#namjoon reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jungshookz · 2 months ago

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y/n seems to have everyone wrapped around her finger and to be quite frank, namjoon's unimpressed

➺ pairing; professor!namjoon x y/n

➺ genre; mostly sfw with a little something something at the end!! namjoon is a philosophy professor who suddenly has to share his precious lecture hall newbie professor y/n!! we all know i am a big fan of enemies to lovers/opposites attract and i love it even more when both of them are total nerds!! y/n’s approach to philosophy is so ridiculous and namjoon can’t stand her!! namjoon is so stuffy and y/n can’t stand him!! god damnit just kiss already!!

➺ wordcount; 7.2k

➺ summary; you’re the newest professor joining the university, and all of a sudden, it feels like namjoon actually has someone to compete with for the first time.

➺ what to expect; “Also, please stick to black, blue, and red ink for future note-taking and grading purposes. Pastel purple is not an appropriate colour for a higher education atmosphere. Thank you.”

➺ currently playing on cee.fm; what is this feeling? — wicked soundtrack

»»————- 📚 ————-««

namjoon isn’t a fan of change.

he’s always liked things in a particular way — he only likes notebooks with a seamless, perfect binding for the spines, he only likes ballpoint pens and never gel, he only uses traditional coloured highlighters and none of that strange, pastel-coloured junk, and he only likes to use a sandalwood scented essential oil diffuser in his apartment and his lecture hall

most of his life has been planned out (he planned out how the next twenty years of his life would go when he was ten, and according to this twenty-year plan, he’s pretty on track) and he likes it that way, so yes, he isn’t a big fan of change when it comes to such an important timeline like this

he’s currently a professor at the university he got his phd from, and because part of his twenty-year plan included going from his bachelor’s degree to his master’s degree to his doctoral degree, it means that he’s actually the youngest professor on the staff’s roster (which, again, was part of his plan all along)

he’s been teaching here for nearly two years now and has built a very solid reputation with his co-workers, he’s the school’s most sought-after professor when it comes to his philosophy classes — he teaches three undergrad classes and two graduate classes and every semester they’re always packed and students will always email him to try and get into the class when the capacity is full — and he’s pretty sure he’s getting a raise soon, which is great because he’s been meaning to splurge on a new electric tea kettle that lets you control the temperature and sings a little song when the water’s done boiling

“alright, let’s bring today’s discussion to a close.” namjoon shakes his wrist, checking the time on his watch before nodding to himself — the lecture ends in five minutes, so he’s wrapping up right on time and he’ll be able to grab a coffee and a croissant before his office hours start, “what we’ve explored today is really just a glimpse into the vast and ongoing conversation about how to engage critically with your existence.” he hums, leaning back against his desk as he looks out at the sea of students in front of him, the sound of pen tips scratching on paper and typing on keyboards coming from all over the room

“after you leave class today, i’d like for you to reflect on the choices you make — not just the big, life-altering ones, but the miniscule, everyday decisions.” he reaches up to adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose, “are they leading you toward a life of purpose and integrity? or are they dictated by external pressures and unexamined habits? we’ll continue this discussion next time, but until then, i’d like you to keep questioning, keep thinking, and keep living philosophically. as always, i have office hours here from 3:30-6 if you have any questions. class dismissed.” he nods, and almost immediately the class breaks into packing up, murmurs rippling through the vast lecture hall

namjoon smiles lightly to himself as he gives himself a mental pat on the back

yet another successful lecture!

he really does love teaching, and he’s so grateful that he’s able to do something that he actually likes for work

shaping young minds is something that he’s always wanted to do, and he thinks he’s been doing a pretty good job as a professor

…

oh, who is he kidding? of course he’s been doing a fantastic job as a professor!

he smiles politely as his students trickle out the door, turning around to grab his wallet out of his backpack

croissant time!

»»————- 📚 ————-««

“hello, are you here for office hours?” namjoon isn’t surprised when he opens the door to see someone standing by his desk, looking around the empty lecture hall, “it actually starts at 3:30, so it would be great if you could come back in fifteen minutes and i’d be happy to answer any questions you have about the lecture.”

“oh, hi!“ you spin around with a smile, and namjoon returns a polite one as he sets his coffee and pastry bag down on the desk, “no, i’m not here for office hours, i’m here to check out the lecture hall for when i start teaching alongside you next week. you’re namjoon, right? i’ve heard so much about you, i’m y/n y/l/n and i’m really excited to start working together-“ you stick your hand out for him to shake and he immediately frowns, glancing down at your hand before looking back up at you with a scoff of disbelief

“teaching… alongside me?” he tilts his head, reaching over to give your hand a shake after a moment of hesitation (it would be rude of him to turn down a handshake, and he has to admit you have a nice, firm handshake), “i’m sorry, what are you talking about?”

“didn’t you get the email? i’m the newest philosophy professor joining the staff-“ you slide your tote bag off your shoulder and pull your phone out, “they told me i’d kinda be shadowing you before they can determine if i should lead my own lectures or not. so i guess i’m a co-professor for now, but eventually i’ll just be a professor. i’ve seen a few of your lectures online, i’m looking forward to working together and-“

“co-professor?” namjoon interrupts, holding his hand out to make you stop talking, “i’m sorry, this is the first i’m hearing of this.” he fumbles for his phone before looking through his email because there’s no way he would’ve missed an email as important as-

okay there it is

yep

he totally missed that

“i see.” namjoon pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, “okay, well… i guess you can just sit with the class and listen to the lectures. i don’t need an assistant professor, but you can help give out handouts or something-“

“well, that would make sense if i was a TA, but i’m not entering this classroom as a TA or an assistant professor, i’m entering it as a co-professor. we’re equals!” you point out, namjoon’s eyes widening when you pull a pen out from your bun and slap a copy of the class syllabus down on his desk

he’s appalled to see that you’ve written all over it, and not only that, you’ve used multiple colours to take notes instead of the traditional black, blue, and red

…pastel purple?!

“i took a look at the lineup you have, and to be frank, it’s a little stiff. your students are drowning in dense readings, and i don’t know about you, but i actually hated reading so much when i was in undergrad-“

“well, that sounds like it’s a you problem, because i liked reading and always appreciated when the professor gave us something dense and enriching to read-“

“why not swap out one of the medieval philosophy lectures for something a little fresher?” you suggest, using the back of your pen to point to the lecture he has planned in a few weeks, “maybe we can do a session on philosophy in science fiction? ooh, ethics in AI might be fun, no? it’s something they can apply to the modern world-“

“philosophy isn’t about chasing trends. it’s about discipline, rigorous thought, and engaging with foundational texts that have shaped human understanding for centuries, professor y/l/n-“

“it’s doctor.”

“what?”

“dr. y/l/n. i just graduated with my phd.”

a moment of silence passes as namjoon processes all of this new information

processing…

“you-“ still processing… “you what? how old are you?”

“you should never ask a woman how old she is, but i’m two years younger than you. and i know that because i actually took the time to look at your profile on the university’s website after getting the email that we’d be working together for the rest of the semester-“

“rest of the-“ namjoon chokes, reaching up to adjust his tie, “okay, respectfully, dr. y/l/n, my whole point is that students have no business calling themselves actual philosophers if they can’t wrestle with aquinas and avicenna-“

“right, because thirty pages of medieval metaphysical debates on the essence of angels is going to determine whether or not a student can call themself an actual philosopher. i’m not saying to abandon the classics, i’m just saying it’s not gonna hurt to throw in a few discussions that’ll make philosophy feel a little more… alive to them!”

namjoon resists the urge to roll his eyes as he takes a seat at his desk, keeping his eyes glued on the scribbles all over your copy of the syllabus

there’s no way he’s gonna work with someone who thinks pastel purple is an appropriate colour to use when taking notes

he reaches over to grab his coffee, taking a sip and-

his coffee is cold

he waited too long and now his coffee is cold, and he would’ve been drinking perfectly lukewarm coffee if it weren’t for the fact that you came and disrupted his whole schedule like this

“anyway, i’m open to discussing spicing up the syllabus once you have the time. i don’t want to take up any of your office hours, i know you probably have students lined up outside already-“ you fold the syllabus back up into four squares before tucking it away into your tote bag (namjoon is once again appalled you don’t have a folder for your papers and seem to have based your organising system off mary poppins’ purse), “but it was really nice meeting you, dr. kim. you have my phone number and email when you want to arrange a meeting.”

“…right…” namjoon trails off, and for the first time is rendered completely speechless and doesn’t know what else to say

all he knows is that there’s no way in hell he’s going to allow this co-professor business to happen.

»»————- 📚 ————-««

you let out a breath as you shut the door behind you, your shoulders finally slumping

you hated that whole interaction

you can already tell that working with namjoon is going to be a pain in the ass

you’d heard some things about him — you’d heard about how great of a lecturer he is and how he genuinely cares about what he’s teaching and what his students are learning from him, but you’d also heard that he was pretty stuck in his ways and not… super cooperative, which you already saw first hand

at the same time, you had to admit that that was a quality that both of you shared — you’re not exactly a fan of being co-professors, you’d much rather just take the reins and lead the class yourself while namjoon sits off to the side, but you are the new one around here and you do want to be liked

so you can play nice for now, because the most important thing you’re focusing on is securing your place as an official staff member and making a great first impression on your new co-workers and your new students

you’d prefer for namjoon to like you, but he seems to be a tough nut to crack

the both of you should at least try to get along, and you’re willing to do that as long as he’s willing to meet you in the middle

so… let’s just hope he’s willing to meet you in the middle

your phone buzzes in the back pocket of your jeans and you pull it out, surprised to already see a text from namjoon

okay

this is great!

the fact that he’s already opening a line of communication is a good sign, maybe this semester won’t be hell on earth after all

the smile on your face slowly disappears when you finally get around to reading the texts, your eyebrows knitting together instead

Hello, Dr. Y/L/N. This is Kim Namjoon. Please save my number so that we may communicate with each other if needed. The semester has already begun, therefore I don’t think there has to be any changes made to my syllabus. We do not need to discuss this topic any further. Thank you.

you don’t even get a chance to really process his text before another one pops up

Also, please stick to black, blue, and red ink for future note-taking and grading purposes. Pastel purple is not an appropriate colour for a higher education atmosphere. Thank you.

»»————- 📚 ————-««

namjoon sighs to himself as he makes his way up the brick stairs to enter the philosophy building, reaching up to adjust his tie

for the first time ever, he’s running a little behind (only by like, three minutes, he’s not that reckless) but it’s only because he spent the earlier portion of the afternoon speaking with the department head and practically pleading them to change their minds about this whole co-professor situation

he’d gone into the office with many good arguments tucked into a neat little powerpoint presentation

for example, he doesn’t need a co-professor because he knows what he’s doing and you would only slow him down

also his students consistently have high grades and his classes are always packed each semester so there’s no issues with consistency or lack of interest

sure, philosophy can be a stiff subject to work with but he thinks he’s done a great job at teaching it and upkeeping enthusiasm

the point is he doesn’t need you, and if anything you should just be teaching your own class and the students who don’t make it into his class can all go to you!

(maybe he shouldn’t have made that last comment, but it’s true.)

but of course, because luck wasn’t on his side, his presentation didn’t convince the department head to change his mind

apparently you were a “great addition” to the staff and that namjoon should feel lucky he gets to work alongside such a “smart, well-spoken young professional” who is “just as good at teaching as he is”

ridiculous

totally ridiculous

what’s even more ridiculous is the fact that you seem to have become a fan favourite despite only being here for literally a week

your mug is already right next to his in the cupboard in the professor’s lounge

it’s clearly a handmade mug you probably made at one of those pottery places because the edges are a little bumpy which makes it wobble a little when you put it face down

the outside is an eggplant purple and the inside of the cup is painted a shade of sage green and it looks like a child would drink chocolate milk out of it

his mug is sensible and professional

it’s plain white with his initials on the front printed in times new roman

everyone knows it’s his mug and there’s never any confusion

he even heard a rumour about one of the spare rooms in the philosophy department being cleared out for a new office for you if things work out

and yes, he has his own office already, but he just thinks everyone is being a little hasty clearing out an office space just for you

he can’t even imagine how you’d decorate the space

you’re probably one of those people who have little trinkets everywhere and you’ll probably have like a miniature pool table on your desk to play with

he shudders as he thinks about having to sit in oversized beanbag chairs instead of actual chairs

“alright, alright, alright!”

namjoon’s surprised when he opens the lecture hall door to an unusually bustling room, the students chatting animatedly as they flip through their notebooks

the air is alive with the rustling of papers, clinking of metal water bottles, and the occasional burst of laughter and he frowns as he sees a few of them leaning forward enthusiastically compared to the usual scene of them scrolling through their phones or talking to each other

he turns his head and sees you at the front of the room, perched casually on the edge of the desk twirling a purple pen between your fingers before shoving it into your bun, “now, something a little controversial...” you pause dramatically, “red ink for grading. ethical, or a crime against student morale?”

namjoon’s jaw immediately clenches as he rolls his eyes — obviously this has something to do with the text he sent you the other day about your ridiculous coloured pens and your little ego’s been bruised and that’s why you’re being bratty

but whatever, because if anything this is just proving his point — you’re an immature little kid totally unfit to be his equal! and he’s more than happy to let you make a fool of yourself in front of his students, so sure, go ahead and talk about your little purple pen for all he cares

the room erupts in laughter and groans and namjoon silently makes his way over to the front to join you, pulling his chair back to see that you’ve already put your backpack down on it

he picks it up and plops it down on the ground, using his foot to kick it under the desk before taking a seat and hanging his backpack on the back of the chair

“i always feel like i’m being yelled at when i see red ink!”

“exactly!” you laugh, sliding up to sit on the edge of the desk with your legs swinging slightly, completely blocking the class from seeing namjoon, “it’s psychological torture. red ink doesn’t just mark mistakes, it screams them. it’s aggressive. but what about if i used green? or pink? or… pastel purple? would you feel a little different about your grade?”

“it would feel… friendlier?”

“friendlier, right?” you grin, tapping your temple as you look out at the room of enthusiastic students, “then here’s the real ethical dilemma, kids — if something as small as ink colour affects how we perceive feedback, then what do we think that says about bigger, more serious choices? if we can reframe an experience with something as simple as colour, then what other biases are shaping the way we see the world around us? something to think about...”

“are you just about done, dr. y/l/n?” namjoon raises an eyebrow, tapping his fingers against the desk as he leans back against his chair, “because i’d like to get started with class now, if you’re ready to go.”

“ah! dr. kim, sorry — i know you usually like to start your classes with a silent ten minutes of quiet reflection of last week’s lecture, but i figured i’d warm up the class myself since this is my first day as co-professor.” you chirp, sliding off the desk before turning to face the class again, “very lovely to meet you all and i’m looking forward to getting to know each and every one of you as we progress with the semester!”

“kiss ass.” namjoon coughs into his fist quietly, getting up from his seat before smiling warmly at his students, nudging you aside with his hip before clapping his hands together, “alright, class! medieval philosophy, let’s get into it…”

you immediately roll your eyes when you turn to face away from the class, taking a seat next to the desk and crossing one leg over the other

he’s just jealous because the students clearly like you more and you’ve only been here five minutes

but if this is how he wants to play, then you’re more than willing to play along.

»»————- 📚 ————-««

namjoon finds that the simplest things in life bring him the most pleasure

a hot cup of black coffee, the perfect scent of sandalwood in a room, the feeling of cracking the spine on a brand new notebook…

but most importantly, a perfectly toasted buttery flaky croissant from the cafe on the bottom floor of the philosophy building

he’s eaten these croissants ever since he was a student here, and he always has a croissant after he teaches classes here on tuesdays and thursdays — it’s like a reward!

“what do you mean there are no more croissants?!” namjoon slams both palms down on the counter, pulling away immediately when he feels that the surface is a little sticky

gross

“sorry, namjoon!” hoseok shrugs, “i just sold the last croissant to- actually, i think you know her, she said she’s the new professor in the philosophy department-“

you.

“i know who you’re talking about.” namjoon grits his teeth, looking at the pastry case for anything else that might satisfy his midday sweet treat craving but he doesn’t want a stupid sea salt chocolate chip cookie or a raspberry white chocolate scone, he wants his plain buttery croissant that you probably only bought to spite him!

“yeah, her!” hoseok grins, setting namjoon’s coffee down on the counter, “she’s really nice, isn’t she? she said she likes the way i do my leaf design on her caramel lattes, no one’s ever complimented my leaves before- it just feels so nice to be appreciated for once-“

“no!” namjoon snaps, pointing a finger at hoseok, “you have to stop yourself from being charmed by her, it’s all an act and- and- next time she asks for a latte, you should do a giant- a GIANT frowney face-“

“well, i don’t think i’m going to do that but-“ hoseok frowns when he notices a vein starting to bulge out namjoon’s forehead, “hey, you seem a little tense! how about a cookie on the house?” he asks, using his tongs to pick up the sad-looking cookie before putting it in a paper bag for namjoon, “it’s just a croissant, namjoon. i know you like ‘em every tuesday and thursday but if it makes you feel better i’ll save you one on thursday! it seems like both of you guys like croissants so i can definitely save two of them-“

the both of them look over to where you’re sitting by the window with his croissant while you flip to the next page of whatever stupid book you’re reading, and namjoon’s gaze doesn’t waver in the slightest when you look up and over at them

you smile brightly, raising the croissant in the air a little before taking a massive bite out of it, rubbing your stomach and nodding your head exaggeratingly

namjoon’s eye twitches and he turns back to look at hoseok

“it is not just a croissant and you know that, hoseok-“ he snatches the cookie from his friend before shaking his head in disappointment, “she is a siren and you are a helpless, weak little sailor-“

“hey! what the hell, man?!”

“WEAK little sailor!” namjoon exclaims as he storms away, angrily shoving the cookie into his mouth and wiping crumbs off with the back of his hand sloppily

»»————- 📚 ————-««

“tae, have you seen my mug?” you frown, taking a few steps back to see if you can get a better view of the second shelf, “i usually have it on the first shelf but i can’t find it anywhere…”

“is it not there?” taehyung — he’s the janitor here and you guys got along pretty quickly — hums, setting his mop aside before walking over to join you by the cupboards, “i swear i saw it there this morning, that’s odd. i’ll keep an eye out and let you know if i see it anywhere. you sure you didn’t leave it in your lecture hall?”

“no…” you trail off, shutting the cupboard doors gently with a sigh, “hm. i’m sure it’ll pop up somewhere. thanks, anyway…”

you like to think that you’re a pretty chill person, but there’s just something about misplacing something that really irks you

because then you start thinking about when the last time you saw the missing object was and then it turns into a spiral of how you could be so careless and irresponsible and lose something and also it makes you anxiously think about someone else using something that belongs to you and only you

that’s your good luck mug!

you made it at a colour-me-mine in freshman year and you’ve used it ever since

you’re convinced it has some kind of magical power because the mug always happens to be there when you get good news

it was there when you got accepted into your graduate program, your doctoral program, and it was literally in your hands when you got the email from the university accepting you as a new professor

so… hopefully it does pop up somewhere

you used it yesterday after class and you remember washing and drying it immediately before sliding it back on the shelf

you chew on the corner of your lip as you push open the door to the lecture hall, your eyes widening when you see namjoon standing there taking a sip from your mug

you open your mouth to say something but he immediately brings a finger up to his lips to shush you — the class is having their silent time and the last thing you want to do is cause a scene, right?

“that’s my mug.” you whisper through gritted teeth, and namjoon moves his hands to the side quickly when you reach up to try to snatch it out of his hands, “you have a stupid, boring mug already-“

“oh, but your mug is so much fun!” namjoon grins, taking another sip of water from it

(it’s actually killing him having to drink from this cursed vessel. why are the edges so bumpy?! how do you drink from this stupid thing without dribbling all over yourself?!)

“it is on, dr. kim.” you hiss, forcing a smile on your face when a few students look up from their desks, “it is so on.”

“hm.” namjoon clears his throat quietly, the two of you standing side by side with your arms pressed together, “bring it, dr. y/l/n.”

»»————- 📚 ————-««

the next few weeks seem to go by like a blur — maybe because you’re actually having a good time teaching the class and slowly growing more comfortable being a professor (you agreed to stick to namjoon’s syllabus only if he allowed you to teach your ethics of AI lecture) but also because this rivalry between the two of you seems to be keeping you on high alert

after the croissant and the mug incident, the two of you only continued to one-up each other

you replaced the sandalwood essential oil in the lecture hall with a refreshing peppermint (and you really doused it in the machine so it would take multiple cycles to be fully flushed out) and in response namjoon bought the entire jug of caramel syrup from the cafe so you’d be forced to pick another flavour

and then you took all of namjoon’s sensible coloured whiteboard markers and replaced them with bright, fun ones forcing him to write in a fuschia pink and in response namjoon bought all fifteen croissants that day which felt kind of dramatic but at the same time you can’t help but kind of respect it

whatever

all you know is that you despise kim namjoon

every morning when you wake up, you’re thinking about how else you can terrorise him besides just taking the last croissant in the display case

every night before bed, you’re thinking about how else you can make fun of his stupid powerpoint presentations and you even considered hacking his laptop and adding fun transitions to his powerpoints to throw him off

he hates fun transitions

with that being said, you’re willing to put the fight on pause because today is an important day — it’s your first time leading a lecture! you’ve been prepping for this ethics in AI lecture and you’re more than excited to show the class (and namjoon) what you’re capable of

and if all goes well, you will be rubbing this success in his stupid, handsome face.

“handfphome?” you blurt out, toothbrush hanging out of your mouth as you blink at yourself in the mirror

oh no

you don’t actually think he’s handsome, do you?

well, there was that one time he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and when he turned around you couldn’t help but notice how broad his back was

and that other time you were looking at his hands when he was pointing to something on his stupid powerpoint and you couldn’t help but think that he had such pretty hands

and also he always smells really good — like a combination of smokey sandalwood and his natural musk

and when you listen to him speak it’s really soothing because he has a deep voice that kind of makes you feel like you’re floating on a cloud being rocked back and forth

he’s also very intelligent and incredibly well-spoken

highly educated, charming in his own weird way (not with you, but you’ve seen the way he interacts with other professors), kinda funny sometimes, and you only know he’s single because you overheard two students whispering about it in the hallway — apparently they’d done a deep dive of his socials and there was no partner to be found, his instagram page was full of pictures of plants and quotes from philosophers

so basically he’s a hot single nerd who’s really into philosophy and plants and you guys are only two years apart and hypothetically if you didn’t know each other and you saw him at the bar you would probably feel a little flustered if he flirted with you

and maybe one time you watched him apply chapstick onto his plump lips and you wondered if they were as soft as they looked

…

you take your toothbrush out of your mouth, your eyes widening in realisation and-

“son of a BITC-“

»»————- 📚 ————-««

“would you let AI decide whether you get a loan? a job? parole? surgery?” you pause, letting the weight of the question settle over the students, “i know, it’s a crazy question. but maybe you already have… algorithms are making these decisions right now — sorting resumes, predicting crime, even diagnosing illnesses. AI is everywhere, and the question isn’t whether it should exist, it’s whether we should trust it…”

the only reason why namjoon is cooperating today is because you’ve (sort of) cooperated with his syllabus over the last couple weeks despite being a total menace to him personally

yes, he’ll let you teach your ethics in AI lecture today because he’s interested in seeing what points you’ll bring up today

he can also tell you’ve been really nervous about leading your first lecture and he still remembers how nervous he was when he was in your position, so he’ll take it easy on you

he caught you practicing your intro in the professor’s lounge and he slowly backed out so that you wouldn’t see him

and he’ll never say this to your face but from the intro alone it sounds like a pretty promising lecture

and it was kind of cute seeing you fumble with your cue cards and going over your lines with your eyes shut

namjoon leans back against his chair as he listens to you speak, keeping his eyes on the back of your head as he crosses his arms over his chest

sure, maybe you’re more than immature when it comes to buying his croissants and replacing his scented oils, but…

oh god

does he respect you as an educator?!

he pauses for a second to think, watching as you reach up to fiddle with a button on your shirt nervously

also you actually dressed up today compared to your usual attire of a sweater and jeans and namjoon can’t help but notice that your ass looks really round in that pencil skirt

he tilts his head slightly as his eyes continue staring at you from behind, the ooga booga man part of his brain wondering how it’d feel to grasp your waist and cup your ass as he-

oh no

he feels his dick twitch in his boxers and he clears his throat quietly, looking down at the desk and focusing on a speck of dust instead

what is this feeling?

he’s pretty sure he hates you

and he’s pretty sure you hate him, so it doesn’t make sense for him to suddenly be thinking about how sweet you smell and how pretty your smile is and how funny it actually was for you to buy the last croissant just to get on his nerves

nope

you guys don’t like each other!

that’s how this works!

you just came in here and totally messed up his flow and you just expect him to go along with it but he refuses to do that and after this semester is over he hopes they stick you in another building far, far away from him

he doesn’t need anyone messing with his routine, and especially not some hotshot professor who just got her phd

“now, some of my less adventurous colleagues-“ you step aside to reveal namjoon, and namjoon feels his jaw twitch when the class laughs lightly after you gesture to him, “would tell you that AI is a dangerous pandora’s box, something that we should fear. and sure, it’s got its problems… bias, accountability, control. but let’s not kid ourselves — human decision making isn’t exactly perfect, either. AI didn’t invent discrimination, it just inherited it from us. so can we teach morality to something that doesn’t feel?”

“AI is a threat to ethical stability. we’re delegating moral decision-making to machines that lack genuine understanding, consciousness, or accountability.” namjoon butts in, standing up from his desk with a scoff, “how can we trust algorithms with decisions that affect human lives when they can’t even grasp mortality in any meaningful way?”

you look at him, slightly surprised that he’s interrupted you this early in your lecture for a debate

but sure, you’ll give it a go — the two of you haven’t actually debated over a subject before and you’re down to totally humiliate him in front of the class

“dr. kim is a great example of what sounding like a doomsday prophet is, class.” you smile sweetly, fluttering your lashes at namjoon as the class breaks into a few giggles and chuckles, “AI is a tool. nothing more, nothing less. it doesn’t need to ‘grasp’ mortality than a calculator needs to ‘understand’ math. the ethical responsibility lies with us! blaming AI is like blaming a knife for stabbing.”

“that’s a dangerously naive view, dr. y/l/n!” namjoon laughs, the two of you staring each other down as you stand at opposite ends of the desk, “AI systems are already making high-stakes decisions — these systems inherit biases from their training data and can operate in ways even their own creators can’t explain. if we don’t impose strict ethical guidelines, we’re ceding control to forces we barely understand-“

“you’re acting like we’re summoning some digital god that’ll enslave us all! AI doesn’t have agency — instead of fearing it, we should focus on improving transparency and fairness in these systems. ethics in AI isn’t about rejecting technology, it’s about guiding it responsibly-“

“guiding it-“ namjoon can practically hear his heart thumping in his chest as his frustration rises inside him, “guiding it responsibly?! and what happens when corporations prioritise efficiency over ethics? what- what about when governments exploit AI for mass surveillance? when biased training data leads to systemic discrimination? you’re placing blind faith in a system that rewards profit over morality- you’re playing a dangerous game, dr. y/l/n, AI isn’t just another tool, it’s a tool we may not be able to control. and your reckless optimism makes you too eager to hand over the reins-“

“maybe you just don’t like that i’m willing to embrace the unknown!” you throw your hands up into the air before pointing an accusatory finger at him, “maybe that unsettles you because you have everything planned to a ridiculous degree, like the temperature of your coffee and what time you eat your croissants-“

“what unsettles me is your inability to take this seriously!” namjoon presses his lips into a firm line, feeling his face heating up, “you act as if ethics in AI is some intellectual playground when in reality, it has life-or-death consequences-“

“oh, i take it very seriously, dr. kim, i just don’t think fear is the right response. fear clouds judgement, and i think you just like to have an insane amount of control over things-“

“well, excuse me! someone has to have control, someone has to make sure we don’t create something we can’t contain-“

“you always think you can contain things, don’t you?”

“and you always think you can push boundaries without consequences!”

“you’d be surprised how many boundaries can be pushed safely, dr. kim.”

there’s a beat of silence between the two of you, the air heavy with something that doesn’t feel like loathing, but rather…

you pause, remembering all of a sudden that the students should be debating with each other instead of watching their professors do it

“uh-“ you turn back to face the class before letting out a chuckle, “let’s take twenty minutes to discuss this subject with the person next to you! dr. kim and i have to re-evaluate the structure of today’s lecture, please pardon us-“

the class breaks into discussion and both you and namjoon exchange glares as you head towards the door

the two of you stumble against each other and get caught in the door for a second, both of you wanting to be the first one out to lead the way

“oh, get off me-“

“you get off me!”

“what is your problem?!” you snap as soon as you leave the lecture hall, heading straight for an empty classroom nearby, “you’re supposed to let me lead this lecture, today was my day and you just couldn’t help yourself!”

when the hell is this going to end?!

there’s no way the both of you can work together if he’s going to get this heated in a debate

and sure, he made some really good points and the nerd inside of you is saying that that really good debate session might as well been some form of foreplay but that’s beside the point

“oh, please.” namjoon kicks the door shut behind him, “all we did was get into a debate, you should be glad i participated at all-“

“you know what, i actually do know what your problem is.” you whip around, jabbing a finger into his (firm) chest, “you’re just a little man who’s threatened by me because we both know i can do your job just as well — or honestly, even better than you can, and this is the first time you’ve had any sort of competition. i’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but you just have to accept the fact that i’m going to be here and i’m sticking around for a long, long-“

“i’m going to kiss you, and if you don’t want that to happen, then tell me now and we can go back to the classroom and i’ll sit there quietly for the rest of your lecture.” namjoon interrupts, and your eyes widen as your breath hitches in your throat

“wha-“ your voice cracks and you feel your face flush, “you- i’m sorry, what?”

“you heard me, y/n.” namjoon looks down at you, and you’re half expecting him to quit the act and say that he’s just fucking with you, but… “so what’s it going to be?”

a moment of silence passes and you feel your thighs press together slightly when namjoon reaches up to loosen his tie slightly, his chest falling and rising in heavy breaths, “funny. you’re so quiet all of a sudden.”

“i…” your lashes flutter as you stare up at him, “fine. you- we-“ you straighten your posture, trying your best not to show how flustered you actually are, “but make it quick because i have a lecture to-“

without another word, namjoon closes the distance between the two of you and in one fluid motion, presses his lips against yours and now you can finally confirm that his lips are as soft as they look

you grip the front of his shirt to pull him closer, deepening the kiss with a fervor that matches the intensity of your back-and-forth over the last few weeks

your lips move against each other’s as namjoon’s hands slide around your waist to pull you in even tighter, his body pressing against yours as if he can’t get close enough

you’re breathless when the two of you eventually pull away, your cheeks flushed and your heart thumping wildly in your chest

“this better not be some weird prank-“ you manage to blurt out, head still spinning from what was a very, very good kiss, “because i’m petty enough to call the catering company and tell them to nix the croissant deliveries entirely-“

namjoon laughs, leaning down for another kiss — this time softer, more deliberate — before pulling away with a playful eye roll

“we’re gonna go back in and you’ll finish your lecture, and if you’re free tonight, i’d love to take you out for dinner.” he murmurs, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was being a little shy

it’s cute

“i’ll go out with you… on one condition.” you hum, reaching up to adjust his glasses for him

“hm?”

“next week you let me lead a lecture on examining the moral dilemmas faced by superheroes in film and comics — like how batman has a no-kill rule and-“

namjoon immediately groans as he turns and heads towards the door, “oh my god, you are infuriating-“

“what?! it’s a good subject!”

🎙️ ask y/n about her thoughts on the nature of consciousness (talk to my characters!)

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

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the-djarin-clan · 5 months ago

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When you look for a fic on Tag Reader and the main character already has a name and social security number...

4K notes · View notes

joons-cinnamon-bun · 6 months ago

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Perfect plan -1-

Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: friends to lovers, friends with benefits? (But the benefit is a baby); crack, a smidge of angst, smut, fluff, happy ending. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings: mentions of cheating and ‘being the other woman’ (past relationship), reader works at a hospital, Namjoon is just an absolute sweetheart in this, cursing, multiple sex scenes, dirty talking, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, just a smidge of size kink, unprotected sex, creampie, intensive orgasms, Namjoon tells you to “Relax, woman” before eating you out, lovemaking, and a quick scene of pregananat sex. Word count: somewhere around 15k. Author's note: You know there is this idea travelling around that writers write what they need to hear? Apparently, I need Namjoon to tell me it’s okay if I don’t have it all figured out. Thank you @callmenoona25 for all your help once again. You’re the sweetest! ✨ ps. English not first language. Brain dumb sometimes. If you’re still reading this, leave a comment, drop a like, they’re literally the joy of my existence. part 2: here

Confetti was not just decoration; it was a phenomenon. It had a very special way of never truly being vacuumed up. No matter how many times you tried, the colorful bits- pink, blue and gold- always seem to wiggle away and hide comfortably into the far corners of the room as if they had a mind of their own. They would stay there, nestled in the shadows, only to flutter up again whenever you tried to sweep them away.

After the third failed attempt, you let out a frustrated sigh and abandoned the vacuum cleaner. You’d leave that task for the sober version of you tomorrow.

Instead, you started gathering the scattered napkins from the dining table, folding them mindlessly. Your gaze wandered to the half-burned candles that still sat on the table, the melted wax serving as a quiet witness to your little gathering.

29.

“Happy Birthday!” – those words never felt heavier, laden with unfulfilled dreams and the weight of another year gone by without much to show for it. Even the celebration, once full of light and laugher, had left behind just another mess to clean up. The year was over and you were left with the quiet aftermath.

You had always imagined this age differently, or at least, that’s what you told yourself every year. By now, you thought you’d have things figured out. You thought there’d be someone by your side, someone to share the joy of the life you had built.

Little baby prints all over the house. Raising a child, teaching them how to blow out birthday candles and clean up the mess afterwards.

You had always imagined being a mother by now. Maybe that’s what hurt the most- how the years seemed to slip by without any sign of the family you’ve dreamed of. The house full of laughter, a partner to help you navigate the messes and milestones.

But instead, you found yourself alone. Alone in a big beautiful house, holding a top position as an administrator at a private hospital. But alone.

You threw away the last of the napkins and pushed your way through the clutter on the dining table, your mind still heavy with the weight of the thought that had followed your around since the last of the guests had left. The candles sat atop the garbage pile when you walked towards the kitchen.

The house felt quieter now, almost too quiet, as if it was holding its breath since the celebration had ended.

When you entered the kitchen, the hum of the dishwasher broke the silence. You hadn’t expected to find anyone still here, but here he was- Namjoon, your friend, still loading dishes with the same quiet focus he’d had all evening.

You two met back in your last year at college, when you were both striving to become more than just another student. You butted heads a few times, competing for the opening position of Teacher Assistant, only for the teacher to completely compromise the project by offering the job to his very own son.

Either way, you walked away with a new friend. (The enemy of my enemy?) You were drawn to his passion, his drive, and his unwavering belief in himself. Turned out the two of you also made a hell of a team when it came to it, because you managed to get the job done, despite the professor’s questionable decisions. You’d stayed late countless nights in the library, hashing out ideas, studying together, even venting your frustration in between textbooks. Namjoon had the uncanny ability to make even the most tedious projects feel worthwhile, and you couldn’t help but admire the way he could turn anything into an opportunity for growth. It was contagious, his unwavering belief that everything- every setback, every challenge, was just another chance to prove yourself.

You’d both laughed about it afterwards, the way the professor’s son had been handed the job without so much as a second though, while you and Namjoon had essentially worked the entire course in the shadows. But it didn’t matter in the end. What you had created, together, was far more valuable than the title ever could’ve given you.

The sound of glassware clinking together was oddly soothing, and for a moment you just watched him.

He was dressed in a casual cream turtleneck that beautifully highlighted his broad chest, paired with olive-green slacks. The golden framed glasses perched on his nose adding a little touch of elegance, perfectly tying the outfit together. He seemed relaxed, at large within the confines of your apartment.

“Still here?”

Namjoon glanced over his shoulder, flashing you a tired but warm smile, “You thought I’d leave you to clean all this on your own?”

You lean slightly against the counter, suddenly feeling restricted by the tight dress you wore, watching him work. It was such a kind gesture, but something about it made you feel even more isolated.

“I could’ve handled it,”

“I know you could,” he said, turning back to the sink, “But I wanted to help.”

There was something about him that made you feel seen, even in moments like these, when you didn’t want to be. Almost like he wasn’t just cleaning up your party mess; he was cleaning your life in some way too. The laughter had faded hours ago, and now it was just the two of you- no more distractions, no more Taehyung and Jungkook cracking jokes, no more celebrating. Just the quiet hum of the dishwasher and the soft clink of plates. Just still life.

You sigh and pull out a chair to sit down at the small breakfast nook “I just feel like… I’m stuck, you know?”

The sparkling champagne made you tongue loose. Feeling vulnerable and raw, you quietly searched his eyes. “Like, I thought by now I’d have it all figured out- where I’m supposed to be, what I’m supposed to be doing. I just thought I’d have more… more something.”

Namjoon set the plate down with a soft clink and turned towards you, his gaze steady but gentle. He wiped his hands on a dish towel, and for the first time that evening, he let the silence hang between you, as if giving you space to let the words settle before responding.

“You know,” he began, his voice low, “I think everyone feels that way sometimes. That sense of… not being where you thought you’d be. But I also think you’re more than what you’re giving yourself credit for.” He paused, then leaned against the counter, meeting your eyes in that way he always did- like he was truly seeing you, not just the person in front of him, but the one beneath the surface.

You shrugged, a half-smile pulling at the corners of your lips, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I just-” You sighed. “I need to stop drinking.”

Namjoon studied you for a moment, his eyes softening as if weighing your words. He didn’t rush to fill the silence with advice or reassurances. Instead, he simply watched, letting the moment hang in the air, even as it thickened with unspoken words.

Finally, after a small eternity, he spoke.

“It’s okay not to have it all figured out.” He paused for a moment “Life isn’t a straight line. I know you like to plan every little detail of it, but sometimes, it’s just not how it works out. You can’t just arrive somewhere and expect it to be perfect.”

You wanted to laugh, to dismiss his words as is you didn’t know already. But something in the way he said it made it feel real. Like he wasn’t just offering empty comfort, but speaking form a place of understanding.

“And maybe you’re not where you thought you’d be. But that doesn’t mean you’re lost.” Namjoon set the tea towel down with quiet precision, then met your gaze once more, his smile faint but steady. “I think... maybe we’re all just figuring it out as we go. Some of us more than others.”

You wanted to say something, wanted to argue, but the weight of his words settled over you, a gentle blanket you didn’t know you needed.

“C’mon, you’re tired. Let’s get you to bed.” The softness of his tone caught you off guard, tugging at something inside of you. His words didn’t come with expectations, didn’t demand anything from you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Instead, you simply nodded, feeling a heaviness settle over you that was both familiar and strange. You stood up slowly, legs still a little unsteady from the alcohol, and made your way to the bedroom, Namjoon following quietly behind you.

You didn’t speak as you reached the doorway. There was nothing to say, not really. So instead, you turned around and wrapped yourself around his body, pulling him in a tight hug.

“Thank you Joonie.”

Namjoon chuckled, squeezing you tightly before whispering “Anytime love.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The fluorescent lights of the 7/11 hummed overhead, as you stood in the middle of an aisle, heart melting into a puddle as you cooed over a chubby-cheeked baby sprawled across a shopping card. All bundled up in a puppy themed onesie, the little one giggled as he reached for a colorful toy, and you couldn’t help but mimic his joyous sounds.

You watched with admiration as the mother, a confident woman in yoga pants (and a vomit-stained shirt), gently tickled the baby’s round face, eliciting a fit of giggles.

Namjoon, as usual, was talking as he dropped something into your shopping cart, not that you were paying him any attention. Not when the baby’s eyes caught your gaze, his smile widening as he cooed at you.

“God Joon, I want one too.”

Namjoon, ever the pragmatist, didn’t miss a beat. “Well, I can get you one, they’re on sale.”

His voice was light, casual, the way he spoke when he didn’t take your thoughts too seriously. You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation.

“What are you talking about?”

“The crackers?” he said, glancing at you, his brow furrowed in confusion as he held a box of crackers in his hand, examining the label as though the fine print held some secret to the universe. “What are you talking about?”

You stared at him for a second, still caught up in the midst of your daydream, before laughing softly.

“The baby, Namjoon.”

“Ah-” he paused, looking back at the baby boy. “I don’t think they sell those here,” he chuckled, throwing a sly glance your way. “But if you want, I can distract the mother, and you make a run for the exit with the baby.”

You laughed at the absurdity of it, shooting him a playful glare, knowing where his teasing would lead.

“Don’t say that! You’ll get us kicked out." You scold with a playful grin.

Namjoon just shrugged, as if the thought didn’t bother him, the teasing glint in his eyes only making you smile wider. You pushed your cart towards the checkout line, the weight of it heavier now.

It’s been a few weeks since you had that moment of weakness, but the ache still lingered, quietly tucked away in the mundane day-to-day distractions. You’d buried the feelings under careful planning, an extra dose of work, and fleeting nights out with friends. But the longing never quite went away.

Instead, it had grown far beyond a mere ‘baby fever’. It was a full-blown malady by now.

Namjoon, however, was a constant, a comforting presence amidst the chaos of your thoughts. And tonight, it was no different, even in the middle of a basic errand run to 7/11. He was there, filling the space with his usual teasing and lighthearted energy, offering a sense of normalcy you didn’t even realize you missed.

“But seriously, I think you’d make a wonderful mother.” Behind you, Namjoon continued to toss items into the cart- bags of chips, cans of soda, candy bars- anything within his reach as he dropped one of the biggest compliments you’ve gotten in the past few years.

It hit you like a soft wave, unexpected, yet somehow exactly what you needed to hear. You paused, a bag of cereal halfway to your cart, processing his words. The motions of the store continued around you- people chatting, the hum of a checkout line in the distance, the baby’s giggles- but for a minute, they all slowed, and it was just the two of you in that fluorescent-lit aisle.

You turn slightly, trying to keep the heat from rising to your cheeks “You think so?”

Namjoon, oblivious to the shift in your mood, continued picking through the shelves, tossing things in your cart with an almost absentminded rhythm “I do.” He said, his voice easy and sincere as it always was with you

“You’re nurturing, you know? And patient. You make people feel safe, like they can just… be themselves around you.” He smiled “And you’re the mother of the friend group.”

He was focused on a big bottle of orange juice when he tacked on “You’d be amazing at it.”

The way he spoke made it sound so simple. But to you, it felt anything but simple. A rush of conflict swirled in your mind.

“Too bad my dating life is so stale,” you grumble, snapping him out of his obsession.

Your past experiences hadn’t been exactly pleasant. From really weird alpha-sigma-dudes trying to convince you that your worth as a woman has declined since you passed the age of 25, to insecure men that felt intimidated by your position in the working field, to just bad timing in general- it was all just… complicated.

The cherry on top was your last relationship. You felt the bitterness creep back into your chest as you thought about him- the doctor. The one who had lied to you for over two years. Even now, the memories felt like a stab straight to your ribs. Like a snake squeezing your heart into nothingness. You gave him everything, trusted him with your heart, only to have it shattered in the cruelest way. You could still remember the disbelief in your voice when you had to confront him.

“God, how did I miss that?” You murmured underneath your breath, your grip tightening around the cart handle.

Namjoon, who had been rifling through the cart, didn’t seem to notice the dark cloud that settled over you.

“Stale? Nah, you’re daring life’s just on pause.” He said, completely unaware of how much his words stung.

“The only man I wanted to start a family with turned out to be married!” You snap. The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharp and bitter. You could feel the heat rise to your chest as the frustration spilled over, the old wound reopening with an ache. Namjoon froze mid-motion, his hand still hovering over a bag of something. The silence that followed was heavy, and you immediately regretted it.

But Namjoon, ever the perceptive one, quickly managed to draw you back in.

“That dick?” he huffed “Its better you found out early on. I can’t bear the idea of you having asshole-babies.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Namjoon’s lighthearted response, despite the lasting burn. The absurdity of ‘asshole-babies’, paired with the sincerity of his tone, almost made the bitterness dissolve. The tension in your chest shifting slightly.

He dropped the bag back into your cart and met your eyes. “You deserve someone who treats you right, who sees all the amazing things you are. You don’t need to settle for anything less.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. It was comforting to hear him speak like that, as if he believed in you more than you sometimes believed in yourself.

“Thank you love,” you said softly, your smile genuine but still fragile.

He flashed a grin, nudging you with his elbow as he walked along you towards the checkout.

“Now, what the fuck did you buy? Why are there three bottles of ketchup here?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay! I have decided.” You announce suddenly, drawing the attention of everyone at the small table to you. The murmur of laughter and clicking of glasses fades into the background, and a bubble of anticipation surrounds your little booth.

The bar is buzzing with life; particularly crowded for a Thursday evening, yet, even among the crowded mess, Jungkook still somehow managed to secure a secluded little nook for your rag-tag group of four.

You glanced around the dimly lit room, where the flickering neon lights casted playful shadows along the walls- a slight twinge of courage envelops you as the warmth of the alcohol teases your senses, coloring your cheeks bright red.

Namjoon’s brow rises, and he takes a contemplative sip from his tall glass of beer, a thoughtful expression dancing across his face. In front of you, Jungkook and Aera are deep into their third glass, laughing at some inside joke only cringey couples would make, oblivious to the rising tension radiating from your suddenly bold proclamation.

“Decided?” Namjoon echoed, setting his glass down, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips as he watches you.

Aera and Jungkook both turn their attention to you as well. Jungkook leaned back in his seat, a mischievous glint in his eyes, while Aera wiped her lips with the back of her hand, ready for whatever random revelation you were about to drop.

“I’m going to have a baby by myself!”

The words hung in the air for a long moment, as though the entire bar had suddenly gone still. Your proclamation floating quietly through the air before crashing and tumbling on the small table between you.

Namjoon blinked, his beer halfway to his mouth, while Aera and Jungkook both froze mid-laugh, their faces a reflection of disbelief and curiosity.

“What?” Jungkook was the first to speak, his voice completely drowning in confusion.

“I already set up a college saving’s account, and I got a head start on the nursery.” You reached for a napkin, just so your fingers have something to do. “The contractor is coming over this weekend to look at the room.” You looked up to gauge their reaction, but when no one spoke, you continued “I mean, I don’t even use the at-home office. It’s perfect.”

Leaning back into the seat, you plant your elbows on the table, the rough surface grounding you as the weight of your declaration settles heavy in the air.

“Wait, wait,” Aera says after regaining her composure, her eyes slightly narrowing with skepticism. “You’re seriously saying you want to become a single parent? Just like that?”

“She’s serious.” Namjoon cuts in, setting his now-empty beer glass down on the table.

He nursed that drink for the past hours only to finish it with one long sip?

“Trust me, this isn’t a rushed decision. She’s been toying with the idea for months.” He mumbled, leaning back into the booth.

“Yeah,” you nod confidently “The kindergarten right down the block from me has an afternoon group. So, after the baby turns three, I can start working again. And until then I should live comfortably with my savings.”

“Noona you can’t!” Jungkook looks terrorized by the thought, the alcohol just as evident on his face as it was on yours. “So what? You’ll just start fucking every Dick, Harry and Joe in town until you get knocked up?”

Under normal circumstances, the youngling would be much more careful with his words around you, but now, with the buzz going on in his head, his desperation seemed to have taken over. His eyes quickly shifting from you to his Hyung, as if pleading Namjoon to back him up.

The atmosphere shifts as Jungkook's words slice through your carefully crafted confidence. Laughter begins to bubble back to life around you, but your own heart has started to race, confusion and boldness swirling together like a cocktail in your stomach. You stare at Jungkook.

“You know that’s not how it works.” You reply, your tone steadier than you feel. An involuntary smile creeps back onto your lips. “It’s not that simple, and I’m not looking for casual hookups. God only knows what messed up genetics those dudes have. And I run a risk of an STD.” You shake your head. “No Kookie, I have a plan.”

You take a deep breath, allowing the faint buzz of the bar to seep into your consciousness again, grounding you while your amusement at Jungkook’s pure shock begins to surface again.

“Besides, the plan isn’t just a plan; it’s a well-thought-out strategy.” You try to encourage him, but he just blinks up at you like a hurt little puppy. “I scheduled an appointment at a fertility clinic.”

“And if the plan fails? What if you’re not ready for the challenges of parenting? It’s not just about the nursery or the savings. Have you thought about the reality of it?”

Deep down, you know that Aera just wants to help, however, her questions rub you slightly the wrong way.

“Of course I have!” You assert, a tad defensively but with sincerity woven into your voice. “I’ve done my research, Aera. What it takes. What I need. There are all sorts of resources out there for single parents. It’s not like I’ll be doing this entirely alone. I have you guys, and I know I can reach out to others too if it gets too tough.”

Jungkook ran an exasperated hand down his face, grasping at straws as he mumbled, “What about your love life? This is such a huge commitment, and you’re just going to push that aside for... A child?”

You appreciate the concern, but something in you quakes at the thought of your future being dictated solely by the prospect of a romantic relationship.

“My love life is already complicated. I don’t want to put my dreams on hold for a partner that might not even come.”

“Namjoon! Say something!” Jungkook pleaded, but the gentle giant just kept on silently studying you.

“Congratulations.” Was the only thing that left his lips after a long moment, making you beam up at him as if you’d just received a gold start on a test.

“See?” you said, your smile widening as you glanced back and forth between them. “Namjoon gets it! Life’s too short to wait around for the perfect moment!”

Aera finally shook her head, a soft smile gracing her lips despite the concern in her eyes. “It’s just, we can’t help but worry for you. What if it’s harder than you think? What if you regret this choice down the line?”

You reach for her hand, squeezing it gently. “That’s the thing Aera. I’m not doing this on a whim. I’ve mapped it out. I’m prepared. I believe I can give my child the love and support they need.” You smile, glancing between Jungkook and Namjoon.

“Fine.” Jungkook relented, leaning back in his seat with a resigned sigh, his hands raised in mock surrender. “I guess if you’re really set on this… just promise you won’t forget about me when you become Super Mom or something.”

Aera rolled her eyes playfully, yet her smile remained as she leaned against his chest “As if you’d let her forget. You’d probably be the most dramatic babysitter ever.”

A ripple of laughter echoed among the three of you, the tension momentarily lifting, only Namjoon just kept on staring at the bottom of his empty beer glass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook took no mercy on Namjoon as they walked down the street. After making sure you and Aera safely got an uber home, the little drunken monster unleashed.

“Hyung! You can’t let her do this!”

Namjoon gave a soft chuckle, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He was still processing everything himself; the weight of the conversation hanging heavily on him. Jungkook, who was practically bouncing on his feet with a mix of frustration and concern, shot him an incredulous look.

“You can’t just sit back and let her make such a huge decision by herself!” Jungkook insisted, his voice rising “She’s literally planning to have a baby alone, Hyung!”

“Kookie, she’s a full-grown woman.” Namjoon began slowly, rubbing a hand over his face “And she’s not doing this impulsively. She’s been thinking about it for months.” He paused, as if weighing his next words carefully “She’s not the kind of person to just… act on a whim. She has a plan. And I think, maybe, that’s what she needs right now.” He exhaled a deep breath, looking up at the street lights overhead, his mind running through the conversations he’d had with you.

Jungkook’s brows furrowed, a look of disbelief plastered on his face.

“And what about you?”

Namjoon stopped walking, his steps halting mid-stride as the question hit him like a stone wall. For a brief moment, there was nothing but the distant hum of a passing car and the quiet rustling of leaved in the evening air. He turned towards Jungkook; his eyes wide with uncertainty.

“What about me?” Namjoon asked, his voice low, the question more to himself that to Jungkook at first.

“Are we really doing this now?” Jungkook groaned “You love her. C’mon, catch up.”

Namjoon stood still, eyebrows meeting his hairline. He had always kept his feelings hidden, buried under layers of friendship and mutual understanding, the steady belief that he was just someone who needed to be there for you- no strings attached.

But now? Jungkook’s question churned him harder than he expected.

Namjoon blinked, unsure whether to laugh it off or tell him off.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kookie.”

Jungkook didn’t let up. “Hyung, I’m serious. I see the way you look at her! The way you act around her! You’re not fooling anyone!”

“Yes, because she’s my friend!” Namjoon tried to protest, but Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“You don’t look at me like that!”

Namjoon’s chest tightened, his throat a little dry as he tried to force some clarity into his emotions.

“Kookie. You’re drunk, you need to sleep it off.”

Jungkook shook his head, as if he were trying to clear out the haze of alcohol clouding his mind. But the intensity of his words didn’t waver. “I’m not drunk enough to miss what’s right in front of me.” His voice softened a little “I’m just saying… maybe it’s time to stop pretending?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Namjoon repeated, but his voice wavered slightly, betraying him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunday movie nights have been a staple in your relationship. Something you both held sacred since the beginning. Only under the most extreme circumstances had either of you ever canceled.

Lately, though, you seemed to call it off more often than not. Ever since you started your weekly appointments at the clinic, Namjoon noticed he was seeing less and less of you.

But tonight, you were adamant to keep the tradition alive. The opening credits of Deadpool 3 were already up on the screen, waiting for someone to press play, while Namjoon busied himself hauling all the blankets to the couch. A spread of your favorite snacks sat neatly on the coffee table. The only thing missing was... you.

In your bedroom, you sat at in the middle of your bed, the laptop balanced on your lap as you repeatedly refreshed your email inbox.

“You ready?” Namjoon called out from the living room.

“Yeah, just a sec!” You refresh again, your face lighting up when the awaited email appeared.

Namjoon watches your reaction and laughs, “Let me guess. It’s going to be more than a second now?”

“I just got the donor list. Want to help me choose?”

Namjoon’s laughter fades, replaced by a look of concern that make your heart race. He shifts from one foot to the other, trying to gauge your enthusiasm.

“Choose?” he repeats hesitantly, “Like, pick a donor?”

“Yeah,” you respond, excitement bubbling over as you quickly type away on the computer. “You’re my friend. I want your input. It feels right.”

He bites his lip, unsure of how to process this new layer to your already documented decision. “You really want me involved in this?”

“Of course! I trust you. Plus, it’s a big step. I could use a little support.” You give him a little sheepish smile, almost hiding your face behind the screen.

Namjoon nods slowly, the weight of your request settling in. “Okay… I’m here for you.” You beam up at him, quickly patting the space next to you “Just-how do we do this?” Namjoon settled down, his eyes quickly scanning the screen.

“There’s a list of profiles with backgrounds, interests and even photos. We can look through it together.” You pause, letting him read over the page.

“This guy seems interesting.” you say pointing to a profile that catches your eye “He’s into poetry, works as a dentist and seems really kind…” but your voice dies down “Ah, but his hair line is receding.”

Namjoon leans closer. “What about this smiley one?” he asks, highlighting a profile with a striking smile.

“Nah, he has a bit of an overbite.” You move the mouse away, “I want to minimize the chances of the kid needing braces.”

Namjoon chuckles, watching you scroll through the list “Oh look! A Redhead!”

“Can I be honest?” you glance up at him, smiling once you caught his gaze “I’m not really into gingers.” You whisper, earning yourself a lighthearted laugh from him. His dimples deepen, and his eyes nearly disappear with mirth.

“You’re such a stereotype.” He teases.

You finish scrolling through the profiles. Each one eliciting more critiques than compliments.

“Too many tattoos.”

“Too much facial hair.”

A crooked nose, a weird eye color, a weird mole. Too short; too tall. That one yodels for fun. You could go on~

After a few more profiles you reached the end. “Ugh, none of these guys are right. It’s like a never-ending list of disappointments.” You groan, closing the laptop and falling back on the mattress.

Namjoon sighs dramatically, taking the laptop from your grasp and setting it on the bedside table, leaning back on the bed. “Maybe you should add a ‘no weirdo’s filter’.”

“Seriously! What’s wrong with some of these guys?” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

This was already the third trial, and you still hadn’t chosen a single profile. Deep down, you knew the things you got so fixated on were merely superficial flaws, but they felt monumental when it came to deciding your future. Even with your careful planning, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were running an undeniable risk.

That is not even considering the fact that the insemination might not even work in the first place. But that only added more chances and statistics to your plan, making your head spin. So, you consciously avoided that rabbit hole.

Namjoon chuckles softly, rolling on his side to face you. For a moment he said nothing, quietly studying your frustration.

“Listen,” he finally broke the silence, his eyes reflecting a gentle resignation “I know you don’t need it; but you have my full support. Whatever- or whoever- you pick.” His smile was so sincere that it made your heart skip over a beat, and in that moment, a new, bold idea took root in your mind.

You allowed yourself a moment to admire your friend- his perfectly symmetric face, kind eyes and adorable dimples. Your gaze drifted lower, taking in his chiseled jawline, elegant neck and the contours of his collarbones, all perfectly complementing his broad shoulders and newly toned muscles.

Suddenly, that unconventional idea that popped in your mind began to feel more enticing. After all, you knew him- the little quirks, the strengths, the pet peeves. You’d met his parents’ countless times. It could actually work out. And you were confident enough in your relationship to give it a shot.

You let out a soft sigh, your heart racing as you considered the next step in your journey. Turning to face him, you bit your lip as you hesitate before speaking.

“Namjoon… can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He propped himself up on one elbow, concern flickering across his face.

You took a deep breath, gathering your ideas. “I’ve been thinking about this process, and-” You swallowed hard “It’s a big commitment. I want to make sure everything it perfect, you know?”

He is so understanding, watching you quietly and nodding along to your ramblings.

“So, I was wondering if you’d be willing to get tested.” You rushed the words out, your gaze darting to the ceiling, avoiding his eyes.

Namjoon’s brows furrowed in confusion “Get tested? Like... for what?”

You swallowed again, trying to keep your voice steady. “For compatibility. I’d like to know the donor’s genetics, and it would really help to have your input on it. It you’re comfortable, of course.”

A heavy silence filled the room. You could feel the tension in the air as Namjoon processed your request, your heart racing louder with each passing second of his contemplative silence.

“Wait.” He finally snapped, his voice low and measured “You want me to get tested as a potential donor?”

Your palms felt clammy as you looked back at him, offering him a shy nod “Yes?”

“That’s not what I meant-” He stopped his own idea in its tracks “Won’t it make things weird between us?”

“No! Just think about it! I know you; I know your family history. I like your face. And we don’t have to tell anyone. And you can choose how much you want to be involved in the baby’s life. Like I said, I want to be a single parent.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he listened to you ramble on and on about your idea. His brows furrowed deeper, knitting together as he tried to process your words. After a few long moments of constant talking, he held up a hand, stopping your frantic speech.

“Slow down,” he instructed, his voice low and measured, “Let me get this straight- you want me to consider being a sperm donor for your child?”

You nodded eagerly, stomach twisting with emotion and heart picking up in double time. “Yes! I know it’s a lot to ask, but I trust you. We’re best friends, and it would be nice to have a personal connection to the kid’s other parent.”

He turned away from you, deep in thought running a hand through his hair in agitation. “I-I don’t know.” His throat made a weird noise “This is a lot to process.”

Suddenly feeling uncertain, you bit your lip hard. “I know, I know. And it’s totally fine if you say no. We never have to speak of this again.” You shift slightly, feeling heat rise to your neck. “I just though since we’re so close…” You mumble, losing your idea for a moment, before quickly picking it up again "It's not like we'd be raising the kid together! Just, you know...biologically related. As friends."

Namjoon sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Look, I need some time to think about this, okay? It's not a decision I can make lightly."

"Of course," you replied quickly, not wanting to pressure him. "Take all the time you need. I'm sorry for springing this on you out of nowhere."

He offered a small, reassuring smile. “It’s all right. I’m just surprised. That’s all. I’ll let you know once I’ve had a chance to really consider it.’

You nodded, feeling a mix of hope and anxiety swirling in your gut. “Thank you, Joonie. Just for thinking about it.”

He reached out, giving your hand a comforting squeeze “I’ll always be here for you.”

You returned the gesture, heart full of affection for your best friend. “I know, thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joon 🎍: Just got the tests back. Damn. Don’t even know what half these things are. Busy-bee🐝: If you bring them over, I’ll translate. 😊 Joon 🎍: Yeah. Omw rn. Did you have dinner yet? Busy-bee🐝: Nooo, can we please have Bibimbap? Joon 🎍: Anything you want, love.

Namjoon arrived a short while later, carrying a takeout bag that wafted delicious aromas through the kitchen. He set it down on the table with familiarity, fetching plates and utensils as you carefully looked over the medical results.

“Bibimbap, just as you ordered.” He said, grinning. He looked at you, his expression shifting to one of concern as he noticed the serious look on your face “Is everything okay?”

You glanced up from the papers, forcing a smile “Just trying to wrap my head around all of this.”

He slid into the chair across from you, pulling the take-out container and placing it in front of you. “Take a break from the serious stuff for a moment. Food first. Medicine later.”

You chuckle softly and opened the container, the colorful array of veggies and rice making your stomach growl. “You’re right. Can’t think on an empty stomach.”

As you began to eat, Namjoon began to rifle through the papers. “So, what’s this one?” He picked up a paper, squinting at the dense text. “I swear, some of these graphs look like they belong in a science-fiction novel.”

You giggled, nodding along “I know, right? Let me see… This one is about genetic markers for health risks, and this one,” you pointed to the colorful one “It’s about traits related to personality and intelligence.”

Namjoon let out a long-intrigued sound, “What does it say about me?”

You chuckle, trying to suppress a smile “Well, it’s not like one of those personality tests you find in a girly magazine. But it says our baby might have higher chances of being a visual learner, with higher openness to experiences.” You take a big bite, quietly chewing over the fact that you just called it ‘our baby’ – as in, you and Namjoon. Mashed together.

“Openness to experience? That’s code for ‘adventurous’ right? I think I prefer the term ‘spontaneous’.” Namjoon feigned offence, looking over the papers as if trying to confirm your diagnosis.

“It’s another way to say you’ll jump at any wild idea.” You tease him, mouth half-full. “But it’s a good quality! You’re creative, fun and adaptable.”

He leaned in closer, curiosity piqued “And what about intelligence? Am I a genius?”

You flipped the paper around, scanning for the relevant section. “Looks like you score high on analytical thinking and problem-solving. So, I guess, in the right context, you could definitely call yourself a genius,”

“Can I add that to my cv?” he joked, before turning serious again “But does any of this affect your choice? Does it change anything for you?”

You took a moment, pondering his question as you quietly chewed your food. “I guess it just adds another layer to think about. I want the baby to have a good mix of traits, you know? If I choose a donor who has strengths like yours, it could make an indent in my favor.”

Namjoon’s expression softened, silently watching you scan the results, before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Whatever you decide, love.”

You smiled, feeling reassured as you grabbed the next paper “Thanks, love. Now, let’s see how your swimmers are doing!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is a thin line between being a genius and an idiot. Namjoon liked using that line as a jumping rope. He had been called both names, sometimes within the same day. One minute he’d be diving deep into philosophical discussions, and the next he was deemed a mumbling fool simply because you fluttered your eyelashes at him.

He knows he is brilliant. His academic achievements and professional life were testament to that. A whole company depending on his decision. Yet here he was, getting grilled for the past hour by Seokjin and Taehyung for being the biggest dumbass that walked this dying earth.

“What do you mean you just agreed to be her sperm donor?” Seokjin blurted; his disbelief palpable as he leaned against Namjoon’s desk.

Namjoon just shrugged, trying to keep his cool. “It’s not as simple as that. We’ve talked about it, and I think it could work out.”

Taehyung leaned in; eyes wide with mock horror “You really jumped into this without thinking it through? Are you insane?”

“I thought about it plenty!” Namjoon retorted, frustration creeping in. “I trust her! We’re best friends. This isn’t some random decision.”

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk “Best friend or not, you’ll be tied to her and that kid for life! You’d practically be family!”

"Guys, I get it," he said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. "I've thought about this a lot, and I really believe this is the right thing to do."

Taehyung shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face. "You're not thinking straight, Namjoon. This is a huge decision, and you're not even considering the long-term implications."

"I am considering them!" Namjoon insisted. "I know that by agreeing to be her donor, I'm getting myself involved with her and the kid for life. But that's exactly what I want. I want to be there for them and support them in any way I can."

Seokjin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Namjoon, you're a brilliant guy. You've always been one of the smartest people I know. But sometimes, I worry that you're so focused on doing the right thing that you don't stop to consider whether it's the smart thing."

Namjoon opened his mouth to protest, but Taehyung cut him off. "He's right, Namjoon! This isn't just a textbook case. This is real life, and there are real emotions involved. You can't just apply your weird logic to everything and expect it to work out."

Namjoon sighed, feeling a pang of frustration. He knew his friends were just trying to protect him, but he couldn’t help but feel like they were overcomplicating things.

"Maybe you're right," he said after a moment. "Maybe I am an idiot for doing this. But it's a risk I'm willing to take. I trust her, and I want to be there for her. That's all that matters to me."

Seokjin and Taehyung exchanged a look, but eventually, they both nodded.

"Alright," Seokjin said. "We'll support you, no matter what. But you’re still an idiot.”

Namjoon sighed; resignation evident on his features at he turned his attention back to his computer.

“You could’ve asked her on a date and get to the baby making naturally.” Seokjin added.

“She doesn’t want a relationship.”

“Well, you can skip straight to the baby making!” Taehyung exclaimed, but Namjoon just rolled his eyes.

“It’s not that simple, Tae...”

Unbeknownst to Namjoon, on the other side of town, you and Sumi, your good friend and co-worker, were engaged in a strikingly similar conversation.

“So, I asked him to donate a sample.” You fidgeted with your fingers under the table, unable to meet her eyes, cheeks burning with embarrassment as you voiced your actions. “Any thoughts?”

Sumi studies you for a long moment, her expression inscrutable. You felt the intensity of her gaze as she tries to gauge your sincerity. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Yes, and prayers,” she said softly “You need them.” She gives you that incredulous look that only the head nurses seem to master.

You blink, stunned by her response. You expected something different, something along the lines of excitement or curiosity, instead, her reaction was surprisingly tame.

“Why didn’t you just bang him?” She asks, her tone casual, no hint of professionalism in her demeanor.

Your eyes widen in shock “Ayy! Don’t say that!”

“I mean, you can cut out the clinical middle man this way,” she continued “And god knows you need to get laid.”

Your face grew hot. “That’s not the point...” you mumble.

Sumi raised an eyebrow. “Then what is the point, exactly?” She leaned back in her chair, bubble tea clasped in her hands and a smirk playing on her lips. “The baby gets made either way. This is just more fun.” She giggled “You know, Jimin told me that Namjoon used to have quite a reputation with women back in his day.”

You shift in your seat, avoiding Sumi’s probing gaze as you gathered your thoughts. The conversation has taken a turn you hadn’t anticipated, and you were struggling to find the right words.

“The point is, I want to do this the right way.” you say, aimlessly spinning the straw in your drink. “I want to give this child the best possible start in life, and that means doing things properly.”

Sumi considers your words for a moment, before nodding in understanding “I get that,” she says. “But you don’t have to be so serious all the time. You can still have fun and enjoy the process.”

You can’t help but snicker as she emphasizes the words “You sound just like Jimin,” you say, referencing her boyfriend. “He’s always telling me to lighten up and enjoy myself.”

“Well, he’s not wrong.” Sumi says with a grin. “And just so we’re clear, sex is the ‘proper way’ that normal humans use to make babies.”

You roll your eyes, “I know that.”

“Good. At least I don’t need to explain how that works.” She smirks “And I’m sure Namjoon would be more than happy to oblige.”

Suddenly, a very vivid image appears in your mind. Namjoon, hovering over you, his breath washing over your face as your hips collide together. You feel a shiver run down your spine, butterflies emerging in your stomach and quickly push the thought away.

“Make the poor guy feel more involved in the process. You’re treating him like milking cow right now.”

“God, don’t say that!” You cry out, shaking your head to clear the image from your mind. Namjoon was a gentleman, and you were grateful for his help. But the thought of asking him to sleep with you too made you uncomfortable. How would that conversation go?

Hey Joonie, since you’re already getting me pregnant, why not just fuck me?

Sumi laughed, "Well, it's an option. And sometimes, the most unconventional methods can lead to the most beautiful outcomes."

You couldn't argue with that. After all, you were about to become a single mother, and that was certainly not the conventional route.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you look across the table at her. She was watching you with a knowing smile, one that suggested she could see right through your nervous façade.

“And just think of it this way, all that money you save from all the clinic appointments can go towards buying cute baby clothes.”

That was the weakest argument yet, but still, you found yourself actually entertaining that idea.

“Do you really think he’ll agree?” as the words leave your mouth a pang of guilt strikes you. Namjoon has been nothing but kind and generous so far, and here you were, letting your horny thoughts take over. You respect and value your friendship more than the need to ‘make things fun’. You can’t do anything to jeopardize that.

“Trust me babe,” Sumi sounds so casual in her conviction. She’s right thought- sometimes, the unconventional ways do lead to the most favorable outcomes. And you can’t deny the spark that ignites in your chest whenever you think about Namjoon.

And this way, you can have more control over the situation. The amount, the frequency. The position….

After all, all the pregnancy and fertility books you’d read recommended that a deep connection is important when it comes to getting pregnant.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, fidgeting with your fingers again. “I mean, it’s not like I can just ask him to sleep with me.”

Sumi chuckles and takes a sip of her bubble tea. "Why not? You're two consenting adults, and you both want the same thing. It's not like you're asking him to marry you or anything."

You can't help but roll your eyes at her flippant attitude. "Yeah, I know, but it's not that simple. Namjoon is a good friend, and I don't want to ruin that. Plus, I don't know if I'm ready for something so...intimate with him."

Sumi raises an eyebrow. "Intimate? Girl, you're already asking him to donate his sperm. How much more intimate can you get?"

You take a deep shaky breath, trying to lower your blood pressure as you absorbed her words. She has a point- you hate it, but she has a point.

“Okay, I’ll think about it.” you finally say, meeting her gaze. Sumi just smirks at you, clearly pleased with that response.

“That’s all I can ask for.” She says, taking another sip from her bubble tea. “And remember, there’s no rush. Take your time and do whatever feels right.”

You nodded, feeling the heaviness in your chest swirl. You knew this was a big decision, and you don’t want to take any part of it lightly. But you also can’t ignore the possibilities that lay ahead.

As the conversation turns to other topics, your thoughts wandered back to Namjoon. You imagined his kind smile, his gentle nature, and his unwavering support. And you can help but let your mind fantasize.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Busy-bee🐝: Need to ask you smth. Joon 🎍: If it’s about the sample, I’m omw to drop it off at the clinic now. Busy-bee🐝: NoooOooOoo Busy-bee🐝: Stop! Busy-bee🐝: Pls don’t. Joon 🎍: Did you change your mind? Busy-bee🐝: No. Not quite. Joon 🎍: Quite? What happened? What do I do now? Busy-bee🐝: Can you just come over? Joon 🎍: Sure? But just so you know. I have a jar of sperm with me. Busy-bee🐝: Yyuckkk Joon 🎍: Don’t worry. It’s sealed. Busy-bee🐝: Still gross, lol. Just hurry. Need to talk.

While you waited for him to arrive, your heart pounded in your chest. You paced around your apartment in your pajamas, desperately searching for something- anything to clean or organize. The conversation with Sumi replayed in your mind, her words echoing as you contemplated your options thoroughly.

You couldn’t possibly complicate things with Namjoon, could you?

A soft knock on the door breaks you out of your reverie. And with a deep breath, you open it to find Namjoon standing there, casual and charming, in a green hoodie and ripped jeans, the familiar warm smile lighting up his face.

“Hey,” he says, stepping inside “What’s up? You sounded urgent.”

“Um, yeah…” you close the door behind him and gestured for him to sit on the couch. “I wanted to talk about the… um, sample?”

He raises an eyebrow “Didn’t you just say not to take it to the clinic?”

You wince sightly, still grappling with how to express what you really wanted to say. “Well, I was thinking…maybe we can talk about the process?”

Namjoon settles down, giving you his full attention, confusion clearly evident on his face “What’s on your mind?”

“Sumi mentioned that-” You stop, allowing yourself a second to gather your fraying thoughts, “Well, since we’re both consenting adults…I thought it would be more medically apt to try this with a more ‘hand-on’ approach.”

He nodded, listening closely as he rubbed his chin. A cliché lightbulb suddenly going off in his mind and Namjoon’s eyes widened as he took you in.

“Are you suggesting you what I think you’re suggesting? Because if you’re not my mind went to a very inappropriate place.” He asks, his tone light but serious.

You stammer, nodding slowly as heat flooded your face and neck. “I mean, it’s just an idea. We’re both single…” you trail off, staring at a painting on the wall, “I know it’s unconventional, but I just want to make sure everything’s… right.”

He leans back, quietly considering your words, “It’s definitely a bigger step. Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?”

As he leaned back on the couch, he spread his legs wider, getting comfortable and invertedly drawing your attention to his well-toned thighs, making your mouth go dry.

“Honestly,” you force yourself to look him in the eye. “I don’t know. But I like the idea of us being more connected during the- that. It feels… outlined better?” you sighed exasperated with your own brain for not cooperating. “But I don’t want it to ruin our friendship. You mean a lot more to me.”

“You mean a lot to me too, and don’t worry,” he says, “I promise the friendship will remain intact.” He paused for a moment, “And I also agreed once, so yeah, I’m here for you whatever you decide.”

A quiet moment passes as you let his words sink in. His expression was earnest, and the sincerity in his voice offered a reassuring warmth. It was comforting to know that, no matter what weird direction you decide to go in, Namjoon would still treat you like a priority. You let out a long breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Really? You’d be okay with that?”

“Of course,” Namjoon replied, “If your plan needs me here five times a week, then I’ll be here.”

A deep red blush creeps up your neck to settle on your cheeks, as your mind quietly conjures up the scenario where five nights in a row, Namjoon comes over and bends you over every surface in your apartment.

You smiled, a wave of excitement washing over you, but beneath that smile, your mind raced and your heart fluttered. This was a significant decision, and you needed to approach it strategically!

“The plan requires we lay down some ground rules first,” you say, shifting your tone to a more analytical one, “We need to define what this would look like for both of us. Like boundaries, approach and what we’re comfortable with.”

As you sit down next to him, your heart still pounds in your chest. “Okay, so, here’s what I was thinking,” you begin after a drawn-out breath, “We should approach this like a partnership, with communication and mutual respect. We’ll need to set some rules and make sure we’re both comfortable.”

“That makes sense. I want you to feel safe throughout this process. What kind of boundaries did you have in mind?”

“Well, for starters, we should only do this when we’re sober and well-rested. And we should check in with each other beforehand to make sure we’re on the same page.” You scratch at the back of your neck, looking away for a second.

“That’s a good start.”

“And it’s about the baby making.” You add.

“We already established that.” Namjoon nods, a serious look on his face.

“Are you comfortable with a more casual approach or do you think we should be more clinical about it?”

“Casual. Definitely.” Namjoon shakes his head at the idea of doing it in a sterile white room, a shiver running down his spine. But he quickly composes himself and in turn asks you, “What about after? Do we tell people about this, or keep it to ourselves?”

You took a moment to chew on your bottom lip, considering the implications, even though you’ve thought about this before.

“We should keep it to ourselves for the moment being. Even if almost everyone knows you donated, they don’t need to know…” you trail off again, the blush deepening “How.”

Namjoon nods in understanding, “I can respect that. I don’t want any unnecessary drama.” He gave you a reassuring smile.

You take another deep breath, and allow the sense of relief that comes with his smile wash away any lingering discomfort.

“Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’re doing.

Namjoon reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm here for you, no matter what. And I want you to know that I'm not doing this out of a sense of obligation. I genuinely care about you and want to help you achieve your dream of becoming a mother."

Your heart swells with emotion at his words. "Thank you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "That means more to me than you could ever know."

You sit there for a moment, hands intertwined in silence. The weight of your decision quietly sinking in around you.

“I think the next thing we need to set is a schedule,” you say, ruining the moment. “It’s important we’re consistent about this, for the best possible outcome.”

“How often do you think we should try?”

“The research suggests that every other day is a good-enough frequency. But we can see how it works out and adjust afterwards.”

“Every other day. Got it.” He confirms, then asks the only important question of the night:

“When do we start?”

Your heart stops right in its tracks, even as you distract yourself by suddenly reaching to grab your phone, “Let me look at my cycle.” You mumble, opening the fertility tracking app you’d been using.

As you scroll through the app, you felt Namjoon’s presence loom closer, curiosity evident of his face. “How does that work exactly?”

“Do you need me to explain a period to you?” You tease, small smile breaking you from your serious poise.

“No. I just-” Namjoon took a deep breath, nervousness lingering on the edge of his voice as he ran a hand through his hair, “I’m just thinking out loud here, but why wait?”

An audible gasp leaves you lips when you look up at him.

The air between you crackles with electricity, and you suddenly realize just how close you were. In that moment you could almost feel the weight of your actions begin to unravel.

You lock eyes, the tension thickening as you ponder his suggestion. Taking a shaky breath, your heart thunders, and you struggle to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

"Are you sure?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "I mean-"

Namjoon nods, leaning closer to you, his voice steady "I'm sure."

You bite your bottom lip, your mind racing as you try to decide whether or not to take the leap. You've always been a planner, someone who likes to have everything mapped out in advance, but for once in your life, you find yourself wanting to throw caution out the window.

It couldn’t possibly hurt; in fact, it might prove to be beneficial. You’d get the awkward stage over with quickly, instead of letting it simmer while waiting for your fertile window.

Why let nervousness and anticipation settle in when he’s right here, sitting on your couch looking absolutely delectable?

You quickly go over your mental check-list, feeling grateful that you showered and shaved just before he arrived. Your Pj’s are cute, and while your underwear isn’t the sexiest, it’s decent- either way, this isn’t about passion; it’s practical.

You were almost done chewing your lip off when you feel his thumb gently touch your chin, stopping you.

“Only if you want.”

“I can’t remember if I made my bed this morning.” You whisper sheepishly, pulling him out of his serious demeanor. His heartfelt laughter weaving through the tension that hung between you.

“That’s what you’re thinking about?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m here,” You giggle, shaking your head and throwing your phone somewhere on the couch. “Let’s do this.”

Namjoon’s smile broadens as he stands up, extending his hand to you. You almost hesitate for just a moment before placing your hand in his, letting him pull you up from the couch and in his arms. Heat radiates off his body as he leans in, his hand gently brushing your hair away from your face.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, closing your eyes as his breath lingers just above your lips.

Then, he kisses you.

At first, it’s gentle, his lips barely brushing over yours, a subtle invitation for you to take the lead. His lips taste faintly like mint from Chapstick, soft and warm, and soon the kiss deepens with a surge of passion. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer, feeling the heat between you build. Namjoon’s hands glide to your back, exploring you with a leisurely touch that sends waves of excitement through you.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck, and you tilt your head back, moaning softly when he gently nibbles on your ear.

“You’re adorable.” He whispers, his hands moving to the front of your shirt to cup your breasts. You gasp as he teases your nipples through your shirt, and with a flicker of courage, your hands slip under his hoodie, feeling the hard lines of his abs under your fingertips.

Namjoon smirks at you as you tug his hoodie upward, but he helps you pull it off, revealing his bare chest and you run your fingers over his toned muscles, feeling his heartbeat beneath your touch.

“Joonie, you’re so jacked.” You say with an airy laugh, feeling a surge of confidence pulse through you. “God, I need you.” Taking his hands in yours, you guide him towards the bedroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

Walking ahead, you can feel a wave of self-consciousness wash over you, even as you remind yourself that this is just Namjoon—the man who always chooses his words carefully and who’s always there for you. But any hesitation melts away when you reach the bedroom. You push the door open, and with renewed vigor, you quickly shed your shirt and bra, moving on to your pants.

Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of you standing there in just your underwear. Though he fights to remain respectful, the hunger in his gaze is unmistakable when you bend down to throw your clothes in the corner of the room.

When you face him again, his lips capture yours, silencing whatever you were about to say. His tongue delves into your mouth, teasing and exploring, and you respond eagerly, his touch sending a thrill of excitement through you.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He murmurs, his mouth leaving a trail of fire down your neck and shoulders. You arch into his touch, your eagerness growing with every lingering touch.

When his mouth finally finds your breasts, he captures one in his mouth and starts teasing it with the lightest graze of his teeth. A sharp gasp escapes you, a rush of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

Your hands fumble with the button of his jeans, desperate to feel him against you. But struggling to push his jeans down, Namjoon steps back just enough to help you, letting you slide them off with ease.

Taking a moment, you stop to gawk at his arousal straining against his boxers. Damn, you had a feeling he was equipped. He just carried that air about him. But nothing could have prepared you for how massive he actually was. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, sends a new wave of heat through your body, and you find yourself biting your lip in eager anticipation.

You can’t help but stare, taking in his impressive size. He truly is a giant, with broad shoulders, a muscular chest, and an impressive cock. You can’t wait to feel him against you, inside of you, filling you up all the way.

But Namjoon has other ideas. He kneels in front of you, his hands moving to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before pulling you closer. He plants a series of soft kisses along your stomach and thighs, each one sending waves of electricity coursing through you.

“Can I take these off?” he asks against your thigh, playfully snapping the elastic of your panties. And unable to speak, you nod.

With a quick tug, Namjoon hooks his fingers around the elastic and pulls, leaving you completely bare before him. You gasp as the cold air brushes against your skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he looks up at you, his gaze intense and full of determination.

You take a moment to savor the image before you: Namjoon kneeling, his eyes dark with desire, radiating an intensity that makes it seem like he could devour you whole. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, and without hesitation, he places one of your legs over his shoulder, kissing your inner thigh while his fingers move to your folds. A jolt of pleasure shoots down your spine as he finds your clit, rubbing tight, deliberate circles against it.

“So wet.” He breaths against you, sending shivers through your body. He glances up at you one last time, seeking your permission with his gaze.

“Namjoon, wait,” you say, gently pushing him away. “This isn’t how we make a baby.”

God, the hold he had over you was intoxicating, making it nearly impossible to refocus and regain your composure.

He chuckles, the hunger in his eyes still smoldering. “No, but this is going to make you feel really, really good.” He replied, his voice a low rumble, hands still holding you steady by the hips.

“I know. But this isn’t about feeling good.” You insist, your hand dropping from his hair and your leg from his shoulder.

Namjoon almost looks disappointed as you step away from him, but then he nods, understanding the importance of your goal.

“Right, I got carried away.”

“Here, just sit on the bed,” you instruct, offering a hand to help him up. Namjoon obeys, perching himself on the edge of the bed, his gaze locked onto you, tracking your every step as you approach.

Removing his boxers, you’re awestruck once again by the sight of his pretty cock—big, veiny and heavy with a flushed pink tip, leaking precum. Namjoon reclines slightly, his hands resting behind his head, watching you straddle him. You spit into your hand, wrapping it around his hardness to pump him a few times before positioning him at your entrance, slowly sinking down on him.

You both let out a sigh of pleasure as he fills you completely. A soft whimper escapes you as you bottom out, and you bury your face in his shoulder as his hands move to your hips, his thumbs tracing gentle circles in a soothing rhythm.

“Are you okay?” he whispers in your hair.

“Yeah, give me a second,” you reply, taking a deep breath as you adjust to the stretch, his warmth filling you completely. After a moment, you straighten up, meeting his eyes with a soft smile. “It’s been a while.”

Namjoon nods, his gaze soft as he steadies you, guiding you into a rhythm. Rising and sinking back down, you gasp at the sensation of being this stuffed, bracing your hands on his chest for balance as you start to rock your hips, grinding against him.

At first, you move slowly, savoring the feeling, but soon your pace quickens, spurred by the intensity building in your lower stomach.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” Namjoon encourages, squeezing your hips to help you maintain your rhythm. Your quiet moans blending beautifully with the sound of skin meeting skin, filling the room with your shared pleasure.

Before long, your thighs start to burn, but the growing tension inside you keeps you bouncing on his cock. You were almost there; Namjoon could sense it too in the way your walls flutter around him. One of his hands slips between your bodies, fingers deftly finding your clit and stroking it with perfect precision.

And once he feels you getting too tired to continue, Namjoon takes over, trusting up into you with powerful, steady strokes that meet your faltering movements. The intensity of his pace, mixed with his fingers that never slowed, push you right over the edge, sending you spiraling into bliss.

You cry out as waves of pleasure ripple through you, your orgasm shaking you to your core. Namjoon groans, feeling you clench around him as your body crashes against his chest. His hands grip your ass tightly, and his thrusts grow erratic as he chases his own release, his breathing ragged and soft whimpers escaping his lips. Each sound spurs another clench from you, drawing him even closer to the edge.

“Come on, baby,” you whisper in his ear, fingers gently massaging his scalp as you let him use your spent body however he pleases. “Just let go.”

With a loud, drawn-out moan, Namjoon buries himself deep inside you, and you feel his hot, sticky cum filling you completely. A cry escaped you, muffled against his shoulder as you sink your teeth into his soft skin, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

Your body slowly relaxes, breaths still coming out in quick, shallow gasps.

Namjoon looks over at you, a satisfied smile softening his expression, and a deep, unexpected sense of connection settles over you, an intimacy unlike anything you’ve felt before. Leaning in, you kiss him slowly, silently thanking him for the experience

As you pull away, you roll to lie beside to him, your legs still intertwined. Staring up at the ceiling, a warm contentment fills you, grounding you in the quiet rhythm of his steady breathing.

“Thank you,”

“Anything for you, love.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

6:30 AM- Your alarm rings.

You bolt upright, momentarily forgetting you were meant to wake up, letting out a little groan as you flop back onto the pillow.

“Why do you wake up so fucking early?”

The voice behind you startles you, and you remember with a rush that Namjoon ended up spending the night. His deep, early morning voice sends a flutter of butterflies through your stomach, memories of last night’s activities rushing back to you.

“Usually I do my yoga,” you mumble back, “and after that I shower and get ready for work.” You yawn, stretching all your limbs, before settling right back in his arms, snuggling closer.

“Why?”

“Because we can’t all afford to sleep till noon.” You tease.

Namjoon chuckles softly, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Fair point. But I could get used to sleeping in with you.”

You smile, your heart picking up at the thought. “Maybe I’ll let you join my morning routine someday.” You stay nestled in his arms for a few more moments, enjoying the comfort of his warmth. But soon, the call of nature interrupts your peaceful morning.

With a reluctant sigh, you wiggle out of his embrace. “I’ll be right back.” You say, glancing over your shoulder at him.

Namjoon nods, sleepy smile on his face as he watches your naked body, before he snaps himself out of it.

“Are you going to take a pregnancy test?”

You chuckle as you swing your legs off the bed and pad softly towards the bathroom. “It’s too early. That would be a waste of a test.”

The cold floor contrasts with the warmth you just left behind, and as you close the door, you can’t help but grin, thinking about how nice it is to have him there with you.

You quickly go about your business, splashing some water on your face to wake yourself up. After a moment you finish up and head back to the bedroom. Namjoon is still lounging against the pillows, his eyes slightly glazed but filled with warmth.

“Back already?” he asks, sleepy smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah,” you walk over to your closet, rifling through your clothes as you decide what to wear. The soft morning light filtering through the windows, casing a warm glow over the room. Once you’re all done you walk over to him, leaning down to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“I’m heading out. I’ll leave the spare key in the kitchen for you.” You say, feeling a mix of excitement and reluctance to leave.

He smiles, his dimples showing up on his cheeks, “Thanks, I’ll take good care of it…”

You laugh lightly, leaning in again, this time kissing him.

“God, if anything, I hope out baby gets your dimples.” You confess, your heart swelling at the thought.

His expression softens, a hint of surprise lighting up his eyes. “That would be adorable.” He says, a smile spreading across his face, and this time he leans in to kiss you. So soft and sweet, almost convincing you to join him back in bed. You need to place a hand on his chest to pull away, a deep red blush spreading across your face.

“I’ll text you later.”

“It’s a plan.” He smiles, watching you walk away, taking the warmth in the room with you. When the bedroom clicks shut, he finally feels like he can breathe again.

He was a walking disaster. Books will be written about his sheer foolishness, how he willingly tosses aside logic and reason in your presence.

Yet, deep down, he recognized that beneath his eager exterior lay a selfish yearning- a desire for you, wholly and completely, all to himself.

But for as long as you would have him, even like this, with weirdly restricted intimacy, he would give you everything you ask for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the following months, you two manage to establish a working system. The spare key was Namjoon’s now, and he had a dedicated drawer in your closet for his things.

His toothbrush quietly chilling next to yours in the master bathroom.

Along the way, you uncovered a surprising list of things you never imagined you’d learn about your best friend;

Like the fact that he is a talker, loving the way you’d clench around him when he spills pure filth in your ear. He talks you through your climaxes, encouraging you to lose yourself, and cheering you on as if you were competing in a marathon each time.

He also had a habit of giving you all kinds of pet-names, sweet endearments that easily fell from his lips. “Sweetheart”, “Baby”, “Honey”, “Lovely”. However, your favorite was probably the time he accidentally called you a ‘busy bee’ in the middle of one of his ecstatic hazes. The unexpected nickname bringing a smile to your face, even as you surrendered to the waves of pleasure he unleashed within you.

He also had a thing for hickeys. Your breasts now fully decorated with blooming red love-marks, after you scolded him for leaving one right under your collar bone for the whole world to see.

For two weeks, you only wore turtlenecks because of him.

But what stood out the most was his seemingly endless stamina. If it wasn’t for your insistence to take it easy, he would very willingly fuck you until the early morning light.

Much like he was doing right now…

But it was Saturday. You decide you could afford to sleep in.

You could feel him right in your stomach, a ring of cum forming at the base of his cock as he kept on pounding into your abused pussy.

One of your legs over his shoulder, and the other one around his hip, pulling him closer as he kept on trusting into you. You tried your best to move with him, meeting his rapid movements, but you got lost in the pleasure when his finger flicked your clit. You almost scream reaching your climax for the nth time, your body shaking with the force of the release. Namjoon didn’t slow down though, instead picking up the pace as he chased his own orgasm.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he growled “Not gonna stop til’ I fill you up with my cum. That’s what you want, right angel? Want to be stuffed full? Have it dripping out of you when I’m done?” he rendered you a completely useless, weakly moaning back at his filth.

“God, if you’re not pregnant after this.” He groans in your neck, making you shiver again.

The moon was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the room. Engulfing him completely in a silvery haze, and you couldn’t help but admire the beautiful man on top on you. His closed eyes, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead, his lips parted in pure ecstasy. You almost couldn’t believe this was your best friend, the person who knew you better than anyone else in the world.

Namjoon reaches his own climax, and you clenched around him, milking every last drop eagerly.

He collapses on top of you, your bodies slick with sweat, yet you just lay there, wrapped in his arms as the night quietly carried on.

This was the new normal, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

After a little while, Namjoon pulls out, quickly grabbing a napkin from the nightstand to wipe away any excess cum before it stains your sheets. You winced at the touch, feeling sore in the best of ways.

“I’m sorry baby. I went a little hard.” He says after discarding the napkin, pulling you closer to him.

You lay there, spent and satisfied in his arms, a little chuckle escaping you at the absurdity of ‘little’ being the past four hours. “Rough day at work?” you ask, looking up, your fingers gently pushing the hair away from his forehead.

“You have no idea,” he huffs, glancing away “With the business trip coming up I can’t seem to catch a break.”

“You’re leaving on a trip?” you stand up straight, looking down at him, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

“Yeah baby, I told you I’m leaving on the 5th.” He replies, his voice twinged with exhaustion.

“That is this month?” You fumble out of the bed to grab your calendar from the desk, turning all the lights on and flipping through it.

Has it been two months already? How come you’re not pregnant already?

You quietly look over the pages, calculating exactly what day you should be getting your period on. And your heart raced when you realized;

Last week. This might be it. You might be pregnant already.

“Oh my god, Namjoon!” you giggle like a little girl, jumping and spinning around the room. “This might be it! I’m one week late!”

Namjoon’s eyes widened in surprise, and he grabs your arm, pulling you back on the bed. The calendar flying away somewhere as he places his hand on your still-flat belly.

“Really?”

You nodded, a big smile completely taking over your face

“Yeah really.” You giggle “I mean, can’t know for sure, but I’m one week late.” You insist, almost kicking your legs with excitement.

No way you were going back to sleep after this. Instead, you jump back up, running around the room like a little tornado, gabbing your clothes and rushing to the bathroom to shower.

You needed to schedule a doctor’s appointment, go buy the last of the supplies, pick a color for the nursery and look up all the forms needed for maternity leave.

Namjoon sat in the silence of your bedroom, listening to the water from the shower run as you chaotically prepare and plan your future. The thought leaves him feeling a little empty, knowing he is not a part of that plan.

He wanted to invite you to join him for the business trip in Singapore, the plane tickets bookmarked and ready to be purchased. Even if he’d be busy working, the thought of having you nearby calmed his nerves about the whole ordeal. But now he hesitated, unsure if it was a good idea. With everything getting more complicated- especially the possible pregnancy- his feelings were tangled between simply wanting to support you and grappling with the deeper emotions he couldn’t ignore.

“Do you think you can handle building a crib?” you ask when you return form the bathroom.

But only silence greeted you, with no sign of Namjoon left behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life had this way about it. One moment you’re riding high, and the next one you’re struggling to comprehend the fragility of human nature.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, yet it still stings when your plan doesn’t perfectly match reality.

You plan a future with a man, only to be confronted with the painful truth that you’ve been the second woman all along. Shaking you to your core and ruining any future relationships for you along the way.

You take the leap, decide to get pregnant, and for a moment, it feels like everything is finally falling into place. But then that red dark spot appears, shattering all your dreams and hard work.

You didn’t need the pregnancy test anymore- not when your period arrives unexpectedly at the hospital office. Yet, you still find yourself staring at the little stick resting on your desk while Sumi draws a blood sample.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asks, pressing a sterile swab to your arm before continuing. Her voice is gentle, but you can only hear the concern beneath it. You nod, though uncertainty lingers in your mind, and the weight of your reality feels heavier than ever.

You spend the rest of the day meticulously reviewing the hospital’s schedules, throwing yourself in the comforting security that the numbers and graphs provide. You check supplies, organize the timetables, and ensure that no section of the hospital is backed up. Each task grounds you, allowing you to focus on something tangible amid the chaos swirling in your mind.

At around noon you get the message from the testing facility. Deep down, you already knew the blood work would come back negative, just like the test stick, but it still shattered the last glimmer of hope you had left.

You read the message again, trying to process the words, but they blur together as a wave of disappointment washed over you. The sterile walls of the hospital suddenly feel suffocating, and the rhythm of the bustling environment seems to fade into the background.

You take a deep breath, fighting back tears. Great. Now you were hormonal too.

You force yourself to push through the day, focusing on tasks, but the ache in your chest still lingers.

Joon 🎍: Are we still on for tonight? Baby-momma 🐝: Nah. Got my period. Joon 🎍: Shit. Are you okay? Baby-momma 🐝: Shit pretty much sums it up. Baby-momma 🐝: But I’ll be fine. Joon 🎍: Well, it’s Sunday. We could just watch a movie…. Haven’t done that in a while. Joon 🎍: I’ll even pick up your favorite greasy foods if you agree.

You smile at your phone, feeling the warmth spread through you despite the heaviness of the day. The idea of sharing a cozy movie night with him feels like a welcomed escape. You type back quickly, your heart lifting just a bit.

Baby-momma 🐝: That sounds nice. I could use a distraction✨ Joon 🎍: Great. I’ll be over after work.

When the working day is finally over, you make your way home, quickly going through the motions. You shower, tidy up a bit, and set up the living room for the movie night, arranging blankets and laying out an array of snacks across the coffee table.

Namjoon said he’s be there by 7, but as the clock ticks closer to 9, you find yourself bored out of your mind. You glance at your phone for any updates, but there’s nothing. You try to distract yourself with a show, but your mind keeps wandering to what could delay him.

Just as you consider sending a text, you hear the key turning in the lock. The door swings open, and Namjoon steps inside, a smile breaking across his face.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Got caught up in a meeting.” He says, holding the bag of junk food.

You feel a rush of relief as he walks in the familiar warmth of his presence instantly lifting your spirits. “You made it just in time.” You say, gesturing to the setup.

He chuckles, placing the bag on the coffee table. “I got you one of those abominable triple chocolate cakes you like.” He settles in besides you, unpacking the bag and you can’t help but smile up at him.

“God, I love you.” You grin digging in, completely unaware to what effect your words have on him. He pauses for a moment, a hint of surprise flickering across his face, before returning your smile with a warmth that sends your heart racing.

As you both dig into the food, Namjoon seems a bit more pensive than usual, his smile lingering as he watches you blissfully enjoy the cake. You almost moan out loud after the first bite, your face surprisingly similar to the one you have when you reach your climax.

After a moment he clears his throat, looking away as a deep shade of red takes over his ears.

“Hey, I was thinking,” he begins, glancing at you with a hint of hesitation. “You know that I have that business trip coming up.”

“Yeah,” you’re barely paying him any attention.

“I’d really love for you to join me.”

Your head snaps up, surprise lighting up your features. “Wait, really? You want me to come?”

He meets your gaze, his expression earnest. “Yeah, I think it would be great. I’ll be busy with meetings, but we can explore together in the evenings. It’ll be fun.”

You can’t help but smile, feeling a rush of excitement. “If I can get off work, sure. Just tell me when to book my tickets.”

Namjoon’s face lights up with relief and happiness. “Yeah, I’ll send you the details as soon as I can.”

You giggle, already daydreaming about the adventure ahead.

“Next week, no?”

“Yeah.” he replies, taking a big mouthful of his burger. You grin, excited at the thought that by that time you would also be done with your period.

“Ah! There’s a medical conference happening around that time too. It would be so cool if they aligned,” you say your excitement bubbling over.

Namjoon nods, his eyes lighting up. “That would be perfect! You could network while I’m in meetings.”

“Exactly! I’ll look into it!” you say, feeling the anticipation grow. The idea of a trip filled with both work and exploration feels like just the right remedy for your disappointment, reigniting a spark of hope.

The duality of man.

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon x you #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #kim namjoon #bts x reader #bts smut #bts x y/n #bts x fem!reader #bts x you #perfect plan

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captain-joongz · 10 months ago

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Dragonheart; Masterlist

Pairing: OT7 dragon!BTS x knightess!reader

Genre: dragon rider AU, high fantasy, soulmate adjacent, slight enemies to lovers (if you squint), angst, fluff and humour, eventual smut

Summary: The Gong-li Empire has been on the peak of its power for a little over a millenium, and there was a very simple reason for that - dragonkind. When the first emperor of the Li Dynasty struck a deal with a witch that would allow him to bind dragons to the crown and force them into obedience, it was the beginning of its reign of terror and the end of freedom for creatures as old as nature itself.

Now, a woman hoping to change everything enters the ranks of the elite dragon rider unit among the imperial army and meets seven men that not only change her life, but help her change the fate of the whole world.

Warnings and themes: unhealthy family dynamics, fighting against corruption and inequality, revolution, discussions and themes of slavery/sex slavery and forced bondings, violence, war, near death experiences, challenging relationship dynamics, angst, discussions of mortality and death, mating cycles (yes, i'm a slut, thank u), knotting (bc i said so), there will be mxm content, enough puns and jokes about riding to make you sick of me - each chapter will have it's individual warnings

Current word count: 62.7k

A/N: i've been really craving some good fantasy lately and i'm so in love with dragons, so of course i had to write something for our boys! for this setting, kind of imagine a fusion of asian and western fantasy, the same with clothing - it's going to be a mix of both together. also i'm doing whatever i want with the boys' hairstyles so it's different eras all mashed together, just based on what i liked the most

○ Chapter 1: On the wind of morning

⇝ The first encounter between a girl and a dragon. ⇜

○ Chapter 2: The moon hangs heavy

⇝ When meeting the thunder is bittersweet and family is complicated. ⇜

○ Chapter 3: Prove your heart

⇝ How far does a girl have to go to gain a dragon's trust? ⇜

○ Chapter 4: Practice makes perfect

⇝ The rift grows and understanding is hard to come by. ⇜

Character studies

Notes to chapters:

Story lore: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Dictionary: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open): @stxrrielle @hobicakess @comicnerd557 @11thenightwemet11 @socksfirst1

@dachshunddame @channiespup @danielle143 @borahaetelevision @kingofbodyrolls

@jungshaking @futuristicenemychaos @ah2002 @tadomikiku @ambsv

@silscintilla @uniquecutie-puffs @starlight-1010 @authorpj @foreverddaeng

@canarystwin @ldysmfrst @nikkiordonez12 @mysteriousgeminizone @i-like-puppy-mg

@ttttt1re @xthefuckerysquaredx @crispynutella @asillyduck15 @icouldntcareless22

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hellbornsworld · 25 days ago

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JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS(17)✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙

.☘︎ ݁ what are you willing to do? | Jungkook X Reader | TwoShot | @trivia-yandere

.☘︎ ݁ Beneath His Love | jungkook x reader | TwoShot | @ctrlsht

.☘︎ ݁ starstruck | Actor!Jungkook X Actress!Reader | Series | @trivia-yandere

.☘︎ ݁ All This Time? | Jungkook x reader | TwoShot | @jimxnslight

.☘︎ ݁ play you like a game, boy. | antagonist! tribe leader jungkook x princess reader | @lilliankoo

.☘︎ ݁ cruel secrets | Twin!JK X Reader | OneShot | @hellokittykookies

.☘︎ ݁ Embrace of Ruins. | King jk x widowed (fem) reader | @jjkssin

.☘︎ ݁ boxer!jungkook | boxerjk x neuro doctor!oc | Series | @muniimyg

.☘︎ ݁ Bound by Fate, Chosen by Love | Werewolf!Jungkook x Witch!Reader | ThreeShot | @sweetvoidstuff

.☘︎ ݁The Grumpy Girlfriend Protection Program | Jungkook x (f.) Reader | OneShot | @jincapableoflove

.☘︎ ݁ HOLD ON TO ME | CeoHusband!Jungkook x Wife!Reader | @kooklovee

.☘︎ ݁ stuck with you | computer sci major/ shy/ nerdy! jungkook X econ major/ popular/ influencer! reader | Series | @focusonkayjay

.☘︎ ݁bridges we almost burned | jungkook x reader | OneShot | @kooffeecup

.☘︎ ݁ His unsaid vows | Mafia jk x (fem) reader | @jjkssin

.☘︎ ݁ loves me, loves me not | rich asshole!jk x girlboss!reader | @dreamersparacosm

.☘︎ ݁ TOO LATE | jungkook x reader | OneShot | @jksarchives

.☘︎ ݁ Who Is My Heart Waiting For? | Staff f!reader x Rockstar!Jungkook | OneShot | @ahgasegotarmy116

.☘︎ ݁ HEARTWEAVE | SPIDEY!J. JUNGKOOK X READER | @chrrybbmb

.☘︎ ݁ shameless | boxer!Jungkook X Reader | ThreeShot | @redcherrykook

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aelinad · 5 months ago

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Staged Romance - Kim Namjoon One-Shot

Pairing: !Idol Namjoon x f. reader

Genre: explicit romance (smut) !! MINORS DNI !! 🔞

Word count: ~ 28k

Summary: Y/N and Namjoon enter into a mutual agreement to fake date, with Y/N aiming to catch Jimin's attention and Namjoon hoping to win back his ex. What starts as a carefully crafted plan to fool everyone around them slowly begins to unravel as real emotions creep in. With every stolen glance, shared laugh, and moment of vulnerability, they find themselves questioning the boundaries they've set. When pretending becomes indistinguishable from reality, Y/N and Namjoon must decide if this is still part of the plan or the start of something real.

!! Warnings !!: vaginal sex, protected sex, fingering, a bit slow burn, angst, fluff, female riding,

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“I’ll step out for a bit” I said as I stood up from the table where I had been hanging out with the whole BTS group. It was late at night, and after all the filming they had done for their newest Run BTS show, the staff had booked them a two-story house for the night. We had just finished dinner and were chatting at the table while playing some games. Earlier, I had been seated between Namjoon and Taehyung, with Jimin and J-Hope in front of us, and my sister and her boyfriend, Jungkook, to their right. Jin and Suga were tired and had gone to sleep straight after dinner. I decided to step out onto the balcony for a few minutes.

My sister was deeply in love with Jungkook, and he felt the same way about her. I wouldn’t say I was jealous, but my situation with my crush on one of the group members had never progressed any further. Every time we met on days like this, I felt a pang of disappointment. It’s not that I lack the courage to confess my feelings, I just sensed that he wasn’t interested. Jimin had always been polite and kind, and that was that. I tried to distract myself from my feelings as I stared at the view ahead. The night was a bit chilly, so I quickly lit up a cigarette. I had never been a fan of smoking, but life happens and sometimes it leads to bad habits. I put the cigarette between my lips and took out my lighter. After multiple attempts, I kept failing to get it lit.

“Damn, I can’t even light this” I muttered to myself. All this crush drama and the work I had to return to tomorrow made me feel burned out. Sometimes, I wished I could just book a flight and go on vacation to clear my mind.

Then, a small flame lit up in front of my face. I stepped back, surprised.

“I saw you out here and noticed you were struggling with that.” Namjoon said, pointing to the lighter I was clutching.

“Ha! So you could tell from that far that I’m new to this? I don’t even think it’s broken, I just haven’t used it properly. I’ve only done it a few times over the past few days.”

“Never thought I would see you smoke. You should drop it; it’s a bad habit.” Namjoon took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out, lighting it and nodding in my direction, telling me to bring mine closer so he could light it.

“You do realize you’re smoking too, even though you said that, and lighting mine isn’t going to make me quit.” I replied as I approached, the cigarette back in between my lips while looking at him.

“I’ll forgive you tonight, you seem to have a lot on your mind judging on how you left earlier.” He said as he came closer, covering the cigarette with his free hand and lighting the cigarette for me, his gaze never breaking mine.

“Joon, I didn’t know you were so observant. But yeah, I do, life’s been rough lately.” I said as I blew my first puff in the air.

“Well, I just hope it isn’t the fault of a particular person,” he teased.

“Huh? Wait, what?” I panicked, feeling my cheeks flush.

“You like Jimin, don’t you?” At that moment, I think I stopped breathing. He said it so bluntly, like it was a fact. The thought of anyone inside the house overhearing made me incredibly embarrassed. I knew for a fact that no one had heard it, they all were quite loud in there. Besides my sister, no one knew about my feelings.

“What gave that away? Haha! I mean, I have a crush on all of you, in case you didn’t know.” I said nervously, hoping that maybe by saying that, I could hint to him that it was true, but he didn’t have to know the specifics.

“Yeah, right. You kept staring at him the whole time during dinner and while we played games.”

“Was it that obvious?” I facepalmed myself.

“Let’s say a little bit,” Namjoon said, puffing out some smoke.

There was a brief silence after that, the only sound being the smoke from our cigarettes. I decided to break the silence again.

“Well, now you know the truth, I guess, and as you might know, he doesn’t feel the same way, so these feelings will fade on their own.”

Namjoon turned his head to look at me. “How do you know he doesn’t like you back?”

“Well, he’s never initiated anything like that. I don’t think he’s ever come to talk to me first, it has always been me! Gosh, that sounds so pathetic, right?”

“No, I can see what you mean. Maybe he’s shy and just needs a little push.”

“Like what?” I had heard that so many times from my sister that I couldn’t bear Namjoon saying it again. So I snapped, sounding a bit more on edge than I intended.

“I don’t know, maybe by making him realize what he’s losing out on or something like that.”

“I understand what you mean, but I would like the person I like to know beforehand, not me having to squeeze it out of them.”

“Right, but nobody’s perfect, so you might have to give that small push.”

“Well, I don’t even know how to start…” I trailed off focusing on looking at the ground.

“Use me.”

“What?!?” My head snapped back and I nearly dropped the remainder of my cigarette on the floor. “Aren’t you in a relationship, or did I hear that wrong?”

“Nope, you heard it right. And to answer your other question, I broke up with her a few weeks ago. Actually, she sorta broke up with me. I was thinking about making her jealous to show her what she lost, kinda like your situation. We should help each other out, get what we want, and then go back to normal.”

“Wait, so she broke up with you? What the hell, for real? Her loss though… So does that mean you want to fake-date for a while to see how things turn out? I mean, I’m not against it, but there are a million things that could go wrong. I have to tell my sister about it, and probably Jungkook with his big mouth will spill the beans, and what about the media? How’s that going to work?”

“Well, first, don’t tell your sister the whole truth for now, just spin this whole situation with a white lie. As for the media, we won’t go out in public together—just to closed events that my ex might attend, along with other staff members at nights like this when it’s only us as a group.”

“Right… and how long are we faking this? We can’t just go out there and drop the bomb on the members and be like, ‘Hey guys, we’re dating.’ That will confuse everyone!”

“Don’t worry about that. They might think I’m the jerk who is using you after my ex, but we want Jimin’s attention, don’t we? So he can notice you properly, although now that I’ve said it, you being my fake girlfriend and him having feelings for you kinda hurts my ego.”

“Look who’s jealous now! Haha. But omg, this is crazy, Namjoon. How long have you been planning this?” I questioned him, raising an eyebrow.

“I just thought about it after seeing you here on the balcony.” he said, raising his shoulders, as if it was no big deal.

“Wow, I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“You just don’t. We can discuss everything in detail later. Are you in or not?”

My mind was racing. I had always been very calculative, I’d never been spontaneous, like those people who book a flight within a day and leave for a trip, returning a month later, especially not like this. But something about Namjoon’s plan made me feel safe. Yes, it would cause a little drama in the group, but I doubted it would lead to anything major, right?

“Fuck it. Yes, I’m in… but we are definitely setting some rules later on.”

“Then shall we?” Namjoon extended his hand toward mine, motioning towards the room. I let him take it, and we both smiled at each other as we walked back hand in hand where the others were.

***

The room had changed since I quickly left for the balcony. Now, everyone was engaged in different activities. My sister and Jungkook were deep in conversation, laughing about something, while J-hope was dancing to some background music. Taehyung and Jimin were laughing loudly, watching him. Namjoon and I walked toward the table, still holding hands. J-hope noticed us first, abruptly stopping his dance and screamed loudly, shaking the whole house. You could hear Yoongi and Jin coming out of their rooms, frustrated about the commotion.

J-hope’s eyes widened, and everyone followed his gaze to our linked hands. My eyes instinctively searched Jimin's face. I couldn’t pinpoint his reaction; he clearly wasn’t laughing anymore, but his expression was unfazed, and I had no idea what he might be thinking.

“Y/N! Why are you holding hands with Namjoon?” my sister exclaimed, rising from her chair in shock. I had anticipated her reaction, but at that moment, my throat went dry. I didn’t know what excuse to give. It looked like Namjoon sensed my hesitation. He squeezed my hand once and stepped toward my sister, not letting go of my grip.

“Well, you caught us! We just started dating this week and didn’t want to keep it from you guys any longer, so we decided to announce it today. Y/N was telling me that you might kill her later if we dragged this out without telling everyone,” Namjoon said, while everyone stood in silence. From time to time, I averted my gaze from him to Jimin, who didn’t bother to look at me directly but was actively listening to his hyung.

“Well, congrats, guys! Is this why J-hope screamed?” Suga said, yawning. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Yeah, me too. But congrats!” Jin added as he headed back to his room.

“Whoa, that explains why you guys were seated next to each other today!” Taehyung said, covering his mouth as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

“I noticed you following her after she excused herself, but I didn’t think you were dating, hyung,” J-hope chimed in.

“Y/N, as long as you’re happy I am too but you have to tell me all the details later,” my sister said. “Yeah, congrats, guys! Now your sister and I won’t be the only couple here!”Jungkook exclaimed.

“Thanks, everyone,” I said, smiling at how supportive they were, even though this was all just a facade. I really hoped they wouldn’t be upset later when we had to tell them that we were ‘’breaking up’’.

“Didn’t you just break up with your ex, Namjoon?” Jimin finally spoke up. I hadn’t expected him to go after Namjoon like that.

“Yes, she dumped me weeks ago, but I always had my eyes on Y/N. She’s different, as you might have noticed,” Namjoon replied, turning to me with a smile.

“Congrats, then,” Jimin said, rising from his chair. “I’m going to sleep, I’m actually tired.” He glanced at Taehyung, probably signaling him to follow since they were sharing a room.

“Thanks, bro. We should probably all go to sleep anyway, it’s late.” Namjoon pulled me closer and kissed my cheek before leaving quickly, leaving everyone stunned.

The room fell silent, and I could feel my cheeks heating up. I probably looked like a teenage girl who just interacted with her crush. His gesture was making this feel less fake than it was. Damn him.

Everyone was looking at me, including Jimin, who slowly looked me up and down before leaving after Namjoon.

“Well, Y/N, I’m happy for you and Namjoon. You seem to like each other a lot! We can tease you two later. I’m off to sleep, too. Bye!” J-hope said, dragging Taehyung with him as they left.

It was just me, Jungkook, and my sister now.

“I’ll leave you girls to it. Goodnight, Y/N. Goodnight, love,” Jungkook quickly pecked my sister on the lips and left the living room.

“Look, let’s discuss this tomorrow; I want to sleep too!” I quickly fake yawned looking at my sister.

“No way, sissy! We’re staying up all night until you give me all the details!” she said and pulled my arm towards our room.

Great, this is going to be a long night.

*** The next morning, I woke up after only two hours of sleep. The late-night conversation I had with my sister about Namjoon made everything feel surreal. Sure, I’d lied a bit, letting her believe that this was real, but she’d understand later, I didn’t want her accidentally telling Jungkook and blowing our cover.

I grabbed my phone, got up, and started dressing to go for a walk to clear my head. I decided to just wear something casual , a white tank top and jeans. Mid-change, my sister woke up.

“Y/N, what’s with all the noise? I want to sleep,” she groaned.

“You’d have slept better if you hadn’t insisted on talking last night,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are you going to Namjoon’s already?” she teased getting up to look at me.

I finished putting on my top and headed toward the door. “I’m getting coffee first. See you later.”

As I opened the door and took a step forward, I smacked right into a firm chest. After a second, my blurry vision cleared, and I looked up to see Namjoon, his fist raised as if about to knock.

“Ouch,” I muttered, rubbing my head.

“You alright?” he asked, concerned in his voice.

“Oh my god, Joon! She was just coming to you!” my sister shouted from her bed.

“Is that true?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

I quickly closed the door so my sister couldn’t hear or see us anymore. “No,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Sure,” he replied, his dimples showing in a playful grin.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Can’t confirm or deny.”

“So, what are you doing here?” I asked, curious.

“Well, you mentioned we had some unfinished ‘rules’ to go over. I figured since everyone’s still asleep, I’d come get you and finalize everything.”

“What if I hadn’t answered the door? I barely slept last night.”

“I’d have walked in,” he said with a shrug.

“You wouldn’t dare…”

“Scared, Y/N?”

“Me? Never. But seriously, what if I was changing? And I share a room with my sister.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing that,” he teased, earning a smack on the arm from me.

“Ouch! Relax, I’m joking. We need to make this look convincing, you know, we can’t act like just friends.”

“Fine. Just save it for when others are around, then.”

“Alright, let’s head to the park nearby. I doubt anyone would be there to recognize us this early.”

“Sure.”

***

We found ourselves sitting on a bench at the park. It was early, and no one else was around.

“So, I think we should come up with some rules, like they do in the movies,” I suggested.

“Don’t people end up falling for eachother in the movies when they say this?” he questioned me.

“Hello! You know what I mean, stop joking around.” I said, slapping his arm.

“Okay okay…I’m up for whatever you’re comfortable with, Y/N. You say your rules, and I’ll say mine.”

“Fine. So, this is kind of cliché, but no kissing unless absolutely necessary, like if people are starting to suspect something. I don’t want this to be too… cheesy.”

“I understand that,” he said, nodding. “But if you want to kiss me, Y/N, just say so.”

I rolled my eyes. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“Okay, I’m fine with other PDA stuff. But you have to let me know if you’re seeing anyone for real or if that ex returns. I don’t want to interfere with anything important. Same goes for me if, say, Jimin confesses or something. And this lasts for a maximum of two months. We’re not dragging this out. Deal?”

“Yeah, yeah, deal. It’s all in here, don't worry .” He tapped his head with his index finger following along with a grin. “Anything else you want to add?” I replied.

“Yeah, just one thing: promise not to fall in love with me.”

I gave him a deadpan look, but he burst into laughter. “You should’ve seen your face! I’ve always wanted to say that line.”

“Unbelievable. Are you serious? I thought you were better than this!” I laughed, shaking my head.

“Hey, I’ve always been this way,” he replied with a wink.

“Sure, sure…”

***

We decided to head back to the house after our chat. As we approached, Namjoon standing beside me suddenly took my hand and pulled me towards him. Now we were standing face to face as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, leaning close. “Shh, he’s watching. Right there, on the balcony.”His head made a gesture leaning slightly forward towards the balcony’s direction but I didn't dare to turn my head and look.

And just like that, we walked toward the entrance, hand in hand.

“Here come the newlyweds!” Taehyung shouted as soon as we stepped in.

“Y/N, does this make you the group’s ‘mom’? Since Namjoon’s the dad and leader?” J-hope joked laughing.

Namjoon released my hand and muttered to me, “Gotta grab something from my room.” He slipped away, and I turned to J-hope, who was eagerly awaiting an answer.

“Yes, I guess I’m the mom now!” I declared, making a playful grab for him. He bolted, and I chased him into the living room while everyone laughed and shouted at us to stop.

We finally stopped running when Jimin came down the stairs, and I bumped into him, making us both fall to the floor.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, didn’t see you there!” I said flustered.

Jimin stood up quickly and stretched a hand out to help me, but before I could grab it, Namjoon stepped in and helped me up instead.

“I leave for one second and you already have other guys all over you Y/N,” Namjoon teased looking at Jimin and me.

“Not my fault! Blame J-hope,” I said, playfully glaring at him.

“Me?? I didn’t do anything!” J-hope protested from across the room.

“You’ve done it now, J-hope! You made Namjoon unhappy. Run for your life!” Jungkook shouted, grinning.

Namjoon took off after J-hope, and I was left standing next to Jimin.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, his eyebrows slightly shooting upwards.

“Yeah, don’t worry.”

***

The rest of the day passed with a few more playful teases from the guys. The shoot was over yesterday, and we were all getting ready to leave. As everyone packed their things, we gathered in the living room to say our goodbyes. J-hope and Taehyung were still struggling to pack up so everyone decided to just stay downstairs till they finished. As for me I hadn’t gotten much sleep, and I felt myself starting to doze off on the couch.

Just before I drifted off, my phone buzzed with a message from Namjoon. I looked up to see him watching me with a small smile.

Namjoon: It was a close call earlier

Y/N: Close call for what? I replied, confused.

Namjoon: Jimin helping you and being all touchy

Y/N: Yeah, why did you interfere then?

Namjoon: You need to play hard to get.

I rolled my eyes at him, and he sent me a screenshot of our text conversation. Confused, I opened it to see if anything looked different but couldn’t figure it out.

Namjoon: I can see that confused look, I already changed your contact name to ‘Y/N <3’. Change mine, too.

“Fine,” I muttered.

After thinking about it, I matched him and set his name to ‘Namjoon <3’. I took a screenshot and sent it back to him.

His only reply was a single red heart.

***

After we left that day, Namjoon and I didn’t have much reason to meet up. We texted here and there, so my phone lit up with his name from time to time for my sister to see and his phone with my name for the boys. Although lately with the guys’ busy schedules, we didn’t actually hang out. Two weeks passed like this.

One day, my sister casually brought it up. “You know, even when he’s busy, Jungkook comes to see me. I haven’t seen you and Namjoon together at all. Are you guys even dating?”

I panicked. Was it that obvious? “Of course we are! He’s just been busy, but we talk every day. I was just about to visit him at the company,” I replied quickly, hoping she’d buy it. I didn’t even know Namjoon’s schedule for the day, so I could only hope he’d be there.

“Really? Jungkook mentioned they’re rehearsing a new choreography and might be there late tonight.”

Maybe I should go there just for today to clear any suspicions out .“Yep, I knew that! Well, see ya!” I said, grabbing my things and rushing out the house.

After a quick stop at the nearest convenience store to grab snacks for everyone, I tried calling Namjoon three times, but he didn’t pick up. Finally, I decided to just head to the company and hope for the best.

When I arrived at the building, I used the staff access card my sister had gotten from Jungkook. Despite Namjoon and I being a “couple,” no one else at the company knew, aside from the guys, so it would’ve been suspicious for me to have my own card.

I knew they’d be in one of the practice rooms, but there were a lot on the second floor, and other groups seemed to be practicing there at the same time. I tried my best not to look suspicious as I moved closer to each door, listening for any familiar music, hoping to recognize one of BTS’s new singles.

After several tries, I finally heard that familiar tune I was looking out for. I waited outside until the music stopped, indicating they were either taking a break or resetting. Once it was quiet, I slipped inside.

They were all there, gathered in front of a camera, analyzing their dance moves. Jimin noticed me first and gave a small smile.

The others must have caught on because Namjoon and the guys turned their heads toward me.

“Y/N!” J-hope shouted, “What are you doing here? Missed Joon already?”

I didn’t even bother responding. Namjoon quickly walked over and asked, “What are you doing here?” He positioned himself in front of me to shield me from the others’ view.

“Well, I tried calling three times to let you know I was coming, but you didn’t pick up. What else was I supposed to do?” I lowered my voice. “People are getting suspicious, you know. My sister even asked why we never hung out since announcing we were together.”

“I’ve been busy, as you can see…”

“I noticed, which is why I came here to act like the girlfriend who missed you and all that corny stuff.”

“Right… Okay, go on with the show.”

I looked over his shoulder to see if the other members were still watching, and they were, especially Jimin, who gave me a look that made me wonder if he was jealous or just amused. I set the snacks on the floor, wrapped my arm around Namjoon’s waist, and hugged him tightly.

“Bear with it for me a bit, Joon,” I whispered.

He didn’t reply, he just hugged and squeezed me back. After a couple of seconds, I let go, picked up the snacks, and walked over to the guys.

“Yes, J-hope, you’re right. But who said I don’t miss you all too? I also brought some snacks, I wasn't sure what everyone liked, so I just got a bit of everything.”

“WOAH! Y/N, you’re the best!” Taehyung shouted, rushing over to peek into the bags.

Jimin stepped up and took the bags from me, gently brushing my hand as he thanked me before taking them to a nearby table. The others gathered around while Namjoon stayed beside me. I felt his presence and turned to him. “We need to talk.”

“Can we do it after the shoot? We’ve got one more left.”

“Oh…” Feeling shy, I blurted out, “Can I stay and watch? Not in a creepy way, just until you’re done so we can talk privately.”

“Yes, I’d like that… I mean, yeah, sure. The others might think it’s cute, you waiting around like a proper girlfriend.”

“Hey, I am a good girlfriend, thank you very much! … Wait, do you think it’s cute when girls stay and watch you practice?”

“Not all girls, just my girlfriend,” he said with a wink.

“Oh please, you act like you’ve had so many.” I rolled my eyes.

“I won’t tell you how many, but… what I’m trying to say is, I want you to stay.”

“Okay…”I didn't know how to respond to that. But I had already decided that I wanted to stay.

“Joon, let’s finish this up so we can dig into the snacks!” Jin called from the table.

“Coming!” Namjoon replied, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before heading back. It always catches me off guard when he does that. Flustered, I found a chair near the corner where the camera couldn’t catch me.

Soon, the music started, and all seven of them moved in perfect sync. My eyes traveled first to Jimin, his moves were fluid and perfectly on beat. Then I glanced at Namjoon, whose dancing had a different but equally captivating vibe. I couldn’t help but fangirl a little, watching them perform up close reminded me of just how professional they were. I didn’t even realize I’d been staring at Namjoon the entire time.

When the music stopped, everyone cheered, “Good job, everyone!”

I swear I heard Suga mutter, “Finally, I can go to sleep now.”

I laughed to myself, watching their reactions, and before I knew it, Jimin was standing in front of me.

“Hey, I think you bought too many snacks. Want to come over to the table and share with us?”

“Sure,” I replied, realizing I was actually hungry. “I left in a hurry to get here and might’ve skipped lunch.”

As I sat down at the table with everyone, Jimin took the seat right next to me. But Namjoon was nowhere to be seen—he’d disappeared entirely. Curious, I quickly slipped my phone under the table and messaged him to ask where he was. I must’ve looked worried, because Jin caught on and leaned over with a gentle smile.

“Hey, Y/N, is everything alright? Want some ramen? I’m prepping some now.”

“Oh, yes, thank you, Jin! Everything’s fine, don’t worry!” I replied, brushing off my concern. Namjoon was probably in the restroom or something. I started to dig in as Jin placed a warm bowl of ramen in front of me.

“So, Y/N, how far have you and Namjoon gone?” Taehyung teased, grinning mischievously.

I nearly choked on my noodles, coughing as Jimin shot Taehyung a sharp look and patted my back gently.

“Tae, that’s really none of your business,” Jimin retorted, his voice carrying a protective edge.

Taehyung just shrugged and grinned wider. “Come on, Jimin, we’re all friends here, right, Y/N? Where did Joon-hyung go either way? If you were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t leave you for one second alone!”

“Good thing you’re not her boyfriend then—you’d drive her insane,” Jimin muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, like you’re any better, Mr. Single,” Taehyung shot back.

“Not for long,” Jimin whispered, almost too low to hear. I turned to him with a curious look, only to see Taehyung caught off-guard, equally stunned.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, standing up. “Gonna drag Namjoon back here so he doesn’t miss all the food.’”

I headed to the hallway, scanning the area for him. When he wasn’t on the second floor, I went downstairs, guessing he might be in the smoking area by the parking lot. I tried calling him, but he didn’t pick up. After twenty minutes of looking, I finally found him, but he wasn’t alone. A woman stood close, and from the look of things, they were deep in conversation. I approached quietly, not wanting to intrude, but as I got closer, I couldn’t help but overhear.

“How have you been?” she asked softly. “You know I have missed you.”’ she said while rocking in place and tracing her fingers along his bicep.

“Fine,” Namjoon replied, his voice tight, while staring at her hand. “What else do you want me to say? You know why we ended things. What do you want now, why are you here?”

Without a second thought, I stepped up beside Namjoon, slipping my arm through his yanking him away from her touch. “There you are, babe!” I said, smiling sweetly. “The guys have been waiting for you to join us.”

Namjoon looked over, startled, just as the woman frowned. “Excuse me, but who are you?”

I gave her a calm but pointed smile. “Who am I? The real question is who are you?”

“She’s…my ex,” Namjoon muttered, seeming caught between confusion and discomfort.

“Ah,” I said, squeezing his arm a bit. “In case you missed it, I’m his current girlfriend. And I plan on being the last, right, babe?”

Namjoon’s eyes went wide for a moment before he quickly nodded. “Uh…yeah.”

His ex scoffed. “Right. Is this some joke to make me jealous, Namjoon? You know these things don’t work with me. I know us so let’s go somewhere to talk alone shall we?”

Great, I thought. Typical ex drama. But I kept my cool. “No need, we will be leaving together instead…” I said with a tight smile.

I tugged on Namjoon’s arm to lead him away. “Come on babe, everyone’s waiting,” I said and Namjoon quickly added, “see you around!”

“Or not,” I added, giving her one last look before we left. As we walked arm-in-arm back to the elevator, I leaned closer to Namjoon, whispering, “What’s going on with you? You tell me to act like your girlfriend, and then you turn into a deer in headlights in front of her. She probably figured it out that we’re faking this.”

Namjoon seemed distracted, barely listening. “I know, sorry…it was just…unexpected.”

“Okay, so…are you on track to getting back with her?” I asked carefully, watching Namjoon’s face. “I mean, you should if that’s what you want. That’s why we started this whole fake-dating thing, anyway.” I sighed, suddenly feeling the messiness of the situation. “Besides, I don’t even know if Jimin is interested in me or not. He said something really confusing earlier…”

Namjoon and I stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed with a soft chime. He looked at me, pausing thoughtfully before he replied. “It’s complicated, Y/N, but I’m not going to break our two-month agreement now that the guys know. I gave you my word, remember?”

I nodded, somewhat reassured. “I thought so. Not to be rude, but…your ex seems like a…” I paused, choosing my words. “Not so very nice, let’s just say that.”

Before Namjoon could respond, the elevator shuddered and came to an abrupt halt between floors, the lights flickering for a split second before dimming to an emergency glow.

“Oh, come on, seriously?” I groaned, glancing up. “This is a high-end building, how does the elevator just get stuck?”

Namjoon placed a calming hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry; just press the emergency button. They’ll fix it within a few minutes. No need to panic.”

“Right, yeah.” I rang the emergency bell and leaned back against the wall. “But still, I bet my ramen’s cold or eaten by now…” I muttered. I glanced at him, and he still seemed distant, like his thoughts were a million miles away. “Namjoon, are you even listening to me? You’ve been in a daze since we ran into her, is there something I should know?” I said, folding my arms.

“Y/N, can you stop?” he snapped suddenly, his voice sharper than I’d ever heard it.

I jumped slightly, startled by his tone. I was just trying to help. He looked regretful almost instantly but moved toward me, trapping me against the wall of the small elevator, his expression serious.

“I told you, it’s complicated. And it’s not just about her anymore, so can we drop it for now, please?”

“Why are you getting so worked up over all this?” I protested, meeting his gaze. “I was only trying to help. You know, you asked me to be your ‘girlfriend’, but you barely act like my boyfriend. Then when I do step in, you get all flustered.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead and leaning closer, so close that I could feel his breath. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It’s just…she cheated on me. She didn’t break up with me, I ended it because I found out. I really cared about her, but after that, I just felt…worthless. Like I don’t deserve to be loved.”

His confession hung heavy in the air. I felt a wave of empathy for him, my face softening at his confession. “Namjoon…you are one of the kindest people I know. You’re a great guy, and if anyone I know deserves love, it’s you. Don’t doubt that for a second.”

He looked at me, his gaze softening and our eyes meeting. For a brief moment, he seemed to forget everything. His ex, the fake relationship, everything but the two of us in this tiny, dim elevator. He glanced down, and I felt the brush of his nose near mine, our faces inches apart.

“You say that, but you still like Jimin,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, almost vulnerable. “And that…feels unfair, doesn’t it?”

My heart skipped a beat. “I…” I started, but the words wouldn’t come. A warm flush rose to my cheeks as I met his gaze, and in that instant, his eyes flicked to my lips, lingering there for just a second before he looked away, resting his head on my shoulder. It felt as though all the tension and worry had finally let go, but as if on cue, the elevator doors slid open with a soft ping, revealing two maintenance staff…and Jimin and J-hope.

J-hope burst into laughter at the sight. “Well, well, Namjoon. Didn’t know you were so…romantic,” he teased, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Are you two alright?” one of the staff members asked, extending a hand to help us out of the elevator. Namjoon stepped out first, then turned, offering me his hand, which I took, feeling more flustered than I’d expected.

Jimin stayed silent, watching us with an unreadable expression, Namjoon’s hand not letting mine go the whole time.

"I've always been like this. You just didn't need to know," he replied to J-hope.

"Oh, I mean as long as Y/N knows," J-hope chimed in with a smirk.

Namjoon and I didn’t respond, but he quickly leaned over and whispered that he had something to handle with the staff. He asked me to wait with the others until he returned.

Jimin spoke up first. "How long were you guys in there? We just heard the bell from the hallway."

"Yeah, Jimin was getting worried since you were taking so long," J-hope added. "So we came to check for you when we heard the alarm."

I was surprised, my mouth slightly open. I hadn’t expected Jimin to be so concerned. It was unusual... and kind of nice?

"Oh, thank you for looking out for me," I replied, glancing at Namjoon, who was handing some cash to the maintenance guys. He quickly came back over, giving us a knowing look.

"I’ll explain along the way," he murmured as he leaned closer to my ear.

Taking my hand, he led us back toward the practice room, with Jimin and J-hope trailing behind. Once we were a bit farther from them, Namjoon spoke quietly. "I had to give the staff some money to keep them from spreading rumors about us. We only wanted the guys to know, and well... my ex. Speaking of which, what did you want to discuss again? Sorry for earlier, I rushed to get a hoodie from my car downstairs and ran into her. That’s why I was late. You know the rest."

"Oh, that explains it. Don’t worry about why I came here to talk —I just needed to convince my sister that we’re still together since we haven’t been going on any dates lately. I called you earlier while I was looking for you but you didn’t pick up.” I paused, then asked, “Do you even have my number because you act like you don't." I said with a sigh.

"C’mon, babe, you know I’ve got it," he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and glancing back at Jimin. "I’ll make sure to call you every day from now on and promise to answer every text and call."

"Alright, you better! Also the other reason I came here was that…. I was thinking we should go out one of these days, just for an hour or so, and take a few couple photos. We don’t have any of those, and it’d be nice to have them on our phones. No need to do anything too extravagant, you know typical couples things."

"Sure, but we could also take one right now," he said, pulling out his phone. He lifted the phone, leaned his head close to mine, closed his eyes, and flashed his dimples before snapping the photo, his arm still wrapped around me, catching me completely off guard.

"There, you look cute," Namjoon said, smiling. "I just sent it to you."

"You know we can still see you guys, right? We’re just behind you!" J-hope called out, laughing.

"Now you know, J-hope. I’m shameless when it comes to love."

I felt my face heat up and turned away, bowing a little to the guys as a silent apology.

When we finally made it back to the practice room, the others were still eating. Besides my snack, they’d ordered fried chicken. They must have been starving.

*** After everyone finished up, I greeted the guys one last time, giving each of them a hug before deciding to make my way back home.This time, I opted for the stairs instead of the elevator, my heart racing as I recalled the moment I shared with Namjoon. I couldn’t help but blush, replaying that exchange in the lift. If no one had interrupted us, would it have led to a kiss? I facepalmed, trying to shake off the thought.

I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Namjoon probably still had feelings for his ex, despite the way she had treated him. And then there was Jimin, my feelings for him were still tangled up in my mind. I sighed as I made my way down the stairs, anxiety swirling within me.

I suddenly heard hurried footsteps coming down the stairs, and panic surged through me. What if a crazy sasaeng saw me today and felt jealous? I quickened my pace, and as I rushed down, my vision became blurry. I lost my balance and found myself almost flying through the air, heading straight for the ground. Just as I felt gravity take hold, two strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me backward with such force that I bumped into something or rather someone. I managed to escape the tangled position and looked up to find Namjoon groaning.We both ended up on the floor, with his back against the wall crushed with his legs spread apart and me sitting between them. “Oh my god, Joon, what are you doing here? Didn’t you leave with the guys?”

“That’s the first thing you ask me? Not ‘Are you okay? Does anything hurt?’ or the fact that I just saved your life?” he hissed a bit in pain.

‘’Oh, that too! I am so sorry…. I quickly looked around gathering my words. “Let me explain!” Taking a deep breath I started explaining. ”I became paranoid and thought some crazy fan was following me. Why else would they take the stairs? No one knows that the elevator got stuck except us and the other guys. I mean, I thought I was about to be assaulted! I–uh … sorry, I should have turned my head and looked back. Don't mind me , I am… such a mess. How am I supposed to handle dating an idol like this? Maybe I shouldn’t even bother with dating at all, this girlfriend thing doesn’t seem to suit me.” I kept mumbling, and Namjoon kept looking at me with the same gaze I had seen back in the elevator. I think a tear escaped my eye, and he reached out, swiping it away with his thumb. Then, his hand locked onto the back of my head, pulling my head into his firm chest. “I’m sorry you went through that. Don’t worry, the company is safe most of the time,” Namjoon said quietly.

I let out a breath I had been holding and inhaled, catching a whiff of his scent. It was comforting.

“Y/N, I don’t think you understand how much any of the guys would love to date you now that they’ve seen how cute you act around me. I mean, you are my girlfriend, after all. The reason I came after you is simple: I wanted to drive you home. I’m pretty sure you walked all the way here carrying those snacks by yourself, not letting anyone help you. I thought I could take my car and drive you safely so we could discuss the date we’re going on along the way. But after I told the guys goodbye, you had disappeared, and I knew you wouldn’t dare take the elevator. I know you. After everything that happened, I rushed down the stairs after you. Maybe I should have called out your name to make it clearer that it was me. I’m sorry.”

I looked up at him, creating a bit of space between us. "You have nothing to apologize for. And yes, I’d actually love for you to drive me back; it sounds nice. Thanks for saving me… again haha."

I asked him once more if he was okay and if we needed to go to the hospital, worried that the bump might have had an impact. But he brushed it off, saying this was nothing compared to the rough training days he’d endured as a trainee. With some hesitation, I let it slide, for now.

We both laughed as we stood up and made our way to the parking lot where Namjoon had parked his car. Trying to lighten the mood after the incident, I joked, "It would be funny if your ex was waiting by your car, you know."

He glanced back at me, smirking. "I doubt it. I think you scared her off."

I scoffed. "I mean, she was all over you, and that pissed me off. Especially now that I know what she did to you… she deserved more of a scolding. I can’t believe people like her exist."

Namjoon raised a brow, grinning. "Careful, Y/N, you're starting to sound a little jealous."

"Huh? I’m just saying she shouldn’t be touching you like that. I’d feel the same way if anyone did that to one of my friends! This isn’t jealousy," I replied, looking away.

Namjoon chuckled as he pulled out his car keys and unlocked the car. We got in, and he began adjusting his seatbelt and checking his mirrors. I couldn’t help but find it a little endearing, so I quickly snapped a photo of him without him noticing. I just wanted a memory of all this when it was over.

Once he started the engine and began driving, we discussed when he was free to meet up again.

"I'm free tomorrow evening since we got most of the filming done today. How does that sound for you? Are you free?"

"Let me check my calendar," I replied, pulling out my phone to double-check. "Pretty sure I’m free too." After confirming I had no meetings or other plans, I smiled at him. "Yep, tomorrow evening works!"

"Perfect. I’ll need just three hours of your time."

"Only three hours? Wow, Namjoon, you really know how to disappoint a girl!" I laughed, teasing him. "Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘Give me the whole evening, baby!’"

Namjoon shook his head, chuckling. "Well, I was trying not to be too greedy, especially since you were the one who originally suggested just an hour. But hey, if you're offering…" He grinned, glancing over at me. "Actually, I don’t know if your sister mentioned it yet, but Jungkook has been bugging me for weeks about a double date. I finally told him I’d consider it, only if you said yes, of course. It could help clear any doubts your sister has about us… but it's totally up to you."

"Wow, you really thought this through, didn’t you?" I replied, impressed. "Sure, I don’t mind going on a double date with you guys if it helps. So… where are we meeting again tomorrow?"

"I’ll text you the location later. It’s a surprise," he replied, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Look at you, trying to make a girl feel special, huh?" I teased.

"If it’s you, I don’t mind going all out," Namjoon said softly, turning his head to meet my gaze. I just stared at him, eyes wide.

A beep from the GPS broke the moment, snapping me back to reality. I hadn’t realized how quickly time had flown and Namjoon had already parked near my place.

"Guess we’re here," I murmured, feeling a strange sense of disappointment.

"Yeah… already," he whispered, almost to himself.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, preparing to leave, when I suddenly felt his hand resting gently on my thigh.

"Stay still," he said in a low, quiet voice.

I froze, my mind going blank as I looked up at him, heart pounding. But before I could process it, he was already out of the car, walking over to my side. He opened my door, extending his hand to help me out, the softest hint of a smile on his face.

What a tease. I thought to myself, holding back a grin. "Keep this up, Namjoon, and you’re going to make every girl fall in love with you," I said, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed softly, his hand still holding mine. "Maybe I only need one girl to."

***

When I got back home, my sister was exactly where I’d left her, sprawled on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She glanced up, grinning. “So, how was Namjoon? And the guys?”

“Good. I’ll fill you in later; I’m exhausted. Going to bed,” I replied, stifling a yawn.

“This early? It’s only 8:30pm!” she called, giving me a suspicious look.

I smirked. “Well, I have a date tomorrow, so I need my beauty sleep. Night!” I rushed to my room, giggling as my sister yelled after me, begging for details.

As I shut the door, I couldn’t help but smile. This whole fake relationship wasn’t so bad after all, I was actually having fun. And Namjoon was surprisingly perfect at being my “boyfriend”. After changing into my pajamas, I replayed the events of the day in my mind, from our moment in the elevator to the way he’d looked at me during the drive home. With a contented sigh, I slowly drifted off to sleep, the memory of his warm smile lingering like a gentle whisper in the back of my mind. *** Instead of giving me the location for our meet-up, Namjoon just texted to be ready by six, saying he’d pick me up himself. I guess he really didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Right on time, I waited by the entrance, and soon enough, a car pulled up. The window rolled down, revealing Namjoon in the driver’s seat, wearing a low-brim hat. Even with tinted windows, he was clearly taking extra precautions. Despite that, he still got out of the car and opened the door for me.

"Hi," he greeted as we both settled in, setting up the GPS to navigate. As he drove us through unfamiliar streets, I couldn’t help my curiosity.

"So… can you finally tell me where we’re going?" I asked, leaning over with a grin. "I’ve been dying to know."

“You don’t need to hype it up too much," he chuckled, glancing over with a shy smile. "It’s just a place I thought we could go to let loose for a bit, and afterward, I’ll take you back to my place to eat. My mom’s cooked a few dishes for me, but if you’d rather do takeout, we can do that, too."

“That sounds perfect! And we can take the photos there, too no need to worry about people spotting us. A lot of couples do such stuff at home anyway.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Do… what at home, Y/N?"

I flushed, immediately backtracking. "Ya! That came out so wrong! I mean… couples do photoshoots at home, that’s all I meant! Nothing else."

“Right, photoshoots…” he teased, his dimples showing as he fought a laugh.

The drive was about thirty minutes from my place, but with all our teasing back and forth, we seemed to arrive in the blink of an eye. When we pulled up to a sleek building, Namjoon got out and took my hand, guiding me inside. At the counter, he had the tickets already pulled up on his phone, so the staff barely looked at us, though he was still keeping his cap low just in case.

Looking around, I started piecing things together. We were in an escape room building, and it clicked. I'd once mentioned wanting to try one with all the members someday. Namjoon must’ve remembered. While I was still taking in the space, he released my hand, turning to me with a smirk.

“So, figured it out yet?” he asked.

“Yes!" I laughed, buzzing with excitement. "This is amazing, I love it! We better get out on time, though. You’re known for being smart, so I expect you to really bring it tonight!”

He chuckled. “Alright, but heads-up: there are paid actors involved, and it’s a scary maze. Just watch out for that.”

“Ay ay, captain.”

***

We made it out with ten minutes to spare, and I was still cracking up over Namjoon’s reactions to the jump scares. For someone who’d warned me, he was definitely the one who got startled the most. The theme was intense, a hospital infested with zombies, where we had to find the antidote and escape. Despite all the screaming, Namjoon seemed to have had as much fun as I did. As we left the maze, I was still playfully nudging his shoulder, trying to stifle my laughter.

Just then, a staff member approached us, causing both of us to freeze momentarily. I worried he might recognize Namjoon, but the employee just smiled.

"Congrats! You both finished on time! We actually have a new feature where players who beat the game can take a souvenir photo, something to remember your victory by. Would you both be interested?"

I glanced at Namjoon, checking to see if he was okay with it. To my surprise, he nodded.

“Joon, are you sure?” I whispered. “What if someone recognizes you?”

He shrugged with a reassuring smile. "I doubt it. Plus, the whole point of this date was to make memories.. And take photos."

“Alright!” I smiled back, feeling a little thrill as we posed for the camera.

Namjoon slipped his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him slightly, flashing a peace sign as the staff member took the photo with a Polaroid camera. Moments later, he handed us the printout, a perfect little snapshot of our night. *** After we finished taking photos, we made our way to Namjoon’s house, stopping to grab some drinks along the way. His mom had cooked some delicious side dishes, and we also ordered fried chicken, along with the inevitable soju, of course.

Once we arrived, we decided to put on some background music and set up the food in the living room, sitting on the floor across from each other. As Namjoon dug into his fried chicken, I couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction to the crispy skin.

“Here, let me get a picture of that!” I said, quickly snapping a photo of him mid-bite, his eyes wide in delight.

He chuckled, his mouth full. “You’re just going to keep embarrassing me, aren’t you?”

“Only a little! But I can’t help it. You look adorable!” I replied, scooting closer to him. “Now let’s take some of those selfies!”

As we snapped pictures together, I felt a warm flutter in my stomach. Namjoon grabbed my phone and started taking candid shots of me, making silly faces that had me laughing uncontrollably. His playful antics were contagious, and soon we were caught up in a whirlwind of laughter, striking goofy poses and trying to outdo each other with the most ridiculous expressions.

“Wait, do that again!” I said between giggles, holding up my hands as if I were trying to frame a perfect shot. “I want to capture your best ‘surprised zombie’ face!”

He obliged, widening his eyes and dropping his mouth open comically. “How about this?” he asked, pretending to stumble toward me like a zombie.

“Perfect!” I said, snapping the photo just in time. We took so many in different poses, wanting to ensure we had plenty of options for later. “I can’t wait to look at these in detail later and see which ones make the cut.”

After a few more rounds of photos, I suggested, “Okay, one last serious one! Let’s try a cute couple pose!”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow playfully. “You mean a ‘we're definitely not just friends’ pose?”

“Exactly!” I laughed, leaning into him as we settled into a pose. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me close, and I couldn’t help but feel giddy at the closeness. As the camera clicked, I savored the moment, knowing I’d want to remember this day forever.

“Okay, now that we’ve documented this historic moment, how about a game?” I suggested, feeling a bit tipsy already. “Let’s play Two Truths and a Lie!”

“Alright, I’m in! You go first,” he urged, grinning.

“Okay, um… I once met a celebrity, not any of you by the way, I can cook a five-course meal, and I have a pet turtle named Frank.” I announced, trying to sound serious.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to figure it out. “I’m going to guess… the pet turtle is the lie?”

“Nope! Frank is very real!” I replied with a laugh. “It’s your turn now!”

“Okay, here goes,” he said, thinking for a moment. “I like to go to museums, I’m not scared of zombies, and I also have a crush on someone.”

I squinted at him, considering his words. “I think the lie is… you’re not scared of zombies!”

Namjoon laughed.”You guessed right, I made it easy for you huh.’’

“But wait,” I said, narrowing my eyes playfully. “What do you mean you have a crush on someone? Who is she? Now, I’m curious, should we put on a show for her too, or is this still about that awful ex?”

Namjoon’s gaze became intense as he looked at me. “Nah, you know her very well. No need for anything,” he replied, his tone teasing but serious.

I felt a flutter in my chest, my mind racing as I wondered if he was talking about me. But I shook it off, not wanting to jump to conclusions. “Oh, really? I know her well?! I don't think we have too many girlfriends in common, Joon. Give me a clue.”

Namjoon just stared at me, his expression unreadable. “For someone who's very intelligent, Y/N, you sometimes surprise me.” After a brief pause, he continued, “The day she notices and looks my way, I’ll tell you then.”

I couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. All this new information from the game had him saying such things. Maybe he was just tipsy. I didn’t want to push further, so I suggested something else to do. “Let’s just watch a movie for the rest of the hour!”

Namjoon chuckled and nodded. “Alright, what do you want to watch?”

“How about She’s the Man? It’s a classic!” I suggested, eager to skip the topic.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, though I could feel his eyes still lingering on me as I settled in next to him on the couch.

I tried to shake off the feeling of his intense gaze and focused on the movie while we cleaned up the snacks around us, laughing and joking about our favorite scenes.

As the movie played, Namjoon grabbed his phone and recorded a quick video of me as I reenacted some of the funniest moments. He even jumped up to join in on the fun, pretending to act out a scene while I filmed him, both of us cracking up at how ridiculous we looked. But as the night wore on, we eventually grew tired and fell into a comfortable silence, the movie’s dialogue blending into the background.

I began to drift off, the combination of the delicious food, drinks, and the warmth of his presence lulling me into sleep. I could feel my eyelids growing heavy, and just before I fully surrendered to the peacefulness, I caught a glimpse of Namjoon’s soft smile as he watched me, his attention shifting from the screen to me.

Later on, when I finally woke up, I realized it was already the next day. Blinking a few times to gather my thoughts, I felt a warmth radiating from the body next to me. It took a moment for my sleep-fogged brain to register that I was tangled in a cuddling position with Namjoon. His arms were wrapped around me protectively, and a sense of comfort washed over me as I took in the cozy scene.

The soft light filtering through the curtains illuminated his peaceful face, and I couldn’t help but smile at how serene he looked in his sleep. His hair fell across his forehead, and his chest rose and fell gently with each breath. I shifted slightly, trying not to disturb him, but the movement only caused him to tighten his grip around me, pulling me closer.

Feeling a mix of warmth and butterflies in my stomach, I wondered how we had ended up like this. The memories of last night flooded back our laughter, the silly games, and the intense moment we shared when he mentioned having a crush. I bit my lip, trying to suppress the wave of emotions that rose within me.

Glancing at the clock displayed on the TV, I realized it was still early. I didn't want to break the peaceful moment, so I settled back against him, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. Just then, I heard him stir beside me. His eyes fluttered open, and when he met my gaze, a sleepy smile spread across his face.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

“Good morning,” I replied softly, my heart racing a little at how cute he looked. “Did we really fall asleep on the couch?”

“Looks like it,” he chuckled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I guess we had more fun than I thought.”

“Yeah, it was a great night,” I said, feeling a flutter in my chest. “I can’t believe I fell asleep like this. It was only supposed to be 3 hours!.”

Namjoon shifted slightly, brushing his fingers against my arm. “I’m not complaining. I could get used to this.”

I felt heat rush to my cheeks at his words. “Me too,” I admitted in a whisper, unable to hide the smile on my face.

***

Days passed, and Namjoon and I had been talking every day, exchanging random thoughts and snippets of our lives. It felt so natural, as if we had known each other forever instead of just a couple of weeks. The day after I left his appartament, I decided to send him the photos we took during our date. As I scrolled through them, I noticed that in most of the pictures, he was looking my way, and I couldn't help but blush.

I realized we only had two weeks left in our agreement. I couldn’t believe how quickly time had flown. Just when I was getting comfortable with this new dynamic, we had plans to meet again for Hobi’s party, celebrating the release of his new single” Chicken Noodle Soup.” The entire company was invited including me and my sister, and I felt a mix of excitement and nerves.

The night of the party arrived, and the energy in the venue was electric. I stepped inside and was immediately greeted by the sound of laughter and music. Namjoon was there, looking effortlessly handsome in a fitted black shirt and jeans, but I knew we had to keep our distance given the crowd and all the staff milling around. Despite that, it was hard not to steal glances at him. I felt my heart race every time our eyes met, a small smile always tugging at my lips.

As the night went on, I found myself chatting with some of the other BTS members when a random guy approached me. He had an easy smile and an inviting energy that made him hard to resist.

“Hey there! Would you like to dance?” he asked, extending his hand.

I hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Namjoon. He was probably talking to J-hope about his thoughts on the song, but I could feel his gaze on me. Still, the music was calling, and I didn’t want to miss out. “Um, sure,” I said, taking the guy’s hand and following him to the dance floor.

The moment we started dancing, I could feel Namjoon’s eyes on us, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. The guy was friendly enough, spinning me around and laughing as we moved to the beat. I tried to enjoy myself, but every time I caught a glimpse of Namjoon watching from a distance, my heart raced.

As I swayed to the music, I felt a rush of warmth at the thought of Namjoon. “You know, you’re a great dancer!” the guy said, flashing me a charming smile.

“Thanks! You’re not too bad yourself!” I replied, trying to keep the conversation light. But my mind kept wandering back to Namjoon, who looked tense, his jaw slightly clenched.

Just as I was beginning to get comfortable with the rhythm, I noticed Namjoon striding over. “Hey, mind if I cut in?” he said, a hint of possessiveness in his voice.

“Uh, we are in the middle of the dance…but sure.” the guy replied, stepping back, clearly scared by Namjoon's interruption.

Joon wasted no time taking my hand and pulling me into his arms. The moment he wrapped his hands around my waist, I felt a spark. “Sorry about that,” he murmured, leaning down so only I could hear. “I couldn’t let him have all the fun.”

“Namjoon, we’re in public…that's why I agreed to dance with that guy.I don't want the guest to spread rumors about any of this.” I said, glancing around at the crowd and in between us.

He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Let them see. Besides, if you want Jimin to get jealous, you need to look at me more.”

“Wait, what?” I said, caught off guard.

“Just trust me,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Look at me while we dance.”

I nodded, biting my lip to suppress a smile. As we danced, I found it hard to concentrate on anything else but him. The way he held me felt different, intense and possessive. I could see Jimin nearby, talking to a couple of guests. He caught my eye for a brief moment and then turned to look at Namjoon, his expression unreadable.

Once the song ended, I stepped away from Namjoon, my heart racing. “Thanks for the dance,” I said, my cheeks slightly flushed.

“Anytime,” he replied, flashing that charming smile of his. Just then, Jimin approached, a casual grin on his face. “Hey, Y/N! Want to dance?” he asked, his tone friendly.

“Sure!” I said, feeling a little guilty about leaving Namjoon.

As I moved towards Jimin, I glanced back at Namjoon. He stood there, watching us with a mix of amusement and something else I couldn’t quite place. I tried to shake off the feeling of tension as I began to dance with Jimin, who had a different energy than Namjoon. He was playful and energetic, making me laugh as we moved to the music.

“Having fun?” Jimin asked, spinning me around. “I saw you dancing with Namjoon earlier. You two looked good together,” he commented casually.

“Yeah, thanks! Just enjoying the night!” I replied, laughing. This was a first, maybe me and Namjoon dancing together perhaps made him a tiny bit jealous.

“So, just curious, for how long have you liked Joon-hyung?”

“Hah, what's with all these questions Jimin, since when does that matter. ” I insisted, though I felt a bit flustered under his gaze. What does he want to get out of this conversation? ‘’I mean you guys have been together for barely 2 months right, so your feelings aren't that strong yet I am assuming? “I don’t think liking someone works like that,” I shot back, a little defensive. “Oh really? How does it work then?” Jimin pressed, clearly intrigued.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, trying to articulate how I felt. “Well, I guess it’s more about the connection you build over time. It’s not just about the length of time you’ve known someone, but how you feel when you’re around them.” “And how do you feel around me Y/N?”Jimin asked, his voice low, catching me off guard. I paused, the question hanging in the air between us. My heart raced as I considered my response. “Um, I…” I faltered, feeling a mix of excitement and confusion about my feelings for Jimin. It was hard to articulate just how much my emotions had begun to shift.

Jimin seemed to sense my hesitation, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. “You know, you really light up the dance floor. If you ever need a partner, I’m your guy.”

I smiled, feeling flattered yet torn. “Thanks, Jimin! You’re a great dancer too.” But I couldn't shake the sense of uneasiness stirring in my chest. How did I really feel about both of them? Just then, I glanced over at the sight of Namjoon leaning against the wall, his whiskey in hand, watching us intently. To my rescue, J-hope made his way through the crowd, grinning widely. “Hey, you two! Come on, we’re taking a group photo!” he called out, gesturing for me and Jimin to join the others.

Namjoon and I exchanged glances as we moved closer together, although I could still feel the lingering warmth of his presence beside me as we joined the group. The camera flashed, capturing the moment, and I felt a spark of happiness knowing I was part of this special night, even amidst the confusion of my feelings.

After the photo op, I looked around the venue, trying to soak in the atmosphere. The music was pumping, laughter filled the air, and I felt a surge of joy being surrounded by friends.

“Want to grab some snacks?” I suggested turning to Namjoon.

“Sure! Let’s go before they run out,” he said, flashing me a smile.

As we made our way to the food table, we chatted and joked about the party. “I can’t believe how much fun this is. Hobi really knows how to throw a bash,” I said, eyeing the delicious spread laid out.

“Definitely. And the food is amazing,” he agreed, grabbing a plate.

Just then, I spotted my sister across the room, chatting animatedly with Jungkook. I waved at her, and she returned the gesture with a huge grin. “Look, there’s my sister! She’s having a blast!” I pointed out to Namjoon.

“Your sister seems to be enjoying herself,” he said, glancing over. “And Jungkook looks like he’s making her laugh. They get along really well, huh?”

I nodded, watching them for a moment. “Yeah, they’ve always had a special connection. It’s nice to see her having fun.”

Namjoon chuckled, setting his plate down to grab a couple of snacks. “I can’t blame Jungkook. Your sister is awesome. But let’s focus on our snacks before they disappear!” I couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort being there with him, the worries of the outside world momentarily fading away. As we finished eating, Namjoon turned to me, a curious glint in his eyes. “Hey, what were you and Jimin talking about while you were dancing?” he asked, leaning in slightly as if he wanted to hear my answer more closely.

I felt a slight flutter of unease at the question, the earlier conversation with Jimin flashing through my mind. I tried to keep my tone casual. “Oh, nothing important, really. Just typical dance floor talk,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand.

“Are you sure? It looked like you two were having a pretty deep conversation,” Namjoon replied, raising an eyebrow. There was an intensity in his gaze that made me feel like he was trying to read between the lines. I swallowed hard, feeling a pang of guilt for not being entirely truthful. How could I tell him about what happened, when I didn't have an answer yet. “Dont worry about it.”’ ***

Since the party, Namjoon and I have been texting here and there, casual conversations that left me wondering if he’d been busy or just distant. But beneath each message, I could sense a tension, something unspoken simmering between us. That dance with Jimin at the party had left me wondering if I still had feelings for him, or were they fading? And why did talking to Namjoon feel so natural, like we’d been doing this for years?

Either way, this was supposed to be the last week of our fake relationship. We’d both agreed on that. I wanted to bring it up, to ask him what he thought about it all, but every time I tried, the words just wouldn’t come.

Friday arrived, and my sister reminded me of the "couple's date" she’d set up, me with Namjoon and her with Jungkook. I groaned, grabbing my phone to check with Namjoon. Part of me hoped he’d back out, but when I texted, he just replied, "I’ll be there."

That evening, we all met up at a lively bowling center. The place was buzzing with laughter, the crash of pins, and cheers from other lanes. This was a favorite spot for Jungkook and my sister; they always loved a bit of competition, so naturally, they thought it’d be the perfect place for all of us to meet up. I spotted them near a lane, already laughing and waving us over.

Namjoon was sitting close by, fiddling with the scoring screen and taking a sip of a drink he’d already ordered. He looked up as we approached, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. His calm confidence eased some of my jitters.

“Hey,” he said, reaching for my hand as I sat down beside him. It was a simple gesture, yet it sent a tiny spark running up my arm.

“Hey,” I replied, glancing up at him, trying to gauge his mood. Did he sense that I was nervous?

We barely had a moment to settle in before my sister leaned in with a playful smirk. “So, Namjoon,” she teased, “are you keeping my sister out of trouble?”

Namjoon chuckled, squeezing my hand gently under the table. “Actually, she’s the one keeping me out of trouble.”

My sister laughed, and Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “You two seem like you’ve got this whole couple thing down.”

A lump formed in my throat. Did we? I cast a quick glance at Namjoon, who seemed unfazed, as always. His calm expression gave nothing away, and it almost made me want to ask, was he as unsure about everything as I was?

When the server came to check on our orders, I realized I hadn’t even glanced at the menu. I’d been too wrapped up in how to bring up the impending end of our “relationship.” Just then, Namjoon leaned over, his voice gentle.

“I ordered you a light beer, since you looked a little distracted,” he said, eyebrows slightly raised in question.

I blinked, snapping back to reality. “Oh! Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks.”

As the night went on, it was easy to fall into the rhythm of the group, though I couldn’t shake the sense that something was missing. Jungkook and my sister were on a roll, winning nearly every round with their practiced ease, while Namjoon and I fumbled our way through a few frames, laughing despite our weak scores.

Jungkook grinned, picking up his ball with a flourish. “Looks like Namjoon’s been busy writing again, huh? You’ve got that faraway look, hyung.”

Namjoon smiled, shrugging slightly. “It’s been a busy month. A lot of new music, ideas I’m trying to figure out.” He shot me a quick look. “You know how it is.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely been putting in the work,” I added, although I wasn’t entirely sure. He’d been so occupied, and sometimes I felt like just another task on his to-do list.

“Y/N?” My sister’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Oh, sorry!” I said, snapping back to the game. I could feel Namjoon’s eyes on me, but I avoided his gaze, feeling caught.

“We need to focus here,” he whispered, his tone soft but playful. “No more zoning out, partner.”

I laughed, trying to ignore the way my stomach flipped. Maybe it was just the thrill of the night, or maybe it was the weight of something unspoken hanging between us. For a fleeting moment, I thought Namjoon was looking at me with the same question in his eyes, the same confusion and quiet hope I felt, but before I could be sure, he looked away.

After a few more rounds of bowling, we decided to explore the arcade on the upper level of the center. The lights from the machines cast a warm, colorful glow, and the air was filled with cheerful noises, beeping games, laughter, and the click of tokens sliding into slots. Namjoon and I stayed close, trying out a few games and exchanging easy laughs, while my sister and Jungkook were busy competing at air hockey.

“Look at this!” my sister called suddenly, bouncing up and down as she spotted an old-school photo booth tucked in the corner. She grabbed Jungkook’s hand and waved us over with a huge grin. “We have to get in there and take some pictures. It’ll be like a memory of tonight!”

The four of us managed to squeeze into the tiny booth, laughing as we scrambled to fit into the narrow frame. My sister gave enthusiastic instructions, calling out poses as the camera clicked.

“Alright, first shot: everyone smile!”

The camera flashed, capturing the four of us grinning, cheeks squished together.

“Now, do a funny face!” she said, pulling a ridiculous expression that made us all crack up just in time for the next shot.

“For the last one… let’s make it a couples’ kiss!” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. She turned to Jungkook, already leaning in for their shot. I felt my heart pound in my chest as I turned to Namjoon, feeling my face flush as I took in his expression.

Namjoon’s eyes met mine, and for a second, I saw the same hesitation, the same unspoken question that had been following us all night. We’d never kissed, not even for show, and now we were in this tiny photo booth with a camera about to flash, only inches separating us. I could feel his breath, warm and steady, as he leaned forward ever so slightly, his face close enough that I closed my eyes, waiting for the moment to come…

But it didn’t.

I opened my eyes just as he pulled back, offering me a polite, almost forced smile. My stomach dropped, and a wave of embarrassment washed over me, making my cheeks burn. Trying to brush it off, I quickly turned to the camera after the last flash, the awkwardness settling heavily between us like a wall.

When the photo strip began to print, I couldn’t ignore the nagging questions twisting inside me. I stepped out of the booth with the others, walking a bit farther so they wouldn’t overhear, and Namjoon followed, sensing I wanted to talk. I glanced at him, feeling vulnerable but needing to know. “Namjoon… why did you stop?”

For a second, his usual composure slipped, and I caught a glimmer of something almost sad in his eyes. Then he shrugged, looking away. “There’s no point, Y/N. We’ve only got a couple of days left of this… arrangement, right?” He gave me a small, almost bitter smile. “Besides, Jimin’s probably already feeling jealous enough. I saw you two at the party, you were laughing with him, looking happy. I figured… there’s no need to make this more complicated.”

His words felt like a punch to the chest. I realized then just how much I’d been hoping for that kiss to mean something, for it to be a turning point between us. But the way he dismissed it so casually left my heart aching in ways I hadn’t prepared for. I swallowed hard, forcing down the tears threatening to rise.

“You don’t even know what we talked about,” I said, my voice barely steady. Jimin had asked me at the party how long I’d liked Namjoon, and maybe I had smiled without realizing it. I hadn’t told Namjoon about it that night because I hadn’t known how I felt then. But now… now, I was sure. I wanted him more than anyone, yet he’d just walked away from the chance to kiss me, even after I’d closed my eyes and leaned in. If he couldn’t even kiss me now, he clearly didn’t feel the same way.

Namjoon’s face was hard to read as he replied, his voice quieter. “You’re right, I don’t know. But I asked you then, and you didn’t tell me. I get it, Y/N… this is fake, and I’m not your boyfriend. You don’t owe me anything, so I didn’t push it. But don’t act like you wouldn’t rather have Jimin here right now instead of me.”

I felt my anger and frustration rise to the surface, all the confusion of the past few weeks pushing me over the edge. “How do you know what I want?” I snapped. “You think you know me so well after just two months of us ‘being together’? You’re right, Namjoon, I don’t have to tell you anything. And since this ‘deal’ between us”, I gestured between us, my voice sharp, “ends in two days, maybe we should just end it now. Right here. I might as well go to Jimin after this.”

He stared back at me, hurt flashing across his face before he composed himself. “Fine. I thought that was the point of this whole thing anyway. Good luck.” he said flatly, his eyes holding mine with a hardened look. Neither of us spoke, tension building in the silence, the distance between us now feeling like miles.

Just then, my sister and Jungkook walked over, holding the strip of photos. My sister was laughing at first, but when she looked closely, her expression changed as she noticed the last photo.

“Wait… you two didn’t kiss?” She looked between us, her face full of confusion. “Come on, you guys!”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the tension. “What’s going on?”

Something inside me snapped. All the frustration, disappointment, and anger bubbled to the surface. I turned to my sister, unable to hold back. “Because it’s all fake,” I said, my voice louder than I intended, the words coming out like a final admission. “None of this is real.”

The room fell silent. My sister’s smile faded, her face filled with surprise and hurt. Namjoon’s face went blank, his expression unreadable, but I could feel the shock radiating off him.

“Y/N, wait—” Namjoon reached for my arm, but I jerked away, feeling the sting of tears as they blurred my vision. Without another word, I turned and left the arcade, letting the lights and sounds blur around me as I hurried down the stairs, desperate to put distance between us. ***

When I got home, I shut my bedroom door and sank onto my bed, letting out a long breath. I tried to hold it together, but the weight of the night finally broke through, and a few tears slipped out before I could stop them. I felt so mixed up, like I’d been thrown into a storm without a compass. Namjoon’s words kept replaying in my mind—how he’d brushed off the kiss, how he seemed to assume I’d rather be with Jimin. It stung more than I wanted to admit.

After a while, I wiped my face, deciding I was done feeling sorry for myself. This was supposed to be a temporary, harmless plan, so there was no point in getting tangled up in something that wasn’t meant to be. I distracted myself for a bit, scrolling through my phone, but my thoughts kept circling back to him.

Then, I heard the front door open. Moments later, there was a soft knock, and my sister stepped into the room. She took one look at me, her expression a mix of concern and understanding, and came over to sit beside me on the bed.

“Hey,” she started gently. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

I hesitated, but she didn’t push, just sat there patiently until I was ready to say something.

Finally, she sighed and continued, “Look… Namjoon stayed a bit after you left. He… Well, he explained everything to us.”

I felt my heart skip a beat. “What did he say?”

She gave me a careful look. “He told us the whole thing, that you two only started dating to make Jimin jealous, and… to get back at his ex.”

I cringed, suddenly feeling a flood of embarrassment. “He told you that?”

She nodded, her expression softening. “Yeah. I think he was just trying to be honest. He looked really upset when he was explaining, though. Like… I don’t know, like he didn’t really want to be saying it out loud.”

I blinked, my mind racing. Part of me felt a strange sense of relief that she knew, but it didn’t erase the guilt or the way my heart still ached at the memory of his words in the photo booth.

My sister hesitated, then asked gently, “Y/N… who do you really like? Is it Jimin, or… Namjoon?”

I swallowed, feeling a weight settle in my chest. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I thought I still liked Jimin, but… being with Namjoon felt so natural, so easy. And tonight, it felt like maybe… maybe I’d been lying to myself about my feelings.”

She reached over and squeezed my hand. “That’s okay, you know. You’re allowed to feel confused. But it’s important that you’re honest with yourself. Just think it through, and don’t do anything just because you’re afraid of what it might mean.”

I nodded, feeling the tension ease a little. She stayed with me, her silent support enough to make the chaos in my heart feel a little less heavy. Maybe I didn’t have the answers yet, but I knew that tonight had shifted something inside me. And maybe that was the first step to figuring it all out.

***

By Saturday evening, I’d almost convinced myself that tonight would be normal, just a simple get-together with friends, no awkwardness or confusing feelings. Taehyung was hosting a small party at his place, just a casual night for all of us to catch up. I hesitated at first, but after all that had happened, I figured it would be good to see the others. Besides, Namjoon had already mentioned in the group chat that he couldn’t make it because something had come up, so it wasn’t like I’d have to worry about seeing him.

So that evening, my sister and I got ready and headed over together. The minute we walked in, the familiar sounds of laughter and the low hum of music filled the air, instantly easing some of the tension I’d been holding. I spotted Taehyung across the room, chatting with Yoongi and Jin, who were already nursing drinks. J-hope was over by the music setup, picking out the next track, and Jungkook waved at us as we walked in.

“Hey, you two! Glad you could make it,” Taehyung greeted us with a grin, pulling us both into a quick hug. He handed us each a drink, smiling mischievously. “Don’t worry, we’re just getting started.”

I laughed, feeling a bit lighter. We settled in, and soon I was chatting with everyone, catching up, swapping stories, and just enjoying the easygoing atmosphere. I’d forgotten how nice it was to just be around friends without the weight of the past week lingering over everything.

At one point, I glanced across the room and noticed Jimin looking at me. He didn’t say anything, just watched me with a quiet intensity that sent a little jolt through me. I quickly looked away, pretending not to notice, but I could feel his gaze lingering, even when I wasn’t looking his way.

A little while later, Taehyung clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “Alright, everyone! Time for a little game to keep things interesting.” He grabbed an empty bottle and placed it on the table. “Let’s do a classic: Never Have I Ever. But first, drinks all around!”

Everyone cheered, and we each grabbed a drink. Before starting the game, Taehyung took out his phone and snapped a quick photo of everyone holding up their drinks, laughing and cheering. “Alright, group photo for the memories,” he said, quickly sending it to the group chat.

I checked my phone and saw the notification pop up in the chat. I couldn’t help but smile at the picture, everyone looking so carefree and happy. Just then, I noticed that Namjoon had seen the message. A small pang hit me, but I shook it off and put my phone away, trying to focus on the game.

Taehyung spun the bottle, and as it pointed at each person, they took turns saying things they’d never done, and the others either drank or laughed as they tried to remember their own stories. The energy was light, with people teasing each other over the stories they shared, and even Yoongi was getting into it, smiling more than usual.

At one point, Jimin leaned over and grinned at me as I took a sip for something silly someone had said. “You’re a bit of a mystery, aren’t you?” he said, a hint of teasing in his voice.

I rolled my eyes, trying to brush it off. “Or maybe I just have a lot of secrets,” I shot back with a smirk, making him laugh.

The night went on, and I couldn’t deny that there was a certain freedom in being here without Namjoon, like I could just be myself without all the confusing feelings getting in the way. But every now and then, I’d catch Jimin’s eyes on me, the way he seemed to be watching me a little too closely, like he was waiting for something.

About 30 minutes into the game, just as the conversation was getting more lively and the drinks were flowing, the front door swung open. I didn’t even notice at first, lost in conversation with Jungkook about some random funny video he had seen. But then, I heard a familiar voice from across the room.

“Did I miss anything?”

I turned, and there, standing in the doorway, was Namjoon. He was casually dressed, a slight smile on his face, but his presence hit me like a wave. My heart skipped, and suddenly, the air felt a little heavier. He was here, and I hadn’t expected it at all.

He must’ve noticed the change in atmosphere because everyone’s attention shifted to him. Taehyung grinned, raising his drink. “Look who decided to show up! The party’s just getting started, hyung.”

Namjoon gave a half-shrug, his gaze scanning the room before landing on me for a brief second. He didn’t stay on me long, though, quickly moving toward the group and grabbing a drink from the counter. I tried to keep my composure, but the tension in my chest was impossible to ignore. He’d shown up, and everything I thought I’d managed to put behind me came rushing back.

Jimin, on the other hand, didn’t look away from me. His gaze was sharper now, and I could feel the weight of it, like he was waiting for me to react. I looked down at my drink, trying to focus on anything but the way Jimin’s stare was beginning to make me uncomfortable.

Namjoon joined the circle, exchanging pleasantries with the guys. He settled in, his usual calm demeanor in place, but there was something more guarded about him tonight. I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the tension too, or if I was just imagining it.

After a few moments, Taehyung clapped his hands again, getting everyone’s attention. “Alright, let’s keep the fun going. Who’s up for a round of shots before we start the new round?”

Namjoon smiled, but I could tell it was a little forced. “Sure,” he said, reaching for the bottle that was passed around. I noticed that when he got to me, his hand paused for just a second, like he was trying to decide something, but then he took the shot with a steady hand.

Jimin, who had been quiet for the last few minutes, finally spoke up, his voice light but pointed. “You sure you’re up for this, Namjoon? You looked like you were busy earlier.”

Namjoon glanced at him, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, something came up. But I’m here now. So, no more excuses.”

I could feel Jimin’s eyes on me again, sharp and almost searching, but I kept my gaze ahead, not wanting to react. I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much, but there was something about the way he was looking at me, almost like he knew something I didn’t.

The game continued, but now there was a new layer of tension. I could feel Namjoon’s presence weighing down on me, even as he chatted with the others. I tried not to look at him, but I couldn’t help it. Every time I glanced in his direction, he was either talking to someone else or looking at his phone, but there was a part of me that kept waiting for something to happen. What was I waiting for? I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were far from resolved.

And as much as I told myself I should enjoy the night with everyone else, a part of me still wanted to know what Namjoon was thinking, why he’d suddenly shown up, and what it meant for the weird, fake relationship we were trying to make sense of.

The mood in the room was light, with alcohol flowing and teasing picking up. Taehyung, ever the instigator, leaned forward with a devilish grin, clearly enjoying the attention as everyone turned toward him.

"Alright, alright, let’s make this interesting," he said, his eyes scanning the group. "Never have I ever liked a girl in this group." He looked directly at Jungkook, raising an eyebrow as if daring him to drink. "Come on, Jungkook, no skipping this one. You know the rules."

Jungkook immediately rolled his eyes. "Gladly," he muttered, grabbing his drink without hesitation. He downed a shot, then looked at my sister, sending her a flying kiss before turning back to Taehyung. His face tried to stay serious, but he couldn’t hold back the grin tugging at his lips. "Happy now?" he said, clearly playing it off for laughs, but the whole room could tell it was more for fun than anything deeper.

Namjoon was next. He took a sip from his glass, his gaze never leaving mine. I couldn’t help but notice the intensity in his eyes as he drank. I tried to remind myself that he was just continuing the act, that this was still a fake relationship, that we were pretending for everyone else since we hadn’t told them yet the truth about ending it. It was all a game. But something about the way he held my gaze made it harder to believe it was all pretending.

Then, just as I was processing it all, Jimin, of all people, raised his glass. His move was so sudden that it left the whole group stunned into silence. Without a word, he took a shot, his eyes locked on me the entire time, a quiet challenge lingering in his expression.

The room went silent. The tension was palpable. No one knew how to react. Taehyung blinked first, breaking the silence with a loud, surprised laugh.

"Well, I guess we’re all in now," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Looks like we’ve got some secrets floating around in this group."

But I didn’t find it funny. My heart pounded in my chest, the situation suddenly feeling a lot more real than it had a few minutes ago. Jimin’s move was unexpected—why had he done that? And Namjoon... his constant attention, the way he drank right after Jungkook , it felt too intentional. Had I been reading too much into everything? I couldn’t focus on anything else, the weight of the moment hanging heavily between the three of us.

The game continued, but all I could do was watch, trying to ignore the strange mix of emotions that churned inside me. Something had shifted, and I couldn’t figure out what it was.

I excused myself from the game, the weight of everything pressing on me like a physical force. I needed space to breathe, to clear my head, and figure out what was going on in my own heart. My thoughts were spiraling, tangled in Jimin’s unexpected actions and Namjoon’s steady gaze. What did any of this mean? I couldn’t make sense of it, and it was eating away at me.

I made my way toward the guest room, my steps slow and heavy, as if I could outrun the thoughts crashing through my mind. Was Jimin really into me this whole time? Did the plan to make him jealous actually work? What was going on between Namjoon and me? And why did everything feel so... real tonight?

I stepped into the bathroom of a guest room and stood in front of the mirror. The reflection staring back at me didn’t seem like mine anymore, too confused, too lost. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the ache in my chest, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to get away, to clear my mind.

Before I could walk back into the party, I heard the door to the guest room open in front of me. I froze. It was Jimin. I didn’t expect him to follow me, and my heart jumped into my throat.

He stepped in slowly, looking like he was carefully choosing his words. I turned toward him, but I didn’t know what to say. The silence hung heavy between us.

"Y/N," Jimin said, his voice calm, but there was an edge of vulnerability there. "Can we talk?"

I didn’t trust my voice, so I simply nodded, still unsure of what was happening. His presence filled the small room, and my nerves were on fire.

He sighed and took a step closer, clearly thinking about what to say next. "I didn’t expect Namjoon to show up tonight," Jimin began, his voice low and almost distant. "The guys had told me they saw him talking to his ex before he left the studio. I figured he wasn’t going to come, so when he showed up... I was surprised."

I tried to keep my face neutral, but the mention of his ex hit me harder than I expected. The thought of Namjoon with someone else, especially with that ex, was like a punch to the gut. But I stayed quiet, letting Jimin continue.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration creeping into his tone. "But then Jungkook told me something yesterday. About you and Namjoon... about the whole 'fake relationship' thing." He paused, his eyes locking onto mine. "He told me that you two were pretending to make me jealous. That it was all an act."

My heart skipped a beat. Of course, Jungkook would have been the one to spill it. Now, hearing Jimin say it out loud felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over me.

Jimin shifted, his face growing more serious. "At first, I didn’t know what to think when I heard that from him. But then, it hit me." He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. "I realized that I’ve been an idiot. I’ve been sitting here, watching you, pretending like I didn’t care, when the truth is, I care more than I’ve ever let on."

He took a breath, and my heart fluttered nervously in my chest. I didn’t know what he was about to say, but it felt like everything had come to this point.

"I’ve liked you for so long, Y/N," Jimin confessed, his voice a little softer now, vulnerable. "But I’ve always been afraid to say anything. Afraid that it would ruin our friendship, that it would change everything between us." He gave a short, bitter laugh. "I kept telling myself I wasn’t ready, that it was better left unsaid."

His expression softened, his eyes searching mine. "But watching you with Namjoon tonight and these past couple of months, pretending to be with him, it made me realize how much of a fool I’ve been. I should’ve stepped up sooner, I should’ve told you how I felt." He shook his head, frustration and regret in his voice. "I’ve been too scared, too wrapped up in my own insecurities to take a chance. But I’m done with that, Y/N."

He took another step forward, the space between us closing. "I care about you," he said, his voice steady now, full of sincerity. "I’ve always cared about you. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t. I like you, Y/N. I really like you. And I’m sorry it took me so long to say it."

I stood there, frozen, my chest tightening as his words echoed in my ears. Jimin, the guy I had had a crush on for a long time, had just confessed to me. The weight of his confession settled over me, both a relief and a shock. But there was also confusion, so much confusion. Had I been blind to all of this? Why had he never said anything before? And if I was being honest with myself, did I like him back anymore?

Before I could process everything, Jimin stepped closer, his eyes filled with hope and uncertainty. "So, what do you think?" he asked softly. "I know it’s a lot to take in, but I couldn’t keep pretending like I don’t feel this way about you anymore."

I felt my heart racing in my chest, torn between Jimin’s confession and the unresolved feelings I had for Namjoon. I didn’t know how to respond, but I knew one thing for sure: everything had just changed.

I took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of courage I had left. This wasn’t easy, and I knew it was going to hurt, but I had to be honest with Jimin. I couldn’t keep pretending like everything was okay, like my heart wasn’t pulling in two different directions.

"Jimin," I started, my voice quieter than I intended, but firm. "I need to be honest with you. Yes, it was about you, making you jealous, at first. It was part of the plan, to make you see... make you notice me." I paused, watching his face as he took in my words. His expression shifted, and for a second, I could see the pain in his eyes, but I pushed forward.

"But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about that." I shook my head, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Somewhere along the way, I... I started to fall for Namjoon."

Jimin blinked, his lips parting slightly as if trying to make sense of what I’d just said. His gaze was intense, like he was searching for something in me, an explanation, an apology, I wasn’t sure.

"I don’t blame you for not realizing sooner," I continued, my heart heavy with the truth I was finally saying out loud. "I should’ve said something. I should’ve told you how I felt, instead of waiting around for you to make a move. I’ve been waiting for you to notice me for so long... and I was too scared to admit that I was falling for someone else." I wiped at my eyes, trying to hold it together, but it wasn’t easy.

Jimin’s face softened, his usual mischievous smile gone, replaced with something more vulnerable. "Y/N... I didn’t know," he murmured, his voice low. "I didn’t know you were waiting for me like that. I thought... I thought I had all the time in the world."

I nodded, feeling the weight of my own regrets. "We both did," I whispered. "But maybe it was meant to be this way. Maybe we weren’t supposed to figure this out sooner. Maybe everything that’s happened, all the confusion, the pretending... it was just leading me to this point."

I took a deep breath, feeling like I was freeing myself from something heavy I’d been carrying for far too long. "I like Namjoon now, Jimin. And I don’t know what’s going on with him, with his ex, or whatever. Maybe he’s with her again, maybe not. But I can’t keep holding onto what could’ve been with you, because I’ve realized it’s not just about you anymore."

The silence stretched between us as Jimin absorbed my words. I could see him trying to process everything, his eyes searching my face for any hint of uncertainty. But there was none.

"I’m sorry," I added softly, my voice trembling slightly. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I can’t keep pretending, either. I’ve made my choice."

Jimin finally sighed, his shoulders dropping as if he was releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His eyes met mine, and for the first time, there was no frustration or confusion in them, just a quiet understanding.

"I get it," he said, his voice rough but steady. "I kinda knew I was too late. And maybe... maybe I should have said something sooner too. But I can’t blame you for that. You deserve to be with someone who’s not afraid to take the chance, someone who’s not scared of ruining the friendship. I see that now." He smiled, but it was bittersweet. "And if Namjoon makes you happy, then I’m happy for you. I mean that."

I felt a weight lift off my chest, the tension between us dissolving in that moment. "Thank you," I whispered. "I... I never wanted to hurt you, Jimin. You’re still one of my dearest friends. I just had to be honest with you."

Jimin nodded, his smile softening as he gave me a reassuring look. "I know. And I’ll be okay. I’m not going anywhere, you know? We’ll figure this out, all of us."

The words he said were comforting, but the reality of it all still felt heavy in my chest. I wasn’t sure where things would go from here, but for the first time, I felt like I could breathe again, knowing that I had said what I needed to say, that I had let go of the past.

I took a final, steadying breath and gave him one last, grateful smile. "I’m glad we talked, Jimin. And... I hope things don’t feel too weird between us after this."

"They won’t," he assured me, his eyes soft with understanding. "We’ll be fine. You and me. I just... want you to be happy." As the conversation came to a close, I took a step back, the weight of it all finally beginning to lift from my shoulders. Jimin and I had said everything we needed to say, and I was starting to feel like I could move on, that this awkward, unresolved tension was finally behind us.

Jimin offered a small, bittersweet smile before opening his arms. "Come here," he said softly, and without thinking, I stepped into his embrace. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t meant to be, but in that moment, it felt like the closure we both needed. I could feel his warmth, his steady presence, and it grounded me in a way that reassured me everything would be okay. We’d move past this, even if things weren’t perfect right now.

I closed my eyes, letting the moment stretch out for a few seconds, savoring the comfort of having things settle between us.

But just as I was starting to relax, I heard the door creak open.

I pulled back instantly, my heart racing as I saw Namjoon standing in the doorway, his eyes wide, mouth slightly parted in shock. His gaze flicked between me and Jimin, lingering on us just long enough for the weight of the situation to hit him too.

It felt like time had frozen for a moment.

"Y/N..." Namjoon said, his voice a little strained. "Jimin...?"

I didn’t know what to say. The look in his eyes made my stomach twist. It wasn’t jealousy exactly, but something like confusion, hurt.

Before he could say anything else, I quickly moved toward him, trying to make sense of the situation, the tension hanging thick in the air.

"I... We need to talk," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I looked at him.

Jimin, sensing the shift headed towards the door. I watched as Jimin left, his footsteps fading as he passed through the hallway, leaving me alone with Namjoon. The silence between us felt like a wall, too heavy to break, but I couldn’t ignore the burning need to face this.

I turned to Namjoon, my throat tight. "We need to talk," I repeated, this time louder, more urgent.

Namjoon nodded, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Yeah. We do."

"Is this why you didn't tell me what you and Jimin talked about at the party?" Namjoon’s voice was tight, the words coming out sharper than I expected. "Did you get what you wanted, Y/N? Is this why you and him are hugging in a separate room?"

His words hit me like a cold wave, and I felt the sting of them settle deep in my chest. The air between us grew heavy, thick with the weight of his accusation, and I could feel the space between us shrinking in all the wrong ways.

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but nothing came out. His eyes never left mine, and there was something raw, almost broken, in the way he looked at me. It was like he was trying to figure out if he’d been a fool this whole time, if everything we had was just a game to me.

I took a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. My heart was pounding, but I couldn't just let his words hang in the air like that.

"So, you're gonna judge me for talking to Jimin? After you were spotted with your ex?" I shot back, the words coming out sharper than I meant. "You have no right to say anything about me and Jimin when you’re doing whatever it is you’re doing with her."

The moment I said it, I regretted the bitterness in my tone, but I couldn’t help it. It was like everything inside me was bubbling up all at once, frustration, confusion, and that gnawing ache I’d tried to ignore for so long. Namjoon had been acting like nothing had changed, like he was fine with our arrangement, while I was over here questioning everything. And now he was calling me out like I was the one in the wrong.

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, his gaze faltered. I could see the flicker of guilt, maybe even regret, but it quickly turned into something else, something I couldn’t quite place. Was it anger? Jealousy?

I wasn’t sure, but I knew we were both standing on the edge, and I didn’t know how to pull us back. Namjoon took a deep breath, his gaze briefly flicking away as if trying to gather his thoughts. When he spoke again, his voice was tight, his words sharper than usual. "Yeah, I met with her," he admitted, frustration evident in his voice. "But it's not what you think. She kept showing up at the company, begging for forgiveness, even after you told her to back off. I couldn’t ignore her anymore. I had to put an end to it, for good."

He paused, his eyes dark with a mix of anger and something else, something that felt too raw for me to understand in the moment.

His next words hit harder than I expected. "I saw you hugging him, Y/N. You got what you wanted, didn’t you? This whole game, this act you and me were playing for him. You wanted to make Jimin jealous, and now it finally worked." His voice wavered, and the words came out harsher than he probably intended, like he was trying to convince himself. "And here I am, watching all of it, like a damn fool."

There was a pause, and the room seemed to shrink with the tension between us. Namjoon stepped even closer, his presence almost overwhelming. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to keep his emotions in check. "You know what? It worked on me, too," he said, his voice low and pained. "I thought I didn’t care, If you still chose him after everything, but I do. More than I should. I’ve been lying to myself, pretending I didn’t feel anything, but seeing you with him, seeing you so... close... it made me realize how much I care.Why I can’t stop thinking about you”.

His voice broke, and I saw the regret and jealousy in his eyes. "I should’ve kissed you that night, Y/N. After we fought, I should’ve stopped you from leaving, should’ve said something. But I didn’t. I let you walk away, and I regret it every single second. I’ve been kicking myself for it ever since."

The room felt like it was holding its breath, the air thick with everything that had been said, and everything that was left unspoken. Namjoon stood so close, his presence overwhelming, yet it felt like there was still a gap between us, one that neither of us knew how to cross.

I finally found my voice, despite the tightness in my chest. "What’s stopping you now?" I asked, my tone quieter but firm.

Namjoon blinked, his eyes still searching mine, confusion flickering across his face. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice a little strained.

I stepped forward just a fraction, closing the distance, and then, with a sense of finality, I answered him. "The moment you saw after you came here, it was us giving closure to our feelings. Yes, it worked. I made Jimin jealous, and he confessed to me. But I turned him down, Namjoon. Because I can't stop thinking about you, too." My heart pounded in my chest, but I pushed through the fear, the uncertainty. "So, let me ask you again: What’s stopping you from kissing me now?"

The question hung in the air, thick and heavy. His eyes were locked on mine, searching, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. For a brief moment, time seemed to stop as we stood there, inches apart, the silence between us deafening. I could see the storm of emotions in his gaze, hurt, longing, confusion, and, beneath it all, something that told me he wasn’t ready to walk away. Not this time.

And then, without warning, he took a step closer. His breath mingled with mine as he cupped my face with his large, warm hands. The touch was gentle, but there was a certain urgency to it, a need that seemed to pulse in the very air around us.

His thumb brushed against my cheek, a soft, almost reverent gesture, as if he were memorizing the feel of me under his fingertips. His eyes never left mine, but I could see the way his pupils dilated, the way his chest rose and fell with each shallow breath he took. And then, as if the weight of everything that had been left unsaid between us finally broke, he closed the distance, his lips crashing into mine with a force that took me by surprise.

The kiss was desperate, hungry, as though he’d been holding back for too long. His lips moved against mine with a raw intensity, a release of all the emotions that had been building between us for so long. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss, as if he couldn’t get enough of me, like he was trying to pour every ounce of feeling he had into that single, electrifying moment.

I responded with my hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. The world around us seemed to fade away, the tension, the confusion, everything that had been holding us apart, until there was only the two of us. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, as if we were both trying to make up for lost time, to reclaim something we had almost thrown away.

And in that moment, everything else ceased to matter. The only thing that existed was the overwhelming, undeniable connection between us, a connection that no words, no misunderstandings, could ever break. The kiss grew more passionate, and everything around us faded into a blur. Namjoon’s hands were at my back, guiding me backward until the wall pressed against my shoulders. The warmth of his body, the intensity of his kiss, left me breathless and yearning for more. His lips moved with purpose, each touch sending waves of heat through my body. He pulled away for a split second, his forehead resting against mine as he caught his breath.

"Do you have any idea how long I’ve been thinking about this?" His voice was low, almost a growl, sending a shiver down my spine. "How your lips would feel against mine...I have been dreaming about it since that day on the elevator... no, even before that." He said it with such intensity that it made my heart race, and I couldn't help but wonder what he meant, but the questions would have to wait. I didn’t care to ask them now. All I could focus on was him, the way his lips moved with mine, the way he made me feel.

I arched my back as my head leaned against the wall, and his hands found their way to my waist, lifting me effortlessly off the ground. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as the kiss continued. His lips trailed down to my neck, kissing and biting gently murmuring words like ‘mine’ above my skin between every kiss, sending a mix of pleasure and electricity through my body. Soft moans escaped my lips, and I could feel the heat between us building. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, unable to get enough of him.

But then, a loud crash echoed from the other room, pulling us both out of our haze. We froze for a moment, catching our breath, our faces inches apart.

Namjoon let out a frustrated sigh, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "We can continue this later," he said with a teasing smirk, still holding me tightly against him. "I will make up for every time I didn't kiss you, I promise."

The playful yet possessive undertone in his voice sent a wave of heat through me, and I couldn't help but feel the weight of his words. But for now, we both took a step back, trying to regain some composure as the sound of the broken bottle in the other room faded into the background. Before we left the room, my fingers nervously tugged at the hem of Namjoon's shirt, a sudden shyness washing over me. The heat from the kiss still lingered on my skin, and the words I needed to say felt heavy on my tongue, almost foreign after everything we’d just shared.

"Namjoon," I started, my voice barely above a whisper as I avoided his gaze for a moment. My heart was racing, my hands slightly trembling as I looked up at him. "I... I want to be with you," I confessed, the words feeling like they had been waiting to escape for so long. "After everything that's happened, I don’t want to be here anymore. I just... I want to be with you. Alone."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smile, but there was something tender in his gaze. "You want to get out of here?" he asked, his voice low, as if he were savoring the thought. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, my fingers still clinging to his shirt, my gaze lifting to meet his. "Yeah... I can pretend to be sick. We can just leave together. I don’t want to be around anyone else right now." The idea of being with him, just the two of us, felt like the only thing that made sense in that moment. Everything else, the party, the other people, suddenly felt so far away.

Namjoon’s expression softened, and he placed a hand gently on my cheek, as if grounding me in the moment. "If that’s what you want, we’ll leave Y/N." he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Let’s go."

I smiled, relief flooding through me as I took his hand. We didn’t need any more words. We were finally on the same page. As Namjoon and I walked back into the room, the weight of everything between us still lingering in the air, we were met with curious glances from the group. My sister was the first to notice me, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the flush on my face, the way I clung a little too tightly to Namjoon’s side.

"Y/N?" she asked, her voice soft, but there was a hint of suspicion in her tone. "Are you okay? You look... a little off."

I blinked, quickly thinking of something to say. My mind was still clouded from everything that had just happened, but I needed to get out of there, needed to get away from all the questions and awkward tension.

"I... I feel a bit tipsy," I said, offering a small, apologetic smile. "I think I need to head out first. It’s been a long night."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly still a bit skeptical. But before she could ask more, Namjoon stepped in, his voice smooth and calm.

"I already ordered an Uber for us," he said, his hand gently resting on my lower back, as if to reassure her. "We’ll head to my place. Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine."

Jimin, Jungkook, and my sister exchanged glances, clearly surprised, but they didn’t press further. After a beat, Jungkook nodded, his usual easygoing smile returning.

"Take care, Y/N. Hope you feel better," he said, giving me a quick wave.

"Yeah, feel better," Jimin added.

My sister’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, but then she sighed, shrugging as if she’d decided there was nothing to do about it.

"Alright, take care of yourself," she said, giving Namjoon a quick nod, as if accepting the situation. "Don’t do anything too crazy, okay?"

I smiled weakly, feeling a mix of guilt and relief at her words. It was like she knew, but she didn’t. Either way, she was letting me go, letting me make my own choices.

With that, we exchanged goodbyes, and Namjoon and I walked out, hand in hand, the door shutting softly behind us.

As we left the party, the world outside felt like a breath of fresh air. The night was cool, the streets relatively quiet. But all I could think about was what had just happened between us. Everything that had been left unsaid before now felt so clear. There was no going back now.

And as the Uber pulled up and we climbed inside, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. The uncertainty was gone. Whatever had been between us, whatever it was that had kept us apart, had finally clicked into place. And now, as the city lights blurred by the window, I knew that whatever came next, I’d be ready for it, with Namjoon by my side.

*** As we stepped into Namjoon’s apartment, a comfortable silence settled between us. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, and I couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything that had just happened. He closed the door behind us, his hand resting on the doorknob for a moment as he turned to face me.

“So,” he began softly, his eyes meeting mine, “are you… really okay with this? With us?”

I felt a shy smile tug at my lips. “I’ve never been more sure.” My voice was soft, but I meant every word. I was here, and I didn’t want to turn back. “What about you? Are you… okay with all this?”

Namjoon let out a low laugh, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face. “I think I’ve been waiting for this, waiting for you, for longer than I ever realised.” There was a warmth in his gaze, something so honest that it made my heart skip a beat.

We moved further into the room, and he gestured for me to sit. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea?”

I nodded, chuckling nervously. “Tea sounds good. Something calming, maybe?”

He flashed me a knowing smile and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to take in my surroundings. I’d been here before, once late at night for our date, but I hadn’t paid much attention then, too caught up in the moment with him. Now, with a moment to breathe, I could see pieces of his personality everywhere, books stacked on the shelves and in piles on the floor, his collection of vinyl records carefully arranged next to the coffee table. It all felt so unmistakably him.

A few moments later, he returned with two steaming mugs, setting one in front of me. As he sat down next to me on the couch, close enough that our knees brushed, he looked at me with a more serious expression.

“Can I ask… when did it change for you?” he asked gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “When did you know you felt something for me?”

I took a slow sip of tea, hoping it would help me organize the mess of emotions inside. “Honestly?” I hesitated, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. “I think it was always there, in some way.”

He tilted his head slightly, watching me closely, and I felt my heart skip at his quiet attention.

“I mean, I liked Jimin, yes… but when I first met all of you, you were the one that caught my eye. But I found out pretty quickly that you had a girlfriend back then, so I pushed the thought away and settled on seeing you as just a friend.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened as I spoke, and it gave me a bit of courage to keep going. We both set our mugs down on the table, the warmth of the tea long forgotten as the weight of our words filled the space between us.

“But when we started pretending…” I paused, looking down at my hands. “It felt more real than I expected. I kept telling myself it was just for show, just a game we were playing. But the more time we spent together, the harder it was to pretend it didn’t mean anything.”

I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t say anything because I was afraid. Afraid I’d misread it, or that I’d just end up… hurting you, or myself.”

He reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I wish I realised sooner.”

I felt his thumb tracing soft circles on my hand, the warmth of his touch anchoring me in the moment. His quiet reassurance, the way he looked at me, it was all starting to melt away any lingering doubts I had.

“Well, we’re here now,” he repeated softly, his gaze steady and full of something I could only describe as understanding, and maybe relief.

I managed a small, nervous smile. “Yeah, we are.”

There was a beat of silence, comfortable and calm. Then, taking a breath, he lifted his other hand and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "And now that we’re here,” he murmured, his voice a little lower, “I think we both deserve to stop second-guessing ourselves."

He paused, his eyes searching mine. “We don’t have to pretend anymore. No more games, no more hidden feelings. Just… us.”

My heart raced at his words, the weight of everything finally lifting. I looked down at our intertwined hands, feeling a warmth bloom in my chest. “No more pretending,” I echoed, feeling the truth of it settle over me. I met his gaze, a soft smile tugging at my lips.

“So… where do we start?” I asked, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves, savouring the closeness.

Namjoon’s smile softened as he shifted closer, his eyes warm with that familiar spark. “How about we start fresh?” he murmured, and then, leaning in, he pressed his lips to mine, a tender, lingering kiss that felt like a quiet promise, a beginning we’d both been waiting for.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze searching mine, before leaning in again, his lips brushing softly over mine, testing, savoring. Slowly, his hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tracing gentle circles, and I felt him draw me in closer. This time, the kiss deepened naturally, as though all the unspoken feelings between us were finally finding their way through, leaving my heart racing in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

It felt as though we were back in that moment in the guest room, but this time, without the weight of uncertainty between us. His hands were gentle yet sure, tracing down my back, leaving warmth in their wake. The kiss grew bolder, a mix of all the moments we’d held back, and I felt my own hands grip the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer.

We broke apart just briefly, his forehead resting against mine, both of us catching our breath, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I was thinking of ordering us something," he murmured, his voice a low whisper that sent a thrill through me. His gaze locked onto mine, dark and filled with intent, and I could feel the tension building between us again.

"But dinner can wait," he added, his words dripping with warmth, making my heart race. "Right now, all I want is you."

With that, his lips found mine again, a bit hungrier this time, and I let myself melt into it, matching his intensity as the moment wrapped around us, everything else falling away.

As the kiss deepened, my hands slid up to his chest, fingers brushing over the firm muscles that were hidden beneath his shirt. I could feel the strong beat of his heart, and I couldn't help but smile against his lips, knowing the effect I was having on him.

Namjoon’s breath hitched slightly as I gently tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head with a growing sense of urgency. The cool air brushed against his skin, and I let my fingers trace the contours of his muscles, marveling at how solid and defined he was. He shivered slightly under my touch, his body reacting to me in ways that made my heart race.

"Y/N..." he breathed, his voice a low growl of pleasure as I ran my hands down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed and flexed beneath my fingertips. "You don't know what you do to me."

A soft moan escaped his lips as my touch moved lower, the heat between us intensifying with each passing second. He pulled me closer, his hands sliding to my back, pulling me flush against him and laying me on the couch. Our bodies pressed together, and I felt his desire, undeniable and powerful, pressing into me.

I broke the kiss just long enough to look up at him, my breathing shallow as I let my hands roam, feeling every inch of him. His eyes were dark, his lips swollen from our kiss, and he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his hands moving to my waist, slipping beneath my shirt, his touch warm and electric against my skin.

I gasped softly as his fingers skimmed the skin of my back, sending a wave of heat through me. My hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, and we resumed kissing, this time with more urgency. The world outside of the room didn’t exist anymore, there was only Namjoon, and the undeniable pull between us.

We continued, caught in the heat of the moment, kisses growing more passionate, more desperate as we lost ourselves in each other. Time seemed to stand still, and all that mattered was the connection we were building, one that felt right, real, and unlike anything I had ever experienced before.

Namjoon pulled out for a bit to catch a breath and leaned in closer again , his breath warm against my skin as he gazed down at me, his fingers brushing gently along the fabric of my shirt. His voice was low, smooth, and filled with a quiet intensity.

"Can I?" he asked, his eyes flickering between my chest and my eyes, seeking permission with the unspoken question.

I nodded, my heart racing, feeling the heat of the moment building between us. There was no rush, just the weight of our emotions and the pull between us. Slowly, he slid his hands to the hem of my shirt, his touch reverent, as if he was savouring every inch of the space between us.

As the shirt lifted over my head, I could feel the electricity between us intensifying. Namjoon didn’t break eye contact. He looked me up and down, enjoying the image. “So perfect, just for me...” His gaze was unwavering, filled with something deeper than desire, something more intimate. His lips parted, but before they could meet mine again, he lowered his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my neck, his lips tracing the curve of my skin.

I arched into him, my fingers threading through his hair. The kiss from his lips moved down my throat, then between my breasts, and continued further down to my stomach. He stopped just above my heat, still covered by my pants, sending a surge of warmth through me.

Then, as his lips came back up to mine, my hands reached for his belt, never breaking the kiss. My fingers fumbled with it briefly, but soon it was undone, he helped me push his trousers down. He kicked them off swiftly, and moved to undoing my trousers, his hands surprisingly gentle as he worked them off my body. As he traced his fingers along the inner part of my thigh, his lips continued their journey down my skin, sending electric jolts of anticipation through me.

Now, we were both only in our underwear. Namjoon hovered above me, his eyes meeting mine with a silent question, a flicker of hesitation in his gaze as he sought my consent. I nodded, breathlessly. With that, he placed a hand on my back, unclipping my bra slowly, as if savouring the moment. He slid it off with ease, his hands now fully free to roam.

His touch was firm yet tender as he cupped both of my breasts, his fingers gently kneading them while his lips found the spot below my ear, murmuring sweet words against it. His breath was hot against me, the weight of his words sending waves of desire down my spine. I could feel his body pressing into mine, his clothed groin humping me, the heat between us building again. “Joon” I moaned. “I think I need you now.” My body felt hotter by each second that was passing.

“I know, Y/N,” he replied, his voice low and intense. “Just let me pleasure you more first. Let me take care of you.”

He continued with his move again, not breaking eye contact as his hand travelled down, hovering just above my heat. Gently, he moved my panties to the side and slid one finger in. He retracted it and put the finger in his mouth.

“So wet…so sweet” Namjoon murmured, licking the slickness from his finger. I gasped from the pleasure as he went back and slid in another finger, both now moving in and out. Then he began using a scissoring motion, working in perfect rhythm. When he added a third finger, my vision blurred.

“Ah… I think I’m close,” I managed to gasp.

“Then come for me, Y/N,” he urged, finding that perfect spot that made me tremble. A high-pitched cry escaped me as I reached my climax, releasing everything that had built up inside. But it was not enough. I needed more of him.

“Namjoon, you either fuck me right now or else—”

“Or else what?” he teased, smiling and hoovering on top of me.

“I—I don’t know. I’ll probably fuck myself again with my own fingers if I can,” I breathed.

“As much as I’d love to see you do that, I think that can wait a little,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

Before I could protest, he scooped me into a bridal position and rose to his feet. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I almost fucked you right here, when you were calling my name. But as much as I want to, I’d like to make you comfortable first, in my bed,” he said, walking toward his room. A few moments later, I felt the soft cold mattress behind my back as Namjoon placed me down hovering again on top of me. I looked up and slowly averted my gaze down toward his bulge, it looked big and hard, his member almost ripping off his underwear. Both breathing heavily I came forward again and caught his lips against mine. But that didn't last long as Joon put some distance and quickly gave me a peck on the forehead. ‘’Fuck”’ Namjoon hisses under his breath.”’Look at you so perfectly layed on my bed” his eyes continuing to roam my body, and when they reached a particular part my female hood, I decided to tease him further and sliding my panties slowly to the side while under him. His eyes returned to me for a bit and then back to where my hands were occupied. Silence creeped all over the room and only the beating of our heart and breaths could be heard. There I was now all bare under him, soaking wet anchoring for his touch.

“Fuck... Y/N… You have no idea, do you? The effect you have on me. God only knows how many times these walls have heard your name these past weeks.”

“So... you mean... you did that?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice thick with need. “Even in my dreams, all I could see was you. I’ve craved you every day since we started this whole ‘fake’ thing. And now...” He trailed off, his gaze intense. “I’m going to make you feel good, baby. I—”

“Fuck, Joon… just fuck me already, please.” I pleaded, unable to stand the teasing, the intense gaze, and all the compliments any longer. Just the sound of his smooth, raspy voice had me close to reaching my second orgasm.

“Someone’s needy… and ruining that pretty little mouth for me,” he murmured.

“If you let me, I think you'd be surprised at what else this mouth can do,” I replied with a smirk.

“Oh?...than I better fuck you now so you can show me all of that later”

Namjoon stretched his arm to my right, above my head, reaching for his nightstand. He opened the top drawer and took a condom out of the box. I didn’t even question it—he’s a grown man, after all, and probably has a lot of experience with this. Still, I felt a little shy. It wasn’t my first time, but thinking about it all made me feel a hint of pressure. I quickly pushed that thought away, I liked Namjoon a lot, and he seemed to like me too. My eyes shifted to his actions as I tried to stay in the moment.

He slipped out of his boxers, and his thick, hard length sprang free, red and glistening with precum.

"Shit, Joon..." I whimpered, looking up into his eyes.

"What?" he asked with a smirk, clearly amused by my reaction.

“You’re huge... How is that going to fit?” Embarrassment crept up my cheeks.

“You’ll get used to it,” he murmured, his voice low and confident.

If my face had been red before, now my whole body felt on fire. But I wasn’t about to let him think this was too easy for me.

“You sound so cocky… What if you end up disappointing?” I teased, laughing softly and covering my mouth.

Namjoon’s grin widened as he rolled the condom on, then slid two fingers into me without warning. I gasped, muffling the sound with my hand, thankful I’d caught it, or the whole neighbourhood might have heard.

"Let’s just say you chose the right member, love... the one that’ll make you scream the loudest.” he murmured.

I couldn’t respond, only nodding as he began to move his fingers, preparing me for what was to come. He met my eyes, waiting for my signal, and when I nodded again, he slowly replaced his fingers with his thick length, easing himself in.

If I hadn’t seen stars by then, I certainly was now. One push, and I was already crying out from the stretch.

“Fuck, so tight, so perfect... Y/N, tell me if it hurts,” he whispered, voice rough.

But I was too lost in pleasure to respond, only nodding and moving with him as he began to thrust, each movement filling the room with our heavy breaths, pants, and the sound of skin meeting skin.

Namjoon lifted one of my legs, hooking it over his shoulder, and suddenly, he was hitting a deeper spot that made me see white.

I wouldn’t be surprised if my legs ended up bruised. Longing for his lips again, I reached up and captured his mouth, losing myself in the kiss.

Tongues and teeth met as we kissed until Namjoon broke away, gasping for air. “You take me so well, Y/N… like your body…” His fingers traced circles over my clit. “This pussy… was made for me.”

I couldn’t respond, just nodding and crying out in pleasure. The way Namjoon made me feel, the way he moved inside me, it was like we were perfectly made for each other. Everything that had come before led to this moment, us becoming one.

Thrust after thrust, kiss after kiss, I lost all sense of time.

Not until Namjoon said against my neck “I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer,” he panted.

“Then let go,” I whispered.

“Y/N, I’m about to—”

“Me too.”

And with that, we came together, bodies pressed close, shuddering in sync as the last waves of pleasure passed over us.

Namjoon pulled out, quickly removed the condom, and tied it off before stepping out of bed. Moments later, he returned, gently wiping me clean with a warm towel. His movements were soft, careful, as if he were savoring each moment. I watched him in silence, feeling a strange mix of bliss and tenderness settle over me. Once he finished, he tossed the towel aside and lay back down beside me, pulling me into his arms.

We stayed like that, wrapped in each other, letting our breathing slow in sync. His fingers traced gentle patterns along my shoulder, and I closed my eyes, melting into the warmth of his embrace.

"So," I said, breaking the silence with a teasing smile, "I guess the sex wasn’t that bad after all."

Namjoon laughed softly, looking at me with a raised brow. “Oh really? Just not that bad? I thought I was pretty damn good.”

I grinned, poking his chest playfully. “You were good. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mr. Perfect. There’s still a lot I could teach you.”

His expression shifted, and I saw that familiar smirk spread across his face. “Is that so? I’d love to see what you’ve got in mind, Y/N,” he teased, his voice low and filled with mock confidence.“Does it have anything to do with that pretty mouth of yours?” “Careful now, Joon. I won't give you the satisfaction just yet,” I teased back, running a finger down his chest. “Besides, you’ve had a lot of practice pretending, but a real relationship with me is a whole different thing, you know?”

Namjoon’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in, brushing his lips against my ear. “Oh, I’m not pretending anymore, love. And I think we’ve got a real thing going here. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

I laughed, a little breathless from the way his words made me feel. “I think I can handle it. You just better keep up.”

He chuckled, pulling me closer, his lips brushing against mine in a brief but tender kiss. “I don’t think you’ll have a problem with that. But I’ll be sure to keep you on your toes.”

“Good,” I whispered, my smile playful as I looked up at him. “Because if you can’t keep me entertained, I know someone who can.” He growled softly, pulling me closer, his arms tightening around me. “You’re really trying to make me jealous, huh?”

I smirked, teasing him further. “Maybe I am.”

Namjoon’s expression softened, but there was still that edge of possessiveness in his eyes. “You’re mine now, Y/N. Let’s make sure you don’t forget that.”

And with that, it seemed like Joon and I were bound to continue, losing ourselves in each other throughout the night.

***

The morning sun crept in through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. I stirred, feeling Namjoon’s arm wrapped around me, our fingers loosely entwined as we lay facing each other. His eyes were still closed, a relaxed expression softening his features. I smiled, gently tracing my thumb over his knuckles, feeling an overwhelming sense of warmth and contentment.

As if sensing my gaze, Namjoon’s eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” I replied, a little shy as I tightened my hold on his hand. We lay in silence for a few moments, just taking in the comfort of being close, his fingers absently tracing small circles along my back. I layed there with him, enjoying the quiet simplicity of the moment, feeling like we didn’t need any words to understand what we were both feeling.

After a while, a thought crossed my mind, and I couldn’t resist asking. “You know… I’ve been meaning to ask,” I started, my voice barely above a whisper, “you mentioned you liked me a while back. Was it… that time during our date, when we played Two Truths and a Lie, and you mentioned that you had a crush on someone… Was that me?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as his thumb continued to stroke along my spine. “Yes, but” he said, looking into my eyes with a gentle smile. “It was actually before that, long before.”

Namjoon’s eyes held mine as he gathered his thoughts, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know if I ever told you this, but the first time I saw you, it wasn’t like anything I expected. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, you just… had this ease about you that made everyone around you feel comfortable. It got to me.”

His fingers traced light patterns along my face now as he spoke. “Back then, I was with my ex, so I didn’t dwell on it too much. But even so, there was this… spark of curiosity, you know? Like, I wanted to understand what made you, you.” His smile grew fonder, his eyes distant, lost in the memory. I felt my cheeks warm at his confession, my heart racing as I watched him speak. “And then… when my relationship ended, it felt like I was finally allowing myself to really notice you,” he continued, his voice dropping to a softer, more vulnerable tone. “But by then, I could tell you had your eyes set on Jimin. And I’ll be honest, it bugged me a little. I just couldn’t shake this feeling that he was missing something… how foolish he was not to notice you”.

I could see the faintest hint of frustration flash in his eyes“ And I don’t know, maybe it was selfish, but… I wanted you to look at me that way. It started small at first, just these little moments where I’d think about you, or catch myself looking for you at gatherings. Then, when I’d see you laughing at something he said, I’d feel this pang of… jealousy.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze steady and filled with something raw. “When I saw you on that balcony, smoking and looking lost in your thoughts, I couldn’t help but wonder what was on your mind. And I thought, why not make my move? If Jimin was too blind to see you, maybe I’d have a chance. Even if it was selfish, even if I was coming in knowing you liked someone else… I just wanted you to see me, notice me, even if I had to pretend at first.”

Namjoon paused, looking down at our hands, his thumb stroking softly over my knuckles now. “I guess that was when I realised… pretending or not, I just wanted you to feel about me the way I felt about you.”

His honesty made my heart swell, and I was at a loss for words. I could see in his eyes that every word was real, and in that moment, I knew he was letting me see a part of him he rarely showed anyone else.

My heart pounded as his words sank in, the honesty and vulnerability behind them making my chest tighten with emotion.

“Guess it was lucky for me that Jimin never noticed, then,” I whispered with a soft smile, and he chuckled, his forehead pressing gently against mine.

“Lucky for both of us,” he murmured, his gaze warm and full of promise. “This still feels like a dream,” I said softly, my gaze drifting over his face. “These past two months, and then last night… it all feels unreal.”

“Feels pretty real to me,” Namjoon replied.

I grinned, unable to resist a tease. “You know,” I murmured, leaning in slightly, “for someone who was so sure of himself last night, you seemed pretty determined to impress me.”

Namjoon’s brow arched, and he chuckled, squeezing my hand. “Determined? Or just confident?”

I let out a laugh. “Confident? Maybe,” I said, grinning. “But I’d say you were pretty eager to prove yourself.”

“Oh, is that so?” he asked, his voice low and playful, as his fingers continued to trace gentle patterns along my hand. “Sounds to me like you enjoyed every second.”

I bit my lip, raising a brow. “I don’t know, Mr. Kim. You may have to convince me again.”

Namjoon’s eyes sparkled, his hand slipping around my waist, pulling me a little closer. “Careful, Y/N. If you keep teasing me, I might just have to make it my mission to remind you all day,” he murmured, his lips hovering close to mine, a playful challenge lighting up his gaze.

I smirked, raising an eyebrow. “How about I take charge today instead?”

A flicker of curiosity sparked in his eyes, and he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the idea. Instead, he leaned back slightly, watching me with a smirk of his own as I moved even closer, letting the suggestion linger between us.

We were still both very much naked from last night, with only the sheet draped over us. I shifted slightly, lifting myself just enough to reach toward his nightstand on my left, remembering from last night that this was where he kept the condoms, or at least, I was pretty sure that’s where they were. Namjoon’s smirk deepened as he watched me, clearly intrigued. "Oh, I’m all yours," he murmured, his tone full of invitation. He leaned back further against the headboard, keeping his arms folded behind his head, completely giving in to the moment.

As I inched closer, I took my time, savouring the way his eyes never left mine, his gaze filled with a mix of amusement and anticipation. I slowly opened the wrapper, letting the silence hang between us, thick with tension and a playful edge. His breathing grew just a little heavier, betraying his calm facade. His cock hard and dripping already as I slid the wrapper over him.

“Looks like someone’s enjoying the view,” I teased, pressing a soft kiss on his shoulder as I positioned myself just above him.

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “Well, you’re making it hard not to.” He raised an eyebrow, letting his gaze roam over me. I smirked, letting my fingers trail slowly down his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath my touch. "Oh, am I?" I whispered, tilting my head as I looked at him, a mischievous glint in my eyes. "Because I could always take my time... really draw this out. Make you wait."

Namjoon’s gaze darkened, his smirk widening as he tried to keep his composure. “You think I’d let you get away with that?” he murmured, but there was a challenge in his tone that only encouraged me.

I leaned in, letting my lips brush against his neck, my breath warm against his skin. "I don’t think you’re in any position to stop me, actually," I teased, pressing a few light kisses along his jaw, my hands tracing down his sides, deliberately slow.

A low chuckle escaped him, and he tilted his head slightly to give me more access, his hands resting on my hips but making no move to stop me. “Careful,” he whispered, his voice soft but intense. “I might just lose my patience.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to wait and see how long you can hold out,” I replied, brushing my lips just over his, close enough to feel the warmth, but keeping just enough distance to keep him guessing. I held his gaze, letting a playful smile spread across my lips as I positioned myself, teasingly closer. Leaning in, I pressed my body against his, letting him feel the warmth but still holding back. I could feel his hands tighten around my waist as his breathing grew heavier, his gaze intense with anticipation and just a hint of frustration.

Slowly, I sank down, letting him feel the barest hint of contact, then just as quickly lifted myself back up, watching his reaction. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing with a mix of desire and impatience. “You’re really testing me here,” he muttered, his voice rough, a little desperate.

I smiled at his frustration, feeling the power shift in my favour as I teased him further. "Oh, but I like watching you squirm," I whispered, my voice light, yet dripping with the tension of the moment. I lowered myself just enough to feel the brush of him against me, but pulled away before it could escalate.

Namjoon let out a frustrated groan, his hands gripping my hips with an intensity that bordered on desperate. His eyes were burning with need, and I could see the control he was trying to maintain slipping away. "Y/N... please..." His voice was rough, almost pleading, and it sent a thrill through me.

I raised an eyebrow, enjoying the way he was unravelling before me. "Please what?" I teased, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered the words.

He froze for a moment, a conflicted look crossing his features before he finally let out a frustrated breath. "Please, don't make me beg," he muttered, his voice thick with want. "I can't take much more of this."

The challenge in his tone only made me smile wider. "Oh, but I think you can," I murmured, my fingers tracing his jawline as I leaned in close again, lips barely brushing his. "Beg for it, Namjoon."

The raw edge of his voice when he finally responded—"Please, Y/N, I need you..."—was all the confirmation I needed. The desperation in his eyes, the way his body tensed and trembled beneath me, made it impossible to resist. I slowly lowered myself once more, this time not pulling away.

When I sank down, both of us moaned in unison, the sound filling the air between us. I started moving up and down, the rhythm slow at first, but I could feel Namjoon trying to hold back his moans, his control slipping. He couldn't contain it anymore, and he began moaning my name, deep and desperate.

“Y/N…”

“Yeah?” I barely replied, my voice a whisper.

“I am yours, Y/N…”

The sound of it sent a rush of heat through me, and I found myself doing the same, moaning his name as I picked up the pace, moving faster and more urgently. He tightened his grip on my hips, his fingers digging in as he helped me move faster, the thrusts harsher now, each one more powerful than the last. His lips travelled down my neck and chest, and he began to play with my breasts, his kisses trailing down my body, sending waves of pleasure through me. My hands ran down his back, nails lightly scratching his skin as he groaned into me, his body pressing harder against mine.

He groaned my name again, the sound low and desperate, making my body tremble in response. I could feel the heat building inside of me, the pleasure spiralling with every move. I arched into him, feeling his teeth graze my skin, the sensation causing my legs to shake.

My hands roamed up to his hair, tugging him closer, pulling him into a kiss that was as urgent as everything else between us. His tongue met mine, hungry and demanding. The heat between us was unbearable now, the tension mounting, and I could feel myself getting closer to the edge with every passing second.

“You’re in control, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Take what you want.”

His mouth was parted, a low growl escaping him as he groaned, his eyes dark with need.

“God, Y/N, you feel so fucking good,” he hissed, his fingers digging into my skin. “Don’t stop, don’t slow down.”

I leaned down, pressing my chest against his, our lips brushing together briefly before I lifted myself again, the sensation of him filling me overwhelming. His hands slid to my back, pulling me closer, pressing me into him as he thrust up in time with my movements, making me gasp.

“You’re so fucking tight, Y/N,” Namjoon breathed out. “I can’t... I can’t hold back much longer.”

“Say my name,” I whispered, my voice sultry as I rode him even faster.

“Y/N!” Namjoon gasped, his body trembling beneath me. “Y/N, please… don’t stop.”

The desperation in his voice made me smile, and I pushed myself to go even faster, each thrust more powerful than the last. I could feel myself getting closer, the pressure in my lower stomach tightening as I moved with him, both of us chasing that inevitable release. “Fuck, Y/N… I’m so close…” Namjoon groaned, his hands gripping my ass harder, his body arching into mine as he kept me in place, him buried deep inside, grinding back and forth, stimulating my clit with every move. His breath was coming out in ragged gasps as he tried to keep his composure.

“Me too,” I panted, my voice breathless as I leaned down to kiss him, our lips crashing together in a desperate, hungry kiss. I kept riding him, faster now, each motion pushing us both closer to the edge. “Don’t stop, Namjoon... keep going...”

“I won’t,” he muttered, his voice rough, his hands pressing me down onto him harder, pushing us both to the brink. “Fuck, Y/N... I’m going to...”

His body tensed beneath me, and I felt the tight coil inside me snap as I let out a low moan, the pleasure rushing through me, making my vision blur for a moment. Namjoon followed right after, his grip tightening on me as he groaned my name, his release overwhelming him.

We both collapsed, breathless and spent, our bodies still tangled together, as the tension finally eased, leaving us in the aftermath of everything. I rested against his chest, trying to catch my breath, his heart still pounding beneath my ear.

"God," he whispered softly, his fingers gently running through my hair, his voice hushed but full of satisfaction. "That was... incredible."

I smiled, closing my eyes for a moment, letting the quiet settle between us as we tried to slow our breathing. ***

After, we showered together, the water cascading down our bodies, we shared a peaceful silence, the steam fogging up the bathroom. There was an unspoken comfort between us, the quiet intimacy of helping each other wash our bodies. The moments that would normally feel awkward or rushed felt so natural with him, every touch between us a wordless connection that I hadn't realised I was craving.

When we finally stepped out, the warmth of the room met our damp skin, and I reached for a towel, drying my hair as Namjoon looked at me with that familiar concern.

"Let me help you with your hair," he said softly, stepping closer.

I gave him a playful smile, brushing the towel through my hair. “It’s fine, Namjoon. I got it,” I reassured him, wanting to do it myself since I knew it would take a while to dry.

He chuckled, clearly not ready to stop being helpful. “Okay, then how about I make us some coffee? You probably need it after all that…” His words trailed off with a grin, but there was a hint of awkwardness in his tone, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to go from here.

“Sounds good,” I said, reaching for one of his shirts hanging on the back of the bathroom door. It was oversized, the fabric soft and warm as I pulled it over my head, a small comfort against my still-damp skin. It felt right, almost like it was meant for me.

As Namjoon turned toward the kitchen, I couldn’t help but linger for a moment, watching him walk away. His broad shoulders and the way his muscles flexed with each step had my heart racing. I felt this undeniable pull to him, and the shirt I wore only made me feel closer, more connected to him. It was like I was already a part of his world, and that realisation made me smile, despite the growing rush in my chest.

I entered the kitchen, stopping in front of him to get his attention. The sight of me in his shirt, with nothing but my bare legs showing, made him freeze for a second. His eyes darkened, and the intensity in his gaze was impossible to ignore. He swallowed hard, the breath hitching in his throat as he looked me up and down, as if trying to decide whether he could keep his composure or if he was going to lose himself.

Before I could say anything, he stepped toward me, and with one swift motion, he lifted me up onto the kitchen counter, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was desperate and full of hunger. “You look so good in my shirt…” he murmured against my lips, his voice low and raspy. “I don’t think I can get enough of you.”

His hands roamed to my waist, pulling me closer and I wrapped my legs around him instinctively, the heat between us escalating in an instant. But just as things started to get more heated, the sound of a phone ringing broke through the thick tension in the room. I pulled away just slightly, eyes narrowing as I tried to figure out whose phone it was. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. It could’ve been Jungkook, or worse, my sister. Neither of them had heard from me since I’d come back here with Namjoon, and I knew they’d be worried by now. We hadn’t texted them about anything, not even letting them know I was still here.

Namjoon, looking just as frustrated at the interruption, gave me a brief kiss on the forehead before pulling away. “I’ll grab our phones,” he said, his voice heavy with need but also that underlying concern for what was going on outside the bubble we’d created for ourselves.

I slid back down from the counter, standing with my legs shaky from the intensity of our kiss. Namjoon went to grab the phones from the living room, and I quickly adjusted my shirt, feeling the sudden awkwardness of the situation hit me.

Namjoon returned with both phones in hand, and I glanced at the screen of mine, seeing the name that immediately caused my stomach to flip, my sister. I let out a deep breath before answering, holding the phone to my ear while my eyes stayed locked on Namjoon, who was now back at the counter, making coffee as though nothing had happened.

"Hey," I said into the phone, trying to sound casual, but there was a slight quiver in my voice that betrayed me.

“Y/N, are you still at Namjoon’s?” My sister’s voice was laced with concern. “I’ve been calling, texting, you didn’t answer any of my messages. We were getting worried!”

I glanced at Namjoon again, and his eyes were on me. There was no judgement, just an understanding in his gaze.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, speaking into the phone while my eyes never left Namjoon. I couldn’t help but smile at the way he moved about the kitchen so casually, so unaffected by what we’d just experienced. “I’m still at Namjoon’s, okay? I promise, I’ll explain everything later.”

My sister didn’t sound fully convinced, but she let out a small sigh. “Alright, just call me when you’re back. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I will,” I assured her, hanging up after a brief exchange of more pleasantries. I looked over at Namjoon, who had just finished making the coffee and was now smiling coming towards me. His smile was effortless, revealing his adorable dimples, and there was a warmth in his gaze that deepened with every moment we shared. As I stood there, the realisation slowly crept in that everything was finally falling into place. Soon, we'd have to explain everything to the group, the fake dating, the misunderstandings, and everything that led us to this point. Sure, some details would be left out, things that didn’t need to be said, but it no longer mattered. What mattered now was what we had here, right in this moment, real, unfiltered, and undeniable.

With Namjoon, everything felt authentic. There was no pretending, no uncertainty. For the first time, I didn’t have to second-guess myself or him. I was falling for him in a way I hadn’t expected, and this time, it wasn’t for show. It wasn’t a story we were playing out for anyone else. This was real. This was ours. And as I stood there with him, I knew that this was the beginning of something new, something I never wanted to let go of.

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jincapableoflove · 1 month ago

Text

The Grumpy Girlfriend Protection Program | One-shot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre: sunshine bf x grumpy gf, golden retriever! jungkook, black cat! reader, office worker! reader, veterinary student! jungkook, fluff, comedy, thriller, mystery (slight), action, angst.

Summary: Jeon Jungkook has always been the sunshine in every room; warm, kind, and completely oblivious to danger. Luckily, you, his grumpy, overprotective girlfriend have made it your personal mission to keep him safe. But when the threat shifts to you instead, Jungkook proves that even sunshine can scorch—and for you, he’d burn.

Word count: 22.8k+

Warnings: reader is very protective, themes of stalking and obsession, usage of drugs (not reader or jungkook), fight scene, violence, multiple flashback scenes.

MOODBOARD

A/N: hugeeee thanks to my dear friend sy (@btswit7 ) for going through my fic and suggesting edits! ilysm. sorry this took so long for me to write. i swearrr this fic was supposed to be fluffy, cute and around 10k words but I got carried away 😔 (not sorry for that). i might've absolutely butchered the tattoo shop scene pls forgive me (I've never been to a tattoo shop before idk how it works) this is also my first time writing an action scene it prolly sucks but wtv.

The sun hung high in the cloudless sky, casting a golden glow over the city. A gentle breeze drifted through the streets, the warmth of the morning wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, just the right kind of day that practically demanded an escape from the ordinary. And what better way to spend it than sprawled out on a checkered blanket, a basket full of food beside you, and your ever-so-enthusiastic boyfriend, Jungkook, grinning at you like this was the best idea in the world?

That’s right. It was picnic day. After a gruelling week at work, all you wanted was to stay in bed, sleep until the afternoon, have a late lunch, and then (ideally) go right back to sleep. But Jungkook, being the ever-optimistic, early-rising, productivity-loving man that he was, thought weekends were best spent on morning picnic dates at whatever random park he had decided on that week.

There was nothing you hated more than disappointing your sweet boyfriend, so cancelling the picnic dates altogether wasn’t an option. After extensive negotiations (read: you groggily whining while he laughed and refused to budge), you managed to compromise—morning breakfast dates became brunch dates. Because let’s be real, every extra second of sleep counts.

On the way to your picnic, you were stopped by a teenage boy, probably 17 or 18, who practically shoved a clipboard into your faces. With the practised enthusiasm of a seasoned salesman, he introduced himself, flashing a grin as he extended a hand in greeting. Then came the pitch.

“Donations for a local animal shelter,” he announced, voice laced with urgency. A shelter you had never heard of.

“The puppies and bunnies are all sick, sir, and the kittens are underfed,” he continued, his face contorting with the sheer heartbreak of it all. The kind of expression that would probably work on unsuspecting souls. Jungkook, being Jungkook, was already pulling out his wallet. And you were having none of it.

Before he could hand over a single bill, you yanked the wallet straight out of his hands. Jungkook blinked at you, stunned.

“Did you even check if it’s a real shelter?” you asked, unimpressed.

Jungkook glanced at the boy, then back at you. “Looks pretty real to me.” You sighed, taking a look at the "official website" the scammer eagerly pulled up on his phone. One glance was all it took.

“That’s a Wix template, you dumbass,” you deadpanned, shooting Jungkook a look. And to drive your point home, you dialled the actual shelter’s number. A moment of silence.

Then, like clockwork, the boy’s phone started ringing. The scammer stiffened, eyes wide with panic. And then, without as much as another word, he bolted down the street before you could report him to someone.

Jungkook pouted, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket. You rolled your eyes. “I can’t believe you almost fell for that.”

“One of these days,” he muttered, crossing his arms, “you’re gonna stop me from donating to a real shelter.” You snorted, nudging his shoulder as you started walking again. “Yeah, well, until that day comes, I’ll keep saving you from getting scammed by guys who probably spent five minutes on Google slapping together a fake charity.”

Jungkook huffed, kicking a loose pebble down the sidewalk. “He had a clipboard. People with clipboards always seem legit.”

“Oh, right, because clipboards are the universal sign of trustworthiness,” you deadpanned. “Next time, I’ll be sure to scam you with one myself.”

He shot you a playful glare. “I’d see through you in a second.” You smirked. “Would you, though?”

Jungkook opened his mouth, then shut it again, squinting at you like he wasn’t entirely convinced. You just grinned, patting his arm. “Exactly.”

You sit cross-legged on the checkered blanket, arms crossed, watching as Jungkook digs through the picnic basket like a child on Christmas morning. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, pulling out sandwiches, fruit, and what looks like an obnoxiously yellow thermos you don’t remember packing.

You squint. “Did you sneak in banana milk?”

Jungkook pauses, looking entirely unrepentant. “No.” You stare. He stares back. The thermos stares between you, the undeniable evidence of his crime.

Finally, he grins. “Okay, maybe.”

You let out a slow exhale, reaching for one of the sandwiches while he happily pours himself a cup of his beloved banana milk.

“I don’t get how you function sometimes,” you mutter, unwrapping your food.

“I function beautifully,” he corrects, flashing you a smile that’s far too bright for someone who just lied to your face. “You’re just too grumpy to appreciate it.”

You roll your eyes. “Right. Because nothing screams ‘functioning adult’ like getting scammed five minutes before a picnic.” Jungkook gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “I was being charitable!”

“You were being a prime target,” you deadpan. He huffs dramatically, taking an exaggerated bite of his sandwich as if it’s the ultimate form of protest. Cheeks puffed out like a bunny, he mumbles through his mouthful, “You stress too much.”

You raise a brow. “I wonder why.” He ignores your sarcasm, swallowing before continuing, “Maybe if you—” He suddenly stops, mid-thought, his eyes lighting up with a spark of mischief.

Oh no. You’ve seen that look before. It never leads to anything good.

"You should feed me."

You nearly choke on your drink. Coughing, you set your cup down with a thud and blink at him. “What?” Jungkook leans forward, resting his chin in his palm with the most infuriatingly smug expression. “You know,” he drawls, wiggling his eyebrows, “since you like taking care of me so much.”

You stare at him, unamused. Then, without breaking eye contact, you take the smallest, most unimpressive bite of your sandwich—just to spite him.

Jungkook groans, slumping back. “You’re no fun.”

“You knew that when you fell in love with me.”

His lips curve into something thoughtful, eyes flickering over your face like he’s considering something. Then, in one swift motion, he reaches over and swipes a strawberry from your plate, popping it into his mouth before you can react.

You gasp. “Jungkook!”

He grins, entirely unapologetic. “Yeah, but I like a challenge.” Without hesitation, you swat his hand, aiming for another grab. He yelps, laughing too hard for someone who just got smacked, dodging your next attempt with the reflexes of a seasoned strawberry thief.

"Unbelievable," you mutter, shaking your head. "A menace to society."

Jungkook only grins wider. "And yet, you still love me."

And just like that, it’s the both of you, bickering, teasing, him being too soft, and you pretending you don’t secretly like it. Despite everything, you’re glad he dragged you here. Because for all his nonsense, for all the chaos he brings into your life, Jungkook makes the world a little brighter.

You hated Monday mornings with a burning passion. If you walked into work and saw someone being all cheerful and optimistic, you’d have the overwhelming urge to dump ice-cold coffee over their head, just to make their day as miserable as yours. Of course, you wouldn’t actually act on that particular intrusive thought. Not unless you had a sudden desire to get fired.

Every day, it was the same soul-sucking routine. Log into your computer, answer emails, prepare for meetings, and trudge through an endless list of mind-numbing tasks that make you question all your life choices. You were staring blankly at your screen, fingers moving mechanically as you typed up a report when your phone buzzed.

Kook 🐰💜 [11:10 AM]: Miss me yet?

Your fingers pause on the keyboard. Buzz.

Kook 🐰💜[11:10 AM]: Or are you too busy being all serious and grumpy at work? Kook 🐰💜[11:11 AM]: Bet you’re smiling right now, though.

You bite your lip. You are not smiling. Absolutely not.

“Okay, what is that face?”

Jimin’s voice cuts through your concentration like a knife. You snap your head up to find him leaning against your desk, arms crossed, a knowing smirk already in place.

“There is no face,” you say quickly, locking your phone screen and shoving it away. Jimin gasps dramatically. “Oh my God, it’s him, isn’t it?”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “I swear to—”

“Ohhh, it totally is!” Jimin snatches your phone before you can react, scrolling through the notifications like he has every right to be nosy.

If there’s one person who never lets you live in peace, it’s Jimin. Coworker, best friend, professional pain in your ass, he’s all of the above, wrapped in a smug little package. You first met him when you started this job, and somehow, between the forced team projects, shared complaints about the boss, and mutual hatred for monday mornings, you ended up stuck with him for life. Not that you’d ever admit you’re grateful for it.

Unfortunately, he knows it anyway.

“Jimin, I will end you.”

But it’s too late. He’s already grinning like the devil himself. “Look at you. Getting all giddy over a text. My, my, how the mighty have fallen.”

“I’m not giddy.”

“Oh, you absolutely are.” He mimics your earlier expression, clutching his phone to his chest with a dreamy sigh. “Oh, Jungkook, my sweet precious sunshine, text me more. I can’t possibly get through this workday without knowing you’re thinking about me.”

You throw a stapler at him.

He dodges effortlessly, laughing. “Relax, lover girl. It’s cute. Gross, but cute.” You huff, snatching your phone back. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Jimin plops down in the chair next to you, still smirking. “Now tell me, what’s golden boy up to?”

You hesitate. But your phone buzzes again.

Kook 🐰💜 [11:13 AM]: Hey. Don’t overwork yourself. I’ll call you later, okay?

You stare at the screen for a moment, fingers hovering over the keyboard before you eventually settle on a simple reply.

You [11:14 AM: Okay.

…Okay, maybe you are smiling a little.

Jimin sees it immediately. And you already know you’re never going to hear the end of it.

The moment you step into the break room—finally free from Jimin’s relentless smirking, you let out a breath and pull out your phone, scrolling through your recent calls before dialling Jungkook. It barely rings twice before he picks up, his voice warm and teasing, like he already knew you’d call.

“Hey, baby,” he greets smoothly, amusement lacing his tone. “Miss me already?”

You roll your eyes, setting your lunchbox on the table with a thud. “In your dreams, Jeon.”

Flipping open the lid, the rich, savoury aroma of bibimbap immediately washes over you. The vibrant colors of the ingredients are neatly arranged, looking almost too perfect to eat—almost. You can tell Jungkook took his time making it, carefully placing each topping exactly where it should be, ensuring it looked as good as it tasted.

Your heart does something traitorous in your chest, but you ignore it. Jungkook chuckles at your silence, clearly pleased with himself. “I assume this is your way of telling me my cooking is amazing?”

“Not even close,” you say, grabbing your chopsticks. “Jimin wouldn’t shut up about you, so I figured I’d call and annoy you instead.” A deep, rumbling laugh comes through the speaker, the sound sending warmth curling through your stomach. “Mhm. Sure, love. You could’ve just admitted you wanted to hear my voice.”

Your eye twitches. “That’s not—”

“Shh, no need to be shy. I won’t judge.” You groan, tilting your head back against the chair, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you. He’s impossible, and worse, he knows it.

“Whatever,” you mutter. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“Mmm.” There’s some shuffling on his end, followed by the faint rustling of sheets like he’s lying down and getting comfortable. “I was thinking… instead of our usual park picnic, you could come with me to get my sleeve reworked.” That makes you pause, chopsticks hovering mid-air. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice a little more casual. “It’s been a while, and I wanna touch up some parts. Maybe add something new.”

You lean back in your chair, considering it. You’ve seen his tattoos up close plenty of times—traced them absentmindedly, let your fingers follow the inked lines whenever he had an arm wrapped around you. There’s something mesmerizing about them, the way they flow seamlessly over his skin, each design an intricate part of him.

You definitely wouldn’t mind watching the process.

“That’s fine with me,” you say after a beat. Then, under your breath, you mumble, “But if the artist messes up, I’m fighting them.” Jungkook snorts. “Of course you will.” His voice takes on that teasing lilt that makes you want to reach through the phone and flick his forehead. “You’re so cute when you get all protective.”

Your face heats up instantly. “Oh my god, eat your lunch.”

“I will. But only if you say you love me first.” You nearly choke. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His grin is obvious, even through the phone. “Say it, and I’ll go eat.” You huff, glancing around the empty break room just to make sure no one’s around. Then, in the lowest possible whisper, you mumble, “…Love you.”

A beat of silence.

And then, even quieter, “Love your bibimbap too.”

Jungkook hums, unreasonably satisfied. “Love you too, baby. Now go eat before Jimin catches you blushing.” Your eyes widen, and you hang up immediately.

Unfortunately, when you turn around, Jimin is standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking far too smug for your liking.

“So,” he drawls, tilting his head. “How’s Jungkook?” You groan, slamming your head onto the table. You are never going to live this down.

Jimin’s laughter echoes in the room, pure evil.

Jungkook’s apartment is the kind of place that makes it dangerously easy to never leave. It’s cozy with warm lighting, soft blankets draped over the couch, and the faint scent of vanilla and fabric softener lingering in the air. You tell yourself that’s the main reason you always find yourself here instead of your own place, but, if you were being completely honest, there are a few other factors at play.

For one, his snack collection is legendary. His kitchen cabinets are stocked with an endless supply of goodies, including a lifetime’s worth of Twinkies, your weakness. And then there’s Jungkook himself, but you’re not about to admit that. Especially not to him.

Curled up on his couch, you lazily flip through his Netflix, eyes scanning titles without really registering any of them. The ambient noise of the apartment, the hum of the heater, the occasional rustling of pages from Jungkook’s workspace, only adds to the drowsy comfort settling over you. Just as you’re about to give up on finding something to watch, Jungkook suddenly plops down beside you, sketchbook in hand.

The cushion dips under his weight, and you barely manage to suppress a startled flinch. He doesn’t say anything at first, just leans back against the couch with a content sigh, flipping the sketchbook open across his lap. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, curiosity piqued despite yourself. "Okay," he says, grinning as he settles beside you on the couch. His fingers drum against the edge of his sketchbook before he flips it open, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "Wanna see what I’ve been working on?"

You nod, humming in interest. "Mhm. Sure."

The moment the pages spread out before you, your breath catches. Intricate designs fill the book, some half-finished, others shaded to perfection. There are fine, precise lines, bold strokes, and an almost obsessive attention to detail in every drawing. You can tell he's poured hours into this, into crafting something that isn’t just art but a reflection of himself.

"Damn," you murmur, fingertips tracing lightly over the paper. "You did all these?" Jungkook grins, his dimples making an appearance. "Yup," he says, clearly pleased with your reaction.

You take your time flipping through the pages. There’s a sketch of a skeletal hand doing the rock on sign, a detailed microphone showcasing his love for music, lyrics from his favorite songs inked in elegant script, and the word Bulletproof scrawled in a graffiti style, right beneath it, a note written in his unmistakable handwriting: cover-up for eye tattoo. And then, sitting proudly in between these edgy, personal pieces, is a woozy face emoji.

You huff out a small laugh. His tattoo ideas range from deeply meaningful to outright ridiculous.

But then you pause. Nestled between his designs is a rework of his tiger lily tattoo—his birth flower. But entwined around it, curling gracefully between the petals, is another flower. Chrysanthemums.

Your birth flower.

The realization sinks in, slow and warm. Jungkook goes still beside you, barely breathing. You don’t miss the way his fingers twitch, or the way his ears turn bright red when he realizes that you understood. Then, like a man caught in the act he snatches the sketchbook away, snapping it shut so fast you barely have time to process it.

"Aha—! Anyway—" He clears his throat, ears burning. "That one wasn’t, uh—I wasn’t supposed to show you that yet."

Your lips twitch. "Mhm. Jeon, I see what you did there."

"What?" he says too quickly. "It’s just, you know, it looked nice with the lilies." His voice cracks. You arch a brow. "Looks nice? That’s all?" Jungkook nods a little too fast. "Yeah. No big deal."

You don’t believe him for a second.

So, naturally, you lean in, lowering your voice just enough to watch him squirm."You sure about that, baby?"

Jungkook.exe has stopped working.

With a groan, he buries his burning face into your shoulder, mumbling something incoherent against your sweater. You laugh, warmth blooming in your chest, fingers threading absentmindedly through his hair. Yeah. No big deal.

The weekend sun was just beginning to climb when Jungkook pulled up outside your place, the low hum of his car engine a familiar sound by now. You barely had time to lock your door before he leaned over, effortlessly pushing the passenger door open with that usual bright grin of his. “Morning, baby,” he greeted, fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. Without missing a beat, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek—warm, lingering just a second longer than necessary. “You sleep well?”

You slid into the seat, closing the door behind you with a huff, eyes narrowing at him. “No, because someone was blowing up my phone with memes and ‘fun facts’ about toxic tattoo inks at two in the morning.” Jungkook had the audacity to look proud. “I just thought you should know! What if they use cheap ink, huh? Gotta protect this masterpiece.” He gestured vaguely at his arm, where his tattoos peeked out from under the sleeve of his shirt.

You sighed, clicking your seatbelt into place. “Just drive.”

As he shifted gears and pulled onto the road, you let your gaze wander around the car, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne, the faint hum of the engine, and the steady rhythm of the music playing low through the speakers. His hand, warm and absentminded, found its usual place on your thigh like it belonged there, thumb tracing gentle patterns against your skin. It was peaceful. The kind of easy, comfortable silence that only came from knowing someone so well.

But then, something caught your attention.

Your eyes drifted to the backseat, where his sketchbook sat, slightly ajar as if hastily tossed there. A few loose sheets stuck out from the pages, filled with the intricate designs you’d seen before. You reached for it instinctively, but before you could grab it, the scenery outside made you pause.

“...Wait.” Your brows furrowed as you looked out the window. The streets weren’t familiar, the route different from what you expected. You turned back to him. “This isn’t the way to your usual place.” Jungkook hummed, like he’d been waiting for you to notice. “We’re trying a new one today.”

You turned to him, suspicious. “Why?”

His grin widened, full of mischief. “Jin got a job there.” That took you a second to process. “Seokjin?”

“My cousin, yeah.” Jungkook drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, glancing at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “He’s a receptionist now. Lured me in with staff discounts.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “So, let me get this straight—he got a job there yesterday, and today you’re already showing up to cash in?” Jungkook gasped, all faux offense, clutching his chest as if you’d just wounded him. “I would never use my dear cousin like that.”

You gave him a deadpan look.

His lips twitched, the act crumbling instantly. “…Okay, maybe a little,” he admitted, flashing you a boyish grin. “But hey, cheaper tattoos, and I get to support my hyung? Win-win.” You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the amused smile pulling at your lips. “Does he even know we’re coming?”

“He does,” Jungkook replied, his grin not fading. “He actually told me to wait for him before I get started with the consultation.”

And that’s how you and Jungkook ended up stuck in the lobby of the tattoo shop, waiting for over thirty minutes for Jin to show up.

Jungkook exhaled loudly, rolling his shoulders before pulling out his phone and dialing Jin for the sixth time. His other hand absentmindedly tugged you closer by the wrist, a small, unconscious habit of his whenever he was growing impatient. “Jin said he’d be here soon,” he muttered, eyes flickering to the entrance yet again, as if willing his cousin to walk through the door. “Told me to get comfy and wait.”

You smirked, shifting slightly in your seat. “He did? So, naturally, he’s gonna be late.” Jungkook groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. “He promised, okay? Swore he wouldn’t ditch me this time.”

“That’s cute.” You patted his thigh mockingly. “You still believe him.” Jungkook shot you a halfhearted glare before flicking his gaze to the empty reception area for what had to be the hundredth time. His foot bounced impatiently against the floor, but before he could make another complaint, the sound of a door opening drew both of your attention.

A woman with sleek, silver-dyed hair emerged from one of the back rooms, her sharp gaze scanning the lobby before landing directly on Jungkook. Her expression immediately shifted into a perfected customer-service smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. “What are you here for?”

“Sleeve rework,” he replied casually, rolling his shoulder as if to emphasize the ink beneath his sleeve. “You’re the one getting the sleeve reworked?” she asked smoothly, completely ignoring your presence. “Seokjin’s cousin, right?

Jungkook nodded, his own expression polite but confused. “Yeah, but he isn’t here yet. Jin told me to wai—”

“Oh,” she cut in, her lips curving just slightly, a little too knowing. “Well, that’s okay. I’m sure he would’ve referred you to me anyway. I could start taking care of you now.”

Something about the way she said it made your jaw clench.

Jungkook, oblivious as ever, only hummed. “Uh, I mean… I guess we could start the consultation?”

You didn’t like the way she was looking at him.

As she moved closer, the glow of the overhead light caught on her name tag—Nari. The name meant nothing to you, but something about her demeanor put you on edge.

Jungkook settled into the chair, stretching his arm out as Nari prepped her station. You remained seated across from him, phone in hand, pretending to scroll while keeping a close eye on the exchange. Nari pulled on a pair of gloves, her movements fluid and practiced as she leaned in, examining Jungkook’s inked skin. “Your ink is solid,” she murmured, fingers ghosting over the intricate designs. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”

Jungkook grinned, clearly pleased with the compliment. “Yeah, my old artist was great. Just wanted some refinements, you know?”

“Mm,” Nari hummed in agreement, grabbing a marker to outline a few areas. Her gaze lingered on his arm longer than necessary, her lips curving slightly. “You’re adding new work too, right?”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, just some floral details around the tiger lily.”

That was supposed to be the end of it. But then Nari tilted her head, eyes flickering up to his face before dropping back to his arm, and subtly, but not subtly enough she licked her lips.

“I love doing florals on guys,” she said, voice dipping into something softer. “There’s just something about the contrast, you know?”

Your grip on your phone tightened. Jungkook, completely unaware of the shift in tone, simply lifted his arm to show her the faded edges. “Yeah, I wanted to add some chrysanthe—”

Before he could even finish, Nari reached out, fingers wrapping around his arm, her touch lingering.

“Oh, your skin is so nice,” she murmured, smoothing her fingers over the defined muscle as if she were admiring it rather than prepping it for work. Your eye twitched.

Jungkook blinked, a little startled by the comment but still too polite to pull away. “Uh… thanks?” Nari only smiled, nails grazing his forearm ever so slightly as she adjusted his position. “Good canvas makes all the difference.”

You swore you could hear your patience snapping like a twig. Jungkook looked slightly uncomfortable but still handed over his sketchbook, flipping to the page with his design. “This is what I had in mind for the rework,” he said, tapping the paper.

Nari barely glanced at the intricate details before tilting her head, her gaze flickering back to him instead. “You drew this yourself?”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah.”

“Wow,” she hummed, leaning in slightly, the corner of her lips quirking up. “That’s impressive. Not many clients walk in with this level of detail.” From where you sat, you rested your chin on your hand, unimpressed.

Jungkook offered a small, polite smile. “I just like having a clear idea before I commit.” Nari's smirk deepened. “That’s really attractive,” she mused, fingers skimming the edge of the sketchbook instead of actually turning the page. “A guy who’s artistic and decisive? Rare find.”

You blinked. What.

Jungkook cleared his throat, shifting in his seat like he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “Uh… thanks?” Nari finally flipped to the next page—though at this point, it felt more like a courtesy than genuine interest. “And you did all of these?”

Jungkook nodded again. “Mhm.”

“That’s insane,” she gushed, dragging her fingers over the lines like they were worth framing. “You could easily be a tattoo artist yourself.” Jungkook chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think I have the patience for it.”

“That’s a shame,” Nari sighed, her fingers lingering a little too long on the sketchbook. “With hands like yours, I bet you’d be amazing at it.”

Your expression went flat. Jungkook just coughed into his fist, visibly flustered. “Uh—”

You snapped before you could stop yourself. “If you’re done with the consultation, I think you should get started with the sketching.” Your voice was even, but the words were clipped. “Unless this is just a fan club meeting now.”

That made Nari pause.

Jungkook turned to you, lips twitching as if he was trying not to laugh. Nari dared to send you a sharp glare, like you had just interrupted something sacred. But she grabbed a fineliner anyway, her movements slow and deliberate, as if making a point.

You didn’t waver. Arms crossed, you kept your gaze locked on her hands, watching every unnecessary adjustment she made—each one turning into soft, lingering touches against Jungkook’s skin. It was infuriating, the way her fingers skimmed his arm like she had every right to.

And then she bit her lip.

A coy smile played at the edges of her mouth, subtle but unmistakable. Jungkook, completely oblivious as always, remained relaxed in the chair, only wincing slightly when the cold surface of the fineliner pressed against his skin.

You were far from relaxed.

Shifting in your seat, you clenched your jaw, fingers curling against your arms. Maybe—maybe—she was just a touchy person. Maybe you were overanalyzing this. Maybe it was nothing.

“So,” Nari began, her voice light and conversational, “do all your tattoos have a meaning?” Jungkook, still staring at the ceiling like this was any other consultation, nodded. “Most of them, yeah.”

“What about this one?” She tapped the tiger lily, her fingertips trailing over the ink just a little too leisurely. Jungkook smiled, unaware of the way your patience was fraying. “That one represents passion, confidence… all that stuff. It’s also my birth flower”

Nari hummed, like she was committing that information to memory. “And the chrysanthemums?”

At this, Jungkook hesitated. For the first time, he flicked his gaze toward you, something unreadable passing through his eyes. Your posture stiffened, waiting. He cleared his throat. “They mean a lot to me.”

Nari tilted her head, expectant.

You leaned forward, expectant.

But Jungkook just chuckled lightly before answering, “They’re my girlfriend’s birth flower.” His tone was proud, almost smug, as if relishing the chance to say it out loud. A smirk tugged at your lips. That should be enough to shut this down, enough for her to finally get the message—

Except Nari barely reacted.

If anything, she just hummed again, dragging her eyes across his arm like she hadn’t even heard him. “Hm. Bet they’d look really pretty on you,” she mused, her tone as sweet as syrup. Then, without missing a beat, she added, “Then again, I bet a lot of things do.”

Your head snapped up. Jungkook tensed slightly but played it off with an awkward laugh. “Uh… thanks?”

Oh, hell no.

Maybe it was the way she said it. The way her voice dripped with something just a little too sweet, like she wasn’t just appreciating his tattoos but the person wearing them. Maybe it was the fact that her fingers were still lightly dragging along his forearm, slow and deliberate, like she had every right to touch him like that. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the fact that Jungkook, ever polite, ever oblivious, wasn’t saying anything to stop her. Either way, your patience is officially gone.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, voice smooth but sharp enough to cut. “So, is this your usual customer service?” you asked, tilting your head. “Or is my boyfriend just getting the VIP treatment?”

Nari barely spared you a glance. “Oh, don’t worry. I take very good care of my clients.” Your smile was saccharine, all teeth. “I bet you do.”

Jungkook shifted, fingers gripping the armrest as if bracing himself. “Baby—” You ignored him. “I thought professionalism was a basic requirement for tattoo artists. But I guess it’s optional here, huh?”

Nari’s smirk twitched, but she held her ground. “I’m just making conversation.”

“Right.” You nodded slowly, voice dripping with faux understanding. “Because flirting with your client while his girlfriend is sitting right here is so normal.”

Jungkook, bless his clueless heart, looked between the two of you like he’d just walked into a battlefield with no armor. His lips parted—he should say something, anything, should try to calm you down before things escalated, but the words never came.

Because truth be told, seeing you like this, so protective and so fierce was kind of hot.

Nari’s eyes narrowed, her confidence flickering just a little. “I wasn’t flirting.” You let out a mock gasp, pressing a hand over your chest in exaggerated horror. “Oh, my bad.” Your tone was syrupy, dripping with fake innocence. “I must have misheard when you basically drooled over my boyfriend while I was sitting right here.”

Nari let out a sharp huff, her irritation finally surfacing. She set the fineliner down with a little too much force, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and condescension. “Look, do you want me to finish this or not?”

You opened your mouth, already armed with a sharp retort—

“No.”

Jungkook’s voice cut through the air, calm but unwavering.

Nari blinked. “What?”

Jungkook rolled his shoulder back as he sat up straighter, his usual easygoing expression replaced with something unreadable. “I’ll get it done somewhere else.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Seriously? Just because she’s insecure?”

Oh. That did it. A slow, burning heat unfurled in your chest. The audacity, the sheer nerve to say something like that when she had been the one crossing every possible line. You barely registered standing up, only aware of the way your pulse pounded in your ears as you took a step forward.

“Excuse me?”

But before you could let loose, Jungkook was already moving. His hand found yours, his grip warm and steady as he gently pulled you back. “Let’s go,” he murmured, his voice low but insistent. Nari rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair like she couldn’t care less. “Your loss.” Jungkook didn’t bother responding. He just grabbed his jacket, intertwined his fingers with yours, and led you out of the shop without a single backward glance.

The second the door shut behind you, the tension that had been coiling in your muscles finally snapped.

“I swear—” you started, still fuming, but Jungkook sighed, squeezing your hand in his. “I know, baby,” he said, his voice softer now, the warmth of it cutting right through your frustration. “I know.”

You exhaled sharply. “She was touching you.” Jungkook let out a low chuckle, rubbing his temple. “I literally had no idea she was flirting.”

“You never do.”

That earned you a grin. Jungkook tilted his head slightly, leaning down just enough that his nose nearly brushed yours. His eyes locked onto yours with a familiar fondness. “But you do.” His voice was teasing, but there was something else there too. Something softer. Something that made your breath catch, just a little.

You scowled, but he just wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Jealous?” he teased. You scoffed.

His smile turned fond. “Cute.” You smacked his chest. “Shut up.”

Jungkook barely flinched at the hit, his grin only widening. He tightened his hold around your waist, pulling you in until there was hardly any space left between you. “That’s not a no,” he murmured, his voice dipping just enough to make your stomach flutter. You narrowed your eyes, tilting your chin up defiantly. “I wasn’t jealous.”

Jungkook hummed, unconvinced. His fingers skimmed over the small of your back, the touch light but deliberate. “Mhm. Sure.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “She was unprofessional.”

“True.”

“And disrespectful.”

“Very.”

“And her eyeliner was uneven.”

Jungkook snorted, finally breaking into a full laugh. “Okay, now you’re just being mean.” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but the way he was looking at you, like you were the most amusing thing in the world made your face heat up. His laughter faded into something softer, something unbearably fond. “You know you’re cute when you’re all worked up, right?”

You scowled, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I said shut up.” Jungkook grinned, catching your hand with ease before lacing his fingers through yours. “Make me.”

Your breath hitched. His gaze flickered to your lips for the briefest second, and suddenly, the air between you shifted—

“You guys done with the tattoo already?”

A loud, familiar voice shattered the moment like glass hitting the pavement.

Both you and Jungkook turned your heads in unison, only to find Jin standing a few feet away, looking between the two of you with an expression far too amused for your liking. Jungkook groaned, running a hand down his face. “Hyung, seriously?”

Jin blinked. “What? I was just asking.” His gaze flickered over Jungkook’s arm, eyes narrowing as he took in the faint ink lines still marking his skin—the rough sketch of the tattoo, untouched by the needle. His brows furrowed.

“Wait. You didn’t actually get it done?”

Jungkook huffed, crossing his arms. “No. Because the tattooo artist was too busy flirting with me.”

Jin’s face twisted in confusion. “Huh?”

You, still somewhat bristling from the whole ordeal, rolled your eyes. “She was all over him. Barely even looked at his designs before trying to eye-fuck him.” JIn’s jaw dropped. “Wait, are you serious?”

Jungkook nodded, his expression flat. “Dead serious.” Jin winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn. I had no idea she was like that.”

At least he had the decency to look sorry.

Jin sighed, rubbing his temple dramatically. “Alright, fine. Since I unknowingly threw you both into the lion’s den, I owe you.” He clapped his hands together. “Lunch is on me.” Jungkook raised a brow. “You? Paying for food? Willingly?”

Jin scoffed. “I can be generous, you know.”

You snorted. “That’s new.”

Jin ignored you. “Come on, let’s eat. My treat. Think of it as compensation for the mess I accidentally dropped you into.”

Jungkook hummed, pretending to consider. “I mean… if you’re paying, I’m definitely ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”

Jin rolled his eyes. “As if you wouldn’t do that anyway.”

Jungkook just grinned. “True.”

You laughed, your earlier irritation melting away. “Alright, fine. You’re forgiven. But only if I get to pick the place.” Jin groaned. “Why do I feel like I’m about to regret this?” Jungkook laced his fingers through yours, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Because you probably will.”

Jin sighed but motioned for you both to follow. “Hurry up before I change my mind.” With that, the three of you headed off, leaving the unpleasant encounter behind in favor of good food.

Nari leaned against the counter, arms folded tight as she glared out the shop’s large window. Outside, you stood near the curb, your gaze fixed on Jungkook and Jin as they chatted. You weren’t speaking, just watching with that quiet, unreadable expression. But somehow, that made Nari even angrier.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.

“What is?”

The question came lazily from the man who had just strolled up beside her. He shook out his wrists after finishing with his last client, pulling off his gloves and tossing them into the trash. His attention remained casual, uninterested until Nari gestured toward the window with a sharp tilt of her chin.

“Her.”

His eyes followed her gaze. His posture was still loose, still easygoing until he saw you. For the briefest moment, his entire body went rigid. His casual demeanor cracked, just slightly, before he smoothed it over with a slow smirk.

“Huh.”

Nari, oblivious to the shift, let out a scoff. “She threw a whole fit because I was being nice to her boyfriend. Completely embarrassed me in front of him and acted all possessive, like I was some kind of threat.” She tapped her nails against the counter, still glaring at you through the window. “And now, thanks to her little tantrum, he refuses to get his tattoo done here.”

The man hummed, tilting his head. “Jealous girlfriend type, huh?”

“Exactly.” Nari huffed before turning to him with a slow, calculating smile. “You’re good at handling people, right?” He lifted a brow. “Depends on what you mean by ‘handling.’”

She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Do you think you could… I don’t know, do something about her? Save Jungkook from her?” For a moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze flicked back toward the window, settling this time on Jungkook himself.

And just like that, his smirk thinned.

Jungkook stood beside Jin, hands in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he listened to whatever Jin was rambling about. But every so often, his attention shifted to you. The way his fingers brushed absently over your back, the way his expression softened whenever he glanced your way, like keeping you close was second nature.

The man’s fingers curled into a fist. “Figures,” he muttered under his breath.

Nari frowned. “You know him?” A sharp exhale. A shake of his head. “Not personally. But I know of him.”

She perked up at that, her curiosity piqued. “Oh?”

His tongue ran over his teeth, jaw working as he leaned against the counter. When he spoke again, his smirk had returned but there was nothing amused about it. “Let’s just say… I have unfinished business with her.”

Nari blinked at that, lips parting slightly as she took in the underlying venom in his tone. Then, as if catching on, she let out a slow, delighted hum. “Well then,” she murmured, turning back to the window, watching you through narrowed eyes. “Wouldn’t it be fun to mess with her a little?”

His gaze never left you. He watched as Jungkook reached out, tugging the sleeve of your jacket into place with an unconscious sort of familiarity, the kind that spoke of years spent together.

The kind of familiarity that should have been his.

The corner of his lips lifted, the smirk sharpening into something colder. “Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was smooth and teasing, laced with something far more sinister.

“I’d love to.”

You groggily blink your eyes open, immediately regretting it as the soft glow of the morning filters through your curtains. Too bright. Too early. Too… awake. You bury your face into your pillow, grumbling incoherently, unwilling to leave the comforting warmth of your bed. It’s Sunday. A day meant for sleeping in, doing absolutely nothing, and ignoring all responsibilities.

Then, you feel it—the weight of an arm loosely draped over your waist, the warmth seeping through your thin shirt. Your sleep-addled brain takes a moment to process before it clicks. Jungkook.

Right. He stayed over last night.

A sleepy sigh escapes your lips as you shift slightly, pressing closer to his warmth. His scent lingers on your sheets, wrapping around you like a second blanket. You peek up, still half-asleep, and catch the sight of him lying beside you, propped up on one elbow, his phone held in his free hand. The soft glow of the screen illuminates his face, casting delicate shadows over his sharp jawline. He’s already awake, completely engrossed in whatever he’s scrolling through.

Too awake for your liking.

“Five more minutes,” you mumble sleepily, voice muffled against the pillow. Your words slur together, more of a plea than a statement, as you instinctively nuzzle into Jungkook’s chest, seeking warmth.

A deep chuckle rumbles from him, low and fond, the kind that makes your heart squeeze without permission. His arm tightens around you in response, fingers lazily tracing light circles against your back. “Five more minutes? Baby, you said that like… an hour ago.”

You don’t respond, only snuggling deeper into his embrace, fully intent on ignoring him. Jungkook exhales dramatically, an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. “You’re gonna sleep the whole day away.”

“That’s the plan.”

“You’re literally wasting the morning.”

“Mm,” you hum noncommittally. “Not wasting if I’m warm and comfortable.” Jungkook pokes your cheek, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tries to stir you. “C’mon, let’s go out. We could get breakfast, maybe go on a walk—”

“No.” You blindly swat his hand away.

Jungkook groans, flopping onto his back in frustration. “Why did I fall for someone lazier than me?” You crack one eye open, just enough to see his pout. Smirking, you shift slightly and mumble into the pillow, “Because I’m cute.”

Jungkook huffs. “…I mean, yeah, but that’s not the point.”

Jungkook finally manages to wrangle you out of bed—a feat that takes a ridiculous amount of whining, bribing, and sheer force of will. He practically drags you across the apartment, his grip firm around your wrist, ignoring every single one of your grumbles and half-hearted protests.

“You are,” you mumble as he steers you into the kitchen, “the absolute worst.” Jungkook snorts, already rummaging through the cabinets for coffee beans. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to let you rot in bed for eternity?”

“Yes.”

Jungkook ignores you, expertly working the coffee machine like a man on a mission. You slump against the counter, still half-asleep, head lolling dramatically to the side as you watch him move around like an overly energetic golden retriever. Then, your phone buzzes on the counter. You lazily glance at the screen, skimming the weather forecast—

Rain incoming.

Your spine straightens, sleepiness vanishing in an instant as you whip your phone up to show Jungkook, shoving the screen in his face with an almost evil sort of glee. “Oh no~” you sing-song, tone dripping with faux disappointment. “Looks like we can’t go out.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow as he squints at the screen, reading the forecast. His expression quickly morphs from mild confusion to full-blown horror. “…It wasn’t supposed to rain today,” he says slowly, almost like he can will the reality away.

“Guess we have to stay in.” You sigh dramatically, clutching your chest like it pains you. “Damn. What a shame.”

Jungkook groans, slumping against the counter like his entire soul has left his body. His dreams of a fun, eventful day were shattered. “You’re lying,” he accuses weakly. “This is a personal attack.”

You shake your head, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “I don’t control the weather, baby.”

Jungkook glares. “But if you could, you’d make it rain every day, wouldn’t you?” A smirk tugs at your lips. “Absolutely.”

Jungkook throws his head back with a dramatic, suffering groan, sliding down the counter like a man defeated. You watch him in amusement, lifting the coffee cup he had just made for himself and taking a slow, satisfied sip. The moment the taste hits your tongue, Jungkook’s entire body snaps upright.

He watches, utterly betrayed, as you lower the cup with a pleased hum.

“…Did you just steal my coffee?”

You blink at him, all innocence. “You made this for me, didn’t you?”

Jungkook scoffs, expression scandalized. “No! I made it for me!”

You shrug, taking another sip as you meet his glare with zero remorse. “Tastes great, babe. Thanks.”

Jungkook clutches his chest like you’ve personally wounded him. “You’re the actual worst.”

“And yet,” you hum, leaning against the counter with a satisfied smirk, “here you are, hopelessly in love with me.”

Jungkook stares at you for a long second, lips pursed. Then, without warning, he lunges. You yelp as he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you with ridiculous ease and tossing you over his shoulder.

“JUNGKOOK—”

“NOPE,” he interrupts, already marching towards the living room. “If I can’t have fun outside, I’m gonna make you suffer with me inside.” You kick your feet uselessly, fists pounding against his back as he effortlessly carries you away. “Put me down, you muscle bunny!”

Jungkook only laughs, completely unfazed, before spinning on his heel and tossing you onto the couch like you weigh nothing. You land with a soft ‘oof,’ bouncing slightly against the cushions as he flops down beside you, stretching out like a starfish. “You are so dramatic,” you grumble, attempting to shove him away with your foot.

Jungkook just grins, easily catching your ankle and tugging you closer instead. “And yet, you love me anyway.”

You huff, too lazy to argue.

Before you can protest further, he shifts, rolling onto his side and resting his head comfortably on your lap. His eyes flutter shut almost instantly, his breath evening out as he settles in like he belongs there. At first, you stiffen, but as the seconds pass, your fingers instinctively weave through his soft, dark hair. You barely even realize you’re doing it, the motion coming as naturally as breathing.

Jungkook hums at the feeling, half-conscious, but content. His face is completely relaxed and unguarded in a way that makes your chest ache. He looked so soft like this. So warm. So… safe. And something deep inside you just melts.

Your fingers slow, combing gently through the strands, nails lightly scratching his scalp. A soft scowl tugs at your lips. Because this? This is a version of Jungkook you’d fight the entire world to protect.

Jungkook must feel your gaze because, after a moment, he cracks one eye open and peeks up at you. “You’re staring,” he murmurs, voice still laced with sleep. You blink, quickly masking your expression with a huff. To cover up the warmth creeping up your neck, you flick his forehead. “Just making sure you’re still breathing.”

Jungkook snickers, stretching lazily. “Aww, are you worried about me?”

You cross your arms, unimpressed. “Obviously. You’re fragile.”

Jungkook immediately bursts out laughing, full-bodied and carefree, his entire frame shaking against your lap. “Me? Fragile? Baby, I could bench press you.”

You roll your eyes, completely unfazed. “Yeah, well, I could stab someone for you.”

Jungkook’s laughter dies instantly. His eyes widen slightly, blinking up at you as if processing your words. Then, ever so slowly, a grin spreads across his face.

“…Okay, that’s really hot.”

You scoff, flicking his forehead again. “Pervert.”

Jungkook just smirks, completely shameless. “What can I say? I like my girlfriend a little unhinged.” You roll your eyes, but before you can retort, a deep rumble of thunder echoes outside.

Jungkook groans, throwing an arm over his face. “Great. So we really are stuck inside all day.”

You don’t even bother hiding your glee. “Tragic.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Jungkook shifts, burying his face into your stomach like a sulking puppy. You try to shove him off, but he only clings harder, grumbling nonsense against your his hoodie.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, fingers idly threading through his hair again. Eventually, he shifts, lifting his head to look at you properly. His expression softens laced with something so fond it makes your breath hitch. He doesn’t say anything. Just laces his fingers through yours, absentmindedly tracing patterns against your palm.

Then, suddenly there's a sharp poke to your side and you jolt with a squawk, trying to wiggle away. “Jungkook!” He grins, eyes twinkling with mischief. “If we’re staying in, we should do something.”

You glare at him, still half-prepared to smack him upside the head. “Like what?”

His smirk deepens. “You know exactly what.” For a second, you just stare at him. He stares back.Then, without breaking eye contact—he grabs the game controllers.

Jungkook’s sunshine boyfriend energy disappears the second the race countdown starts. Gone is the sweet, cuddly man who had been wrapped around you like a koala just minutes ago, now, he’s leaning forward, brows furrowed, fully in the zone.

“Loser does the dishes in both apartments,” he announces, rolling his shoulders like he’s prepping for war. You scoff, cracking your knuckles for dramatic effect. “You’re about to regret that.”

The moment Lakitu drops the starting light, Jungkook launches forward like he’s been possessed by the spirit of every pro gamer ever. Meanwhile, you barely get past the first turn without slamming into the barrier. You spam every single item box you can get your hands on, determined to take him down with sheer pettiness if not skill.

Then there’s a miracle. Jungkook is just about to cross the finish line when you hit him with a perfectly timed blue shell.

BOOM.

His character spirals into the air, crashing down just inches from victory. You zoom past him at the last second.

“IN YOUR FACE, JEON.” You throw your arms up like you just won an Olympic gold medal. Jungkook stares at the screen in stunned silence. Then, slowly he turns to you. You suddenly get the feeling you’ve made a terrible mistake.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, cracking his knuckles. “No more playing nice.”

The next race starts and you get absolutely destroyed.

Jungkook goes full demon mode, drifting around corners with terrifying precision, dodging every single attack like he can see the future. He launches red shells, banana peels, lightning bolts— you don’t even know how he’s getting this many power-ups.

It’s a massacre. One round. Two rounds. Three. You lose every single one. By the end, your controller is nearly embedded into your palm from how tightly you’re gripping it. Jungkook, on the other hand, is lounging back against the couch, arms stretched behind his head, smug as hell.

He tilts his head, smirking. “Do you yield?”

You scowl. “I hope you step on a Lego.”

Jungkook just laughs, grabbing your wrist and yanking you into his lap before you can escape. The controllers are discarded, forgotten as you end up tangled together on the couch. His arms snake around your waist, holding you in place as you halfheartedly struggle.

Then—he boops your nose.

You blink. Once. Twice. Then groan, flopping dramatically against his chest. “I take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about you.”

Jungkook only hums, smug and unbothered. “Even though you lost, I still think you’re the cutest.”

You smack his arm. “I will actually fight you.”

“Mm. As long as it’s not in Mario Kart, I like my chances.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzes against the coffee table, the vibration cutting through the comfortable silence. He lazily reaches for it, glancing at the screen. His brows knit together for a second before his face smooths over into a grin.

“Oh, my mom’s planning a family dinner. She wants you to come.”

You, mid-sip of your newly-made coffee, nearly choke.

“…Huh?”

Jungkook tilts his head, amused. “What? You act like this is the first time she’s invited you.”

You pause, tapping your fingers against the cup. His family liked you. You knew that. His mom always sent you home with extra food whenever you visited, and his dad made it a point to tease Jungkook about “finally settling down” whenever you were around. Jungkook leans closer, watching you expectantly. “So? You’ll come?”

You exhale dramatically, pretending to be deep in thought. “…Maybe.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes. “Maybe?”

You smirk. “I’ll go on one condition.”

He leans in even more, suspicious. “What?”

You set your cup down with a slow, deliberate motion. Then you look him dead in the eye. “…Admit that I’m better at games.”

Jungkook snorts. “Not happening.”

You grin. “Then I’m not coming.”

Jungkook blinks. Then, before you can react, he pounces.

“YOU’RE COMING.”

“JUNGKOOK—”

You barely have time to throw your drink onto the table before he tackles you down onto the couch, arms caging you in as he buries his face into your neck. His weight presses you into the cushions, his laughter muffled against your skin.

“You little brat,” he mutters, nuzzling into you. You squirm, but he’s relentless, peppering lazy kisses against your jaw just to distract you.

“Say you’ll come,” he murmurs, voice laced with amusement.

“Say I’m better.”

Jungkook grins against your neck. “Hmm. How about this—you come to dinner, and I’ll let you win next time.” You gasp, shoving at his chest. “Let me win?!”

His laughter shakes both of you, but he doesn’t budge. “I’m trying to be generous, baby.”

“Jungkook, I swear—”

The argument quickly devolves into a mess of tangled limbs and laughter, neither of you backing down. Jungkook is still half on top of you, his arms lazily wrapped around your waist, completely unwilling to let you escape. His warmth seeps into you, making it harder to even think about moving. You sigh, dramatically slumping against the couch cushions. “Fine. I’ll go to dinner.”

Jungkook’s head snaps up instantly. “Really?”

You roll your eyes, poking his cheek. “Yeah, yeah. But I’m expecting VIP treatment.”

Jungkook grins, wide and bright, before leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “Deal.”

Outside, the rain picks up, sheets of water blurring the world beyond the glass. The streetlights flicker, their glow reflecting off the puddles collecting on the pavement. But just beyond the window, Neither of you notice the figure standing on the balcony of the building across the street a dark silhouette barely visible through the downpour.

He watches. He waits.

The overhead lights in your office cast a dim, sterile glow, humming softly in the near silence. The usual buzz of the workplace has long since faded, leaving only the occasional click of your keyboard and the distant sound of the air conditioning whirring. You rub your tired eyes, exhaustion settling deep in your bones as you scroll through the last few emails of the day.

Just as you’re about to tackle the next document in your never-ending pile, your phone vibrates against your desk, the soft buzz cutting through the quiet. You glance at the screen, and a familiar name lights up:

Kook 🐰💜 [6:15 PM]: Still working? Kook 🐰💜 [6:15 PM]: Come over after work?

A small smile tugs at your lips despite the fatigue weighing on you. You reach for your phone, letting your gaze drift to the towering stack of documents beside you before sighing. There’s no way you’re finishing up anytime soon. With a resigned exhale, you type out a response.

You [6:16 PM]: Working overtime. I’ll text when I’m done.

His reply comes almost instantly, as if he’d been waiting for your response.

Kook 🐰💜 [6:16 PM]: It’s late. Want me to pick you up?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a second before you shake your head, rolling your eyes fondly. It wasn’t like you weren’t capable of getting home on your own. The walk to your apartment was barely ten minutes, and you’d done it countless times before without issue. You hated the idea of relying too much on someone else, even if that someone was Jungkook. He was always eager to drop everything for you, to take on your burdens like they were his own, and while a part of you adored that about him, another part resisted it. You never wanted to feel like you needed saving. You could handle yourself.

You [6:16 PM]: I’m fine. My apartment’s nearby, remember?

There’s a brief pause before his next message comes through.

Kook 🐰💜[6:18 PM]: At least text me when you’re home.

You bite back a smile, shaking your head.

You [6:18 PM]: Yes, yes, Mr. Protective.

A second later, your screen lights up again with a message that’s nothing but a row of emojis. You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head as you set your phone down. Stretching your arms over your head, you glance back at the unfinished work in front of you. The night is far from over, and exhaustion lingers in your limbs, but you push through.

Two hours later, the office is nearly deserted. Rows of empty desks stretch out before you, their monitors dark, abandoned by coworkers who were lucky enough to call it a day. Somewhere in the distance, the faint murmur of a janitor echoes through the halls, a quiet reminder that you’re not entirely alone. Still, the stillness feels heavy, pressing against your shoulders as you rub your tired eyes and blink at your laptop screen.

“Still here?”

The familiar voice startles you, pulling you from your work-induced daze. You look up to see Jimin standing by your desk, a bag slung over his shoulder and an amused expression on his face.

You let out a sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Unfortunately.”

He crosses his arms, leaning casually against the cubicle wall. “Overtime?”

“Yeah.” You stretch your stiff fingers before clicking through your files. “Trying to get ahead of things since I’m taking a day off for Jungkook’s family dinner.”

Jimin raises a brow, clearly holding back a smirk. “You? Taking a day off? Who are you, and what have you done with my workaholic friend?”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “It’s one day, Park.”

“Still. Didn’t think you’d willingly take time off for a boyfriend’s family event.”

You shrug, shifting your attention back to your laptop. “I’m being a supportive partner. And also avoiding Jungkook’s pout if I don’t go.”

Jimin chuckles. “Yeah, that tracks.” He checks his watch, then nods toward the exit. “Well, it’s already past eight. I can drop you off—my car’s in the basement.”

You pause for half a second, tempted. It would be easy, safe. A quick ride home without having to walk through the dark streets alone. But something in you resists. You’ve always prided yourself on being independent, on handling things yourself. You weren’t about to start needing an escort home like some helpless protagonist in a thriller movie. Besides, your apartment wasn’t far, and you could take care of yourself just fine.

You shake your head. “I’ve still got work left. Need to refine a client presentation before tomorrow.”

Jimin frowns, clearly debating whether to push the issue. “You sure? I don’t mind waiting.”

You give him a small, reassuring smile. “Go home, Jimin. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitates for a moment longer before exhaling in defeat. “Alright. Text me when you get home, yeah?”

“I will.”

Satisfied, he ruffles your hair in a way that makes you swat at him, laughing as he dodges your weak attempt at retaliation. “Night, workaholic,” he teases before heading out, his footsteps fading down the hall.

And just like that, you’re alone again, the dim glow of your laptop screen casting long shadows across your desk.

It’s nearing eleven o'clock by the time you finally leave the office, exhaustion pressing down on your shoulders like a weight you can’t shake. The automatic doors slide shut behind you, sealing the building in eerie silence. Outside, the streets stretch before you, quieter than usual, the world dipped in shades of silver and black under the dim glow of the streetlights.

The scent of rain lingers in the air, damp and heavy, even though the drizzle had stopped hours ago. The pavement glistens under the flickering glow of streetlights, reflecting the distorted shapes of the empty road ahead. A chilly breeze whispers through the deserted streets, curling around your skin like invisible fingers. You shiver, tugging your coat tighter around you, telling yourself it’s just the cold. You exhale slowly, watching your breath fog in the night air, and begin your walk home. It’s not far—barely a ten-minute walk. You’ve done this route countless times before. It should feel familiar. Safe.

But tonight… something feels off.

At first, it’s just a small shift in the air, a faint prickle at the back of your neck that strange, creeping sensation of being watched. It crawls up your spine, makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

You shake it off, adjusting the strap of your bag. You’re just tired. Paranoid. That’s all. The streets are always eerie this late of course they are. There’s no one around, just the distant hum of traffic blocks away, the occasional flicker of a neon sign from a closed shop. But then when you’re halfway home, just as you pass the turn near the old bookstore you hear it.

A faint, subtle sound, a footstep, echoes just a second too late after your own. Your breath catches in your throat as you freeze, and the sound stops too. The silence is suffocating, pressing in from all sides. Slowly, so painfully slowly, you turn to glance behind you.

Nothing.

Just an empty sidewalk, stretched too long and too dark behind you. The streetlights buzz faintly, their glow flickering, casting strange, distorted shadows on the wet pavement. Your own heartbeat pounds against your ribs, a heavy drumbeat in the stillness. You swallow, trying to shake the feeling creeping under your skin. You’re imagining things. You have to be. The city is full of noises like cars in the distance, leaves rustling, a stray cat darting between alleyways. That’s all it is.

Still… your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag as you push forward, steps quicker now. But the feeling doesn’t go away. It lingers. Pressing against your skin like static, buzzing at the edge of your awareness. You’re not alone.

You almost pull out your phone. Almost. Jungkook would pick up in an instant and he’d tell you to stay on the line, that he was coming to get you. But you don’t.

Because what would you even say? Hey, I think I’m being followed, but I’m not sure, and I don’t want to sound like an idiot? No way. Jungkook would freak out, and you weren’t about to send him into a panic over something that was probably nothing. So instead, you pick up your pace, each step sharper, more urgent. The streetlights above seem dimmer now, their glow barely cutting through the shadows pooling at the edges of the road.

Your building is just a few turns away. You make it past the first one, then the second. Then you hear it again—not just a sound this time, but a shift, a presence. Someone is there. Your heart hammers as you whip around faster this time.

Nothing.

Your own shadow stretches long on the pavement, its shape warping under the flickering lights. The alleyway to your right is yawning and dark, a gaping mouth of blackness that seems to pull at the edges of your vision. Your pulse is a thunderous roar in your ears.

You’re not imagining this. This is real.

And now, your body knows it too and every instinct is screaming at you to move. So you do.

You rush forward, walking as fast as you can without breaking into a sprint. Your breath quickens, your fingers curling into fists, every nerve in your body on high alert. Just a little further. Just one more turn.

And then finally your apartment building comes into view, looming in the darkness like a beacon. Relief crashes over you so forcefully that you nearly stumble. You don’t turn around again. You don’t want to know if someone is standing there. Watching.

You force yourself to stay calm as you punch in the building’s entry code with unsteady fingers, stepping inside the safety of the lobby. The door shuts behind you with a heavy click, locking out the night.

You practically rush inside, the cool air of the lobby offering little comfort as your fingers tremble over the keypad. Your breath is shallow, coming in uneven gasps as you punch in your passcode. The numbers blur slightly in your vision, whether from exhaustion or the lingering tension clawing at your mind, you’re not sure. The beep of the lock disengaging feels deafening in the stillness. You push the door open, stepping inside so quickly that you nearly stumble over your own feet. The door swings shut behind you with a soft but final click, sealing you in the safety of your apartment. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

For a moment, you just stand there, listening. Nothing but the hum of your refrigerator, the faint creak of the building settling, and the sound of your own breathing, ragged and uneven in the silence. You don’t stop moving until every lock is in place.

Click. Click. Click.

Each one echoes louder than it should, like an affirmation that you are, in fact, secure. That no one followed you. That no one is outside, waiting. Still, the unease gnaws at you, refusing to settle. So, you make your rounds. Checking. Double-checking. Triple-checking.

You pull the curtains shut, firmly, ensuring no sliver of the outside world can seep in. You check the windows next, pressing your fingers against the glass, as if expecting to feel warmth from another presence, a breath on the other side. But there’s nothing. No shadow moving in the darkness, no faint imprint of something or someone having been there.

Finally, with a deep breath, you force yourself to move, shedding your coat, kicking off your shoes with sluggish movements. The exhaustion from the long day crashes down on you all at once, dull and heavy. Your limbs feel leaden as you shuffle toward your bedroom, every step slower than the last.

The warmth of your bed is almost enough to chase away the unease, the mattress soft, inviting and safe a stark contrast to the cold anxiety curling at the edges of your consciousness. You exhale, forcing yourself to relax, letting your body sink into the familiar comfort of your sheets.

But even as your eyes grow heavy, your mind refuses to let go completely. That nagging sense of being watched still lingers. Faint but present. And just before sleep claims you, a final thought slithers through your mind.

What if you weren’t imagining it? What if someone was still out there? Watching. Waiting.

Jungkook drives with effortless ease, one hand lazily gripping the steering wheel while the other taps against the radio in rhythm with the song playing softly through the speakers. The hum of the engine blends with the melody, filling the quiet space between you, neither of you needing to speak. The road stretches ahead, endless and open, disappearing into the horizon. A faint trace of salt lingers in the air, creeping in through the half-open window, a quiet reminder that you’re getting closer to Busan.

You sit in the passenger seat, your gaze flickering between the blur of passing scenery and the man beside you. The steady motion of the car, the warmth of the moment, it all feels oddly soothing. After days of unease, of tension wound so tightly in your body that even sleep felt like a battle, you finally feel yourself exhale.

“Can’t believe you actually agreed to take a day off for me,” Jungkook teases, his grin nothing short of triumphant as he spares you a glance. “Is this what love does to people?”

You roll your eyes, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “One time, Jeon. Don’t get used to it.”

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head like he doesn’t believe you for a second. His smile spreads wide, bright enough to make your chest ache with something unspoken. He reaches over without hesitation, his fingers giving your knee a playful squeeze before returning to the wheel. The touch is fleeting but warm, grounding in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

You should tell him.

The past few days have been unbearable due to the creeping paranoia, the feeling of eyes tracing your every move and the subtle shifts in your apartment that made your skin crawl. It’s like living with a shadow just out of reach, something you can’t see but can feel pressing in from the edges. You don’t scare easily, but this has been different.

Your fingers twitch against your lap. One word. That’s all it would take. Jungkook would listen like he always does. He’d furrow his brows, tilt his head in that concerned way he does, and tell you not to brush it off. He’d probably get all worked up, insist on staying over, refuse to let you out of his sight.

And yet, looking at him now being so carefree, his bunny-like smile tugging at his lips as he taps his fingers against the beat makes you hesitate. He’s happy. Peaceful. This moment is untouched by the weight sitting on your chest, and for once, you don’t want to taint something good.

So you take a slow breath, forcing yourself to relax against the seat. You tell yourself it’s fine. That you’re just being paranoid. That if anything truly happens, you’ll deal with it.

You exhaled slowly, willing yourself to stay in the present, to focus on the soft hum of the radio, the rhythmic tap of Jungkook’s fingers against the steering wheel. But the memory pulled at you, dragging you under before you could stop it—

You had come home after another long day at work. Your shoulders were aching from hours spent hunched over your desk. You had barely registered the familiar scent of your apartment as you pushed the door open, the soft creak echoing into the stillness inside.

Everything had looked normal at first.

Your shoes sat neatly by the entrance, exactly where you had left them. The kitchen counter was cluttered with the remnants of that morning’s rushed breakfast.

But the air had felt… different. Slightly off. As if someone had been there. Your heartbeat had stumbled, picking up speed before you could rationalize it. You had told yourself it was nothing. Just the exhaustion making you paranoid.

And yet, as you had stepped further inside, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The sound was the first thing that struck you. Cheerful, repetitive, out of place.

Your TV was on.

Not just on but playing Mario Kart. The character selection screen looped in the background, the upbeat jingle clashing against the heavy silence that filled your apartment. You hadn’t touched your console in days. Not since you and Jungkook played together last Sunday. Your pulse quickened.

Your eyes flickered to the couch. It had been moved just slightly. Barely an inch out of place, but enough for you to notice.

A slow, creeping unease settled into your bones as you stepped further inside, your movements cautious. Your apartment wasn’t large. There weren’t many places for someone to hide. And yet, your skin prickled with the overwhelming sensation that something or someone had been here.

Your breath hitched as your gaze fell on your bedroom door, slightly ajar. You had closed it that morning. You were sure of it. With measured steps, you pushed the door open fully. And that’s when you saw it.

Your bed—completely in ruins. The sheets were tangled, pillows tossed carelessly, the once-smooth blankets now bunched in the center as if someone had been lying there. Your stomach twisted with unease because this morning, just before leaving for work, you had made your bed. Yet now, the sheets were rumpled, disturbed in a way that sent a chill crawling up your spine. Someone had been here.

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you took a shaky step back, your eyes darting around the room. Everything looked normal aside from the bed, the couch and the TV but the air felt wrong. Tainted. Like someone had occupied this space in your absence.

Your mind raced as you checked the locks. Still in place. No broken windows. No signs of forced entry.

So how— Your breath hitched as a thought struck you. With trembling fingers, you grabbed your phone and immediately dialed Jungkook. He picked up after a few rings, his voice slightly breathless, like he had been running. “Hey, baby. Everything okay?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, gripping the phone tightly. “Yeah,” you lied, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Where are you right now?”

"Still at the clinic," he answered easily. "Was assisting with a surgery on a Pomeranian. Poor guy had a blockage so it took longer than expected." Your stomach dropped.

If Jungkook wasn’t here… then who was?

Your fingers curled around your phone, knuckles whitening as you fought to keep your breathing even. “Got it,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Just checking.” There was a pause. Then, Jungkook’s tone softened. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Another lie. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before he could press further, you ended the call.

The only sound left was the distant loop of Mario Kart, mocking you.

The weight of the memory lingered, suffocating, but the warmth of the car, the low hum of the radio, and Jungkook’s familiar presence slowly pulled you back. You blinked, staring at him.

Jungkook was happily rambling about his mom’s cooking, hands moving animatedly as he drove. “—and she always makes extra, like extra extra, because she knows I eat a lot. But now she’s even more excited since you’re coming—oh! She even tried making those cookies you love—”

His voice was light, full of an excitement you didn’t want to taint. A small part of you wanted to tell him. But another part, the part that didn’t want to see that deep crease of concern on his forehead, didn’t want to take away his peace, told you to keep it to yourself. For now.

You turned your head, looking out the window, watching the scenery blur past. You didn’t notice the way Jungkook’s eyes flickered toward you, his brows knitting together for just a moment before he forced his usual smile back onto his face.

Jungkook pulled into the driveway, parking with practiced ease. You had been here more times than you could count, yet there was always something comforting about stepping into his childhood home like the faint scent of home-cooked meals wafting through the air and the familiar sight of the wind chime swaying gently by the door.

Jungkook turned to you with a grin, one hand still resting on the steering wheel. “Mom probably made enough food to feed a small army.”

You chuckled, already knowing that was true. “She always does.”

Before you could even step out of the car, the front door swung open, revealing his mom waving enthusiastically. “You’re finally here! Hurry, come in before the food gets cold!” His mom pulled you into a hug the second you stepped inside, squeezing you tight.

“You’ve lost weight,” she huffed, pulling back just enough to inspect you with a critical eye. “Are you eating properly?”

Jungkook groaned beside you, already exasperated. “She’s fine, Mom.”

You laughed, but before you could respond, his dad stepped forward with a warm smile, offering a firm handshake. “It’s good to see you again,” he said, his voice as steady and kind as ever.

“It’s good to see you too, Mr. Jeon,” you replied politely. “Mrs. Jeon, thank you for having me—”

Before you could finish, his mom smacked your arm lightly, her expression scandalized. “Yah! How many times do I have to tell you? It’s Mom and Dad.”

Your face heated instantly. “R-Right. Sorry… Mom.”

Jungkook snickered under his breath at your obvious embarrassment, and his mom beamed, clearly pleased. “That’s better,” she said, linking her arm with yours as she led you further inside. “You’re family, sweetheart. No need for formalities.”

The house smelled incredible of rich simmering broth and freshly cooked rice. The warmth of it all settled deep in your chest, making you realize just how much you had missed this. As you stepped into the living room, your gaze landed on a few baby toys scattered near the couch, a soft blanket draped over the armrest. Before you could ask, his mom sighed.

“Junghyun and his wife wanted to come with the twins, but the girls were too fussy today.”

Jungkook pouted dramatically, crossing his arms. “I still haven’t met my nieces.”

His mom shook her head, unimpressed. “You could visit them, you know.”

“I will,” Jungkook mumbled, already defeated. “Just… eventually.”

The dining table was packed with dishes his mom had gone all out, as always. Various side dishes, steaming hot soup, perfectly grilled meat, and a mountain of rice sat invitingly before you. It was a feast, one you had grown familiar with over the years, yet it never failed to impress you. Before you could even reach for anything, Jungkook was already piling food onto your plate, stacking it with precision. “Eat,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You know the rules.”

His mom beamed, clearly pleased. “At least someone in this house listens to me.”

You chuckled, picking up your chopsticks, but the moment was shattered when your phone lit up beside your plate, vibrating with an insistent ping. You glanced down, your stomach twisting into a knot.

Your pulse quickened. The messages came one after the other.

Unknown [1:10 PM]: You think you can stay safe by staying away from here? Unknown [1:10 PM]: You think he’s gonna save you? Unknown [1:10 PM]: I am always watching you, doll.

Your breath hitched. Cold fingers of unease crawled up your spine, but you forced yourself to stay composed. Your hands thankfully didn’t shake as you turned your phone upside down and set it to silent. Jungkook had noticed. His gaze flickered to the screen before you flipped it over, his brows knitting together in quiet concern. He looked like he wanted to ask, but you didn’t give him the chance.

The vibration had caught his parents’ attention too. “Oh dear, is that work?” his mom asked, concern lacing her voice.

“Yeah,” you lied smoothly, forcing a small smile. “Just some messages I need to deal with later.”

You weren’t sure if Jungkook believed you, but he didn’t press. Instead, he reached out under the table, squeezing your knee reassuringly before focusing back on his food. You tried to do the same, pushing down the paranoia clawing at your chest.

Dinner flowed with easy conversation. His parents asked about your work, laughing when Jungkook grumbled about how much time it took away from him. They also teased him relentlessly about how attached he was to you.

“Three years, and he still acts like you’re going to disappear if he looks away,” his dad joked, shaking his head fondly.

You snickered, nudging Jungkook’s foot under the table.

But Jungkook just shrugged, completely unbothered. “Can you blame me?” he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Dinner continued with warmth and laughter, his parents seamlessly shifting the conversation to Jungkook’s studies.

“So, how’s school going?” his dad asked, scooping some more rice onto his plate. “Third year already, huh? Feels like just yesterday you were running around pretending to be a zookeeper.” Jungkook groaned. “Dad.”

His mom chuckled. “What? You were obsessed with animals. You even tried to ‘rescue’ the neighbor’s cat by sneaking it into your room.”

You gasped dramatically, turning to Jungkook. “Wait, I didn’t know about this!”

Jungkook sighed, shoving a bite of food into his mouth like he could physically escape the conversation. “That was years ago.”

His dad laughed. “And now look at you, halfway to becoming a real vet.”

“Not halfway,” Jungkook corrected between bites. “But yeah, it’s been tough. Classes are intense, and the practicals are even harder. Two days ago, I had to assist with a surgery, and let’s just say I wasn’t prepared for how long it would take.”

His mom’s eyes softened with pride. “You’ll be amazing, sweetheart. You’ve always had such a big heart for animals.”

Jungkook ducked his head, ears tinged pink. You smiled, nudging his foot under the table again. “She’s right, you know. You’re going to be an incredible vet.”

Jungkook glanced at you, his bunny-like smile appearing for just a second before he returned to his food. But the warmth of the moment did little to push away the unease creeping up your spine. The phone lay silent beside your plate, but you couldn’t shake the eerie feeling.

Just as the conversation was settling into a warm, familiar rhythm, the front door slammed open with the force of a small explosion.

“The prodigal son returns!”

Jungkook groaned, not even bothering to look. “Why. Are. You. Here.”

Jin strutted in like he was making a grand entrance at an award show, tossing his jacket onto the couch with an unnecessary flourish. “Heard there was food,” he announced before turning to you with a smirk. “And obviously, I had to make sure my dear cousin hasn’t scared you off yet.”

Jungkook scoffed. “You scared me off first.”

Jin ignored him completely, already making a beeline for the dining table. His mom, unfazed by the theatrics, clapped her hands together. “Oh, perfect timing! Sit, eat.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Jin said cheerfully, dropping into the seat beside you. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks like a warrior unsheathing his sword, ready for battle.

“So,” he drawled, nudging you playfully. “Three years and you still haven’t run for the hills? Impressive.”

You smirked, taking a sip of your drink. “I’ve considered it.”

Jungkook gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like you had personally stabbed him. “Betrayal! In my own home!”

“Technically, it’s our home,” his mom corrected.

“Exactly!” Jin said, pointing his chopsticks at Jungkook before shoving a mouthful of rice into his mouth. Jungkook’s dad, ever the composed one, leaned back in his chair and regarded Jin with an amused shake of his head. “So, how’s the tattoo shop? Are you still working reception?”

Jin waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that? I quit.”

Jungkook’s mom sighed, as if she had already seen this coming.

Jungkook’s dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jin, you just started that job.”

“Yeah, and I just quit that job,” Jin said brightly. “But don’t worry—I’ve moved on to better things.”

Jungkook raised a brow. “Should I even ask?”

“I now work at a pastry shop.” Jin declared, as if he had just announced a groundbreaking scientific discovery.

Jungkook blinked. “You?”

“Yes, me.”

Jungkook’s dad sighed. “Jin, you have to start thinking about stability. You can’t keep jumping from one job to another like this.”

Jin only laughed, waving him off like the thought of responsibility was a foreign concept. “Oh, please. Stability is boring. I get bored too fast—I need thrill, excitement, the rush of something new.”

“You sell croissants,” Jungkook deadpanned.

“And I do it with flair,” Jin shot back, popping a piece of fried chicken into his mouth. “Speaking of which, I brought some samples! The head baker said they were too ‘experimental’ for customers, but I figured you guys would appreciate my artistic vision.” He reached into his coat pocket because of course he carried pastries in his coat pocket and plopped two small, questionably green muffins onto the table.

Jungkook recoiled. “What is that?”

Jin grinned. “Matcha and kimchi fusion.”

Jungkook’s dad sighed again. His mom simply patted Jin’s hand, as if she had long since accepted his chaotic ways. Jin wipes his hands dramatically after placing down his abomination of a pastry creation, then immediately turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“So,” he starts, leaning in with the air of someone about to cause chaos. “On a scale of one to dear god, someone save me, how difficult is he to live with?”

You barely have time to react before he fires off another.

“Any plans to upgrade from ‘boyfriend’ status?” Jin asks, voice dripping with faux innocence.

Jungkook chokes so hard on his food that you have to thump his back. His mom gasps in concern, while his dad just continues eating like this is any other Thursday night.

Jin smirks in triumph. “Ah, so is there a wedding?”

Jungkook, still recovering, glares murderously. “You are so not invited to the wedding—”

Jin claps his hands together. “Confirmed!”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. He grabs a spoonful of rice and hurls it straight at Jin. Jin dodges like a seasoned warrior. “Oh, it’s war now.”

A second later, a piece of kimchi smacks Jungkook right in the cheek. Jungkook gapes at Jin. “You did not—”

“Oh, I did.” Jin wiggles his eyebrows before launching another attack. What starts as a petty sibling squabble escalates into all-out warfare. Jungkook lobs a dumpling; Jin retaliates with a piece of radish. Rice goes flying. You duck just in time to avoid getting hit by a rogue piece of tofu.

“Jeon Jungkook!” his mom shrieks, voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. “Kim Seokjin!”

They both freeze mid-throw, like guilty kids caught red-handed.

His dad sighs, a long and tired sigh, the kind that speaks of years of dealing with this exact scenario. He calmly reaches for his drink. “Can we please have one dinner without someone launching food across the table?”

Jungkook and Jin exchange glances.

Then, as if telepathically synchronized, they both lift their chopsticks and point at each other. “He started it.”

You snort. His mom groans. His dad sips his tea in silent resignation.

The night air is crisp, carrying the distant hum of crickets and the occasional rustling of leaves in the trees that line Jungkook’s backyard. The stars above twinkle through gaps in the branches, their light soft and distant. Out here, away from the city’s chaos, everything feels quieter like the world has shrunk to just the two of you. Jungkook slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Sorry about him.”

You chuckle, leaning into his warmth. “I like him. He makes things interesting.”

“Interesting until he’s grilling you.”

“True,” you admit, grinning. “But I can handle him.”

Jungkook huffs a quiet laugh, resting his chin atop your head. You exhale, letting your eyes flutter shut for a moment, savoring the security of his presence. It’s moments like these that make you forget the paranoia and the unease clawing at the edges of your mind.

But it never truly leaves.

The feeling of being watched. The weight of unseen eyes crawling over your skin. The messages you’ve ignored all night. They all linger in your mind. You glance up at Jungkook. He’s still smiling, talking about how his mom packed you extra leftovers. “She thinks you don’t eat enough,” he says fondly, shaking his head.

You should tell him.

The words sit heavy on your tongue, pressing against your teeth. One sentence, and it would all be out in the open.

But you don’t.

Instead, you nod, forcing a small laugh. “She really doesn’t take no for an answer, huh?”

“Never,” Jungkook confirms, squeezing your waist. His touch is warm, grounding. But even that warmth doesn’t reach the cold pit in your stomach.

“Jungkook!” His dad’s voice calls from inside. “Come here for a second.”

Jungkook groans, reluctant to move. “Stay here, I’ll be back,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before disappearing inside.

The moment he’s gone, the silence presses in. You hesitate before pulling out your phone, unlocking it with a swipe of your thumb. The notifications are still there, messages from Unknown piled up like unanswered warnings.

The last one catches your eye.

Unknown [1:10 PM]: I am always watching you, doll.

Your breath stutters.

The phone suddenly feels heavy in your hands, like a weight dragging you down into something inescapable.

No.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, drowning out the gentle chirping of crickets, drowning out reason. A suffocating sense of dread settles in your chest as you stare at the word, doll. There was only one person who ever called you that.

Only one voice that had whispered it against your skin, had laughed it into your ear, had let it drip from his tongue like a slow poison.

Kim Taehyung.

The room was thick with the stench of alcohol and sweat, the air heavy with cigarette smoke that coiled toward the ceiling in lazy spirals. Dim lighting flickered from a dying bulb, casting long, distorted shadows across the stained walls.

Taehyung sat slouched in a tattered armchair, his body sinking into the worn-out fabric. His limbs felt like lead, the weight of intoxication pressing down on him, making his movements sluggish, his thoughts hazy. A half-empty bottle dangled loosely from his fingers, the condensation dripping onto his jeans, but he barely noticed.

Around him, his friends were strewn across the room in various states of intoxication, some laughing at nothing, their voices slurred and senseless, while others lay sprawled out, lost to the world. Taehyung exhaled a slow, heavy breath. Everything felt distant and detached until a stray thought cut through the fog: you.

His lazy smirk faltered. His fingers twitched against the armrest, tightening before relaxing again. His vision blurred at the edges, but the memories were sharp. Unwelcome. Unrelenting. His jaw clenched. He willed himself to push it away, drown it in the haze, let the high carry him somewhere else. But it never worked.

It never did when it came to you. His body was here, slouched in a torn armchair, but his mind was somewhere else. Three years ago.

"I don’t love you anymore."

The scent of espresso and warm pastries was suffocating. The quiet hum of conversation around them felt like static in his ears. But none of it fucking mattered. Not when you were sitting across from him, staring at him like he was nothing.

The words barely registered at first. His mind lagged behind reality like a glitching tape, playing back a version of events where this wasn’t happening.

"What?" His voice was sharp, disbelieving. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Your gaze didn’t waver. "I said I don’t love you."

The words cut. They didn’t hit all at once they sank in slowly, like a blade sliding between ribs.

Taehyung laughed. "Bullshit."

He leaned forward, jaw tight, fingers curling into the edge of the table. "You’re being dramatic. You always do this shit when you want attention."

Your expression didn’t change, but something about it made his stomach turn. You weren’t crying. You weren’t shaking. There was no hesitation or guilt or any of the things he had relied on to keep you in line. This wasn’t like before.

Your voice was flat. "You ruined this, Tae. You ruined me."

His laugh was louder this time, bitter and sharp. "Oh, so I’m the villain now? After everything I did for you?"

"Everything you did to me."

His breath stuttered.

And then you kept going. You fucking kept going.

"You controlled me. You isolated me. You made me feel like I was insane every time I called you out on your bullshit."

His hands curled into fists. "Oh, fuck off—"

"You threatened me, Tae. You threw shit. You punched walls, grabbed me so fucking hard I had bruises for days. And every time, you’d crawl back, begging, saying you didn’t mean it—"

His teeth clenched, fury bubbling beneath his skin. "Because I didn’t!"

"You dangled your own life over my head like a leash."

His blood turned cold, the first sliver of panic slicing through the rage that had consumed him moments ago. He wasn’t winning. The realization struck hard. His grip tightened on the table, nails digging into the cheap wood as if he was bracing for impact. You weren’t supposed to fucking say that. You weren’t supposed to know.

He forced a laugh, but it came out desperate. "And what, you're suddenly a fucking therapist? Psychoanalyzing me like I’m some fucking monster?"

Your voice was quiet, but it sliced straight through him.

"I don’t need to psychoanalyze you, Taehyung. I lived through you."

The air left his lungs. His vision blurred at the edges, rage and panic clashing, drowning him.

All of a sudden, ‘his’ name fell from your lips like a gunshot.

Jungkook? That pathetic little nerd? The one he used to shove into lockers, humiliate just for the fun of it? The same one who flinched if someone raised their voice too loud?

He let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh, but there was nothing funny about this. His hands shook from the effort of holding himself back.

"So that’s what you’ve been doing, huh?" His voice was sharp, venomous. "Nursing him back to health after I fucked him up?"

You exhaled, shaking your head, unimpressed.

Then, he snapped. "You fucked him, didn’t you?"

He spat the words like a curse, like they burned his tongue. Even as he said it, he knew you wouldn’t. You were a self-righteous bitch with all your morals, your bullshit standards. You wouldn’t dare. But the thought of it, the idea of you with him made his head spin, made his vision go dark at the edges.

His voice dropped to a hiss. "That little fucking loser? You let him touch you? You let him—"

His hands ached. He wanted to grab you, to shake you, to make you look at him.

"He’s a pussy, doll." His voice cracked, something wild and desperate bleeding through. "He won’t take care of you like I did."

You scoffed, expression unreadable. "You never took care of me, Tae."

"What the fuck does he have that I don’t?" His voice rose, teetering between fury and desperation. "Tell me."

You just stared at him, and that look—that fucking look—

It was over.

It was fucking over.

Panic clawed at his ribs, lodged itself in his throat, made his vision blur and his hands shake. So he did what he always did when he lost control.

"I’ll kill myself if you leave me."

The words came out fast and sharp, a desperate lifeline thrown into the storm. It had always worked before, always made you hesitate, always made you stay. But this time, you simply exhaled a breath of relief, as if you had finally broken free.

And then, for the first time, you smiled.

"Look at you." Your voice was soft. Almost pitying. "Still trying to manipulate me."

Something inside him snapped.

His vision blurred, his body moved and the next thing he knew, the coffee cup on the table was in pieces, shattered porcelain scattering across the floor.

The café had gone silent.

The whole fucking world had gone silent.

You stood, your chair scraping against the tile. Unbothered.

You walked away. No hesitation. No tears. No fucking remorse.

And for the first time, Taehyung had nothing.

Nothing left to say. Nothing left to hold onto.

The cigarette burned down to the filter, searing his fingers. He didn’t flinch. Taehyung’s jaw clenched, knuckles turning white as his fists curled against the armrest. The high didn’t feel so numbing anymore, just agitating. His skin felt too tight, his thoughts too sharp, too loud.

For almost a year, he had drowned you out with drugs, alcohol, distractions, anything to blur the edges of what you had done to him. To make himself forget the way you walked away without looking back. But the moment he saw you again it all came rushing back.

The obsession. The hunger. The need to undo it all.

You thought you walked away for good?

No. You were always his. Even when you hated him. Even when you ran. And now he was going to take back what was his.

One way or another.

After returning from Busan, you stayed over at Jungkook’s place.

You didn’t want to sleep alone. Not after the messages. The number was blocked now. You hadn’t received anything since. But still… you didn’t feel comfortable going back home yet.

Jungkook hadn’t questioned it. He just smiled and let you in, happy to have you around. But the more time you spent with him, the harder it became to ignore the guilt settling in your chest.

Because Jungkook didn’t know.

You hadn’t told him about the messages. About the unease creeping up your spine every time your phone vibrated. About the name that had resurfaced in the form of a single word:

“Doll.”

It shouldn’t have meant anything. Anyone could use that word. It was common, impersonal.

But not to you.

Not when you could still hear his voice saying it. Not when you remembered how it had dripped from Taehyung’s lips sometimes sweet, sometimes cruel.

“Be good for me, doll.” “You know I only act like this because I love you, doll.” “You’re nothing without me, doll.”

The thought alone made your stomach churn. You weren’t even sure if it was him. Maybe it was just paranoia. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Yeah. It had to be. So you pushed it down, shoved it into the corners of your mind where you didn’t have to look at it. You told yourself you were keeping this from Jungkook to protect him.

But now, as you sit at your office desk, your mind is miles away from the reports in front of you. You tap your pen against the surface, gaze unfocused.

You don’t notice Jimin watching you from across the room until he finally speaks.

“Everything okay between you and Jungkook?”

You blink, snapping out of your daze. “What?”

Jimin leans against your desk, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “You seem off. Thought maybe you two had a fight or something.”

You force a small laugh, shaking your head. “No, nothing like that. Everything’s fine.”

Jimin doesn’t look convinced. His sharp gaze lingers for a second too long, like he’s waiting for you to crack. But he doesn’t press.

And you’re grateful for that.

Lunchtime rolls around when you finally check your phone.

The morning had been filled with client meetings, thankful for the welcome distraction. For a few hours, you managed to keep your mind from spiraling. But the moment your screen lights up with a string of unread messages from an unknown number, reality crashes back in.

Your stomach plummets.

Unknown [10:28 AM]: Did you really think blocking me would make me disappear, doll? Unknown [10:28 AM]: How cute. Almost as cute as you playing house with your little pet. Unknown [10:29 AM]: Speaking of pets… your boyfriend’s been working so hard. Diligently studying to save all those poor, dying animals. Unknown [10:30 AM]: How pathetic. Unknown [10:31 AM]: Wanna see?

Your breath catches.

The next message has three images attached. With shaking fingers, you tap them open.

First image: Jungkook in class, focused, scribbling down notes. Second image: Him in the lab, sleeves rolled up, handling equipment with practiced ease. Third image: Now. Jungkook at lunch, head slightly tilted as he listens to someone, chopsticks resting in his hand.

Your blood turns to ice as your vision tunnels, the world narrowing to a single horrifying realization—Jungkook is right there. Someone… no, not just anyone. It has to be Taehyung. He is near. He is watching. And if he is close enough to take these photos, then he is close enough to do something worse. Your phone nearly slips from your grip as pure, heart-stopping terror crashes into you. Jungkook is in danger. The first message was sent almost an hour ago, which means Taehyung has been near him this whole time. Watching him. Stalking him.

Your first instinct is to call the cops. Your fingers hover over the dial pad, heart hammering until your screen lights up again. As if he had been waiting for you to see his messages.

Unknown [12:01 PM]: I know what you’re thinking, doll. Unknown [12:01 PM]: Call the cops, and I’ll slit your pretty boyfriend’s throat right where he sits.

Your breath locks in your chest, hands trembling so violently you almost drop your phone.

No. No, no, no.

You don’t think you just move.

You bolt out of your office, barely registering Jimin calling after you. His voice is distant, but you can’t stop. You don’t have time. You race to your car, hands fumbling with the keys as you throw yourself into the driver’s seat. The second the engine roars to life, you’re speeding down the street, ignoring every traffic rule, every red light.

There’s only one thought pounding in your skull, louder than the frantic beat of your heart—

Get to Jungkook. Now.

You pull up to Jungkook’s university, barely throwing the car into park before shoving the door open. Your legs feel unsteady as you rush out, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Your hands tremble as you fumble with your phone, fingers slipping as you dial Jungkook’s number again and again. No answer. You try once more, the ringing tone stretching unbearably before it goes to voicemail.

The campus is alive with movement students chatting, laughing and going about their day, blissfully unaware of the sheer terror gripping you. You push through the crowd, scanning faces wildly, your heart pounding against your ribs. Where is Jungkook?

People glance at you, their whispers buzzing at the edge of your hearing, but you don’t care. You try his number again. Still nothing.

A sickening thought slithers into your mind— What if Taehyung already got to him? What if you’re too late?

Finally, your eyes land on him.

Jungkook stands in the courtyard, laughing with a couple of friends, completely oblivious to the danger shadowing him. The world around you blurs as relief crashes over you like a tidal wave.

Alive. Unharmed.

Your knees almost buckle, the tension in your body unravelling just enough for you to let out a sharp, shaky exhale. Your breath stutters as the panic begins to subside, but the urgency still thrums beneath your skin. Then Jungkook sees you.

His laughter dies mid-sentence, his brows knitting together in concern as his eyes rake over your disheveled form. His friends glance at you curiously, but Jungkook is already moving toward you.

"Y/N?" His voice is gentle but urgent. "What’s wrong?"

You shake your head quickly, forcing a weak, unconvincing smile. "It’s nothing," you say, voice tight. "But we need to leave. Now."

Jungkook blinks, his confusion evident. "What? I have an afternoon lecture."

You tighten your grip on his wrist, desperation seeping into your voice. "Jungkook, please. We need to go home."

His brows draw together, concern deepening in his soft gaze. "Why?" His voice remains gentle, but there's a quiet insistence beneath it. "What’s going on?"

When you don’t answer, Jungkook exhales softly before taking your hand, leading you away from the courtyard and into a quieter corner. His touch is firm but never forceful.

"Y/N, talk to me." His voice is barely above a whisper, but there’s an edge of worry to it. "What’s wrong?" His dark eyes search yours, trying to unravel the truth you refuse to say.

You swallow, avoiding his gaze. "It’s nothing, I swear—"

His jaw tightens, his fingers twitching at his sides. "That’s not true."

Jungkook doesn’t raise his voice, but the frustration is clear. He takes a slow step closer, his warmth now suffocating. "You’ve been acting different for weeks. Distant. Jumpy. And now you show up here looking like you’ve seen a ghost and expect me to just go along with it?"

You flinch at the quiet intensity in his words, but still, you don’t answer. Jungkook’s voice rises just a little, but the hurt in it is undeniable. “Do you not trust me?”

You bite your lip, guilt pressing down on your chest like a heavy weight. “Of course I do, Jungkook, it’s just—”

“Then tell me.” His fingers rake through his hair, his brows drawn together, frustration flickering in his dark eyes. But his voice stays soft, laced with something almost pleading.

“I’m not a child, Y/N.”

The words land harder than you expect, sinking deep. Silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken truths and the weight of his quiet disappointment. You know you should tell him. You should warn him. But… you can’t.

Jungkook exhales slowly, his jaw tightening as he watches you struggle with whatever it is you’re refusing to say. His frustration is evident, but his voice remains gentle, laced with quiet insistence.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on,” he says firmly. “If you won’t, I’ll just stay here.”

Your stomach drops. No. He can’t stay here. Not when you know Taehyung is watching. “Jungkook, please,” you whisper, gripping his wrist tighter.

“Then tell me, Y/N.” His gaze softens, but the unwavering determination in his eyes sends a surge of panic through you. You have no choice. You have to tell him something—anything—just to get him to listen.

“Someone’s been watching you,” you admit in a rush, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know who, but it’s not safe.”

Jungkook stiffens. His expression shifts from frustration to shock, then to something unreadable. “Watching me?” he echoes. “Y/N, what—why wouldn’t you tell me earlier?”

You look away, guilt gnawing at you. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s still skeptical, still confused, but he can see the genuine fear in your eyes. And that alone is enough to make him give in.

“Alright,” he finally murmurs. “Let’s go.”

Relief washes over you, but just as you think you’ve convinced him to leave, your phone vibrates. It's another message.

Unknown [12:17 PM]: Ah, there you are, doll. So desperate to save your boyfriend? Cute. But I’m not done playing yet.

Your breath hitches.

Taehyung is watching you right now. Your fingers tighten around your phone as your eyes dart around the campus, paranoia seeping into your every movement.

Jungkook immediately catches the way your face drains of all color. His fingers gently close around your wrist before you can react, his other hand swiftly taking your phone from your grip.

“Jungkook, wait—”

But it’s too late. His eyes scan the message, and you feel his entire body go still. His brows knit together, his lips parting slightly as he rereads the words, processing the threat laced between them.

“Who…” His voice is quiet at first, controlled. Then, a little sharper. “Who the hell is this?”

You swallow hard, panic clawing at your chest. You should’ve been more careful. But now there’s no avoiding it. Jungkook looks up at you, eyes searching. “Y/N,” he says softly, but there’s an undeniable firmness in his tone. “Tell me.”

You take a shaky breath, forcing the words out before you can hesitate.

“I… I think it’s Taehyung.”

Jungkook blinks. For a moment, he just stares at you like you’ve said something completely incomprehensible. Then, he shakes his head, a disbelieving scoff leaving his lips.

“Taehyung?” He lets out a breath, his brows furrowing. “No. That’s impossible. We haven’t seen him in years.”

You can see the way his mind is racing, trying to rationalize it, trying to convince himself that it can’t be true. But then piece by piece it all starts to click. The way you’ve been acting. The paranoia. The half-truths. Everything makes sense now.

Jungkook’s expression shifts, his grip tightening slightly around your phone. He looks at you again, this time with quiet intensity. “Tell me everything.”

You take a deep, unsteady breath and finally let it all out. Every message. Every chilling threat. The way Taehyung has been watching, lurking in the shadows, getting closer and closer. How you’ve been living in constant fear, too terrified to sleep, too paranoid to breathe. How you blocked him, but he always found a way back. The photos of Jungkook the proof showing that Taehyung has been near him all along.

Jungkook doesn’t say a word. He just listens. His hands slowly curl into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening, but his eyes stay locked on you, soft and unwavering. By the time you finish, your throat is tight, and your vision blurs slightly. You blink rapidly, forcing back the tears threatening to spill. You quickly wipe at your eyes before Jungkook can notice.

But he does.

Without a word, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his warmth. You freeze for a second, startled, but then you let yourself sink into the embrace. His arms are strong and steady, anchoring you as if he’s shielding you from everything that’s been haunting you.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice softer than ever. “You don’t have to hold it in, Y/N.”

Your breath shudders. “I-I’m fine,” you whisper, even though your grip on his hoodie tightens. Jungkook shakes his head slightly. “No, you’re not. And that’s okay.” His hand runs up and down your back in slow, soothing motions. “You don’t always have to be strong on your own.”

Something in you cracks at his words. A single tear slips down your cheek, and this time, you don’t wipe it away. Jungkook holds you tighter, his voice firm but gentle. “You should’ve told me sooner.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I was scared.”

“I get that.” He exhales, resting his chin lightly on top of your head. “But you’re not alone in this. I’m here now. And I won’t let him hurt you.”

When you finally pull away, his hands stay on your shoulders, grounding you. Now, you have to decide.

Go to the police? It’s the logical choice, but Taehyung already made it clear what would happen if you did. Jungkook’s life isn’t something you’re willing to gamble with. Confront Taehyung yourself? It’s reckless, dangerous, and probably a mistake. But part of you feels like it’s the only way to put an end to this.

Jungkook watches your face carefully, reading the thoughts swirling in your head. Then, his jaw tightens, his voice steady but firm. “If you think I’m letting you do this alone, you’re out of your mind.”

For the first time in weeks, the suffocating loneliness eases because no matter what happens next, Jungkook is with you. Suddenly your phone vibrates again.

Unknown [12:51 PM]: Such a heartwarming moment. But how far will he go to protect you?

And then another message. A photo.

It’s a picture of you and Jungkook. Right now.

He’s still here.

"Y/N?" Jungkook’s voice is soft but sharp with concern. "What is it?"

You turn the phone toward him, and the moment he sees the message, his entire body stiffens. His jaw clenches, fingers curling into fists. His voice is low but firm when he speaks.

"We’re leaving. Now."

You don’t argue.

Jungkook grabs your wrist, pulling you through the crowd of students, his grip tight but reassuring. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you scan the area frantically, eyes darting from face to face.

But you don’t see him. He could be anywhere.

Jungkook doesn’t slow down until you reach his car. He unlocks it in a rush, practically shoving you inside before slamming the door shut behind him. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. Only when he locks the doors and exhales a shaky breath does he turn to look at you.

"He’s here, Y/N." His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it.

You swallow hard, gripping your phone. "I know."

Jungkook starts the car. "We’re going home. Then we figure out our next move." You nod, but the unease lingers.

Because Taehyung isn’t done playing yet.

Jungkook paces the length of his living room, fingers running through his hair in frustration. You sit on the couch, gripping your phone tightly, going over every possible option. Jungkook is still talking, still trying to come up with a solid plan but his voice fades into the background as your eyes remain glued to your phone screen.

Unknown [1:37 PM]: Come alone. Midnight. Your apartment. Unknown [1:37 PM]: Don’t make me repeat myself, doll.

Your grip on the phone tightens. Your pulse roars in your ears. If Jungkook sees this, there’s no way he’ll let you go. He’ll insist on coming with you. And that’s exactly what Taehyung wants, a reason to hurt him. Swallowing hard, you quickly lock your phone and shove it into your pocket before Jungkook notices.

“Y/N?”

You snap back to reality to find Jungkook watching you carefully. “Yeah?”

“I was saying…” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe we should stay at a hotel tonight. Just in case. I don’t want you anywhere near that apartment if Taehyung’s been watching you.”

Your stomach churns with guilt, but you shake your head. “No. I think we should just stay and act normal. If we start running now, he’ll know we’re scared.”

Jungkook’s eyes darken. “We are scared, Y/N.”

You force a small, tired smile. “But we can’t let him know that.”

He exhales, clearly frustrated but unable to argue. “Fine. But I’m not letting you out of my sight.” You nod, pretending to agree.

But deep down, you already know that the moment Jungkook falls asleep tonight, you’re leaving.

Alone.

It’s a little past midnight when you finally slip out of Jungkook’s apartment.

You hesitate at the door, glancing back at his sleeping form. Even in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, you can see the tension on his face. He had been restless for hours, his body stiff with unease, as if sensing that something was wrong.

You had pretended to fall asleep just so he could relax. It worked eventually. But now, as you step out into the cold night, a bitter weight settles in your chest.

Jungkook would never forgive you for this.

But this is the only way.

You move quickly, keeping to the shadows as you make your way to your apartment. The streets are eerily quiet, the distant hum of the city muffled by the pounding of your heart. Every step you take feels heavier like you're walking toward something inevitable.

Suddenly you hear a second set of footsteps.

You don’t have time to react before a hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your startled gasp.

Before you can struggle, an arm wraps around your waist in a vice-like grip, dragging you off the sidewalk. The world tilts as you're yanked into a dark alleyway. Your pulse hammers against your ribs as you thrash against the hold, but it’s uselessm his grip is unyielding, effortlessly strong.

A low, deep chuckle brushes against your ear, sending a sickening shiver down your spine.

"Took you long enough, doll."

Taehyung had grown impatient waiting for you to show up. Without warning, he forcefully turns you to face him, his grip unrelenting. The sudden contact sends a jolt of fear through you, and seeing him again after all these years feels like being doused in ice water.

Time has changed him, but not enough. His face is still achingly familiar from the sharp jawline, the tattoos that snake up the expanse of his neck to the piercing eyes that burn with something much darker.

A part of you always knew this day would come. You had told yourself that the way Taehyung left without so much as hurting you was too good to be true, but maybe, just maybe he had realised he was in the wrong and disappeared into the past like a bad dream. But now, standing here with his breath hot against your skin, you realize how foolish you were to think he’d ever let you go.

"You thought I wouldn’t come back for you?" he whispers against your ear, his voice sickeningly soft.

Your breath stutters. You try to shove him away, but he’s faster amd stronger. His grip tightens as he forces you back, slamming you against the cold, unforgiving brick wall of the alley. The impact knocks the air from your lungs, and before you can recover, his fingers press into your jaw, tilting your face up toward him.

The streetlamp above casts a sliver of light over him, illuminating the twisted smile on his lips.

"I gave you everything, and you threw me away for him?"

Resentment drips from every word, his voice cracking with something raw.

"I should’ve taught you a lesson years ago."

Your heart hammers in your chest, panic locking your limbs in place. But before you can even react—

A force rips Taehyung away from you, sending him crashing onto the pavement with a brutal thud.

Jungkook stands over him, breath uneven, fists still clenched from the impact. His usual softness is nowhere to be found—his expression is cold, lethal.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it that makes the air feel heavier.

Taehyung chuckles darkly. “I knew you’d come running.”

Jungkook doesn’t take the bait. His eyes flick to you, scanning for any sign of injury, before settling back on Taehyung with something dangerously close to disgust.

“You don’t get to lay a hand on her,” Jungkook says, his voice steady. “Not now. Not ever.”

Taehyung chuckles again, pushing himself up with an air of arrogance. He rolls his shoulders, cracking his knuckles as if this is all a joke to him.

"You?" He scoffs, eyes glinting with amusement. "Defending her?" His gaze flickers to you, sharp and accusing. "I bet she never even told you what she did to me."

Jungkook doesn’t flinch nor does he hesitate. His voice is calm, unwavering. "She didn’t do anything." He steps forward, eyes locked onto Taehyung like he’s daring him to try again. "I know she’s mine. And I know you’re just a lying, manipulative piece of shit."

Taehyung's smirk vanishes.

In a flash, he lunges.

Jungkook barely dodges, twisting to the side just in time, but Taehyung is relentless. He moves fast, and Jungkook isn’t a fighter he doesn’t have brute force or years of experience throwing punches. But what he does have is speed, quick reflexes and the sheer, unshakable will to protect you.

A fist catches Jungkook’s side, making him stagger back, but he barely registers the pain before Taehyung moves toward you again.

And that’s when Jungkook stops thinking.

His hand finds a broken pipe lying in the dirt. In one swift motion, he grips it tight and swings, slamming it straight into Taehyung’s stomach.

A sharp gasp rips from Taehyung’s throat as he doubles over, coughing violently. But he’s not down. Not yet.

Jungkook doesn’t wait. He reaches for you, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist. His eyes meet yours, urgent and fierce.

"Run."

The pounding of your footsteps echoes against the pavement, your lungs burning as you push yourself to keep running. The night air is thick, every breath heavy with exhaustion and fear.

Behind you, Taehyung is gaining. His ragged breaths cut through the silence, his footsteps unrelenting.

“You think you can run from me?” His voice is sharp, twisted with amusement and fury. A metallic glint catches the dim streetlights indicating he has a knife now.

Panic seizes your chest.

Jungkook’s grip tightens around your wrist. He doesn’t slow, doesn’t hesitate just yanks you sharply to the side. Your vision blurs as he drags you toward a dark, skeletal structure.

A construction site.

You stumble into the half-built building, weaving through stacks of bricks and steel beams. The scent of dust and concrete fills your lungs as you press yourself into the shadows, trying to quiet your frantic breathing.

Jungkook releases you only to crouch down, scanning the ground. His fingers curl around a rusted wrench, heavy in his grip. It’s not much, but it’s something.

“Stay behind me,” he whispers, his voice steady despite the fear you know he must be feeling. Your heart slams against your ribs. Your thoughts are spiralling. You should have been more careful, quieter when slipping out of the house. You can't believe you're the reason Jungkook is in danger, that he is the one standing between you and the threat. It should be you protecting him, not the other way around.

The footsteps slow. Taehyung has followed you inside.

A chilling silence settles over the space.

Then, a low chuckle.

“You can’t hide forever.” His voice is laced with amusement, the scrape of his knife dragging along metal making you flinch. “Come on, Jungkook. You really think you can protect her?”

Jungkook doesn’t move, his stance solid, wrench gripped tightly, shoulders squared. The tension is suffocating, every second stretching unbearably. You don’t dare breathe. Then Taehyung moves. The knife slices through the air.

Jungkook barely dodges, instinct driving his body before his mind catches up. The blade misses him by inches, but there’s no time to think, theres no time to breath, only react.

With everything he has, he swings the wrench. It connects hard against Taehyung’s wrist.

The knife clatters to the ground.

But Jungkook doesn’t stop this time.

His fist collides with Taehyung’s jaw, the impact ringing in the empty construction site. The force of it sends Taehyung staggering back, his body slamming against a stack of bricks. He’s weak now, unsteady, but still smiling like he’s enjoying this.

And then, in a last, desperate attempt, he speaks.

“You really think you’ve changed, Jungkook?” Taehyung breathes, voice laced with mockery. He spits blood onto the dust-covered ground, laughing through the pain. “You’re still the same pathetic kid I used to toy with. Weak. Spineless.”

Jungkook’s breath hitches.

“You’ll never be enough for her.”

The words land heavier than any punch ever could. For a split second, Jungkook falters. The old wounds, the taunts, the bruises, and the humiliation come rushing back. The memories claw at the edges of his mind, threatening to pull him under.

He remembers the way they used to laugh at him, the cruelty in their voices, the way they looked at him like he was nothing. Like he would always be nothing. He was the loser, the punching bag, the boy who never fought back. Every insult had carved itself into his skin, every shove had left something deeper than just bruises. They made him believe it. That he was worthless. That he would never be enough.

And then there was you. You. The only light in the darkness, the only person who had ever looked at him without disgust. He fell so hard, so helplessly in love with you, even though you belonged to Taehyung. It was cruel, really. The way fate played its hand. You were Taehyung’s girlfriend, yet you were the only one who saw Jungkook. The only one who stood up for him when Taehyung and his gang pushed him down. When he was at his lowest, you were there, offering kindness.

But how could you have chosen him? Him? A pathetic loser who had spent years as the butt of every joke, the weakling who was too afraid to fight back. He hears the echoes of their laughter, the mocking whispers that still live inside his head. Maybe they were right. Maybe he really is nothing. Maybe you made a mistake choosing him.

Taehyung’s voice is smooth and insidious, wrapping around him like a noose. The doubt, the shame, the years of self-hatred it all pulls him under, dragging him back to a place he swore he’d never return to. His fists loosen at his sides, his body feels too heavy, like he’s sinking into the past, like he's losing himself all over again.

But then—you.

You, standing behind him. The warmth of your presence, the unwavering belief in your eyes. The way you never once hesitated to love him, to choose him. His heart pounds against his ribs, pushing away the suffocating weight of the past.

No. No.

He is not that boy anymore. He is not weak. And he will not let Taehyung twist his mind, not when he has you to protect.

The hesitation vanishes as Jungkook moves, striking once, then again, each blow fueled by something raw, something deeper than anger—something desperate. His jaw is clenched, muscles taut, as if he is holding back years of something buried deep inside, something he never let himself feel until now. You have never seen him like this. Then another hit. And another.

His knuckles split, blood dripping onto the cold concrete, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Not until Taehyung stops moving.

The only sound left is Jungkook’s ragged breathing. His chest heaves, his hands shaking.

His eyes, dark and unfocused, burn with an intensity you have never seen before. It is not just fear, nor is it just anger. It is something far more terrifying in its certainty, something that does not waver, something that does not break. It is an unrelenting, all-consuming protectiveness, the kind that leaves no room for hesitation, no space for doubt. And the most haunting part of it all—you know he did it for you.

“Jungkook.”

Your voice is sof t but it cuts through the chaos like a blade.

He freezes.

His chest rises and falls in uneven bursts, his knuckles raw and bloodied. His grip on the wrench trembles, muscles locked so tightly you wonder if he even hears you.

Then he looks at you, and in that moment, something inside him fractures. The fury that had burned so fiercely in his eyes splinters, crumbling into something far more fragile: fear. But it is not fear for himself. It is for you. For what could have happened. For what he almost became.

You take a step closer, carefully, like you’re approaching a wounded animal. His breathing is ragged, his body strung so tight it might snap. But he doesn’t move away when you reach for him.

Fingers brushing against his wrist, you gently pry the wrench from his grip. His hand is still trembling when it slips from his grasp, clattering onto the ground.

“It’s over,” you whisper, your voice steady even as your own hands shake. “I’m okay.”

Jungkook swallows hard, his throat working around unspoken words. The wail of sirens cuts through the heavy silence, distant but growing closer. Someone must have heard the commotion and called the police.

Taehyung groans from where he lies sprawled on the ground, too weak to move, too beaten to fight. But you barely spare him a glance.

Jungkook exhales shakily, his entire body trembling with the aftermath of it all. His fists are still clenched, his knuckles still bleeding, but his eyes are different now.

They are not just the eyes of your sweet, oblivious boyfriend anymore.

He steps closer, hesitant, hands hovering over your arms, your waist, checking, searching, needing to convince himself that you’re still here. That you’re real.

“I could’ve lost you,” he breathes, his voice rough, breaking at the edges.

The weight of his words settles deep in your chest.

You reach up, cupping his face, your thumb skimming over the small cut on his cheek. He flinches at the touch, but not from pain he just wasn’t expecting something so gentle.

“But you didn’t,” you murmur.

Jungkook’s breath shudders out of him. His lashes flutter shut for a second, his jaw tightening like he’s holding something in, something overwhelming, something too big to put into words.

Then, in a voice so quiet, so broken, it almost shatters you

“I was so scared.”

And just like that, everything collapses.

The rage, the adrenaline, the fear everything he had forced himself to carry, to bury, it all crumbles in one breath.

You don’t hesitate. You pull him into you, arms wrapping around him, and he clings back just as tightly. His grip is almost desperate, his fingers pressing into your back like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.

Then, suddenly, he tilts his head down, capturing your lips in his.

The kiss is not careful. It’s not soft.

It’s raw. Desperate. Heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.

His lips press against yours with an urgency that steals your breath, like he’s trying to pour everything he feels into this moment. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he wants to lose himself in you, in the feeling of you alive and warm in his arms.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, anchoring him to you, and he sighs into your mouth—a broken, trembling sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

When you finally pull back, foreheads pressed together, Jungkook’s breath is warm against your skin, uneven and ragged.

He’s still shaking.

And you hold him tighter, letting him feel it all.

The flashing red and blue lights spill across the pavement as the police cars screech to a stop.

Jungkook pulls away just enough to look at you, his hands still cradling your waist, like he’s reluctant to break contact. His eyes search yours, and for the first time since this nightmare began, you see something unshakable in them.

Taehyung’s screams cut through the air as he thrashes against the officers, his wrists locked in cold steel. His voice is hoarse, spewing empty threats, venom dripping from every syllable—

“This isn’t over!” he snarls. “You think you can take her from me?”

Jungkook doesn’t react. He doesn’t even spare Taehyung a glance.

Instead, he lifts a hand, brushing his fingers lightly against your cheek, grounding himself in the fact that you’re safe.

His voice, when he finally speaks, is low, steady. A quiet promise.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

And for the first time you believe him.

Because this isn’t the same Jungkook who was oblivious, who used to let things slide, the one who always saw the good in people even when they didn’t deserve it.

This is the Jungkook who stood his ground.

The Jungkook who fought for you.

And if the world ever tried to take you away from him again, he wouldn’t hesitate.

The park is quiet, bathed in the soft glow of late morning light. Birds flit between the branches, their songs blending with the gentle rustling of leaves. A cool breeze brushes against your skin, carrying the scent of freshly baked pastries from the open basket beside you.

Jungkook sits across from you on the checkered picnic blanket, absently poking at his croissant with a fork. His knuckles are bandaged and a faint bruise lingers on his cheek just below the strip of medical tape.

You watch him, waiting.

He hasn’t said much about it. But the way he holds himself now, shoulders squared just a little more, gaze a little steadier it feels different.

“You know,” you start, plucking a strawberry from the fruit bowl and tossing it into your mouth. “For once, I wasn’t the one saving your ass.”

Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “Don’t remind me,” he mutters, but there’s a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. “I’m still getting used to it.”

“You should be proud,” you tell him, shifting onto your knees so you’re closer. “Not just because you fought. But because you didn’t let him win.”

Jungkook exhales, rolling his jaw like he’s still processing the weight of it. “I used to think…” He hesitates, gaze flickering down to his hands. “That I’d never be the kind of guy who could protect someone. That I’d always be the loser who let things slide.”

You reach out, fingers curling over his bandaged knuckles, squeezing gently. “You were never a loser, Jungkook.”

You trace a light touch over the bruise on his cheek. “And if you’re measuring strength by how many fights you win, you’re missing the point.”

Jungkook’s lips twitch, his fingers tightening around yours. “Oh yeah? And what’s the point, then?”

“That you were strong even before this,” you murmur. “You didn’t need to throw a punch to prove that. But I think… you finally see it now, don’t you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, but the tension in his shoulders eases. Then, with a soft chuckle, he tilts his head and smirks. “So what you’re saying is… you’re swooning over me right now.”

You roll your eyes, but your laugh gives you away. “Unbelievable. One heroic moment and your ego skyrockets.”

“What can I say?” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I’m basically a knight in shining armor now.”

You groan. “You’re literally covered in bandages, Jungkook.”

“Battle scars,” he corrects smugly.

“You are so—”

He cuts you off with a kiss.

His lips taste like the strawberries you were just eating, but there’s something else too, something warmer. The quiet relief of knowing you’re here. That you’re safe. That you chose him, again and again.

When you finally pull away, Jungkook rests his forehead against yours, exhaling quietly. “I wouldn’t hesitate,” he murmurs. “If it ever happens again. If the world ever tries to take you away from me.”

Your heart clenches. You press a kiss to his bruised cheek, whispering against his skin. “I know.”

For a while, you just sit there, basking in the quiet hum of the park, in the way his fingers stay laced with yours. The past still lingers, but it doesn’t hold you down.

You’re here together.

And for now, that’s all that matters.

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lmk ur thots <3

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jimxnslight · 11 months ago

Text

Fool's Gold || Part I

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

<< masterlist || next part >>

“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”

Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook.

Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises.

On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month.

When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence.

“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”

He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again.

“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence.

“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”

Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”

Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”

He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously.

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again.

“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”

“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”

“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”

“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?”

Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”

Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him.

“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.

“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”

Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, “you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer.

“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.

Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”

Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery.

At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now.

Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love.

Only power.

The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white.

You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands.

The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle.

To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did.

He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too.

He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin.

Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head.

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone.

Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him.

Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.

As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you.

You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month.

The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.

Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof.

Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there.

Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.

To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words.

At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be.

Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention.

A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you.

So he tried not to be unsettled.

He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning.

He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground.

He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.

Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?

The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance.

The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him.

It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.

Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely.

There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax.

He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat.

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids.

“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”

The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly.

Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” He prodded.

Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”

Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”

“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought.

“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly.

“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on.

“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”

Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”

Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”

“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk.

Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding.

It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons.

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two.

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”

The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.

“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.

“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”

To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them.

Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”

Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information.

“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant.

Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful.

A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open.

The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead.

Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space.

The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you.

You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance.

You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well.

“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him.

Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her.

“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now.

His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed.

Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights.

“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee.

Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?

“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze.

Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other.

But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything.

“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well.

You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief.

He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”

You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne.

He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous.

“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak.

Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster.

Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side.

It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands.

“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?

He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later.

“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway.

“I don’t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment.

He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”

But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again.

“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”

Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you.

You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him.

A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer.

His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.

His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look.

Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.

Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud.

“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes.

Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink.

“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.

But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions.

“Jungko-”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold.

“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.

Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form.

“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest.

“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.

“P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air.

Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke.

“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout.

Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now.

“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.

You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression.

He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation.

“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more.

“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”

Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”

You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”

Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”

But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous.

“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability.

“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”

The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.

“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow.

Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.

Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”

You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.

“I want a divorce.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it.

It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment.

You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.

“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.

Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.

“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”

Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.

Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly.

“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump.

You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone.

“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”

He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”

Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”

It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak.

“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”

You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him.

And that was something he needed to make sure you knew.

“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”

Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”

“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick.

“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”

Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation.

It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare.

He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.

“Good, then we’re done here.”

He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.

“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”

Jungkook tilted his head in response.

“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”

Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”

He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.

Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony.

Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing.

His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze.

What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness.

But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce.

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.

You were quite the enigma.

But he was going to enjoy the challenge.

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

3K notes · View notes

marknee · 1 month ago

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bts fanfics i think shakespeare would enlist himself into the military just to show the boys.

chapter iv. ✷ chapter vi.

KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEARE’S STATE:

( ✮ ) — he’s not really thinking about enlisting, is he?

( ♬ ) — what do you mean shakespeare shaved his head?.. oh no.

( ✎ ) — don’t military bases have security? how the hell did that man get inside?

( ♛ ) — he’s proper pulling a cross country right now. the boys look confused. and horrified.

THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.

WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if they’re underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, there’s that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content is highlighted in bold.

NOTE: dear readers, did you miss me? it’s been a while since i’ve shared my secret recommendations with you. but, since the two year anniversary of this special series has recently passed, i thought it was about time i spoiled you again. i’ve had quite a while to think about this one. so, i hope you’re ready. let’s give shakespeare something to enlist for.

( ♛ ) AMALTHEA — by @daechwitatamic

!! seokjin x reader | 40k !!

best friend’s older brother!au, smut (18+), fluff, angst.

bfb! bfb! my best friend’s brother, my friend’s brother! bfb! bfb! my best friend’s brother, my best friend’s brother!

this is one of the BEST seokjin fics i’ve ever read. straight to the point but there is no other way to put it. got to the point i would wake up earlier just to read another chapter before work. i was always present, bitch.

alike most of you, as someone who reads A LOT (re: i have no credentials for this, just my mum), i can tell when someone pours their every blood, sweat and tears (ha.) into writing. and for me, this is one of those writers.

this writer really shocked me at how much i connected to this story whilst reading n how attached i felt after finishing. caught me off guard, but so did death to shakespeare… sooo, what can i say.

“it’s been over a decade since that night, and you still don't know if he meant his family, or you.” dude i wish you could’ve seen my face. lmfao.

let’s just say there’s a reason this one’s first. amazed. truly.

( ♛ ) MOON MAGIC — by @jincherie

!! hoseok x reader | 33.8k !!

mermaid!au, pirate!au, fluff (like.. teeth rotting).

“and he calls me mooonlight toooooo,” she sings into the empty crowd with tears in her eyes. she meaning me.

now i know i’m known for having a sweet tooth, but damn! youse are gonna eventually turn me into an elizabethan england commoner. y’know, the crap dental hygiene n all. (re: shakespeare’s teeth.)

but, you know me. i looooove a good ‘ol fantasy inspired fic, so i guess i’m willing to risk a little here. and this one was worth risking for.

slams hand onto the table. the world building! this writer was not playing around when it came to painting us a picture of the world they wanted to create. i wanna live in this fic i’m not joking. get me in touch with namjoon asap for some of that moon magic shit. ok, rolls credits.

perfect in every single way. this is my first run-in with this writer, but am i swimming (sorry.) my way over to their masterlist? yeeees.

“he laughs and tells you that, actually, it's probably the youngest three princes that are most beloved by all.”

yea girl. not on my watch. enjoy!

( ✎ ) ALL GROWN UP — by @btsgotjams27

!! jungkook x reader | 64k !!

friends to lovers, older woman/younger man, smut (18+).

the fact this fic was loosely inspired by one of my all-time comfort kdramas… i didn’t even have to question adding it to my list. it felt like i was watching it for the first time again… deeply sighs. ahhh the nostalgia…

i had this fic bookmarked on my ao3 for the looongest time, but it was only recently that i got round to actually reading it. and i’m so glad i did. bless her, she was waiting for her moment to shine. and it’s now.

youngest kids in the family please raise your hands! all in attendance! you are welcome and appreciated here. the feeling of desperation, trying to get people to see you as your current age rather than the little kid they’ll forever remember. i think that’s why i loved this fic so much: i could relate to it.

alike this story, most fics on here are on the older side of things. but honestly, if it’s good and genuine, it’ll last forever. no matter how much time has gone by. feelings stay - perhaps even grow?

the same for our adorable pair over here. could time play in their favour?

you let me know when you finish it.

( ✮ ) ALIVE AHA FXCK — by @softyoongiionly

!! vampire!yoongi x human!reader | 42k !!

vampire!au, smut (18+), soulmate!au (you know i had to), please read the trigger warnings.

devoured. no pun intended. though other vampire synonyms include but are not limited to: consumed, ate, guzzled, feasted etc… thank you google, after a few questionable internet searches.

i cannot tell you how glad i am that shakespeare never wrote about vampires. cuz he would’ve written my ass into that damn thing and killed me off from the things i’ve said about that guy. and the things i will continue to say…

i love this fic on a personal level. it reminds me of being fourteen again, curled up in my sheets as the sun reaches the tip of my windowsill and the morning chill settles in after a night of fighting sleep to finish a fanfic. it’s safe - i’m safe.

i genuinely had so much fun reading this story. the characterisation of both the reader and yoongi is so unhinged and playful and i’m obsessed. if i could recommend it to anyone, it would be my younger self cuz i know she’d love it :,). n she did!

y’know, sometimes you just gotta read a silly - infused with twilight puns - vampire-themed yoongi fic for the world to feel alright again.

and it did - for me. n now - for you.

( ♛ ) OLDER — by @lovieku

!! dilf!jk x inexperienced!reader | 18.2k !!

smut (18+), dilf!au, best friend’s father, age gap.

pure, undeniable and utter filth. in the best fuckin’ way possible. yea, if you could crawl into my mind, plunge into the inky depths of whatever lurks there.. this is what you’d find lying on the sand floor. unadulterated sin.

i am so disgustingly obsessed with this fic i can’t explain it, hence why it’s ended up on my shelf of recommendations. it scratches and pleases a deep, desperate itch in my brain. maybe it’s the age gap, who knows?

this writer has a talent for making us - or, me. - claw at something forbidden in an almost hungry advance. the sinner doing the sinning. and goddamn, i’m impressed. n i bet shakespeare is too. well, he fuckin’ better be.

the characters are imperfect and selfish and lustful, but oh my god i love them. add on dilf!jk with his slutty, unbuttoned shirts and you have me sold.

@lovieku you are such an amazing writer. you have such a way with how you express. do not underestimate that. i am beyond excited to see your future works :)

masterpiece. but what the fuck was that ending.

( ♛ ) HABITS OF A CLANDESTINE NATURE — by @alphabetboyluvr

!! college!jk x female!oc | 16k !!

rich!jk, waitress!oc, enemies to lovers, smut (18+).

he got, he got away! he got away! he got away! he’s got a way, he’s got a way! awayyyyheyeyyyyheyyy! yea, but didn’t manage to escape a 460-year-old poet, nor me.. so..

clementines, fruit trees, the sound of innocent laughter, wind chimes, a sheer blur of colour, soft hands. things that come to mind whenever i am reminded of this fic. a solid and beautiful depiction of hurt and love and everything in between.

this writer knew straight off the bat how to sell this pair to the audience. how to capture us and string us along for the journey of two hurting, longing and hurting all over again. shakespeare bought the hanging fruit that’s for damn sure… me too then, perhaps.

the vision for this story is perfect to me. i almost want to give the writer a kiss on the forehead.

i did write down one quote; used from the story. a way to sum it all up. “the perfect place to get lost. the perfect place to get found, too.”

if you’re looking for somewhere to get lost, i hope this satisfies that need. i also hope i come back to read this every once in a while. for old times sake. to get found again.

( ♬ ) GUILTY AS SIN — by @gldrushh

!! brother in law!jungkook x widow!reader | 32k !!

forbidden love!au, smut (18+), angst.

“it began to lose its meaning. healing. as if it were something—a destination you could stumble upon.” oh, don’t even talk to me. people died. shakepeare died. april 23rd 1616.

god, this story is just so raw in and of itself - perfectly depicting the human experience of love and loss. inevitable and sometimes unexpected. i was - n still remain - in awe.

i crossed by this fic unexpectedly and i’m so glad that whatever butterfly effect led me to finding this succeeded, but damn that action also had consequences… like real bad… haha….

i want to cry every time this fic crosses my mind. dramatic? lil bit. but when you read it, holy shit - this will make sense to you young’uns. in due time.

well, to be even more dramatic as such… my wounds from reading this are still fresh (i will sob don’t test me), so i hand the torch over to you to make of this story what you will.

please go into this fic with no expectations. go in willingly and just… fall into it. i will be on the other side when you resurface and i will definitely say something ironic.

like i told you so. xx.

( ♛ ) CALLING PRODUCER MIN YOONGI — by @bangtan-dreamland

!! yoongi x reader | 4.6k !!

strangers to lovers, just fluff all around.

now this is the bitch i aspire to be. dials random ass numbers of random ass strangers just to yap. oh yea, that’s my kinda girl. i just hope she knows she’s the coolest person ever to exist to me. i want to buy a star for her. a big, bright one.

i think i have said this before, but never ever underestimate the power of a drabble. a short fic of little can hold the weight of ten times that amount. especially this one (which i read that long ago but has ultimately ended up here - says it all tbh).

this fic is everything and more to me. i miss it when i’m not reading it, and i miss it when it’s right in front of me. it has me wanting to ring up random people in hopes of meeting my true love - which i won’t, but who knows what might happen?

also, to point out - the immense chemistry between these characters is off the charts. felt like i was intruding on my own phone call.

good dialogue? tick. amazing characterisation? tick. interesting plot? tick. has shakespeare wanting to never learn how to use a phone in case he puts this fic to shame? tick.

lol.

( ✎ ) THE LOVE PROGNOSIS — by @awrkive

!! surgeon!jk x surgeon!reader | 90.9k !!

roommates!au, medical!au, smut (18+), fluff.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh. aaaand scene!

can i be honest? y’all stress me the fuck out! and you know who you are! starts with ‘j’ ends with ‘k’. the other one being ‘s’ ends with ‘e’. but one of you i like more and it’s not you, shakespeare.

the time it took me to finish this insanely crafted three-parter was embarrassingly short. (i think i formed a dent in my bed). so when i finished i was - obviously - heartbroken, so i did what every sane person does. i read all the drabbles. aaaand the tlp social media extras. and listened to the playlist. and cried. duh.

whilst all the fics on here deserve their own kdrama, i feel this one would ruin me completely. it’s weightlifting fairy kim bok joo all over again. it’s potential is there. like, c��mon screenwriters. i know you want to. or just pay me to do it.

the characters, the yearning, the friendship - immediately gets flashbacks… - ten’s across the board!

@awrkive is one to look out for. for real. i - along with everyone else here - will be tuning in. full volume.

oh yea, whilst we’re all still here. fuck that other guy. you know who you are! (no spoilers here).

( ♛ ) LET’S GET QUIZZICAL — by @taleasnewastime

!! jimin x f!reader | 28.6k !!

friends to lovers, angst, smut (18+).

sooooo… what i’m hearing is.. we all weren’t aware flo rida’s stage name is just florida with a space..? right? right.? cuz when you say it like that..

having been a victim of multiple pub quizzes in my past (haven’t won - yet!) the dialogue in this story was fucking perfect and scary real, depicting the anxiety, thrill and pure adrenaline running through your body as you rack your brain of every dumb fact you’ve ever read and hope it’s made a home somewhere up there.

not to mention you gotta trust your teammates like your life depends on it - cuz it fuckin’ does. n park jimin being one of them? the rest of the teams… y’all better not even bother showing up atp.

i thought the manor of the story being told through its settings was.. a slice of genius. so so cool and helped set the tone too. every time we transported back to the quiz i clutched my pearls in sheer relief.

also, i wish i could’ve highlighted angst in bold cause damn! you really hit us round the head with that one. and ofc i loved it, but damn. take notes, shakespeare. we don’t have to be killing characters off to ruin mk’s life. hm?

nothing less than spectacular from our @taleasnewastime.

( ♬ ) TRICKS OF THE TRADE — by @stutterfly

!! yoongi x reader | 24.1k !!

body swap!au, soulmates!au (you know me), smut (18+), humour.

peers down through speckled glasses, what’s next..? …oh god. sighs heavily and licks pen.

so i knew from the moment i read ‘body swap’ within the tags that this concept was gonna be so fuckin’ weird but so damn good. and low n behold, it didn’t disappoint. luckily i am a lover of fuckin’ weird.

this concept is so difficult to write. the foreign sensation of a different body and trying to channel each thought n emotions involved is complicated to convey, but this author did it so incredibly well.

also, not to be that person… but that smut… i’m gon’ be sleeping soooo well tonight let’s just say that lmfao. 100/10. might go back n read it when i’m done with this.

blushing… X

shakespeare couldn’t even fathom a story such as this - and we’re talking about the guy who once wrote about an incestuous relationship between a king and his daughter.

crazy work. you are so cool @stutterfly.

( ✎ ) TRIVIA LOVE — by @luxekook

!! namjoon x reader | 5.4k !!

non idol!au, smut (18+).

to quote myself from my reblog on feb 26 2020, “why was i smiling the whole way throughout this??” n you know what? hell yea i still stand by that!

this is the second pub quiz fic i have within this chapter (surprisingly, but not disappointing), but the circumstances cannot be more different.

the first group i would join, perhaps even rally with a little. but if i’m ever attending a pub night and these mother fuckers are in tow, best believe i’m leaving. they’re not ones to fuck with yo. they have $20 to win. they mean war.

since we’re at the end, and i’m 100% convinced nobody is still reading these, soooo… i can speak my truth. someone get me on joon’s lap. you gon’ be calling me cinderella cuz it’s gonna fit perfectly by midnight bro. on the dot.

this is - n will always be - a classic to me. one that i will always return to eventually. i can dress up all i want with these big fics, but these smaller ones are always a guilty pleasure.

like cinderella returning to her mice friends (or whatever), i will always come back to @luxekook and their stories.

forever xoxo.

MARKNEE’S SPECIAL MENTIONS:

caught my attention, and deserve their flowers.

( ♬ ) THE DEVIL SKATES ON THIN ICE — by @vankoya

!! yoongi x reader | 60.5k !!

winter sports!au, fluff, angst, humour.

my love life also skates on thin ice. lmfao. especially after this.

( ✎ ) KNOCKED — by @sailoryooons

!! streamer!seokjin x f!reader | 10.6k !!

roommates to lovers, smut (18+), humour.

more like she’s about to knock him out.

( ♬ ) NEFARIOUS — by @yoonia

!! jimin x f!reader | 39.2k !!

sex club!au, gentlemen club!au, smut (18+).

lets out a long sigh. won’t be in a rush to forget this one.

( ✎ ) THINGS WE DON’T SAY — by @wintaerbaer

!! taehyung x reader | 54.5k !!

best friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut.

the found family trope is strooong.

1K notes · View notes

jjkssin · 2 months ago

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Embrace of Ruins. Jk

Pairing: King jk x widowed (fem) reader.

Character count: 14,962

Genre: Dark Romance | Historical

Tropes: Dominant , controlling jk, forced proximity, obsession , captive romance, war , fragile female lead, mentions of death, mature.

Summary: When ruthless warlord Jeon conquers a rival kingdom, he slaughters its royal bloodline including the cruel king who once claimed Y/N as his wife. But instead of casting her aside, Jeon takes her as his own, stripping her of her former title and making her his possession. She was never meant to be a queen. She was meant to be his.

The air reeked of blood and burning wood, the sky dark with the smoke of a fallen kingdom. Screams had long since faded into silence, leaving only the sound of victorious banners fluttering in the wind.

The Kingdom had fallen.

This was not just another kingdom swallowed by his empire. No this war had been waged with a purpose far beyond power. It was her. The ghost of a woman he had never seen, only heard of in whispers the famed beauty of the lost kingdom, Y/N.

People had spoken of her ethereal grace, of her skin that glowed like moonlight and eyes that held galaxies within them.

At the heart of the carnage, Jeon sat upon the grand throne, one boot resting on the fallen king’s lifeless body and the golden crown of the fallen king crushed beneath his boot.

The scent of blood and smoke lingered in the air mingling with the screams of the last remnants of a dying dynasty.

His victory was absolute. The kingdom now belonged to him. And so did everything within it.

Including her.

She was a vision in a silk dress , the color of winter’s first snow.

___

Amidst it all, She ran.

Bare feet against the cold marble, her silken gown now soaked in the lifeblood of her people, dragging behind her like a ghostly shroud. The palace corridors, once familiar, had become a maze of death and ruin. She barely noticed the bodies, the shattered glass of once grand chandeliers. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat, the rasp of her breath and the distant clamor of armored boots in pursuit.

She had seen him.

He had stood amidst the wreckage of her throne room, a wolf in the den of slaughter, dark eyes scanning the ruin with calculated indifference.

He had looked at her like a claim already made, and that had been enough to send her fleeing.

She stumbled through the grand doors of the palace and into the frozen night, her thin gown no barrier against the relentless cold. Snowflakes kissed her tear streaked cheeks as she pushed forward, her breath rising in desperate clouds.

The forest loomed ahead a tangle of frostbitten branches and endless dark. She plunged into its depths without hesitation. The crown she had once been forced to wear had been torn from her head, her hair cascading around her face in disheveled waves.

The trees whispered around her, the wind howling like a grieving specter. Her feet tore through the frozen undergrowth, bare skin sliced by unseen thorns but she did not stop.

She could not stop.

She knew they would come. She had seen it in his eyes obsidian pools that swallowed light, a gaze that spoke of possession and a hunger far more dangerous than the battlefield he had razed.

She tried to be silent, tried to disappear into the vast expanse of snow and night but her body betrayed her. A misstep her foot catching on a hidden root sent her tumbling forward. She crashed into the snow, pain exploding through her limbs as she gasped, clawing at the frost with trembling hands.

She scrambled to rise, but it was too late.

A shadow loomed over her, swallowing the pale light of the moon.

Him.

The air shifted with his presence, heavy with something she could not name. His breath came steady, controlled, unaffected by the chase. He had known this would happen. He had allowed her to run, entertained her futile escape before closing in like a beast playing with his prey.

"You thought you could run from me?" His voice was velvet over steel, dark and slow, as though savoring the moment.

Y/N trembled, her body wracked with exhaustion, yet she found herself inching back, her palms sinking into the snow.

Jeon crouched before her, gloved fingers tilting her chin upwards, forcing her to meet the gaze she had so desperately tried to avoid.

"You should know better" he murmured, his lips brushing against hers. "I do not chase what I do not intend to catch."

The rumors had not done her justice.

She was exquisite, a masterpiece carved by the gods themselves.

Even in her disarray, she was ethereal.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she did not fight. She had nothing left to fight for.

A cruel smile tugged at Jeon's lips as he leaned forward.

"Your king is dead. Your kingdom is mine"

With that his hand moved lower, gliding down the torn fabric of her gown, feeling the tremor beneath his touch. And then without warning, he slid his arms beneath her one under her knees, the other wrapping around her back.

She gasped as the ground disappeared beneath her, the sudden closeness of him knocking the breath from her lungs. Her hands instinctively grasped at his shoulders, clutching at the thick fabric of his cloak as he lifted her effortlessly.

The world around them blurred as Jeon carried her back, his strides slow, deliberate, savoring every second of the act.

His men stood waiting at the forest’s edge, their eyes carefully averted, knowing better than to interrupt.

Jeon was the master of every inch of this kingdom now but she was a different kind of victory.

A victory he would not let slip from his grasp

Jeon had wanted her from the moment he had laid eyes on her. A forbidden desire had taken root deep within him when he had first seen her beside the now dead king , a man unworthy of even touching the hem of her gown, much less claiming her as his.

The journey from the snow laden forest to Jeon’s kingdom was a silent one. His kingdom loomed ahead like a fortress of stone, walls that could never be breached.

When they finally crossed the threshold into the warmth of Jeon’s kingdom, the heavy iron gates closed behind them with a resounding clang, sealing off the outside world.

He called for his servants, his voice firm and authoritative.

“Take her to my chambers,” he ordered coldly. “Strip her of the dead king’s colors. She wears only what I give her now.”

The scent of lavender and jasmine filled the air as the maids scrubbed away the blood, the dirt, the remnants of her former life.

But no matter how many times they washed her, no matter how many hands gently soothed her skin, there were things that could not be erased.

The marks on her body. The scars both physical and emotional that she had borne under her husband’s cruel reign.

Afterward, Y/N was dressed in a delicate white nightgown. It clung to her thin frame, the silk soft against her skin, but it did nothing to ease the chill in her bones. The gown was far more modest than the opulent dress she had worn in her past life but it was far too intimate for her current circumstances.

As the maids finished their task, they led her down the stone corridors of Jeon’s castle to his private chambers.

The room was enormous, warm with a roaring fire. She stood silently before him, her eyes cast downward. Jeon stood by the bed his posture strong, unyielding and as always, a palpable aura of control surrounded him.

He moved toward her without a word, his presence overwhelming.

His eyes narrowed as they settled on her shoulders and arms.

His fingers hovered near her shoulder, brushing against the faded remnants of bruises.

“That pathetic excuse for a king,” he spat, his voice dripping with disgust.

“A man unworthy of a throne, unworthy of a crown and certainly unworthy of you."

Jeon growled, his hands flexing as if he longed to tear apart a man who was already rotting in the ground.

"What did you call him?" he mused, tilting his head. "My king? My husband?" He laughed, dark and mocking.

"No king allows his castle to fall while he cowers in his chambers. And a husband…" He paused, his fingers ghosting over the fading bruises on her wrist.

His expression turned cold. "A husband does not treat his wife like a common whore to be used and discarded. I barely had to lift my blade before he was groveling at my feet, begging for his life like a spineless dog"

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, the image flashing in her mind. She had not loved the king, but his death had been brutal. The sound of steel slicing through flesh, the gurgled choking as he bled out it haunted her.

Jeon exhaled, stepping back slightly.

"I should make you my whore," he mused. "A slave to warm my bed, nothing more. It would be fitting for the widow of such a disgraceful man."

Her stomach twisted in fear.

"But no," he murmured, as if reconsidering. "Though your husband was a disgrace, you are now mine"

His gaze darkened, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

"Did he ever touch you properly?" Jeon murmured, his voice turning low, almost teasing.

Jeon chuckled darkly. “Of course not. I imagine he was just as pathetic in bed as he was on the battlefield. Weak. Incompetent.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her ear. “Did he even know what to do with you? Or did he fumble like the fool he was?”

Y/N’s breath stuttered. The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating. She didn’t want to answer. She didn’t want to think about it.

Jeon chuckled at her silence.

“You will no longer be a widow,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather.

“You will be my wife. You wil bear my mark and sleep in my bed and by the time I am done with you, you will forget you ever belonged to anyone else.” His voice low in command.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. "W-what?

Jeon smirked, amused by her reaction. "You are still royalty, no matter how pathetic your bloodline is. And I do not waste what has value." He reached for her again, his fingers brushing over the fabric of her underdress.

Before she could protest, Jeon grasped the thin strap of her underdress and pulled, the silk slipping from her shoulder with ease.

Y/N gasped, instinctively clutching the fabric to her chest.

"Still shy?" His fingers trailed down her arm, his touch deceptively soft.

"Your husband must have taken his pleasures without care. Rushed. Unskilled."

His gaze flickered over her, unreadable.

"A shame. I prefer to savor what is mine."

Y/N trembled as he grasped the other strap, slowly sliding it down her shoulder. The silk pooled at her collarbones, threatening to slip further.

Y/N’s throat tightened, a tear slipping down her cheek . Heat rushed to her cheeks, shame and something unfamiliar twisting inside her.

"You were wasted on him," Jeon murmured. "But you will not be wasted on me."

His hand gripped her waist, pulling her closer. She gasped, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"You will be my wife before the sun rises. And no kingdom, no force in this world will take you from me."

Jeon murmured, his voice laced with something deeper, something unshakable.

“I could touch you in ways that pathetic fool never could. I could make you beg, make you forget he ever existed.”

His hands slid lower, gripping her thighs holding her still.

“You will know what it means to be wanted,” he promised. “To be craved.”

She closed her eyes as his lips descended, as his touch deepened, as the last of her old self was stripped away like the silks of her gown.

She had been the queen of a doomed king. A nameless ghost in a gilded cage. A woman forgotten by the very man who had sworn to own her.

But Jeon was not a man who forgot what belonged to him.

He pressed her back against the silk draped bed, his gaze burning into hers as he loomed above her, all shadow and heat, all power and intent.

"You will curse me," he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers, "and you will crave me all the same."

His mouth claimed her then, slow and consuming, as if proving his words true. As if sealing the vow between them with something far more binding than marriage, more damning than devotion.

She let herself sink, let herself be undone, because there was no kingdom left to fight for, no crown left to bear, only this. Only him.

And as his hands traced a path of ruin and worship alike, she realized something with aching finality.

She was not lost. She had simply been claimed.

The first light of dawn crept through the towering windows, painting the stone walls in hues of muted gold. The warmth of the sun did nothing to chase away the lingering shadows of the night before.

She stirred, her body aching not from pain, but from the imprint of him.

Her body heavy with exhaustion.

Her skin burned where his touch had claimed her, the memory of his hands and his voice still lingering in her senses like a lingering scent, impossible to escape.

She blinked against the morning light, the thick, heavy silence of the room pressing down upon her. The bed was empty beside her, the space where Jeon had been only a ghost of heat.

A low voice broke the silence. “Did you sleep well?”

Her body tensed, her muscles still trembling from the storm of the night before. Jeon stood near the tall windows, his silhouette framed by the light, his presence as imposing as ever.

He looked unchanged powerful, untouchable.

"Get up," he commanded, already reaching for the black silk robe draped over a nearby chair. "We have matters to attend to."

She hesitated, sitting up slowly, the silk sheets slipping from her bare shoulders.

"What matters?"

Jeon turned, fastening the robe around his waist, "Our wedding."

Her breath caught.

Jeon chuckled, "What? Did you think I would leave you as a nameless concubine?" He stepped closer, gripping her chin between his fingers.

She searched his gaze, trying to understand, to make sense of this shift. "Then... I will be the queen of this place?"

"You wish to rule?" His voice was measured but there was an edge of something deeper beneath it.

Y/N swallowed hard. "No. But.." She hesitated, unsure how to put the ache in her.

She trailed off, shame burning in her throat.

Jeon studied her, a thoughtful hum vibrating from his chest. "You are not meant for war," he said at last.

"Not meant for bloodshed and for dirty politics." He tilted his head, his gaze heavy.

"You are meant for me."

His words did not soothe her as he likely intended them to.

She had listened. She had obeyed. She had surrendered in body.

But she would not surrender this.

"I will not marry you," she said, her voice quiet, yet firm.

"I will not be your wife unless I am your queen," Y/N said, her voice trembling but unwavering. "You took my kingdom, my home, my name. If I am to be bound to you, I will not be just another possession. "

His fingers curled slightly, then relaxed. Slowly, he turned, dark eyes locking onto her with something unreadable something slow-burning, something dangerous.

"You will," he said simply.

She lifted her chin, a flicker of defiance breaking through her usual obedience.

"Not if I am not to be queen."

A slow, mirthless smirk tugged at his lips. "Is that what you want?" He stepped toward her, his presence suffocating, the air in the room shifting like a storm about to break.

"A throne?"

She clenched her fists in her lap, her pulse thrumming against her throat. "I was a queen before you tore my kingdom apart." Her voice did not waver, though her breath did. "I will not be cast aside as some nameless wife while you rule alone."

Jeon studied her in silence, the weight of his gaze heavy, assessing. Then, without warning, he moved.

Faster than she could react, his fingers closed around her throat not choking, not hurting, just a firm grip, possessive, commanding. He tilted her head back, forcing her to look up at him, his thumb pressing lightly against the delicate pulse at her neck.

"You speak as though you have a choice."

She gasped softly but she did not break away.

Jeon’s other hand traced the curve of her jaw, his touch deceptively gentle, a contrast to the quiet fury simmering in his dark eyes.

"You were not a queen," he murmured. "You were a prisoner in a cage, a wife to a spineless rat who did not deserve you. You wore a crown but it was never truly yours. "

His fingers tightened slightly around her throat, enough to remind her of his power, enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"And now, you demand a throne beside me?" He leaned closer, his breath fanning against her lips. "No. You will kneel before it instead."

Her heart pounded, her breath shallow, but she still managed to whisper "If I mean nothing more than a body in your bed, end this now."

The air shifted violently.

Jeon’s grip tightened for the briefest moment just long enough to make her dizzy before he released her completely. He exhaled sharply, stepping back, his jaw taut, his gaze dark with something volatile.

For the first time since conquering this land, since taking her, someone had denied him.

And he did not tolerate defiance.

"Very well," he murmured, his voice eerily calm. "If you will not walk to the altar, you will be dragged to it."

Today, she would become his wife.

Not his queen.

He would marry her, not as a political arrangement, not as a necessity but because he wanted her.

He was a conqueror. He alone was enough to rule his land.

The silk gown clung to Y/N’s trembling frame, the deep red fabric as heavy as the chains she could not see but could feel in every step she was forced to take. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails pressing into her palms as the realization settled deeper into her bones. The room was deathly silent, the air thick with the scent of incense and candle wax.

Jeon stood before her, a predator draped in black and gold, exuding dominance with every breath. His patience was a thinly veiled thing, stretching dangerously as he watched her remain still, unmoving, unyielding.

"Come forward," he commanded, his voice steady but edged with warning.

Her feet refused to move.

In a single, fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, his fingers wrapping around her wrist in an iron grip. He yanked her forward, forcing her to stumble against his chest.

“You speak of power as if it is something I would give you,” he murmured, his voice deceptively soft, venom laced beneath the words. “You forget your place.”

She gasped, struggling against his grip, but he was relentless, his fingers digging into her wrist as he pulled her through the vast hall.

"You will stand beside me, Y/N," he said, voice cold, final. "But a throne is not something I share."

He did not stop until they stood before the officiant.

A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Jeon studied her for a moment before sighing, almost in disappointment.

“I was willing to grant you this wedding without force. To let you walk beside me, instead of dragging you like a conquered spoil of war.”

“I did not win this kingdom with patience. I won it with blood.”

Then, louder, he addressed the officiant. “Begin.”

The ceremony was as empty as her heart. No grand feast, no celebration. Just her, him and the officiant bearing witness to the binding of a vow. She repeated them in a hollow whisper, her voice barely her own.

But as he pulled her in for the final kiss, sealing her beneath his name, his rule.

He tasted the salt of her tears on her lips.

For a moment, just a moment, he felt the bitter sting of something less than victory.

Because despite binding her to him, despite claiming her, despite stealing her body, her name. He felt the weight of something he could not conquer.

He had burned kingdoms for her. Killed kings for her. Stolen her from the ashes of a life she never wanted. Yet her sadness was a wound he could not stitch.

Jeon had indeed won the war.

But he had not won her.

(End)🤍

1K notes · View notes

lex1i0 · 3 months ago

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bts fic recs

✿ - my favorites

✧ty for the resources :))

— Seokjin

ᰔᩚ Mold a Pretty Lie by @blog-name-idk {college!au, unhealthy & toxic relationships, virgin reader, eventual yandere, eventual smut}

ᰔᩚ Scale by @shina913 {richboy!au, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, smut}

ᰔᩚ Internal Conflicts by @yoongiofmine {non idol!au, fluff, angst, smut, step brother}

✿ Off Limits by @floralseokjin {brothers bsf!au, smut, angst, fluff}

ᰔᩚ Cupids on Holiday by @persphonesorchid {angel!au, fluff, angst, smut, slight enemies to lovers, humor}

ᰔᩚ Paraluman by @muniimyg {love triangle, fwb to lovers, bsf to lovers, smut, angst}

ᰔᩚ Lets Get Married as a Joke by @burningupp {angst, fluff}

— Namjoon

✿ A word from our sponsors by @100vern {podcast, friends to lovers!au, crack, smut, fluff}

ᰔᩚ The Holiday Pretense by @mortallydeepestobservation {fake dating!au, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers, crack, smut, fluff}

ᰔᩚ Perfect Plan by @mortallydeepestobservation {friends to lovers, fwb?, angst, fluff, happy ending}

ᰔᩚ Beauty & The Bookworm by @jungshookz {uni!au, librian!namjoon, fluff, angst, smut}

— Yoongi

ᰔᩚ Sugar Rush Ride by @lo1k-diamonds {fluff, smut}

ᰔᩚ Dillema by @trivia-yandere {drug dealer!yoongi, smut}

ᰔᩚ The Road not Taken by @prodagustd {brothers bsf, one sided pining?, slow burn, angst, fluff, smut}

ᰔᩚ Oh, Darling! by @yoongiofmine {non idol!au, uni!au, fluff, angst, smut}

✿ Between the Titles by @highvern {fluff, smut}

✿Three Tangerines by @kithtaehyung {brothers bsf!au, implied age gap, angst, fluff, smut}

ᰔᩚ Minted by @kithtaehyung {angst, action, smut, haegeum!au, gang!au}

ᰔᩚ Take a bite by @glossdebut {smut, fluff, angst, slowburn}

✿ bbydaddy!yoongi by @muniimyg {smut, fluff, angst}

ᰔᩚ So it goes by @prodagustd {fwb to lovers, fluff, smut, angst}

✿ Terms & Conditions by @ktownshizzle {fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au}

ᰔᩚ The Deal by @untaemedqueen {drug lord!yoongi, fluff, smut, angst}

ᰔᩚ Whispered Vows by @lostbookmark {angst, fluff, smut}

✿ Dating Advice by @taleasnewastime {strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, smut}

ᰔᩚ Love and Lullabies by @ktownshizzle {fluff, angst, smut, idol!au, acquaintances to lovers, dad!yoongi}

✿ Hook, Line & Stinker by @yoonmetogether (smut, fluff, angst}

— Hoseok

ᰔᩚ Heartbeat by @joonbird {gang!au, fluff, smut}

ᰔᩚ Guarded by @xjoonchildx {mafia!au, e2l, slowburn, eventual smut}

ᰔᩚ Connotations of Sin by @persphonesorchid {fallen angel!au, angst, fluff, smut, horror}

— Jimin

ᰔᩚ Serendipity by @mikrokosmoslove {ceo jimin!au, lovers to enemies to colleagues to lovers, angst, smut, drama}

✿ Silk Sheets by CallMeByYourName97 {sugardaddy!au, smut, fluff, toxic relationship}

ᰔᩚ Growing Pains by @taleasnewastime {unrequited love, brothers bsf, mafia!au, fluff, angst}

ᰔᩚ In the wake of your leave by @taleasnewastime {unrequited love, brothers bsf, slowburn, mafia!au, angst}

— Taehyung

ᰔᩚ A really great (love?) story by @whatifyoulivelikethat {non idol!au, fluff, smut, friends to lovers}

ᰔᩚ Stuck with you by @jungshookz {roommate!taehyung, uni!au, enemies to lovers, fluff, smut}

— Jungkook

ᰔᩚ Strictly Platonic by @jeonqkookskooks {college!au, bsfs to lovers, fake dating!au, fluff, angst, smut}

ᰔᩚ Game on @sparklingchim {footballer!jungjook, fake dating, f2l}

ᰔᩚ I Want You to Stay by @ahundredtimesover {boss!jk x assistant reader, strangers to lovers, slowburn, angst, smut, fluff, drama}

ᰔᩚ Bbydaddy!jk by @muniimyg {exs to lovers, fluff, smut, angst}

✿ Home by @bonny-kookoo {est relationship, foreigner!reader, fluff, smut}

✿ Hotter than Hell by @chateautae {supernatural/fantasy!au, romance, e2l, road trip, angst, fluff, eventual smut}

ᰔᩚ Paraluman by @muniimyg {love triangle, fwb to lovers, bsf to lovers, smut, angst}

✿ Sauvage by tjunglebook {ceo!jungkook, fluff, smut}

— Ot7

ᰔᩚ Change my mind by @winterzsurprise {soulmates!au, f2l, eventual smut, slowburrn, polyamory}

✿ Little do You Know by @yoongiofmine {fluff, angst, smut, playmate!au, idol!au}

ᰔᩚ Back Home by @alexlwrites {college!au, romance, humor, fluff, angst}

✿ Everything Falls (Into Place) by @blog-name-idk {college!au, roommate!au, fluff, humor, smut}

ᰔᩚ Sh. by @wwilloww {non idol!au, wilderness!au, f2l, smut, fluff, angst}

#bts #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #hobi x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #hoseok x reader #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #fluff #smut #bts x y/n #bts fanfic #fic rec #bts fic recs #angst

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gldrushh · 3 months ago

Text

GUILTY AS SIN? | JK | PART 𝐈

"You are stuck in time, and Jungkook doesn't stop running from it until he eventually does, and you learn that grief doesn’t wait for death, that love isn't all that dignifying."

→ Pairing brother in law!Jungkook × widowed fem!reader

→ Genre forbidden love! au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, smut

→ W.C 17. 32k

→ Warnings unrequited love :(, oc is in love with his older brother, early character death of the said older brother who is haunting the narrative, cute childhood sweethearts who are doomed by me, mentions of dealing with grief and acceptance, mention of cancer, a minor scene where harassment is attempted,emotionally troubled! oc, emotionally troubled and detached! jk, simp jk, pathetic man in love, he's so so lovesick, ceo! jk, protective jk, yearning, pining, loads of angst, fluff if you squint, breif yoongi mention, namjin yay!!,rich people party, mentions of anxiety,sexual tension,slow burnish,smut (omg everyone look away), kissing, unprotected sex (raw and deep, next question),dirty talking, oc is insecure,hickies,oral (f! Receiving), he cums in his pants,big dick jk, soft Dom Jungkook, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie, praise, cuddles if you squint again

→ Playlist Guilty as sin, control, killing me softly with his song, do I wanna know?

→ A/N the idea of this one shot came to me at 1 am when I was supposed to be studying for a test that probably my future depends upon and after much much complementing I'm finally posting it. To me, its very experimental and I was just trying to explore my writing style and writing things that I haven't before, like smut 🫠 so please please bear that in mind!! I hope you enjoy reading and if you did please comment!! It makes my whole day 🥰💕💕

P.S: cross posted on wattpad.

| PART 1 | PART 2 |

It is a believed fact that it takes three to four short months to fall in love.

For you, it took one summer. The summer spent watching him sketch galaxies in the dirt with a twig, summer spent learning the way his laughter sounded after stealing popsicles from the freezer, summer spent holding his hand as they made paper planes under the blazing sun. It was the kind of love that grew roots so deep, you couldn’t separate where he ended and you began.

That summer, you met Minho. The boy next door with a mind as wild as his curls and a heart so warm it seemed to shine blindingly bright. He showed you how to climb trees, told stories he'd crafted all by himself, convincing you that the universe could be held in the palm of your hand. He shared his world with you, and you fell in love with it.

You kissed his cheek on the porch of your house one late July evening, bold and brimming with the kind of confidence only childhood summers could bring. “Now you’re gonna have to marry me, Min Min,” you teased, hands behind your back, your toes curling against the wooden floorboards.

He blushed, a shade of red that rivaled the setting sun, but his grin mirrored yours.

The porch of your house was a witness to many things. Your first steps, held your first scraped knees, your first dog and Minho's new brother; your new friend.

A boy of your age, younger than Minho had appeared from right behind him, his hands clutching onto Minho's flannel, his watchful eyes going everywhere all at once. The kind of boy who never spoke unless he had to, the kind who was more familiar with loss than comfort, lingering on the edges of things, unsure if he belonged.

Jungkook.

Now, Jeon Jungkook.

You and his brother had taken it upon themselves to bring him into your fold, turning your duo into a trio. With time, he laughed with you both, trusted you both, became one of you both.

The three of you were inseparable— in the backyard of your house, in elementary school, in high school. How could you not be? You had tied the promise in the form of handmade friendship bracelets around the wrist of both boys.

Even though what you wanted with minho was far from friendship. A bold dreamer, you always have been. But not so much when you turned sixteen. Sixteen; what a awkward age.

An age of overthinking haircuts, dreams, and the lives your peers are gonna live all at once. Visits to the school councilor are doubled. Relationships happen; Friends part.

But you only grew closer with Jungkook. He didn’t seemed interested in making a move on the timid, short haired girl who passed him notes in chemistry class, neither did he talk much about the future. When you asked him what he wanted to do, he’d shrug and say something like, “Whatever makes sense at the time.” He wasn’t aimless, exactly—just grounded in a way that made you think he didn’t feel the need to plan everything out.

Minho, though, was spiraling.

He now spent more time with the councilor that he spent with you both. Had this bitter look on his face every morning you saw him on the bus stop that will have you sharing a knowing look with Jungkook—Minho had been having a lot of fights with his dad, had been overthinking a lot more because the world seemed so much bigger than he had imagined.

Maybe for the eldest son and heir to a family that ran a company as old as the town itself, the world really was big. But to you, he was just a hopeful boy with all the colors in his eyes. The colors that you loved. The colors that didn't belong in a office, crunching numbers.

Your heart ached for him, but you didn’t know what to say. At sixteen, nobody has the answers.

Seventeen is a different story. It's a starlight dream. It's you acing the college entrance test. It's Minho surfacing back. It's Minho kissing you on that very same porch, promising, “One day, we’ll have our own porch, and I’ll kiss you there every day.”

And he was one to keep his promises.

You married him at twenty-five, in crisp autumn. To your family and friends, it was "About time." To you, it was nothing short of a dream as you walked to promise forever to the man you love, a vision in white. It was nothing big, just a dreamy intimate affair with soft twinkling string lights. Something you both agreed on. Because you were content with what you had, overjoyed actually after picking out a quite cozy apartment for the both of you and landing a job as a humanities professor in a university that wasn't too far from the said apartment. Minho was too and while things weren't the same with his father now, he did what he loved. Ever the artist at heart.

It was like everything you ever wrote in your middle school diary, everything you wished for was now laid under your feet like a carpet unfolding.

You were given a good time before it started pulling away from your feet.

At first, it was subtle. A missed dinner here, a canceled hangout there. Then he told you both he’d taken up an opportunity abroad to manage the family business, something Minho had no interest in, just on the night of your wedding after he had fulfilled his role of the groom's best man, watched you walk down the aisle.

You hadn’t seen the decision coming—not that night, not like this—but you couldn’t deny it either. Jungkook had seemed restless here, especially after finishing college.Conversations with him in those days had been brief, distracted, his eyes darting to the distance even as he smiled at you. It felt as you were trying to talk to the Jungkook who had appeared on your porch the first time. He hadn’t asked for understanding, and you hadn’t known how to offer it. His reasons were vague, more like placeholders for something unsaid. And so he left, quietly, with little fanfare, and though Minho seemed sad to see him go, you could tell he understood.

“It’s good for him,” Minho had said. “He deserves something for himself.”

Relationship happened; Friends parted.

You weren't sure if you understood. While you agreed with Minho, you couldn’t help but feel the loss of a friend now that his calls became less frequent until they stopped altogether. One day, he was simply gone, leaving behind only the memory of the boy who had once trusted you with his rare, precious smiles.

"You’d laugh if you saw me right now. I tried to fix the leaky sink in the kitchen, and now the entire floor is flooded. Minho’s being no help—just standing there laughing."

"Hey, stranger. Our anniversary is next weekend. We’re just doing a small dinner. You should come. Seriously, koo, don’t make me guilt-trip you."

"Saved you a slice of cake, but Minho ate it. You’d better show up next year, or I’ll stop saving you anything."

"Hey, Koo. Just checking in. Hope you're healthy and happy. Would love to hear from you"

You'd text him timely, in hopes that he still knows how to use a phone. But apparently, not.

Still, you had Minho. Your husband, your best friend.

Until you didn't.

Until the carpet was at last, snatched right down from your feet.

The diagnosis came in the spring. It started with a faint weakness in his voice. A shortness of breath he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Just tired,” he’d say, smiling that same easy smile. But tired turned into tests. Tests turned into results. And results turned into a diagnosis that was oh so cruel.

Leukemia. Early stages. Aggressive.

The months that followed were a blur of hospital visits, treatments, and quiet nights where you held him as he cried. You tried to be strong, for him, for both of you. Told him what the doctor in the sterile white office will tell you. "They've caught it early so we're not at a great risk here." You'd reassure him. "You have yet to get away from me, min min." You'd try making him laugh but he had always been better at that.

Now, suddenly he wasn't. The next two years, your life was just the slow, agonizing process of watching the man you loved fade away, losing every bit of his lively soul to the cancer, holding his hand when he was too weak to hold yours back.

Perhaps it wasn't only Minho who was chipping away. It was you too.

You turned into the woman who knew exactly how to track medication schedules, who could list every side effect of his treatment in order of severity, who spoke with doctors as if reciting a memorized script. You learned how to bite back the frustration when he snapped at you because he was in pain, and how to smile when all you wanted was to scream at the unfairness of it all.

You started to measure time not in days or months but in cycles of chemotherapy, in percentages of remission and relapse. Life was divided into hours spent in sterile hospital rooms, waiting for results that were never as hopeful as you needed them to be, and hours spent at home trying to pretend those results didn’t exist.

You had stopped dreaming. And minho had stopped painting.

Grief doesn’t wait for death— or so you've realized as you often found yourself grieving the life you had built together, the one you knew would never be the same. You grieved the sound of his laugh, which became quieter as the months passed. You grieved the way he used to tease you about your love for terrible reality shows, You grieved the mornings spent tangled together, talking about everything and nothing.

By the time the end came, you had already lost so much of him that you thought you might be prepared.

You weren’t.

And then he was gone.

With an, "I'm sorry. I love you." He was gone.

The house was too quiet without him, the days too long. You withdrew, not just from the world but from yourself, letting grief shape the edges of your existence.

The world moved on, even if you didn’t. They tell you how long it takes to fall in love but not how long it takes to get over it.

2 years, 240 days. And you're still counting.

Time passed in pieces—fractured and unrelenting.

Your family, Minho’s family, even well-meaning friends—none of them knew what to do with the mess you’d become, so they did what people often did. They tried to fix it. To fix you.

Blind dates were their answer, little nudges toward what they called healing. The word had been said so many times it began to lose its meaning. Healing. As if it were something—a destination you could stumble upon.

You didn’t have the energy to argue anymore, so you let them dress you up, hand you phone numbers, and convince you that this—whatever this was—was what you needed.

But your heart wasn’t in it.

Because as the man sat in front of you in the dimly lit bar continued to talk about how his ex couldn't handle his success, the trials of being a man with ambition, you really couldn't even bother to pretend you were interested. He was nice enough—tall, well dressed (consdering the dingy bar) with a confident smile but your thoughts kept drifting, as they often did.

2 years, 240 days since Minho had died.

2 years, 240 days of waking up alone in your bed, his side untouched.

2 years, 240 days of trying to find your way back to the woman you used to be.

“Hey,” the man interrupted your thoughts, leaning forward with an eager grin. “I feel like I’m talking too much. Tell me about yourself. What do you do for fun?”

You forced a smile, your stomach twisting. “I paint. It’s... therapeutic.”

“That’s nice,” he said, reaching across the table to touch your hand. You pulled back instinctively, your stool scraping against the floor. His brows furrowed.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I just—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, but his tone was tighter now. He leaned back, shrugging as if trying to dismiss the moment. “You know, you should loosen up a little. You’ll never find anyone if you keep acting like you’re still married.”

The words hit you like a slap, your chest tightening as you struggled to process the audacity of his statement. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, ignoring the warning in your tone, “you should give people a chance. I mean, you’re here, right?” He smirked and stood, coming around the table. “Let me take you home. We can—”

“Stop,” you said sharply, rising to your feet.

But he didn’t listen. His hand reached for your arm, his grip firm.

Then, just as suddenly as he’d grabbed you, he was gone.

The man stumbled backward, a hand jerking him by the collar. The force was so swift, so unexpected, that it took you a moment to register what had happened.

And then you saw him.

“..Jungkook?” The name caught in your throat as you turned.

You took in the man standing before you, taller and broader than you remembered, the years etched into the sharp lines of his jaw and the set of his shoulders. His dark eyes were fixed on the man who had dared to touch you, glinting coldly.

His voice was low, dangerous. “She said stop. I suggest you listen.”

For a moment, the world tilted.

You weren’t in a dingy bar anymore.

You were standing at the edge of a memory—the first time you’d ever seen Jungkook, the quiet boy who clung to Minho’s shadow.

And the last.

The last time you’d seen him, a looming figure in an ocean of black suits. A barely recognizable shadow among the mourners at your husband's funeral.

Now, standing before you, he was real, tangible—and so was the flood of emotions crashing over you.

It was so loud, you could barely hear as the the man stammered out an excuse, something about a misunderstanding.

“Leave.” Jungkook snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut and bring you back to the moment.

The man hesitated, his mouth opening as though he wanted to argue, but one glance at Jungkook’s expression and he decided against it. Without another word, he turned and stalked out, muttering something under his breath that neither of you caught.

Silence followed.

Only then did you felt his gaze on you. His presence was larger than life, and you were suddenly hyper-aware of how much had changed. How much he had changed. You hadn’t registered that at the funeral. Now, you didn't know what to say, you could hardly manage to look at him. While he wasn't Minho's real brother, didn't share any resemblance with him, it still hurt you, sucked you back into those times when it was the three of you, when it wasn't.

He too didn't reply right away, his gaze searching your face, as though he was also trying to piece together the version of you he remembered with the one standing before him now. When it landed on the arm you were clutching, the arm that dipshit had grabbed, you saw his eyes glint again.

"Did he hurt you?" It sounded more like a demand rather than a question but you couldn't even deciper the words, too focused on how his boyish tone had turned sharper, harder.

"W-What?" You fumble out like a fool.

"Did he hurt you, y/n?" This time, you heard him.

Letting your hand fall, embarrassed, you shook your head, finally managing to utter something sensible out. “No—yeah. I’m fine.”

He glanced back at the door that man had fled from before looking back at you. Finally, he exhaled, his voice low and quiet.

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

You blinked. “My phone?” You don't remember getting a call from anyone but then you realize your battery had died down as you looked down to see your dead device laying flat. "Oh. I didn't realis—"

“Mom said you’d been gone a while. Told me where you were.” He interrupted. There was an edge to his voice now, faint but undeniable.

You feel more embarrassed now that you know it's because of your mother in law's anxious nature that he is here. Your fingers brushed against the strap of your purse, desperate for something to do, something to hold onto as he speaks again. "Are you ready to leave?"

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could think them through. “I can get a cab.”

His brows furrowed, just slightly, and you noticed for the first time the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the hint of weariness in his expression. “It’s late,” he said simply.

"So?”

“So,” he echoed, his tone calm but unyielding, “I’ll take you.”

You hesitated, your pride and your exhaustion warring within you. Finally, you exhaled out in defeat, reaching for your coat. It's just a thirty minute ride. You reassured yourself. It'll be fine.

The cool night air wrapped around you and so did your coat as you stepped outside, and the streetlights cast long shadows that flickered as you walked toward his car. He opened the passenger door for you, his movements deliberate, and waited for you to slide in before closing it softly behind you.

The drive started in silence.

It wasn’t the silence of old friends, the kind that felt easy and safe. This was different—fraught, taut, like a thread stretched too tight.

You stole a glance at him as he started the engine, too aware of the small space you were packed in with him.

“I didn’t know you were back,” you said finally, your statement sounding more accusatory that you or he would have liked.

“Just for a little while,” he replied, his tone ofcourse, unfazed. “Business.”

Buisness. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the word. If someone could look like that word, you thought, it'd be the man in the fine tailored suit with eyes fixed on the road ahead and a rolex that didn't look any more cheaper than the car he was driving and you wondered.

Wondered if the lines of his palms—the callouses from late-night basketball games, the way they had felt solid and familiar when he held yours to steady you on the wobbly bike Minho had convinced you to ride—had changed too.

Had they turned forigen, unyielding? Had time eroded their familiarity?

When the car slowed, you glanced out the window, expecting to see the acquinated sight of your apartment building. But instead, the streetlights gave way to a quieter, darker road. You frowned, turning to him.

“This isn’t the way to my place.”

“I know,” he said simply, not bothering to elaborate. "You're coming with me."

You felt your chest tighten, your pulse quickening as unease prickled at the back of your neck. “Jungkook,” you started, the word heavy with protest.

"Y/N." He ends, sparing you a glance that has you sinking back into your seat, arms folded across your chest like a petulant child that you could swear made his lips twitch at the corner, you could swear you saw your old friend who had grown a sassy tounge at the age of fourteen that'd earn smacks at the head from his older brother for a fleeting cruel second there. But that was it. It was gone as fast as it had appeared, summoning the return of the silence that felt like its own living thing.

The house was still the same.

That was the first thing you noticed as the car slowed down in front of the building that loomed at the end of the road like a memory waiting to consume you.

The overhead lights still flickered faintly, casting shadows across the steps where you and Minho had once sat, daring each other to stay outside until the stars disappeared. Even the smell was the same—faintly woody, with the comforting hint of whatever candle Jungkook’s mom always lit in the hallway.

You hesitated in the doorway, the memories rushing in too fast, too loud. It's not like you haven't been here in ages but since the year you celebrated your first marriage anniversary with Minho here, it felt like you have lived a thousand lives.

Lives that haunted you still, made you randomly pause in the grocery aisle and now before this house until you felt Jungkook’s presence press behind you as if silently urging you on.

Clearing your throat, you slipped out of your heels that have been as much as pain as the man you had been on a date with. The floor creaked softly beneath your feet as you stepped inside, the sound jarring. The same hardwood floors, polished to a faint sheen. The same floral wallpaper lining the hallway. The same photo frames arranged along the wall—a collection of childhoods captured and frozen in time.

But as you glanced toward the corner of the living room where the three of you used to pile up pillows and blankets for makeshift forts. The corner was bare now, save for an old armchair, but in your mind, you saw it vividly: Minho’s determined grin as he shuffled the pillows, Jungkook, always following the lead but never quite competing for it. You would snuggle a pillow to your lap, nestled between the two brothers, peeking from behind your fingers and giggling at the the way Minho’s face would light up in triumph when he won another round of rock-paper-scissors.

A type of smugness that came from knowing he’d get to flick Jungkook’s forehead next. But your smile would fade as soon as you would realize that it's your turn next. “Wait, wait!” you’d plead, wide-eyed, deploying the best puppy-dog look you could muster. It was the same look that had, on occasion, earned you extra TV time with your dad. Jungkook would glance at you and chuckle. Relent like your father would and sheild your forehead with his palm that'd have Minho pouting. "Hey! That's not how you do it!"

"Y/N?" A well recognized voice pulled you back to the where you were supposed to be, back from the fort of pillows and blankets.

You turned around and instantly found yourself wrapped up in a tight hug. You managed a small smile, letting your arms wrap around the warm frame of your mother in law, the scent of her jasmine oil and apprehensive energy pulling you in. "Mom." You greeted back.

Mrs Jeon hadn't always been this.. overbearing. Though after the passing of your husband, she had teamed up with your mother and been on a determined mission to make sure you are well and on a road to healing.

The next few minutes, she did what she had been doing best—fussed over you, asking how you’d been, if you’d eaten, if you were warm enough. In that time being, Jungkook had resigned to wherever his room was.

You planned to do the same, especially now that you could see on her face how she is on the brink of asking about the disaster tonight. You showed some obvious sign of weariness, in hopes she'd let it go for the night and tell you where you're supposed to go to bed for.

"Third on the left, my dear. And I'm gonna need you to stay for breakfast, okay?" You wondered if stubbornness was a running streak in this family.

Hours later, sleep had yet to come.

You lay awake, staring at the ceiling, counting the faint grooves in the plaster as if they could somehow lull you into rest. The trick didn't work. It hadn’t worked in your own apartment either—the one you and Minho had picked out together, picked the colors of the walls together, and argued over where the bookshelf should be. Yet, it was still your space. You could control how you faced the memories there, pacing them, deciding when and how to confront them.

There, at least, you’d managed four or five hours of sleep on a good night. Here? In this house that held so much of him, so much of them, you weren’t sure you’d manage even one.

The room you were led to was neat and welcoming, the kind of space that had been carefully prepared for guests. But there was no comfort to be found in the knowledge that two doors down lay Minho’s childhood room, untouched, a shrine to a boy who grew up into the man you loved and lost.

At some point, you gave up.

Sliding out of bed, you wrapped your arms around yourself as you padded quietly downstairs. The house was silent as you made your way downstairs, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound, the indistinct glow from the kitchen spilling into the dimness. You didn’t expect to find anyone there, but as you rounded the corner, your steps faltered.

Jungkook stood by the counter, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, his other resting on the marble surface. His jacket was gone, abandoned somewhere, leaving him in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Tattoos.

They sprawled across his skin, intricate designs etched into muscle and sinew, that you didn't think you'd ever see on him.

Perhaps you thought wrong. Perhaps you never knew. Never knew him.

He glanced up, his dark eyes meeting yours that looked just as caught off guard as yours did. For a moment, you didn't feel comfortable moving from your spot until he eventually spoke.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You shook your head, stepping into the kitchen. “Needed some water.” You said and opened a cabinet, finding the glasses exactly where you remembered, and filled one with water.

Behind you, Jungkook leaned against the counter, his presence impossible to ignore. Funny, how he always preferred to blend in the background as a child, now his mere cologne—earthy and warm—demanded attention, filled the room before he had even entered.

“Do you… do you drink often now?” you asked hesitantly, glancing over your shoulder, at the way his fingers curled around the glass, the tattoos on his hand shifting as he tilted it.

“Sometimes.” he said, his tone vague.

If things were anything like before between you two or anything like before at all, maybe you'd have pushed further, asked him if this was growing to be a unhealthy habit.

Now, it didn’t seem right when there was an ocean between you—a chasm of time. Felt intrusive. And you know it would only sound hypocritical from your mouth—talking about unhealthy mechanisms. Hah.

You ended up only nodding and put the washed glass back so you could go back to counting the grooves in the plaster. Resume your restless attempt at sleep.

But Jungkook spoke again.

"How long have you been going on.." He started suddenly, setting his glass down with a quiet clink. His voice was calm, but the muscle in his jaw twitched as he spoke. "These dates?"

You blinked at him, taken aback by the question. "Uh—for a while now, I guess?"

“Are you willing, or are they forcing you?”

The question, the way he asked it—sharp, direct—left you off balance. So did the way he was looking at you now, his eyes no longer holding the casualty as they once did when he had the glass of alcohol in his hand.

“I—” You faltered. “They just want to help. They think it’s time.”

“And what do you want?”

To go back to your room. To ask him what did it even matter to him, after all this time.

But what came out was forthright honesty. “I don’t know,” you admitted, “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

He stepped closer, his feet padding softly against the kitchen floor—a contrast to his rigid frame that now towered just close enough. Close enough to see how his chest rose and fell with every breath. Close enough to see how his eyes lingered on you, like he was trying to unravel something he didn’t understand.

“You don’t have to do anything for them or anyone,” he said, his voice soft but no less rough. “Not if you’re not ready.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to deflect, to do something, but his gaze held you in place, tracing down from the dark circles that weighted your eyes to your parted lips. All you could feel was his gaze burning on you and hear your own pulse in your ears.

“Jungkook…” His name escaped your lips in a whisper, barely audible.

He lingered for a beat longer, his eyes searching yours, then he stepped back, his jaw just as tight. “Get some rest.” He clipped out before he turned and walked away, leaving you alone again.

You didn't got any sleep that night.

8:00'o clock. The time's a etched number in your brain ever since you started your job at the university.

It's a routine that needs no alarm clock. It's a number you keep waiting for as you blink at the time passing. And you're more than eager when the morning comes softly along with smaller needle stopping at 8, sunlight slipping through the curtains in streaks too gentle to match the weight in your chest.

With Minho, you were the one to wake up first but here you find that the house was awake before you.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air, mingling with the faint sound of voices coming from the dining room. Breakfast was warm and lively, much like your mother in law. She greeted you with a brightness that almost made you feel guilty for your somber disposition.

“Good morning!” she said with a smile that could have been plucked from a painting. Reaching for a plate of toast, setting it down in front of the empty seat beside her.

“Good morning.” you murmured, sliding into a chair.

Across the table, your father in law sat at his usual spot, his attention fixed on his phone, only looking up to give you a nod of acknowledgment. You had never fully understood him, not as Minho’s father, not as a man.

Perhaps, It had always been because of the sore spot between him and your husband, the way his father disapproved of his wishes—choosing art over business, passion over practicality. You remembered the arguments you thought would never hear after the age of sixteen, the way Minho would come home, his face tight with frustration. “He doesn’t get it,” he’d say. “He never will.” You saw the way it wore on him, the way he carried the weight of his father’s disapproval like it was stitched into his very skin.

Even now, as you sat across from him, you wondered if he ever regretted it—if he ever wished he had spoken softer, loved louder. But his face was as impassive as ever, his thoughts a mystery.

“Jungkook left early this morning,” his mother said, breaking the silence. “Something about a meeting downtown.”

You nodded, relief washing over you in a way that felt almost shameful. You hadn’t realized how much you were dreading seeing him until you knew you wouldn’t have to.

“Busy as always,” you said lightly, reaching for your coffee.

The conversation drifted into familiar topics—neighbors, extended family, stories you half-listened to with polite nods. The table felt both too full and too empty, the gazes of all the people that sat there never straying to the right one in the left corner, just right beside yours.

The older woman turned to you, her tone bright with enthusiasm.

“There’s a party this weekend,” she said, her smile widening. “Just a small gathering with some friends and business partners. It would be lovely if you came with us.”

The suggestion made you squirm uncomfortably in your chair. “Oh, I don’t think—”

“It’ll be good for you,” she interrupted gently, her gaze soft but insistent. “Everyone would love to see you.”

You hesitated, the thought of mingling with people, of putting on a brave face for strangers already making you want to go back to bed. “I’m not sure I’d be good company,” You glanced towards your father in law, half-hoping he might say something to discourage the idea, but he couldn't be any less bothered.

“Nonsense!” she pressed. “You don’t even have to stay long. But it would mean so much to us.”

There was no malice in her persistence, no attempt to guilt you, just a genuine desire to include you in their lives. You couldn’t bear to disappoint her.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come.”

Her face lit up with a smile. “Wonderful. Jungkook will pick you up and bring you there. That way, you don’t have to worry about driving.”

You froze, cup midway to your mouth. "There's no need for that, mom."

"Oh hush." she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He’ll be coming from the office, so it’s no trouble.”

You nodded slowly, your appetite not too great or you just wanted to get out of here.

8'30. You glanced at the rose gold wrist watch, your first anniversary gift. Your first class is due in an hour, the perfect excuse wrapped around your wrist which you use to excuse yourself from the suffocating walls that always feel like they are closing in on you.

You have come to prefer the morning buzz of the university more—the hum of young adults chatting in the hallways, the scrape of chairs against tiled floors.It was a rhythm you found comforting, predictable in its own way. Here, you were just a professor, the one who explained history and philosophy with hands that only shook sometimes.

The teenage year you would have thought predictable as boring but you— a woman gone through a dubious sets of events found a fellow feeling in it.

Found the task of grading thesis, making power point presentation better than you would have ever imagined.

But Gods, your students need to realize that they can't dump about their toxic ex in every essay. A woman can only take so much.

You were sorting through the said papers in your office when the door creaked open, and a woman peeked her head in, the light from the outside catching in her curly locks.

“You busy?” she asked, her voice light and familiar.

You looked up to see Mira, the economics professor and one of your closest colleagues, walking toward you with her usual warm smile. Mira was more than just a coworker though—being practically family, the wife of Minho’s dark haired cousin who didn’t talk much in family gatherings, and over the years, she had become a friend you could rely on and share lunch with.

“Not for you,” you said, smiling as you waved her in.

She dropped into the chair across from you, setting her bag on the floor. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”

Was it that obvious?

“I didn’t,” you admitted, sighing softly. “I stayed at the Jeons’ last night.”

Her eyebrows rose, but there was something in her eyes—a softness, an understanding—that made you look away for a second. “How’d that go?”

You hesitated, picking at the edge of a notebook on your desk. “It was… fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Jungkook’s back,” you said, and her eyes widened slightly, the topic seeming to catch her attention.

“Really? I didn’t know he was in town.”

“Neither did I, until yesterday.” You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “Just for a while, though. Business stuff, y'know?”

Mira tilted her head, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “And how’s that going?”

You frowned, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, but her eyes stayed on you, curious. “I mean, it’s been years, hasn’t it?"

“Yeah,” you said slowly. "It's fine, I suppose. We didn't talk much."

“Hmm.” Mira hummed thoughtfully as if tasting the question she was gonna ask on her tounge. “Are you okay with him being back?”

Were you okay with him behind back? Okay with him stepping in your vicinity after years of acting like you were not even family, let alone a friend?

“I don’t know,” you admitted finally. “It’s strange seeing him again after all this time. But he’s been… kind. Quiet, mostly.”

Mira didn’t press further, but there was something in her expression that made you uneasy, as if she knew something you didn’t.

You cleared your throat, desperate to change the subject. “There’s a party this weekend. His mom invited me. Please tell me you’re going.”

Mira winced, her smile apologetic. “Date night with the husband. Non-negotiable.”

"Oh." You tried not to show the dejection on your face but it was there. "Lucky you."

She studied you for a moment, her expression gentle. “Are you okay with going?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I feel like I have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything for them. Not if you’re not ready.”

If only he understood how much easier it was to do things for others than to face yourself.

“Y/N…” Her voice softened, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to say more. Instead, she reached out and squeezed your hand. “You’ll be fine. And if you’re not, you can text me. I’ll make up some excuse to get you out of there.”

You smiled, grateful for her before bidding bye to her for her next class and focusing back on the pending work spread across your desk while simultaneously going through your closet in your mind.

Minho had always said red made the brown of your eyes excel more.

And you have really tried to believe it, looking at yourself from above your shoulder, from the side of your arm in the mirror but perhaps it's not only this red, off shoulder dress that's not doing your eyes justice. It's every color you have once known, once loved.

It's like, it's you that's not doing them justice.

As you stared into the mirror, your eyes flitting from one detail to the next—the slightly uneven tuck of fabric, the exposed skin of your collarbone—it felt wrong.

The little things were missing—his hands fixing the clasp of your necklace, his voice telling you not to overthink it, that you looked beautiful. That it didn’t matter what you wore, because it was you who wore it.

But he wasn’t here.

With a sigh, you adjusted the necklace you had chosen yourself, a simple silver chain that rested delicately against your collarbone. The mirror wasn’t forgiving, but you looked anyway, searching for something familiar in your own reflection. You smoothed your hands over the fabric, told yourself this was just another party, and dodged the doubts of this being a mistake.

The knock at your door came too soon, sharp and punctual, like everything Jungkook had become.

You felt your stomach clench, nerves twisting with something else you couldn’t name. Smoothing your dress one last time, you crossed the small space of your apartment, pausing just before the door.

When you opened it, Jungkook was standing right before you.

He had stood on the edge of cliffs where oceans met skies too, in countless countries at that, walked through streets that droned with history. Scrawled through the wonders of the world—the kind that made poets immortalize them in verse—but nothing—nothing—would ever measure up to this.

To you.

You, standing in the doorway, framed by the soft glow of the hall light, your hair falling in waves that he had memorized long ago.

His chest tightened, the memory of another doorway bleeding into the moment as gaily as if it had just happened. He had been in the room meant for waiting, where your parents had sat moments before, your mother sniffling into a tissue, your father pacing in his polished shoes. Now it had been his turn.

The thought alone of being the second person to see you before you walked away from him for good had made his tie that he had been trying to get the hang off felt too stressed around his neck, his palms clammy despite the air conditioning. He rubbed them on his pants, glancing at the small clock on the mantle every few seconds. The minutes dragged, each one seemed longer than the other.

What would you look like?

The thought ran circles in his mind, only for a creak of the door to startle him back.

Footsteps had echoed in the quiet, minimizing the distance until he could practically feel the nervous energy of a bride bounce against his. "Okay. You can turn around now." He had heard you speak, had seen the skittish smile on your face before he even turned around.

And when he did, he felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

The dress hugged you like it had been designed with only you in mind, its soft fabric flowing as if in defiance of gravity. Your veil cascaded behind you, catching the light, and your smile was small, almost shy, as you looked up at him, waiting for his reaction.

“Well?” you prompted, turning slightly, your hands brushing the fabric at your sides. “What do you think?”

What did he think? He thought the universe was wicked for allowing him to witness this and still expect him to let you go.

He had swallowed hard, forcing his voice to steady when he finally said, “You look—” His tongue had faltered over every adjective that came to mind. Beautiful wasn’t enough. Breathtaking felt like a cliché. “Perfect.”

You—Beautiful, Devastatingly, so.

You—who weren’t his to look at this way.

He feels his breath catch, his hands clenching at his sides to keep himself from reaching for you.

Because while that version of you had been a dream, this version—worn, weathered, but still so unmistakably you—was real. And the reality of you had always been what he wanted most.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t have agreed to pick you up, shouldn’t have stepped into this space, should have kept the distance he had spent years bridging.

But he has always found himself hopeless and running back to wherever you were concerned, hopeless in a way that had him studying for a test he didn’t even have to keep you company or show up.. here. Content to be near you in whatever capacity he could. He told himself it was enough. That it would be enough to watch you from the sidelines, to sit across from you at family dinners.

It wasn’t.

Because Jungkook wasn't a virtuous man. He never had been.

Virtue belonged to his brother—the one who could weave dreams out of thin air, who saw the world in colors Jungkook had never learned to name. His brother—Minho—who had been the light, the warmth that people, he gravitated toward. He had admired Minho, even envied him, resented him in ways he never admitted aloud and kept it in shadows.

When Minho died, the shadow became a man. And that man had spent years running.

Running into work, into unfamiliar cities, into the kind of purpose that left no room for thought. No room for the times when everything was right, when he tasted family and friendship for the first time ever, no room for the last time he tasted it when you walked down the aisle to his brother looking at him like he was the sun and how it burned, how he had burned with nails biting into his palms.

And only men with no integrity burn. Men who are cowards, restless, afraid of thier own greed try to run, in hopes that the distance would save them.

But distance didn’t save men like Jungkook.

Because here he was again, standing before you, the fire still smoldering.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice pulling him back, creating a doubt in his belief.

“Hi,” he replied, his own tounge feeling heavy in his mouth.

“You’re early,” you said, your tone carefully light.

He cleared his throat, his hands slipping into the pockets of his slacks in an attempt to keep them to themselves. “Traffic was lighter than I expected. Are you ready to leave?"

You nodded and he stepped back, revealing his sleek Mercedes benz parked just right in front. He let you walk before him, watching how your movements were hesitant, as if the ground beneath your feet wasn’t entirely steady. He wanted to ask you if you were okay. He wanted to tell you it was okay if you weren't.

He settled for opening the car door for you.

“Thanks for this,” you said, your gaze fixed on the passing streetlights. “I know it’s probably the last thing you want to do.”

His grip tightened against the leather of the steering wheel with a force that made his knuckles ache. There was a rancorous way that you spoke to him, carefully restrained, that he couldn't even blame you for.

"It's not." He gritted out. "It's not a problem."

He had earned every inch of this gap between you, had spent years building it brick by brick, mile by mile. He's all to blame for. For carving the space between you with every ignored call, every excuse he made to avoid family dinners where you’d inevitably be.

For the leaving the wreckage in his wake—yours, his, theirs.

It wasn’t fair to hate the consequences of his own choices.

But hell, if he didn't outright loathed feeling like he was staring at a wall of frosted glass when he looked at you—where he could see the outline of you, but the details were blurred, distant. Like he had lost the privilge of knowing you from one glance, lost the privilge of having you speak up to him whenever you wanted, call him out, intoxicate him with your laughter that lightened up a room he wasn't even aware was dark. Found it fucking unbearable.

So much that he felt relief washing over him when the venue of the gathering came in view. A grand mansion, framed by manicured gardens and sprawling oaks that seemed to whisper old secrets to one another. It had a timeless elegance that made you wonder how many lives it had seen pass through its doors.

Small gathering, she said. You scoffed internally at rich people and their definition of small.

“Nice place,” you murmured as you walked beside him, your steps careful on the stone path after the car was eased into a parking spot.

“It’s the Kim's family home,” Jungkook said. You nodded, though the name didn’t spark much recognition. The Kims had been mentioned here and there at family dinners—names dropped in passing between sips of wine and shared laughter. You had barely paid attention then, too busy suppressing laughs at the jokes that Minho whispered near.

The front doors were open, the faint scent of fresh flowers and expensive cologne wafting out to greet you. Inside, the space was as opulent as expected—high ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers, polished floors that gleamed under the soft light, and clusters of well-dressed guests milling about with drinks in hand.

A tall man stood near the entrance, his broad shoulders and sharp jawline making him impossible to miss. Beside him, another man stood with a softer air, his eyes crinkling with warmth as he leaned into the first man’s side.

The taller of the two men turned, his expression lighting up as he spotted Jungkook. “There he is,” He said, his deep voice carrying effortlessly.

"Hyung." Jungkook softened, clasping hands in a firm shake before pulling each other into a brief hug, the kind that spoke of collaboration and respect.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, your fingers curling around the strap of your purse as you wondered whether to step back and leave him to his conversation or stay and risk being out of place.Would it be rude if you chose the former?

You were saved from your uncertainty when the two of them pulled away from Jungkook and took you in, a gleam of recognition passing through their face. Recognition, shock, then pity. You know how it went.

“You must be Y/N,” the taller one said, his gaze shifting to you with a warm smile.

You blinked, clearly caught off guard by the direct attention. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Kim Namjoon ” he said, offering his hand. “And this is Seokjin, my partner.” You smiled, nodding in acknowledgment before taking the hand of the charming one in the beige suit. “It’s nice to meet you, both. This is a beautiful venue.” You assume that they're the hosts of the party. The Kims that this house belonged to.

“Thank my father for that,” Namjoon said with a chuckle. “Sixty years old and still insists on hosting the most extravagant parties. He’d never let me live it down if I didn’t pull out all the stops.”

“Extravagant is an understatement,” Seokjin chimed in, his tone playful as he glanced at Namjoon. “I’m pretty sure half the flowers in the city ended up here.”

You smiled again, but it faltered when Seokjin's expression changed in a beat.

“We’ve heard a lot about you too,” he said gently, his gaze dipping briefly to Jungkook before meeting yours again.

You tilted your head, curiosity flashing across your face. “All good things, I hope.”

“Of course,” Namjoon assured you. “Your family is well-regarded, and we-we're sorry about Minho. He was brilliant in every sense of the world. We can't even imagin—"

“Thank you,” you said softly, trying really hard to not let the tightening of your throat strain your voice. “He was.”

Jungkook watched as your smile faltered, just slightly, at the mention of Minho. He decided to steer the conversation away but you recovered quickly, offering a polite nod and beat him to it.

There was a brief, loaded pause before you glanced at Jungkook. “I should find mom. She asked me to join her earlier.”

"Yeah, right.” Jungkook said, his voice steady despite the way his chest tightened again when he looked at you.

You walked by Jungkook, brushing close enough that your shoulder brushed against his chest, the faintest hint of your vanilla perfume that was so maddeningly you lingered in the air. He tensed, his breath catching before he could stop it. His fingers twitched at his sides, an almost imperceptible motion, but it was enough.

Subtle as he tried to be, he caught himself leaning slightly, his chest rising with a quiet inhale as though he could take the ghost of your scent and keep it for himself.

"Not as subtle as you think." Seokjin snickered by his boyfriend's side who also raised an eyebrow, his expression knowing and somewhat giving away his discomfort. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

Shit.

Jungkook straightened, his jaw clenching as he avoided their eyes, fixing the collar of his shirt hoping they won't catch on the heat creeping up on his neck too. “Don’t.” he said quietly, his tone low and edged with warning.

"Maybe you don't sniff her like a dog in public? Maybe you have some decorum?" Seokjin judged, proud and loud.

"I have plenty, hyung." The younger male side eyed the older one, his eyes narrowed and the tips of his ears already crimson red like he was a boy caught watching porn for the very first time.

Namjoon sighed, though there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Let him be, honey.”

But the look he gave Jungkook was far from dismissive. It was the kind of look that saw too much, that peeled back layers Jungkook wasn’t ready to confront. Gods, he needed new friends.

He turned his attention back to the crowd where you disappeared.

The soft hum of conversations and the faint clinking of glasses followed you as you weaved through the grand hall, your eyes scanning for your mother-in-law’s familiar figure. The air in the mansion was heavier than it had been when you arrived, the brush of silk against silk, the way every movement seemed calculated, observed, and weighed.

You navigated through the crowd like a ghost in a gallery, your steps measured and slow, eyes flicking to the floor more than once to avoid the speculative stares. With rich circles came dirty gossip—whispered words disguised as laughter, false smiles that hid daggers. You’d learned to let them roll off your back, like rain on stone.

The Jeon matriarch had mentioned being near the back, closer to where the banquet tables were set. You followed the direction she’d gestured toward earlier, passing servers who moved seamlessly with trays of sparkling champagne.

Halfway through the journey, your steps faltered as your gaze landed on the centerpiece of one table—a chocolate fountain. Warm, rich, and cascading like liquid satin, it stood surrounded by an array of treats. Strawberries gleamed like rubies in the low light, their surfaces polished and inviting.

You hesitated, glanced around as if expecting someone to berate you for indulging in something so ordinary, but eventually, you plucked a strawberry and dipped it into the cascading chocolate.

You let the sweetness settle on your tongue, closing your eyes for a brief moment. For the first time all evening, you found this place somewhat tolerable.

Free food always making things better.

“Excuse me, miss.” a small voice piped up beside you, tugging on the flowy end of your dress.

A boy, no older than six or seven, stood by your side, his wide eyes flicking between you and the fountain. He looked as if he had stepped out of a luxury children’s catalog, his little suit tailored perfectly, his bow tie slightly askew. “Can you grab one for me? I’m not allowed to reach it by myself.” he asked, pointing at the fountain. His voice was polite, but there was a hopeful edge to it, as if he wasn’t used to asking for things twice.

“Of course, love.” you said, your lips curving into a small smile. You picked another strawberry, dipping it with care before crouching slightly to hand it to him. "There you go."

“Thank you!” he chirped, grinning immediate and radiant, the kind that softened the edges of a hard day.

"What's your name?" You asked him, crouching down to his level.

“Do-yun!” came a sharp voice, the kind that turned your stomach before your brain even processed it.

Who you assumed was the boy's mother stepped forward, her elegance severe, her lips painted in a red that matched the strawberries. She took her son’s hand but not before her eyes raked over you, head to toe, with an expression that left no room for interpretation.

"What did I tell you about bothering strangers?” she scolded do-yun who stared at the skewer in his hand apologetically.

“He wasn’t bothering me,” you said gently, straightening up and having the woman’s eyes flicker to you again, assessing.

“He just wanted a treat.”

Her eyes flicked to the chocolate fountain, then back to you, her lips pressing into a tight smile. “how kind of you.”

There was no warmth in her tone, no hint of gratitude. Just a faintly dismissive air. And with that, she turned, her child in tow, leaving you with the faint scent of something floral and the taste of bitterness on your tongue.

You'd learned better than to expect warmth from people bound by history.

You'd learned not to mind it. To overlook it. To not pay attention to them at all.

"That's her, isn't she?"

“Such a shame, losing her husband so young.”

“Yes, but you know, they weren’t exactly power players, were they? He was an artist, wasn’t he?”

The words hung in the air like cigarette smoke, acrid and inescapable.

A laugh, soft and cruel. “I suppose she’s lucky the Jeons still keep her close. Poor thing, all alone now. Must be awful.”

You stopped in your tracks. The sharp sting of their voices cut through the party’s hum, louder than the music, louder than your own heartbeat.

You could feel your palms start to get sweaty, eyes suddenly unable to meet anyone's.

Breathe. You reminded yourself.

One: Find your breath.

Two: Focus on something neutral—the fountain, the floor, the chandelier above.

Three: Remind yourself: They don’t know you. Their words are weightless.

But weightless wasn’t the right word.

“Though, you’d think she’d be a bit more modest. That dress isn’t exactly… widow-appropriate, is it?”

You tried to focus on your numbers but you lost it.

You turned, your fists clenched, your lips thinned, the polite demeanor cracking away from your face under the weight of your frustration.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “Was there something you wanted to say to my face?”

The women froze, their eyes widening in surprise. One of them, a younger woman with a nervous smile, tried to backpedal. “Oh, no, we didn’t mean—”

“Because if you have an issue with me or my dress, feel free to say it outright,” you continued, your voice clear despite the way your heart hammered in your chest. “I’d hate for you to waste any more time whispering behind my back.”

The group exchanged glances, communicating in a language of their own, you couldn’t care less about. Atleast not in this moment.

“We didn’t mean to offend,” one of them muttered, her tone brittle.

“Of course you didn’t,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “How could I possibly take offense to strangers dissecting my life as if it’s some dinner party entertainment?”

Stupid old hags with no life of their own!

You kept that to yourself.

Then, without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and stormed away.

The chandeliers above blurred as tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

You weren’t looking for anything specific—just distance, just air that wasn’t thick with judgment and whispers. A bathroom, maybe, though you weren’t going to ask for directions not when your voice felt like it would crack the moment you opened your mouth.

People brushed past you, their scents of expensive perfumes swirling in the air, their muted voices blending into a hum you couldn’t quite focus on. One or two bumped into your shoulder, but you didn’t apologize, didn’t bother looking back.

You just needed to get away—you just needed out of here.

And then, as if the universe wasn’t finished testing you, a firm hand of another one of a frame you jerked into, closed around your wrist, halting your momentum.

You looked up, brows scrunched, eyes glossy and mouth parting, ready to snap but then you were met with a amicable pair of dark eyes.

A crease of his own wrinkling his forehead as he looked down at you. "Is something wrong?" He asked and you almost wanted to laugh mockingly.

Instead, you did what you initially wanted to do. Your eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face. “Let me go.”

He hesitated for a moment, tounge poking his cheek, grip on your hand loosening but not releasing entirely. "What's wrong, y/n?"

“I said, let me go,” you repeated, your voice firm, frangible at the edges before you pulled your hand away from him and pushed past to walk away without another word.

The next random hallway you stumbled into was quieter, emptier, and for that, you were grateful, stretched ahead like an endless corridor of polished wood and muted gold accents. The noise of the party faded into the background, muffled by the thick walls and heavy doors.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to roam around mindlessly any further. This should be good enough, you told yourself and leaned against one of the walls, your forehead pressing against the cool surface as you tried to breathe through the wave of vehemence emotions that crashed through you.

One: Inhale.

Two: Exhale.

Three: Forget the words they said. Forget them.

But they echoed, persistent and savage, circling in your mind like vultures.

Poor thing, all alone now. Must be awful.

You’d think she’d be a bit more modest. That dress isn’t exactly widow-appropriate, is it?

Your chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, your hands clutching at your dress as if the fabric could somehow hold you together. But nothing could, nothing had. You had tried and tried and tried.. and fuck you didn't wanted to do it anymore.

Turning around, your head tipped back against the wall, the ceiling swimming in and out of focus as your vision blurred.

You shouldn’t have come here.

You should have stayed home, buried yourself in the comfort of your quiet apartment where no one whispered behind your back or looked at you with pity thinly disguised as deference.

Why did they care? Why did it matter to them how you dressed, how you existed, how you grieved?

It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to will the tears away. Crying wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t change anything.

Your hands gripped your clutch tightly, the edges digging into your palms, and for a moment, you considered throwing it—hurling it across the hall just to feel something break.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Because even here, in this quiet, empty hallway, you felt the silent expectation that you hold yourself together, that you keep smiling, keep nodding, keep existing in a way that made other people comfortable.

You hated this. You hated being you. You hated being the one who was left behind. And God you hated being alone. No Minho to make a quiet joke about the ridiculousness of it all and pull you toward something fun and irreverent.

Just you.

It will be always be just you. You've never admitted that to yourself but now that you did, you feel such panic rise in your chest that you don't hear him at first. Not until his voice broke through the haze.

“Y/N.”

It was soft, tentative, but it still cut through the silence like a blade.

You flinched, your head snapping toward the source of the voice. Jungkook stood a few feet away, his dark eyes searching yours, his expression shadowed with concern.

He had followed you.

“I told you to leave me alone,” you managed, your voice trembling as you turned away, willing him to disappear.

“I’m not leaving,” he said, his footsteps growing louder as he moved closer with a cautiousness that made you feel like a wounded animal. “Talk to me.” He added, the pleading in his voice almost running free.

"I mean it, Jungkook.. go away." You tried putting distance between the both of you again but far too quick for your slowed senses, he was now standing right in front of you, hands hovering in the air as if he didn't know what to do with him while also knowing.

"And I told you, I'm not leaving." His tone had coarsened and your dam had broke.

“Why now?” you cried, stepping closer to him, your fists balling at your sides. “Why do you want to stay now? You’ve spent years acting like a stranger, Jungkook. Years acting like I didn’t exist. And now—”

You shoved at his chest, your fists pounding weakly against him, but he didn’t move.

“Now you want to act like you care?” you yelled, your voice cracking as you hit him again. “Now you want to be here? Why?”

Jungkook stood still, his arms at his sides, his chest solid and unyielding beneath your fists. He didn’t flinch, didn’t step back, didn’t even try to stop you. He just let you hit him, let you pour out everything.His silence infuriated you, and yet it steadied you in a way you couldn’t explain.

"Why do you care now?" you repeated, your voice cracking, trembling like your hands as they hit his chest incessantly. Each word felt like it scraped raw against your throat. "Where were you, Jungkook? When everything fell apart, when I—when I needed someone. Where were you?"

“I don’t need you now!” you snapped, your tears falling freely now. “I don’t need you to come here and act like you care, like you’ve always cared, because we both know that’s not true."

“Because you left!" your voice cracked, the words laced with betrayal. The hurt from the breach of faith weakening you and your punches on his chest until they finally stilled, your hands trembling still as they curled into the fabric of his shirt. Jungkook caught your wrists, his hold firm but gentle, and for a moment, you fought him, your breaths coming in sharp and ragged. But when he didn’t let go, when he didn’t flinch or step back, the fight drained out of you.

Your knees buckled, and his arms came around you slowly, hesitantly, as if he were afraid you might push him away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were too tired now. Empty hands that had been holding onto something for as long as you could remember were too tired, have forgotten the feeling of what it felt like to be held instead.

You allowed to let yourself feel that. You allowed yourself to feel someone else other than the woman you couldn’t even recognize in a mirror as you sagged against him, your head pressing against his shoulder as your tears soaked into his shirt, body shaking and shivering from the quiet sobs that you let out.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, angel." You heard him say those words like a mantra against your hair, arms tightening around you, nestling you close against his chest.

For a moment, you heard pain there, raw and unfiltered, pain that felt similiar to your own in ways you hadn’t expected. You clutched his shirt tighter. You didn't wanted to be alone and Jungkook felt and smelled of times when you weren't. Earthy and Warm. Like that one time when he pulled you in to him after the death of milo- your first dog, and didn’t even mind your snort.

You had clung to those memories but it felt better clinging to him. A small, desperate part of you wanting to drag him closer, to cling to what little you had left of the past. The rest of you wanted to push him away, to keep screaming at him for daring to come back after all this time, after all this distance.

The sobs subsided slowly, leaving behind the kind of stillness that felt fragile, as if it might shatter with the wrong word or movement. Jungkook didn’t push you away, didn’t loosen his hold. If anything, he pulled you closer, as though he feared you’d slip through his fingers if he let go.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your gaze searching his face. His eyes shadowed, a stupid perfect strand of his stupid perfect hair falling on his forehead with tension prominent in his jaw and you wondered if there was a time there wasn't.

You wondered if it would make you any more vulnerable that you are right now if you say the words that sit on the top of your tounge, sting in the tears that linger in the corner of your eyes.

“I missed you,” you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. They felt dangerous, like exposing a wound that had barely begun to scab over.

His eyes darkened, a low sound rumbling in his chest—something between a growl and a sigh. “Fuck,” he muttered, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I missed you too, angel."

The rawness in his tone made your chest clench, a part of you craving more, while another part shrieked at you to stop this before it went any further, gather whatever semblance has left of you and walk away, play his cards against him.

But you have never been too good with cards or walking away.

“Then why did you leave?” you croaked. “Why did you stay away for so long?”

His gaze dropped to the space between you before meeting your eyes again, his own breathing now getting uneven. You could feel it beneath you. Rising. And Rising. And Rising.

"I didn’t knew how to look at you and not feel like I'm.. betraying him." His voice trembles as he drews in breath and you're so close you feel the heat of it brush against your temple. "And I can not, not look at you. That became a problem."

Your body stiffened at the confession, the world around you shrinking until it was just the two of you, his voice echoing in your ears.

Your first instinct was disbelief.

This can't mean what you think it does.

This can’t mean what you think it does!

The words replayed in your mind, over and over, refusing to settle. Each repetition twisted something deeper, something buried in the hollow space that had once been you.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, needing space, needing air.

He didn’t move. His gaze followed you, his expression resolute, like he was determined to lay everything bare now that the first truth had slipped out.

But you didn’t even wanted to acknowledge it as something, let alone, a truth. “That’s not—” Your voice cracked, and you forced yourself to start again. "Are you drunk, Jungkook?" You found the thought so repulsing, you could only think of ways to brush this up, put all the blame on the champagne.

From the way his eyes narrowed and brow ridged, you could tell that it was not the champagne.

“Y/N.” he says with a warning. “I’m not fucking drunk.”

“Well, you sound like you are,” you shot back, your tone sharper than you intended. “Because that—what you just said—sounds like something someone says when they’re not thinking clearly. You're not making any sense, Jungkook!"

“It makes sense,” he was starting to get frustated now. “It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense to me.”

And you were starting to get scared. You needed him to stop talking. Anything and everything he said made you physically want to recoil. You took another step back, your arms wrapping around yourself as if you could shield yourself from the weight of unsaid words that are no longer so.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice breaking, hands tempted to cover your ears like a child. His confession felt like a pin pulled from a grenade, and now the blast was unfurling within you. “Don’t do this. It's not fair. It's-It's not fair to him. Or me. Or you."

I know. He admits quietly to himself because he doesn't think anyone knows better than the man who was holding the jagged ends of a once delicate thread. And he hates himself for it because hating you was as unrealistic as the existence of a greater being to him. He had tried. Tried turning to salvation. Tried to despise you for being the one thing that has turned him the best and worst person he can be but he just can't. He prefers hating himself better.

He wants this punishment, that is you. He wants to whisper I'm sorry- I'm sorry for leaving- I'm sorry for coming back in every crook and nook of your body for the rest of his life so you'd feel his expression of regret that could only be a product of love so consuming embedding into you.

Because it's truth. It's his truth, has been for years and years, before he even knew what are the consequences of being a honest person. Now that he is seeing you in front of him—you with a revolting look, a stray tear rolling down your eyes that is nowhere near as angry as it had been before, he understands that it's not a consequence he can take.

He dares to step forward again and even if takes a whole lot of power in him not to pull you into him again, he doesn't and only raises a hand and catches the tear with his thumb.

“You don’t get to do this to me.” you repeat, your voice low and trembling.

And so does his. "I know."

Jungkook didn’t know what he expected you to say, what he hoped for. Forgiveness? Understanding? He wasn’t sure he deserved either.

Yet when you don't pull away, look back at him with the same daring he had stepped forward with, a silence understanding passes between the space that is separating you from him. And he's done being separated from you.

He tilted his head down, his breath stirring your hair when he inhaled deeply, his nose tracing a path down until it rubbed against yours—softly, deliberately—as if giving you time to move away. You didn't and his eyes fell on your inviting mouth again.

Fuck it.

Jungkook surged forward, his hands cupping your face, tipping your face up to him as his lips crashed against yours. The way he kissed you was nothing like the way he had touched you. It was rough, desperate with the way tounge and teeth clashed, filled with years of pent up desire and regret and emotions too tangled to name.

He kissed you like the nights he’d spent staring at the ceiling in places too far from home, wondering if you’d be happier without him there to complicate things, wondering if things had been any different if he said something before. Will you have looked at him like the way you looked at his brother? Would that choice have saved you from years and years of tragedy? Would that have saved him from the weight of his guilt, his love—love that had been a silent, unwelcome presence in his life for so long that it felt like another organ, vital and inescapable?

When he felt you grip him again and kiss him back. Nothing else mattered. The world stopped spinning and he didn't wanted to run anymore.

His hands found your waist, gripping tightly. A low groan slipping from his mouth to yours at the feeling of how you melted against him when he deepened the kiss, tounge proding and exploring all that your sweet mouth had to offer. Gods, he was drunk now.

"Shit." He shuddered as the taste of you finally started to settle in, pulling you closer and closer, then pushing you back until your back met the wall of the hallway.

You should be scared, anxious and pushing him back. The mere thought of someone walking in on you kissing him, your supposed family. Should make you want to end this because you could only imagine the stake they'd pin you on. They'd be not wrong to.

This is traitorous—what you're doing, what you're allowing yourself. But so is a shameful part of you that had always reached for him. Something that whispered to you, so soft it felt like it came from inside your own chest.

It's not so bad. His lips feel good.

But oh, it is. It makes you sick from just thinking how bad it is. Anger, confusion, guilt—oh, the guilt—swirl together and make you so sick.

"W-We shouldn’t.." You gasp against him as your unpracticed lips suck on his in a contradiction.

"No, we shouldn't." He kisses you harder, his mouth only leaving yours to trail a train of kisses along the column of your accessible throat to him, making you whimper out loud that he takes as an sign to nibble and bite.

Your hands find their way to his shoulder and his to your hips. "Legs around me." He licks the length of your neck, narrowing your world down to the feeling of his provoking wet tounge on your skin, his calloused fingers squeezing your hips. It felt all too real now. And despite you being balant enough to start this in the first place, you're not sure if you're still feeling bold. What you are feeling is this sinful, unexplainable craving seeping into your bones, curling around your ribs, making it hard to breath and think. Or maybe it's him.

Whatever it is, you get yourself to pause his eager hands and hungry mouth and speak, your breath coming in short, hot puffs. "Jungkook.. I don't think-" He straightens up and the vulnerability in his voice and eyes is gone as he squeezes your hips tighter.

"Finally gave me that perfect mouth of yours and now you want to walk away? Do you like tormenting me, angel? Do you like knowing that I'd fuck my fist to only the thought of you when you do?" He growls against your ear and you feel yourself flush so hard you're sure he even feels the heat coming off you in ripples.

"Please, baby." He pleads unapologetically, fingers tugging you closer even when all of you is pressed against all of him. "I want you." So bad it hurts.

Gone is the man who had once been so armored, seemed so unreachable and untouchable. And left is Jeon Jungkook, who looks like he will crumble to the ground if you pull away now.

You wouldn't want that. But the words came anyway, right from where shame twisted in your stomach, tangling with the guilt that clawed at your throat. "Do you still want me even if I'm nothing like the woman I used to be?" It came out breakable and in segments, and the second they left your lips, you weren’t sure what to except as a answer.

For a moment, all you could hear was the ragged rhythm of your combined breathing.

You swallowed hard, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. The intensity in his dark eyes was almost unbearable, raw and unrelenting as they searched yours.

"Don't ever say that again." he bit out, every syllable heavy. "I want you always. I want you with my every breath. There's always been only you for me, understand?" He added with a brief grind of his hardened arousal against your front, making you mewl.

The words, though, hit you like a physical forcek, breaking through the walls you’d built around yourself, the ones you’d convinced yourself were impenetrable.

Before you could respond, he moved.

His mouth fell onto yours again and with practiced ease, his hands slid to the backs of your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing. "Now. Legs around me, baby." he murmured in the kiss, and though your mind was a whirlwind of what seemed like every single thought you've ever had, your body obeyed.

You could barely figure out to where he was taking you, too engrossed in the kiss that you steered towards a softer, mellow one, fingers tangling in the hair that has grown a little bit on the nape of his neck. Feeling like you both were two audacious college students trying to find a space in a messy party where you both won't be interrupted.

When he halted in his steps, you assumed that he found it as he kicked it open with a firm nudge of his boot, the room beyond dim and quiet but he barely give you time to register anything else, his movements urgent and frantic as he carried you over to the bed in the middle after swiftly locking you both away. You bounced on the silk mattress as he set you down, though his intentions were grave, his actions or the way he held you was gentle, tounge swiping over his glistening lips like chasing the taste of you that made you want to give him once more.

Audacious, you were.

Your eyes on his face, shadows played along the planes, softening the hard edges of his jaw, but his gaze burned. Dark and piercing, it held you in place as if daring you to look away.

You didn’t.

Your eyes followed the sluggish movements of his hands as he reached up, his fingers deftly working the knot of his tie. The fabric slid free, whispering against the buttons of his dress shirt before he cast it aside, forgotten on the nearby chair.

Next came his jacket. He shrugged it off with practiced ease, the broad span of his shoulders rolling beneath the fabric. Your breath hitched as he discarded it, leaving him in the crisp white shirt that clung to his frame, the outline of him barely hidden.

And then his hands moved again, this time to his wrist.

You watched, mesmerized, as he undid the strap of his watch, the silver buckle catching the faint light. He pulled it free and set it down on the nightstand, the movement so fluid it felt almost rehearsed.

It wasn’t until he turned his wrist slightly that you noticed it—the worn thread of a bracelet wrapped around his wrist, faded from time and use but unmistakable.

The one you’d tied around his wrist when you were kids in an action of promise to stay friends for years to come.

But he still wore it.

He still wore it.

Your fingers twitched against the bedspread, the urge to reach out and touch him almost overwhelming.

And as if understanding your anticipation, he soon followed you down, your breath catching as he hovered above you. You waited for him to kiss you again because god help you, you liked a little too much but he only pressed a chaste one, smirking subtly at the pout that subconsciously formed on your lips that soon parted in a gasp when he started to suck on your neck again, this time with the intention to claim the spot with the scrape of his teeth.

He hummed against your skin, the sound deep and satisfied, before he drew your flesh into his mouth again, harder this time. The sharp pull sent a jolt of pleasure-pain coursing through you, thighs clenching together.

"My angel." he said softly, yet nothing was soft about the way he pulled down on the straps of your dress. The fabric slipped, baring the smooth skin of your shoulder, and he pressed his lips there, warm and firm, before trailing lower, his mouth following the path he’d just uncovered. "My undoing."

The red fabric gathered at your arms as he pushed it further, exposing the tops of your collarbones and the swell of your chest. His gaze flicked up to meet yours then, dark and questioning, seeking permission even though his hands were steady, his intention clear.

You nodded, perhaps with too much enthusiasm and earned a chuckle from him that you were sure was the reason for the wetness pooling between your legs.

You had missed that sound. You had missed him.

And he was hell bent on making up for lost time as he dived face first into your chest, humming again when he took in your pebbled nipple in his mouth, swirling his tounge around the roundness of you.

"Oh shit." Your back arched, hands finding their way to his hair again. Pulling and tugging. Urging him on until his hand was fondling the other, abandoned tit. Squeezing under his rough palms that made the heat lowering your stomach worse—all of it felt too much, too soon. And yet, it wasn’t enough.

It had been so long.

Too long since someone had touched you like this, with a reverence that made you feel seen, whole, wanted.

You told yourself it was natural, that anyone in your position would respond this way. That it wasn’t about him—it couldn’t be. But your body betrayed you before your mind could even catch up. Your legs wrapped around his waist once more as you ground yourself against him. Against the print of his bulging length you could feel pulsing against you.

"Fuck yeah.." You cursed low, head falling back on the pillows and Jungkook looked up, his own cock twitching at the sight of you, at the feel of you. Of everything he has ever wanted. Of everything he thought he would never have. But here you were straight from his flithest wet dream that would have him taking more cold showers that he could keep count of.

A goddamn miracle for him, this wasn't a dream.

"This here needs some attention too, hmm?" He rasped, hands slipping down from the curve of your waist, to bunch up your dress to your hips. Wasting no time in finding the wet mess you made of your panties. "Look at this." He grunted, hand cupping your clothed mound. "So wet."

You exhaled out like you'd been freed from shackles that felt too heavy and a whimper followed right after when he disposed you of them, exposing your deprived cunt to the cold air that had you clenching around nothing. "And so fucking responsive." He breathed against your bare sex after moving his head down.

You hadn’t expected that. You breath was bated, cheeks were flushed and heart was pounding at the view alone of his face between your thighs.

Then again, he was all about surprising you today.

Though, it didn't make it any less overwhelming.

The way his hands gripped your thighs, firm yet careful, as if he were both anchoring you and holding himself back. His fingers dug into your skin just enough to leave the faintest imprint, a reminder of where he had been, where he was. Your legs draped over his shoulders, trembling with a mix of anticipation and disbelief, as though your body was still catching up to the reality of this moment.

Never in your wildest dreams, it would have come to this. Come to Jungkook licking a greedy strip up from your folds.

"Jungkook—oh God!" You gasped and he groaned, feeling all of his restraint and the plan to savor this, to savor you, slip away from his tightening hands. One taste of you and he wanted to grasp every drop of like it would be his last.

And so he did.

Burying his face in your wanting pussy like a man with purpose, he lapped. His mouth wrapped around your clit, tounge swiping and licking with a reverence because you were something sacred, something he had put on a pedestal so high, others in his life barely mattered.

"Oh- mhm. Feels so good!" You moan out, mind in a haze of pure fog and he takes it as his cue to plunge his digit inside your dripping core. You're sure you've got no mind now. Grunts of his own leaving him at the thought of your heat wrapping around his aching cock instead.

He felt no shame in that. No shame in what he was doing right now. Because then you moved, your body arching toward him as if to erase every doubt. Your fingers found their way to his hair, tugging as selfishly as he fed on you, flatenning his tounge on your slit to take all he can get, to give you all he can.

A shaky exhale brushing against your folds. The sound was low, guttural, and filled with more longing than he knew how to contain. "Does it, baby? Sweet pussy's feeling good?" His fingers—knuckles deep now—worked you faster, curling and testing ways to get you closer to the edge.

This was more desire that he knew he was possible of as his hips started to rut on their own, seeking friction in a way that was both instinctual and helpless. Brain flat lining. Face drowned in the essence of you. Desperate, as you pulled on his hair. Pathetic, as he chased his own high from just the taste of you, from just how you enveloped his curving fingers. Ecastic, when you finally reached your breaking point from how he alternated between broad strokes and targeted flicks, making you come all over his mouth that kindles his face, that he swallow all because he refuses to let anything go to waste.

"Ah fuck—Oh lord!" You fingers tear in his scalp and hips bucked against his face, eyes rolling back until they whitened.

Oh.

It was in this moment, with your thighs braced against his shoulders and his name spilling from her lips, that Jungkook knew.

He would never be the same again.

That he too would be coming in his pants like a high school boy.

It wasn’t enough—nothing would ever be enough—but it was all he had, and it drove him to the edge faster than he would’ve liked to admit. The tension inside him snapped before he could stop it, his body tensing and toes curling because he found everything else secondary to the sheer joy of watching you fall apart beneath him.

"Oh shit, y/n. Shit. Shit. Shit." He whimpers against your cunt, his hips finally slowing down their mindless movement. His forehead pressed against your thigh as he caught his breath. His chest heaved, his heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his entire body felt like it was vibrating, the aftershocks of his release making his muscles twitch.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to your clit before leaning back up to feel another wave of release threatening to overcome him when he sees your content expression, hands loosening their grip in his raven hair, half lidded eyes meeting his own before they trail down. "Y-You.." You didn’t know what to say, couldn’t have spoken even if you tried.

A lazy smirk made it's way to his lips that caught the light before he licked whatever remnant what was left of you on his fingers.

"I'm a starved man, angel. Cut me some slack." He panted, pinching your bud in emphasis and moved back up before you could even process it, the warmth of his breath retreating, replaced by the cooler air of the room as he straightened. The absence of his lips against you left you gasping, your chest heaving, your pulse thundering in your ears or maybe it was you still riding your orgasm or maybe it was the knowledge that he came in his pants from just eating you out.

Then he was there again, his hands sliding from your thighs to the mattress on either side of you, bracketing you in like a secret he refused to let escape.

"Hi." He breathed against your forehead.

You felt a shy smile twitch on your lips. "Hi." You reply just as breathlessly.

He presses another kiss, this time to the tip of your nose. "I'm gonna fuck you now, yeah?" You couldn’t reconcile it.

How could he say things that made your cheeks flush, your body respond in ways you couldn’t control, while his lips brushed against your temple with a tenderness that felt like an apology?

How could he make you feel like you were unraveling and being held together all at once?

You wanted to know. "Mhm. Please." You mewl, hands softly going through the beautiful mess that you made of his hair.

"Please, what?" He demanded, lips on your cheek.

"Please fuck me." You whine and he bumped his nose against your face, chest rumbling from a sound so feverish that you can't help but grind against him again. Coaxing his cock back into hardness with your bare cunt against him, from the realization that you shared the insatiable urges with him.

It got his hand trembling when they reached down to unbind his belt, pushing the fabric down his hips to reveal predicament he's made of his boxers that were bounding his hard, leaking cock but hell if he had it in himself to care.

He had been bidding his time for far too long. Waited enough—longer than any man should have to wait for something that felt this inevitable, this right, this his.

Ridding himself of the last piece of clothing on him, other than the white dress shirt that flexed against his coiled muscles, he took himself In a fist, groaning when he pumped himself in one slow stroke. Eyes never leaving your wide ones like you weren’t sure if you should be impressed, intimidated, or both.

Your breath hitched audibly, and your chest rose and fell as your eyes darted from his face to the undeniable evidence of his arousal. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, but you couldn’t seem to tear your gaze away, couldn’t stop the thought that immediately took hold.

"You're too big." Your throat dry, and your fingers fisted the sheet beneath you, trying not too think too much about how thick he would feel down your throat. The sounds he'd make when you would lick him just right.

"And you're gonna take every inch." He said it like a statement, a prominent vein popping in his neck when he finally let go of the locked gaze and focused instead on compressing the tip of his angry, veiny cock to your slick folds.

"Won't you, angel?" He asks with a confident smirk passed your way for a second before his breath wavered again, brows scrunched together and if it wasn't for his tip nudging inside you, you'd thought him endearing.

But once his tip is actually is in, you're left with no thought. Rendered speechless, eyes falling shut when he starts to jab inch by inch.

"Dear lord—" You gasp out loud. The sheet beneath you not providing much semblance so you switch to his shoulders. And you swear, he feel him shake when he is finally all in. Closes his eyes and relishes in your heat stretching around. "Fucking hell." The sensation was overwhelming—heat and softness so consuming it felt like his mind short-circuited, every thought dissolving into static.

But you feel that its your pussy that feels like it's going to split apart any moment now that's stopping him from moving. And partly it is. "You're so..tight." He hisses out and squeezes your hips with great roughness.

"Been long since you've been fucked, eh?" He muses, dark hungry eyes devouring yours when he makes an attempt to move inside you like he was testing your limits. Your mind reels, caught between the sharpness of the initial sensation and the overwhelming desire that followed.

He felt impossibly big, like your body wasn’t prepared for the sheer intensity of him, and for a fleeting moment, doubt crept into your thoughts.

It’s been so long.

The thought came unbidden. Your body had grown used to quiet nights and cold sheets, to the impersonal hum of a vibrator and the absence of warmth.

"Been so long." You confirm, nails clawing at his shoulders, mimicking the roughness that only spurs him on. His lashes fluttered shut, his forehead drops to your shoulder and with a whine of disagreement from you, he pulls back fully just to (to your satisfaction) bury himself back to the hilt.

An unadulterated moan from you broke the silence, a sound so sweet it made him want to come right there and then again. But he'd much rather have you convulse first. Priorities.

His jaw clenched, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he started to move his hips against yours, slow and deliberate, like he needed to feel every inch of your.

Your legs tensed around his hips, pulling him closer. You couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the way your body reacted to him, your mind a dizzy blur of heat and need and overwhelming sensation.

He pulled back again, the drag of him leaving you feeling empty, only to return with the same slow, measured thrust.

“That’s right,” he muttered, his voice rough and uneven, barely coherent through the sounds your free spilling moans and the fact that his face was buried in the crook of your shoulder. “You’re—fuck, you’re perfect.” His voice unrefined at the edges, raw with honesty and disbelief, like he couldn’t believe you were really here, with him, like this.

Your hands slid down his back, clinging to the flexing muscles beneath your palms. You suddenly didn't like that his shirt was still on. Wanting to map out his bare skin with every graze of your nails. But with each thrust, pleasure sparked at the base of your spine and spread outward, your thoughts scattered like autumn leaves.

"Yeah- Oh mphm! Just like that!" He flourished in your cries of encouragement, his grip on your hips tightening, his fingers digging into your skin as he was afraid he'd lose control too soon.

And you wanted nothing more. "F-Faster! Please go faster!" His pace was unhurried but devastating, every pull and thrust deliberate, designed to drag you to the edge and keep you there, teetering. You couldn’t take that anymore.

And Jungkook couldn’t take keeping you unsatisfied. His lips found the corner of your mouth, brushing against it in a fleeting kiss before moving lower, his teeth grazing your jaw. His hands moved to your thighs, urging them higher, wrapping them around his waist as he drove into you with more force, more intent.

“taking me so well, was made for this cock.” Were made for me. he praised, his voice sounding like a backdrop to the obscene sounds his hips snapping against yours as your own body moved with his, meeting him with the same intensity, the same desperate need. "Yeah." He grunted, punctuating his words with a squeeze to your boob. "Fuck me back. Use me. Feel me."

All you could possibly do was feel him.

He felt like fire and electricity all at once, a heat that spread from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes.

“Jungkook…” you whispered again, your voice catching on the syllables when his head tipped forward, his forehead pressing against yours, his damp hair brushing your skin.

He whimpered in response, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through you, and he pistoned his cock harder, pulling a cry from your lips that you couldn’t hold back.

"I-I missed you." You can feel tears gather in your eyes again. You don't even know why. Why you're repeating what you've already admitted. Why the words feel more vulnerable now. All you know that you missed him and the coil is tightening in your stomach.

Jungkook, too feels like he will break down any moment when he stares down at you. But he’s got a impending orgasm to deliver.

He kisses your eyelids, is tempted to lick the tears that slowly make their way down to your chin but doesn't. He's not sure he'll be able to handle the taste of your despair without feeling like he has to chastise himself for ever being the reason for it.

"I know. I know." His cock thrusts with renewed vigor. "I missed you too. I missed you." He says through his gritted teeth, feeling how your walls fluttered around him.

"Gonna cum now?" He knows what your answer will be. There's a smug underline tone in his rasps that gives him away. How he takes pride in knowing that he's the one to make you release all this tension; once on his mouth; then on his cock that is pulsing with an reoccurring ache.

You can only manage to nod, lips tightly tucked between your teeth, hands scratching and marking on his once crisp shirt that is now crumpled from the fate of your hands.

"Gonna soak my cock, huh? Go ahead, baby. Go ahead and come with me." He demands, his hand slipping between you to rub tight circles against your puffy clit that is just enough to tip you over at last.

"Koo.. ah..oh god!" The name you've always called him with a fondness falls unintentionally from your lips when your walls tighten for the last time and you release all over his cock that is now stuttering with it's every thrust.

"Oh fuck. Call me that again." He all but snarls. Cock turns firmer inside your heat that hugs him. And balls screw up.

"Koo.." You whine and that's all he needs before thick ropes of white hot cum is spilling inside you, filling you to the brim. "Mhm, take it all. There's my girl. Pussy looks so good stuffed with my cum." He grinds the best his spent body can into yours that still welcomes him and fuck if that doesn't make him never want to leave.

And he doesn't, for a moment, when he collapses onto you. Just not enough to crush you under his weight. Just enough to latch his lips where ever he can find and whisper words of affection. "Could'nt fucking breathe without you." He's yet to get enough of you. This life won't suffice, he thinks. Then finally pulls out his softening cock from your slick hole with a hiss.

You too feel the loss the of the connection that had pulsed faintly between you, leaving you achingly empty.

He moved with the same carefulness, reaching for the tissues on the bedside table. The room was quiet save for your mingled breaths as he knelt beside you, his touch impossibly tender as he wiped at the inside of your thighs. You shivered under the cool press of the tissue against your skin, the sensation making you acutely aware of the aftermath—the way your body still quivered, the way your breaths still came uneven.

You stared at the ceiling while he did so, the edges of your perception blurred as you tried to silence the tingles that still hummed across the length of your legs. A reminder of how throughly he had disentangle you, how throughly his very essence had penetrated into you.

You were ruined by him.

There was no going back from this. You knew that.

What scared you was the realization that you didn’t want to.

You just didn't know how to admit that out loud where everyone and he could hear you.

Your eyes seeked out for him as if that alone could answer all your questions. He returned back against you without a question. Hands finely adjusted the strap of your dress and drew you closer to him with a soft voice, hoarse from the strain of everything he’d given you. "Come here, angel." Bundled you up in his arms and then only did he breathe out.

Your breath stayed differing. “Why do you call me that?” Your voice was curious but tentative. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you.”

You felt his lips curve up against your temple. "You were wearing this really pretty white dress the first time I met you." he began, his voice quiet, almost wistful. “Had these frills on the sleeves. I thought you looked like an angel."

You tried to piece together the memory. “That was so long ago."

It might be understood that it takes months to fall in love but Jungkook had been falling all his life.

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