𑣲

No classes. No deadlines. No professors reminding you that your “creative vision” wasn’t translating well on screen. Just a full week of nothing, which sounded amazing until you actually had it and realized you didn’t really know what to do with that much free time.

You had spent the first two days sleeping like your life depended on it, which was fair because it was actually weekend and not the start of the break. The third day was a mix of scrolling, half-watching movies, and telling yourself you should probably be doing something productive— like editing that short film you’d been avoiding or even preparing that fundraiser event you were throwing in less than two months— but not actually doing it.

And now, the fourth day, you were exactly where you started. On the sofa with your phone in hand. Absolutely doing nothing.

The TV was on, mostly for background noise. You weren’t paying attention to it, not really. Your eyes were glued to your screen, thumb moving lazily as you scrolled through videos you weren’t even interested in. It was slightly embarrassing how little you actually felt like engaging with anything remotely artistic during your break since you were in film studies.

Still, every now and then, your brain would kick in automatically. You’d notice the lighting in a clip. The framing. A weird cut that didn’t quite work. It was annoying, honestly. You couldn’t just watch things anymore, you had to think about them, analyze them. Sometimes it was annoying… but you still loved it.

You shifted slightly on the sofa, pulling one leg under you, adjusting your position without looking up. That’s when the volume on the TV went up, not a lot but enough for you to notice.

“Hana, the volume.” You frowned a little, still not looking up. “Hana,” you said again, already knowing. No response. You sighed, finally lifting your eyes. There she was, your older sister, sitting on the floor, way too close to the TV, completely focused like she was watching something life-changing. You followed her gaze. And immediately wished you hadn’t. “Hana— ugh, not again,” you muttered under your breath.

Of course. It had to be them.

The video showed a bright set. Clean camera angles, very readable subtitles and that overly polished interview vibe that always felt the same no matter who was in it. It was a big group. And right in the middle of it— Jeon Jungkook.

You didn’t even mean to pay attention. Really, you didn’t. But Hana leaned forward slightly, like she didn’t want to miss a single word, and that alone was enough to drag your attention along with hers.

“…And Jungkook, what does that mean to you?” the interviewer asked.

You rolled your eyes before he even answered. Still, you heard it.

“It means everything. They’re everything to us,” Jungkook said, smiling. “They’ve supported us from the beginning, so… I think we owe them a lot. That’s why we will do our best and work hard to show them gratitude.”

You stared at the screen for half a second and then scoffed when your sister murmured: “He’s such an amazing person.”

“Please.” Hana didn’t turn around right away, but you could feel she was already getting annoyed

“What?” she said.

“That’s so fake,” you added, already looking back down at your phone.

“You didn’t even watch the whole thing.”

“I didn’t need to.”

Hana finally turned, twisting around so she could look at you properly. “He is amazing. And if you knew him like I know him you wouldn’t say that—”

You let out a small laugh. “We live in different continents. You don’t know him.”

“I do know him.”

You sat up a little, resting your arm against the back of the sofa. “How exactly do you know him, Hana?”

She rolled her eyes like the answer was obvious.

“I know everything about him.”

You snorted. “Everything?”

“Yes,” she insisted, counting on her fingers now like she was presenting actual evidence. “I know where he works. I know where he likes to shop. The clubs he goes to, the people he works with, the restaurants he likes—”

“That’s not knowing someone,” you cut in. “That’s having google.”

“It’s not just that,” she said, annoyed. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“No, I get it,” you said. “You’re a delusional obsessed stalker.”

“I’m not obsessed.”

“Hana, you literally know what he eats.”

“That’s public information!”

You raised your eyebrows. “Exactly my point.”

She huffed, turning back to the TV for a second before looking at you again, clearly not done. “At least I appreciate him.”

“Appreciate what? His scripted answers?”

“They’re not scripted!”

“Right. Because ‘you mean everything to us’ has never been said before.”

Hana groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “You don’t get it.”

“No, I do. You’re mentally ill.”

“You just wait and see—” she paused, sitting up straighter, then grinned suddenly, like she’d remembered something. “Once we’re in Korea you’ll met him.”

Right. South Korea.

The trip had been planned for weeks. Your parents were excited in that calm, nostalgic way adults got when they were going back somewhere that meant something to them. Your great-grandparents were still alive— which, apparently, was a miracle according to everyone who talked about it— and your mom had decided that this was the perfect time to visit. Which meant you were all going. Together. For a full week.

You didn’t mind it, not really. You liked traveling. You liked seeing new places— even if, technically, this wasn’t entirely new for you. You’d been to Korea before, just not recently enough to remember it clearly.

Hana, on the other hand, was treating it like the most important trip of her life. She had lists, actual lists. Places she wanted to go, things she wanted to eat, neighborhoods she needed to see. And, of course— Locations. Specific ones. Ones that, somehow, always seemed to be connected to them. Him, specially.

You frowned. “…met him?”

“Yeah.”

“Hana.”

“What?”

“We’re not going to just run into him.”

“You don’t know that.”

You stared at her. “Yes,” you said slowly, “I do.”

She ignored that completely. “We’re literally going to Korea,” she continued, like that proved everything. “Do you know how many places he goes to? We could go to one of them. Not, not just one, to all!”

“We’re going to visit great-grandma and great-grandpa,” you reminded her. “Not go on a BTS Jungkook tour.”

“Look if you want you can stay and play dolls with great-grandma. I’ll go meet the guys,” she rolled her eyes. “And his name is not BTS Jungkook, just Jungkook. I’ve told you this a thousand times.”

“You said we were going to hangout more there,” you pointed at her.

“Well, of course. Dad is not gonna let me go alone to places. I need you for that.”

“You’re using me to meet these losers?.”

“They’re not losers!”

“I don’t want to met them. So fuck them and you.”

She pointed at you. “We’re literally going when they’re having their free concert. We’re meant to run into them.”

You stared at her for a second, then leaned back into the sofa again, picking your phone back up. “I’ll schedule a therapist appointment for you once we’re back.”

Hana rolled her eyes again, some way still too pleased with herself. “You’ll see. I’ll do everything on my list. First stop: Soju & Soul.”

You were going to commit murder before arriving to Korea.

‘Soju & Soul’

Somewhere across the world, in that crowded restaurant filled with low conversation and warm light, Jungkook sat at a table surrounded by people he actually knew. Which, lately, felt important.

The place wasn’t empty, it never really was those days. But it wasn’t chaotic either. Just busy enough to blend in, just quiet enough to pretend things were normal. He liked places like that. He liked places where he could sit down, eat, talk— without everything turning into something else. He used to liked it more when it wasn’t filled with people waiting for him. But he had learned to accept he couldn’t control those things. He still kept coming back time to time, he loved the food there.

Still, he noticed it. He always did.

The occasional glance from another table. Aphone lifted just a little too casually. Someone whispering and then looking away too fast.

He didn’t react, he’d learned not to.

“Are you even listening?” someone across from him asked.

Jungkook blinked, refocusing. “Yeah,” he said automatically.

“You’re not.”

He smiled a little. “I am. You were saying something about tomorrow.”

His friend narrowed his eyes, unconvinced, but continued anyway. The conversation moved on. His friends were familiar with his zone-out moments. They knew him that much already. He appreciated that. That bond, that part was real. And he held onto that. Because everything outside of it wasn’t always.

He loved what he did. He really did. The music, the stage, the connection, it meant something to him. It always had… But the rest of it? The guessing, the assumptions, the rumours, the lies… The way people thought they knew him because they knew of him. That part was harder. Not impossible. Just… tiring. And sometimes it even felt like people loved the idea of him more than anything else.

And there wasn’t much he could do about that.

After a while, he pushed his chair back slightly, glancing toward the door. “I’m heading out.”

“Already?”

“Yeah. Have to wake up early tomorrow.”

A few teasing comments followed, nothing serious. His friends were use to his busy schedule, specially those days.

He grabbed his jacket, slipping it on as he made his way toward the exit. He felt it, that shift in the room, subtle but there. He stepped outside, the night air cooler than he expected, and exhaled slowly.

Almost free…

“Excuse me—!”

He stopped before slowly turning. A girl stood a few steps away, phone already in her hand, eyes wide with that mix of excitement and disbelief he recognized instantly.

“Can I— Can I take a picture with you?”

There it was.

He smiled, soft and easy. “Of course.”

She lit up. It took less than ten seconds. A quick photo. A thank you, a gratitude for his music. Another cute smile. And then he was already walking away.

“Thank you,” she said, breathless.

“No problem.”

The next morning, it was everywhere.

A blurry picture. A headline that didn’t make sense. Speculation that spread faster than it should. Him and her standing close and smiling before the picture. It didn’t matter that it was a fan. It didn’t matter that it lasted ten seconds. It didn’t matter that it meant nothing. Because to everyone else it meant everything.

And just like that, somewhere out there, a girl who had only asked for a picture became a target. Comments flooded in. Speculation, hate, jealously dressed up as concern. Jungkook stared at his phone longer than he should have.

BTS JEON JUNGKOOK SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY GIRL

The comments were worse, they always were. It didn’t matter what actually happened, what mattered was what people thought happened. And that— That was something he couldn’t control. And something he hated.

——————————

The first thing you noticed about Seoul wasn’t the noise. It was how alive everything felt. Like the city never really paused, just shifted pace depending on the time of day. Even from the car window, as you leaned your head against the glass and watched everything pass by, there was always something happening. People walking fast like they had somewhere important to be. Small shops squeezed between bigger buildings. Neon signs still faintly visible even in daylight.

It felt… full. You didn’t hate it. You actually kind of liked it.

Still, by the time you pulled up in front of your great-grandparents’ house, you were more than ready to just stop for a second. Specially after the long hours flight. The house itself made you blink.

“Damn,” you said, sitting up straighter. “I didn’t remember being this big.”

Hana, who had been glued to her phone the entire ride, barely glanced up. “Yeah.”

You looked at it again. It wasn’t just a house. It was big, not in a flashy, modern way but in that quiet, old, this has been here for a long time kind of way. The gate, the small garden, the structure itself— it all felt solid. Lived in.

“Why does it look like we’re visiting royalty?” you muttered.

Hana snorted. “Relax. It’s just old money vibes.”

“That’s not better.”

Your parents were already getting out of the car, greeting your great-grandparents like no time had passed at all. There was a lot of hugging. A lot of talking at once. That warm, slightly chaotic energy that came with family reunions.

You followed a little slower, taking everything in. The air smelled different there. Cleaner, somehow. Or maybe you were just imagining it. Inside, it was even more noticeable— the mix of old and new. Traditional details blended with modern touches, like time had just adjusted instead of moving on.

You slipped your shoes off near the entrance, stepping inside carefully.

“Wow,” you said under your breath.

“Right?” Hana replied, already walking ahead like she owned the place.

You glanced around, fingers brushing lightly against the wall as you moved further in. There was something comforting about it, even if it wasn’t entirely familiar.

Your great-grandmother smiled at you, giving you another big hug it almost made you out of breath before she took your hand to the kitchen. She already had the table full of food ready to feed you and your sister.

Amazing. What a great start of the week.

The rest of the afternoon passed in that slow, slightly overwhelming way family visits always did. More food appeared out of nowhere. Conversations overlapped. You sat, listened, nodded, smiled when your great grandparents gave you compliment after compliment. It was nice reuniting with family. But still exhausting.

Hana, surprisingly, behaved… for about an hour. After that, she was back on her phone.

By the time you finally escaped to your room, which you were glad you had one for you, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You dropped onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Okay,” you said. “I need a break.”

“From what?” Hana asked, entering your room and falling into your bed like it was hers.

“From existing.”

She hummed, clearly not paying attention. You turned your head to look at her. She was now sitting cross-legged on the bed, phone in one hand, laptop open in front of her, tabs everywhere.

“Can we do something tomorrow?” you asked. No response. “Hana.”

“What?”

“Can we do something tomorrow?” you repeated. “Like— together.”

She glanced at you for half a second. “Yeah, sure.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “That sounded fake.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It sounded fake.”

“I said yes,” she replied, already looking back at her screen. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “Walk around, explore, get food… normal things.”

“Okay.”

Another pause. You waited but nothing. “Hana.”

“What?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes.”

“What did I just say?”

She sighed dramatically, finally closing her laptop halfway. “You want to ‘hangout’ or whatever.”

You stared at her. “Wow. You make it sound so fun spending time with me.”

“It’s not that,” she said quickly. “It’s just— Tonight it’s the free concert. I’m trying to see how I can get in.”

You sat up, already annoyed. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Hana. You just got here.”

“And?”

“And you want to run off to a shitty concert to see some boys?”

“It’s not a shitty concert!”

You rubbed your face with your hands. “I can’t believe this.”

“They don’t do this all the time,” she continued, already grabbing her phone again. “This is like— once in a lifetime.”

“You say that about everything they do.”

“Because everything is once in a lifetime!”

“That’s not how that works.”

She ignored you. “I think I can get there—”

You rolled your eyes, thinking how irritating she was. “Hana, shut up. You’re stupid.”

She sighed, clearly over the conversation. “Look, we can hang out tomorrow, okay? I promise.”

“You said that five minutes ago.”

“And I meant it.”

You watched her for a second. Then shook your head, getting up from the bed. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Where are you going?”

“To talk to people who actually hear me when I speak.”

“That’s dramatic.”

You didn’t answer but just walked out. Your sister was a bitch sometimes. Only interested in those damn boys.

On the other side of the city, things were moving a little faster.

The room wasn’t huge, but it was filled. Managers, staff, screens displaying schedules, notes, last-minute adjustments. The kind of chaos that came before any performance, even one that was supposed to feel casual but it was in reality a big one. It was the finally damn comeback.

Jungkook leaned back slightly in his chair, listening as someone went over the setlist again.

“…and we’ll keep the transitions quick. No long breaks,” one of the staff members said. “We want to keep the energy up.”

“Got it,” someone else replied.

Jungkook nodded along, eyes scanning the paper in front of him even though he already knew most of it.

Free concerts were always different, less pressure in some ways but more in others. There were no tickets, no barriers in the same way— just people showing up because they wanted to be there. He liked that, it felt closer and more real.

“Anything else?” the tour manager asked, looking around the room. A few heads shook. “Alright. Let’s keep it clean tonight. No issues.”

Jungkook almost smiled at that. No issues, that was easier said than done.

The meeting wrapped up quickly after that, people standing, gathering their things, moving on to whatever came next. Jungkook stayed seated for a second longer, stretching his arms slightly before standing up.

“Hey,” his manager said, nodding toward the hallway. “A second?”

Jungkook followed without questioning it. They stepped into a quieter space, the noise from the main room fading just enough to make the shift noticeable.

“What’s up?” Jungkook asked.

His manager glanced at him, then leaned slightly against the wall. “That brand you mentioned a while ago,” he said. “Se-seil.”

Jungkook’s expression shifted, just slightly. “Yeah?”

“They’re interested.”

He blinked, his heart beating a little faster. “Wait— seriously?”

“Yeah. Not signed yet,” his manager clarified. “But they want to start talks. Ambassador deal.”

Jungkook let out a small breath, something between relief and excitement. “That’s—” he shook his head a little. “That’s amazing.”

“It is,” his manager agreed. “It’s big.”

Se-seil wasn’t just any Korean brand. It was selective. Clean image, high expectations, specially in the country. Not the kind of deal you got easily. Didn’t even matter if you were a big star, they were dedicated with their marketing and their reputation. Jungkook had wanted that deal for a long time, it felt like a big thing for him and his image. Specially now that he was in his lates twenties.

“Okay,” he said. “So what’s the catch?” His manager didn’t answer immediately which was answer enough. Jungkook’s smile faded slightly. “What?”

“They want you to keep a low profile for a while.”

Jungkook frowned confused. “I already do.”

“You know what I mean,” his manager said. “No rumors. No headlines. Nothing that can turn into something.”

Jungkook exhaled quietly. “…Right.”

His manager watched him for a second before continuing. “There’s been talk.”

“About?”

“You.”

Jungkook let out a small, humorless laugh. “There’s always talk.”

“Yeah,” his manager said. “But this one’s sticking, specially to the marketing team of the brand.”

Jungkook looked at him. “What are they saying?”

There was a brief pause. “That you’re getting… comfortable.”

He frowned. “What does that even mean?”

“That you’re going out more. That you’re being seen with different girls,” his manager said, keeping his tone even. “That you’re starting to act like you don’t have to follow the same rules anymore.”

Jungkook stared at him. “That’s not—”

“I know,” his manager cut in. “But that’s not the point.” Silence stretched between them. “They see a big ego,” he continued. “A wanna be playboy. Someone who thinks he’s too big now to fit the idol picture.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything. He froze for a second. “…That’s ridiculous,” he said finally, quieter.

“Maybe,” his manager said. “But it’s what’s being said.” There was another pause. “So,” he added, “we keep it simple for now. Stay low, at least for the next two weeks. Stick with the group. No good headlines, no bad headlines. Just music and how much you love each other.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, understanding immediately. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Just for a while,” his manager said. “Until they convinced the owner of the brand. He’s an old man, needs time.” He shrugged. “You want the deal, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I can play low. Got it.”

His manager gave him a small nod before heading back toward the main room. Jungkook stayed where he was. Just for a second. The words lingered longer than he expected. Wanna be playboy. Big ego. Too big for the idol image. He let out a quiet breath, running a hand through his hair. That was funny. How people could decide who you were without ever actually knowing you. It bothered him. But he already knew the game by now so he didn’t let it get under his skin.

He pushed himself off the wall, expression settling back into something neutral.

“No headlines for the next weeks,” he muttered to himself

He could easily do that… yeah. Of course.

——————————

You were lying face down on the bed, fully dressed in what could only be described as giving up for the day. An oversized hoodie, worn-out sweatpants, and socks that didn’t match.

You were trying to get some needed rest when Hana walked in like she was about to attend the most important event of her life. You didn’t even look up at first. You just felt it. That shift in energy. That unnecessary confidence. That very specific kind of presence that meant she had spent way too long getting ready for something that absolutely did not require that level of effort.

“…No,” you said into your pillow.

There was a silence and then... “You didn’t even look.”

“I don’t need to,” you replied, voice muffled. “I can hear the outfit.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

You rolled onto your back with a sigh, finally looking at her and immediately rolled your eyes. “Hana.”

“What?”

“Why do you look like you’re about to get proposed to?”

She scoffed, adjusting something invisible on her dress. “It’s called dressing nicely.”

“It’s called overdressing,” you corrected. “You’re going to a free concert, not the Met Gala. And is not even summer, you’re gonna freeze.”

She ignored that completely, turning slightly to check herself in the mirror again. “You could at least try,” she added, glancing at you. “You look like you just survived something.”

“I am right now,” you said. “You.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re dressed like an arab wedding guest.”

That made her pause, narrowing her eyes at you. “You need to come with me.”

You blinked. “…No, I don’t.”

“You need to.”

“No.”

She turned fully now, hands on her hips. “Dad won’t let me go alone.”

You sat up a little, unimpressed. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“It’s an us problem now.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Hear me out,” she said quickly, walking closer. “Please. Just this once.”

You stared at her. “I thought you said this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“It is.”

“So go live your life. Sneak by the window or something.”

“Dad will notice and you know how it is when he gets paranoid!”

You let out a small laugh. “So your plan is to drag me into it?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Great plan.”

She dropped onto the edge of your bed, grabbing your arm lightly. “Come on. I won’t ask you for anything else this trip.”

“You are already asking me too much,” you muttered.

“I’m serious,” she insisted. “Just come with me, stay for a bit, and then I do whatever you want afterwards. I swear.”

Now that was a better deal.

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “…Whatever I want?”

“Yes.”

You tilted your head. “You’ll shut up about BTS and Jungkook?”

She hesitated. “…Yes. For the rest of the trip.”

“What about for the rest of your life?.”

She groaned, flopping back dramatically. She covered her face for a second, annoyed with you. “Fine.”

You smiled. “…That was fast.”

“I said fine,” she repeated, pointing at you. “But you actually have to help me get in.”

“I’m coming with you and lying to our parents. I think that’s enough.”

She sat up again, suddenly determined. “Okay, change fast. We need to go now.”

You stared at each other for a second. Then you sighed.

“I’m not changing. I’ll stay in the car while you do your thing,” you muttered, standing up. She look at you unbelievably. “Let’s just go before I change my mind.”

She groaned again. “Fine, let’s go.”

The lie came surprisingly easy when you confronted your parents downstairs. It wasn’t exactly that you needed permission to go out since you were grow ups but it was mostly your dad being worried that something could happen to any of you since you didn’t know the city that well and clearly weren’t locals.

“We’re just going for a walk downtown,” Hana said casually, leaning against the door like she hadn’t just spent three hours getting ready.

“And maybe get something to drink,” you added, trying to sound normal.

Your parents barely questioned it. Which, honestly, felt suspicious.

“Don’t stay out too late,” your mom said.

“Let the girls have fun,” your grand grandmother smiled at you both before throwing her key cars to your sister.

It was like she knew you were planning something else. You nodded with a fake excited smile, already stepping outside before anything else could be added. The second the door closed behind you both run to the car your granny had give you the keys to use.

The car was… something. You stared at it for a second before getting in.

“Why is it so purple?”

“It’s vintage.”

“It’s purple.”

“Still vintage.”

“Ugly vintage.”

Hana ignored you, already starting the engine and started driving with way too much confidence for someone who definitely shouldn’t be driving that fast. You gripped the door slightly.

“I’ll drive fast. Can’t lose more time.” She warned you.

“God, I should’ve gotten my license years ago.”

You were regretting a lot of your life choices already.

By the time you reached Gwanghwamun, it was chaos. Not violent chaos just a shit ton of people. Everywhere. Lights, noise, movement, energy. The kind of crowd that made you immediately reconsider every life choice that led you there. You were a little anxious. Hana, on the other hand, looked like she had just found heaven.

“This is insane,” she breathed.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s one word for it.”

And somehow, somehow, she found a parking spot. A good one. Close enough to see the crowd, far enough to not get stuck in it. You stared at her as she parked.

“…That was suspiciously easy.”

“It’s fate,” she said.

“I don’t think it’s legal to park here.”

She turned the engine off, already unbuckling her seatbelt and taking the keys with her. “I’ll be fast.”

“That’s not true!,” you clocked her. “And why are you taking the keys?.”

“Just in case. So you don’t leave me.”

You rolled your eyes. “If an officer comes and I can’t move the car I’m giving your ID.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just text me anything.” She rolled her eyes, opening the door. “Just don’t fall asleep or something.”

“No promises.”

You watched her step out, adjusting her outfit like she was about to step onto a stage herself. Then she walked toward the big ass crowd of people trying to get inside too. And within seconds— You saw her arguing with a security guard, probably giving her fake argument that she was a big fansite who needed to get inside to do her job.

Of course. She was so annoyingly persistent.

You immediately leaned your head back against the seat. “Great,” you muttered. “I’ll be here forever.”

You lost sight of her not long after that.

Poof! She was just… gone. Swallowed by people. Amazing.

Thirty minutes later, you were still in the car. Doing absolutely nothing.

You checked your phone. scrolled for over three hundred different videos, a lot of them being korean adds you were already done watching by the second one. You locked it. Checked it again a minute later. And repeated that a thousand times. Nothing, absolutely nothing. Your friends back home were sleeping, you didn’t have enough data anymore to put some youtube or a netflix show and you couldn’t even put music because the car was turn off.

Fuck it.

You sighed, pushing the door open and stepping out.

The air was louder out here. The music reached you immediately— distant, but clear enough to recognize the rhythm, the beat carrying through the crowd like something alive.

You stood there for a second, listening. And then, the voices felt closer. It felt familiar… even if you didn’t want them to be.

“We can go all night

Don't you close your eyes

Don't you fear the light

All night…”

You tilted your head slightly, arms crossing over your chest as you listened. You knew they weren’t bad. They were even more than okay, they were great. You could admit that. But that wasn’t the point, it wasn’t. You didn’t hate their music. You didn’t even hate him. You just hated what it did. How every time you tried to talk to Hana, your sister, she was somewhere else. How every plan somehow turned into something about them. How you always felt like you were competing with something you couldn’t even see.

It was like you were fighting for a place in her life that didn’t even have time for you.

You kicked lightly at the ground. Your phone buzzed. You glanced at it.

Hana: IM INSIDE

You: how

Hana: don’t ask

Hana: IM TRYING TO GET CLOSER

You: of course you are

Hana: watch me get front stage bitch

You stared at the screen. Then laughed quietly to yourself.

Yeah. Of course she will do that.

You looked around. Most of the nearby places were empty, everyone either at the concert or trying to get in. That meant every store was either empty or had a little to few people. Which was amazing because you were hungry as hell. And you deserved some good food after doing all that for your sister.

You decided to ignore google maps and just walk around, the view was beautiful. All the city was painted in purple— which you knew exactly why— but it was decorated so beautiful it made your irritation disappear. There was a lot of people walking around and singing or dancing or recording. The place was packed on the streets but the stores and restaurants were mostly empty. You walked a lot until you find a good spot in an alley that didn’t seemed too full.

The restaurant you found wasn’t anything special. Small, quiet, a little hidden from the main street like it didn’t really care about being noticed. It was perfect.

You stepped inside, the sudden calm almost shocking after the noise outside. An older woman stood behind the counter, looking up as you entered. You smiled, a little awkward.

“Hi.” you said, walking to her while looking at the little menu in the counter. “Do you recommend me something?.”

She smiled at you before nodding. “Sit, sit,” she said, gesturing to a table. “I’ll choose for you.”

“Well, okay. Thank you.” You sat down, glancing around. It felt… nice, simple and warm. You were hungry.

After some minutes she brought you a bowl of ramen not long after, placing it in front of you with a small smile. You looked at it. “…Wow.”

“It’s my secret recipe,” she clearly proud.

You nodded quickly. “It looks amazing.” You took the hot steam soup to your mouth, tasting the food, immediately groaning of satisfaction. “Okay— that’s really good.”

She smiled wider this time before started talking about her recipe. And you knew you were going to be there for long, long time.

You two talked about some recipes and the different things and spices you had back home and how the food felt completely different even with the same condiments. It was a long conversation. By the time you finished eating and paid, you felt lighter. Like maybe the night wasn’t a complete waste… Until you checked your phone.

Three hours. You stared at the screen. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

No new messages. Of course. Your sister was probably still trapped in that place doing Lord knows what. Specially with how many people were there it was going to take a lot of time for her to get back.

You stepped outside, saying goodbye to the old woman whose name you learned was Gaon. The distant sound of the concert still echoing through the city. The walk to the car wasn’t close but it wasn’t exactly far either. You took a shortcut, because of course you did. An alley, narrow but lit enough to feel safe.

At least at first.

You adjusted your hoodie slightly, hands tucked into the pocket as you walked, your mind already somewhere else. And then—

Boom!

The door flew open. You didn’t even have time to react. It hit you hard— right on the side of your head. “—shit—!”

And suddenly the ground was rushing up to meet you. Everything tilted. Your vision blurred for a second as you stumbled, then fell, the impact knocking the air out of your lungs as you hit the pavement. Pain spread almost immediately, sharp and disorienting.

Ouch.

——————————

By the time Jungkook finally sat down to eat, the adrenaline from the performance hadn’t fully left his system yet.

It never did, not right away. There was always that leftover energy buzzing under his skin, like his body hadn’t gotten the message that it was over. His ears still rang faintly, not painfully, just enough to remind him of the crowd, the music, the way thousands of voices could somehow feel both overwhelming and grounding at the same time.

The restaurant had been rented out for the night, one of those places that felt exclusive without trying too hard, low lighting, warm tones, tucked away just enough to avoid unnecessary attention. A good choice, considering who he was with.

The 97 line didn’t do subtle… or quiet. Or anything remotely calm when they were all in the same room.

“You missed a line of that song,” Mingyu pointed out, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “What happened? Got distracted?”

Jungkook snorted, grabbing his glass. “Yeah, because I’ve never done a concert before.”

“Just saying,” he added, nudging him slightly. “You looked like you were in your own world out there.”

“That’s literally my job.”

“Your job is to sing, not dissociate.”

“I wasn’t—” Jungkook started, then paused, shaking his head with a small smile. He knew they were just trying to bother him. “You guys are annoying.”

“We are making you a better idol.”

“You all should learn from me, fuckers.”

They laughed, the conversation flowing easily after that, random topics, teasing, inside jokes that didn’t need explaining. It was comfortable, familiar. The kind of environment where he didn’t have to think too much about anything outside of the moment.

Which was exactly why it ended too fast.

Jungkook checked the time on his phone, his expression shifting slightly. “…Okay, I have to go.”

Groans immediately followed. “You just got here.”

“I’ve been here for an hour.”

“That’s not enough.”

“It has to be,” he said, already standing up and reaching for his jacket. “I’m late.”

“Hybe party?” Eunwoo asked.

“Yeah.”

“Tell them we said hi.”

“You’re not going later?.”

“Not really feeling in the mood. But you know we’re proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook replied, pulling his jacket on. “See you guys.”

A few more comments followed him as he made his way toward the exit, shaking his head lightly but smiling anyway. He pushed the door open without really thinking about it— his mind already halfway out, already shifting to what came next.. and then something hit. Or really… someone.

There was a thud. A sharp, immediate sound that didn’t match anything around him.

Jungkook froze. And then looked down.

“Oh— oh my God!” he stepped forward quickly, eyes widening as he saw you on the ground. “Did I just hit you?!”

You blinked up at him, clearly disoriented, one hand already moving instinctively toward your head. “No,” you said flatly, wincing. “The door hit me by itself.”

He stared at you for half a second. “…Right. Yeah. No, no. I’m sorry.” He frowned, looking at the alley where a song he knew perfectly started getting louder. “Oh, no. That— this is not good.”

You groaned slightly, pushing yourself up just enough to sit, your expression tightening as the pain settled in properly.

“Yeah, no shit.”

Jungkook crouched down immediately, hovering like he wasn’t entirely sure where to help or what to touch. “Are you okay? That looked really bad.”

“I’m amazing,” you muttered. “I love getting hit by doors.”

He let out a breath, somewhere between concern and disbelief. “Okay, sarcasm. That’s a good sign, right?”

You opened your eyes properly now, finally focusing on him—

“…Oh.”

Holy shit.

Jungkook blinked. “What?”

You stared at him for a second longer, your brain clearly trying to catch up with your eyes. “Oh, wait. Holy shit. You’re—”

He reacted immediately, one hand coming up to gently— but quickly— cover your mouth.

“I’ll give you free tickets to the first concert of the tour if you don’t scream my name right now.”

You froze for a second at his touch before frowning, annoyed. Who the hell did he think he was? You shoved his hand away, a little harsh.

“I don’t want tickets for your stupid concert,” you snapped, your voice coming out sharper than you intended as your head throbbed again.

Jungkook blinked. “…Wow.” He leaned back slightly, studying you. “You really hit your head.”

Before you could respond, the door behind him opened again; this time slower, and a couple of his friends stepped out, immediately taking in the scene.

“What happened?”

“She got hit by the door,” Jungkook said quickly.

“You hit her with the door,” Mingyu corrected, stepping closer.

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Who does?.”

You let out a small, pained sound, pressing your hand more firmly against your forehead. “…Why is everything spinning?”

All three of them looked at you, then at each other.

“…Is she bleeding?” Eunwoo asked.

Jungkook leaned in slightly, eyes focusing on your forehead and immediately tensing. “…Yeah.”

You blinked. “What do you mean ‘yeah’?”

“Like— just a little,” he added quickly. “It’s not— like, a lot.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“Okay, it’s a little more than a little.”

“Great.”

“You should probably sit still.”

“I am sitting still!”

There was a brief pause.

“Oh, shit,” Mingyu muttered, glancing toward the street.

Jungkook followed his gaze. And immediately understood. The music was still echoing through the area, but closer now. People moving around, voices getting louder, fans walking, wandering, noticing. And noticing them.

“Okay,” Eunwoo said quickly. “We need to move.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agreed, already helping you up carefully. “Can you stand?”

“Define stand,” you muttered, but you let him pull you up anyway, swaying slightly once you were on your feet.

“…Okay, maybe not.”

“Take my car. They probably know yours already,” Eunwoo said, already backing away. “We’ll distract them.”

“But—”

“I’ll bring it for you,” he insisted. “We got it.”

Jungkook hesitated for half a second. Then nodded. “Okay. Thanks.” He turned back to you, steadying you as the noise around you grew just slightly louder. “Come on.”

You squinted at him. “I don’t like this.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“No, I mean— I really don’t like this.”

“You’ll like the hospital more,” he said.

“I doubt it.”

You took one step. Then another. And then suddenly— you stopped, your stomach making a weird noise before you turned slightly and promptly threw up… right onto someone’s shoes.

There was a very loud, very offended: “—ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, eyes watering slightly. “…Sorry.”

Mingyu looked down at his shoes like his entire life had just ended. “These were new!”

Jungkook winced. “…Dude, I’m so sorry.”

“She threw up on me!”

“I know, I saw.”

“Do you know how expensive these were!?”

“Not the time!”

You groaned, holding your head again. “My sister’s still at the concert,” you mumbled, words slightly slurred together. “She’s gonna kill me.”

Jungkook glanced at you. “…We’ll deal with your sister later.”

“My sister’s gonna kill me.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” he admitted.

The car pulled up quickly after that, Eunwoo opened the door for him. “Go, go,”

Mingyu still looking personally betrayed by his friend opened the door for you, helping you get in. “Get in before this gets worse.”

“You have a nice hair,” you muttered to him, trying to be nice.

“Shut the fuck up,” he pushed you inside. What a weird guy, you thought. He looked at his friend. “Text me.”

“I will!”

“You owe me new shoes!”

“I know!”

He shut the door.

Finally. Silence. Well, not silence. The city was still there. The distant noise, the leftover energy from the concert, but inside the car, it felt… contained.

Jungkook exhaled, starting the engine. “Okay, here. Drink this.” He gave you a bottle of water. Or at least what is seemed it was. When you didn’t complained he assumed he was right. He glanced at you. “We’re going to—” His phone rang. He froze for half a second before answering. “Yeah?”

His manager’s voice came through immediately. “Where are you?”

“In the car. Why?”

“You need to get to the after party now.”

Jungkook frowned. “I’m on my way, I just—”

“The Se-seli director is here. With his daughters. They’re asking for you.”

He went still. “…Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

Jungkook glanced at you again. You were leaning back against the seat, eyes half-closed, clearly bothered by what had happened.

“…Okay, yes,” he said, lowering his voice slightly. “I’ll be there in as fast as I can go.”

“Hurry.”

The line went dead. Jungkook stared at his phone for a second then sighed.

“…Okay.” He looked at you again then made a decision. “I really need to go to Hybe’s building,” he said, starting the car properly this time. “It’s really close. They’ve got doctors there.”

You opened one eye. “…Real doctors?”

“…Very real,” he said, a little too quickly. An obvious lie.

You stared at him for a second, then closed your eyes again. “Okay. Just hurry up.”

He nodded, even though you weren’t really looking anymore. “Yeah, yeah.” he muttered. “I will.”

You fumbled for your phone, squinting at the screen as you typed.

You: getting food, will meet u later

You hit send. And let your head fall back again. Neither of you said anything after that. The car moved through the city, fast but controlled, both of you sitting in the same space for the first time.

——————————

The building was… a lot.

You didn’t even fully process it at first because your head still hurt in that deep, annoying way that made everything feel slightly delayed, like your brain was buffering in real time. But even through that, even through the dizziness and the lingering nausea, you could tell this wasn’t just any place.

It was big. Not just physically— though, yes, it was that too— but in presence. Glass, lights, people moving with purpose like they actually knew what they were doing, security that looked like they didn’t joke around, and just enough activity to make it obvious something important was happening somewhere inside.

You squinted slightly as Jungkook parked.

“…Where are we?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Work.”

“…You brought me to work.” You turned your head slowly to look at him.

“I told you I had doctors.”

“In your dance studio?”

“They’re good,” he insisted, already getting out of the car and rushing around to your side.

“That’s not how that works,” you muttered, but you let him help you out anyway, your balance still slightly off as your feet hit the ground. The second you were fully upright, he didn’t give you time to question anything else, just grabbed your hand and guided you inside the elevator. You took it out of his grip harshly. “I know how to walk.”

“I was just helping,” he frowned a little offended. “Let’s go.”

The lobby was even worse, people everywhere. Not chaotic, but in that busy, efficient way that somehow made you feel more out of place than actual chaos would’ve.

You instinctively pulled your hood up a little more. “Why are there so many people?” you whispered.

“There’s an event,” he replied quickly, steering you toward a hallway before anyone could look too closely. “Just— don’t look at anyone.”

“That’s easy,” you muttered. “I already don’t want to be here.”

“Great. Perfect attitude.”

He moved fast. Too fast for you, honestly. At one point you almost tripped over your own feet and had to grab onto the back of his shirt just to steady yourself. You didn’t let go. Jungkook cleared his throat before continue walking, a little flustered by the act without you noticing.

“Slow down,” you complained.

“We can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because if we stop, people will notice you with me and will start asking questions.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

You frowned. “…Why?”

He stopped walking for half a second. Then turned to you like that was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because you’re with me, because you have a little blood on your head. And becuase you’re… a girl.”

You blinked. “A girl?.”

“Yeah. A girl.”

Before you could say anything else, he opened a door with a code and gently, but quickly, pushed you inside. The room was quiet. Dimmer than the hallway, filled with equipment you didn’t have the energy to properly register yet. Speakers, instruments, cables, things that screamed music even if your brain was too slow to process details.

“Stay here,” he said.

You turned to him, immediately suspicious. “…Why?”

“Because—” he ran a hand through his hair quickly, glancing back at the hallway like someone might walk in any second, “—because I don’t need people asking questions right now.” He stared at you. “‘Who’s she?’ ‘How do you know her?’ ‘Why is she bleeding?’ ‘Are you two dating?’”

“Dating?” You made a face. “Ugh.”

He paused. “…Ugh?”

“I mean… Yikes.”

“You’re offended?”

“I’m concerned,” you corrected. “That anyone would think that.”

He blinked at you. Then let out a short fake laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Wow. Okay. That’s— good for my ego.”

“Bet you need your ego to get bigger, huh.” you said sarcastically. “And you’re the one hiding me,” you pointed out. “What does that say? Embarrassed of people seeing you with a non-famous person?”

“I’m not embarrassed of that,” he said quickly. “I just don’t want a scandal. I don’t want this—” he gestured vaguely at your forehead, “—turning into something else.”

You squinted at him. “…You mean like a dating scandal?”

He froze. “Well… yes.”

“Just because you’re a man and I’m a woman doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“I know that but the media—” He groaned quietly, rubbing his face with irritation. “You wouldn’t understand. Just please stay here.”

You leaned slightly against the wall, still unimpressed. “Relax. I don’t want to be associated with you either.”

He titled his head, feeling offended. “Okay…That makes two of us.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

A pause. Then he pointed at the couch. “Sit.” You looked at it then back at him. There was a silence . His eye started twitching. “… Please.”

You rolled your eyes but sat down anyway. “Fine.”

“I’ll be back,” he said, already stepping toward the door again.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to show my face,” he replied. “Just for a bit.”

“And then?”

“And then I’ll come back and I promise I’ll take you to the doctor.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You better. I’m not planning on spending thousand of dollars in the ER if this is like America.”

“The health system—” He stopped himself. he was losing time. “I’ll obviously cover that. Just don’t move. I’ll be back quickly.”

“Yeah, you better make it quick because if you don’t I will bleed dramatically on your expensive floor.

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He shook his head, already opening the door. “Don’t touch anything.”

“Now I’m definitely touching everything.”

“I— God, why is this happening to me?”. He groaned, giving you a last serious look. “Stay.” he ordered like you were a dog.

And then he was gone.

“Woof?”

For a while, you actually stayed where you were. Mostly because your head still hurt and moving felt like a bad idea. But also because the room itself was… interesting.

Once the dizziness settled just a little, your eyes started adjusting, taking in the details properly this time. The instruments, the equipment, the setup, it wasn’t just random. It was really organized. Organized in that messy way that meant people actually used it.

You stood up slowly, curiosity kicking in despite everything, walking a little further into the room. Yeah, the place was definitely cool as hell. You ran your fingers lightly over the edge of a table, glancing at a guitar resting nearby, then at a keyboard, then at a set of headphones that probably cost more than your entire house.

“Don’t touch anything,” you repeated under your breath. “Yeah, okay.”

You touched everything… Just a little, carefully.

You were about to grab a guitar when the door suddenly opened. You froze, completely. Two guys walked in mid-conversation, not even looking at you at first.

“…I’m telling you, that’s not how it works—”

“Then explain it to me again—”

They stopped, both of them. At the exact same time, like they were doing a choreography. And then slowly turned to look at you. There was a pause. A really long one where the three of you just stayed in silence, watching each other. It was easy to recognize them, specially when your sister couldn’t stopped talking about the blond haired guy and the one that had the face of a model.

You opened your mouth first.

“…Hi,” you said.

They blinked. Then one of them, Jimin, stepped forward slightly, squinting at you.

“…Who are you?… Why are you here?”

You opened your mouth and closed it. Then pointed vaguely behind you.

“I think I’m… not supposed to be here.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Taehyung said.

“And why are you bleeding?” Jimin added, eyes widening slightly as he got a better look at your forehead.

“Oh,” you said, touching it instinctively. “Yeah. That.”

“Yeah, that,” he repeated.

You hesitated for half a second. “Well— this guy named Jungkook hit me.”

There was a dead silence.

They both stared at you, then at each other again and then back at you.

“…JUNGKOOK HIT YOU?!” Jimin screamed aggravated.

Okay maybe your word choice wasn’t the best.

“With a door!,” you explained. “Accidentally... I think.”

“Oh my God,” Taehyung whispered, like he discovered why you were there. “We’re getting sued.”

“I’m not going to sue you,” you said.

“That’s exactly what someone who’s about to sue the shit out of us would say,” he replied immediately.

“I literally don’t even want to be here.”

“That’s worse,” Jimin said. “Did he kidnap you?.”

You stared at them. “…Are you serious right now?”

“No,” they both said at the same time. Then immediately— “Yes,” they added.

You blinked, they were so in sync it looked like they were acting. “…Wow.”

“Okay, okay— sit down,” Taehyung said quickly, grabbing a chair and pulling it toward you. “We need to check if you have a concussion.”

“You’re not doctors.”

“We have phones.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s basically the same thing,” he insisted, already pulling out his phone. “Wait— how do you check for concussion—”

He opened YouTube. You stared at him unbelievably. “You’re using YouTube.”

“It’s reliable.”

“It’s not reliable.”

“Would you want us to check tiktok?” Jimin asked, he was seriously intrigued. “Do you think it’s a more trustful source?”

“Shh,” his friend called. “This guy looks like he knows what he’s doing.”

The other one leaned over his shoulder. “…He’s a fitness coach.”

“He’s close enough.”

You pressed your fingers to your temple. “I can’t believe my sister is obsessed with you people.”

They both looked at you again.

“…Your sister?” Taehyung repeated.

“Yeah.”

“She’s got good taste,” Jimin added, laughing.

“She has questionable judgment,” you corrected.

“Okay, follow my finger,” Taehyung said suddenly, holding his hand up in front of your face.

You stared at it. “…Why?”

“To see if your eyes track movement.” You sighed but followed it anyway. “There. See? She’s fine.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s fine, man”

“She’s talking.”

“So?”

“So people with concussions can talk!”

“That’s not helping!”

You stood up slowly. “…You know what? I’m good.”

They both looked at you. “You don’t look good,” Taehyung said.

“I feel… okay enough.”

“That’s not a medical term,” Jimin pointed out.

“Neither is whatever you’re doing.”

They hesitated. “…Fair.”

Jimin pulled out his phone. “Look, I actually have a great medical video that we can check—”

He started looking for his Youtube history. Taehyung leaned to look at it and started making fun of the videos he watched. You pressed your lips together and looked at the door.

Okay, whatever was outside couldn’t be worse than those two idiots.

You started moving slowly to the door while they kept fighting louder. You couldn’t tell if it was a bit or they were really bickering that harsh but you honestly didn’t care enough. You just wanted to leave that place as soon as possible. It was actually angering you the fact that you probably were having a concussion and superstar Jeon Jungkook decided his work was more important than taking you to an actual hospital.

What an asshole!

“Wait— where is she?!”

You started walking faster down the hallway when you heard the scream.

You didn’t really have a plan. You just… walked around, trying to find the elevator that could take you to the reception and you could get the fuck out of that place. You walked a lot for a building space. Through hallways, past doors, following whatever felt like an exit, your head still a little off but manageable now.

Okay… maybe you didn’t have a great sense of direction.

Mmmhmmm

You frowned a little intrigued. There was music, not loud like before in the city. Not overwhelming either. Just… there, clear and close. You slowed down slightly, curiosity creeping in again despite everything.

“…What now,” you muttered.

You followed the sound down another hallway. Up a short set of stairs. Until you reached an open space— The rooftop.

You stopped just before stepping fully into view, instinctively staying hidden near the entrance. And then you saw him. Jungkook. Standing under soft lights, a mic in his hand, the city stretching out behind him like it was part of the stage. There were a lot of people around, some sitting, some standing, watching quietly while drinking. It wasn’t too loud. It wasn’t a loud song either. It was… calm. And then he continued singing, not like before. Not like the concert.

This was different. Softer, clearer. His voice carried easily through the space, smooth and controlled in a way that didn’t feel forced, didn’t feel like it was trying to impress anyone. It just… was.

You stayed where you were, not moving, not interrupting. Just watching and listening. Jungkook was an asshole. And a enormous idiot. But God, he had the voice of an angel. You understood why people listened.

Something about you

Do you feel the way I do?

There's magic in the room

Tell me, do you feel it too?…

Okay that was enough. You needed to get the fuck out of there.

People started clapping, you consciously and weirdly put a hand in your forehead and started walking again. Walking down the stairs and following some people that were clearly leaving. You moved with them to the elevator, moving your hoodie slightly uncomfortable when you noticed you were clearly not dressed for the event. It was painfully obvious you were not part of these people.

Your phone buzzed in your pants. Your sister was texting you. Already two missing calls.

Hana: HELLO???

Hana: where the fuck are you???

Hana: i swear if u got lost i will leave you here

Hana: it can’t take you so long to eat something

Shit, she was going to kill you. What the hell were you supposed to tell?

‘Hey, sis. So remember the guy you’re obsessed with? Well he hit me in the forehead with a door, lie to me about taking me to the hospital and now i’m in the HYBE building where I met Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung— they’re really stupid, by the way— And I heard Jungkook performed but I feel like I’m about to pass out so now I’m trying to get the fuck out of here. What about you?’

You: i hit my head with a pole so i just went home

You: good luck with the traffic lol

Okay, just a little white lie. She was definitely gonna kill you anyway.

By the time you made it down to the parking garage where the elevator took you, your patience was officially gone.

Not low, not running out but gone. Completely. The kind of gone where everything started to feel ten times more irritating than it actually was. The lights too bright, the echo of your own footsteps too loud, your head still throbbing in that dull, persistent way that refused to let you forget what had happened.

You pressed your fingers lightly against your forehead as you walked, wincing. “…This is actually insane,” you muttered to yourself Because it was. You had come out for a walk. That was the lie. A simple, harmless lie…

And somehow, in the span of a few hours, you had:

• gone to a concert you didn’t care about 

• eaten ramen with a stranger who was objectively the highlight of your night 

• gotten hit in the head by a door

• been kidnapped— yes, kidnapped— to a big ass famous building 

• and accidentally met people your sister would probably sell her soul to even breathe near

You stopped for a second, staring ahead. “…I’m never leaving the house again.”

“Good plan.”

You froze. And then slowly turned around. And there he was. Leaning casually against one of the walls like he hadn’t just completely derailed your entire night, hands in his pockets, looking far too relaxed for someone who had, once again, found you bleeding.

You stared at him. “What the hell?.”

He pushed himself off the wall slightly, shaking his head. “I told you to stay in the studio.”

“Yeah,” you said flatly. “Well, fuck that.”

There was a brief pause. He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “I saw you upstairs.”

You frowned. “…Upstairs where?”

“The rooftop.” Oh. You blinked once. “You were standing by the door watching me sing.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“I wasn’t.”

He let out a small breath, clearly choosing not to argue that point further. “Where are you going?”

You stared at him like the answer should’ve been obvious. “Home.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that.”

“You’re still bleeding.”

“I’ll survive.”

“That’s not very convincing.”

You rolled your eyes, turning slightly toward the exit again. “I’m not staying one more minute here.”

“I didn’t say you had to.”

“You literally left me in a room to go perform,” you snapped, turning back to him. “That’s exactly what you did.”

His expression shifted slightly. “I didn’t perform—”

“You were singing in front of people.”

“It wasn’t— Hah! You saw me!.”

“You told me we were going to see a doctor,” you continued, voice rising just a little despite yourself, ignoring his comment, “Theres are not any fucking doctors in here. I ended up in a studio with two guys watching a YouTube tutorial about concussions.”

He blinked. “…You what?”

“Your stupid friends found me in the studio and almost diagnosed me through a fitness coach. So yes, of course I want to leave!” He pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not funny,” you insisted, your head throbbing again as if to prove your point. “I just want to go home.”

There was a pause.

“I’m sorry.” You stopped for a second, because that… you weren’t expecting. You looked at him properly for the first time since you got down there. He didn’t look defensive or annoyed, just… genuine. “You’re right. I should’ve taken you straight to the hospital,” he added, running a hand through his hair. “That’s on me.”

You hesitated for half a second before looking away again. “…Yeah. It is.”

He nodded slightly. “Okay. So let me fix it. I’ll take you now.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you repeated. “I’m going home.”

“You need to get checked.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“I’m walking, talking, and not unconscious. That’s fine.”

“That’s the bare minimum.”

“That’s all I’m aiming for.”

He stared at you for a second before stepping closer, clearly trying to stand his ground. “Look,” he said, voice calmer now but firmer too, “you hit your head hard enough to bleed and throw up. That’s not something you just ignore.”

You crossed your arms tighter. “Now you care? You should’ve taken me to the hospital an hour ago. Now I just wanna go home. I’ll deal with it later.”

“I know! But now I’ll do it. And that’s not dealing with it.”

“It is for me.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you again in that annoyingly observant way. “You’re stubborn.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Okay, maybe I am. But you’re still injured.”

“You’re the reason I’m injured.”

“Fair,” he admitted. “But that still doesn’t change the fact that you should get checked.”

You huffed, turning away again. “I should’ve been checked an hour ago. If I have a concussion now it doesn’t even matter. I’ll probably die soon anyway.”

“That’s not comforting!” he exclaimed, panicking a little.

“It’s reality.” You let out a long breath, pressing your fingers to your temple again. “I just want this night to be over and go home.”

His expression softened slightly at that. “Then let me help you end it properly.”

You glanced at him. “…By taking me to a hospital you should’ve taken me to hours ago?”

“Yes. And then I’ll take you home. And then,” he said, holding your gaze this time, “you never have to see me again.”

You nodded fast. That actually convinced more than anything he said before. Because that was exactly what you wanted. No more chaos, no more weird situations, no more… him… and his weird dumb friends.

You looked at him for a second longer. “…Promise?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

You sighed, shoulders dropping slightly as your resistance finally started to wear down. “…Fine. Let’s go.” You pointed at him. “I swear to God If I end up back in another studio—”

“You won’t.”

“If someone tries to diagnose me with a YouTube video again—”

“They won’t.”

“If I die—”

“You’re not going to die!”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m pretty sure.”

You exhaled sharply. “Okay. Can we just go now?” He smiled then. That stupid, soft, slightly crooked smile that didn’t match the situation at all and somehow made it worse. You knew that smiled. That bunny smile your sister couldn’t stop talking about. “…What?” you said immediately.

“Nothing.”

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Like what?.”

“Like an idiot.”

“I’m not!”

“You are.”

“It’s just my face.”

You squinted at him. “…That’s unfortunate.”

He rolled his eyes, opening the car door for you. “Get in.”

You rolled your eyes too but got in anyway. “Drive fast.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

——————————

The hospital was huge.

In a dramatic, clean and expensive way. Bright lights, quiet hallways, people moving with purpose like they’d done the same routine a hundred times before and would do it a hundred more without thinking twice about it. The place was beautiful in a way a castle would be. You wondered how many the doctors would be getting yearly because it was insane.

You sat on the edge of the bed in one of the examination rooms, arms loosely crossed, trying not to look as tired as you felt while a doctor gently cleaned the dried blood from your forehead. It stung a little, enough to make you flinch once or twice, but nothing unbearable. Compared to the rest of the night, this was almost peaceful.

Across the room, Jungkook stood near the wall, hands in his pockets, watching in that way people did when they didn’t know where to stand or what to do with themselves. He hadn’t said much since you got there, just answered the receptionist, handled paperwork, paid without hesitation, and stayed out of the way while still very much there.

From his side, the whole situation felt like something he absolutely did not need right now.

He didn’t need his manager finding out he’d disappeared mid-event to take a girl— a random girl— to the hospital. He didn’t need questions. He definitely didn’t need this somehow turning into a headline. And, if he was being honest, he didn’t need to get sued either, because the way you kept reminding him that he had, in fact, hit you with a door made that possibility feel a little too real.

Still, he stayed. Because leaving you there alone would’ve been worse.

The doctor stepped back slightly after finishing, giving you a quick once-over. “No signs of concussion,” he said, slow and clear. “You may feel dizzy or have a headache, but that’s normal. Rest tonight. If anything gets worse, come back.”

You nodded.

“Okay.”

“No heavy activity,” he added, then paused, glancing between you and Jungkook like he was trying to figure something out but ultimately deciding not to ask. “You’re good.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook said quickly.

The doctor nodded once and left to fill some papers.

You exhaled, shoulders relaxing slightly now that it was officially over.

“…See?” you said, glancing at Jungkook. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You threw up.”

“I was overwhelmed.”

“You got hit in the head.”

“By you,” you uttered .

“By a door,” he corrected.

You shrugged lightly. “Same thing.”

He let out a breath through his nose, somewhere between a sigh and a quiet laugh. “Let’s just go.”

The drive to your house was quieter at first.

You leaned your head back against the seat, eyes half-closed, finally starting to feel the weight of the night settle in now that the adrenaline had worn off. Your forehead throbbed less, but enough to remind you it was still there.

The silence started becoming a little uncomfortable after some minutes. Jungkook glanced over once at you before turning on the music. It was soft at first. Low enough to not be intrusive. You didn’t pay attention to it immediately, your focus somewhere between resting and staying awake just enough to not accidentally fall asleep in a stranger’s car.

But then you recognized it. And then Jungkook started singing.

If you wanna, if you wanna, I'll do a thing for you

If you wanna, if you wanna, I'll do the thing for you

If you wanna, if you wanna…

You opened one eye slowly. “…Really?”

He glanced at you briefly. “What?”

“You’re playing your own song.”

“And it’s good, huh?”

“Huh?” you repeated, sitting up slightly.

He shrugged one shoulder, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “I thought you’d liked it.”

You stared at him. “Lemme guess…You thought this was everyone’s dream, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“Being stuck in a car with the biggest pop star in the world while he sings his own hit songs. You thought I will be dying for this. Oh, my god. A fan’s dream come true.” He actually smiled at that, clearly not noticing you were being sarcastic and mean. You let out a small, tired laugh, shaking your head. “Well, there’s just one problem.”

“And that is?”

“I’m not your fan.”

The words landed a little heavier than he expected them to. Jungkook blinked, the smile fading just slightly, not offended, just… processing.

“What do you mean— you don’t… You don’t like BTS?” He frowned, a little hurt. “I mean, I thought you didn’t like me because I hit you with a door.”

“I don’t like you because you hit me with a door,” you confirmed. You glanced out the window, watching the city pass by. “I’m not a hater. I’m just not a fan.”

“You don’t like my music?”

“I didn’t say that,” you replied. “I like your music.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Then what—”

“I’m just not crazy over you. I don’t like you.”

He stared at the road for a second, then back at you. “But you don’t even know me.”

You nodded. “Precisely.”

That confused him, you could see it. “Wouldn’t that mean you should give me a chance?”

“To what?”

“To… like me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bold assumption.”

“I think it’s accurate,” he said, a little more confident now. “If you knew me, you’d like me.”

You snorted. “Wow.”

“What?”

“That’s… very convincing,” you said sarcastically.

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s really not.”

He glanced at you again. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re full of yourself.”

“I’m not full of myself.”

“You just said I’d like you if I knew you,” you repeated.

“Because you would. If you knew me you would like me.”

“For the little time that I know you— not only have you lie to me but, you hit me with a door and treat me like a dog that has to obey you. So clearly I don’t like you.” You said, annoyed.

“That makes sense, but that was because I was in a hard situation!” He tried to explain. “You have to know me more. That way you would like—”

You shook your head, looking back out the window. “Turn right.”

He frowned slightly, the fact that you cut him off— ignoring him— and just gave him instructions like he was your driver threw him off a little. You were clearly not trying to be his friend or even nice to him.

Whatever.

He looked down at his GPS. “I could go straight.”

“Turn right.”

“It’s faster if I go straight.”

“It’s faster if you listen to me.”

He hesitated for a second. “…Fine.”

He turned. You leaned back again, satisfied. “See? Not so hard.”

“I still think my way was faster.”

“Your way is wrong.”

“My way is not wrong.”

“It is when I live here.”

“You don’t live here.”

“I’m staying here.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s enough.”

He exhaled quietly, shaking his head. “You argue about everything.”

“You started it.”

“I did not start it.”

“You did.”

God, you were annoying.

By the time you pulled up in front of your great-grandparents’ house, the tension had settled into something… quieter. The music was still playing and luckily for Jungkook, it was all his new album songs— which now he knew irritated you— and that made him satisfied.

You unbuckled your seatbelt, already reaching for the door.

Jungkook spoke first. “…Hey.”

You paused, glancing at him. “What?”

He moved his head a little uncomfortable. “I just want to say I’m sorry and—”

“Noted. Are we done now?” You held his gaze for a moment, looking at him like he was an idiot.

He blinked, a little offended. “Yeah… I guess. Yeah—”

“Good.”

You opened the door, stepping out without looking back, already walking toward the house like you couldn’t get away from the him fast enough.

Jungkook watched you go for a second too long.

“Nice to meet you too,” he whispered sarcastically into the silence of the car. Then leaned back in his seat, letting out a long breath. “…What the hell was that,” he muttered to himself.

He reached for the ignition and immediately froze, something caught his eye. A van passing behind him slowly. The logo was subtle in the dark… but not subtle enough for him. It was some gossip new channel there in Korea.

His expression changed immediately, he leaned down, trying to hide.

Fucking shit.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.” He looked again, they were turning around the zone probably looking for him. Probably had watched him leave the HYBE building or even the hospital. Fuck, maybe was the fucking doctor. “Shit, shit…”

He still had his friend’s car so they couldn’t really recognize him yet.

He sat there for half a second, thinking.

Then quickly got out of the car, moving toward your house before he could second-guess himself, knocking lightly on the window when he saw you over the curtains like a creep. You were drinking something. He knocked a little harder just as you were about to disappear inside.

You turned slowly to the window, confused before you opened it. “…What now? Go away.”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice and looking a little too anxious for your liking. “Look— I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you do me a favor.”

You stared at him. “…It’s not a favor if you pay for it.”

“…So is that a yes?”

You were so done with Jeon Jungkook.

A few minutes later, you were outside again, dragging the old car cover from your great-grandparents’ garage while Jungkook stood awkwardly nearby to your door entrance, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds like he expected someone to jump out at any moment.

“Hurry up,” he screamed in a whisper.

“I’m hurrying,” you shot back. “This thing weighs more than me.”

“Why is it so heavy?”

“It’s old.”

“That’s not an explanation.”

“It’s fabric from the past,” you said, throwing it over the car. “It’s built different.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe not for idiots.”

He bit his tongue, holding back an insult becuase you were saving his ass. You adjusted it quickly, making sure it covered enough to be convincing. From a distance… well, it worked. You both looked at it.

“…Okay,” he said. “That’s actually good.”

“I know.” You turned back to him. “Now what?”

He hesitated. Then glanced at the house and then back at you. “…I need somewhere to wait.”

You stared at him. “…No.”

“Just for a bit.”

“No.”

“Until they stop doing circles around the neighborhood.”

“No.”

“I can’t stay out here.”

“Not my problem. Call an uber.”

“They’ll probably know who I am with!”

“I already did too much for you.”

He sighed, rubbing his face with frustration. “If I ask for an uber, even a cab— They’ll see this house. They’ll make stories about how I’m dating you or someone they see me with. You know how crazy this can get? I—” He stopped himself again, knowing you weren’t going to understand. “Just tonight. Please.”

You threw your head back, groaning frustrated and already regretting even coming to Korea.

“…I can’t believe I’m doing this.” You turned toward the house, not even looking at him. “Come on. Hurry up.”

He blinked a little surprised. “…Oh my god. Thank you, thank you so—”

“Just shut the hell up.”

He obeyed, following you immediately before you could regret it.

And just like that, you let him into your house, into your room. Which, honestly, might’ve been the worst decision you made all night. You were letting Jeon Jungkook, the global superstar, spend the night in your house— Oh, you were fucked.

jungkook had known that apartment long before you ever even stepped foot into it.

unit 4b.

as the resident’s on sight handyman, he had been inside it years ago. the building had been past saving then, but still pretending otherwise - he couldn’t even imagine what it was like now, but luckily, it had been unoccupied for so long that he had forgotten all about it thankfully.

he had fixed a pipe in there once, replaced a fuse another; every visit had left him with grime underneath his fingernails and a sour taste in his mouth. the place was a hazard waiting to happen, damp beneath the walls and faulty wiring. it was a display of neglect that didn’t show itself all at once.

when he had seen your name on the new tenants list, next to the apartment, something inside him had gone still.

he hadn’t bothered to knock on your door when you moved in. never introduced himself, that wasn’t how things were done in this place - it was rough living for rough people. you asked when you wanted something, weren’t just given it.

he, however, had met fragments of you.

coming and going whilst he fixed stair rails, brow collecting sweat as he watched you shuffle beside him to take the rubbish out. you moved like someone permanently bracing for impact with your shoulders curled in, bag clutched tight, steps uneven with exhaustion. sometimes you couldn’t even bring yourself to look up, but he could see the glassy mess of your eyes.

he doubted you had ever even seen him. that should have been the end of it, but it wasn’t.

because once he noticed you, he couldn’t stop.

it wasn’t an immediate desire - it wasn’t that simple or crude, no. it was something slower, heavier. it carried in the way his attention snagged every time he saw you stumble slightly on the stairs. the way his jaw would lock tight when he noticed how late you’d leave and come home from your night shift, or the way his chest would tighten inexplicably whenever he imagined you unlocking your door and stepping foot in that fucking apartment all alone.

he didn’t like the thoughts that manifested because of you.

they were intrusive - possessive to the core. he felt sick at the thought of you. wanted to sink his teeth into your arms and legs, anything to grab your attention so you’d notice him head on. his brain was fucked up, wrong in the way that had less to do with morality and everything to do with intensity. jungkook had always known there was something twisted about the way he wanted - not in excess but in pure depth.

he didn’t give a fuck about the idea of all of his past girlfriends leaving him - they weren’t what he craved. they weren’t the missing puzzle piece he had been looking for, all differently shaped to the specific hole in his life.

he fantasised about his dream woman. fantasised about making her stay, making her feel good, providing something he knew he yearned to give.

wanted to provide until there was nothing left for them to worry about. wanted to make money irrelevant in their brain. rest would be mandatory - he wanted to come home dirty after a long day of work to his sweet girl cooking for him, just so he could breed her all fucking night.

it didn’t stem from kindness, but mere vice.

and watching you wear yourself thin inside a place he knew should’ve been condemned made that vice burn hot and ugly in his chest.

he started recognising the patterns. the way you always opted for the stairs when the elevator had broken down, despite it being incredibly dangerous in a messed up building like this one. it was the way you paused on the landing, trying to catch your breath after a long day of not eating enough and feeling a level of exhaustion that had settled into your body like home, your fingers tightening against the very metal he had worked on prior.

you never complained, never flagged anyone down, never even asked for repairs - he was marginally cheaper than anyone else you could hire considering his contract with your building and yet still, you lived in squalor.

jungkook had never been good at ignoring the things he wanted most. especially not when they had him hardening, balls tightening at the mere sight of you - the perfect candidate for the life he wanted to build. at first, he tried convincing himself it was normal to worry about any woman like this, tired and exhausted living in a bad area but he knew his motivation was anything but innocent.

this was a fixation. a maddening, obsessive one.

he could feel his brain warping, dripping in need whenever he’d catch you walking back to your place. couldn’t help the thoughts from straying, wanted to protect you, save you, he’d do it in anyway possible.

you shouldn’t be living like this, and one day soon, something had to give.

he’d make fucking sure.

—

the stairwell smelled like damp concrete and old cigarettes.

the elevator was broken again, and this time it had been down for weeks. you didn’t know if you were allowed to complain to anyone, didn’t have half the energy the act required and frankly, neither the time. your bag dug into your shoulder as you opened the door to the staircase, sighing quietly, beginning your painful ascend to the fourth floor.

your vision swam from your shift you had just finished with, whimpering lightly as your aching legs took you to your place, so you could get dressed for your night shift.

as you climbed, your keys fell from your hand, your hair falling into your eyesight, blurring it even more.

you watched as they clattered down the stairs, another small noise of complaint leaving you at the sight. the sound was jarring in the empty space, as you stumbled down to collect them, hand darting outwards whilst you swayed.

your body lagged behind your mind, causing you to slip, a squeak escaping as you began to fall forwards, bracing for impact.

an arm caught you.

fast. firm. heavy. rough.

fingers clung to the skin on your waist like they had been there before, pulling you harshly into an equally hard chest, the contact knocking air away from your lungs.

“steady.”

a single word. low.

you froze.

your bag had slipped from your shoulder to the ground, your soft palms pressing gently against a set of shoulders, heart pounding. the first thing you noticed when looking up was how big he was, wide shoulders, large pecs, biceps bursting from the t-shirt that sat on top of his body. his grip hadn’t loosened, it had even tightened, his thumb pressing in further to make sure you were steady on your feet.

you nodded quickly, coming out of your daze. “i..i-i am so..sorry.”

he didn’t answer.

instead, he manoeuvred you to his other arm, whilst he bent down to pick up both your bag and your keys, moving in a way that felt easy, controlled. he was blocking the narrow landing, making sure you were pressed firmly against him despite it being intense. you hadn’t been this close to anyone, regardless another man, in years.

his forearm flexed when it straightened, veins standing out underneath worn skin. he held them out to you.

your eyes were hazy, a mixture of exhaustion and the heat of the situation, lips parted as your eyes met with his. you felt suffocated by his gaze, you felt completely naked, as though he as looking at every crevice you tried to hide with mere ease.

“you live here.” he said. not a question.

you shrugged weakly, nodding, shamefully looking away from his gaze, unsure of what to say and not being able to stomach his stare.

something shifted in his expression at that. not sympathy. irritation, sharp and contained. his jaw tightened.

your fingers brushed his as you took your stuff, despite being held almost intimately still. the contact was brief, and accidental, and yet it held even more weight than the heavy arm around your waist, as though it meant something else entirely.

“late.” he gruffed out.

you nodded again, hands against his chest. “yeah.”

his touch loosened, but he remained inappropriately close. tired eyes, scuffed shoes, the way your shoulders were sagging from exhaustion.

“you shouldn’t be out at a time like this,” he said.

not gently.

your stomach twisted. “i don’t really have a choice.”

he looked at you for a long moment. his gaze flicked down the stairwell, listening, calculating, and when he looked back, he stepped closer, close enough that you felt it in your chest.

“pretty thing like you,” he said quietly, “working nights in a place like this?”

your heart fluttering was a shock to you. you could feel a stampede in your stomach, curling further into the warmth he was providing without even realising it, voice tough enough to carry heat. his words weren’t necessarily a compliment, but a mere observation, one that had you reeling regardless.

you nodded for a third time, small. “i have to.”

his hand on your waist squeezed, grunting vocally in response. he could feel his cock hardening, and he knew it was fucked up, but the prospect of such a pretty damsel in distress like you? you were out of his wildest dreams, an anomaly that only came once in a lifetime.

he held you for another moment, the two of you simply looking at one another. he liked watching you cower a little, knowing that there were bad people all over in the complex, and though he evidently wasn’t one, his sheer size alone had you hesitant. knew it made his brain fucked up, but he enjoyed it regardless.

“get inside.” he muttered slowly, arm slipping away from your waist.

your too large eyes blinked up at him, uncomfortable with the feeling cold seeping in. you wanted him to touch you again.

“okay.” you nodded through a whisper, pulling your bag further onto your shoulder more firmly. he admired you for another moment before nudging his nose up to the rest of the staircase, where the door to your floor sat. “lock your door.”

your cheeks were a deep pink, as you turned and walked up the rest of the stairs, nibbling away at your lip, heading through the final door, and rushing into your apartment.

you leaned against your door, locking it exactly as he ordered you, before sliding down the cold wood, legs giving out beneath you.

who was he?

so tall and so broad, his face alone had your thighs trembling but it was more so how manly he was.

you knew it was ridiculous, but just meeting someone like that had your stomach in knots. you assumed he was just being kind, if a man like that was even able to process that emotion - he was calloused all over, rough without meaning to. the type of guy to take up as much room as physically possible because he could.

you had no idea that as you sat pooled on your floor, eyes closed and lip bitten, jungkook stood on the other side, quiet, listening to make sure you had locked it. to make sure you were safe.

only then, did the loud sound of his boots echo into the hall, cause you to gasp.

—

the knock came too early.

it was the kind of early that felt cruel - sunlight barely stretched through the thin, stained curtains, your body still sunk deep into that half-sleep where breathing ached and nothing felt real yet. the sound cut through the quiet of your apartment too harshly, your brain short circuiting despite your legs carrying you out of the little warmth of your bed.

you were startled. no one knocked on your door. people kept to themselves around here until, well, they didn’t, like your neighbour on the left. his door had banged a few weeks ago just as you had come home, and you hadn’t heard or seen from him since, a thought that was now presenting deep in your mind.

with trembling hands, and aching feet, you padded your way over to the door whilst all remnants of sleep fell from you like droplets. your toes curled against the cold floor, grabbing a cardigan on your way over to shield your indecent outfit that consisted of a too thin, too see through tank and shorts set.

by the time you had opened the door, the person behind it had already knocked three separate times, raising the level of urgency and only adding to the stress on your shoulders. you had a rare day off from your night shift, meaning you were only heading out to your day job in a few hours. this was supposed to be decompression time.

your fingers finally slid against the cool handle, hesitating at the lock before opening it up, eyebrows furrowed lightly.

you froze.

it was him.

your brain stuttered for a moment as it took in his broad frame, shoulders wider than you’d seen on any man, with muscles in places you had only ever dreamt of. his biceps were practically spilling out of his uniform, which despite being sat seamlessly, showed signs of wear, indicating he had been working all morning. boots were planted solidly against the chipped hallway tile, sunlight shining onto the highest parts of his cheeks.

daylight did him no favours - made him worse. heavier. darker. stronger. the kind of man that felt realer than anything you’d ever experienced.

the kind of man that worked to an inch of his life.

his work belt sat low on his waist, sleeves pushed up, tatted forearms already streaked with things like grease and dust, and hair still damp from his morning shower. despite the hour, he looked awake and alert, something you knew you lacked in that very moment.

his eyes flickered over you, slow. real slow.

you felt it everywhere.

jungkook met your gaze as you finally looked up, your chest tightening.

“morning.”

his voice was even rougher in the daylight, like gravel dragging over concrete. you could feel it in your stomach.

“hi.” you whispered, barely audible.

“inspection.” he lifted his clipboard whilst staring you down. the eye contact was heavy. “pipe issues in this unit.”

you frowned faintly, confusion pulling at your features. “i..i didn’t call anyone..”

his mouth twitched. you were even cuter when you just woke up. he liked that.

“i know.”

his comment should have unsettled you, should have had you closing the door in his face, locking it immediately and ignoring him.

instead, jungkook took it upon himself to set forward. the door brushed your arm as he passed, your already too small apartment feeling somewhat suffocating as it became swallowed by his mere presence.

you hovered near the door, against the wall as he began to move around with a sense of familiarity that had you stomach churning again.

first, he crouched beneath your sink before checking taps, looking inside your cabinets for any sign of water damage, inspecting the dampness that clung to certain walls. he was efficient, practised - it was clear he was good at his job. he moved like a man who knew what he was doing, as though this was another task on his list that he had to get through.

not like he had been thinking of you in this wretched apartment all fucking night.

he was in your bathroom now, writing something down whilst you continued to hover, half out of curiosity and the other half merely weary. you had every right to be given where you were, the fact you hardly knew him if at all, and of course the knowledge he had simply let himself in.

suddenly, water began sprouting from your tap the way it usually did but judging from the small grimace on his face, you knew it wasn’t something normal despite it being that way from day one.

“this place is so fucked.” he huffed, with a shake to his head. “they shouldn’t be renting this unit out. it’s a biohazard.”

your fingers intertwined together nervously; as though the problem at hand was your fault. “i keep a towel..under there..”

he paused. slowly, he turned to look at you, savouring the way your cardigan was leaving little to his imagination. your nipples had pebbled, and a better man would have looked away, but jungkook was hardly good - assessing them for a moment longer before meeting your gaze.

“you shouldn’t have to.” his voice was hard.

the way he said it, flat, certain, unyielding. it made your stomach ache and your chest tighten, as though someone was looking directly through you.

he stood taller then, raising from his once crouched position. he towered over you, a reminder of the sheer size difference between you, something both of you secretly felt aligned on.

he wiped his hands on his rag, cleaning them before moving past you to the breaker panel. his arm brushed against your shoulder deliberately, watching the way you shuddered.

“power cuts at night?” he asked.

“sometimes.” you answered honestly.

he looked over you again. “figures.”

he opened the panel, taking his time with inspecting it before closing it off. he turned back around to face you once he was done, not bothering to walk away, but instead taking up more of your personal space.

he looked at you properly.

the sag of your shoulders and the shadows underneath your eyes, the way you stood hoping not to be noticed. too small for even the cramped space of your apartment. it made his head swirl.

“you eat?” he gruffed out, a slight edge to his voice.

you were shifting from foot to foot. “what?”

“food.” he clarified with narrowed eyes. “you eat it?”

“i-..when i can.”

you weren’t sure why you were being so honest with him and yet the worlds tumbled out before you could think. you were nibbling on your lip.

he wasn’t done with his line of questioning, finding himself stepping closer to you resulting in you stepping back.

“how old are you?”

“24.”

he exhaled through his nose. he seemed angry, or something adjacent, as though your words were aggravating him. “too young to look this tired.”

you looked down with heat creeping up your neck and cheeks. “it’s fine.”

“don’t say that.” his eyes narrowed once more. he ran a hand through his hair before exhaling deeply. “i’ll be around today, gotta fix some shit around here. don’t go out.”

your mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure of what to say. you watched as he walked towards the entrance, the warmth radiating from his body suddenly gone.

he paused at the threshold, one hand braced on the frame whilst looking back at you, watching the way your chest rose and fell, your sheer pyjamas doing nothing to hide the way your body subconsciously leant towards him.

“next time something breaks, you call me.” his voice firm.

“i don’t have your number.” you weakly replied, as though it was anything to deter him. secretly, you hoped it wouldn’t.

he didn’t respond, simply running his eyes up and down you once more as though he was savouring the sheer look of you, all soft and pliant. it made that sick part of his brain swirl, the thought of you being all his, the side of him that tried to rationalise a man ten years older being with a pretty little thing like you. he’d fucking ruin you and he knew you’d be thankful for it too.

jungkook turned around, cock half hard and head swarming, veins popping out of his arm, leaving you be for a few moments.

—

working the diner on a late shift meant two things. first, it meant you would have to deal with cleaning the entire place top to bottom, which was easily your least favourite task of your entire job. second, and more importantly, it meant you would be forced to deal with the filthy, sleazy men that would come in hopes of riling you up in anyway they could.

you were pliant, too soft for a place like this, too clean, too scared. all the girls before you had been ran away with ease after experiencing a single shift, and here you were, tiny little diner dress that sat too high on your thigh as men ogled at you.

you knew it was going to be a long night by hour two when you had already been harassed by two newcomers, the cooks in the back not able to back you up as much as they wanted considering it was a busy shift. you had been fighting tears back the entire night, but this was borderline insane. it felt targeted, and you felt exhausted already - this was hardly helping.

the smell of burnt coffee and grease was all you could think about as you walked around the diner, filling coffee mugs everytime a man would smash it hard against the table to get your attention, ignoring disgusting comments like they had never even been uttered, eyes down.

you felt it before you saw it.

him.

a regular. late 40’s, unshaven, dirt under his fingernails. kind of guy to make you uncomfortable just to get him off. he made your skin crawl. made you want to hide forever and never appear again, but alas, you were a young, poor, twenty something year old fighting for the very will to live.

you felt the slow drag of attention on your legs, dragging up and settling on your tits. your dress was buttoned, and though you knew there was nothing to even ogle at, the shape of your breasts against your dress was enough for dirt like him to get riled up.

“there she is, about fucking time.” he grunted out, breath hot and legs spread underneath the booth table. “fetch me a coffee. make it good.”

you simply nodded, not trusting your voice as you grabbed him a mug before pouring it in in front of him, eyes trained on the drink.

“what time you finish tonight, sweets?”

your shoulders bristled immediately. he always did this, but it never made you feel any better.

“late.” you murmured quietly, but he was perceptive enough to hear you. didn’t like the bite in your voice.

“walking home alone again?”

your body went cold.

your stomach tightened uncontrollably, and though the line of questioning wasn’t anything new, it still messed with you more than you wanted to admit. you could feel the thin layer of threat coated in each word, and it scared you to know you were utterly defenceless.

you had been feeling watched recently too. on the staircases, when entering your home, walking through hallways. your building was shady, yes, but this was different - it felt charged. felt scary enough to notice, and paired with a line like that? this didn’t feel normal anymore.

you shake your head before you could even think it through. “no.”

“no?” he repeated with a smirk.

you swallowed nervously.

“i’ve got someone..so.”

your words surprised even you, and you tried your hardest to hide it, especially when his own was formed perfectly upon his features. he leaned back, drinking the coffee with his darkened features.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

you shifted from foot to foot. he didn’t believe you, you could feel it.

“he works in construction.” you added, nervously, breathing through your words to sound firm but instead, coming out like a fawn. “does long shifts too but takes care of me and..and he doesn’t..like men talking to me..so.”

your pad suddenly looked so much more interesting, shuffling it between your fingers as he stared you down, secretly seething at the idea of the pretty plaything at the diner no longer being accessible to mess with.

“he’s protective too. big cause he works with his hands.” you kept rambling on, describing the very protector you needed.

describing jungkook.

subconsciously, of course.

the sleazy man narrowed his eyes at you, tilting his head slightly. “don’t look like you have a man like that. you sure you’re not lying to me, sweets? cause i don’t like liars.”

“i do..i really do.” you nodded immediately but you were blinking fast, almost about to burst into tears from your lie that you begged wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass.

“yeah? what’s his name?”

your throat constricted. you wanted to run away.

“he wouldn’t like me giving his name out.” your voice came out a whisper.

you knew he had you. knew he could see right through you.

he drank from his mug once more, filthy stare looking over you once more as though he had every right. his fingers tapped against the table for a few seconds before he leaned back.

“say hi for me.”

you didn’t respond. you couldn’t. you simply walked away.

later, once the diner had closed and every inch had been mopped to perfection, you finally grabbed your bag and your coat with a loaded sigh. the exhaustion was heavy today, you could feel it in the way your bones screamed with every passing movement. you had been shouted at non stop all night by customers, and though you weren’t doing anything wrong, it still was never good enough.

stepping out after you had locked the doors was stark, the cold air hitting you in your face causing you to wrap your coat even tighter around you, beginning the ten minute walk to your apartment block. you had long become used to the journey, and despite the late hour being terrifying at this time of night, it was one of the only chances you had to feel the wind hit you. to remind you that you were alive.

the streets felt different tonight, with the stark lighting above flickering with each and every step. you could feel a knot begin to form in your stomach, and you knew it was anxiety, you knew you were being ridiculous but that didn’t make the thoughts go away.

it only took another 30 seconds for your thoughts to be confirmed.

you could hear it. footsteps just a few metres away from you, and considering it was the early morning, the streets were completely bare save for yourself and whatever was trailing you from behind. you felt your legs quicken despite the tiredness in your body screaming at you, openly telling you it could take no more for the night and yet you were doing a full blown run home within seconds.

you could still hear it behind you, and it was real, wasn’t a figment of your imagination - someone was trying to get you, to hurt you.

you could see your apartment, could see the heavy doors, the rubbish bins all empty and random waste littered around on the floor. the most noticeable thing of all, however, was the beaten down truck, where a tall and bulky man stood, smoking his cigarette with furrowed eyes as he leaned against it.

you recognised him immediately.

he seemed to notice you too, watching as you all but ran over to him, your eyes wide and breathing heavy, your chest heaving up and down.

jungkook’s head tilted just slightly, grabbing you with one of his arms as his cigarette sat on his lip, watching as you burst out into crushing sobs almost instantly from the feel of his touch.

it was safety personified.

his arms wrapped around you as though it was second nature, one hand on the back of your head, the other harsh on your waist.

his cigarette fell to the ground, extinguished by a heavy boot whilst you sobbed in utter fear, clutching him like a lifeline, as though he was the only thing that could protect you from the outside world.

he was.

his touch wasn’t gentle, or firm - it was mean, harsh against your skin, grabbing and forcing you to look up at him as it did exactly what it needed to. it grounded you, enough to sedate the fear, just slightly, fingers pressing into your uniform.

“what happened?” his voice was equally as rough, as though he had barely used it all day, a man used to using his hands as opposed to his words.

you couldn’t get your words out, too big eyes staring up at him almost desperately as broken sounds and wet breaths fell into his chest, your hands bundled against his pecs.

his jaw tightened. he looked past you, eyes narrowing as he assessed the street, shoulders square. it was far too quiet considering the state you were in, and he could only assume whatever had made you so scared had quickly ran away the moment they realised you had sought shelter in him. he was a pretty intimidating guy, all height and muscle, a right hook that had people passing out in seconds.

“did someone touch you?”

you shook your head fast against him, sucking in a breath.

“n-n..” hiccup. “no.”

his hand travelled from the back of your head, running through your hair until it reached the back of your neck, eyes narrowing harshly. he was grounding you still, keeping you safe in his arms as you shook violently, a mixture of the cold air and the fear of what could have been had jungkook conveniently not been stood outside.

you had no idea that he had been waiting for you, almost aggravated at how late you were coming home.

“use your words.” he uttered, fingers digging into your skin just enough to leave pressure, something you found grounding. “talk.”

“was a m-man..at the..at the diner and..but he keeps..and then..” you were choking out words, hardly making sense but it was enough for him to gather the general gist of what was happening.

you watched as his face went completely cold.

“regular?” he asked.

you nodded, not trusting your voice through your sobs.

“he fucking follow you?”

you took a deep breath, shaky air leaving your lips. “i don’t know- i think..someone foll-followed me..” hiccup. “so i ran.”

he looked angry.

you barely knew the man, but from the emotions he had given you, you could tell it wasn’t directed at you whatsoever. you could feel it in the tension of his arms around you, the warmth his body exuded - it was fury.

“alright.”

decision made.

he pulled your face back, the hand on your neck forcibly tilting your head, so he was looking down at you. you shamelessly had never felt so protected ever before. he wiped the mascara underneath your eyes, despite the constant stream of tears, making sure to rid you of the blotchiness on your skin.

“listen to me,” he began, watching you nod like the good girl he knew you were. “you’re not going upstairs.”

your lip trembled again. did this mean you couldn’t go home?

“b-but..”

“if he knows the building, you ain’t going up there alone.”

you let out another sob, this only adding to the pile of problems you were already drowning in. you couldn’t handle this. could feel your brain splitting from the stress of it all.

“i’m scared.” you admitted in a small voice, fingers curled into his work jacket so delicately. “what if he knows which one is mine?”

that fucking killed him.

jungkook rolled his shoulders before letting go of your neck, grunting lightly as he pulled you even tighter against him. suddenly, you were turned towards the entrance of the building, his heavy hold on you guiding you inside.

“where a-are we-“

“my place.” he cut you off immediately as he walked you inside, head turning back to make sure no one was following him.

“you live here?” you asked through a hiccup, desperately still clinging to him, giving him no option but to hold you intimately as he guided you downstairs instead of up, where you and the other residents lived.

everything moved so quickly as you were ushered into an apartment, your eyes hazy as they began to blink away tears to register what was in front of you.

jungkook’s place was clean, tidy, meticulous. the furniture looked expensive, everything crafted perfectly, open plan living room and kitchen with a dining table sat as though he had a family he could dine with. dark wood floors and a couch so plush you were sure it was softer than anything you had ever sat on in your life.

you heard the clink of the door behind you, even watched him lock the door, bolting it for your comfort as opposed to himself.

he turned to face you again, observing you clearly.

you stood, shaking still, body slowly calming down from the sobbing you were doing earlier and instead replaced with a string of hiccuping breaths. you looked so small, so defenceless - a sick part of his brain wanted you like this always so he could play the knight in shining armour. wanted you to need him.

he exhaled through his nose. “sit.”

you obeyed instantly, moving to the couch and taking a seat on the edge as though you were terrified to touch anything. he walked over to the kitchen, where you could still see him before he returned to you, glass of water in hand.

he handed it to you, watching you take it with both shaky hands and take small sips.

he suddenly crouched in front of you. his calloused hands took a hold of either side of you, fingers digging into the sides of your thigh as he situated you on the couch properly, your bare legs brushing against him with ease due to the position he had now put you in.

“look at me.”

and so you did.

his shoulders were tight against his work jacket, frame so large you longed to be underneath it, just to know what kind of warmth would seep into your skin and bones. his forearms were thick, veins visible and tattoos on show, with bruised and bloody knuckles showing signs of scarring display too.

“is he going to try something?” he asked you, eyes trained onto your own.

“i don’t know.” you answered honestly, and the acknowledgment of being uncertain had your anxiety spiking again visibly, causing him to hold you even firmer.

“recount the conversation for me.”

“he a-asked when i finish..and then..something about if i-i was walking home alone..”

jungkook’s jaw was ticking; his shoulders rolling as he ran a heavy hand through his hair. he met your fearful gaze, your fingers intertwined in your lap shaking.

“what’d you say?” his voice was direct, and his presence felt calming.

“i..told him i had a boyfriend.” you admitted through a sniffle, rubbing underneath your eyes. “made him sound scary.”

the silence between you became thick, jungkook’s fingers digging into your skin. not painfully, but enough to certainly remind you of his hold, with his gaze never leaving your own.

his face remained stoic, but his actions gave him away.

“yeah?” he quietly responded; to which you nodded. “mhm.”

“how’d you describe him?”

“well..” you sniffled again, making jungkook wipe under your eyes for him, the harsh skin on his hands a stark difference to the soft surface of your face. “said he works in construction..and that..that he’s big and he doesn’t like guys talking to me.”

his tongue began poking his cheek, eyes closing for a mere second before his fingers then moved to sit on your hips, pulling you into him, making sure you were much closer than you initially were sitting. your hands situated on his shoulders through hiccups, sniffling away as you tried to ignore the severity of the situation.

“construction.” he repeated.

you nodded, the intake of your breath shaky.

“don’t like men talking to you.” he repeated again, but his fingers gave him away again. he was being prodded by you and you didn’t even realise it.

you nodded again, realising then that you had just been openly describing him, a beat of acknowledgment filling the room as silence filled the empty cracks between you.

there was something dark shining in his eyes, something that wouldn’t soften no matter how hard you sat there and tried. jungkook was a hard wall, but it didn’t mean he was unfeeling. emotion swirled deep in his stomach, igniting an internal need to take you for himself, to keep the door locked and protect you forever. how could someone be so oblivious to their own nature? did you know how sweet you were? his jaw ached at the mere thought of how you’d taste, so sugary he’d get a fucking toothache just imagining it.

“you lie good?”

your stomach dropped. “i-i don’t usually..”

“did he believe you?” his gaze dropped to your mouth, before returning to your eyes, lip curled.

“i don’t think so.” you whimpered then at the memory, the feeling of suffocation running back as you remembered the implication of the situation. you weren’t safe anymore.

silence settled between you once more, a norm considering he was hardly a man of many words. his hands on your waist tightened before sliding up and down, soothing you subconsciously, your bodies so close.

“if he comes near you again,” he said, voice low and void of overt emotion, “don’t engage. don’t talk. call me immediately.”

you blinked through a hiccup.

“but i don’t have your num-“

you were cut off immediately as he stood up to his full length, towering over you as he grabbed his phone, unlocking it and opening his contacts app.

“give me yours.”

you fumbled for your bag, hands still shaky, pulling out your phone before handing it to him.

he grabbed it, inputting his number and making sure it sat at the top of your contact list. there were no frills, no emojis, just his name staring at you as he handed your phone back to you, eyes sweeping over your face.

“don’t let him scare you so easy. guys like that thrive on this shit.” his words came out gruff, and you blinked up at him quickly.

“i know, i just-“

“i know.” he cut you off again, shaking his head.

that did something to your chest. he knew. he didn’t need the details, didn’t want to hear you make an excuse for how you were feeling because you didn’t need to, he had seen enough for himself. he had watched you long enough to know you liked to pack yourself way in too small boxes in hopes you’d go unnoticed, in hopes you wouldn’t be a bother.

the intimacy of him simply cutting you off to remind you he didn’t need to hear an explanation, he understood. it was music to you.

he was still looming over you.

“you don’t eat.” his thumb suddenly pressed down on your bottom lip, as you hiccuped, big eyes staring up at him. “don’t sleep enough, work too much, walk home on your own in the middle of the night. live in a unit that should be fucking condemned.”

your throat tightened, but his thumb was firm, the tip of your tongue slightly grazing it. he liked it.

“not anymore.” he shook his head.

the way he said it wasn’t intended for romance, it was ownership. you could feel it deep in your stomach, inbetween your thighs and in the traitorous thump of your very soul.

“you’re staying here.” he suddenly dropped his thumb from your lip, your brain a buzzing mess as his words began to register in your brain, your eyebrows shooting up on your face.

“what?”

he didn’t respond, simply walking over to the kitchen area and grabbing a beer can, rolling his shoulders gently. you found yourself standing then, shaky legs taking you over to him, big eyes capturing his as he took a swig despite the late hour, his adam’s apple capturing your eye.

your smaller fingers tugged at his jacket lightly, capturing his attention as his own stomach pinged at the sight of you, yearning for him to address what he had just said.

“you eaten yet?” he simply uttered.

your mouth opened and closed, nodding your head lightly making him do the same.

“don’t want you going up. not safe. bathrooms down the hall to the left,” he put his beer down. “you can wear one of my t-shirts to bed.”

your shoulders were slowly dissipating before his very eyes. you had never been taken care of, not for a moment in your full 20 odd years of living and you were almost unsure of how to act as your fingers remained on him, large eyes still glassy from your earlier emotion.

jungkook wanted to take care of you, wanted to dominate every negative emotion in your head until you were nothing but lullabies and sweet nothings, no more echoes of stress or negativity. what he hadn’t expected was to see you utterly melt at the prospect, as though the very notion was the one thing you had always wanted.

oh.

you were perfect for him in every way - that he could see clearly.

you made no effort to move, the act alone feeling like it would take too much out of you and so jungkook took one last swig, before grabbing you by your waist. his rough hand sat low on your back, half on your ass in honesty, as he lead you there himself, dark eyes trailing over your much shorter figure against him.

within seconds, you were in the bathroom, fresh clothes given to you, and the shower already on awaiting you. the first step into it had you moaning quietly, the patter of warm water being completely foreign to you considering you were so used to cold shooting bursts that brought no comfort whatsoever. you helped yourself to his shampoo, his body wash, his products just as he intended and were taken aback by how familiar it smelled to you.

there was a sense of protection in carrying his scent that was messing with your brain, and as you washed yourself, you couldn’t help but recognise your situation properly.

you, who had only met jungkook twice before, were now naked in his shower, using his products to wash yourself, imprinting his familiar scent into your skin like it was a lifeline. you were in a stranger’s home, seeking refuge from a bad man and yet you knew secretly, the big bad wolf was merely a few metres away from you - not that it deterred you.

the protection. the safety. it felt like a drug. you couldn’t bring yourself to reason with the fact it was batshit insane to be sleeping over at his home, your handyman for goodness sake, instead of going to the police or any other normal avenue.

no, instead, you pattered out, towelling your body down before putting on his t-shirt, eyes closing at the even stronger scent of his cologne. your uniform and underwear sat in a neat pile, ready to be taken away when you woke up in the morning, leaving you utterly naked underneath the way too large top that sat just below mid thigh.

once you were completely refreshed, all remnants of fear stolen from you by the warmth of the water and the comfort of his presence, your bare feet padded back to the living room. he wasn’t here, causing your eyes to narrow slightly in confusion before hearing a noise in the room adjacent, making your way over.

walking in, you were greeted by two things.

first, jungkook’s bedroom, which like him, was as manly as you imagined it to be. clean, precise, darker in colour and void of any real personality - a nagging, desperate little voice in your head practically screaming that it needed a woman’s touch. if only you knew the thought alone would have him cumming.

the second? jungkook’s naked back, littered with scars and muscle in places you didn’t even realise one could have. to say he was big was a gross understatement, for he defined the very meaning of buff - wide shoulders, insane biceps, back rippling with every move.

you could feel yourself growing wet at the mere sight of him, a quiet little gasp leaving you, causing him to turn around, only for you to see his pecs, his abs. god, he was just massive all over, a sight for your already sore eyes indeed.

jungkook didn’t say anything immediately, but he let out a deep grunt of appreciation at the sight of you. your bare legs, your wet hair; the way your hands were shuffling together. you looked like a vision.

had he been a better man, he would have guided you to the bed and walked out, designating to sleep on the couch but he had no intention of doing so. especially not when he could see your nipples poke straight through the cotton of his shirt, no doubt suggesting you had nothing underneath. his mouth watered at the thought of the sugary nectar inbetween your legs, could feel himself growing hard at the prospect.

“where do you want me to sleep?” you softly asked him, voice so gentle he wanted to ruin you.

that broke him from his trance, realising he was half hard just from looking at you. he felt like a fucking teenager, but could you blame him? you were his dream woman, circumstances and all, dolled up in his room like a present just for him.

“bed.” he muttered, nodding towards it which made you shyly play with your hair, watching him leave the room to no doubt go to the bathroom, his body brushing firmly against yours purposefully on the way out.

you closed your eyes for a moment once you were alone, heart beating fast, before walking over to the bed. you felt bad thinking he would take the couch, a little frown forming on your lips as you settled into the plush covers. another soft moan escaped you at the feel of such softness, the mattress delicate underneath you as you settled into it, feeling more comfortable than you ever had.

jungkook was back in a few minutes, also sporting wet hair suggesting he had just showered. this time, he returned merely in his boxers, a towel running through his locks as he examined you, all curled into the covers, not asleep just yet, as though you were waiting for confirmation from him.

fuck. he liked that. liked having you wait for him so he could decide your next move, like you were a little fawn unsure of what to do unless someone told you. he’d be that someone.

he watched as your eyes instantly fell to his bulge, eyes widening at the sheer size of it, your thighs pressed tightly together under his sheets as he approached you. he watched you stare at it, cock only hardening further at the attention, before pulling back the covers.

“oh..a-are you..sleeping here?” you managed to choke out, your tshirt having ridden up to sit at the tops of your thighs, big eyes peering up.

“not sleeping on a couch in my own home.” he grunted back at you, before sliding in beside you.

a once massive bed suddenly felt claustrophobic as you realised why he needed the space, though you managed not to touch him, you shyly moved to your side, your back to him to give him his privacy, your cheeks painted pink at the implication.

you were sharing a bed with a stranger. a big, tall, tatted stranger who was currently hard as fuck, whilst you laid on your side, pussy soaked from his attention, body quivering.

he was on his back, body taking up a massive majority of the space in the bed and he was utterly shameless about it. you, however, had tried to make yourself as small as possible in the corner, body scrunched up, unable to sleep as your brain worked round and around and around and around and arou-

big, beefy arms suddenly were grabbing you, one on your leg, the other on your waist as you were suspended in the air for a moment or two. you squeaked loudly, stomach dropping at the confusion of being moved and in the air.

jungkook was grunting at you, his preferred method of communication as you were finally placed firmly onto his chest, stomach first. your t-shirt had ridden up to the middle of your back, meaning your bare ass was on display, causing jungkook to place his hand on it as though it was the most normal thing on earth.

the position also meant you were pressed against him intimately, with your wet cunt now pushed against his too large bulge, causing a soft whimper to escape you, right into his ear. your breasts we’re pushed against his chest, your head resting into his shoulder as you both settled in as though this was the most natural thing on earth.

“sleep. you’ve had a long night.” his voice was rough, coarse, as though he too was fighting something.

as though the hand on your ass and the push of his weight, making you feel him intimately in every single way, was just as much punishment for him as it was for you. it was suffocating and you needed more, yearned for it.

your hands settled on his chest, your nose nuzzling into his neck as you nodded, eyes snapping shut. you truly were the picture perfect definition of obedience.

you weren’t sure how long either of you stayed like that, unmoving, unspeaking, just the understanding you were truly no more than strangers seeping in as sleep finally took both of you.

—

the diner was equally as busy the next day, with a particular scent that wouldn’t escape your skin no matter how hard you tried.

burnt oil soaked through the cracking walls, whilst the coffee that had been brewing for far too long sat in its pot, in your hand as you walked around the dining floor, filling mugs to whoever demanded more. you had disinfected the entire place with a cheap lemon solution that morning, the scent lingering slightly, causing you to feel nauseous.

you had been out of it all day.

you had woken up still in the same position as you had fallen asleep in, only this time, jungkook’s arms were hugging you tightly to him. one hand was curled into his hair, the other pressed into his chest, whilst you both slept deeply, safely.

you had slept better that night than any other in your entire lifetime. the feeling of protection was immense, and for the first time, your brain wasn’t racing in anxiety all night - you were able to rest comfortably.

that only made it so much more jarring once you had left his apartment whilst he was still sleeping, wanting nothing more than to stay in his arms, sleep a few more hours, relish in the warmth he was so happily providing for you. you felt guilty leaving like that, but the constant thump in your head brought you back to reality.

you did not know him. he was a stranger.

that was what you were telling yourself anyway, knowing that the traitorous thump of your heart gave you away. you hadn’t been focused all day, spilling drinks, dropping plates of food - your manager had been on your case your entire shift, the cooks even shouting at you at one point. you were utterly overwhelmed with jungkook and he wasn’t even there.

your feet were aching, but you knew you only had 20 minutes left. 20 minutes and you could go home, no night shift, just a long day that would be over in less than half an hour. that gave you a sort of excitement you rarely afforded yourself, and despite the fact your cheap flats were digging into your feet, and your apron felt too tight, you couldn’t wait.

that was until you heard a voice.

“are you fucking deaf? asked for a coffee 3 times now.”

you looked up from your spot behind the counter, meeting the gaze of the horrible, sleazy regular from yesterday, your blood running cold.

he usually only showed up in the late hour, and this was the first time you had see him during the day. it felt like a confirmation of some kind, one in which you had gathered he had either been watching you or was now looking closely, something that unsettled you. how else would he be here? why else?

you swallowed the thump in your throat, shaking hands grabbing the coffee pot and filling his mug as he sat at the diner bar, your eyes avoiding his at all costs.

“you look tired.” he said through a yawn, making no attempt to hide the fact he was ogling your tits. “your ‘boyfriend’ keep you up?”

you flinched at his words, knowing the implication - he still didn’t believe you. that made you feel sick. you chose to ignore him, tending to something at the till, in hopes he’d leave you alone.

“don’t know if i believe ya, sweets. been thinking about what you said about him, construction guys don’t go for girls like you.” he mused, as though he was the smartest man in the world, watching the way your hands shook lightly. “you’re all shy and shit. what you know about pleasing a man?”

you felt heat crawl up your throat and down your spine, feeling a level of shame you couldn’t quite place. you hated it. even reacting to a man like him was giving him power, and he relished in it.

“you better be usin’ what you got.” he leaned back, hand openly palming himself as he grinned, dirty teeth on display. “tight little ass like yours? should let him use it or he’ll start lookin’ elsewhere.”

you flinched once more, this time harsher.

“that’s inappropriate.” you found your voice, though it was shaky, desperately looking over at your manager who was conveniently pretending like he couldn’t hear a thing.

“i’m helpin’ you, sweets. should be grateful.”

your eyes narrowed. “you don’t know anything about me.”

at that, he leaned forward, grin even wider. it was sinister. “yeah? know you walk home all alone.”

your heart dropped.

“i see you.” he added. “late. every night.”

you couldn’t breathe. it felt like someone had grabbed your lungs, suffocating you from the inside and out, a confirmation of your wildest fears before your very eyes.

“see, i like to watch who goes in and out of that building. got some buddies, and you know..bad area. should be careful.” he was all but fucking gleeful. “pretty girls like you, they’re the most fun to play with.”

your hands were beginning to shake violently, as one reached for your phone, clumsily putting your password in, not being able to think.

“you sure your boyfriends real?” he asked lazily. “or you just sayin’ that to throw me off the scent?”

“i have one.” you immediately interjected, panic visible in your voice, desperate to be believed. “he doesn’t like when i talk to other men, so..” you pathetically whispered, turning on your heel and immediately going into the back, where the staff room was located.

you didn’t come out for the rest of your shift, your chest in a panic, hands shaking and eyes leaking tears once more. he had been watching you? did that mean something could have happened had you returned to your unit last night, instead of staying with jungkook?

you couldn’t believe this was a reality, and the fact you knew you had no escape plan was even worse. you couldn’t move out, you didn’t have the funds, and it was a terrifying thought to know you were simply waiting to be violated. the thought alone had you crying into your hands, shakily hovering over jungkook’s contact.

you didn’t want to bother him. he owed you nothing, and you had already taken so much from him.

with that, you grabbed your things and snuck out the back, beginning the 10 minute walk back home.

jungkook had been in the same position as you all day. his work was rendered useless, and considering he had well paying clients, it was enough to drive him to the point of anger. every thought, every crevice of the world around him brought him back to you, how you’d slotted against him so easily last night, so pliant and ready. to then wake up to an empty bed and a wet patch on his boxers from where you were both pressed together was frustrating to say the least - he wanted to wake up to the sight of you.

he had every intention of sitting you down, telling you to leave your job, telling you exactly what he could offer you if you just let him. hell, he would do it against your will too if you kept this shit up, more than ready to fund a lifestyle you had only ever dreamt of.

he was outside the building now, loading up his truck with shit he had been using all day, his tools, extra pieces of wood he had no use for at the minute and what not. his hands were beyond rough, calloused from daily use but that was the payoff for working with them carelessly. he couldn’t help but remember the feel of them on your ass, squeezing all night, sometimes dipping lower subconsciously just to hear you whine in your sleep.

fuck, he was half hard again just remembering it, but half annoyed recalling the way you had just left.

he was taken out of his thoughts when he looked to his right, just as you walked into the apartment complex, not seeing him, tears streaming down your face once more and shoulders sagging as though walking alone was too exhausting for you. he felt his chest break into tiny little pieces at the sight, it was enough to anger him for a completely different reason.

he was walking towards you before he could even rationalise it, a hand slipping over your waist within seconds and pushing your back straight into his chest, his bigger frame engulfing you. you let out a strangled gasp, looking down and visibly melting fully as you noticed the tattoos on his hand, letting out a quiet whimper.

“what happened?” jungkook immediately asked, the two of you stood in front of the building.

your tears wouldn’t stop streaming, your breathing already difficult as your bag dropped from your shoulder. your hands instantly went to cover your face, as you broke out into quiet sobs, body raking in his arms. the exhaustion had finally got to you.

your brain had broken.

jungkook didn’t waste any time. he grabbed you fully, picking you up with a single arm, to which you immediately hid your face in his neck, holding onto him as you ruined his uniform with your body shaking sobs. your bag was in his other hand whilst he made his way to his own apartment, not saying anything but simply allowing you to get the bulk of your emotions out, before walking in, and settling you down onto his couch.

“talk to me.” suddenly, you were in his lap, completely cradled by the older, bigger man as though you were a little baby, and your body moved closer in hopes of more comfort.

it took you a while until you were able to speak, holding the sleeves of his jacket desperately, his large hands on your back and cupping your legs to him. he was soothing you with his presence, patting gently to get you to calm down and soon enough you did, unable to look him in the eye, feeling embarrassed enough that you had done this two days in a row now.

“the guy from the diner came..came back and..” you breathed deeply through your hiccups, his forehead now against yours, making sure you could feel him. “told me he watches..the building..knows i walk home alone and, said he knows..said he knows people from the building.”

the more you recounted, the more restless you became as you began to sob once more, your hands covering your face again. his anger was beyond anything he could describe, he could feel it coursing through his veins as though it was part of his dna, the need to protect you stronger than every other emotion.

“look at me.” he managed to say, voice strangled, causing you to do exactly as he said, despite your shaking body.

“you’re not going back upstairs, you hear me? i’m gonna go get your things, and you’re staying here.”

you startled for a moment, eyes narrowing up at him in confusion. what did he mean?

“but that’s my apartment..”

“it’s a fucking shoebox with a busted lock.” he hissed.

“jungkook, i can’t just..” you shook your head, your shaking hands piled at his chest whilst he pulled you closer, nose nuzzling yours for just a moment to gather himself. “you can. what do you need from it, and i’ll grab shit.”

you shook your head, pushing him away lightly despite it being the last thing you wanted him to do, and he knew that. your hands were now tightening against the material of his jacket, tears streaming, eyes wide and head shaking.

“this is crazy. you don’t even know me and i don’t even know you.” you said through another half sob. “i can’t stay here, okay? you’ll get sick of me, and..and i’ll annoy you, or you’ll wake up, and..and you’re gonna..you’re gonna decide it was a mistake and i..”

he simply stared at you, eyes narrowing dangerously. if he had felt anger at the situation before, now it was beginning to direct at you.

he exhaled sharply. “stop.”

you let out another shaky sob at his command, head dropping to his shoulder, the confusion in your mind so clear. it wasn’t that you didn’t want it, but you didn’t feel worthy of it. all you had ever known was abuse, from the moment you were born until this very second - happiness was foreign to you, a notion you truly believed wasn’t in the cards for you, and to have someone openly wish to shelter you felt confusing.

“i’ll bother you, i know it.” the voice in which you admitted your darkest fear had him tightening his grip on you.

suddenly, your positions had changed. you were no longer on his lap, cradled, but instead, on your back laid on the couch, with your hands positioned above your head and jungkook’s entire body hovering over you. he was rendering you useless, and you couldn’t bring yourself to fight it.

“listen to me, y/n.” his eyes were dark. “i work all day, like a fucking dog, breakin’ my back doing all this shit, fucking my body up. you think i do that for fun?”

you shook your head in a little no, still crying.

“got all this money, got a nice job, stopped doing all that bad work that gets me in trouble, no back door shit. do it so when i got myself a lady, she rests good, you hear me?” his voice was rough, almost mean. “so she don’t have to lift a fucking finger a day in her life.”

your chest tightened at the notion, and a subconscious part of you screamed inside, begging to be the very woman he was discussing; yearning.

“you move here, and you do nothing. don’t want you working, don’t want you doing anything other than lookin’ pretty. don’t want a single thought in that brain ever again, unless it’s when i take you out, or when you want something.”

his head pressed against yours, the conviction behind his voice causing you to quiver. you had stopped sobbing now, reduced to silent tears that continued to stream, your cute nose all pink and the fucked up part of him was fighting the fact his cock was hardening at the sight.

“i’m gonna go upstairs, gonna get your shit, and you don’t do nothing, understand me? don’t think about rent, or food, or sleep - you don’t stress about nothing no more.”

“but why?” you asked through a shaky breath, sucking in air as you hiccuped, a pool of wetness forming on either side of your head from how much you were crying. “you don’t even get anything out of it.”

he doesn’t hesitate. “i get you.”

at that, a strangled noise left you, your eyes shutting tightly as your heart thudded harshly in your chest. he wanted you? truly? even without the frills, even without you being able to offer anything real, or tangible?

“i get to take care of you, spend my money on you, get you in my bed every night where you can’t run off before i wake up.” he grunted down at you, grabbing one of your hands from above your head and pressing it firmly against the growing bulge in his work trousers. “you feel that? feel how fucking hard i get just thinking about it, baby?”

you nodded through your sniffles, hiccuping a few times as your hand gently massaged his cock, the layers of clothing dulling the sensation but it was enough to have him press his head against yours once more, cooing at you. his hand slid on top of your own, pushing it harder, and despite the action being intensely sexual, it felt intimate more than anything.

“couldn’t get bored of you, wouldn’t ever. look at you..fuck. were meant to be spoilt, not built to be working out there and stressin’. need to lock you up here so you never worry again.”

again, you nodded, more desperate, whining out for him as both of your hands interlocked with his. the one above your head, sweet and reassuring, and the other, massaging his cock, demanding and grounding. you were his, and it was only then that you realised it - strangers or not.

the next hour was spent with you washing up in the bathroom, having the longest shower of your life, crying all of the remnants of your emotions out whilst jungkook went upstairs, grabbing your things. considering your situation, it took him no longer than ten minutes, something deep pinging in his stomach knowing you had never even tasted luxury. he’d change that.

by the time he had come back down, he was settling your things into your now shared room, watching as you shuffled out in another one of his t-shirts, wet hair, big teary eyes and an unsure demeanour. he took his time with you then, arm around your waist so you could watch him work, putting things away like it was second nature.

he left you curled up all nice and warm on the couch, blankets covering you whilst he gave you the remote, urging you to watch something. he had shit to do.

first, he was going to cancel your lease and threaten your landlord.

second? he was going to fuck up the man who had scared you.

—

two weeks.

two weeks of living a life you were sure was never supposed to be yours.

from sleeping as much as you wanted, and eating whatever your heart desired, jungkook was spoiling you rotten. the glee in his eyes every time he could see a small smile form on your face was enough to render you a mess.

you’d wake every morning flush to his chest, with your bodies pressed together intimately, his hard cock poking against your own panties in a way that had you breathless. on one occasion, you had woken up to find yourself all but grinding against him, only aware of it once you realised you were orgasming, causing your cheeks to flush a deep plum.

he fucking loved it. finally, everything made sense, his life has purpose, tangible purpose. the sight of you on his couch, resting on your stomach with your bare ass to the door just as he would walk into the apartment was enough to drive him insane - it was the sight he’d masturbate to daily. he didn’t want to push you, he was enough of a gentleman to know it wasn’t right to push his needs on you, and he was trying. god knew he had put every bit of his restraint into his situation.

you were both dancing a fine line of evident need and want, yet one couldn’t admit it to themselves and the other didn’t want to push.

the first night was the moment you realised that jungkook wasn’t any ordinary man. all of the kindness aside, it was when you awoke from the nap on his couch to him walking back into the apartment that you realised he was indeed every bit of the man you wanted.

bloody knuckles, and a slight bruise already forming on his cheek, he had walked over to you and pressed a kiss to your forehead, telling you everything was now taken care of. your rent, the piece of shit that had been scaring you, hell, even your nasty manager who made it a habit to be rude to you.

you had washed his knuckles yourself, sniffling away your tears whilst apologising for being so weepy. he simply nuzzled his nose into your forehead, grunting something about how he liked it. liked how you wore your emotions openly and how honest you were about your feelings. it felt refreshing.

after that, he made it a habit to break any wandering thought left in your brain. he’d wake up to you all curled into his body, making him leave kisses all over your hands and cheeks whilst you slept, leaving you to go to work. he’d think about you the entire day, only to return to you with different boxes of food for you to try so you could find out what your favourite cuisines were.

in two weeks, jungkook made you feel more seen and recognised than you had ever felt in the past 24 years.

you still felt awfully shy in his presence. just yesterday, he had taken you out shopping, your hand tucked gently into his arm as you both walked up and down the high street. you shook your head vehemently as he tried to get you to go into the expensive, designer shops, your heart practically failing out of guilt just thinking about it.

“buy what you want.” he’d say to you, or, “don’t look at the price.”

you had once done so, picking out a lipstick marginally cheaper than the ones you could see in hopes that it would satiate him. he saw right through it, his eyes narrowing down at you as you shuffled from foot to foot, unable to meet his gaze.

“don’t annoy me. get something good.”

and so, you’d leave with bags upon bags of things, with flushed cheeks and a thundering heart.

his favourite shop, obviously, was victoria secret. you had clung to him almost desperately out of shyness, often hiding your face in his chest whenever he’d hold up a pair that he thought were nice. he let you browse, watching you shakily pick out a pair or two before you peered up at him, large eyes shining.

“which ones do you like?” you had whispered, so sweet, so inviting that he swore he could have came right then and there.

his arm around your waist tightened as he looked down at you, jaw clenched slightly at the way you had asked him. maybe it was the genuine curiosity that stemmed from you that had him guiding you to a cute, lacy pink pair. he bought them for you immediately, leaving you a flushing mess.

going home, eating together, curled together as you watched things, his legs spread wide whilst he played with your hair. it felt domestic. it felt freeing, and frankly, it felt like everything you had ever prayed for. something in the back of your mind screamed at you, reminding you that you still didn’t know enough about him, that he was no more than just a random man a month ago and yet here you were.

and so, here you sat, at the dining table with your legs crossed. it was 2pm, so jungkook was well within his work day, leaving you at home with a racing mind and shaking hands. you wanted to do something for him, something to show him just how grateful you were for all of the kindness he had bestowed upon you.

you grabbed your phone, embarrassment heavy in your chest as you began searching in anything that came to mind.

‘how to keep a man happy’

you frowned at the results, not finding anything that applied to jungkook in particular.

‘how to be a good girlfriend’

you flushed furiously writing that one out, but you knew it was the closest equivalent to the relationship you had with him. even then, all the results catered to people that didn’t align with jungkook’s personality. you sighed.

‘how to please a man that takes care of you’

now this, this was different. you sat up, seeing multiple different hits but the one thing you kept seeing over and over was the same line. you shuffled in anticipation, eyes reading it continuously, biting down on your lip.

“keep his stomach fed, and his balls empty.” you whispered out loud, repeating what you had read.

your cheeks flamed red as you shut your phone, setting it down like you had an audience around you, feeling a level of embarrassment creep up your neck. that..that felt fitting. you knew he loved his food, was always eating with a can of beer whenever he got a chance.

you also knew him to be hard nearly every instance he got. you weren’t an idiot, you had felt it against you to know that you probably couldn’t take him fully without prep, but the thought had your eyes shutting tight, a small whine leaving you - you wanted him just as bad.

soon enough, you had decided on your plan of action. you got changed, grabbing the card jungkook had given you and quickly made your way to the grocery store, hand shaking around your phone as you searched in popular dishes. you figured a steak would do, since you knew most men enjoyed meat, despite knowing you had never really cooked before.

you stood in front of the meat section hopelessly, shyly asking the workers there a million questions until a lovely older lady walked you around the shop, telling you how to prepare it, what ingredients to use, pushing you to purchase the more expensive options as ‘you could taste it in every bite.’

waddling home, you steadied yourself as you put everything in the kitchen, wrapping your new apron around you tight. you were determined. you wouldn’t fail, not when this was for jungkook, not when he had done so much for you.

hours had passed, and you were finishing up the last details of the dinner. the table had been set, with candles and plates positioned in a way you had seen in a youtube video. you had his favourite beer chilled and ready, even going the extra mile to have a shower, do your hair and makeup using the products he had bought you. you still had your apron on, knowing he’d love the sight of the cute frilly material around you.

your hair was clipped behind your head as you heard the door unlock, causing you to squeak quietly, gathering everything together as quickly as you could.

jungkook had had the longest day of his entire existence. from clients taking the piss, to fixing rushed jobs from other men in the industry. he had even had a phone call from an old friend, asking to stash some cash - it came with a hefty profit, but he had to decline, despite it souring the relationship. he had his girl waiting back home for him, and he had to make sure he was on the right track. no more illegal shit, no matter what that meant for the legacy he had built in his twenties.

walking inside his home, only to find you nervously smiling at him, was enough to take the wind out of his lungs. looking down, however, and seeing the full home cooked spread, was enough to have a man like him on his knees.

“hi..” you shyly grinned, hands shuffling.

“what’s this?” he asked, putting his tools down, uniform heavy as he approached you.

the sound of his keys dropping on the dish you had placed by the entrance made you jump slightly, as you nibbled away on your lip. he approached you, standing in front of you, eyes never leaving your own.

“i just..you do so much for me and, i’m so grateful and i wanna take care of you too.” your voice was no louder than a whisper, almost flushed at the admission as you immediately reached for his jacket, playing with the buttons, peering up at him. “it’s okay if you don’t like it, i just thought it would be nice for you to have something home cooked.”

he grunted, deep from his chest as his face fell into the space between your neck and shoulder, breathing in your scent. his hands were roaming all over your stomach, your hips, your waist, a soft giggle finding its way out of your lips at his reaction. it made you giddy to think he was enjoying this.

“you cooked all this?” he asked, walking towards the table, dragging you along with him, to which you lightly bounced, nodding. “went to the shops, and asked the nice lady and she told me what to get and she said that you’d like steak and she showed me what video to follow-“ you rambled.

he was enamoured by you, taking a seat at the head of the table, where you had positioned all of his plates. instead of moving towards your own seat, he grabbed your waist once more and pulled you firmly until you fell into his lap, your tiny dress doing little to provide modesty as you curled into him.

you watched him intently cut a piece, big eyes peering at him as he took a bite.

“you really made this?” he asked you, hand harsh on your thigh.

you offered him a shy nod, anxiety swirling in your stomach. it was okay if he didn’t like it, but the thought made you want to weep - this was supposed to be all for him. you didn’t want to mess it up.

“good girl.” he murmured, before cutting up a piece for you, watching as you ate from the same fork, a look of pure glee across your face.

his words had you leaning into him properly as you both ate, his grunts of approval worth a million words as you recounted how you cooked it, all whilst he listened carefully and ate. you truly couldn’t have been happier with yourself, your fingers curling into the hair behind his neck.

he had finished his plate, but was now properly feeding you, and despite a shake of your head, was making sure you finished your plate. the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, your arms around him and his around yours, breathing in one another’s scent.

he was so manly all over, the faint smell of sweat alongside his cologne and skin was intoxicating and you wanted it ingrained in your mind forever.

“well done.” he murmured down at you, soft for a change, causing you to look up.

the smile that formed on your lips was enough for him to dedicate his entire life to praising you, wanting to see it every single day for the rest of his life. he couldn’t fathom how lucky he was to have the object of his desires all pretty, in a cute apron and dress; cooking for him, just so he’d feel good. fuck.

“i’m happy you liked it.” you admitted in a small voice. “i really wanted to make it good for you.”

“you don’t have to do anything, y/n.”

“i know, you always say that but i just..i wanna, okay?” you shook your head, nibbling away at your lip once again.

his thumb darted out, capturing your lip and releasing it from your teeth. god, he couldn’t get enough of how cute you were, looking up at him like that. his thumb pushed against your lips for a moment, letting it sit on your tongue, watching the way you wrapped your mouth around it.

the moment was gone within a second as he pulled back, a sudden look on his face you couldn’t decipher. before you could ponder on it, his lips finally connected with your own.

kissing jungkook was unlike anything you had ever expected. you knew him to be dominant, direct and manly, but this? he was all but devouring you. it wasn’t gentle like first kisses often tended to be, but demanding - rough. his lips moved against yours like he owned you, and you deflated immediately, letting him do whatever he wanted to you. your hands were in his hair, tugging him closer, your legs moving around him to now straddle instead of just sitting.

the second his tongue began exploring your mouth, you couldn’t hold back the moans.

he kissed like a man starved, his hands running up and down your body, cupping your ass, your breasts, before settling on your waist, chasing you every time you pulled away for breath.

by the time you had fully managed to depart from his lips, you were panting, eyes lidded and heart beating faster than you could keep up with. your hands slid from his hair down to his chest, as he captured your lips in small pecks.

jungkook could feel the day washing off of him. the dinner, your excitement, the kiss - fuck, even the thought of you paying for all of the things you wanted at the grocery shop with his card. he was visibly melting, more relaxed than he’d allowed himself to be in years and it was a sight for you too.

“go shower.” you whispered lightly to him, pecking his lips. “i’m gonna clean up.”

he simply nodded, capturing your lips in another heavy kiss that lasted far too long before letting out a grunt, setting you on your feet, and heading to the bathroom.

you stood there for a moment, eyes fluttering closed and breathing out through your nose.

god, you were so fucked.

—

later that evening, jungkook sat in front of the tv, legs spread, a can of beer in hand and the game playing loudly. he was the picture perfect image of relaxation, in a pair of sweats and a white tank, his hair still wet from his earlier shower, he truly didn’t think life could get better than this. he had jumped you the second he had gotten out, smothering you in as many kisses as he could get in before you started pushing him away, flushed pink and giddy.

his cock had been straining against his sweats for hours.

you, however, were a slight nervous wreck.

you stood near the edge of your now shared bed, nibbling away on your lip as you looked at yourself in the mirror. you had showered yourself, dried your hair, even did your makeup really nice. you were in a tank and tiny little cotton shorts, but underneath? the pink underwear he had bought you.

your only objective tonight was to make him cum.

a shaky breath left you as you ran your hand through your hair, making sure you looked okay. you wanted to make him feel good, wanted it more than anything else in the world, and you knew that once you started, the door would be wide open and your relationship would completely change.

you weren’t sure how many more times you could withstand the feeling of not quite being able to satisfy yourself. being home alone for most days, waiting for him to return with the thought of him heavy on your mind and mouth, trying to keep your hands out of the space inbetween your legs was impossible.

waking up to his boner pressing into you? unfair.

you knew he wanted this badly, maybe even more than you did, but he wasn’t about to push that on you given your strange dynamic. luckily for him, you were heeding the internet’s advice - you had fed him, now you were ready to drain his balls.

and so, you walked into the living room, his eyes completely trained on the tv as you sat beside him on the couch, not looking up at you. his hand, however, sat high on your bare thigh immediately, all whilst his cock strained against his clothes.

you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, noticing him taking a swig of his beer, attention entirely on the game playing, easing your nerves massively. you shifted, his hand dropping from your thigh as you began your plan of action.

jungkook finally looked at you, only to catch you pulling your hair up into a ponytail. he would have thought nothing of it had it not been for your outfit, your pretty lipstick, the way you looked like you were ready to be fucking used. his lips parted as he watched you drop to your knees in front of him, innocent eyes no longer feeling as naive as he once thought.

before he could even say anything, your smaller hands began reaching for his waistband, fingers hooking until you were able to push them down enough for his fat cock to spring free.

he watched you gasp. watched you take in his length and girth, a fucked up part of his brain eager to break you finally as you blinked away your visible fear. he wasn’t just big, he was monstrous. the type of cock to break you from the inside, the type to hurt and make you sore for days. the type that had you moaning just at the sight of it.

your hand finally wrapped around it, although your fingers didn’t touch and that alone had your head dropping to his thigh, mouth already drooling.

“so pretty.” you whimpered up at him, causing him to jolt in your grip, a low grunt filling the air. “gonna break yourself trying to make it fit in your mouth.” he nudged your chin with his fingers, his words condescending but they only made you wetter.

a surge of confidence ran through you as you huffed up at him, tongue laying flat as you let his cock tap against it a few times, licking up all the salted beads of precum. soon enough, you were suckling at his tip, moaning and circling your tongue.

his hand shot to the back of your head with a loud curse, his eyes closed. he hadn’t had anyone warming his bed in months upon months, and now that he had you, he knew no one else would ever be good enough.

watching you finally begin to suck and bob your head was enough to have him pushing down your head, forcing you to accommodate another inch or two. it made you gag, but the wet patch forming on your shorts was proof enough you liked it. your hands pumped the rest of his cock in unison as you eagerly sucked, whimpering against the most sensitive part of him.

“fuck, look at you.” he hissed out loud, continuing to bob your head. “wanted this from day one, didn’t you?”

you parted from his cock for air, gasping lightly as you pumped him faster, nodding despite already feeling lightheaded. god, jungkook had barely begun and you were already so needy - he yearned to know what you’d be like once he finally impaled you fully.

“wanted it so bad.” you admitted through a small voice, eyes never leaving his as you tapped his cock onto your tongue again a few times before opening your mouth and starting it again.

this time, jungkook pushed your head down further and further, watching his cock disappear down your throat until you couldn’t take anymore, pulling off for breath once more, your shattered gasps and gulps enough for him to cup your cheek.

“that’s my girl, look at you.” his coos were hardly sweet, with a clear edge to them as you bounced your head up and down, sucking him with all of your energy. he swore, throwing his head back. “should’ve done this a long time ago. look how good you look choking on me.”

your legs were quivering with want, wanting nothing more than to play with your clit in that moment but focusing on him regardless. jungkook was already close, and as much as he wanted to paint your throat in his cum, he had no intentions of cumming anywhere other than your fucking womb.

suddenly; his hands on your head were pulling at your hair, forcing you off of his cock as you panted for air, chest rising and falling. your lips were covered in spit, and yet you looked like a vision made just for him, his cock tweaking at the sight of you.

he forced you to get up, which you happily did, falling onto the couch beside him as he grabbed onto your legs, hand grabbing your shorts and harshly pulling them down only to be met with the pink lacy set he had been thinking of all day.

his silence was met with a shaky giggle from as you spread your legs once more, your panties absolutely soaked through, and yet you wanted more.

“i hope you like them.” you hummed, as he began to hover over you. “wanted to wear them for you.”

“yeah?” he groaned quietly, fingers tracing the shape of your pussy through them. “fuck, you’re tiny. i’m gonna break you, you know that?”

“promise?” you whispered back, causing his eyes to flicker back to you, his cock jolting.

you were a secret minx.

his lips were on yours within seconds, tasting himself on your tongue as he devoured you, moving against you with utter ease. instead of taking your panties off, he simply moved them to the side, pulling your tank down to reveal your tits spilling out of your matching lacy bra. pink was a colour he wanted you in every waking moment, you looked better than he could have ever imagined.

his hand was on you immediately, fingers rubbing away at your clit causing you to whimper at the feel of relief finally. you were wound up so tight anyway, to have someone touching you after so so long was a feeling you had forgotten. to be touched by jungkook was a whole other ballpark.

you both moaned into each other’s mouths as your hand began to pump him, bodies moving in unison as you focused on pleasuring one another. it only took a few minutes for you to succumb to your first orgasm, loud moans leaving your lips as you shook in his arms.

he watched you hungrily, his brain chemistry changing before for your very eyes.

this is what you looked like cumming.

oh. how had he lived? how had he survived a life without your face scrunching up, whining out his name so pathetically, legs shaking around him whilst your hand only gripped him tighter.

it wasn’t enough, though. never. he allowed you a moment or two of rest before circling your clit once more, watching you jostle in overstimulation. his fingers were inside you without any prior warning, pumping as he heard you whine loudly.

“j-jungkook!” you shrieked, hand falling from his aching cock as you grabbed onto his shoulders, grounding yourself.

“fuck, there you go. c’mon.” he was hissing down at you, fingering you deep, bigger than anything you had taken in a while.

the stretch was delicious, and you already felt so full - you couldn’t even fathom being fucked by his cock, but the thought had your hips lifting for more.

jungkook coaxed two more orgasms out of you just like that, leaving you a shaky and dazed mess, before removing his fingers, sucking on them with a loud grunt. he went to move inbetween your legs, to make good work of the slick dripping from you only to be stopped by your smaller hands.

“want you.” you whimpered with a shake of your head. “don’t wanna wait anymore.”

“need to stretch you baby, you’re still tight.” he shook his head back at you, grabbing your legs and pulling you closer.

“no.” you huffed, voice suddenly bratty. “you said you’d give me anything i want..”

he closed his eyes at that, cock throbbing. fuck, you already knew his weak spots, and he had every intention of making you feel it just as deeply as he could. he departed from you entirely, leaning back, pulling you up by your arms firmly.

“get on the bed.” he simply uttered to you, voice dark. he was so firm, so direct - his words sat in your stomach as you shakily did exactly that, leaning on the walls as you wobbled your way over.

even in moments of heightened passion, he couldn’t get over how tooth achingly sweet you were.

you laid on the bed, head plush on your shared pillows as you managed to catch your breath. jungkook walked in, hair a mess, shoulders sore from the scratches you had left behind, cock hard and against his stomach as he approached. neither of you could look away from one another, as he grabbed your hips and yanked you down closer to him, hovering over you immediately.

“give me a kiss.” he hushed down at you, causing you to lean up, pressing a sweet peck to his lips. you were so cute to him.

he lined himself up with you, rubbing his cock up and down, causing you to whine, the size of him against you already addicting. soon, he started to push in, the tip of his cock already stretching you wider than anything you had ever taken.

jungkook hovering over you, his arms caging you in other side of your head as he pushed deeper, deeper and deeper. you could feel your thighs quivering, your wide eyes shutting tight as you felt you couldn’t breathe by the time he was half way in. he wasn’t fairing any better. this was out of his wildest dreams, panting on top of you, cooing down at you.

“my good girl, so so good to me. look at you taking it so well. were born to take me, weren’t you baby?” he cooed down, causing you to whimper as you could feel the familiar sting of tears forming in your eyes.

you nodded, sucking in a shaky breath as your arms wrapped around his neck. “s-so big.”

he hissed as he continued to push inside, managing to fit his entire length in after multiple minutes. you were breathing deeply, chest rising and falling as jungkook waited for you to settle down, watching the way your stomach bulged from the intrusion.

“you can take it.” he assured, hand pressing down on your stomach, against the bulge causing you to shriek loudly, eyes closing tight again. tears were beginning to stream, and he could feel himself getting harder.

“you c-can..can move.” you whimpered out.

with seconds, jungkook began to thrust.

if you thought you had experienced pleasure before, you were sorely mistaken.

you knew then that nothing would ever feel like this, nothing could compete or compare - this was everything your body has subconsciously craved for years, given to you by the much older, stranger who had taken you in for his own.

the pain was overshadowed by the thrill and pleasure, his deep thrusts hitting a sponge part of you that was already pulling you closer and closer to the edge. your tears were streaming as he rested his head against your own.

“needed this from you, baby. been thinking about you for so long, you know that?” he grunted out loud. “now you’re all mine..all mine to fuck.”

“yours..all y-yours, kook.” you nodded vigorously, hands pulling at his hair. “feel so big.”

he hid his face in your neck as his pace began to quicken, causing you to borderline scream out his name. you didn’t care who could hear you, the feeling of being pounded into by a cock too big for you euphoric. he couldn’t get enough of you, the taste of your skin on his tongue as he sucked on your neck, leaving heavy hickeys to mark you for the entire world to see.

you couldn’t hold back on the sobs, crying out from the overstimulation; the pleasure, the stinging pain. it was too much and not enough, at one point finding yourself even beating your fists against his chest, only causing him to fuck you harder.

soon enough, jungkook flipped you around, so you were on your stomach, his chest pressing harshly on your back. you could barely move in this position, couldn’t breathe very well either, merely forced to endure the pleasure of jungkook taking care of you. your shallow breaths alongside the chant of his name were like music to his ears, as he kissed and bit on your shoulders.

“my girl. gonna make you my wife, you know that?” he promised down at you, pounding at this point.

“don’t..say that.” you gasped loudly, his words making you clench harshly around his cock, clearly liking it far too much than you wanted to admit.

you had been in house for two weeks and yet the thought of this treatment for life, belonging to jungkook for the rest of your days, was enough to make you sob in joy. your cheek was smushed into the pillow, as you grabbed onto the sheets for life, only for him to intertwine his fingers with your own from behind.

“you like that, huh..” he let out a small laugh. “wanna be my wife, pretty girl? wanna be mrs jeon?”

you were clenching uncontrollably, only edging him closer to his own orgasm.

“fuck..just like that.” he grunted. “gonna wake up to a ring on your finger one of these days. don’t give a fuck that it’s too soon, gotta make sure you get what this is.” he was picking your body up from the bed, your ass in the air suddenly as his thrusts only got more brutal. “you belong to me, you understand? every part of you, all mine.”

“wan’it.” you admitted, through a small sob. “wanna be your wife, kookie, want it so so bad.”

“yeah?” he closed his eyes at your admission. “god. need to get you a house, make sure you decorate it just how you like. gotta spoil you like my wife deserves.”

you were seeing stars, the sound of skin slapping against skin louder than either of your whines, moans or sobs. he slid one of his hands down, circling your clit once more despite the fact you were already a bundle of over sensitivity.

at that, you squealed loudly.

“gonna cum soon, gonna fill this pussy up just like you deserve. get you all nice and round for me.” his words cut through you like a knife, causing you to lose your breath.

“please, please, please.” you begged, through harsh sobs. “cum inside, kookie, please, wanna have your baby.”

you couldn’t take it any longer. the movement of his fingers, the harshness of cock, the way you could feel his entire weight on your much smaller body - you could hardly breathe as your orgasm hit you like a freight train, rendering you useless.

you completely blacked out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you choked lightly, only causing jungkook to orgasm himself. he buried himself deep inside you with a final thrust, feeling you clench and milk him for all that he had.

the shared orgasm was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. it felt the closest to euphoria you’d ever felt, and you knew the feeling was mutual with the way the usually stoic, manly man on top of you was moaning into your shoulder, fucking you both through your orgasms.

he settled on top of you for a solid minute, still inside of you, repositioning you so you could breathe freely. he was breathing in your scent, his shoulders sagging as though the full stress of the day had finally escaped you. it was like he could breathe again, having bared his entire soul to you mid thrust only for it to be reciprocated in the filthiest of ways.

your eyes remained closed, even after he pulled out, and pushed his cum back into you with his fingers, secretly praying it would stick. you were a panting, dazed mess as he picked you up and took you to the bathroom, drawing you a bath all the whilst holding you firmly into his arms, not letting you worry about a single thing.

and once you were settled in, warm bubble coated water surrounding you as you nuzzled deeper and deeper into jungkook’s chest, only then did you open your eyes, meeting his gaze with parted lips.

“did you mean it?” you whispered quietly, almost afraid of his answer.

he didn’t respond to you at first. instead, he brushed a wet thumb over your cheek, watching the way you nuzzled into his cheek gently. he was were enamoured by you, both body and soul, and if he was a man of words, he would have professed his feelings for you grandly. alas, he was not, so instead, he did the next best thing.

jungkook took a hold of your left hand, easing it to his lips and planting a sweet kiss to your ring finger, right where he promised he would decorate it with jewellery soon.

he meant every fucking word.

—

three months had passed and welcomed pure bliss into your life. you knew that life with jungkook was a pleasure in itself, but from moving into a completely new home, one he had put under your name as a testimony of his love for you, to the ridiculously expensive gifts he would come home with each and every day. you were living a reality that you couldn’t have ever dreamt would belong to you.

you looked healthier - from your long hair to your flushed cheeks, your eyes brighter and your ribcage no longer poking out. you were head over heels in love with the man who had claimed you for his own like a modern day stalker, and yet you had never felt so sure of your safety.

jungkook loved in a way that was visible, not explicit. he wasn’t one to tell you those three words, instead opting to show you any change he would get, something that had you weeping constantly out of pure joy. something he couldn’t ever get over.

you liked the dynamic you had built for each other too. you got to play house, spending all of your time being domestic, cooking meals, trying new recipes, baking, adding furnishings to the home, making it completely and entirely your own whilst he went out and worked. he was a manual labour kind of guy, coming home with sweat lined skin and grease all over him, but that only made you want him so much more.

to know he worked so hard just to provide the picture perfect life for you had you riding him most nights, giving him the love he bestowed upon you in the best possible way you knew how. through milking his cock until his cum sat deep in your womb, a favourite pastime for you both.

even now, you were stood in your kitchen, phone in hand as you read the text jungkook had sent to you only moments prior. he never texted. ever.

your stomach flipped as you reread it over and over, trying to decipher the meaning for the text, instead of him calling you, your head tilted as your stomach sat doing somersaults.

‘don’t cook. bringing you something home.’

seemed innocent enough, but this was your man. you knew him intimately in a way many could only ever dream of - he was up to no good, you were sure of it.

you stared at the screen longer than you needed to, chewing on your bottom lip, bare feet cold against the kitchen tile. the apartment was quiet, save from the soft music playing from your tv, warm lighting dancing around your shared space whilst the low hum of the city rumbled through the walls.

you were already cooking. of course you were.

you liked when he came home to food, a visual manifestation of the fact you had been waiting for him to arrive - a kiss to his soul that told him directly that you wanted him to know you were thinking of him.

regardless, you turned the stove off, forever obedient to your older boyfriend.

you were in a matching loungewear set, soft and pink, his favourite duo as the shorts barely covered your ass, your breasts bulging out of the low cut t-shirt thanks to the pretty bra you were wearing. your hair remained damp from your shower, clipped up and out of your face, skin soft and flushed.

you checked the time.

like clockwork, the door began to open, making you look up, smoothening the strands around your face. after all the moments spent together, you still felt so incredibly shy in his presence, something he would never get over.

his footsteps were heavy down the hallway, weight against hardwood, announcing his presence with every creak of the floor. the air changed the second he stepped inside of kitchen, as though the temperature warped to accommodate him and him alone.

he shut the door behind him with his foot, looking you up and down hungrily as he placed a brown bag on the dining table unceremoniously.

“you eat?”

his voice was rough from the day.

you shook your head gently. “no..waited for you.”

he glanced at the stove, noticing the cooling pan and your sheepish little smile. he tilted his head.

“told you not to cook.”

“i turned it off.” you murmured just as he grunted softly. you walked over to him, helping him out of his work jacket; watching as his veins protruded from his arms, making you trace them immediately as a small habit.

you peered up, standing on your tip toes to plant a soft peck to his lips, with blazing cheeks that flushed too pink for the occasion.

he watched you for another instance, enamoured by you as per usual but there was something unreadable in his gaze. something darker, something raw that had been left untouched for too long, like a glass of water finally over spilling after being continuously poured into. you tilted your head at him gently.

you barely noticed it at first, too busy maintaining the intense eye contact, but jungkook reached into his pocket, grabbing something.

you watched as he placed something on the counter inbetween you.

something small.

velvet.

square.

the world suddenly fell completely silent as your eyes fell on it, your mouth completely drying up as your hands travelled up to your mouth. your breath had caught so sharply it left an ache in your chest.

your pulse thrummed harshly in your fingertips as you stared, and stared and stared, unable to bring yourself to open what you assumed was insane, unable to fathom this was a reality.

jungkook didn’t say anything for a few moments, before looking down at you, observing your reaction.

“open it.”

your eyes snapped up to him, finally.

“..what?”

his jaw shifted slightly. amused. “you know what it is.”

you do. of course you did, but it felt too big to say out loud. your fingers hovered over the box, desperate to touch but almost unsure.

“you’re serious..” you whispered faintly. it wasn’t doubt in your voice but absolute disbelief, like something you had only ever dreamt about was about to take place before your very eyes.

his eyes darkened at your tone. “i wouldn’t joke about shit like this.”

he stepped closer to you now, his chest touching the side of your body, caging you against the counter, his head dropping down so you could meet his gaze properly, without having to look up.

“you think i’ve been saying this for nothing?” he continued, voice low, rougher now. “you think i’m talking just to hear myself?”

you shook your head up at him, chest rising and falling as one of your hands gripped his shirt, hand on his hardened abs to ground yourself as you blinked tears away, trying to comprehend this was really happening.

“open it.” he nudged his nose towards the box, eyes trained on you intensely as your hand finally reached out to hold it, letting out a shaky breath.

opening it up caused you to let out a soft whimper, something that had your knees almost buckling.

the light of the kitchen caught on the heavy diamond sat comfortably in the box, a vision of both taste and money - it didn’t take a jeweller to tell you that this ring was worth more than every pay check you had ever gotten. there was nothing delicate or dainty about it, he wanted you to wear the best of the best and this was exactly that.

you pressed your fingers to your lips as you tried to control your breathing, looking up to meet his gaze through a teary gaze that he was already devouring. you were such a crybaby, and he fucking loved it - you cried over everything and anything, with the only remedy being himself.

“you like it.” he murmured, fingers pressing into your waist to ground you, voice certain.

you nod rapidly, letting out a shaky, teary exhale. “kookie, it’s so..it’s beautiful..”

“good.”

silence settled between you both again, but it sat thicker now. charged. your chest felt too tight, your stomach aching as you tried to keep your tears inside, all the whilst he began peppering your neck in kisses.

“you don’t have to-“ you started softly, tears beginning to stream. “i’m already yours, always.”

the words slip out before you could stop them, as you tried to stifle your sobs to no avail, hand shaking enough where you placed the box down onto the counter gently, too in awe of it to even comprehend it being real.

he stilled.

he stopped his kisses, leaning up to his full height before cupping your cheek with his hand, making your own head lean back to stare up at him. he swiped at your tears, humming lightly down at you. “yeah, you are.”

he took your fingers in his hold then, planting a sweet kiss to each finger, to your palm, to the tops. he took hold of the ring, feeling the weight of it for a moment before sliding it onto your finger slowly, letting you experience it first hand.

his calloused fingers were warm against your own, the size difference hitting you as it often did. it was the way in which it sat on your body, the weight of jungkook’s presence settling into your own and the love you both shared blatant and on display.

you were safe.

loved.

but more importantly? jungkook had chosen you, openly, directly, without fear of scrutinisation. he knew he was a man that moved fast, but it came with an understanding of exactly what he wanted.

you.

—

ahhhh!! handyman jungkook is finally here, thank you all for your patience - if this was something you enjoyed and you want to support me and my writing, here is my kofi <33

Life looks different twice a week.

On boring mondays and long wednesday evenings, you'd been making your way over to a neighbourhood that seemed far out of reach before, getting on a bus you'd never thought to ride. Lavish residences with blooming gardens line the streets of his district, among them, a rather dark looking, simple house;  plain garden with a swing placed thoughtlessly right in the middle of the neglected front lawn, a broken porch light glowing whenever it felt enticed to.

Yet the herbal, earthy and simultaneously fruity scent of bonterra organic cabernet lingers in the air from what feels like a mile away. The artificial sweetness of your 16 euro body spray - notes of sugar and vanilla - create a mismatched harmony that infiltrates Mr. Jeon's home. 

His son fell in love with you at the first meeting.

The puppy-like looking little boy had nannies on trial and error before - highly paid, recommended ones, the kind that have a linkedin, like all the other rich bastards in Jungkook’s circle have. While the first two's  soft approach got the occasional giggle out of Jukyung, the following three, stricter ones, failed to do anything but make him cry and refuse to eat the meals they had spent so much time preparing. All of it seemed to make no sense since -  he is by no means a difficult child to charm, proving equal habits by the time you came around. Hiding behind his dad’s leg and clinging his tiny hands to the cashmere pant, eyes wide and already glossy from glancing up at the fresh face in front of him.

Maybe that's why Jukyung came to adore you so quickly. Sweet faced and unmistakably younger than any of the other women his dad hired. Old enough to be old in his eyes - but young enough to know the shows he watches, recognize marvel superheroes and play the songs currently on the radio - when he repeats them with a jumbled melody and made up, Incoherent lyrics.

“He's a bit shy” Jungkook sighs, muttering as his fingers skim down the kid's tiny shoulders soothingly. You reply with a small hum, offering an inviting smile to him as you talk,

"That's okay. I'm sure we will get along. I'm – , nice to meet you Jukyung.”

He blinks slowly, the big doe eyes that match his dad's shine with childish excitement Jungkook lost somewhere along the way of becoming a man.

“Namjoon said you're good with brats like him”  Jungkook continues, a curious glint in his serious gaze, his friend's judgement remaining under scrutiny. 

“Mr. Kim?”  

He nods, “He suggested you to me”. While adjusting his tie, he spares a quick look at the golden watch on his wrist.

“I hope you get along. Don’t hesitate to call me if there is an emergency.”

Jukyung pouts as he looks up to his dad, his iron man shirt bunched up in angry little grips of his hands. You stay quiet, listening to the serious tone in Jungkook's voice fade out into a parental gentleness, wiping the look off his son's face as he crouches down, giving him a kiss to the forehead and a reassuring pat on the head. “Appa is gonna be home in a couple hours. Be nice, okay?”

“Okay” he grumbles in return, almost managing to sound annoyed - if it wasn't for him nodding enthusiastically. The determination of his dad is wearing off on him even at this age. 

Overall, the resemblance is striking, which is definitely why your eyes keep scanning over Jungkook's form. Noticing his full, pierced bottom lip, the slenderness of his fingers, the sharp contours of his jaw and round tip of his nose that looks exactly like his sons.

Jungkook also thinks his son is just like him.

The panorama window sits high above the rest of the city, his desk overlooks people scrambling for a taxi, kids leaving their school's building with a backpack that's almost bigger than their own body. The corner of his office desk is decorated with a frame holding a picture of his son on his third birthday, smiling at him. The assistant left long ago, the humming of the radio turned off with her departure, Jungkook always works in silence when he is in solitude. His mind was filled with enough noise.

Vibrations drumming against his desk snap him out of the deep focus read he was loosing himself in, his eyes feel dry from the screen's blue light that glowed continuously - picking up his buzzing phone, trading for a smaller blue light to stare at him.

A picture of Jukyung takes up his screen, a large wooden spoon clutched in his hand, his feet anchored to the stepper in order to reach their stovetop. From the caption, it reveals the orange hued, vegetable filled pan to be a coconut curry that his son has, supposedly, made all on his own.

He huffs in the memory of Jukyung attempting to help him with pajeon when it had rained two days ago - knowing from extensive experience that his five year old may be a talented boy, but certainly no chef.

The screen turns dark again, leaving a read notification on your end. Streetlights down the line start turning on their yellow glares, the sun’s glow replaced as it bids goodbye slowly, notifying him that it is time to go home soon.

“Appa!” 

“You’re not sleeping yet?” he tuts, loosening his tie and pulling off his suit jacket that survived another day. Jukyung shakes his head, a mischievous look proudly displayed on his face.

“You should have put him to sleep” Jungkook says, looking over at the neatly cleaned kitchen. From his distance, he can make out a covered pan still filled with a generous portion of food.

“He has a set bedtime” he continues, brushing past you as you walk to the front door, picking up your shoes. 

Up until now, you assumed to have done a good job with his son. He was quick to talk to you, engage - reluctantly - with your suggestions, his shy and guarded posture loosening into clumsy movements as time went by. 

“Right, i’m sorry, i guess i forgot about it” 

Your reply is timid, shoulders raised against your knowledge, voice lowering into a smaller, flowery tone. The coconut curry’s aromas fly their way from the kitchen into the rest of the house, lingering in the air like an apology.

“Next time then”

Next time - Jungkook wants you to come back for a next time. Satisfaction runs through you quietly, Jukyung’s sleepy face looking up at you as he waves goodbye,

“Yes, see you next time” you say, waving back at the two politely.

It’s even quieter in his home than it is in his office once his son has fallen asleep. There’s no loud clock ticking on a wall, no background of employees talking in the hallways or printers working. 

But there is a warm, home cooked dinner, sitting on his stove for him to eat.

Upon lifting the pan’s cover, the scent gets stronger, delicious spice and freshness rise with the steam of the dish. Jungkook doesn’t recall the last time he came home to the warmth of someone else’s cooking.  Since Jukyung was born, there might have been a day - once or twice - where someone was watching him and there was food left over for him to eat. A day or two, where he didn’t need to carry his tired hands to rummage through his cabinets after vast hours of working. It was always cold, he knows that for a fact.

It wasn’t the comfort of a hot meal, the embrace of a taste that was seasoned with care - the picture of Kyung stirring the curry flashes in his mind as he scoops another spoonful into his mouth. He groans, aware of the inevitable look of anger crossing his expression. Jukyung pointed it out to him a couple months ago, how he always looks mad when he likes  the taste of something he’s eating. 

The static rush of water running is the loudest one in his house as he rinses off the empty plate, even with the pressure turned up to it’s fullest - with the water splashing over the rim, wettening his underarm, the rhythmic beating of his heart sounds loudly within his ears. 

It’s the last sound he hears before he goes to sleep, the last thing he feels when his eyes are closed and his body feels warm, even with the AC running in the background. 

Mondays always brought giddyness into his home. Jukyung got to pick the movie for the night- which typically ended up being either ponyo or spiderman into the spiderverse. His matching spiderman socks glide against the wooden floor as he sprints towards the front door, where you're sliding into the cotton slippers Jungkook bought for you to wear on your visits. 

“You're gonna hurt yourself Kyung” Jungkook calls out, walking up behind him in slower strides. 

“Hey Kyungie” you greet while his giggle starts up your own. Freely letting it out, the smile lines craving your skin, the scrunch in your nose blooming. You're reaching to mess up his hair a little, as he peers into the large tote bag hanging from your hand, the coloring book you brought looks very tempting.

“Noona, you have one?” he gushes.

“Of course. Told you I would bring you one didn't I?”

Nodding, he looks at his father who's displaying a lighter version of the same grin he's got on his face. 

“What do we say?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow, turning his expression into a playful look of strictness.

“Thank youuu” Jukyung sings, sporting another giggle. He probably never wanted his dad to leave the house this badly, the idea of filling out little bear drawings with you couldn't wait any longer.

"That's right” his dad retorts.

“Give that to me” he continues, grasping the handles of the bag with his hand and pulling it out of yours. He must've noticed how it looked filled to the brim, now setting it on his couch as you pour yourself a glass of water. 

“You can leave your things here, no need to carry everything over and make hassle” 

You set the glass down, smiling at him awkwardly. “You’ve been saying that for weeks”

“Exactly” he says, buttoning up his coat, “And you keep ignoring it”

“Most of it is my uni stuff, Kyung's been sleeping early lately”

"You're studying that late?” he asks, narrowing his gaze at you. You hum in confirmation, explaining that the exam you're about to write has been driving you crazy. “I just can't get the hang of his writing. You’re not secretly a kant lover, are you?”

Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head abruptly. Philosophy has never been his thing and probably will never be. His life lessons wouldn't have been avoided by knowing what some old man thought a thousand years ago, his business would not have grown to be any bigger either. 

"Unfortunately not. My advice is to keep reading. You'll get it eventually”

“Stellar, Mr. Jeon” you say, watching him shut his eyes in response. Juykung's laugh sounds faintly in the back of the open living room, busying himself with the crayons he snuck out of your bag.

"There's money on the counter for food, I didn't have time to go grocery shopping” 

You look over to the couch as you speak, purposefully raising your voice to get the kid’s attention.

“That’s okay. I was thinking of making pizza from scratch”

Jukyung's doe eyes widen at your suggestion - snapping towards you for the second time, his excitement spills over into the room, flooding it with infectious, childish happiness.

“Pizza, I love pizza. Appa never makes it”

You gasp loudly at the perfectly reasonable revelation, shaking your head at Jungkook with faux disappointment.

“Really? That's no good”

Jungkook, a bit caught off guard at his son's cheekiness though it should come to no surprise, crosses his arms over his chest as he defends himself with the excuses of that being untrue, that if Jukyung ate his vegetables, maybe he'd consider pizza more often.

Their back and forth grants a glimpse into the home the way nothing material ever could. His son's expensive backpack and cheap pokemon bodywash don't account for the late nights that he lets him crawl into his spacious bed, strokes his head and mumbles made up stories to get Jukyung to fall back asleep. Domestic bickerings of father and son that are too alike and yet, couldn't be more different. 

Jungkook's face never looks more handsome than it does when he's with his kid, his smile only reaches his eyes in moments like this. It's a sight you felt privileged to, a sight you, admittedly, called back into your thoughts often.

“Noona always gets to be the nice one, isn't that a bit harsh on me?”

“No, no you aaare is nice too. But noona is so nice. Just like you said noona is...” he trails off, pursing his lips and really straining his thoughts. He's thinking hard, and the adults have to hold back a laugh at the deep frown in his brows, the angry purse of his lips. At least before you understand that he's trying to recall something Jungkook had said about you.

“That's enough” he cuts in, reaching his hand down to high five his son,

“Don't cause trouble”

The front door creaks open, turning back with a composed expression, he nods at you, stepping out of the house without another goodbye to spare. 

The sun is high up in the sky even in the afternoon. Rays of light reflect on the metal slide tucked into the back of the playground, scorching and unusable on days like these. From the bench you're sitting on, next to moms spreading the newest affair stories coursing through the neighbourhood, Jukyung is in perfect view. Running around in the knee long denim shorts he begged you to let him wear - they look just like ones his dad has on when he's not in a suit, he said. Watching his short legs scramble around among the equally tiny ones of his two friends, you could make out that they must be playing catch - or something akin to it. His giggles are loud and his friends laughter bright, it felt impossible not to smile at the combined sound of it.

Jungkook spots you as he rounds the corner, his shortsleeved button down shirt and black jeans sticking out sorely in a crowd of floral dresses and lightly colored Tshirts. The low call of your name gets you to notice him taking a seat on the bench as well. 

“Mr. Jeon, you're early”

“My meeting was cut short” he replies, facing the playground in search of his kid. You can tell the moment he spots Jukyung, the frown in his brows evening out, his upper back now rests against the bench in relaxation. 

“Has he been good?” 

“Of course. He's really energetic today” you chuckle, meeting his eyes that have shifted over to you.  He huffs out a short laugh, “Yeah, Kyung loves this weather” he adds, seeing a strand of your hair swaying past your face in the breeze. You tuck it back in place, holding a hand up to see past the blaring sun. 

Your words about the new show Jukyung started watching turn into background buzz for him as Jungkook's gaze wanders off to the side, trailing after a mother holding hands with her son as they make their way out. Heesung, the little boy and Soojin, his mother, live a block down from him. Kindergarden has caused their worlds to collide in more than one way - Jukyung frequents their home, Heesung and him play football in their yard - while Soojin sometimes laughs a tad too loudly at Jungkook's sarcastic remarks and accidentally goes to pick up her son in a shirt that might've been washed too hot. Watching her now, his expression doesn't change, his frown never returns as though there is nothing present to bother him. Maybe there wasn't, maybe he had five years to get used to being a single father, to this inner feeling of somehow taking something away from his son.

He pushes it back down, letting his thoughts run back to routine - when his next meeting starts tomorrow, what he'd be cooking for dinner later. 

“Sounds like something he'd like” he states, unsure if that's even the case. “How was your exam?” 

“Oh, it went well, I think. I'm just glad it's over now” you reply, sighing with the relief of long studies that have come to an end. The glimmer of initial surprise doesn't go unnoticed, he himself is a bit stunned he managed to remember anything outside of his own schedule. 

“I was always stressed in uni. I'm sure you did a good job” he says, seeing the exhaustion behind the coralish blush and the concealer you wear daily. 

You try not to visibly melt at the validation, it was like he could pick out on your underlying insecurity, your silent need for something as simple as reassurance - someone to tell you that you did well, as embarrassing as that is.

“It is stressful. I have a paper due next week and I haven't had time to start it” 

Jungkook hums, "Shouldn't have come today. You never cancel” he mutters almost disapprovingly, the image Jukyung swinging next to his friend reflects in his eyes.

“I wanted to see Kyungie. Promised him we'd be going to the playground” 

A subtle, sunny smile takes its place on your lips when it’s your turn to face the swings - just as he's pulled to look at you again, because as time went on, it's been becoming increasingly, infuriatingly difficult to stop himself from doing so. Reluctantly, he allows his focus to remain on the sheer softness he can make out by looking at your lips, the fondness painting your face in peace. Something compels him to mumble that you're too nice to his son, wishing for you to overhear. He knows you do hear him once that gentle smile turns into an actual chuckle again and suddenly, he is almost grateful that you did. 

Jungkook also knows what classes you have on the days you watch Juykung, he knows that the dress you’re wearing is your favourite because his son said it makes you look like a pretty princess - and he knows that he tried his hardest to pretend that he does not know any of those things. Just like he ignores how you remembered to ask him about the marketing deal that'd been stressing him out lately and how you noticed that he fixed the porch light after months of putting it off.

“Seriously, how long was that thing flickering for, it would drive me crazy” 

Jungkook snarls briefly, the way he does when his son is being a bit of a brat, before searching for the answer to your question in the back of his mind.

“I don't remember a time it ever worked. When Hyejin and i first moved in it was already like that”

Hyejin. 

It wasn't like you'd never thought to ask. Never sat in their home looking for evidence of another parent - pictures where she'd be seen moving in the background or posing with him. The absence of a mother was impossibly evident, regardless, never making the home feel incomplete. Jukyung never asked complicated questions about his mother, never had a complaint about her working too much, like appa does, or why all the other kids had one to come home to. But there had to be one, gathering from that one time he asked you if your mother and you are still friends, he knows he has one too.

The first ten seconds after he says her name are silent, it's always like that when he does mention her to anyone, like a curse you weren't supposed to say out loud.

“She's..?”

“His mother” he finishes, the uncomfortably familiar tightening in his throat fails to climb all the way up to shake his stable reply, practice over the duration of five years does that to someone.

“I see. I've never heard you talk about her” you say awkwardly, only noticing how that sounded once the sentence is spoken, you open your mouth to stumble over words that tell him “It’s not like you have to, i just meant-”

"No need to get scared” he says, the rough laugh that follows makes a flash of heat go through your stomach and an embarrassed flush flood your system. His unshakeable calm and stupid, serene seriousness even whilst laughing - rattled you every single day since meeting him. It makes you nervous by default, to engage with someone that seems to have it all together. So unlike you, so unlike any of the men that you’ve come in contact with in university frats and hallways.

“It’s not like there's much to say, she didn't want to be in his life, so she isn’t”

Occasionally, fragments of life were really that plain. That easily explained, a history of grief, longing, hard work and separation summarized into a bite sized answer that accomplished as much answering as a question like that can be answered. The addition of her leaving Jungkook stranded at 26 with a newborn that, he now has to raise into a functioning human, didn't serve any purpose. The detail that they had just begun renovating the house was useless. Five years later, all that matters is that the world kept spinning, that Jukyung may not have a mother but he does have a father that loves him unconditionally. A father that's happy with the way things are, for the better.

The simple answer sunk in and now, it didn't matter to you either, insignificant how's and why's vanished because of how hollow it felt to look into a story that ended in a content little boy.

“I don't think he needs more than his dad. You're doing amazing at giving him what he needs to be happy”

Jungkook’s throat tightens again, unfamiliar this time, fondly, like he wants to bathe in the compassion of that sentence and remind you - that Juykung needs you too.

“Thank you” is what he settles for, allowing enough space for quiet appreciation to sit down between you. 

It doesn't stretch on much longer, interrupted by the high pitched crying ringing through the otherwise tranquilly chaotic playground. Crying that sounds too much like Jukyung. You're on your feet before he registers; it is indeed his child that's sitting on his newly scarped knees, sobbing tears that tumble down his chubby cheeks in a stream.

“Shh, it's okay Kyungie, come here.. Let noona see..” you mumble into his black messy hair, the wetness on his face seeps into your shirt as he molds himself into your chest. You're crouching form has Jungkook standing uselessly to your right, looking down at your hand that soothes his kid's back, the comfort of your embrace sparks Jukyung to sniffle in order to catch his breath and explain that he fell, only for his voice to break at the end.

You place a kiss on his temple, picking him up to sit on your underarm while inspecting his minimal wound with worried eyes that look suspiciously glossy. Jungkook's whispering gruff “It’s okay" 's, the unease in his own body diffusing when Juykung naturally reaches for your embrace, seeks your soft words with tiny hiccups. Softening even further, as his miniature fingers brush a salty tear from your own cheek. 

Jukyung pouts, telling you not to be sad, that he's a big boy. He knew he’d be safe when you came walking, knew you’d be there to hold him when he was hurt and Jungkook now knew - that his son's trust in you is the biggest blessing a curse could possibly bring. Butterflies that he thought lost their wings half a decade ago begin to fly through his stomach briskly, the tingle so juvenile and youthful it feels almost wrong to pay attention to. 

“You need to be more careful buddy” he grumbles, hugging the small boy to his chest as you´re passing him over, listening to his sobs subside slowly.

“Do you wanna eat ice cream before we go home?”

Jukyung's mood brightens in a bat of his long eyelashes, the glossy doe eyes staring into his dad's demandingly and he knew no better than to give in. “I want choco ice cream" he nods enthusiastically, forgetting all about his scraped knee at the thought of tasting chocolate that melts into his mouth.

“Would you like one too?” 

“Yes, yes noona take one! You like strawberry” Jukyung says proudly, stealing the polite no off your lips, declining the idea of you missing out on something as amazing as ice cream. Jungkook looks at you to confirm, 

“You're right, I do like strawberry” you say to Jukyung, though you're looking at his dad, who is already pulling out cash from his wallet, whilst his son is beaming about being able to recall the flavour you favor most.

“Thank you Mr. Jeon” you tell him after he's done ordering for the three of you. He's about to open his mouth to tell you that it's really nothing, but Jukyung butts in.

“Jungkook” 

Both of you share a look of confusion, tilting your head at the little boy apparently does the trick, he repeats his father's name - this time elaborating simply, 

"Appa's name is Jungkook”

Jungkook's puzzle pieces fall into place before yours do, huffing at the innocent ease of his words, the weight behind them invisible and unimportant in the mind of a five year old. Jukyung takes the icecream into his greedy little hands as soon as it's in reach, licking away at it like there was a timer running - the pain of his previous injury long left in the dust.

“You're right Kyung” he enforces after a split second of bravery in his weakness, handing over your own portion and hoping - that you'd understand the message he's trying to send.

Normally, you’d refuse. Immediately result in professional smiles and head shakes, saying that there is no need to skip formalities. It might have been the intensity of his brown eyes as he established what he wanted, how there was never an offer as much as there was a demand. Doomed to the beauty of his name and the honey as he said it, there remained no bone in your body that craved to deny him. Your throat itches to say his name, let it roll off your tongue delightfully, let the sound hang in the thick summer air.

“Jungkook” you repeat, satisfied at hearing yourself say it. The wall tore down loudly, echoing a minimized space between you two. Realistically, it was nothing more than his first name - but also, nothing less than being called by his first name. 

“Getting used to that will take time”

"Don't stress out” he exhales heavily, facing his kid that's succeeded in smothering his mouth in chocolate ice cream.

“Noona, can you not stay for longer? pleeeease?”

“Jukyung, let noona go home, she's been entertaining you all day” Jungkook chimes in, picking up his whiny kid by his armpits, the stretched word please becoming background noise as he groans, settling him against his broad chest.

“Enough, it's late and you're sleepy, say bye to noona” he says, a slightly worn out edge to his tone. Jukyung pouts as he waves in your direction, watching you zip up your jacket with glassy puppy eyes.

“Bye bye noona” he mumbles dramatically, making a kissy face afterwards. With your fingers scratching at his head that rests on Jungkook, you tell them,  “Goodnight, sleep well” 

Jungkook's tiling his head down involuntarily - closer, focusing his unguarded gaze on the genuine smile on your face, the tenderness in your words as you speak to his baby. His heart thumps stupidly loud when Jukyung giggles at your touch and he hates how submissive he feels to all of it. To the ridiculous image of extending the hold to include you, attach his lips to your head because it'd be so easy to just lean down and -

"Mr. Jeon?”

“Yes”

Sharp. Maybe too sharp - too forced against the silent, pillowy warmth that bubbled up inside him moments ago. He notes your startled blink, the sweet innocence of those pretty eyes that don't understand what it does to him when you stare up like that. He doesn't correct you, respects the much needed, accidental distance in the usage of his last name.

“I uhm, just wanted to say goodbye”

“Yeah” he grumbles, roughly wiping a hand down his tired face, his other holding on to the squirmy child, “Goodnight”

The door shuts, Jukyung is rubbing his eyes sleepily and it's just them now. He's just Appa now, and you're on the bus - on the way back to the university dorm you live in. At times that felt like a united world broke its illusion. You were, whether you yourself knew or remained painstakingly unaware, in utterly incompatible worlds. That is his mantra, his voice of reason anytime he starts drifting into thoughts that notice how much your dynamic creates a harmonious balance despite it all. Despite him being nearly a decade older, a single dad, a rich business man. 

Because as much as he feels sick being stripped down like this, naked in the shower - exposed to his bare thoughts - in your eyes, all he truly ever was, is Jukyung's dad. Just Appa - just Mr. Jeon, Jungkook. He desires nothing more than to solely be Jungkook, that's who stares back at him with every glance in the fogged up mirror. But he isn't, or more so, he cannot be. Not when you have too much ahead of yourself, the youth of nine years he'd lived through already- and deserve so much better than a thirty-two year old single father that fists his cock to the remembrance of his first name on your lips, in that sweet, girlish voice.

He groans your name quietly - like the sound hurts and scratches its way up his throat because it feels wrong, so wrong how naturally it seeks to slip out no matter how much he forbids himself to voice it. Slow drags of his hand over his aching cock transform into hasty strokes that crave a smaller, softer hand to tip him over. The blurry picture of you earlier, in that pretty dress that hit just below your knee, the fabric denting at the curve of your waist just enough to make out the dips and curves - felt sinfully beautiful in his mind's eye. It would've felt much more satisfying to spill into a hand that has polka dotted gel nails, watch his milky arousal drip from those feminine fingers instead of his tattooed digits. He wouldn't be washing it away shortly after, there would be no shameful cloud to loom over his head as he shampoos it.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” 

“Sorry,” you hush, gathering up the limp child in your arms. His head lolls back, pouty lips parted in a relaxed snore. Jungkook’s fingers brush yours when he takes his sleeping kid into his arms, bicep straining against the black button down, “I tried to keep him awake. The playground really did a number on him”

"Not surprised” he says, stroking some long strands from Jukyung's forehead, “So?”

“Oh, right” you almost forgot he asked you something. It was just so distracting - the subtle ways he would soften when looking at his son, the way his shirt clung to his arms and chest in an intimidating contrast, “Sure, if it's no issue”

“Of course not” he mutters back like the question was an inconvenience, the width of his shoulders coming into view as he steps up the staircase, getting ready to lie Jukyung into his racecar bed. 

Jungkook’s long day shows up in his slower movements as he chops up the ingredients, adding that tired rasp to his already sultry voice as he talks. 

“You bought it for him”

“What?” his eyes narrow a little, swinging the noodle pan with an easy wrist,

“The bed he's been rambling about” you answer, standing just shy of brushing against his frame when attempting to pull out two plates from the top cabinet. Your stance proves unstable, fingertips reaching for lengths out of reach even on the balls of your slippers,

“Yeah. He wouldn't let it go” Jungkook says with a short exhale, his fingers reach beyond yours, pulling out the two plates with a clank that's too loud in the sudden silence. His chest brushes against your shoulders with the slight lean, the ghost of his contact haunts your skin with shivers, no matter how brief it had been.

“Here” he says, his gaze dropping to meet yours, already looking up at his face that seemed too close - even though there is a respectable distance, you could clearly see the mole under his bottom lip, the silver ring in the corner that glistened in the fluorescent  kitchen light. The action remains uncommented but you swear you see his eyes dart to your parted lips for an unusually long second-  just as he returns his attention back to the curry pasta, leaving you to set the plates down like nothing had happened, because nothing did happen. 

The unforeseen pulse between your thighs would beg to disagree. Embarrassingly it blooms, causing you to press your legs together secretly - hidden under the dark wood table just as he sits down next to your tense figure. Not across, not facing you with the length of his table separating you. On the chair next to yours, body angled in to fill up your empty plate with a delicious smelling dinner. The action is careful, caring in a way that only worsens the ache with its underlying dominance, with the gruff mumble of him telling - or rather, ordering you to start eating. You wait for his plate to be full before you do, and with the first bite always comes that satisfied, low moan. Jungkook knew it was coming, he'd first lost his mind when you got icecream together and braced for its arrival ever since. Your reactivity had him fantasize about how stupidly easy it is to make you moan, how he would probably be able to make you cry if he just kissed you for long enough, deeply enough. 

“You should eat too” you mumble, covering your mouth. He's staring, he just now realises.

“Is it good?” Jungkook questions, taking a first bite himself - the flavours spark on his tongue in the familiar comfort of a dish he has cooked a dozen times over.

“Soo good” you hum, nodding your head as if to support the statement while chewing. He hums too, beginning to feel the heat rise up his neck and it steals his ability to speak momentarily.

“Yeah?” he huffs, a swipe of his tongue over his lips accommodate the strangely sultry intonation that's laced itself into the conversation, 

“You like it?”

The way he asks feels loaded. You do like it. Both of you know you do. The simple answer is yes, the complicated one is the softer sounding yes you give him;

eyeing his lips, voice quieting to mirror the weight of his own gaze. 

“I'm glad. It's nothing elaborate” he mutters, spinning his fork slowly with a stern glare into the plate. He was getting distracted.

“I saw normal people by sally rooney in your bag”  Jungkook states, remembering how the cover caught his attention. He read that book a while back, turning the pages about stories of, well, normal people. Relationships, lives.  From the handful of books he read, he wouldn't shy away from crowning this one as his favourite. Something so ordinary and complicatedly mundane felt like second nature. You, on the other hand, take another bite as you gather your thoughts.

“Terrible book. Don't read it, it's a waste of time”

“What?” he fires back, a sharp huff of air leaving him.

“What? It's so boring, basically nothing happens in it” irritation laces quietly into your words, watching him get increasingly more irritated in return. He sets his fork down, a tinge of sarcasm accompanying him, “Right, nothing in 300 pages”

“Yes” you say, barely smiling while gesturing his way, “Now you get it”

Jungkook shakes his head, grumbling that, “You have terrible taste”

“Because I don’t wanna read about someone’s daily life?”

“Because you think that slice of life is boring. It's social commentary” he says, his voice getting a tad louder with his increased annoyance and it hits him then, that he's getting way too worked up over this. He can’t help it, the feeling of being misunderstood prickles underneath his skin. Instead of going on a tangent about the lessons in life and the beauty of normalcy in a society where there’s so many expectations thrust on you,  he resumes eating.

“If I wanted philosophic takes I’d read my classes notes” 

“Maybe you should” 

“Sorry?” you say, more mockingly than seriously offended. Jungkook, looking back up at you with his signature, neutral expression tells you; “Apology accepted” before breaking out into what can only be described as an indefinite smirk. 

“Once you get older, you’ll understand wanting to know about lives like your own” he retaliates, eating another mouthful of pasta to let the statement settle first. 

“I’m not saying it’s not understandable, i’m saying i think it’s boring” 

Your explanation doesn’t pull an answer from him, pushing you to start talking again. “I like when a book takes me places that.. aren’t realistic”

“Most people do”

“Yeah, i guess”

You’re looking at him from the lens of someone that has lived an equally as normal life - maybe even more so, without a child to take care of on your own, without the headstart of abundant money, the responsibility of a business on your shoulders.

“But I guess it’s nice to read something boring once in a while. Makes you feel less boring yourself” 

"Recommend me one. Maybe it can change my mind”  you add after a moment of consideration, the olive branch fragile and swaying as you wait for him to take it.

“Intermezzo. Also by sally rooney.”

“Are you a fan?” you joke, raising an eyebrow at him. He tuts, his shoulders shaking slightly with a gentle, low laugh spilling from his lips. Ease takes over your body, a smile openly shines on your own lips now, the thought of wanting to hear his laugh again makes you feel impatient. 

Impatient to listen to more of his opinions, unwrap the tangled ropes that tie together his thoughts. 

Perhaps too impatient, too uncoordinated as you brush the fork past your lips.

"There's something” he begins, inching closer with intent. His hand reaches to your face, thumb swiping at the corner of your lips with added pressure as he mumbles the remainder of his sentence, “... on your face”

He’s unable to stop looking, unable to pretend he does not see your eyes widening, your breath catching in your throat. The tiny sound of surprise has him holding down a deep moan. He doesn't let his finger linger afterwards, his thumb is gone from your skin as fast and unexpectedly as it had landed there in the first place. However, you would be able to feel it tingle there for hours later. Even days.

Like on this quiet friday evening, standing in your cozy bathroom, looking into the mirror as you tie your hair back, remove your hoops - wash off the make up that’s been marinating on your face for longer than it should have. You scrub, closing your eyes, the warm water feels like a hug on your stripped skin. In the black behind your eyelids, the touch on your face feels lively - and you can almost hear his voice too, telling you to read the book that’s now sitting on your nightstand, halfway into a story of grief, love, family. 

A story about a part of life everyone will be confronted with. An ending no one can escape witnessing and falling victim to. Nature taking its breath back, people losing each other and gaining vital epiphanies, long winded stories that end in questions and answers. Reflection, a window into your own life and it's fragile evanescence. Death isn’t the only grief a person can experience. Losing someone - something, the effects of that run through your veins because of absence. Learning to fill the hole - whether by stitching it up or embedding its presence into routine, isn’t a task exclusive to the aftermaths of a death. 

The text message notification dings, transferring you out of the story that’s been playing out on the laid out pages.

“Can you watch Kyungie today? It'd be from 7pm to around 9:30pm.” 

With a glance to the time on top of your screen, you close up the book, letting him know that, yes - you’d be there soon.

When you arrive after taking the usual route, nothing is particularly unusual, though something is different. Impossible - to -  ignore - kind of different. He stands in front of the hallway mirror for much longer than normal, adjusting his tie for what seems like the seventh time in five minutes. And when he walks past to slip into his jimmy choo's, the air reeks thickly of bleu de chanel.

Manly, fresh, deliberate.

“What’s the occasion ? You never make me watch him on weekends” 

“It was a bit spontaneous. I’ll pay you extra for the short notice - and I’ll text you if it gets later.” 

You nod in agreement, give him another questioning look he fails to acknowledge as your heartbeat continues to speed up, the clingy awareness of insecurity providing its steady beat. He swings his coat over his shoulders, slipping into it carefully. The gust of wind that passes when he closes the front door behind him is cool, uncovering how suffocating the air in your lungs is. Suddenly, you knew what this was. Why it might get later than anticipated, later than how things usually are.

Jungkook is going on a date.

It doesn’t matter, does it? 

That you’ve never seen his hair styled like this and you're already mentally scrolling through restaurants he might be taking her to, silently wondering If he kisses on the first date,

If he tastes like nicotine and sugary maturity.

It matters when the strong feeling of disappointment rushes to your chest and your mind wraps itself around the concept of Jungkook looking to date. The quiet intimacy from your perspective now staring back at you like a huge misunderstanding. It didn't vanish - if anything, the plunging feeling only grew with his son that is already tugging on the sleeve of your oversized sweater, babbling about wanting to watch ponyo and do puzzles. Activities with his noona, the babysitter that watches Jungkook’s son. 

Jungkook's son, who’s so completely in love with you, who you've sung to sleep with Jungkook admiring quietly, leaning against the doorframe - hoping you didn't spot his shadow. Jungkook who'd heard you tell Jukyung your favourite fruit and somehow, always ended up buying tangerines at the end of the week after that

“Noona actually brought you a new puzzle” 

His smile widens into an innocent giggle, wrapping his little grubby hands around your arm and you can not be asked not to chuckle in return, letting him walk you to the couch. “Did you eat dinner Kyungie?”

“I’m starving” she chuckles, "Haven't eaten in hours”

Boring, god the woman in front of Jungkook is so incredibly boring to him.

Soojin's pretty, with long brown hair and a low cut shirt, a gentle voice and a nice smile. The faint touches of her hand on his arm when she laughed at something he had said - or the way her eyes darted to his lip ring - didn’t reel him in. Not like it did with you, where he felt the pull of wanting to kiss that needy look off your face. Everything she said, about her yoga studio and the way she liked going golfing, was so boring to Jungkook. He wondered, at some point of watching her sip the wine he ordered, if you had already put Jukyung to bed, if your hair is pulled into a messy pony yet and if you knew what he was doing right now.

Something about it made him feel almost guilty. He'd avoided saying it on purpose, why you're watching over his son today and yet, when he glanced back at you through the window, It was obvious you had caught on. Obviously, whatever you were feeling about the realization, you did not look happy for him. In a twisted way, it made him happy, even if for a mere moment.

Dinner tastes good, steak always does the trick - wine always relaxes him. Unable to indulge in it to the full extent, he had to drive - but getting wine drunk has never sounded more appealing. Especially after the fifth failed attempt of intellectual conversation. Words were not getting him anywhere but deeper in thought, nowhere and yet, parked in front of her apartment, with a slightly frustrated frown in his eyebrows - his lips kept colliding with hers anyways, allowing her warm tongue to lip past and explore his mouth. His eyes shut tightly in an effort not to sink into this burdening feeling, the low groan that he lets out sounds more frustrated than blissful. Frustrated with himself, with the fact that Soojin's hands on his shirt buttons fail to faze him, that he doesn't move his hands up and down her body to map out the curves she has - but simply anchors them to her hips. He was holding on to the denim like the image of you, despite wanting nothing more than to let go of both at that very moment. 

“I should get going” she mumbled breathlessly, the desperation in her airy voice sounded like she imagined him to refuse, to keep her in his car and mess up the make up she'd spend so much time putting on, let her undo the very last buttons of his shirt too. So when he hums and agrees, saying that it is getting late and they both  do have a child at home after all, her slick smile turns almost polite. Straightening out her hair with her fingers, she stepped out without meeting his gaze once more.

Jungkook exhales heavily after the Mercedes door slams, running a sweaty hand down his handsome scowl and begins driving home, to his son, to you.

The rattling of his keys don’t wake you from the slumber you’d fallen into about halfway into the second round of ponyo playing on the flatscreen.  It laughs at Jungkook, mocking the storm that was already rampaging his thoughts. You looked like a domestic wet dream;  Jukyung's sleeping from with his head laid on your chest that is rising and falling, comfortably matching the rhythm of his son's slowed breathing. With unspoken awe, he notices how his son holds on to your shoulder loosely, how your soft hand looks big on the little boy's back and your eyelashes fan so prettily against your rosy cheeks. Noting the absence of a blanket, he’s already halfway into laying one over the both of you, ignoring the sheer fact that, realistically, he would need to wake you and you should be making your way back home. 

“Jungkook?” 

The dazed mumble of his name halts him in his tracks, widened blanket hanging in his hands without a purpose. He lets you wake up, waits until the fog of sleep disappears from your eyes to continue talking. The taste of his date's lips haunts his mouth in a bitter aftertaste now, seeing how your first instinct was to pull Juykung closer to your body, perching him upright as you sit yourself up.

“Shit I must've fallen asleep. Did you just get back?”

“Yeah, about a minute ago” he answers, folding the blanket back up, “Did he make you watch that fish movie again?” he mumbles, nodding towards the tv.

You nod too, groaning softly while tucking the sleeping child into the corner of the couch, coming to yourself from the nap. “Probably why we fell asleep, seen it about a hundred times now.” A beat of silence passes, your voice turns painfully careful, 

“ How.. was it?”

Jungkook stills, the air between you both growing thick. A tense glance is exchanged as he steps forward an inch, his fully dressed-up form standing right in front of where you are sitting on his couch with a softness he isn't familiar with. He tried to clear himself of his actions - weak attempts in forgetting about you, buttoned his shirt back up and reapplied his perfume to overpower her stench. He was aware it was to no use, not when you could see his well gelled hair now beginning to fall loose, how a trace of red was smeared slightly around his lips and the pristinely ironed shirt looked just a tad messed up. He clears his throat, answering the question you never wanted to ask in the first place.

“Okay, I think”

“Okay?” you echo, the curious undertone smells like a hope you didn't dare to have. Misplaced, possibly unwelcomed. 

He sighs, a quick shake of his head following,

“Nothing special. "Didn’t feel it.”

It was short, direct. An answer that was true to his nature and another relief to yours. 

“Not your type?” 

“No, not my type” he says, his body slumping down on the couch next to yours with a hand reaching to caress Juykung’s back - his head tips back against the couch with a delicious stretch of his neck. No purple bruises, no wet patches of skin decorating the road down to his shoulder. The darkness of the living room provides you with a slight comfort, swallowing details of your feelings, like the slight shake in your fingers when you too -  lean back against the couch, head tilted enough to face him. He looks at you for that brief lapse of time, vulnerable wordlessness settles down, taking up the remaining inches between your faces. Raw and hidden all at once, the absence of light strikes Jungkook to be honest with not only himself, but you.

“It just felt unnatural. I didn't really.. want to be there”

He murmurs, his eyelids feeling heavy with drowsiness, “Wanted to go home” 

“Sounds boring. We had fun here, you really missed out” you mumble back with withheld amusement, feeling the effects of this moment take a toll on you. It’s easier to tease him when you feel unseen, there is less resistance to the pull that always wants to tug you together adjacently. 

The hum he lets out sounds from deep within his throat, almost rumbling through his deep, quiet words. 

“Like I said, I wanted to be home”

Home, didn't just mean at his house, inside his walls without anyone to bother him but his kid. Home meant being somewhere you were, somewhere he had his son in reach, somewhere he knew he belonged. There was no use in explaining his favourite book to a woman that wasn't interested in the workings of his mind, no use when you'd read the same book and - hated it, listened to him bitching about you not getting the point but nonetheless, ended up reading another one of those just because he saw value in it. 

When you breathed a part back into his lungs that was devoid of air, that now longs for warm meals after a long work day, the sight of a woman sleeping with his kid in her arms, a soft laugh he helped elicit.

Utterly, devastatingly terrifying.

“I felt like that with my ex boyfriend. Like I had to be what.. he wanted me to be” you say after a deeper inhale, the breath filling your tight chest with courage. You learned not to cry because he would get annoyed, mastered to dim your light for comfort, but it's plastered all over your face, how much allow yourself to show when you feel like it's just Jungkook that's watching. 

“Unnatural, if that's what you meant”

“I did” he clarifies, “How long were you together for?”

“Not too long, I broke up with him after six months” you explain, reminded of the day you chose yourself. It must be laughable in his eyes, you think. Six months was nothing compared to his break up. Instead, he sympathetically quiets his words, mist of late hours making them feel too loud anyway.

“I’m sorry to hear that”

"Don't be” you shake your head, "It's better that way. I don't want to pretend” 

“Neither do I” he admits, running his fingers through his hair, the previously formal style now messily sitting on his head with wear. He looks comfortable.

“Was.. this your first date after Hyejin?”

The question is a leap, a gap you didn't know you had permission to breach. As the question leaves your lips, the dark gives away how he doesn´t seem fazed or surprised, he just presses his lips together, nodding “Yeah. Had a baby to raise”

“Do you feel ready now?”

Jungkook cocks his head, his body instinctively turning towards you. The invisible string of rough, vague want and deep, intricate need for connection pulls tighter. 

“Ready?” he hums, a moment of debating his answer goes by “Ready isn't a feeling. You decide ready”

Control is a possession he kept dearest to him. Decide how people look at you. Decide what they know. Decide when you're ready, no matter how much his heart rebels against it with its violent beat, no matter how much his hands long for a counterpart to lace his finger through and squeeze when things get overwhelming. 

“You shouldn't pretend. There's nothing you have to hide” 

You mutter, turning to your side as well. Whilst looking at him with the slit of separation that presented as a large wall, there still wasn't anything he could hide under. You'd seen him, even with his suit on and his back turned, you were always able to see Jungkook. 

Midnight struck on his rolex like lightning, the string that's been pulling at your heads and hearts snaps underneath the tension of him deciding - that he isn't ready yet.

“You should go home, you'll be exhausted for your 8:00 am class”

He rises to his feet, cracks in his surface blend back together as the newfound space creates enough room to stop breathing in each other's exhales, swallow each other's words.

A sinking feeling comes up back as you do from the suede couch, the distance is notable, your smile adjusts into one he knows is restrained and it makes him feel like an asshole. He doesn't fight it, tells you to be safe after you open his front door, stepping outside of the isolated world they created. 

The candle, a big, blue and sparkling six, is lit with its swaying flame moving in the wind passing through the Jeon’s kitchen window. Jukyung leans forward, his lips pursed as he blows out the candle with his birthday wish rooted deep in his mind, letting the smoke from the extinguished flame carry it out into the world.

“Did you wish for something good buddy?” His dad asks, wiping off the chocolate icing sticking to the bottom of the candle. 

“Of course I did” he smiles proudly, the shimmer of childhood bright and alive as another year of life is ahead for him. His eyes widen in amazement the second the knife slides into his belgian chocolate mousse cake,

“What did you wish for?”

“That’s a secret, silly” Jukyung nods enthusiastically, watching as his dad raises a questioning eyebrow, placing a generous slice down on to the plate laying on the table.

“Alright, Alright” Jungkook says, pressing a kiss to his son's ruffled hair. In true Jukyung fashion, the chocolate spreads beyond the corners of his lips and somehow always ends up all over his fingers. But it's his birthday today, so all Jungkook can really do is watch, smile and hold back the current of emotion raving through his pulse. 

After dropping Jukyung off at his best friends house, he drives back up the road, spotting someone waiting on his porch.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hey” you start, shuffling the blue paper bag from one hand to another, 

“Sorry, i just wanted to drop off a gift for Kyung. Guess I'm a little late” you smile, reading him unlocking the door as a silent invitation for you to follow. Taking off your shoes as always, sliding into your house slippers laying right next to his. 

“What did you get him?” Jungkook grabs two glasses from the cupboard, holding up a bottle of lillet. You nod, “A coloring book. The totoro one, i'm tired of ponyo” 

Jungkook grins, pouring the both of you a refreshing, full glass. The weather is beautiful today, breezing romantic summer air. His eyes note the pink lipstick stain on his glass after you took a sip, sitting prettily. 

“I can't stand that stupid fish” he grumbles, bringing his glass to his lips, concealing the way his smile widens at the sound of your laugh.

“He's growing up fast. He was so much more.. baby like when i started”

“Yeah. He's a little gentleman now” Jungkook rests his forearm on the counter, leaning against it casually by your side. 

“He starts preschool soon right?”

He hums, looking into his glass, 

"In September" 

You hum too, the marble counter reflecting a ray of setting sunlight into the room. Glows of the golden hour soak his honey skin in it's hues, the glint of fresh tears in your eyes is more obvious when colorful.

“Ahh..” you shake your head, smiling to suppress it further, your finger already on the way to catch what's threatening to fall from your eyes, “Sorry, i get emotional so quickly” 

Jungkook shifts closer, the natural black strands falling over his forehead - his body folds slightly to adjust to you, he knows this feeling. He recognizes it for what it is, for what it has always been with you around. He's not good at hiding it this time.

There's beauty outside control. 

“That's okay. I get it, he's my son” he murmurs, brushing his fingers against yours, resting on the cool surface. You wait for them to disappear, but they never do. His fingers stay on top of yours like a feather light kiss, brown eyes refusing to look away from your face as the sadness disappears into sheer relaxation. 

“You do realise that he loves you” Jungkook says, his thumb slowly moving against your hand, 

“Do you know what he wished for, when he blew out the candle?” 

His body moves forward again, you shake your head no, letting him continue, the words drowned in quiet affection.

“He said it's a secret, but that lasted for maybe 10 minutes” 

Another smile blooms on your lips, waters the one growing on Jungkook's as he continues, focused on keeping that devastatingly heartfelt look all over your face. 

“He wished for you to keep watching him when he gets older” 

Jungkook is mesmerized with the first tear that truly tumbles down the apple of your cheek, a single, short sigh passing through your lips as you do nothing but look at him. Into his eyes, searching for something.

He inches his fingers closer, time feels stretched out into slow motion as his thumb makes contact with the wetness on your cheek, swiping it away carefully. You don't shatter under his touch, encouraging his thumb to wander down your jaw, caress again, until, unwillingly, tilting up the tip of your chin subtly.

He's powerless as he leans down, breathless at the first angelic touch of your lips on his. 

Jungkook wants to kiss you until the world fades out. 

Your lips attach to his too, slowly at first, testing how good it feels in your whole body every time his quiet sounds slip into your mouth, getting louder once your arms have made their way around his neck. His kisses grow demanding at the closeness, the warmth of your body creeping from your waist into his palms, your sweet moan of satisfaction makes him smile faintly right into the kiss, sliding his tongue against yours to pull another moan from your mouth.

“We need you” he mumbles, the words swallowed under more passionate collisions, drowning in your combined heavy breathing that resulted from being each other's source of air. 

“Do I kiss better than Soojin?” you mumble after a hitch of your breath, his swollen lips trail down your tilted neck eagerly and patiently all at once. The memory of her makes his skin prickle, wanting nothing more but to tie himself to you further. Wet, open kisses punctuate his response, the nickname seeping into your skin, embedding its low sound into your body. 

“Jealousy looks cute on you, sweetheart” 

“M'not jealous" you chuckle, airy and full of lies. You can feel his grin resurface against your jaw this time, his hands slip underneath the hem of your blouse, tracing the slit of skin with slow strokes,

“Don't lie to me” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours for another taste of you. “M'gonna take this off”

He announces it, waiting for your nod to confirm before pulling the fabric over your head. The white, lace adorned bra cups your small chest beautifully, pulling his eyes to trace down the curve of your neck, the line of your shoulders, down to your breasts. He attempts to soothe his ragged need by running his hands up and down your back, feeling the skin grounding him.

Your manicured fingers pull him in by his tie, loosening the patterned fabric as he works on shrugging his heavy jacket off his shoulders. The rings on his finger are cool against your cheek, while your fingertips thrum against his chest once you've managed to unbutton his shirt. The desire in your eyes is honest as you do nothing but look at each other, painted under the light of the kitchen, shifting as he carries you up the stairs, lays you down into the plushness of his large bed. His black covers dip underneath your combined weight. There's gentleness in this heat, in the way his fringe tingles on your forehead as he supports himself - bicep flexing next to your head.

“You're so fucking beautiful” he whispers, nipping at your bottom lip the moment a pout forms on your face. Inside his chest cracks open the sentiment of being naked. Everything you know about the way he is, the pressure of his kisses and the taste of his skin, how his muscles flex and his eyes get heavy lidded - made him so, so naked. 

Above you, the warmth radiates from him, forgetting that your skin is exposed to the cold nightly air taking up most of the tranquil room. Birds singing outside remind you that there's a whole word beyond this moment and these four walls that surround you. 

Jungkook, most of the time, knows what he wants. His lips and hands wander all over you, rounding your shoulders, unclasping your bra with distracting flicks of his tongue on your collarbone. The bra gets tossed somewhere unimportant, his mouth devotes itself to leave every patch of your chest kissed, tracing down the subtle swell of your breasts - but there's only so much throbbing you can take between your thighs, so many little nibbles until you get restless and dig your nails into the naked muscle on his back. 

“Stop whining” he huffs, tugging sharply at your right nipple while lapping at the equally stiff left one, his lips close around it with a rougher suck. You naturally whimper again, raising your back off the bed to indulge into his touch as much as you try to squirm away from it. The only place you wish to run to right now is this.

Alternating sides, he glances up at your pleasure clouded face, circling your bud the tip of his tongue torturously slowly, rubbing against the other one with the pad of his thumb without necessary roughness. 

Too shallow, too soft.

“Please” 

Jungkook hums at your whiny plea, noting the furrow in your eyebrows that's formed in concentration to, somehow, feel more of his touch. 

“Ask nicely for what you want” he retorts, continuing to suck on your skin with time entirely at his mercy. Your fingers curl into his hair, voice coming out quietly and stained with embarrassment.

“Please.. give me more” 

“Not so hard, is it?” 

You shake your head no - breaking into a louder moan as he sucks more insistently, lips smacking against your skin. “Yes- mh -mmh”

“Like this yeah?” he mumbles, the breathless moans coming from your lips fill up his ears with motivation to keep kissing at your chest until your palm flattens on his forehead, pushing in overstimulation. He smiles, dominant and beautifully dangerous while dancing down the line of your stomach, kissing along your navel with his tongue dipping just a slither below your pant line. Warm fingers cup your thighs, carrying the need to rip off your pants to be gratified with the feel of your skin on his own. 

If both of you listened closely enough, the joined, rapid thumping of two interlinked hearts could be heard below Jungkook's deep murmurs.

“You're so needy, what are you squirming for?”

“You, Jungkook” you pout again, unfamiliar with the desperate edge in your voice and the urge to beg for something like the touch of another person. His grip on your thighs loosen, repositioning to rub your hips on either side.

“What do you want from me? Talk to me” 

“Something, just do something” you groan impatiently, biting the corner of your lip at the sudden sting after the smack he lands on your thigh, shaking his head to retaliate.

“Ask nicely. You want me to take this off and touch you?” he asks, narrowing his voice down into a delicious, low rumble that melts you down further, sinking into the intoxication he's drunk with. His dark eyes look straight up at you, expecting you to answer him. Still, there's an underlying question in the way he brushes his thumb over your hip bone as he waits for your response.

“Can you please.. take it off”

“And do what?” 

He slowly unzips your pants, popping the button and getting a glance of the tiny bow sitting obediently atop your panties. Teasing, so sweet.

The sensation of your pants sliding down your legs feels freeing, an obvious damp spot greeting Jungkook as he tugs your legs free - making his painfully erect cock twitch against the material of his boxers. 

“Touch me, please” you finish, a glossy layer overshadows your eyes and a slight sheath of sweat coats your palms. Nervously, you grip the dark sheets, closing your thighs to hide your growing arousal from him. His demeanor shifts to compliment your surfacing emotion, sliding his warm, steady hands up and down your arms, placing a longing kiss to your forehead. Your chest deflates with a heavy exhale into the safety. 

“Good girl, that's it pretty. I'm gonna touch you, just like you want” 

His own need is mere background noise the minute he parts your thighs again, sees the reciprocated craving of your body for his. The tip of his index draws a line on your inner thighs, touches the scruff lace edges of your panties before laying his palm out, cupping your mound into his hand possessively.  

His round nose brushes your cheek as he just holds patiently, grinding ever so slightly against where you need it most. Jungkook’s tongue comes out to take a brief lick at the shell of your reddened ear as his whispered lures taunt you. 

“M'gonna be so good to you. You want that don't you? You want me to make you feel good?” 

The depth of his fingers circling your tender clit is sufficient for a gasp to leave you, for your lips to seek out his in order to dim down the volume of desire coursing through you. He doesn't respond by engaging in your kiss, rather by slipping his fingers below the cotton to find a small sea to dip in, trail back up to more gratifying touches on your most sensitive part.

“You gotta use your words” he insists, the circles growing smaller, faster against your slickness. Practically coaxing the words he needs to hear out of you, the want much greater than any fear.

There's beauty outside control.

If Jungkook was pretty before, he's striking now. Buried deep between your thighs that he has hooked over his shoulders. Inhaling the scent on you, tangy candy and musk, coating his tongue from the first long stripe he licks up your center. Your thighs tighten, secure in his hands that lock you down on his mouth.

The slow, long licks don't last for long, shift into sharp, short flicks against your swelling clit. Feeling him strum the pad of his fingers against your entrance, you break out into another helpless whimper, tightening around nothing but the sole thought of his thick fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Knowingly, he doesn't push in, keeps sucking on your clit, letting his saliva run down your puffy folds, you know what he needs to hear, you know what he wants you to do.

“Please, put it in - haah” 

Jungkook groans, the deep noise vibrating against your soaked skin. One of his fingers slide in slowly, pausing his mouth's actions as the warmth welcomes him in like it had been awaiting his arrival. He uses the pause to listen to his name falling from your lips, appreciating your eyes shutting when, without a warning, a second finger sinks in, curling both digits upwards deliberately. 

“You're so good, look at you” he mumbles, plunging his fingers in and out of you slowly enough to feel them drag against your walls, making a mess with relentless laps on your clit.

“I - fuck i'm gonna come” you squeak, tugging the strands of his hair weakly, your lower stomach is full to the brim with pressure, a large wave of pleasure tips right over you, swimming into his mouth greedily.

“That's it, come right into my mouth” he moans, licking up every drop of delightful pleasure spilling from you. Your taste hits him all at once, eyes closed and frowning for more. He doesn't stop you, lets you rock your hips into his mouth, unfiltered.

“Needy fucking thing aren't you? Not enough?” he huffs, rising back to his original position of  hovering over you. Flushed, trying to suppress the panting and submission. Red looks elegant on your face, his thumb traces the color in adoration, watching the pupils dilate in your eyes. 

He looks just like you do, exhales heavy and raw, desire replacing the blood in his veins. 

The tension winding in his toned stomach snaps at the brief, careful touch of your warm hand on his bulge. Hard, straining aggressively. Your hand rests there, feeling out his thick shape, his length below your fingers. 

“I need to feel you” he breathes out, permanently etching the words into your brain despite how softly they were spoken. Quickly returns to smash his lips onto yours with a rough kiss as if to consume you whole, passing the taste of yourself onto your tongue. 

“Lift a little f’me” 

One of his many pillows slides under your stomach, the imprint of his hand burning your bare hips, knees rooted in his sheets. Jungkook takes a shaky inhale, gathers your hair into his hand to reveal the curve of your spine, there for him to kiss reverently. 

“Fuck, you’re soaking” he bites down on his lip, a groan ripping from his throat at the sinful sight below. Your thighs gleam, the same shine coating his heavy cock as he grinds it through your folds, slapping the pink tip against your glossy, tight hole once, then twice.

“Thaaaat’s right, take my cock so well” 

Praise soothes the stretch he’s giving you, building a cozy home inside your body to reside in. You know now, that you want it all. His heart, his mind, his body craving itself into yours on nights like these. Your hands are planted down securely, though your elbows wobble under his impact. 

Pushing in further until his pelvis makes contact with your backside. At the first feel of him, entirely sunken into you, intertwined,  both of you remain melodically silent. 

He adjusts the position of his hips, angling until a spongy, soft spot nudges his tip - and starts moving his hips. Deep with a craving for connection in this messy pleasure. It’s been so long since he felt himself burn with another person, smell the sex in his bedroom and enjoy the taste of salty sweat and sweet skin to skin. 

“Good, so so good” your broken words buzz inside his head, making the deep and rhythmic ruts get sloppier. Moans, groans and whines come together in harmony, loud, shameless. 

“Suck on it baby, c’mon”  Jungkook threads his strong arm around your throat, holding his thumb on your plush bottom lip. When you don’t open your mouth right away, too lost in the vast ocean of pleasure, he shoves it past your lips - grinding against the wet muscle.

Your lips close around it instinctively, mindless callouts muffled by sucking just like he’d ask. Your obedience sparks him to thrust deeper, pushing your body back into him gets you another reward - his wet thumb finds your oversensitive clit, stimulating it wildly. No direction, no even movements as he seeks you out and you keep calling for him. 

“I’m gonna come jungkook” 

“You're gonna hold it” he gruffly says, taking away the additional pleasure to run his fingers through your hair, pulling your head back at the roots. Your neck stretches - back arching more than either of you thought possible and it stings better than you’ve ever felt it before.

The thorough, overwhelming orgasm building in your body is impendant, you clench on his big cock and whine for him louder,

“Can- can’t, please, mhh- fuck” 

“You can, you can. C’mon be good and hold it” he grits out,  jaw tense as his hips snap ruthlessly, chasing his own high. 

You’re so soft and warm and so fucking tight - the arch of your back clings with sweat against his will and he loves it. The knowledge of you wanting to break all over his cock -  all of it comes together to push him over the edge he’s been dancing on. He’s falling fast, closing his eyes for one last time to pull the strings of his voice together,

“Let go for me, let go baby” 

“Fuck” he whispers, pumping his cock into his fist, right after feeling you gush on him. He throbs in his own hand, then you feel it - sticky, warm as it leaks down onto your back, drips down while he’s attempting to catch his ragged breath. Your knees finally give out - with a long, tired sigh, your sore chest makes contact with his bed, head buzzing, aware of your body’s heat and unaware of the look in his eyes, the heaving of his broad upper body. 

Footsteps sound behind your closed eyes, inching closer to you. He places the damp towel on your spine, wiping away the traces of his cum, kisses the spot after, pats your butt like he had every right to that normalcy. 

The normalcy of laying down next to you, wrapping his still bare body around yours - heart beating against your back. You still don’t see him, your open eyes scan his colorful tattoos contrasting your skin. 

“Are you feeling okay?”

His voice is rough, the aftermath of what you did audible, louder in the proximity of his mouth to your ear. You give something close to a nod, a mumbled yes in response. You are okay. More than okay.

“Not too rough?” 

“No” 

“No?” he buries his nose into your neck, mumbling your words back in a question.

“No,” your body moves before you could stop it from happening and finally, after everything, you’re looking straight at him. 

“Was perfect”

It’s not monday or wednesday today, which is precisely why Jukyung is confused for the first minute of seeing you take your jacket off. 

It’s saturday, his dad has a day off and is wearing black sweats and a dark grey t-shirt. So he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

What matters though, is that his favourite person is in his home unexpectedly, so he runs up to you, flinging his arms around you in a rush. 

"Noona! " 

“Hey there” you greet back, returning the hug. Jungkook watches with his arms crossed and his head slightly tipped to the side. 

The confusion in Jukyung’s eyes returns when you give the same greeting to his dad - allowing him to sneak his arms around your waist. This is new. 

“We’re having movie night, i told you buddy” Jungkook says, reading the question off his child’s lips. He did tell him, however, Jukyung naturally assumed it would be on the following Monday. Not a boring, 7pm saturday - an hour before his technically strict bedtime. 

“You decide on a movie while appa and i make snacks yeah?” You add, smiling at Jukyung warmly. Behind you, the older man waits impatiently, holding the edge of the door in his hand. Jukyung nods, taking charge of the remote to select a movie - all three of you knew what it’d be, you’ve been unsuccessful in redirecting his favourite ghibli movie.

“Missed you” Jungkook mumbles against your lips, the door mostly closed - shielding you from the curious pair of eyes his son holds.

Smart kid. 

You tell him you missed him too, breathing in the subtle perfume on his shirt. His palm holds the side of your face, making an effort to keep your eyes on his. 

“He’s used to sleeping early, an hour and he’s dozing off, promise”  he says quietly, knuckles grazing your powdery soft skin,

“I know” you whisper, closing your eyes to soak up his touch. When Jukyung would find out is still undecided - it hasn’t been long but, sneaking around creates a guilty cloud to float above your heads, raining down anytime the three of you come together. 

Jungkook smiles, precious and simple, then leans down again to feel your lips on his to reassure that - soon, you’d tell him soon.

A gasp erupts in the silence but neither of you are the cause of it. 

Or.. right now. 

“Appa - you’re -” the childs eyes widen alongside his big, toothy smile.

“Kyungie - listen to me-” you start - frantically turning to him while Jungkook shuts his eyes tightly, accepting their dooming defeat. 

“Appa likes noona, Appa likes noona” Jukyung sings loudly, skipping around the kitchen.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Rain settles over London as if it’s seeking ownership.

Because in theory, rain does own the city of London, in its own, inscrutable way. It clings onto everything. From the glass windows of the club that are covered in a way that screams guilty, the stone railing that’s a little too romantic for a place like this, to your collarbones that stay exposed through the thick fabric of your coat— everything is decorated with small droplets of rain, creating a measured disorder that’s still stubborn enough not to leave no matter how hard you try to shake it off.

By the time the car pulls to a stop, it paints a black, sleek shadow beneath the streetlights. The street already looks polished; like it’s somewhere you don’t find yourself in unless it’s absolutely intentional, unless you’re assigned to be here, unless you have a purpose.

You watch it through the window for a little more than necessary, because every detail matters. You take notes of the grand spacing between the arrivals, the lack of hesitation at the entrance, the high chins and dark eyes of the men and women that are too powerful to face any consequences; every single one of these people belong here.

The driver opens the door of the backseat before you have time to even reach for the handle, blinking twice before stepping out to force confidence into your body. You move with ease, like you’ve practiced this a hundred times before, because you have. Because every ounce of authority in you is backed with years of practice.

Jungkook follows you a breath later, taking two large steps to claim his place right next to you, offering out an arm for you to hold onto. As he adjusts the black coat on his body, you slip your hand into the crook of his arm, fingers wrapping around his bicep.

The rain immediately catches in your hair, then the fabric on your shoulders, and then the exposed line of your collarbones. Jungkook opens the umbrella in his free hand before your blowout has time to budge out of place, holding it over your head without asking.

“Don’t scan too hard.” Jungkook says slowly, voice low enough to disappear beneath the crowd.

“Don’t teach me my job.” You mutter under your breath, eyes focused on the street instead of him.

Jungkook huffs out something between a breath and a laugh. “I’m not.” He says, adjusting the umbrella slightly, angling it so that it shields you more than himself. “I’m reminding you of it.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t forget what role you’re playing.”

He scoffs, but the corners of his mouth tilt despite himself. His posture shifts subtly, just enough to close the little space left between your bodies, like he’d been waiting for the cue.

“Please.” He huffs out, arm slipping out of yours to find your waist. His hand settles exactly where your waist curves inwards, wrapping around like it’s muscle memory. You straighten your posture at his touch, your shoulder brushing against his chest with each step you take.

Right ahead of you, the gravity around the entrance is so heavy it’s already pulling you in, before you can even acknowledge the warm coloured light painting the corners of the front door.

Jungkook leans into you, mouth grazing over your ear lightly, yet enough to let chills trail down your spine. “Camera over the left column.” He murmurs without looking, eyes flicking above the door so quickly even you almost don’t catch it. “Wide angle.” He continues.

“Mhm.’ You hum in response, a sweet yet calculated smile playing on your lips despite yourself. You place your right hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers where they sit on your waist. You pull him just a little closer to adjust your pace, slowing him down enough to fall in line with the queue of people ahead.

Up close, everything feels even more premeditated. The lighting frames the edges around the doorway instead of spilling naturally, catching in the marble in a golden hue. Two men are standing at the entrance, eyes scanning through until there isn’t an inch that’s not tainted by their gaze. They’re both in sleek black suits, dressed exactly the same as the white button-up underneath their jackets pick up the light in a way that’s too bright for a night like this.

“Good evening.” One of the men says when the two of you approach further. You don’t slow down, reaching the threshold arm in arm.

“Names?” He asks, eyes flicking between you and the list in his hand.

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate before speaking, filling in the silence half a second later. “Charles and Clara Beaumont.”

The man’s eyes linger on you for a second longer this time, scanning through the list as he matches and confirms whatever he has to.

“Of course.” He says after a beat, moving to the side just enough to offer you space to step inside. Jungkook’s hand finds the small of your back, settling in a way that grounds you, sending warmth through your body, even over the fabric of your coat.

You don’t react outwardly, not in a way that lets him know, but you do feel his touch. The inch of contact, every degree of pressure, the way it anchors you just enough to look real— feel real.

“Stay close.” He murmurs, and the door opens.

You think you’ve never entered a place more unwelcoming than whatever this is.

“Let’s not waste time.” Director Kang had said, leaning onto the table that’s placed in the middle of the meeting room as he pressed a few buttons on the control in his hand until the screen flickered to life.

A face appeared; a man with a controlled smile, a sharp navy suit, and the kind of confidence that’s effortless without needing any practice, because it had been perfected years ago.

Hugo Vane.

You already knew the name, Jungkook already knew the name, but knowing from afar and seeing are different things.

“Publicly,” Kang started, the pacing of his words measured yet nowhere near slow. “One of the most successful private investors across Europe. Real estate, insurance, hospitality. He’s in it all, has been called ‘transformational’ way too many times.”

Jungkook let out a quiet breath through his nose, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Of course.”

“Over the last ten years, he’s built a network of high end venues across Europe– almost half in England– that function as fronts for illegal gambling, money laundering, controlled blackmail; all of it tied to names you would never expect” He breathed.

“What’s crucial is, everything is recorded. Debts, favors, leverage; we can get our hands on everything. This opening in London isn’t a random celebration, it’s a consolidation point. Real transactions will happen in the private rooms, so the main floor is useless. Your objective is simple, get inside one of those rooms, doesn’t matter which for now. We need confirmation of what happens in there. But most importantly, we need access, we need to track every breath they take.” Kang paused, exhaling through his nose.

“This man might have blood on his hands.”

After letting the words settle in the room, Jungkook tilted his head, swinging left and right in his chair. “And we’re just walking into that?” He asked.

Kang inhaled. “You’re not just walking into it.” He said, eyes flicking between the two of you before switching onto the next slide.

Two photos of a couple flashed across the screen, attractive and well dressed in the same old way people with generational wealth are.

“Charles and Clara Beaumont,” Kang explained. “Married for six years, currently in Nice, unlikely to make it.”

Jungkook’s mouth curved into a lazy grin. “So we’re them.”

“You are.”

“Six years?” You added a beat later, head tilting slightly.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, arm resting along the backrest. “Won’t take much time to look convincing.” He said, a small smirk on his face as his gaze flicked over to you.

“Gotta play your part well, Jeon.” You said, tone disinterested as your eyes still focused on the picture on the screen like it would tell you something if you stared hard enough.

A small smirk played out on his lips, cocky in a way that grew you eager to slap it off his face. “Oh, I won't be playing.’

You rolled your eyes, huffing out a short scoff. You didn’t respond to him further as your grip tightened around your pen, squinting your eyes at the man on the screen. “Backgrounds? Anything we shouldn’t look past?” You asked.

Kang nodded slowly. “Everything will be provided by tomorrow morning, study them before you fly out.”

He stepped away from the table, standing right in the middle of the two of you, hands on both your shoulders like he’s warning you. “You will not draw attention, and you will not break cover. Find the confirmation we need and leave before anyone suspects anything. Play safe this time, we’ll see what comes next when you fly back.”

“What if we get access to the recordings?” Jungkook asked.

“Great, but don’t compromise the mission for it. Like I said, play safe for now.” Kang said, Jungkook nodded once in response.

You crossed your arms over your chest, biting the corner of your lips. “What about surveillance?”

“Everywhere. Which means whatever you do,” Kang answered until Jungkook cut him off, leaning forward, settling his elbows on the table. “We have to sell it.”

Kang lookwd at him. “Yes.”

“--Champagne?” The server asks, cutting through the memory with a sharp edge. You blink once, letting the room fold back into place with no more than a subtle shiver. So subtle that even Jungkook almost misses it despite being so close to you, to the point where you can feel each other’s pulses thudding under your skin. 

Your body retakes everything all at once; the gold light, murmur of voices that let out no more than a few low chuckles, the weight of Jungkook’s hand still resting around your waist like it never left.

Something almost flutters in your chest. 

You reach for the tray, taking a glass without any hesitation. “Thank you.” 

Jungkook takes one a second later, body moving slower than yours. Because his attention is already completely elsewhere, eyes scanning through the crowd until they settle, digging silent holes into the nape of a certain someone’s neck. 

“Right side.” Jungkook murmurs when the server disappears, eyes still stuck on the said man. 

But you don’t turn around, now having years of experience in the job. Your hands reach for your purse, grabbing a hold of lipstick and a mirror. You drop the cap of the lipstick into your purse before opening the mirror with one hand, reapplying your lipstick as your eyes scan around the whole venue through the small mirror. 

You take half a step to your left before he comes into your sight. Dark eyes, sharp jawline, navy suit tailored to fit his body without a single crease, exactly like Hugo Vane.

But younger. 

“Hugo’s son.” You answer quietly, eyes on the mirror as you pat the lipstick lightly onto your lips. Jungkook’s eyes flick towards you for a beat, towards your lips. It lasts shorter than a second, maybe less than half a second, but it does happen. And you notice. 

Jungkook hums, grip tightening on your waist. “Thought so.” 

The man moves through the room without stopping, like he doesn’t need to, because it’s being cleared for him before he can have the time to complain. It’s not obvious, there is no dramatic space as he steps through, but there is a quiet shift in people’s demeanour. The way conversations pause just enough, the way bodies angle themselves just slightly, the way the room bends and molds around him and not the way around. 

You try not to drown in the space he leaves behind, because it doesn’t settle, it knocks your breath out in a way you don’t know how to explain. You don’t get anxious often– no, you never get anxious. But something about the way he silently grabbed the room and bent it without anyone noticing causes something unsettling to form somewhere in your stomach. 

How he moves is enough to tell you he’s not just wandering, he’s leading something. You don’t follow him immediately, letting the time stretch and the distance breathe. But Jungkook does still for a second, hand dropping from your waist until it wraps somewhere between your wrist and hand. 

Your eyes briefly flick over to the hall he disappears behind, watching the way the door swings back and forth ever so subtly. Of course, Jungkook notices your stare, eyes following the direction of your gaze. 

“That’s our way in.” He says, his hand holding yours properly now. 

“That’s not a way in.” You mutter through your teeth. “That’s access we don’t have.” 

He shifts his body slightly, adjusting you along with him so that you’re angled the opposite way. “That’s access we will have.” 

He pulls you fully now, your face almost crashing into his back as he moves without a warning. Jungkook walks fast as you trail behind, taking steps that are short, yet as swift as the height of your heels allow.

When you’re halfway through the corridor, Jungkook pulls you closer into him. But it’s different to the closeness you’ve been maintaining so far. This time, you feel his cologne filling up your nostrils every time he shifts, the way his chest rises and falls whenever he breathes. This time, he pulls you so close that turning your head means something you don’t want to say out loud. 

So you don’t. 

“Someone’s watching.” He says into your ear, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know.” You reply, back pressed into his. Of course you know, because someone has been watching. Someone has been watching you for so long that the feeling of it transitions into a pattern, the kind you notice even when you try not to. Here, people don’t scan, neither do they hold your gaze; but they do reappear. You swear you see the same people all at the same places at the same times; like they’re circling around certain spots ith purpose rather than simply attending an opening.

“Good.” Jungkook says before turning you around, thumb pressing lightly against your wrist. Maybe it’s a cue, maybe it’s a warning, you have no idea which. Because there’s no time for you to figure it out, because Jungkook leans in when you expect it the least.

He’s so much closer than necessary, closer than professional, and the way your body reacts is just as– maybe even more– unprofessional. 

His voice drops by an octave, words escaping his lips before they disappears somewhere on your skin. “Then let’s give them something to look at.” 

He pulls your body closer into his by your hands, hooking them around his neck before he lets his hands drop down to your waist. You take notice of how slow they move, because they don’t really drop down, they slide.

It feels intentional, like he’s actually caressing your body with care instead of putting on a show. Your breath catches before you can stop yourself. And even though

you get it together quickly, Jungkook notices. 

“Relax.” He says, forehead pressing against yours, his breath hot against your skin. 

“I am relaxed, but you’re overdoing it.” You say, hands settling where he put them. 

“No, you’re underdoing it.” Your jaw tightens at the words, and you almost roll your eyes. Almost, because right now, you definitely have way too much attention on you to slip even a little. 

So despite your words, your hands move. They scratch the nape of his neck before disappearing in his hair, fingers curling lightly until they’re tangled inside. 

“Your left,” You whisper against his mouth. “Same man, still watching.” 

“Mhm.” He hums. “Let him.” But his eyes are already closed, body leaning even more into yours as if there is any space left. Your hands drop from his hair to his shoulders, and before you know it, Jungkook’s lips are on yours. 

It takes you a second to shake yourself out of the shock, letting yourself melt into the kiss as his soft lips move on yours with ease, like they belong there, like this is normal for you to do. Your eyes flutter shut, hands roaming all around his shoulders. You flinch when he gives your ass a squeeze, sending a tingle through your legs. 

One of his hands raises up until it reaches your face, cupping your cheek as his thumb trails softly along your jaw. He forces your mouth open with his thumb, pulling down your bottom lip slowly, and you grant him access without thinking. 

A small moan escapes your lips when his tongue slides into your mouth, and Jungkook swears his pants are going to rip right on spot if you keep sounding like that. He feels something fluttering in his chest, something he knows he has been suppressing for a long time now. So he just pulls you closer, and lets his mind drift away from anything and everything for just second, focusing on you only. 

Until someone clears their throat. 

“Mr. and Mrs–” 

Your whole body stills, unable to move even an inch. But that’s fine, because couples like this don’t break apart for interruptions. Jungkook lets his teeth pull onto your bottom lip for one last time before breaking apart, slow enough so that you can gather yourself. 

He does pull away, but his hand doesn’t leave your waist. And for a split second, he doesn’t even turn his head. 

“--Beaumont.” The staff continues. 

Both of you shift your gazes towards him, acting completely calm and unbothered. “Yes?” Jungkook asks politely, brows raised only slightly. 

The man gives you a measured smile. “Mr. Vane is a man of discretion.” 

Touché

“If you would like somewhere more private,” He continues, gesturing subtly towards a door somewhere along the corridor. “We can accommodate you.” 

There it is. 

Though, you don’t answer immediately, letting the question rest for a second or two in order to make it feel real. Not eager, not hesitant, but rather like it’s something you’re used to. 

Jungkook glances down at you, offering a look that’s not really asking, because he already knows the answer. Just something that’s checking, something that lets him know everything is fine. You tilt your head slightly, the corner of your mouth lifting just enough so that Jungkook notices, yet the man doesn’t. 

He turns his head towards the man. “Of course.” 

The man steps aside, letting the corridor fall open and twist into something darker. Jungkook’s hand shifts at your waist, guiding you through the hall. And this time, you just let yourself melt into the comfort of his presence. Because resistance doesn’t really mean anything anymore. Because you know that somewhere along your performance, something slipped. The control, the acting– whatever you call it. What’s important is that neither of you really acknowledged it. 

The door closes behind you softly, a sound that’s too little for a door this heavy. It doesn’t really echo, doesn’t physically linger either. But still, for a second, you can’t find it in yourself to move. You don’t have to look at Jungkook to know he hasn’t either, you can feel it in the way the air shifts around him. His legs don’t carry him anywhere when the door clicks shut, eyes roaming around the room as the rest of his body stays still.

The room is quieter than you expect it to be. It’s not empty, not silent; there’s music humming faintly from somewhere behind, walls filtering out the bass until it nearly doesn’t even reach your ears. But somehow, you still feel it thudding under your ribs, hard and heavy until it stings somewhere you can’t quite reach. 

But everything feels more uncomfortable than you imagined, because even in a room as private as this one, there is intention behind every little detail. The deep brown of the leather couch, the two untouched glasses on the table already filled with whiskey too bitter for your taste, the light that’s even dimmer, even warmer compared to the outside– everything is arranged like they expect you to sit, to drink, to stay.

To forget. 

When you take a step forward, heels sinking into the carpet, Jungkook’s hand doesn’t leave your waist. 

If anything, it settles deeper. 

Jungkook shifts his weight from one leg to the other, his chest pressing closer into your back as he leans in slightly, just enough for his mouth to brush your ear. “Two cameras.” He whispers. “One above the mirror, one across the wall.” 

You don’t look, because you never do, because you never have to when it’s Jungkook who warns you. Instead, your hand moves to your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear as your gaze drifts lazily across the room, a little relieved that you’re finally where you’re supposed to be, doing what you’re supposed to do. 

Your fingers graze the edges of the mirror on the wall, mentally taking a note on how something is off about it, in a way you can’t exactly point a finger on. The frame feels too smooth on your skin, too flat for something that’s embroidered romantically. 

Your reflection stares back at you the same way it always does. Hair perfect, posture straight, lipstick faintly smudged because of the kiss you just shared; it’s completely untouched. 

But something is still off. The angle is wrong, your frame is slightly delayed, the glass is too clean that it’s suspicious. And finally, as your fingers keep grazing around the edges in hopes of finding something worth pocketing, something red winks at you. 

“They’re recording.” You say, voice breathy, almost distracted. 

Jungkook hums lowly behind you, eyes focused elsewhere. “Of course they are.” 

His hand leaves your waist for the first time since you walked in, stepping aside to take everything in properly. His absence hits you immediately, skin turning cold beneath the fabric on your body without the warmth of his touch. You try to ignore the feeling, you really do, but it lingers somewhere between the light chill of the room, and your pulse that’s now a little loud. Too loud that you feel it thud in your ears. 

But suddenly, something louder than the hard pulsing of rhythms fly in from behind. It doesn’t come from the hallway– no, it’s deeper than that. The voices are muffled, the words are whispered discreetly and are chosen with care; private enough to pull a tight knot in your stomach. 

You still without realizing, eyes widening only slightly as your hands rub themselves onto the sides of your coat. Jungkook notices it immediately, eyes shifting onto you before he lets his hand find yours. His fingers slip between yours, gliding with ease as if this is the most natural thing for you to do. His hold grounds you. You have no idea how or why, but it does, and your grip tightens around his beneath awareness. 

Jungkook had never been easy to read. 

You’ve shared way too many long flights, way too many late night debriefs. Yes, he was a little too flirty sometimes. And yes, you were aware of his attraction towards you. But you never thought it was anything near serious. At the end of the day, you were just coworkers who, in reality, couldn’t even properly get along.

Despite his cocky and flirty persona, Jungkook isn't a careless man. He never lets something slip before weighing it over and over again, never lets something mean too much.

You always thought it meant nothing to him, that he was just acting a certain way to get on your nerves, that this was just the kind of person he is.

Oh boy were you wrong. 

“Wall behind the couch.” You say, gesturing towards where the voices are coming from. Jungkook turns slightly, angling his body just enough to follow the line of your sight without making it obvious. 

There’s a panel there, a seamless way that leans into another room, almost invisible even to you despite how carefully you’re looking for it. Somewhere between a breath and a flick of your eyes, Jungkook moves. His body works around yours swiftly, turning you before you can process it, pressing your back into the wall you had just been gesturing at. 

Your breath catches, more from the sudden closure than anything else, your hands instinctively finding his chest as he closes the distance between you. The room, the air, even voices; everything feels smaller like this. Like it’s just the two of you and no one else who are existing in this space. 

“What are you doing?” You ask under your breath, but it doesn’t land the way it usually does. Because he’s already closer than what’s professional, closer than what’s safe. 

Jungkook lifts his index finger, placing it on top for your lips. “Shh.” He shushes you, brows raised slightly. 

A voice filters in, dark and hoarse. “...this wasn’t part of what we shook hands on.” 

Something shifts on the other side of the wall, distorted in a way that doesn’t allow you to hear everything properly. “We can make a few adjustments.” Another man answers, his tone noticeably calmer. 

“Hugo’s son.” Jungkook whispers, his eyes staring right into yours. 

You grab his hand, pushing it off your face with a huff. “What even is his name?” You ask, face scrunched in confusion at the sudden realization. 

Jungkook shrugs, letting the voices of the two men fill in the room. “That’s not how your father cooperates.”

“My father isn’t here tonight.” 

Your breath stills, wide eyes lifting up to catch Jungkook’s, filled with unease. 

How the fuck is Hugo not here? 

That throws everything off. Because Hugo Vane not being here doesn’t feel like an absence, it makes you feel his presence even more, settling under your bones with an ache you don’t like. Because if Hugo isn’t here, because if he didn’t even bother getting out of his way to come here, this isn’t just an opening that covers a few illegal exchanges. It’s something else entirely, something that has been in motion for a lot longer than you knew of. 

And whatever you walked into tonight is bigger than the room you’re standing in. 

The other man starts. “If anything goes wrong–” 

“It won’t.” Hugo’s son cuts him off, voice steady like it’s forcing everything into exactly where he wants.. There’s a pause, a beat filled with silence before he continues. “Everything is already in place.”

The words sound like a trap. 

When your eyes flick back to Jungkook, you realize he’s already looking at you, eyes a little too empty to your liking. He looks like he’s thinking about nothing and everything at the same time. So you lift your hand, shoving his chest lightly to recollect his attention. 

“Jungkook, focus.” You murmur through your teeth. 

But he doesn’t react immediately, not properly at least, because his hand is still holding yours, his arm is still around your waist. And instead of loosening his hold or giving you space to breathe, his grip tightens, fingers curling around you like he’s trying to ground the two of you at the same time.

Then, his hand moves. Not away, of course not. It shifts from your waist, sliding down to your hips. Though the movement is slow, like he’s giving himself time to stop, to pull back into whatever control he has been holding onto all night. 

And you can’t find it in you to move. 

“They’re watching.” He says quietly, thumb grazing circles on your hip. 

There’s no fucking way he’s doing that as performance. 

“I know.” You respond, eyes stuck on his like they’ll bleed into blindness if you tear them away. Your voice is softer now, breathy in a way that makes Jungkook lose his mind, not that he’d ever tell you. 

But right now, you too know that something shifted, that this doesn’t feel like just a show anymore. 

Jungkook exhales through his nose, slow and rough, closing his eyes along with the breath he lets out. “I’ve been trying not to do this.” He starts, taking a step closer as if it’s possible. “But you’re making it so fucking hard.” 

For a second, you consider pretending to not understand what he means, almost tilting your head with oblivious eyes. But halfway, you decide against it, sharply inhaling the breath he just exhaled. 

But the space between you is too little– no, it doesn’t even exist anymore. The room feels smaller, the air feels thicker, and the muffled voices of the two men disappear completely behind the wall when he lets his body lean a little more into yours. 

At your lack of response, Jungkook lifts the hem of your coat, giving your ass a squeeze above the thin fabric of your dress. You moan involuntarily, head falling back until it hits the hard wall behind you, a little harsher than you would’ve guessed. 

“Tell me to stop now.” He says, voice low in a way that’s barely above a whisper. “Because I won’t.” 

You crash your lips into his. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the walls, or maybe the fact that you’re being watched and still choosing this anyway. 

Or maybe, it’s just him. 

You don’t know, you can’t even think straight right now. Because the second your lips meet his, everything else collapses into a haze, way too easily. You lose your last remaining hold on everything you’ve been trying to build since even before you stepped out of the car tonight. The mission, Hugo, his son, anything and everything that’s currently going on behind the wall, even the cameras you’re fully aware of– they all blur into something distant. 

You’ll deal with those later. 

A swift feeling of surprise takes over Jungkook when it’s you who breaks the tension first, but he melts into the kiss without giving you time to recalibrate your actions. Your hands settle on his shoulders, fiddling with the thick fabric of his coat before slipping it down his shoulders, letting it fall onto the floor. Once it’s off, your hands move quickly on his dress shirt, unbuttoning it eagerly. 

Jungkook lets out a groan at your touch, because he feels what’s underneath it immediately. The way you stop hesitating and start pulling him instead, the way your hands grip his shirt like you mean it, like you’re not just letting this happen.

You’re choosing this.

That’s what knocks the air out of his lungs more than anything else tonight. Because just hours ago, he was ready for resistance, he was ready for control, he has been doing it for years. Acting like you’re nothing more than occasional partners who don’t even get along for

the most part. He was ready for you to push him away if he went too far with the role, if he played it a little too well. He was ready to stop if you wanted to. 

But he wasn’t ready for this. 

He wasn’t ready for you, for your lips to meet, rid of any ounce of hesitation, like you’ve been wanting this too. 

He squeezes your ass again, with both hands this time, needing to feel every inch of your body. His eyes flutter uncontrollably when you let out another dreamy moan, something that sounds like an angelic melody to his ears. He pulls you closer by the hips, then thrusts his own to meet you halfway, biting his lip harshly at the contact. 

“Please, Jungkook.” You cry out, thrusting your hips into his once again, by yourself this time, desperate for a touch, an ounce of friction– anything.

“Please what, baby?” Jungkook responds with a question, his hot breath hitting the exposed skin of your neck, trailing all the way down to your collarbones. “Use your words, I know you can.” 

Your hands continue moving on his shoulder, sliding off his shirt once you’re done with the buttons. You find yourself needing to take a moment at the sight of his bare chest, because it’s better than any you’ve seen before. Soft, toned– maybe even a little too toned– so bare and so pretty, all for you to touch. 

Your hands roam around his chest, tracing lines along his abs. Jungkook has to bite his cheek to suppress any unplanned sounds that he realizes are way more likely to slip than he thought now that he actually feels your touch on his body.  

“Not gonna fucking beg for this.” You squeeze his shoulders, nails digging deeply into his bare skin, letting your back lean even more into the wall. 

Fuck.

Jungkook has thought about this.

In quieter moments, in between meetings and conversations when you were standing a little too close, in places where he shouldn’t have; he’s thought about it all. The way your voice would drop by and octave when you were focused, the way your skirt would ride up your thigh when you leaned in just a little lower, the way your hand would brush his like it meant nothing.

It never meant nothing to him.

He’d always pushed it down. Because this was work, because you were his partner, because he knew you better than to ruin something that functioned this well.

But now, your hands are all over his body, moving and pulling him in instead of stopping. Your lips are so fucking soft against his, making his chest tighter and head emptier until there isn’t a single coherent thought left inside. 

“Fucking tease.” Jungkook says before lifting your dress up, letting it pool around your waist. Your lips curl up in victory when he pulls your panties to the side, flicking the lips of your pussy with two fingers, feeling your slick coat his fingers. 

He plays with your clit, rubbing circles with his thumb as his two other fingers slide in and out of your wet, aching hole. Your eyes immediately fall shut at the contact, inhaling sharply when he curls his fingers at an angle he knows will make you see stars. 

Then he falls to his knees. 

Your eyes flutter open the moment you hear the way his knees hit the hard floor, lips parting as you’re taken aback by whatever he’s doing. You look down to him, brows furrowed in

confusion in a way that asks. But Jungkook doesn’t respond, he only gives you a smirk after looking up, then flicks his gaze back down again. 

His fingers wrap around the lace fabric of your black panties, pulling them down in a way that’s painfully slow considering the waterfall between your thighs right now. When the thin piece of fabric pools down on the floor, you lift your foot, kicking it to the side with your heels. 

“Jungkook,” You gasp loudly when he lifts one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder. He starts by trailing kisses up your thighs, one hand wrapped around the soft flesh in order to steady your body. Your hands fly onto his hair before you can think, fisting and pulling at it as he gets closer and closer to your core. 

“Oh my god,” You moan, looking down at him as his tongue laps against your swollen pussy. His fingers flick your lips open, easing it up for him to work his tongue. Jungkook groans as you tug onto his hair harder, licking your pussy as if he’s savoring the taste of every flavour on his tongue. 

Your thighs clam around his head, closing with a shake you have no idea how to control. Your nails dig into your own palms by how hard you’re holding onto him, stinging in a way that’s almost painful. 

“Shit, ‘m so close.” You whimper as heat pools low in your stomach, twisting and curling so hard that you feel your legs giving out. 

“Sweetest pussy ever.” Jungkook pulls away for a split second before connecting his mouth back onto your throbbing pussy, his tongue flattening right at the part where it pulses the heaviest. 

“Jungkook, fuck.” You cum hard with a scream of his name, your head falling back onto the wall so fast it almost hurts. Jungkook licks you through your orgasm, his fingers that were once separating your lips now rubbing circles on your clit until you’re fully out of your high. 

Your breath doesn’t settle when he stands again, coming back up to his feet so fast, as if being away from you for even a second feels unbearable. You hold onto his arms to regain

your balance, and no more than a second passes before Jungkook’s lips find yours again. 

“Gonna bend you over and take you right fucking here.” Jungkook says, grunting as he pulls back. He turns you around, then pushes you over the backrest of the leather couch until your ass is perfectly aligned and in sight. Jungkook palms the soft flesh of your skin, gripping and squeezing as he tries unzipping his pants with his free hand. 

His dick springs out once his boxer is down his thighs, slapping against his abs immediately. He gives his already hardened length a few strokes before lining it up your entrance, flicking your folds with his tip, all red and angry, eager to fuck you into oblivion until your eyes roll back so hard it hurts to not see his face through the darkness. 

You whimper loudly when Jungkook enters you with a hard slam, back arching into the air instinctively. His hand settles on your waist, gripping firmly as the other doesn’t leave your waist. Your pussy feels so tight and warm around his cock, and Jungkook thinks he’s going to burst out. 

“Can’t believe you’ve been hiding yourself from me for years.” Jungkook says, words coming out shaky due to how hard he’s pounding into you. “Played so hard to get when you’re really just a slut.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” You spit back through grithed teeth, trying to suppress your moans by burying your head into the couch. Jungkook lets out a cocky chuckle that twists your nerves even more, but the annoyance is quickly swollen up by how good he’s pounding into you. 

He reaches for your dress, pulling down the fabric on your chest until the swell of your boobs spill out through your bra. Jungkook pulls down your bra next, your tits coming full on display

with a bounce. He moans when his palms settle on your soft boobs, fingers flicking and pinching your nipples until your pussy aches even harder with the sensation. 

“Right there, oh my god, right fucking there.” You choke out with the little energy you have left, feeling your orgasm closer than ever. Jungkook fists your hair when you least expect it, yanking you up so that your back arches further and his bare chest grazes over your body. 

You moan out shaky curses, not even aware of what you’re saying anymore as he keeps pounding into you from behind. Tears prickle up at the corners of your eyes, Jungkook’s grip getting tighter and tighter in your hair as he nears his high. 

“Shit,” Jungkook whimpers, dick twitching inside your walls. “Where do you want me?” He asks, voice so low and breathy that it sends you over the edge. 

“Fuck, want it inside. Don’t you dare pull out.” You say, feeling your orgasm build as his thrusts transition into something messy and sloppy.

“Oh yeah?” He breathes, pushing your body back onto the couch, his grip on your waist tightening. 

Jungkook cums hard with a loud groan, emptying all of himself into you. You push yourself back on his dick a few times before your orgasm also rips through, crying out at both how hard you’re cumming, and how good he’s filling you up. 

There’s a beat where he doesn’t pull out, cock softening inside you as his forehead presses between your shoulderblades, his unsteady breath feeling hot on your skin. Your breath also doesn’t settle instantly, chest rising unevenly as the weight of him suddenly feels too heavy on your skin. Everything falls back into place one by one, your vision drifting back as you come down from your high. The warmth of the dim lights, the closed door that’s hiding way too much behind, the quiet hum of voices that are muffled together behind the walls– it all returns all at once, like you’re being forced back into reality after being somewhere else entirely. 

Jungkook’s hand is still on your waist, grip still firm as if he hasn’t realized he has to let you go– or maybe he just doesn’t want to let you go. 

When Jungkook slides out of you, you push yourself up slightly, your body still slower than your head. “Jungkook,” You start, voice rough.

You feel his body still above you, a shift that’s so subtle yet still enough for you to feel. The realization hits him the same moment it hits you, his hand loosening on your waist.

“Cameras.” You finish, voice soft and quiet despite the weight of your words. 

That’s all it takes for Jungkook to blink back into reality, pulling back fast as if distance has the power to fix everything just like that. But surprise surprise, it won’t. 

That’s when a sound cuts through the walls, something so faint that for a second, you think that even you might have missed it. But you don’t, because you never do. You flinch regardless, fingers tightening slightly where they rest against him. 

Jungkook feels it instantly, head snapping towards the door before he flicks his gaze back to you, leaning down just a little. “What?” He murmurs in your ear, voice low in a way that’s barely above a whisper.

You don’t answer, you can’t bring yourself to answer, because nothing that’s going through your head sounds coherent as words. Your head turns slightly when another muffled voice comes through somewhere behind the right wall, tilting enough to catch the direction without making it obvious. Jungkook follows without looking, shifting and leaning closer by just half an inch, instinctively hovering his body above yours. 

His chest rises and falls harder than his usual breathing, eyes flicking around the room, reevaluating everything you’ve terribly miscalculated. “Fuck.” He mutters under his breath.

“You’re overreacting.” Someone says, voice calm and controlled, so much that it makes your stomach twist. 

“I’m not overreacting, they went into one of the rooms.” Another voice replies, but it’s sharper this time. Dressed in a worry that doesn’t even try to rival how composed the previous man was. 

Jungkook’s hand tightens around the backrest of the couch, leaning his body weight onto his hands above you. Your breath gets caught in your throat, stomach dropping in a way that’s almost unprofessional. 

“Which room?” The calmer man asks. 

There’s a pause after that, maybe a flick over the keyboard, maybe a shift of screening, you don’t know which. But the soft clicking that’s somehow heard even from where you are is enough for you to freeze beneath the warmth of Jungkook’s body. 

“Doesn’t matter, we’re flagging everything.” 

Fuck.

Jungkook’s grip stills on you completely, his wide eyes staring wordlessly into the wall as yours are stuck on his chest. Unable to move, unable to speak. 

“Do we know who they are?”

“Not yet.” 

With that, you exhale slowly, letting out the breath that has been stuck in you ever since the first subtle shift behind the walls. You know this doesn’t give you much time, hell, it would probably be criminal to call whatever this is some time. But right now, you’ll take anything you can. Because everything feels so fucking unavoidable. 

“Run it through the system.” The second voice requests. “Faces, behavior, track everything.” 

“They won’t make it out without us knowing,” The first voice finishes. You hear the faint scraping of the chairs, footsteps that are closer and closer as time passes by, movement that’s too animatic to be real, it all hits your ear in a hue. Suddenly, the door clicks, and they’re gone just like that. 

For a second, it feels like they’re still right behind the wall, their presence burning holes through your body without even catching sight of your eyes. Like they’re still listening, still watching, waiting.

But then, somewhere between the third and fourth breath you exhale, the sound starts fading and fading until they’re finally out of your reach. 

But you don’t know if that’s a good thing or not, because it’s still not quiet enough. The constellation of Jungkook’s uneven breaths mixed with yours rip through the air until it feels unbearable to exist in the same space anymore. 

Because now, your fingers curl tighter against Jungkook’s shirt for a different reason entirely. He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes filled with something that indicates he understood everything at exactly the same time as you. And it’s nowhere near controlled. 

“They flagged the room.” You whisper, wide eyes looking up at him in a way that causes Jungkook to curse at himself for thinking with his dick in a situation like this. 

His jaw tightens. “Yeah.” 

Your mind races, trying to recollect everything until they stick together again. “And the system-” 

He cuts you off. “It’s already running.” 

Your voice drops as you start blinking so fast it hurts. “Shit, Jungkook, what do we do? They fucking saw us.”

You hate how he doesn’t deny it, how he doesn’t even try to soften it. Because it’s there, everything already happened in a way that’s way too ugly to be repairable, way too real to be covered with a lie. 

Jungkook calls your name, slow and calculated. “They’re looking for us.” 

The way those words land is so much worse than whatever you had registered previously, leading your chest to tighten until it leaves no space for your breath to exist in your lungs. Everything you just did, everything you just heard– You’re not ahead anymore, you’re inside it, you’re caught right in the middle of everything you were told to stay away from. 

You make a mental note of torturing yourself for the way your chest flutters when Jungkook’s hand finds yours, grip firm like he’s scared to let you go, like he’s scared something might happen to you. 

“We need to move.” He says, eyes scanning around the room for anything that’s even the smallest thread. But when it comes to actually moving, neither of you really act on it. 

Because you both know the mission isn’t the only thing at risk anymore.

it was a cozy haven.

early morning with the warmth and milky sweetness of baby lotion from last night's bath time.

and just your precious little family.

you lie on your side of the bed still feeling a little sleepy.

your husband jungkook was on his stomach, shirtless because he always preferred that when he went to sleep.

his hair is a mess, just like yours from a night spent holding each other.

your six month old daughter is there too, the little angel of both of your lives.

she was also on her tummy, her chubby cheeks squished against the mattress, one tiny hand clutching the edge of jungkook's pillow like it was her teddy bear.

though she struggled to pick her favorite among the many plushies she owned because her father liked to spoil her so much that she got confused between them,

this was her new favorite thing to do and that was to imitate everything jungkook did.

she wore a pastel pink pajama set with tiny little bow printed all over.

you'd put that on her after giving her a bath and breastfeeding her and she was out for the rest of the night.

she was between the two of you, right in the middle of the bed.

like the heart of your family that she was.

your “little miracle” as jungkook had named her from the day she was born.

which indeed was true.

she had jungkook wrapped around her little finger ever since she came into both of your lives.

in fact he was the happiest during the gender reveal, he always wanted to be a girl dad.

today was one of those slow perfect mornings where none of you had to work and there was nothing to stress about.

only your little family existed.

you watched them both with pure adoration.

your baby was the definition of adorable with the chubbiest, pinchable cheeks that always flushed when she got excited or smiled.

her big round doe eyes were the exact copies of her father, her button nose was also from him and her pouty lips were something that she got from you, always slightly glossy from drool or her constant babbling.

she was a mix of both of you and it didn't need an expert to know that she was your girl.

she cooed, her cute little sock clad feet constantly in motion, kicked and cycled in the air with surprising strength for such a small body.

she always did that in excitement or when she had the attention of both of her parents staring at her softly as jungkook cradled her against his chest.

he couldn't bear to have her away from him for even a second as one of his tattooed arm supported her back.

he looked down at her with a melting expression that he only ever showed her and you.

the eyes that showed all the love in the world and so much wonder as if he still couldn't believe this little human was his.

“alright my princess.” he began.

he leaned his face close to hers until their noses were almost touching as he took in her baby smell.

“daddy is going to teach you the most important thing in the world today okay?”

he bobs his nose with her tiny ones making her squeal in delight and he grinned in response.

“it's called giving kisses, you see… the ones mama gives to dada? the ones i give you.. and you're going to be an even better kisser.. the best one in the family, are you ready hmm?”

jungkook furrows his brows in mock seriousness though the smile doesn't leave his face.

your girl stared up at him with those wide eyes completely in focus as her tiny mouth formed an 'o.'

“ahh... goo goo..” she blabbered, fisting the sheets.

then without warning, she blew a wet raspberry causing tiny spit to land straight onto jungkook's cheek.

you gasped and burst into laughter while jungkook blinked before he joined you, his shoulders shaking with his laughter.

“that's not a kiss baby!”

he wiped his face with the back of his hand but his voice was amused.

“look at the mess she made me on my mama...”

you smiled propping yourself up resting your head on your hand, your cheeks hurt from how hard you smiled.

you couldn't ever get tired of watching the father and daughter moment.

“she's only practicing koo. remember last month when you spent twenty minutes blowing raspberries back at her?” you reminded him.

he had done exactly that and the little baby had been obsessed with it since then and made a mess of saliva while trying to do it with her cuteness especially because she loved the reaction it brought from her father.

and judging by the look on jungkook's face, he didn't feel guilty.

not one bit.

“but today we level up, watch this babygirl.”

jungkook turned back to the baby, who was now pulling the sheets and trying to stuff the fabric into her mouth.

he pried her tight little hands away slowly and held them in his instead, tracing her cheeks so she'd look at him.

“no eating bedsheets today okay? we're focusing on our face.. the first lesson is a forehead kiss.”

he puckered his lips exaggeratedly, earning a giggle from you.

he makes a “mwah” sound as he presses a kiss right in the center of her forehead.

her eyes widened in surprise before her chubby cheeks turned an even deeper rosy shade.

she kicks her legs so hard in happiness that her feet thump against his stomach and his eyes crinkled.

“see? that's a forehead kiss for my cute girl.”

jungkook murmurs proudly and she responds by waving her arms wildly causing one of her fists to hit softly on his chest.

he pretended to be wounded, tilting his head back with an over the top groan.

“oh god.. mama quick, save me from this dangerous baby!”

you laughed harder, shaking your head and jungkook's other hand reached out to pull you closer by the waist, causing both your and jungkook's legs to tangle together under the sheets.

the baby was now squished right in between the both of you which seemed to delight her even further.

“you're so dramatic jungkook. she barely touched you.. come on show her how to do it.”

you encouraged softly enjoying the they had going on.

jungkook adjusted the baby in his lap so she was facing him directly.

“okay okay, cheek time as mommy said.. this one's extra special because your cheeks are squishy and perfect.”

he leaned in slowly, pouting his lips again.

“mwahhh!”

he was about to land a kiss on her right cheek but she turned her head at the exact last second so his lips brushed her tiny ear instead.

the baby immediately took the chance and blew another enthusiastic raspberry right against his neck, letting out a “pttt” as she drooled.

jungkook pulled back, eyes wide in mock horror as he was coated with another layer of baby spit.

“again? sweet girl you're turning daddy all messy… aren't you huh?”

he questions with a hum as he nuzzles into her cheek placing a proper kiss there, letting out a drawn out playful growl that vibrated against her cheek, making her squeak which ended in a giggle as she grabbed into his hair.

“but it's okay, i love every single messy thing my little angel does.”

she titled her head looking at him with confused eyes but still babbled back loudly as if she understood everything her father was saying and was trying to mimic words back.

“you're learning so fast and daddy is so proud.”

you felt a familiar warmth in your chest, your heart fluttering.

the kind that made your eyes glisten.

watching jungkook like this, so patient and so completely in love with your daughter always hits you emotionally.

six months ago she was this fragile newborn in the hospital and now she was already kicking, laughing and trying to kiss.

time was moving too fast.

you wished it would slow down a little so you'd be able to savor every small moment and store them forever in your memory.

you didn't want your little girl to grow up at all.

you selfishly wanted to hold onto every moment like this.

you reached out to stroke her wispy hair that didn't fully grow yet as jungkook turned his playful eyes back to her.

“lip kisses are the best ones, you know that baby? the ones mama always gives you? you like them don't you?”

he looked at you with sparkling eyes.

“come here ma.”

you leaned in closer as the adorable face of your daughter turned to look at you instead with her lips pouted.

“my sweetheart...”

you crooned lovingly before you leaned down like you did a thousand times before to peck her tiny lips.

she immediately smacked her lips making a sound as if trying to copy you, her hands smacking on jungkook's chest who still held her in his arms.

“good girl.” jungkook praised.

his arm tightened further around your waist so you were completely tucked into his side and the babygirl was sitting on her father's chest.

“now it's daddy's turn yeah? pucker up like this.”

he demonstrated again.

“give dada a kiss back princess.”

the baby stared intently at his face, her face getting that serious concentrated baby face that always made you both laugh.

she reached out with one chubby hand tiny fingers poking curiously at his lower lip, tugging it instead of following her father's instructions.

“uh mah… mah mah.” she lets out high and sweetly, the words garbled but clearly attempting “mama.”

your heart squeezed at that struggling to hold back tears because you knew if you cried right now, your baby would let out a full blown sob too, like she'd always done when you get the slightest bit sad.

you didn't want to ruin the moment but you felt so overwhelmed with all the maternal feelings.

“did you hear that y/n? she's already calling for you and ignoring me.. no need for dada huh?”

he tried again, leaning in very slowly.

this time she surprised both of you.

with a sudden burst of baby energy she lunged forward, her whole upper body moving and planted her open mouth right on his chin.

it wasn't fully a kiss, more of a gum attack as she suckled on his chin making tiny motions she did when she fed from you since she was a breastfed kid and was still consistently feeding, she would suckle on anything.

and this was her own version of a kiss.

when she pulled back, her rosy lips were stretched in a gummy smile.

jungkook froze for a second before exploding in genuine laughter, he was completely a mess and covered in spit and he wouldn't trade it for anything else.

he'd take all of what she provided, if it meant having globes of baby saliva on his face or getting his skin fisted or hit.

“gosh that was the best almost kiss.. you just tried to eat dada's chin, didn't you hm?”

he looked at you, still laughing.

“baby did you see how determined she was?”

the babygirl thrilled by his reaction, immediately tried again.

this time her open mouthed lunge landed on his cheek with another wet smack.

she kicked her legs quickly and let out a string of happy baby talk.

“bah bah bah bah! ah goo! mah mah mah! dah dah!”

“look at her… she's mixing 'mama' and trying 'dada' now.”

you whispered as your breath hitched and reached over to gently wipe a bit of drool from her chin with your sleeve.

“look at her trying so hard for you kookie.”

jungkook immediately noticed your tears that had started streaming down your face without you noticing.

he kept one arm securely around his girl and used his free hand to squeeze yours, intertwining both your hands together as his thumb rubbed circles on the back of your hand.

his own voice cracked while talking, the vulnerability taking place without him being able to help himself.

“hey... don't cry mama.. these are the happy tears right?”

you let out a wet chuckle and nodded, pressing your cheek against his shoulder while he wiped your tears away.

he held his entire world in his arms.

feeling like the luckiest man to be able to have a family of his own.

both of his girls owned two pieces of his heart and he'd do anything to keep you both happy and smiling.

always.

you stayed like that for a while just breathing in the moment, then jungkook shifted the baby a little higher, supporting her under her armpits so her wobbly legs could “stand” on his stomach, bouncing her gently.

“one more time, my darling.. daddy will help you, watch my lips—mwah, now you do it… just like this.”

she watched, her pouty lips parting and closing as she practiced the motion.

then with a big grin that showed her toothless gums, she leaned forward this time even closer.

her lips actually brushed against his in a real very messy but half kiss.

“mmmah!”

she gurgled copying jungkook's mwaahs as she did it, pulling back with wide eyes as if she just knew she had done something special.

jungkook's entire face transformed with awe.

“she did it...”

he looked at you, both of your eyes welling with tears now.

“she really did give me her first real kiss… ugh.. i think my heart is actually exploding right now.”

he breathes out jokingly but you knew deep down that he was just speaking the truth.

you chuckled through the tears and leaned in to kiss your baby's forehead.

“good job… such a clever girl, mama and dada are so so proud of you.”

she clapped her little hands together, letting out loud squeals along with her cute coos.

“goo goo! mah mah! baahhhh.”

it continued like that for a long while after that.

jungkook peppering her with return kisses everywhere he could, her forehead or her cheeks and some on her button nose too.

he also focused on giving little kisses on her tiny feet and toes whenever she lifted them high, making her giggle at the ticklish feeling and cycles her legs more.

“mwah! mwah! mwah!”

it didn't take her a long time for her to mimic that word too and now that was all she was saying.

both of your stomachs hurt from the laughter.

“daddy loves you more than all the stars in the sky doesn't he? yes he does!”

she lets out a sneeze right after a kiss attempt spraying us both lightly, causing all three of us burst out into another fit of laughter.

you all were lost in your own world completely.

losing track of time.

there was so much affection surrounding the three of you like a bubble that didn't want to burst anytime soon.

and you were basking in it.

you just wanted to stay in bed all day with your baby daddy and your sweet little girl.

being silly together.

soon her movements grew slower as she switched between kissing you and jungkook.

more time passed and she started getting tired.

she nestled her head against jungkook's chest, one tiny hand grabbing against his chest because she always likes to grab onto something when she sleeps as she lets out a long contented sigh.

her rosy lips were still pouty and shiny from all the practice but she seemed the most relaxed ever.

the smile still didn't leave her face even as she slept.

jungkook rocked her slowly humming a lullaby, not talking anymore as he realized that she'd worked hard and now she'd grown exhausted.

“you did so well today, my baby.”

he whispered against her hair.

“i love you...”

he turned his head, whispering the same to you as he snuggled you both closer to him.

there had been a mess, drool stains on his shirt and sneezes.

but every single one made the morning funnier, sweeter and more unforgettable.

jungkook couldn't help but catch your lips in a slow kiss and you kissed him back with a whimper.

the kiss expressed the devotion he held for you more than words ever could.

he pulled back resting his forehead on you, both your breaths mingling together.

“thank you for this life mama... for giving me her.” he croaks out.

he fell in love with both of you more every single day.

if that was even possible.

your heart was so full it felt like it might burst as both your intertwined hands rested on top of your girl.

fitting together just like pieces of a puzzle.

“we're gonna do this together koo... always.”

your baby stirred, letting out a small murmur and blowing one final sleepy raspberry against her father's collarbone before drifting off once again.

and jungkook? he was already planning the next lesson for tomorrow.

but for now he just held both of his girls close.

his heart full with the tiny kisses.

Her clothes would go out of style. Her makeup would eventually expire. But those three things? They were timeless, and you would grow up to hold onto them as a lifeline whenever you missed her.

The wedding dress was for you to wear when you got married. The cookbook held generations of handwritten recipes. And the list was technically for your father, consisting of parenting rules for him to look to whenever he felt lost, but a lot of it benefited you, too. It helped you feel her presence even if you only knew her as blurry concepts—fragments of memories from early childhood.

Some of your favorite rules included:

Rule #24: When our daughter turns sixteen, let her dye her hair if she wants to. 

Rule #11: If she ever gets in trouble at school, listen to her first. Don’t yell at her.

Rule #7: Start giving her a monthly allowance when she’s twelve. Teach her money management young.

There was one rule in particular, that stuck out to your dad. 

Rule #15: When our daughter is stressed or overwhelmed, take her somewhere relaxing where she can get her mind off of things. At a getaway home or something.

And your father, being your father, took that literally. He was never a man of many words; he preferred to love with his heart rather than with his mouth. What he lacked in tenderness he made up for with devotion. So his big heart (and wallet) bought you a house.

Yes. An entire house.

At the very sensitive age of thirteen years old, you were getting bullied in school for having braces and acne and chubby cheeks; each day you’d come home with a permanent wince on your face, as if you were always trying to hold back tears. Your dad had no idea what to do.

So he went back to the list—as he always did when he wished he could talk to your mom about you—and immediately contacted a real estate agent. Flash forward a month later, and you were driving three towns over to the coast, excitedly greeting the culprit of the recent dent in your dad’s bank account: your very own shiny, sparkly beach house.

It was a three hour drive from your place in the city, with two floors, three bedrooms, and a huge patio that faced the ocean. Even the air there was different—and it wasn’t just because there was no pollution. It was magical. Or at least, that was how it felt to you when you first saw your new getaway home.

And of course, a new home also meant meeting new neighbors.

However, you weren’t quite expecting to meet the total teenage dreamboat that was Jeon Jungkook—all sly smiles and low chuckles, impossible to miss, impossible to amuse.

And you certainly weren’t expecting to fall hopelessly in love with him—and still be in love with him even ten years later.

Campus is buzzing. Not the usual hum of sleep-deprived students dragging themselves to class, but the kind of chaotic energy that only comes around when the weekend stretches ahead, warm and wide open.

The quad is drenched in golden late-afternoon sunlight, and the air smells like grass, iced coffee, and the subtle hint of sweat from people pretending they aren’t trying to look hot in 85-degree heat.

You’re weaving between bodies, textbooks tucked under your arm, when it catches your eye: a bright neon flier taped to nearly every lamppost, tree, and bulletin board in sight.

SINS & SAINTS BIGGEST PARTY OF THE SEMESTER — 10PM @ THE PIT SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN GAME 🔥 DON’T BE LAME

Yanni snatches one off a pole as you pass. “This is the moment, ladies.”

You don’t even give the flyer a second glance. “What moment? The one where you both fail your ethics paper because you were too busy shotgunning White Claws in someone’s moldy basement?”

“Oh my god, relax,” Jenna says, laughing. “It’s not moldy. They fixed the leak in April.”

You roll your eyes but let yourself smile as the three of you walk along the sidewalk, the late sun casting long shadows across the pavement. Yanni and Jenna look like they just stepped out of an Urban Outfitters ad — crop tops, layered jewelry, and enough confidence to set fire to half the student population.

And then there’s you. Not quite invisible, but definitely more “background character” than “main event.”

“You know this party’s gonna be huge, right?” Yanni says, waving the flier like it’s a golden ticket. “Last year someone jumped off the roof into the kiddie pool.”

“And broke their collarbone,” you point out.

“Legendary,” Jenna says, smirking.

You snatch the flier from Yanni’s hand, skimming it again. “Why would anyone voluntarily go to something with a ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’ game advertised like a feature? We’re adults.”

“Are we?” Yanni asks, eyes twinkling.

“Technically,” Jenna adds. “But also—imagine the chaos. What if someone pulls Jungkook’s name?”

Your heart does a completely unacceptable little stutter at that.

Jeon Jungkook.

Tattooed, mysterious, chronically late to lectures (if he shows up at all), and very much the guy every girl on campus either wants to date, make out with, or get over. He’s got a motorcycle. He barely talks. He shows up to parties, hooks up with girls, then disappears like smoke.

And he’s beautiful. Obviously.

You’re not immune. You’ve had a crush on him since last semester, when he walked into your shared Intro to Media class twenty minutes late, helmet under his arm, chewing gum like he wasn’t the reason every girl in the room forgot what the professor was saying.

But Jungkook is a walking red flag. A whole carnival of them. And you’re smarter than that.

At least, you pretend to be.

“Literally everyone wants him,” Jenna says, reading your mind. “Even the TA from psych. She was full-on blushing when he asked for an extension.”

“Not surprised,” Yanni mutters. “He has that look — like he’s good at everything and knows it.”

“He probably is,” you say before you can stop yourself, then immediately regret it.

Your friends both stare at you, smirking like sharks.

“Wait,” Jenna says slowly, “do you have a thing for Jungkook?”

“No.” You say it too quickly. “God, no. I mean—everyone does. But I’m not stupid.”

“Just stupid-adjacent,” Yanni teases.

“Shut up.”

Before they can press you further, a familiar voice cuts through the noise.

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here.”

You look up to see Park Jimin approaching, all sunshine and mischief, with Kim Taehyung sauntering behind him like he owns the sidewalk.

Jimin’s wearing a denim jacket over a mesh tank, and Taehyung’s got sunglasses on even though the sun’s nearly down. Between the two of them, they look like trouble you want to get into.

“Hey, ladies,” Jimin says, flashing a grin as he throws an arm over Yanni’s shoulders. “You’re coming to the party tonight, right?”

“Obviously,” Yanni replies, leaning into the attention.

“Can’t miss the annual disaster,” Jenna adds, high-fiving Taehyung like they’re in on some secret joke.

You cross your arms. “You guys seriously hyping up a party where people get locked in closets like it’s summer camp?”

“It’s not just any party,” Jimin says. “It’s The Pit. Sins & Saints theme. Black lights. Fake angel wings. Maybe some fake confessions.”

“Cages,” Taehyung adds casually, like that’s normal.

You blink. “Cages? What kind of party is this?”

“The fun kind,” Jimin winks. “You coming, Y/N?”

“I have an essay due.”

“So bring it with you. I’ll give you moral support while you drink tequila.”

“Tempting,” you say, deadpan. “But I actually want to pass this semester.”

Taehyung leans in, smirking. “Well, in case you change your mind… Jungkook’s gonna be there.”

There it is again. The name. The spark that lights your nerves like a match to gasoline.

You try to play it cool. “Why would that matter to me?”

Yanni coughs loudly. Jenna bites her lip to keep from laughing.

Jimin just grins, already turning away. “No reason. See you at ten.”

And with that, the two boys melt back into the crowd, leaving you with your friends, your unfinished essay, and the creeping sense that this night might not go according to plan.

The quad’s stretched out like a painting, glowing and slow, the heat bleeding off the pavement in soft waves. Everything’s dipped in gold — the trees, the brick buildings, even the stupid neon flyers plastered to every pole.

The bench — their bench — is right where it always is, half in shade, half in sun, like it can’t decide whether it wants to be chill or dramatic. Typical.

Jungkook drops down into his usual spot on the backrest, boots braced on the seat like he owns it. He probably does, at this point — nobody ever sits there unless one of them’s already claimed it.

Taehyung arrives next, flopping into the grass with a sigh so theatrical it could win awards.

“Dying,” he declares. “Melting. This is my final form.”

Jimin shows up with a popsicle he definitely didn’t pay for. “It’s like 85. You’re from Daegu, you’ve survived worse.”

“I have delicate lungs now,” Taehyung replies. “I’m an artist.”

“Your lung capacity’s fine, bro,” Jungkook says. “You were yelling at Rocket League until three.”

Taehyung scowls but doesn’t argue.

A group of girls walks by — upperclassmen, probably — and Jungkook doesn’t miss the way they glance over, not subtle at all. One of them straightens her hair in her reflection on a car window.

He ignores it. Sips his drink. Lets the sun warm his tattoos.

“Party’s gonna be insane tonight,” Jimin says through a mouthful of cherry ice. “Everyone’s going.”

“You say that like you’re not part of the chaos,” Jungkook mutters.

“I am the chaos.”

Jungkook smirks. “You’re five feet of glitter and bad decisions.”

“I’m five-nine,” Jimin says automatically.

“You’re lying.”

“Anyway,” Taehyung cuts in, flopping back so his head hits the grass with a dull thump, “I heard there’s gonna be like… cages. Real ones. Hanging from the ceiling.”

“Where the hell are they getting cages?” Jungkook asks.

“Probably the theater department,” Jimin says. “They owe me after I fixed their soundboard last semester.”

Jungkook makes a face. “You fixed it by slapping it until it stopped buzzing.”

“And it worked.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence for a bit — the kind only friends with a lot of shared damage can fall into. People keep walking past, all heading somewhere, all talking too loud, dressed like they're auditioning for the same indie film.

A guy on a skateboard nearly eats it trying to check his reflection in the library windows. A girl in a baby tee trips on absolutely nothing when she sees Jungkook watching her. Classic.

He doesn’t react. Barely blinks.

“You know,” Taehyung says, eyes still closed, “I was thinking about that Seven Minutes thing.”

“Oh god,” Jungkook mutters.

“No, listen. Imagine someone wild pulls your name. Like that girl who wears fangs and drinks blood out of a Hydro Flask.”

“She’s a performance artist,” Jimin corrects. “You’re so uncultured.”

“Imagine,” Taehyung continues, undeterred, “you walk into the closet and it’s just like—BAM. Straight-up vampire romance. Feral energy. No escape.”

“I’d rather die,” Jungkook says.

“Sounds like fear,” Jimin singsongs.

“It’s common sense,” Jungkook replies. “That game is high school energy. It's gonna be twenty minutes of giggling and some drunk dude falling through the door trying to kiss someone who already regrets being born.”

Jimin snorts. “Wow. Poetic.”

“Look, I’m going,” Jungkook says, “but I’m not doing closet games. Not my scene.”

“You say that,” Taehyung mutters, cracking one eye open, “but if someone hot pulls your name…”

Jungkook shrugs. “Then she’s unlucky.”

And he means it — mostly. It’s just that… parties like this always end the same. Music too loud, drinks too warm, somebody crying in the bathroom, somebody making bad decisions on a lawn chair.

He doesn’t know why he keeps showing up. Maybe he’s bored. Maybe it’s the thrill of it — the crash of noise, the lights, the way nothing matters for a few hours.

Or maybe it's that feeling.

The possibility.

The moment right before something happens — when everything is charged and uncertain, and the right glance could flip the night on its head.

He exhales, eyes flicking toward a passing group of students. One girl — vaguely familiar — walks by clutching a tote bag and a half-melted iced matcha. Her face jogs something in his brain. A lecture hall, maybe? Media Studies?

He thinks he remembers her — quiet. Always early. Never looked at him, not even when he showed up late and took the seat next to the plug.

But it’s gone in a blink. Just another girl. Just another day.

Taehyung claps his hands suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Alright, sluts. Waffle truck or convenience store noodles?”

“Why are those the only options?” Jimin asks.

“Because I’m a man of taste.”

They get up, stretching, moving like they’re already vibrating with pre-party adrenaline. Jungkook trails behind, helmet in one hand, unread messages buzzing in his pocket.

He doesn’t look back.

He doesn’t notice the girl from the quad still sitting under the tree, book open, eyes half-lifted just as he passes.

He doesn't know her name.

Not yet.

The Pit is already pulsing when you arrive.

Bass thumps under your feet before you even step inside — not just music, but vibration, like the building itself is alive and slightly pissed off. The air smells like tequila, cheap perfume, and those weird vanilla vapes everyone insists are “barely noticeable.” Spoiler: they are very noticeable.

You stop just inside the doorway, blinking.

The party is absolutely unhinged.

There are blacklights everywhere — mounted on the rafters, strung across the ceilings, probably duct-taped to questionable surfaces. Someone’s set up an old confessional booth near the far wall, graffitied and backlit in red. A girl in a rhinestone halo is taking selfies in front of it while a guy dressed as a fallen angel — shirt unbuttoned to nowhere — does a keg stand behind her.

Above it all, a massive banner reads:

SINS & SAINTS: ENTER IF YOU DARE.

...which feels both deeply dramatic and deeply accurate.

There are actual cages suspended from the ceiling — only waist-high, like glorified birdcages, but still. One of them has a guy in white mesh pants swinging in it like it’s Cirque du Soleil. He howls something about forgiveness. No one knows what’s going on.

You take all of this in with wide eyes.

“Okay,” you say slowly, “what the hell.”

“I TOLD YOU,” Yanni shouts over the music, eyes lit up like a kid on Halloween. “They WENT OFF this year!”

“They should be arrested,” you mutter.

Jenna laughs beside you, tugging at the hem of her dress. “I feel like I just walked into the end of the world but make it horny.”

Yanni is wearing a sheer black top over a bralette made entirely of tiny silver crosses, her eyeliner winged out to her temples. Her skirt is so short it might be a threat to public safety.

Jenna went full Saint — white silk slip dress, little feathery halo bobbing over her curls, but with Doc Martens that say she’d still throw hands in the bathroom line.

And then there’s you.

You’d protested the theme all afternoon, but eventually gave in. You’re wearing ripped black jeans, a mesh top over a tank, and a red ribbon choker Yanni tied on you with too much enthusiasm. You didn’t go all-out like them, but you’re here. You showed up. That’s saying something.

Yanni loops her arm through yours and yells, “I swear to God, if I don’t end up in a cage by midnight, I’m suing.”

“They have cages, Yanni,” you say, scandalized. “That’s not normal.”

“I’m not normal,” she grins.

“That’s not comforting!”

You’re halfway toward the drink table when a blur of movement passes you — a guy in a leather jacket, dark hair, jaw like a hate crime. You don’t get a good look, just the impression of tattoos, combat boots, and a casual arrogance like he’s got the party rigged in his favor.

You turn back to the drinks.

Jenna, meanwhile, is adjusting her halo in her phone’s camera. “Okay, I’m thinking I make out with someone with wings. That’s my only rule.”

“Are they required to earn them first?” you ask.

“No, they just have to not be annoying.”

“So… no one here, basically,” you deadpan.

Yanni dumps some suspicious jungle juice into a cup and hands it to you. “Drink. Or at least pretend to. You’re giving off ‘I’m only here for field research’ energy.”

You take a sip and grimace. “This tastes like Hawaiian Punch and college debt.”

“Exactly,” Jenna says. “We’re setting the tone.”

You pass by a hallway draped in red curtains — probably where the Seven Minutes game is happening. Someone stumbles out with smeared lipstick and a dazed smile.

“Oh my god,” you say. “This is summer camp. This is hot, humid, horny summer camp.”

Yanni beams. “A dream come true.”

You’re halfway across the room when you bump into someone — solid chest, sharp elbows. You step back, muttering, “Sorry,” but the guy’s already moving, weaving through the crowd like he’s done it a thousand times.

Again, you don’t get a good look.

Again, you feel that flicker — like something important just brushed past you.

“Who was that?” you ask, mostly to yourself.

Jenna squints after him. “I don’t know. Pretty sure he walked out of a Calvin Klein ad though.”

You shake it off.

This night is too much already — too loud, too crowded, too… Jungkook-shaped. And you’re not here for that. You’re here to survive, observe, and possibly rescue your friends from questionable decisions.

So far, you’re one-for-three.

Yanni grabs your arm. “Okay. I’ve spotted three girls from my art class, two guys I ghosted, and a literal priest costume. Where are the drinks that don’t taste like regret?”

“There are none,” you say. “We are the drinks that taste like regret.”

Jenna raises her cup like a toast. “To sinning responsibly.”

“To surviving this chaos,” you mutter, sipping again.

And across the room, under strobing lights and smoke machine haze, Jungkook leans against the wall near the DJ booth, scanning the crowd.

His eyes flick right past you.

Just a blur of black mesh, red ribbon, and glittering annoyance.

He doesn’t even register it.

But something in him shifts — like he knows he’s missing something. Or someone.

He adjusts the cuff of his sleeve, lifts his drink, and watches the crowd move like waves around him.

You’re both here.

You’re both waiting.

You just don’t know it yet.

Jungkook leans against the wall like he’s not trying.

He isn’t.

He’s dressed in all black — ripped jeans, oversized button-down left open over a tank, silver chains catching just enough light to look intentional. His boots are scuffed from the bike ride over, and he hasn't even bothered to fix the strands of hair falling into his eyes.

Still, people look.

People always look.

The Pit is packed. The lights strobe like they’re malfunctioning, bodies moving in all directions, glitter and sweat and wings everywhere. The blacklight catches on teeth, neon paint, the rims of Solo cups. Music throbs like a second heartbeat, drowning out anything that sounds like common sense.

Jungkook watches it all unfold with the calm detachment of someone who’s done this a hundred times.

Which, to be fair, he has.

“Cages,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Really.”

Taehyung reappears at his side, holding two drinks and no sense of subtlety. “You say that like you’re not impressed.”

“I’m not not impressed,” Jungkook says, eyeing a girl in LED horns who’s currently being hoisted into one of the hanging cages by two frat boys in priest collars. “I’m just wondering if this place passed fire code.”

Jimin sidles up on the other side, chewing gum like a menace. “God, I love when everyone’s desperate and underdressed. The vibe tonight is filthy.”

“It’s not a vibe,” Jungkook says, deadpan. “It’s a liability.”

“You’re just mad because you haven’t been recognized by someone hot yet.”

“I literally got here three minutes ago.”

“That’s three whole minutes too long, lover boy.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling faintly.

He scans the room again, letting the visuals wash over him: angel wings, devil horns, fake blood, fake rosaries, someone with a real sword (???), a couple making out aggressively near the “Confess Here” booth. Typical Pit energy, just turned up to eleven.

His gaze passes over a trio near the drink table — glitter, halos, fishnets — then slides away again, uninterested.

Then—

No. He pauses.

Barely.

There’s a girl in black mesh, red ribbon tight around her throat. Not the type trying to be seen. Not the type posing or pouting or clinging to someone’s arm. Just… there. Head tilted. Brows drawn. Like she’s trying to make sense of the chaos.

She’s not looking at him.

He doesn’t know why he notices.

Something about the way she holds herself — casual, a little stiff. Like she showed up for the party but didn’t want to. Like she’s in it, but not of it. It’s a detail, but he’s always been good at catching those.

He’s pretty sure he’s seen her before. Class maybe? One of the early ones, back when he still showed up?

He narrows his eyes. Something tickles the back of his mind — a row of seats, a laptop screen, a girl who never once looked his way even when he was late and loud and trying not to be noticed by a professor.

He’d filed it away as nothing.

And maybe it still is.

He watches her for one more second — how she crinkles her nose at the drink in her hand, how her friend with the silver cross top yells something and throws her head back laughing.

Then someone claps a hand on his shoulder, and the moment breaks.

“Hyung,” a guy shouts over the music — some junior he’s barely talked to — “the Seven Minutes room is right there. You better hope someone sins you into the closet.”

“I’m good,” Jungkook says without missing a beat.

“You sure?” the guy winks. “Heard even the quiet girls are wild tonight.”

Taehyung lets out an ungodly laugh.

Jimin fans himself. “God, I love this place.”

Jungkook exhales slowly and glances back toward the girl in the mesh top, the one he maybe-kinda remembers from Media Studies.

She’s walking away now, swallowed by bodies and wings and fog machine haze.

And just like that, she’s gone again

SINS & SAINTS

10:47 PM — The Pit

You’re halfway through your second regrettable drink — something red and radioactive that tastes like melted cherry Jolly Ranchers and lies — when you realize:

Jenna is gone.

Not lost in the crowd gone. Not hooked up with some guy in a halo gone. Like, vanished.

You scan the sea of limbs and glitter, the swirling blacklights and wall-to-wall bass drops.

No halo. No white silk dress. No Doc Martens stomping some poor frat guy’s foot for getting handsy.

“Wait,” you say, turning to Yanni. “Where’s Jenna?”

Yanni’s still dancing, holding her drink above her head and vibing to something bass-heavy. She doesn’t hear you.

You poke her side. “Yanni. Where. Is. Jenna.”

She freezes, eyes scanning the room with the same dawning horror you’re feeling.

“Oh my god,” she says, gripping your arm. “She was just here.”

“She was literally next to us two minutes ago.”

“She does this sometimes,” Yanni says, frowning. “Remember Halloween? She disappeared for an hour and came back with a matching tattoo with a guy named Car Battery.”

“That was ONE time,” you groan. “And she still won’t tell us where the tattoo is.”

Yanni downs the rest of her drink like it’s going to give her psychic powers. “Okay, we split up. You check the front half, near the drinks. I’ll do a lap by the DJ booth. Scream if she’s in a cage.”

“Or if you end up in one,” you mutter.

She kisses your cheek and takes off, glitter trailing in her wake.

You push through the crowd, slipping past a group of devils grinding to a slowed-down Britney remix, dodging a couple who are definitely fighting and definitely still holding hands.

You pause near the drink station again, heart thumping a little harder than it should.

Still no Jenna.

Just more suspicious liquids in plastic cups and a guy pouring straight vodka into a Capri Sun.

Then—

“Y/N!”

You whip around just as Yanni reappears, hair a little more disheveled, glitter smudged under one eye like war paint.

“I found her,” she pants, grabbing your hand. “You’re not gonna believe where she is.”

“Dead in a bathtub?”

“No.”

“In a cage?”

“Worse.”

“Yanni—”

“She’s at the Seven Minutes in Heaven room.”

You blink. “You’re lying.”

“I swear on my third ex’s face tattoo.”

You let her drag you toward the back hallway — the one that’s been curtained off with red velvet and glowing like Satan’s waiting room. A line snakes down the corridor, people laughing and hollering and shoving toward a closet door guarded by two dudes in fake pope robes.

You round the corner and — yup. There’s Jenna.

Sitting on a stool like royalty, halo tilted sideways, red Solo cup in hand, absolutely thriving.

She’s laughing, clapping, cheering as two strangers stumble out of the closet, sweaty and flushed and looking either victorious or traumatized. Probably both.

You stop in your tracks. “She’s a ringmaster.”

“She’s drunk on power,” Yanni adds, mouth open.

Jenna spots you both and waves like you’re long-lost war heroes.

“MY GIRLS!!” she yells. “You made it!!”

“You left us,” you shoot back.

She shrugs like that’s a problem for another timeline. “I was recruited.”

“What does that even mean?”

“They needed a hostess! I’m very charming!”

Yanni sighs. “This is how cults start.”

Before you can pry her off the stool, someone shouts, “NEXT UP!” and the line shoves forward. A girl pulls her own roommate in by the arm, both of them shrieking as the door slams shut behind them.

You look at Jenna. “This is out of control. We’re leaving.”

“Not until you try it!”

“Absolutely not.”

Yanni laughs. “Let’s just grab her and go—”

But the line moves again, someone shoves forward, and suddenly—

Everything goes wrong at once.

Hands. Shouting. Laughter. Some guy yells, “MAKE ROOM!”

You’re trying to yank Jenna off her unofficial throne, still yelling about how this is not how a party should go, when chaos breaks loose.

Someone shoves the line. A drink spills. People are yelling. The couple in front of the closet stumbles out like they’ve just done three laps around a football field.

You try to back away — but too late.

Hands shove you forward. “Next up!”

Yanni screams, “Wait, she’s not playing!”

“I’m not playing!” you yell, too.

Doesn’t matter. The crowd’s already decided.

The closet door swings open.

You get pushed inside — completely alone.

Click.

The door slams shut behind you. Darkness swallows everything.

You stumble, trip over a shoe or someone’s forgotten dignity, and land against the back wall, trying to breathe.

“Oh my god,” you mutter. “Oh my god. I’m gonna die in here. This is it. I’m gonna be found in a party closet.”

You fumble toward the doorknob, already plotting your escape—

And then the door opens again.

A warm body stumbles in, tall and solid and smelling unfairly good — like cedarwood, clean laundry, and a bad idea.

The door slams shut again.

Across the party, Jungkook is just trying to find a bathroom that doesn’t reek of four Loko and sin.

He’s halfway through a hallway that looks suspiciously off-limits when someone calls his name.

“Jeon Jungkook!”

He turns.

It’s some girl he barely knows. She’s got lipstick on her teeth and one shoe in her hand.

“Come ON,” she says, “we need more hot people for the closet game. You’ll save this party. I swear.”

He blinks. “I’m not doing that.”

“Too late!” she says, grabbing his arm with terrifying strength. “Come on, it’ll be funny! You’re hot and mysterious and your face should be illegal.”

“I’m going to sue this entire building,” Jungkook mutters, but the girl is already dragging him.

He doesn’t know why he lets her. Maybe he’s bored. Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe it’s because this party has reached new heights of ridiculous and he needs a story to make it worth the hangover.

They reach the red curtain. The line parts.

You don’t know who you hate more — Jenna for signing a blood pact with the party demons, or the crowd for shoving you into this glorified coat coffin like it’s part of the plan.

You've been in here for maybe a minute. Two tops. But time moves differently when you’re trapped in darkness, breathing the humid remains of other people’s bad decisions.

It’s cramped. It smells like body spray and spilled White Claw. The door has no handle from the inside. And you're about to start monologuing to the ceiling when—

The door opens again.

You freeze. “Wait—”

A guy stumbles in. Tall, broad-shouldered, all dressed in black with just enough chain action to suggest this person owns at least one motorcycle and zero alarm clocks.

You recognize him in an instant — because your subconscious hates you and made sure to memorize that face like it was an exam topic.

Jeon Jungkook.

He doesn’t see you at first. He’s too busy brushing off whoever just shoved him in.

“Okay, okay—Jesus. Don’t break my arm,” he mutters. Then, to the closet, “Sorry, whoever you are. I’m not here voluntarily.”

You don't say anything.

He finally glances your way.

A pause.

“…Huh.”

You cross your arms. “Not who you were expecting?”

“Not even close,” he says, like it’s a compliment and a complaint in one.

The door slams behind him. The lock clicks.

Now it’s just you. Him. Darkness. And a six-inch gap of air between you that’s slowly shrinking the longer you try not to acknowledge how small this closet actually is.

Jungkook shifts, probably trying to give you space, which is hilarious because there is none.

“Look,” you say, “I’m only in here because someone shoved me.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Cool. So neither of us is having fun.”

“Yet,” he says, too easily.

You narrow your eyes, not that he can see it. “You really think that line works on girls in closets?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “You tell me.”

You make a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Okay, no. You’re not allowed to be hot and full of shit.”

“Not full of shit,” he says. “Mildly irritating at most.”

“Mildly?”

He leans back against the wall. “Okay, moderately. Maybe.”

“Glad we agree.”

You try to shift your weight without brushing against him, which fails, because there’s nowhere to move. Your elbow bumps his arm. Your knee grazes his boot.

He lets out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, I’m putting you on a movement ban.”

“Excuse me?”

“You keep flailing around like that, I’m gonna get accused of starting something in here.”

“You are starting something. With your whole… vibe.”

He grins. “My vibe?”

“Yeah, the ‘mysterious party menace’ thing.”

“Didn’t realize that was my brand.”

“Oh, come on. You walk into every lecture like you’re arriving late to your own funeral.”

“You know me from lecture?”

Shit.

You freeze.

“I—” You recover, sort of. “I mean, yeah. You’re not exactly hard to notice. Motorcycle helmet? Black hoodie in May? The whole tortured poet aura?”

He raises an eyebrow, amused. “You’ve been paying attention.”

“No, I—shut up.”

He steps closer, just barely. His voice drops into that annoying, amused register that you suspect makes girls fall in love against their will.

“You’re flustered.”

“I’m trapped. There’s a difference.”

“Still,” he says, tone low, teasing, “you’re very talkative for someone who didn’t want to be in here.”

You suck in a breath. “I’m trying to defuse the awkward tension.”

“Well,” he says, leaning slightly closer, “you’re not doing a great job.”

You go still. “…Why?”

“Because if you don’t stop fidgeting and talking at a hundred miles an hour,” he says, voice light but just a little dangerous, “I’m gonna kiss you just to shut you up.”

Your brain whites out.

You forget how to stand.

You definitely forget how to breathe.

You make a noise that could be a laugh, or possibly a system reboot.

“…That’s rude,” you manage.

Jungkook grins. “Is it working?”

You blink at him. Slowly.

“…That’s your solution? Kissing as a silencing tactic?”

Jungkook smirks. “Efficient.”

You squint at him in the dark. “That’s assault with extra steps.”

“Only if it’s not well received.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, shoving lightly at his arm. “You’re actually worse in real life.”

He laughs, like that didn’t wound you at all. “In real life? What, you’ve imagined a better version of me somewhere else?”

You hesitate for half a second too long.

He catches it. Of course he does.

His smile shifts — not smug now, but curious. “Wait. Do I know you?”

“Nope.”

“You sure? You’re acting like you’ve had a whole character arc about me.”

“I just have good observational skills.”

“And a little crush?”

You snort. “Please. I only crush on emotionally available people.”

“Ouch.”

“You’ll live.”

“I’m not emotionally unavailable,” he says, mock offended. “I just don’t like… people.”

“That’s literally the definition.”

Jungkook moves a little closer. Not enough to touch, but enough to invade. Like someone stepping past your comfort zone just to prove they can. His voice is quiet, playful.

“Okay, but be honest — if I had kissed you, what would you have done?”

You meet his gaze in the dim light. Your heart does an actual backflip, but your mouth?

Deadpan.

“Bitten you.”

He grins, all teeth. “Kinky.”

You roll your eyes so hard you almost see god. “You are unbelievable.”

“I get that a lot.”

Another beat passes.

The party noise pulses outside. The door shakes once, like someone bumped into it. Neither of you move.

He tilts his head, watching you more carefully now. “So who are you, anyway?”

You blink. “What?”

“You know who I am. Everyone knows who I am, apparently. But I don’t know you.”

You shrug, trying to sound unfazed. “Just a girl in your class.”

“Which class?”

“I’m not telling you.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Why not?”

“Because I’ve seen how your brain works. The second you find out, you’ll start showing up late on purpose to make an entrance.”

He grins, wide and dangerous. “So you have been watching me.”

Damn it.

“That’s not—”

“Obsessed,” he says.

“Oh my god, I’m going to strangle you with one of those dumb chains on your pants.”

“They’re not dumb. They’re functional.”

“For what, exactly? Attaching yourself to reality?”

“Wow,” he says, smiling now like he’s thoroughly enjoying himself. “You’ve got jokes.”

You glance at the door. “Seven minutes better be almost up.”

“Why?” he asks, voice dipping just slightly. “You scared you’re starting to like me?”

You look back at him. “I’m scared you’re starting to like me.”

That shuts him up for half a second.

Then—

“…Touché.”

There’s a pause. You can hear your own heartbeat in the quiet.

He steps just a little closer. “Okay. Serious question.”

“Unlikely, but sure.”

“Are you always like this?”

You blink. “Like what?”

“This,” he says. “You know—snarky. Quick. Unimpressed. Kind of mean in a fun way.”

You stare at him. “Are you into being bullied?”

“I’m starting to wonder.”

The door bangs open just then, and the light hits both of your faces. You flinch at the sudden glare. Outside, someone yells, “ALRIGHT, CLOSET DWELLERS, TIMES UP!”

Jungkook doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

Finally, he leans a little closer and says under his breath, only loud enough for you to hear:

“You still didn’t tell me your name.”

You raise a brow.

“You didn’t earn it.”

He laughs, and it’s way too genuine. Like he didn’t expect this night to go like this at all — and somehow, that makes two of you.

As you duck out of the closet, brushing past him in the doorway, you hear him murmur:

“I’m gonna find out, you know.”

You throw a look over your shoulder, smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“Good luck.”

The door flings open.

Air, light, freedom.

You stumble out like someone just dragged you back from the underworld. The world is louder now, messier. Colors sharper. Sounds distorted, like everything’s underwater and also on fire.

Your heart is still pounding. Your brain? Gone. Missing. Presumed dead. Your dignity? Filing a police report.

You turn in a daze, blinking through the chaos—and find Yanni, breathless, holding a very giggly and wine-drunk Jenna by the elbow.

“THERE you are!” Yanni yells over the music. “We thought you got kidnapped by the Pit goblins!”

Jenna cackles. “I told her you were probably in the closet making out with a stranger. I WAS RIGHT.”

You blink at them.

Open your mouth.

Immediately close it again.

Yanni frowns. “Wait. Are you okay? You look like you just got hit by a really hot bus.”

You stare at her.

Then—

“I need air. I need, like, seventeen breaths of non-sweaty air. I—do you have water? I think I forgot how to swallow. I forgot—I forgot my name.”

Yanni’s eyes go wide. “Did you actually make out with someone?! Oh my god, who was it? Was he hot? Did he have a tongue ring? Was it that guy with the fake angel wings? Please tell me he had wings.”

“I—no. No wings.”

“Okay, so not a red flag. Good start.”

You grab both of them by the arms and start dragging them away from the closet, feet moving on autopilot. “We need to go. Just—somewhere. Away. Outside. Antarctica. I don’t care.”

Jenna, still loopy from the cocktail she stole from a girl dressed as the Pope, squints at you. “You’re acting weird.”

“Something happened,” you say, voice a little unhinged. “Something catastrophic.”

Yanni gasps. “Did you black out?!”

“No, worse.”

“Did you throw up on someone?!”

“WORSE.”

Yanni pulls you down onto a sagging patio couch under a string of flickering lights. The Pit’s back deck is quieter — only a handful of people out here, laughing or making out or both.

You sit between them, trying to remember how to form human sentences.

Jenna leans her head dramatically on your shoulder. “You definitely kissed someone.”

“I didn’t.”

Yanni narrows her eyes. “You wanted to.”

“I didn’t!”

They both stare at you.

You sigh. Long. Shaky.

Then you say, very quietly, like it might summon him if you say it too loud:

“I was in the closet with Jeon Jungkook.”

.

.

.

Jenna sits up so fast she elbows you in the boob.

Yanni chokes on her drink and coughs, “I’m sorry—WHAT?”

You hold up your hands, like it’ll protect you from the emotional storm about to erupt. “It was an accident! I got pushed in first, and then some drunk idiots shoved him in after me, and then the door locked and we were just there. Together. In the dark. Breathing the same air.”

Jenna is vibrating. “YOU WERE BREATHING JEON JUNGKOOK’S AIR. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY GIRLS WOULD PAY FOR THAT EXPERIENCE.”

“I didn’t ask for the experience!”

Yanni grabs your arm, shaking it. “Okay but what happened?! Tell us everything. Did you talk? Did he recognize you? Did you touch his hair? Did he touch you? Did your souls kiss?!”

You stare at her. “What the hell is a soul kiss?”

“Shut up and answer me!!”

You drag your hands down your face. “We talked. He was annoying. And hot. And annoying about being hot. He said if I didn’t stop panicking he was gonna kiss me and I think my nervous system flatlined for like ten seconds.”

Jenna screams. A real one.

Yanni grabs her cup and throws it into a bush just so she can clap. “That’s it. That’s the plot of a Netflix movie. I’m calling a casting director right now.”

“Guys, stop—”

“Did he know who you were?” Jenna asks, eyes wide.

You deflate. “No.”

Yanni freezes.

Jenna gasps like she’s watching a baby deer get hit by a truck.

“He didn’t recognize you?”

You shake your head, slumping into the couch like your spine is giving up. “Not even a little. I told him I was in his class, and he just blinked at me like I was an off-brand yogurt at the back of the fridge.”

“But—but you sit in the second row!”

“Yeah, apparently that’s not enough to pierce through the wall of apathy and leather jackets.”

Jenna is personally offended. “You’ve been thirsting over him for MONTHS.”

“Not out loud!”

“Your search history says otherwise.”

“That was ONE TIME—”

“‘Does Jeon Jungkook have a girlfriend’ is not a casual search, Y/N.”

Yanni throws an arm around your shoulder. “Okay. So. We have a situation.”

You groan. “No, we don’t. The situation is over. I will simply crawl into a hole and never speak to anyone again.”

“OR,” Yanni says, grinning, “we make him fall in love with you.”

You snort. “Hard pass.”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I! The guy barely knows what day of the week it is. He didn’t even know my name, and I was two inches from his face.”

Jenna fans herself. “God, I wish I was two inches from his face.”

Yanni is already spiraling into scheming mode. “Okay but hear me out: what if this is your origin story?”

“I don’t need an origin story. I need ice and maybe a lobotomy.”

“You’re gonna end up married to him.”

“I’m gonna end up IN A STRAITJACKET.”

They both lean in at the same time, grinning like devils.

And somewhere inside you — beneath the panic and the humiliation and the complete collapse of your self-esteem — something sparks.

A very tiny, very traitorous thought:

He doesn’t know who I am yet.

But what if he wanted to?

.

.

.

No. Absolutely not. You refuse to be delusional.

But still…

You clutch your drink with both hands and whisper to yourself like a prayer:

“…I cannot go back in that closet.”

Jungkook steps out into the warm night air, the noise of the party still thrumming behind him like a heartbeat that’s had too much sugar and zero regard for consequences.

He barely gets two steps out the door before he sees movement near the gate — a blur of color, of bare shoulders and tangled hair and wild, frantic energy.

Her.

The girl from the closet.

She’s running.

Well, not running — but walking very quickly in a way that screams “I just made a horrible decision and I’m trying to disappear into the night like it never happened.”

He watches as she yanks her friends down the sidewalk, arms waving, words too far away to make out. One of them glances back at the house, laughing. The other throws her arm around the girl’s shoulder like she’s trying to keep her from disintegrating.

Jungkook can’t hear them. Can’t read their lips.

But he doesn’t need to.

He’s seen that look before.

People don’t leave parties like that unless something got to them.

And apparently… that something was him.

He watches them disappear around the corner. The wind shifts, warm and sweet and heavy with the scent of grass and spilled vodka.

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, the edges of his mouth tugging up, involuntarily.

He doesn’t smile a lot.

But right now?

He’s grinning.

11:18 PM — Inside, Kitchen

He finds Jimin first, leaning against the fridge, sipping from a red cup with glitter smeared across one cheek like someone tried to make out with a rave.

Jungkook walks up, casual as hell. “Hey.”

Jimin lifts a brow. “You’re still vertical. Closet girl didn’t kill you?”

Jungkook leans on the counter beside him, eyes scanning the room lazily. “Nope. She was fun.”

Jimin grins. “Define fun.”

“Annoyed. Loud. Mean. Called me out within the first two minutes.”

“So, your type.”

Jungkook gives him a lazy look. “Do you know who she was?”

Jimin blinks. “You mean you didn’t?”

“No. She said we’re in the same class, but…” He shrugs. “I wasn’t exactly focused on academics in there.”

Jimin sips his drink, way too amused. “You’re telling me you spent seven minutes pressed up against someone and didn’t bother to ask her name?”

“I didn’t get her name. She wouldn’t give it to me.”

Jimin whistles. “Damn. Girl’s got boundaries.”

Jungkook turns his full attention to him now. “So… do you know her?”

Jimin smiles. Slow. Evil.

“Maybe.”

Jungkook straightens. “What.”

“I mean, I’ve seen her around. Could be anyone.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s an answer adjacent.”

“Jimin.”

Jimin just grins wider, like this is his favorite hobby. “Why? You wanna see her again?”

“No.” Jungkook’s voice is too quick, too defensive. Then: “I just—she seemed familiar.”

“Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Before Jungkook can retaliate, Taehyung appears, wearing someone else’s sunglasses and holding a plate of mini cupcakes he absolutely did not make.

Jungkook turns to him like salvation. “Tae. Please tell me you know who the girl in the closet was.”

Taehyung pauses, cupcake halfway to his mouth.

Then, slowly, he lowers it and says: “Ohhhh. You mean the girl with the smart mouth and trust issues?”

“Yes!”

“Yup. Definitely know her.”

“Who is she?!”

Taehyung smiles with all his teeth. “Can’t say.”

Jungkook stares at him.

“What do you mean you can’t say?”

“Non-disclosure agreement.”

“That’s not a real thing!”

“It is now.”

Jungkook throws his hands in the air. “Are you both insane?”

“Yes,” Jimin says, grinning.

“We’re protecting the plot,” Taehyung adds solemnly.

Jungkook blinks. “What plot?”

“The enemies-to-lovers one,” Jimin says, sipping his drink. “You’re in the first act. Don’t be weird about it.”

“I’m not—!” Jungkook cuts himself off, pinches the bridge of his nose, then mutters, “You guys are the worst.”

“You’re welcome,” Taehyung says cheerfully.

Jungkook turns, heading for the living room, but Jimin calls after him:

“You really gonna let a girl roast you in a closet and disappear without finding out her name?”

Jungkook doesn’t stop walking.

But he does smirk.

“Of course not.”

11:42 PM — Later, Upstairs Hallway

Jungkook leans against the wall, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. But his head isn’t in it.

He’s thinking about the sound of her voice. The way she said, “You didn’t earn it.” The way she pushed past him and didn’t look back.

He still doesn’t know her name.

But he’s starting to think he needs to.

Desperately.

You’re early. Not obnoxiously so, but early enough to get your usual seat — second row, slightly to the left. Close enough to focus, far enough to keep your laptop screen hidden when you’re secretly Googling niche references during class.

You’re wearing jeans and a loose t-shirt. Nothing fancy. Hair pulled back. Glasses on. A normal girl living a normal life, unbothered and deeply uninterested in emotionally reckless men with perfect jawlines and leather jackets. You are zen. You are healed.

...You are lying to yourself.

Your leg has been bouncing under the desk for a solid five minutes. You haven’t even opened your laptop. You’re just staring at the professor’s slides like they personally betrayed you.

And then—

The door opens.

You hear it before you see it. That faint creak of poorly oiled hinges and the collective inhale of every girl in the room.

You don’t turn around.

You don’t have to.

You know it’s him.

Because everyone in a ten-foot radius straightens like they’re about to be graded on posture. There’s a flutter of lip gloss applications. Someone actually whispers his name.

You pretend to be deeply focused on the “Media Ethics and Digital Responsibility” slide.

Jeon Jungkook walks in. On time.

The professor blinks like he’s hallucinating. “Huh. Welcome, Mr. Jeon. Look at you.”

Jungkook just nods, loose and casual, but you can feel it.

He’s different today.

He doesn’t do his usual routine — no airpods, no gum chewing, no half-lidded stroll like he’s walking into a photoshoot instead of a lecture.

No, this time… he’s scanning.

Not in a weird way. Just—calculated. Eyes moving across each row like he’s checking a list in his head. Looking for something. Someone.

Your stomach tightens.

And then—

His gaze glides right past you.

Doesn’t pause. Doesn’t flicker. Nothing.

He slides into a seat a few rows back, drops his bag, and leans back like he didn’t just steamroll your entire emotional ecosystem last night.

You blink at your screen.

Wow.

Okay.

Coolcoolcoolcoolcool.

So he just… forgot you existed? Already?

You tell yourself it’s a good thing. That you’re off the hook. But still—

Your phone vibrates in your lap.

Then again. And again.

You glance down.

YANNI [9:57AM] FIND US AFTER CLASS

JENNA [9:57AM] LIKE IMMEDIATELY

YANNI [9:58AM] BIG. SHIT. IS. HAPPENING.

YANNI [9:58AM] HUGE.

JENNA [9:58AM] YOU MIGHT BE FAMOUS

You: 🙃

11:07AM — Campus Library, Third Floor (aka Gossip HQ)

You find them between the graphic novel section and the fake potted plant that hides the worst Wi-Fi signal on campus.

Yanni is pacing. Jenna is sitting on the floor with a laptop open, half a croissant in her mouth and murder in her eyes.

“FINALLY,” Yanni breathes, grabbing your wrist and yanking you down beside her.

“What is happening?” you whisper. “Did someone die?”

“YOU might,” Jenna says around a bite. “From cardiac arrest.”

You blink. “Why?”

Yanni flips her phone around.

It’s an Instagram story. Jungkook’s account. You recognize the handle from your extremely short-lived stalking phase.

The video is short. A dim hallway, flashing lights, the thump of party music in the background.

Text overlaid:

"7 minutes wasn’t long enough. If you know who she is… tell her." 👀🖤

Your heart stops.

You stare at the screen like it might explode.

“Wha—”

“He’s looking for you,” Yanni whispers, eyes wild.

“He’s trying to CROWD-SOURCE you,” Jenna adds. “LIKE A MISSING PERSON.”

You genuinely don’t know what to do with your hands. “I—I don’t even have Instagram. I didn’t see this.”

“Well, now the entire internet has,” Yanni says, scrolling through dozens of replies and reshared stories. “People are putting up theories. One girl swears it was her and her friends are backing her up.”

You feel a little sick.

“I—he doesn’t even remember me.”

“He does now.”

Before you can spiral further, a voice cuts through the quiet.

“Aha. Found you.”

You whip around.

Taehyung and Jimin are approaching, looking like they just stepped out of a K-drama fight scene. Jimin is in an oversized hoodie and glasses, sipping from a matcha latte. Taehyung is holding a leather-bound journal like it’s a prop.

“Oh my god,” Yanni whispers, straightening like she’s about to present a thesis.

Jimin nods at you. “Closet girl.”

Taehyung gasps. “I knew it!”

You slap both hands over your face. “I am going to dissolve into the carpet.”

Jimin flops down next to you. “You’re literally a phenomenon.”

“I don’t want to be a phenomenon! I want to be anonymous.”

“Too late,” Taehyung sing-songs. “He’s obsessed.”

“He’s not—”

Jimin cuts you off. “He made us look through the security footage of the Pit to try and find you.”

You blink. “There’s security footage?!”

“That’s not the point.”

Yanni claps like she’s been waiting for this all her life. “Okay, okay, okay. NEW PLAN.”

Jenna nods. “Mission: Keep Her Hidden.”

You snap your head to look at him. “Wait, what—?”

“We cannot let him find you too easily. The mystery is part of the power.” Yanni explained, a smile that was a little too enthusiastic spreading across her face.

“She’s right.” Jimin chimed in.

You blink between them all, a growing sense of terror blooming in your chest.

“I feel like I’m in a YA novel.”

Taehyung beams. “You are. And it’s about to get so much worse.”

If Jungkook knew his Instagram story would cause an actual phenomenon, he would’ve thrown his phone in the nearest sewer.

He’s seated on the edge of the fountain, legs stretched out, black boots dusted with dry grass. Sunglasses perched on his head, arms crossed, regret pouring off of him in waves.

There is a line.

A real, breathing, giggling line of girls waiting to speak to him.

“I swear,” the third one in a row says, flipping her hair, “it was me. I had this red tank top on—”

“You weren’t wearing red,” Jungkook says flatly, not even looking up.

She blinks. “You remember that?”

He sighs. “Unfortunately.”

She pouts, tosses her hair again, and walks off.

The next girl steps forward with more confidence than he’s emotionally prepared to deal with.

“Hey,” she says, batting her lashes. “So, I was totally gonna come up to you last night, but I got pulled into beer pong, and—”

“Not you either,” he says, already tired.

Behind him, Jimin is sprawled on the grass like a cat in the sun, sipping iced coffee and watching the chaos like it’s live theater.

“I don’t know, man,” he says. “Closet Girl’s starting to sound like a fever dream.”

“She was real,” Jungkook mutters.

Taehyung, perched dramatically on the fountain’s edge, hums. “This feels like a modern fairy tale. Only instead of a glass slipper, she left behind unresolved sexual tension and a mild existential crisis.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond. Just drags a hand down his face.

“You know,” Jimin adds, “you could just let her go. Move on. Forget it happened.”

Jungkook stares at him like he’s just suggested licking a subway pole.

“I mean it,” Jimin continues. “Is this really worth it?”

Jungkook leans back, letting the sun hit his face.

And after a pause, he says:

“…She was funny.”

Taehyung blinks. “Funny?”

“She was… sharp. Gave me shit. Told me I didn’t earn the right to flirt with her.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. It was just… real.”

Jimin and Taehyung exchange a look.

But before either can respond—

“Hey, Jeon.”

They all glance up.

A girl in a glittery top and too-high heels struts up like she’s approaching a casting call.

“I was wearing angel wings last night,” she purrs.

“Congratulations,” Jungkook says dryly.

“I think I’m the girl you’re looking for.”

“You’re not.”

“How would you know?”

Jungkook blinks slowly. “Because I just would.”

She scoffs and storms off, muttering something about him not being that hot anyway.

Jimin snorts. “The delusion is wild today.”

Taehyung raises his brows. “You know, you did make her a mystery. People love a good mystery.”

“I hate this mystery,” Jungkook mutters.

And then—

Taehyung straightens suddenly.

“Oh,” he says, too casually. “There she goes.”

Jungkook’s eyes snap up.

“What?!”

“She’s walking past,” Jimin adds, barely containing his grin.

Jungkook jumps to his feet, scanning the path just ahead of them.

He sees a group of students. A couple laughing. A guy with a skateboard. A girl in a floral skirt. Another in an oversized sweater.

But no one familiar.

No her.

“Where?” he demands, turning back to them.

Taehyung just shrugs, biting back a smile. “Hm. Maybe she slipped away again.”

Jimin’s grinning like the devil. “So mysterious.”

Jungkook stares at them.

And then slowly, slowly, sits back down, glaring at nothing.

“I hate you both.”

“You’re welcome,” Jimin says cheerfully.

Meanwhile — You, Just 20 Feet Away

You’re clutching a smoothie and telling Jenna that you swear to God if Yanni says the words “power move” one more time, you’re going to commit a crime.

You do not see Jungkook.

You do not see the crowd of girls.

You do not see your entire romantic fate spiraling out in a perfect storm of timing, ego, and extremely bad luck.

But you do hear Yanni’s voice crackling through your group chat ten seconds later:

YANNI [12:43PM] HE’S OUTSIDE RN. WALKING DISTANCE. I REPEAT: JEON JUNGKOOK IS WITHIN WALKING DISTANCE.

You pause. Look up.

“…The universe is playing games with me,” you mutter.

Jenna just takes your smoothie and sips like it’s none of her business. “Welcome to Act Two.”

Three Days Later – 12:19PM Campus Lawn, under the shade of an old oak tree

Yanni is dramatically slicing into her overpriced salad like it’s personally offended her.

“I swear to God,” she says, spearing a piece of lettuce, “if she doesn’t just tell him soon, I’m going to combust.”

“She doesn’t even want him to know!” Jenna laughs, peeling the wrapper off her sandwich. “She’s surviving off vibes and secondhand embarrassment.”

Across from them, lounging on the grass, Jimin snorts into his iced chai. “Honestly, mood.”

Taehyung is lying flat on his back, sunglasses on, using Jimin’s thigh as a pillow and holding his phone above his face like it’s too exhausting to lift it further.

“It’s better this way,” he hums. “Mystery. Intrigue. Emotional damage.”

Yanni points at him with her fork. “See? That’s the energy we’re all riding on.”

“I don’t know how she hasn’t just imploded,” Jenna says, sipping her drink. “She had a panic attack in the psych building bathroom yesterday because someone said Jungkook's name too loud.”

Taehyung laughs. “That could’ve been anyone.”

“No,” Yanni corrects. “She knew exactly how he said it. Deep voice. Tiny rasp. A little pouty. ‘Jungkook.’” She mimics it, exaggerated and ridiculous.

Jimin wheezes.

Taehyung props himself up on one elbow, turning to the girls with mock-serious eyes. “You guys are evil.”

“Thank you,” Yanni says, deadpan.

And then—

“You’re evil,” comes a familiar, slightly exasperated voice behind them.

All four turn.

Jeon Jungkook walks up, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, black jeans, silver chain catching the sunlight.

He looks… tired.

Not in a tragic way. More like haunted by the choices that led him to this exact moment.

Taehyung lifts two fingers in a lazy peace sign. “Ah. The lover boy returns.”

Jimin just grins like Christmas came early. “How’s your army of imposters?”

Jungkook drops onto the grass with a groan. “Still growing. I got ambushed by three more girls outside the business building this morning.”

“Business building girls,” Jimin mutters. “That’s a bold demographic.”

“She said she left her earring in the closet with me,” Jungkook says, running a hand through his hair. “She was wearing cat ears.”

“Oh no,” Jenna whispers behind a laugh.

Yanni coughs into her drink.

Jungkook narrows his eyes at them. “Do I know you two?”

“Nope,” Yanni says, biting into a cherry tomato. “Just enjoying the show.”

Jenna shrugs, fighting a grin. “Free entertainment.”

Taehyung watches them both like he’s just realized something.

Jungkook leans back on his palms, legs stretched out, expression a mix of exhaustion and suspicion. “You guys ever regret making me post that?”

Jimin doesn’t even blink. “Nope.”

“I knew this would happen,” Jungkook mutters.

“You didn’t know people would create full conspiracy boards,” Taehyung points out. “Someone literally mapped out Closet Girl’s shoe print from the party photo.”

“Don’t forget the girl who recreated the closet,” Jimin adds. “Like. Bought a closet. Filmed a fake interaction.”

“God,” Jungkook groans, scrubbing his face. “I’m an idiot.”

He exhales through his nose, still half-distracted, when—

“Well, it’s even funnier,” Jenna says, not quite under her breath, “because she doesn’t even have socials.”

Yanni chokes on her soda.

Jimin and Taehyung both freeze mid-laugh.

And Jungkook— Whips his head around so fast it’s a miracle he doesn’t get whiplash.

“Wait.”

Yanni slaps Jenna’s arm.

Jungkook’s eyes are wide. “You—” He points between them. “You know her?!”

Jenna blinks. “Who?”

“Closet Girl,” Jungkook says, sharp now, sitting up straighter. “You just said she doesn’t have socials—how would you know that?”

Yanni lifts her cup to her mouth, speaking through her straw. “Could’ve been anyone.”

“But it’s not,” Jungkook says, eyes narrowing. “You know who it is.”

He looks at Taehyung and Jimin like they’ve personally betrayed him. “You said you didn’t know!”

Taehyung holds up his hands, unbothered. “We didn’t say that.”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, already laughing. “We just didn’t say anything helpful.”

Jungkook glares. “You assholes.”

Yanni leans in, chin resting on her hand, absolutely loving this. “Why do you want to find her so bad?”

Jungkook hesitates. Just for a beat.

And then, quieter than expected, he says:

“…Because I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Taehyung blinks.

Jimin’s mouth parts a little.

Yanni and Jenna exchange a look.

“That was almost sweet,” Jenna says.

“Almost,” Yanni echoes.

Jungkook looks at them like he’s debating a crime. “Please. Just give me one clue.”

Jimin just smiles, stretching out on the grass again. “Mmm. No.”

“Not even her name?” Jungkook tries.

Taehyung grins. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Jungkook scrubs his hands over his face. “You people are evil.”

Yanni smiles sweetly. “We’ve been over this.”

After another beat of sulking, he finally stands, brushing his hands off on his jeans.

“You’re all the worst.”

“We know,” Jimin says, cheerful as ever.

Jungkook sighs, starts walking away— And turns back around.

“If she ever asks about me—”

“She won’t,” Yanni says.

“Okay, if she does,” he presses, “can you just tell her I’m not as annoying as I seem?”

“No promises,” Jenna says.

He groans again and walks off, muttering something under his breath.

The moment he’s out of earshot, the group erupts.

“THAT,” Jimin says, sitting upright, “WAS TOO CLOSE.”

Yanni fans herself. “I panicked, okay?! I didn’t mean to say it—he just appeared.”

“You almost ruined the whole thing!” Taehyung says gleefully. “But also… he’s losing his mind.”

“And she has no idea,” Jenna adds, grinning.

Jimin leans back with a content sigh. “This is better than television.”

Same Day — 4:42 PM Campus Library — Second Floor

The study area is quieter than usual, with just the occasional cough, a rogue phone vibration, or someone smacking their space bar like it owes them money.

You, Yanni, and Jenna are huddled around your usual table — highlighters scattered, tabs open, coffees half-melted. It’s productive chaos. Or it was, until Jenna froze mid-sentence.

“...Don’t look now,” she says, voice already breathless with suppressed panic, “but Jungkook and his friends just walked in.”

Your soul immediately ejects from your body.

“WHERE—”

“Don’t look,” Yanni hisses, stabbing her pen in warning. “You’ll give us away.”

You stare down at your laptop like you’re trying to astral project into it.

Footsteps shuffle closer, closer—

And then.

They sit at the table directly behind you.

Your chair is now back-to-back with Jungkook’s. There is a shared inch of air between you. You can feel the heat off his stupid, beautiful, back-in-black hoodie.

Jenna mouths OH MY GOD. Yanni is gripping her iced latte like she’s about to squeeze it into mist.

Across from Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung sit — and the moment they spot Yanni and Jenna?

They grin. Smug. Pleased. Silent little devils. Not a word — not a wave — just the occasional flicker of laughter and shared glances while you sit there about to spontaneously combust.

“I swear to god,” Jungkook says behind you, low and miserable, “if one more girl corners me between classes and asks if I like strawberry lip gloss, I’m dropping out.”

“She had a presentation,” Jimin offers. “She brought visual aids.”

“She brought a poster board,” Jungkook groans. “With a QR code to her TikTok.”

“Impressive,” Taehyung hums.

Jungkook thumps his head gently on the table. “I just wanted to meet her. One girl. Now I can’t go to class without hearing someone yell ‘closet king’ at me.”

Yanni chokes into her drink.

You’re doing breathing exercises you learned in a freshman wellness seminar. They are not working.

“I hate all of you,” Jungkook mutters. “You said you’d help.”

“I did help,” Jimin says, like it’s obvious.

“You gave me nothing.”

“False,” Taehyung says, adjusting his sunglasses indoors like a menace. “We gave you... ✨context✨.”

Jungkook scoffs. “No. You gave me trauma.”

There’s a pause. Then, Jimin goes, “Fine. Want another clue?”

You tense so hard your back pops.

Jenna grabs your thigh under the table. Yanni is vibrating. Everyone is vibrating.

“Yes. Something real this time.”

“...She has elbows.”

There’s a pause.

A very long one.

“She has what?” Jungkook asks, flat.

“Elbows,” Taehyung says innocently.

You almost die.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook says slowly, like he's speaking to a small child, “everyone has elbows.”

“Exactly,” Taehyung nods. “She fits right in.”

Jimin is snorting into his hoodie sleeve.

You, meanwhile, are clamping your hand over your mouth to keep from screaming.

“Is this a joke to you?” Jungkook asks, exasperated. “Do you want me to suffer?”

“I’m not lying,” Taehyung says, clearly delighted. “She definitely had elbows. Two, even.”

“Wow,” Jungkook deadpans. “A girl with two elbows. I’ll just walk around campus asking people to show me their joints.”

Jimin shrugs. “Could work.”

Your hand is cramping from clutching your pencil so tightly. Yanni is in physical pain from holding in her laughter. Jenna scribbles onto her piece of paper, turning it to you.

THEY SAID ELBOWS. I’M LOSING IT.

Jungkook groans behind you, slumping so hard in his chair you feel it through the back of yours. “I’m going insane. I’m actually insane. This is what insanity feels like.”

“And yet,” Taehyung says, completely deadpan, “she walks among us.”

Jimin sips his drink with a smirk. “Right under your nose.”

Behind your screen, you scream silently. Jenna writes out another message:

RIGHT UNDER HIS NOSE. THEY’RE DOING THIS ON PURPOSE.

You’re certain of two things:

You will never emotionally recover from this.

Jungkook is going to need a therapist when he finally figures it out.

And the worst part?

He doesn’t even turn around.

Not once. He gets up after ten minutes, mumbles something about “going to get gum,” and walks off—shoulders tense, head down, frustration rolling off him in waves.

The second he’s gone, your table explodes.

“I CAN’T,” Jenna whispers, doubled over.

“ELBOWS?!” Yanni wheezes. “HE’S GOING TO BE HAUNTED BY ELBOWS NOW.”

You drop your face into your arms. “If he finds out it was me, I’m changing schools.”

Jenna wipes a tear from her eye. “You’ll be a myth. A cryptid. A legend with joints.”

Taehyung and Jimin? Still sitting there. Still smirking. Still saying nothing.

Later That Night, Jungkook’s Dorm

“I’m not giving up,” Jungkook mutters, scrolling through his DMs.

“What are you even looking for?” Jimin asks from the other bed.

“Someone with elbows,” Jungkook mutters.

There’s a beat of silence. Then—

From the outside, it’s an old fashioned, grey building with a large door and ugly, yellow patterns around it. An abominable idea by whichever architect affirmed the original draft.

The street is rather quiet, accordingly, surrounded by the two buildings you’re standing between; above the doctor’s office, there are apartments. Open windows let a scented breeze into the open, spreading in all directions — towards you, too.

It must be some garlicky recipe, you assume. You like garlic. He liked garlic even more, didn’t he?

You shake your head, well aware that you’re only procrastinating; that at some point, you’ll need to enter, so that the hour-long trip and all the mental preparation don’t end up redundant.

You look around. How legit is this really? Perhaps not at all. Then again, you’ve seen it work on somebody before — either that, or they put on an act you didn’t know they were capable of.

Your eyes wander to the bag you’re holding, then back to the door. And eventually, you move forwards, reaching for the handle, and enter an even quieter hallway. It’s shabbier than the outside, like some place that hasn’t been renovated since the 80s.

If this was a regular doctor’s office, you reckon their patients would bolt, seeking help elsewhere. But considering that this is the only erasure company to exist in this country, you have no other choice.

Yet, once you actually ring the bell to the medical practice and are permitted inside, you realise that one should truly never judge a book by its cover — at least the one that jumps into the eyes at first.

Because the waiting room really isn’t that bad. Still a bit outdated, sure, but nowhere you couldn’t stay for a while. And the girl behind the counter smiles at you as soon as she detects you, making up for the rest of the building that she’s forced to see every day.

Or maybe you’re just perceiving it all worse, judging it because you’re not in a good mood. No, you know you aren’t. And the people waiting around don’t help either.

You glimpse around. Some of them are staring into a near nothing, watching particles hover in the air; they’re holding onto plushies or toys, shirts or boxes filled with belongings. You dare not imagine who they might have lost to bring all that with them…

You have half a mind to turn around again, to count your blessings and recall that some people are surviving grief that you can barely fathom. That yours won’t compare to theirs.

But backing away won’t stop the hurt. If you coward your way out of this, you’ll only return to a dead silent apartment, broken by nothing but your sobs. Not laughter, not jests, not his voice.

And you can’t soak the pillow again.

No. You gulp, close in to the counter, watching the girl lay down her pen. She leans in and welcomes you with a gentle, empathetic, “Welcome to Better Tomorrow. How can I help?”

She knows exactly how. There is only one good intention for anybody to come in here, but you reckon she needs a proper reason or an analysis of your situation to actually register you in their system.

You tell her, “I uh— I want to use your selective memory erasure services. I heard about them from a… a friend.” It’s a lie; but you can’t really get into how you stumbled upon this place. You feel that you sound ridiculous as is. “I brought a few things.”

Her kind eyes dart to the bag around your shoulder, and you remove a strap from it, cramming through the contents that you can’t use yet anyway. You continue, “This should all do. I read that core memories are key.”

“Indeed! You did your research,” she responds, rolling back with her chair, a hand under her desk. She fishes a paper out of some compartment and adds, “If you could just fill out this form, please, so the doctors can get an overview of your situation.”

You thought so.

Her hands fold together after she has slided the paper towards you, and if possible at all, her eyes pour further pity onto you. You realise that it might be a job requirement: Kindness and care, aiding an upset person to feel encouraged rather than only more upset.

You heard of a couple complaints about Better Tomorrow that caused quite a ruckus and nearly had the company close a few years back. When you were still actively and happily wading through life and experiences, you learned about it for the first time, but…

It wasn’t relevant at all back then. You didn’t think it’d ever become important to you in any way, either.

She — her name tag reads Inna — then says, “So basically — you will hear about this in further detail from the doctor — but, basically, the erasure happens at your home or any private place that you can rely on to not cause absolute confusion. You need to be unsuspicious once you’re done.”