#Tattoo Jungkook | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yoon-kooks · 1 year

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seven tattoos later | jjk

🐰pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x tattooartist!reader

🐰genre: fluff, smut

🐰summary: if the hottest fuck boy in town made it a point to visit your little tattoo studio every week, how many tattoos would it take to make you fall in love with him?

🐰word count: 3.3k

🐰warnings: unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, sex on the couch, doggy, hes big and rough, lip tattoos, hickeys, lil bit of drinking, hes so annoying in this im so sorry

As you close up for the night, you look out the window and count at least four couples out for a dog walk. It’s past eight, but still warm and bright out. It’s like the sun never stops shining. Summer sucks like that.

Maybe you’d appreciate the sun a little more if you had a puppy to walk or at least a handsome guy friend to drag you outside so you aren’t just rotting away in your empty tattoo studio on a Friday night. Everyone’s apparently on vacation or getting married in Hawaii or something, so work’s been exceptionally slow this week. Fuck summer.

It’s lonely.

You might even miss Jeon Jungkook, the last person you ever expected to get along with. The first time he walked into your studio, he didn’t waste any time in hitting on you and making it painfully obvious. You were convinced he only walked in and got a tattoo that day because he thought you’d be an easy lay.

That was around two months ago.

“What do you think would look good on me?” he’d asked while scrolling through your portfolio. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to take in his good looks, imagine the carved out physique beneath that leather jacket. That’s what guys like him do. And he was far from the first male client to ask you that. He wasn't special.

“I don’t know, maybe like a bunny or a duckling?” You just said the first things that came to mind—your two favorite animals. You didn’t give a flying fuck about what design would actually look good on someone you’d just met. Your icy heart definitely doesn’t warm up to people that quickly no matter how hot they are.

“Bunnies are cute,” he said without hesitation. You swear he was staring right at the dainty bunny tattoo on your collarbone. Then he tapped the top of his left hand, the one without all the other tattoos. “I’ll take one right here.”

At the time, you didn’t think he was serious. (He was serious.)

“So, for touch-ups and stuff, it’d probably be good if I had your number, yeah?” he asked, leaning against the counter and admiring the final product on his hand. Him and his cocky ass smile. It’s annoying how hot he is. Unfair, too.

After inputting your number into his phone, you needed to make one thing very clear: “Send me a dick pic and I’ll tattoo all of your exes’ names on your forehead.”

“I promise no dick pics,” he chuckled. He must’ve taken your threat as a cute little joke. “But I would like to take you out sometime.”

For a moment, you just stared at his handsome face. Everything about him was bright and shiny. His pretty eyes, the art wrapped around his arm, that confident smile. The sun had nothing on him.

But the thing is, you knew better than to trust guys like him. They’re always saying shit they don’t mean. And you were tired of being let down by those empty words.

What would make Jeon Jungkook any different from the fuck boys who’ve burned you in the past?

You didn’t know enough about him to answer that question, but you also weren’t willing to get to know him.

It was for the best.

So after you politely declined the invitation, the boy nodded, waved farewell, and jogged out the door. At least he was decent enough to accept his fate and move right along. (He wasn’t.)

Just when you thought you’d gotten rid of him, he spun around. “See you next week for the touch-up, Y/N.”

He was still smiling like an idiot. You didn’t understand why.

“You’re not gonna need a touch-up in a week,” you shouted back as he dashed off. Fast little fucker. You doubt he heard you, but it didn’t really matter. With all those other tattoos, he already knew how touch-ups worked.

Besides, what were the odds of him showing his pretty face again after rejection? Every other client you turned down never came back. Not even for a touch-up.

You didn’t believe for a second Jeon Jungkook would be back.

A week later, he proved you wrong and waltzed right back in like you never rejected his ass. Of course he did. The week after that, he had three of your designs etched into his hand. And he just kept coming back for more, week after week.

Somewhere along the way, you learned he’s a wedding photographer, an artist like you. He’s shown you his photos a few times even after you specifically said you hate weddings. The photos were gorgeous, though. As much as weddings make you want to gag, the sweet moments he captured had the reverse effect. Somehow, you were envious of what those couples had.

You’ve also overcome the impossible task of learning to tolerate his dumb humor. It’s probably because his laugh and smile are so contagious. He won’t stop running his mouth until he sees you smile either, especially when you’re having a bad day. Your cheeks hurt whenever he’s with you.

Fast forward two months and he now has a total of seven of your tattoos. It feels weird not seeing him this week, not breathing in his woodsy cologne, not leaving your mark on his perfect skin. But you suppose that’s just what happens when the guy who’s been annoying the shit out of you suddenly goes to Hawaii. The withdrawal symptoms are kicking in.

Your world is a whole lot quieter. It’s peaceful for once. And yet, you miss that chaotic idiot.

Fuck summer. Fuck people who get married in Hawaii.

Your phone buzzes just as you finish cleaning up. Hopefully it’s someone who wants to book an appointment. (It’s not.)

When you read “jungcock,” you roll your eyes with the faintest smile—the perfect example of your clashing feelings for the boy.

jungcock🥴 [8:24PM] “Got time for me tonight?🫦”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “arent you supposed to be in hawaii rn?”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “and dont use that emoji ever again”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “I’d never choose Hawaii over you😌”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “(They called off the wedding)”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “🫦”

[8:25PM] [jungcock🥴 is now blocked]

[8:31PM] [You’ve unblocked jungcock🥴]

jungcock🥴 [8:31PM] “Is that a yes?”

Y/N🐰 [8:31PM] “i hate you a lot”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “Hear me out”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “What if😳👉👈 I brought snacks?”

Y/N🐰 [8:34PM] “fine”

You groan and shove your phone back into your pocket. Sometimes you wonder how you let this dork finesse his way into your life. Where did you go wrong?

Jungkook arrives at your studio ten minutes later with your favorite peace offerings—soju and pancakes. Ah yes, this is how he finessed his way to the top.

“Ooh snacks,” you hum as if you didn’t believe in his ability to pick something up on the way over. “What kind of pancakes did you get?”

“Your favorite, obviously,” he nods, handing you the warm box and a fork. There’s something about the way he crosses his arms, as though he’s just waiting to catch your reaction when you open it. Why does he look so fucking proud of himself?

“I never told you my favorite pancakes.” You raise a brow. The only thing you told him was your favorite pancake place. But they have like a million different options, ranging from classic (blueberry and chocolate chip) to fancy (tiramisu and that edible gold stuff). There’s no way he can magically guess your favorite pancake.

“Just open it.” He gives you his idea of a “playful shove” on the shoulders, which would’ve knocked you over with the pancakes if he hadn’t grabbed a hold of your wrist. He was definitely that annoying kid on the playground who chased around all the girls he had a crush on.

You mumble on about him being too rough as you open the box. To your surprise, it’s strawberries and whipped cream drenched in red syrup on top of a fat stack of pancakes—aka your favorite pancakes.

You look up from the mountain of strawberries and tilt your head at the boy like a confused puppy.

“I asked the waitress with the purple hair what you normally order,” he explains.

“Okay, but she doesn’t know me by name. How’d you describe me to her?”

He takes a few steps closer until you get a whiff of that woodsy cologne you missed so much. You feel the tips of his fingers trace along your collarbone. He’s not so rough anymore. In fact, the warm caress just barely grazes your skin, as if to tease your body. You’ve always lowkey looked forward to that tiny bit of warmth while working on his tattoos. Maybe he’s always been aware.

“I called you a cutie with a bunny tattoo.” His nose scrunches when he smiles this time, giving your skin one last poke. “She knew it was you when I showed her the one on my hand.”

Of course Jeon Jungkook walked into your favorite pancake place pretending to be your boyfriend. Of course he did something as embarrassing as showing off what appears to be matching tattoos. All for the sake of bringing you your favorite pancakes on an otherwise shitty summer night.

“Now she’ll think we have matching tattoos,” you say softly, shoving his chest. “How am I supposed to show my face in there ever again?”

“Hey, I don’t have a problem with the whole matching tattoos thing.” He puts his hands up to protect his chest from your wrath in case you’re feeling feisty. “I’ll just pick it up for you again.”

You’re not feeling feisty, so you give the boy a thumbs-up and bring him over to the couch in the back corner of the studio where you usually eat or take naps.

At long last, you stab a piece of pancake and strawberry and coat it in whipped cream before shoving it into your mouth. It’s delicious. “Is it mean if I say I’m glad the Hawaii wedding was canceled?”

“Because you’d be lonely without me here?” he teases.

“No, it’s because you bought me free pancakes, you simp,” you grin, handing off the fork to the simp so he too can get a taste of heaven. He passes you the soju in return even though you’re already feeling a little giggly.

“It’s not free,” he denies. “I’m supposed to be here for another tattoo, remember?”

After a tiny sip, you set the green bottle aside and grab Jungkook’s hand with both of yours. It looks so silly with all your tattoos surrounding the cute little bunny in the middle. He’s silly for letting you do that to him.

“I don’t think there’s any more room on your hand for another one,” you giggle. “Where am I gonna tattoo you next?”

You wonder how many tattoos he has under his clothes. Maybe he’s already got them all over the place. Then, eventually, his body will run out of space and you won’t be able to tattoo him anymore. That would suck. You kinda like his company.

“What about a lip tattoo?” you chirp, tapping on his lower lip with your index finger. When he doesn’t swat you away, you tug down on his lip ring to check for a hidden tattoo there. Nothing. “I have one.”

“You do?” His eyes immediately fall on your red strawberry lips. You pull down your lower one for him to see tiny black letters that read “bad girl.”

“My ex did it. I was supposed to tattoo ‘bad boy’ on his lip, but he chickened out,” you shrug. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“Wait, I thought you can’t stand matching tattoos?” He’s such a good listener. Boyfriend material.

“I didn’t have anything against them up until that point,” you hum as you play with his wavy hair. The perm is cute on him. “But that’s basically when my perspective changed.”

That’s when you lost faith in men. When you grew to hate the idea of marriage. When you started rejecting every guy who approached you, even if he was half as hot as Jeon Jungkook.

“Well fuck your ex,” he frowns. Yeah, fuck him. No, wait. Your ex isn’t the one you want to fuck right now. “You’ve convinced me. The next tattoo I’m getting is a lip tattoo.”

“Got any design ideas for what you want there?” You climb into his lap, cup his chin with one hand, and play with his lip piercings some more. You’ve never been this up close and personal with Jungkook, but you like it. You can already feel his cock hardening beneath you through your leggings.

“Your lips,” he says without hesitation. Cheesy, but you’ll take any excuse right now to close the gap between you and him.

Just like that, something clicks in your body, and your lips just find their way to his. You’re not sure how much of it is alcohol and how much is your actual feelings for the boy, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when the kiss tastes like strawberry pancakes. It’s perfect.

You throw your arms over his shoulders as he kisses back. He’s already got his hands slipped up the back of your little tank top.

Your hips start to roll against him.

“Should we close the blinds?” he asks against your lips. “Unless you like an audience.”

You glance at the window. The sun is finally going down, but of course people are still walking their dogs. Maybe they didn’t get the memo that it’s officially fucking hours, not dog walking hours.

Normally, you’d be all for closing the blinds and turning out the lights, but your ass is nice and comfy in his lap and you’d rather not change that. Plus the back of the couch should hide 90% of what’s going on.

You shed your tank top off and toss it onto the coffee table next to the unfinished pancakes. His big eyes flick to your lacy black bralette.

“Let them watch.” You press your lips into his neck and suck away like a vampire. The hickeys you’re about to leave him with will have to make do as temporary tattoos for now. You’re not gonna have time to tattoo him tonight.

“You sure you want people to see you so desperate and needy like this?” he asks as you wiggle out of your leggings. His hands immediately find your ass and give it a good squeeze.

“I’m not needy,” you whine, your naughty hand feeling how large his cock is through his joggers.

“I think you’re pretty needy, Y/N.” Two fingers slip past your thong and spread the wet lust between your legs. He has the biggest smirk on his face as your body squirms to his touch. You do everything in your power to hold back a gasp. “Do you want me to fuck you that badly?”

Yes, but you’re not going to admit it. Ever.

“No way,” you answer with confidence. He helps you out of his lap and you let him prop you up on your hands and knees so he can get a good look at your ass. “This is just my way of thanking you for the pancakes since we both know you aren’t getting that lip tattoo tonight.”

“The lip tattoo can wait.” You feel your thong drop to the couch where it belongs. Two very strong hands hold you at the waist. “You’re my number one priority tonight.”

As he fills you with his cock, you’re already melting to the heat between your legs. Your weak little arms lose all their strength. You reach for your fluffy white cloud pillow to muffle your moans and let him do all the work from behind.

The tight hold he has on you is a mix of possessiveness and all the sexual tension built up over the past two months. You wonder how many times he thought about bending you over and fucking you silly in the midst of getting a cute little frog tattoo. You’ve seen the way his lustful eyes look at you during his appointments. You’re not that oblivious.

“Nice ass tattoo, by the way.” He pinches the bit of skin with two pink butterflies. You’d always regretted that one because not everyone shares the same appreciation for it, but that tiny love pinch made it all worth it. “You and your cute little tattoos.”

He slides in and out, pounding your deepest spot, and drawing a pathetic whimper from your throat every few seconds. Doesn’t help that he has a finger or two rubbing away at your swollen little clit. That’s when you realize you’ve been missing out on amazing sex for far too long. Seven whole tattoos. That’s how long it took before you gave in.

He’s already rougher now than the playful shove that nearly knocked you over earlier. Good.

This is exactly what you need after such a boring work week.

“What would you be doing now if I were taking wedding pictures in Hawaii?” His voice is getting breathier. He’s working hard out there.

“Gagging at all the romantic shit you’d be sending me.” Even if he weren’t physically there with you, you know he’d still find a way to be annoying. He’d let you know he’s still thinking of you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you gag tonight.” You don’t have to turn around to know he’s got that dumb smirk on his face. “Maybe another time. If you’re into that.”

Your response is a soft moan into the pillow. The thought of his cock shoved down your throat isn’t as repulsive as you would’ve thought two months ago. Giving head isn’t usually your thing, but you’re open to trying it with him. You’re glad he can’t see you lick your lips.

He doesn’t slow down either, instead picking up the pace and going harder. Your fingers dig into the pillow, your whole body dripping in pleasure. It feels too good.

“Mm, Jungkook,” you pant like a poor puppy with your ass up in the air. Your little clit can’t take much more of his fingers. You’re so close.

“Thought you couldn’t stand me,” he teases as you tighten around him. He’s so annoying! During sex, too. “And now you’re about to cum for me?”

“Fuck you,” you gasp as the wave of pleasure passes through you. His fingers and cock help you ride out the high. He’s lucky he’s a sweet guy with a strong sex game. Otherwise you wouldn’t have fallen for his annoying ass.

As soon as he pulls out, he flips you onto your back, staring down at you with his cock in hand. A few extra pumps along his length is all he needs to get his release and drizzle your belly with his creamy glaze.

He climbs over you to give you a soft peck on the lips. You’ve been with a lot of fuck boys before, but you can’t remember any of them kissing you once the sex was done and over with.

This boy is different.

He lets you lie there, basking in the afterglow as he searches the studio for a clean towel. When he finally gets ahold of one, he offers a hand to help you sit up and gets you cleaned up.

“All jokes aside, I’m happy you were here tonight,” you say in a tiny voice. “Fuck Hawaii weddings.”

He chuckles in his usual adorkable way. “You should come to a wedding with me sometime—when I’m not working, of course. Maybe you won’t hate them as much as you think.”

You lean in for another kiss. There’s still a hint of pancake on his tongue, but it's even sweeter. “Sure.”

The corners of his lips curve upward in satisfaction. The annoying little shit is about to jump out. You can feel it. (The annoying little shit does not jump out.)

“Now finish your pancakes,” he smiles. For once, it’s not him looking all smug and shit. And it’s really endearing.

Somehow, he just keeps proving you wrong. In a good way.

You look at your favorite pancakes on the table and wave them off. “Nah, I’m good.” Once more, you scoot your ass onto him and press a finger to his lip. “I think I like the taste of you better.”

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook tattoo #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts fuck boy au #seven tattoos later

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keehomania · 2 months

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underground (지하) — jeon jungkook (전정국)

✧.* 18+

money was an art form, a masterpiece woven from the fibers of power, greed, and survival. it was a delicate ballet, an intricate dance where every note mattered, each step carefully orchestrated. In this world, money was not merely a means of transaction; it was the lifeblood that fueled dreams, ambitions, and the very essence of existence. without it, the colors of life dulled, the vibrant hues of possibility faded into shades of gray. yet, the privilege of earning it through moral channels was a luxury not afforded to all. for some, the paths to financial stability were darkened by the shadows of necessity and desperation, forcing them into a world where the lines between right and wrong blurred into obscurity.

you stood on the edge of that world, teetering between the stark contrasts of legality and the underground. as the night cloaked the city in its velvet embrace, the secrets of this hidden realm whispered through the streets, carried by the cool breeze. the city was a living entity, pulsing with an energy born of a thousand untold stories, where money talked and everything else listened.

the underground world was a realm of its own, hidden beneath the city's polished surface, where neon lights cast eerie glows on crumbling walls and the air was thick with the scent of sweat and adrenaline. it thrived in the forgotten spaces, the abandoned warehouses and derelict buildings, where society's outcasts gathered to find solace and spectacle in the brutal dance of fists and fury.

the boxing ring stood at the center of this world, a rough-hewn platform of blood-stained canvas surrounded by a chain-link fence. dim, flickering lights cast harsh shadows, illuminating the ring in a spectral glow. the ground was littered with the remnants of past battles—torn tape, discarded gloves, and dark stains that bore silent witness to the violence that had taken place. crowds formed a living, breathing entity around the ring, a mass of bodies pressed together in fervent anticipation. faces painted with a mix of excitement and dread peered through the gaps in the fence, eyes wide with the primal thrill of the fight. the spectators came from all walks of life—street hustlers, high-rolling gamblers, and those simply seeking an escape from the mundanity of their daily existence. the air buzzed with their collective energy, a low hum of voices rising to a fever pitch as the fighters entered the ring.

jungkook moved through that world with a confidence born of survival, his every step a testament to the power he wielded within these confines. the crowd parted for him, their eyes following his every move, a mix of reverence and fear in their gazes. he was both king and gladiator, revered for his skill and feared for his ruthlessness. in the underground arena, he was more than a fighter—he was a legend.

six years ago, the underground boxing scene was a world defined by its brutal intensity, where raw ambition clashed with the harsh realities of the ring. the air was thick with the acrid smell of sweat and adrenaline, the dim lighting casting elongated shadows over the makeshift ring. the clamor of distant fights, punctuated by the occasional grunt or shout, created a cacophony that seemed to pulse with its own rhythm.

you had ventured into the gritty realm with nothing but a fierce determination and a burning desire to carve out a place for yourself. unlike the other candidates who had come to vie for the position of jungkook’s manager, you were unpolished and inexperienced, a stark contrast to their sleek resumes and confident demeanor. the other hopefuls were draped in tailored suits, their composure reflecting years of honed skill and practiced charm. in contrast, you stood out with your unkempt hair and the nervous energy that radiated from you.

as you waited for your turn, the raucous environment seemed almost suffocating. you could hear the thud of fists against flesh and the murmur of a crowd that was both eagerly anticipating and derisively scrutinizing. namjoon, his mentor, stood at the edge of the ring, his imposing figure and critical gaze adding to the already palpable tension. his reputation was that of a seasoned fighter with a no-nonsense attitude, a man who had seen it all and demanded nothing less than excellence.

when it was finally your turn, you stepped forward, heart racing, to face namjoon. his eyes were cold, assessing, as he took in your disheveled appearance. “you’re here for the manager position?” his voice was a low rumble, laced with disbelief. “yes,” you replied, trying to steady your voice despite the tightening of your throat.

his lips curled into a scornful smile as he glanced at the other candidates, who were watching with barely concealed amusement. “you don’t look like much. do you even understand what it takes to manage someone like jungkook?” your face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation, but you met his gaze squarely. “i may not have the experience, but i’m willing to learn and work harder than anyone else here.”

his laughter was harsh and unforgiving, echoing off the walls of the dimly lit room. “hard work? this isn’t some corporate office where dedication alone gets you by. this is the underground. you need guts, strength, and the ability to handle whatever comes your way.” he turned to jungkook, who had been observing with a contemplative expression. “why are we even entertaining this?” his gaze was unwavering as he replied, “because i want to.”

namjoon’s surprise was evident, his skepticism momentarily giving way to astonishment. “you can’t be serious.” jungkook’s expression was resolute. “let’s see if she can handle the ring.”

with that, the room fell into an expectant silence. namjoon’s eyes softened slightly, a trace of reluctant respect mingling with his skepticism. “you don’t have to do this,” he said, his tone almost gentler. but you shook your head, your resolve firm despite the tears threatening to spill over. “yes, i do.”

the fight that followed was a harrowing testament to both your physical and emotional fortitude. as you climbed into the ring, the atmosphere seemed to grow thicker with tension. namjoon wasted no time, his movements swift and precise as he tested your limits. every punch he threw was a reminder of how far you still had to go, and each time you hit the mat, the sting of failure was accompanied by the disheartening laughter of the other candidates. yet, with every fall, you stood up stronger. the pain was excruciating, each bruise and scrape a reminder of the battle you were waging not just against him, but against your own self-doubt. your breaths came in ragged gasps, sweat mingling with tears as you pressed on.

in a moment of clarity, the world seemed to slow down. the pain, the exhaustion, and the criticism faded into a singular focus. you dodged a particularly powerful punch of his and retaliated with a flurry of strikes that caught him off guard. the crowd’s murmurs shifted to gasps of surprise as you landed a series of blows that drove him back. his formidable figure staggered, and with a final, decisive move, you brought him to the mat.

the arena fell silent as namjoon lay on the ground, winded and defeated. he looked up at you with a mixture of shock and grudging respect, his usual veneer of confidence cracked. you stood over him, breathless and battered, but triumphant. the realization of what you had accomplished began to sink in, and the tears you had fought to hold back now flowed freely.

jungkook stepped into the ring, his eyes alight with an emotion you hadn’t seen before. he helped his mentor to his feet, his gaze never wavering from you. “congratulations,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. “you’re hired.”

the other candidates were left stunned, their expressions a mix of disbelief and envy. you had achieved what they could not: you had proven yourself not with words, but with action and resolve. jungkook’s faith in you had been well-placed, and you had earned not just the position of manager but a bond of trust and respect that would shape the future of both your lives. from that day forward, you were more than just his manager. you became his ally, his confidante, and an integral part of his journey through the unforgiving world of underground boxing. the fight in that ring had forged a partnership that would define your path together, built on the foundation of mutual respect and unwavering determination.

the night was electric with anticipation, the arena packed to capacity. the air buzzed with a feverish energy as spectators pressed close, their eager faces illuminated by the harsh, flickering lights that barely pierced the dense haze of smoke and heat. the roars of the crowd reverberated through the space, creating a rhythmic thunder that seemed to pulse with the heartbeat of the night.

you stood ringside, eyes fixed intently on jungkook as he faced his opponent. the crowd’s fervor only heightened the tension of the match, and you could feel every beat of adrenaline as if it were your own. the opponent was a formidable figure, broad-shouldered and intimidating, his presence alone a challenge to his dominance.

the first round began with a blinding flurry of motion. jungkook moved with the fluid grace of a seasoned fighter, his every movement precise and calculated. his opponent, a hulking man with a vicious reputation, countered with brute force and aggression. the clash of fists and the thud of each impact resonated through the arena, making the ground seem to vibrate with each powerful blow.

as the round progressed, the sheer intensity of the fight left no room for hesitation or error. jungkook’s focus was evident, his eyes narrowed and unblinking as he assessed his opponent’s every move. yet, despite his skill, he wasn't impervious. the opponent managed to land a few solid hits, and his face bore the marks of the encounter: a split lip, a bruise forming along his jawline. the bell rang, signaling the end of the round, and the roar of the crowd surged with a mix of excitement and apprehension. you were quick to spring into action, your heart pounding as you rushed to jungkook’s corner. the moment he was within reach, you grabbed the damp towel and began to clean him up, your hands moving with practiced efficiency.

“jungkook,” you said, your voice firm but steady as you dabbed away the sweat and blood from his face. “listen to me. you’re doing great, but you need to focus. he’s strong, but he’s not faster than you. use your agility, stay light on your feet.” he looked at you, his breath coming in heavy gasps, his eyes reflecting a mix of fatigue and determination. “he’s hitting hard. i’m feeling every punch.”

“that’s exactly why you need to stay sharp,” you responded, applying a cool compress to his bruised face. “you can’t let him dictate the pace of the fight. you’re the one in control. remember why you’re here. remember what you’ve worked for.” he nodded, his gaze locking onto yours with a renewed intensity. “i won’t let you down.”

“good,” you said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “get in there and show him what you’re made of.”

the bell rang again, and he sprang back into the ring with a renewed sense of purpose. the second round began with a changed dynamic. his movements were more deliberate, his eyes sharper and his attacks more focused. He danced around his opponent with a fluidity that was almost mesmerizing, his every punch landing with precision. the earlier mistakes were gone, replaced by a controlled aggression that put him back in command of the fight. with each round, jungkook seemed to grow more confident, his strikes more powerful, his footwork more graceful. the crowd was enthralled, their cheers growing louder with each successful hit. you watched from the sidelines, your heart racing as you witnessed the transformation. the energy of the arena, the cheers, and the tension all seemed to meld into one intense wave of emotion.

by the time the final round approached, the opponent was visibly faltering, his stamina waning under the relentless assault. jungkook pressed his advantage, his focus unerring, his movements a blur of calculated strikes and evasive maneuvers. the final bell rang, and the crowd erupted into a thunderous roar as the referee raised jungkook’s hand in victory.

you rushed to his side, your heart swelling with pride as you wrapped him in a congratulatory embrace. “you did it,” you murmured, your voice filled with a mix of relief and exhilaration. “i knew you could.” jungkook, though exhausted, wore a triumphant smile. “thank you. for believing in me. for pushing me.”

you nodded, your own smile reflecting the satisfaction of the moment. “it was all you. you made it happen.” as the arena began to clear and the crowd’s excitement faded into a hum of post-fight chatter, you and jungkook stood together, the bond between you stronger than ever. the fight had been more than just a test of physical prowess; it had been a testament to the trust and dedication you both shared.

as the final echoes of the crowd’s cheers faded into the night, the once-vibrant arena began to empty. the air, now cooler and more relaxed, replaced the earlier frenzy with a calm that seemed to blanket the space. the spotlight that had illuminated the ring now dimmed, casting long shadows across the bleacher seats and leaving behind the scent of sweat and victory.

you and jungkook, along with namjoon, made your way to a corner of the arena that had been cleared for post-fight celebrations. the makeshift bar area, a row of tables cluttered with half-empty bottles and discarded cups, was a welcome sight after the intense atmosphere of the ring. namjoon had procured a selection of beers, and as he cracked open the first bottle, the familiar hiss of carbonation was a sound of relief. you took a beer from him, feeling the cool glass in your hand, a tangible reward for the night’s efforts. jungkook, still riding the high of victory, accepted his drink with a grin that spoke of his satisfaction and relief.

the three of you settled into a more relaxed atmosphere, the weight of the fight now replaced with the casual ease of celebration. you took a swig of the beer, savoring the crisp, refreshing taste as you glanced around the nearly deserted arena.

“not a bad way to spend the night,” jungkook remarked, leaning back against the table, his posture relaxed but his eyes still sharp with the thrill of the fight. “definitely not,” you agreed, your own mood buoyed by the shared sense of accomplishment. “you were incredible out there.”

namjoon, always the realist even in moments of triumph, watched the two of you with a thoughtful expression. he took a long pull from his own beer, his gaze wandering over the remnants of the crowd and the emptying seats. the celebration was marked by a certain levity, but there was an undercurrent of concern that seemed to cling to him. “there’s something i need to talk to you both about,” he said, breaking the easy camaraderie. his tone was serious, a stark contrast to the celebratory mood. “the cops have been sniffing around lately.”

jungkook’s smile faltered slightly, but he quickly masked his concern with a shrug. “we’ve been keeping things tight. nothing’s gonna come of it.” you nodded in agreement, the confidence in your voice masking the unease you felt. “we’ve been careful. we’re not giving them any reason to dig deeper.”

namjoon’s expression remained troubled as he took another sip from his bottle. “i hope you’re right. but i've got a bad feeling about this. they’re getting closer, and it’s not just a feeling. i've heard things.” jungkook leaned forward, his gaze steady. “we’ve handled things before. we’ll handle this too. we’ve always been a step ahead.”

you put a reassuring hand on jungkook’s shoulder. “we’ve got a solid plan. we just need to stay vigilant and keep our heads cool.” namjoon shook his head slowly, his unease palpable. “it’s not just about being vigilant. it’s about being prepared for anything. i’ve seen things go sideways before, and i don’t want us to be caught off guard.”

the atmosphere grew tense, the celebratory mood momentarily eclipsed by the reality of the situation. the weight of namjoon’s concern was a reminder of the risks that came with their world—a world that thrived in the shadows but was always at risk of being exposed. jungkook’s gaze softened as he looked at him. “we appreciate the heads-up. we’ll make sure we stay ahead of any trouble.”

he gave a reluctant nod, though his expression didn’t fully ease. “just keep your wits about you. we’re in a dangerous game, and the stakes are high.”

you raised your beer, trying to restore some of the lightness to the evening. “to a victory well-earned and to staying one step ahead of trouble.” jungkook clinked his bottle against yours, his smile returning. “cheers to that.” namjoon hesitated but eventually joined in, the clink of his bottle against yours and jungkook’s a small gesture of camaraderie amidst the underlying tension. “cheers,” he said, though his voice carried a trace of lingering concern.

the arena, now nearly empty, became a place of reflection and camaraderie, a brief respite before the inevitable challenges ahead. the victory was sweet, but the reminder of the ever-present dangers served as a sobering counterpoint. as the last of the crowd dispersed and the arena grew quieter, you, jungkook, and namjoon remained—a small island of celebration amidst a sea of uncertainty, fortified by trust, shared triumph, and the unspoken acknowledgment of the risks yet to come.

“do you have anything on them yet?” the voice on the other end of the line was crisp and authoritative, carrying an edge of impatience that contrasted sharply with the subdued tones of the post-fight celebration.

you glanced around the now nearly empty arena, the echoes of the earlier excitement still hanging in the air. jungkook and namjoon were engaged in animated conversation, their laughter a faint background noise as you stepped away from them to take the call. the light of the arena’s exit sign cast long shadows on the walls, a stark reminder of the night’s end and the reality that awaited outside.

“no solid leads yet,” you replied quietly, making sure your voice remained steady. “i’ve been keeping a close watch, but nothing concrete.”

the chief’s response was immediate, his tone sharp with urgency. “you need to understand how high the stakes are here. this isn’t just another bust. we’re talking about a network deeply embedded in the underground scene. your role is crucial, and we’re relying on you to gather the evidence we need.” you swallowed hard, the weight of the chief’s words settling over you like a heavy cloak. “i'm aware of the stakes. i've been working to gain their trust and get close, but it takes time. i need to be careful not to blow my cover.”

“time is a luxury we don’t have,” the chief said. “the longer this drags on, the harder it will be to make a solid case. keep your focus, and remember why you’re there. every detail counts.”

“i understand,” you said, trying to convey both confidence and frustration. “i'll continue to gather information. i'm doing everything i can to get closer to the core of their operations.” the chief’s voice softened slightly, though the seriousness remained. “we’re counting on you. just remember, the risks are high. you’re dealing with people who won’t hesitate to protect their interests, even if it means turning on you.”

“i know,” you replied, your mind already racing through the myriad of details and strategies you’d been employing. “i’ll stay alert and ensure i don’t slip up.”

as the call ended, you tucked your phone away and took a deep breath. the reality of your double life weighed heavily on you. on the surface, you were a devoted manager, a trusted confidant to jungkook, and an integral part of his team. but beneath that facade, you were an undercover agent, meticulously gathering information to dismantle the very network you were helping to protect. you returned to the table where jungkook and namjoon were now discussing their plans for the upcoming fights. their laughter was genuine, their camaraderie a testament to the bond they shared. it was moments like these that made your dual role particularly challenging. the lines between your real and assumed identities blurred, making each interaction a delicate dance of deception and truth.

jungkook noticed your thoughtful expression and raised an eyebrow. “everything okay? you seem a bit distracted.” you forced a smile, shaking off the tension. “just dealing with some work stuff. nothing to worry about.” the conversation shifted back to the more relaxed aspects of the evening, but your mind remained preoccupied. the stakes were indeed high, and the pressure to deliver results was immense. the chief’s words echoed in your thoughts, a constant reminder of the precarious balance you were maintaining.

the morning sun filtered through the window of jungkook’s garage, casting a warm glow over the array of tools and motorcycle parts scattered about. the garage was filled with the comforting scent of oil and metal, an aroma that spoke of hard work and dedication. he was hunched over his prized motorcycle, his brow furrowed in frustration as he examined the engine. the sleek, custom-built machine was a promise to his passion, a piece he’d invested considerable time and savings into.

you walked into the garage, your footsteps echoing softly on the concrete floor. the sight of jungkook wrestling with the motorcycle brought a smile to your face. his concentration was intense, but there was a touch of exasperation in his movements. “morning, kook,” you greeted, your tone light and friendly. “nice bike you’ve got there.”

he looked up from the engine, a hint of surprise in his eyes. “oh, hey. yeah, i bought it with some of the money i saved from the fights. it’s been a project of mine for a while. but something’s wrong with it. can’t figure out what’s the fucking problem.” you stepped closer, taking a casual but appreciative look at the motorcycle. the chrome gleamed under the garage lights, and the sleek lines of the bike spoke of both speed and elegance. “can i take a look?” you asked, a curious glint in your eyes.

he raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of skepticism and curiosity. “you sure? it’s not exactly a simple fix.”

“trust me,” you said with a smile. he hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “alright. be my guest. just don’t blame me if you can’t figure it out.”

you chuckled softly and knelt beside the motorcycle, your fingers gently probing the various components. as you worked, jungkook watched intently, his gaze more focused and thoughtful than it had ever been. the morning light highlighted the subtle changes in his expression, the admiration and curiosity mingling with his usual composure.

after a few moments of examining the engine, you spotted the issue—a loose connection in the fuel system. you reached for the toolbox, which he had set aside on a nearby workbench. “i see what’s wrong,” you said, pulling out the necessary tools. “it’s a loose connector in the fuel line. should be an easy fix.” his eyes followed your movements closely as you worked with practiced precision. there was a palpable sense of concentration and respect in his gaze as he observed you maneuvering around the engine.

“you’d never taken me for a mechanic, huh?” you said, trying to keep the mood light as you tightened the connector. he shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “no, i wouldn’t have. you’ve got a lot of skills i didn’t expect.”

you looked up from your work, meeting his gaze. “guys don’t usually like it when you know more about stuff like this than they do. tend to get a bit defensive.” jungkook’s smile widened slightly. “that’s not always true. sometimes it’s impressive.”

there was a moment of silence between you, charged with a new kind of tension. the air seemed to thrum with a quiet understanding, a recognition of each other’s capabilities and the unspoken connection that had been building. you cleared your throat, snapping back to reality. “alright, that should do it. let’s see if it works now.”

he started the engine, and the motorcycle roared to life with a satisfying growl. his face lit up with a triumphant grin. “you’ve definitely earned some points with this fix.” you stood up, brushing your hands off and offering him a smile. “glad i could help.”

as jungkook shut down the engine, you leaned against the workbench, your gaze drifting over the bike. “i always wanted one of these growing up,” you said wistfully. “but i never had the money for something like this.” his expression softened, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “well, you’ve got good taste. maybe one day you’ll have your own.” the moment lingered, filled with the quiet satisfaction of shared experiences and unspoken dreams. the garage, with its tools and mechanical parts, seemed to be a place where barriers fell away, allowing for honest exchanges and deeper connections.

the rhythmic rumble of another motorcycle echoed through the garage, growing louder until it arrived with a sharp, practiced turn. the door of the garage creaked open, and namjoon’s sleek black bike came into view. he dismounted with an air of casual confidence, his leather jacket catching the light as he approached. “what’s going on here?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over the scene. “i heard the bike running and thought something was up.”

jungkook straightened, wiping his hands on a rag with a satisfied grin. “just getting this piece of shit back in shape. our very own mechanic over here fixed it up for me.”

namjoon’s eyebrows arched skeptically as he turned his attention to you. “i find that hard to believe. you reckon you could help me figure out the difference between a carburetor and a fuel injector?” you met Namjoon’s challenge with a calm, confident demeanor. “a carburetor mixes air and fuel before sending it into the engine, while a fuel injector directly sprays fuel into the combustion chamber. the injector's more precise and used in modern engines for better efficiency.”

his eyes widened slightly, clearly taken aback. “well, i’ll be damned. you actually know your stuff.” you shrugged nonchalantly. “i guess i’ve picked up a thing or two over the years.”

he chuckled, shaking his head in mild disbelief. “i’m impressed. didn’t take you for someone who could handle mechanical work.” jungkook’s grin widened at the compliment directed your way. “i told you. she’s full of surprises.”

his expression shifted to a more serious one as he turned to jungkook. “alright, enough about engines. are you ready for tonight’s fight?” his posture straightened, his earlier amusement replaced by a steely focus. “absolutely. i'm set and ready.”

namjoon nodded approvingly. “good. you’ve been training hard, and it shows. How about we celebrate the win in advance? there’s a bar nearby. what do you say?” you raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “it’s a bit early for a drink, don’t you think?”

he waved a dismissive hand. “come on, it’s never too early to unwind. besides, it’s a good way to keep the pre-fight nerves at bay.” jungkook chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “i’m in. let’s go.”

namjoon mounted his bike again, starting it with a throaty roar. he gave a quick nod before revving off, heading toward the bar. jungkook turned to you, his gaze steady and commanding. “you coming with me?” for a moment, you locked eyes with him, the shared look filled with an unspoken connection. the intensity of the gaze lasted just long enough for you to feel a flutter of something you couldn’t quite name. he broke the gaze first, reaching into the compartment of his bike and pulling out a spare helmet. he held it out to you with a small, purposeful smile. “here. you’ll need this.”

you took the helmet, your fingers brushing against his. the contact was brief but charged with an electric undercurrent. without hesitation, you climbed onto the back of his motorcycle. as you settled into place, you pulled it on, the fit snug and secure. jungkook mounted the bike and you wrapped your arms around his waist, your body pressed closely against his. as the engine roared to life beneath you, you felt a sudden jolt of warmth spread through your chest, a tightness that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. his body tensed slightly, the proximity and the touch creating a momentary disquiet that he quickly tried to brush aside.

he shifted gears smoothly, guiding the bike out of the garage and onto the road. the city streets opened up before you, the wind rushing past as you rode together. the sensation of riding close to him, the hum of the engine, and the rhythm of the ride created a blend of exhilaration and intimacy that was both thrilling and new. despite his efforts to maintain his usual demeanor, jungkook found his thoughts drifting, his focus divided between the road and the feeling of your presence against him. the moment felt charged, filled with an undercurrent of emotions he hadn’t anticipated.

as you approached the bar, the familiar sight of neon lights and the sound of music drifting out into the street signaled the end of the ride. jungkook brought the motorcycle to a smooth stop, and you dismounted, removing your helmet and handing it back to him. “thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice carrying a hint of playfulness. he gave a small, appreciative smile. “anytime.”

as you both headed into the bar, the lively atmosphere greeted you with its own brand of energy. the transition from the quiet intimacy of the ride to the bustling noise of the bar was stark but welcome. the bar was a popular spot, filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft strains of background music. jungkook and you joined namjoon at a corner table, the conversation flowing easily as you settled into the evening’s relaxation. the ride had been a brief but significant interlude, a reminder of the connections and emotions that lurked just beneath the surface of your everyday interactions.

as you and jungkook settled in with namjoon, the initial tension from the ride melted away, replaced by the easy camaraderie of the evening. the clink of glasses and the low murmur of conversations filled the space, creating a lively backdrop for your conversation.

as you were halfway through your drink, namjoon’s gaze shifted, his expression growing serious. he scanned the room with a practiced eye, his focus settling on a small group of people seated at the bar. your heart skipped a beat as you noticed the presence of a few uniformed officers mingling among the patrons. you tensed, your mind racing with thoughts of the potential repercussions.

you quickly assessed the situation. the officers did not display any clear signs that they were part of your agency—no badges, no identifying marks. still, the sight of law enforcement so close was unnerving. you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. the last thing you wanted was to draw unwanted attention or raise suspicion. jungkook, sensing your shift in demeanor, noticed the cops as well. “fucking hate those pigs,” he muttered, his tone a mixture of disdain and frustration. “always sticking their asses in other people's shit.”

you looked at him curiously, trying to understand the root of his animosity. “don't like them much, do you?” namjoon’s body language shifted noticeably. his shoulders tensed, and he took a deep sip of his drink, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. there was a brief pause as jungkook hesitated, his gaze dropping to his glass.

“some shit that happened a while ago,” he began slowly. “dad was running an underground ring, just like i am now. he was unarmed, didn’t even have a chance to defend himself. one of the officers on the scene shot him. just like that. it was—” his voice trailed off, and he clenched his jaw, struggling to maintain his composure. the room seemed to momentarily close in on you as the weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders. you could see the pain etched in his features, the raw emotion barely concealed.

without thinking, you reached out and placed your hand gently on top of his, offering a gesture of solidarity. “i’m so sorry to hear that, kook. i can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.” he looked up, meeting your eyes. there was a flicker of gratitude and vulnerability in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of your support. for a moment, the noise of the bar and the presence of the officers seemed to fade into the background. It was just the two of you, sharing a moment of understanding and empathy.

“thanks,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “it means a lot.” the intensity of the moment tugged at your conscience, a reminder of the complex web you were entangled in. the lines between your role as a manager and your undercover assignment blurred further, making the situation all the more complicated. Offering comfort and condolences felt genuine, but the deeper reality of your undercover mission gnawed at the edges of your thoughts.

namjoon’s gaze flickered between the two of you, his earlier tension giving way to a more subdued expression. he cleared his throat, trying to shift the atmosphere back to a lighter note. “well, let’s not let the past ruin our day. we’ve got a fight to look forward to, and jungkook, you’ve earned a drink.” the conversation gradually shifted back to more casual topics, though the earlier moment of connection lingered. as you continued to engage with them, your mind remained partially preoccupied with the weight of the conversation and the role you played in their lives.

as the evening wore on, namjoon excused himself, heading off to prepare the arena for the upcoming fight. you and jungkook decided to take a break from the bar’s buzzing atmosphere and stepped outside for a walk. the crisp night air was a welcome change, a quiet reprieve from the earlier chaos. you strolled alongside him, the city lights casting a gentle glow on the streets. the sound of distant traffic and the occasional hum of a passing car filled the space between your conversation. jungkook seemed more relaxed outside of the bar, and you noticed him opening up in a way he hadn’t earlier.

“my dad,” he began, his voice low and contemplative. “he wasn’t just about the fights. he was passionate about what he did, but he also cared about people. he was always helping those in need, even if it was in ways that weren’t exactly legal. i guess that’s why i followed in his footsteps, even if it’s not the safest path.”

you nodded, listening intently. “it sounds like he was a wonderful person. i'm sorry for what happened to him.” he glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. “you know, i’ve never really talked about this with anyone. not even namjoon. it feels different with you.”

you offered him a small, understanding smile. “i get it. i didn’t grow up under the same circumstances, but i understand what it’s like to lose a parent. my mom passed away when i was younger. it was just me and my dad after that. things were tough, but we made it through. i guess we both have our own battles, huh?” his expression softened, and he gave you a gentle nod. “yeah, we do. but talking about it with you, it makes me feel like someone actually understands. it’s comforting.”

you met his gaze, feeling a deep connection between the two of you. “it’s my job to understand you and protect you. that’s what i’m here for. to be your support.”

as you continued walking, the breeze picked up slightly, causing your ponytail to come loose. jungkook noticed, his eyes catching on the stray strands of hair that fluttered around your face. he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your hair as he carefully pulled the band from his pocket and re-secured it.

the touch of his fingers against your hair sent a flutter of warmth through you. the closeness and the gentle care he displayed were unexpected, and your heart skipped a beat. you looked up at him, a mixture of surprise and appreciation in your gaze. he smiled, his expression tender and genuine. “you look pretty, you know that?”

the simplicity of the compliment, combined with the tenderness of his touch, made your heart race. it was a moment of vulnerability and connection, one that spoke volumes without needing many words. you couldn’t help but smile, feeling a blush creep up on your cheeks. as the two of you continued your walk, the city lights twinkling around you, the conversation and the moment left a lasting impression. the evening was filled with the promise of new beginnings and deeper connections, and for a brief moment, the complexities of your undercover mission seemed to fade into the background.

the night of the fight arrived, and the arena was packed to its capacity, a sea of excited faces and raucous cheers. the atmosphere was electric, charged with the anticipation of the evening’s main event. the lights dimmed, and the spotlight focused on the ring as the crowd’s energy swelled.

you were in the backstage area, working diligently to get jungkook ready. his focus was intense, but you could see the flicker of nerves in his eyes. you handed him a bottle of water, his hand reaching out automatically. as you saw his hands tremble slightly, a thought struck you. you took the bottle from him and, with a reassuring smile, placed it between his lips, tilting it just enough to let the water flow. his eyes widened in surprise as you fed him the water directly. the unexpected intimacy of the gesture, combined with the softness of your touch, made his heart race. he stared at you, his mind momentarily drifting away from the fight. all he could think about was how pretty you looked, the way the arena lights highlighted your features, and the concern in your eyes.

when the bell rang, signaling the start of the first round, his thoughts were overwhelmed by the image of you. the distraction was so profound that he found himself unprepared for the fight. his opponent took advantage of his disorientation, and jungkook lost the first round. frustration and self-reproach etched into his face as he returned to his corner.

you were immediately at his side, damp cloth in hand, working to clean the sweat and blood from his face. namjoon stood close, his expression a mix of concern and determination. “fuck, jungkook,” he urged. “you need to pull it together.”

“you’ve got this,” you added, your voice steady and encouraging. “just remember why you’re here. you’ve trained for this.”

he nodded, trying to shake off the fog of distraction. the bell rang again for the second round. as he stepped back into the ring, he could barely keep his mind off you. your presence, your words, and the way you had cared for him earlier seemed to have taken hold of his focus. the result was another loss, the second round slipping through his fingers.

back in the corner, you were there once more, helping him with his injuries. you looked into his eyes, concern etched in your features. “you need to pull yourself together, jungkook. focus on the fight, not on anything else.” he took a deep breath, nodding. “i promise i'll do better.”

yet, even as he promised to refocus, the thought of you lingered in his mind, a powerful and distracting force. the realization dawned on him: you were watching him, supporting him, and it made him understand the weight of his need to win. it wasn’t just about the fight anymore; it was about proving himself to you, showing that he could rise above the distraction and succeed.

as the bell rang for the final round, jungkook entered the ring with a newfound resolve. the image of you, your concern, and your encouragement became his driving force. the focus was clear, the distraction gone. with a powerful surge of energy, he fought with a precision and determination that had eluded him earlier. the fight turned in his favor, and the crowd erupted in cheers as he landed the decisive blows that secured his victory.

back in the corner, you rushed to him as the final bell rang. you wiped his sweat-streaked face, offering him the water bottle once more. as you gently placed the bottle between his lips, your touch was soft, and the moment was filled with a tenderness that made his heart skip a beat. the victory, combined with the warmth of your support, felt complete. he looked at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and something deeper—an emotion that went beyond the fight. the gesture of you taking care of him, the victory he had achieved, and the closeness of the moment all blended together, creating a sense of fulfillment and connection.

the night ended with jungkook’s triumph and the shared celebration of his win. the arena slowly emptied, the crowd’s energy fading into quiet satisfaction. as you and him stood together, the intensity of the night left you both with a profound sense of accomplishment and a new understanding of each other. in the afterglow of the victory, his gaze lingered on you, and he knew that the fight had been about more than just the arena. it had been about proving something to himself and to you.

the night was far from over, and after the intense fight and the victory celebration, the three of you decided to head to a friend's party. jimin, a mutual friend who had been unable to attend the fight due to hosting this very gathering, had invited you all to unwind and enjoy the night further. the house was a lively, dimly lit loft with music thumping and people chatting, making it clear that this was no ordinary party. the air was thick with an intoxicating mix of excitement and something less than legal.

as you arrived, he greeted you with an enthusiastic hug. “you all made it, heard about the fight. congrats, jungkook.” namjoon clapped him on the back and passed you both drinks. “thanks, jimin. it was a rough one, but he pulled through. now, we’re here to celebrate.”

you and jungkook stood together, enjoying the lively atmosphere when a group of girls approached. their attention was unmistakably on jungkook. “hey,” one of them said with a flirtatious smile. “you were amazing tonight. can i buy you a drink?” another chimed in, “yeah, you've definitely earned a drink or two.”

he glanced at you, his expression clearly irritated but polite. “thanks, but i’m actually here with someone. i’d prefer to stay with my friends.” the girls looked disappointed but maintained their smiles, making a half-hearted attempt to linger. “well, if you change your mind.—” jungkook shook his head, turning back to you. “sorry about that. some people just can't take a hint.”

you chuckled, squeezing his shoulder. “no need to apologize. we're here with you, and that’s what matters.”

the evening wore on, and you and jungkook accepted a joint from jimin, who was eagerly discussing the fight. “man, i really wish i could've seen it,” he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “how'd it go?”

jungkook and namjoon recounted the details of the fight, their voices animated and full of excitement. “you should have been there, fuck. it was intense,” jungkook said. “but we made it through.”

as the night continued, jungkook started to feel lightheaded from the combination of the party atmosphere, the drinks, and the joint. his movements became sluggish, and he glanced at you with a slight frown. “hey, i think i need a break,” he said, his voice tinged with concern. you nodded, guiding him gently toward the stairs. let’s get you somewhere quiet. you need to rest.” you were just as fucked as he was, but it seemed to had taken a greater toll on him.

you led him up to a bedroom, away from the noise of the party. the room was dimly lit, offering a peaceful respite. he laid down on the bed, his body sinking into the comfort of the mattress. you sat beside him, making sure he was okay. he looked up at you, his eyes searching for something. “you know, during the fight, i was so distracted. i couldn’t stop thinking about you.” you furrowed your brow, concern etching into your features. “about me?”

he sighed, reaching out to touch your hand. “kept focusing on you. the way you took care of me, the way you looked tonight—it all made it hard to concentrate.” you nodded, understanding the depth of his emotions. “so, how did you manage to pull through despite that?”

“it was because of you,” he admitted softly. “you’re the reason i pushed through, the reason i wanted to win. i couldn’t let you down.” the vulnerability in his voice and the sincerity of his words touched you deeply. without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him gently. the kiss was tender, filled with the emotion and connection that had been building between you. jungkook responded with equal softness, his lips moving against yours with a sense of longing and relief.

his hands moved down to your waist, slipping under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. the alcohol and weed had lowered your inhibitions, and you found yourself craving the intimacy that had been hinted at for so long. you pulled away from the kiss and looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or regret. but all you saw was desire, raw and unfiltered. your heart raced as you reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the intricate tattoos that snaked down his arm.

his sleeve tattoo was your favorite, a dark, twisting design that mirrored the chaotic passion you felt in that moment. as you traced the ink with your fingertips, jungkook shivered and pulled you closer, his hands roaming over your body with increasing urgency. the room was spinning slightly, but you didn’t care. all that mattered was the heat building between you, the way your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces.

his hands found their way to the button of your pants, and with trembling fingers, he undid them. you stepped out of them, allowing him to explore further. the anticipation was almost unbearable, but you knew that you both needed this. as he kissed you again, you could feel the weight of his erection pressing against you. you broke the kiss to whisper, “are you sure about this?” jungkook’s eyes searched yours, and with a nod, he whispered, “i've never been more sure.” and with that, any remaining doubts were erased, and you gave in to the moment.

you pushed him back onto the bed, and he watched as you removed your shirt, revealing your lacy bra. his eyes were dark with lust as he reached out and unclipped it, letting your tits spill into his waiting hands. you moaned at his touch, feeling his thumbs brush against your sensitive nipples. his mouth followed, kissing and sucking until you were arching into him, desperate for more. your hands fumbled with his pants, finally freeing his cock. it was hot and hard, and you couldn’t resist taking it in your hand, stroking him slowly as he groaned.

his hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a hunger that left you breathless. your clothes were scattered on the floor, and you were both naked, lost in the haze of desire and intoxication. jungkook’s mouth traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites that sent shivers down your spine. your hands tangled in his hair as he moved further south, his tongue teasing your navel before finally reaching between your legs. he licked you gently, and you moaned, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. the sensation was overwhelming, and you spread your legs wider, giving him better access.

his tongue danced around your clit, and you could feel yourself getting wetter with every stroke. your moans grew louder as he pushed a finger inside you, pumping it in and out in a steady rhythm. jungkook’s eyes were focused on yours, watching as you writhed under his touch. “you're dripping, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. your eyes rolled back as he added another finger, curling them inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your toes curl. “fuck, jungkook,” you breathed, your grip tightening in his hair. “right there, don’t stop.” he smirked up at you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, and continued his relentless assault on your senses. your orgasm was building, and you could feel it about to crash over you like a wave.

before it could, he pulled away, leaving you gasping for air. he stood up, his cock bobbing with need, and reached into his nightstand. he pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom, but paused, looking at you with a question in his eyes. “we should—” you began, but he cut you off with a shake of his head. “no, i wanna feel all of you. wanna risk it all tonight.” something in his tone made your heart pound even harder. you nodded, unable to form words, and watched as he squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. he positioned himself between your legs, and you felt his slick digits pushing into you again, preparing you for what was to come.

once he was satisfied, he leaned over you, his cock pressing against your cunt. you could feel the head of his dick, thick and demanding, and you spread your legs even wider, silently begging for him to fill you. he didn’t make you wait long. with one smooth thrust, he was inside you, and you cried out, the sensation of fullness almost too much. he took his time, pushing inch by inch, making sure you felt every part of him. your walls clenched around him, trying to adjust to his size, and he groaned in response. “fuck, you’re squeezing me,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours.

once he was fully seated, he began to move, his hips rocking against yours in a rhythm that felt like it had been written into your very soul. his tattooed arm flexed as he held himself up, the muscles rippling in the dim light of the room. the sound of skin slapping skin filled the air, punctuated by your gasps and his grunts. you reached up to trace the tattoo on his bicep as he fucked you, the sensation of his ink against your skin adding another layer of intensity to the moment. “you like that?” he asked, his voice strained. “you like watching me come undone? just like that?”

you nodded, unable to speak, your entire world narrowed down to the feeling of him inside you. jungkook’s movements grew more urgent, his breath coming in pants. “i’m gonna cum, baby,” he warned you, and you felt your own orgasm building in response. together, you tumbled over the edge, your bodies shaking with the force of your release. for a moment, you were lost in the pleasure, the world outside the bedroom forgotten.

the moment after was filled with a profound sense of connection, but it was quickly overshadowed by a wave of guilt that washed over you. the intensity of the kiss and the shared vulnerability made you question the boundaries and the nature of your feelings. you were lost in thought, contemplating the implications of what had just happened, when the moment was abruptly interrupted.

namjoon burst into the room, his face a mix of anger and urgency. “dammit!” he exclaimed, his eyes widening as he quickly averted his gaze. “what the hell are you two doing?” you and jungkook scrambled to get dressed, the sudden shift from intimacy to panic jarring. “what’s going on?” you asked, trying to remain calm despite the adrenaline surging through you.

“the cops are on their way here,” namjoon said, his voice tight with worry. “we need to leave. now.” panic set in as you hurriedly pulled on your clothes. his warning about the approaching police made you realize the gravity of the situation. “what about the arena?” you asked, your mind racing.

“it’s at risk,” he said. “we have to get out of here. cops'll be all over this place.”

with no time to spare, the three of you fled the room and rushed out of the house. the sound of sirens grew louder, the flashing lights visible even from a distance. namjoon led the way as you all sprinted across the yard, making your way towards a field of tall grass just beyond the property. breathing heavily, you threw yourselves into the cover of the grass, lying still and trying to remain as quiet as possible. the police lights flashed intermittently through the blades of grass, casting eerie shadows as the sirens wailed in the distance. the field was a safe haven for the moment, offering concealment from the approaching officers.

jungkook’s eyes met yours, and despite the tension, a burst of adrenaline made you both laugh softly. the sheer absurdity of the situation—a fight, a party, and now a narrow escape from the law—was almost surreal. his laughter was infectious, and it lightened the mood despite the circumstances. in a moment of unexpected tenderness, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. the touch was soothing amidst the chaos, a small gesture that spoke volumes about his feelings. “we’ll get through this,” he whispered, his voice a comforting presence in the midst of the turmoil. you nodded, returning his smile with one of your own. “yeah, we will. just gotta stay calm.”

the sirens continued to blare, the flashing lights casting sporadic bursts of color across the field. you laid there, the grass rustling around you, feeling the weight of the night’s events and the relief of being together in that moment. the danger wasn’t over yet, but having jungkook by your side and sharing a laugh amidst the chaos made the situation feel more manageable. as the police lights began to fade into the distance and the sound of the sirens grew quieter, you knew the immediate danger had passed. the three of you would need to find a safer place and regroup, but for now, you took solace in the small victories and the connection you shared.

the next morning, the office was unusually quiet. you were at your desk, sifting through the paperwork that had piled up while you were away. the rhythm of typing and the occasional murmur of your colleagues provided a familiar, mundane backdrop that starkly contrasted the chaos of the previous night.

as you focused on your tasks, the chief, a grizzled man with an air of authority and a no-nonsense attitude, sauntered into the office. he glanced around and then fixed his gaze on you with a knowing look. “so,” he said, his tone casual but laced with an edge. “you have fun last night?”

you looked up from your desk, forcing a light laugh in an attempt to downplay the situation. “oh, so you know about that?” the chief’s expression didn’t change. “our men were at the scene. ‘course i fucking know.”

a pang of anxiety shot through you. the implications of his words were clear—your covert activities hadn’t gone unnoticed. you straightened in your chair, trying to maintain a composed demeanor. “it’s all part of the plan,” you said, hoping to sound more confident than you felt. “i need their trust more than anything.” he raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his gaze. “they’re all scum. don’t let that gladiator get to you. you’re not dick-whipped, are you? letting him get under your skin?”

the directness of his question made you stiffen. you bristled at the insinuation, but a flutter of warmth at the back of your mind told a different story. you met his eyes, trying to mask the conflicting emotions stirring inside you. “no, i’m not,” you said, your voice firm despite the slight quiver. “i’m focused on the job. i'll deal with it.”

the chief’s gaze softened, a flicker of something resembling approval—or at least reluctant acceptance—in his eyes. “good. because if you let your personal feelings mess with the mission, it’s going to end badly. i need you sharp and clear-headed.” you nodded, your mind racing to balance the professional demands with your personal feelings. “i understand. i’ll make sure it doesn’t affect my work.”

he gave a curt nod, acknowledging your assurance. “alright then. let’s keep things on track. and remember, this is bigger than any one person. focus on the endgame.” as he walked away, you were left with a heavy weight of responsibility and a swirl of conflicting emotions. the night had brought clarity to your feelings for jungkook, but it also complicated your position. the fluttering in your heart, the way your thoughts drifted to him, and the guilt from the sex made it challenging to separate your personal feelings from your professional obligations.

you took a deep breath, grounding yourself in the tasks ahead. the office was a world apart from the adrenaline-fueled night you had experienced, but the pressures of your double life pressed down heavily. as you dove back into your work, you resolved to keep your emotions in check and ensure that your mission remained the priority. whatever feelings you had, you had to manage them carefully, balancing the complexities of your role with the intensity of the situation you were entrenched in.

the afternoon sun bathed the arena in a warm, golden light as you arrived, your mind still buzzing from the morning's tense conversation with your chief. you were focused, determined to stay on top of your game and support jungkook through his next fight. as you approached the entrance, you spotted him leaning against his motorcycle, which was not the one you were familiar with. it was sleek, black with pink undertones, and gleamed in the sunlight—a stark contrast to his usual bike. your heart skipped a beat as you walked closer.

“hey,” you called out, trying to keep your tone casual despite the knot of curiosity forming in your stomach. jungkook’s face broke into a warm smile. “hey. i've got something for you.”

he gestured towards the new motorcycle, and your eyes widened. “don't tell me it's the bike.” he nodded, a proud grin on his face. “yeah. i wanted to get you something special. you’ve done so much for me, and i thought it was time you had something of your own.”

tears of joy welled up in your eyes as you took in the generous gesture. “jungkook, i can’t accept this. it’s too much.” he shook his head, stepping closer and gently taking your hand. “no, you deserve it. you’ve been there for me through everything. i want you to have it.”

before you could protest further, he pulled you into a heartfelt hug. the warmth of his embrace and the kindness of his gesture overwhelmed you. as he kissed your cheek, a rush of guilt mingled with your happiness. you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were betraying your mission, even though his gesture was deeply meaningful.

inside the arena, you moved swiftly to get him ready for his fight. you checked his gear, offered him water, and gave him encouraging words. “stay sharp out there,” you advised. “remember everything we’ve worked on. you’ve got this.” as the first bell rang, signaling the start of the fight, you watched intently from the sidelines, your eyes locked on him. the crowd’s cheers and roars filled the space with an electrifying energy.

a man approached you, and you turned to face him, trying to maintain a polite demeanor. “hey there,” he said with a flirtatious grin. “i’ve seen you around. how about we get to know each other better?” you tried to brush off the unwanted attention. “i’m actually in a relationship. i'm here to support jungkook.”

the man’s persistent advances began to grate on your nerves. “come on, don’t be like that. a little fun never hurt anyone.” jungkook’s attention started to waver as he caught sight of the interaction. his focus shifted from his opponent to the scene unfolding near you. he tried to refocus, shaking his head to clear the distraction, but the sight of the man sliding his arms around your waist pushed him over the edge.

a surge of red-hot anger flared within him. with a final, powerful hit, he sent his opponent crashing to the floor, unconscious. the crowd’s cheers turned to gasps and cries of shock as he leaped over the ropes, his eyes locked on the man still encroaching on you. before you could react, his fists were flying, and the man was being pummeled. you rushed forward, trying to intervene, but he was beyond listening. his rage was palpable, his movements swift and unrestrained. you could see the fury in his eyes, the protective instinct that had driven him to this violent response.

“jungkook, cut that shit out,” you begged, but he didn’t seem to hear you over the roar of the crowd. his punches landed with fierce precision until namjoon burst through the chaos and managed to pull him off the man. jungkook resisted for a moment, but his firm grip and authoritative presence finally got through to him.

the crowd’s mood had shifted from excitement to panic, and the atmosphere became charged with tension. namjoon, his face set in grim determination, turned to you. “we need to get the fuck out of here. the cops'll be on their way soon.”

realizing the gravity of the situation, you nodded, your heart pounding with urgency. jungkook, still seething, was led away by namjoon, his anger slowly giving way to a mix of confusion and regret. you followed, your mind racing with the consequences of the night’s events and the escalating danger that now loomed over all of you. as you all made a hurried exit, the once vibrant arena was left behind in chaos, the night’s promise of celebration now overshadowed by the threat of impending law enforcement. the adrenaline of the fight and the emotions it stirred were far from over, and the path ahead was uncertain.

the roar of engines filled the air as the three of you sped through the city streets. the thrill of the ride was a stark contrast to the tension that had marked the earlier chaos at the arena. namjoon led the way, navigating through the bustling cityscape with practiced ease, and you followed closely behind him, your heart pounding from both the adrenaline of the ride and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. the city’s vibrant energy gradually gave way to quieter, more secluded areas. namjoon slowed, eventually coming to a stop in a part of town where a crowd had gathered around a cluster of motorcycles, cars, and people. the noise was a mix of idle chatter, the hum of engines, and the occasional burst of laughter.

as you dismounted your bike, you noticed namjoon making his way toward a tall man with a confident stance and an air of effortless cool. he was greeted with a casual, friendly dap, and you followed namjoon’s lead, approaching the man.

“this is seokjin,” he introduced, gesturing to the man. “he runs a similar setup to jungkook’s, but with street racing. one of korea’s best drivers.” the man turned his attention to you, offering a charming smile. “nice to meet you. heard a lot about you. pretty and skilled—quite a combination. see you've got a bike of your own.”

jungkook’s eyes narrowed slightly, his earlier frustration still simmering beneath the surface. you could sense his tension as he observed seokjin’s interaction with you. despite his evident discomfort, you managed a polite smile. “thank you. jungkook actually gifted it to me.” you patted the sleek machine, its gleaming surface catching the low light. “mt-09, master of torque.”

seokjin’s eyes lit up with genuine interest. “impressive knowledge. are you familiar with cars too?” you nodded in response, “i am.”

his expression shifted to one of intrigue. “how would you like to get behind the wheel of a real beast? i can offer you some cash for a race. interested?” jungkook tensed beside you, his concern evident. “fuck no, it’s too dangerous. i don’t think you should do it.”

you met his gaze, trying to convey your resolve. “i wanna do this, i'm sure it'll be fine.” you leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, an unspoken promise that you’d be careful. his eyes softened, a mixture of pride and worry flickering in his gaze.

seokjin led you to a sleek, well-maintained toyota supra, its polished surface reflecting the streetlights, before pointing to the car next to it, where a man stood. there was a dangerous glint in his eyes, though his expreasion was lifeless. “this is yoongi, your competitor tonight.” the man in his late twenties, leaning casually against his car, gave you a cursory glance. “i almost feel bad for having to shit on a pretty thing like you,” he said, his tone a mix of challenge and mock sympathy.

you met his gaze with a determined smile. “yeah, you can take it up the ass.” with the crowd forming around the makeshift racetrack, you glanced at jungkook one last time, drawing strength from his supportive, yet concerned, look. the roar of engines and the buzz of excitement from the crowd created a charged atmosphere as the race was about to begin.

the signal was given, and yoongi took the lead within seconds, his car darting ahead with impressive speed. you shifted into high gear, focusing on the road and the techniques your father had taught you. the streets blurred around you as you maneuvered through the turns with precision. your father’s advice echoed in your mind, guiding you as you expertly handled the car, swerving through tight corners and accelerating past obstacles.

as you approached the finish line, you could see yoongi’s car trailing closely behind. with one final burst of speed and a deft maneuver around a sharp turn, you pulled ahead, crossing the finish line just moments before him. the crowd erupted in cheers and applause as you stepped out of the car.

he approached, extending a hand to shake yours. “congratulations. guess you reslly aren't just pretty,” he murmured, handing you a bundle of cash. “thanks,” you replied, shaking his hand firmly. “not too bad yourself.”

as you walked back to where jungkook and seokjin were waiting, jungkook enveloped you in a tight embrace, his relief and pride palpable. he pressed a passionate kiss to your lips, his warmth and affection a stark contrast to the adrenaline of the race. seokjin, watching the interaction with a satisfied grin, clapped you on the back. “did better than i expected.”

you smiled, feeling a mix of exhilaration and contentment from the night’s events. the thrill of the race, the camaraderie with people you had met not too long ago, and the respect all combined to make for a memorable evening. despite the underlying complexities what tugged at your morality, the night had been a reminder of your capabilities above all else, and you needed to remind yourself that you were capable.

the night continued to buzz with excitement as seokjin, fueled by the spontaneous energy, turned to namjoon with a gleam in his eye. “how about a race, joon? one of my drivers versus you. what do you say?” namjoon, ever confident despite his lack of experience, nodded enthusiastically. “i’m up for it. i’ve missed racing.”

jungkook, still nursing his own frustration from the evening’s events, frowned. “you sure about this? you’re not the most qualified driver out here.” he waved off the concern with a chuckle. “i’ve got it. don’t worry.”

you glanced at jungkook, who gave you a reassuring smile but the worry in his eyes was unmistakable. “good luck,” you said softly, hoping for the best as namjoon mounted his own motorcycle, ready to race. seokjin guided him to the starting line, introducing him to his opponent—a sleek, modern bike that gleamed under the streetlights. with a rev of engines and a burst of speed, the race was underway.

at first, he held a steady lead. his experience showed as he expertly navigated the turns, his confidence palpable. you watched from the sidelines, a mixture of pride and anxiety stirring in your chest. jungkook stood beside you, his gaze fixed on the race, a subtle tension in his posture. but as the race neared its climax, disaster struck. namjoon’s bike, under the strain of high-speed maneuvering, began to falter. the powerful engine sputtered unpredictably, and before he could correct his path, the bike lurched violently. he swerved uncontrollably and slammed into a guardrail with a sickening crash, metal screeching and the bike crumpling under the impact.

the sound of the collision cut through the cheers and gasps of the crowd. you and jungkook bolted toward the wreckage, pushing through the dispersing crowd. the sight before you was harrowing: namjoon lay motionless on the asphalt, the bike a twisted wreck beside him. jungkook dropped to his knees beside him, his face a mask of panic. “joon, fuck. come on, wake up,” he shook his shoulders desperately.

you fumbled for your phone, your hands trembling uncontrollably. the reality of the situation was hitting you with crushing force. the distant wail of the crowd grew louder, but the urgency of your own panic threatened to drown it out. “i’ll call for help,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to keep it steady. you dialed 911, your fingers shaking so violently you could barely press the numbers. the line rang endlessly, each second stretching into an eternity. as you waited for someone to pick up, you glanced anxiously at jungkook, who was still desperately trying to rouse namjoon. the sight of his mentor lying unconscious, blood smeared across the pavement, fueled your rising dread.

finally, the call connected. “hello, this is officer (l/n), there’s been an accident—” you began, but the words caught in your throat. the name you had used felt foreign and heavy on your tongue. the stark realization of your own duplicity hit you like a ton of bricks. you froze, your heart racing as the gravity of your dual life crushed down on you.

the voice on the other end of the line was calm and professional, but your own mind was a storm of chaos. “hello? officer (l/n), are you there? we need details.”

you barely registered the questions, your gaze locked on jungkook. his face was etched with panic, his eyes darting between namjoon and you. when he heard you use the title, a look of sheer disbelief crossed his face, followed by a chilling silence. “officer (l/n)?” he repeated, his voice a strained whisper.

your heart pounded in your chest, and your mind raced to find the right words. You wanted to explain, to justify why you had hidden this part of yourself, but the words failed you. the enormity of your deception and the fear of jungkook’s reaction left you paralyzed. you opened your mouth, but only a strangled gasp emerged.

“hello? officer?” the dispatcher’s voice cut through your turmoil.

jungkook’s stunned silence was almost louder than the sirens approaching. his shock was palpable, a mixture of betrayal and confusion etched deeply into his features. “i—” you tried to speak, but the guilt weighed heavily on your shoulders. your double life had never felt so suffocating. his focus shifted back to namjoon, whose condition was worsening by the second. his worry about namjoon’s well-being was overriding the shock of your revelation. “get the help here now,” he barked into the phone, his voice a raw edge of panic.

“take namjoon,” you said urgently, forcing yourself to stay calm despite the turmoil inside you. you fumbled with two pairs of keys, your fingers trembling with adrenaline as you did so. “take my bike and go to my house, they won't find you there. i'l take the fall. just go.”

jungkook’s eyes met yours, a flicker of gratitude visible despite the chaos. he didn’t say a word, his expression a complex blend of emotions that you couldn’t fully decipher. without another moment’s hesitation, he took the keys you offered him, gripping them tightly as if they were the last piece of hope in a dire situation.

he carefully lifted namjoon onto your bike, his movements quick but deliberate. as he started the engine, the roar of the motorcycle cut through the night, mingling with the distant wail of sirens that grew louder with each passing second. jungkook cast one last, lingering look at you, his face a mask of silent resolve, before speeding off into the darkness. you watched him disappear into the night, the weight of your decision settling heavily on your chest. the sirens grew closer, their piercing sound a grim reminder of the consequences awaiting you. alone now, you stood amid the chaos, the reality of your predicament crashing down around you. the distance between you and jungkook felt like a chasm, one that you knew might never be fully bridged.

the sirens reached a fever pitch as the police cars skidded to a halt at the scene, their flashing lights casting frantic shadows across the pavement. the officers poured out, their faces a mix of concern and suspicion as they scanned the area. you stood alone, feeling the crushing weight of your own choices.

the chief, his presence suffocating, approached you with a measured stride. his eyes flicked over the chaos—the crumpled body of namjoon's bike, the skid marks from the crash, the trail of blood. there was no trace of surprise on his face, only a steely, practiced calm. “have you apprehended the suspects?” he asked, his voice clipped.

you swallowed hard, your throat dry and constricted. “i let them go,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, though it wavered with the enormity of the admission. the chief’s lips curled into a humorless smile, a cold chuckle escaping his lips. it lacked warmth and carried an edge of dark amusement. “turn in your gun and badge,” he instructed, his tone brooking no argument.

you nodded numbly and reached into your jacket, removing the badge and firearm with trembling hands. the weight of the gun felt oddly comforting as you placed it into his outstretched hand, but you knew its significance in this moment was far different. the chief inspected the items with a scrutinizing eye before tucking them into his belt. he fixed you with a piercing gaze, one that seemed to bore into your very soul. “maybe it’s a good thing the gladiator escaped,” he said slowly, his voice taking on a menacing edge. the words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications.

you remained silent, the depth of his statement sinking in. your heart pounded in your chest, the dread rising like a tide. the chief’s words lingered, twisting around you like a noose. “if he didn’t,” the chief continued, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper, “i would’ve gunned him down just like his daddy.”

the implication was clear and devastating. your eyes widened in shock, the full weight of the threat crashing over you. you had always known that your role came with risks, but it was a cold, brutal revelation of just how far the system could reach. the chief’s gaze was implacable, his face a mask of hard determination and unyielding authority. the officers, having taken in the scene and your interaction with the chief, began to disperse. the sound of their footsteps receding was a grim backdrop to the finality of the chief’s words. he turned away, his silhouette disappearing into the night, leaving you alone in the fading light of the sirens.

the reality of what you had just heard hit you with a cold, numbing force. you stood there, stunned, the full impact of the chief’s threat crashing over you. your mind raced, struggling to process the layers of betrayal and fear that now enveloped you. as the last of the police cars pulled away, their red and blue lights dimming in the distance, you were left in the quiet aftermath. the night was eerily still, the only sound the distant hum of the city and the fading echoes of sirens. the darkness felt oppressive, and the weight of your decisions and the consequences they brought lay heavy on your shoulders.

you took jungkook's bike, the engine rumbling beneath you as you navigated the darkened streets back to your house. the night was a blur of flashing lights and shadows, your thoughts a jumbled mess of guilt and regret. the bike's power felt almost alien, the vibration beneath you a stark reminder of the chaotic night you had just endured. the road seemed endless, each turn a torturous loop as you wrestled with the weight of your decisions.

arriving at your house, you parked the bike and approached the front door with a heavy heart. the house, usually a haven, now felt like a prison of your own making. Inside, the quiet was punctuated by the faint hum of the heater and the distant thump of a heartbeat that was both your own and jungkook's, racing in unison.

you found him in your room, his presence a blend of familiarity and strangeness. he moved through the space with a deliberate slowness, his eyes taking in every detail as if trying to imprint it into his memory. the scent of your room, a mix of homey comfort and something more intimate, seemed to weigh heavily on him. he paused by the bedside, his gaze drawn to a framed photograph on the nightstand. in the photograph, you and your father were caught in a moment of unguarded happiness. your father’s arm was draped around you, his face alight with a smile that spoke of love and pride. jungkook’s fingers traced the edge of the frame, a soft, melancholic smile playing on his lips. the sight was a poignant reminder of the sacrifices you had made, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy mixed with his lingering anger.

the sound of the door creaking open pulled him from his reverie. you entered, your eyes red and puffy, your resolve steeled but your heart heavy. he looked up, his expression shifting from reflective to guarded as he met your gaze. “hey, officer (l/n). apprehend the suspects?” his voice was laden with a biting edge, the words a reminder of the betrayal he felt.

you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “i—” you began, your voice faltering, “i turned in my gun and badge.” the words felt like a confession, each syllable a stark reminder of the path you had chosen.

his eyes softened momentarily, a flicker of remorse crossing his face as he processed your sacrifice. he felt a pang of guilt for being the cause of your loss of income. But that guilt was overshadowed by the questions still gnawing at him. “so, was everything a lie?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “when you cheered me on? when we kissed, fucked? all just part of some game?”

you shook your head, tears threatening to spill over. “no, jungkook,” you said softly. “it wasn’t a lie. everything i said, everything I felt—it was real. i enjoyed being your manager more than i ever enjoyed being an agent.” the room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. his gaze dropped to the floor, his mind racing through the events of the past days—the confusion, the betrayal, and the affection that had intertwined with it all. the silence was suffocating, a space filled with unspoken emotions and fractured trust.

you took a deep breath, your resolve firm despite the tears spilling down your cheeks. “it’s been a pleasure working with you, gladiator,” you said, the words almost a whisper as you turned to leave. he watched you walk away, his heart a tumult of conflicting emotions. as you exited the house, the cold night air hit you with a sharp bite, and you let your tears fall freely, each one a testament to the pain and regret of a choice made under duress. the night was dark, the streetlights casting a faint glow as you walked away from everything you had fought for, leaving behind a part of yourself in the house where jungkook now stood alone.

the days following your departure stretched out in agonizing silence. your absence left a void that seemed to echo through every corner of your life. in the solitude of your apartment, you numbed the pain with alcohol and smoke, each swig and puff a fleeting escape from the crushing weight of guilt and regret. your apartment, once a sanctuary, now felt like a prison of your own making, the walls closing in on you with every passing hour.

the hum of the city outside was a distant, indifferent noise as you stared blankly at the flickering screen of your television, the images a blur of color and sound that you barely registered. the drinks piled up, their empty bottles a testament to your attempts at self-forgetfulness. smoke curled in lazy spirals, filling the air with a pungent scent that clung to you like a second skin.

meanwhile, at the arena, jungkook was a shadow of his former self. the once vibrant atmosphere was now starkly empty, the space devoid of your encouraging presence. his training sessions were lackluster, his movements sluggish and uninspired. namjoon watched with growing frustration as his performance faltered, his concern for his friend shifting into irritation.

“pull yourself together, jungkook,” namjoon’s voice was a harsh whip crack against the stillness of the gym. “you’re slipping. the arena needs you sharp, not distracted.” jungkook’s jaw clenched, his hands trembling slightly as he wiped sweat from his brow. “i can’t focus,” he admitted, his voice low but laden with frustration. “it’s hard when you’re missing someone who was always there.”

namjoon’s expression hardened. “you’re letting your personal issues interfere with your performance. she’s a rat, jungkook—a fucking snitch. she betrayed us, and you can’t afford to let that mess with your head.” jungkook’s eyes flared with anger. “don’t talk about her like that,” he snapped. “she sacrificed everything for us. she lost her job for us. and this is how you repay her? by calling her a traitor?”

namjoon’s face softened just a fraction, a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. “i know it’s tough, but we have to move on. you need to stay focused, for the sake of the arena.” in his heart, he knew it was true, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. he was mourning you, and what he had with you. in the end, he had introduced you to the underground. now, he had to face it without you.

the night of the next match arrived, and the atmosphere in the arena was electric with anticipation. the stands were packed with spectators, their excited chatter a sharp contrast to the emptiness jungkook felt inside. as namjoon prepped him, the usual camaraderie was absent, replaced by a heavy silence that clung to them both. “get in there and show them what you’re made of,” he said, his voice clipped but tinged with a hint of reassurance. “remember, it’s all for the fight. for the arena.”

jungkook nodded, but his heart wasn’t in it. he wasn't doing it for the arena, he was doing it for you, and you were nowhere to be seen. he stepped into the ring, the roar of the crowd a distant thrum against the pounding of his own heartbeat. as the first round began, he tried to focus, but the absence of your presence was a constant ache in his chest. the cheers from the crowd were a painful reminder of what he had lost.

the bell rang, signaling the end of the first round. jungkook wiped sweat from his brow, his movements robotic. namjoon’s voice cut through the fog of his thoughts, a sharp reminder to stay sharp. “get your shit together, jungkook! focus!”

the second round began, and jungkook’s gaze darted around the arena, searching for a glimpse of you among the sea of faces. but you were nowhere to be seen. his distraction was palpable, his movements sluggish as he struggled to stay in the fight. his opponent took advantage of his lapses in concentration, landing hits that pushed him further off balance. by the end of the second round, he had lost once more, his frustration boiling over.

namjoon’s anger was barely contained as he stormed over to him, his voice a low growl. “what the fuck? you’re letting everything fall apart. this is not how you win fights.” jungkook’s head hung low, his breath coming in ragged gasps. the weight of his failure was almost unbearable. “i just—i need her,” he admitted quietly, his voice breaking. “i need her here with me.”

the third round loomed, and jungkook’s focus was shattered. the weight of the previous rounds and the constant search for a reassuring presence took its toll. as the bell rang, he stepped into the ring with a heavy heart, his movements hesitant and uncertain. the fight was brutal. he struggled to keep up, his opponent seizing every opportunity to land a blow. the crowd’s cheers turned into a blur of noise as jungkook’s energy waned. his defenses faltered, and he took a powerful hit that sent him crashing to the ground. the world spun around him, the pain a dull roar as he lost consciousness.

the referee’s voice cut through the haze, declaring the match over as medics rushed into the ring. jungkook laid motionless, his body sprawled out on the canvas. the crowd fell into stunned silence, their excitement replaced by concern. namjoon’s face was a mask of worry as he knelt beside him, his hands gripping the sides of his head, trying to rouse him.

“jungkook!” namjoon shouted, desperation edging his voice. “come on, wake the fuck up.” but he remained unmoving, his body slack and unresponsive. the arena was filled with the sound of frantic footsteps and murmurs of concern as the medics began to work on him, their faces a blend of professional calm and underlying urgency.

the phone call came through like a jolt of electricity, shattering the numbness that had settled over you. it was namjoon, his voice raw with panic and urgency. “hey, it’s me,” he said, his voice trembling. “jungkook’s down. he’s unconscious. you need to come to the arena—now.”

the world seemed to collapse around you. the reality of the situation crashed over you, a tidal wave of fear and guilt. without a second thought, you grabbed your keys, your hands shaking uncontrollably. you fumbled as you stuffed them into your pockets, the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears like a relentless drum. struggling to maintain composure, you dashed out the door and mounted your motorcycle, the engine roaring to life beneath you. the wind whipped against your face as you sped through the empty streets, your mind a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts and worries. every red light felt like a cruel delay, every passing second stretching into an eternity as you raced towards the arena.

when you arrived, the scene was a bleak reflection of your worst fears. the arena was deserted, save for a small crowd of bystanders gathered around jungkook, who lay unconscious on the cold, concrete floor. their murmurs of concern filled the air, but their presence felt like an intrusion. you cut through the crowd, pushing aside anyone in your way with an urgency that bordered on desperation. kneeling beside him, you forced yourself to focus despite the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you. his face was a mix of bruises and blood, his breaths shallow and ragged.

“jungkook, please,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you fought to keep your composure. you started by gently wiping away the blood, using your shirt as an impromptu cloth. you carefully inspected his injuries, doing your best to treat them with the limited supplies you had on hand. your hands trembled as you worked, every movement filled with the urgency of the situation. you could feel the weight of his limp body, the coldness of his skin as you checked for a pulse. your heart sank as you realized there was none.

“no, no, no,” you murmured, your voice breaking into a sob. you placed your hands on his chest, starting chest compressions with frantic determination. “come on, jungkook. you have to wake up. please.” namjoon stood nearby, his face a mix of shock and helplessness as he watched your desperate efforts. the sight of you, so determined and emotional, revealed the depth of your feelings for him. he saw you sobbing, your hands pumping his chest with a frantic rhythm, and it was clear how much you cared.

with each push and pump, tears streamed down your face, mingling with the sweat and blood. your breaths came in ragged gasps, your sobs muffled as you continued the lifesaving routine. “don’t you dare leave me,” you pleaded, your voice a raw whisper in the silent space. the seconds felt like hours, each moment stretching out as you fought to keep hope alive. then, as if in response to your pleas, jungkook’s body twitched. you felt a faint pulse beneath your hands, weak but there. your heart leapt with cautious hope, and you continued the treatment with renewed fervor.

finally, his eyes fluttered open, and he looked at you with a dazed expression. the relief that washed over you was overwhelming. you clutched his face, your tears falling onto his bruised skin as you kissed his forehead and brushed his hair away from his eyes. “oh fuck, jungkook,” you cried, your voice choked with emotion. “you’re awake. you’re okay.”

he struggled to focus, his hand reaching out to pull you into an embrace. “you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with relief. “you came back.” you buried your face in his shoulder, your tears mingling with his sweat. “i'm sorry,” you sobbed. “i’m so sorry for everything. i didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

his arms tightened around you, his tears falling silently as he kissed the top of your head. “you came back,” he repeated softly. “you came back for me.”

you pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes as your own continued to well up with tears. “of course i came back,” you said, your voice breaking. “i'll always come back for you.” namjoon watched the exchange with a mixture of disbelief and respect. the intensity of the moment was palpable, the raw emotion between you and jungkook a testament to the depth of your bond. he stood back, allowing the two of you to find solace in each other’s embrace.

the sirens wailed in the distance, but in that moment, all that mattered was the fragile connection between you and jungkook. the pain of the fight, the guilt of your betrayal, and the chaos of the arena seemed distant and inconsequential compared to the relief and love that surged through you both. you remained in his arms, whispering apologies and reassurances, while he held you tightly, the tears on both your faces a testament to the strength of your feelings. the night was far from over, but for now, in the quiet aftermath of the chaos, you found comfort in each other, ready to face whatever came next together.

✧.*

a/n: i hope yall fw this one omg i was gonna do an angsty ending again but im no longer in my k.will era

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