DUTY CALLS / Series / 1

DUTY CALLS / series / 1

pairing : police officer carlos reyes x paramedic tk strand

genre : 911lone star universe, fluff, angst, smut, more to be added

summary : “A glimpse into Carlos and T.K.’s dangerous lives, balancing the chaos of emergency calls with quiet moments. A series.”

warnings : violence, trauma and medical emergencies, mental issues health, substance abuse, natural disasters, homophobia and discrimination, injuries, profanity, frightening and intense scenes, sexual scenes, sweet moments of carlos and tk lol and HOT CARLOS

link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59486755/chapters/151710301

a/n: hi and welcome to a series of daily stuff thats going on in carlos and tk’s lives, like unadded scenes if you prefer, i like to imagine that’s happening on a daily basis, and i absolutely despise that we don’t see them on the field together 99% of the time. hope you enjoy and happy reading!! i’ll be uploading this on my ao3 too, it’s tarlosstape (ik)

______________

911 Call Dispatcher: “911, what’s your emergency?”

Caller (panicked): “There’s a robbery happening right now! It’s at the corner store on Fifth and Maple. They’ve got guns—oh my God, they’re shooting! People are hurt! I—please hurry!”

The storm outside rages, wind howling through the streets as rain pounds relentlessly on the city of Austin. Lightning flashes, casting brief, eerie shadows over the scene. The police scanner crackles as Officer Carlos Reyes listens closely while gripping the steering wheel of his patrol car. He’s already on his way, lights flashing, sirens blaring, the wet roads slick beneath the tires.

“Shots fired. Multiple injured,” the dispatcher confirms over the radio.

Carlos swerves onto Maple Street, skidding slightly as he pulls up in front of the store. His sharp eyes scan the chaos—shattered windows, civilians crouching behind cars for cover, and two masked gunmen, backing out of the store with bags of cash and weapons in hand. One man already lies bleeding on the sidewalk.

Carlos doesn’t hesitate. He pulls his gun, stepping out of his vehicle and shouting over the storm, “Austin PD! Drop your weapons!” His voice cuts through the thunder and rain, firm and commanding.

The robbers hesitate for a split second, then one makes a run for it, bolting down the street. The other, more reckless, raises his weapon toward Carlos. Without missing a beat, Carlos fires, hitting the man in the shoulder, causing him to drop his gun and crumple to the ground. Carlos sprints forward, kicking the gun aside and cuffing the injured man before calling for backup.

More police vehicles arrive, but Carlos has already started pursuing the second suspect, rain blurring his vision. Just as he rounds a corner, he tackles the man, pinning him to the ground with practiced precision. Sirens wail in the background, backup arriving as Carlos handcuffs the second robber.

Minutes later, as the rain continues to pour, the sound of an ambulance cuts through the storm. T.K., Nancy, and Tommy pull up in their paramedic vehicle, the flashing lights reflecting off the wet streets. The trio quickly exits, medical bags in hand, ready to help the injured.

Carlos, soaked and standing over the now subdued suspects, turns as T.K. strides toward him. For a brief moment, they exchange a glance—a silent nod between them, full of mutual respect and understanding. T.K.’s eyes linger on Carlos just a bit longer, checking in silently, before he gets back to work.

Nancy is already kneeling beside the man on the sidewalk, assessing his gunshot wound, while Tommy coordinates with the other first responders. Despite the storm, they work with practiced efficiency, moving between the injured civilians, checking vitals, and applying pressure to wounds.

As the chaos slowly subsides, Carlos watches the team in action, relieved but focused. T.K. meets his eyes one more time before loading the injured into the ambulance, giving him a small smile despite the tension of the moment. Both know their jobs are far from done.

——————-

An hour later, Carlos stands in the dimly lit Austin police station, dripping from the relentless storm outside. The buzz of fluorescent lights hums overhead, echoing through the busy place as officers hustle between desks, phones ringing and paperwork piling up. Carlos leans against the desk, typing up his report, his soaked uniform sticking to his skin. He wipes a bead of water from his forehead and sighs, exhaustion creeping in.

Just as he finishes entering his statement about the robbery and arrests, a familiar voice calls from behind him. “Reyes,” Detective Ortega steps into view, clipboard in hand, her sharp eyes scanning him. Ortega is seasoned, with graying hair pulled back into a tight bun and a no-nonsense demeanor. She always gets straight to the point.

“Those two you brought in tonight—real pieces of work,” she mutters, sliding into the seat across from him. “We’ve got them booked, but I need you to walk me through what went down. The DA’s gonna want details, and I don’t want any gaps.”

Carlos nods, setting his report aside. “Two suspects—one I managed to detain on the scene, and the other made a run for it, but I caught up to him around the corner. The first guy—took a shot at me. I returned fire, hit him in the shoulder. Called in for backup right after.” He runs a hand through his damp hair. “They both had weapons, and there were multiple injuries inside and outside the store. Paramedics team handled the civilians.”

Ortega studies him for a moment, her expression unreadable, then flips through her clipboard. “Ballsy move, engaging them alone in that storm. You know the risks,” she says, her tone almost reprimanding but softening as she continues. “But good work. The one you shot is being patched up at the hospital under guard. The other one… he’s gonna talk. We’re looking at possible connections to a larger string of robberies.”

Carlos leans forward, crossing his arms. “This wasn’t just a random hit?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Not according to what we’re digging up. The guy you tackled—he’s got priors. Armed robbery, assault. But this particular group? They’ve been linked to a couple of heists in the city’s outer limits. We think tonight was them testing the waters, seeing if they could push into downtown. Your call-in might’ve stopped something bigger.”

Carlos nods, absorbing the information. “Glad we got them off the streets before anyone else got hurt.”

Ortega glances up from her notes, giving him a small but approving smile. “You did good tonight, Reyes. You and that paramedic team. The fact that you can keep your head straight in a situation like that…” She trails off, but Carlos knows the unspoken weight behind her words. She respects his instincts, but she’s always cautious when her officers get too close to danger.

He shifts in his seat, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease a little. “Thanks, Detective. I just want to make sure we stay ahead of this. If these guys have been pulling jobs outside the city, they’re bound to try again.”

Ortega raises an eyebrow. “Which is why I want you in on the follow-up. I need someone on the ground who knows the streets, knows how these guys operate. You up for it?”

Carlos doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”

She scribbles something down on her clipboard, nodding in approval. “Good. Get yourself dried off, and then go home. You’ve earned it. We’ll debrief tomorrow morning.”

Carlos stands, ready to head out, but before he leaves, Ortega stops him with one last remark, her tone lighter. “And, Reyes… check in with that paramedic of yours. He looked at you like he was gonna have a heart attack when he saw you at the scene.”

Carlos feels a flush rise to his face but manages a smirk. “I’ll check in with him,” he replies, his voice carrying a hint of warmth as he walks away, shaking off the adrenaline of the night.

Carlos: Hey baby, you good?

A moment later, T.K.’s reply buzzes back.

T.K.: im fine, but are you? that was intense. just don’t get shot again pls

Carlos wipes his hair with a towel as he finishes typing a message to T.K., leaning against his locker in the station’s changing room. His fingers fly across the screen.

Carlos : Of course, coming home in a bit. Just gotta change out of these soaked clothes.

He tosses his phone on the couch and starts peeling off his wet uniform. The heavy storm outside has left the air thick and damp, even inside the building. He grabs a dry towel from his bag, running it through his hair and over his skin, before pulling on fresh jeans and a t-shirt. As he fastens his belt, he hears his phone buzz again.

T.K.: good, im waiting with hot tea and something hotter :*

Carlos smile got wider, feeling warmth flood through him. After the night he’s had, the thought of being home with T.K., sitting in the dry comfort of their apartment, is the only thing he’s looking forward to. He tosses the towel in the corner, ready to head out.

But just as he’s about to close his locker, his radio crackles to life.

“Reyes, we need you back in the field.” It’s Ortega, her voice sharp over the line. “There’s been another incident at the same location—deeper than we thought. The storm’s making it worse. Backup’s already on the way, but I need you to roll out.”

Carlos’s stomach drops. He glances at his reflection in the mirror, barely able to believe what he’s hearing. He was just there. The scene had been secured, the suspects apprehended, and the injured civilians taken care of. But now, with the storm intensifying, it sounds like the situation has escalated into something far worse.

He reaches for his radio. “Copy that. I’m on my way.”

The rain beats down hard as Carlos arrives at the scene. The corner store, once just the site of a robbery, now looks like a disaster zone. Water floods the streets, pooling up to his ankles as he steps out of the car. Emergency lights flash through the downpour, illuminating the chaos. The wind howls, bending trees and sending debris flying down the street.

Carlos quickly scans the area. A power line has come down across the road, its live wires sparking dangerously close to the rising water. Civilians are trapped inside nearby buildings, unable to leave with the flooding making the streets impassable. Ortega’s already there, barking orders at a group of officers trying to cordon off the area.

“Carlos!” Ortega shouts as she spots him approaching. “We’ve got a mess. That live wire hits the water, and this whole area could turn into a death trap. We’re evacuating the nearby buildings, but we’re running out of time. The rain’s only getting worse.”

Carlos nods, quickly assessing the situation. He watches as emergency responders scramble to move people out of harm’s way, their boots splashing through the rising flood. The power line swings in the wind, just inches above the water now.

“We need to keep the civilians as far from this as possible,” Ortega continues, her voice barely audible over the storm. “I need you to take that side,” she gestures toward a nearby alley where a group of people are huddled under an awning, trapped by the water on both sides.

Carlos doesn’t hesitate. He moves swiftly toward the alley, wading through the water as the rain slashes across his face. The civilians look at him with a mix of fear and desperation, their eyes wide as the storm rages around them.

“Everyone, listen up!” Carlos shouts over the wind. “We’re getting you out of here, but you need to stay calm and follow me.” He motions toward a narrow path that leads away from the main street, where rescue teams are setting up a safer evacuation route.

One by one, he helps the civilians through the flooded alley, guiding them away from the live wires and into the arms of waiting responders. The rain keeps coming, harder now, making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. Lightning cracks in the distance, casting brief flashes of light over the darkened city.

As the last of the group makes their way out, Carlos glances back toward the power lines. The water’s rising faster than expected, creeping dangerously close to the sparking wire. He radios in quickly. “Ortega, we need that power cut now. It’s about to hit the water.”

“Working on it,” she responds, tension thick in her voice.

Carlos watches, heart pounding, as the line sways in the wind, just inches from the flood. Minutes pass like hours, but finally, the sparks stop, and the line goes dead.

With the civilians evacuated and the power line neutralized, Carlos allows himself a brief moment to breathe. The rain keeps pounding, but at least, for now, they’ve managed to prevent a disaster.

Hours later, the rain has eased, though the city is still reeling from the storm’s impact. Carlos stands at the edge of the scene, drenched and exhausted, watching as the last of the emergency vehicles pull away. The corner store, now eerily quiet, remains a stark reminder of how quickly things can spiral out of control.

Carlos finally makes it home, the rain still drumming against the streets as he steps inside. He’s soaked to the bone, every inch of his body heavy with exhaustion. The quiet of the apartment is a stark contrast to the chaos of the night, but it feels like a different world as he closes the door behind him, shutting out the storm.

The soft glow of a nearby lamp casts a warm light over the living room. T.K. is asleep on the couch, a blanket half-draped over him. His chest rises and falls gently, completely unaware of Carlos’s entrance. The room is peaceful, but a glance around shows signs of waiting: two plates of food on the table, untouched, and a cup of tea sitting beside one of them, long gone cold.

Carlos feels a wave of warmth, despite the cold and wet clinging to him. He quietly shrugs off his jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door, careful not to wake T.K. The sight of him asleep, clearly having waited up, tugs at something deep inside Carlos—part relief, part gratitude. It’s been a hell of a night, and this is exactly where he needs to be.

He moves to the table, noticing the now-cold dinner that had been thoughtfully prepared for him. He presses his lips together, feeling guilty for being so late without any explanation. Still, the effort T.K. put into making sure he’d come home to something comforting doesn’t go unnoticed.

Carlos walks over to the couch, crouching beside T.K. for a moment, watching him sleep. The tension of the night begins to fade as he just breathes in the calmness of the room.

Gently, he places a hand on T.K.’s arm, not wanting to startle him but knowing he should get him to bed.

T.K. stirs slightly, blinking awake. His eyes flutter open, and it takes him a second to register Carlos kneeling next to him. “Hey…” his voice is groggy, still heavy with sleep, but his brow furrows when he sees how soaked Carlos is. “You’re… completely drenched.”

Carlos gives a tired smile. “Yeah, the storm got a lot worse. I’m so so sorry I’m late.” He gestures to the table. “I see you waited up for me.” He whispers softly, kissing his forehead.

T.K. sits up, rubbing his eyes, glancing toward the cold tea and untouched food. “I wanted to make sure you had something to come home to.” He looks Carlos over again, concern creeping into his voice. “But you look like you just swam here.” He adds worried.

Carlos chuckles softly. “Feels like it.”

T.K. moves, standing up and placing a hand on Carlos’s cheek, the warmth of his touch a welcome contrast to the cold that has been biting at him all night. “Come on,” T.K. says quietly, “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes and into something warm. Don’t worry about the food.”

Carlos nods, his body grateful for the offer. He follows T.K. into the bedroom, where the familiar comfort of home begins to sink in, each step pulling him further from the chaos of the night.

As they enter their bedroom, T.K. helps Carlos out of his wet clothes, carefully peeling off the soaked layers and tossing them into the laundry basket

“You really are drenched,” T.K. comments, running a hand down Carlos’s arm. “You need to get warm. Take a hot shower. Unless you want to catch a cold.”

Carlos smiles, appreciating T.K.’s gentle touch and concern. “A hot shower sounds perfect,” he replies, his voice still heavy with exhaustion. He glances back at T.K., a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You wanna join?” He smiles as he kisses his neck softly.

T.K. shakes his head, stifling a yawn. “I’d love to, but I’m too tired. I’ll just wait for you here.” His eyelids droop slightly, betraying his weariness.

“Okay.” He nods, heading toward the bathroom.

As Carlos steps into the shower, the hot water cascades over him, easing the tension in his muscles. He takes a deep breath, allowing the warmth to wash away the chill from the storm and the stresses of the night. He can hear T.K. moving around in the bedroom, but the sound quickly fades.

After what feels like too long, Carlos finishes up and steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He can still hear the rain outside but feels a sense of calm settling over him. He takes a moment to look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, pushing back the fatigue and ensuring he’s presentable for T.K.

Once dressed in a pair of comfortable sweats and a soft t-shirt, Carlos heads back into the bedroom. He usually just wears boxers, but he feels he should be warmer tonight. The dim light casts a soft glow over the room, and he sees T.K. sitting on the edge of the bed, head tilted back against the wall, eyes barely open.

“Hey,” Carlos says softly, a smile creeping onto his lips at the sight of T.K. trying to fight off sleep.

T.K. stirs at the sound of Carlos’s voice, blinking a few times before forcing a smile. “It’s 1am. we should be up at 9am maximum.”

Carlos chuckles softly, gently nudging T.K.’s knee with his own. “Fuck, I know.” He sighs and wraps his arms around TK, closing his eyes, TK does the same.

“I’m so sorry we barely have time with each other, sometimes I wish I had a boring job.” Carlos adds, kissing his head.

“Don’t worry.” TK whispers as he lets his head fall on Carlos’ shoulder.

“Everyday is the same, we wake up, go to our jobs, maybe if we’re lucky we have the same case on that day, then see each other at night where we don’t even have time to eat.”

With a sigh, TK replies in whisper “Carlos I’m too sleepy to reply to that.”

Carlos chuckles. “I hate you.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

——————

a/n: hope you enjoyed ! chapter 2 is already posted!

wc: 3k

Love Lockdown | index

banner by @dee-ehn​

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; It started with a supposed virus all around the world. It continues with people turning into monsters who want to eat everything that’s alive.

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: yoongi x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: zombie apocalypse au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: blood and violence, death, injury, character death, horror au (?), smut, angst, fluff, explicit language… other warnings will be listed in each chapter

⇢ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing | © 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 (𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝)

𝐢. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 7.7k

↳ no longer hiding in your apartment, it’s either your beginning or definitive end

𝐢𝐢. 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 | 4.9k

↳ stronger together, weaker with you

𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 | 4.3k

↳ yoongi isn’t going easy on you

𝐢𝐯. 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐧 | 6.9k

↳ the way to safety gets a twisted turn

𝐯. 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 | 4.8k

↳ stuck together in one place asks for some kind of interaction

𝐯𝐢. 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 | 8.1k

↳ your lonely journey continues in a pair of twos

𝐯𝐢𝐢. 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 | 17k

↳ rather be drenched by the rain than dead

dextrocardia | 04

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, smut

word count: 5.3k

warnings for this part: none really, except sexism and insults and jk is HOT but confusing (also,,,, k i s s i n g)

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 4/? 

<previous | next>

© dextrocardia is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

Behind you, Jeongguk must be looking even more confused than you. 

“It’s hard not to notice the tv when you don’t have any curtains and really big windows,” Eunha elaborates with a chuckle.

Shit. Your heart starts to race, and you can feel your hands go clammy. That’s your fault. You leave the ginormous tv on during the night whenever it’s your turn on the couch. 

“He snores,” you blurt. “And I don’t wanna disturb him so I sometimes go downstairs because I know he needs his sleep.”

You know you’ll be skinned alive the moment you’re alone together, but you needed a believable explanation and you needed one fast. Technically, you could’ve pinned the snoring on yourself, but… no, Jeongguk and his friends have made your life a living hell, and you’re not about to forget that just because he’s got a tender touch and kissable lips.

“Oh?” It’s Hoseok who speaks, “That must be rough.”

“Yeah, I’ve told her to wake me, but she insists on going down, herself,” Jeongguk answers, his voice gentle and warm, and even if you can’t technically hear it, you do hear it; the irritation.

You zone out after that, relieved that your quick thinking worked but still frozen in some kind of fear, the others’ voices becoming muffled as they move on to small talk. You nod here and smile there, but soon enough, you and Jeongguk turn to leave.

“Why the fuck did you have to say that?” he seethes the moment you’re out of sight, turning to walk down the neighborhood’s sidewalk. 

You keep your eyes forward and your emotions in check, knowing that there could be neighbors watching. “Because we needed an excuse.”

“And of course, your first instinct is to throw me under the bus.”

“No, but I don’t see why I should always be the one to sacrifice myself?”

“‘Sacrifice yourself?’ I can’t recall you sacrificing anything, actually.”

You can’t say that he doesn’t, once again, disappoint you, but you glance at him, your lips parted. You definitely shouldn’t be surprised.

“You’re an ass,” you inform, “and on second thought, I think I’ll head back. Don’t really feel like hanging out with you.”

Holding your hand out, expecting him to pass the leash to you, you have to admit that what does surprise you is seeing him sigh and almost look… apologetic. Almost.

“I can still take him for a walk. I know you said he needed it, so I can do it, I don’t mind.”

For two seconds, you contemplate. But you don’t have the energy to argue and while you stare at Jeongguk, Fenrir pulls on the lead, excited for a long walk. You may dislike Jeongguk, but he seems weirdly fond of your dog.

“Fine.”

They’re gone for nearly two hours, leaving you to plan the coming days in peace, and when they return, Fenrir snoozes off happily under the dining table.

  It turns out that the house’s sad excuse of a flower bed comes in handy for you. There are weeds and corpses of a few different plants you can’t identify sticking up from the dry dirt that lines the inside of the fence in the front yard. It’s not like you have an extreme interest in gardening, but thanks to your grandma, you know a few things, and coincidentally, working on it will give you a good reason to be outside, observing both the neighbors and possibly that god forsaken cat.

Wiping your forehead with your wrist so as to not transfer dirt from the gloves to your face, you gaze up, irritated at the sun. It just had to be an exceptionally warm summer, didn’t it? Insane beyond words, Jeongguk left about an hour ago to join Namjoon on his jog, and you almost hope he perishes from sunstroke or dehydration while away.

You’re wearing another light blue, flowy dress, your bare knees on the grass as you’re kneeling in front of the dirt. Despite the result of the flower bed being absolutely not important whatsoever, you’re still happy with what you’ve accomplished during the last hour or two.

Behind you is the pile of weeds you’ve managed to unearth, which is a lot. Unfortunately, you don’t have any live plants or even seeds to plant, so there’s just one more thing you can do today, which is watering the flowerless flower bed thoroughly.

It takes way too much effort to unroll the garden hose from its wall-mounted holder, but with the hose on the ground and the tiny little lever pulled just right, you hear the telltale sound of water moving through it.

The area you’ve “moved” into is a fairly dry one, so you’ll have to really drench the soil all the way down, and you waste no time.

As soon as you twist the muzzle, the water sputters until there’s a steady stream flowing. You twist some more, and the stream evolves into something more like a shower. It’s pretty, how the sun’s rays scatter on the many, many droplets, and you feel the slight breeze carry the very smallest of them to your skin. 

You take a deep, relaxing breath, enjoying the feeling and letting some tension go. You’ve been so uncomfortable here. Unsurprising, really, considering who else shares your house and what the mission means, but it’s really put a dent in your health. You have a hard time sleeping, scared of being snuck up on and murdered, and you don’t eat much, paranoid of being poisoned. Danger and evil is everywhere, around every corner.

You lift your gaze from the ground, and it falls on a specific house on the other side of the street. The cat, a ragdoll?, has shown himself maybe once. Perhaps you’ve also seen a suspiciously fluffy tail swish past a window once. His relative absence confirms your suspicion that he spends most of his time at a window facing the backyard and not the front.

You’re in the middle of planning a shorter side mission that might entail you, dressed in black from head to toe, and crawling through the tiny little, tree-sparse forest behind the Jung’s backyard fence when a sound catches your attention.

Before realizing that it’s Jeongguk calling your fake name, you’re startled, your body tensing up and turning around.

Still with the hose in your hand.

“What the?!” he exclaims, as he’s doused in the cold hose water, and you’re immediately trying to get your surprised hands to twist the muzzle shut.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” you apologize, eyes lowering from a half-naked (to whose surprise?) and dripping Jeongguk to your hands. 

The wet, slippery hose doesn’t cooperate, and so all you can do is redirect the water down onto the ground while you try your best to shut it off. 

Somewhere in the back of your head, you register… laughter, and big hands suddenly appear in your vision to take the hose from your hands.

When you peer up, you’re eye to eye with your partner, his hair wet and dripping water onto his face. But he’s grinning, seemingly carefree and not… angry?

Gently, he takes the hose and twists it shut, and when you look around, you notice the reason. There’s laughter coming from the small audience of Namjoon, also half-naked and sweaty from their run, and Eunha and Hoseok, leaning against their own fence on the other side of the street. Perhaps you also spot one of the older ladies living in a house further down the street peek her head out the open door at the ruckus.

“Thank you. And, uh, sorry,” you smile sheepishly, watching a droplet run down Jeongguk’s face and drip from the tip of his nose.

“It’s okay.”

But his smile grows as he takes a step back, and before you know it, he’s turning the water on again with you as his target.

“Jeo–Jaehyun!!” you shriek, holding your hands out in a feeble attempt to stop the cold stream from soaking your dress.

Oddly enough, your nemesis turns the setting to the softest stream, but you realize it perhaps wouldn’t look the best if he was witnessed trying to powerwash his wife’s skin from her bones.

Luckily for you, he only keeps it on for a few seconds, but you definitely think he enjoys it. When he shuts the water off again, he drops the hose to the ground to approach you.

You lock eyes, your heart beating heavily, and you don’t have the brain capacity to think about the others watching.

He steps closer, so much so that you’re nearly chest to chest, and your heart comes to a standstill instead as you peer up at him. Your skin is wet, almost as wet as his although your hair remains a bit dryer.

A water drop threatens to fall from a black strand hanging nearly in his eyes. Eyes that don’t waver from yours. They’re warmer, almost freckled with gold under the sun.

“Your dress is see-through.”

Not once, as he walks you back to the front door, shielding you with his own body, does he look down. Not even as the distance between you increases when you go to open the door to slip inside, instead, he looks away.

“Thank you.” You don’t know why you’re thanking him. Well, you do, but you don’t.

“No problem,” he smiles, turning around to head back to his new-found buddy.

  Around twenty minutes later, when you’re in a dry change of clothes, Jeongguk enters the house. 

“Eunha’s visiting her mom in two days. She’ll spend the night there too.”

You look up from your laptop where you’re sitting on the couch. Jeongguk is still half-naked because when is he not, but he’s also still a bit wet. Not as much, so you figure he must’ve dried off quite a bit out in the sun, already disappearing into the bathroom to return with a towel to pat the remaining water away with.

“What? How do you know that?”

“I heard her. She asked Namjoon where to buy a bonsai tree for her mom.”

“Oh,” you answer, trying not to stare as Jeongguk rubs the towel all over his hair, making his abdominal muscles flex. “That’s good. So, today is… Tuesday, meaning that she’ll leave on Thursday, and spend the night. Their cat’s favorite window is guaranteed at the back of the house, so if we find a way to figure out which exact window it is by Thursday… We can get inside then.”

“No, that’s too early. You want me to go to the poker night–the first one I’ve been invited to–and skip out early? Even if we do crack which window it is, it’s too risky. Too suspicious. I say we wait a week; watch the cat in the meantime, and I’ll leave early next week.”

You’re almost a bit taken aback. Since when does Jeongguk know how to converse–about your different opinions nonetheless–without calling you names and looking at you with disgust? Silently, you wonder if he slipped and fell on his head outside.

“It’s not. We use one of the battery-powered mini cameras and we set it up on their backyard fence tonight after dark, and you go to Namjoon’s on Thursday, stay for a drink or two, for maybe… an hour or two? I’ll call you and tell you that I’m sick.”

He watches you, still unconvinced but with a surprisingly optimistic look on his face.

“The quicker we get even the smallest lead that we can use in the investigation–and we can leave, the better. Even if it’s a bit less suspicious to postpone a week, the risks increase each day we’re here. Besides, we don’t know when the house will be empty again.”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, and so you shut your eyes for a second before opening them and looking at him. “They’re not telling us anything; our best bet is to bug the house as soon as possible. You can tell them I’m pregnant or something. Say that it’s early on but that I’m still affected. You can even say that I’ve been sleeping on the couch because I throw up a lot and want to be near the bathroom and not disturb you. That I lied about you snoring because I didn’t want to tell anyone yet. ”

Finally, he seems to actually consider it, biting his cheek before he speaks. “Fine. We rig the camera tonight, and depending on how it goes, if we get clear enough evidence on the cat, we do it this week.”

“What do you say?” Jeongguk’s quiet voice sounds from your phone that’s lying on the kitchen table.

“A little more to the right. No, no, tilt it to the right,” you guide, both hands gripping the Ipad screen. Jeongguk follows your instructions and the Jungs’ house moves within the borders.

“There, there! That’s good; all windows are in frame.”

“Good, I’ll just… fasten it,” he informs, and you can hear the slight rustling and see the camera move minorly. “Still good?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. I’ll be back within five.”

With that, the call ends, and you sigh. The house is still displayed on the screen, in the night vision mode’s green tint. You make sure the screen is plugged in properly, and you adjust the settings to start recording at the smallest sign of movement.

Then, with approximately one minute left until Jeongguk’s return, you start preparing. He’s been more focused on the job the last few hours which is positive because the more focused he is, the less vile he is toward you.

You take a deep breath when the front door opens, silently reminding yourself to not stare at his body. Before he left, he got changed into a black, long-sleeved compression shirt and black cargo pants, and you’re not sure what’s worse, the usual lack of a shirt or this one because you can still see every little shape and bulge and dent in his upper body.

“Works?” he asks the moment he steps into the kitchen, heading directly toward the cupboard with glasses.

“Yeah, good, uh… job.”

The second it’s out, you shut your eyes briefly. You didn’t need to say that, he was gone for less than fifteen minutes. He taped a camera to a fence. Immediately, you brace yourself for the incoming insult. ‘It’s not hard when you have the slightest bit of talent in your body,’ or ‘do you really think I need compliments from you?’

“Thank you.”

You blink, certainly surprised. 

It would’ve been your turn on the couch if you hadn’t gotten fucking exposed. What bothers you is also that, after hearing Jeongguk’s reasoning, a small part of you is actually considering sleeping in the bed with him.

“We don’t even have curtains. And our windows are too big, if they look through them even from the street, they’ll most likely see you.”

Maybe you’re the one who hit their head somehow? Because you’re currently standing in the bedroom, watching Jeongguk pull the covers away. 

“That’s all you’re wearing?” you question, fidgeting with your hands and nodding toward his mostly-naked body. Of course, he’s bare up top, only wearing a pair of shorts, and it’s ridiculous how fit and muscular he is. The muscles in his arm flex when he grabs a pillow, and his abs move too when he positions it to his liking.

“Uh… Yeah? It’s summer; it’s hot as fuck.”

It doesn’t matter that he isn’t spitting insults in your face–you’re still not comfortable with him. Maybe even less so because why would he suddenly not take a very good chance to hurt you? Why didn’t he insinuate that you’re lucky to be able to witness a body like his? Sleep next to him in bed?

Should you do it? What happens if you don’t, and they notice you on the couch? You don’t think your neighbors are suspicious of you but will they be? If the mission fails–if you fuck it up–what will happen? You won’t pretend that your safety isn’t at risk.

“Are you just gonna stand there, or…?”

“What about Fenrir?”

Jeongguk plops down on the bed in a sitting position with his back against the headboard and clasps his hands behind his head. You try not to look at how his biceps bulge.

“I don’t mind him. In fact, I’d rather sleep beside him than you, so he might as well sleep in here too.”

There it is, some sort of insult. In fairness, you guess having someone as gorgeous and talented as Jeongguk also be kind would offset some sort of balance in the world. You just can’t have it all. 

While he watches, you open the closet and gather some shorts and a t-shirt in your arms, and without a word, you head out to the bathroom on the bottom floor.

Fenrir looks at you with his big, brown eyes when you unlock the bathroom door a few minutes later, having washed up and changed for the night. He’s an attentive dog–that’s why you got him–and he surely knows that you’re nervous. 

“Okay, we can do this,” you whisper to the dog, “It’s just one man, and you’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours.”

Not that Jeongguk would even look at Fenrir with anything remotely close to disgust, but it feels better when you remind yourself that Fenrir’s on your side. Sure, Jeongguk may like him, and perhaps Fenrir likes him back, but the dog is yours, and you are his favorite person.

When you return, Jeongguk is still sitting in bed, but he’s preoccupied with the phone in his hands. 

“So what’s the plan for tomorrow, then?” you ask, flicking the light switch off and trying to ignore your nerves as you approach the bed. 

“I’m not sure,” Jeongguk answers without looking up. The only lightsource in the room is the device in his hands, and it illuminates his face, “what do we need before we’re ready to enter the house?”

“Well, we’ve got the equipment and hopefully the window of time when Eunha’s away and Hoseok’s at Namjoon’s. If we’re lucky, we’re able to confirm which window to enter through tomorrow. I’d say all we need to do is perfect our excuse as to why you’ll have to return home without it seeming suspicious.”

You stop at the foot of the bed, disgusted at the thought of having babies with Jeongguk, even if they’re made up. 

“Also, we should probably see if we can find out more about their cameras, if there’s, you know, a plug to pull before entering just in case either of them decide to take a look. You could always try to steal Hoseok’s phone during the poker night or otherwise prevent him from looking, but Eunha might want to check in on the cat through hers.”

“I can have the chief make some calls to cut the power to their house for a few minutes?”

Surprised, you look at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

“I mean–yeah, if that’s a possibility? I didn’t know it was?”

He puts the phone down on the bedside table. “I think it is. It won’t work for the alarm since those have backup batteries, and there’s a small risk the cameras could as well, but it would be better than only disconnecting the router while already inside in case they have their own connection. We don’t know if the cameras are set to record movement or, like you said, Eunha decided to take a look either.”

His suggestion is good, you can’t deny that, but it makes irritation bubble in your veins. Yes, the chief is sexist like so many men in law enforcement, and your relationship isn’t the best, but to hear Jeongguk speak of the man as something like a friend? You doubt he’d be cutting power if you asked.

“So, are you getting in, or?”

Blinking in the low light, you realize that you’ve just been standing at the foot of the bed with both Jeongguk and Fenrir watching you, Fenrir from the floor beside the bed.

“Yes,” you sputter, not wanting your nerves to show. More determined than you’ve felt in quite some time–fake determination or not–you grab the duvet on your side to get under it. “Just a warning, though. If you touch me, I’ll get Fenrir to bite you. Fenrir, up!”

The big dog jumps up and lies down between you and Jeongguk, and you feel confident enough to lie down with your back toward him.

“If I touch you? You think I want to touch you?”

Like so many times before, your heart sinks. Of course, it doesn’t make sense that you care since you hate the man, but evidently, you do. You’ve begun to reach the conclusion that something’s wrong with you.

  Unsurprisingly, you don’t sleep much. At all, really. So, you rise with the sun because what’s the use in lying in bed with an unconscious Jeongguk? He’s definitely pretty to look at, and sleep somehow makes him look almost… endearing, but you definitely know you shouldn’t, so you grab a change of clothes and leave the bedroom.

It’s eight a.m., and you’re sitting at the kitchen table when a newly awoken Jeongguk drags his feet into the kitchen. You look up from the tablet just in time to see him stretch his arms over his head and yawn. Still half-naked, of course.

“Didn’t expect you to be awake at a reasonable time,” he comments, nearly tripping over his own feet. It makes you snicker, and you curse to yourself.

“Dude, I don’t think you’re even awake.”

Jeongguk squints his light sensitive eyes at you, his hair sticking out in every direction and swaying as he approaches the fridge. After opening it, he reaches for the orange juice, and you think you feel the air turn slightly… awkward.

“So, today… We should look happy. Like, even happier than just newly-weds. As if we just found out you were… pregnant? Or should the story be that we’ve known a little while?”

Oh. Your fingers trace the rim of your own mug.

“Well, if I’m supposed to be sick tomorrow, then maybe it would be best if we say that we, or I, have been suspecting it because I’ve been feeling… the symptoms? And that it’s the reason I decided to test for it yesterday? We can act like we’re happy but trying to keep it a secret for a little while longer because it’s still early?”

Taking a sip from the blue mug in his hand, Jeongguk nods. “I’ll do the rounds, looking excited, but I won’t tell them until poker tomorrow when I explain why I’ll need to go home.”

“Because I’m sick and worried something might be wrong?”

“Yeah. By the way, did you have time to look through that yet?” he gestures toward the screen in your hand. “Did it show anything?”

“Yeah, I think we got it,” you smile hopefully.

  Your sleepless night catches up to you, and while Jeongguk locks the door behind him to meet Namjoon for yet another morning run, you dive back into bed. Can you call it a nap if it’s not even ten a.m.? Who knows, but the extra sleep in a quiet house does you good.

At eleven, you stick your feet into your sandals to take Fenrir for a walk, but it isn’t long after you’ve stepped outside that you spot Jeongguk and Namjoon outside your short fence. Both are breathing heavily and more or less drenched in sweat. In all honesty, Namjoon is both slightly taller and bigger than Jeongguk, even if Jeongguk looks more… defined, but… it bothers you how your eyes are drawn so much more to Jeongguk. You, if anyone, know what a terrible person he is, and how he finds you appalling and gross and disgusting, yet you find yourself looking at him.

You manage to pass the men quickly, but since you’re supposed to be extra happy and in love today, you still make an effort to give your fake husband a heart-eyed smile and a kiss from your tippy toes, your hand on his sweaty chest. He looks down at you warmly, and you hope that you manage to look as happy as he does.

You allow Fenrir to do his business, and then, you’re on your way to Hyeji’s house. She’s on her porch when you approach, excitedly waving you closer.

“Good morning!” she greets, and even Bubbles comes running from inside the house, barking.

“Morning, how are you today?” you lean your arms on the fence, giving her your best ‘I just found out I’m having a child with the man of my dreams but I’m keeping it a secret for now’ smile.

“Great! How are you? Care for some tea?”

“I’m pretty great too. And sure, I’d love to,” you smile, intending on acting like you’re feeling sick but pretending to be good. Layers.

Hyeji grins, and as you head inside the fence and toward her porch with Fenrir in tow, you realize that perhaps you’ll miss her when all of this is over. If you make it out, that is, there are still a ton of risks.

For almost three hours, you sit and chit chat. You even forget that you’re supposed to act somewhat happy because you don’t have to act. In a way, Hyeji reminds you of your friends back home, of Sana and Jihyo, but despite how much you’d rather stay and talk about anything and everything (except your real life) with her, you should probably get going. 

Your mind is in overdrive during the short walk back to the house. Dark, mysterious eyes, friends, assignments, weapons. Gunshots. When you slide the unlocked front door open, the house is eerily quiet. Your heartbeat picks up.

“J–Jaehyun?” you call carefully, just in case Jeongguk is home but not alone. There’s no reply, but another sound. Like… groaning?

Briefly, you wonder if someone’s hurt, and logically, it would be Jeongguk. Slowly, you sneak through the front part of the house with Fenrir’s collar tightly gripped, until you see him.

It is Jeongguk, and he’s doing pull ups on one of those bars he installed in the doorway to the bathroom. Like earlier, he’s wearing shorts, his sweaty back facing you, and he appears to be listening to music through his headphones. For just a second, you let yourself admire him; his strong back and arms, and the sounds he makes. Then, you unleash Fenrir, chuckling a little to yourself when he lunges in excitement, startling Jeongguk to the point he almost falls on his ass.

“Didn’t hear you,” he heaves, bending down to scratch Fenrir behind the ears. 

“We noticed. How has it gone today, so far?”

Jeongguk straightens up, “Uh, pretty well. I’ve mainly been, you know, trying to build relations and acting extra happy. Also went through the footage up until now, and the result’s the same. It’s for sure that window.”

You nod, “That’s… good. Means we can proceed with the plan.”

The plan may not have been the most detailed or…  planned, and it definitely didn’t contain Jeongguk moving the old hammock–left behind in the backyard by the old owners–onto the porch and waving you closer when you step outside.

“It’s… cold,” you excuse, looking out over the street. It’s nine p.m., and the sun is setting over the neighborhood, but it doesn’t mean that its residents have retreated inside yet. In the distance, there’s still laughter and chatter echoing from someone’s backyard, and two houses over, people are sitting on the steps of their porch with wine glasses in their hands.

In a surprisingly good mood, Jeongguk keeps motioning for you to come closer. You do slowly, wrapping your arms around your dress-clad self.

Seeing Jeongguk look anything other than seething confuses you and nearly has you squinting your eyes at him in suspicion. An hour earlier, you went looking for Fenrir, calling his name throughout the house and starting to grow worried. Then you saw them through the window, playing in the backyard, and you stayed there, watching.

You don’t like seeing Jeongguk happy. It’s just not believable. To be fair, he didn’t know you were watching him, and he was alone with your dog with no one else around, so there was no use for him to pretend, but… it just can’t be real.

The eyes that are usually so dark with hatred and disgust–or at least used to be–crinkled in a way you’ve never really seen before. He smiled as he called for your dog’s attention, laughing happily when Fenrir went running for the ball Jeongguk threw. You observed as they played for a while, and then as Jeongguk sat down in the grass and patted his lap, Fenrir trotting over with the ball between his jaws and lying down across Jeongguk’s legs.

“Stop whining,” he teases, looking so handsome as he rises to stand before you, “and sit with me.”

Taking you by surprise, Jeongguk shrugs off the navy sweatshirt he’d been wearing and places it over your head before you can say anything about it. Somewhat reluctantly, you put your arms through the holes, gasping in surprise when Jeongguk tugs you down beside him by one of the inevitable sweater paws.

“Do you think they’re fooled?” he wonders quietly, still holding onto the sweater, “Do we look like newlyweds that can’t keep their hands off each other?”

“Umm, I don’t know. Never been a newlywed. Or married at all, actually.”

You’re not sure what it is, if it’s your quiet voices in the summer night air, or if it’s something else, but a calmness starts to settle in your chest.

Jeongguk chuckles, locating your hand in the fabric, “Well, me neither. But we look like we could be, at least I think. You’re not the worst actress, after all. Or wife.”

Eyebrows raised slightly, you meet his eyes. “How generous of you.”

He keeps smiling but doesn’t say anything more, and slowly, he raises his hand, stroking your cheek before gently holding your chin. Then, he moves closer, and he kisses you.

You let him, and you definitely do kiss him back. Slowly at first, then a little more eager. He tugs a little on your waist, and carefully, and with your heart beating out of your chest, you move onto his lap. He keeps his warm hands on your waist, rubbing soft circles with his thumbs, and you feel the rough fabric of his jeans against the skin of your legs.

At that moment, he’s sweet. Kind. Funny. You don’t think about the cockiness, the arrogance, the rolling of eyes, and insults directed your way. You live the fantasy, ringed fingers and feelings growing warmer. Being cared for, desired. But even if all of it were true, you’d have a lot to work through. And it isn’t true, it’s an act, especially from his side. The neighbor you saw peek over her hedge a minute ago just reminds you of it. It doesn’t stop you from coming to the realization that you want it. You want him to like you, you want him to want you.

Despite you not moving much on his lap, something soon happens. At first, you thought you imagined it, but no, he’s definitely getting hard underneath you while also slowly, slowly lowering one of his warm hands to the naked skin of your outer, lower thigh, and it triggers your fight or flight response. 

You pull back, fear in your eyes as you climb off him.

“Hey, I–” he tries, but you’re already back away.

“I gotta go, I, uh, have to get ready,” you excuse. 

Of course, there isn’t anything to get ready for, not until tomorrow anyway. But you turn, and you hurry inside, locking yourself in the bathroom.

<previous | next>

ONE OF THE GIRLS | part 2

pairing: (electric) guitarist!jungkook x singer!reader(f)

genre: band au, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst

summary: when your main guitarist gets sick and can't perform at your show, you get help from someone unexpected.

warnings: swearing and some making out, hot jk:)), drinking, mention of drugs, smoking, slight smut.

a/n: hi! another part here, i dont know how many i’ll do but probably like 5.

___________________________________________

You impatiently tapped your foot, frustration mounting as the clock's hands inched toward 9:30. the anticipation weighed heavily on you, your eyes fixated on the clock's slow progress. minutes stretched into an eternity, and yet, there was no sign of his arrival.

With each passing moment, your gaze darted back and forth between the door and the relentless ticking of the clock. your impatience reached its peak when, finally, a faint, almost timid knock resonated through the silence of your home.

Your heart raced as you dashed to the door, caught between excitement and a desire to mask your eagerness. Your hand hovered over the doorknob for a moment, your mind racing with thoughts of how to appear casual. With a deep breath, you swung the door open.

Jungkook, dressed head to toe in a striking leather outfit that seemed to accentuate his aura of confidence. in one hand, he held a guitar case, while the other rested casually in his pocket. His intense gaze met yours, and a simple "sup" escaped his lips as he sauntered into the room, an air of nonchalance surrounding him.

A scoff escaped your lips, your frustration momentarily overcoming any desire to be polite. without a word, you resisted the urge to let him inside, your irritation palpable in the charged atmosphere between you.

You motioned for him to follow, leading the way with determined strides. As you guided him towards the garage, the air crackled with tension, a mixture of anticipation and curiosity hanging between you two.

The dim light of the garage studio casts elongated shadows on the walls as Jungkook reclines back on the creaky rocking chair, an air of nonchalance surrounding him. His legs are spread wide open, displaying a casual confidence that matches the slight smirk playing on his lips. A cigarette dangles between his fingers, tendrils of smoke spiraling lazily into the air, adding an ethereal quality to the room.

Your eyes, however, remain fixated on the guitar next to him. The melody he sang yesterday seems to echo in your thoughts, drowning out Jungkook's words. it takes a moment for his question to register, pulling you back from the musical trance you've fallen into.

"Hm?" you respond, your attention torn away from the strings as you finally glance up at him. His expression is a mix of confusion and impatience, his raised eyebrow questioning your distraction.

“What do you want to sing?” he repeats, the words cutting through the lingering chords of the song in your mind.

Your sigh is almost involuntary as you settle onto the couch, the worn leather creaking beneath your weight. You reach into your backpack, fingers rifling through the papers until you find the notes for “Attention” by Charlie Puth. with a sense of determination, you offer the papers to Jungkook, your anticipation turning into confusion as he merely stares at them without taking them from your hands.

“No,” he states simply, his voice carrying a finality that catches you off guard.

“What?” Your voice cracks with surprise, your brows furrowing in confusion. You had expected resistance, but his refusal takes you aback.

He reaches into his pocket, retrieving his phone with an air of casual indifference. The screen lights up, revealing a list of songs neatly typed out in his notes. He thrusts the phone toward you, a silent command in his eyes.

“Pick one” he says curtly, another puff of smoke escaping his lips as he leans back, seemingly unfazed by the situation.

You take the phone and glide through his notes app. “i don’t know any of these… oh, I know this one, ‘One of the Girls’?” you point out, a hint of recognition in your voice.

“It’s excellent with my guitar, trust me, take that one,” he replies, his fingers idly strumming a few chords, the melody filling the room with a captivating allure.

“I want ‘Attention,’” you insist, your voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air.

“You do?” a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, his fingers dancing effortlessly across the strings as he teases out the melody of the song you had suggested.

“I want that song, I mean,” you clarify, your eyes involuntarily following the movement of his hands, noticing the veins tracing intricate patterns beneath his skin.

Your voice carries a blend of irritation and exasperation, the tendrils of smoke curling between you both, noticing the sleek, cracked screen that contrasts starkly against the intensity of his personality. a silent sigh escapes your lips, wondering how someone who seems to have it all can be so careless with his belongings.

"You can't smoke in here, you know?" You reiterate, your eyes narrowing at him. you watch as he takes another drag from the cigarette, his eyebrow arching in defiance as if daring you to challenge him further.

"Telling me that after I almost finish?" he retorts, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, as if he finds your concern amusing.

"Well, I... I forgot to tell you," you stammer, your voice faltering slightly under his scrutinizing gaze. It's not entirely true – you didn't forget; you hesitated, knowing the clash it would cause. But admitting this vulnerability to him feels like admitting defeat, and your pride won't allow that.

He stays silent, his dark eyes locked onto yours, a silent standoff between your principles and his rebellious streak. Despite the tension, you can't help but notice the subtle flicker of curiosity in his eyes, as if he's studying your reaction.

Eventually, he stubs out the cigarette, dropping the smoldering remains into the nearby garbage can. It's a small victory, but you can't help but wonder why he had more cigarettes on him, especially considering the smoky haze that had already enveloped the space.

The room falls into an uneasy quiet, the faint scent of smoke lingering in the air. there’s a palpable tension between the two of you, a clash of wills that sets the stage for the challenges you're about to face in your musical partnership. As you hold his cracked phone, you can't shake the feeling that this interaction is just a glimpse of the complexities that lie beneath Jungkook's confident exterior.

"I still want to sing 'Attention,' not the songs you picked," you assert, your voice carrying a mix of defiance and frustration.

"But I thought we agreed on 'One of the Girls?'" he retorts, his tone challenging, as if daring you to contradict him.

"But I wa—" you begin, only to be cut off by his sharp interruption.

"Either that," he points at his phone, still in your hand, "or I'm gone. find someone else," he states, his gaze unwavering as he locks eyes with you.

zyou can't believe his audacity, his unwillingness to compromise. Anger simmers beneath your skin, your words laced with resentment. "you're a dick, you know that? Why won't you just... Why did you even agree if you won't even do what I suggest? you only want it your way."

"’Cause I get nothing if we do it your way. at least with that song, I'd stand out more," he replies casually, his words cutting through the tension like a sharp blade. his indifference stings, the reality of his motivations laid bare.

"I can't fucking believe you. Fine, go. I don't care. i'll find someone else," You say, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and disappointment.

He smiles, a cold, calculated expression that sends a chill down your spine. Without another word, he gets up, accepting his phone from your hand. as he packs his guitar, the room feels emptier, the music that once filled the air replaced by a heavy silence. before you can comprehend what's happening, he leaves, the door closing behind him with a resounding finality.

"What have I done?" you murmur to yourself, the weight of the situation sinking in. Doubt creeps into your mind, questioning your decisions and wondering if there was something more you could have done to salvage the partnership. As you sit alone in the now-silent studio, you're left with a haunting sense of regret.

You need him, he doesn’t need you. Now you’re fucked.

___________________________________________

Ander’s eyes widen in disbelief, his brows furrowing at your revelation. "You did what?" he exclaims, his voice a mix of shock and frustration. his reaction jolts you, making you realize the gravity of your decision.

"He was such a dick! He didn't even like the song I wanted to sing. he only wanted what he had picked. it’s stupid; i’m not his toy to do whatever he wants. It's MY show and not his," You vent, your words laced with righteous indignation.

Ander sighs, his frustration palpable as he tries to reason with you. "No, now you don't have a show anymore with your attitude. what’s wrong with the songs he picked?" he questions, his tone challenging your defiance.

You struggle to find the right words, desperately searching for excuses to justify your actions. deep down, you know it's not about the songs – it's about asserting your independence, your refusal to be manipulated. "I just... don't want him to win," you admit, your voice faltering under the weight of your conflicting emotions.

"Win what, Brianna? This is not a fucking competition, for fuck's sake!" Ander’s raised voice pierces the air, his frustration mirroring your own.

Feeling defeated, you lower your gaze, a mix of shame and uncertainty clouding your thoughts. ander’s words resonate in your mind, making you question your decisions. "I... I know, but that's not what I mean! I mean he probably will be like," You pause, your voice dropping into a mocking imitation of Jungkook, "Oh yeah, she sings whatever I say. she listens to my commands; I'm sure she'll suck my dick if I asked her." your voice rises in anger, the absurdity of the situation fueling your frustration.

“You know that’s not gonna happen.” Ander watches you, his expression a blend of concern and understanding. “But you gotta fix this. talk to him, you gotta prove to him that it’s his loss, not yours” he continues.

"But it is my loss," you sigh heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on your shoulders. doubts creeps in, gnawing at your confidence, leaving you wondering if you've made a grave mistake.

"He doesn't know that. i’ll text Zac, and you'll go and talk to him," Ander suggests, his voice laced with concern. his eyes meet yours, silently urging you to confront the situation head-on.

"I don't want to beg him to come back. it’s like I fail," you confess, your voice barely audible as you admit your fear of appearing weak and vulnerable. Frustration bubbles within you, a mix of pride and insecurity colliding, leaving you torn between salvaging the collaboration and preserving your self-respect.

You cover your eyes with your hands, seeking solace in the darkness behind your palms. ander places a gentle hand on your shoulder, his touch offering a silent reassurance. In that moment, you grapple with your emotions, trying to find the strength to face Jungkook and convince him to give your partnership another chance. The room is filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of your shaky breaths, as you prepare yourself for the difficult conversation that lies ahead.

___________________________________________

"Sure, that's his location. want me to drop you off?" Avery says, her voice filled with genuine concern as she takes a casual sip of her smoothie.

"No, it's not far. i'll just walk there," You reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel about the impending conversation.

"Okay, healthy girl," she teases, a playful giggle escaping her lips. “Says the one drinking a green smoothie,” You retort, making a disgusted face in response to her choice of beverage. with a final exchange of goodbyes, you leave the cafe, Avery remaining behind to focus on her studies.

As you walk towards Jungkook's house, a mix of determination and apprehension swirls within you. maybe the most cringy thing to do. just as you brace yourself for the confrontation, your phone buzzes with a call from your mother.

"What now?" you answer, your tone reflecting your impatience.

"When's your show?" your mother's voice comes through the line, her tone surprisingly enthusiastic.

"what’s up? what do you want?" you ask, wary of her sudden interest in your music career.

"I want to see you!" she exclaims, her excitement palpable through the phone. "And I'll come with Michael too!"

"God, please don't. Just... why all of a sudden do you want to come to my show?" you inquire, suspicious of her motives.

"I told him you sing and all, and for like a month, he keeps asking me to come see you. what can I do?" she replies, her voice tinged with a mix of annoyance and helplessness. At least her boyfriend wants to if she doesn’t.

"Well, at least he makes you come," you blurt out.

"What?" she sounds horrified, clearly not understanding your sarcasm.

"To the show," you clarify, rolling your eyes despite her inability to see you.

"So when is it?" she asks, attempting to keep the conversation on track.

"Next week on the 14th," you respond, reluctantly providing her with the details. She never wanted for you to sing, she always told you it’s not gonna help you in life and that not everyone becomes famous out of this, that you’re not gonna be the next ‘taylor swift’ or something.

“I have work, bye.” you quickly try to hang up as you’re not in the mood for her.

As you approach the house, your eyes dart between the address on your phone and the luxurious houses that surround you. The neighborhood is filled with sprawling, opulent residences, each one seemingly grander than the last. With each step, your nervousness grows, and you find yourself double-checking the address to confirm you're at the right place. They all look remarkably similar, and you sigh with a mix of anxiety and frustration before pressing the buzzer beside the imposing front door.

You wait for what feels like an eternity, your eyes glued to the door, hoping for a response. A minute passes, and just as you're about to assume that Jungkook isn't home, the door creaks open, revealing a young girl on the other side.

"Can I help you?" she inquires, her tone laced with suspicion as she assesses you.

"Ah, yes, I um... I wondered if I can talk to Jungkook? Is he home?" you stammer, trying to sound confident despite the unease that coils within you.

"And why would I tell you?" she challenges, her skepticism evident in her piercing gaze.

Your expression shifts, clearly taken aback by her hostility. "Sorry, are you... Are you his girlfriend? I'm sorry, I—" you begin to apologize, attempting to defuse the tension.

She cuts you off with a smirk, her demeanor softening slightly. "I'm his sister. Are you dumb? He's upstairs; I was just messing with you," she explains, her amusement evident.

Behind the door, you catch snippets of Korean conversation and a loud "Jungkook-ah," leaving you standing there feeling a bit foolish.

"Hi!" a little voice chimes in, and you glance down to find a young boy, not more than six or seven years old, looking up at you with curiosity.

"Hi, buddy," you smile warmly, crouching down to his level. "You're Jungkook's brother too?"

He shakes his head, his eyes wide with innocence. "No! I'm his son!"

Your jaw practically drops to the ground at his revelation. "He has a son?" you mumble, utterly shocked by this unexpected piece of information. The complexity of Jungkook's life becomes more apparent, and you find yourself reeling from the revelation as you wait outside the grand house.

Before you can say anything you hear some more korean words you swore you knew from some k dramas you watched a while ago.

Suddely, Jungkook ahows at the door. his wet hair clinging to his forehead, dressed in grey sweatpants that clung to his legs and a tight black t-shirt that hinted at the contours of his physique, towel in his hand ruffling to his hair, he says:

“Brianna?” And you swore you never saw this much confusion in someone’s face.

“Hey! I was-“

He cuts you “Come in. Don’t stay at the door” He makes a motion of his free hand to show to come inside and adds: “take off your shoes.”

You’re confused but you do as he says, when you enter the big spacious house, your eyes are wider than ever, biggest house you’ve ever seen, and some children playing around, his sister cooking something and an older women that seems a babysitter or an aunt, not their mom since she’s american, helping a younger girl draw.

You look around, being mesmerized.

Jungkook sees that you look for a spot to sit. “ome upstairs, it’s too loud to stay here.”

You nod and you follow him upstair.

Suddenly he throws the towel into a hole in the ground that seems to go to the laundry room.

“Sit here, I’ll be right back.” He leaves and i sit on the bed and i can swear that’s the comfiest bed ever.

I look around, seeing his vintage guitar sitting in a place that seems to be just for it. The walls were black and decorated with posters of Guns ‘n’ Roses and in one is Kurt Cobain. You sit up and look at his Funko Pop collection, Angus Yung, Alice Cooper, Kurt Cobain, Slash, Duff McKagan, Kirk Hammett, Paul Stanley and one that really caught your eye, Elvis Presley, but all of them, like, the whole collection.

You sit back down as you hear footsteps, Jungkook’s hair now completely dry, you stare at him for a while before he breaks the silence.

“Why are you here?” He says and sits on his gaming chair, behind him you see like 4 different consoles and a drawer full of console games.

“I wanted to… “ You can’t find the right words, you pause and you can’t make eye contact with him, but his gaze never leaves you. “Do you think we can try again? I think your music is what i need, i mean, for the show.” you correct yourself, still not looking at him. “I’ll sing one of the girls.”

“after you called me a dick and told me i only care about myself?” This made you pause.

you remained silent.

“hm?” he asks again, arms crossed over his chest.

My eyes dropped to the floor, unable to meet his intense stare.

His sigh cut through the silence, the sound carrying a mixture of frustration and disappointment. "Come on," he said, his tone softer now but no less penetrating. "Where did your confidence go?"

I felt a lump form in my throat, my hands fidgeting nervously as I searched for the right words. "I just wanted to be honest," I stammered, my voice barely audible.

Jungkook's eyes bore into mine, his expression a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

"I know I messed up," I began, my voice steady now, fortified by my determination. "But I believe you have a lot to gain from this collaboration too. Think about it," I continued, my words flowing with calculated conviction. "By helping me, you'd not only showcase your talent but also gain recognition, perhaps even more than me. Imagine the girls swooning, thinking the guitarist noticed them. You'd be their heartthrob, their dream. It's a chance to captivate an even larger audience, to be adored by fans far and wide."

I paused, allowing the idea to settle between us. "Picture this," I continued, my voice taking on a persuasive tone. "If our collaboration becomes a success, the spotlight won't just be on me. It'll shine on you too, brighter and more dazzling than ever. More fans, more gigs, more opportunities. We could become a force to be reckoned with in the music industry, and you, Jungkook, could soar to heights you've only dreamt of."

The words flowed from my lips, weaving a tapestry of deception that hung in the air, glistening with promise. I felt a pang of guilt for the lies I was feeding him, for playing into his desires and aspirations. Because i don’t believe a word i said, but he was sure eating it up.

As I spoke, I watched his expression carefully, trying to gauge his reaction.

In the silence that followed, I held my breath, waiting for his response, nothing.

You wait, and you wait.

Fuck.

He’s not buying it.

Time seemed to stretch, each moment dragging like an eternity. The weight of his silence bore down on me, filling the room with a suffocating sense of defeat.

A wave of frustration washed over me, mingling with disappointment and self-reproach. How had I let it come to this?

"Okay," I finally said “I’ll just go.” You look one more time at him before opening the door, you go down on the stairs, you look back, thinking he’s coming after you.

He’s not.

And you leave the house.

_______

It’s Friday night and you’re eating popcorn watching Girl Vs Monster on Disney+.

You feel like a child again, Halloween was near and you had no friends or plans, Avery was hanging with Zac every weekend and you had College in the week, nothing happens at all in your life. The show was in 5 days, yet, you didn’t cancel it, like you knew you could find someone, You didn’t, obviously.

Jungkook letting you talk alone and not even saying bye to you left you as speechless as he was, you told Avery and when she told Zac he was as shocked as you.

Suddenly, your phone rings.

“Girl, get ready, we goin’ out.”

“What? Where?” You say, focused on the movie and not choking up on your popcorn bits.

“Some club with live music, it’s gonna be fun, wear something sexy i’m coming in an hour.”

Before you could say the biggest NO ever, she hang up.

At least you won’t say you’re bored.

After doing your makeup and putting on a tight black dress, you get out of the house, looking at the clock on the phone that says 11:32.

“Fuck Avery where are you.”

It was October and you were already freezing, New York sucks in autumn.

Before you could think of another swears, Avery shows up with Zac next to her, you quickly enter the car, overwhelmed by the car’s heat

“Damn i know its not summer outside but still chill with the heat”

“Fuck sorry” Avary giggles and you hear a small ‘Sup’ from Zac in the front. The drive was short you didn’t realize you were there.

The neon lights of the club flickered like distant stars against the night sky as I approached, the thumping bass reverberating through the pavement beneath my feet.

A wave of anticipation washed over me as I stepped inside, the music engulfing me like a tidal wave of sound. The air was alive with the mingling scents of perfume, sweat, gross, and the subtle aroma of cocktails.

I find a table for us, I settled into the plush seating. Zac had left momentarily to fetch our drinks, leaving me in the company of Avery. The DJ booth, bathed in neon hues, had caught my attention, and I couldn't help but notice the abrupt departure of the DJ who had been commanding the dance floor just moments ago.

"Why is the DJ leaving?" I inquired, a hint of amusement in my voice, directing my question to Avery, who was observing the scene with a similar sense of intrigue.

Avery shrugged nonchalantly. "Hm, I don't know. Maybe a break?" Her response was casual, her attention already shifting back to her surroundings.

Just then, Zac returned, balancing a tray of vibrant cocktails in his hands. "Here ya go, ladies," he announced cheerfully, placing the drinks on our table. "Be right back." With a nod, he excused himself and made his way toward a figure at the front of the club, leaving Avery and me to enjoy our drinks.

As I took a sip, my gaze drifted across the crowd, inadvertently landing on Jungkook. My reaction was immediate and unfiltered. "That's Jungkook?" I exclaimed, my voice rising above the club's din, reaching Avery's ears amidst the crowded chaos.

Zac approached Jungkook, offering him a warm hug before helping him settle onto the stage. Avery, seemingly unbothered, raised an eyebrow at my outburst, her lips curling into a knowing smile.

"Yeah... about that..." Avery began, her tone suggesting a hidden secret, her nonchalant demeanor contradicting my sudden astonishment.

I scoffed, even though she couldn't hear me properly over the club's pounding music. "It was Zac's idea! Plus, if you had known he was singing, you would not have come," She muttered, my frustration evident, my eyes narrowing at Jungkook, who was now garnering attention on the stage.

“exactly!” I agree with her.. "He's the last person I want to see right now. He'll think I'm his fan. Gross." The sarcasm in my voice was evident, our shared sentiment about the unexpected turn of events bonding us in a moment of mutual exasperation.

“Ladies and Gentlemen” a man that seems the manager of the club starts. “Give it up for Jungkook!” The room erupted into a chorus of screams, mostly from excited girls, actually, only girls, the rest just clapped. I sit back with my eyes fixated on him.

Suddenly, his fingers start playing a song very popular and known, i try to remember the name and Avery screams

“LOVE SONG BY RIHANNA NO WAY” She claps with the rest and screams like a fan girl.

“Fuck” I mutter.

“I don’t wanna give you the wrong impression.” He starts, playing with his guitar that sounded and not gonna lie, amazing, i love that fucking instrument, yet, his voice? He can sing? Damn.

“I need love and affection. And I hope i’m not sounding too desperate.”

Fuck, his voice was angelic, he sounded really good.

Then Avery continues, jungkook doesn’t “I need love and affection Wooooo” she screams and my ears are bleeding.

(Here’s how jungkook sounded playing that song https://youtu.be/q6oOi2W0GXA?si=WuN2Lu4u3jU5Mkuh (if the link doesnt work, paste it on youtube, its better so get how he sounds)

The song still going on, his gaze suddenly moves to me, I choke on my drink and see how surprised he is too, he didn’t know i was here.

“Can you love me for poor? I’m searching for my soul”

He sings and looks at me. Just at me. Like… just at me.

“And I hope I'm not sounding too desperateI need love and affection” The final words of the song are more deep and low now. And with some notes on his guitar, he finishes. The room is filled with applause and screams.

“Thank you.” And with that, Jungkook leaves the stage.

"Hey!! Earth to Brianna?" Avery continued, her words a gentle but insistent nudge, breaking through my trance-like state.

"W-what?" I stammered, my attention snapping back to the present moment. The pulsating music and the lingering echoes of Jungkook's performance surrounded me, the reality of the club engulfing my senses once again.

"You should totally go up there," Avery urged, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. "Show them what you've got! This could be your chance to shine too."

I hesitated, my mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and insecurities. The stage, once an alluring spotlight, now seemed like an intimidating abyss, each step toward it filled with uncertainty. Yet, Avery's encouragement hung in the air, a glimmer of possibility that tugged at my ambitions.

Taking a deep breath, I say “Yeah… Maybe i should. But i don’t have Ander with me. I’m gonna sing acapella? really?” I sigh.

“Yeah, you don’t need Ander, go on, your voice is perfect without any instrument.” She hugs you tightly and pushes you to go to the stage.

With newfound determination, I stood up from the table, my heart racing with a mix of anticipation and fear. The stage loomed before me, its allure now tinged with the promise of opportunity. As I took a step forward, I pushed aside my doubts, ready to embrace the challenge that lay ahead. With Avery's unwavering support echoing in my ears, I ventured toward the stage, my gaze fixed on the spotlight

"Hi…" I began, my voice amplified by the microphone, resonating through the club like a hesitant whisper. "I'm Brianna, and I'm gonna sing…" Panic settled in as I realized I hadn't prepared a song beforehand. Desperation gripped my thoughts, my mind flickering to Jungkook's earlier list of songs. "Friends, by Chase Atlantic," I blurted out, hoping it was a decent choice.

A smattering of applause greeted my song choice, drowned out by the echo of Jungkook's popularity, evident in the resounding cheers that followed Avery's enthusiastic scream and Zac's supportive applause.

I took a deep breath, the stage lights casting long shadows across the floor beneath me. "Boy, tell me what you're doing on the other side," I started, my voice shaky with nerves. The acapella beginning proved challenging, lacking the safety net of instruments to ensure I stayed on key and in good time. Doubt gnawed at my confidence, threatening to consume me whole.

But just as uncertainty threatened to overwhelm me, a figure appeared on the stage beside me. I turned my head to my right, my eyes widening in surprise—it was Jungkook. Confusion etched across my face, silently asking him, "What the fuck?"

He nodded subtly, his gesture indicating the precise moment the beat should have dropped. Without missing a beat, he started accompanying me with his guitar, his skilled fingers coaxing harmonious melodies from the strings. The crowd erupted into cheers, their enthusiasm fueling my determination.

"All of your friends have been here for too long. They must be waiting for you to move on," I sang, newfound confidence surging through me. Jungkook's presence, his unwavering support, transformed the daunting stage into a sanctuary of shared music. The crowd's cheers merged with the melody, creating an electric atmosphere that vibrated with the synergy of our voices and instruments.

(here’s how it sounded https://youtu.be/lOOcEsmNVMg?si=KwZsXCMa5dzn-b1E )

Avery, my biggest cheerleader, was now on the table, her excitement palpable. With Jungkook's guidance and the crowd's energy, I felt a surge of exhilaration, embracing the moment and channeling it into my performance. The stage, once intimidating, now felt like a place where I could truly express myself, my voice melding with Jungkook's guitar in a harmonious fusion of music and emotion.

“Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now” Jungkook ends the song with an impressing note and everyone is screaming, more than ever. Your smile is bigger than the club now and you look at Jungkook, he was smiling a bit, just a tiny bit, he gives you a nod and gestures towards you, like giving the applause just to you.

As the final notes of performance echoed through the club, Jungkook and I descended from the stage, our footsteps synchronized with the fading music. Avery, electrified by our performance, lunged at us the moment we were within reach, her arms wrapping around me in a bone-crushing hug.

"I can't breathe, Jesus," I gasped, half-laughing, half-suffocating in her enthusiastic embrace. She released me, her laughter filling the air as she hugged me once more, her genuine excitement contagious.

"You were amazing!! And you too!" she exclaimed, her eyes shifting to Jungkook, who responded with a modest nod, his expression a blend of humility and pride.

"You two are incredible, just do the show together!" Zac chimed in, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. I glanced at him, my gaze intense and determined, ready to refute the idea. “That’s not-“ But before I could voice my thoughts, Jungkook spoke up, his voice cutting through the noise of the club.

"I think that's gonna work," he stated, his tone assured, catching me off guard. My eyes met his, filled with shock and disbelief. His confidence seemed unwavering, and for a moment, I found myself at a loss for words.

"Fuck yeah!" Avery screamed, her excitement uncontainable as she hugged me again. Amidst her elation, Jungkook excused himself, making his way toward the exit, presumably for a smoke break. I felt a strong urge to follow him, my curiosity piqued by his unexpected decision.

"I'll catch up with you in a bit, Avery," I said, gently extricating myself from her grip. Ignoring her protests, I trailed after Jungkook, my steps quickening to match his pace. The neon lights of the club faded behind us as we stepped into the cool night air.

"Hey," I called out, my voice slightly breathless as I caught up with him. Jungkook turned, his eyes meeting mine, a hint of something unreadable flickering in their depths.

"What was that back there?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"What?," he replied cryptically, his gaze lingering on mine for a moment longer before he turned away, his silhouette disappearing into the night.

I stood there, my mind swirling with questions, torn between chasing after answers and returning to the pulsating energy of the club. Avery's voice echoed in the distance, but my attention remained fixed on the spot where Jungkook had stood, wondering about the unexpected turn our collaboration had taken.

"You want to… sing with me? In the show?" I ask him, my voice laced with surprise, my eyes widening in disbelief.

"Yeah, I do," he replies, a casual yet confident smirk playing on his lips. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a mysterious veil, adding an enigmatic aura to his presence. His eyes meet mine, holding a mixture of determination and a hint of vulnerability.

“"Why?" I inquire, my eyebrows furrowing slightly, searching for an explanation in his eyes, wanting to understand the hesitation in his voice.

"You don't think we sounded good? The crowd went crazy back there," he responds, his voice carrying a mixture of disappointment and uncertainty. He glances away for a moment, as if questioning his own abilities despite the cheering audience.

"I'm used to it," I reply, a nervous chuckle escaping my lips, attempting to brush off the momentary doubt. Surprisingly, he joins in, his laughter harmonizing with mine, creating a shared moment of camaraderie amidst the uncertainty, both of us realizing the absurdity of our self-doubt.

"Good one," he says, a genuine smile breaking through, his laughter fading into a soft chuckle. With a final puff, he takes another drag from his cigarette, the smoke swirling around him like a wispy dance, emphasizing the lingering sense of connection between us.

“"You having fun?" I break the silence, my voice barely audible over the club's music.

"Not really, clubs are not my thing. I just sing here and mostly leave immediately after," he explains, his tone carrying a hint of indifference.

"They're like eating themselves," I say, gesturing towards Zac and Avery with a smirk. "I'm glad they're together."

"Yeah, I haven't seen Zac not fucking around since forever. He must really like her," he observes, his gaze briefly flickering towards the couple.

"God, now I have to wait for her to go home," I sigh, feeling the weight of impatience settling in.

He flicks his cigarette away and slips his hands into his leather jacket pockets. "Wanna get out of here?" he asks, his voice low and smooth, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"Don't ask me twice," I giggle, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of escaping the crowded club.

"Come," he gestures for me to follow him, and we make our way to the parking lot. Among the luxurious cars, my eyes catch a dark blue and black motorcycle, sleek and menacing.

"Wow, look at this, cool," I remark, my voice barely audible above the background noise.

"That's mine," he smirks, his pride evident in his tone as he slips on his helmet. The letters on the back spell out '97 JJK.'

"Oh," I say, feeling a bit dumb for not realizing it earlier.

"Actually, take my helmet. I only have one; I didn't think I'd leave with someone," he offers, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Wow. Not thinking he’s gonna leave with a girl… That doesn’t seem like him.

"Thanks," I reply, taking the helmet but struggling to figure out how to close it properly. He notices my struggle and steps closer, his presence sending a shiver down my spine.

"Here," he helps me secure the helmet, his fingers brushing against my skin in a fleeting touch. I feel a strange warmth spreading through me at his proximity.

"Thank you," I manage to say, my voice slightly breathless.

He climbs onto the motorcycle, his posture confident and relaxed. I hesitate for a moment before carefully settling behind him, gripping his abdomen tentatively.

"Hold me tight, yeah?" he instructs, his voice low and smooth, sending shivers down my spine.

"Tighter," he says, his tone firm yet oddly reassuring. Looking back at me.

I follow his command, wrapping my arms around him as tightly as I can, feeling the warmth of his body against mine.

"More," he murmurs, his voice vibrating through me, and I obey, my grip intensifying. I can't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness as the engine roars to life beneath us, and we speed away.

I lay my head against his back, feeling the steady rhythm of his motorcycle beneath us as we navigate the city. New York sprawls before us, a vibrant tapestry of lights and life, truly living up to its reputation. The wind rushes past, tousling my hair, and for a moment, I'm lost in the sheer awe of the city's grandeur.

After about 10 minutes, he brings the motorcycle to a stop, and I lift my head, glancing around to see a serene lake. Couples stroll along the water's edge, feeding ducks that paddle peacefully in the rippling reflections of the city lights—such a charming sight

I carefully remove my helmet, placing it on the motorcycle, and step down onto the ground. "I like this place, it's quiet," He remarks, taking in the tranquility of the surroundings.

"Do you bring all your girls here?" I tease, a playful grin tugging at my lips. He shrugs, his response cryptic yet oddly honest. "No," he replies, his gaze lingering on the lake.

I decide to approach the ducks, my affinity for them evident in my eager steps. "I'm sorry I don't have food on me," I say, pouting slightly as I address the ducks, my disappointment genuine. A soft laugh ripples through the air, and I turn to see Jungkook chuckling behind me.

"What's so funny?" I ask, my curiosity piqued.

"You're literally apologizing to some ducks," he points out, his amusement evident in his eyes.

"Yeah, because I don't have food to give them," I retort, crossing my arms over my chest as I sit down next to him on a nearby bench. To my surprise, the ducks follow me, their quacks growing louder, and I can't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with these feathered creatures.

"See? They like me," I say, a triumphant smile gracing my lips as I watch the ducks gather around, their curiosity piqued by my presence. Jungkook watches, his expression softening as he observes the scene, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"So," he starts, his voice steady as my gaze turns to him, curiosity filling my eyes.

"No, I'll start, and hear me out," I say confidently, my words hanging in the air as I gather my thoughts.

"We're going to do rehearsals with one of the boys, at my place, whenever we can find the time. The show is in 5 days, and time is tight, but we're really good, so it doesn't matter," I explain, my excitement palpable. I notice his amused face as I speak rapidly, the urgency of the situation sinking in.

"Okay, okay. Still at yours, yeah?" he asks, seeking confirmation.

"Yes," I reply, nodding in affirmation.

"You sing really well," he compliments, his tone genuine and appreciative.

"Thank you. You too. I didn't know you sang too," I say, genuine confusion lacing my words.

"Oh yeah, I sometimes do, but my main priority is my guitar," he explains, his passion evident in his voice.

"Where is it, though? Don't tell me you forgot it," I ask, a hint of playful teasing in my tone.

"Ah, no, it's in the locker rooms. I can't bring it on my bike," he replies, his explanation tinged with a touch of self-consciousness.

"Oh yeah," I respond, trying not to sound dumb, but failing to hide my understanding.

A silence settles between us, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging in the air.

"You have a son?" I venture cautiously, my curiosity getting the best of me.

"What?" he chuckles, his laughter breaking the tension. "What the fuck, no."

"But there was a little boy who—" I start, my words trailing off as confusion clouds my thoughts.

"That was my shitty little brother. He was messing with you," he explains, his tone lightening the mood.

"Darn, I got fooled by a kid," I say, laughing at my own gullibility, although the thought of him being childless leaves me feeling oddly relieved.

"You really thought I had a kid?" he asks, genuine surprise in his eyes.

"Well, you're like 25… so what's the big deal?" I respond, attempting to downplay my previous concern.

"I... nothing, just... it's too soon. And no wife," he admits, his words carrying a mix of vulnerability and uncertainty.

"I get it. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable," I say, my empathy for his situation evident in my voice.

"No, god, don't worry," he reassures me, his smile returning as he appreciates my understanding

You scroll on your instagram a bit and suddenly get a notification from a club that’s live. You click on it by mistake and before you press X your eyes widen.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

Jungkook looks at you confused and leans closer to see. “What?”

“That’s… That’s Ander. The guy that was my guitarist, and best friend.”

The live was showing Kristine, your high school rival, with Ander, accompanying her by his guitar, singing in the club.

“He told me he was fucking sick and he couldn’t sing with me and now he’s fucking singing with this bitch?” Tears welled up in your eyes, your emotions raw and overwhelming. Jungkook, witnessing your pain, remained silent but his eyes held a deep sympathy, understanding the depth of your hurt.

“FUCK IT. You know what jungkook?” he looks surprised “I knew it," you choked out, your voice filled with a mix of anger and sadness. "I never listened to anyone saying he doesn't care and he only wants to fuck me. That he isn't my best friend. We were besties since like 3rd grade, and that asshole saw he didn't have a chance and just..." Your voice trailed off as tears streamed down your cheeks, your heartache laid bare.

“Imgine if you didn’t agree to sing with me. He would’ve let me fuck my show. What the fuck. But what i don’t understand is why he really wanted me to make you sing with me.” you sigh. looking at the live.

"That's my ex, maybe that's why," Jungkook said, his words hanging in the air, heavy with unspoken history.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, coughing to mask your shock. The autumn wind chilled your face, mixing with the cold from your tears. Numbly, you looked down and closed your phone, trying to block out the betrayal that had unfolded before your eyes.

"Hey, it's not your fault, he's a sucker," Jungkook said, his voice soft and comforting. Damn, seeing you all hurt and crying made him want to hug you, but he knew that wasn’t his place.

You remained silent, staring into the distance, lost in your thoughts until Jungkook spoke again, his tone oddly gentle. "Bri."

Only Avery and Ander call you that, his use of your nickname made you look at him your faces now just inches away. Before he could say anything, your phone rang, making you jump.

"What?" you answered, your voice a mixture of annoyance and pain.

"Where are you?" Avery's voice, filled with concern, echoed through the phone.

"I'm... I'm sorry for not telling you. I'm at the lake. Can you pick me up?" you confessed, your vulnerability seeping through your words.

"What—okay," she responded, her worry palpable.

"Hey, I can drop you home," Jungkook offered, his words gentle and sincere.

"No, it's fine, go home," you insisted, trying to be strong. But he wasn't having it. He draped his black leather jacket over your shoulders, now only in his CK t shirt. The warmth providing some solace against the biting cold.

"You're in a dress. You need it more than me," he said, his smile genuine, and you nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude for his kindness.

After what felt like an eternity, Avery finally arrived to pick you up. You thanked Jungkook, handing him back his jacket, your makeup smudged from tears, but he didn't seem to mind.

Upon reaching home, you took a long, hot shower, letting the water wash away the pain and betrayal. As you cried again, the weight on your chest lifted slightly. Eventually, exhaustion washed over you, and you fell into a restless sleep, haunted by the events of the night.

_______

Looking in the mirror, your face all swollen up. You kept thinking about Ander, was he really lying to you this whole time? Saying he won’t be able to sing and just leaving you figure it out? Then why did he help? Making you talk with Jungkook and all.

You were waiting for Jungkook to come at around 7 pm, all day you stood in bed crying then drank a coffee, you were too lazy to go to the stores to make something to eat, so you ate some chocolate.

You hear some knocks on the door. “Finally.” You sigh, going down to open the door, you found Ander sitting on the couch. But when he saw you, he quickly stood up.

You remained silent and shocked, his presence sending a surge of anger through your veins.

“What are you doing here?” you ask with your voice barely a whisper

“I… why didn’t you read my messages? Also i called you like 5 times today, what’s up with-“

“You’re seriously asking this? You fucker.” You scoff and push him “Get out.”

“What? What did i do” How he liked to play dumb.

“You’re really getting on my nerves.” before you could push him again, he grabs your arms and holds them tight. “Let me go, it hurts.” You stiffen in his grip.

He looks at you intensely “Tell me!” Oh now he’s begging.

You can’t believe how dumb he puts on this act, how he manipulates you. “You know damn well what’s up.”

“No, i don’t! “ he cries, his voice raising.

“Fuck you.” you scream at him, trying to free yourself.

“No, fuck you!” he screams. “Tell me!” before you could add anything else he starts laughing. “I see. you hang out with that chinese junkie and he made you his bitch, now you forgot about your best friend.”

“W-what.” you can’t believe his words “You know that’s no-“

“I don’t know anymore what’s true or not. I saw you singing and how you looked at him. You didn’t even tell me to join you at the club!” Oh as that was the problem.

You scoff. “Oh now I can’t go out with Avery? also, aren’t you supposed to be sick?” You ask, raising your eyebrow.

He remains silent for a second before he adds a stuttered “I am.”

“You sang with Kristine, you asshole, i saw the live.” You look at him, his shocked expression made you laugh.

“You’re such a piece of shit” You start “get out of my house” you raise your voice.

His look now gentle and sad “No, Bri, i can explain-“

“Don’t Bri me!” Your eyes start to water again, fuck. Not in front of him… “Let me go!” you scream again.

“Bri look i know i-“

“She said to let go.” you both turn your heads to Jungkook, now entering the house.

“Ah. i see, That’s why you didn’t even want me here, you were waiting on him right? He fucks you now? what?”

“So?” he says, pushing Ander off me, As he looks unamused and confused.

“So what if we fuck? Mad you couldn’t get to her?” he looks down on Ander. His words made you gulp. Damn, he is so much taller than Ander.

“You fucker.” Ander says as he attempted to throw a punch at Jungkook, but he effortlessly dodged the attack, choosing not to engage in a fight. Instead, he intervened, pushing Ander away from you.

“Get out. She doesn’t want you here. What kind of best friend are you? You lying bitch,” Jungkook’s words were cutting, his voice cold with disdain.

The tension in the room reached its peak, and you couldn’t take it anymore. In a moment of unexpected strength, you punched Ander while his attention wavered, catching him off guard. “Get out, now,” you said quietly, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and sadness. “Please just go, if you ever cared about me, just a little bit, you’d leave.”

Ander clenched his jaw, his gaze flickering between you and Jungkook, then he left, slamming the door behind him. You felt a mix of relief and heartache as you watched him go. Overwhelmed by emotions, you collapsed into Jungkook’s arms, hugging him tightly, your tears flowing freely now. He wrapped his arms around you, offering a comforting embrace as you cried loudly against his chest, seeking solace from the storm of emotions that had consumed you.

___________________________________________

a/n: end of part 2! damn emotional roller coaster! i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! i don’t know how many words there are since i dont know how to count them but tips are welcomed! please like and reblog and comment if you liked the story so far, there are many things to come too! kisses<3

@variety-is-the-joy-of-life

cant describe my happines when i see this type of notifs from mimi on wattpad!!!

@personasintro

BEST. NOTIFICATION. EVERRRRRNBBKE

@personasintro