check-up—to confirm his recovery and ensure there's no lingering infection.
But even as you focus on Skittles, your mind remains tangled in a web of emotions. Ever since your conversation with Namjoon, your thoughts have been in disarray, shifting between reason and longing. You've been weighing your choices, trying to make sense of it all, trying to figure out what you truly want.
You still think of a future with Jungkook. How could you not, after everything? The history you share is too vast, too deeply woven into your life to ignore.
And yet, a small, lingering fear clings to the edges of your heart. What if missing him blinds you into making a hasty decision? What if, despite all your love, you find yourself back in the same place... the same pain, the same loneliness?
And above all, what if it's already too late?
Because while you're still trying to find your way back, you have no idea if Jungkook is still waiting.
You shake your head, attempting to brush all your thoughts aside, and as you draw closer to the clinic, a quiet exhale escapes you.
The clinic stands before you, its familiar building stirring up a wave of memories. Taking a steadying breath, you push the door open and step inside. The sterile scent of antiseptic mingles with the soft murmur of conversation, grounding you in the present.
You take a brief moment to look around... nothing's changed. The waiting area still holds its rows of metal chairs, a few pet owners settled in, each waiting with their furry companions.
You approach the reception desk, and the moment Hwayoung spots you, her face lights up in recognition. "Oh my gosh, Ms. Min! You're here!" she beams, quickly standing up to greet you.
Hwayoung has always been a ray of sunshine, her kind demeanor making every visit to the clinic a little more pleasant. "Hello, Hwayoung." you reply warmly, offering her a small smile.
"Dr. Jeon told me you'd be coming today." she says excitedly, clasping her hands together. "He asked me to send you straight in."
Your brows furrow slightly in surprise. "Oh, really? Isn't he busy?"
Hwayoung shakes her head, an almost mischievous smile playing on her lips. "He told me to clear his schedule after 5 p.m. just for you. These people are waiting for the other vet." She gestures towards the small queue in the waiting area.
You blink, caught off guard by her words. Jungkook cleared his schedule for you? That's... unexpected.
You'd come here fully prepared to wait at least an hour, assuming he'd be swamped with appointments. The idea that he made time specifically for you sends a strange flutter through your chest, though you try to shake it off. "Ah, I see." you say softly, nodding. "Thank you, Hwayoung."
She grins. "Of course. Go on in... he's waiting for you."
Clutching Skittles' carrier a little tighter, you take a deep breath and head towards the door leading to Jungkook's examination room. Each step feels heavier than the last, your heart picking up it's pace as you near the familiar space.
You can't help but wonder if this was just professional courtesy, or was there something more to Jungkook clearing his schedule? You shake your head, pushing all your thoughts aside and raise a hand to knock lightly before stepping inside.
"Oh, Y/n !! Hey." Jungkook greets warmly the moment you step into the room, his face lighting up with a genuine smile as he fixes his glasses over the bridge of his nose. His crisp white coat hangs perfectly over his broad shoulders, paired with his usual work attire, a light blue shirt along with dark slacks.
"Come in, take a seat!" he gestures, stepping forward to take Skittles' carrier from your hands. The brush of his fingers against yours is brief, but it's enough to make your heart stutter.
"Thanks." you manage to say, settling into the chair by the examination table. Jungkook carefully places the carrier down, leaning in slightly to peer inside. "Let's see how our little guy is doing." he murmurs with a soft chuckle.
He carefully unclasps the carrier, extending a hand towards Skittles.
Skittles hesitates for a brief moment, sniffing Jungkook's hand before stepping out, his tiny body brushing against his fingers. "Hey there, buddy." Jungkook says in a voice as soft as a whisper, gently stroking Skittles' head.
To your surprise, and perhaps a little bit of jealousy, Skittles purrs loudly and rubs against Jungkook's stomach, clearly at ease.
"Wow, someone's warming up fast." Jungkook giggles, lifting Skittles with care. "How's your nose, little guy?" he asks, raising him slightly for a better look.
You smile softly at the way he speaks to your cat. "I made sure he didn't scratch at the injury... and I baby-proofed all the sharp edges and corners in my apartment. You know, just to be safe."
Jungkook laughs at your words. "That's good, Y/n. You're a great cat mom." he says, his smile genuine. You feel a warm blush creep up your neck, pride blooming at his words. "Thanks." you murmur, quickly looking away.
Gently, Jungkook places Skittles back on the examination table and begins his check-up, starting with his little nose.
"His nose looks great... clear, no irritation, and his breathing is steady. That's a really good sign." he informs a few seconds later. You lean forward slightly, relief flooding you. "That's a relief." you say softly.
Jungkook continues his thorough examination, his hands moving with care over Skittles' small body, checking for any discomfort or lingering issues. Skittles, completely at ease, purrs contentedly throughout the process.
"Looks like he's healed beautifully." Jungkook says finally, his tone filled with pride. "There's no sign of infection, and he seems as energetic as ever."
"Thank God." you exhale, a weight lifting off your chest.
Jungkook lifts Skittles once more, holding him close as the cat nuzzles into his chest. "You're lucky, little guy." he murmurs softly to Skittles before his gaze shifts to you. "Not everyone has someone as caring as Y/n right here."
The way he says it, his eyes locking with yours, makes your breath catch. You're not sure if he's still talking about Skittles, and the realization sends your heart racing.
"Thank you for fitting us into your schedule." you say quickly, hoping to steer the conversation back to a safer ground. Jungkook smiles, but there's something softer in it now, something almost wistful. "I'll always make time for you, Y/n. Please know that."
You don't know what to say to that, so you just nod, feeling your cheeks heat under his gaze.
Just then, your phone buzzes with a notification, and almost in perfect sync, Jungkook's does the same. Both of you pull out your phones, eyes reading the notification.
"Was that Seokjin?" you ask, still scanning the message. "Yeah..." Jungkook replies. "He's invited all of us to a party this weekend." His gaze shifts to meet yours.
"Yeah... his housewarming party." you echo, your voice trailing off as you both linger in the moment.
A wave of nostalgia hits you, almost out of nowhere.
It's funny because... Seokjin's parties had always been the backdrop of so many things, including your first meeting with Jungkook. That's where it all began 4 years ago.
And ever since you and Jungkook broke up, Seokjin hadn't really hosted any parties, mostly because life and work had kept everyone busy. It's also one of the reasons you hadn't seen Jungkook at all these past 5 months.
"So, you're going?" Jungkook asks, his voice pulling you back to the present. You swallow, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. You know Seokjin would be disappointed if you didn't show up, but the idea of being in the same space as Jungkook makes your stomach do flips.
Still, thinking about it, it doesn't sound too terrible. After all, you're here with him now, and the tension between you two has eased a little. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? Right?
"Yeah." you answer simply, giving a quick nod. Jungkook smiles softly, a look of relief crossing his face as his shoulders seem to relax. He's not about to admit it aloud, but he had no intention of going if you weren't, but the moment you decided you were going, he knew he was going too.
"So, I'll see you there, then."
"Oh my god, your ass looks absolutely incredible in this." Seulgi exclaims, her voice laced with playful admiration as she gives your butt a gentle smack, strolling behind you.
You roll your eyes at her words, sending a quick, pointed glare her way as you both make your way towards Seokjin's new apartment. "What? I'm just stating the obvious." she teases with a shrug, stepping into the apartment right behind you.
"Though, I get the feeling you mostly wore it to catch someone's attention." she adds, wiggling her brows and nudging you with her shoulder. "Oh my god, Seulgi, seriously, stop." You laugh, playfully pushing her away as you both weave through the throngs of people already gathered at Seokjin's place.
"Come on, I know Jungkook's going to be here tonight." she says, a knowing smirk dancing on her lips. "Yeah, and?" you respond, trying to sound nonchalant as your gaze sweeps across the room, taking in the sight of guests casually mingling and admiring the minimalist decor and sleek details of Seokjin's newly acquired apartment.
"I know you still love him." Seulgi says, her voice barely cutting through the low hum of conversation. "I mean, there's a reason none of those blind dates worked out for you." she adds, almost too casually.
At this, you pause mid-step and glance at her, a raised eyebrow betraying the flicker of uncertainty she's just stirred. "Come on, Seulgi, none of those guys were my type." you reply.
"Sure, sure." Seulgi grins, unconvinced, but she doesn't push further.
Instead, she suddenly shifts her attention when she spots her boyfriend lounging on the couch. "Tae!!" she calls out, her voice high and eager. Without hesitation, she grabs your hand and starts weaving through the crowd, dragging you along.
"Oh hey, babe." Taehyung greets with a sweet smile as he rises from the couch to embrace Seulgi. You stand beside her, your gaze naturally drifting over to Yoongi and Hoseok... two of your closest friends, seated on the couch before settling on the figure seated at the very edge.
Jungkook.
Your breath catches in your throat as you take him in.
You've seen him without his glasses a thousand times, but somehow, he still manages to look effortlessly breathtaking. And that shirt... God, it's unbuttoned just enough to reveal the sculpted expanse of his chest, exactly the way you like it.
His hair isn't slicked back like it usually is when he's at the clinic. Instead, it falls freely across his forehead, soft waves framing his face in a way that makes your stomach tighten.
Your gaze flickers downward, landing on his exposed forearms, one of them adorned in intricate tattoos. A shiver runs down your spine as memories flood back. The way those arms used to hold you close. The way your fingers used to absentmindedly trace each inked design, learning them by heart.
While you're lost in a trance, so is Jungkook.
His eyes rake over you from head to toe, lingering just a second too long. You still look as stunning as ever and you still seem to have that effect on him, the kind that makes his pulse stutter and his breath falter.
His heart pounds against his ribcage as his gaze trails down your legs, pausing at the way your feet sit so delicately in those black pumps.
It's as if the world has faded away, leaving just the two of you locked in this unspoken moment.
But before either of you can say anything, the spell shatters.
"Oh hey, Y/n !!" Hoseok's cheerful voice snaps you and Jungkook back to reality. His signature grin is as bright as ever as he pushes himself up from the couch, stepping forward to pull you into a warm embrace.
You return it with a soft smile, willing yourself to shake off the daze you had just been in. "Hi, Hobi. Long time." you say, pulling away.
Yoongi greets you next, offering a small nod and the three of you quickly fall into easy conversation, catching up over small talk. Soon enough, Taehyung and Seulgi join in, and the group buzzes with laughter and chatter.
Everyone here knows about your breakup with Jungkook, but no one dares to bring it up and you're grateful for it.
Eventually, Namjoon arrives, his presence adding even more liveliness to the party. The evening moves along, and soon, you find yourself tagging along as Seokjin proudly gives a little tour of his new apartment.
The place is stunning with sleek furniture and tastefully chosen decor. The living room is filled with soft, golden lighting, and a massive floor-to-ceiling window offers a breathtaking view of the city skyline.
A well-stocked bar stands in one corner, already surrounded by guests mixing drinks, while the balcony doors remain open, letting in the crisp evening air.
At some point, you find yourself in the kitchen, reaching for a glass of cranberry juice. You had decided early on to stick to non-alcoholic drinks tonight, just to be on the safer side.
As you take a slow sip, like always your mind betrays you, drifting to Jungkook once again.
You're sure that throughout the night, your eyes have met his at least a million times. And yet, it's never awkward. No, it's something else entirely... something lingering and heavy with longing.
Like you're both reaching for something, craving something, but the words to bridge the distance simply don't exist.
Before you can dwell on it for too long, a few familiar faces approach, pulling you into easy conversation. The topic shifts between work, life, and other trivial things, grounding you back into the present.
Eventually, you excuse yourself, slipping away from the kitchen in search of your friends.
Your eyes scan the room, catching sight of Seulgi nestled against Taehyung, their heads tilted towards each other, lost in their own quiet world. You don't have the heart to interrupt, so you decide to look for someone else instead.
You weave through the scattered crowd, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor as you make your way down the hallway. The house is larger than you expected, each turn revealing a new space filled with people engaged in their own conversations.
You peek into a few rooms, but none of your friends seem to be around.
Then, as you approach a quieter stretch of the hall, a voice reaches your ears. "Is it not awkward seeing her tonight?"
It's Hoseok.
Your breath catches slightly, your steps faltering. Something deep in your chest tightens because you somehow already know where this conversation is headed and who they're talking to. You know should turn back. You know should leave.
But you don't.
Instead, you linger by the door, which is slightly ajar... just enough for a thin streak of warm light to spill into the dim hallway. You lean against the wall, careful to keep out of sight, heart thrumming as you strain to listen.
"Not really." Jungkook's voice comes next, steady but laced with something fragile, something hesitant, something almost forced. "I mean, I saw her a few days ago, so it's not that bad tonight, you know." He pauses, and you hear the faint exhale of breath, like he's trying to convince himself of his own words.
"I went to her place once, and the second time, she visited me at my clinic." He explains. "She needed some help with her cat."
"Ahh..." Hoseok hums knowingly and just then, another voice chimes in. "How have you been holding up, dude? Honestly." It's Yoongi.
You expect Jungkook to answer right away, but all that follows is another stretch of silence.
Your heart pounds. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be listening. But you can't move, not yet. Not until he answers.
"Honestly, hyung... I'm not okay." Jungkook's voice is soft, but it crashes into you with full force.
Your fingers tighten around the glass in your hand and you can't help but feel like you're intruding on something deeply personal, something meant only for the people inside that room... but still, you remain frozen in place, your feet betraying you.
"We were together for four years, hyung. She was... everything to me." There's a hollow laugh towards the end of his sentence, but it holds no warmth, no amusement... just emptiness. "I understood why she wanted to break up. And as much as it took everything in me to beg her to stay, I couldn't, because..." He exhales shakily, voice cracking just slightly.
"Because of the pain in her voice. The way she looked... she... she was just so tired." His voice fractures at the edges, the weight of his words pressing into the silence. He pauses, and in that pause, you swear you hear his heart breaking... splintering into pieces too small to ever put back together.
"I knew she needed to leave, and I couldn't be selfish. I couldn't be the reason she felt trapped."
Your throat tightens as your fingers tremble against the glass you're holding.
"But, fuck..." His voice is raw now, stripped of every carefully constructed wall. "Knowing all that doesn’t make it any easier. Doesn’t make it hurt any less." he admits, his frustration laced with something devastatingly vulnerable.
Yoongi exhales, thoughtful. "Kook, maybe you should try seeing other people."
"Yeah." Hoseok chimes in gently. "She’s been going on blind dates too. It obviously won’t be the same, but maybe, eventually, you can move on, you know?"
A brief silence follows. Then, Jungkook sighs, a sound so weighted, so utterly resigned, that it feels like the air shifts even around you.
"She can see other people..." he murmurs, voice quieter but tinged with something almost bitter. "Because, in the end, I wasn’t everything she needed." He pauses, and you swear you can hear his breathing hitch before he continues.
"But for me... what’s the point? When everything I need, everything I want... every damn part of me, still belongs to her?"
Your breath stutters.
You press yourself against the wall, as if that could somehow steady the way your knees goes weak. His words crash into you, leaving you wrecked with the weight of the truth he’s spilling so effortlessly.
And god, do you feel like the shittiest person alive.
You want to push the door open, to run to him, to tell him he’s wrong... so fucking wrong because he is everything you need, everything you want as well but somehow you feel like a statue.
The silence that follows is suffocating, stretching between them like an open wound. And then, after a few agonizing moments, Jungkook speaks again.
"I was going to propose to her."
Your entire world screeches to a halt. The air is sucked from your lungs, your heart lurching into your throat as the words settle in, heavy and staggering.
"What?"
"Oh my god, really?"
Yoongi and Hoseok's voices overlap, their shock mirroring the storm that rages inside you.
Jungkook was going to propose to you? He was going to ask you to marry him?
You feel like you've been punched in the gut, like the ground beneath you is crumbling, and yet, you can't move. You can't do anything but listen.
"Yeah..." Jungkook exhales, the word leaving him in a breath so fragile it nearly shatters. "I even got the ring and everything but—" He pauses, a bitter chuckle slipping past his lips. "Like an idiot, I kept holding onto it, thinking I'd wait for the right moment." His voice cracks, the regret seeping into every syllable.
"And because I kept postponing it, I let shit fall apart without even realizing it." A hollow silence follows before he whispers, almost to himself. "I'm such a fool."
Your vision blurs, your fingers tightening around the glass so hard you think it might shatter.
And before you can think, before you can make sense of the storm raging inside you, your feet finally move, carrying you far, far away before your heart betrays you, before the lump in your throat turns into a sob you can't swallow down.
Before you lose the last shred of strength keeping you from running straight back to him.
You push through the crowd blindly, your breath uneven, chest tight as if a vice has wrapped itself around your ribs.
By the time you reach the bar, your hands are trembling. You barely register the bartender's gaze as you mutter out an order, gripping the counter like it's the only thing anchoring you to the present.
You promised yourself you wouldn't drink tonight. You swore you'd keep a clear head.
But now?
Now, you need something to burn away the ache in your chest. Something to dull the sharp edges of the truth that just carved its way into your heart.
Jungkook was going to fucking propose to you. He was going to ask you to spend the rest of your life with him.
You squeeze your eyes shut, bile rising in your throat. How could you not have known? How could you have been so blind... so utterly selfish?
The drink is set in front of you, and your fingers curl around the glass, but you don't lift it to your lips just yet. Your reflection stares back at you from the polished surface of the bar, and all you can see is the face of someone who wrecked the one person who ever truly loved her.
You had convinced yourself that walking away was the right thing, that it was the only choice, the only way to set things right for yourself.
You believed that by leaving, you were also freeing him... unburdening him so he could fulfill his ambitions, and live a life unchained from the weight of your love.
But all you did was leave him shattered, carrying the weight of an unspoken future... one he had been ready to give you.
A future you never even let yourself consider.
Your hands tighten around the glass, the sting in your eyes growing unbearable.
You never fully understood, not until this moment, just how deeply you had broken him.
Jungkook paces through the hallways, his eyes scanning the crowd in search of you. It feels like an eternity since he last caught a proper glimpse of you, ever since the moment Seokjin had given a tour around his apartment, and you'd slipped quietly out of sight.
The space around him seems to stretch with the quiet absence of your presence. He just wants to find a way to talk to you, anything that could serve as an excuse to be near you again.
As he rounds the corner, he spots Taehyung, and without hesitation, he approaches him. "Hey, have you seen Y/N?"
Taehyung's brows furrow as he thinks for a moment. "I think I saw her at the bar earlier." he replies, a slight concern in his voice. "She looked pretty wasted."
Jungkook's heart leaps at the information, his eyes widening instinctively. Without a second thought, he weaves through the crowd of guests, heading straight towards the bar.
As soon as he steps into the space, his gaze immediately lands on you. You're hunched over the table and for a moment, he wonders if you've fallen asleep, but just as quickly, you lift your head, mumbling something under your breath that he can't quite make out.
His eyes then fall to the several empty shot glasses scattered in front of you, and his eyes widen.
He knows you... knows how little you drink and this isn't like you at all. You only drink like this when something is worrying you, when you're trying to numb something that hurts far deeper than anyone can see.
"Y/n?" His voice is soft, hesitant, as he approaches. Your eyes, heavy and unfocused, flicker open, barely managing to turn your head in his direction. "Koo?" you slur.
Your voice is thick with inebriation, and you struggle to open your eyes further, but the effort is clearly beyond you. The sight of you like this, makes something inside him break just a little.
"Hey..." His voice is softer now, as he gently reaches for you, bringing his arms to steady you on the stool. Without any hesitation, you lean into him, your head instinctively resting against his chest, your body gravitating towards his warmth like it's the only thing familiar in the whirlwind of your drunken haze.
"Where were you, Koo?... Missed you." you murmur again, your words slurring together, and before he can fully process what you've said, your arms are wrapping around his torso.
Jungkook instantly stiffens and swallows hard, the rush of emotions flooding his chest and god, the proximity is killing him.
But he knows that right now, his only priority is getting you out of here, away from the alcohol, away from the sharp ache in your eyes that he knows you don't want him to see.
"Let me take you home, Y/n." he murmurs softly. "Come on." he says, his hand gently guiding you upright.
You barely manage to stand, your legs swaying, unsteady. His arm instinctively wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him as he supports your weight, steadying you as best as he can.
Together, you stumble away from the bar, his eyes scanning the crowd for any familiar face to let them know he's leaving with you. But the sea of guests is thick with noise and movement, and no one stands out to him.
With a sigh of resignation, he makes the decision to leave without saying a word to anyone else.
He leads you out of the apartment, through the hallway, and into the elevator. As the doors close, he steals a glance at you, his heart thundering in his chest as he watches the way you lean into him, your breath soft against his shirt, your fingers still loosely tangled around his waist.
He wonders, for a brief second, if you can feel how much he's been holding back.
When the elevator doors slide open, Jungkook gently guides you towards his car. His hands are steady, but there's a tremor of care in every motion. You're so drunk, your body pliant, swaying with every shift he makes.
He helps you into the passenger seat, and you barely register the motion while he puts on your seat belt, your head lolling back against the seat as you blink slowly, fighting to bring your surroundings into focus. The world around you feels disjointed, like it's floating in slow motion.
As the car begins to move, you turn your head to the side, only to find Jungkook in the driver's seat. The sight of him, seems to pull you in, and you want to speak, to ask him something, anything. But the words never form.
The fatigue in your body gets heavier and the effort to focus slips away like sand through your fingers. Before you even realize it, your eyelids grow heavier, and the world around you blurs into a soft, swirling haze and with a quiet sigh, your eyes flutter shut, the thoughts of what you wanted to say fading away.
When Jungkook finally pulls the car to a stop right outside your apartment building, he takes a moment to let his gaze linger on you. There you are, asleep, your chest rising and falling with every soft, rhythmic breath you take.
A quiet smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he watches you and his hand lifts instinctively, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender, as though afraid to disturb the fragile serenity that surrounds you.
For a long moment, he just watches you, lost in the beauty of the silence.
After a while, he exits the car, and then moves to your side, slowly opening the door. With quiet care, he unbuckles your seatbelt, his movements slow and careful so as not to jolt you awake.
But when he looks down at you, he sees how deeply you're sleeping, and he can't bring himself to wake you up and make you walk all the way to your flat.
Instead, he gently grabs your purse, draping it over his arm before scooping you up into his arms, lifting you as though you weigh nothing.
He kicks the door shut behind him, and with you cradled against him, he walks through the lobby of your building and soon, he steps into the elevator.
He can feel you stir in his arms, the subtle shift of your body and the faint flutter of your eyes opening just a crack.
When the elevator reaches your floor, he steps out and stands before your door, only to realize with a quiet curse that he needs the keys to unlock it. A soft sigh escapes him, and he carefully lowers you, letting you stand with his support.
"Give me a minute, baby." he murmurs and the little nickname slips out before he even thinks, but it goes unnoticed by you in your half-conscious state.
He steadies you against him, his hand gently resting on your waist, as he reaches into your purse, fishing out the key.
The moment Jungkook unlocks the door, a soft meow greets him, and his gaze immediately lands on Skittles, who is sitting on the floor, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Hi there, buddy." he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
He steps inside, still holding you close and makes sure to close the door behind him, preventing Skittles from darting out into the hallway. As he moves further inside, Skittles follows closely, his little paws tapping softly against the floor.
Jungkook places your purse on the couch while Skittles' gaze flicks between Jungkook and you, his paws reaching out to gently nudge your feet as you sleepily stumble beside Jungkook, guided by his steady support.
"Your mom's drunk." Jungkook chuckles. "Is this her room?" he asks, his tone playful as he looks down at Skittles. Jungkook tilts his head in amusement, as if expecting an answer, but of course, all he receives is a meow in response.
He decides to trust his gut and push the door open and when his eyes fall on the neatly made bed, the sheets and pillows arranged with a quiet sense of order and the soft scent of lavender in the room, he knows instantly this is where you sleep.
Carefully, Jungkook helps you to the bed, lowering you gently until you're lying down. As he pulls away, his gaze softens, noticing the faint smudge of mascara beneath your eyes.
If there's one thing he's learned after living 2 whole years with you, it's that you can't stand going to bed with a face full of makeup.
"Where's the bathroom?" he asks, glancing back at Skittles, who sits idly by the door. Not waiting for an answer, he steps out into the hallway and spots the door next to the kitchen.
He walks towards it and steps inside, taking a moment to survey the bathroom and his eyes land on a shelf by the sink, neatly organized with all your skincare products and a pang of nostalgia hits him hard.
It's exactly the way it used to be when you lived with him.
With a soft sigh, he instantly reaches out for the makeup remover. Skittles, ever the curious little companion, follows Jungkook into the bathroom, rubbing against his legs.
"Any idea where your mom keeps the cotton pads?" Jungkook chuckles softly and just then, his eyes land on the small cabinet right above the shelf. He rummages through it briefly before finding the cotton pads.
Once he has everything he needs, he heads back to the bedroom with Skittles trailing right behind him.
When Jungkook steps closer, he notices the slow, almost languid way your eyelids flutter open, your gaze hazy as it shifts towards him. "Hey..." he greets gently, noticing the faint confusion still clouding your eyes.
"You awake?" he asks and the way you look at him tell him you're still very much drunk. "Where... am I?" you murmur, the words slurring together as if speaking itself requires too much effort.
"Your room." Jungkook answers with a soft smile as he leans forward slightly, carefully pouring makeup remover onto the cotton pad and his eyes move back to you, making sure you're still with him. "Close your eyes, let me remove your makeup."
Without hesitation, you comply, your body too weary to resist the simple request. Jungkook watches you, his heart tightening a little as you surrender to him, trust in your eyes even if you're too inebriated to fully grasp the moment.
He's done this countless times before, back when you lived together, but as he runs the cotton pad over your face, he realizes, almost with a pang, just how long it's been since the last time he did this for you.
"All done." Jungkook says softly after a few minutes, his voice a comforting whisper in the stillness of the room. You slowly open your eyes again, and this time, it's like your vision is finally coming into focus, the fog of alcohol beginning to somewhat clear.
You shift uncomfortably, a subtle fidget that doesn't escape his notice. The tight dress you're wearing suddenly feels suffocating, clinging to your skin in all the wrong ways. "Wanna change?" he asks, his voice gentle and you nod, the motion small and slow.
Jungkook immediately scans the room, his gaze landing on your closet. He walks over to it and and somehow ends up finding a pair of pajamas.
Once he returns to your side, Jungkook takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself against the storm of emotions swirling inside him. He forces himself to remain composed, to act like this is nothing more than a simple, routine act... just him, helping you because you're drunk.
But deep inside, he knows the truth. The familiarity of it all stings, each little gesture piercing him with the sharp reminder of how things used to be, back when the two of you were together.
He's done this so many times before, almost as if it were second nature. Taking care of you when you were drunk, helping you remove your makeup after a long, exhausting day. It used to be part of a rhythm, a routine that was comforting in its predictability.
But now, those moments feel like an ache in his chest because what truly cuts him is how these tender, quiet acts became rarer towards the end of your relationship.
He was always too late, always too tired, always lost in his own world of responsibilities. The simple things he used to do for you were all being pushed aside for something that, in hindsight, never truly mattered as much as you did.
Once he's done helping you change, Jungkook gently lays you back down on the bed, the blanket settling softly over you as he tucks you in with the tenderness that has always come so naturally to him.
As he smooths out the blanket, he catches you staring at him. "What?" he asks quietly, his lips curving into a small smile.
"I miss you." you whisper suddenly, the words slipping out like a raw confession, unguarded and fragile.
Jungkook's heart catches in his throat, his entire body going rigid. He can feel the weight of your words, even if he knows the alcohol is speaking for you.
For a moment, everything stills but he knows he can't give in right now, especially when you're not in the right mind or he'll truly crumble.
After what feels like an eternity, he finally pulls himself together, his voice soft but firm. "Get some sleep, Y/n." he says, though the words taste bittersweet on his tongue. He tries to walk away, but something about the way your gaze holds his makes him hesitate.
However, just as he's about to leave, he feels your fingers wrap around his wrist, pulling him back.
You sit up slowly, your movements slow, as you pull him closer until he's sitting on your bed, facing you. As you stare into his eyes, you blink softly, trying to steady the way your insides twist and churn.
You're not sure if it's the nagging haze of the many vodka shots you downed back at the party or if you're simply losing your mind... but right now, none of that seems to matter.
Without thinking, your body leans forward, the distance between you closing as you let your lips rest lightly on his.
It's not a kiss, not really, but the mere press of your lips against his is enough to send a shiver through both of you.
Jungkook's entire being freezes, eyes wide in disbelief, caught between the fog of longing and the clarity of what this moment means.
Oh, how he's missed this. The feel of you, the taste of your lips, the familiar comfort of your presence after all this time. It's like the world is stitching itself back together, making sense again, piece by piece.
But the moment he starts to melt, he instantly pulls himself back because he knows this isn't right.
Despite every inch of him craving more, despite the overwhelming ache of wanting to surrender his very being to you, he knows he can't right now.
Not when you're like this... so vulnerable and extremely intoxicated, likely not to remember a thing tomorrow. It's not fair to either of you.
He brings his hands up to your shoulders, his grip firm as he gently, but decisively, pushes you back.
"Koo... kiss me...." you whimper weakly, your voice thick with longing, your body leaning towards him again. But this time, he's quicker, catching you before your lips can meet his once more.
"Y/n..." his voice is strained, a quiet plea full of restraint. "We can't."
He stands up abruptly, as if it's the only way to protect himself, the only defense he has against the storm of emotions threatening to consume him. "Go to sleep, Y/n." he murmurs.
Carefully, he eases you back down onto the mattress, tucking the blanket around you once more, ensuring your arms stay inside this time, because if you reach for him again, if you hold onto him like you did before, he might just break.
You pout at him softly, your drowsy eyes still heavy with sleep, and for a fleeting moment, he almost falters. Almost.
But he exhales sharply, shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of all his thoughts. "Good night, Y/n." he says, his voice quieter now, almost like he's telling himself to let go.
And before you can say anything, before you can pull him back into something he knows he can't resist, he's out the door.
You scrunch your nose in your sleep as a warm, wet sensation grazes your cheek, followed by a soft, persistent nudge and a low whine escapes your lips. "Skittles..." you groan groggily, weakly attempting to push him away, but his relentless licking persists.
Then, as you shift, a sharp pain shoots through your skull, making you wince. "God..." you mumble, finally forcing your heavy eyelids open. Skittles meows at you, his tail flicking playfully before he leaps off the bed, completely unbothered, like he didn't just drag you out of your deep slumber.
You exhale slowly, forcing yourself upright, but your entire body feels weak, weighed down by exhaustion. You bury your face in your hands, taking a moment to steady yourself against the pounding in your head.
The memories of last night come in flashes as you try to recall just how many shots you had, but the details remain frustratingly out of reach.
You sniffle softly, finally taking in your surroundings as the haze of sleep begins to fade. Your brows furrow in quiet confusion because all you can think about right now is how did you make it back home last night.
All you remember is overhearing that conversation between Jungkook, Yoongi, and Hoseok and how Jungkook's confession sank into you like stones in the water. The way your stomach twisted, the way your heart raced, and the way you stumbled towards the bar, desperate for something—anything—to drown it all out.
Shot after shot.
That's where the memory cuts off.
The rest is a blur and the gaps in your recollection feel like gaping holes, unsettling in their emptiness. Your gaze drops to the pajamas draped over your frame, and immediately, you just know, there's no way you changed into these yourself.
Your fingers ghost over the fabric, tugging absentmindedly at the hem as you try to piece it all together. Then, your eyes drift towards the nightstand, where your makeup remover sits beside a stack of used cotton pads.
You blink once. Twice.
And then it hits you all at once and a loud gasp leaves your lips.
Did Jungkook bring you home last night?
Your mind reels in panic, a storm of fragmented thoughts crashing into one another. Frustration bubbles up as you grip your hair, willing your brain to cough up even a single memory, at least something that might give you an insight about what truly happened last night.
But unfortunately, nothing comes up and that's when the dread settles in.
What if you said something weird? What if, in your drunken haze, you let something slip... especially after what you overheard?
"Fuck." You mutter under your breath, shoving the blanket off and swinging your legs over the bed. Your body protests as you stand, the weight of last night's alcohol still heavy in your system, but you push through the haze, determined to regain some semblance of control.
You step out of your room, eyes scanning the space for your purse so that you can check your phone. When you spot it on the couch and just before your fingers can reach it, the door bell rings.
Your brows furrow as you glance at the clock. It's a little past 8 and you wonder who's here so early, especially on a Sunday morning.
With a slight grimace, you run your fingers through your hair in a feeble attempt to fix it, then make your way to the door. Skittles trails behind you, his tail flicking lazily, oblivious to the fact that you're about to open the door to an unexpected visitor.
When you swing it open, your breath catches in your chest.
"Hey." Jungkook greets with a soft smile. He's standing right outside your door in the hallway in his work clothes... his crisp, white shirt, neatly pressed trousers, and his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, looking as effortlessly composed as ever.
You blink, caught off guard, before your gaze inevitably drops to the paper bag in his hand and a chill runs down your spine as you notice the familiar logo on it. He catches the direction of your eyes and lifts the bag slightly. "I thought I'd drop by with your favorite hangover soup before heading to work."
Your heart sinks, the weight of his kindness rushing over you. This man... he's really going to be the death of you.
Not only did he bring you home last night, change your clothes, and remove your makeup like it was all his duty, but now he's standing here on an early Sunday morning just before work, offering you comfort as if you were still a part of his life, as if you hadn't shattered everything between the two of you.
He extends the bag towards you, and in that moment, you sense he's only here to deliver the soup and leave and somehow, you don't really like the idea of that.
"You're not coming in?" you ask, unable to mask the faint trace of hurt in your voice. His eyes widen slightly. "You... want me to?" he asks, the hesitation and confusion evident in his tone.
You don't trust yourself to speak, your thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and emotions you can't quite untangle. So, instead, you step aside, wordlessly giving him the space to enter, silently hoping that somehow, he understands everything you're too scared to say.
Jungkook gulps as he slowly steps inside but the second Skittles meows at him, his expression softens, a smile tugging at his lips. "We've been seeing each other a lot, haven't we, buddy?" he chuckles, crouching down to stroke your cat, and you can't help but watch with your heart racing as Skittles melts into his touch with such ease.
A few seconds pass, and Jungkook is already heading towards your dining table. You take a seat awkwardly, feeling the tension in the air, as you watch him carefully pull out the container from the paper bag. "Here." he says softly, opening it and pushing it towards you with a spoon.
You stare at the soup for a few moments, the warmth of it rising up to meet you, before looking up at Jungkook. "Thank you for bringing me home last night." you murmur softly.
Jungkook's lips curl into a gentle smile, his eyes soft as he responds. "You don't have to thank me, Y/n." His words, like a balm, seem to lift the weight in the air, and for a moment, you wonder how this man always seems to magically ease the tension between you, making everything feel just a little bit lighter.
"Please, sit down." you say, a quiet request, and he obliges without hesitation, pulling out the chair across from you and settling into it.
"Did you have breakfast?" you ask as you proceed to take a sip of the soup, and the moment it hits your tongue, you let out a contented groan. It's almost like your hangover is already melting away, the warmth instantly spreading through your body and soothing the ache in your head.
Jungkook chuckles at your reaction, a soft giggle escaping him, but he answers your question with ease. "Yes, I did."
"You want some?" you ask, gesturing towards the soup with an eyebrow raised, but he shakes his head with a smile. "It's all yours."
You smile back at him, the simple act of him caring somehow comforting. You take a few more sips, savoring the relief, but then a question suddenly nags at you, one that makes your stomach churn.
"Did I..." you begin hesitantly, unsure how to phrase it. "Did I do anything weird last night?"
Jungkook stiffens slightly, a brief flash of something in his eyes, but he quickly masks it, not wanting to remind you of anything you might regret. He doesn't want you to hate yourself for it. "No, don't worry." he reassures you, his voice smooth, accompanied by an easy smile that feels like a promise.
You nod at his words, though doubt lingers in the back of your mind. You return to your soup and as the silence stretches between you two, your thoughts begin to drift, and suddenly, the memory of the conversation you overheard back at the party floods your mind.
You find yourself staring at your bowl, lost in the sudden intensity of your thoughts. Your fingers linger on the spoon, and suddenly you have the urge to talk.
"Kook..." you murmur, your voice a little uncertain. You lick your lips, trying to gather your thoughts, before finally meeting his gaze. He hums softly in response, his eyes already fixed on you, waiting for the next words to leave your mouth.
"How have you been?" you ask. He tilts his head slightly, caught off guard by the suddenness of your question. "I realized we never really caught up after the breakup, you know? I never asked how you've been." you explain, your voice quiet but filled with sincerity.
He parts his lips, nodding slowly as he absorbs your words. "Right..." he murmurs. "I've been... okay." he says.
Lies.
You remember the conversation you overheard last night, the cracks in his voice and the way you could literally feel his pain even through the door. You know the words he's saying aren't true, but you don't call him out for it.
He hesitates for just a moment, and then his lips part, his gaze never leaving yours. "You?" he asks, the question softer than you expected, as his eyes search yours with a tenderness that's hard to ignore.
"I've been okay too." you reply, but the words feel hollow as they leave your mouth.
You both know you're lying, but you say them anyway, because it's easier than revealing the truth. Easier than admitting how far from 'okay' you both truly are.
When you're finally finished with the soup, you stand up as you gather the empty container in your hands but before you can make your way to the kitchen, Jungkook is already on his feet.
"Let me take that." His voice is soft, almost tender, as he reaches for the container. Your heart flutters as he makes his way towards the kitchen and despite yourself, you find yourself trailing behind him, drawn to his every movement.
You watch him as he throws the container into the trash right below the sink, and as he washes his hands, each simple action sending waves of emotion crashing into you, stirring a need deep within that you can no longer ignore.
Your heart aches with a realization so raw, so painfully clear, that you can't hold it in any longer. "You know what..." you begin. Jungkook looks up from where he stands, wiping his hands.
"I'm actually not okay." you say, and the words feel like a confession. He freezes, the towel still in his hands as his lips part. "What?" he asks, but somehow he already knows exactly what you mean.
"I'm not okay, Kook." you repeat, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. A tightness forms in your chest, but it's not just the hurt of the past... it's the ache of the present, of how much you still feel for him, how much you've missed him. You take a breath, and as you look into his eyes, the words come out before you can control them. "I miss you."
He doesn't say anything back, and it feels like the silence is suffocating you. It presses against you like it's crushing the air from your lungs. Your heart pounds so loudly, it feels as though it's thudding in your ears, every beat a reminder of how much you've missed him, how much you've lost.
Anxiety spirals inside you, a cyclone of fear and confusion, and it feels like you're being pulled deeper into the vortex with every second that passes without him saying anything.
You can't stand it any longer. You can't hold it in. The words are clawing at your throat, desperate to escape, and you open your mouth without thinking. "I know I probably look really stupid right now..." you say, your words stuttered, almost like you're trying to convince yourself more than him.
You can't even look at him, your gaze falling to your fidgeting fingers instead, trying to focus on something, anything, to distract yourself from the overwhelming emotions crashing over you. "I'm standing here, saying I miss you when... when I was the one who left, the one who ruined everything between us. I destroyed us, Kook. I thought if I just let you go, I would feel better, like it would make the pain go away, but I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong..."
You pause, trying to catch your breath, but it's like the weight of everything you've been holding back is choking you. The words feel like they're suffocating you from the inside out. The reality of your mistake, the loss of him... it's all too much, and you're drowning in it.
You glance up at him, but it's too much, too hard to meet his gaze. Your chest tightens painfully, and your hands are shaking uncontrollably, so you keep talking, the words tumbling out faster now, desperate to make him understand.
"I thought if I broke up with you, if I pushed you away, I'd feel less alone but god, I was... I was so wrong. I thought I could do it on my own, but it's worse, Kook. It's so much worse than I ever imagined. I feel empty, like there's this giant hole inside me, and nothing I do, nothing I say, can fill it. I thought I'd be fine, that I'd get over it, but the truth is... I've never felt more lost... I've never felt more broken."
Your voice falters, and you can barely get the words out. You want to stop, you want to shut up before you embarrass yourself, but the dam has broken, and there's no turning back. The tears start to fall, hot and unrelenting, and you wipe at them furiously, but they keep coming.
"I miss you, Kook." you whisper, your voice trembling. "I miss you more than I can even begin to explain. It hurts so much to admit that I was the one who walked away, to know that I pushed you out of my life when all I really wanted was to pull you closer. And now..." You falter, your voice cracking on the last word.
"And now, I don't even know how to fix it. I don't know how to—"
"I miss you too." he finally interjects before you can go any further. "God Y/n, I miss you too. So fucking much." he finally lets out, taking a step closer as he places the towel somewhere near the sink.
You look up at him, and when your eyes meet, you see something that breaks you all over again.
His own eyes are glistening, a reflection of everything you've just said, everything you've both been carrying, buried beneath months of silence and pain.
"And it's my fault, Y/n." he says, his voice shaky, as if the words are a heavy weight he's been carrying for far too long. His eyes shine with a mixture of regret and pain, and a tear slips down his cheek, betraying the quiet anguish that has been festering beneath the surface.
"I should've noticed how alone you were. I should've seen the signs. I should've paid attention to the way you pulled away, the way your eyes... they lost that light when you looked at me. I was too blind, too absorbed in my own plans and the future I wanted to build, that I missed all of it. I missed you." His voice trembles as he shakes his head.
"I was so focused on what was next, on this perfect life I thought we could have together, that I didn't realize how I was hurting you in the process. I didn't realize that the present... our present... was slipping right through my fingers while I was busy building castles in the sky, thinking that the future would somehow fix everything. But it doesn't work like that, does it?" He pauses, his chest rising with a sharp breath as he moves closer.
"I thought that if I worked harder, made more plans, secured a future for us, then everything else would fall into place. I thought I was doing what was best for us, but all I was doing was pushing you further away. All I was doing was making you feel like you weren't enough, like your needs didn't matter as much as the grand vision I had in my head. And I should've known... I should've known that the moment you stopped feeling seen, stopped feeling heard, was the moment we were already slipping apart."
Your tears don't stop as you listen to him unravel in front of you but when you part your lips to say something, he speaks again.
"I didn't notice, Y/n. I didn't see it when you started to close yourself off, when the space between us grew wider and wider with every passing day. I didn't see that the silence wasn't just comfortable....it was suffocating. And now, I'm left here, trying to put together the pieces of something I broke." he says as more tears slip out of his eyes.
"I should've been there for you when you needed me. I should've been there when things got hard, when you were struggling, when you felt like you were carrying the weight of evrything on your own. But I wasn't. I wasn't there, and I regret it every single day." he cries.
He looks down, his eyes full of remorse, his body tense as if every word is another stone being placed on his chest. "You deserved more than the excuses I gave. You deserved someone who saw you, who loved you for who you were in every single moment... but... I wasn't there when it mattered the most, and I wish with every part of me that I could go back and fix it. But I can't." he says weakly, resting his palm on his chest.
"All I can do is beg you to give me the chance to make it right. To love you the way you deserve to be loved. To be the person you never had to feel alone with." His hand trembles as he reaches for yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles, every touch like a silent apology.
"I would do anything for another chance, Y/n. Anything. I would undo every mistake, every moment I took you for granted, every time I failed to see you for the incredible person you are. I just want one more chance to prove to you that I can love you the way you deserve. The way you always should've been loved." His voice breaks, and the rawness of his emotions spills out, uncontained and unashamed.
"I want to hold you, protect you, cherish you in a way that makes you never question your worth again. I want to love you the way you always deserved to be loved, the way you've always wanted... the way I should've been loving you from the start. I just want to be the one who shows up for you, every single day, without hesitation. I want you to feel like I'm home, not just a place you visit when it's convenient, but someone who is always there, always present, always with you."
His words are a plea, a heart laid bare, and you feel the weight of everything he's saying, every syllable a desperate wish for redemption. "Please Y/n..." he begs, his grip tightening around your hand. "Please give me another chance."
His gaze never wavers from you and your hand trembles slightly as it reaches up to gently caress his cheek, the warmth of your touch sending a surge of emotions through both of you.
The moment your fingers make contact, his body softens, and he leans into your hand, his eyes fluttering shut as if your touch alone is enough to revive him, to bring him back from the edge of the ache that has been consuming him.
"I love you." he murmurs softly as he leans further into the warmth of your touch. Gently, he lifts his own hand to place it on yours. "I love you so much." he repeats, turning his head to press a kiss against the delicate skin of your wrist.
He doesn't stop there. One kiss leads to another, each one tender and slow, as though he's savoring the very essence of you. He moves across your wrist, his lips pressing against your skin, until he reaches the tip of your thumb.
Each kiss feels like an affirmation of everything he's ever felt for you, a quiet vow to never let go, to never make the same mistakes again.
"I love you too." you finally say it back, the words escaping your lips like a fragile confession. His eyes meet yours, glossy with emotion, and in that moment, it feels like time pauses.
A soft smile curves your lips with a tear slipping down your cheek, and in that instant, you take a step closer to him. It's as if the distance between you both has become unbearable.
The moment your body moves towards his, he leans in and his lips find yours almost instantly and the kiss is slow and tender, like a gentle reinvention of everything you once had. His arms encircle your form as he hugs you, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss.
Your tears blend with his, your arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him closer as if to merge the spaces between you. His grip on you tightens, like he's afraid you might slip away again, and his lips move against yours with a longing that feels almost desperate.
His lips still claim yours as he walks you backward. The sudden press of the kitchen counter against your back makes you gasp, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue teasing against yours.
Before you can fully process it, his hands find your waist and he hoists you up onto the cool marble surface effortlessly. Your breath hitches as he places himself between your legs and his hands settle firmly on your thighs, fingers pressing just enough to make you shiver.
Still catching your breath, you watch as he tilts his head slightly and with one hand, he reaches up, slipping his glasses off and places it on the counter a little away from you.
When his eyes meet yours again, you lift your hands to cup his face, your thumbs grazing over the sharp lines of his jaw as you pull him in once more. Your lips meet in a kiss that's slower this time.
Jungkook sighs into your mouth, his hands gliding up from your thighs to your waist as he pulls you flush against him, and you moan into his mouth when you feel his hard on press against your core.
The sensation is dizzying, a cruel reminder of just how much you've missed him... missed this.
"Fuck..." he exhales against your lips, his voice hoarse and strained. His forehead rests against yours as he fights to catch his breath, but his hands refuse to let go. "If we keep going..." He pauses, jaw clenching as he pulls back just enough to look at you. "If we keep going, I don't think I'll be able to stop."
Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare into his dark, stormy eyes. Licking your lips, you lean closer. "Then don't stop." you whisper. You trail your fingers down his neck, feeling the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath your touch. "Don't ever stop."
Your fingers reach the collar of his shirt, tugging at his tie, pulling him closer until there's no space left between you. That's all the restraint Jungkook has left to fight.
With a sharp inhale, he crashes his lips against yours once more. His hands tighten around your waist as his lips trail from your mouth to the curve of your jaw, then lower... ghosting down your neck.
Your fingers tangle into his hair, gripping tightly as he nips at the delicate skin of your collarbone, sending shivers cascading down your spine. "Kook..." you whimper.
His hands find the waistband of your shorts, fingers hooking onto the fabric and with a firm tug, he slides them down as you lift your hips to help him. A quiet, shaky breath escapes him when he takes in the sight of your soaked underwear.
"God..." he exhales, his voice thick with reverence. His fingers ghost over your thighs, his touch featherlight yet searing. "Let me make you feel good, baby." he murmurs, his voice laced with an aching tenderness. "Let me make it up to you... for everything."
He peels your underwear down with the same patience, watching the way your breath hitches when the cool marble beneath meets your skin, but the warmth of his hands as they settle on your knees quickly replaces it.
He spreads your legs with a gentle but insistent grip. "Let's get rid of this too." he whispers, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt. In one fluid motion, your shirt and bra are discarded, leaving you completely bare on the kitchen counter.
Jungkook kneels down, now coming face to face with your glistening core. "My pretty girl." he coos, the words drenched in adoration as his lips brush against the inside of your knee. His lips trail higher, a slow, reverent path marked by lingering kisses and teasing nips.
His hands slide up your thighs, his grip firm yet tender, as though grounding himself in the reality of having you here, of touching you again, of tasting you again.
The anticipation coils deep within you, winding tighter with every second that passes as you watch him inch closer to where you need him the most. Your core clenches around nothing and your body betrays you as your hips buck forward, seeking him.
You don't say anything, but he understands like he always does.
A shaky breath leaves you when his lips finally press against your wet entrance, the sensation sending a tremor through your entire being. When he does it again, your head falls back, a broken moan slipping from your lips, fingers threading through his hair as he holds you steady on the counter.
He groans against you, the sound vibrating through every nerve in your body. "I missed you like this." he murmurs, his voice thick with longing. "Let me show you how much I've missed you."
His tongue slides against you, a hot, wet stroke that sends shivers down your spine. You moan, your hands gripping the cool countertop for support. He explores you with his mouth, teasing and tasting, taking his sweet time.
He nips and suckles, drawing out the pleasure. One hand leaves your waist as his fingers expertly find your clit. You jolt, a gasp escaping your lips, but he holds you firmly against the counter, his touch both possessive and gentle, urging your legs wider.
He continues his exploration, his touch igniting a fire within you. You find yourself grinding against his face as he devours you, the pleasure way too intense and your moans grow louder as he buries himself even further, savoring every bit of you.
His nose presses firmly against your entrance, and with each groan that rumbles against your core, stars seem to burst right behind your eyelids.
"Oh god..." you whimper, breath catching in your throat. Your legs tremble but his grip remains firm, his fingers digging lightly into your flesh as he keeps you wide and exposed for him. "Kook...oh my god."
Your moans only seem to fuel him as he responds instantly with his mouth quickening and his jaw working in perfect rhythm and he instinctively moves one of his hands down to palm himself through the fabric of his trousers.
"I'm—" you get cut off by another involuntary moan and the coil of tension in your stomach, wound tight to the point of breaking, finally snaps without warning. A wave of pure sensation washes over you, your body quivering as you release completely into his mouth.
Jungkook hums in satisfaction, as he continues the ministrations of his tongue and mouth, savoring every drop of you.
Once he's swallowed every bit of your arousal, he ascends slowly, pressing soft, reverent kisses along your hips before his tongue flicks out, tracing the delicate curve of your navel. A trail of fire ignites across your stomach as he continues his upward journey with continuous kisses.
Your hands find purchase in his hair once more, your fingers tightening slightly as he pauses at your breasts. He lingers there, his breath warm against your skin, before placing soft, lingering kisses on the swelling flesh.
He circles around, exploring every inch of your skin with his lips and tongue and you bite down on your lower lip, the blissful sensations carrying your mind to a realm of pure ecstasy.
"Oh..." you breathe, the sound a sigh of pure surrender when his mouth closes around one of your nipples. He tugs gently, pulling you closer, the intimate contact sending a jolt of pleasure through your core.
He teases, nipping at the sensitive bud, eliciting a soft cry from your lips. He continues his delicious torment before finally, as if by magic, his lips find yours again.
When you taste yourself on his tongue, a moan escapes your lips as you deepen the kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist and he instinctively slides his hands beneath your thighs, easily lifting you off the counter.
He begins to move, carrying you out of the kitchen, your lips never breaking contact. You hold on tight as your fingers tangle in his hair and you sense him making his way directly towards your bedroom.
He nudges the door close with his back and the next instant, your back meets the plush surface of your mattress. He pulls away, straightening to his full height as his gaze sweeps over you, a smoldering intensity in his eyes.
He tugs at his tie, the knot loosening instantly and begins unbuttoning his shirt, the fabric parting to reveal glimpses of the toned physique beneath. The sight of his naked torso, sculpted and defined, sends a jolt of awareness through you.
Your thighs instinctively close, your core clenching in anticipation. Had he been spending extra time at the gym these past five months?
He notices the way you stare, the heat in your gaze, and a knowing smirk curves his lips. He continues undressing until his pants and boxers fall to the floor, freeing his rigid, insistent erection that springs forth.
He moves onto the bed and carefully parts your legs, settling between them. He gazes into your eyes longingly, as if he's trying to convince himself that this moment is real, that you're finally here again.
"I love you." he whispers, his breath ghosting across your lips. "I love you too." you reply, the words a soft sigh as your fingers instinctively find their place at the nape of his neck.
A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. "I don't think I'll last long." he admits, his eyes darkening with desire. "It's been too long. I haven't been inside you for five months."
You giggle softly and arch your hips slightly like a silent invitation. "Fuck me already, Dr. Jeon." you murmur, the words laced with a playful command that sends a shiver down his spine. Something about the way you say it, the raw desire in your voice, has his mind reeling.
God, he's missed you so much.
"Dr. Jeon, huh?" he smirks, his eyes locking with yours and just then, you gasp softly when you feel him adjust the tip of his cock at your entrance.
He slowly pushes himself inside and a simultaneous moan escapes both of you as he fully sinks into you. "I..." Jungkook chokes out, the word lost in the wave of sensation. "Fuck, I need a minute." he says shakily, his eyes closing as he truly drowns in the feeling of your warmth enveloping him.
He swears he could fucking explode right then and there.
"God..." you whisper, your head falling to the side as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer.
He eventually begins to move, his thrusts slow and leisure, as if savoring the long-awaited reunion. His elbows remain perched on either side of your head, providing balance as he begins to deepen his thrusts.
"Kook..." you moan, the sound a mixture of pleasure and anticipation, as he slowly begins to pick up the pace, each thrust more insistent than the last. The rhythm builds, his hips now moving with a growing urgency, each thrust pushing him further inside, deeper into your core.
He moves his hands to grip your thighs, as if he's trying to fuse your bodies together. "Tell me how good this feels." he commands, his voice a low growl. "Oh god, Kook..." you gasp, your head thrown back as intense waves of pleasure hit you all at once. "It's...it's perfect."
"Perfect isn't good enough." he murmurs, his eyes burning with desire. His pace quickens, the bedsprings groaning beneath the force of his movements.
He pulls you closer, his hands now cupping your ass, lifting you to meet each thrust with increasing intensity. You clench around his dick, your pussy swallowing him whole. "You're so tight." he groans, his breath catching in his throat. "So fucking tight."
He leans down, his teeth nipping at your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. He pulls back slightly, his eyes filled with adoration as he gazes at your body, his hands now tracing the curves of your hips and waist.
"You're so beautiful." he murmurs, his hot breath ghosting against the shell of your ear. "Every inch of you...God, I've missed it so much." He kisses your cheek, the sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the room.
"You're all mine." he whispers against your skin and you arch your back, offering yourself to him completely, your body open and receptive to his every touch.
"I'm all yours." you respond, your voice trembling with desire. He lets out a guttural roar, his thrusts becoming deeper, harder, as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.
He reaches between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, teasing it mercilessly as he continues to pound into you, the rhythmic pressure building with each thrust. The combination is overwhelming, the pleasure so intense it makes you want to scream and cry at the same time.
"Cum for me, baby." he urges. "Let me feel you cum around my cock." he says.
And that's all it takes for you to cry out, your body convulsing as you reach your peak, your release echoing through the room, a testament to the raw, untamed passion that consumes you both.
He doesn't stop, his movements becoming even more frantic as he rides the wave of your orgasm, his own release building rapidly like a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume him.
He pushes himself deeper, burying himself as far as he can go, and lets out a final, triumphant roar as he spills his seed deep inside you. He collapses against you, his breathing heavy and ragged, his body still trembling from the force of his orgasm.
He nuzzles his face against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. You stay like that for a while as both of you try to come down from your highs. His lips pepper soft kisses against your shoulder and neck, as though savoring the moment.
"Please, don't leave me again." he suddenly whispers. The plea is raw, desperate... an admission of just how much he needs you, how broken he's been without you.
You feel his heart hammer against your chest, as if it's echoing your own. Your thumb strokes his shoulder blade, offering a silent comfort, a reassurance that, no matter what, you're right here.
He slowly lifts himself off you, eyes searching yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. His gaze is softer now, like he's trying to find the right words to bridge the distance between you, to rebuild everything that once felt so broken.
"Please, don't leave me again, Y/n." he repeats, and this time, his voice trembles, a quiet plea that holds so much more than the words themselves.
"I don't know how to live without you. These five months... god, they were hell for me." He shakes his head, as though trying to shake off the memories of a time so dark, so painful.
His hand comes up to gently caress your cheek, his eyes filled with the kind of love that only grows after surviving the deepest scars.
"I'm going to be a better man for you... I promise you, Y/n. I won't let you feel alone again. I swear it, with everything in me. I'll give you all of me... every part of me... and I won't let go. I won't ever let you go again." His words are soft but firm, the promise echoing with a depth of emotion you've always longed to hear, a commitment to love you the way you've always deserved.
You smile softly, your heart swelling with a tenderness that only he can evoke. You crane your neck up, cupping his cheeks with both hands, your touch as gentle as the words you can't quite bring yourself to speak.
You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead, a kiss filled with all the understanding, the forgiveness, and the love you've always had for him.
"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Y/n." His voice is soft, yet it carries the weight of a lifetime's worth of longing, vulnerability, and certainty. There's something in the way his words wrap around you, settling deep in your chest, like the promise of forever.
"I want everything with you." he adds, and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips.
You know exactly what he means by that. You remember the conversation you overheard last night, the one that made you realize just how serious Jungkook was about you.
But you don't bring it up, knowing how torn he'd be if he found out you knew. You're certain he wanted it to be a surprise, and now that you're back together, he probably still holds onto that plan, hoping to make the moment unforgettable.
So, you decide to keep it as your little secret because deep down, you know that it doesn't change what matters most.
And what really matters is that he truly wants to commit to you, to build a life with you, and that knowledge is enough.
"I want everything with you too." you respond, smiling at him and he instantly returns it with the same warmth as he leans down for a kiss. You melt instantly, pulling him closer until your bare chests are pressed together.
But then, just as you're lost in the moment, the soft scratching sounds right behind your bedroom door catch your attention. Both of you pull away, glancing at the door, already knowing who the little culprit is.
"I think Skittles misses you." Jungkook says, with a laugh. "You think he saw me giving you head on the kitchen counter?" he asks with a smirk.
You freeze for a moment, eyes wide. "I cannot believe we just did that in front of our child!" you gasp in exaggerated disbelief.
Jungkook laughs, his eyebrows raising slightly. "Our child? So I'm officially his dad now?" he asks, tilting his head. You narrow your eyes, lips curling into a playful smirk. "What? You don't want to be?"
"Of course I do." he says quickly, pretending to be offended. "But that means we need to figure out how much child support I owe you for the months I wasn't around? Should I start making the payments in advance?"
You laugh, swatting his bicep playfully. "Oh, you think you can just pay your way out of this? I'm gonna need a little more than cash to make up for all the time you've missed!"
He grins mischievously, licking his lips. "Well, then I guess I'll have to make up for it in other ways." he says, leaning in for a kiss. You laugh, shaking your head in mock disapproval. "You're lucky you're hot, Dr. Jeon."
—fin. ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ
A/N: should i make a drabble where jungkook proposes? let me know !!
my masterlist <3
permanent taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @kimyishin @somehowukook @allie-in-the-moon @nightappple @jksoftii @mimi1097 @yooforeaa @jkaxl @jinglthembalslikethat @puppybunnyjkay @jiijeon97 @ninisica @rerefundslocals @kgamboa11 @lizzikoo @madussthoughts @kelsyx33 @mafersame @yoonstaar @autumnbear @jksusawife (let me know if you wanted to be added !! <3)
Summary: The one where you meet a criminally handsome stranger at your friends' wedding.
Genre: Strangers to Lovers AU, maybe Tae is an actor idk yet, it's romance- fluffy romance, maybe cliché (this is a warning)
WC: 1.7 K
Other Tags: Jimin x OC, Namjoon x OC, Wedding, Valentines Day,
Warnings: None that I am aware of except that I wrote this with Delusions and Delusions only...
Pairings: Kim Taehyung x F! Reader
Dividers by @saradika
The sweet fragrance of fresh roses waltzed around you to the romantic music being played by the live string quartet your coworker hired for her wedding day. Fairy lights were strung above you, creating just enough light so it's not completely dark, but still keeping just enough light to lend to the atmosphere of romance. It was a beautiful and fitting follow-up to the tear-jerking outdoor ceremony that took place earlier in the day.
Everything about the day screamed romance- fitting, for a Valentine’s Day ceremony. The bride, your friend Hana, met Namjoon on Valentine’s day and both saw it as fate or destiny or a celestial sign of good luck to get married on the same day four years later.
For you, it was just… a day. A day filled with possibilities just like every other day. You may not believe in things like the magic of Christmas, or cupid’s arrow, but you do believe that everything happens for a reason. Even if it feels hard to understand at the moment.
Like the two empty chairs that were at your table. You were supposed to be sitting beside your best friend and her boyfriend, but she just had to come down with the stomach flu the day before the wedding. She was also ridiculously stubborn and insistent that Jimin attends the wedding on behalf of the both of them. It's how you ended up third wheeling the two (somehow) once again. Poor guy spent most of the reception with his buried within the confines of his phone keeping what contact he could with his girlfriend, often throwing in an apology for being such bad company in Soojin's absence. Adorable.
You were just finished with dinner, half listening to the best man's speech, half trying to figure out where Jimin went when you noticed him sneaking in- tall and handsome with floppy hair you imagined belonged to someone who just stepped off of a vintage movie set. There was something more about him, about the way he seemed to command attention from the room with a sort of timeless grace, classic elegance… perhaps you were only just enamoured by his very presence. You turned away, not wanting to get caught staring at the random- gorgeous- stranger, wondering why you never saw him during the ceremony. You doubt you would've missed a face like that.
You joined your fellow wedding guests in a round of applause when the best man wrapped up his speech. Just as the emcee was announcing the cake cutting, Jimin came back from wherever he disappeared to, his face holding the weight of what you're assuming is not-so-pleasant news. Your assumptions proved to be true when he tells you he just got off of a call with Soojin and she isn't feeling any better. "I'm gonna go get her and take her to the hospital. I told her I didn't feel comfortable leaving her alone," His hands taking the path through his hair that they're well acquainted with by now. "I said 'Soo, i don't want to leave you alone' just like that, like six times before I left and she still-"
"Hey it's fine, Chim." You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We all know how stubborn she is. She was my roommate for like, a while." Despite your worry, both you and Jimin managed to laugh a bit at this. "Do you need me to come with you? Are you okay to drive alone?" You started gathering your things, but Jimin stopped with the shake of his head.
"No it's alright, one of us has to stay and rep the rest of us." He was… definitely right, it wouldn't make sense for all of you to leave. Not to mention Soojin would have a monumental breakdown. You were nodding your head, just about to vocalise this when he spoke up again. "Besides, Hana's sister is heading over here and I'm pretty sure you have forty-five seconds to prepare for the bouquet toss. I'll update you on your bestie, I promise!" Those were his last words to you before you were all but dragged to the space they cleared for that aspect of the evening. You knew Soo would be fine, Jimin would make sure of it. With that, you were able to let worry rest somewhere at the back of your mind and make attempts to enjoy the rest of the ceremony. You let Haeun take you the cleared space, Jimin takes his leave and you pretend not to notice the once empty seat in front of yours has been taken by none other than Mr. Tall and Handsome himself.
As soon as it began, it had ended and you left the bouquet toss with… no trophy. At least in hand. You would be lying if you said you had tried to win at all- superstitions and old wives tales just weren't your thing. But, you still had fun watching the intense battle for the bouquet. Hana, ever observant and ever one to take all signs seriously, had noticed the single white rose at your feet- one that fell from her bouquet. "Take it, it's good luck! I can feel it!" At her insistence, you took it. You weren't going to tell a bride "no" on her wedding day, a bride who also happened to be a good friend at that.
You've returned to your designated table, flower sitting beside your purse on the now empty seat beside you. You take a sip of your champagne, listening to the slow rendition of a popular love song that the musicians are playing in the background while Namjoon and Hana took to the stage for their first dance as husband and wife. You've also been pretending to not notice the obvious eyes on you, your own not-so-subtle glances finding its way across your table.
Hearing collective ooh's and awe's from the audience, you turned around just in time to see Hana lowered in a surprisingly graceful dip by Namjoon. When he lifts her, they share a kiss through wide smiles. You imagined Soojin would joke about Hana thanking him for not dropping her on their wedding day.
You're reaching for your champagne flute and this time, brown eyes directly meet yours. One of you was caught red-handed. You won't say it was you, though. With new resolve, you take a sip of your champagne and finally turn to face the man before you. The scene before you? Absolutely criminal. It had to be a crime for somebody to look that good and know it- because he had to be aware that he was quite literally ethereal in his existence. "You know," You began. "The bride and groom are dancing over there." You tilt your head in the general of the dance floor, eyes not leaving his.
"I'm aware," Two words. But you could see the confidence stitched in the velvet of his voice. "But you're sitting right here." He followed his statement with a little tilt of his head in your direction.
Fair, you decide to test the waters just a bit more. "I mean… I could always change seats, we have so much to choose from-" He interrupts your sentence, much like he has been interrupting your focus ever since he stepped foot into the venue that evening.
"Hmm, no need. I like the view."
You couldn't help the smile that broke out on your face. But the conversation has further piqued your interest so you lean in, brow slightly raised in question. "You always flirt with the guests at the weddings you crash?"
"Only the absolutely gorgeous one with the heart-stopping smiles." He was leaning in on the table now too.
"Alright. Mystery Man. Will you at least tell me your name? I think it's the least you could do if you're gonna flirt with me all night."
He bit his lips- holding back a smile while shaking his head ever so slightly partly in disbelief because he couldn't believe you'd just called him 'Mystery Man.' And perhaps he couldn't quite beat those allegations. He was late to his cousin's wedding, and he could admit that sneaking into the reception might look… suspicious- to say the least- to the average wedding attendee. But that wasn't a story for today. No, today his goal was to speak to the woman who's had his attention from the moment he saw her across the room. "I'll tell you over a dance in exchange for yours."
There was a change in the music, the emcee's voice followed over the microphone letting everyone know that both the bar and the dance floor were open for the rest of the night.
"Are you asking me to dance?" Your voice dipped just a bit at the latter part of the sentence.
"Would you like to dance?"
You don't usually dance at weddings, or anywhere because you weren't much of a dancer. According to persons you love and respect very much, you have "two left feet and ten left toes." (so said by Jimin and Soojin the one time they were teaching you how to dance- in high school, no less.) But the night was young and it was a night filled with possibility. That much you already believed in. Not to mention the man in front of you was charming and handsome, the wittiest you've had the pleasure of meeting in a while. So despite the confidence in your dancing abilities, or lack thereof, you decide to agree.
"I'd love to, but don't go running away if the 'gorgeous girl' steps on your toes." You joke.
But as he takes your hand and leads you to the dance floor, he turns to you and says "I think I'd be so inclined to forgive you if it comes to that." You're both on the floor, soft music playing and he pulls you in. You don't miss how his hand rests on a respectful place on your back despite his bold flirting since you've met. You were dancing for maybe a minute, maybe ten minutes. You're not sure, but you felt like you found the answer to a question you've always had; how does a moment last forever?
The comfortable silence is broken by the man before you. "I'm Taehyung, and you?"
"It's ___"
AN: Aaannd that's a wrap on whatever this was!!! This could have maybe happened earlier but like life got in the way. You guys can also thank Tae for this cause I'm actually still not over those insta pics :,) so anyways you guys get a drabble 🙂↕️😊 (Please don't mind the whole bit where it's past the actual day, it's still the 14th in my heart ) I hope everyone had a fantastiic Valentine's however you celebrated 🩷
PS, Massi this is our Valentine's Day gift because we deserve it <3
AN2: I'm trying to sort out this taglist thing properly so if you do want to be apart of my taglist (permanent or otherwise) you can fill out the form right here! Thanks again for reading my silly little stories lol 🩷
VIBES | angst, royalty - bridgerton vibes, childhood friends to enemies to ?luvrs?
SOUNDTRACK | die for you - joji
HOLLY'S NOTE | (originally posted april 2023) so fun facts, i've never watched bridgerton. i actually put it on in the background as i was writing, which is where the lil line about being diamond comes from. i also do fuck all world-building in this, so just... use your imagination lol. i have no idea if this is like... correct? i dont read nor write period pieces and haven't done since school so.... go easy on me hahaha <33
also!! went for jeongguk instead of jungkook. feels more dramatic? time appropriate?? idk! mix of eng and Korean inspo for titles / locations!!
WORD COUNT | 2.5k
There are easily a hundred pairs of eyes on you as you walk into the ballroom. Maybe more. The room is grand, gilded in gold—grotesque in its display of wealth, but nothing new to you. You've been in a dozen rooms like this within the last month alone. More money than taste—but you can't buy class.
Despite the influx of unwelcome stares, there's just one you can actually feel. It comes from a pair of deep brown eyes in the corner of the room; a glass of red in one hand, the gloved fingers of your least favourite cousin in the other.
Dark and brooding, Jeon Jeongguk has no right to look at you in the way that he does. Duke of Busan, womaniser of more counties than you care to imagine, he's troubled wrapped up in a waistcoat and ruby-encrusted signet rings.
But you've always liked trouble. Shame.
The grip that Lord Min of Daegu has on your hand tightens. He can notice it too; Jeongguk's stare. Your satin gloves are silky against Lord Min's skin, and he must admit he enjoys being the focus of Jeon Jeongguk's envy. He thinks it's about time that the over-egotistical tyrant of hearts had his comeuppance.
"Remember," Lord Min whispers quietly to you as the crowd watches on. He's a trusted confidant; not suited for marriage. At least not with you. It's the county's worst-kept secret that he retires to the boudoir with Master Park each and every evening. No one at the ball is under any illusion that he is a suitor of yours. "You're a diamond in a mine of sapphires."
"Oh, but sapphires are far prettier than diamonds," you pout, voice dulcet as you scan the room. It's approaching your birthday, and time is running out. A suitor needs to be found, and found promptly. Too much time squandered on frivolous pursuits during your youth had prevented such a search.
It's something you're reminded of whenever your eyes catch Jeongguk's. Endless days spent under beating midsummer sunshine; burnt skin and freckled cheeks. Youth well-spent. Youth wasted.
"So? It matters not." Lord Min smiles. "Diamonds are far stronger. Sharper. And still just as exquisite as sapphires. Do not sell yourself short."
And by that, you know exactly what he implies: steer clear of the Duke of Busan.
It would be a fruitless endeavour. No good would come from it.
Years of your childhood had been spent in a whimsical land with him, full of castles and fairies, and witches and warlocks. Potions had been made in his garden using his mother's best perfumes and items stolen from the pantry; make-believe scenarios came to life in the forest between your family's estates.
Summers had been frittered away together by the sea; Winterton Manor the backdrop of your dreams, your hopes, your fears.
But the Duke did as Dukes so often do; embroiled himself in debauchery and distasteful pleasures.
You had watched on, bemused for the most part, and also intrigued by what compelled him.
Had you not been enough?
Grapevines whisper, and Jeongguk had spent far too much time frolicking in vineyards. Drunk on the delights of his youth, he'd forgotten that there would be life beyond the present.
It's a price he pays, now. A debt he hadn't realised he had racked up.
One that he's reminded of every single time you glance his way. He cannot afford a diamond.
Somehow, however, he can seem to afford the audacity of approaching you in the powder room towards the end of the evening.
You've had lacklustre dances with half a dozen bachelors, and they've all been uninspiring. Only two of them managed to make it through the waltz without stepping on your toes.
Time is running out.
And Jeongguk?
He's running in circles trying to get you out of his head.
Seems apt that he'd bump into you at some point.
Not like he sought you out. Not at all.
Not like he handed the maids by the staircase a few silver coins to divert other partygoers elsewhere, either. He wouldn't dream of doing such a thing.
The Duke of Busan knows you well.
Knows that it takes all of your might to not glance in his direction as he makes his presence known.
"Really?" He asks with a cocked brow and arrogant smirk, leaning against the doorframe. You're preening at your hair. Making sure your pins remain in place. "That's what you chose to wear? To a ball of this grandeur?"
You're wearing white. It's tight against your chest. Too tight. Pleated beneath the satin ribbon under your bust, encrusted with sequins and finished with lace. It's beautiful. Matches the white satin gloves that finish just above the crease of your elbow. You carry yourself with elegance.
In fact, your posture is so well-poised that Jeongguk is the only attendee of the ball who has noticed the split in your skirt. When stood, it is hidden by the pleats. When dancing, it is camouflaged by the lace. When you lift your skirt to meander up the stairs? He becomes reacquainted with the curve of your ankle. The split is no larger than the length of a letter inviting him to tea, but it feels overwhelmingly large.
As far as the Duke is concerned, you may as well be wearing lingerie.
You smooth the skirt of your dress and consider rearranging your tits just to give him something to stare at. You decide against it. Think he would enjoy it far too much.
"Oh precisely," you respond with an equally arrogant grin, before turning to face him. You're haughty in the way you position your body, almost as if you're trying to entice him. "Haven't you heard? I've a suitor to find."
He scoffs. "And you think dressing like a whore is going to find you one of any value?"
A whore.
Very rich of him, you think, as if the entire party doesn't know what he gets up to in the dark. And the daylight. And just about any time of the day, actually.
What they really don't know?
That he used to get up to it with you.
"Absolutely not," you smile. Your father might want you married off, but there's no suitor here for you. Not tonight. If you have to bring a man home, it unquestionably has to be one that your father won't approve of. "That's the point—although, now I come to think of it—this dress did seem to find you, didn't it, Jeongguk?"
He stays quiet for a moment. He doesn't enjoy you being correct. It's part of the reason you bicker so much. You're always correct.
"White really isn't your colour," he tells you with an ambivalent shrug. "We both know that."
Innocence. Purity. Virginity.
For once, The Duke is correct. It really isn't your colour.
Humorous, how he's dressed head to toe in black. Perhaps you should be, too.
"And green isn't yours," you tease, walking towards him. "Yet you seemed to be full of it when I entered the ballroom with the Lord of Daegu."
He remains silent. Can sense you have more to declare.
"Moreover," you hum, proving him right as you pause beside him, "as I'm sure you're well aware, Duke, it's the colour beneath the dress that counts."
"And what is beneath the dress?" Jeongguk husks, not looking over towards you. He doesn't want to let you know how much you affect him, still.
"The same lace that greeted you last summer in the stables of Winterton Manor."
Red. Fuck.
His favourite.
"Tell me, Duke," you tease. He deserves it, you think. "Does the Viscount of Gwangju like red?"
"Hoseok?" Jeongguk scoffs, addressing him by name, not title. The lack of respect shown by the young Duke is asinine, truly. A show of his immaturity. "Despises it."
Truthfully, he has no idea of Viscount of Gwangju's preferences.
"Good," you taunt. "I'm enthralled by the prospect of a challenge."
Jeongguk will be damned if you end up betrothed to the Viscount of fucking Gwangju.
"He concedes easily," he says. This is another lie. He just doesn't want to give you any further ideas. "Do not expect a challenge. Anticipate disappointment."
"Oh, but Duke," you laugh and it's so exquisite that he thinks he might just melt. "Disappointment has always been your forte, has it not?"
During the balls of recent years, where Jeongguk would only ever offer his hand to other women, and never you? Yes. Disappointing.
In the smoky parlours, where he laughs and jokes with the other gentlemen, about which debutantes are simply destined to become spinsters? Oh, incredibly disappointing.
In the drawing room adjacent to his bedroom, while you had waited beneath his sheets for his return, as he was agreeing to court your cousin instead of you? Perhaps the most disappointing he'd ever been.
It's been a year—the worst of your life.
"You've made your bed, Duke. Sleep in it."
"I've tried," he says sternly. He doesn't want to joke any more. Doesn't want to flirt. "I cannot bear to sleep in it without you."
You shake your head. Such a devil.
"You seem well rested enough."
"It's a facade."
And you find yourself quite annoyed; frustrated by his apparent disdain for a life he chose. A destiny brought upon you both by his inability to be discreet—though you're unaware of this caveat.
You see, everyone does know of his reputation, but he always kept your pursuits of passion hidden. Private. To the world, you're pristine.
"What do you require, Duke? My pity?"
He knows he doesn't deserve it.
"I require nothing of you."
"Then seek me out no longer. Do not pursue what you cannot commandeer, Jeongguk."
It's a lesson he would have done well to learn many moons ago; one remembered by you even if it was lost on him.
And yet, at quarter past twelve, as he loosens the black satin bow of his collar in his bedroom, Jeongguk pauses.
A knock has just sounded at his door. His chambermaid, he assumes, just checking on the fire—or maybe Master Park's chambermaid, instead (though Jeongguk's business with Master Park's staff isn't ever entirely 'business').
Regretfully, he thinks it could be Lord Kim Namjoon of Ilsan, here to reprimand him for his manners. His mentor in all fashions, Namjoon is always the first to discipline the young Duke following his nights of debauchery—though all things considered, he feels he's been quite well-behaved tonight.
He sighs as he rests a palm flat against his bedpost, and bellows, "Enter."
A sternness settles on his brows, hard and uncompromising, as he turns to the door. There's a dishevelled nature to his hair, undone and falling slightly over his dark eyes. His loosened collar and unbuttoned waistcoat only aid to make him look even more rugged.
He's marred in vulnerability, though. His pretty pink lips rest ajar, as his eyes fall on the intruder of his thoughts.
Amusing, you think, how the bedroom is where he domineers best, and yet is always where he seems the most unfortified.
Perhaps he hadn't been lying about his facade.
Perhaps he really doesn't sleep well without you.
Perhaps—just perhaps—you might indulge him one last time.
"Tell me, Duke"— You walk into his room and close the door behind you, eyes not leaving his —"Do any of them compare?"
He watches you strut past him and crawl on the luxe quilt on his bed. Oh, how you've missed it.
"Any of who?"
"The maids," you shrug. You aren't naive. You know exactly what he does, and who he does it with. "Master Park's maids? Surely Lord Kim's, too. And the working girls. The debutantes—need I go on?"
"No," he says, watching as you loosen your heels and kick them to the floor. They land with a thud. He knows the noise will have echoed throughout the house. "You needn't."
The truth of the matter is that his escapades are well-known amongst high society. He has a reputation, which is why his courtship with your cousin was forced upon him.
You're surely too good for him, but he's of too much value to remain without an heir.
A marriage is needed for him before the end of the year. His father says so.
Contrarily, your father would never agree to the Duke of Busan proclaiming you as his Dutchess.
Jeongguk knows this, for he's already asked.
Of course he has.
Last spring. Kept his mother's ring in his pocket just in case. A proposal was planned for early summer, before your trip to Paris.
He thought perhaps he would go with you—a pre-honeymoon, maybe—but your father had refused his request for your hand, and who was Jeongguk to go against the will of the man who had raised you?
Jeongguk won't burden you with this knowledge. Your life will be far more fruitful if you remain silently furious with him for never giving you what you deserved.
"And do they?" You enquire once more. unaware of his anguish. "Do they compare?"
Jeongguk leans down to his boots. Unties his laces and stands on his heels to remove them. He kicks them away. Is just as undressed as you are. Equal.
"Do you think my bed would be empty right now if they did?"
"It isn't empty," you tease.
"No," he acknowledges. "But it has been. It's been empty for months."
"Months?"
You don't believe him.
"I've had an empty bed since I returned from Winterton last summer," he declares.
"Though your hands have been full?" You sneer, painfully reminded of the way he'd held the hand of another woman in the ballroom that evening. You've had to bear witness to it on multiple occasions by now. It never gets any easier. Your fucking cousin, of all people.
"Pay no mind to the fact my hands have not been empty in ballrooms," he speaks quietly, shame washing over his features. Yes, it would be far more desirable if you were to be furious with him, but he wants to alleviate the hurt that you are quite clearly encumbered with. "As I said, it's a facade."
"Why? What are you hiding, Duke?"
As if you don't know—he laments—that I'm utterly besotted with you.
He glances away from you to watch the fire as it crackles in his hearth. He wonders if it would be less painful to tear his heart from his chest and roast it in the flames, than it is to be in love with you.
"I hide nothing from you," he says with a broad smile as he turns to face you once more. Jeongguk is adept at falsifying his discretions. "But I am without at a dance."
You grin, now. "A dance?"
"I'd love one," he smirks as he holds out his hand. He twists your words almost as elegantly as he used to twist you around on empty ballroom floors; just two of you after the parties had died down and the revellers had hung up their dancing shoes.
He strides to the side of the bed. Satisfaction sinks into his features when your gloved hand slips into his palm. He pulls you up. Pulls you closer. Rests a hand upon your waist and positions himself perfectly for you. He was raised a gentleman after all, even if grew up to be a rogue.
"May I have this dance?" He says quietly, only needing to whisper.
You're so close you probably count the beat of his heart.
One, two.
Does anyone dance better than I do?
Three, four.
Do you lose your breath when someone else draws you closer?
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
THE CURIOUS LIFESPAN OF MIGRATING MONARCHS
(& other aurelian affairs)
pairing: streamer!jk x international student!female oc (s2l)
warnings: strangers to lovers, clubbing, foul language, alcohol, vaping lol, jungkook is kinda famous, the oc is oblivious, the oc is also a foreign student who has very recently arrived in Korea!! (pls note - while i've been in korean uni dorms, i've never been in yonsei dorms specifically so don't shout at me if it isn't supeeeerr accurate), jaykay is speaking in eng for like 90% of this!!, i've also never watched a gaming streamer and had to do so for research lmao so there's a lot of guesswork going awwwn <3, the oc has tattoos, they bond over this, cute nicknames (tokki and nabi <3), one bed trope?? kinda, jaykay lives w/ yoongi and tae (they are streamers too (and dj?? (tae is a bit unhinged))), jungkook wears calvins!, a singular appearance of yoongi in his boxers!!, tipsy hookup, fingering, protected sex (woo!), desk sex, oral (m receiving), girliepop swallows <3, brief mentions of jungkook's starry eyes, lots of kisses, bunny ears, (1) mention of cross-fit
wordcount: 13011
note from holly: this was a commission done for the lovely Michelle over on my kofi page!! i don't open commissions often, but when I do I'm very lucky that the requests are so much fun. this actually ended up being way longer than it was supposed to be lol and is also available on wattpad!! also fun facts for you - I imagine the boys apartment (and jks room!) to be same as jk + jimins place in BD, just a little bigger lmao
minors dni // cross posted to wattpad
CLUB SUNDOWN
WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE
SATURDAY 02:24
Time ceases to exist after the sun goes down in Seoul. It could be two, or it could be five. The only thing that really clues you in on the actual time is the DJ schedule that lights up behind the decks: 02:00-03:00, Blu-Tae.
It's some guy you've never heard of. Looks no older than you. Probably a student, just like the rest of the crowd.
His hair is as blue as his namesake, which does make you smile, and his choices aren't bad either (even if somewhat questionable). You've never heard a jazz remix of Darude's Sandstorm before, and you doubt you ever will again.
Club Sundown is just as rogue as the rest of the city after the sun goes down. Hidden in the basement—like all the best places in Seoul are—the small room is packed to the absolute brim.
Who cares for views and sunsets offered by rooftop bars when you could lose yourself in the debauchery of an eternal midnight, instead?
Drinks are spilt on strangers, and dances have lost the grandeur of old-fashioned waltzes. It's not like you could dance properly, even if you wanted to. There's just simply no space.
Like Alice, you're down the rabbit hole—and oh, how you prefer it to being in the real world. In the shadows, you can be anyone you like.
If you were sober, you'd know this is also the case for daily life. You're in a new country with no ties to your former self. Who you are is who you choose to be.
But the shadows aren't all that dark. The red lights of the club bleed into the cracks, painting everyone in the same subtle hue of danger.
They shine a little light on the identifiers of you; the thin black lines of your patchwork tattoos. Trailing up your arm, they're memories of your past selves, and an indicator of who you hope to become.
"Down this," you say to your dormmate, Rae, handing back over the drink you've just ordered from the bar. "Cloakroom, then dance."
Still carrying your winter coats, you'd wanted to check the place out before committing to it. Entry is free, but the cloakroom is the same price as a drink. It would only be worth putting your coats away if you knew you wanted to stay—and given the fact the DJ was playing O-Zone's Dragostea Din Tei as you entered, you know it's a no-brainer. While his stage name might make you roll your eyes a little, Blu-Tae certainly does cater to your tastes. When you're drunk, and music vibrates through you, it's empyrean. No place you'd rather be.
"Oh, Jesus," Rae gags as she sips the drink you've just handed her. Despite her disgust, she's laughing. Head to toe in black, dark hair loose around her shoulders, she's been your ride-or-die since you arrived in Seoul. Both international students in the same dorm, there's no one you'd rather get up to no good with. "Vodka?!"
You beam at her like you're from the heavens above, wrongfully relegated to the depths of sin. Pretend like you love vodka. It's totally not like you panicked when you saw the menu was all in Korean.
Vodka-coke is a universally understood delicacy—the easiest thing for you to order without making a tit of yourself or butchering the pronunciation. When the bartender ignored your botched attempt at ordering in Korean and answered in fluent English, you'd wanted to melt into the floor. So embarrassing.
You're here, like most foreign students, for a language course. Semester is yet to start, and as much as you've studied and practised hard, it's always different when putting it into practice.
"I'm sorry," you laugh. "It's fine—you can order next time!"
But Rae has the exact same predicament as you. If anything, your language skills are better than hers, so you really have no hope. It's vodka-cokes for the evening, or maybe highballs. Once your tipsy brain manages to compute hangul cocktail names, you'll be golden, but that won't be for another few weeks, yet.
You'll look back at this time of your life fondly, realising how simple it all was, even if it feels incredibly overwhelming right now.
Funnily enough, hope is exactly what you have: for the semester ahead, for this new life you're forging, for the opportunities that may come your way.
In fact, by the time you're on your third vodka coke, you've managed to convince yourself you actually like it. You also can't taste it, thanks to the bartender freepouring a 60-40 ratio of vodka to coke in the first drink. Your tastebuds were wiped out pretty much instantly.
Coats in the cloakroom, you're glad to be wearing thin layers. The room is stuffy; your skin sweaty. While meeting new friends had been the goal, you keep to yourself. Dance like nobody is watching. Hold Rae's hands to stay close and ward off weirdos. Quickly realise that clubs back home are slightly different. Pay it no mind. Ignore the intrusions of hands on waists, because men, disappointingly, are no different.
Or at least most of them aren't.
But most of them don't look like the man in the corner booth, laughing with his friends.
Though he is tall, he's eclipsed by his demeanour. Shoulders broad, he's in a dark T-shirt and pair of jeans. Nothing special. Nothing that warrants such a perplexed stare from you - but he's familiar. You can't place him, but he's got the kind of face you swear you've seen before.
Rae doesn't notice the change in your poise, nor how you're desperately trying to work out where you know him from. Perhaps you've seen him around your university? It's only been a couple of weeks, but people are steadily moving in. Maybe he works at the convenience store you constantly find yourself in? Or mans the front desk of the noraebang you and Rae visit pretty much every other evening?
Impossible, you think. If you'd seen him before, you wouldn't have forgotten him, or the way he constantly toys with his lip rings. Plural. There are signs up around the place stating bar rules. NO SMOKING is rule number three. You've seen his friends pass him over a vape a handful of times. Anyone else, and you'd think it was cringe. Embarrassing.
But in the midst of his laughter settling, and a fresh toke being inhaled, his eyes flicker towards yours.
Perhaps it's just because you're drunk, but you don't avert your gaze. Show no shame. The smile on his lips sinks into a smirk as he exhales. An acknowledgement. A 'hello, trouble'.
Again, any other man, you'd find the vape smoke repugnant. Nasty. Now? Watching the way he flicks his tongue against his lip rings?
You wanna know how it tastes.
Black ink weaves an intricate outline of who he is up his arms. Where he's been. Who he's been. A map, if you will, of his soul.
Much like your own tattoos, he's got thick black lines, and little else. Simple, you assume. A man of convenience. Efficiency.
You wonder if he does everything in life with the precision to match his tattoos, and as your lips wrap around the straw of your vodka-coke, you decide you'd quite like to find out.
Interrupted by Rae pulling you deeper into the crowd, your night is spent in and out of shadows. Attempt subtlety. Try not to make your occasional glances to the corner booth noticeable, just checking if his eyes are still on you. More often than not, they aren't—but sometimes they are, and that's enough to fuel your little flirt.
It's not until the sign behind the DJ booth changes from 03:00-04:00, GLOSS into some other guy that you notice your staring contest opponent has slipped into the shadows himself. The booth is void of both him and his friends. Gone.
"GLOSS has a set at another club," Rae all but yells in your ear, and even then, you barely hear her. "All the hotties left when he did. Let's go."
"Where to?!" You laugh, empty cup in hand. Admittedly, the new guy who's stepped into the DJ booth is just not doing it for you. Blu-Tae was just the right amount of unhinged with classics, whereas GLOSS was definitely cooler, but still fun. Had the club yelling curse words over trap remixes just for the fun of it. This new guy, whose name you don't care to remember, takes himself too seriously, you think.
"It's, like, two blocks down," she yells back, tugging on your wrist to drag you to the stairwell that leads you back up to the streets of Seoul. The hustle and bustle of people trying to go in different directions in the tight place forces you apart, but you figure you'll catch up with her, or that she'll be waiting at the top.
You don't know the roads well enough yet to make it to whichever club it's at alone, and quickly realise when you nearly tumble into the side of a waiting taxi that you're far drunker than expected. Knew the bartender was freepouring, but didn't realise just how free those pours really were.
"Woah, easy trouble," a deep voice sounds from behind you as you're steadied to a more stable position.
"I'm good, I'm good!" You insist, shaking off the hands of your 'saviour'. Have no interest in being a damsel in distress, or some sober guy trying to take advantage of you.
Looking down to check your laces are tied properly, you check over your shoulder to make sure the guy isn't creepily waiting for a thank you that he can turn into an intrusive game of 21 questions—'are you open-minded?' or 'do you live alone?'—but when you glance in his direction, you regret it. Notice the tattoos immediately. Recognise the eyes. Want to die.
"Oh."
"Oh," he says back with a smile, imitating you. Suddenly, the confidence you'd had earlier when looking at him from afar dissolves into nothingness, just like the alcohol in your bloodstream. You feel rather sober, but your body would definitely disagree. "You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," you nod, suddenly a little stuck for words, desperately trying to play things cool. "Are you okay?"
The pouting of his lips as his tongue runs along the inside of his cheek only serves to make you internally cringe. Men who look like him have no business being on streets like this. Should be in a museum. Strung up on the walls with the other masterpieces. Admired by everyone who looks his way.
In a way you don't yet realise, he is.
Though he's not in galleries, he's often burning into people's laptop screens. Is the background of a fair few thousand lock screens. Indeed, he is admired by everyone who looks his way, just not in the traditional sense.
"I'm not the one who just fell into a car," he reminds you, as if you could forget your embarrassment so quickly.
"Was just seeing if you'd catch me," you bullshit, the confidence you usually have returning tenfold. Was just a momentary blip. He's just a man, after all.
"Oh?" He chirps, decidedly curious. "So you fell for me?"
"Stumbled."
"Semantics."
His fluency, and the fact he just said 'semantics' so casually in conversation, clues you in on the fact he might be a language student, too.
Could be useful study partners for each other, you think, then mentally berate yourself for already masterminding ways to see him again.
"So, where you going?" He asks, not caring to downplay his curiosity. The bartenders were free-pouring his drinks just as severely as they poured yours. The only difference is that his were on the house—'cause you were right. He does have a recognisable face. "Should probably go with you. Make sure you don't fall into the road."
"Stumble," you insist, a little pleased with the boldness of his suggestion, but not wanting to blindly agree. "My friend," you say glancing around, only to find yourself completely alone. "She wanted to go catch the next GLOSS set. So, I guess that's where we're going."
"Just down the road," he says, knowing the schedule like the back of his hand. Bounces from club to club supporting his friends, just like they would for him. If he wanted, he could get a slot up there, too. He doesn't care for it. "I'll walk with you, if you want? My friends are heading there anyway."
It's not a bad offer.
In fact, it's probably the best offer you'll get all night.
"C'mon," he nods his head to the side, encouraging you to follow him. Checks his phone for the time. "Starts in five."
If there's one thing you've indulged in since moving to Seoul, it's how safe you always feel. Security cameras are on every corner, and you've walked home countless times without any issues, even late into the night. While the place isn't perfect, it's far safer than your home country.
Still, you're not a complete idiot.
"It's not wise to follow strange men down dark alleys," you tell him.
He holds out his hand. Waits for you to shake it. Cocks a brow when you hesitate, so introduces himself.
"Jungkook. Nice to meet you. Now, can we please hurry up? I promised I'd be there."
Narrowing your eyes, you don't shake his hand. Arms folded over your chest, there is ice to your exterior, and given how warm his eyes are, you doubt it'll last for very long. May as well keep up this hard-to-get act while you still can.
Walking on past him, you call back, "Alright then. Lead the way."
In the domed mirror meant for reversing cars at the end of a tight alley, you see him laugh. "Wrong way, idiot."
Pausing, you scrunch your face up. Don't turn to face him for at least a second or so—but when you do, you're surprised to see him walking towards you. Hooking his arm around your waist, he carries on walking in the 'wrong' direction, taking you with him.
"Was just fucking with you," he grins. Nods towards a sign by another basement entrance, listing both Blu-Tae and GLOSS.
By the door, Rae is looking around like a mother duck who's just lost some of her ducklings when crossing the road. Breathes a sigh of relief when she spots you.
"C'mon," she grins, then realises who you're with. Says nothing of it, 'cause she doesn't want to be weird, but she recognises him, too. Decides she's just had a little too much to drink. There's no way it's him. Holds out her hand for you.
Reaching out for her, you're let go from Jungkook's grip, ready to get lost in the lights once more.
HAEJANG24
WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE
SATURDAY 05:53
Seoul is a city for the nocturnal. The restaurants and bars are open until the last men are standing. Given how much you've had to drink, you're surprised you still are.
Rae had dipped an hour or so ago. Had hit it off with Mr Blu-Tae himself. Seduced him with the suggestion that their couple name would be Blu-Rae. He'd said they should go to a DVD-bang. Would be fitting. See what Blu-rays were on file.
Naturally, you'd looked on with mild disgust and also admiration for how quickly she'd worked her magic. Everyone knows what goes down in DVD-bangs. Small private rooms, often with projector screens and the world's least comfortable futons, they're somewhere you hope to never end up—but also can't wait to hear all the details the next morning when Rae comes to your room for a debrief.
You'd been left under the surveillance of Jungkook.
"Look after her," Rae had instructed, then narrowed her eyes. "Or I'll destroy your reputation with a single twitter thread, Tokki."
It's a threat he's taken seriously. Knows how the internet works, and even though he's never done anything worthy of a cancellation, he also doesn't intend on starting now. The fact you seem to have no idea who he is during the daylight hours intrigues him. It's a rarity on streets like these.
Even when a few people asked for pictures with him on your walk to the hangover soup place, you didn't clock it as weird. Figured they were friends passing by, wanting to document their chance run-in. Just another memory of the night. The way Jungkook had greeted them was full of warmth, and kindness. Why wouldn't you assume they were mates?
You were also still incredibly drunk at the time, so didn't think to question it. Was keen for food, and Jungkook had insisted on hangover soup, and so that's where you are. Dishes nearly empty, far more of it eaten by him than you, you're laughing about nothing and everything all at once.
"Right," Jungkook declares, deciding he cannot hold in a question that's been tickling at his brain for the entire meal. "What the fuck is that?"
Coat left in the cloakroom, long forgotten about, your tattoos are on full display for him, just like his are for you. Up your arm they trail; a patchwork of teeny tiny identifiers. Latin phrases around skulls, birth flowers of the people you hold close, butterflies and stars. There's an ode to your favourite musician and your favourite Shakespeare quote, too. The fabric of you etched into your skin. There's no reinventing yourself, even half the world away from home.
You know precisely which tattoo Jungkook is asking about. You've asked yourself the same question a few times.
"Fuck off," you laugh.
While most of your tattoos are gorgeous, there's one that was done by a rogue artist on a girlie holiday a few years ago. What was supposed to be a seashell now looks like... well, nothing really. It's just a blob, thanks to the artist being absolutely terrible. The only solace you find in it is that your two best friends have an equally awful permanent reminder of that holiday on their bodies, too.
"It doesn't look how it's supposed to," you explain with a little pout. "I got royally screwed over."
He cocks a brow. You still haven't told him what it is. He isn't gonna ask you twice.
With a grumble, you feebly admit, "A shell."
And then he's laughing. Really laughing. Laughing so hard you think he might piss himself—which you'd actually prefer, because then he could be the embarrassed one, instead.
"I'm calling you Shelly from now on," he says with a broad smile. Has had his fair share of tattoo blunders, and knows you must've developed an affection towards how shitty it is. Would have gotten it covered up, otherwise. "That's incredible."
"You're calling me so such thing," you assure him, but you also can't help but laugh.
"I am," he tells you, then really solidifies it. "Shelly."
"Fuck off," you whine, doubling down. Scanning his arms, you try and pick out anything you can use against him, too. "If I'm Shelly, then you're Mike."
"Mike?!" He protests.
"Yeah," you insist, pointing towards the microphone on his forearm. "Mike."
"You are not calling me Mike. Do I look like a Mike?!"
"Do I look like a Shelly?!"
You've got a point. It's not the name he would have first associated with you - but it is cute, he thinks. Cute how mortified you seem. Cute how you can't help but smile.
After a little bit of back and forth, it's decided that neither of you look like your namesakes.
"Y'know, we kinda have matching tattoos," he says, holding out his arm for you to study. "Or at least, the placements."
And sure enough, below his elbow lives the outline of a bunny sitting on a crescent moon. Holding your own arm out next to his, below your elbow is a butterfly. Above it, is a teeny tiny moon.
Like Jungkook's moon, it's a crescent. Was supposed to symbolise new beginnings. You wonder what his means, but don't ask. Instead, you marvel at the coincidence of it all.
He presses his index finger against the butterfly on the inside of your forearm. The echoing chatter of the restaurant fades softly into nothingness as he says, "Nabi."
You nod. Even if you have spoken with him in English this entire time, it's nice to hear him speak in his mother tongue, no matter how minimal - so you reciprocate. Press your index finger against his bunny. Smile. Say, "Tokki."
It further confirms to Jungkook that you have no idea who he is. Has been a while since he's met a girl in a circumstance like this where that's the case. Likes the anonymity of it all. Is hiding his identity from you, and yet hasn't felt such vulnerability for years.
"Daltokki, right?" You continue, not wanting the silence to linger for too long. "The rabbit in the moon?"
You're not wrong, but you're also not entirely right.
His hand is over your mouth and the other is on your hip as he guides you into his apartment. With your back to his chest, you've both been giggling for the entire ride to his place.
He had insisted that he should walk you home, and was surprised by the offense you seemed to have taken by this. You then told him that he absolutely could not seduce you, and that it was very gender-role-conforming for him to think that you were incapable of getting home by yourself.
"Maybe I should be the one to make sure you get home safely," you had said with a false sense of concern, which had made him laugh quite considerably.
In all reality, you didn't mind him offering to get you home. You just hadn't tidied your room. Didn't really expect to be taking a boy back to your place, much less one that looks like him.
Together, you'd caught the early morning bus over to Itaewon instead of a taxi, 'cause you're still on a student budget and Jungkook wasn't quite ready to blow his cover just yet.
You've been teasing him—questioning his status as a potential International Super Spy—ever since he took your hand and guided you into one of the flashiest apartment complexes you've ever been in. There was security. Doormen. A passcode for the elevator—not to mention that he was heading up to the seventh floor once you were in it. Might not sound like much, but when there are only seven floors to the entire building, it makes it the penthouse by default.
"It's not a penthouse," he'd insisted. "Plus, I live with friends. Only pay a third of the rent."
But a third of his rent is more money than you'll probably see in three months of post-grad work. You're drunk, but you're not stupid. You also know that the rental market here differs significantly from your home country. Monthly rent is cheap, but the deposits are extortionate. Sure, he'll get it back when he leaves, but to have the initial money needed for a place like this? He's not a regular student, if one at all, that much is sure.
"Not sure who's home," Jungkook whispers as you both kick your shoes off in the entryway. Given the looks of the other shoes, it's clear that this is a guys-only living situation. You're proven right when he continues, "Betcha Tae's still in that damn DVD-bang, but Yoongi might be back."
"Yoongi?" You question.
"GLOSS," Jungkook says, remembering how oblivious you are to who he is. Reaching down to grab your shoes, he isn't gonna leave them by the door. Will take them to his room. Doesn't want the boys asking questions, if they are in. Knows they'll just use it as an excuse to publicly roast him whenever they're next online together.
Given that a stream is scheduled for Sunday night, he doesn't want to tempt fate.
Their current choice of wind-up, which the viewers have been eating up, is the joke that Jungkook is a virgin. He's not, but he never knows how to defend himself without sounding like a tool, so always gets a little awkward. A lot of their viewers love it. Join in on the joke. Some take it seriously. He doesn't care.
Next month, Taehyung will do something dumb, and he'll become the favourite joke for a while. Maybe Yoongi. But for now, it's Jungkook.
None of them take it to heart. They're just a group of friends who share their gaming hangouts online, and accidentally made it to the top of the ranks.
They aren't particularly good at gaming, but that's part of the charm. Crescent Collective is how they're known: Blu-Tae, GLOSS and Tokki.
After a bet went wrong, and they all lost, they ended up with moon tattoos and their respective 'symbols'. Jungkook's is a rabbit, Tae's is a blu-ray DVD disk (because he really is committed to the bit), and Yoongi's is stars to symbolise the shine of fresh gloss. Jungkook's makes the most sense. Yoongi's is pretty decent. Taehyung's is just... Well, it's very him.
Sliding open the door into the main living area, Jungkook has to cover your mouth again when you gasp at the sheer size of the place.
"I thought butterflies were supposed to be silent?" He teases. "Quiet for me, Nabi."
His place is bigger than your family home, you think. Hushing you again, he's laughing—and then he's cursing at the sight of a half-naked Yoongi by the kitchen counter.
In his boxers, with half a clementine slice hanging from his lips, he's just as shocked to see Jungkook with you. Gets over it pretty quickly.
"Don't mind me," he says, chewing down on the fruit with a smirk. Looks towards you. "Apologies for the lack of clothes."
With your shoes hooked on his fingers, Jungkook's other large hand is still over your mouth. You're not sure you can form any words as it is, but you do notice the crescent moon and stars on Yoongi's ribs.
"Not a word to Tae," is all Jungkook says. Knows that he'll be in for a world of teasing tomorrow if he gets wind of it. "I mean it."
Holding his hands up, Yoongi's still smirking, but he is backing away into a room just off the kitchen. "My lips are sealed."
Watching as he closes the door, you wonder how much truth is in his words. Jungkook knows it's absolute bullshit. Chooses not to dwell on it. Loosens his grip on you and heads towards his own room. Turns back to check you're following him, and can't help but smile when he knows that you are.
Tossing your shoes just inside the door, Jungkook is quick to pick up a pair of jeans he'd left on the floor, before chucking them over his desk chair. He tweaks his bedding. Straightens it out. Looks a little shy as he turns to face you.
"Made it home safe," he says quietly, as you close the door behind you.
You nod. Keep a little distance. Say, "It's dangerous to sleep after drinking. Make sure you build a tower of pillows in the middle of your bed so you don't roll onto your back."
Both of you are far more sober than you were earlier. There's no need to worry about anything like that.
And yet he nods, now. Says, "You're probably right. You can always stay, though. Just to check I don't die in my sleep, or whatever."
"It'd be the responsible thing to do," you nod, wondering if he can tell just how fast your heart is beating. "But I don't have any pyjamas."
Jungkook swallows. The way he looks at you now is entirely different to how he'd looked at you in the club. Back then, he'd been bold. Flirtatious.
Now, he seems vulnerable. Needy.
"I sleep in my underwear," he tells you, unsure if you'll actually be sleeping. While he likes the idea of fucking you, part of him doesn't want to. Fears it'll ruin the magic of the unknown. The way he throbs at the mere thought of it would suggest that his hopes outweigh his fears. "I don't mind, if you don't."
The clothes Jungkook's wearing are baggy. You've seen nothing of his figure.
Reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs on the fabric of his T-shirt. Pulls it over his head and discards it in one swift movement. The sound of it crumpling on the floor is abrasive in how it makes you feel. Raw. Unrefined. You suppose it's just a natural consequence of seeing the toned muscles of his chest. How his waist defies what you thought was possible for masculine builds, and how broad his chest is. The indent of his collarbones, and the lines of his pelvis that draw your eyes downwards.
A pair of Calvins peek just above the waistband of his jeans, and a silver chain rests around his neck. Light from the city filters in, and LED lights around his impressive computer set-up paint him in a hue of violet.
"No," you manage to reply, which is a miracle, you think. "I don't mind."
And then you reciprocate. Reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Seeing him swallow back his nerves, or maybe his desires, makes you feel far bolder than you should.
"It's really uncomfortable to sleep in jeans," you tell him.
He nods. Agrees. Threads the button of his trousers through its loop. Doesn't take them off yet. Waits for you to do the same. Keeps his eyes firmly locked on yours. Doesn't let his gaze wander, no matter how much he has to fight all his instincts not to fully take you in. Is still pretending like he doesn't want you in the most indecent of ways.
The room you're in right now is known worldwide.
People set it as their zoom backgrounds. It's on Pinterest. There are YouTube videos attempting to recreate the set-up. If he were to power up his computer—which, in all fairness, is only on standby—and go live, there'd be a thousand viewers within minutes. Doesn't matter what he plays, or who he's with. He doesn't give it much thought anymore. Is just life.
Sometimes, he regrets not being a faceless streamer, but he also knows that it's part of the appeal. Connection, and the fantasy that comes with this almost dystopian, parasocial idea of it.
After all, the meeting of his eyes with yours across a busy club led you to this point. Human connection in the simplest of ways, that he thinks could culminate in the most complex of ways, too.
"Okay," he says. "So take them off."
"You want me to?" You ask just to tease a little bit, and when a smile flickers onto his seemingly nervous lips, you're glad you did.
"You think we'd be here right now if I didn't?" He says with a tweak of his brows.
"You've got a point."
With that, you push your jeans down and reveal the matching set of black underwear you're in. It's nothing special. In fact, it's not really a set, but it's close enough that it'd fool anyone who didn't know.
Jungkook, in this moment, is indeed a beautiful fool.
There's a lopsided grin on his face as he lets his eyes rake down your body. Is shameless as he indulges in you. Nods, as he bites down on his bottom lip.
"It's cold," you tell him, urging him along a little bit.
"Shit," he says without much thought. "Sorry. Was just... Yeah. Shit."
It's both endearing and wholly confusing how Jungkook flips from confident to cute. A man of duality. It makes you giggle, and then you're the one biting down on your bottom lip. Are both a little bashful. A little shy.
"I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep," you remind him before it goes any further.
Looking at him now, knowing you want him in the worst of ways, it's testing all of your willpower not to just cut to the chase.
Thing is, you liked his company tonight. Want it again. Want to give him a reason to seek you out once more. Want him thinking about you in clubs, and looking for you in crowded bars. Pining. Yearning. Needy.
"It's already gone seven," he tells you, walking towards his bed. Knocks his head to the side. Silently tells you to follow suit. "Will probably only get a couple hours in."
"Better than nothing. Plus, you're actually really irritating," you bullshit as you get into bed with him. Are adamant you won't fuck him, but you do let him pull you in closer.
"Oh, yeah?" He grins.
"Mhmm," you nod, pretending as if you aren't looking at his lips. "You'll be less annoying when you're asleep."
"I'm never gonna sleep again," he assures you. "Will annoy you forever."
"I know where the front door is," you say as you stroke a few of his loose, wavy hairs back behind his ears. They fall freely almost right away, but it just gives you another excuse to play with it "I can just leave. I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep. Pointless if you're awake."
"So I have to be asleep for you to stay?"
"Mhmm," you hum.
He immediately loosens his grip on you and flops into an overdramatic sleeping position. Fake snores. Gets you giggling. Can't hide his smile, either. Laughs through the god-awful noises he's making.
But it is late, and you're both tired. As much as he'd like to stay awake with you, the pull of sleep is just too tempting now that you're beneath his sheets. It's not like he doesn't wanna fuck you. His semi is very much present, but neither of you mention it.
"Y'know what's sad about butterflies?" Jungkook mumbles after the laughter dies down. He carefully begins to trace the lines of your tattoo, eyes entirely focused on the tip of his finger.
You purr a response before you fully vocalise one. "Tell me."
He glances up at you only very momentarily. Looks back down. Is quiet when he says, "How quickly they die. Spend over half their lifespan growing into these beautiful creatures, and then they have, what—A week? Two? Three, tops—and then they're gone. It's like the cherry blossoms in spring. Beautiful, and then—" He clicks his fingers. "—gone."
Stroking back some loose strands of his hair, you wonder if he's thinking about you. About this chance encounter. Beautiful, then gone.
"Just means you have to appreciate them while they're still around," you say softly. "Cherish them, because you know you only have them for a moment."
His gaze lifts to meet yours. The reflection of his LED lights makes it seem like butterflies are floating around in his deep, dark eyes, too.
There are stories he could tell you of ancient folklore; about human souls taking the form of butterflies. Of justice, and peace, and spirits. Of back in time, when tigers still smoked. He could tell you of his favourite butterflies. Of the black butterflies that are as large as his hands in the summer. Of the huge display in a museum downtown that would transfix him as a child.
Instead, he gently presses his lips against the lines of your butterfly tattoo.
The rate at which your heart is beating multiplies. Like a swarm of butterflies chasing through your veins, you've no control over the way you're feeling. He's brought your artwork to life; set the souls inside of your butterfly free, only for it to be apparent that the souls belonged to the both of you, anyway.
You know that this is one of those moments; a butterfly passing on by through your lives. Here, and then gone. Beautiful, but fleeting.
There's a shyness to Jungkook now, as he rolls onto his back. A reluctance to get things wrong. He doesn't look at you, just nibbles on his bottom lip and pretends as if the empty white ceiling ahead of him is the most interesting thing he's seen all night.
It's not.
You are.
You, and those eyes that make him feel like the butterfly on your arm is tickling at his tummy. He finds himself jealous when he faces you again and begins tracing the thin lines of your butterfly once more. Wants to embed himself into you like the ink that's carved out a home in your skin.
"Sorry," he mumbles, seemingly regretful of the tender kiss he'd pressed against your arm just a short moment ago. "Don't know why I did that."
"It's okay," you reply without much thought. Like him, you're letting the way you feel dictate the words you say. Care not for playing coy. "I liked it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Jungkook wants to stop his mouth from letting his desires escape. The issue is, he drank a little too much tonight and his lips are a little too loose. Too bad. Can't help himself from asking, "Can I do it again?"
You're just as bad.
"Yeah," you whisper. "Please."
The way his lashes splay against his cheeks as he presses another kiss to your arm is nothing short of celestial. Like that damn moon on his arm, he's got a beauty about him that's hard to capture in words. Ethereal feels too fantastical, but gorgeous feels too dense. He resides in a realm somewhere between the two. Somewhere you'd like to stay forever.
Forever, sadly, only lasts a few hours. You've brunch plans with new friends you can't bail on yet for fear of running a friendship before it's even begun.
You see yourself out. Jungkook's still asleep. Not quite 10AM, you've a dozen missed calls from Rae, and a cold can of coke waiting for you in your fridge. Funnily enough, though, you don't really feel hungover. Must have gotten it all out of your system the night before.
It's only fitting, when you think about Jungkook on the subway home, and how soberingly drunk the idea of him makes you feel.
YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS
DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU
SUNDAY 21:39
Brunch had, predictably, been a yawn-fest.
The people were perfectly nice, but you spent the entire time thinking about Jungkook; how you'd left him in a pretty slumber, the LEDs behind his computer still glowing, with not even so much as a note to say thank you.
It's not like he had any paper on his desk, and you weren't about to start rummaging around his room. You also didn't want to wake him. Part of it was because you knew you'd be saying goodbye, and the concept of that was one that you didn't like all that much.
And so your subway ride back to your dorm had been spent searching his name. He didn't take long to find.
From the club's Instagram, you found GLOSS and quickly discovered that there was far more to both him and Blu-Tae than just being DJs. Their follower counts were wild. Numbers you know you'll never see on your own account. Verification check marks accented their display names.
Who are you? You'd thought to yourself, incredibly perplexed by it all.
Jungkook was littered all over their pages, and yet it still took a while for you to click through to his account. You're not sure why, but think that perhaps the unknown was a nice place to reside within. Safer.
CR3SC3NT_T0KK1 was his username—and curiously, Tokki was also his display name. Brows furrowed, you'd almost dropped your phone when you saw his follower count. It eclipsed both of his friends.
Filled with gaming set-ups, merch drops, and general life dumps, it was pretty clear that whoever Jungkook had made himself out to be the night before was not who he was in real life.
Equal parts offended and intrigued, you were only more confused when you saw that Rae was already following him—but not following Taehyung.
"What?" she'd beamed when you'd asked her about it after you'd arrived home from brunch, a scoop of hangover ice cream being waved around in the air with her flamboyant gestures. "He's, like, one of the biggest streamers in the country—and if I want to keep Tae obsessed with me, we need as many connections as possible. Jungkook's a frog to me, baby, not a prince. Don't you worry your little cotton socks. I'm not after him."
"I wouldn't care if you were," you'd blatantly lied in response, and then you'd giggled together at how ridiculous you were both being over boys you didn't really know.
Hovering over the bright purple 'JOIN STREAM' button later that evening, part of you holds back. Think it'd be weird. Strange. That he'd somehow know it was you.
Dipping your mouse, you tick the checkbox to join as an anonymous viewer. Take a breath. Think fuck it. Watch with bated breath as the loading wheel turns—and then he's there.
Jeon Jungkook has the kind of beauty that transcends shitty quality streams. Smiling as he jokes with one of his friends through a headset with a pair of black bunny ears affixed to the top of them, you hear a voice you almost recognise. Notice the friend he's streaming with in the top corner. Realise you do know him, too.
Hair as blue as the trees are green, Tae has just as much boyish charm as Jungkook, but also an incredibly large hickey that seems to match the ones on Rae's neck.
"Nah, can we get an L in the chat for Kook," he's teasing. Sure enough, the chat begins to explode with the letter, and Jungkook looks so pretty when he protests.
"It's not an L!"
"It is!" Tae insists. "Should have seen him, guys. Was following this girl around like a lovesick puppy—"
"No, I wasn't!"
"And she didn't even give him her number. Not even her name!"
"That's not true!" Jungkook whines. He switches between Korean and English with ease, sometimes just single words, other times whole sentences. "I have a name."
"What is it?"
"Not telling you."
"Cause you don't have one!"
"No, because you'll all make my life a living hell," Jungkook laughs—and then notices a bright blue comment lighting up in the chat. His eyes widen. "Fuck."
GLOSS:
Was calling her Nabi when he got home last night
Almost shit his pants when he saw me
"Yoongi, I'm gonna shave your eyebrows off in your sleep," Jungkook growls—only for the chat to start spamming butterfly emojis. Closing his eyes, he leans back in his chair, the still paused video game long forgotten about, now. Thousands of people are in their chat, and even more are watching the stream.
"Guys, get it trending," Taehyung goads. "Tweet, I dunno, bunny and butterfly emojis."
"Don't do that!"
"Hashtag find Jungkook's butterfly."
"Do NOT do that!"
"I'm like a modern-day cupid," Taehyung beams.
"I'm shaving your eyebrows, too."
Closing the stream, you sit for a moment, mouth ajar, unable to process what on earth you've just witnessed. Part of you feels as if it must have an incredibly vivid daydream; a projection of your heart's desire.
And you know you shouldn't, but when you get home from running errands the following day, you join the stream again. Blush when you notice the chat is still teasing Jungkook.
"I'm gonna block you all," he threatens them with a grin, which only encourages them to send even more butterfly emojis.
The next day is no different, nor the day after that.
He is, though. Has been letting it all play on his mind. Doesn't have much of a filter when it comes to streaming.
"What if she didn't even like me, guys," he whines to the chat. "And sees this and is like... mortified. I think I'd punch myself in the face if she ever saw any of this."
You toy with the idea of sending a comment into the chat. Something that only he'd realise was you. Thing is, you feel bad for intruding. As if you shouldn't be prying. As if you're eavesdropping on him chatting with friends, and not on the stream he's broadcasting live around the world.
Typing out a message, you deliberate your choice.
Punch urself in the face pls, tokki x the message reads.
Simple. Effective. To the point.
But everyone calls him that, you stupidly realise, now.
And so you change the name to 'Mike'.
Before you can even really realise what you've done, you've pressed send.
The message flitters into the chat feed. He's about to resume his game. Doesn't notice it at first.
Gives the chat one final glance, and then his eyes widen. He sits up taller. Straighter. "Mike?"
You close the lid of your laptop immediately.
"Fuck."
THE STREETS
WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE
FRIDAY 23:51
"Tae is on in five," Rae squeals, dragging you down the road at lightning speed.
You'd spent far too long at dinner, and also had far too much to drink with your food, so have been forced to make an undignified sprint to the club in an attempt to make it in before the place reaches capacity.
There's already a queue. You can see it from a mile away.
Realistically, Rae could have gotten Taehyung to add her to the guest list. He'd offered. She didn't wanna look needy, so had played it coy about her plans for the evening.
After a single beer and soju, she'd decided that the idea of him hooking up with anyone but her simply wouldn't do.
"Shit," she sighs in defeat, looking at the queue. The direction you've come from means that you reach the entrance before you reach the queue, but even then, you can tell it goes around the block. "Are there no other clubs these people can go to?!"
There are—but this club is rammed tonight for the same reason Club Sundown was rammed the week before. People want to see the Crescent Collective.
You didn't realise it at the time, but you'd bypassed the queue of the second club last weekend because Jungkook had been with you.
And as if by a stroke of luck, or perhaps a twist of fate, the same tattooed hand that had held you as you slept last weekend is now putting out a cigarette just a few steps away.
Eyes landing on yours, he looks away again, almost immediately. Feels embarrassed. Stupid. For the way you left him, and also for the way he knows you must know who he is, now.
Behind a red rope, he's away from the general crowd. It's sort of obnoxious, you think—but also know Jungkook is anything but.
"They're with me," Jungkook says to the bouncer, not really looking at you, but nodding in your general direction. Is deliberately keeping a little distance. Instead, he says to Rae, "Tae wouldn't want you waiting in line."
Nodding, the security guard makes way for you, stamping the backs of your hands with UV-activated ink as you walk past.
"Thank you!" Rae beams.
"No worries," Jungkook smiles right back. "He's about to start. Was just getting air. You're lucky you arrived when you did."
"Angel," she praises. "I'll get you a drink while we're in there."
You know her well enough now to know that she absolutely will not, but you don't say anything. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest as you walk, suddenly feeling all awkward in Jungkook's presence.
"Nabi," he curtly greets you as you head down the stairs.
"Tokki," you greet him back just as formally. Consider calling him 'Mike' instead, but you chicken out.
Face scrunching up, Jungkook tries his best not to cringe at himself. Doesn't know if you're addressing him by his tattoo moniker, or just calling him Tokki because you know it's his identifier online.
"How have you been?" He asks, not wanting to let it simmer.
"Alright," you say, aware of how awkward this all feels, as you descend the stairs and into the club. The music is getting louder, and soon you won't be able to hear him talk unless you're in each other's ears. "And you?"
"Alright."
Just as quickly as he appeared, Jungkook is lost to the crowd.
He doesn't care to stick around if he's just going to be hung out to dry by you again. He tells himself that he only made sure you got in to keep Rae happy for Taehyung's sake—yet as he rejoins his friends in their booth, he finds himself desperately seeking you out again.
It takes him a while, but he eventually spots you by the bar in conversation with Rae. He can't make out what you're saying, but notices how your eyes are flickering around the room. Seems as if you're hunting for something.
Deep down, even if he pretends like he doesn't, he hopes it's for him.
Pulled away from your search by the bartender passing over drinks to the pair of you, Jungkook feels bad. Knows the drinks are pricey in this place. Also knows, from the conversations you've already had, that you're on a tight budget. Had said that once the semester starts, you'll stop going to parties. Are seemingly unaware of the fact the parties never stop in this city. You'll learn.
When your eyes finally land on his a little while later, you're surprised by his intense gaze—intrigued by his lack of shame for being caught out. He doesn't look away or appear embarrassed. If anything, it's quite the opposite.
Girls are vying for his attention all around him, yet you receive all of it. Half the room away, hundreds of people create a sea between you both. Jungkook thinks he'd swim through it, no matter how choppy the water, if it meant he could have you right now.
You're the one who left, though.
It's up to you to come back.
Part of you doesn't want to, but then you see another girl making advances, and Rae's horror over other girls trying it on with Taehyung seems to have rubbed off on you. The idea of it makes your skin crawl. You're drunk, and a little reactive, but Jungkook likes playing with fire.
As you work your way through the crowd towards him, he tries his best not to grin. Finds himself vindicated in his desire to be close to you, 'cause it seems like you want it, too.
Sliding in between Jungkook and the girl, you turn and apologise.
"Just need to borrow him for a second," you smile, clutching at his shirt and pulling him away from the booth before she even has a chance to protest.
With an ever-so-satisfied smirk, Jungkook shrugs towards the other girl, and lets you drag him wherever you want. He's putty in your hands, a little tipsy and desperately in need of attention from you.
For the past week, he's played scenario over scenario over scenario in his head about this moment, and now that it's happening, he's glad he let you seek him out. Is so pleased that you actively want him just as much as he wants you.
In the middle of the crowd, you're hidden from prying eyes. It's too dark to notice any discerning features of the people around you, yet somehow, Jungkook seems like a vibrant golden light to you. Impossible to miss. Unable to ignore.
You wanna talk. Ask him about who the fuck he is. Explain that you didn't mean to leave so heartlessly.
Taehyung's set is so overwhelmingly loud, though. Can barely even hear yourself think.
As soon as he'd spotted Rae in the crowd, Taehyung had sent the bar coordinator to go and get her. She's sitting pretty up in the DJ booth, incredibly pleased with herself. Notices you and Jungkook almost immediately. Knows it'll be on Twitter in the next few hours, especially if that damn butterfly tattoo of yours is noticed.
Bunnies and butterflies have been trending for days.
Jungkook speaks, but you can't hear him.
"Huh?" You ask, getting on your tippy toes, but it's fruitless. Even as his hand drops to your waist to steady you and keep you in place, you can barely make out his words. "I can't hear you!"
He can't hear jack shit, either. Frowns. Looks around. Spots Yoongi by the booth and gestures towards the side of the room. When Yoongi nods back, it's Jungkook who drags you through the crowd, now. Just beyond the DJ booth is a little black door that Yoongi meets you by. Taps in the code. Nods in your direction.
"A pleasure," he says with a knowing smirk. Miraculously, you can hear him, but ultimately, it's because you're not in the direct line of the speakers now.
You don't get a chance to respond before Jungkook gets you into what can only described as a dark hole as quickly as he can. Romance, you think to yourself, but you also are very aware of the fact Jungkook doesn't let go of your hand, even when he's searching for the light switch. It takes him a second, but he manages to recall the approximate location quickly enough.
Dingy yellow light floods into the room. Small and boxy, it's a 3-in-1 storage room, bathroom, and dressing room for 'talent'. It's why Yoongi had the code, but you can't imagine anyone with any shred of self-respect actually using this place. The walls are the same grey tiles as the floor, and the light bulb hangs from a wire without a shade. The tap on the sink drips, and you're pretty sure there's a leak in the far corner by the mirror.
None of that matters, though. All you can focus on is the man in front of you. Though not soundproof, the room does offer a far more muted version of Taehyung's set. More importantly, it provides you with privacy.
It's been a week since you last saw him, face to face.
Though you have, admittedly, seen him what feels like a million times on low-quality streams from his bedroom.
Realistically, it's been about three times, but you think about it almost constantly.
"You left," is all he says, a little pout on his lips.
It's cute, you think, that he is so outwardly offended by such an act. You would have thought that a man of his position would have a habit of leaving, himself. Then again, you didn't know of his status when you left him in bed that morning.
"And you didn't die," you reply with a teasing smile, trying not to make it sound so severe. "You were fine without me."
"I'm not joking," he says, even if he can't help but smile at the recollection of how stupid the conversation before bed had been. "You left. It was rude."
"I had brunch plans," you tell him, reaching your hands out for his. He wants to resist. Fails. Lets you pull him closer. Incredibly close, in fact. So close that you begin to notice all sorts of things. His freckles. A small scar on his cheek. A tiny fleck of glitter on his skin, no doubt from one of the girls who had been desperate for his attention earlier. "You'd only had a few hours sleep. I didn't want to disturb you."
"Could have left a note," he says, still pouty but far quieter. You can smell the Jack on his breath. Have always hated the taste, but think you could grow to like it. "Your number. Something, at least."
"I could've," you admit, edging even closer. Closing the gap. Nudging your nose against his. But then you smile. Pull back. Tease, "And you could have warned me that I'd become a trending topic on Twitter."
Just like that, Jungkook's pout snaps into the prettiest smile. His face scrunches up, lines creasing on his nose. Beneath his closed eyes reside the sweetest little puffs. He's got the kind of face that is impossible not to like.
"Ah," he cringes.
"Yeah," you laugh at the stupidity of it all. What did he expect? That you wouldn't find out? "Ah."
"In my defence," he holds his hands up, eyes wide and innocent. "You called me Tokki. How was I to know you didn't know?"
"Oh, give over," you laugh, as he reaches for your hands once again. Pulls you closer. "You know I didn't know."
Truthfully, he does know this, but it was nice to be unknown for a little while. Nice to not second guess your intentions. Even now, knowing that you know, he feels like none of it matters.
"Look," he begins, toying with the hem of your cropped shirt. Lets his fingertips graze your bare skin. Tries his best not to think about what you look like half-naked. Fails. "I only came out tonight 'cause I hoped I'd see you. I don't care about staying out till ass-o'clock, again."
"Think I've only just caught up on sleep," you hum, angling your chin up and giving him the perfect opportunity to make a move that goes beyond flirtatious touches.
"Exactly," he smiles, letting his hand squeeze the side of your waist. Pulls you closer. "And I've not drunk half as much tonight, but I think I could do with you making sure I don't die, again."
"Yeah?"
Nodding as he nudges his nose against yours, Jungkook is all smiles. Lets his lips line up against your pout.
"Yeah," he mumbles—then lets the word get lost in your lips.
Sinking into what it feels like to kiss you, Jungkook can't help but feel satisfaction. Has finally caught the damn butterfly he's been after all week.
You retrace your steps. Get a taxi to his place, 'cause there's no point pretending like he can't afford it. Not anymore.
You're not giggling like you were the first time you were in his elevator, but it's kind of impossible to do so when your back is to the wall and Jungkook's tongue is in your mouth.
Your hands roam his body—waist, ass. If you can squeeze it, you will. Just makes him deepen the kisses. If his large hands weren't cupping your jaw, keeping you close, they'd be doing the exact same thing as yours.
The ding of the elevator pulls you apart just for a second, and then you're the one pulling him down to the corridor to his place.
He doesn't open the door. Just kisses you again.
Finally understands what it means to get butterflies, 'cause he's got you, now, and he never wants to lose it.
Hooking his hands beneath your ass, he hoists you up. Gets your legs wrapped around him. Could go in, but where's the fun in that? There's a slight danger of getting caught. He knows the hallway security cameras will definitely pick this up. The threat that it could get leaked online, and the simple fact that he couldn't give a shit if it does, is kind of hot.
"I'm not fucking you out here," you tell him through a hushed giggle, when he rests his forehead against yours.
"Woah," he jokes. "Who said anything about fucking?"
"I can literally feel your boner, Jungkook."
"Touché."
He doesn't even attempt to downplay it. He puts you down. Gets you through the threshold of his apartment. Shoes off by the door, there's no need to be quiet. Yoongi and Taehyung are still out, and will be for hours. He could take his time if he really wanted.
But what he wants is you. Doesn't waste time. Gets you in his room. Kinda feels like you never left. Jungkook still wishes you hadn't, but doesn't mind the idea of you making it up to him now.
"So," you hum, trailing your fingertips across his desk. "This is where the magic happens?"
He smiles a little bashfully, head dropping for a moment before his eyes are on yours again. "Yeah. You could say that."
Now that you're back in his space, it's a little embarrassing just how many clues there were. A headset rests on the desk—black, robust, with his signature bunny ears secured on top—and a mic is hooked up by the monitor. The webcam doesn't look special, but the keyboard subtly glows in his darkened room. Violet, like the LEDs behind his screen.
A laptop covered in vinyl stickers is closed next to the set-up. He uses it when he's not streaming on his desktop. At least three of the stickers are of the Crescent Collective's logo.
Turning to fully face him, you rest your palms behind yourself and perch on the edge of the desk.
He gets a little kick out of seeing you so flippantly disregard the domain in which he dominates. Gives him a point to prove. Gets him closing the space between you, hands on your waist, dipping to your ass to leverage further back on his desk. Knows it's sturdy, 'cause he built it himself, but has never tested out quite how strong it really is. Thinks now's as good a time as any to find out.
Your legs wrap around his body with no thought, just the innate understanding that you want him in a way you're sure thousands of people have only dreamt of: in his room, on his desk, that damn 'Go Live' button just a few short clicks away.
Reaching beside you, there's a smirk on your lips as you retrieve his headset. Put it on him. Say, "The ears are cute, Tokki."
He rolls his eyes. Is fighting a smile, and currently losing. He's seen some lewd shit during his time on the internet and is well aware of the fanart that includes the ears and little else. Always found it kinda funny, before.
Now? He's so hard it almost hurts, and he thinks he could grow to like it.
As your arms drape over his shoulders, he takes them off. Puts them on you, instead. Adjusts the sizing. Gets them just right for you. Is attentive, like that. Pulls his head back a little, and then realises what a problem you're gonna be for him.
It's not so much the addition of animal ears that's getting him insatiable, but seeing you adorned with a crown that is so inherently his that does it.
Jungkook's no saint. He's had his fair share of one-nighters. A couple hours of fun never to be spoken of again. Since the group of them signed to their management agency, they've been repeatedly told how important it is to get NDA's signed. Something about it always feels so icky to Jungkook. Cruel, almost. Has only had a couple hook-ups since then, both with flings he's known for a good couple of years, with no fear of them spilling the beans on how prettily he whines when he cums.
You're the first new girl in a long time. He knows he should really pause things before you cut to the chase—but then your hand is trailing down his thick forearm, delicately stroking his rabbit moon with a curious smile. Decides he doesn't care.
"The ears are cute," he replies. Teasingly adds, "Nabi."
The position of your arms over his shoulders ensures the tattoos he'd traced the week before are fully displayed for him. As his eyes drop to your butterfly, you're curiously smitten by the way his lips move to press a kiss against it again.
"Suit me?"
"Mhmm," he hums, eyes flickering back up to yours. "Should also get you a pair of butterfly wings, or something."
"I'd make you wear them," you tell him with a cheeky glint in your eye. "Turn you into a butterfly, yourself. Your girlies in the chat would love that."
Jungkook knows without a shadow of a doubt he'd let you. Not for the girlies in the chat, but for you.
Ghosting his lips against yours, he's waiting for you to press down. Is letting you take the lead.
Your kisses are sweet. Tepid. Reserved.
You're feeling; his hands on your waist, the pressure of his lip rings, the presence of his nose.
And then he's feeling; your bare skin as his large hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, the way your legs wrap around him, the vibration of a small groan against his lips.
The skirt you're in is bunched around your hips, and the positioning is just right for you to feel how hard he is against your underwear. It's a little undignified, you'll admit, but you're impatient, so you take control. Reposition his hand between your legs. Encourage him to take things further.
"Yeah?" He checks.
Nodding into a needy kiss, you mumble, "Please."
It might've been a while, but Jungkook's muscle memory is enviable. He's the best player on the team for that very reason.
As he hooks your underwear to the side, he's pleased to be greeted with indications of your arousal. Smirks into the kisses he's giving you, as his fingertips graze against your clit. Trails his lips to your neck. Wants to hear the way you gasp as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you.
"Fuck," you sigh at the welcome intrusion. Nod, as he curls his finger almost immediately. He's got a lot to thank those damn video games for, that's for sure.
Softly moaning, just how he hoped you would, there's an arch to your back as he picks up a pace. The need to perform, almost.
Head tipping back as Jungkook fucks another finger into you, you're unable to think too cognitively. Can only think about the way he feels. The smell of his hair as he presses kisses against your neck, and how prominent his collarbones are as your nails trail up his toned torso.
"Feels so good," you tell him. Move the hand of yours that's been resting on his shoulder to his hair. Tug on it a little. Elicit the prettiest of whines from him.
There's something to be said for making a man—especially one of such strength, stature, status—so weak. Gets you all giggly. Jungkook can feel the satisfaction ripple through your entire body, and it just makes him groan against your neck even more.
"You're so wet," he praises, pulling back to study your face as he plays with you. Lets his thumb stroke up against your clit ever so gently. Revels in the way you get a little shaky. Twitchy. With those damn bunny ears, you really are like a little rabbit. Jungkook finally understands why the fan artists choose to draw him in such a way. It is hot. "You're making me so fuckin' hard."
And then you're giggling again.
"Is it a joke to you, huh?" He smirks. Looks down at your pussy, all swollen and sopping wet for him, in the hazy violet light of his room. Knows that his throbbing cock is gonna stuff you so fuckin' full that laughing won't be an option. Is desperate for it. "How badly I want you is just a big joke to you, huh, bunny?"
The way he groups you in with his moniker is too damn hot.
"Dunno," you rasp, desperately trying to hold off the orgasm that's building inside you. "Fuck me and find out."
Reaching for the button of his trousers, you're quick as you wrestle his jeans down over his ass. Don't bother pushing them down entirely. Just enough to get his boxers exposed, and in turn, his thick cock. Hard and engorged, his desperation for you is evident. A small patch of precum seeps through the fabric of his boxers. He curses as your thumb strokes against it.
"Condom?" You ask, knowing you've got none on you.
"Hold that thought," he says, regretfully pulling away from you.
Watching on as he pushes down his jeans, and strips himself of his shirt, you're at a loss for words. You've seen him like this before, but it's so much hotter knowing that he's gonna be fucking himself into you as soon as he possibly can.
Jungkook could very easily lead you to his bed. Get you comfy. Reach to his bedside cabinet for a condom. Fuck you how he likes—doggy-style, minimal face-to-face contact—and be done with it all very quickly.
Instead, he says, "Stay here."
Doing as you're told, you watch on as he walks to the cabinet, and retrieves a condom. Admire his back, and his broad shoulders. The valley of his spine, and the hard work he's put into crafting his physique. Smirk to yourself as he dips into his boxers. Strokes himself. Once, twice. Tears the packet open with his teeth, just like you were always taught not to do, and rolls the latex down his thick shaft.
"What?" he smirks as he walks back, realising your eyes are transfixed on his cock.
You say nothing. Smile. Hold your hands out for Jungkook to take, just so you can pull him back even quicker.
Lips pressing into yours as he closes the gap, Jungkook is all smiles. Rubs the head of his cock against your pussy, gathering up your arousal all over his tip. Lines himself up with your entrance. Waits for you to give him the go-ahead.
Hand on his ass, you pull him closer. Edge the crown of his cock into you. Whimper. Beg. "Please."
Sinking into you with a laboured grunt, he's surprised with how much tighter you are around his cock than you were with his fingers. Wet and warm, there's an undeniable pleasure that sparks through his body as he gets familiar with the way you feel.
Slowly, his hips begin to pick up a pace. As his tongue strokes into your mouth, there's no dignity to the way he's taking you. The increased pace means heightened moans, and it's not just you—it's him, too.
"Shit, yeah," he grits. "So fuckin' tight, aren't you?"
Whining, you nod into his kisses. Are at his entire disposal as he grips your waist, proving exactly why Tokki is the perfect nickname for him.
As much as he likes the ears, he's a little worried that he might fuck you so hard they fall off. Doesn't wanna break them, and definitely doesn't wanna think about the story the boys would make up when they go live tomorrow to tease him—but also really wants to fuck you harder.
Which is funny, cause the way he tugs them off with such desperation and tosses them down, you'd be forgiven for thinking he couldn't care less about breaking them. Doesn't give you a chance to say anything, 'cause his big hands are cradling your face, bringing you in for desperate kisses once more.
There's a lewdness to the sounds you make together, but Jungkook knows that if he was an entirely different kind of streamer, you'd make bank together. Wonders about the way it would look on camera. Worries. Pauses.
"You good?" You check a little breathlessly as he reaches behind you, just to tug the wire to his webcam from the plus.
"Yeah," he nods, still fiddling around behind you. Smiles in the hedonistic haze as your lips find a new home on his neck. Strokes your hair gently, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. Quietly says, "Just making sure there's no way in hell I accidentally start streaming."
You hum, all purry and pliant. "People would pay good money to see it."
While he agrees, and has had the same thought process, he doesn't care. "You saying I should be charging you for this?"
"Oh, no," you say all very sweetly. "You should be paying me."
"I'll pay you with orgasms," he promises, knowing that it's a rare currency for one-night strands.
You smirk. Pat the top of his head. "Sure you will."
If there's one thing Jungkook loves, it's a challenge.
Pulling back, he turns you around. Gets you bent over his desk with zero opposition from you. Rubs himself against your soaked cunt, then asks, "Yeah?"
"Yeah," you smirk, and then settle into a sigh as he pushes into you. The feeling of fullness from Jungkook is one that's hard to compare. So thick, and fat, and heavy, his cock really is just as impressive as he is.
With one hand hooked at the crease of your thigh, the other holds the top of your shoulder. Gets you pushed down onto his cock as far as you possibly can be. There's a slight reflection in his streaming plaque beside the monitor, and you're pleased to see just how intensely focused he is on you, brows furrowed, pretty pink lips resting ajar. The silver of his lip rings and chain catch in the light, and you find you can't look at him for too long. He's too hot.
But then he's reaching down for your clit as he fucks into you. Has your legs shaking. The waves of a familiar sensation begin to lap against the shores of your pleasure.
"Fuck," you whine. "Feels good. Keep it like that."
Jungkook knows better than to ignore your requests. Does as he's told, the pressure of his fingers on your clit only deepening. Rubbing calculated circles against you, he knows just how to work you up. Gets you whining. Mewling. Moaning.
"Gonna cum, aren't you?" he smirks, as his own high builds.
"Fuck—"
"C'mon," he husks, feeling your walls tighten around him. He doesn't stop his relentless chase. Will win your orgasms fair and square. Continues pounding into you. Pace fast, strokes deep, he's everything you could ever want and more—and then he's slowing. Keeping you plugged, nice and deep, but focusing on the way he's toying with your clit. "You know you wanna cream for me. All over my cock, pretty Nabi. C'mon—"
"I'm close," you all but whimper. "So—fuck. So close."
"Yeah, you are," he tells you—and then your legs are shaking, pussy tightly clamping around his cock, one hand tense against his desk while the other grabs at his wrist. Uncontrollable, is the way you whine for him. It's so needy—so desperate and pathetic—that it's almost a sob. Jungkook doesn't ease up. In fact, his hips gain a little pace again as your orgasm shatters around you both. He's breathless, but manages to choke out, "Flithy fuckin' cunt. Feels so fuckin' good. Fuck."
The frail limpness of your body as the orgasm smokes away is cute. Jungkook loves it. You're so weak for him. He fucks into you still, chasing his own high, and your whines only get louder. It's overwhelming, but you never want to lose the feeling.
It doesn't take much. Just a minute or so of your tight cunt, and Jungkook is pulling out. Even though he doesn't ask you to, you get to your knees as he tears the condom off.
"In my mouth," you beg, and who is he to reject such an offer?
Jerking himself to completion, Jungkook is all pretty and pathetic when he cums, too. Looks at you with eyes so starry you'd been forgiven for thinking he was a descendant of the constellations.
He milks the final few spurts of himself onto your wet tongue, and curses when you press dainty kisses to his tip. Stroking your tongue against him, you don't want to waste a drop. Look up at him and find that his eyes are resting shut from the pleasure of it all.
Silence surrounds you both, just your beating hearts and laboured breaths filling to the room. He helps you up. Holds you tight. Hugs you for a little while, then presses a kiss to the side of your head. "Thanks."
"My pleasure," you giggle - and then he's smiling, too. Feels vindicated by his irrational thoughts about you over the last few days. He pays no mind to the fact you're still technically dressed, and he's basically naked.
As he sorts himself out, you perch back up on his desk and languidly swing your legs. Enjoy the thought of memories plaguing him whenever he tried to play his little games over the next few days.
"You wanna grab a shower?" he offers. "Food, too? Dunno about you, but I'm fuckin' starving."
"Same," you nod, biting down on your bottom lip. "I'll go wash up, you sort food? Are places still open for delivery?"
Checking his phone for the time, Jungkook is surprised that it's closer to midnight than it is to his morning alarm. Only a handful of places will offer delivery at this time, but that's enough.
"Works for me," he says with a yawn, then opens what you had assumed was the closet door. Reveals an en-suite and knocks his head to the side. "Get your shower. Gimmie a shout if you need anything."
Tiles large and grey, it's the perfect counterpart to his bedroom. A little dark, but it's only because Jungkook hates using the big light. Always flicks the small light switches instead. There's a window overlooking the city, and even though you're only seven floors up, the hills of Yongsan-gu mean that he's got a view you could only dream of.
You're about to start the shower up when he calls through. "Is pizza good?"
"Pizza's good," you call back with a smile. Look yourself in the mirror and wonder how the fuck you ended up in the bathroom of arguably the most famous person you've ever met. Decide it's better not to question it.
The shower begins to cascade down, even if your sins are washed way, you know you won't be able to forget the feeling of Jungkook so easily.
Truth be told, you won't even try.
YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS
DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU
SUNDAY 21:13
"L in the chat," booms the voice of Taehyung through your laptop speakers. His trademark grin rests on his face as he teases Jungkook.
You've only just opened the stream. Instantly, you focus on the prettily lopsided smirk of Jungkook's lips. You've learned it's an almost permanent fixture on his boyish face. Shaking his head, he's adjusting his headset. Making it a little looser so that it'll fit him properly.
No one is questioning it.
What they are questioning, is where the fuck that pretty purple bruise on his neck has come from.
"Cross-fit," Jungkook just shrugs, knowing that it's the colloquial term for suspicious bruises after some idol used the same excuse. Blatant horseshit. Jungkook doesn't care.
"I've never done cross-fit, but I know you're bullshitting," Taehyung snorts.
The chat seems to agree with him.
"Thought I was a virgin?" Jungkook states a little cheekily, making reference to Taehyung's usual banter. "How else would I get one?"
Taehyung knows better than the retort. Knows that Jungkook could very easily slip something about Rae into the conversation.
Virgin? You type through a message on a private discord chat with Jungkook. He'd set it up the day before. Has already sent you, like, a thousand messages. Is what can only be described as obsessed—but it's mutual. Could have fooled me.
As his eyes glance down to his laptop screen, he fails to hide his smile. Had opened your chat on there, cause he didn't wanna accidentally broadcast the messages onto his stream. Despite this, he doesn't care that there are nearly 10,000 people in his stream merely minutes into it. Is far more interested in his chat thread with you. Replies immediately.
Stop distracting meI'm working</3
Giggling as the message pings through to you, there's a giddy quality to the way Jungkook makes you feel.
He'd spent the day in bed with you after your night together. Had wanted you to stay when he started streaming that evening. Said he'd only be an hour or so, and was incredibly pouty when you did leave.
It had just been him on last night's stream—headset off 'cause he didn't wanna adjust it back yet, hoodie on to hide his neck. The other boys were nursing hangovers, so he could do what he liked.
What he did do had you incredibly curious. Was just chatting. Talking to the comment section. Sleepily reeling off facts he'd recently learned about butterflies. Debating over their lifespan.
You're not naive to the fact that Jungkook does this streaming stuff as a profession, and are aware that the more people talking about his stream on other platforms, the more viewers he'll get.
Made sense for him to add fuel to the butterfly-related fire by talking about them.
Had sent you a message earlier that evening to ask what kind of butterfly you had on your skin.
A Monarch, you'd told him.
"See, the thing is," Jungkook had rambled to his viewers a little later on. "Most butterflies have super short lifespans—Monarch's included."
Eyes all starry, lights in his bedroom purple as per usual, he'd looked cosy. You wished you'd have stayed.
"But there's a specific kind. Migrating Monarchs. They're the last of their generation—the final butterflies of the year," he marvelled at the magic of it all.
His facts were a little hazy, but he knew enough. Had been down a you-shaped rabbit hole all afternoon.
"And they migrate, right? Move away from home—somewhere warmer—and then it just extends their lifespan. 180 days. Not 30. That's six months. Six months. It's a long time. It's not fleeting. Not in the slightest."
It's also, curiously, exactly how long you're scheduled to stay in Korea for.
"I dunno," Jungkook had just sighed, a little forlorn, trying to make sense of his thoughts.
He bit down on his bottom lip, stroking his thumb against the hard plastic ears of his headset, then focused on the camera again. Wondered if you were watching.
He simply shrugged. Said, "Counts for something, though, right?"
warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao
wordcount: 16k
note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33
minors dni // cross posted to wattpad
It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.
Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.
You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.
Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.
From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.
All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.
Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.
It's not that you actively want to see him.
You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.
He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.
God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.
The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.
In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.
Has told you a lot.
Told you far too much.
Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.
Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.
And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.
You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.
But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.
You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.
It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.
But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.
Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?
Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.
The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.
The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.
The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.
For a minute, you feel vindicated.
It doesn't last.
For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.
The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.
He always slept well in your bedroom, though.
Funny, that.
He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.
Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.
The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.
"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.
Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.
"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.
They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.
There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.
It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.
"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"
"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"
"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."
On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.
Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.
Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.
After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.
Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.
Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.
Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.
"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"
"Obviously."
"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."
"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."
Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.
And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.
While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.
But summer was lonely.
Or at least it was.
Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.
Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"
The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.
After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.
When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.
"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.
Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.
Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.
But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.
He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.
A routine grew. Habits formed.
Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.
Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.
The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.
He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.
And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.
Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.
But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.
Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."
"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.
You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.
The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.
But he was, and it was lovely.
The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.
"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."
It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.
Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.
Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.
But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.
Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.
You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.
It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.
"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.
"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.
"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"
On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.
"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."
A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.
"Sure."
There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.
"You think I can't be trusted?"
"I think it's foolish to trust any man."
His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.
"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"
"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.
"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"
With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."
"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.
"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"
"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.
"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.
Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."
Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.
A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.
And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?
His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.
Have you not served him enough?
You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.
"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.
He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.
"Excuse me, sir."
Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.
"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.
More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.
Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.
Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.
You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.
Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.
"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."
Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.
Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.
You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.
You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.
As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.
But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.
Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.
But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.
You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.
Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.
It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.
In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.
"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"
The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.
It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud.
In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.
But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.
You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.
Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.
Where you at? It could read. I'm here.
Or maybe, I miss you.
I can't sleep without you.
This is so stupid. Can I come over?
It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.
Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.
You: you not coming in tonight?
You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x
You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?
Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.
Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.
Jackass Wang: party tonight
You: so????
One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.
Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery
"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.
It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.
Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.
You: i like it better when i don't see you x
Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.
You: they'd rather die :) x
Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
You: you just can't take no for an answer
Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.
You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????
The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.
Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.
You: charming x
Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.
You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.
Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.
The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.
Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.
Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.
Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.
"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.
Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.
"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"
Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"
His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.
Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."
He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.
"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"
"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."
"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."
"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."
Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.
"Don't give me that bull."
"It's not bull!"
"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"
"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"
His expression is flat. You are paper thin.
He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.
He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.
"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"
"No!"
Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.
Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"
"I'm not!"
"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"
Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.
"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."
"Yes, we are."
"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.
"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."
"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.
He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.
"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"
With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.
"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."
You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.
As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.
By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.
"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.
There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.
Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.
Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.
Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.
It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.
But he did, and you damn well know it.
Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.
"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."
But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."
You're silent when he says this.
Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.
But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.
Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.
"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."
Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.
Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.
Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.
He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.
"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."
"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"
"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."
He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.
They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.
Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.
"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."
"Who?" Jimin chirps.
Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."
"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"
"I said leave it."
"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.
"No one."
"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"
"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."
"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."
Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.
"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.
They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?
"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.
It's not that he's ashamed.
It's that you're separate.
When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.
If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.
He doesn't want that.
He wants you to be a safe haven.
A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.
But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.
He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.
"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"
With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."
"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"
"You really have to ask?"
For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.
They always have done.
When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.
Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.
How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.
Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.
When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.
So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.
"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"
"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."
Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.
The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.
It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.
The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.
The irony isn't lost on you.
"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"
"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.
If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.
All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.
One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.
When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.
You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.
Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.
Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.
"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."
"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."
"It's not my new home—"
"MONTGOMERY!"
The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.
"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."
Nothing happened between you.
It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.
"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.
"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."
Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.
Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.
It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.
"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.
Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."
As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.
How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.
"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."
Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.
A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.
"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."
It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.
They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.
And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.
Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.
The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.
Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail.
Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.
In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.
Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.
The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.
Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.
Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.
But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.
A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.
"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.
The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.
Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.
"Cut the bullshit," he says.
"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"
"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"
Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.
"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."
Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.
Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.
You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.
"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"
It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.
"Mistaken identity."
"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"
You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.
He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.
"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.
"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."
"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.
With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.
"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."
Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.
"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."
Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.
He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.
It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.
Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.
This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.
You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.
Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.
As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.
Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.
But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.
"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"
Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."
"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."
And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.
If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.
He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.
But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.
It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.
Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.
"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.
"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."
The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.
"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"
"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."
Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.
"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"
"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"
It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.
But every cloud has a silver lining.
"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."
He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.
"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."
The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.
A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.
And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.
Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.
The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.
"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"
You're gonna kill Taehyung.
In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.
"Safe," you grimace.
Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"
"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.
"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.
"My sentiments exactly."
Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge
"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."
"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."
Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.
"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.
"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."
Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.
"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.
The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.
You wish you didn't.
"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.
"Excuse me?"
"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"
"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."
"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"
Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.
And so he doesn't try.
"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"
You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.
Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.
You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.
"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.
"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"
It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.
"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."
"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.
"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."
"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"
"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"
He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."
Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.
"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"
He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.
"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"
"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.
"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."
"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.
The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.
"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."
"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"
He's silent, now. Cowardly.
"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."
"You know that's not—"
"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.
Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.
Feels like it, too.
"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.
"Tell you wha—"
"That you were a virgin."
Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!
Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.
"Hardly relevant, is it?"
"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"
"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"
"I didn't ghost you."
"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."
"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"
"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"
"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."
"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."
"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"
The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.
"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."
You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.
To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.
With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.
Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.
With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.
Looks down at you.
Is so close you can smell his aftershave.
A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.
"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."
Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.
The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.
"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.
"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."
He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."
The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.
Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.
Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.
"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"
The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?
All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.
"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"
The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.
Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.
And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.
It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.
Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.
An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.
When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.
While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.
He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.
He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.
As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.
And so it's up to him to put you back together again.
"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"
His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to. Also knows that he does need to.
"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."
"But I—"
"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up."
He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.
"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"
His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.
An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).
"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.
The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"
"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"
"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."
Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.
Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.
It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.
"I want you," he husks against your lips.
"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.
"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."
"And what was that?" You encourage.
There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer.
Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."
And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?
Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.
The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.
"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.
"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"
"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."
He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.
"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.
"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.
As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.
"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"
You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."
He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.
"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.
"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.
"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.
There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.
"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."
Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."
"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.
And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.
His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.
"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"
"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.
"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."
With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.
Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.
His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.
Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."
The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.
He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.
When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.
Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.
But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.
"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."
If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.
Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.
Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.
You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.
But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.
As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"
Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.
"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."
The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.
"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.
"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.
"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."
It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.
His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.
"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.
"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.
"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."
"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"
"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.
He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.
"S'all there is. They alright?"
"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"
"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."
His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.
"I don't care. I don't want them—"
You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.
"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"
When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.
"I promise," you swear.
As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.
"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"
"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"
"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.
"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."
With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.
"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.
"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.
"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."
"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.
You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.
"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.
Your argumentative streak wants to fight.
You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."
His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.
The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.
In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.
Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.
Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."
Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.
He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.
"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.
The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.
You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.
"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."
"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"
His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."
And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.
But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.
Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."
"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.
"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."
"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.
"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole.
His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes.
Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"
There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."
But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."
"You're stupid."
"You're stupider."
"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before.
His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"
"Think you were gonna make me cum."
"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."
His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.
The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.
As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.
The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.
"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.
"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."
You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.
"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.
"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"
It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.
"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.
"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."
The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with.
His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.
But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"
That's the thing.
He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.
Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.
"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."
Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.
And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.
"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"
You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.
"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."
It's been half an hour.
He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.
The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck.
Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.
Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.
"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.
"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."
"We?" You question, incredibly confused.
"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.
Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.
As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.
Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.
↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help
⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader
⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn
⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, explicit content
⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 21.7k+ (both parts)
⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢
Read part 1 before this!
The tip of your fingers raise up as they hover over his chest. You can feel the warmth coming off his body, calling your shivering self. Goosebumps appear all over your body and you decide to take the heat right here.
The moment your fingers touch Jungkook’s hard chest, it becomes all too real. The warmth, thumps of his heartbeat and the way his chest raises up and down. He’s attentively watching you, wondering what your next step is.
Moving your fingers up, gliding over his damped skin as the droplets fade and sink into the warmth of his tanned complexion. They pause at the line of his neck, where a vein pulses faintly beneath your touch—steady and alive. Your hand slips around to cradle the side of his neck, fingers weaving into his hair you reach as you tighten the grip on it.
Suddenly everything goes still. Breath held and eyes locked, you both move at once as instinct overrides hesitation. Mouths clashing together, you have to convince yourself for a split second that this is happening. The familiarity of his mouth brings you comfort, yet shoots excitement through your entire body as it molds into your lips effortlessly.
You wonder how you’ve managed to not knock each other’s teeth out. Your body is pressed against Jungkook’s, wet clothes sticking to him as well now. He grips the back of your head, holding you in place as you’re desperate for more.
One minute he’s gripping your hair, bringing a tight pressure to your roots–and suddenly his hands are on your hips, hoisting you up. The impact of your ass hitting the counter makes you groan, though it’s muffled by Jungkook’s mouth.
Your tongues meet, messy and breathlessly–both of you barely catching any breath but you keep going. Almost as if you’re both scared that if you stop, all of this stops with it.
You won’t allow that.
He hoists you up, your mouths glued together as he guides you through the beach house as if he remembers every corner perfectly. Perhaps he does. What he surely does remember is every inch of your body.
His arms stay securely wrapped around your thighs, holding you up the entire way to the bathroom. Settling you down, you hold onto his biceps tightly to prevent yourself from falling. Your legs feel like jelly, looking for balance that takes a moment.
Jungkook holds your waist until you chuckle lightly, wiping the corner of your lips. They tickle from the intense make-out you’ve just experienced. Watching him back away with a satisfied smirk, he licks his own lips as he tucks thumbs under his waistband. You eat up the sight with hungry eyes, not ashamed to enjoy the sight that gives him enough of a green light–daring him to continue.
He does.
Even though the clothes stick to his body, as if refusing to give up, he does it effortlessly and the clothes glide down to his ankles. It gathers there and he steps outside it, moving it aside. But that detail is long forgotten as you shamelessly eye his exposed length.
He’s hard. Something you’ve felt on your way here–but seeing it in person after some time, you’re close to dropping down your knees.
“Your turn.”
You find his eyes, mirroring just as much hunger as your own eyes have.
The dress you have on lacks any zipper, which makes it harder to take off especially in its current drenched state. “You might have to help me.”
“Thought you would give me a show.”
“Perhaps next time.”
Now you’re just teasing–both of you rather focusing on the present than worrying about what happens next. You’re not supposed to do this right now.
He walks up to you in just two steps, careful and slow steps, causing your head to tilt up. He doesn’t kiss you. He doesn’t even touch your face and judging by the light smugness, he’s doing it purposely. Instead, his hands remove the straps, letting them drop down your shoulders. Tugging where the edge covers your chest, he tugs it down. It’s not going as smoothly and for a moment, you giggle as he wiggles your body ever so slightly.
A soft chuckle rumbles but all amusement fades as he drops onto his one knee, tugging the dress down your breasts and waist. Exposing your perked up nipples, begging for attention–the dress pool down at your feet.
Suddenly he stands up, eyes dropping down your figure as he wipes his bottom lip with his thumb. “God, I’ve missed this sight.”
That pleases you very much. Finding more boldness in you, you trail finger down his abs. “You know what I missed?”
Before he answers, you drop down to your knees–living for his speechless and admiring state. It boosts up your confidence even more, not in submission but in power. The kind of power that comes from knowing exactly what effect you have.
Your confidence isn’t loud or forced. It’s not proving anything. It’s simply there—in your posture, in your gaze, in the easiness of your movements. You know you're seen. You meant to be seen.
“Fuck.” Jungkook mutters, closing his eyes and you take it as an opportunity to wrap your hand around his cock.
Giving him a few teasing pumps, you hear him silently curse under his breath.
“You’re a fucking tease.”
Not answering, deciding to show him in actions rather than words, you welcome him in your mouth. That makes him pry his eyes open, no matter how much they beg to stay closed and bask in the ecstasy you bring him. Familiary and knowingly, he grips your hair at the back of your head and tries his best not to fuck your mouth.
Tears spring in your eyes as he’s getting too deep in your throat. Your knees start to burn as they rub against the tiles, but it’s pushed aside as you feed off his reactions. Vulnerable, raw and beautiful.
“Fuck, ba–” he stops himself and you swear your heartbeats skips a beat. “Okay, stand up.”
You stare, frowning a little because that’s not what you were planning. He begs you with his eyes. “I’m not gonna cum so quickly.”
“You would?” you feign surprise, even though it does surprise you a little. Teasingly, you fumble with your fingers as you give him an innocent look.
He purses his lips, “It’s been a while.”
It has been for you too.
“Don’t look so shocked.”
“Do I?” you question, not moving an inch as he closes the proximity and presses his thumb on your nipple.
You bite down your lip, quicking your breaths.
“You had orgasms, didn't you?”
He shakes his head with a smile, “My hand doesn’t do its job. Not like you do anyway.”
“Jungkook.” you whisper at the confession, growing weaker each second and every time he confesses such things.
He’s always been doing a perfect job at that. Most men would be embarrassed, seeing it as a potential weakness. They’re the men right? Women crumble beneath their feet. They’re the weakness. Not women.
It’s not like that with Jungkook.
He’s not doing it from pure horniness. He’s honest and unafraid to say it–even show it.
One second his hand plays with your nipple, the second it’s between your legs and cursing once he feels the wetness coating his fingers.
“Just–”
“Hm?”
“–just fuck me.” you almost beg, not caring how desperate you sound.
He listens. He connects your lips and backs you into the big shower. He turns the tap and cold water coats your bodies as you shriek in shock.
“Jeon!”
He laughs, “Sorry. Haven’t heard that one in a while.”
He backs you to the wall, eyeing you like a prey.
“Jeon?” you ask, “Pretty sure you’ve heard it recently.”
“Not in this way anyway.”
“What way?”
“Playful. Seductive.”
“Seductive?” you giggle.
“Yeah,” he nods, hand finding its way back between your lips. You bite onto them harshly, moaning. “Though I prefer Kook.”
“How about Kookie?” you manage to get out through moans as he slips finger inside your walls.
He grips your neck, gently but his touch is there. “Don’t mess with me.”
Shaking his head, he does so as if he wants to remove everything that involves the one nickname you’ve never called him. It’s so fun to tease him, especially in this position. He hoists up your thigh over his hip, holding it there harshly as he adds another finger.
“Fuck–I’m not–” You don’t even get to finish sentence, totally crumbling under his touch. He kisses your cheek bone, nibbling on your earlobe next and before you realize, you’re coming undone in seconds.
Hand wrapping around his wrist as he slows down his pace, you breathe and open your eyes, realizing the water is lukewarm and no longer cold. Wrapping your arm around his neck, you bring him closer and kiss him.
“Now fuck me.”
“You sure?”
“Did you bring me in here and get naked just for this?”
He laughs, “Just for this? Ouch. You came in under a minute.”
You gasp, “It was more than a minute.”
He shakes his head teasingly, not saying anything about it. “It’s fine. I would’ve too.”
And you know he’s not talking about being in your position, boosting his ego. He’s talking to you on your knees and sucking him off.
“Now turn around and let me fuck you.”
You obey without any complaints, gasping as he holds your hips and pushes you to him. Your palms slide down the tiles and try to hold your balance there. You can feel his cock against your ass cheeks, hovering there and twitching at the contact of your skin.
“Listen–” he starts, “I don’t have–”
You turn around, eyes barely opened as your walls clench around nothing, wetness sliding down your thighs. His eyes meet yours as they slowly move down between your bodies. Realizing he’s talking about the lack of protection, you’re not sure if you’re touched that he hasn’t brought any of those–for whatever reasons–or bothered that he even mentioned it and you didn’t even think of it.
“Fuck me, Jungkook.”
Both of you know what this means. You’re consumed by the lust and excitement, not wanting to waste another second. Somewhere outside, you can hear rain pouring even through the droplets hitting your bodies and shower tiles.
No words exchanged, just the touch on your hips that is reassuring that he’s right there and he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. It’s a faint touch, almost unnoticeable, but you feel it clearly as his thumbs give your skin a soft caress.
That’s all you feel before he slowly starts entering you. Both of you curse, stopping any movements to catch a breath.
“You good?”
“Yeah, just go slow.” you assure him, breathing out as you could cry from feeling him like this again. You never thought it would happen, not any time soon anyway, even though deep inside you’ve always hoped for it.
He moves deeper and slow just like you asked, filling you up to the brim as you feel a deep groan behind you. Your muscles relax, begging for more and with no words needed, he pulls out and thrusts in. Each time quicker and more deep, using your moans as his personal guide.
The slap of skin meeting echoes in the bathroom, your moans joining in as his grunts and touch become heaven to your senses. Bodies colliding, he reaches for your breast and plays with it, grasping it tightly as he gives your ass a loud wet slap.
“Fuck–you’re perfect.”
You want to tell him to shut up. Purely because it’s enough to make you come and you beg mentally. Please let this last longer. It can’t be forever but just a little bit longer. A little bit more.
Your mind goes pathetic over him.
He fucks you hard, each movements becoming more erratic and passionate–causing you to hold yourself against the tiles with hands spread, preventing your head from smashing agaisnt the wet tiles. Your breasts move with each thrust, feeling his fingers digging into the skin of your ass and hips, wondering if it's going to bruise later.
It doesn’t hurt in a bad way. It brings you closer to the edge if anything.
“I’m gonna–” He groans, not being able to finish as he’s too close to reaching his high. Instead, he kisses down your neck and gently bites the skin there.
“Come inside.”
“W–what,” he stutters, wondering if he’s heard you right.
If you’ve wanted to try this, now is the right time. He’s the right person to do it with. Or perhaps your mind is clouded with lust, not really thinking of your actions. But you don’t care. You need him. You need to feel all of him.
And if this happens only once–let this be the time.
“Come inside, Kook.”
“Fuck–”
You barely get to finish your sentence, hearing him curse and go absolutely feral makes your mind blank. It’s ridiculous how out of your body you suddenly feel. It’s like a dream–maybe it’s the lack of sex in your life lately, you desperately tell yourself.
Or it’s just the fact you completely gave yourself to him. It’s just sex. But another world to you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Somewhere in this time, you blabber something out of your mouth, not even sure what you’re saying–your mind completely fucked. You turn your head to the side as you feel Jungkook's mouth on your shoulder, biting you everywhere he has access. As your mouth gets closer, both of your mouths clash together–barely even kissing but making most of it.
Your body tenses and relaxes right after, surrendering yourself to the man behind you as you orgasm all over his cock. Wetness shoots out of you and you shiver, legs growing weak as you suddenly feel warmth exploding inside you. It makes your walls clench repeatedly as Jungkook continues thrusting, filling you to the brim. Mouths just there, not being able to comprehend the rush of lust, unmoving and breathing moans into each other’s mouth.
He stays there for a second, wrapping his hand around your waist to balance you. He gives your lips a gentle kiss. “I’m gonna pull out, yeah?”
All you can do is nod, a noticeable pulse between your legs. He pulls out gently, kissing your shoulder as he hisses silently at the feeling. You feel wetness pouring out of you, washed by the water as some of it glides down your thighs.
Turning around, Jungkook helps you as your back meets the wall. Both of your eyes’ are barely opened, still bathing in the ecstasy the orgasm has brought. He comes closer, pressing your bodies together as you naturally hug him closer.
“That’s the best sex I ever had,” he confesses.
“Same.” you agree right away, breathlessly, trying to wrap your head around what just happened.
Jungkook steps back, just a little, enough to reach the shower gel he squirts on his palm. Putting away the bottle, he warms the gel between his hands before gently massaging your shoulders. As he spreads the fresh-scented liquid across your skin, you sigh, your body melting beneath his touch.
“I can’t believe we did that,” you whisper, voice barely heard over the sounds of water.
“Regrets already brooming?” he jokes, voice raspy and deep.
You shake your head, closing your eyes for a moment as he works on your muscles, moving down your arms.
“This is one of the few things I won’t ever regret.”
That catches him by surprise—just enough for his eyebrows to lift before they relax, and he looks... relieved.
“I feel the same.” he says, motioning you to turn around.
You do, not arguing as he massages your back. God, you’re going to fall asleep as soon as your body meets the mattress.
“I’m starting to understand how most men insist on having… raw sex.”
Jungkook chuckles softly behind you, clearly finding your shyness—and your reluctance to say it—amusing. “So–what do you think about it?”
Your cheeks heat up, acting as if you didn’t just experience it on your own moments ago. “I–I love it.”
Jungkook reaches out, softly cupping your breasts. Your back straightens, breath catching in your throat as his name slips past your lips.
“You can scratch it off your list.”
Your eyes open at that, a playful chuckle escaping your lips. “You remember?”
“I do.”
“The deal is off.” you remind him, as if it’s supposed to mean something.
“I like to make dreams come through.”
Something softens inside you. Is it ridiculous to think he’s being thoughtful? Especially when it comes to this topic? His answer is supposed to come out jokingly, yet they hold some truth to it. And you wouldn’t want this to happen with anyone else at the moment. You’re glad it’s him.
And despite everything–your fears, doubts and who knows what else–you don’t think you will ever regret this decision.
God. There’s so much happening inside you—like your body’s being electrified from within, in the most incredible way. If you could, you’d let it happen again. And again. And again.
That scares you. But you don’t let that thought hover over your head for too long.
He moves down your stomach–his touch smooth as silk–there’s nothing sexual about it but you’re fighting back the urge to push him just to have sex again.
Silence follows, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company as Jungkook pampers you. Once he’s done, he gently guides you right after the big square shower head as the water streams washes off the remaining foam.
Your eyes meet, a silent connection between you makes you both smile. As Jungkook goes to reach for the shower gel, you’re faster. You copy his actions from before as his mouth parts in silent surprise.
“You–”
“It’s only fair I take care of you too.”
He chuckles as his eyes drift downward. You realize you’re witnessing him being shy—which doesn’t happen often—and the sudden realization makes you smirk.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Uh-uh.” You shake your head, spreading the gel across his chest, feeling all the muscles flex beneath your soft touch. “I like to repay.”
“You can barely stand on your feet,” he comments, prompting you to smack his chest. He laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners.
Somehow, with wet raven-black hair and flexing muscles, he manages to look both hot and cute with that toothy grin.
“Thanks to who?”
Now he’s the one who smirks. “I’m not complaining about that.”
“You cocky bastard.”
As your laughter naturally and softly dies down, you move down toward his lower abs where his V line is, wondering if you just should–
“Don’t.”
“Huh?” You’ve been caught. How does he know what you’re thinking of?
“I don’t think you’re ready for a second round.”
You grin, “Is that a challenge?”
“We do have a plan tomorrow,” he reminds, “Besides. Wasn’t this supposed to be a one time thing?”
He’s straight–forward. But you should’ve learned that a long time ago. It’s not a matter of lately, maybe a while after your deal started, but Jungkook has been going straight to the point.
You gulp, shamelessly admitting; “I could make an exception.”
He smiles, reaching toward your cheek as his thumb rubs your cheek bone. “Tell me tomorrow.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“When your mind is not clouded by the first experience of raw sex.”
You poke him in the ribs, causing him to flinch as he laughs. “I’m serious.”
“You think I don’t think straight?” you challenge him with a raise of your brow.
“Y/N, the first time I went raw I thought I could go like that until sunrise.”
“Did you?”
You’re not sure if you want to hear about his previous sex life. Is it fit to be discussed in this position?
“I mean–were you able to…”
He smiles, “Guess.”
You gulp, not sure if the steam comes from the water or from you.
He finishes your previous task while you shampoo your hair, not caring that you should’ve done it beforehand. It’s not your fault things turned into the best sex of your life.
Still, you can’t help sneaking glances—because, for some reason, Jungkook doesn’t pull you into bed to go another round.
So, rather than just standing there like an idiot waiting for him to wash himself, you turn around and busy yourself.
Out of sight, out of mind… right?
Once you’re both done, Jungkook helps you out of the shower. You’ve clearly underestimated yourself—because the moment you try to take a step, your legs feel like jelly. You can move, but the aftermath of what just happened still lingers.
He wraps a towel around your warm body, steam rising from your skin as if you'd just been extinguished. Both of you start to dry yourselves off and once you’re done, Jungkook hangs towels on a rack, gently taking it from you.
Your eyes start to drop as you make your way to the bathroom, too lazy and sleepy to dress yourself. “Will you mind if I don’t wear pajamas?”
Jungkook drops beside you on his front, hugging a pillow. “Are you trying to kill me?”
You sleepily laugh, “No?”
“Alright, I will keep my hands to myself.”
I never said you should, you think, but the smile you make says it all. Pulling up the covers, you make yourself comfortable. Within a minute, Jungkook’s comforting scent and slow breathing lull you to sleep.
Your arms brush gently as you both settle close, the warmth of his forearm resting lightly against yours. Neither of you reach for hands, but the quiet contact speaks volumes. Safe and warm–you drift deeper, wrapped in the silence between breaths.
Beach waves come up as your consciousness rises awake, heard in the distance of your opened double wing door. As someone who doesn’t believe in air conditioning turned on while sleeping, you asked Jungkook to open the door instead.
By the time you came out of the shower, the only trace of rain was the fresh air and wet sand you saw out of the window.
The air is slightly more fresh and a faint breeze brushes past your exposed shoulder. Although, the sun shining through the glass and thin curtains warms your skin.
Cracking your eyes open, you’re met with bright sun which causes you to squint at the clock beside your bed.
Fuck! It’s almost eleven.
One thing's for sure. Your sleep felt like heaven and you not even once woke up during the night.
“Tell me it’s at least eight.” Jungkook’s groggy and raspy voice resounds from beside you, sheets rustling under his body moving.
“Hate to disappoint. Close to eleven.”
“Fuck.” he groans. “I could sleep for days.”
You laugh, “Same. Shame we have to leave tomorrow.”
“Mhm,” he hums, coming closer as he presses a soft kiss onto your shoulder. You shudder, smiling immediately and hoping Jungkook can’t see it, so he could brag about it later.
“Jungkook.” you warn him.
“I’m a good boy.”
His actions say the opposite as he presses another kiss. And then another. And another.
Turning on your back, you push his head away gently and laugh at his pout. “Are you hard or what?”
“I’m getting there.”
And when you least expect it, you feel the pad of his fingers touch your thigh ever so gently.
He comes closer, lips brushing over your ear. “Are you wet?”
“Maybe,” you whisper, “I’m tired though.” Tired for sex is what you mean.
One movement and Jungkook pulls you closer, your back now facing his chest as you feel his hand between your legs. You might be tired but your legs open on their own, welcoming him there as he chuckles in satisfaction and slightly in a cocky manner.
“So am I.”
He enters you with his fingers, a soft moan leaving your mouth. No other words exchanged, you grab his wrist after a moment. Jungkook grabs your inner thigh and raises it, entering you gently and slowly.
Moans fill up the bedroom as he keeps his pace slow, hitting all the right spots in the softest yet meaningful way. The two of you don’t hold for a long time and the pace quickens up with time and each thrust. Moans get louder and breathing harder.
Your hand goes into Jungkook’s hair and you grip it tightly as he kisses your neck, both of you reaching for the high. You come first, just in the right time for Jungkook to pull out and come all over between your legs.
“Fuck.” he says, breathing into your neck as he kisses you there.
“Mhm, that was good.”
Jungkook stays laying behind you, your hand caging his arm as you hold him. Without any other words, the two of you sleep into another slumber.
It’s way past lunch time, yet here you are.
Jungkook shirtless, freshly out of the shower, making the two of you cereal bowls. The sun casts a golden glow over the kitchen and Jungkook’s skin, reminding you of the beautiful weather outside.
In other cases, you would say it’s a shame since half of the day is gone. But in this case, you don’t care at all.
You don’t want to think. You purposely block your thoughts, not allowing them to cloud your mind even if it’s just for a moment. This peaceful vibe should last as long as possible.
The center of your attention is a man, you don’t want to fight with or discuss things that have been discussed already. He moves with ease around the kitchen, as if it’s his own home and you realize, you barely had a chance to experience the calmness of a morning.
The first days you tried to experience as much of Hawaii, there was not a place for calmness and then after what happened, you both went kind of separate ways of exploring this incredible island.
He turns around with a ceramic white bowl, catching your gaze as he cracks a soft smile. Your mouth waters at the sight of the first meal of the day. It’s your fault though. You’ve been ignoring your rumbling stomach and prioritize more minutes under the sheets. Besides different stuff.
“How about we stayed a little longer?”
He gently pushes the bowl in your direction, swiftly turning around and grabbing his own. Palm covering the entire bottom of the bowl, Jungkook starts eating while standing as he chuckles at your surprised look of bewilderment.
“W–How?”
Jungkook’s jaw hardens as he munches on the cereal, shrugging lightly as if his simple suggestion is exactly that… simple.
“I’ll call the resort and see if we can stay longer.”
“But what about our flight?”
“We won’t go. I’ll book a different flight.”
You stare, brow raised at the simplicity of it all. But from your point of view, it’s anything but simple.
“What about the money?” you state the obvious, “It will just be out of the window–just like that.”
Jungkook continues eating, his head pointing toward your very late breakfast, urging you to eat. Hesitantly, you grab a spoon and start eating.
“I will pay for it.”
“No!” you protest with a full mouth. “Are you crazy?”
“Guess I am,” he grins, “Look. I do think we should stay longer and honestly, I don’t care about the extra money.”
“But I do and I won’t let you pay for my tickets. You’ve already paid enough and you know how much I hate it.”
“Don’t you wanna stay longer?”
You chuckle in disbelief, “Of course, I do. Who wouldn’t?”
“See?”
“Kook–it’s not all that this is about.”
He smiles.
“Why are you smiling?”
“You called me Kook again.”
You roll your eyes, laughing at the soft sparkles in his eyes that show enthusiasm. “So?”
“I’ve missed it,” he admits and your heart softens. “We came here to relax, have fun… I admit, things have turned out differently than we both wanted when we first came here–but I don’t care about that right now. We still have a few things to do and after all, I want us to remember this vacation as something nice to remember and look back,”
You understand. You do. But you can’t let him just pay for everything and you’re not in a position where you can afford to extend your stay. Out of the friends, he has always been the most responsible with his money which can’t be said about Jimin or Taehyung.
Jungkook’s reasoning is not silly and you fully understand it. Just the circumstances are a little–inconvenient.
“Because currently, there are only a few moments I would like to look back on once we’re home.”
Moving your gaze toward the milk, you move your spoon around in it and purse your lips. You just can’t look at those puppy brown eyes that watch you intensively.
“I might’ve sent an email to the owner, asking if we could stay longer so–”
“Jungkook!” you exclaim in disbelief, almost laughing at the cheeky flush of his cheeks. “When did you have the time to do that?”
Memories of yesterday flash through your mind and you sheepishly smile under your nose, quickly looking at your uneaten breakfast.
“When you fell asleep. I just knew we should stay longer.”
He moves closer to you, putting away the empty bowl.
“U-huh.”
“What,” Jungkook laughs but not stopping himself and at your failed attempt to stop him.
“Don’t come closer.”
“What are you scared of?”
“You,” you point out clearly. “Your attempts to convince me always work–you know I can’t–”
“Resist my charms?”
“I was gonna say can’t say no, but whatever helps you sleep at night.”
He stands behind you now, a deep chuckle resounding from behind you. “We both know what helps.” he whispers.
“Jungkook,” you scold him under your breath.
“Hm?”
“Stop it.”
He laughs, moving away. “I suggest taking a rest today. We could have a swim or go for a walk. And if we stayed longer–see? I’m still letting you decide–we could go to the restaurant that has the best seafood. You once said you wanna try everything they possibly have. I’ve still got some fun things for us to do. If you’re interested in hearing them, I will tell you.”
“You’re annoying.” you grumble.
“One of my charms as well.”
“That’s one of Taehyung’s–actually I have a few people on my mind.”
“See? So I’m not that annoying after all.”
You bite your lip, watching him go back to his place.
“I’m scared we will fight again.”
Jungkook’s features soften. Crossing his arms over his chest, he gives you an apologetic smile. “We will do everything in our power not to. No pushing anyone else onto ourselves.”
“Noted.” you nod, embarrassingly from your past mistakes that are still not in the past.
“So what are you saying? We have a deal?”
You chuckle, “I think we should not make deals anymore. Look at us.”
“Freshly fucked, glowing from the incredible sex? I am looking and I’m loving it.”
Grabbing the used napkin scrunched into a ball, you throw it at his. He catches it, laughing. “So?”
“I will find a way to pay you back.”
He just smiles, refusing you to do so but he doesn’t say otherwise. You both know how this goes. Jungkook can be persistent but also very stubborn. And you hope the only fight that’s possibly waiting for you around the corner, is this. You want to pay him and him declining your every attempt.
“Now eat.” he ushers you, “Your cereal will get soggy and we know you don’t like it.”
“You know what I don’t like?”
“You will tell me all about it but I have to make a call–so now excuse me. Don’t miss me too much, I will be just in the other room. And don’t forget–pool or a walk. Whatever you pick. We have a little bit more time.”
He cheerfully walks away while saying it, waving at you from behind as you watch him with the biggest smile. Laughing under your breath, you start eating. Your mouth turns downwards at the sogginess of your breakfast, but you dig into it right away.
Jungkook has managed to successfully extend your stay. You’re yet to inform your friends about it, knowing they’ll ask unnecessary questions. Jimin is supposed to pick you up, so you’ll have to let him know eventually and soon enough.
The morning had to be the best morning you’ve experienced in a while. Just the thought of it makes your cheeks warm. There’s a lingering wooden scent of Jungkook lingering on your skin, even after the shower you’ve taken. Must be your hair that you haven’t bothered to wash.
It’s like he imprints himself in your skin every time something like this happens.
And here’s that word. Every time.
You’ve tried so much to put a pause on this, too afraid to lose the remains of friendship the two of you have. Is this a real friendship? Jungkook is still the same man you’ve known for years now. But the memories and paths you’ve both taken are completely different.
No. No. No. No.
Don’t overthink it. Don’t name it.
Just live in the present and you will deal with it later.
After the late breakfast, you’ve taken a walk along the beach. Bare feet and tangled hair with the breeze cooling down your warm skin. You’ve talked about a bunch of random things.
You like that.
You’ve missed that.
You just roamed around the Island, its street and it made you feel light. You’ve bounced right back where you were, pushing all the stupid arguments you’ve managed to have here in the back of your head. That goes for all of you.
Yet it doesn’t feel staged or you’re trying to get better purposely. It feels natural. Like everything has been sort of wiped away by the gentle touch and kisses you’ve shared.
Jungkook has made a plan to take you to dinner. You’ve gushed about wanting to try more seafood even before you’ve boarded the plane. He remembered.
His thoughtfulness and kindness makes you want to rip your hair off for your past intentions. It was a bad decision that was supposed to be a good one.
Putting down the compact mirror you’ve brought outside to do your make-up, you wipe off the remains of your red lipstick on your point finger. You like to dab it in to make it look more blended out.
Glancing back through the open slide door, you find Jungkook laughing at his phone. His features crinkle in an unguarded and sincere way you’ve grown so used to.
Is it something he’s watching?
And then you hear a faint voice of his, inaudible for you to hear what he's saying and for a quick moment, you think of someone who has made him laugh. That thought of her alone makes your stomach squeeze and hundreds of thoughts start to race in your mind.
Shutting them down, you grab your make-up bag and toss the mirror inside it.
“Right–thanks. Bye!” Jungkook waves at the phone and before you can make out who it was, the call’s over.
And then there are those thoughts again. Before you let them in once again, you simply just ask.
“Who was it?”
Jungkook looks up, noticing your presence and he’s quite out of words. He stares, eyes dancing across your face before they take your entire figure in – slowly and deliberately, like he’s seeing you for the first time after a long absence.
His mouth parts slightly, as if to say your name, but no sound comes out. He just watches you, and for a second, the background noise of waves fades into silence.
“You look–” he stops, “Wow.”
A rush of heat blooms the apple of your cheeks and your gaze falls down your figure. “It’s–nothing.”
Both of you know that’s a lie.
You’ve opted for a tight dress with a little gathering around the waist. It has a creme yellowish color, great for Hawaii vibes.
Jungkook shakes himself out of daze to stand up. Tossing the phone back on the couch like it’s the least interesting thing on the planet, like he hasn’t had his eyes glued to it just a minute ago.
He comes closer and your stomach clenches, knowing that whenever he’s this close you’re a fucking mess.
“I’m starting to get scared every time you get close.” It’s supposed to come out as a joke, a faint chuckle leaving your lips but it sounds nothing like it. It’s a confession said in a light almost scandalized tone.
“Why?” he chuckles, “Am I that irresistible?”
That cracks a laugh on your lips, gently nudging his chest. But he catches you by your wrist, leaving them against his chest as you feel his heartbeat underneath the layer of cotton. It’s rhythmic, calm and nothing like yours.
“You’re unbelievable.”
He smiles, eyes not leaving yours.
“It’s just–you’re dangerous.”
Every time he is close or touches you ever so gently, you crumble. You yearn for his touch, proximity and warmth. He brings you comfort. Disguised as a forgery of silent hopes, pretending it’s just something you’re used to.
And the look he’s got in his eyes, you’re aware he knows exactly what you mean. He is dangerous. The two of you together are dangerous.
“You look beautiful.”
You fight it, but the smile stretches on your lips and you have to look sideways, to laugh it off. Amusement spreads across his face and own lips, as he waits for you to look back at him.
“I rarely see you getting shy.”
“Shut up.” you silence him, this time properly nudging him to play it off cool. He laughs and lets you.
“What kind of compliments have you heard these past few days?” he jokes, causing you to frown at him. “You’re acting as if you never heard one compliment in your life.”
“Yah!” you scold him, trying to fight back a smile. It’s just his face and the fact he’s absolutely having the time of his life to make fun of you. His eyes scrunch at the ends, smile wide and nose scrunched as he laughs.
“I’ve heard lots of compliments.”
“Why are you acting like you haven’t then?”
And you know the answer to that immediately. It’s not what the person says. It’s who the person is.
“Because they never made me feel like this.”
The confession takes him by surprise, but soon enough is replaced by the smug smile.
“Oh, don’t look so smug!”
“I knew it.” he says triumphally.
“Knew what?”
“You just didn’t vibe with him.”
“Yeah, yeah.” you wave him off, brushing past him to avoid any further mention of Gabriel.
He’s a nice guy and surely, you’ve appreciated his compliments. It’s just that they never quite landed the way they were meant to. Or maybe your mind and everything else is tainted by Jungkook.
“Are you going in a t-shirt?” You change the subject, noticing his choice of clothing he’s had since you came back. Home clothes.
He glances down, eyebrows drawn in a mix of horror and amusement at the ridiculous thought of showing up to dinner wearing this.
“No. I called the guys, and told them about us staying a little longer.”
Your ears perk up at that, “What did they say?”
“You mean were they questioning the sudden change? Of course. Just told them we weren’t able to see everything we wanted.”
“Wasn’t Taehyung–I don’t know–suspicious?”
“He was teasing as usual. Why?”
You shrug, scratching your forearm in a subtle way. “I sort of told him we were–having a hard time?” you sheepishly admit, “I just told him that I made a mistake.”
Jungkook tilts his head to the side, visibly sensing your sheepishness and uncertainty stirred by the details you shared with Taehyung.
“And we’re past it, yeah?” he assures you, smiling in the process.
Nodding in confirmation, he puts a gentle hand over your shoulder, squeezing it. “Then don’t worry about it.”
“What I meant to say before, is that no, I am not wearing this.” he laughs, “We got caught up in a talk. Jimin is at Taehyung’s right now, you know how it is with them. Especially when Taehyung starts talking.”
You laugh, “Yeah. Go change or we’re gonna be late!”
“Yes, ma’m.” he salutes.
Laughing in disbelief, you watch him disappear behind the bedroom’s door. In the meantime, you prepare your heels for the night and browse through your phone. Jungkook finishes getting ready in a few minutes, clasping his watch on his wrist as he joins you in the main room.
It amazes you how men are able to get ready quickly. You’re not someone who takes an eternity to get ready, but men are on a quick mission here.
He looks effortlessly amazing—he even managed to slick some gel into his hair to sweep it off his forehead. He’s dressed in a crisp, lightweight linen shirt—its creme white fabric contrasts with his tanned complexion. The top buttons of his shirt are casually undone, revealing more of his skin.
He catches your gaze, raising a curious brow.
Before he can ask, a smirk decorates your lips as your voice is intertwined with amused romance. “You look beautiful.”
He catches onto the joke, you repeating his previous words and the conversation he teased you so much about. He scrunches his nose, yet a playful smile warms up his face as he shakes his head at you.
“What? Too girly?” you tease.
“I’m not sure if any man wants to be called beautiful.”
“How would you want to be called?”
“Try more masculine compliments.”
“Such as? Handsome?”
He laughs, “Yeah, that could work.”
“Or–fucking hot?”
His eyes light up, clearly savoring that one more for sure.
“Irresistably hot?”
“Keep them coming and we won’t make it to dinner.”
You almost choke up, giggling as he reaches for the leather loafers. They’re black, sleek but breathable for the warm evening.
“Is this how much it takes to wind you up?”
“No. It’s those eyes you’re giving me.”
What eyes, you want to ask. However that would be pointless, because you both know exactly what eyes he means. Even though you thought you were being more subtle about it, it turns out he reads you effortlessly and despite so much happening in the past few days, everything seems to be just the same.
“What. We are coming here?” Despair laced in your voice, you screech in horror once you spot the familiar place you’ve visited just yesterday.
You fidget with the car’s door handle nervously, not really convinced to eat here out of all restaurants. Jungkook is faster than you, opening the car’s door for you like the true gentleman he was raised to be.
“Why here?” You can’t help but ask.
He remains calm, undoubtedly has heard you now and before. He shuts the door just as gently, your question hanging in the air for a moment. “I was meant to take you here before.”
“Oh,” Your eyes widen at the new information. “You were?”
He sighs, almost as if he’s not very pleased to share further details. “I reserved it for us.”
It brings bitter memories and you realize that’s why. The ‘us’ holds a meaning and your mind goes spiral, before you settle on a possibility that could be true.
“When?” you ask. It’s simply questioned but there’s an urgency that wants you to prove you’re right.
Even Jungkook looks at you with that look that says ‘You’ve figured it out’.
“Yesterday.”
The night he took Nara instead. That was for you? You were supposed to be at that table?
For a short while, your eyes close gently in disappointment of how everything has turned out to be worse. The night he planned for you in advance for you just to blow it. You both ended up going with different people.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he chuckles gently.
“For how it turned out.”
His eyes soften, diving into that expression of despair and regret.
“Well, don’t be.” he says simply, causing you to mockingly chuckle.
If it was that easy.
It’s not like you blame yourself for everything. Both of you acted stupid and things escalated. You might’ve started it but you’re both to be held accountable.
“Besides, I reserved a table again to make better memories here.”
“Better memories?” you question with doubts laced in your voice. He gives you a questioning look, silently asking you to elaborate. “You didn’t seem as if you weren’t having fun the first time.”
He rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t going how it was meant to be.”
“And how was it meant to be?”
He clacks his tongue against his inner cheek as annoyance crosses over that handsome face. “We both know how. I’m not talking about Nara.”
Your heart jumps at that happily, mocking her pleasantly in your mind. God, you really can be awful sometimes!
“Wipe that smug look off your face.”
Gasping, you stutter over your words – ready to come up with a set of lies.
“Come on, we’re gonna be late.” He ushers you, effortlessly dismissing your weak attempt to prove him otherwise.
All you can do is to follow him in the tracks with a sour look on your face, mainly caused by a light embarrassment of him just knowing. He awaits for you at the entrance, motioning for you to go first as the front door is being held open by the doorman. At least there’s a different person that greets you.
The idea of them realizing you both came here with different people twice makes you sheepish but laugh at the same time.
As you enter the restaurant, you can’t shake off the feelings you’ve felt here. It’s like a bitter reminder of what happened that evening–both of you coming here with different people. And now that you know it was meant to be you and Jungkook all along, it lifts the weight of the bitterness.
This is Jungkook’s try and your chance to make this memorable. Because god, this restaurant deserves it. Their reviews say it all–it’s a shame your own experience started as it did. Not that the evening wasn’t nice–or Gabriel–but it simply just reminds you of your previous situation.
The host greets you with a warm smile and a fresh orchid pinned to his linen white shirt. Jungkook gives him his name which makes the host hum in confirmation as he checks the paper. Right away, you’re being guided down the porch as the familiar tables and scenery welcomes you.
The main dining area is lively and elegant, just as you remember it to be. The scent of plumeria and grilled seafood fills the air, and a live ukulele player strums gentle melodies that drift on the salty wind.
“Where are we going?” you whisper, hand grabbing Jungkook’s forearm for support as you’re being guided through a stone path, the turquoise ocean now dark as the moon shines bright.
“You will see.” he whispers back, copying your tone as you roll your eyes and admire the beauty around you.
As you follow the curved stone path, flanked by dancing torchlight and vibrant hibiscus, the lively hum fades, giving way to a hush meant for two.
You get a perfect sight of a private cabana, see a similar one in the distance, as your mouth drops. The cabana is open-air, you would guess it’s mostly designed for couples seeking intimacy. Each cabana is its own little world: standing on the beach and close to the ocean, with sheer white curtains that can be drawn for privacy or left open to the breeze.
A candle glows on the polished wooden table between two wicker chairs, while faint music hums quietly from somewhere just out of sight. Unlike the bustling main space, the private dining area feels hushed and timeless.
The hosts motions for the cabana, “This one’s for you. You have a special server that is available to you throughout your stay here.”
Speechless and out of breath, you squeeze Jungkook’s forearm as if you begged him to pinch you. Is this how it would feel like dating Jeon Jungkook on a daily basis?
As the host gives you a respectful nod and bids his goodbye, telling you to enjoy the dinner, a server approaches with graceful ease—barefoot on the soft wooden decking, his movements quiet and fluid, as if not to disturb the moment.
He wears a crisp, short-sleeved white shirt tucked neatly into tailored linen trousers, the fabric light and breathable in the coastal air. Similar to the ones they were at the main dining area.
A single orchid is tucked behind one ear, certainly a subtle nod to island tradition.
“Good evening,” he says, bowing his head slightly. “Welcome. May I offer you a glass of champagne to begin?”
“I never want to wake up.” you whisper, hearing Jungkook chuckling lightly.
“Champagne?”
“Mhm.” you squeak, dropping down onto the chair where a plush cushion softens your impact.
The server pours you a champagne, lightly dropping a strawberry into the glass. He pours it professionally and stands with a perfect posture.
“Take your time,” he says warmly. “I’ll be just nearby if you need anything—but I’ll give you your space to enjoy the evening.”
He offers you multi-course meals designed to be shared—chilled oysters on the half shell, fresh ahi poke with sesame and avocado, buttery seared scallops, grilled Kona lobster drizzled with a sauce you don’t remember the name of.
“Yes, thank you. That will be great.” Jungkook smiles, sitting down as he adjusts the sleeves of his shirt.
The server offers a small nod, then steps away quietly, leaving only the sound of waves and soft music in his place.
“What the–” you stop yourself, looking around to check where the server is. You spot his back as he silently walks away to bring you your food and undoubtedly, give you some privacy. “Fuck!”
Jungkook chuckles.
“What is this, Jungkook?”
He sits back, sucks in his bottom lip as he shrugs. “I wanted something more fancy and this is all they had.”
“This is some kind of place you propose to someone,” you whisper–yell, too shocked to even comprehend what you’re experiencing at the moment. “You’re not planning to propose, are you?”
Jungkook laughs, resting his hand against the clean table as he gently taps his fingers. “No. I am not proposing to you.”
“Good,” you hum, leaning back. He seems to be amused by your reaction, hiding a grin as he keeps watching your awe. “God, Jungkook.”
“You don’t like it?”
You look at him as if he was crazy. “This is straight out of some kind of movie–or something. I love it–but wow–I can’t believe you’ve pulled this off.”
“Good. One more minute and I would think you hate it here.”
You give him a nasty look, pursing your lips. “How much did you pay for this?”
He leans closer, resting his forearms on the table as he adds with a smile; “None of your business.”
Scoffing, you scratch the top of your ear. “Jungkook… this is one of the nicest things someone has done for me. And I’m not talking about the poshness of this. I just–I don’t think I would ever experience something like this.”
“I am sure you would.” Jungkook says and shrugs as if it’s nothing. You give him a good look at your raised brow.
“You know–this is very romantic…” you note, looking around as your gaze fixes at the lit candle in the end.
“They don’t really make special cabanas for two best friends who occasionally fuck.”
You start to choke on your saliva, met with Jungkook’s grin as you shake your head. Before you can say anything else, the server comes with a bit of help from someone else from the staff. It’s a woman, she greets you and helps to set up the plates as the fresh scent of sea food fills the air.
Your mouth salivates just from the smell of it. Instead, you reach for the champagne and thank both of them as they finish describing each dish briefly.
“Jeon Jungkook, I will kill you.”
Jungkook laughs, gulping down the champagne in one go. “Thanks would’ve been fine.”
You both dig into the dishes right away, Jungkook pouring a new champagne out of the iced bucket in the middle of it.
“To…”
“To us,” you toast, smiling at him. “May we always work it out, no matter how messy we can get.”
“Can’t disagree with that.” he chuckles, both of your glasses clinking as you both take a few gulps.
You both lean in, turning your attention back to the table as you continue to taste the dishes, savoring the mix of flavors while the sound of waves and your laughter blend softly into the night.
You could get used to this.
Waves rolling in slow and steady, better than any white noise could ever dream. The sun soaks into your skin, golden and lazy, sinking down to your bones. Naturally. Perhaps after a while, it would become boring and repetitive. The same sounds, the same slow rhythm of days.
But right now, in this very moment, you’re soaking it all in—every shimmer of sunlight and every breath of salt air.
You crack one eye open, squinting against the blaze of sunlight spilling over your face. The heat stings for a second before you lift a hand to shield your eyes, palm cutting through the glare. When your vision clears, the first thing you see is the pool.
Sunlight scatters across its surface, complimenting the turquoise color. It’s incredible how clean the pool looks. There’s no imperfection.
Its surface suddenly breaks with a low splash. Jungkook surfaces with an easy stroke and a breath of air. He stands on the pool stairs, slowly making his way up–too focused, wiping water off his face as he pushes his wet hair back.
Droplets stream down his shoulders, tracing the lines of his chest and abs before dripping onto the tiles. Your throat goes dry as you shamelessly watch the scene unfold in front of you. You stay stretched out on the lounge chair, head tilted just enough to keep the sun from getting in the way of your view.
A grin curves at the corner of his mouth as he reaches for a towel.
“I see you’re feeling better.”
Bastard. He’s enjoying this.
You reach for the glass of iced water beside you, taking a slow sip. Your throat thanks you instantly as the dryness fades away. You might’ve overdone it yesterday by bringing sushi to the beach house after dinner.
What? There was so much food that Jungkook practically laughed at you, teasing that you ate like a bird. Ridiculous — this was probably the biggest portion you’d ever taken. And the sushi looked far too good to leave untouched.
You’d heard that at posh restaurants, you’re not really supposed to ask for leftovers. Maybe being a little tipsy didn’t help, because you found yourself voicing the thought to Jungkook. He laughed and, shamelessly, asked them to pack it for you. Of course, they didn’t seem to have a problem with it.
You had no idea what came over you. Your stomach was so full you could have exploded—you kept burping and whining about eating too much. But after a couple of hours, as your stomach slowly started digesting, you couldn’t ignore the sushi set Jungkook had put in the fridge. So, in the middle of the night, you indulged a little.
Your gluttony came with consequences–your stomach ached, and you barely slept. The discomfort was worse during the night, but by the time you both woke up, you’d settled on staying at the beach house, choosing to enjoy the pool instead. Every twist and turn of your stomach reminded you of last night’s indulgence—hence the purely devoted choice of water.
Hence Jungkook’s comment.
Even though he sounds amused now, teasing you for out-eating yourself, he had looked genuinely concerned when he first saw your face scrunch up in discomfort.
“What makes you say that?” you mutter under your breath.
To be honest, you’re slightly embarrassed. Not that all you could think about yesterday was taking Jungkook’s clothes off—and him doing the same to you—you couldn’t wait to get back to the beach house, as shameless as that sounds. Instead, you ended up feeling awful, spending the entire night tossing and turning—not at all in the pleasurable way you had imagined.
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow at you, a knowing smirk hiding behind the beer can as he takes a sip. You watch, mesmerized, as his throat bobs with each gulp. Feeling suddenly too hot, you push yourself up from the chair—maybe a little too quickly, because your stomach protests with an odd flutter. Ignoring it, you dip your toes into the lukewarm water.
Going down the stairs, you get inside the pool–seeing how Jungkook has eyed you the entire time.
“Who’s staring now?” you muse.
“Who said anything about staring?”
You chuckle. So that’s how he wants to play.
He approaches the pool with a smirk, and your grin slowly fades as a flicker of suspicion crosses your mind.
“What are you doing?” you ask, barely finishing the words.
Before you can react further, Jungkook leaps into the pool, sending a splash that soaks your hair and face. He surfaces, met with the sight of your frowning face. It cracks slightly when you see his wide grin, and the corner of your mouth twitches.
“You wanna laugh! I see it!” he teases.
You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re like a kid sometimes!”
He shakes his head, sending droplets flying from his hair and splashing you in playful revenge.
“Seriously–hey–”
As the laughter dies down, Jungkook inches closer, his gaze fixed on your face as you wipe away the remnants of his splash. “How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Like I’ve been on a boat for a month.”
“That bad, huh?”
You shrug. “Better than last night, at least.”
Diving into the water, silence surrounds you for a few seconds—until you surface a little too close and bump into Jungkook’s chest.
“Oops,” you tease, though it’s genuinely an accident.
The way he looks at you sends goosebumps down your spine, despite the lukewarm water that’s probably better than most hotel pools. You catch his eyes flicker downward for just a moment, taking in the swell of your chest just peeking above the water.
He reaches, catching a droplet between your breasts, and you inhale sharply at the touch. Your heart races, pounding wildly in your chest as you anticipate his next move. It’s as if he’s weighing whether to continue—or maybe it’s not a question of desire, but of what he should do.
Not wanting him to change his mind—selfishly—you press your hand to his chest, letting your fingers trace over him. He hovers close, so near that leaning in to kiss him feels almost impossible.
He takes the bait—if that’s what it can be called—and wraps his hands around your waist, guiding you toward the side of the pool.
“I thought you were feeling sick.”
Smiling at that and you hum, “It’s not that bad.”
“You were lying in bed the entire time. You’ve only been out here for, like, an hour.”
And an hour it has been!
“So?”
“You don’t lay in bed for too long. You always find something to do.”
“Yeah, okay,” you dismiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He instinctively holds your hips for support as you curl your legs around his waist.
“That’s how I know you’ve not been feeling well.”
“My stomach is fine as long as I don’t make rushed moves.”
“Well that’s too bad then.”
You pout, “I didn’t mean it like–” you sigh, “We can take it slow.”
“Y/N!” he gasps scandalously. “Are you suggesting we have slow sex?”
You roll your eyes, ready to unwrap your arms around him as he holds you tighter. “Why are you holding me then?” you mutter, annoyed. Can he just be horny at this moment? Like any other man would be?
“Maybe I just want to be close to you,” he suggests with a grin, making you tug at the hair on the back of his head.
Ignoring how soft and tingly it feels, you whisper, “Liar.”
“Why do you think so?”
You press your bodies together, causing him to groan. “For one, because of this.”
A soft gasp escapes your lips as he hoists you up and has you seated on the edge of the pool. He spreads your legs apart, moving your bikini bottom aside as he touches your clit.
“Ah, fuck.” you gasp.
“God, you really are dirty,” he teases. “Not feeling well, and look at you.”
“I’m suddenly all healthy,” you reply.
He laughs, drawing you closer so your hips rest partly on the edge of the pool.
“Now lay back and enjoy.”
“Wh–”
One hand, fingers tucked under your bikini bottom and the other spreading your leg apart, he dives in and it’s only a second before you feel his mouth on you. In one swift motion, you’re laying on your back just as he told you to, ignoring your stomach and focusing on what's going on between your legs.
He eats you out, slowly and delicately, leaving you a mess who silently begs for more. You move your hips toward him, yearning for more. Your back arches and chest heaves–and you feel you’re almost there. He flickers his tongue against you and soon enough, you reach the end–breathless as your muscles relax.
He pulls your bikini bottom back into place and hoists himself out of the pool as you sit up. A strange, lingering sensation washes over you as the intensity fades.
“You okay?” he asks.
Jungkook helps you to your feet and guides you to the lounge chair, offering a glass of water—now just melted ice.
“I think you should eat something,” he says, nodding toward the back door as you head inside.
Jungkook prepares a bowl of fruit for you, just like the one you had for breakfast, while he makes himself a sandwich. You nibble on the fruit slowly.
A wave of queasiness hits you like a punch to the gut, your stomach twisting and churning violently. Your mouth goes dry, a bitter taste rising as your body threatens to betray you, and your head spins slightly as you clutch your stomach.
“What’s going on?”
Hand covering your mouth, you stumble toward the bathroom. You barely make it in time, sliding the toilet seat up as your stomach releases everything. The retching sounds are just a noise in the background as you can feel the vomit in your mouth and nose.
Jungkook’s bare feet slap against the tiles as he rushes to the bathroom, worry etched across his face. He bursts in just as you’re leaning over the toilet and letting it all out again. He wraps his hand around your hair and holds it back for you. With a hand on your back, he rubs it gently.
“It’s okay, let it all out.”
He continues to rub your back until you lift your head once you think it’s over–sitting back softly.
“Fuck,” you murmur.
“Let me just–” he says, his footsteps rushing as he hurries out.
The taste of vomit is overwhelming, bitter and sharp on your tongue, the smell filling your senses. You reach for the flush button and press it, the swirling water washing away the evidence as you take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself.
Fuck. The smell and taste linger everywhere, the entire bathroom probably reeking of your vomit. You want to call out to Jungkook, to tell him not to come in—there’s no need for him to be here, in the middle of this mess.
Though, Jungkook comes back with a glass of water, holding it out to you. You rinse your mouth first, letting the water spill into the toilet before taking a small sip. When you hand the glass back, he sets it on the sink and watches you carefully as you settle onto the toilet lid.
Holding your forehead, you give it a slow rub.
“I’m going to the pharmacy to get something to help with the stomachache,” Jungkook says, concern tightening his features.
You were almost feeling fine. What the hell? Did the fruit irritate your stomach even more?
You press a hand to your stomach, frowning as the discomfort lingers. Then it hits you—slowly, unsettlingly.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
You were supposed to get your period days ago. Your stomach churns for another reason now, one that has nothing to do with the fruit. A wave of unease settles over you as your mind races through the possibilities.
No. No. No. It can’t be!
Jungkook notices something is off—the way your eyes widen, the sudden stillness in your movements. His brow furrows slightly as he steps closer, searching your face. He drops to his knees in front of you, trying to get a clear view of your face, his brow furrowed with concern that has never left.
“What?” he asks, his voice gentle but edged with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I—” you gulp, squeezing your eyes shut, unable to get the words out. The possibility swirls in your mind, each thought twisting tighter as you replay every moment, every detail that could make it real.
One thing is painfully clear: you had sex. Your mind won’t settle, and you can’t think straight.
“My period—” you gulp again, “it’s late.”
Painfully and slowly, you glance to your right at Jungkook. He jerks slightly, almost as if you’d slapped him, the realization dawning. He slowly meets your eyes again.
“That’s… we only had—” he stammers, trying to make sense of it.
“We had sex, Jungkook. Multiple times—and not just here.”
“I… I didn’t—”
“We both know we had unprotected sex. Women can get pregnant even if—holy shit. Fuck.”
Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, his eyes wide as he tries to process the news—not that it’s definite, but the possibility hangs heavy between you. “Okay… okay,”
“We’re so fucking stupid, Jungkook! I can’t be pregnant!”
Panic surges through you, your stomach twisting violently as if you’re about to throw up at any second.
Jungkook, however, keeps a surprisingly cool head. He reaches out, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder.
“Okay… we don’t know anything for sure yet,” he says calmly. “I’ll go to the drugstore and get a pregnancy test, so we know for sure.”
“Right,” you reply, rushed. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’m coming with you.”
He eyes you uncertainly as you stand, concern flickering across his face. “Are you sure? You don’t want to lie down?”
“And think of all the possibilities? Hell no,” you say, shaking your head.
You quickly change your clothes and head to the nearest drugstore, trying desperately to keep your mind off all the possibilities. You can’t even begin to count how long it’s been since you had sex back at home, and the thought twists your stomach again.
Fuck. You’re so stupid. You were so careless. Why would you have unprotected sex?
Jungkook remains silent the entire time, only speaking as he gives you directions where to go. Both of you are dead silent.
As you get to the store, you rush to find the right section and once you do, you’re met with multiple choices. Never done this before–not imagining you would be doing it anytime soon either–you stare helplessly.
“How about this one?” Jungkook asks, holding up a box, looking just as clueless as you feel.
You take it from his hands, studying the packaging before handing it back with a straight look.
“It’s an ovulation test.”
“Oh,” he mutters, frowning at the other boxes.
You examine another box, reading the description carefully. “I think this one might be good.”
By the time you finish, Jungkook already has another box in his hands. You check it and give him a nod—he picked the right test. He takes two boxes along with the one you’re holding.
“Just in case,” he explains, and you nod.
“Let’s go, or else I’m gonna throw up.”
“Are you feeling sick again?” he asks as you both head down the aisle to the cashier.
“I don’t know if it’s actual nausea or just the thought…” you murmur, your stomach twisting again.
You reach the cashier as she scans the three boxes. Jungkook pulls out his wallet and pays–not even waiting for the receipt as you politely bid your goodbyes and rush back to the house.
Once you’re back in the bathroom, you breathe in and out as you pull the test from the box. Jungkook leans against the doorframe, silent, watching as you read the instructions. It shouldn’t be difficult—you just have to pee on the stick and wait—but you still read every line carefully. It’s your first time doing this, after all.
You tap your legs nervously, biting down your lower lip before finally sitting down on the toilet lid.
“Hey—” Jungkook’s voice is tight, cautious. You hum in response, eyes unfocused.
“Y/N—” he says again, softer this time.
He lowers himself to one knee in front of you, making sure you’re really looking at him.
“What’s wrong?” you ask softly, searching his doe eyes. He looks… tender.
“I just—” he starts, a quiet, almost nervous chuckle escaping him. “Whatever the result is… please—promise me you’ll talk to me.”
Your features soften, the worry in your chest unraveling as empathy floods in. Here he is—this tall, broad man—on his knee before you, with the most vulnerable look in his eyes.
“Promise me, you wouldn’t just–”
And for the first time in a long while, you’re a witness of the aftermath of his trauma. There’s fear, memories and feelings that are brought back. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He just needs your affirmation.
“Of course, Kook.” you assure him softly.
He nods, slowly backing away to give you some privacy. You share one last time as he gently closes the bathroom door. You take a deep breath and lower your gaze, staring at the instructions one last time before you put it away and take the stick.
When it’s done–all three of them–you set the tests carefully on the counter as you wash your hands. Opening the bathroom door, Jungkook paces nearby as he turns around as soon as he hears you.
“We have to wait two minutes.”
He steps closer, nodding, his eyes scanning your face as if making sure you’re okay. It takes one look at you to see your distress. Well how vacation got another turn.
You sit on the toilet lid as Jungkook leans against the bathroom sink and crosses his arms.
“Kook–I don’t know what I am going to do if–”
“Hey–we’ll figure it out okay?”
“No, no–there can’t be nothing to figure out. I can’t be pregnant.”
“Y/N–”
“I’m not ready! I can’t be pregnant–that’s just absurd–we’re absurd–”
“Hey, hey–” Jungkook steps closer and cups your face. That causes you to pause as you stare at him. “We will figure out everything–like we always do. Let’s just wait for the result, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, “Let’s do that.”
Time feels oddly slow, as if it’s dragging purposely to torment you with the anticipation and fear of seeing the results. Both of you are lost in your own thoughts, minds separate and just hearing the awful silence before Jungkook’s timer goes off. You’re so out of it that you haven’t even noticed he has set one.
“We’re gonna both look at the same time, okay?” you say softly.
“Yeah, okay. Two lines mean pregnant, right?”
“That’s right.” Cautiously, you approach the counter where the sticks rest and before taking a big breath, you both face the sink and take a look.
You both take each test in your hands to scan it closely. Then your eyes land on yours—and relief floods through you.
Negative. Not pregnant.
“Fuck! Thank God!” you almost yell, tossing the sink into the sink as Jungkook does the same and sighs in relief. Rubbing his face, you both check the third just to make sure and once that comes out negative as well–you finally relax.
“Fuck.” he sighs in relief, relaxes his shoulders.
You toss the tests into the bin, you make your way out of the bathroom–as you sit on the bed.
“Why am I so sick then?” you whine, rubbing your stomach.
“It seems like you just irritated your stomach with all the food. I don’t think it’s food poisoning, or else you would’ve vomited shortly after the dinner and not the next day.”
Great. Well, it’s probably better than being pregnant.
However, there’s this odd feeling lingering in the pit of your stomach. A huge relief has washed over you, yes, but there’s that fear of it happening again. This situation just awoke a realization you’ve known based on basic facts of how biology and sex works, but after experiencing it on your own–you know you don’t want to go through this again.
The risk is too big. And as long as you and Jungkook will keep doing this–it’s not safe. It’s not right.
“I will go to the pharmacy and get you something for it.”
Jungkook pauses, watching as you step closer.
“Jungkook–”
“Hm?”
You stand, rubbing your stomach. “We got carried away,”
Jungkook stands, watching as you get closer.
“It keeps happening again and again.”
He doesn’t need clarification. Acknowledgement is written all over his face and it doesn’t take too much to realize where this is heading.
“I know,” he says.
You meet his eyes. “Can we even be friends?”
Jungkook’s features soften. “Y/N…”
“We keep falling into this—on and off. No matter what we say, what we promise—we always end up in bed together. Are we even friends anymore?”
“Of course we are.”
“Jungkook friends just don’t fuck on and off all the time. Ever since we started–we can barely keep hands to each other. We can’t control ourselves, no matter how many times we tell ourselves that we can. We just can’t.”
He doesn’t argue, knowing everything you’re saying is right.
“What would happen if the next test comes out positive?”
He has no answer for that.
“We are caught up in this–whatever this is–and we never even thought about what the consequences could be. This is a dangerous game we’re playing.”
The situation with Kiko was different—she was his girlfriend. When something like this happened to them, it made more sense because they were in a relationship. Stuff like that happens and makes more sense. But this?
You and Jungkook are not in a relationship.
You’re two best friends who got too close and got caught up in lust and attraction.
“I’m not putting any blame on you, please, don’t think I do.”
“I am not, Y/N. I don’t feel like you’re doing that.”
You smile sadly at him, “Kook. We can’t do this anymore. And I mean it this time.”
He smiles too, cupping your face as you close your eyes, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, letting them trace his skin softly as he caresses your cheek.
“Kook…”
All of this makes sense. All of this needs to end. And you have to go back to being just best friends. Without any physical contact that might indicate something more. Things might not be the same–how could they? But you can slowly erase all of this and just go back to the friends you once knew. It will probably be the hardest task you will have to do and no one knows how it will end up. If it’s even possible.
And that scares you.
Because your most treasured friendship is at stake—and that thought terrifies you more than anything.
So why does it feel like a part of you is being ripped away?
“I can’t lose you, Kook.” you whisper.
“You won’t lose me,” he says softly, almost smiling—as if the idea itself is impossible.
“What if we can’t go back to being just friends? No sex. No intimacy.”
He hesitates. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t say that,” you plead, your voice cracking, eyes stinging. Jungkook steps closer and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. You grab his wrist, holding on like he might slip away if you don’t.
“We’ll work it out,” he murmurs, stepping back but keeping his eyes on you. A small smile tugs at his lips. “We always do.”
“I hope so.”
“I’ll get you some meds, okay?” he assures you. “And I’ll take the couch from now on. You just lay down and rest.”
You want to argue. The words are on the tip of your tongue, ready to tell him it’s fine—you can share the bed. But you stop yourself. Jungkook notices; it’s evident, and you practically freeze before slowly retracing your steps.
“Thank you,” you whisper softly, almost afraid he won’t hear.
But the reassuring smile he gives proves otherwise.
As soon as Jungkook is out of the house, being the best friend you could’ve ever asked for, you sink down on the bed.
You feel empty. Even though your mind knows you’ve made the most rational decision—both of you have—tears start to stream down your face. Maybe it’s nostalgia? Or maybe it’s the ache of wanting Jungkook close so badly you can’t imagine not having him there.
No. You can do this.
It will take time—perhaps a lot of it—to get back to where you were. But you’ll do everything in your power to make sure you give it your best effort.
a/n: It’s finally here! Can you believe it? Because I can’t 😭 This year went by so fast – it honestly feels like only a couple of months have passed. I wanted to take this a/n to just talk for a bit, hope you don’t mind. If you stick around to read, thank you so much! Some of you might not know, but I started uni while also working every weekday. A lot has been happening, and it’s been busy. Like, really busy. Finding time to just relax or write has been hard, which is why updates have taken longer. It’s never on purpose, I promise – I just hope you can understand how chaotic adult life can get sometimes 😅 On top of that, my laptop has been acting up lately – glitching, running out of space, the whole deal – so working on my stories hasn’t been the easiest. So yeah, it hasn’t made things any easier 😭 But I’ve been managing, and I still really want to keep writing whenever I can because I love doing it.
I’ve even been offered a few part-time jobs, but I turned them down since I know it’d leave me with zero time (and energy) to write. These stories mean a lot to me – they’re like my little online babies – and I always want to give them the time and love they deserve.
This update and chapter is dedicated to everyone who’s been dedicated, supportive and extremely kind to me. Coming online always reminds me how rare these qualities are in people, and I’m genuinely grateful for every one of you. MH is a crazy journey and it’s coming to an end. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it’s a year of hard work haha and I’m very happy how it turned out. Don’t kill me what happens in this one ahahah – you know I love realistic stuff and I’m a sucker for angst <33 All the love!!
If you’ve enjoyed this chapter, please consider buying me a coffee☕️: https://ko-fi.com/personasintro ♡
↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help
⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader
⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn
⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, explicit content
⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 18.5k+
⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢
Sometimes you decide on things by feelings or whatever seems right at that moment.
You might've suggested something that has bit you in the ass right back. It didn't feel as satisfactory as it perhaps should have when you hinted on meeting new people. Although, it's a great opportunity for both of you to move on, even though just the thought alone leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.
Not even the alcohol on it tastes as bitter.
Regardless of what kind of opportunity it turned out to be, you had to do it. You're slowly losing it and being in Jungkook's presence alone is not helping.
A jealous kind of person is not what you would describe yourself. When the word jealous comes to one's mind, they think of someone being possessive jealous in the worst kind of way. You might've been possessive about people around you, but in a healthy way.
Sure, the thing with Ester is not the greatest example of it, but that was something different.
There's something building up, something you haven't experienced with Jungkook before. You were jealous in the friendliest possible way. You don't want to dwell on it more than necessary, but with Ester, you were scared of her becoming Jungkook's close friend. It sounds terrible this way, perhaps a little toxic too – it's hard to describe and put it into the right words so one could understand it clearly. There are parts where even you don't understand it.
You're confident about what you and he have. From the moment you met to the point where your friendship is at. Even that is a bit debatable, but you don't want to go there. Not right now. And possibly not in the near future. There are certain things you don't want to think about.
Ones you're scared of.
Still. Seeing Jungkook having another friend who he genuinely gets along with, in a meaningful way caused you to act on the void you felt.
But jealousy is a human emotion nevertheless. And you totally hate it at the moment.
Because there's no Ester or any possible special friendships to be made. This is different.
Why the fuck you hate staring at Jungkook and Nara. That's what she's named and introduced herself as when she happily sat behind Jungkook, holding his waist as he drove them through the small waves on a jet ski.
Clearly, sharing a meaningful connection called friendship is not on top of her list. She's smiling the entire time they talk about whatever, even though it's the most casual topic. She's not the typical giggling type that smiles to whatever that's being said just to flirt. She seems genuinely interested in Jungkook. Maybe a little bit too much.
Okay, definitely.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
You tap your fingers on the table, sun setting down as you watch Jungkook and Nara taking a fucking walk along the beach. You hate that after three drinks, you still have your stomach crumbled and twisted around.
There's no reason for you to be mad at Jungkook. You told him to meet people. You freaking hinted about him trying to get it on with other people. Okay, maybe you're irritated he took it seriously and clearly goes for it a little too soon. You also told him you'll be fine here while they go on a walk alone.
“So it's just you two here?” Gabriel asks next to you, catching your attention for the hundredth time in the past three hours. Yes, that's how long you've been spending your time with them.
They're fun and friendly. Nothing bad about them. Clearly young people who want to have fun. They're relaxed, fun and outgoing.
So why the hell would you rather have Min Yoongi here than having to witness all of this?
Mentally shaking your head at your ridiculous thoughts, you turn to Gabriel and tear your eyes off those two. You give him a stare that tells him enough about your suspicion by that sudden question.
“Relax, I'm just asking.”
“And I should believe you because?” you question him. You might've appeared slightly cold toward him. You're not sure if his friendliness wants to aim somewhere else and to something more, or he's just that outgoing.
Clearly, he doesn't want to back away because he's been very persistent. You give him that.
There's a slight spark between the tug and pull game. But it's not the one you're looking for.
“Because I'm telling the truth.”
There's chatter and laughter going from the other people you've been introduced to. You don't remember all of their names though. You hope you won't have to see them after this. God, that sounded so harsh. They're nice, you swear! But!
They don't give you any attention which makes your conversation slightly more comfortable.
“You're still a stranger. How do I know you're telling me the truth?”
“So just believe me–”
“That literally goes against–”
He laughs. He's handsome. Has a sharp jawline and a cute smile. “You're a piece of work.”
“I know. I'm amazing.”
He can't seem to drop his eyes off you. You've experienced those before. Which is why you're not sure if he's honest about that or if it's the trick of flirting with you. It seems like men always have some kind of ulterior motive behind their behavior.
You don't hate men. Even if it looks like it. You just don't trust them.
Unless they are Jungkook, Jimin or Taehyung.
Surprisingly, at least Gabriel doesn't annoy you in the Min Yoongi type of way. He's nice, not pushy and annoying which you appreciate.
You glance at him fully, both of you chuckling at your ridiculous conversation.
There's a deeper meaning behind his question. For the first time, he showed more of his prying persona. You can't blame him. It was bound for people to question it. You've grown used to it.
“Yes, it's just me and Jungkook.”
He nods, already knowing this but traces his glass. He had one beer an hour ago and after that one, he switched to lemonades. Somehow, you find that a little attractive.
“Our friends were supposed to go with us, but it didn't work for them unfortunately.”
He already knows you're staying at one of the beach houses, which to their expressions, they were a bit surprised to hear that. It's a more expensive side of the beach and while they're staying nearby, it might sound suggestive that you two alone are where families and lovers mostly stay.
“Didn't work how? What if it's their way to get you together alone?”
His question has a light tone full of teasing and suggestion, knowing exactly where this is going. He's trying to figure out your relationship with Jungkook, probably not believing two best friends that are on a vacation are only that. Friends. Well, that's quite debatable in all ways but you're not exactly going to share a full depth of anything related to your actual relationship to Jungkook.
Gabriel doesn't give you any vibes of being a snitch, but he's still a stranger. A handsome one but not even his pretty face could make you spill the tea. Anyway, he's definitely not asking because he's skeptical but mostly asking for himself.
You would've had to be blind and dumb not to notice his undeniable attention and interest aimed toward you. It's flattering and a compliment, really. More than anything else.
“Well, one of them ended up in a hospital with broken toes, so I would like to think he didn't do it on purpose.”
“Ouch.”
“Exactly,” you deadpan, sipping more of your drink.
He grins. He has a cocky twist to his smile. There's no denying he's a catch wherever he travels.
“Even though, you never know with him.” you say, watching Gabriel's confused look before you shrug and chuckle under your breath.
Taehyung loves himself too much to hurt himself. No matter how much he would love you and Jungkook messing around more.
Speaking of him, you glance back at the couple walking down the beach. There's nothing special or weird about it. They're just walking beside each other, there's even some distance between them now. Is Jungkook listening to your previous words and just trying to – you don't even know how to name it.
Is he trying to get to know someone else in hopes of getting more?
Is he planning to hook up with anyone from this group?
Because he totally could and there would be nothing you would do about it. But why should you in the first place? It should not bother you. You should be in the front row hyping him up to do it. You should smack his shoulder and tell him to go for it, like all the guys do.
So why can't you?
You believe it's because you've never experienced anything similar to what you have with Jungkook. Obviously, he's more than the sex God you've portrayed him as in your head. He's definitely more than that. But speaking just about that alone, the thought of him going for someone else and showing that side of him to some stranger he just met, honestly bothers you. It's too soon. And you know if you weren't too thoughtful, you wouldn't be in this position because you would've kept hooking up.
You wouldn't have to worry about him suddenly having sex with someone else. He would never do that when he's intimate with you.
Fuck. Why are you even thinking of all of this?
You did what was best for you and him. At the end of the day, it's just a matter of time before something like this happens. And you know it will and you're going to be okay with it. You will move on.
But perhaps you rushed into it. You've panicked and indirectly told him to just have fun. Without you. In that exact sense you're thinking of.
He's smart. Of course he caught onto the meaning right away and something tells you he's doing exactly that. You can't even be mad at him because you told him. You were the one who encouraged and pushed him to move on.
“I didn't mean to pry,” Gabriel speaks up, reminding you of his presence and your cheeks heat up even more under the sun that's barely up there.
You try to cover up your staring by looking at the sea before finally looking at him. He couldn't see the exact direction of your vision, but he could've guessed because they're right there.
“I just find it interesting.”
“Interesting?” You frown in confusion.
“You two.”
“What's so interesting about two best friends? Because one is a female and the other male?”
His brows shoot up, catching up onto your slightly offended tone. “I didn't mean it like that.”
“How did you mean it then?”
He hesitates, but your lifted brow that demands a response causes him to lick his lips as he sighs. “You've been checking him a few times now.”
You grit your teeth together. Not because you're offended that he indeed noticed, but you're embarrassed that he did.
“I've been checking on my best friend.”
“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, trying to play it off as he puts his hands up in surrender. “I wasn't really trying to suggest something else. I just noticed that your friendship seems… special.”
“And it is.”
He nods, wrapping his hand around the drink as he picks up on the small droplets. “Nara won't bite his head off. She's cool.”
“I wasn't suggesting anything else.” You throw his words back at him. He notices, the left corner of his lips twisting in a smirk but he doesn't say anything about it.
“Would your friend bite my head off though?”
You arch your brow at him, “And why would he do that?”
“I don't know, maybe for trying to get to know you?”
“You're getting to know me.” you point out, knowing what he's hinting at but you're playing it off. An amusement dances in your eyes and he sees it, his smirk only getting bigger but the determination of getting straight with you is even bigger.
“I am.” he hums.
“Well, I can't promise anything. Jungkook is protective.”
“Surely he would understand I don't have any vile intentions. I mean, you're single, right?”
You gulp, stopping for a moment. You could possibly make some kind of situation. You're single but you weren't exactly free and down to meeting someone else. For multiple reasons. You could tell him you just got out of… relationship that had nothing to do with dating. Simply said, you could tell him you had a fuck buddy and now you're just focusing on yourself.
But considering your previous topic, he could easily catch on and for some reason, you don't want to risk it. You don't want any strangers knowing about you and Jungkook. It seems awfully personal and intimate.
“I am.” you mutter.
“So? He can't chase all men away from you.”
And he probably won't.
“I don't know… he did punch a guy for me.”
“What?” he deadpans.
You chuckle, “He was my ex. Said some nasty stuff. Kook didn't like it.”
“So he… punched him?”
“Mhm,” You take another sip. “He did deserve it though.”
“I would never say nasty stuff about you. Or any woman.”
What are you supposed to do with that information?
“Never say never.” you shrug.
“No, I mean it. I wasn't raised like that.”
“I don't think he was either. But sometimes we don't know ourselves. And sometimes we can surprise ourselves too.”
“I get that, but if your friend had to punch him for it, he obviously wasn't good.”
You look at your drink that's slowly disappearing. You should slow down. “He's not a bad guy.”
“Doesn't sound like it.”
You roll your eyes, “You've got an answer for everything, don't you?”
“You seem to be just the same way.” he points out.
“You've known me for a few hours, Gabriel. I could be a total bitch or a completely different person than you've made up in your head.”
“And that's why I would like to know you more.”
You stare at him.
Having to be in similar situations a few times, this time feels slightly different. Even though he's determined, he's not annoyingly pushy. He's good looking and has something in him that makes you flattered that he's not backing down. Showing a clear interest in you is not something you would gag at or roll your eyes like you usually would have.
“So if I wanted to invite you for dinner, lunch… whatever you want it to be, would you go?”
“Are you asking me on a date, stranger?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “I'm asking to hang with you and get to know you.”
“Umm, isn't that the definition of a date?”
“Could be,” he shrugs, “But I'm from Italy and you live on the opposite side of the world.”
“Exactly.” you point out.
“Oh come on, just say no if you don't want to.”
“Are you looking for a hook-up, Gabriel?” you question him, not wanting to beat around the bush. Somehow, you know he's honest but you have a hard time believing he's just interested in getting to know you.
Why?
Like he said. You live in different countries and both of you don't look like the type to have a long-distance relationship.
He starts coughing, taken back by your sudden straight-forwardness before he laughs, finding some amusement in it. “If you want to.”
“Is that why you want to get to know me?”
“No.”
You look at him skeptically, “I'm sorry, I just find it hard to believe.”
“Then I'm disappointed by the man you've encountered.”
“Hey, I have amazing men around me.”
Two of them probably broke more hearts than any of these people in this group, but they're amazing men regardless of it. It's the fact they never did it intentionally. And Jungkook is the definition of a perfect guy. Perfect in terms of loving and thoughtful person who would give everything to his loved ones.
“Never said you don't. You love your friends very much, don't you?”
That goes without a question. He sees the look on your face and it causes him to smile. For some reason, he seems smitten by you. Of course he does, look at you. You're amazing.
“You could say they're my second family.”
Perhaps if they were actually here, things would've been a lot different. That goes without debate.
Taking in the silence that follows, you can't help but glance in the direction where Jungkook and Gabriel's friend are walking down the beach. However, they no longer are and instead you find him taking pictures of her. She makes poses, showing off her toned and tanned body. And then she walks up to him, clinging to his side as he shows her the results. She seems to be impressed, as far as you know, it's hard to see it clearly from this distance.
And it's for the better, honestly.
“Listen, it doesn't have to mean anything more. Just us hanging out over a good dinner… or a lunch.”
Gluing your eyes back to Gabriel, which seems to be the safer choice, your eyes run over his features as you take a breath – realizing your stiffened posture before you relax.
“I don't have any sick intentions.”
“You know… you constantly making sure I know that kinda makes it harder to believe you.”
He laughs, shaking his head as he smiles at his drink. Your teasing brings some peacefulness into this conversation again. “Just let me know your decision. Take your time.”
You give him a smirk, knowing you're kind of running out of time. Both of you know it and that's why you both grin at each other. Before any of you can say something, the approaching chatter interrupts you. Jungkook and Nara join you, she says something which makes Jungkook smile and that's when he looks up. Your eyes meet and you straighten yourself, ignoring the way your heart squeezes.
“What's up,” Gabriel says next to you, looking at Nara who seems to joyfully sit down and take a few sips of her drink.
“Got some nice shots. Jungkook here is pure talent. I'ma show you later.” she says, smiling at Jungkook at the compliments she's giving him.
The corner of his lips turn slowly up before he glances back at you. Looking away, you poke the back of your front teeth with your tongue.
“What's your plans for tomorrow? We were thinking of visiting the water park here. It's brand new and apparently very fun. You wanna join us?” Nara asks, reaching for a bowl of fruit that Gabriel has ordered. “Anyone?” she points at the bowl.
Everyone shakes their heads before her previous question still sits in the air. She glances between you and Jungkook, awaiting your answer.
Once again, you look at each other without saying anything.
“They probably have different plans, Nara.” Gabriel notes, shrugging.
Not wanting to let them know about the lingering tension that somehow remains between you two, you take matters into your hands and give Gabriel a smile. “We don't yet, not definite but we'll think of something.”
They seem to be settled with that before the conversation moves to something else. Somehow it seems unfinished and by the time you and Jungkook are alone, walking back to your beach house, the feeling intensifies.
“So what about tomorrow?”
Jungkook is the first one to speak up once you get inside, a few minutes spent in silence after both of you are finished with your shower. You cut strawberries for yourself you got at the market earlier this morning.
“I don't know. We don't have any clear plans, do we?” you hum.
“We could look around the Island. See what's up there and decide then.”
“Sounds good.”
Jungkook stands behind you, in a safe distance but you can feel his eyes burning your back. However, he doesn't make a sound before a silent sigh leaves his mouth.
“Then what?”
“What then?” you frown, focusing on your cutting as he walks up to you. He leans against the counter with his lower back, crossing his arms over his chest. Luckily, he has put a t-shirt on. One second staring at him topless and you would be done for.
He's staring at you. You know he is, yet your eyes stay glued to the cutboard while you're taking your time with cutting the strawberries more precisely than it's necessary. “The water park. You wanna go?”
You halt, pursing your lips slightly. “Do you?”
He sighs again, “I think it would be a nice plan if we feel like it after we're done with the sightseeing.”
You stay silent before he taunts;
“Don't you?”
Your jaw clenches, “I think you should go if you wanna go so badly.”
He laughs sarcastically, “What?”
Fuck. You and your mouth. Composing yourself, you shrug before you put down the knife. “Didn't they want to go during the day?”
“Nara told me they will probably go in the afternoon. The heat is supposed to be crazy tomorrow, it's better to go later in the day.”
Of course, she did. Anything so she could go with Jungkook.
While that little comment sounds bitter in your mind, you do know Nara wants him to go. And you should not feel angry or annoyed at it. Maybe that's not why you're annoyed at it at all. It's simple knowing that Jungkook wants to go.
So forcing yourself to smile, you get the courage to stare him in the eyes. “You go if you wanna. I've got plans in the afternoon.”
Silence. For a split second.
“What?”
Another follows and you wet your lips as you shrug. “I'm going out with Gabriel.”
Well, he doesn't know it yet. He's waiting but you're guessing he will be more than glad to skip the water park. If he doesn't, that's going to be incredibly embarrassing for you and your ego.
Jungkook tongues his cheek, looking away as he scoffs silently. But the overbearing silence makes it ten times louder. “I see.”
“Jungkook–”
“Is this how it's gonna be?”
You gulp, “What do you mean?”
“We came here to spend time together but we spend it separately? Is that how desperately you want me gone?”
“Jungkook!”
He lifts his hand up, the point finger up as he motions for you to be quiet. “I'm going for a walk.”
“You don't have to–”
You don't get to finish it, he brushes past you and is gone before you can take another breath.
One of the worst habits you possess is the need to spill out anything that bothers you to someone. That someone is in most cases Jungkook, purely because he gives the best advice and comfort to anyone who needs it. He never judges and he just… gets it. He's that person you come to and can tell him anything, somehow the words he says or his mere presence is helpful enough.
For clear reasons he's not available – nor would he be suitable since he's the main reason why you're bothered in the first place. You're the one who messed up. For a moment you wondered whether you should go after him, to talk it out like any healthy person would do. But once you got out of the door, he was nowhere and to be walking alone around the Island with no one by your side is not something you wish to risk. Even though it seems to be safe here, you know he wouldn't be happy if he came back and you weren't here.
Or maybe he wouldn't care.
You would like to think he would. It's still Jungkook. No matter how many times you fight or there's tension, it's still him. But it feels wrong to count on this all the time, even though it's basic knowledge.
Sure, you've got other friends.
You wouldn't want to include Maya here. Purely out of knowing what her response might be – you've got to be a little selfish here because you know that's not something you want to hear right now. Anyway, she's probably planning her wedding or spending time with Namjoon. It feels rather awkward to be reaching out just because you find yourself in trouble. By your own responsibility.
But right after Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung came.
Jimin is someone who gives you the hard truth, sometimes even scolds you but with the greatest intention. That's not something you need right now either way.
And Taehyung?
He makes everything look easy with the way he sees the world and particular problems. There is barely any problem in his world. He says fuck it on most things with his optimistic persona. He simply just doesn't care.
Therefore, he's the safer choice than Jimin.
Luckily, once you call him and he's alone, you briefly mention the issue here. You kept it safe for your own sake or selfishness. However, you didn't have to mention anything because he questioned Jungkook's absence right after he complained about Jimin and the fact he brings his girlfriend almost everywhere.
When even Taehyung is silent, you're glad you've chosen a phone call instead of a video one.
“So, let me get this straight… you go to Hawaii together but you're about to spend it separately?”
“Well–just tomorrow afternoon. I didn't think it's such a big deal.”
“But you purposely encouraged him to–I don't even know how to call it–go and find fun somewhere else?”
You gulp, regretting now that Taehyung's words bite you in the ass. He's right though. “We met this group of girls and–I didn't want him to focus on me only. I want him to have fun.”
Okay, that's half of the truth but it works. You did more for yourself than for Jungkook, naively believing that it will be better for him. But that backfired and it seems he doesn't feel like it's better for him.
“And didn't it get through your pretty head that maybe, just maybe, he wants to have fun with you?”
“Tae–” you sigh.
“Not that kind,” You can tell he has rolled his eyes. “He just wanted you two to have fun in there. I'm pretty sure he didn't think with his dick when he wanted you to go.”
“I didn't say that.”
“I know, I'm just saying.” he hums, “Maybe he feels rejected?”
“What? You think so?”
“I think Jungkook has had a lot planned for the two of you and he imagined he would spend it with you. Not with both of you having fun with someone else, instead with each other.”
“I thought it's better this way.” you mumble.
Silence follows and you're not sure whether Taehyung heard or not, but you hear his soft sigh on the other end. “You do your thing tomorrow and he will do his. Or just spend the afternoon the way you wanted, just with each other.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Because it is.”
“Tae, we were invited. I was asked for lunch–or dinner–whatever.”
“So? Fuck anyone else,” There it is. “Anyway, is the girl hot?”
“What.”
Taehyung laughs, “The girl that so seemingly goes after our Jungkookie.”
“I never said she's going after him.”
“You didn't have to, babe. It's clearer than Jimin's questionable choice of a girlfriend.”
“You're being rude, leave Jimin and his girlfriend alone.”
He snorts, laughing as you join. “I would ask you to send me pictures of the girls, but I kinda don't want to. I would regret not being there.”
“Can you not think with your dick when your friend here is in crisis?” you mutter.
“You got yourself there, hun.”
“You're not helping.” you grit through your teeth, hearing him laugh.
“Look, just talk to him. You guys communicate well. Well–it's bumpy these days but you got it.”
“How's your leg?” you ask instead, listening to Taehyung's complaints while your mind is elsewhere.
When Jungkook doesn't come within an hour, you're seriously starting to get worried. He has left in a hurry, therefore has forgotten his phone that mockingly sits on one of the small tables. Even though he's a man, you're worried for his safety no matter how safe this Island seems to be.
Just as you're about to grab your things and go search for him, the door clicks open and there he is.
Head low and almost looking like a kicked puppy, you debate whether to jump on him to hug him or slap him for making you so worried. If the roles were reversed, there's no doubt that he would search the entire Island for you. And that's not exaggerating at all.
Yet, you stand there – waiting for him to look up and be stopped by the glare you're giving him across the room.
“Where the hell have you been?”
You're angry. More at yourself than anyone else, but him scaring the shit out of you comes handy at the moment.
You know that defeated look. You both hate fighting. It's crazy you've never been through such hard times in terms of fighting than you have in the past year. Sure, looking at it optimistically, you've learned to communicate better. Sometimes.
Not particularly now. And you know some of it is mostly your fault now.
Being honest means much more than just that.
However that once mentioned defeated look is long gone. As soon as that tone and words leave your mouth, he glares at you with those intense dark eyes.
It doesn't matter that you sound like a mother scolding his son for coming home late.
“I went for a walk.” he says calmly, but there's something on the tip of his tongue. And his face says it all. I told you that.
You scoff. Before anything else can be said, he simply walks past you and you watch at the spot he just stood at in complete disbelief.
“That's it?”
“What else do you want me to say?” he offers, giving you I don't give a fuck attitude as he plops on the couch and stretches his legs on top of the table.
He grabs his phone and scrolls down through his notifications. He must know he forgot it here. There's no way he doesn't know now. But there's no sight of realization or anything. He simply seems like he doesn't care.
Not about that and certainly not about you stomping to the room.
“Are you serious now?”
He looks up from his phone, moving only with his eyes and you're stunned for a second. He's waiting.
“If I stormed out like that, you would give me hell for it!” you scold him.
“I told you I went for a walk. We both needed to cool off.”
You fumble over your words and try to make sense of them.
His eyes say it all. It looks like you haven't.
“Yeah, without your phone and you were gone for an hour!”
You watch him stare at you for a moment, sighing as he tosses his phone on the couch. “I'm sorry.”
The surprise on your face is evident.
“I forgot it. Didn't realize I was gone for so long.”
Well, an hour isn't so long but yeah, it felt like it. Especially the way he left.
You relax, a soft puff of breath leaving your lips before you nibble onto them with your teeth. You come closer, your knee resting against the armrest.
“I will cancel on Gabriel.”
He frowns, almost confused why would you do that. For a split second you feel embarrassed.
“So we can spend more time together.” you elaborate further.
“You don't have to do that out of pity or whatever.” he points out.
This is stupid. You're stupid.
“I'm not doing it out of–”
“Besides, I have a few plans throughout our stay here. Starting from tomorrow.”
“What,” you deadpan, hating the weird pressure and intuition that rises every second until he proves it right.
“I arranged it with Nara.”
It's dead silence for a moment. You're letting the information sink in until you breathe out in even bigger disbelief.
“What,” It's quiet, almost painful before you glance at his phone. “Your phone stayed here.”
“Met her during my walk.”
Oh, and she so accidentally appeared right where you were, huh?
He's not looking at you, staring at nothing in particular with a distant gaze.
“So let me get this straight–” You hold yourself together so you don't burst in anger. “You make a scene for not spending this vacation together and now you just make plans throughout it without me?”
You realize it's mostly said from your point of view and you fucked up, but him accepting it is even more defeating than anything else about this.
“As far as I know, you made plans too. Isn't this a good way of meeting new people?”
He's throwing it back at you. Clenching your jaw, you painfully swallow as you nod. “I see,” you mock his words, “You're right.”
And you walk out of the room – not knowing whether you should strangle him or yourself first. Only time can tell.
It's safe to say that sometimes your intention escalates and creates a new wave of something that can hardly be described positively. A part of you blames yourself for opening your mouth, even though your own intention behind it was not wrong. It wasn't supposed to cause any of this.
Already embarrassing as it is, having to lay next to Jungkook throughout the entire night has been another level. You've been tossing around, wondering if he's doing the same whenever you fall asleep for a few minutes until you're awake again. Seems like he's not particularly doing bad, but once again, there's an argument between you that has been maybe talked about, but definitely not solved.
You stick to your plans that have been planned out for most of the day. You've gone sightseeing, fed rescued animals and even visited local museums. Basically, done activities where other people mostly talked and you both listened – you were just there. Standing next to each other, walking beside each other but if it wasn't for these facts, some might think you were strangers.
And that thought that randomly crossed your mind hurt.
But you're just as stubborn.
This is for the better. Sure, you should probably make a mend, it would definitely make things easier and better. But you will try to focus on other people as well. Being with Jungkook alone on this vacation – well, it's not like you have many opportunities to focus on anything else.
But that could change. And it can change.
It's for the best. You both got distracted. Preferably with each other.
So when the time comes, you both end up at the beach nearby the beach house you're staying at. However, this time it's for you to get separated and each go your own way. Gabriel's friends are already there, wearing their swimsuits and covering it with thin layers of clothing. And then there's Gabriel as well.
You texted him, agreeing to the dinner but proposed to meet sooner. The truth is, you couldn't be alone at the house knowing where Jungkook is. It would eat you alive to be alone with your thoughts of blame and regret.
You have no idea where you will be going, perhaps more sight-seeing but you hope Gabriel has something planned out at the last minute. Sight-seeing reminds you of Jungkook as well, since you've spent your entire morning until midday.
You have not spoken ever since you came back. You both showered and changed clothes, here you are. Perhaps you've spent more time on your make-up. Your skin is glowing, covering everything that is laying beneath much deeper.
Summer dress with slightly low cut cleavage felt like the right choice. It's perfect for day time, could be great for night time as well and most importantly, you're not trying to look overly hot. This dress is practical.
And you have no idea what's up with men and summer dresses because you feel like you attract men's eyes as soon as they can make out your figure. Gabriel is speechless, though he's grinning and doesn't fail to give you a compliment.
Before you know it, Jungkook and Gabriel's friends bid you two a goodbye. Well – mostly Gabriel's friends because Jungkook is awfully quiet and doesn't even spare you a glance as he chats with Nara.
Jaw clenched, you turn around and smile widely at Gabriel. “So what's the plan?”
“Mm, don't kill me but I thought we could get a snack or something, wait–have you eaten?”
“I have,”
During lunch time with Jungkook. No matter how intense it seems to be between you, he still made sure you've eaten something. It's hard to be mad at him. But one memory of what happened just seconds ago is enough to make your features harden, just like your heart does.
“Have you?”
“I have,” he answers, “Cool, we can go to that dinner I promised you.”
You give him a slight chuckle, both of you walking nowhere specific.
“But maybe we could go to the water park as well?”
“What,” you stop, chuckling nervously. The whole point of going out was not to be in Jungkook's presence. “The others just left.” You point behind you, pretty sure they are no longer there.
“I kinda hoped we would go there alone.”
You give him a look, causing him to grin as he shakes his head. “Nothing creepy, I swear. Is it bad that I want you all for myself?”
“You will give me creeps if you continue to speak to me like that.”
He grabs his chest, pretending it hurts there. “Ouch. Is it always so hard to charm you?”
You look away, shrugging. “Not always.”
At least you didn't lie.
Best way to distract yourself is to do something. Anything that can't help you from thinking, or even overthinking. You give Gabriel that. Even though he has no idea he indirectly helped you and made your day better, attractions are a good way to just enjoy the presence. You allow yourself and your mind to be present with him.
You laugh and nicely enough, Gabriel is sweet and keeps his hands to each other. He doesn't give you creepy vibes – you're not sure if you wanted him to. He's polite, gentleman and funny. Everything anyone would like to see in a guy you're spending time with.
You talk, filling almost every second and moment with words. And yet, still somewhere rooted inside you, you keep looking around, hoping you won't meet Jungkook. Possibly see something you don't want to. You want him to have fun.
But deep inside you feel like you've pushed him to do this. It's stupid. You proposed something. You never forced him to do anything. But just because it hasn't been done directly, doesn't mean the outcome is not the same.
And you do it again. So you go to the first attraction you see, the water ride. You take Gabriel's hand, pulling him towards it until you're seated and drenched in water. After you're done, you both laugh at each other's appearance.
“I wonder if they sell towels here.” Gabriel says, praising himself for wearing slippers instead of actual shoes. His shirt is drenched, showing some of his abs. But you're respectful, you're not looking.
“It's hot, we'll be dry in thirty minutes.” you laugh, squeezing more water from the rim of your dress. It falls down your legs.
“True–how about–”
“Gab? What are you guys doing here?”
Coming from the side, you both glance at the way where one of the girls walks with the entire group of Gabriel's friends behind her. Great.
All you hear is Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook. He must be around here but you don't dare to let your eyes travel further.
“We wanted to try some of the attractions too.” Gabriel answers as if it's not a big deal.
Although he's met with some confused looks from his friends, they're not overly judgy and you get them. None of you mentioned going here before.
“You could've gone with us. Oh god, did you guys just go on this ride? We went there first, you should've seen us! Actually–Nara and Jungkook just went there like ten minutes ago and–” She starts looking behind her, pointing in that direction but she doesn't have to.
Your eyes naturally find him there. Walking, unbuttoned shirt that is drenched similarly to your dress. The difference is that you can see his skin, a few droplets here and there as the sun shines on his tanned skin.
“We did–I wanted Y/N for myself, is that so bad?”
And that's when Jungkook looks up, undoubtedly catching Gabriel's words and your stare as well. Seconds pass by and someone keeps talking, but you don't pay attention. Jungkook's eyes travel down your figure before a slight frown settles on his face.
Looking down, and you hate that you do, you follow his line of vision. The outline of your breasts is visible, nowhere near explicit to the point where anything is visibly clear, but even the slightest perks of your hardened nipples can be noticeable if one truly looks there. This dress doesn't require a bra, the material around that area is thick enough.
When you were picking this dress, you weren't counting on getting it wet by any means.
Crossing your arms over your chest, Jungkook stares directly at you this time. Something about his gaze is so intense that you're not sure whether you're naturally nervous or aroused. Fuck.
“We were just about to get frozen yogurt, you guys wanna join? We'll leave you alone, I promise.” Matt, one of their friends jokes, causing all of them to chuckle just to tease Gabriel.
Gabriel is not a shy person. He rolls his eyes playfully at them, ignoring them right after before he looks down at you. He's taller than you, not as tall as the man who stands across you and you feel his eyes on you. It burns.
“What do you say? Frozen yogurt?”
Frozen yogurt is the least of your worries right now. The right thing would be to refuse and come up with some kind of excuse, maybe trying the good old I wanna try more attractions. Just so you could finally escape the burning gaze that is ten times hotter than the sun above your heads.
But the annoyance that slowly simmers inside you, followed by Jungkook's unpleasant face, changes your mind. Lips stretching into a wide smile, making sure Jungkook sees it and hears you loud and clear.
“Sure, frozen yogurt sounds great.” Delightful, you want to say.
The others cheer, clearly happy to have Gabriel join them. You see Matt throwing his arm around Gabriel's shoulders, teasing him, undeniably about you as Gabriel shakes his head and with laughter pushes him away.
“You havin' fun?”
Jungkook walks next to you, looking ahead and not giving you one last glance. His jaw is clenched and you smile, amused and pleased even.
“Are you?”
“Wonderful,” he mutters.
“Good.”
“Good.”
Scoffing, you open your mouth but before any remark can make it out of your mouth, a woosh of coldness and pressure causes you to stop in your tracks. Most of it is blocked by Jungkook whom you manage to see turning his back, facing you while he shields you from the impact before your eyes are forced to shut.
The nearby attraction has splashed you, a few more people being a victim of it as they either laugh, curse or freeze in shock. Even your newfound friends who have managed to avoid the splash, gasp in surprise as they stare at the two of you.
You're fully drenched, every inch of you covered in water as you can feel it drip down your dress. So much for being dressed nicely.
“Oh my god, are you guys okay?” Gabriel asks, walking over to you.
Though you look up at Jungkook, who stares at you before his eyes drop down to your chest. You know his stare is not an act of lust, more of acknowledgment you should make. You don't have to look. You feel it.
Your arms cover your breasts, turning to Gabriel to respond to him. However before you're able to utter a single word, you feel a soft touch of hand over your lower back.
“We have to change clothes.”
“I saw a stand with some clothes where the kids' attractions are.” Nara tries to help, pointing in the left.
Jungkook ushers you to move before you can get drenched any more than you already are. Stupidly, you let him and you hate how you enjoy his hand on you. Maybe it has something to do with Nara watching.
There are no words said as soon as you distance yourselves from the rest of the group, leaving them up to their activities while there's a suffocating air surrounding you. The burning weather has nothing to do with it this time.
You watch Jungkook pick random shirts and shorts once you get to the stand. The older man who sells it tells you that this happens pretty much often, that's why there are a lot of towels and clothes for sale. Of course, it always has a Hawaiian theme or a water park one. You let Jungkook interact with the seller while you linger behind him, offering him a soft smile in return because that's all you can do.
“There is a changing room with a restroom around the corner. It's more to the side, so it's not much crowded, in case the lady needs more privacy.” he advises nicely.
Smiling one last time, Jungkook briefly nods as he follows the man's directions and leads you to the mentioned changing room.
He forgot to mention it's a single room. You can still hear screams and laugh from the side, but it's more isolated right now. You get inside, scanning the room. It's spacious. There are hangers on the wall, a basic bin and a sink. A huge mirror is spread across the one wall, the lighting is shitty though. The light bulb weirdly glitches but there is no weird smell in here. You hate public bathrooms, especially at water parks.
Surprisingly, there's not much water on the floor. The man was right. There are not many people who use this changing room. You've seen a couple of them when you were walking with Gabriel, but you haven't thought much about it. It sort of makes sense now.
The door clicks behind you, causing you to look across your shoulder. “Umm, where are you going?”
Jungkook looks up, brows frowning as he grows slightly offended by the question. “To change?”
His own question holds an attitude and you just stare in bewilderment for a moment. But when he doesn't move an inch, stubbornly standing his ground, you frown as well.
“Can't you wait?”
“Can't you wait?”
You scoff, almost laughing how childish this situation is. When Jungkook is mad, he can get slightly childish or let you feel all the nice things he does for people, until he stops it just to get petty. Not that you can't complain. You do the same things.
However, you use your mouth much more than he does. He's more subtle with it.
“I was here first.”
It's childish, you know it, yet you still point out when you're not sure how to react in the first place. Jungkook laughs under his breath.
“I wanna get out of these clothes as much as you do. Let's turn around and not look at each other.” he proposes, thinking that's the problem.
Little does he know you could care less if he sees you naked or whatever. You hate the way the water drips down his body, the ends of his hair picking up all the water until it slowly drops and it does the same thing seconds later. You hate how his tan body peeks through the opened button-up.
He's here. Yet it seems like he's never been further since you came to Hawaii.
All of this is stupid. You've been through much worse back home and you were able to make up.
But there's a lot of stubbornness and until you get there, you'll have to get through this somehow.
“You think that's the problem?” you question, seeing him giving you a confused look as he starts taking off his button-up.
He turns around to the sink, squeezing any water access he can from it. You don't move. You just shamelessly stare as he completely unbothered continues to do what he came here to do.
How dare he? Your self-consciousness mocks you.
“And what's the problem here exactly?”
He doesn't even spare you a glance, continuing to squeeze his completely scrunched up shirt.
“Are you seriously asking that?”
“I asked, didn't I?”
You scoff, ready to pounce on him. Not the good kind.
“There's a thing that's called space.”
The double meaning sits in the air, yet he doesn't look perplexed by it. For all you know, he doesn't even notice it as he bluntly continues his task. It pisses you off.
“There's enough space between us.” he simply says.
Your chest squeezes, causing you to purse your lips for a second as you breathe out. “You can't be serious right now.”
“I'm not even looking at you,” he scoffs, “I'll just change my clothes and I'm out of here. If you wanna just stand there and wait, you're free to do that.”
The audacity of this man is beyond the words. Is this how payback feels like?
“Oh, got it. You're eager to get out of here.” So you can get back to Nara, you want to add but decide not to. You would sound like a jealous bitch.
Somehow, Jungkook seems to get the hidden meaning behind it, almost as if he could hear your thoughts from out here. He chuckles, it's just the amused look he gives you that barely lasts a second, but it leaves you breathless and all exposed.
The dress clings to your skin, you want nothing more than to take it off. You don't dare to move though.
“May I remind you it's you who wanted me so eagerly to be out there?”
It's like you speak in riddles, yet you both know the exact meaning of them. You both don't dare to say it out loud.
Getting tired of it, but mostly letting out the anger that you mainly hold for yourself, but for the man in front of you as well, you take an angry inhale of breath.
“What exactly is it that you want, Y/N?” His voice rings loudly in your head, even though there's nothing loud about his tone.
Shakingly breathing out, you quietly point out; “You can't be fucking your best friend, Jungkook.”
The emphasis on your relationship is clear, though all Jungkook does is chuckle under his breath, scoffing. He throws his shirt into the sink, walking up to you. Your breath catches, though you can't almost anticipate once he's close to you. He stops, just centimeters from touching you. You can smell his faded cologne sticking to his skin and you almost crumble.
“What if I wanted to?”
“Jungkook–”
“You always make a decision without talking to me. It is yours, I respect it,” He stops for a brief moment. He stares your face up and down. “What exactly are you so scared of?”
And the fear comes rushing to you, mainly located in your chest as your hands flinch to squeeze it. You remain standing there, not being able to look him in the eyes. His eyes are on you, you feel every inch of them, the proximity they shine.
“This is ridiculous.” You try to move past him but he stops you.
“It is,” he agrees, “Is this about sex?”
“It's not just about that!” you argue, voice hushed and almost scandalized that you're having this conversation in public. You only hope there's no one standing outside, able to hear you.
You heard Jungkook locking the door, but still – there might be people waiting.
“I know you,” he says silently but clearly. “I know there's something going on inside that pretty head of yours that you're not telling me.”
“Stop.”
“Are you in love with me?”
You gasp, “What? No!” you push him, palms against his chest but he holds you by your wrist, amused by your sudden outburst.
“So why are you so adamant on pushing me away? All of a sudden, may I add?”
He's asking all the right questions and you despise it at the moment.
“You can't be fucking me forever, Jungkook. It must've ended at some point.”
“Oh–and you just decided on it without talking to me?” he scoffs, “You just randomly pushed me onto some random chick.”
“If I remember, you're willingly spending your free time with this random chick.”
He grins, though there's nothing genuine about it. It's fueled with cockiness.
You might realize there's more to Jungkook's reaction. You suddenly start to understand why he's maybe hurt by your sudden twist of emotions. While you never came out of the wrong place, at least your intentions never did, you might understand what his problem is.
He expected you to communicate with him about it. He might be right about that, but you also had your own reasons and yes, maybe you fucked up and it didn't go as planned, but you won't take the blame for all of it.
It's hard to focus on it though, especially when there's unspoken annoyance and anger dancing around you two.
“It was your suggestion.” he states matter-of-factly.
One, you regret.
He lets go of your wrists, but not before rubbing it softly with his thumbs. It's a minor detail, one you almost don't notice but it would be a total shame if you would.
“With a good intention.”
“And what's the intention?” he asks right away, tone slightly more defensive. “Huh?”
You open your mouth but nothing comes out of it.
Exactly – Jungkook's face says it all.
“To push me away? Because you're too scared to communicate?”
Jungkook's annoyance comes mostly out of this. You've used to communicate and talk about everything. And that brings you to the point. Things have changed. There are minor details, perhaps even more minor than Jungkook's faint touch of affection he gave to your wrists just now. But in these kinds of situations you can perfectly see them.
Does he not see it?
“Fine,” you spit out, “You want me to communicate? I will.”
“About time!” he exclaims.
“I want you to meet new people. Be open to meeting new people.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he grimaces.
“You can't be open to meeting someone when you're fucking me the entire time!” you exclaim back, chest heaving as he looks taken back.
That's all gone as his brows furrow. “That's not your decision to make. When I'm ready to meet someone, I will.”
“That's not what I meant–”
“Really? Because that's all I could gather. If I wanted to be single for years, I easily could and that has nothing to do with you.”
Ouch.
“I know–”
“Do you?” he asks. “Because to me it seems like you don't get it. If you didn't wanna have sex with me so badly, you could've just easily called it off. For the hundredth time anyway.” he mocks the last part.
That's where you gasp and come up to him, invading his space. He doesn't seem to mind.
“But you wanted it, didn't you?”
He taunts you, even though you're in his face, looking angry as ever – he remains calm and has all the control.
“A part of you still wants it. That's why you can't see me with Nara–”
“That's not about her.”
“Is it not?”
“No. I told you to meet people. That's all I wanted, don't you remember?”
He scans you for a moment. “So we're at this point where we can fuck whoever we want?”
Fuck. You did not expect him to ask this. Nor did you expect to get to this point. You led him to it. You are the reason why he's asking this. You don't blame yourself for this, it's a simple fact. It will happen sooner or later.
So why the fuck there's an answer caught in your throat?
“Do you want that?” he continues. “I promised you we would go here as friends. No sex. Anything.”
Your throat feels dry, painfully dry that it even hurts to swallow. There's nowhere to escape. There's an imaginary spotlight set on you, Jungkook's determined gaze making up for it.
“We agreed to come here as friends.”
“That's not what I'm asking.” His response comes quickly.
He stares at you, searching your face for something unknown and you shift under his gaze, causing your own eyes to trail somewhere else. You can't hold eye contact. He waits. But when he doesn't get anything in return, he simply scoffs or chuckles under his breath – you can't tell – and takes a few steps away from you.
His shorts go next, he takes them off and tries to squeeze any excess water.
“I just wanted you to–I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to meet someone new. It wasn't supposed to come out as pushy or anything.” you murmur gently under your breath.
He stops for a brief moment, not moving. “How about talking to me next time, yeah?”
You nod, though you're not sure if he sees it. He's not even looking at you. Brows pinched in together, you watch him continue with his task.
“Noted.” You drop your head low.
“If you want to fuck someone else so badly, just tell me.”
“That's not–” Your reaction comes fast. Eyes wide and mouth open, you shake your head. “You think–”
“Don't you?” he almost accuses you.
“You think I–” You make air quotes with your fingers, “pushed Nara on you because I wanna fuck someone else?”
“I no longer know what I think.”
“If I wanted to do that, I would.” You assure him, comically using the same words he has used not that long ago. It's the truth.
“Good to know.”
“Good,” you exclaim. “I guess we can both agree that we're capable of doing what we want.”
“Are we?”
Your mouth slightly opens. “Huh?”
“Are we capable of doing what we want?”
The shorts join his scrunched up shirt in the sink, knowing Jungkook will wash the hell out of it once he gets back. He loves to do his laundry. But that's besides the point.
What matters is how Jungkook inches closer to you, his eyes eating you up and noticing you haven't shredded a single piece of clothing. You catch a glimpse of your face in the mirror. Your pupils wide, an expectation screaming out of them while your skin remains wet. Trails of water trailing down between your breasts.
He follows it before his eyes slowly go up until they meet yours.
“Perhaps it's a curse or talent, but one look at you and I can already tell where your mind's at.”
He doesn't make you feel pathetic. He simply comments but finds some sort of enjoyment in it. The male's ego is never truly gone and you wish you could crash it, verbally using your mouth as you're good at it. It doesn't matter that his implication is true – it doesn't matter you both know it. You would fight and argue, just to compete his ego with your own.
It seems like you're not able to this time.
“Yeah? And where's your mind at?” you try to sound unbothered, but the way your chest slowly starts to heave up completely betrays you.
“At the same exact place where yours is. Unlike you, I'm not ashamed to say it out loud.”
He backs you to the counter, nowhere near touching you – yet he does it with a single stare and has you exactly where he wants you. The tip of your toes almost touch, his figure hovering over yours.
Gulping, you try to play it cool. “Go on then. Tell me.”
He chuckles, it's soft but holds amused darkness that's wrapped around his cords. “If you insist.”
You don't. But you play into this fake illusion of not knowing what he's talking about. Just a pure excuse to try and prove him otherwise. To be honest, you might be curious about what he has to say. Jungkook has a good judgment for a character – when it comes to you. That obviously does not apply to his exes.
“I'm supposed to be somewhere else, physically and mentally, but here I am thinking of different ways of having you.”
You stop yourself just in time not to gasp out loud, showing him a vocal reaction other than your heart picking up its pace just at the single thought of it. Let alone having to hear him confess that.
Clearing your throat, you try to straighten your posture but end up brushing against his chest. You do your best at ignoring it, staring him straight in the eyes. “And that's what I want?”
Don't lie to yourself, the little devil of your consciousness ironically laughs. Of course you know all of this, you just have this urge to prove him otherwise and crush that confidence he has within himself.
“Please, you're already salivating just from the thought of it.”
Narrowing your eyes at him, you argue: “No, I am not.”
“Tell me,” he cocks his head to the side. “Would you rather bend over the counter or sit on it?”
He sounds nothing but curious, not even feeding to your delusions of him being out of touch with reality. Only he is not.
“You're an idiot.” you breathe out, trying everything to sound scandalized or offended. You would be able to fool if it was anyone else. But not him.
“For speaking the truth?”
“You're saying it as if I would want that. Listen to what I'm saying.”
He chuckles, shaking his head lightly. “Words are irrelevant when your eyes practically beg me to touch you.”
You know he chose a lighter version of what he would initially say. He wants to be way more explicit, but you're both dancing on the edge.
“You think you know everything when it comes to me.” It sounds ridiculous coming out of your mouth. He doesn't appear to be offended because you both know how much he truly knows you.
To bring this conversation to a different topic, he chooses to ignore it and simply smiles.
“So if I were to do this–” He lightly touches the side of your neck, wrapping his hand carefully around it. You inhale shakily, not being able to control it. “Would you tell me to stop?”
He gently massages your pulse that moves under his thumb, watching goosebumps appear on your soft skin. His hand is gone before you can blink, but is soon replaced by his fingertips tracing down your neck, past your collarbone until they stop at top of your breasts.
“Hm?”
You're not able to react. Your chest heaves, a glare fixated on him but no sound comes out of your mouth. He has you. Wrapped around his fingers, proving his point. Because of his ego and confidence, you know he's proving it to you rather than to anyone else. He can be that annoying.
Close to leaning toward his touch, the tip of his fingers play with the hem of your dress, occasionally and very faintly touch your skin. His other hand goes down, playing at the fabric of where your dress ends. It goes up, fabric gathering over his wrist. You shudder, mentally begging him to do more.
As if he could read your mind, his eyes look up without having to move his head, dark sinister spark in them. When he doesn't see you protesting, merely making sure of your current state, he does not waste a second and pulls the top hem of your dress. Revealing your breasts, he sucks in breath at the perked nipples. His hold on the dress tightens and within seconds, his mouth is wrapped around your nipple.
“Fuck.” you moan, throwing your head back as you arch into him.
He's like a starving man, perhaps he is from the stupid condition you've made up, but so are you. The other hand grasps the back of your thigh, molding his fingers into your skin as if he wants to leave as many imprints as he can.
Teeth grazing your teeth, he wraps his hand around your neck once more and makes you look at him. You just stare at each other, not an ounce of shame written on your faces. Your noses touch, your mouth already opened as small gasps similar to moans escape. You beg him to kiss you.
He doesn't.
Instead, he drops down to his knees and before you know it, his hands disappear underneath your dress and shamelessly pull down your only piece of underwear. Once that's done, he hoists up your leg over his shoulder and dives in right away. You can barely grab the edge of the sink counter and balance yourself on it, before his mouth is on you.
“Jungkook–”
You swear you hear him chuckle, but you're too distracted by the shots of pleasure he's attacking you with. He shows no mercy. Fingers wrapped in his hair, you tug onto his roots as he moans against you.
Nobody does it like you.
While that thought normally scares you, now you're fucking grateful he's the one that's between your legs.
You come embarrassingly fast, trying to keep yourself silent from moaning and embarrassingly so, you have no idea whether you've succeeded or not. Jungkook fucks you through it with his mouth, stopping just at the right time as he pulls away.
Lips swollen and red, eyes drinking you up, he effortlessly stands up. “Was this anything relatively close to where your mind was?”
It was far dirtier but there's nothing to be disappointed about. When it comes to orgasm and Jungkook, he never disappoints.
“I can't complain.” you breathe out, watching how he pulls up your dress and covers your breasts to give you at least some kind of modesty.
It's a single detail, one he never had to do and you never fully noticed – but no matter what, Jungkook always looks out for you. A blunt apology wants to come out, for numerous reasons of the misunderstanding of your own fears and good intentions, but Jungkook takes a few steps back.
“Change your clothes, I will wait outside.” he says, quickly changing his own before leaving you up to it.
You turn around, not being able to let go of the counter as you grip it harder and stare at your face. He didn't even go all the way and you look like you've had the time of your life.
Once again, you and Jungkook have succumbed to your desires and broken the only condition you've had for this vacation. It should leave you disappointed and perhaps you are little, but you're definitely satisfied for the time being.
At least until you have to walk out of the door and face the storm in the form of your best friend.
Your knees and hands have stopped buckling by the time you've changed into dry clothes. Nothing screams more than a tourist wearing an oversized shirt with a huge label saying “I love Hawaii”, an image of a red heart replacing the word love. It's something you would've worn to bed to sleep in – or at the beach to cover up the least – not parading yourself in it in public.
The sense of fashion is the last of your worries or things on your mind though.
Jungkook has waited outside of the door, guarding it safely. After his sudden leave, you did not lock the door which could be a terrible mistake if Jungkook wasn't there to make sure no one walks in. Somehow, you knew he was right behind that door.
The walk toward the rest of the group is spent in silence. As if his mouth wasn't all over your private areas. The memory of it makes an excitement bubble in your stomach, even though it should probably be at least a hint of some kind of regret.
You do not regret the act itself. Mostly, it's just you being so weak to prevent it.
Maya would surely get the baggage off your shoulders, supporting this wild decision. But she just doesn't get it.
Simple walk to find your newfound friends – or whatever you would call them – makes you miss your real friends. You wonder how things would go if they were here.
Maybe it's just your stupid naivety of believing that it would be different. No matter what, it seems you and Jungkook always find your way to each other – intimately speaking.
One thing's for sure.
Jungkook has confronted you. There's truth to both sides.
Of course the man can have anyone he points his finger at. It was your foolishness to think this vacation was the perfect chance at it. Selfishly, you might've done it more for yourself than for him.
And what if you would meet someone as well?
It would certainly make things easier. The decision would be way easier too.
Gabriel is handsome. Hot and charming. Practically the perfect package for a vacation hook-up. And as much as would be leant toward maybe kissing him at least, you can't do that when Jungkook is right there.
Once you find them, the mood is sour between you and you're not even trying to hide it. Maybe it's the lack of smile and a big portion of silence that makes them notice it. No one comments on it. In fact, you don't think it's worth being commented on.
Their positivity and good mood continues to be unaffected.
“We dodged the whole frozen yogurt, heard there are these best waffles somewhere around here with fresh fruit. Wanna go there instead?” Gabriel is the first one to ask, eyes finding your figure as soon as you approach them.
In this heat, sweet food or a snack is the least of your cravings.
“I'm actually not hungry at all,” you respond, feeling guilty for not being up for this idea.
Gabriel looks confused for a moment, certainly remembering you were all up for frozen yogurt just a few minutes ago. Like the gentleman he is, he doesn't question you but you can see the questions running inside his head.
Maybe he doesn't want to do it in front of his friends.
“The heat is killing me.” you add, trying to save it.
He nods, glancing toward the man next to you who hasn't made a move to… move. “Jungkook?”
“I already had a dessert.” he comments, shamelessly staring at the side of your face.
Eyes almost bulging out, you keep your calm and try to not react. Even though Jungkook has not worded it out weirdly to give anyone a big suspicion, it's you and your guilt that makes it think it's so obvious. You wish you could glare at him, but you know there are eyes on you.
“We stopped by the fruit stand, so we had that on our way here.” you lie, straight through your teeth and even though you could be defined as the worst liar ever, this lie comes out sweet and believable. But it's Gabriel's eyes that continue to stare and watch you like you're the biggest open book.
Fuck.
“Yeah, the fruit here tastes nice.” Jungkook continues and you do everything in your power not to smack him across that bratty mouth. Mouth you wish you could have kissed.
You give him a look, but he just cocks his brow at you. “Yeah, Jungkook came up with this idea–”
“Did I?”
You glare at him, “Anyway–sorry, I know we wanted to go there together.”
“It's fine,” Gabriel laughs, “We're still gonna get it. You guys are still going with us, right?”
“Yeah, sure!” you force yourself to smile, joining Gabriel as you feel Jungkook's burning gaze on your back.
That's until you hear Nara's voice behind you, making a casual conversation between them and diverting his attention elsewhere.
Once the sun is slowly setting down, you part ways and go back to the beach house in silence. No difference happens once you're inside, just the two of you.
The past two hours spent with people you've met here felt like a torture. That's what you at least thought until you and Jungkook continued to pass by each other as you two are getting ready. Comically enough, not to go somewhere together but with different people.
He kept his word and accepted Nara's offer to go out tonight. Whether he's doing this to piss you off or because he wants to is unknown to you. Perhaps there was a slight hope that you two would just come to an agreement to cancel and go somewhere together. Even staying inside would be enough.
Once Nara asked Jungkook if their plan is still on and Jungkook so shamelessly confirmed, all the hope left as soon as it came. Gabriel has done the same with you and there was nothing other for you to do, then to agree.
It's a pure comedy. If there was a third person just watching the two of you, they would have the time of their life. Somehow you can imagine Taehyung here, sitting on the couch as he judges you two but stays entertained throughout the entire time.
After taking a shower, you end up doing your make-up in the living room with the smallest mirror you've brought on this vacation. Your previous plan of doing it in the bathroom where there is a massive mirror has failed as soon as Jungkook uttered his need to use the shower as well.
You're not sure if he's done it on purpose, but he sure as hell took his time there. You're putting on the lipstick when he finally decides to get out of there.
Both of you stop.
He's wearing an all white – button-up with shorts that reach just above his knees. Shorts you didn't even know he owns. He looks elegant, yet casual just for the hot weather even though there's a slight darkness outside. His slicked back hair definitely helps.
Jungkook's eyes fall down on your figure. You're wearing a simple short black dress but the gold necklace and red lipstick adds a pinch of sexiness to it. None of you are overdressed or could win the outfit of the year, yet you can't keep eyes off each other.
You're the first one to break it, standing up and tidying up your make-up stuff that's all over the table, but not before raising a provocative brow at him. He scoffs as he walks past you without any word, his cologne the only thing left and lingering. Out of his sight, you close your eyes and breathe out the gathered breath in your lungs.
The two of you leave at the same time, in different directions to different people.
The restaurant where Gabriel has taken you is nice and they have a variety of food on their menu. You have a nice view of the beach and sea which adds points in your imaginary review of this place. You've got to be honest – Gabriel definitely went out his way to invite you here.
He doesn't mention his friend – Nara – not even once and while you're not sure if you want to hear the reminder of her hanging out with Jungkook at the moment, you hope you won't bump into each other. You feel bad.
You listen and talk to him, but your mind is all over the place. You should've known you won't be able to enjoy tonight if there's someone you've fought with. And with Jungkook out of all people.
At least the food is nice.
After two hours of good dinner and dessert, and a few glasses of wine, Gabriel decides to walk you back to the beach house. You're not stupid to decline it, especially at night. Before that you decide to take a quick walk down the beach.
“So, what are you saying? Was the dinner that bad?”
You give him a look, chuckling. “Did it meet your expectations of getting to know me?”
Now he's the one who laughs. “Yeah,” he nods. “Kinda makes it hard for me to go back to Italy.”
You raise your brow, smirking. “So you're saying you're not going where I go?”
He laughs at your joke, “I'm thinking of it.”
“Yeah, sure.” you laugh, “One dinner is all it took?”
“You're special.”
And you're more likely looking for a hook-up, you think. You both know there's no future to this.
“I am special?” you snicker, “Is that what you say to all the girls?”
“Is it working?” he teases.
“Nah, it takes more effort when it comes to me.”
He stops in his tracks which causes you to do the same. He stares, eyes dropping down your lips and red lights flare in your mind. Knowing what it most likely means, you quickly turn away.
“Come on, I'm so full I could fall asleep.”
Cringing at yourself, Gabriel follows and doesn't seem to be shaken up from it. He continues to talk and the mood is pretty much loosen up, which has been from the beginning. You had a good time and it went better than you expected it to.
Gabriel doesn't try to kiss you and you bid goodbye with a casual hug, both of you understanding that nothing will come out of this.
The lights are on as you open the unlocked door, meaning that Jungkook is already back. It seems like he just came as he came out of the bathroom, surprised to see you there.
“How was your date?” he asks, looking away from you in a second.
“It wasn't a date.” you clarify which makes him snicker. “What? It wasn't.”
“An Italian guy wants to make plans with you, alone. You might be right, it's not about a date at all.”
You give him an offensive look, “Are you insinuating that all I'm good for is a hook-up?”
“No, don't twist up my words.” He immediately stops your mind to go somewhere his mind doesn't even get close to. “I'm insinuating that a guy from freaking Italy suddenly shows his interest in you, when you live across the world.”
You frown, watching him reach for a glass of whiskey you haven't noticed before. He's not drunk but what he is, is confidently smirking in your face as if he knows everything. Well, he's not too far off. Gabriel wants to have fun and while he seems to be a decent human being, he's not about to move to a country to be with you. You wouldn't expect him to anyway.
“But you're right,” He purses his lips, the rim of the glass almost touching it as he lets out the tiniest chuckle that's supposed to be hidden. “He's probably wanting to marry you.”
He's provocating you. The plans have not turned out the way you both wanted to – but it is what it is. Your curiosity almost kills you and your impatient-self wants to ask him about this date, or whatever it was. This is a game, you realize.
And you won't let him have that satisfaction of you asking.
“He wanted to kiss me tonight.” you inform him.
You watch him take a sip, pursing his lips right after as you slowly watch him swallow down the hard liquor. “I'm sure he wanted to do much more.”
Is that a jealousy you hear?
No one has quite peaked your interest regarding this matter. Judging by Jungkook's confidence, he knows that.
“Next time I will let him kiss me. Maybe then he will want to marry me eventually.” You give him a false smile, stopping right beside him as he wants you with a clenched jaw.
Not giving him a chance to respond, you walk away with confident steps into the bedroom. The door closes and your back meets the wood. You can feel your heart in your neck, all the facade of confidence and peace leaves and you softly bang your head against it.
What you said was completely stupid. You don't want to kiss Gabriel. In fact, the thought of it is nowhere near as exciting as one would expect it to be. Both of you know that the second part was only said to piss him off and prove a point.
The questions are…
Will you let him kiss you next time?
Did or will Jungkook kiss someone else in here?
The ongoing battle that you're in the middle of has not ended.
Both sleeping at the very both ends, as far away from each other as possible, has been a good way to start the day. It's not like you expected to cuddle during the night.
That's not what friends do, your mind wants to say. But you've crossed that line too many times. You're not the typical friends either, that ship has sailed a long time ago.
You shouldn't have pushed him away. It's too late to take it back. For a moment you think of coming to Jungkook, apologize and somehow talk yourself out of this impossible battle you're in. You're willing to take all the blame for it.
However, that's all gone as soon as you hear Jungkook calling with who you assume is Nara, his tone sweet and sounding exciting as they make plans for today. You stand there, making yourself a coffee as you try not to listen to their ridiculous conversation. How can you not?
Jungkook sits right behind you, even if you didn't want to listen – it's impossible for you not to. He knows that. He knows you're listening. You're the one who has come in the middle of their conversation.
The call ends after a minute, your coffee ready but your mind isn't when you turn around and face the devil. You've seen him from the corner of your eyes when you entered the kitchen area, but nothing prepares you for the shirtless Jungkook. His hair isn't messy, he seems to be well put and from the looks of it, he came out of the shower not that long ago.
He cocks his brow at you, questioning your stare making your features harden. “Having a date today?”
You painfully watch the way the corner of his mouth slowly lifts up as he chuckles. “Careful, you start to sound jealous.”
“Me? Don't be ridiculous,” you scoff, “Where is she from again? Doesn't she live across the world?”
Jungkook features lighten up with pure amusement as you use his words against him. “At least I can admit this is a date.”
“I simply hung out with a guy. We never stated it's a date.” you point out, knowing it sounds silly but Gabriel just wanted to get to know you. You never officially called it a date.
Jungkook stands up, grabbing his empty plate as he gives you another one of his snickers. “Be in denial all you want.”
“You know what?” He raises his brow in question, too close to you as he reaches to put the plate into the sink. “I'm not gonna spend this morning arguing with you. If I wanted it to be a date, I would make it perfectly clear to him.”
He smiles, but there's nothing sweet about it. “A date or a chance for a hook-up. I don't see the difference.”
He does. Jungkook has always been the dating type rather than the hook-up one. Your two friends have taken that label since forever. But obviously, he's not talking about himself.
Suddenly, the air becomes thick and you stare right into his dark eyes. He's hovering over you, his scent luring you in as his eyes dance across your face. “Maybe you should take your own advice.”
He pulls away, giving you a chance to breathe again as you quickly recover. “Yeah? And what would that be?”
Jungkook grabs his phone and looks at you across his shoulder. “You should meet new people.”
Your mouth opens and you stare for a moment before you scoff, “If I wanted to date, I would already have like hundreds of boyfriends. The same goes if I was looking for a hook-up.”
“Good for you.” he calls out bitterly, leaving you in the kitchen with a fuming gaze and burning heart.
But you realize one thing. How selfish you've just sounded. Jungkook has told you the same thing.
If any of you wanted that, you could've easily done so. Yet your reason for saying it to him and what ultimately started this argument, is completely different.
Jungkook is a dick.
He has left for his date or whatever the fuck it is, and has left you alone in the house even without asking whether you have plans or not. You know your relationship right now is not at its best stage, but little consideration could not hurt. Especially since he's always been caring and considerate no matter how much your relationship has taken a different turn.
It's one of the reasons why you desperately wanted to move on. Throw your past away and come back to the friendship you've known since the beginning. It leaves you agreeing that your original intention has come from a good place.
Luckily, Gabriel seems to show interest in you, still, after the little rejection you've given him after his attempt to kiss you. He comes to you a little after you come to the beach to just lay there. He's been there with his friends since this morning – at their usual spot. Nara is nowhere in sight and much to your distaste, you know who's she with.
So once Gabriel invites you to hang out with them, you agree and would rather spend your alone time in a company of many people, than to dwell all alone about your decisions in life. He keeps you entertained and busy, away from your haunting thoughts. Until…
“Nara is with your friend. You know where they went?”
You sit at a bar, drinking lemonade in this burning weather and you're thankful for the sunglasses you're wearing, so he's not about to see the tiniest roll of your eyes. “No idea. He forgot to mention.”
In the morning which is the last time you've seen him. He just left you to be with another woman, in a foreign country. You know you can call him anytime. Even now – no matter what your relationship looks like, he would be here in a second if you called and needed him. But still – you're mad he just left without saying anything. Deep down you know that's not the only thing that irritates you.
“Nara fancies him a lot.”
So? You want to say. What are you supposed to do with this information?
“Really?” You're trying to sound surprised. But even Gabriel– who had so little time to get to know you – catches onto the tone and laughs. “It's pretty obvious.” You try to save it by simply stating.
“She did ask him to go out again today. From what I know, she was never the one who asked someone out.”
“Where does she live again?” you ask, taking a sip off a lemonade trying to quench the fire inside you.
“Spain.”
“It's not like there's any future to it.”
Gabriel stays silent and just stares, while you continuously take innocent sips. “Actually, Nara has applied for some modeling jobs in Korea.”
He's definitely not talking about North Korea, unfortunately that's unrealistic.
“Oh,”
Well, fuck. This just gave a completely different turn of event.
Considering your luck, she probably applied to your modeling agency as well. Many foreigners do. You just hope no one will mention it. Not to be a bitch, but you can imagine someone asking you to help her to get in. That's beyond your competency. But you could always mention her to Junho.
Oh my god. Jungkook has worked there too. He probably has saved your boss' number. While you think Jungkook wouldn't cross that invisible line you've set, he's always trying to help and save the day.
“Listen, how about I take you out for dinner tonight?”
That's… shocking.
After the last time you ended things, you thought he gave up. But you should've known better. It seems guys like him barely give up.
“What's else for us to do?” he chuckles, not really waiting for an answer but it still comes.
“What do you mean?”
He looks at you, reaching for his drink as his shoulders relax. “Our friends are meeting with each other almost every day.”
The taste of your non-alcoholic drinks becomes bitter on the tip of your tongue, just as much as your mood does. “As far as I know, you've got other friends here.”
“But none of them are you.”
Smooth. The little smirk you give him tells him everything. He's aware of his smooth delivery of compliments. You've got to give it to him – he knows his way around girls.
It's not like you have anything else to do. Jungkook seems to be busy and does not care what you do here anymore. And Gabriel's company is nice. If it's true what he said about Nara coming to Korea, there's a bigger chance of them making future plans together. And as much as this thought leaves the most bitter taste on your tongue, you'll leave that move for Jungkook to make.
After all, that's what you wanted for him and who are you to stand in his way.
Purposely not verbally reacting to Gabriel's flirting, you shrug and lean in your seat. “Dinner sounds perfect.”
Legs resting on top of the coffee table, Gossip Girl plays in the background as you mindlessly pop grapes in your mouth. Maybe you're silently imagining it's Jungkook whom you're crushing between your teeth.
After spending almost the full day with Gabriel and then the rest of his friends, you've come to the beach house finding it completely empty. It looks exactly where it's left off and you're embarrassed to admit that you've checked Jungkook's things to see if they've moved. And perhaps he was here. They haven't, which only meant one thing – Jungkook hasn't come here yet.
Sooner than later, the door opens and there he is.
He does not seem surprised to see you there – almost as if he knew you wouldn't be anywhere else. You give him that much satisfaction of looking at him once he arrives, acknowledging his late arrival. You hate what you do but it has its own purpose. And that is the single glare you give him.
You feel like a mother, silently scolding her child for coming home late.
He goes for a shower right away and you battle with thoughts of him, erasing the traces of possible sex on his skin. He comes back after a few minutes, wearing just his boxers with wet hair. You want to scold him for walking around like that, but that would be slightly selfish for numerous reasons. Is he torturing you on purpose?
He joins you on the couch, not questioning your choice of TV show as he knows you've previously seen it. As he sits down, you can't hold it back and just come straight to the point.
“Will you help her?”
Your gaze is focused on the TV screen, but you feel his own burning the side of your face. “Huh?”
“Nara.”
He just stares which causes you to look at him and roll your eyes at him. “She applied for modeling agencies in Korea.”
“Korea is huge,” he says after a moment. “And how do you even know that?”
“Gabriel told me.” You try to not sound too proud.
“When?” he asks confusingly. “She told me just today.”
He's questioning if you've known this information sooner but never told him.
This time you inform him with a smug face. “He told me today as well.”
The revelation that you haven't spent your day here alone is out. He is unreadable. He just watches you, almost as if he wants to make sure you're not making this up. Too bad for him. You're not making anything up and this time you're not too shy to show how proud you are for it.
“What? You thought I was here all alone while you went on a date?”
It's a purposeful jab, one that leads to nothing but disaster but you don't care. You're mad and annoyed. And now he knows why. Yet he doesn't make any effort to make an excuse for himself.
“You brought him here?”
First of all – you're not sure what would be so bad about it, even if you brought him here. But then it clicks. Jungkook has his own assumptions and bringing a guy here, while you're all alone could mean different things. Your skin is moisturized and you smell like your shower gel, which means you've left the shower not that long ago.
Perhaps it could be considered as disrespectful if you indeed brought him into a house, Jungkook rented and is a space for you two. You could understand that.
If the roles were reversed and you found out he brought Nara here – well… the thought of it doesn't sit well with you. But what does, when it comes to her?
“No, he asked me out after you so kindly left me here to go on your stupid date.” you huff out, standing up and forgetting about your TV show. The controller is tossed on the couch as you leave without looking at him.
Your steps lead to the bathroom where there's a slight trace of foggy mirror left after Jungkook's shower. Mentally groaning at the scent of him dominating in the room, you reach toward the sink faucet in a desperate need to freshen up your burning face.
You don't get to turn the water on as Jungkook is in your tracks, a burning gaze aimed at you. “You seemed to have solved it pretty quickly.”
Realizing he meant your accusation of leaving you to go on a date, you scoff.
“I wasn't about to sit here and sulk, waiting like a dog for you. If that's what you were planning for me to do.”
“I wasn't planning that,” he states, even though he wants to be just as mad for some reason. “I wasn't planning on being out until now.”
“Well, you were!” you exclaim.
“Sorry.”
“Sorry? Is that all you've got to say?”
He leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “What am I supposed to say?”
“You know what? Nothing. Say nothing.” you fume, forgetting your dumb purpose in the bathroom anyway as you rush to get past him. But as soon as you get close, his hand around your wrist stops you.
The touch is electrifying, sadly not in an awful way and you hate how your body reacts to him naturally. “Did you at least have fun?” you scoff.
“Would you be mad if I said I did?”
You almost cry, like a child but the anger inside you is bigger than anything else and you shake his hold on you. “And did you have fun?”
“Lots of it.” you spit the words at him.
You both stare into each other's eyes, the anger screaming out of them and yet the question you want to ask is unspoken.
“Good.”
“Goodnight Jungkook.” you murmur, walking away and quickening up the pace before you can do something you really want to, but would regret later.
One would think that after yesterday's exchange of pitiful words, you two would have solved it or at least tried to voice the problem here. It seems there is not enough pity and when the two of you want to, you could be the biggest pity bitches.
“Milk?”
Side-eyed look toward Jungkook, having two bowls of cereal ready and awaiting your answer. “I can make myself breakfast.”
“Milk?” he asks through his teeth, causing you to roll your eyes behind his back as you sit down.
“Yes.”
Whether this is his way of saying sorry for yesterday or not is unknown and you're not about to investigate it. You mutter a silent thank you once the bowl is set in front of you and you two dig into your breakfast without any other sort of conversation.
The rest of the morning goes like this. One word communication which seems almost like a challenge. Phones are your best friend but both of you are stubborn to talk. You swim in the pool for the first time since you're here, enjoying the sun warming your skin as Jungkook goes for his morning jog and comes back an hour later.
You're playing quiet house, so it seems.
As the day goes, it's more than clear that both of you have plans tonight. Separate plans.
Jungkook's phone goes off and he goes inside to take the call, after joining you in the pool. Trying to keep your nerves to yourself, you've had to endure his presence (lack of clothed presence). You went to rest on a beach chair while he swam. PAIN.
It's close to dinner time and you both get ready. Unlike Jungkook, you spend more time in the bathroom to do your hair and make-up, which he so “kindly” reminds you every time he wants to take a shower or goes to grab something there.
The air is thick and it has nothing to do with the scent of hairspray and your fragrance.
None of you ask what's your plan for tonight. But both of you can tell. No details though.
“You done here?”
You stop in the middle of putting your lipstick on as you give him a look, “Does it look like it?”
Ignoring the attitude in your tone, Jungkook comes up to the mirror and by doing that, he moves you to the side. He almost causes the lipstick to meet your cheek and you can tell, you almost see a smirk curling his lips.
“Don't look at me like that. You've been here for a long time.” he says without sparing you a glance.
While you watch from the side with an open mouth and disbelief written on your face, he easily grabs his hair gel and starts doing his own hair. You fume, snatching your make-up bag and stomping away to finish what you haven't had the chance to – thanks to Jungkook.
By the time you're done, Jungkook has left without saying another word. You haven't even heard him leaving and you feel pathetic as you search him around the house, all while trying to look for something. Turns out there's no one here and he has left. First and again.
Luckily, Gabriel texts you not that long after and proposes a short walk. He doesn't want to reveal the restaurant location but he had to make a reservation, which already sounds fancy as it is. You're hungry and considering you're not in your best state, still fuming, you decide not to complain. First of all, it's not polite at all.
Gabriel is trying and just because you're in a mood to be a bitch, doesn't mean he's the one who deserves it. At least there's some sort of self-reflection happening.
And two, maybe it's a good idea to walk around a bit to come to different thoughts. Plus, you will eat more by the time you arrive at the restaurant.
He has cleaned up nicely, catching female eyes as you walk around for a few minutes. The walk has been short, just enough to make a casual conversation until you arrive.
The restaurant is located on a pier, waiters all wearing fancy white shirts and slacks – a difference from all the shirts with Hawaiian motifs and skin showing.
As you're led to your table, you notice there's not a single table free and tonight it's fully packed.
“What is this place?” you ask as soon as the waiter hands you menus and leaves after.
“It's the most famous restaurant on this island.”
Your mouth opens and then it closes again. “Are you insane?”
He laughs, staring at you fondly as if you haven't been too bold with your words. “This is what I like about you.”
“What,”
“Your honesty,” he hums, “It's refreshing. You don't try to woo me.”
“Why would I woo you?” you ask, genuinely curious but again, it comes out a little bluntly which causes him to laugh again.
“Ouch,” he jokes, holding his chest as you stare at him across the table. “You're in this world to punish men for their overly huge egos.”
You purse your lips, “I'm not in this world for men, first of all.”
“Technically, you are thanks to one.”
Your nose scrunches up which causes him to laugh again. “That's besides the point.”
“So is there anyone who's been trying to woo you instead?”
“Besides you, no. Not at the moment.”
He cracks another laughter, “Touché. I deserved that.”
Giggling, you shake your head at your conversation.
“So tell me–” His words drift away because in the midst of your laughter, you spot someone entering your line of vision.
The world could not be any more cruel at the moment. There they are.
Jungkook and Nara enter the pier as they're seated by the waiter, just like you were minutes ago. Jungkook, the gentleman he is, pulls out the chair for her as she giggles with a bright smile. Clearly wooed herself by the sweet gesture.
“You've got to be kidding me.” you mutter so silently, that you're sure Gabriel can't make the words out but it's enough to silence him as he follows your gaze.
He turns around and lets out a surprised, but light sound.
“Oh, I guess me and your friend think alike.”
You try hard not to make a sour expression as you clear your throat. “Let's not interrupt them. What were you saying?”
“Is there someone waiting for you? Back in Seoul?”
“I told you, I'm single.” you chuckle.
“I know, but that doesn't mean there's not someone who's ready to fight for you.”
Your fingers stop clicking and you gulp.
“So you're telling me there's no one in your life? Not even recently?”
It's like he can see there's something on your mind. You decide to come up with half of the truth. It's not like you'll see him again.
“There–It wasn't a relationship, more like a relationship of convenience–”
“So, a hook-up partner, right?”
Lips in a straight line, you hum in confirmation. “Yeah, whatever. We ended it, so it felt like a good decision to come here and just relax. Come to different thoughts.”
Cominically enough, you came here with a person you're currently talking about. The one who's sitting just a few tables from you two.
God, you sound so stupid. Of course, you're not telling Gabriel the whole truth. The purpose of coming here with Jungkook was to enjoy it, strengthen your friendship – the previous one you've had. You had an agreement.
Somehow, you end up arguing thanks to you and it gets all twisted.
“Well, I know you were supposed to come here with your friends. So I understand why you would do that.”
“It's not just because of that. We were planning this for months. It was supposed to be a friends' vacation.”
He hums in understanding and doesn't get the opportunity to speak, as the waiter comes back and asks for your order. After you've ordered your meal, Gabriel leans back and studies you for a short moment. Just before you're about to ask about his lingering gaze and its purpose behind it, he speaks.
“You're not really looking for a relationship, are you?”
Your brows shoot up at the unexpected question. For a while, you're not sure how to answer and your face says it all. In the end, you shrug and voice your confusion. “What's with the sudden question?”
“I apologize,” he smiles, “I had to voice my curiosity and I wonder if I was right.”
You lean back, fingers clicking against the table. “I'm not against it. If it comes, I welcome it.”
“Hm,” he hums. “So no hard break-up?”
“Why do you think so?”
“I don't know, there's just something about you that I can't seem to crack.”
“Sometimes some things aren't meant to be cracked.” you tell him, making him smile at the possible truth.
“Sometimes,” he agrees. “I'm sorry if I seem to be nosy.”
“No, it's okay. Trust me, I win when it comes to curiosity.” you admit with a silent laugh.
“I travel a lot, so I don't really have enough time to properly date. No woman wants a man who's ten months out of the country out of the year.”
“What do you do again?”
“Content creator.”
“Oh, so you're an influencer?”
He laughs, “Not really. I do write for a traveling blog.”
“Maybe you'll find someone you can date and travel with.”
“Unfortunately, you don't seem that kind of person.”
You laugh, “I do enjoy Seoul. It's home by now.”
It doesn't take a genius to realize that the only contact he gets through women is mostly by hooking-up. Though, by the look of it it seems that maybe he's longing for something more stable and serious.
“You know, this time I'm here for a good vacation. No work. No writing.”
“That's great. I'm assuming all that traveling is tiring.”
“It is. I enjoy it and I love my job. But I came here to maybe come to new thoughts.” he explains.
The waiter brings you your food shortly after. There's no awkward silence during eating, you keep a slightly lighter conversation as Gabriel remains nothing but a gentleman. You would lie if you said you're purposely focusing your gaze on the plate, rather than on Gabriel fearing your eyes would wander somewhere they should not.
You don't care. Maybe they noticed you and clearly decided not to interrupt you as well. Or maybe there's still that awkward awaiting of them noticing. Sipping on a drink, in a hope it will bring you to different thoughts and help you relax a little bit more.
The reason for your slight discomfort doesn't need to be named.
“You assumed, I've been through a break-up. Why?” you ask, curious as he seems taken back.
“I asked more than assumed,” he corrects. You don't seem to be buying that statement but remain silent. “At first I thought you're not interested in me, particularly. But I get a feeling you're just not interested in general.”
“Why's that?”
Yes. He might be right. You're not necessarily trying to search for someone. But you don't get a feeling as if you were against it.
“Let me be bold here.”
“Please.” you encourage him.
“There are men who can't keep their eyes off you. And I simply noticed by spending time with you.”
You give him a doubtful look which he quickly disregards by shaking his head.
“Men are men.” you simply tell him.
He makes a disapproving sound. “There are hundreds of women at the beach, but the majority of them stare at you.”
“Okay, now you're just giving me a compliment.”
“I am not,” he laughs gently, “I could but I guess it is a compliment when there are men thirsting over you.”
“Like I said. Men are men. They're thirsting over anything that wears a bikini.”
“That–can be true. But my point still stands.”
You clear your throat, “Okay. Maybe I'm not completely in a place where I'm searching for a relationship. I never hid that.”
“Of course. But that's why I just tried to prove my point why I think you're not interested.”
You stay silent for a second. He's technically a stranger but it seems as if you were having this conversation with a friend. You don't feel uncomfortable and there's no need for you to get defensive over this topic. He's wondering and that's fine.
“It wasn't a relationship. Just a hooking-up type of one and we ended it. So I just need to get things back how they were.”
And comically enough, the person who's a part of this is sitting just right over there. Even though Gabriel seems to notice quite a few things, Jungkook and your history with him seems to be oblivious to him.
Why do you care?
You've been trying to keep it a secret as long as possible until it got out. So what if he knows the truth? It's not like you'll see him again – most likely. You don't need anyone to judge you two or look at you differently. You definitely don't need any more insights into this matter than your friends have delivered.
Your own mind is a mess.
And on top of it, Jungkook and you are on edge.
The mention of him causes you to look up. And fuck. What a mistake you make.
You meet Jungkook's gaze, the intense color in them burning even from this distance as he's already looking at you. Your breath hitches in the most subtle way. While you stare shocked that he has noticed you, his brows are pinched together.
He's not exactly pleased to find you here.
Nara sits on the opposite side of the table, so all you can see is her back but she seems to be saying something to him. Jungkook reaches for the glass of wine and takes a few sips, eyes not leaving yours.
Then he's the first one to look away. That tiny detail affects you more than you're able to admit and you almost fume when the frown disappears from his face. You watch it all. His features relax as he talks to her back, obviously listening to her even though his eyes were elsewhere. Even that is kind of annoying.
Nara gently throws her head back and giggles almost so loudly, that you hear some of it. With the most burning eyes you watch Jungkook smile and let out the prettiest gentle laugh.
“Are you okay?”
You quickly avert your gaze to Gabriel. “Yeah.”
“Thought I already bore you.”
You push out a laugh, wishing Jungkook is looking. But once your eyes stupidly wander back to him – he actually is looking.
You make sure Jungkook sees the tiny provoking movement upwards of your lips. And he does. His eyes narrow, addressing the glare to you and only you.
“No, I'm starting to have a lot of fun.”
Gabriel's and yours glasses clink together comically in a synchronized way. But the only ones who seem to be on the same wavelength and having an idea – are you and Jungkook.
a/n: F-I–N-A-L-L-Y! believe it or not, nobody wanted to get this chapter out more than me! if you've been around and reading some of the asks, you probably know life got crazy and busy! as always, I'm super grateful to everyone who's been patient for me and cheering on me whether it was online or offline ♡ to every person who's been harassing me on the internet over an update, this one's not for you. I see you and I'm not interested. I've said this in one of my asks – you never know what someone goes through offline and what could possibly be the reason of their lack of activity.
on another note, this chapter should've had more scenes and so much more was supposed to happen, but from obvious reasons I've decided to post it in the end because I still think it's a good chapter. anyway, I hope you'll like it just as much as I liked it when I was writing it (no matter how much time it took me 🥴) all the love goes to you guys!
If you’ve enjoyed this chapter, please consider buying me a coffee☕️: https://ko-fi.com/personasintro ♡ Teaser for chapter 60 will be posted there!
Jinshi: “she is immune to my flirting and good looks.” 😔☹️
Maomao every 10 min in her head: “he’s so gorgeous he could topple nations. He’s so pretty he could make the most straight men gay. He’s so charming he could waltz into any room and get whatever he wants. He’s so heckin’ beautiful he is like a rare flower people would destroy kingdoms to find.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
maomao is my favorite "not like other girls" style protagonist bc for one shes a girls girl through and through. to the bone. and two she's just a weird little freak. absolute lunatic. they have the whole "omg she's actually beautiful and everyone falls for her when she's all made up" trope but the punchline is that she does not fucking want to look like that. she actively puts dirt on her face every day bc she does not want to be perceived as attractive (mostly out of fear of being used for sex work though at the same time she has the utmost respect for women who do sex work like she grew up in a brothel those are her sisters). she's Sherlock level smart and solves every mystery so fast but goes "well thats none of my business. anyway back to testing poisons on myself" she has the 2nd most powerful guy in the nation head over heels in love with her and is like "man this guy is weird around me what's his deal. I guess he's fine though because he gives me rare medicines and has no dick" fucking ICON i love her. also she once slapped someone so hard they fell on the floor. 10/10
