Before I Leave You Pt.57

Before I Leave You Pt.57

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You, Hobi, and a dead body are not things that Jin wants to think about in the same sentence.

Tags: Limited Horror, limited Gore, panic attacks, breakdowns, unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol, drinking to forget, trauma, trauma bonds, Namjoon has dad energy and daddy energy, overprotective behavior, babbying, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, implied/referenced passed trauma, Short smut sections, tae’s dick is briefly referred to as a clit, trans! tae, role playing, wlw, brief virginity play, brief mention of spanking, unintended voyeurism, 

W/c: 7.7k

A/N: Ahhhhh I wasn’t happy with this chapter for the vast majority of me writing it, my life is about to get very stressful very quickly so don’t be surprised if i go mia for a few days <3 any love you can throw my way this next week will be!!! very very needed and welcome!

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

It’s nearing 5 am and the sun is only just rising.

The fog hangs over the crashing waves like a heavy shroud, reflecting the flashing blue and red lights harder, making them more vibrant. The ocean Turns deep and angry as the low tide shifts. Loud and blocking out the sound of everything, even the sirens and commotion of no less than 3 dozen FBI agents, about 8 different medical personnel, and 3 very disgruntled police officers.

You, Hobi, and a dead body are not things that Jin wants to think about in the same sentence.

Keep reading

the way i’m in love with this story

Over the Falls Ch. 2: Bomb

Sexy Banner & bar by @borabae-gx

Summary: Jungkook sees a lot of things as a pool tech. It’s…  fine. It pays the bills between mornings on the water and evenings  rocking out with his garage-band. His favorite thing to see on the job has been Grace Birch –older but a hottie, wealthy but nice, and  unfortunately very married. At least until Grace learns what her husband  has been up to behind her back. Now that she’s free, Jungkook finds  himself wondering: what does it take for a guy like him to catch the eye of a woman like that?

Genre: Poolboy Jungkook x Rich Divorcee OC

Tags: Age gap (older woman), socioeconomic gap, Surferboy JK, drummer/guitarist/vocalist JK, Wealthy divorcee OC, househusband

CW: Mature/Explicit,  Infidelity (not between JKxOC), language, alcohol, recreational drugs, lots of explicit sex, ageist/racist/classist remarks down the road, outdoor sex, beach sex

Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three

“You’re pursing your lips!” Taro called back to Jungkook. His attempts to unpurse them failed beneath his glare; he pursed them tighter, then squeezed his eyes shut accidentally while trying to relax his lips. Thinking about it all caused him to drag the rhythm and Yoongi abruptly stopped.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook scowled at Taro. “Who cares what my mouth is doing when I’m not singing?”

“I care, it doesn’t look cool.”

“Well stop looking back at me and you won’t see it. The audience is that way,” Jungkook said, pointing with his stick to the front of the garage where Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, and Corri chilled with beers on cheap folding chairs. They weren’t paying any attention to the rehearsal, certainly not to anything Jungkook’s face was doing behind the drums. 

“Yeah but–”

“No one cares what his fucking face does,” Soyoon agreed with him. “They care whether he nails that tricky rhythm.”

“Thank you–”

“If he looks like a muppet, so what?”

Jungkook’s grateful grin slid into a scowl. Soyoon smiled. 

Yoongi’s voice sounded equally as deceptively supportive as he suggested, “Maybe more like a tarsier.”

“I was thinking tree frog,” Taehyung called over. 

“You’re all fucking assholes,” Jungkook huffed and did a run on the drums as loud as he could as punishment. They were unfortunately unbothered. As unbothered as they should have been about whatever concentration face he made as he drummed. They had no idea the coordination and focus it required! 

“Don’t listen to them,” Hoseok insisted as soon as the cacophony died down. “You’re handsome no matter what face you make, that’s why they’re being like that. They’re jealous. You look so cool when you drum, you’re stealing the show.”

It was too over the top. Jungkook sighed and let his head hang as his friends got their laughs out. 

“What? What did I say?” Hoseok mumbled as Jimin patted his arm and shushed him. Hoseok was the only one of their group to say something like that and mean it sincerely, but no one could take it seriously. Alas.

“Let’s just take it from the top,” Yoongi said. “Last song of the night and I’m out.”

“Out? Why out? We’re performing this weekend,” Taro instantly argued. Jungkook saw the twitch of Yoongi’s lips, only the faintest sign he ever showed that he was annoyed.

“Yeah, so we had the extra rehearsal.”

“I just want us to do well,” Taro insisted. “This isn’t a normal performance. It’s a competition.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the snicker, “For Aughts Coverbands. It’s not that deep, Taro, you don’t have to be a bitch about my face.”

“Gee, can’t imagine why you can’t get laid lately.”

“The fuck do you know about it? I can get laid whenever I–” Jungkook sputtered. Really? She had to say that right in front of Corri?!

Soyoon sighed noisily, “We all know you want to win, we all know Junky can get laid, can we just do it already?” God he hated that nickname, if anyone besides Soyoon called him that he’d lose his shit, but somehow she’d always been able to use it as a hook to draw him back. He rolled his eyes at her, as expected, and she grinned and thumbed a line on the bass.

“Winning is fun,” Taro huffed. “I thought at least Jungkook would agree with me.”

“You’re talking shit about my face! We aren’t going to lose because of my face!”

“Only when you purse your lips like that.”

“I’m just concentrating.”

“You’re supposed to make it look effortless.”

“You wanna drum?” he asked, standing from the stool and holding the sticks out. She rolled her eyes and looked away. She’d once tried to pick it up and failed miserable, she lacked the coordination and muscle for it. And Jungkook had taken the high road and not teased her (too bad) about it. Her inability to play any instrument didn’t matter; she was a kickass lead vocalist and frontwoman, even though she sucked before any performance she deemed important. Yeah, Jungkook wanted to do well in a competition, obviously, but it wasn’t supposed to be a source of stress. They were a mostly-covers band, not some music act out to change the world. It was just supposed to be fun. Jungkook had managed to calm down the hyper-competitive streak of his younger days and wasn’t interested in getting all wrapped up in it again. 

“I’m just trying to help you get laid,” she mumbled.

“Why are you so worried whether he’s getting laid?” Taehyung asked, just as loudly as before, as if Corri hadn’t already heard all of this. Corri, one of the women uninterested in laying him despite their past lays.

“I’m not. I just think he seems frustrated.”

“Yeah because our vocalist keeps talking shit about my concentration face.”

Yoongi started to play the chorus, a not-so-subtle sign he was bored with the bickering banter. 

“Yeah I’m frustrated but not about… whatever, just play the song,” Jungkook huffed. Corri’s obvious avoidance of looking in his direction suddenly embarrassed him, when he usually could shrug off teasing no problem. He didn’t care that Corri didn’t want to fuck anymore, it wasn’t like they had been a thing, it just was embarrassing for someone you weren’t a thing with to tell you they wanted to be even less of a thing… Suddenly he wondered if Corri and Taro had been talking about him….

Before anyone (Taro) could escalate further, Soyoon scolded, “Elizabeth. Sing the damn song so I’m not late to teaching.”

Taro —real name Elizabeth– scowled in Soyoon’s direction this time and Jungkook settled back onto his stool. He flexed his fingers and cracked his neck to get ready for the final run-through of all three songs they would play at the competition: “Misery Business” by Paramore, “All Around You” by Flyleaf, and “The Real Mothers” by Screaming Females. Jungkook could have done without Flyleaf but Taro had gotten to choose the final song after a cutthroat tournament of rock-paper-scissors. Granted, Jungkook would have preferred to cover at least one male-led song, but he wasn’t going to go there. 

Instead he did his best to keep his face neutral and un-pinched as he played, his best effort to be above reproach. Yoongi was who he cared more about impressing though; Taro was a great vocalist but when it came to musical talent, Yoongi was their lead with Soyoon not far behind. The two of them wrote and composed all their original stuff and did the arrangements for their covers. The two of them could have gone pro, really, but they had their reasons for being in this hobby band, just like Taro did, just like Jungkook did. 

Fun. It was all supposed to be fun. 

Usually he liked rehearsal, but Taro was right about one tiny thing: he was frustrated. But it wasn’t about sex! Or at least not about his sex. It was about a particular video sitting on his phone that he had no fucking clue what to do about. He had hoped to ask Yoongi what he thought but then felt stupid about it as they kicked off rehearsal and there wasn’t any time afterwards. As soon as the set was done, Soyoon and Yoongi both split for their evening gigs. 

Taro’s face went through a tornado of emotions before she finally put her hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and said, “Sorry. Your face is fine. I just want us to look good but I didn’t mean to be a dick about it.”

“Whoever you have coming to the show isn’t going to fuck or not fuck you because of what my face does.”

She growled, “Come on, I apologized. Don’t be a shit.” But it was allowed. That’s how things were between them, had been for the ten years they’d known each other since their first pick up performances as teens, back when she was just Beth and not the artist known as Taro. He grinned and she pinched his cheek and that was the end of it; she and Corri disappeared with only a backward wave.

Jungkook expected to be on his own for the last bit of cleanup but Jimin and Taehyung and Hoseok shuffled around the garage helping with it. They’d done their best to waterproof the garage but after a leak had come a little too close to an amp, Jungkook was too nervous to leave anything of value on the ground ever again. He’d built a shaky wooden platform for his kit, made sure all the cables and amps were on shelves and hooks against the windowless wall, and kept the other instruments inside the house. Yoongi’s garage had been nicer and at the top of a hill but after his neighbors called the cops on them twice, they’d moved to Jungkook’s garage. His neighbors didn’t give a shit; everyone was noisy here. They usually played with the door open anyways because it got hot as fuck in there with only a couple fans and sometimes people would sit out on their porches to listen. Jimin had the great idea of adding an air conditioner but with what fucking money? Someday. Maybe with the prize money if they won the competition! The 2000s were the worst decade of music as far as Jungkook was concerned, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t win…

He felt the stirrings of ambition and squashed it.

“Paramore and Flyleaf,” he mumbled as Jimin and Taehyung sang lyrics over each other while they looped cables. 

“What’s wrong with Paramore?” Hoseok asked. “Besides that you’re too young to remember them.”

“I’m not too young. I remember “Ain’t It Fun,” that album. And I remember these songs! I like them. The drumming is good, and they’re good for Taro’s voice.”

“But… you’d rather be playing something else?”

“I just don’t like the competitions,” he admitted. “I’d rather be doing our usual set for our usual stage. No stress, no worries–”

“Yeah you don’t like it because you’re a sleeping competitive asshole,” Jimin snickered.

Jungkook looked around for anything left down as he demanded, “What does that mean, sleeping?”

“It means you want everything to think you’re chill. Surfer life, ya?” Jimin teased, making two shaka gestures. His mockery was idiotic considering he surfed almost as much as Jungkook did, although he hadn’t gone as much lately. Work. “We’ve known you too long. We know you like to crush the competition.”

“Nah, man, that’s not me anymore.”

Jimin and Taehyung shared a look. Jungkook backhanded Taehyung in the stomach because he was closest, then motioned for them to get out so he could drag the garage door closed. The clicker had been broken for a while and every time one of them tried to fix it, it just broke again. Handymen they were not despite their best efforts, Jungkook in particular. He just didn’t have the knack for it, so he was learning, that was all. Their landlord didn’t have to be such a shitbag about his attempts gone awry. If he’d just call the fucking plumber or contractor or whatever it was on time, Jungkook wouldn’t have to take matters into his own hands! Or worse, Taehyung or Jimin went after it. 

“What are we doing for dinner?” Taehyung asked as they kicked their shoes off by the back door. Jungkook ignored the question, assuming it was intended for Jimin or Hoseok, or at least not him. Briefly looking at his phone with the thought of delivery –followed by the painful reminder of his bank account– nudged his attention back to the video. The video. The one currently living in the Recently Deleted folder on his phone, chilling in limbo for 30 days until he either restored it or let his phone delete it for good. He felt no closer to making a decision on what to do with it. Forget he knew this and let it disappear? Give it to Mrs. Birch because she deserved to know she was married to an epic dipshit? 

“JK?” 

“Yeah episode four, I don’t know.”

“Huh?”

“Are we talking about what to watch?”

“What show are you even talking about?” Jimin laughed at him. “We’re talking about food! Dinner!”

“Oh. Uh…”

Taehyung snickered and nudged him with an elbow as he passed through the door, “He’s thinking about the video.”

“Grossss.”

“I’m not— I’m not thinking about the video,” Jungkook argued. It was a lie; they could tell it was a lie. He didn’t appreciate their joke of making it sound like he was thinking-thinking about it, rather than stressing about it. Stressing wasn’t his style.

“Just delete it, man,” Taehyung said. “You don’t need some guy’s nut on your phone. No offense to the gays in the room.”

“None taken, I don’t want some asshole’s nut on my phone either,” Jimin snickered.

“Yeah but….” 

Jimin, still grinning, countered, “Stop being a puss and just tell the wife what you found. She deserves to know and once she’s done being heartbroken, she’ll appreciate it,” Jimin countered. “Maybe a lot.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Jungkook deeply regretted having drunkenly shared a Mrs. Birch fantasy with Jimin just one time, which Jimin would now never ever forget.

Their “advice” was too much like teasing. It didn’t feel serious and had already put him in a bad mood when they first acted like this when he told them yesterday. Not everything was a joke. He wanted to live like that too, sure! But he had a real moral conflict here and he didn’t appreciate them making it sound like he was getting some kind of sick pleasure –either out of having a fucking porn video of that spaghetti-dick Tim or of hoping to get into Mrs. Birch’s good graces as a hero. He didn’t feel like this was heroic. He felt like a fucking creep to have taken it in the first place. He felt like it was infecting his phone. He felt like he was holding a bomb that was going to blow up a marriage and really hurt a good person. 

Not that he really knew her and whether she was a good person. For all he knew she had Nice White Lady Syndrome for “the Help” and was an entitled privileged bitch elsewhere. She’d married that fucker, after all, so she had to be like into that kind of guy and lifestyle and all that. Maybe she had her side pieces too, for all he knew! And it just wasn’t him! He didn’t want to insert himself into what could be a really sick, fucked up marriage.

“What if the dude comes after me?” he mused. He flopped down on the couch, instantly comforted by the broken-in cushion that nearly swallowed him. “He could get me fired. Sue me. Ruin my life. I dunno.”

“For exposing his cheating?” Taehyung’s face crinkled up. “Then we fuck him up.”

“He’s rich.”

Jimin tapped his chin and pointed out, “Ah, it’s true, it probably wasn’t legal for you to take that video, right?”

“Huh?”

“You filmed a guy having sex in his own house,” Jimin said. “I just mean… having the video is probably a risk. You should either pass it along or get rid of it, but only if you know the wife won’t turn on you. Rich people… you gotta be careful with them.”

“She…” Jungkook started to say she wouldn’t… but he didn’t know. He didn’t actually know her at all. And now Jimin and Taehyung were making him more scared than guilty. He couldn’t get sued. He didn’t have money! He didn’t have time for court. And his family wouldn’t be able to handle the shame. Who would watch Max when Yoojin got called into work without warning? Who would help his dad set up literally any new electronic device or go grocery shopping with his mom so she didn’t have to carry all the bags into the house because Yoojin was busy with Max and his dad worked a lot and Haewon didn’t live at home anymore? His parents needed him more than ever now, he couldn’t go to jail just because he was trying to do something “good” for a woman he didn’t even know! A thing she probably wouldn’t even appreciate!

He turned to Hoseok, hoping for some meaningful insight from him. Hoseok was a few years older and easily the most mature, experienced person in the house right now. Aside from his choice in dating Jimin, he tended to demonstrate good taste and clear judgment. Jimin and Taehyung could be hit or miss on their advice but Hoseok had a knack for people. Jungkook rebelled at their stirring of the pot, making him so nervous. He wasn’t a nervous guy. There had to be an easy, simple solution.

But Hoseok, who hadn’t said a word this whole time, nor when Jungkook first stupidly told these guys about the video two days ago, just read from his phone, “Kalasha is doing a free delivery special to celebrate the new restaurant. Chicken? Egg sandwiches?”

“Yeah, chicken!” Taehyung quickly agreed. Jungkook understood: they were done talking about this, and he sure wasn’t going to be the needy baby demanding more advice that he didn’t even appreciate. He was both relieved and annoyed. This was his mess. He had to figure this out on his own. But he could have used some good advice.

“Egg sandwich,” he said. “Is there one with chicken too? I’m gonna hit the gym later tonight and surf in the morning so I need that protein, yo!” There, Jungkook back to himself, and his friends readily accepted it. 

The crash of the waves against the shore drowned out all else. Early mornings had a cool humidity to them, leaving a cold sweaty feeling on Jungkook’s skin, his hair wild and crunchy from the salt. The warm water lapped his ankles, sand sucking out from beneath his toes as the water swirled and then retreated, only to be overrun by the next impatient wave. It was a beautiful morning to be out, perfect surf conditions, beach not yet overrun by the tourists who would flock here once they’d finished their brunch and mimosas at the nearby resort.

Jungkook shook the wet hair out of his face and closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the breeze off the water. The scent of salt and fish, sharp and pungent, was home to him. He breathed in deeply and tried to let everything else in the world sift from his mind. That was the beauty of surfing, it took all of you, for a brief time you were nothing but a fleck of energy carried by the water. That was what he liked about drumming too. He liked things that consumed him.

Surfing early in the morning had many advantages, when the tide worked out. Nice weather. Quieter beach. Fewer rookies. 

“How’s the break, bro?” Carver asked, coming up behind and slapping him on the shoulder. Jungkook saw Missy trailing further up the beach, board perched on her head. He took his eyes off Hoseok only for a second to answer,

“Yeah, bomb breaks today.” He slapped Carver’s back in return. “You’re late for dawn patrol though, eh?”

Carver rolled his eyes, “Someone couldn’t get out of bed this morning.” He jerked his thumb at Missy. Jungkook’s eyebrows raised but he said nothing, knowing he’d be awkward. Carver and Missy had been dating a year now or something like it, and for at least a year before that Carver had trailed along behind her like a lovesick dickhead while Missy didn’t have the time of day for him. Jungkook had spent many a daybreak catching waves with her but she’d seemed unbothered by any of his attempts at flirting –until suddenly one day she took a liking to Carver and now they stayed up all night fucking so she couldn’t make it to the beach on time. Jungkook hated that he knew that. He was fine that she’d never given him a chance but he was bummed to see less of two people he enjoyed. 

And also that they were just so happy together.

Fuck, he just knew too much about other people’s fuck lives without having one of his own to occupy his thoughts.

He gave a wave to Missy and headed out to the water just as Hoseok slid smoothly onto the beach. He sure didn’t let his bedmate keep him from catching those early breaks under the first streaks of light. His hair spiked and his smile glowed as he took those first heavy steps off the board and then immediately turned around to drag it back into the water a few yards behind Jungkook.

“I’ve only got time for one more,” he called, voice swallowed by the surf but Jungkook still heard and remembered he’d said that earlier, he had an earlier shift as a manager at the resort. It was a really demanding job, and he busted his ass. But he was still here! Unlike Taehyung. Jimin was practically a hodad at this point anyway so it didn’t really matter if he was here since he just distracted Hoseok anyway.

Jungkook walked until he had to glide and paddle. The sun was steadily heating up on his back but the water felt cool by comparison, drenching the thin fabric of his rash guard. He kept his eyes on the horizon where sea birds flitted and landed, and a couple fishing boats in the distance seemed to hover. Greenish fish darted beneath the shadow of his board. A shadow of a cloud passed over but otherwise the sky was clear and would no doubt be scorching later. Work was going to be hot today. He had three pools to clean, and then had promised Yoojin he’d take Max in the evening. She was being cagey as shit about why she needed the sitting, which probably meant she had a date and she knew very well how Jungkook felt about that. Yoojin’s taste in men was as shitty as her cooking. Max was the only good thing her ex had ever done in his life, and he wasn’t even still involved except for an occasional miniscule child-support check.

When he got far enough out, he straddled the board and waited as first one and then a second mushburger made him bob. Too gentle to ride. Sitting in the lull was peaceful though and gave Hoseok time to catch up. Jungkook breathed the breeze and watched his friend sit up several yards away. As the first one out, Jungkook had wave priority, but he knew Hoseok had somewhere to be.

“You want the next one?” he called.

“Nah bro, you’re first!”

“I can wait. I’m floating.”

“No no it’s fine, you first.”

“Eh…” Jungkook sighed as a totally surfable swell raised beneath them. Neither of them took it, just watched as it peeled. “Damn, would’ve been perfect.”

“Take it,” Hoseok insisted. “I can chill.”

Jungkook briefly considered it. Felt his muscles tense as another swell began to rise behind him. But being out here was soothing, and he felt tendrils dragging at his mind again that he wasn’t willing to face once he went back to shore. Out here he was nothing, nobody, just a piece of driftwood on the sea. Back on land, he had a job to do. The Birch pool was on his roster today, and he was no closer to figuring out what to do with the video in his trash folder. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as the wave once again passed them and broke.

“Bro,” Hoseok called. “You ok?”

“What do I do about that video, man?” Jungkook sighed, shouting to be heard over the distance. “I just don’t know… I gotta face her today and what, know her husband is fucking around and that she probably doesn’t know? But damn I don’t want to be tied up in some rich person bullshit…”

Hoseok shook his head, “Yeah, you can’t get into that shit. Richies will rip you up, they don’t give a shit you were trying to do a good thing.” Of course, Hoseok saw lots of shitty rich people in his resort job. Jungkook had briefly worked there as a cabana boy too. He remembered. Oh boy, did he remember.

“Yeah but…” Jungkook sighed. They were all right. He knew they were right, and his family would give the same advice if he asked –which he wouldn’t, because he would never talk to his family about personal problems like that. They had enough of their own and he was the eldest now so it was his job to help them. 

But he also just had this painful twist in his stomach at the idea of Mrs. Birch being married to that piece of shit. Probably the fucker was going to catch something and give it to her and that’s how she’d fine out. He’d get some other chick pregnant. She’d walk in on it and be traumatized. Maybe she was secretly as shitty as the rest but if she wasn’t, didn’t she deserve to know the kind of man she married? Since apparently she hadn’t already figured it out on her own? But it wasn’t Jungkook’s job to tell her…

“I see that look,” Hoseok laughed, splashing Jungkook to get his attention. “You want to do it. That’s why I don’t like to give you advice. You just do what you’re going to do anyway.”

“The thing is, I would want to know,” Jungkook said.

“You aren’t her. You should be worried about yourself. She doesn’t care about you.”

It hurt to hear. It was true. He didn’t like to hear it but appreciated the honesty.

“I know but… otherwise what, I keep cleaning their pool and keep knowing and don’t say anything? That’s not who I am. I want to be an honest person no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Hoseok laughed. “It’s admirable but sometimes not the best.”

Jungkook let out a noisy sigh. 

And then had an idea.

“What if it’s not me that tells her?” he said, slowly turning his board after it drifted. “What if I just give her the video anonymously? Then she knows but no one knows it’s me.”

Hoseok’s face screwed up, “How would you even do that?”

“Burn a dvd. Leave it in her mailbox?”

“They probably have cameras all over the place. Or they’ll data mine the DVD or whatever…”

But Jungkook was onto something and he knew it. Fine, a USB stick, and he didn’t think it had to be that secure because he hadn’t seen anything that made him think either of the Birchs was that technically smart and they were going to have bigger things to worry about anyway, right? Like divorce. Divorce that would bring that piece of rich-ass shit to his dry, wrinkled knees.

“Nah bro, this will work!” Jungkook beamed. He felt an instant lightness swell within him that had nothing to do with the lift of another wave beneath the board. “Ya, ok, it’s a plan. Let’s get it!”

“Wait, but JK–”

“I’m taking this one!” he called, ignoring Hoseok’s concerns. There was no good path forward but this was the best one. Probably Mrs. Birch would be hurt but at least no one could trace it to him and he wouldn’t have to admit to her he’d been the one to record it and no one could sue him for what pennies he had to his name.

He caught the next wave, leaping to his feet at the lip of it as he drew in a deep, joyful breath. This was the best part. Flying. Adrenaline coursed through his body, just the right amount to make him feel like a beam of sunlight, the rough board beneath his feet the only thing left to ground him as he cut his board across clear water that sprayed in his face. No barrels big enough to pull into this morning but the drop left his heart thumping in his chest and his head spinning. Nothing beat the high of a bitchin’ ride. 

Suddenly the wave closed out, sending Jungkook tumbling into the water. The slap to his chest left him winded but he surfaced only a moment after his board bobbed, tugging his ankle by the leash. He flipped his hair back and lifted his face to the sun as he swiped the salt water from his eyes. Didn’t matter that he’d grubbed it, the ride had been excellent until then. Grubbing it was just part of the game.

With a lighter heart and a clear mind, Jungkook sloshed his way to shore to put his plan into action.

The orange envelope was on the front porch when she got home that day, tucked between the storm door and the wooden door as if the mailman had dropped it off. They often did that, even though Tim had built a big stupid UV box for packages. She couldn’t blame the mailmen for not wanting to open the lid of a heavy-looking mysterious box just to leave her latest pantry tupperware from Amazon or Tim’s Razor of the Month club or whatever, despite the insistent sign. She tried to always be the one to bring the mail in so she wouldn’t have to listen to Tim rail about packages left on the ground. He worried about that kind of thing. He thought he was the kind of person important enough for someone to send Anthrax to in the mail.

She’d grabbed the envelope on her way out to get the mail from the box, and tossed it all onto the kitchen counter since Tim was out of town and not here to gripe at her for even briefly making a mess.

“It’s unfair of me to be so critical towards him,” she scolded herself as she looked in the fridge to see what the personal chef had left her for dinner. Tim had actually been very pleasant lately. He’d finally agreed they ought to redecorate the bedroom (as long as it stayed white and gray), praised the dinner she made on a day the chef didn’t come, greeted her with daiquiris after she’d been swimming and asked her about her day as he untied the strings of her bikini. 

Look, she knew those things shuffled over a low bar when listed out of context. But the context was that he’d been working hard and stressed for a while now. The latest acquisition was so close to signing and he was sweating it but the fact he was making an effort even in the midst of that meant a lot to her. It reassured her that once they were to the other side of this period of work, things were going to even out again. Tim would go back to being a bit less of a cranky asshole. She would go back to feeling less resentful, a little more charitable about the moodswings of her hard-working husband who was doing his best to succeed in a cutthroat industry. He wanted to make a name for himself beyond what his own father had accomplished. She admired that.

While the oven preheated, she flipped through the mail, mostly junk. When she got to the envelope though, she realized it was just addressed to Mrs. Birch, no mailing address, no stamp.

Her first thought was that a friend must have dropped something off for her, only to instantly consider it would be really weird for them to address it to Mrs. Birch. None of her friends called her that. 

A client? But she never gave her personal address to anyone she worked for, there was no need for it anyway, she just had things mailed to the office space she kept.

Maybe she had forgotten something somewhere? Her license would have her name and address on it, but the salutation of Mrs. would be odd because how would the person know she was married? Unless she dropped something and they googled her? Her address was supposed to be unlisted but people had ways of searching public records.

She tore the end of the envelope open and out tumbled a CD in a jewel case. Her brow furrowed. Certainly not something she owned and left somewhere. Nothing was printed on the CD. She checked inside the envelope for any evidence of marketing material and found a folded piece of paper with a printed sentence:

Your husband is not who you think he is. He’s a fucking asshole.

Grace’s blood ran cold. 

Tim’s involved with something bad. That felt like the immediate and obvious thing. Tim worked in business and he was constantly trying to get ahead, always working upstream and feeling behind. It made sense that he might have taken what looked like help in a moment of difficulty and wound up in over his head with something. Or someone. He could be short-sighted, she’d always secretly thought that about him.

“Oh god please don’t let it be something illegal,” she murmured, hand shaking as she turned the CD over in her hand. Just how bad could it be? Extortion? Money-laundering? Murder? No. No, Tim wasn’t capable of murdering someone, what a ridiculous thought.

But dirty business, with the confidence he wouldn’t be caught….?

The fact was that in the moment, at just one sentence prompt from a mysterious source, Grace’s trust in her husband tumbled like a tower of toothpicks. Instead of debating who would be out to malign her husband, Grace fretted whether this CD was safe for her to look at, or if simply by seeing whatever was on here, she might become an accomplice. What if he’d already done things to implicate her? 

Grace was not going to prison for Tim!

Her heart pounded in her chest so painfully she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She set the CD quickly down on the counter and backed away, already contemplating whether she ought to wipe her fingerprints off. But no, no, it would make sense she opened an envelope addressed to herself. It didn’t mean she’d committed any crime–

And this didn’t mean Tim had either! She leaned against the counter and pressed her hand to her forehead.

Fuck, I’m a bad wife.

This was Tim, for fuck’s sake. He could be an asshole, the anonymous sender was right about that, but it didn’t mean he was doing anything illegal or dangerous or immoral. Probably this was some business thing, some colleague of his pissed about a move he’d made and trying to undermine him starting at home. 

…But what if it wasn’t?!

Grace’s family had been in possession of significant money for several generations. Old money. 19th century American money funded by 18th century European money. She’d been raised with warnings and stories, not paranoia but awareness that sometimes the presence of money made people think you were an easy victim. Maybe Tim wasn’t the target here, maybe she was. 

She grabbed her phone and placed a call and after only a few rings heard her father’s deep voice over the line, greeting, “Grace? What’s up, honeybell?”

“Hi Daddy, there’s a thing… it’s making me nervous so I wanted to ask…” She trailed off, realizing immediately how stupid she sounded. She should have pulled her thoughts together before calling.

“What’s the matter now? Something is what?” She could tell he was distracted over the line. Mid-day like this, he was probably out golfing, or at least at a friend’s house for the afternoon. Her dad was a creature of habit, an introvert who’d carved his safe places out over the decades they’d lived in Winnetka, Illinois. His days were predictable. 

“Sorry, Dad, I just got spooked. Someone left a weird envelope at my house with a CD and–”

“Wait, who did what now?” he interrupted. Grace felt the shudder across her shoulders at that tone in her father’s voice, even knowing it wasn’t aimed at her. He’d been casual before but pulled himself into lawyer mode in only an instant.

“I’m just being silly,” she began. That’s what her mother would say. Calling her dad, interrupting his afternoon plans, because someone left a CD on her porch and she was freaked even though she didn’t even know what was on it.

“Someone left something on your porch? What did they leave?”

“I don’t know, a CD and a printed note that says, um…” She grimaced. “It says my husband isn’t who I think he is.”

The line was silent for a moment. Grace’s father had grown to love Tim. He’d be pissed at slander aimed her husband’s direction. He’d be furious about baseless accusations.  

“You know who sent it? You know what’s on it?”

“No,” Grace said. “I called you right away.”

“Is Tim there?”

“He’s out of town.”

“All right, Grace, don’t touch a thing. Call Alan. Don’t do anything until Alan is there.”

Grace nodded as if he could see her and mused, “I don’t know whether I should call Tim. Maybe he has an idea–”

“Do not call Tim,” he interrupted. “Only Alan. Don’t talk to anyone else. He’ll bring a secure computer over to look at what’s on the CD and after that I want you to check into a hotel until this gets figured out. This person knows where you live and that your husband isn’t home–”

“So you think it’s something bad?”

“Well you do, don’t you, sweetheart? Calling me sounding like you’re having a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably overreacting–”

“No such thing with our family.”

“But it’s not like Tim is actually a bad man. The CD is probably just… I don’t know. Something stupid. Someone’s just angry at him for something…”

Grace wanted to hear her dad agree that she was overreacting. His serious response escalated her fears. She’d wanted to be talked off the ledge and instead he was calling in a SWAT team and helicopter rescue.  

“Do as I say, Grace. Call Alan now and tell me when he’s there.”

Spooked, Grace did as he said. Within thirty minutes, Alan Theodorakos stood on her doorstep straightening his cuffs and adjusting his hair in the reflection of the one-sided mirror where a window used to be in the door. One of the family’s many lawyers, Alan had worked for Grace’s parents for many years before she moved to California; now, because of proximity, he’d served as Grace’s own legal counsel any time she’d needed it, even if just to oversee her affairs with specialized attorneys such as when she’d married and when they’d bought their house. Her father was a lawyer too, of course, but financial, and he never directly handled family matters himself anyway.

“Where is the CD?” he immediately asked when Grace welcomed him in. 

“I left it on the kitchen counter.” She showed him where the jewel case lay next to the printed note and the torn envelope, her name side up. Alan took a photo of all of it and Grace felt that tremor in her stomach again. If everyone was taking this so seriously, maybe she wasn’t taking it seriously enough!

Alan had with him a laptop, just as her dad had said he would. They made only the most polite small-talk as he set it up and, with gloves, removed the CD from the case and inserted it into the tray. Grace wrapped her arms around herself and paced back and forth, afraid to look, unable to look away. 

“It’s probably nothing,” she said to herself as much as to him. “I’m probably wasting your time, it’s just some disgruntled admin assistant or something…”

Alan didn’t have anything to say to that except, “Nothing is ever a waste of my time.” Because your family pays well, he didn’t need to say. Yes she’d wanted financial independence from her family, but legal counsel was one thing she let them fund, so sue me. Except don’t, please….

“It looks like there’s a video file,” Alan said, opening the CD. The filename was automated, generic. He double-clicked to pull it up and Grace held her breath, bracing herself for something. Perhaps her imagination was running away with her –this was very impractical, yes, when she usually prided herself on being a practical person– but her dad and Alan had her fearing the worst now. Kidnapping, torture, murder. At least a secret meeting discussing some money-laundering scheme that was going to land her in court for weeks defending her oblivious innocence as Tim’s spouse. I’m sorry, your honor, I’m a fool but I’m innocent.

“Let’s see,” Alan said and hit play.

And this was how Grace wound up watching a video of her husband fucking another woman while standing next to her father’s lawyer. 

Grace’s mouth hung open. Somehow she was shocked, even when the deepest part of her brain taunted her for being so surprised. It was recent; she saw the blue flower arrangement on the kitchen counter without even needing a time stamp. She didn’t recognize the woman, but she was young and beautiful and not Grace.

“I can stop the video,” Alan murmured, reaching forward but Grace brushed his hand away. She stared, eyes glued to the screen as her heart shattered. Or her mind. Something inside of her shattered.

Every criticism, every fight, every distracted dinner and missed date and complete lack of concern for anything she cared about flew in her face now. She’d loved Tim to distraction, even when he was unfair, even when he was unkind, even when he’d been a nobody before. And now he was doing this behind her back, as if she was nothing to him! In their own home! On her own fucking kitchen counter?! 

She wanted to scream. She wanted to sob. But her upbringing trained her better than that. She turned a tight-lipped grimace to Alan and said,

“It turns out this is a private affair.” Affair. Terrible choice of words.

“Indeed,” Alan nodded. “I can provide legal counsel however you’d like to proceed.”

“For now I just need discretion…” How would she like to proceed…. Grace couldn’t fucking answer that! She still was having a hard time processing that Tim was fucking around on her. Tim! Tim, who was so focused on work and deals and dollar signs that he barely had time for her anymore, much less…. Except apparently he did!

“What would you like me to say to your father?” Alan prodded. 

Grace grimaced. There was no good answer. Her father paid Alan’s bills but he was here as her legal counsel. But if Alan gave her father a non-answer, he’d be calling her up for direct answers within minutes.

“I’ll call him,” she said, just to buy herself time. What was she going to say? It’s a private matter between Tim and I. Might as well put up a sign on the front lawn that her husband was cheating on her. And to admit that to her family! She couldn’t. There were exactly zero divorces in her family. If there had ever been infidelity, she sure didn’t know about it. A marriage was for life, and it was her job to make this marriage worked, even in the face of infidelity, especially after she’d defended this relationship so hard in the face of her family’s early concerns. God, they were going to think she was worse than an idiot!

“Very well.” Alan packed the CD back into the jewel case to leave with her, took his laptop, and bid her good day. With another offer to provide whatever help she needed, he was gone.

Grace stood alone in her kitchen and tried to make sense of this. Tim cheating. Someone filming it from within her property. Someone sending it for her to find. Some explanation she needed to give her father. A very painful conversation she needed to have with Tim without any understanding yet of what she wanted to have happen. Did she want him to grovel and apologize? Did she want the shame of being divorced and cheated on? What would her family say if she left? What would her family say if she stayed?

Grace sank down to the mat in front of the sink and tried to cry but she just felt numb. This couldn’t be real. She’d so carefully managed her life up until now. She had thought Tim was right there in the seat next to her. What was happening?!

In a brief moment of gumption, Grace called her dad and, before he could say a word, blurted out, “It turns out it’s a private matter between Tim and I. I’d rather not talk about it yet. Please don’t tell anyone else yet.” It was an impossible thing to ask, but she decided she’d try. 

A pause had her heart in her throat. She felt like so much hung in the balance: would her father defend her dignity or her marriage?

“Why don’t you and Tim come for a visit? I’d like to spend an afternoon golfing with him, man to man.”

Her marriage.

Grace said a quick goodbye before any pained sobs could escape, let her face drop to her bent knees, and tried to squeeze the tears back in. Like everything else in her life, it seemed, she failed.

The days were long this week in a way Jungkook didn’t like, but he’d picked up the extra lifeguarding hours because he needed the money. Haewon needed textbooks and that shit was expensive so he’d told her to ask him instead of their parents and then demanded to know why she wanted to be a lawyer so bad anyway. Political Science. Boring as fuck, he couldn’t believe how much money they were paying for her to be a leech. She always screeched at him when he teased her about it. He just wanted to keep her humble, that’s why he teased.

It had been hot as balls on the beach that morning and he’d been stuck near the wharf which sucked swamp ass because you had to actually do stuff: namely, chase people away when they swam too close to the pillars. Which everyone wanted to do, because there was shade, and just blowing your whistle wasn’t enough because suddenly people “couldn’t hear you” and “didn’t know the whistle meant they were doing something wrong.” So you had to drag your ass all the way over to yell at them, and then by the time you got back up to your chair, some other fucker was doing the same thing. Didn’t they look at the surf and the giant immovable objects and realize how easily the ocean could bash their puny brains out?! But if there was anything Jungkook had learned about tourists and teenagers both, it was that they had poor respect for the ocean. You had to respect the ocean. She was older and more powerful than you. Unconcerned with whether you lived or died. Sexy of her but annoying for lifeguards. 

He only had two pool cleans on his schedule today, which meant an easier afternoon before band practice tonight, so he should still have energy to fight with Taro about how they shouldn’t add more 00s rock to their regular set just because they’d managed to come in second place in that competition. The first pool was an easy job, and the second was the one he both looked forward to and dreaded the most: The Birches. 

This time last week, he’d chickened out dropping the envelope off, only to go back and do it later that day when the guilt ate at him. Now he wished he’d waited until the end of the season in two weeks so he wouldn’t have to see them again for a while; while most people kept their heated pools running year-round here, the Birches closed theirs at the end of summer so he was almost free of them. He’d never understood why. It was heated and this was southern Cali. He’d be swimming in that baby 365 days a year. 

But he’d dropped the envelope and sprinted away and today would be the first opportunity to see if the bomb he dropped had done any damage. It gave him a nervous twitch, because what if he’d done the wrong thing? What if they knew it was him? 

What if he was going to get arrested as soon as he showed up?!

Still he went, because he wasn’t someone to turn away from an unpleasant task, no matter how scary. And he needed to get paid. Maybe nobody would be there again, like last week…

The garage was closed but he glimpsed three cars through the windows after he’d parked in the driveway –Mr. Birch hated that. Well Jungkook hated douchebags who cheated on their wives. And walking further to get to the pool than he had to after lifeguarding all morning. 

The missing car was Mr. Birch’s. Jungkook felt his skin tingle but ignored it, uninterested in nerves. Instead he prepared himself to knock on the back door, per usual, so Mrs. Birch would know he was here and unfortunately not accidentally walk out in revealing clothing–

Except Mrs. Birch was in the pool. In the pool. Jungkook froze like a bank burglar just inside the pool gate as her faked-blonde head surfaced from the water. Her eyes remained closed as she pushed her hair back, water droplets spraying as she panted for breath, emphasizing her collarbones and long neck. 

Fuck. Fuck! Red alert! 

Jungkook just stared as she grabbed the edge of the pool to hold herself steady as she swiped the water from her face. She looked tired, out of breath, like she’d been swimming hard for a while, not just lounging around for a dip.

Is she the swimmer then? Jungkook didn’t find it surprising at all to learn this about her but it made him happy, like this somehow confirmed she was the good person he’d always thought she was. Of course she was the swimmer. They both loved the water. And damn did she look good doing it, even just bobbing there as she pushed her hair back from her shoulders. 

White bathing suit.

Jesus Christ, Jungkook was going to hit the deck. His brain attempted to save him without thinking through the consequences: he cleared his throat. It was rude. It was out of line. It wasn’t at all what he’d meant to do but someone had pulled the fire alarm in his head and that was the result. 

Mrs. Birch spun quickly to face him, clearly started, and gasped, “Oh! Shit!”

The fantasy that hadn’t even begun to spin yet –that she had done this on purpose for him– died in its cradle. 

“I’m so sorry, is it– are you early?” she asked. Her bare face looked at him with such surprise and alarm that he actually felt too bad to ogle her the way he wanted to. 

“Ah, um… I don’t… think so,” he mumbled. Actually he was later than usual but he didn’t want to argue with her. “I can come back later?” He couldn’t, it was already late afternoon. Well, he could. He would! If she wanted him to.

“No no, I’m sorry, let me get out of your way.” 

He watched with a semi he’d deny to his grave as she gracefully swam to the ladder and pulled herself up like a fucking centerfold. It was a one piece, he realized with no disappointment because the cutouts at the side showed smooth waist and water streamed down her bare shoulderblades and exposed back– but fuck he couldn’t tell if the tattoo was there or not, the bottom rose too high over her ass. She almost caught him staring when she turned to wrap the towel she’d set on the lounge chair, except his brain had leapt immediately to nipple patrol–

Fuck! He didn’t get a good look as his brain caught up with his stare and he immediately averted his eyes, leaving her to cover herself with the towel not under his blown-out gaze. Shit! He was around hot chicks in bathings suits all the time! Why now did his brain decide to run away….

“I completely lost track of time. Um…” She paused and then gestured to the pool with one hand as if to tell him to carry on, then fled into the house.

Jungkook just stood there for a moment. He’d never seen Mrs. Birch –or anyone for that matter– in the pool before, though legend said they used it, at least for parties sometimes. He felt a sense of pride now to know she really did, and that she looked so damn good in it. He sauntered to the edge to survey his work and felt his satisfaction grow further at the confirmation that he kept this pool in good shape. It looked great right now. He wouldn’t have to do much today, clean the filters, maybe nothing else. Now he felt bad to have chased her off. He could have done that while she kept swimming. He wouldn’t mind. 

Damn. He was going to be thinking about this for a long time.

White bathing suit, huh? 

He grabbed the outdoor trash and some gloves to get to work on the filters, in the hopes he could wrap it up quickly and she could slide right back in. But just as he was finishing up, she reappeared from the house in loose lounge clothes with her hair piled up on top of her head and a bamboo tray with his drink and snacks in her hands.

“You didn’t have to,” he called to her, “I won’t be long today. Pool looks good. Are you using it a lot lately?”

Her head tilted as she set the tray down and asked, “Yes, I’ve been out here every day lately. You can tell?”

It was mostly a lie as he shrugged, “If you’re swimming a lot, the motion sends the detritus into the filters. If no one’s swimming, it sits on top.” Detritus. Haewon had used that word a couple weeks ago and he’d latched onto it because it sounded more professional than shit.

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Yeah?”

She glanced at the pool and he got the feeling something was bothering her. Which made sense, considering the whole bomb on her doorstep thing, now that his head had cleared enough to remember that. For a moment he thought she knew it was him and was going to ask him about it. Of course she’d figure it out, she seemed smart, or he’d missed something obvious in covering his tracks…

“Well I won’t bother you while you finish.”

“You’re not a bother,” he assured her. Her smile was small and didn’t reach her eyes as she turned to go. He reached for the drink out of obligation, because really he didn’t have anything more to do but he couldn’t just leave the things she’d brought for him sitting there. It felt unappreciative. Also it was free.

She must be hot in the long-sleeved lounge top, although the fabric was thin. The shorts rode high, showing off her thighs as she headed back towards the house. He realized she could see his reflection in the windows and squinted to look out over the pool as if he was lost in thought when she suddenly stopped walking, hand on the door. 

When she turned, arms sliding across to sort of hold herself, Jungkook felt that nervous flutter. Oh no. Busted staring at her ass. Caught. He felt like a kid again, he’d fucked up and it was time to get in trouble. He gave into the urgent need to have his hands full, so he popped open the bag of chips and shoveled a handful into his mouth as she came back.

“Hey,” she said, voice softer and less certain than he’d ever heard her before. Her whole body seemed to curl in on itself miserably, a far cry from the way she’d pushed up from the pool half an hour ago. “I just wanted to ask you– when you were here last time, did you happen to see anyone drop off something? On my front porch?”

His eyes went wide. He chomped down, accidentally getting his cheek too, and cursed as he pressed his finger to the outside of it. She just watched him and he realized with a burst of paranoia how fucking guilty he looked. He sucked at lying. He was terrible at lying, especially when he really was guilty as shit!

“Oh, um…” he fumbled, swallowing the Cheetos down and licking the residue off his finger. He licked his lips nervously, feeling like there was orange powder there too. “From back here? What package?” Playing stupid was better than outright lying, even if saying he’d seen someone else do it would probably do a better job of getting him out of the hot seat. 

She shifted her weight and chewed on the inside of her cheek, exactly where he’d just accidentally bitten on his own, and this similarity sent another wave of guilt rolling over him. He was lying to her. Fuck. Was he any better than Mr. Birch?! Shitothy Smirch? Eh, not his best work for taunting names….

“Ok, if you didn’t see anything… I just thought…” A cascade of emotions crossed her face, so raw and unpoised compared to the normally polite and neutral look she had with him, that Jungkook felt himself chipping further apart. She looked miserable, her face even redder than it had been just getting out of the pool. “Someone left an orange envelope for me,” she said. Fuck, were her eyes watering?!!? “I don’t know who but I’m trying to find out who so I can talk to them about it before–”

“It was me,” he blurted out as he suddenly realized how fucking scary this must be for her. “I left the envelope and I’m really sorry–”

He cut off as Mrs. Birch started to cry. Not quite burst into tears the way he might have expected, but she drew in a shaky breath and the tears he’d suspected managed to sneak out and she pressed her hands to her face.

The impulse to reach for her was hard to deny but he did. Obviously he couldn’t touch this woman he barely knew and whose marriage he’d just exposed as a sham. Plus he had Cheeto dust on his fingers and her clothes were light colored. He’d done enough already! It would be wrong! But it was hard to watch her upset and not comfort her.

“I’m sorry,” he said again in desperation. “I swear I’m not trying be a dick or anything, I just thought you should know.”

He saw her draw air in like strength and push her hands back through her hair, fortifying herself, before demanding with a strong expression that didn’t match the tears on her cheek, “So you filmed it and left an anonymous package on my porch?”

He pulled back, defenses instantly activated. Fuck. Had he misjudged? Had she already known? Did she not care? Fuck! All his friends had told him not to get involved but he’d wanted to be this hero and now he’d really fucked himself.

“I, uh, I thought you should know,” he stammered again. “But maybe you wouldn’t want anyone else to know? I wasn’t going to blackmail him or anything. It’s private for you so I didn’t want to blow up your spot–”

“But obviously someone knew, the person who took the video! And I didn’t know who it was until I watched the security footage and then I thought it was you but–”

“Ah I thought I had my hat on low enough…” he mumbled.

She gave him a baffled look and pointed out, “You still look and walk like yourself– but I didn’t know if I was wrong or who was filming from inside my backyard and it was just really scary…” She trailed off and suddenly sat down on the lounge chair, threatening to upend the bamboo tray. She covered her face again. She took another of those deep bracing breaths.

“Shit, I’m really sorry scared you,” he said, sinking onto the second one to face her.  “I just felt bad about it.”

“Why?! You weren’t fucking someone else in our–” She broke herself off and that spark of rage tossed him around another loop. He didn’t know her, he didn’t know her emotional processes, he didn’t know how she was handling this thing he’d opened her eyes too, and yet he felt unavoidably anchored here with her in this moment. How would he handle this in her shoes? He sure didn’t know, but he thought he’d do an even worse job of holding himself together.

“Yeah but I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought you should know your husband is a fucking piece of shit.” The words rolled out without any hesitation because he was.

But it brought Mrs. Birch up short. She looked shocked, as if she somehow hadn’t realized what the video showed, and for a moment he forgot she had just referenced it and worried she hadn’t actually watched and he’d just done exactly what he had hoped to avoid: verbally give her this news. Instead she blinked slowly at him. 

He meant to say sorry if that was too blunt but what actually came out was, “You deserve better than that.” He wasn’t actually sorry about that.

“Like you?”

“Wait, what?!” he cried, and jumped to his feet and stepped back so quickly he tripped on the lounger and fell onto his ass, tangled up in his own sandals. “No! I– what? I don’t have anything to do with this! I just–”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped this time, and covered her face again. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I just…”

He’d scraped his palm in the fall; she didn’t seem to have even noticed that he did something so fucking clownish. Everything was all fucked up right now, she was all fucked up he understood now. That’s why she seemed all over the place.  

“Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok. Look, I swear I don’t have any shitty motives.” He eased back onto the lounger, ignoring the burn of his hand. “I didn’t want to get involved with your personal business. I just couldn’t believe he’d do that to you and I didn’t think you’d believe me if I just told you so I… but yeah, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Her voice was barely a whisper as she lowered her hands, eyes on her knees, “I would have believed you.”

“Damn.” He stopped himself from saying more. But damn that was a bad marriage if you’d believe your poolguy that your husband was banging someone else without even providing proof. She must have already known then that she’d married an asshole. That made him both very happy (Mrs. Birch is not like him!) and very sad for her (Mrs. Birch is married to someone who doesn’t deserve her!)

Watching her struggle to compose herself was distressing. He wished she would just cry it out hard. She’d feel better and he’d feel better too. Instead it was like watching her hurt herself further trying to keep the tears locked in when they so obviously wanted to come out. 

“Who else did you show that video to?” she asked, gaze lifting to meet his. Her words sounded fiercer than her face looked, though her expression was still sort of scary. Sharp. “Or tell about… this?”

“No one,” he said, hoping a quick response would hide that it wasn’t entirely true. “Who would I tell? Why? I don’t even like knowing about it and I don’t know anyone who knows you–”

“You didn’t like upload it to the internet or– Reddit or something–”

“Fuck, no.” The goodwill he’d felt after she had said she’d have believed him evaporated and he felt as scummy as her cheating husband. “I don’t post that kind of shit anyway but even– I would never do that to you. Why would I do that–”

“I don’t know, for money, for clout, for revenge because Tim has been rude to you–”

Jungkook pushed to his feet as the heat rose in his cheeks, tingling up his neck. Apparently she’d believe him that her husband was cheating but not his own promise that he wasn’t blackmailing anyone. That she thought so lowly of him was the bullet through every last fantasy he’d harbored. No one had ever thought so badly of him as Mrs. Birch apparently did. Except maybe Mr. Birch.

“I said I wasn’t blackmailing,” Jungkook grumbled and turned to go because there was nothing else to say here.

Her hand suddenly on his arm stopped him dead in his tracks; she had leapt up and caught him quickly.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you, it’s just… you wouldn’t be the first person who realized they could use something like this against my family.”

“Your family?” He made a face, ignoring the hiccup in his chest at her fingers curled against his arm. Just as quickly she let go. “I don’t know anything about your family and I don’t care. I just wanted to let you know in case you didn’t, that’s it.”

It was like she hadn’t heard a word he said and continued, “And just think about it from my perspective. This is a private matter that I want to handle privately.”

“Well I’m not telling anyone,” he huffed, frustrated by the ongoing accusations.

“Do you still have the video? Will you delete it in front of me?”

“I already deleted it,” he said, but still fished out his phone. “You think I wanted that on my phone? It’s in my trash.”

“Yeah but will you permanently delete it? Please? I’m sorry I insulted you, I’m just… stressed right now.”

He paused, phone unlocked, showing a picture of the beach behind his apps. It softened the edge of her accusation to be reminded that the inciting incident of all of this was learning that her husband was cheating on her and the pool tech knew. That sucked. From her perspective, if he was in her shoes, he’d be hurt and distrustful too. She was just upset. 

“I get it,” he told her. “No problem, you can watch me permanently delete it.” He opened up the ‘Recently Deleted’ folder on his phone as she leaned in to look, only for his stomach to cramp as he discovered just how many deleted selfies filled the rows ahead of the video. No dick pics thank fuck but still, it was embarrassing for her to see three rows of him posing in the bathroom without a shirt –he’d been trying to get a good one for his dating profile, ok?--, and he tried to cover them subtly with his fingers as he quickly tapped the video and then ‘Permanently Delete’ before it could begin to play. Too late did he realize how close she was standing, and that she smelled like something fresh and clean and mildly floral, and that her loose top had slid down her shoulder.

She pulled away and crossed her arms and nodded as she said, “Thank you.” She must have seen the photos but didn’t give any sign of it.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“I mean for telling me, too. I know it’s… awkward. It’s easier to mind your own business when it’s something uncomfortable but I’m glad that I know now. So thank you for telling me but now please forget that you know.”

“Yeah of course, I don’t know anything. I hope you get to keep your house in the divorce and I’ll keep the pool looking great.” He meant it as a joke, kind of. He was serious about it, but he hoped the tone shift could free them both from this moment that was even beyond awkward. Sustained emotionality wore him out. Guarding the wharf was easier than this for sure.

“I don’t know what I’m doing yet,” she said with utmost seriousness, with a shake of her head as if the idea was an annoying fly buzzing in her ear.

“Uh… what? How can you not know? The guy’s cheating on you, so leave his ass and wring him dry in the divorce,” he scoffed. As if he knew all about it! But it was just such an obvious next step, he couldn’t fathom she would do anything else. Good riddance to the fuckwad!

The effect on her was immediate: her hands dropped and she leaned away and got this scowl on her face that would have been sexy as hell if she hadn’t been almost defending that guy.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple.”

“It’s not. Marriage is complicated, especially one like ours, it’s not always easy and–”

“Well he pissed on that marriage when he started fucking other people, didn’t he?”

“How dare you?” The sexiness evaporated from her glare as it hardened, as his own words caught up to him.

“Fuck, sorry, I know it’s not my business–” He held his hands up, choosing to apologize even though in his gut he wanted to say more. See? He was bad at this! He really just wanted to comfort her and instead he was fucking it up because he just couldn’t stand to hear her insist there was anything salvageable about that wad of snot.

“You’re right, it’s not. Thank you for telling me about what’s going on but that’s where your judgment ends. You don’t know anything about us or our life or–”

“You’re right, I don’t. I do know he’s a piece of shit though and that you deserve better.”

“And how many times have you been married, since you’re such an expert on marital conflict–”

“Zero times,” he answered. “But when I do get married, I sure won’t treat my wife the way that asshole treats you. You’ve been apologizing for his shit since I started cleaning your pool and I may be just the pool guy but I see all kinds of people and I know a piece of shit when I see one. Whatever you think is worth staying married to him for, you’re wrong. That’s all I know. So whatever, you can report me to my boss and I can have someone else come clean your pool now or whatever but yeah, you’re better off without him.”

“Well thank you for not leaving that sage wisdom in a cryptic package on my doorstep this time,” she snapped. 

Jungkook knew he’d gone too far. He’d stepped completely into their bullshit. He couldn’t help it! He was typically slow to erupt but good luck once he got going, and he was going now, because this was the 21st century and a woman didn’t need to stay with a fucker like that for anything! And to stand there and have her possibly saying thanks for telling me but I’m going to stay with him, I don’t mind him treating me like gum on his shoe– how was he supposed to silently endorse that! 

He was too worked up to think of anything to say back so he just said, “Yeah, you’re welcome. You deserve better.” It was a stupid thing to sound so angry saying. He’d think of something better int he shower later. 

“Why, because I give you snacks while you clean our pool? You don’t know anything about me or what kind of person I am, JK. Maybe I did deserve this.”

“No way.”

“But you don’t know!”

If he hadn’t already known it in his gut, he knew it was true now, as the anger on her face wavered and he saw, just for one brief moment, raw grief. For one moment she had that look that in the movies makes a guy take up his sword and march off to war or whatever. She looked like a vulnerable, hurting person, not some rich caricature of a human, and that was exactly why he had stepped into this so far and couldn’t even regret it even if he knew he was making an ass of himself.

Just as quickly it was mostly gone, all except a soft, downward turn of her mouth. She had color on her lips which struck Jungkook as a little strange to have put on after the pool but he supposed Mrs. Birch wanted to always be put together. It was not a helpful train of thought –I could undo her combined with but she’s so sad right now and trying to hide it, isn’t she?-- and he looked away. He didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t used to this kind of dramatic exchange. He didn’t have stamina for it. Usually if he was fighting with a woman he just let her say her peace and then she left and that was the end, there were only a few times he really got into it.

But telling Mrs. Birch she ought to divorce her husband was worth it.

“I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore,” she admitted with a deep, tired sigh. “I need to go. Thank you for bringing all of this to my attention, but please, forget everything.”

“You got it, boss,” he mumbled. It was awkward. He felt deflated now.

She wasn’t going to leave her husband. That’s what he’d just learned. And the idea that a good woman would stay with a shitty man just flooded him with despair. Romance was dead, marriage was a sham, and there was no justice. His dad had divorced his mom and there were even kids involved, so what did Mrs. Birch think made it so impossible for her? But he didn’t feel like saying that to her now. He felt like he’d just burned what minor threads had connected them, and maybe it had been necessary in order for her to know about her husband, but selfishly he wondered now if it had been worth it. If she wasn’t even going to leave him, maybe she wished Jungkook had just kept his mouth shut. Maybe he should have.

“JK, I…”

He’d never know what she was going to say because after a grimace rolled across her face, she turned and went inside. Leaving him to finish the job he was paid to do, cleaning the fucking pool.

Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 1

Something's not quite right anymore.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, Angst [Tags will be different for every part!]

Length: 1k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

Collab with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

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"I'm gonna heat up some leftovers, do you want some, kook?" You call out- but there's no answer, causing you to sigh as your shoulders slump down.

It's been going like this for a good while now- your boyfriend and young gaming enthusiast too invested in everything but you at this point, a total contrast to how he used to be. People would tease him for constantly bringing you up in every conversation left and right, but these days, both directions of his are filled with other things he seemingly deems more important than you. And it's not like you're asking for much- but he by now even forgets to say goodnight, instead focused on whatever he's doing on his laptop and pc or phone.

You're not sure what happened. It's like you've gone back to being just roommates and nothing more than that.

You still plate up a portion of the leftovers for him, despite no reaction coming from the game designer in the other room- just like you always do. It's like you're just a maid, cleaning after him and feeding him every day, and it's frustrating. It reminds you of what you swore yourself you'd never be- you don't want to be tied down to a guy like that, who's just gonna become lazy and won't appreciate you being there for him. That's not the life you want to live.

And yet, you also love him, and you know he's not usually like this. So what changed?

You walk into his room where his equipment is all set up, knocking on the doorway to try and get his attention. He hums a reply, leans over a bit- but he doesn't ever move his eyes away from the screen, blue-light filtering glasses on the bridge of his nose reflecting what he sees. "...warmed up some food." You mumble, as you set the plate and cutlery down on his table- exchanging it for the dirty dishes from this morning. He's working from home these days, and that hurts- because you've been taking time off for once to spend it with him, just to end up taking on another job it feels like.

Full time maid. Huh.

"Thanks." He mumbles, and you just take the other dishes with a sigh, moving to leave- when he whines, and leans over, one of his hands leaving the keyboard to tap his cheek- and you can't help yourself but lean in to kiss it, thinking it might be a sign that he's coming out of his odd hibernation. But he just smiles for a moment before he grows focused again, shutting you out once more as you leave the room to go back into the kitchen to wash the dishes in the sink.

Moments like these are the worst.

It's like he keeps luring you back in with the tiniest of things to keep you hooked, keep you hoping that things might just be getting better- and then they won't, but you've got your fix so you feel at least somewhat satiated. And another part that's been severely lacking, is intimacy.

If he ever actually graces you with any kind of attention in bed, it's usually when you're both about to go to sleep. It's sloppy, tired, exhaustion clear in him even though some might argue that he's just sitting in front of a screen all day. But you know he's not- he's working hard, and it's his dream job, too, so of course he's putting in extra effort to make it count and make sure his work can't ever be replaced. And if it was just that- determination towards his own career- you wouldn't be this upset. But he's got time.

Clearly. He goes out with his friends here and there, but he never has time for you. Like he chooses to ignore you.

It's also odd that he suddenly has such a huge workload on himself, when before, he's not even been working this hard if he had to crunch towards a deadline. No, these days it appears as if he's working all the time- and it's caused even a moment that left him more than embarrassed, body so worn out and under the pressure of whatever stress he's going through, that he just.. couldn't get it up.

Maybe that's it?

No, it really can't be. You're made sure he knew that you didn't mind it, that you understood and that you'd probably even forget it soon anyways. And that night, he still slept close to you, didn't seem too upset about it anymore as he held you like always, snoring away until the alarm clock woke both of you back up at five AM sharp.

This is stupid. What's really going on?

It's late when he finally emerges from his office, entering the bedroom where you're already under the covers, and from the way he's still dressed, it's clear that he isn't coming to bed any time soon. "Kook, no.." You whine, reaching out for him as he opens the dresser to take a fresh shirt out. "You've been working all day!" You complain, but he just sighs, as he changes shirts, turning around after he's finished throwing the black fabric over his upper body. He crawls onto the bed close to you, pecks your lips- and you hate it.

Because the way you does it feels like an apology for what's to come.

"I know, but I already told the boys I'd be out.." He hums against your lips, and you're really trying hard to keep him, hands on his cheek moving to snake around his neck. "I won't be back too late." He promises, but you just pout at him, making him attempt to kiss it away. And for a moment, you feel like you might have a chance-

But then he chuckles and parts from you, leaning back.

"Now go to bed baby." He smiles, getting up to walk towards the bedroom door. "I'll be quiet when I come back, yeah?" He asks, and you just turn around to hide under the covers, huffing a somewhat answer out.

Unaware that deep down, it really pains him to treat you this way. But it'll be worth it.

He'll make sure of it.

Jungkook

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Attachment

There's something growing between the two of you- or are you simply growing closer?

Tags/Warnings: Aged up!Jungkook, Younger!Reader, Age Gap (9 years, JK is mentioned to be 34/35), Angst, Mature romance, Jungkook's ex wife, mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of alcohol abuse, fluff, flirty Jungkook, fluff!!, reader is a bit jumpy, some more lore, smut, slow sex, position changes, mentioned round two, some angy jungkook (but not at reader), some angst in the end but it's all resolved dw

Length: 7.2k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: I did not proofread this I'm sorry

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"Do you even know where we're going?" Jungkook worries, sitting next to you on the subway, but you just shrug.

"I know how to get back though, that's more important." You simply say, making him even more nervous.

Jungkook isn't used to giving up control like this. He's not used to being spontaneous and just doing things out of the blue because you feel like it. Things have to be structured, planned out and with a Plan B to go with it in case something goes wrong. He's an overthinker, and it shows, as he keeps looking around and asking.

"Just relax. There's a park nearby that I wanna go to. We can get some food close by and just eat it there." You say, and he sighs.

"I'm sorry." He admits, leaning back into the seat to try and relax more.

"Its alright. Most people panic whenever I talk about trips I take." You laugh.

"Do you travel a lot?" He asks, and you shrug.

"Used to. But.. he was more of a homebody. Didn't like staying at hotels." You explain, watching the scenery pass by next to you outside the window. "He kind of ruined it for me because he'd just.. continuously point out flaws in everything." You say, and Jungkook listens quietly. "Flaws that I'd.. overlook most of the time, because, nothing's ever perfect anyways, so why focus on that all the time?" You giggle, looking at him now.

"I'd disagree, but also agree." He chuckles. "There can be perfect things. It's just a matter of perspective, and how it's perceived by someone." He offers. "What's perfect to one might not be for another." Jungkook explains, and you nod.

"Thats the more.. complicated way of explaining it, I guess." You joke.

"I tend to overcomplicate things." He bashfully agrees, making you lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder.

"You'll.. tell me when I get too much, right?" You ask quietly, and he nods, arm wrapping around you as if to reassure.

"I will, don't worry." He reassures you, before he moves to pull your hand up to kiss the back for it-

A gesture that makes you blush, especially from the people around you fawning over it as well.

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He's caught off guard when you walk around in nothing but underwear, visibly unbothered by him seeing you like this.

"Do you.. want to join me?" You ask. "The tub is a bit small but..?" You question, looking over your shoulder at him, who looks oddly unsure. Considering you both have had sex twice now- or more so once, really, it's odd to think that he's like this now. Is it because the nature of your.. whatever it is, has changed?

You're no longer just strangers without any connection. There's something deeper now growing. And maybe that's what's putting him under pressure.

"If you'd like me to." He shrugs.

"Only if you want." You say. "I won't be upset if you say no. I'm a big girl, I can handle rejection." You giggle, and he chuckles as well, smile a bit less tense as before.

"I'm sure you can." He agrees. "Though I'd be stupid to reject." He jokes, getting up to walk closer to you.

"Or simply cautious." You shrug. "Nothing wrong with that." You remind him, but he simply nods, and follows you into the bathroom. The water is streaming in, hot, soap bubbling up. Jungkook watches how you easily shed your last items of clothing before you sink into the water, and he does the same now, revealing himself bare to join you in the barely big enough tub behind you.

You're comfortably leaning against his front, very obviously not shy about this at all- and in a way, oddly enough, it seems to rub off on him, as he feels himself relax with you so close. "I want to move into an apartment with a bathtub one day." You giggle randomly.

"Does yours not have one?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"No, it's too small for one." You deny. "Does yours?" You ask, and he hums his answer.

"It.. I have both. One guest bathroom with a shower. The main one has a tub." He explains to you. "Maybe.. you could come over someday. See it for yourself." Jungkook chuckles.

"Hm. Maybe. When you want me to." You say.

"I do want you to-" He starts, feeling like he needs to argue- though he's not sure what about.

"I know, but you also don't, and that's fine." You laugh. "I.. you know, I kind of get the vibe from you that.." you start, but drift off.

"..that?" He softly urges, hands now moving underneath the water to find yours to hold.

"..that you're not used to.. you know. People asking for permission. Or just.. I don't know." You shrug. "You're always so surprised whenever I do nothing but simply take your feelings into account. You seem so caught off guard whenever I ask you if you're okay with things." You tell him, and his eyes stare at the slowly disappearing soapy bubbles on the water surface as he begins to think.

It's true that it's not common. He's the man- always has been one, and with that always came the burden of decisions. Evelyn always took the things he did for granted- saw it as something natural. The fact that he provided her with a place to stay, money and security was just a given to her, and so was the fact that whenever she decided where to go for dinner, or what to do on his days off. He always drove her to her appointments, always had to please her, treat her right, because that's always been his role to play.

So, you're right. He's not used to being given a choice, asked for permission, or questioned whether or not he was okay with something. And it's become so normal for him, that he truly believed that that was how things had to be like-

and maybe that's also why he was so hesitant with you. Why he still hesitates.

What if he does something wrong? What if he decides something you don't like? What if he's not what you want him to be?

You want him to be himself. But he's not sure he even knows how to be himself anymore.

"You should.. be more selfish, you know?" You say, voice echoing off the walls a little as you move around in the water. "Then I won't feel so bad every time I want to ask you to do something for me." You laugh, joking- but he catches the hidden words.

"You can ask anything of me." He chuckles. "Trust me, I can make decisions just fine." He reassures you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

"I'm not doubting that!" You laugh. "But just- You're.. really nice, and I'm kind of scared I'll screw this up." You sigh, trying to sit up and lean away from him- but he holds you towards him, keeping you close.

"There's no 'screwing up' for either of us. We might not work out for reasons, but I doubt we'll really.. screw up like you say." He offers kindly. "I kind of.. just want to be with you for the next few days. Nothing more, nothing less."

"In what way?" You almost whisper, and he chuckles against your skin, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

"In whatever way you'd like." He hums against your skin, hands traveling up and down the length of your arms.

"What way would you like?" You ask, and he leans his head a little to rest his face in the crook of your neck.

"Right now.. exactly this." He sighs out. "I'm enjoying this a lot." He reveals, and at that, you lean back into him, and you can feel the way his lips twist into a smile against your skin.

"Is.. what made you fall in love with uhm.. Evelyn was it, right?" You ask, and he nods.

"I'm not sure." He admits. "She was pretty. She liked me, or at least that's what she told me- asked me out one night, and I just said yes because why not?" He shrugs, water sloshing around a bit at that movement. "I didn't.. have much interest in her back then, but I felt like it could just.. grow down the line."

"I mean, she's still pretty from what I could tell." You giggle, though he shakes his head. "No?" You wonder, and again, he shakes.

"Not anymore." He denies. Maybe conventionally attractive. Physically." Jungkook sighs. "But inside, she's just.. ugly."

You nod at that. You understand what he means.

"What about Greg?" He wonders, since the situation seems as good as ever to gain some more information on the guy he's never even seen before.

"He was.. or, you know, isn't as tall as you. A bit shorter. Uhm.. harsher facial features." You remember. "He always looked a little intimidating to me. But I thought it was just appearance. He used to be really nice to me, you know?" You explain, before you sigh. "But.. I don't know. Over time, after we started living together, it just went downhill." You explain to the man currently holding you. "There were warning signs before, sure- but I thought he was just stressed."

Jungkook listens, and makes sure you know that he is doing it- though he also provides some slight physical comfort as well.

"I should've left when he started to yell at me. Insult me, you know? But I didn't. I thought, if I was nice enough.." You stare at the bubbles slowly dissolving. "..I thought it would be okay."

"You were in love." He reassures you. "And we do stupid things when we're in love." Jungkook admits, making you nod as you lift your head a little to look at him.

Finally realizing that while his situation might not have been the same-

he still understands. More than anyone else.

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The next day starts rather.. interesting to him.  

He's wondering how long it'll take for you to snap- because he's noticed that some of his habits and behaviours are clearly getting onto your nerves. But he's not hiding any of it away- you need to face the truth after all, that he's no angel, and no perfect man without any flaws. He's not sugarcoating things- but you are. And he's waiting for you to drop that façade.  

You're never truly relaxing. You act like you are- but he knows you're not.  

Meanwhile he's just himself, even exaggerates some of what he knows are his nasty habits- and you're just quietly stepping over his pants thrown in the middle of the floor in the hotel room, though he notices the way your eyes cling to them for a good second. And when you actually trip over them on your way out, it's when you finally decide to speak up. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums, lifting his head from his phone to look at you. "Can you.. could you maybe try and I don't know.. put your clothes in one place only?" You ask, meekly, and that's when he notices something important. When he realizes something. 

You seem awfully.. wary saying that. Almost fearful.  

Oh. 

"Of course." He nods, getting up to put them away- and your reaction to that, is that just instantly fall into apologizing for your words- as if what you said could've insulted him in some way.  

"It's just that you could lose something you know?" You hum, wringing your hands anxiously. "And maybe you trip too and-" 

"It's fine, really." Jungkook reassures you after dropping his pants and shirt that's been laying around in his still opened travel bag, now turning towards you. "Come here." He sighs, and you do, walking close to him until he pulls you in and hugs you. "I'm not mad." He offers, and from the way you tense up, he realizes he's hit the nail on the head. "I'll never be mad- never like that. I can promise you that much."  

"I'm sorry." You apologize. "I know you're not like that-"  

"But it's a habit, I get it." He offers, before he lets you go to look at you properly. "I can imagine why you feel like you have to apologize right now- but there's no need to pacify me." He tells you. “I’m not angry.” 

"I know. I'm sorry- I never thought you were like that either." You sigh.  

“Small steps.” He chuckles. “We’ve got time.” he reassures. “Let’s go out and see if we can find a restaurant we want to eat at, hm? Something casual.” He teases lightly, making you nod.  

Just like he said- it’s a habit.  

You’re so used to having to justify your actions, having to apologize for everything, having to just suck it up and get over it that it’ll be probably a long road until you’re truly free again. Does he want to deal with that? Maybe not, maybe he’s just too nice to say it right now because you’re..  well, stuck together in this hotel on this trip together for a few more days to come, since he ended up making an entire week out of the three day trip. Maybe he just doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable,  because he’s just a nice guy like that.  

“Hey.” He rips you out of your thoughts. “let’s order room service instead.” He offers, and you’re confused.  

“But you wanted to eat out?” You wonder. “and.. we’re wasting an entire day by staying inside-“  

“We’re not wasting anything.” He chuckles. “I went on this trip with you to spend time with you. Which is what I’m doing right now.” He offers you, pulling your hands to have you close as he sits on the edge of the bed you both share. “you’re getting stressed. Tell me how I can help you.” He asks gently, as you sit on his thighs, unsure.  

You don’t know why you’re so on edge today. You can’t turn it off.  

“it just feels like.. any second now, something might happen.” You sigh, playing with the buttons on his shirt. “I’m not used to things being so.. okay.”  

“I understand that.” He nods. “you’ll get used to it in the future, I promise.” Jungkook makes sure to tell you, before he takes your hands again. “can I.. ask you something? And please don’t.. I’m not going to say the things I’ll say because something is  wrong with you or anything.” He says, and you nod for him to go on. “have you considered.. talking to someone about your past experiences? Someone professional?” He wonders, but you shake your head.  

“I feel like.. it wasn’t bad enough to really go to therapy for it. Lots of people go through tough times like that, and they manage just fine.” You shrug. “I’m just being dramatic about it. Like you said, I’ll get used to it with time.” You defend yourself by instinct.  

“You’ve been through something traumatic. There’s no.. threshold of how bad something needs to be to be able to seek out help.” He explains with a gentle tone of voice. “I’m not going to force you, obviously. But just so you know, your pain isn’t invalid just because others had it worse.” He says. “Think about it, at some point. Doesn’t have to be right now.”  

“I’ll.. keep it in mind.” You nod. “thank you.” You offer him, and he nods as well.  

“Nothing to thank me for.” 

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Jungkook is agitated.  

He’s been silent for a bit now, desperately searching for a spot to charge the electric rental car at- but all he finds are either in use or out of order. It’s raining too, meaning there’s not really anything you both could do other than just drive back to the hotel- but this charging spot has to work now, or the car won’t make it back.  

Everything is just going wrong.  

From the restaurant reservation somehow getting mixed up, to his phone constantly ringing because people won’t let him have his days off- poor device slipping out his hand at some point as he’d wanted to take it out the pocket of his pants, clattering to the ground, screen cracked in several places. Then, he’s informed of something urgent at work- he’s needed back earlier than he wanted to take time off for, meaning you’ll have to pack your things tonight already to fly back home by tomorrow morning.  

And now, as he gets out wordlessly to take the charger from the station, he reaches his breaking point.  

“fucking hell!” He barks out as he’s back inside the car, hand hitting the steering wheel once as the car denies any further distance. And he’s got tunnel vision too- not noticing the way you instinctively flinch next to him.  

But it’s just a habit of your body. Your mind knows that Jungkook’s anger doesn’t work like you’re used to.  

He’s on the phone, talking to a coworker when you take the chance to undo your seatbelt, before you open the door. His hand reaches out, softly holding your coat to send you an confused glance- worried even that he might’ve caused you distress. But you  give him a smile in return, and get out to walk into the gas station, finding an employee.  

“Sorry- I was just wondering.. the charging station outside doesn’t seem to work?” You ask, and the man behind the counter nods.  

“Oh? Yeah it does it sometimes. Let me come check it, it’ll probably just need a restart.” The man shrugs, taking some keys with him before he walks back out with you trailing after him. “Ah yeah, stupid thing got a little crazy again. Go sit inside though, you’ll catch a cold!” He laughs, waving you towards the car standing in front of the little station. “let me know when it starts charging.”  

You instead walk to open the trunk however, fetching an umbrella instead to hold over the man’s head- something he laughs at but thanks you for either way as he taps around on the panel.  

Jungkook watches from inside, using this moment to calm down again.  

He didn’t think at all. Did he scare you? Probably, considering he can be quite scary to other people as well if he gets frustrated like this. He hates how things like these just bubble beneath his skin all day until it boils over- especially considering that he’s been so eager to make sure that you know he’s not one to get angry easily. And yet here he is, having just yelled at a car for not working.  

Maybe he’s not the right person for you after all. You need someone calm and collected, not someone like him.  

Suddenly, the car chimes up, telling him it’s finally starting to charge- and outside, you’re thanking the man with the thick grey beard with a grateful smile, one he returns just as warmly before he walks back into the gas station with you. And when you emerge back out, you’re holding two cups of coffee to go- rain soaking your hair as you hold the closed umbrella beneath your arm.  

Inside the car again, you offer one of the cups towards him as if nothing happened. “I didn’t know if.. you liked sugar or creamer with yours.” You say. “so I brought some of both.” You say, putting the little packages of sugar and creamer on the mid console- where his hand suddenly finds yours, silver rings catching your attention for a second.  

“I’m sorry for earlier.” He apologizes, fingers tracing your cooled down hand that holds your own cup of hot liquid. “I didn’t mean to get so riled up.”  

“You’re stressed.” You shrug. “Its understandable. Just.. maybe take a moment to calm down right now?” You offer, and he nods, a soft smile on his lips.  

“thank you.” He says, before you nod and reach for the sugar packages to dump some into what he realizes is tea.  

“The car is really quiet when it drives.” You say, and he nods, taking a sip from his coffee.  

“It makes no sound.” He confirms. “the most you hear.. are really just the wheels on the road. The engine isn’t  loud at all.” He explains.  

“so when we drive fast it’s not the engine getting louder?” You ask, and he shakes his head.  

“No. It’s all just friction, and the air passing over the car.” He tells you.  

“Its kind of funny how far we’ve come.” You say, slipping out of your shoes to get comfortable in your seat, rain falling onto the roof of the car. “like, we have cars that we can just.. charge like phones. It feels weird.” You giggle, resting your head against the seat, while your back leans against the door.  

“Do you have a driver’s license?” He asks, and you shake your head.  

“I’m too scared to drive.” You deny. “I couldn’t handle memorizing all the rules and keeping them in mind at all times. I rather.. like being the passenger.” You nod. “you drive really well. I’d sleep if we went on a road trip.” You say, and he smiles.  

“I take that as a compliment.” He tells you, and you nod.  

“It was meant to be one.” You affirm. “earlier.. it was funny.” You say, suddenly not looking at anything- and he knows what you mean by ‘earlier’. “it’s like.. my body still reacts the same, but my head knows there’s no danger.” You explain. “they’re.. detached, in a way.”  

“I’m really sorry I lashed out like that.” He apologizes again.  

“don’t be.” You shake your head. “I need to face those situations too. There’s..  no use in wrapping me in bubble wrap. After all, you wanted to see if I can handle you, right?” You ask, and he nods. “See? I think my mind can. My body might not to some degree.”  

“we can work on that.” He gently offers. “your.. body will learn too. I want you to heal with me.” He says, and you nod.  

“I want that too.” You say. “I want you to heal with me too, even if all I can offer is just.. well, nothing.” You laugh, but he shakes his head.  

“You offer me this.” He explains, eyes watching you as his hand reaches out to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “you offer me a break. A.. moment to calm down, like you said.” He reminds you of your words.  

“if that’s what you need, I can be just that.” You say, and he nods.  

“I couldn’t ask for more.” 

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You’re late, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

He’d told himself to wait and not really indulge in any of this as long as you both don’t really know for sure where you want to take this- but you’re like a drug he can’t help but fall back on, a habit he can’t shake off. And it all happened so naturally, no words spoken as you both simply understood what the other was craving.  

Right now, everything is slow. You’re not even really undressed, him having kicked off his underwear beneath the covers, having had to somewhat get up and pull his travel bag closer to find a condom in there he had packed just in case, even though he did not plan for this.

It should have been his moment of realization. But he just couldn’t hold himself back after the lazy, but warm and almost comforting foreplay you two had indulged in after just having woken up, barely conscious.  

Your shirt is simply pushed up to reveal your naked skin beneath, and his hands are slow as they tug your underwear down your legs, sticky with your arousal from the earlier pleasure he’d brought you with nothing but his hand. You’re so warm from sleeping so close to him underneath the blanket you shared, eyes closed as you enjoy his offering of affection to you, kissing up your neck as he positions himself above you.  

There’s still no need for words. And he also fears that any sentence uttered by him could shatter this delicate moment between the two of you.  

Even though you should’ve woken up an hour ago, making you terribly late now, he just has to have this right now. It’s not just sex, and he hopes it’s not just that to you either- because this feels like a soft confession that’s not done in words, but actions instead. You really do offer him a feeling of weightlessness, as if time doesn’t exist, and no one expects anything of him. You just take him as he is, no questions asked.  

Maybe you’re this timeless because it doesn’t matter to you yet, considering the difference in age between you two. Should he feel bad about it then?  

Possibly. But then again, just like he’s using you to escape his own responsibilities and the pressure of his life, you’re using him just as much for a stable person to hold onto and rely on. And he’s fine with that. A good, healthy relationship should always have a balanced exchange. Give and take in equal amounts. Will this all become a problem in the future? Will you one day realize that he’s not able to offer you all the experiences you should have made in your twenties?  

Maybe. But even so, he realizes you’re right. It still wouldn’t be wasted time, if it’s spent with you.  

So what if he has to book and pay for another flight because you’ll surely miss the one he chose last night? He really couldn’t care less, because there’s no way he’s going to rush this. It’s the first chance at proper sex with you, finally a moment where he can give you actual attention as you deserve, not some quick fuck in the car or random blowjob on your couch. This isn’t just to satisfy your urges.  

This is a chance for him to show you love. 

And it’s clear that this is new to you- because you’re restless, as if you’re constantly expecting him to change pace, go faster, begin to rush towards his own pleasure. But he doesn’t, because that’s not his goal at all. His actual goal is to somewhat prove a point to you- that what he’s offering is not what you’re used to, in no way. He doesn’t see you as someone replaceable, someone who just has to be there, who has to listen to his every demand and do exactly as he says.  

No- he wants you to be yourself. He wants you to gain back that autonomy you rightfully deserve.  

Because one of the biggest things he noticed is how you constantly seem to live in a state of trying to pacify him at all times. As if you have to make sure he’s always happy and content with decisions made and words said, and he wonders just how bad your past relationship must’ve been to cause you to develop such behavior. So right now, he’s attempting to show you that he’s quite honestly the most calm around you anyways, even if you don’t do anything at all but exist alongside him.  

That’s enough already. He doesn’t need anything special from you, but yourself.  

Do you feel it? The way he’s pushing himself inside you isn’t an act of pure lust, but an attempt to connect with you, oddly enough. Jungkook has never seen sex as just that- but he has to admit that with Evelyn, the act had lost it’s appeal to him over time, mostly because he both knew that she was seeking out other people’s company aside from his own, and also because it just felt empty and unfulfilling to him. There was nothing to be gained from it, not for him at least- it only made him feel dirty and used, and towards the end of his relationship with her, he couldn’t bare to really let her touch him any longer. 

No matter what intention she had.  

But right now, with you, he’s feeling something- an urge he’s not felt in a long time, an excitement for possibilities and an eagerness to explore. And right now, he wants to take his time, watch you squirm beneath him, maybe even push you towards the limit of your patience. Will you beg?  

Why does that sound so arousing to him?  

He’s curious to know what you enjoy, what you want to explore, what you think about when you feel that specific need. He wants to ask what it was like before, has so many questions- but he also doesn’t want to speak right now, feels like this is neither the place nor perfect time to have a conversation like this. So instead, he just does what feels right- 

And judging by the way you sigh and reach out to touch him as well, it appears to be exactly what you like as well.  

Though he can also spot that impatience of yours growing, his smile not possible to be hidden as he rests his forehead in the crook of your neck, simply enjoying the closeness of it all as his hands run up and down over your body, exploring what he’s already seen before by now. But it doesn’t get old, doesn’t get boring- it never will be, most likely. He doesn’t know how long this will last, how long you’ll stay with him, or how long he’ll stay with you- but he wouldn’t mind to have you at his side long term, he knows that much.  

Or at least, he wants to try and make this permanent. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, clearly a sign of your dissatisfaction with the way he only occasionally actually moves, if anything, this all could count more as cockwarming than anything else. And now’s the time he has to break his silence, as he chuckles against your skin, placing faint barely felt kisses against the side of your neck. “What’s wrong, darling?” He purrs almost, while your hands move to rest on his shoulders.  

“Move.!” You complain, and he loves the demand so much. Not because he wants to go faster, but because you demand anything at all- something you should do more often. Maybe this is his way to go, moving forward. Maybe he could fuck some confidence into you.  

He surely wouldn’t mind doing it that way.  

“I am moving.” He teases, his low tone still raspy from lack of use during sleep causing your core to clench around him.  

“Our flight..” You mumble, fingers running over the back of his neck, causing him to involuntarily shiver.  

“I’ll book a different one later.” He denies, adjusting his position a little, pressing himelf as deep as he can inside you, leaning back to have his hands on your thighs, fingers running over the warm skin.  

“But that’s wasted money..” You say, unable to really resist his touch however, your arguing weak in nature and delivery. “And you’re needed back at work..”  

“I’m needed here, right now.” He instead teases, using your legs to pull you closer, slowly starting to thrust, your chest swaying alongside the pace he sets. “By someone I find way more important than work.”  

“But-” You start, but he decides to play dirty now, delivering a particularly hard thrust to shut you up or at least give him the chance to speak before you can finish your sentence.  

“You’re important.” He simply chuckles. “Right now, and afterwards, too.” He makes sure to tell you, before he leans over again, faces close. “Can I kiss you?” He wonders, eyes falling to your lips for just a second. “You can say no. I won’t be upset at it.”  

But you nod. “I want you to.” You say, for a second questioning if your words might’ve been too demanding- but it doesn’t appear to be the case, as he leans in to catch your lips, first kiss between you both passionate and warm- not hot, nowhere near burning. It’s like a promise, a silent gesture of devotion from him, an offering of his to show that he’s actually taking this seriously. 

He’s in it now. This is no longer just playing around.  

He’s not going to tell you he loves you- because he’s not there yet, and he knows neither are you. But he truly believes that these feelings can grow if he nurtures them well, and if you accept them and let him plant them in your heart. He wants the vines of what might grow to connect you both, because that’s what you both deserve.  

He knows his own worth. And he wants you to know yours, too.  

His lip piercings are a little foreign, but in a way, they make it a unique experience to you. Or maybe it’s the sincerity he has in his actions, the way he treats you, the fact that he pays so much attention to you as well during this whole thing. You’re not used to this. He doesn’t seem to expect anything of you, and it makes you a bit anxious.  

But even that, he notices.  

“Let go, darling.” He chuckles against your lips, barely apart from you. “I’ll take care of you.” 

“But shouldn’t you be taken care of too?” You worry, and he just smiles.  

“This is more than enough for me, trust me.” Jungkook responds, moving a bit faster now. “I just want you.” He tells you, and you're sure he doesn’t know the weight of that statement. 

Or how long you’ve waited for someone to say it like that. 

Because even though it’s said right now, during the act, but it’s not actually sexually charged. It’s not said in the context of ‘I want you right now’- but it’s more generalized. He wants you.. In general. Not just in this moment, or for this specific action.  

So when you simply trust yourself in the heat of the moment, turning the tables or more so positions, you feel a strange sense of confidence as you now ride him, his hands on your hips taken by yours, fingers intertwining while he watches you for a moment, clearly fighting the urge to just relax and close his eyes, sight of you too pretty to miss. But he can’t help it, leans his head back into the pillows with a lazy smirk on his lips, pulling you closer to wrap his arms around you, slow pace all you both need as you push each other over the edge, coming undone at different times- but still, that doesn’t make the moment any less meaningful.  

He keeps you in this position for a moment while he spills into the condom inside of you, not utterly exhausted, but entirely satisfied nonetheless. He feels nice, like his mind and body have been reset, truly giving him a fresh start to the day as he finally opens his eyes after bathing in his own afterglow.  

A glance to the side offers him the time. Your flight has left almost half an hour ago by now. 

“We missed it.” You mumble sleepily, and he nods, before he playfully manhandles you around to lay on your back on the bed again, pulling your shirt over your head. “Jungkook!” You laugh, and he chuckles along, attacking your shoulder and neck with kisses and even bites, visibly energized now.  

“Good.” He purrs against your skin. “Up for a round two?” 

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You feel a bit embarrassed. 

You’ve been home for two days now, and you miss him. Terribly so. Even though you try and occupy yourself with work, your mind keeps going back to the time spent with him, and you’re conflicted. Should you reach out? Text him? He told you he wouldn’t mind, but he also seemed a little stressed about work, so you probably shouldn’t bother him.  

Maybe you could ask Tae? 

But he doesn’t really give you an answer, somehow sounding oddly reluctant even to just talk about his friend in any way, and it makes you suspicious. So today, you finally jump over your shadow, and text him- just to get no reply for hours. It’s not until later that day that you receive a phone call instead- his voice sounding tired. “I’m sorry I’ve been silent.” He simply says, and you’re immediately alarmed.  

“What’s that noise in the background?” You want to know, because it sounds very much like something you’re very much familiar with. And with the way he dodges an answer by sighing first, you just know what’s going on. “Which hospital are you in? Do you need anything?” You rant. “What even happened?” 

“Nothing happened-” He quietly argues, sounding awfully like a scolded child almost, but you cut him off.  

“Well something clearly happened for you to be in hospital!” You argue, before you calm down. “I’m sorry, I just-” 

But Jungkook reassures you as always, giving you the name of the hospital he’s staying at, as well as the room he’s in, so you can visit him. And the moment you walk in with some snacks approved by the doctors, you feel like you’re the one in need of medical attention.  

“What happened?” You weakly ask, carefully sitting down next to his bed where he’s in, a hand running over his face, careful not to twist the delicate tubes connected to the needle in his arm.  

“Just an accident.” He says, though he’s not looking at you- and it makes you anxious.  

“What accident?” You ask, and when he doesn’t answer, you press on, unable to keep your emotions in check properly. “Jungkook please. You said we should be honest-” You softly say, and he sighs, licking his lips.  

“I.. Fell asleep.” He mumbles quietly. “While driving to a meeting. I was late, and it was.. Just for a split second- and suddenly it all went to shit.” He explains. “I was- the road was empty. And it was so fucking late, I- don't know what I was thinking.”  

It’s quiet after that, apart from staff and visitors moving outside in the hall, barely heard through the closed door, but the machine that’s keeping close measurement of his vitals occasionally makes a sound.

Jungkook barely manages to look at you, and when he does, he’s not sure what that expression on your face means. You’re looking at a nasty bruise on his wrist, face unreadable, before you eventually speak again.  

“Jungkook.” You say his name, and your voice is bone chillingly serious, demanding his full attention.  

“Don’t you ever do that again.” 

Your words are heavy, full of emotion and yet delivered in a monotone anger that makes him realize the gravity of the situation. He’s lucky he didn’t hit anyone in that tiny second, should be forever grateful nothing major happened at all except for his car getting crashed beyond repair.  

“I’m sorry-” He begins, but you shake your head, speaking after you take a deep breath as if to collect yourself.  

“No, I don’t want an apology.” You deny. “You can’t do this.” You say, and he’s a bit unsure what you mean, when you turn to look at him with glossy eyes. “You can’t make me get attached just to... pull something like this.” You say. “That’s cruel, Jungkook. You could’ve killed someone.” You tell him, and he nods, quietly. “Get a cab next time, or have someone drive you, fuck I don’t care!” You become a bit louder now. “But you can’t do this. You can’t be this selfish.” Is your response, as you finally properly look at him, close to tears. “I’m starting to need you, Jungkook.” You confess.  

“You can’t leave me alone like that.”  

And at the first tear falling, he chooses to ignore his physical pain, to move over a little and have you sit on the side of his bed, clinging to him as the full force of it all hits you, arms reaching out for him, grabbing hard at the hospital gown he’s in, desperate to hold him.  

As if you need to know he’s still there, that he’ll be fine.  

“I’ll make sure to rest properly from now on.” He promises, hand that’s not hooked up to anything running over your back as you cry into his chest. “I’ll take better care of myself. I promise.” He tells you, and you nod, though you stay close.  

It takes a good moment for you to calm down again, and when you are, he uses that energy you both have now to dig a little deeper.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out, by the way.” He tells you, and you shrug. “No, I mean it. There’s no excuse for it.”  

“You were busy.” You mumble, but he shakes his head.  

“Doesn’t matter.” He denies. “I’ll make more time for you. I need to rest anyways, and even after I’m healed, I should take a step back in general. Like I said-” He offers, wincing a bit when a movement causes him pain. “-I have to take better care of myself. For you.”  

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, detaching yourself a little from him again as you sit up, feet dangling off the edge of the bed. “I’m getting clingy already-”  

“No, please.” He encourages, giving you a soft smile. “Be clingy. I promise you, I’m just.. It's just a bit odd to me at the moment.” Jungkook reveals. “I’ve not had someone care for me in such a way in.. A while.” Or ever, he wants to actually say- but he doesn’t want to put so much pressure on you.  

He can leave those big confessions to a later date.  

“Should I.. do you need help at home once you get out of here?” You wonder. “I could help you? Or, maybe you can.. I don’t know-”  

“I’d really appreciate your company.” He smiles. “And your help too. But mostly your company.” Jungkook teases, making you laugh in relief.  

Not just because he clearly looks worse than it actually is- 

But also because his smile looks oddly youthful- and most of all, truly genuine. 

Jungkook

TERRITORIAL. | Pretty Baby

Who would've known that the big bad wolf isn't actually all that bad?

Tags/Warnings: Punk!Jungkook, Wolf!Jungkook, Good girl!Reader, Dom!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, Corruption kink, strangers to crushes to lovers, Fluff, Adult themes

Length: uuuh long idk

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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Strawberry milk is your favorite.

It's always been a comfort thing for you- just like certain snacks or fabrics make you feel comforted, strawberry milk gives you that little bit of extra braveness at night after work has ended to finally make your way back home into the safety of your apartment.

But tonight, it's a bit different. Tonight, there's a group of vamps outside, clearly trying to agitate the wolves who've been ruling the streets for a while now.

It's not actual gang-behavior. They're not actively fighting or anything, there's never any guns or other violence involved- at least not on the surface. Underground, you're sure this must be a different story- but on the streets, the wolves play the tune everyone else dances to- the vamps only occasionally trying to provoke something, which never actually happens.

But that doesn't mean it won't tonight. Maybe tonight's the night it'll escalate.

And on nights like this, you sometimes feel like moving into the big city was a big mistake too, because this seems so normal to everyone else around you.

Back home in your little town, there wasn't anything like this at night. People would go to bed at reasonable times, you'd know every neighbor by name and house number, and you never had to fear going home alone. But here, things are different. Here, things are a lot more dangerous, especially as nothing but a human with no connection to either group.

You kind of want to stay neutral- even if, deep down, you feel more drawn towards the wolves with their more laid back approach to life.

Outside the small convenience store, you throw away the empty bottle of strawberry milk, before you reluctantly make a few steps- looks from a few vampires immediately making you retreat however, pulling out your phone to appear occupied. You can hear them snickering amongst each other already, laughing and talking, making comments about you.

You can't do this, fuck that.

You look around a little, when you notice someone from the nearby wolves looking back at you- a young man, golden eyes a tell-tale sign of what he is, as he sits on his bike that's perched up on it's kickstand. He's watching you, but not in an intimidating way- he's more so calculating it seems like, scanning the situation before he looks towards a friend nearby, who nods, some others nodding as well as they move closer.

He's got his hands in the pockets of his jacket, beanie hiding the slightly faded blue-ish strands of hair. Everyone of the tiny group appears relaxed and non-threatening. But there's a certain confidence in them that intimidates you a little as they walk closer.

That is, until he smiles at you-

and his black tail behind him wags, swaying from side to side.

"Alright guys, can we make some space here for the lady to pass through?" He asks towards the group of Vamps, who laugh, before they reluctantly make space for you to walk. The young man carefully moves to walk a little behind you, the other's shielding you just as much on the side that's turned towards the blood-dependent human variants. It just confirms to you that yeah, you're definitely more drawn towards wolves.

"There we go. Is your home far?" The young wolf asks, still keeping a respectful distance towards you.

"Uh.. no, not really." You deny, and he nods. "Thanks, by the way." You bow to him and his friends politely, everyone just waving it off- though you can see all their tails swaying a little. It's honestly.. cute, if they didn't all look like they could probably break your neck at a moment's notice.

But they don't. Instead, they all agree to your request to walk home now by yourself, and let you go-

though you can feel one person's eyes on you for a little longer, and when you turn around, he smiles that smile again.

A smile that's just.. genuine.

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You meet him again the day after at the convenience store, though he's sporting a fresh scratch on the top of his cheekbone. He doesn't seem to be in too much pain as he spots you however, having just bought your typical strawberry courage to go home tonight. "Do you always work this long?" He wonders, and you nod, sitting down next to him at the narrow table at the windows of the small store. He's been eating something, bowl now empty though, faint redness on his lips the last remnant of his meal.

"What happened?" You ask, pointing to your own cheek, when he seems surprised, touching his own before hissing at the sting. "No don't touch it-" You whine, before you look for something in your bag, opening another, smaller, makeup bag. "here- or... do you want me to help?" You wonder, making him nod and lean forward with a faint smile on his lips, hands holding onto the chair he's sitting on between his legs as he closes his eyes so you don't feel watched.

As you clean up the scratch and put a bandaid on, you kind of have to think about the fact that he seems awfully.. less threatening than you thought he'd be, considering he's a wolf from the big city. But maybe the one's you know from the smaller towns are just.. a little too full of themselves, pride getting the best of them.

"Oh-" You suddenly say, noticing the little cartoon fish on the bandaid you just placed on his cheek.

"What, 'oh'?" He wonders back, and you hold out another bandaid to him so he can take a look.

"I'm sorry, I didn't- I forgot I only have those…" You mumble a bit caught off guard by your own actions. But he just laughs, giving it back to you with a smile and shake of his head.

"It's fine- they're cute!" He simply shrugs, not bothered by it at all. "Thanks." He offers, tail swaying behind him. "So- can I ask what you work as?" He wonders, and you nod, putting your stuff back into your bag.

"Just data management. It's pretty boring." You shrug to yourself. "But I can work by myself and I like that." You explain, zipping your bag shut before you look at him again. "Although.. I might have to get myself maybe a dog, when I go home at night. A big, scary looking one you know? But they've got to be nice so I can bring them into the office with me.." You mumble, drinking the last of your milk as he turns his body to face more openly to you again, a playful smirk on his lips.

"How about I'll be your big bad dog then, huh?" He flirts, tail swinging side to side behind him. "Though I'm probably not allowed in the office.." He laughs, especially when you roll your eyes and still smile at his joking attempt at flirting. It was a joke.. right?

"Ha-ha." You say because of that, though he just widens his eyes, feigning innocence.

"Hey I'm serious!" He offers, leaning a bit closer. "I could take you home every night- and if I can't, someone of my pack could do the job instead."

"I- I'm probably not even gonna stay in the city for too long." You sigh, playing with the fluffy pom-pom ball attached to your bag. "I don't like it here very much.. it's too.. I don't know. I don't belong here.." You mumble.

"Maybe you've simply not seen the good parts of the city." He shrugs. "I could show you some."

"And by some you mean your bedroom?" You sigh, looking at him with a bit of an attitude- and he can't help but be intrigued by that little hint of spice you seem to have, underneath your pretty visuals and rather introverted appearance.

"If you'd like to visit, the door's always open for a pretty girl like you." he purrs, and at that, you clearly turn shy. "..And I don't ever open that door for anyone but myself, typically." He adds on, and at that, you look back at him, searching for the deeper meaning of that statement-

and you seem to find it, in the warmth of his eyes and the slight redness to his ears.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💗── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Have you ever been a backpack before?" Jungkook asks, as he waits outside of your apartment, one helmet on his bike and the other in his hand.

"Uh.. no-" you say, honestly never having heard the phrase.

"Would you like to try?" He asks, motioning towards his bike, holding out the helmet. "Got this one from a packmate. Should fit you." He says, black and grey tail wagging as you take it somewhat reluctantly. "And I'll drive extra careful too." He says, helping you put on the helmet properly before his hands adjust the strap under your chin.

"What if I fall off?" You worry, but he just laughs, putting on his own helmet. You notice that his hair seems freshly dyed- nor black.

"Not if you hold on to me." He explains, sitting on the bike after putting up the kickstand. "Hop on- I'll keep it stable." He reassures you, as you somewhat awkwardly climb onto the back of his bike. Only when his hands pull yours around his middle do you notice he's only really keeping you both and the bike stable with his feet alone.

And it makes you wonder how strong he might be.

"There we go. You'll figure things out as we go, trust me." He chuckles, small speakers in his head connected to his own too so you can talk properly. "Good to go?" Be asks, and you nod-

That is until his bike roars to life, and you instinctively cling onto him for dear life as he turns to drive off onto the main road.

He laughs. You're not sure what's so funny.

"Oh look at Jungkookies new passenger princess!" Someone jokes suddenly over the speaker, and you look around just to find three people on bikes as well at the same red light.

"Nervous?" Another voice asks, and Jungkook growls a little in front of you.

"You're making her nervous, hyung!" He complains, making the stranger's laugh. "Don't worry, they just want to mess with me.." he mumbles towards you, hand squeezing yours for a little in comfort.

"Yeah of course, after all Jungkook's finally all grown up!" The first voice laughs. "Finally up for an actual relationship now, fuckboy?" He asks, and at that, you grow a bit nervous.

Fuckboy? Relationship?

Just who is Jungkook really? You've got no idea. Sure, you've texted over the past few days, but you basically know nothing about him. He could just try and get into your pants, maybe that's his whole thing- maybe he likes them innocent and stupid to have a quick fuck and then drop them again. With looks like his that must be easy.

You're easy.

"Please don't listen to them, they're just assholes-" He tries to explain as the light finally turns green, but you're quiet, and Jungkook has a feeling that something's wrong. "You okay?" He asks occasionally, but you just nod and move on, not really up for talking anymore. He just wants to screw you anyways. Maybe he really is just a big city wolf down the line.

The scenery is nice, but you don't really feel like enjoying it too much as you just want to go home right away again. It's something you do- you hide from things, because confrontation just ends in you being at fault all the time. And maybe, this time, you are at fault.

You shouldn't just trust someone like that. You both barely know each other.

He parks at a gas station, turning off his bike in a more secluded parking area, before he takes off his helmet, and helps you take off yours too.

"What's wrong?" He asks, hair a bit wild, but eyes serious as they look at you, reflecting the light from the neon signs a little like mirrors.

"Nothing." You shrug, avoiding eye contact.

"He was just messing with me. They're always like that-" he tries to explain, and as you sigh, he knows that that's exactly what must've set you off. "Listen, I won't stand here and tell you I'm a church-going virgin because I'm not. Yeah, I fucked around, because sex is fun to me." He shrugs, and you're caught off guard at how boldly he says that. "But that doesn't mean I can't take things seriously." He offers, finally catching your gaze again. "And I want to take.. you seriously." He offers you, but you're not sure.

"...why?" You wonder. "Cause I'm pretty and innocent?" You jab at him. "Cause I'm the small town girl you can corrupt and then drop after you finally got into my pants?" You accuse. "Sucks to be you, I'm not a virgin anymore. I've had sex already, and for me it's not fun." You deny, crossing your arms almost defensively, though you quickly move your hands back on the bike as it moves slightly the moment he sits on it again, facing you however.

"I don't care about that." He tells you. "I won't lie that the corruption part isn't something appealing to me-" he chuckles, as he tests the waters, hands on your thighs not moving, just resting on the tops of them. "-But I'm not dropping you, if you ever let me have you." He purrs.

"What if I'm not ever letting you have me?" You respond, trying to act tough so he won't think you're easy.

"Then that's your choice." He nods.

"So if I say no right now, you'll leave me alone?" You ask.

"Depends on what you say no to." He shrugs leaning back a little, your legs feeling cold without his hands on them. "No to sex? Alright, we won't fuck then." He explains. "No to being with me? Cool, we'll just stay friends then." He goes on.

"No to me entirely?" He offers, eyes unreadable. "I'll accept that, and back off."

"That easy?" You ask a little caught off guard, and he nods. "So you're.. huh." You mumble to yourself, defeated. So he's not even up to put any effort in you. That's slightly disappointing, and honestly makes you feel a little ashamed even.

"So what is it?" He asks, and you shrug.

"I don't know." You answer honestly.

"Then how about I'll work for it?" He smirks, and you look at him now. "Let me take you out. Let's go on dates, I can take you to pack meet-up's so you can get to know those assholes better, hell, I'll even have you meet my mom if you want!" He excitedly proposes to you, tail wagging, hitting his bike occasionally. "Just- you seem really cool. Exactly what I've been searching for." He explains a bit softer now. "Let's try.. okay?" He asks.

"... okay." You answer, and at that his lips turn, part in a happy grin, before he gets up from the bike and punches the air once in his excitement before he returns.

"Okay!" He giggles to himself, helping you back into your helmet. "I know an awesome place to get some food-" he instantly rambles, kicking up the stand for his bike again before he drives off with you-

Eager to show you that he's the one for you.

The Fifth: Part 2 (Jungkook x OC)

Summary: After a horrible first date, Jungkook is determined to redeem himself with a second. You're just as determined not to give in, until you realise you might just.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

Genre: Fluff, teasing, banter, idiots to lovers

Word count: 12.6 K

Warnings: Minor injuries, Jungkook in a leather jacket

Part 2 of 2 (Part 1)

Listen to: "whistle for the choir" by the fratellis

jungkook masterlist | main masterlist

Ping.

You close your eyes even tighter, groaning into the pillow when your phone pings again. It’s been a long few days; the promotion feels like it's in your grasp, just a few weeks away from becoming official. Barring any complications. Extra credit means extra work and less sleep, making tonight the first night in a long time that you’ve been able to go to bed by midnight.

When your phone pings a third time, you grudgingly open your eyes, the screen on the bedside table the only source of light in the otherwise dark room. Silently cursing whoever it is, you see a message from Jeon Jungkook on your lockscreen. You’re tired, but you find yourself opening it anyway to see three messages, all sent within a span of a minute.

JK [00:08]

I remembered a second thing.

JK [00:08]

You like Harry Styles.

JK [00:09]

You were singing along to my playlist in the car.

You frown, immediately thinking back to that night before replying.

Me [00:10]

What are you talking about?

JK [00:10]

You were singing along to Adore You. It was soft but you definitely were.

Me [00:11]

The music must have been echoing in the car.

JK [00:11]

Forgive me but your voice sounds nothing like Harry’s.

You wince, chewing on your bottom lip. It’s not completely unbelievable.

Me [00:12]

Um, I really don’t think I was singing.

JK [00:12]

You were. I distinctly remember because I was contemplating telling you to knock it off, but you actually sounded pretty good.

Me [00:13]

Oh.

Me [00:13]

That’s quite a compliment from you, I guess.

JK [00:14]

You’re welcome. And that’s two.

You roll your eyes, flipping onto your stomach to rest in a more comfortable position, gazing at your screen.

Me [00:15]

You remembered this random detail in the middle of the night?

JK [00:15]

It’s barely midnight. I just had my second dinner.

Me [00:15]

I thought you were on a diet.

JK [00:16]

Sigh. I am but I also spent two hours in the gym and eight hours in the dance studio so I’m allowing myself a cup of ramen.

Me [00:16]

Good kid.

JK [00:16]

Wait, did I wake you up?

Me [00:16]

Almost.

JK [00:16]

Huh. Already?

Me [00:17]

Yes. I need to make up for a week’s worth of sleep and still be up by seven.

JK [00:17]

I thought you people started work at nine. Do you take two hours to get ready?

Me [00:17]

No, but I need to make a detour to this coffee shop before work.

JK [00:18]

Doesn’t Hybe have coffee machines everywhere?

Me [00:18]

Yes, but the one on our floor’s been broken for ages. And I need the caffeine.

JK [00:18]

Alright then. I’ll let you sleep.

Me [00:18]

That’s very big of you.

JK [00:19]

Haha. Just wanted to remind you - two down, three to go. Goodnight :)

You sigh and lock your phone, rolling on your back to go to sleep. You picture the shit-eating grin he’s sure to have on his face right now, thrilled at remembering two things from the horrendous date you’d both been on. Ever since you made it clear to him that you’d forgiven him and weren’t mad at him anymore, his entire demeanour changed from wide-eyed and apologetic to downright mischievous and cocky.

You hadn’t quite expected Jungkook to take this challenge so seriously; to be honest, you’d only created it to discourage him. You were sure he remembered next to nothing, mostly because due to the lack of response, you’d eventually stopped talking as well. The fact of the matter was that there wasn’t a lot of material to begin with - or so you’d thought.

Somehow, a week after the launch party, he’d texted you out of the blue during a working lunch, where you, Seulgi and three other people were sitting on the floor of a conference room, working towards a deadline that took precedence over everything else, including food.

“Is that Sooya?” Seulgi asked immediately when your phone pinged. “She literally texted you five minutes ago! Tell your manager we’re doing it as fast as we can! Jesus.”

“No, hang on,” you muttered, frowning at your phone where it was on the table. From where you were sitting, you could only make out the notification and the length of the sender’s name - too short to be Kim Sooya’s. Reaching up, you retrieved it to find a message from someone you genuinely didn’t think you’d hear from again.

JK [13:40]

You don’t like seafood. Right?

You squinted. You’d saved his contact with just his initials seven months ago, finding it strange that Jeon Jungkook was messaging you at all. You weren’t a BTS fan by any stretch of the imagination; you knew them, you didn’t dislike them and if a popular song played at a club, you probably knew the words. But even you knew their maknae and moreover, you knew his fanbase. In an effort to keep the lowest profile possible, you’d gone so far as to mask his name in your phone as much as possible without feeling like a criminal.

Me [13:43]

Is this an accidental text?

He replied immediately.

JK [13:43]

No. You, Cheon Lia, don’t like seafood. Am I right?

It was true, unfortunately, but you could place neither the context nor the expected response.

Me [13:44]

Why do you think that?

JK [13:44]

Because on our date, I ordered the fish and you made a face. So you probably don’t like seafood.

Me [13:45]

Is this about the five things I dared you to remember from that night?

JK [13:45]

Yes. And this is one.

“What does she want?”

Your head whipped up to see Seulgi, eyes wide and questioning. “Oh, it’s - it’s not Sooya. Just… my mom.” You wait until she processes this and turns back to her laptop before turning back to your phone.

Me [13:46]

Alright. This is one. Good job, Jeon. I think.

JK [13:46]

Four more to go. Have a good day :)

That was four days ago. In the flurry of endless work, most of which is for BTS’s new comeback, you’ve been too busy to think about it and he’s presumably too busy with said comeback to do the same. Still, the fact that he’s texted you in the middle of the night implies that he hasn’t forgotten about your challenge - and you find you’re pleasantly surprised at how much he remembers.

You’re still thinking about it the next morning when you reach Hybe, along with wondering how much you might have inadvertently revealed on your date and how likely he is to come up with three more details. You’d only promised to consider a second date; you could still say no. You just hadn’t had the faith that he’d even come up with one thing, but the fact that he has two makes you start wondering if you’ll actually have to follow through on your promise.

“Someone out there likes you.” Seulgi greets you with a sing-songy remark, giving you a meaningful look as she brushes past you to go to her desk.

You almost choke again. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry. I should say someone up there likes you,” she amends. She juts her chin towards something behind you. “They fixed the coffee machine.”

“What?” you gasp, turning around hurrying towards the beautiful, ancient machine that’s been here, in this floor of the Hybe building for nearly as long as you have and run your hands down its side, feeling the familiar heat. “I didn’t even have time to stop for coffee on the way! Oh, sweet thing, your heavenly body never ceases to amaze -”

“They’ve put out coffee, too,” interrupts Seulgi who, ever since the summer launch party, is remarkably less stressed. “I think you may have actually gotten someone other than you interested in our daily caffeine intake,” she comments, reaching for her usual green tea.

You peer into the plastic boxes and let out another low breath, hardly daring to believe it. Reaching out for a sachet, you gasp. “They gave us Caffeta sachets,” you breathe, feeling misty. “I didn’t think anyone even knew this brand. I can’t believe it.”

Seulgi raises her eyebrows. “I can. This is literally the first time I’ve ever heard of it.”

“It’s the best,” you declare. “They’re basically like teabags - do you know what caffeine addicts have to do to get good coffee? The process and the paraphernalia, not to mention the equipment -”

“Maybe they’re a new sponsor for Hybe or something,” says Seulgi thoughtfully, stirring her tea. She looks up to see you giving her a look. “What? I’ve never heard you mention this brand either.”

“I literally have four sachets in my bag at all times for emergencies -”

“Lia? Can I see you for a moment?”

You turn to see Sooya, your manager, gesture to you from inside her glass office and your heart sinks. It should be illegal for work to be presented to an employee before they’ve had their morning coffee, you think glumly as you follow her inside. She turns to you, looking the very picture of a corporate slave (pristine black pencil skirt, crisp pale pink blouse, hair long and pony-tailed, not a strand out of place, skin looking radiant) and presses a single key on her laptop.

“I’ve just sent you a file,” she says, “and it has everything about a new band Hybe’s launching this fall. They want to see a digital marketing plan by next week.”

You wait for her to continue but when she doesn’t, you frown. “Wow, don’t go overboard on the detailing,” you joke, chuckling nervously. When all she does is crack a forced yet sympathetic smile, your own fades. “Wait… is that it?” At her nod, you scoff shakily. “This - this is a joke, right?” You fumble with your phone to open the email she’s just sent you, scanning the rather scant file attached. “They want a marketing plan,” you repeat, “for this?”

“Well, yes.”

“This tells us nothing, though.” You look down at your phone again anxiously. “I mean - is it even a boy group or a girl group?”

“Girl group. But -”

“What’s their name? How many members?”

“They don’t know. Or they haven’t come up with one.” When you make a noise that’s something between a scoff and a whimper, Sooya sighs. “We’ll have to show them options. They want this group to be big overseas so they’re heavily relying on digital marketing. Look, I know this is a ridiculous ask,” she admits. “They’ve genuinely given us nothing - but apparently SM is coming out with another group in the winter so they want to launch this group before that one so they’re really pushing for a strategy. You can take Seulgi’s help if you need,” she suggests.

You try not to stare at her too accusingly. “She’s not in digital. I’ll… I’ll check with Eunji, maybe,” you mutter, looking down forlornly at your phone. “Did you say they need this next week?”

“Tuesday. Which gives you… six whole days,” she says, conveniently counting the weekend as well. “It’ll be great for your promotion,” she says after a moment and you know you’ve lost.

When you trudge out of her office, you see Seulgi’s sympathetic expression.

“You knew,” you grumble, falling into the chair beside her.

She clicks her tongue and pats your shoulder. “At least now we know why they sprung for the good coffee.”

---

It’s unlikely, but it almost seems as though Seulgi is onto something, for you consume possibly ninety percent of all the coffee provided on your floor over the next few days. You reach the office every day by eight since the creative types start their day early and you don’t manage to leave until ten pm at the very least, after which you reach home, shower, inhale some food if you can and get back to work until you fall asleep on your bed, your laptop still open next to you.

The real clincher comes on the weekend when, due to the misread of a moodboard, you’re compelled to go into the office on a Saturday. The office is open, of course, for the artists and management basically live here, but as far as the corporate employees are concerned, you’re the only one. The floor is eerily empty when you reach at half past four in the afternoon; even the lights haven’t been switched on, making it look like a workplace thriller just waiting to happen.

You locate the moodboard in the same conference room where it was left yesterday. Taking a picture of it from every angle possible, you send it to the rest of the two-member team you’ve managed to scrounge for this project before sitting in an empty chair, suddenly exhausted. It’s beyond strange being here on a weekend, especially in casual clothes. You’d given yourself a twenty minute break to take a shower and even that your team wouldn’t let you have that in peace. One frantic phone call later, you were pulling on an old, grey long-sleeved t-shirt and ancient jeans, grabbing a hoodie and being out the door while your hair still dripped.

You contemplate working from the office for the rest of the day, reasoning that it’s still less depressing than working in your room on a weekend while your roommate parties with a bunch of other friends, when your phone pings.

JK [16:34]

You have a brother. That’s three.

Your stomach does a backflip, probably because Jungkook’s the first person to talk to you today about something that isn’t work.

Me [16:34]

I never mentioned my brother. I’m sure of it.

JK [16:34]

Pretty sure you did. I don’t remember when but I think he’s younger?

Me [16:35]

Do you remember anything else about that conversation?

JK [16:35]

Um

JK [16:36]

This is hard.

JK [16:36]

But I’m picturing a birthday party?

You frown, genuinely having no idea what he’s talking about. You don’t talk much about your brother - not for any particular reason, but you aren’t famously in touch or anything. You definitely haven’t mentioned him on a first date.

Me [16:37]

I didn’t mention my brother.

JK [16:37]

Then how do I know he’s younger than you?

Me [16:37]

You saw the picture on my board at my desk. It’s of me and Seoyeon at his birthday party.

JK [16:38]

… ohhh, yeah, you’re right. Damn it.

Me [16:38]

Yep. Valiant effort, though.

Jungkook sends you a selfie where he’s standing before a microphone with gigantic headphones on, glaring into the camera in the way that makes him look like a rodent in a Pixar animation. You lock your phone, feeling slightly lighter than before before switching on one of the office computers and logging into your work account, resigning yourself to work over the next few hours. You wallow in self-pity, picturing your promotion as the light at the end of the tunnel as you make the best of the Caffeta sachets left out.

The weather outside is spectacular; it’s cool and breezy, leaves blowing lazily in the early evening and golden sun while you slave away in an unnaturally air conditioned building, staring at a screen that makes your eyes hurt. When the sun is about to set, you hear the sounds and look outside to see rain: beautiful, picturesque rain that makes you want to hurl the printer next to you at a window just so you can feel some of it.

When you’re done - not done with work, but done - you grab your hoodie and start heading out, wondering if you can join in at your roommate’s party and drink yourself to sleep. You’re being dramatic, you know that, but, you reason, only because the situation calls for it. Reaching the lobby of the building, however, you halt.

The rain, the beautiful rain that legends write songs about, is suddenly a lot more real. Now that it’s fully dark (half past ten, you confirm), all you see is dim streetlamps reflecting off puddles, cars splashing you as you walk home - obviously, since you failed to bring your deadbeat car that would take longer to start than it would take you to walk to Hybe - and wet socks by the time you reach home.

Your stomach growls and you groan softly, wondering briefly if you should just risk it and run home. You’ll be frozen to the bone by then, sure, but at least you’ll be out of this depressing office. Your roommate has been drinking since before you left the house, so that’s not an option anyway, which leaves no one to give you a lift either.

At that thought, something stirs in your memory. You pull out your phone and stare at it before slowly going back to your WhatsApp chat - Jungkook’s chat.

Me [22:12]

Hey.

You wait for the double-tick, the thought suddenly occurring to you that even if it turns out that he is miraculously in the building on a Saturday night, too, there’s no telling when he’ll see your message, when he plans to leave or whom he’s with. When five minutes pass with no reply, you deflate in disproportionate disappointment.

It’s just rain, you tell yourself as your stomach continues sinking. Power through. You’re about to, channelling a generic indie movie character and stepping out with your phone tucked deep into your hoodie pocket when it suddenly buzzes. Heart leaping, you fish it out.

JK [22:19]

This is a pleasant surprise.

Me [22:19]

It is?

JK [22:20]

Yeah. This is the first time you’ve texted me. What’s up?

Knowing you can’t quite ambush him with a request, especially when he seems so surprised to hear from you, you bite your lip before responding.

Me [22:20]

Not much. What’s up with you?

JK [22:21]

Heading home. Been in the studio all day.

You exhale slowly, hardly daring to believe it.

Me [22:21]

Studio as in… Hybe?

JK [22:22]

That’s right. Why?

Me [22:22]

Because I kind of need a favour.

Ten minutes later, you’re in the parking lot under the building, leaning against a wall as you wait for Jungkook. There are a surprising number of cars parked for a Saturday night; apart from a Prius and a motorcycle at the end of the lot, all the cars are super shiny and fancy, meaning they belong to artists. You absently let your gaze roam over them, trying to remember which one is Jungkook’s from the night he took you out. It was a dark colour, probably black, with a heated interior and soft seats, smelling of detergent and cologne…

“Cheon Lia!”

You whip around to see a tall figure approaching you - taller than you remember. Jungkook grins as he nears you, dressed in a white t-shirt, a frayed black leather jacket, black cargo pants and combat boots. He looks so casual; you don’t know why it surprises you or why it makes you continue sneaking looks at him as you follow him.

“Wait, where are we going?” you ask, suddenly noticing that you’ve passed the entire row of cars.

“To my ride.” He raises his eyebrows as he stops next to -

“The bike?” You stop in your tracks. “This is yours?”

“Yeah. I love riding - and the weather was great when I rode here. Is it a problem?” he asks curiously.

You take a step forward, gingerly touching the sleek black engine. “Um, no. It’s…” You bite your lip, finally meeting his gaze. “It’s a really sexy bike,” you admit.

Jungkook grins proudly as he tosses his bangs out of his eyes, passing you a helmet. “Here. I have an extra.” He swings one leg over and straddles the bike, putting on his own helmet and sliding up the visor. “I know it’s not ideal and we might still get a bit wet, but…” He shrugs apologetically but you shake your head.

“No way, this is great,” you tell him, meaning it. “Better than what I was planning to do anyway. Walk,” you add when he looks at you questioningly. “Or run, more like.”

“You were going to run?” He looks at you disbelievingly. “Are you serious? And - come here, you’re wearing it wrong…” He gently pulls you closer by the forearm to tighten the buckle of your helmet under your chin. You tilt your head up slightly and stay still, noticing how his eyebrows furrow as he concentrates. You’re suddenly reminded of how you’d fixed his tie at the party and you bite your lip.

“Alright,” he says once he’s done. “Hop on.”

You grab his shoulder for support as you hoist yourself up to sit behind him, noticing once again how he seems to be built like a wall. Before you can help yourself, you wonder if he also feels like one. “Jungkook?” you lean forward over his shoulder. “Thank you for this.”

You can hear his grin. “Just hold on, alright? The rain can be… distracting.”

Hesitating for a fraction of a second, you wrap your arms around his torso. Yep. Just like a wall. A warm, hard, cologne-wearing wall.

---

“Careful!” Jungkook’s hand appears out of nowhere and grabs your forearm, preventing you from falling on the slippery pavement.

“I’m okay,” you gasp, taking more careful steps as you follow him up the steps and into the warmth of the pub - if you can call it that. It’s too small and not quite as busy or loud, but it is open and looks relatively clean. Moreover, it offers food and for now, it’s the equivalent of a five star.

“Do you want to get a table or something?” he asks, coming to stand by your side. “I’m just going to go check if the bike is parked properly.”

You nod, watching him leave. The entire place has maybe ten tables in total, mostly with folding chairs and rickety tables. It’s also relatively empty; given the time, you’re not surprised. The good thing about it, apart from the food, is that it doesn’t at all look like a place Jungkook will get recognised and once the rain started lashing down in torrents mid-ride, you knew you had to stop before he drove you both into a tree.

You head to one of the tables in the back that has slightly bigger armchairs facing each other and is situated next to a large window. Sinking into one of the chairs, you peel off your wet hoodie and drape it on the back, placing your helmet down. You’re finger-combing your tangled hair when you see Jungkook return, looking tall and broad next to the small furniture. When he spots you, his frown turns into a smile, and your stomach does another backflip.

“Everything okay?” you ask him when he reaches, taking a seat opposite you.

“Yeah. The rain is relentless, though,” he remarks, pointing at the window where the drops hit the glass with force. You notice then that he’s even wetter than he was before he left to park the bike. Taking off his jacket and throwing it on the back of his own chair, he shakes his wet hair like a dog. “Sorry,” he chuckles, noticing you flinch when some of the drops land on you. He leans back with a sigh, the white t-shirt also remarkably more transparent than before he left.

That’s alright, you want to say but for some reason the words don’t leave your mouth. “Can we get food, please?” you ask instead, not caring how whiny you sound. “Since we’re waiting out the rain anyway?”

“Of course,” he scoffs, already gesturing to the waitress. “Why do you think I agreed to stop? Uh, one fries, one Korean fried chicken and…” He turns to you. “What about you?”

You add shrimp tempura to the order and the waitress nods before leaving. You turn to Jungkook, who’s running his fingers through his wet hair. It’s vaguely distracting; your toes curl in your shoes as your gaze traces his tattoo sleeve, all the way from his wrist to his biceps after which it disappears under his sleeve. Everything about it is just…

“Big,” you murmur, realising only a moment later that you’ve said it out loud. When he looks up questioningly, you shake your head. “I just meant… your tattoos. They’re… very big.”

“Oh.” He twists his arm to look at it, as though observing this for the first time. “Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah, why not?”

He shrugs. “It wasn’t super approved of in service. I walked around a lot in full sleeves.”

You wince. “Do they have a problem with tattoos? My brother has them - he never mentioned anything.”

“Well… no. It’s not like they can ask us to get rid of them. I did have to take off the piercings, though.” He points to his face and you notice the lip ring and eyebrow stud, and you wonder how you could’ve missed them.

“You weren’t wearing that at the party, were you?”

He makes a face. “Too formal, apparently,” he mutters. “But I’m not taking them off for a second for the rest of this comeback,” he says stubbornly.

You can’t help but grin. “Good for you. And the tattoos are part of your brand anyway now…”

He grins back. “Do you have any?” he asks as the waitress arrives, placing three plates in between you two.

“I have five,” you confess, reaching for a hot fry and groaning in pleasure. “Damn, that’s the stuff.”

“Five?” Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up and he smiles in surprise, reaching for a piece of chicken. “Oh, that’s what I saw on your ankle when you got into my car. I thought it was an anklet or something. Wait, that’s three!”

You jump a bit, startled, as he chokes for a moment, wordlessly pumping his fist in the air as he coughs. “Jesus, Jungkook,” you mutter in exasperation, sliding his glass of water towards him. He grabs it and downs at least half of it before emerging, rosy-cheeked and grinning.

“That’s three,” he repeats. “You don’t like seafood, you like Harry Styles and you have a tattoo on your ankle,” he counts happily, giggling when you roll your eyes in grudging agreement. “Where are the other four, though?”

“If you couldn’t see them when I was in that dress, they’re probably in places I can’t show you just yet,” you quip, raising an eyebrow when he grins again.

“I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait,” he answers easily, even though you notice the tips of his ears reddening. “You want the last piece of chicken?” he asks, pointing to the plate.

“Go for it.”

Jungkook frowns, as though this response is out of syllabus. “Why? You let me have the last quiche that night, too. You can have it.”

“Jungkook,” you say slowly. “Just eat the damn chicken.” You watch him as he suspiciously picks it up and, pausing dramatically for a moment, tosses it in his mouth. “Good boy.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles through a mouthful of chicken. “It’s just weird. At the dorm we usually fight over every last piece so if someone’s offering you food… well, it usually means they’ve messed with it first.”

You chuckle. “Nah. I like feeding people,” you admit, a little embarrassed. “That sounds weird. I mean… I don’t know, I like it when people eat and are full and happy. I like the actual cooking part too but when I don’t have the time…” You hold up the last big fry, offering it to him, “... this is fine, too.”

He stares at you for a moment before silently reaching forward and accepting the fry. You’re glad he doesn’t fight you on it, but when his eyes don’t leave you, you frown. “What?”

“What? Nothing. Just…” He ducks his head and dips the fry into ketchup before popping it into his mouth, “... will you marry me?”

You scoff, throwing a tiny fry at him which he dodges and catches gracefully in his mouth. “You wish, Jeon.”

He smirks but doesn’t say anything else as both of you polish off all three plates and order bowls of ramen. “There’s just something about hot and soupy ramen when it’s raining,” says Jungkook wistfully, leaning back and looking out the window at the rain.

You regard him lazily, in a better mood now that you’ve been fed. “I thought you were on some monster diet for your comeback?”

“I am. Which is why today’s my cheat day. Or I’ve made it my cheat day, anyway,” he amends, shrugging, but you think he looks a little guilty.

“You can burn it off tomorrow,” you suggest lightly, hoping to reassure him a bit but also not wanting to come across as preachy. He simply nods in answer, not looking away from the window. It feels strange that he isn’t joking around, suddenly seeming uncharacteristically serious. You suddenly want to get him talking again. “How’s the comeback coming along?” you ask him after a moment.

“Not bad. It’s nice to be back in the studio,” he adds, and you’re glad to see a smile flit across his face. “I’m just worried about performing. Eventually.”

You frown. “Do you still get nervous about performing? After all these years?”

But he shakes his head. “No, not that…” He bites his lip, right next to the ring. You’re filled with the sudden urge to touch it. “It’s been two years since we left,” he confesses, finally turning to you and words tumbling out faster. “What if we don’t have any fans left? What if no one turns up?”

You’re a bit taken aback; you didn’t expect him to reveal all his deep, dark fears to you in a tiny pub. “Um…” You don’t know him that well, is the trouble. “Obviously I can’t relate… but as a person in the marketing department who was working on your comeback content until earlier this week, it doesn’t look like you’ve lost any fans. In fact, you may have gained a bunch.”

He’s hanging onto your every word, you realise, with his wide eyes and hopeful expression. At your statement, he gives you a grin, albeit a bit unsurely, but it makes you glad all the same. Your gazes linger for a moment on each other and just as it starts getting too long, the waitress brings you your steaming bowls of ramen.

Jungkook predictably dives for it without a second thought, frowning as he moans in pleasure, chopsticks gliding through the food with precision. You watch him for a few seconds, mildly fascinated, before attacking your own bowl.

“So, I have a question,” he states a little while later, once you’re both mostly done with your food, “and bear in mind that I’m just curious.” He waits for you to nod in agreement before continuing. “Why are you so determined not to go out with me?”

You frown. “I’m not determined to do anything. And I haven’t said no yet,” you remind him.

“Yeah, I know, but…” He trails off but you think you know what he means. You look down at your lap, trying not to feel guilty while he searches for the words. “It’s a game right now - and don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a challenge. And if you’re genuinely not into me, that’s fine, too. We can just be friends. I’m just... I don’t know. Curious.”

You shrug uneasily. “I told you last time. I work for Hybe and you work for Hybe - it can get really messy.”

Jungkook stares at you for a few seconds, a hint of amusement on his face. “You remember the friend who convinced me to ask you out? Who said he recognised you from Hybe?” When you nod, he chuckles, mostly to himself. “Well, it turns out he recognised you because he used to date your friend Seulgi.”

Silence. Your brain freezes before going into overdrive, sorting through the memories at the speed of light. “Wait…” You frown deeply, sitting forward. “Seokjin told you to ask me out?”

“He can be quite persuasive,” comments Jungkook, sitting back with a satisfied smile. “But, yeah, Seokjin did. They dated ages ago apparently, before we all enlisted.”

You nod absently, for he’s right. You and Seulgi weren’t close then; she’d only just moved to your floor from the sales team and while you’d started working together, she hadn’t given you any details about her personal life until one evening, when your car wouldn’t start and it was getting late, she told you her boyfriend could give you a ride on their way to his apartment. It had taken you an embarrassing amount of time after you entered the car to realise who the person driving was. Kim Seokjin, in all his beauty and humour, was incredibly sweet to you, though - and, apparently, remembered you.

“Oh, God, that’s right,” you mutter, briefly reliving that night.

“Yeah. A person from your team dated a person from my band - and nothing happened,” he declares. “And I know you know that, so this coworkers reason you’re giving me…” He looks at you knowingly. “It’s not the real reason.”

“And you want the real reason,” you finish wryly, sighing.

He shrugs. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I was just wondering.”

You watch him as he fishes a small piece of meat from his mostly empty ramen bowl. “Do you remember what you told me that evening?”

Jungkook looks up. “Is this a trick question? Because the problem was literally that I didn’t say a single word to you.”

“Not on our date. After that, in the copy room.” When he simply cocks his head, frowning and looking like a child, you sigh, wondering if you’re really about to bring this up. “You told me your friend told you to ask me out so it would help you get over this other girl.” You continue watching him as the realisation dawns on him. You can tell he doesn’t quite understand the problem, but he’s at least identified the general area.

“Oh.”

“And, you know… far be it from me to not want to be your rebound -” You find yourself unable to avoid getting that in “- but I just… I have a very busy job and a tiny two-bedroom apartment I share with a roommate because I can’t afford the rent by myself and student loans… and I just don’t have the bandwidth for relationship drama.” It’s not the half of it but it’s all you’re willing to divulge to him right now.

There’s almost a minute of heavy silence as Jungkook presumably processes this. You sneak a glance at him; he’s staring at his lap, bangs falling on his forehead as he furrows his brow, tongue sticking out inside his cheek. Then, finally, he takes a deep breath.

“Lia, I’m - I’m sorry. I guess I should’ve been more upfront with you.” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “I also should’ve explained better. Look, I wasn’t mad that night because I liked someone else. I was mad because Seokjin got involved and kept pressuring me to get over her when I already was. Believe me, there’s nothing like a year and a half in service to give you some perspective,” he adds. “I’m serious, though. If that’s what you’re worried about… you don’t need to be. That’s over.”

You consider this. “Tell me something about her.”

His smile fades. “Why is that something we have to do?”

“Just.” When he simply continues to look bewildered, you roll your eyes. “Come on, it doesn’t have to be anything deep. Just any one detail, so I can think of her as a real person.”

“Um…” He shrugs wildly. “She likes video games.”

Huh. He’s right; you don’t know what you accomplished with this. In fact, you realise you can never actively tell him that you like video games as well, just in case he thinks you’re saying it because of this. Thankfully, the waitress comes back then, asking you both if you want a drink. For a moment you consider a beer but then quickly switch to hot chocolate. After a lingering look at you, Jungkook asks for the same.

“Alright, my turn,” you begin, clearing your throat. “Why are you so determined to get me to go out with you?”

Jungkook gives you a puzzled look. “Well, because I -” He breaks off and swallows, the apples of his cheeks reddening slightly.

You plough on, though, ignoring it. “I mean, I have to be honest. It was one bad date but we’re over it. We’re moving on but the fact that you asked me out again?” You bite your lip. “It feels a bit like a consolation date. Like a pity date.”

His jaw drops. “A pity date? That’s…” He seems to be lost for words. “Is - is that why you think I’m here?” He sounds more fearful than annoyed and his expression makes your heart clench unexpectedly.

“No, I didn’t - I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” you stutter, not knowing what just happened. “It’s kind of sweet in a way? That you want to make up for it? But you have to admit, it’s - it’s kind of weird. I mean, you don’t actually know me well enough to want a second date this badly for any other reason.”

Jungkook says nothing, simply frowning at you from across the table. It’s something like a glare, but he looks more annoyed with himself than you. “I saw you tip the waiter,” he says eventually, looking sullen. “The waiter, the one who spilled the drink on you. Most people would’ve got him fired. But you tipped him.”

You have to look away because his gaze is so intense. “He probably got in trouble anyway,” you mutter. “I didn’t know you saw that.”

He shrugs at his lap, playing with a loose thread at the end of his t-shirt and still looking moody. With his stature, not to mention the tattoos and piercings, he looks like a pouting villain on that silly American show you and your friends used to watch, about that comic. It makes you want to wrap him in a hug. “And you gave me the last piece of chicken and snuck out to get food for your friend Jieun. You’re a nice person. You’re hardworking - and by that I mean you’re always working,” he clarifies, rolling his eyes. “And you’re kind of funny when you’re not being mean,” he adds snarkily.

You bite your lip, trying really hard to stop the smile from forming on your face. But you give up when he continues looking anywhere but at you, his huge eyes taking away any and all edge he thinks he has. “Alright, point taken,” you concede softly, just wanting him to look at you again. When he nods sarcastically, still not looking at you, you huff in amusement. “Come on, are you really sulking?”

“No.”

“Look at your face, Jeon. What would your fans say if they saw the famous golden maknae in a bad mood because some girl who works with him accused him of offering her a pity date?”

“They’d say Oh, Jungkook oppa, I’ll go on that date with you,” he says immediately, putting on a fake high voice. “And I won’t even make fun of you when you tell me you like me because I think you’re cute when you’re nervous.”

You snort, bursting into laughter as the waitress brings your hot chocolate. “Firstly, oppa? I think that answers your question all in itself.”

He gives you an unimpressed look. “Please. I know I made that noona joke at the party but I couldn’t give a shit about your age. In fact, I don’t even think you give a shit about your age.”

Unable to come up with a retort to this rather true statement, you simply shrug and take a sip of your hot chocolate, sighing. “I think you’re cute, too,” you admit casually after a moment, keeping your eyes on the creamy chocolate.

“Liar,” he accuses, but seems to be in a slightly better mood now that he has a sip of sugar in his system. “So, anyway. You tipped the waiter. That’s the answer.”

“I tipped the waiter,” you murmur thoughtfully. Then something occurs to you. “Hey, that’s four, by the way.”

“What? Oh. Yeah, it is,” he chuckles softly, but he seems remarkably less excited than when he got the third. “But honestly, I’m just afraid if I don’t get this date, I’ll never get my hoodie back.”

You groan dramatically and roll your eyes as he laughs, making your stomach flip at the sight of him finally smiling. “You know what? When you drop me back to my apartment now, I will personally hand it back to you,” you promise. “Oh, God, unless there’s a stupid party going on right now.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Your roommate’s having a party?”

“Always is,” you groan, shaking your head. “I’d say I disapprove, but I’m mostly just jealous of people who can party on Saturdays.”

“Is that something you enjoy? Partying?” He bounces his shoulders to invisible beats, like he’s at a club.

You giggle at the sight. “Party, play FIFA. Same thing.” You internally cringe when you realise what you’ve said and scramble to cover it up. “Or even a second date. You never know,” you add teasingly.

He nods thoughtfully. “Or third date, actually. Technically, you can count this as a second date,” he informs you, gesturing to the table full of empty plates between you. “Didn’t kill you, right?”

You scoff. “This is not a date.”

“What do you mean? We’re at a restaurant - kind of. We shared a meal. We’re having a beverage,” he points out, tapping his mug knowingly.

“We didn’t - we ended up sharing a meal,” you correct him. “What we’re doing is waiting for the rain to stop.”

“The rain stopped thirty minutes ago.”

You can feel all vestiges of expression leave your face as you whip your head to look out the window next to you, heart thudding as you realise he’s right. “I - when did you realise?”

Jungkook smirks, making his lip ring glint in the dim light and your toes curl inside your shoes. Taking another sip of his hot chocolate, he pretends to think. “Somewhere around the time you said you like feeding me because I look full and happy.”

“That is not what I said,” you say forcefully, feeling your cheeks burn. “But I guess this is as good a time as any to head out, right?” Before he can protest, you stand up. “I’m going to go pay. Finish your hot chocolate,” you tell him as he looks up at you with his big eyes, about to stand up as well. At the last moment, you ruffle his hair sarcastically before walking away.

“We should’ve split the check,” he says when you return a couple of minutes later, reaching for your hoodie.

“You’re only here because I asked you for a favour,” you remind him. “I owe you.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment before nodding, making no move to get up. “That’s fair. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now, come on, put on your jacket. Let’s go.”

“I’m not done with my drink yet.”

You peer into his mug. “Yes, you are. There’s only dregs left at the bottom.”

“That’s the chocolate,” he says seriously. “It’s the best part of the -”

“Well, then finish it quickly, we need to -”

“No, it’s meant to be enjoyed slowly, with a spoon and -”

But when you give him a look, he rolls his eyes and heaves a big sigh before reaching for a spoon and scooping up the remains of his drink.

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him up, leading him out of the pub with his jacket in his other hand.

“You are so bossy, you know that?” he grumbles half-heartedly as you step outside, the chilly breeze hitting your face.

“Don’t pretend you don’t kind of like it.” You only intend to quip but in the light from the lone street lamp outside, you see his ears redden again and you feel a light, slow burn in your abdomen that you haven’t felt in a long time. You watch him a bit shamelessly as he throws on his leather jacket again and climbs the bike before donning his helmet.

“Need some help with that?” he asks, pointing to the one in your hand.

“No, it’s -” You begin automatically before pausing. “Yeah. Sure.” You walk up to him and place it on your head, standing still as he adjusts the buckle, only his eyes visible under the visor. You imagine the lip ring slightly lower and, just like a while back, feel the need to touch it.

“Alright, you’re good,” he says after a few seconds, patting the top of your helmet lightly. You look up at him, once again registering how tall he is, and his comment about how age means nothing suddenly seems truer than ever.

“Thanks,” you murmur, stepping aside and going to climb up behind him. You lean forward to show him the map on your phone, pointing to the important turns on the ten minute journey to your apartment, smelling his faint cologne as he turns slightly to look.

You hold onto him once again as he takes off, the streets still wet and the winds still cool, but with no rain drenching you. You’re actually able to enjoy the ride this time, feeling the breeze through your tangled hair, resting your chin lightly against Jungkook’s shoulder and allowing yourself to close your eyes now that you’re certain he doesn’t have visibility issues. He’s actually built like a wall, you think again, feeling his back flex against your chest every time he takes a turn.

“Do you want to take a slight detour?” he asks, turning his head very slightly, voice cutting through the wind like music.

“Yes,” you reply, eyes still closed. Your arms tighten around him as he goes straight instead of left, eventually reaching the main road. Given the time, the streets are mostly empty and the bike zooms through, slightly faster than before. I love riding, he’d said to you earlier this evening although it seems like ages ago. If someone had told you then that you’d be straddling his sexy bike behind him, arms wrapped around his steady torso so you could feel every ridge of lean muscle underneath his t-shirt, or how your knees would be brushing his thigh, your pelvis pressed against his hips - and that you liked it… well, you would’ve been hard pressed to believe it.

You’re not sure how much longer he continues riding at the same speed. At one point you pull away from him a bit, hands resting lightly on his waist, so you can feel the wind better. When he takes a sudden turn, your eyes snap open as you’re jerked forward, your arms automatically going around him again and you realise he’s taking you home. An uncomfortable feeling of disappointment settles in your stomach as you approach your apartment.

“It’s just up here,” you tell him as he slows down, before coming to a complete halt in front of a three-storey building. Your eyes go directly to the second floor as you get off and you groan softly when you see the flashing red and blue lights, realising the stupid party is still going on.

Jungkook’s eyes follow yours as he takes off his helmet, running a hand through his black hair before it falls gracefully over his forehead. “Party still happening?” he asks, sounding part amused and part sympathetic.

“Yeah,” you mutter, taking off your own helmet and knowing that the rain has probably made it wavy. Lightly fluffing it out, you hand the helmet back to him. “It’s okay, though. The music doesn’t seem that loud so I can probably get some sleep.”

He nods, climbing off as well and leaning back against the bike. He looks… hot, you acknowledge. You can’t not, especially after that bike ride. He looks winded, but in a good way. Cheeks rosy, hair ruffled, expression slightly dazed - he looks beautiful.

You break the silence. “Thanks for the ride. Really. I appreciate it.”

“I had fun,” he says, shrugging.

“Me, too,” you reply honestly, smiling up at him. He smiles back and the movement makes the lip ring glint again. Maybe it’s the tiredness, maybe it’s the bike ride that took your breath away, but you finally throw caution to the wind and reach up to touch the lip ring with your thumb.

He stays still, a slight frown creasing his forehead as he watches you. “Doesn’t this get in the way?” you ask, dropping your hand back to your side.

The frown remains for a moment before he smirks. “In the way of what?” he asks innocently.

Your cheeks heat up and you try to suppress a smile. “Okay, that’s a no,” you guess, looking away as he chuckles. You expect him to crack a joke about how you might find out soon enough but when he doesn’t, you look up at him in mild curiosity to see him still looking down at you, gaze intense as it falls slowly to your mouth before snapping back up. “Any plans for tomorrow?” you ask quickly.

“Um, studio,” is all he says. “Practice and then recording.”

“On a Sunday?” you ask, even though you know well enough that weekends mean nothing to artists.

“Yeah,” he answers, shoving his hands into his pockets. “For the next couple of weeks, at least.”

“You can’t take a day off?”

He chuckles, as though the idea is unheard of. “I’m supposed to meet Suga hyung tomorrow. He doesn’t believe in cancelling studio appointments on short notice.”

“Glad I texted you in time today, I guess.” You raise your eyebrows teasingly and he smiles, biting his lip. It makes your toes curl in your shoes again, and he suddenly feels taller.

Pressing his hands deeper into his pockets and looking down at the ground, he takes a deep breath. “So, um, do you think -”

“Lia!”

Jungkook’s head snaps up a fraction of a second before yours whips around to see the source of the voice.

“Hey, you were gone for a while,” he comments, patting your shoulder. “Everyone was asking about you.” He looks up then to see Jungkook and nods politely before sticking out a hand. “Hey, man.”

You turn to see Jungkook nod automatically before looking down at you. “Jungkook, this is Dal. My roommate.” Next to you, Dal frowns and Jungkook seems to remember then that he hasn’t moved a muscle.

“Hey,” he replies finally, shaking Dal’s hand. You notice they’re of the same height.

Turning to you, Dal points towards the party. “I’m just going across the street to stock up on mixers. Anything you want?”

“Oh, no,” you answer, shaking your head. “It’s been a long day. I’m just going to crash.”

Dal frowns. “You’re still on for tomorrow, right? Suho already dropped out.”

“I’m in, for sure.”

“Cool.” With a good-natured smile, he looks up at Jungkook. “You should join, too, if you can. You play basketball, right?”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows, like he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to at all. Before he can open his mouth, you jump in. “Oh, Jungkook is… he’s really busy tomorrow. I don’t know if he wants to -”

“No, I’m in,” interrupts Jungkook, looking from you to Dal and nodding. “Sounds fun.”

“Great,” says Dal, smiling and probably meaning it. “We’ll have even teams now. Alright, I’ll be back in a bit,” he tells you before nodding to Jungkook. “See you tomorrow, mate.” As he jogs away, you turn to look slowly to look at Jungkook.

“You know, you really don’t have to come,” you assure him. “I know you’re busy with your comeback and stuff.”

“No, I’ll be there,” he says, still watching Dal as he disappears down the street before turning back to you. “So that’s your roommate.”

“Yeah,” you answer slowly, having an inkling of where this is going. “I thought you had to go to the studio tomorrow. What happened to ‘Suga hyung doesn’t believe in cancelling studio appointments’?”

“I’ll go after the - the game? Match?” he guesses, looking uncertain. “Anyway, he likes basketball, too; he’ll understand. And how come you’re going? Don’t you have a huge presentation to finish?”

You’d only mentioned it in passing so you’re surprised he remembers. “I do. But I never miss basketball Sundays. Ever. For anything.”

Jungkook nods, looking impressed… and something else. “Great. I won’t either.” He keeps looking at you, as though daring you to discourage him again. When you simply fold your arms across your chest and nod in resignation, he takes a deep breath. “So… what does he do? Dal?” he clarifies when you raise your eyebrows.

“Oh. He’s… he’s a physical trainer,” you reply, somewhat anticipating his reaction when he nods stiffly and - you’re not sure if you’re imagining this - flexes his arms and chest slightly. “Listen, seriously, Jungkook. Are you sure you want to come?”

“Yes,” he repeats. “Dal invited me, didn’t he? I’m good at sports. It’s all good.”

No, it isn’t. But he’s right when he says he’s good at sports. In fact, from what you’ve heard, he’s good at most things. You tilt your head to the side. You also remember something else, about a girl who likes video games and your heart twists unexpectedly. “Okay,” you say finally, just as you notice Dal returning, a plastic bag in his hands. Jungkook turns around as well and you hear him exhale through his nose.

“Oh, you’re still here,” remarks Dal, reaching you both and smiling. “I’m heading up,” he tells you. “Are you coming?”

“Uh… yeah.” You look up at Jungkook, suddenly wishing Dal had waited a few more minutes before returning, or that he’d leave now. But for a moment both men look expectantly at you, albeit for different reasons, until Jungkook breaks the silence.

“I should head out, too,” he says, but looking only at you as you nod.

“Cool. Will we see you tomorrow?” Dal asks and you wince internally at how pronounced the word we sounds.

Jungkook seems to have picked up on it, too. “Absolutely. Text me the address,” he says, once again speaking only to you as he takes a step back towards his bike. Then, casually, as though he’s done it a million times before, he lowers his head and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Goodnight,” he says easily to you and Dal, climbing onto his bike and backing it onto the street before riding away.

---

“I’m going to ask you one more time: are you sure?”

“Yes, my God. Next left?”

“Yeah, onto the dirt road.” You press the phone to your ear and turn around when you hear the smooth sound of a car engine. The same black Hyundai that picked you for a date months ago appears in view, turning into the makeshift parking space and stopping next to Dal’s silver Renault. You bring your phone down and walk towards the car, feeling your stomach do a small backflip when the driver’s door opens and a familiar figure steps out.

“How was the drive?” you ask when you reach him, motioning for him to follow you onto the court.

“Short,” is all he says, depositing his car keys and cell phone with the others next to the water bottles and extra basketball. “Should we stretch?”

You nod, following his lead as he grabs his elbow behind his head, warming up his shoulders and back. You begin stretching your calves as the others in your group trudge in as well, a mix of your and Dal’s mutual friends, his work friends whom you barely know, Jungkook, and another girl you’ve never seen before. You’re eight in total; everyone greets each other as they spread out on the court, the breeze cool and light. The sun is a dark orange, about thirty minutes away from setting so it’s only a matter of time before the flood lights switch on.

“How long have you been coming here?” Jungkook asks you when you’re both on the ground, reaching forward and over to touch your toes. His legs look long and muscular under his loose black shorts, arms just like you remember them from last night under a near-identical white t-shirt. Your eyes linger on his tattoo sleeve before you force yourself to meet his gaze.

“A couple of years,” you answer, stretching forward. Sitting up, you tug your tank top slightly higher to cover your cleavage and look up to see Jungkook quickly turn away as well. “We, uh… I mean, I haven’t played a lot since high school so this is a good way to get back.”

At that moment, Dal comes over, in loose black shorts like Jungkook’s and a sleeveless Kobe jersey. His arms are toned and bulky as ever, but with the amount of time you’ve known him for, you’re desensitized to it. “Lee-lee,” he says by way of greeting, clapping you on the back and using your oldest nickname. “Same team as last time? You, me, Baekhyun, Donghyuk?”

“Oh -” You turn uncertainly in Jungkook’s direction. “Since Jungkook's new, I was going to ask him, actually, if he wanted to be in the same -”

“No, no, that’s alright,” interrupts Jungkook, shaking his head. "You should stay in your team. I'm good with anyone."

"Sounds good," says Dal, motioning for him to get up. "Come on, I'll introduce you to them.” He smiles good-naturedly as Jungkook gets to his feet, dusting himself off.

“Who’s the new girl, by the way?” you ask quickly, the thought suddenly occurring to you that Jungkook might be recognised. None of the people you know here really listen to pop music much, let alone be able to identify idols in a casual setting, but you feel yourself worrying anyway.

“- back in the - oh, that’s Baekhyun’s new girlfriend. Or something,” answers Dal, turning back to you momentarily as both men walk away. “You should meet her, too. And - chill. She seems fine so far.”

Your eyes dart to Jungkook who seems to understand what’s on your mind. But he doesn’t comment on it. “Yeah, don’t worry, Lee-lee,” he says simply, giving you a rather nonchalant smile.

“I’m not worrying,” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes as you scramble to your feet and follow them. After a brief round of introductions, everyone spreads out into their sides of the court, deciding within their teams which four positions to assign. As you and Jungkook walk to the middle of the court, you lean up to him once more. “Are you good?”

He frowns mildly, looking down at you. “Yeah. Why?”

You don’t answer. You feel somewhat responsible for him, having brought him here, even as you acknowledge that Dal was the one that invited him and he accepted of his own free will. “Just… watch out for Donghyuk, alright? He can get pretty aggressive with the ball.”

Jungkook looks almost amused at your tone. You think he’s about to make a joke, probably adding a Lee-lee at the end of it for shits and giggles, but he simply touches your shoulder. “Relax,” he says, his face softening slightly. “I’ll be okay.”

You nod, not knowing what else to say as you separate. When you turn around in your position to face the other team, your eyes automatically go to Jungkook. He might be right; he certainly looks like he belongs here. Tall, fit and braced in position, you have to admit he looks pretty fantastic. Even when Baekhyun and his girlfriend Nari, on opposite teams, jump for the ball and the game begins, you spot Jungkook jogging to presumably cover another one of his teamates, looking like a natural athlete on the court.

That is, until he gets the ball in his hands. Somehow, somewhere, the ball gets passed to him and he seems to catch it as a reflex before his eyes go wide at the realisation that he has to make the next move. Basketball is a fast, blink-and-you-miss-it kind of game, though, so by the time Jungkook unfreezes and begins dribbling the ball, Donghyuk has already sprinted and smoothly gained control of it, giving it a couple of expert dribbles before shooting a clean three-pointer.

Dal and Baekhyun cheer and you know you should, too, but all you can see is Jungkook’s guilty expression as he apologetically shakes his head at his teammates. It sends a pang through your heart, how lost he looks - and it only gets worse from then on. As the game progresses, it becomes increasingly clear that while Jungkook probably is the golden maknae and good at most things, basketball isn’t one of them. In fact, when Nari from the other team corners and asks you in a low voice if it’s his first time, you grudgingly have to tell her that yes, it is.

As the sky darkens, so does the game. Your group isn’t a rough one in general; you all play for fun, getting competitive only in a friendly, good-natured way. However, you all are competitive. The trouble is, so is Jungkook, apparently. His frustration with himself is clearly visible and there’s more than one moment during the game when you consider calling a time-out and inventing an excuse for you both to leave so that the teams remain even.

But you know it won’t work. Being rubbish at something seems to only spur him on, as though determined to figure the game out. You wince every time he bangs into someone and when he trips and falls, taking his teammate Jiwon down with him while Dal gracefully performs a layup behind them, Baekhyun has to actively grab your arm to stop you from running over to him. As for you, you make it your mission to tackle everyone on the opposing team but him, just not finding the heart to kick him while he’s down.

When the game starts to reach its conclusion, you sigh internally in relief, panting a little as you jog back to your position. You tighten your ponytail as your eyes search for Jungkook, who’s also starting to look rather sick of this game but determined to see it through. He tosses his hair out of his eyes and his eyebrow stud glints when the light catches it. Even now, he looks gorgeous.

As though he can hear you, his eyes dart to yours and you see a small smile start to form on his face. You’re about to return it when you see Donghyuk beginning the game from the corner of your eye - heading straight in Jungkook’s direction. Your eyes widen in warning a second before he smiles.

---

“Ready to go?” Dal zips up his jacket and turns expectantly to you.

In answer, you look towards the lone figure sitting on the outer ledge of the court, hunched over his knees as he holds his hand to his face. “I’ll just be a few more minutes,” you tell Dal, who nods in understanding. “Thanks for the ice pack.”

“No problem. He seems like a nice guy.” Dal gives you a knowing look. “I’ll wait in my car.”

“Okay. And… tell Donghyuk to take it a bit easy maybe?” you suggest, trying and failing to keep the annoyance out of your voice.

“Oh, yeah, because that’s worked so well in the past.” Rolling his eyes, Dal walks away as you make your way over to Jungkook.

When you reach him, you stand before him for a moment before sinking to your knees, keeping them hovering above the ground. “Are you okay?” you ask softly.

“‘M fine,” he mutters, voice slightly muffled by the ice pack he’s holding to his nose with his tattooed hand. You scan his face quickly; there’s nothing visibly wrong but your guilt goes much deeper than an injury.

“Jungkook.” You pause when he deliberately doesn’t meet your eyes. “Dal is just my roommate. We’ve been friends since high school.”

He stiffens at your words, gaze freezing somewhere around your shoulder. “Why are you telling me this?” he asks after a moment.

You can’t help but roll your eyes slightly at this, not dignifying his question with an answer, partly because it’s ridiculous and partly because you don’t know what to say to convince him how unfounded his jealousy is. Reaching up, you gently brush his sweaty bangs off his forehead. “You can’t play basketball,” you sigh.

Jungkook scoffs before wincing in pain. “No shit. Did the ball I took to the face give you a hint?”

“No, I mean…” Confession time. “I know you can’t play basketball. You told me so on our date.” When he finally looks at you, frowning in surprise, you nod. “I think it was the only thing you told me about yourself that night.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. I’d watched Remember The Titans that day and when I asked if you’d seen it, you said, “What kind of a loser watches a movie about a sport he doesn’t play?””

He groans. “God, I was a dick,” he mutters, shaking his head.

You shrug. “Yeah, well… today I was a dick.” When he doesn’t respond, you sigh again. “Seriously, though, Jungkook. Why did you insist on coming today?”

He swallows and his gaze darts towards something behind you before looking away. You don’t have to turn to know what he’s looking at, for behind you is the parking lot with a silver Renault in it, and you had an inkling it would come to this ever since Dal showed up outside your apartment last night.

“I’m good at most sports,” he says eventually, and you can hear the underlying frustration at the fact that he wasn’t today. “Didn’t know I’d break my face in this one.”

You give him a small smile, reaching up to gently move the ice pack away from his skin. “Don’t worry. It’s not bleeding and it doesn’t look like anything is broken so I think you’ll be fine.”

There’s a few moments where neither of you speak. Then Jungkook bites his lip. “What about you? Why didn’t you say anything when you knew I couldn’t play?”

It’s your turn to look away guiltily. “I wanted to see if you’d come,” you confess, looking at the ground. “And... I like video games, too, I guess.” You wait for him to respond to that but he doesn’t, and you think he understands, that jealousy - or insecurity - works both ways and if anything, you wanted to see if you were worth the challenge. Eventually you look up at him, turning his face gently by the chin and inspecting it. “You should go to the hospital, though.”

His eyes widen. “You just said everything’s fine!”

“I said there’s no blood and it doesn’t look like anything is broken,” you correct him. “But you still need to get it checked out. The doctor will give you some anaesthesia and your pain will -”

“Oh, hell no. I don’t like needles.”

You squint in disbelief. “You have, like, a hundred tattoos.”

“That’s different. I don’t like medical needles.”

“Fine. Power through the pain, then. But you need an X-ray or an MRI to make sure there’s nothing -”

“No, I don’t - I don’t like those machines.”

You exhale in exasperation. “You just got back from the army. Are you really afraid of an MRI machine?”

“I’m not afraid,” he protests, frowning stubbornly. “They’re just claustrophobic.”

“Well, you know what? You may not have a choice,” you half-snap, eyes flickering towards the figure approaching behind him, “because I think… I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s… wait, that’s Suga, right?”

Jungkook turns to see his band member, dressed in jeans and a sweater and stopping tactfully some distance away when he sees you two, and nods. “Yeah, I told him I’d be here… and to come pick me up if I wasn’t back by seven.”

“What, did you think we were going to murder you or something?”

“If Donghyuk had his way, probably.” He points to his face. “I wasn’t totally off base.”

“Wow, that’s a - that’s a great way to get your friends to hate me,” you inform him, feeling your stomach churn.

But Jungkook simply shakes his head. "You play basketball. He'd really like you. Plus, he's got that whole sarcastic thing going, too, like you."

You grin. "Good. It means he'll make sure you get your ass to the hospital without running away before you get there."

He gives you a look. "You think I can't outrun him?"

You smile even wider, so, so endeared. "I'm sure you can." Brushing back his bangs again, you continue. "Anyway, like I was saying, you should really go to the hospital."

"But -"

"Go, get your scans done, take the pills they'll probably give you for the pain…" You adjust yourself where you’re sitting on the balls of your foot, “... and when you’re done and okay… let me know when you can pick me up for that second date.”

Silence. Jungkook slowly lowers the ice pack. “What?” Then he narrows his eyes. “Wait, is this a pity date?” he asks suspiciously. “Because I broke my face and you feel bad?”

“Dramatic much? You did not break your face,” you remind him, scowling. “And -” You slap him on the shoulder, making him gasp, “- don’t use my accusations against me!”

“Then why? I’ve only remembered four things,” he says, eyes big and dark.

“Forget the fifth,” you tell him lightly. “You’ve more than made up for it.” You realise it’s true, and you’re not just talking about the basketball fiasco. You look up to see him looking intently at you, chewing at his lower lip as though coming to a decision.

“I remember the fifth.” When you frown, he nods and you think he looks a little bashful. “You like Caffeta coffee.”

You blink. “What?”

“A sachet fell out of your bag in my car when you left that night,” he explains. “It was a red one… vanilla roast, I think? Anyway, I’d recognise that anywhere. There’s only one other person I know who’s that obsessed with coffee.”

You nod in a daze, knowing that Jung Hoseok is famous around Hybe for his caffeine preferences. “Would this have anything to do with the miraculously fixed coffee machine in the marketing department and Caffeta sachets that are somehow only on our floor…?”

“I’ve become pretty good friends with the kitchen staff over the years.”

“But…” You try to remember. “Jungkook, that was days ago. Why didn’t you say anything? You would’ve finished the game… well, yesterday.”

He shrugs, not meeting your eyes. “I wanted to hang out,” is all he says, and with a rush of affection for him, you understand what he’s saying. What you were telling yourself as a comfort, that you could still say no to a date even if he finished the challenge, is what he was afraid of. You don’t know what to say to that, so you lean forward and silently press a kiss to his cheek.

Maybe your jealousy is unfounded, too. When his cheeks redden slightly and he visibly suppresses a smile, you wonder in mild exasperation and fondness how on earth getting hit in so many different ways by a basketball can still make him look this angelic.

“Alright, you should go now,” you tell him softly, tapping his knee. “You have a comeback soon; you don’t need anything going wrong with your pretty face while you’re on stage.”

Jungkook grins. “You think my face is - ow!” He winces and covers his nose, frowning in pain.

“Okay, don’t - don’t smile,” you advise him indulgently, taking the ice pack from him and slowly touching it to his nose. “And, come on, this can’t be the first time you’ve heard this. The whole world thinks your face is pretty.” You look at him to see him raising his eyebrows behind the ice pack, eyes wide and expectant. You roll your eyes. “But, yes, I think your face is pretty, too.”

He seems incapable of not smiling so you simply gesture to him to keep the ice pack pressed to his face as you both stand up.

You brush his elbow with your fingers. "Go. And - and text me later? To let me know if everything's fine?" You wait for him to nod and he holds the ice pack out to you. "No, keep it."

But he shakes his head. "I'd rather not," he says, looking up at you as though expecting you to insist but you don't argue. Taking it, you nod at Suga behind him as he raises a hand in acknowledgment. “How will you get home?”

“I’m going with Dal,” you reply, pointing with your thumb in the direction of the car park.

“He’s in the car? Right now?” When you say yes, he simply nods thoughtfully, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“What?” you ask, a little teasingly. “You’re not going to kiss me this time?”

As expected, the tips of his ears begin to redden but he keeps his expression calm. “Nope. Not when I can’t use my face properly.”

“Alright. Make sure it’s alright for our date, then. Our third date, I guess.” Then, just to see him blush again, you wink. “And you know what happens on the third date.”

“Suddenly, I’m glad it’s just my face that got hit.”

You laugh, noting how he smiles and winces again. You don’t know how you ended up here, truly and fully crushing on the worst date of your life. His thoughts seem to be in the same territory as he looks at you, and you both take a step towards each other and come together in a hug.

“Take care of your face, Jeon,” you murmur against his shoulder. He smells faintly of his cologne, of grass and sweat, and you hold him a little tighter. “And don’t skip any pills.”

His arms feel impossibly strong and steady around your torso. Feeling the initial stirrings of warmth between your legs, you start to pull away but he tightens his grip, making you stay for a few more moments before letting you go. At the last moment, almost like he can’t help himself, he kisses your cheek.

“Sorry,” he says, eyes flickering behind you, not sounding sorry at all.

“Uh-huh.” You shake your head, not fooled. “Goodnight, Kook. Let me know what happens in the scary MRI machine.”

“Evil,” he calls out, walking backwards. You watch him get into his car with Suga as you reach Dal’s, getting into the passenger seat and strapping yourself in, cheeks warm and tingly. Just as he pulls out, you take out your phone to remind Jungkook of one last thing.

Me [19:28]

Oh, also? If you wear that stupid baseball cap on our date this time, I’m going to light it on fire and watch it burn.

~Fin~

Taglist: @bbl32, @ggukkieland, @bangtannoonalvg, @pb-n-juju

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