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Chapter Text

The Seoul skyline was a blur of steel and glass as you approached the imposing BigHit Entertainment building, your heart beating faster with every step. You had dreamt of this moment for years—getting an internship with the company that had created the K-pop group you idolized. The towering structure stood tall, a bastion of creativity and hard work. The glass doors parted with a gentle whoosh, revealing a sleek and modern lobby that mirrored the polished image of the band that had taken the world by storm.

Your nerves fluttered like the pages of a well-read book as you stepped into the cool embrace of the building. The floor gleamed underfoot, reflecting the excitement in your eyes. The air had anticipation and the faint echoes of the latest BTS hits could be heard from somewhere deep within. You took a moment to gather yourself, your palms damp with the excitement that threatened to overwhelm you.

Minseo, the HR manager, spotted you and waved from across the lobby. Dressed in a sharp black suit, she was a picture of professionalism with a smile that was as warm as it was genuine. "You must be Y/N," she said, approaching with an outstretched hand. "Welcome to BigHit. I'm so happy to have you here with us."

Your cheeks flushed pink as you took Minseo's hand in a firm grip. "Thank you," you replied, your voice barely a whisper. "This is all so surreal." Minseo chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I remember feeling the same way when I first started. But don't worry, you'll get the hang of things quickly. Now, let's get you settled in. We have a lot to cover on your first day."

As you strolled down the corridors, the walls adorned with gold records and framed magazine covers, you couldn't help but feel a growing sense of excitement. The air was charged with the electricity of creativity and ambition, a scent you had only ever dreamed of inhaling. You passed by a room where the door was ajar, and a muffled giggle slipped through the crack. Your curiosity piqued, your gaze stole a peek inside.

Your eyes widened in shock. There, in the dimly lit room, was Jeon Jungkook, the youngest member of BTS, wrapped in an embrace with a girl you didn't recognize. His hand was tangled in her hair, and their lips were pressed together in a passionate kiss. Your heart skipped a beat, a mix of surprise and something else—something you didn't dare put a name to. You quickly averted your gaze, your hand flying to your mouth to stifle a gasp.

But you weren't fast enough. The sound of the door creaking as you tried to close it caught Jungkook's attention. He pulled away from the girl, his eyes locking onto yours. The surprise in his gaze was unmistakable, his handsome features frozen in a moment of pure, unfiltered shock. The girl turned to look at you too, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features before she playfully swatted Jungkook's arm.

"Who are you?" Jungkook's voice was low and gruff, his eyes narrowing in an angry glare. You stumbled over your own feet, your mind racing. "I'm sorry," you squeaked out, your cheeks burning. "I just got lost." You gestured to the corridor behind you, hoping it was a believable enough excuse. Jungkook's eyes searched yours, as if looking for a hint of a lie.

"Lost? This is a restricted area!" Jungkook's voice grew louder, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The girl slipped out of the room, a smirk playing on her lips.

"I'm the new intern, Y/N. I just arrived and Minseo was showing me around. I swear I didn't mean to... I didn't know you were in here!" you rushed to explain.

Jungkook's expression softened slightly. "Ah, the new intern. But you can't just barge into rooms like that!" He tried to laugh it off, but his eyes searched yours for any hint of judgment or gossip.

You nodded fervently. "I know, I'm really sorry. It was an accident!"

"Let's just keep this between us, okay?" Jungkook finally said, his voice softer now. "I don't need any more drama in my life."

You nodded quickly, your eyes darting to the floor. "Of course. I'm so sorry for intruding."

As you turned to leave, Jungkook called out, his voice a gentle caress in the tense air. "Welcome to the Big Hit family, Y/N Just remember to knock next time."

Your face was still hot with embarrassment, you practically sprinted away, your thoughts a whirlwind. You needed to find Minseo, to get away from the scene you'd just stumbled upon. As you rounded the next corner, you collided with someone, the air leaving your lungs in a rush. Before you could even react, your top was smothered in a layer of sticky pink frosting and chunks of strawberry cake.

Your eyes snapped up to meet the gaze of the person you had collided with, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was none other than Kim Taehyung. His handsome face was etched with a look of shock, his eyes widening as they took in the mess that now adorned your shirt. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to echo through your entire being. "Are you okay?"

Taehyung's concern was palpable, but the words you desperately wanted to form remained lodged in your throat, a jumbled mess of syllables and breaths. You could only nod mutely, your eyes darting down to the cake that clung to you in an unwelcome embrace. The sweet smell of strawberries and sugar invaded your nostrils, a stark contrast to the bitter taste of embarrassment that coated your tongue.

"Here," Taehyung offered, reaching out with a napkin. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the fiery passion he had seen him exude on stage. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "Let me help you clean up." He wiped at the frosting with careful strokes, his eyes never leaving yours.

Finally, you found your voice, a soft whisper that barely seemed to break the silence. "It's okay," you managed to say. "It was an accident." You took the napkin from him and continued to clean yourself up, your hands shaking slightly.

Taehyung studied you, a curious expression crossing his features. "I've never seen you around here before. Are you new?" he asked, his voice a velvety purr that sent your pulse racing. You nodded, your eyes not quite meeting his.

"Yes," you murmured, your voice small and shaky. "I just started today. I'm the new intern."

Taehyung's eyes searched yours for a moment before his gaze flickered down to the corner of your mouth, where a smudge of cream had found its way from your shirt. Without a word, he reached out with the napkin again, his thumb brushing against your lower lip as he gently wiped away the stray bit of cake. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through your body, and you felt your cheeks flush even deeper.

"Thank you," you mumbled, taking the napkin and scrubbing at the spot he had just touched.

Just then, Minseo's voice called out from down the hallway. "Y/N!" she exclaimed, rushing over. "What on earth are you doing here? And Taehyung-ssi, are you okay?"

Taehyung took a step back, his smile faltering slightly. "It's fine, Minseo. I just had a bit of a... mishap with the cake."

Minseo looked from your sticky shirt to Taehyung's slightly panicked face, then back to you. "Oh no! Your clothes!" she clucked her tongue, shaking her head. "You can't go around the company like that. You're going to get fired on your first day!"

Your eyes widened in horror. "What do I do?" you squeaked.

"Don't worry," Taehyung assured you, his voice was a comforting balm. "Minseo will help you."

Minseo nodded in agreement, a flicker of understanding passing between her and Taehyung. "Come with me," she said, taking your arm firmly. She steered you back down the hallway and into a nearby room marked 'Changing Room'.

"Make yourself comfortable," Minseo said with a smile. "I'll grab you a new shirt from wardrobe."

You nodded, your cheeks still flaming from the encounter with Taehyung. You stepped into the changing room, your thoughts racing. As you waited, the door swung open again, and you assumed it was Minseo returning with a clean shirt. But when you looked up, you realized your mistake.

Park Jimin, another member of BTS, stepped into the room, his hair damp with sweat from dance practice. He was in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a set of abs that could make even the most stoic of fans swoon. He hadn't noticed you yet. "Minseo, can you grab me a towel?" he called out, his voice a sweet blend of exhaustion and playfulness.

You stifled a gasp, your eyes wide. You were frozen, unsure if you should announce your presence or just wait for Minseo to arrive. Jimin's shirt hit the floor, and he started to unbuckle his pants. The room grew hotter, or was it just you? Your heart hammered in your chest like a drum during a concert finale.

Just as you were about to speak, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Jimin's eyes widened as he took in your cake-covered shirt and the horror etched on your face. "Who are you?" he asked, spinning around. His question hung in the air, filled with curiosity rather than malice.

"I-I'm the new intern," you stuttered, your voice trembling. "Y/N."

Jimin's eyes swept over you, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Ah, the new intern," he repeated, his voice dripping with amusement. "I'm Park Jimin, but you can call me Jimin."

You nodded, feeling your face heat up even more. "I-I'm sorry, I'll just wait outside."

"No need to be shy," Jimin said, his smirk growing. "Minseo is busy, and I need a towel. You can help me find one, right?"

Your eyes remained glued to the floor, unable to meet his gaze. Your mind raced with embarrassment and the awkwardness of the situation. You nodded, keeping your voice low, "O-of course."

Jimin chuckled, noticing your shyness. "You know, you can stare at me," he said, his voice playful. "I'm not going to eat you." He winked, and you felt a blush creep up your neck, your heart hammering in your chest. You had seen this kind of flirtatious banter between Jimin and fans, but you never thought you would be on the receiving end of it.

"Here," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you held out the towel you had found on the shelf. Jimin took it with a smile, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thanks,Y/N ," he said, his tone dripping with charm. He began to wipe the sweat from his face and chest, his movements casual yet deliberate.

"But seriously," he added, his smile fading a bit, "what happened to your shirt?" His gaze drifted down to the mess of pink frosting and cake that still clung to your clothes.

You felt your cheeks burn even hotter, if that was possible. "It was an accident," you mumbled, your eyes darting around the room. "I-I bumped into someone with a cake."

Jimin's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oops," he said, his voice light. "Someone should have been more careful."

Your heart felt like it was about to pound out of your chest. "I-I didn't mean to," you stuttered, your eyes darting around the room for an escape.

Minseo's voice called out from the hallway, breaking the tension. "Y/N, I've got your shirt!"

"Thank goodness," Jimin said, his smirk back in place. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. "Well, don't let me keep you."

You practically bolted out of the room, snatching the clean shirt from Minseo's outstretched hand. You didn't dare look back at Jimin, afraid you would stumble over your own feet again. You quickly slipped into the new shirt, the fabric cool and clean against your skin.

"Let's go," Minseo said, a hint of a smile in her eyes. "We have a schedule to keep."

You nodded, your thoughts racing as you followed the HR manager through the maze of corridors. The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings and introductions.

When you finally returned home, the encounter with Taehyung played on repeat in your mind. The way his thumb had brushed against your lip, the concern in his eyes, the warmth of his touch—it was all too much. You collapsed onto your bed, your thoughts a tumultuous storm of emotions. Your cheeks flushed with the same heat they had felt under his gaze.

For hours, you lay there, replaying the scene over and over, the smell of strawberry frosting lingering in your nose. The thought of his cake being destroyed by your clumsiness filled you with a strange mix of guilt and longing. You knew you had to make it up to him somehow. And so, the idea formed in your mind—you would make him a new cake.

The next morning, you woke up early, your mind buzzing with excitement. You had barely slept, but the anticipation of seeing Taehyung again fueled you. You carefully selected ingredients from your kitchen, your hands moving with purpose as you mixed and baked a new strawberry cake, identical to the one you had ruined. The sweet aroma filled your small apartment, a comforting embrace that whispered promises of redemption.

Once the cake was out of the oven, you meticulously decorated it with fresh strawberries and a perfect layer of frosting. It was a masterpiece, a silent apology in the form of sugar and butter. With trembling hands, you placed it in a Tupperware container and closed the lid with a soft click.

Leaving your apartment, you stepped into the cool morning air, the scent of the city waking up around you. A cab pulled up, and you slid into the back seat, clutching the cake tightly. As the car wove through the crowded streets of Seoul, you couldn't shake the image of Taehyung's surprised face from your mind. Would he accept your peace offering? Would he even remember you?

As the BigHit building loomed into view, you took a deep breath and stepped out of the taxi, your heart racing. The cake felt heavier than ever in your hands as you approached the gleaming glass doors. You had practiced what you would say to him in your mind a hundred times, but now, the words felt like a jumble of syllables.

Just as you were about to step into the lobby, your heel caught on something. A drain pipe, hidden in the shadow of the building. Panic set in as you realized you were stuck, your shoe sucked in tight. You wiggled your foot, trying to free yourself, but it was no use. The cake wobbled in your hands, and you could almost feel the delicate strawberries slipping from their perch.

"Don't move, okay?" A voice from behind you made you jump. You turned to find Jimin, his eyes dancing with amusement as he took in your predicament. He crouched down, his hand reaching for your ankle. "Let me help you."

You nodded, your face burning with embarrassment. You had hoped to avoid another awkward encounter with him, but fate seemed to have other plans. Jimin's grip was firm and gentle as he pulled your heel out of the drain pipe with surprising ease. "Thank you," you murmured, your eyes lingering on his hand for a moment longer than necessary.

"No problem," he said with a wink. "But maybe you should watch where you're going next time." He took the Tupperware from your shaky hands, his eyes landing on the cake inside. "Is this for me?"

You felt your face turn a deeper shade of red. "N-no," you stuttered, trying to compose yourself. "It's for Taehyung. I had an accident yesterday, and I wanted to apologize."

Jimin raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking from the cake to your flushed cheeks. "Oh?" he said, his voice dripping with curiosity. "What kind of accident?"

You took a deep breath, recounting the incident with the cake and your awkward encounter with Taehyung. Jimin's eyes grew wide, and he couldn't help but burst out laughing. "That's hilarious!" he exclaimed.

"It's not funny!" you protested, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

But Jimin couldn't help himself. He chuckled as he took the Tupperware from you. "Okay, okay," he said, holding up his hands in a mock surrender. "But this cake does look pretty tasty."

You felt a glimmer of a smile tug at the corners of your mouth. "Thank you," you murmured, taking back the container. "I hope Taehyung likes it."

"If you don't mind, I'll take this cake to Taehyung for you," Jimin offered, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "He's in dance practice right now."

You blinked, surprised by his sudden helpfulness. "Really?" you asked, hope sparking in your eyes.

Jimin's smile grew wider. "Yes, really," he said, placing a gentle finger on your quivering lip. "But," he added, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief, "next time, I'll expect a sweet treat from you."

Your eyes widened, but you couldn't help the warmth that flooded your cheeks. You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "Okay."

With a wink, Jimin took the Tupperware and turned to leave, his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he disappeared from view. You watched him go, your heart racing. What had just happened? Was he flirting with you? You had always heard about Jimin's playful nature with fans, but this felt different—more personal, more intimate.

The practice room's door swung open with a gentle nudge from Jimin's shoulder, revealing Taehyung in the throes of a dance routine. The room was a whirlwind of sweat and passion, the mirrors reflecting his powerful moves and intense gaze. Jimin's eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched his bandmate glide across the floor.

Breaking the rhythm of the music, Jimin cleared his throat. "Taehyung-ah," he called out, the Tupperware in hand. Taehyung spun around, his eyes lighting up when he saw Jimin. But that joy was quickly replaced with confusion as he took in the cake. "What's this?" he asked, breathing heavily.

"It's an apology," Jimin grinned, his voice filled with the same mischief that danced in his eyes. "From the girl you had the... cake accident with yesterday."

Taehyung's expression grew dark. "Who?" he barked, his dance moves coming to an abrupt halt.

Jimin shrugged, his smile not fading. "The new intern, Y/N You know, the one who got her shirt all sticky because of your clumsiness?"

"Just throw it in the dustbin," Taehyung's voice was gruff, his eyes flashing with annoyance.

Jimin's smile didn't falter. He pried open the Tupperware, revealing the pristine strawberry cake. "But it's your favorite," he teased, his teeth sinking into the soft sponge.

Taehyung's eyes narrowed, watching as Jimin savored the cake with exaggerated pleasure. "They're all the same, Jimin," he said, his voice low and bitter. "Gold diggers."

Jimin looked at him, a mischievous spark in his eyes. He licked the frosting from his lips, his gaze never leaving Taehyung's. "Is that so?" He took another bite, the sweetness of the strawberries mingling with the tartness of the cream. "Well, if you don't want her, can I have her?"

Chapter Text

Jimin looked at him, a mischievous spark in his eyes. He licked the frosting from his lips, his gaze never leaving Taehyung's. "Is that so?" He took another bite, the sweetness of the strawberries mingling with the tartness of the cream. "Well, if you don't want her, can I have her?"

"Do whatever you want," Taehyung muttered, turning back to the mirror to resume his practice, his eyes distant. Jimin's smile grew even wider, his eyes gleaming with a hint of challenge. "Thanks," he replied, his voice dripping with sweetness as he took another bite of the cake.

Elsewhere in the bustling offices of BigHit Entertainment, you were busy sorting through documents, your mind still reeling from the morning's events. The hum of conversation and the tap of keyboards provided a comforting backdrop as you worked. You had hoped that today would be less eventful than your first day.

Your coworker, a friendly girl named Hyejin, approached your desk with a timid smile. "[Y/N], if you don't mind, can you bring some staff files from the storage room?" she asked. You looked up, relieved for the distraction, and nodded. "Of course, I'd be happy to help."

The storage room was located at the end of the hallway, its door a stark contrast to the sleek white walls of the office. You pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside, the cool darkness enveloping you like a blanket. The only light came from the crack under the door, casting eerie shadows on the floor. You fumbled for the light switch and flicked it on, only to realize the bulb was out. "Great," you murmured, feeling your heart rate spike.

Your phone's flashlight was your only source of illumination as you tiptoed through the room, your eyes adjusting to the gloom. The shelves towered above you, filled with boxes and forgotten equipment. Suddenly, you heard a faint sound, a murmur of voices, and the rustling of fabric. You paused, your breath hitching in your throat. It was coming from the back corner.

Your curiosity piqued, you edged closer, the light from your phone bobbing in the darkness. As you rounded a tower of boxes, you saw a sliver of light coming from under a door you hadn't noticed before. The voices grew clearer—laughter and whispers. You knew you shouldn't pry, but you couldn't help yourself.

Slowly, you pushed the door open. The scene before you was one you hadn't anticipated. Jungkook was sprawled on a sofa, his shirt half-unbuttoned, his eyes closed in a seemingly relaxed state. Seated on his lap was a girl. Your heart stuttered in your chest. This wasn't the first time you had stumbled upon something you weren't supposed to see, but the sight still shocked you.

The moment you were spotted, Jungkook's eyes snapped open, his expression as cold as ice. "Again?" he said, his voice as icy.

You stumbled over your words, your face burning. "I-I'm sorry," you managed to squeak out, your eyes darting to the girl who was now quickly getting off his lap and smoothing out her dress, looking equally surprised. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Interrupt what?" Jungkook demanded, his gaze piercing through the shadows.

"I'm sorry, I should go now," you whispered, your voice trembling as you took a step back.

Jungkook's hand shot out, gripping your wrist with surprising strength. "Stop right there," he said, his voice a low growl that sent a chill down your spine. He looked at the girl, his eyes darkening. "You go. I'll catch you later."

The girl shot a death glare at you, but she didn't need to be told twice. She grabbed her purse and slammed the door behind her, leaving the room filled with tension. Jungkook's grip tightened, and you could feel the heat of his touch even through your shirt sleeve. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

"What do you want?" Jungkook's question was blunt, his gaze unyielding.

You swallowed hard, your eyes darting around the room. "I-I was just looking for the staff files," you stuttered. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Jungkook's grip on your wrist tightened, and he pulled you closer, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Is that so?" he repeated, his tone low and dangerous. "Or are you spying on me?"

"N-no," you protested, your heart hammering in your chest. "I swear, it's just a coincidence."

Jungkook leaned in, his thumb brushing against your jawline as he tipped your chin up to look into your eyes. "Coincidence doesn't happen this often, [Y/N]," he murmured, his eyes searching yours. "What are you playing at?"

Your voice was shaky as you replied, "I'm not playing anything. I swear." You felt the heat from his body, and the scent of his cologne filled your nose, making you feel even more flustered.

Jungkook searched your eyes for any hint of deceit, his grip on your wrist not loosening. "Why do you keep showing up when I'm with girls?" His voice was a mix of curiosity and accusation.

"I-I swear it's just coincidence," you stammered, your eyes wide with innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jungkook's grip tightened, his eyes narrowing. "You expect me to believe that?" he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. "That you just happen to stumble into my personal space when I'm with someone?"

"I-I'm sorry," you managed to squeak out, trying to pull your hand away. "It's just bad timing."

Jungkook's gaze lingered on you, his eyes raking over your features as if searching for something. "You're not so bad to look at," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that made your knees feel like jelly. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

He released your wrist, but instead of stepping away, he leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I know what you want," he whispered, his voice thick with an unspoken challenge. "You want to be my bed."

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and you could feel your breathing quicken. You tried to shake your head, but his grip on your arm was firm. "N-no," you protested, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't lie to me," Jungkook said, his eyes piercing into yours. "I can see it in your eyes."

You shook your head, your heart racing. "No," you said, your voice trembling.

Jungkook's expression softened a fraction, his gaze lingering on your face. "What's your price?" he repeated, his tone softer now.

Your eyes widened with shock. "My price?" you echoed, your voice trembling. "What are you talking about?"

Jungkook smirked, his gaze never leaving yours. "Don't play coy," he said, his voice a low purr. "Everyone has a price. What's yours for spending a night with me?"

Your eyes widened with shock. "I'm not that type of girl," you protested, your voice shaking.

Jungkook's laugh was low and mocking. "Oh, really?" he said, his eyes gleaming with challenge. "You expect me to believe that?" He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. "Please, I'm not," you whispered, your eyes pleading.

But Jungkook was relentless. His grip on your arm grew stronger, his eyes dark with desire. "You're so cute when you blush," he said, his voice a low purr that sent shivers down your spine. "How much for you to ride me right here, right now?"

Your eyes widened even more, and you struggled to pull away. "I-I can't," you stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not like that."

Jungkook's smirk grew. "Everyone has a price, [Y/N]," he murmured, his voice dripping with seductive challenge. "How about I make it worth your while?" He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck. "You'll look so much better on your knees, taking my cock in your mouth, begging me to fill you."

Your cheeks burned with humiliation, and you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You had never been talked to like this before, especially not by the idol you had admired from afar. His words were like a slap in the face.

Jungkook's smirk grew, and he leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Oh, I know you want to," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Your body is begging for it." His hand slid down from your arm to your waist, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip. "How much would it take for you to spread those pretty legs for me?"

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, your voice trapped in your throat. You had always thought of Jungkook as a sweet and kind person, but the words coming out of his mouth were anything but. His hand continued to roam, his eyes dark with lust. "You'd beg for me to fill you up," he said, his voice a low growl that seemed to echo through the room. "And when I'm done, you'd lick me clean like a kitten with a bowl of cream."

With a sudden burst of courage, you slapped him hard across the face. Jungkook's smirk was wiped away, replaced by shock and anger. He brought his hand to his cheek, his eyes wide with disbelief. "How dare you?" he spat.

Before he could say another word, you slapped him again, your palm stinging from the contact. "How dare you think you can treat me like that?" you said, your voice shaking with rage and fear. "I'm not some cheap toy for you to play with!"

Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his hand flying to his face. "What the fuck?" he bellowed, his expression a mix of shock and anger.

You didn't flinch. "I'm not your playing thing," you spat back at him, your voice strong despite the tremble in your body. "And I never will be."

He stepped towards you, his smile smug. "You'll regret this," he said, his voice low and menacing.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the fear that was bubbling up inside you. "I don't care," you said, your voice strong despite your trembling hands. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

Without another word, you turned on your heel and marched out of the storage room, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel Jungkook's gaze burning into your back as you left, but you didn't dare look back. You had to get away from him before you did something you might regret.

Jungkook's hand hovered over his stinging cheek as he watched you storm out of the storage room, your shoulders squared and your steps determined. He couldn't believe you had the audacity to slap him, not once, but twice. Who did you think you were? But as the door slammed shut, a strange sense of intrigue stirred in his chest. No one had ever dared to stand up to him like that before, especially not someone who was just an intern.

"Interesting," he murmured to himself, his eyes narrowing as he processed the situation. He had felt the fire in your touch, the indignation in your voice. It was a challenge, and Jungkook was never one to back down from a challenge.

Your legs trembled as you rushed back to the safety of the main office, your thoughts racing. What had just happened? Did you really just slap Jeon Jungkook, the sweet, charming boy you had idolized? The reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. You had slapped a member of BTS, the most famous boy band in the world, and you had a feeling that you would not be getting off scot-free.

Night had descended over Seoul. You sat at your desk, your eyes heavy with fatigue, as you reviewed the final documents of the day. Your thoughts kept drifting back to the confrontation with Jungkook, your heart racing with the memory of his touch and the harshness of his words. You stood, your legs wobbly, and began to pack up your things, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the office.

Your vision swam, and you didn't notice the wall you were about to collide with. Just before impact, you felt strong arms wrap around you, catching you in their embrace. You looked up to see Taehyung's concerned gaze, his grip firm and steady.

"Are you okay?" His voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the coldness from earlier.

You nodded, trying to convince yourself as much as him. "I-I'm okay," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Taehyung's eyes searched yours, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. "You should be more careful," he repeated, his voice gentle but firm.

Your eyes met his, and you couldn't help but feel the sincerity in his words. "Thank you," you murmured, your heart racing in his embrace.

But before you could say anything more, Taehyung's gaze darted over your shoulder, and his expression changed to one of alarm. "Hobi hyung," he whispered urgently, pulling you closer and placing a hand over your mouth. "Please, be quiet. I need to hide."

Your heart raced as you nodded, your eyes wide with confusion. Taehyung quickly ushered you behind a nearby pillar, their bodies pressed tightly together as they listened to the approaching footsteps. The sound grew louder, and you could feel his warm breath against your ear as he whispered, "You can't let him find me."

When the footsteps finally passed, Taehyung released you, his eyes searching yours. "Thank you," he breathed, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer than necessary. Your cheeks flushed as you realized you were still trembling. "You're shaking," he said, his voice filled with concern.

"I-I'm fine," you stuttered, trying to put distance between them. "Why were you hiding from J-Hope?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Taehyung's expression grew sheepish. "It's nothing," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just made a mistake during dance practice, and he's pretty... insistent on perfection."

Your eyes widened with understanding. "Oh," you murmured, your voice still shaky. "That must be tough."

Taehyung nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. He reached out and gently touched your cheek, his thumb brushing over the smudge of lipstick you hadn't noticed. "You have a little something here," he said, his voice softer than she had ever heard it.

Your breath caught in your throat as his thumb grazed the corner of your mouth. The warmth from his touch spread through you, and you couldn't help but lean into it. His eyes searched yours, and you felt a strange connection forming between them.

But then he spoke, his voice filled with a teasing lilt. "Your face is so red. Do you have a fever?" He didn't wait for a response, his fingers moving to trace the smudge. The sensation of his skin against yours was electric, sending a jolt through your body. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All you could do was stand there, frozen, as he touched you so intimately.

Panic set in, and you realized you had to get away before you did something stupid. You took a step back, your cheeks burning. "I-I'm okay," you stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thanks for the help."

Without waiting for his response, you turned and bolted down the hallway, your heart racing. You didn't dare look back, didn't want to see the confusion or amusement on his face. You had to escape the intensity of his gaze, the warmth of his touch.

As you reached the lobby, you saw Minseo standing by the doors, her heels clicking on the marble floor as she waited for you to join her. The HR manager looked up and offered a warm smile. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, m-manager Minseo," you stumbled over your words, still reeling from your encounter with Taehyung.

Minseo's smile grew. "Call me Minseo," she said gently. "We're not at work right now, and I'm not much older than you."

You nodded, trying to compose yourself. "Thank you, Minseo," you said, your voice still shaking.

Minseo's eyes searched yours, a hint of concern in her gaze. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

You took a deep breath, trying to push the encounter with Jungkook out of your mind. "Yes, I'm just tired," you lied, forcing a smile.

Minseo's smile remained in place, but her eyes searched yours for any signs of distress. "Well, I've got something that might cheer you up," she said, her voice taking on a mischievous tone. "I'm going to a club tonight. Want to come?"

Your eyes widened in surprise. "A club?" you repeated, your voice small.

Minseo nodded. "Yeah, you know, to let loose, have some fun," she said, her eyes sparkling. "You can join me. It'll be a good way to unwind."

You hesitated, your mind racing. Going to a club was the last thing you had planned on doing tonight, but you also didn't want to be alone with your thoughts. "O-okay," you finally said, your voice small but determined. "Let's go."

The club was a cacophony of lights and sounds, the bass vibrating through your chest as you stepped inside. Minseo led the way through the crowded dance floor, her confidence unwavering as she navigated the throngs of people. You followed closely, feeling like a fish out of water.

They found a table near the back, and Minseo ordered a round of drinks. "So, tell me more about you," she said, her voice cutting through the music.

You took a sip of the fruity concoction in your hand, your eyes wide as you surveyed the crowded dance floor. "There's not much to tell," you said shyly. "I just graduated from college, and I'm interning at BigHit."

Minseo's eyes skyrocketed with interest. "Ah, so you're a fan?"

You nodded, your cheeks flushing. "I've liked BTS for a long time," you admitted. "It's still so surreal to be working so close to them."

Minseo leaned in closer, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Which one is your bias?" she asked, using the fan term for favorite member.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. "Well, I've always liked all of them, but if I had to choose, it's Taehyung," you confessed, your voice barely audible over the music.

Minseo grinned, her eyes lighting up. "Ah, the mysterious one," she said, her voice filled with knowing. "I can see why."

You took another sip of your drink, trying to ignore the way Taehyung's touch still lingered on your skin. Before you could say anything else, the music grew louder, and the lights dimmed as the DJ announced the next song.

The drink burned a path down your throat, and you coughed, your eyes watering. "What is this?" you squeaked, holding the glass away from you.

Minseo laughed, patting you on the back. "It's a special cocktail," she shouted over the music. "It's got a bit of a kick."

Your eyes widened as you realized you had just consumed alcohol for the first time in your life. Your cheeks flushed, and the room spun a little as the alcohol hit you like a ton of bricks. "I-I think I need to go to the bathroom," you mumbled, pushing your chair back.

Minseo nodded, her smile understanding. "Take your time," she called after you.

You weaved through the crowded club, the lights flashing in time with your racing heart. You felt the warmth of the alcohol spread through your body, making you feel lightheaded. As you stumbled towards the bathroom, the pounding bass grew fainter, you noticed a woman huddled in the corner, her shoulders shaking with sobs. A man leaned against the wall nearby, his expression cold and indifferent as he lit a cigarette.

The woman's mascara was smeared down her cheeks, and her dress was wrinkled, as if she had been dancing too hard. "Please," she begged, her voice a desperate whisper. "Don't do this to me."

The man took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke with a sigh. "It's not my fault, baby," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Women are like clothes to me. When I get bored, I change them."

Your rage grew, the alcohol fueling your courage. "You're a bastard," you yelled, your voice slurred but firm. You stumbled closer, pointing a finger at his chest. "If women are like clothes to you, they're like those fancy brands you can't afford to buy!"

The man looked up, his smirk widening as recognition dawned on his face. It was Jimin, but you were too drunk to realize it. His eyes glinted with amusement at your accusation. "Oh, really?" he said, his voice a low purr that sent shivers down your spine despite your anger. "You think I can't afford any brand?"

With surprising strength, he scooped you up over his shoulder and began to navigate through the crowd, your legs dangling limply behind him. The room spun around you, and you could feel the heat from his body through your clothes. "Where are you taking me?" you slurred, your voice barely audible.

Jimin didn't bother to answer, his smirk growing with every step he took. He pushed open a door marked "VIP" and strode into the dimly lit room, the bass of the music thumping against your back. The room was filled with plush sofas and a large bed in the center, surrounded by velvet curtains. He tossed you onto the bed, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Girl," he said, his voice a low growl, "let me tell you, there's not a single brand that I can't afford." He climbed on top of you, his hands gripping your wrists, pinning them to the mattress. "And that includes you."

Your eyes widened in horror, your heart racing. "What are you doing?" you slurred, your voice thick with fear.

Jimin's smirk grew as he began to unbutton your blouse, his movements deliberate and slow. "What does it look like?" he murmured, his eyes dark with desire.

Panic set in, and you struggled beneath him, trying to push him away. "S-stop it," you protested, your voice shaking. "I don't w-want this."

But your words fell on deaf ears. Jimin was in control, his body pressing down on yours, making it difficult to breathe. "You'll like it," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck.

Your stomach churned, and you felt the bile rising in your throat. "No," you managed to say, your eyes watering. "I-I don't feel good."

But Jimin was too caught up in the moment to care. He leaned in, his lips poised to claim yours, when suddenly you couldn't hold it in any longer. With a gag, you vomited all over him, the vile smell of the cheap liquor filling the air.

Jimin recoiled with a shout, wiping his face in disgust. "What the fuck?" he yelled, his eyes wide with shock and anger.

Chapter Text

The next morning, you awoke with a splitting headache, the events of the previous night a blur in your mind. You squinted in the bright sunlight streaming through the curtains, your hand automatically reaching for your phone on the nightstand. The room was unfamiliar, and you groaned as you sat up, the hangover hitting you like a truck. "What time is it?" you mumbled to yourself, your voice thick with sleep.

Your eyes widened with horror as you looked down at yourself. You were naked, the bed sheets tangled around your legs. "Why am I naked?" you whispered, your heart racing. The room spun around you as you tried to piece together the fragments of your memory.

All you could remember was the fight, the anger, and the fear. "I can't believe I fought with him," you murmured, your mind racing. "But who was it?" Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, the alcohol from last night playing havoc with your recollections. The only clear thought that stood out was your desperate plea. "I can't lose my virginity like this," you had said, your voice a feeble whisper.

But then you heard it - the sound of running water. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest. The shower was on. Someone was in there.

With shaking hands, you managed to wrap the bedsheet around your body, the fabric clinging to your curves like a second skin. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing pulse, and tiptoed towards the bathroom door. You peeked through the crack, your eyes not daring to meet his. All you could see was the silhouette of a man, his broad shoulders and muscular back, water cascading down his skin.

Your cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and anger. How could you have been so stupid? So naive? You had let yourself be swept up in the moment, and now you were paying the price. "It's that guy," you murmured to yourself, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. "The one who...deflowered me."

With renewed urgency, you scanned the floor, your eyes searching for any trace of your clothes. Spotting a shirt thrown haphazardly over the back of a chair, you grabbed it, pulling it over your head. The fabric was too large, hanging off your slender frame like a tent, but you didn't care. All you wanted was to get out of there.

But as you were about to sneak out, you paused. An idea took root in your mind, a tiny spark of defiance. You weren't going to let him get away with this, not without leaving a piece of yourself behind. Stumbling over to the desk, you grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. Your hand shook as you scribbled down your thoughts, the anger lending you a sense of clarity you hadn't felt in hours. "I don't enjoy it," you wrote, the words coming out in jagged strokes. "You're really weak." You paused, your lip curling in disgust. "This is for you," you continued. "Hope we don't meet again."

With the note in hand, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the crumpled wad of cash you had brought with you. It wasn't much, but it was all you had. Placing it next to the paper.

You took one last look around the room, your heart racing. You didn't want to think about what had happened here. All you wanted was to leave, to put as much distance between yourself and this hotel room as possible.

With a deep breath, you slipped out into the hallway, the cool air a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the room you had just left. You stumbled down the corridor, your bare feet silent on the plush carpet.

Sometime later, Jimin stepped out of the shower, his mood the worst it had been in a long time. He had been looking forward to a night of fun and distraction, but it had ended up being the worst one-night stand he could have ever imagined. The girl had been sweet, sure, but she had thrown up on him. The smell of vomit clung to his skin like a toxic reminder of his failure to charm her.

Jimin wrapped a towel around his waist and looked around the room, his eyes scanning for any sign of her. "Where is she?" he murmured to himself, his voice filled with annoyance. The bed was empty, the sheets a tangled mess where she had been. He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that she had probably left while he was in the bathroom.

But then he saw it, a small piece of paper on the bedside table. He picked it up with a flick of his wrist, his eyes narrowing as he read the jagged scrawl. "I don't enjoy it," the note began. "You're really weak." His blood boiled at the words. "This is for you. Hope we don't meet again." A crumpled wad of cash lay beside it, and Jimin felt his jaw clench. How dare she? He had never felt so humiliated.

Jimin crumpled the note in his fist, his eyes flashing with anger. "You will pay for this," he murmured, his voice low and menacing. He couldn't believe the audacity of this intern, treating him like some common thug who had taken something from her. He was Park Jimin, one of the most desired men in Korea, and she had the gall to belittle him?

You arrived at BigHit feeling slightly better after a much-needed freshening up at home. You had barely slept, haunted by the events of the previous night. As you waited for the elevator, you replayed the moments in your head, trying to understand what had happened. The doors opened with a ding, and you stepped inside, eager to get to your workstation and bury yourself in your job. But before the doors could close, Jungkook slipped in, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn't quite place.

"Good morning, my kitty," he purred, his voice dripping with a possessive charm that made your skin crawl. You stiffened, your grip on the elevator's handrail tightening. You had hoped to avoid seeing him today, but fate seemed to have other plans.

Ignoring the way Jungkook's eyes raked over you, you kept your gaze fixed on the elevator's display, counting the floors as they ascended. "Please, stop looking at me," you murmured, your voice as cold as ice.

Jungkook's smile grew, his eyes gleaming with challenge as he leaned closer. "Why?" he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't you like the attention?"

Your face flushed a deeper shade of red, and you gritted your teeth. "Please," you said, your voice trembling with effort as you forced the words out, "maintain some distance."

Jungkook's smirk grew, and he leaned even closer, invading your personal space. "Or what?" he whispered, his breath hot on your neck. You could feel his body heat, and it made you want to scream.

But before you could respond, his eyes caught something, and his smile dropped. His hand shot out, his thumb brushing against the side of your neck. "What the hell is this?" he demanded, his voice tight with anger.

You gasped, your hand flying to your neck, feeling the tender bruise you hadn't noticed before. "It's none of your business," you spat out, your voice shaking with a mix of fear and anger.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his grip on the handrail tightening. "Everything about you is my business now, kitten," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Now tell me, who put this mark on you?"

You swallowed hard, your eyes flicking to the elevator's display. Only one more floor to go. "I fell in the bathroom," you lied, your voice shaking. "It's nothing."

Jungkook's gaze bore into yours, his eyes searching for any hint of deception. "Are you telling the truth, kitten?" His voice was a low growl, and you could feel his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

"Y-yes," you stuttered, your heart racing. "I slipped and hit my neck."

Jungkook's expression darkened. "You're not a very good liar," he murmured, his thumb tracing the bruise lightly. You winced, trying to pull away from his touch.

The elevator dinged, announcing your arrival at the top floor. Your eyes widened as the doors slid open. "I'm not lying," you said firmly, pushing past him. He stepped aside, his eyes never leaving yours, and you stumbled out into the hallway. You didn't dare look back, your heart racing as you hurried down the corridor.

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of the BigHit cafeteria, casting a warm glow over the bustling room. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You had made it through the morning somehow, but the encounter with Jungkook had left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. You had hoped to avoid seeing anyone else from the group today, especially after the disaster of last night. But as you sat down with your lunch, Minseo slid into the chair across from you, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"So," Minseo began, her voice light and teasing, "where did you disappear to last night?"

You felt your cheeks heat up. You took a bite of your sandwich, hoping to avoid the question. But Minseo's gaze was unwavering, waiting for an answer. "Oh, just... home," you mumbled, your eyes focused on your plate.

Minseo's laughter was like a melody, light and airy, filling the space between them. "You know you can tell me anything," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I won't judge."

You looked up, your eyes meeting Minseo's, the memory of the crumpled note and the wad of cash hitting you like a slap in the face. "It's just... I had a bit too much to drink, and I don't remember much," you admitted, your voice small. "But I think I might have made a mistake."

Minseo's eyes grew serious, her laughter fading. "What do you mean?" she asked gently, leaning closer.

You took a deep breath, the words spilling out in a rush. "I think I might have had a one-night stand," you whispered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "And I left a note and money for the guy."

Minseo's eyes grew wide, and she couldn't help but let out a giggle before slapping a hand over her mouth. "Oh my god, you're serious?" she said, her voice filled with astonishment. "You left money for a one-night stand?"

You nodded, your eyes downcast. "I didn't know what else to do," you murmured. "I was so embarrassed and just wanted to get out of there."

Minseo leaned back in her chair, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, you're certainly full of surprises," she said, her voice filled with laughter. "But seriously, it's not a big deal. It happens to the best of us."

Your cheeks burned hotter than the sun outside. "It's not funny," you protested, your voice shaking. "It was my first time, and I don't even know who it was."

Minseo's smile faded, and she reached across the table to squeeze your hand. "I'm sorry," she said, her tone more serious now. "But are you okay? Any pain down there?"

You nodded, wincing at the question. "My head hurts," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "But other than that, I'm... I'm okay."

Minseo studied you, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Do you remember anything at all?" she asked gently.

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on you. "No," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Minseo's expression grew solemn, her eyes searching your face. "You don't have to tell me," she said softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "But if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

You nodded, your eyes filling with tears. "Thank you," you murmured.

Just then, Minseo's phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a message. She glanced down, her eyes widening. "Oh no," she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "I'm so sorry, but I've got to go. Something's come up." She leaned over the table, her eyes filled with genuine concern. "Don't stress too much, okay? We'll talk about it later."

With a quick peck on the cheek, she was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You took a sip of your coffee, the bitter taste doing nothing to calm your nerves. As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, you heard a commotion by the entrance to the cafeteria. Jimin strutted in, his eyes scanning the room. His gaze landed on you, and a smug smile played on his lips. "Everyone out," he announced, his voice cutting through the chatter.

The room grew still as the employees looked up, confused. "Now," he emphasized, his tone leaving no room for argument. The cafeteria began to empty, a tide of murmurs and whispers following the retreating staff. Your heart raced as you gathered your things, ready to leave. But as you stood, Jimin's eyes locked on you, and he jerked his head in a clear gesture for you to stay. "Not you," he said, his voice low and commanding.

Your knees felt like jelly as you sat back down. What did he want? You watched as the last of the staff filed out, the doors swinging shut behind them. The room was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerators. Jimin approached your table, his movements deliberate and predatory. He leaned down, his hand brushing against your shoulder, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

With surprising strength, he lifted you by the waist, setting you down on the cold, metal surface of the table. The sudden change in height made you gasp, and you scooted back, your palms pressing against the coolness to steady yourself. "What are you doing?" you whispered, fear lacing your voice.

Jimin leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving yours. He placed one hand on your bare thigh, his thumb stroking the soft skin just above your knee. "Just wanted to have a little chat," he murmured, his voice deceptively sweet. "You know, about last night."

Your heart raced, your mind reeling as you tried to understand what was happening. "What... what do you mean?" you stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jimin's smirk grew, his hand moving to brush a stray strand of hair from your neck. His eyes danced with mischief as he leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling your ear. "The marks," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper. "The ones you're hiding with that collar. They're mine."

Your eyes widened in shock as you felt his fingertips trace the line of your neck, your heart hammering against your ribs. You had hoped it was all just a drunken haze, a nightmare you could forget. But now, as you felt the tender bruises pulse with his touch, you knew it was all too real. "Th-that person was you?" you managed to stammer, your voice shaking.

Jimin leaned in closer, his breath hot against your cheek as he whispered, "Yes, darling, it was me." His hand slid higher up your thigh, his thumb pressing into your flesh, sending a shiver down your spine. "But don't worry," he said with a wicked smile, "I'm here now, and I promise to make it up to you."

Your heart raced as you tried to push him away, your mind a whirlwind of panic. "N-no," you stammered, your voice shaking. "I don't want this. I didn't mean for it to happen."

Jimin's smile was cold, his eyes glinting with a mix of anger and amusement. "You paid for it, darling," he said, his voice a low growl. "And I always aim to satisfy my customers." His hand slid further up your thigh, his grip tightening.

Your voice trembled as you pushed him away. "Please," you begged, your eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you. Just give me back my money, and we can forget about it."

Jimin's smirk grew, his eyes dark with challenge. "Forgot what, darling?" he whispered, his voice a seductive purr. "You called me weak?" His hand moved to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. "I don't think you're in a position to make demands."

Your heart raced, your mind racing for a way out. "I didn't mean it," you murmured, your voice shaking. "Please, Jimin, I'm sorry."

But Jimin's expression was unyielding, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and desire. "You're going to regret that," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. He leaned in closer, his hand sliding up your thigh, his thumb brushing against your inner thigh. You felt the heat of his body, his breath warm on your skin. "I'll show you just how satisfied you can be," he whispered, his voice a seductive promise.

Your heart hammered in your chest, and you knew you had to do something. Summoning every ounce of strength you had, you pushed him away, your head connecting with his face with a sharp crack. Jimin recoiled with a yelp, his hand flying to his nose. "Ouch," he grumbled, his eyes watering with pain.

Your chest heaved as you watched him, your eyes wide with terror. "Jimin, are you okay?" you asked, your voice trembling. You didn't know what had come over you, but you knew you had to get out of this situation.

Jimin's hand fell away from his nose, his eyes narrowed in shock. "What the hell was that?" he snarled, his grip on your thigh tightening. He was sexy even when he was angry, but you couldn't appreciate it. All you felt was fear.

"You can't do this," you whispered, your voice shaking.

"Oh, but I can, baby," Jimin murmured, his grip on your thigh unyielding. "You see, last night you got away," he continued, his voice a dangerous purr. "But not this time."

"What do you mean?" Your eyes searched his, desperate for understanding.

Jimin chuckled, his grip on your thigh tightening. "You really don't remember anything, do you?" His voice was a dark purr, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and irritation.

"Y-yes," you stuttered, feeling the cold dread seep into your bones. "What...what happened last night?"

Jimin's smile grew colder, his eyes glinting with a dark satisfaction. "You threw up on me, darling," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It was the first time I've ever fallen asleep without finishing the deed with a one-night stand."

You felt a surge of relief wash over you. "So, I didn't..." you trailed off, unable to bring yourself to say the words.

Jimin chuckled, his hand still on your thigh. "You didn't," he said, his eyes holding yours. "But that doesn't mean I won't get what I want from you."

Your heart sank as you felt his weight shift, his body pressing down on the table, pushing it against you. The metal was cold and unforgiving, and you could feel the tremble in your legs as you tried to push away from him. But he was too strong, his grip on your thigh too firm.

"Jimin, no," you whispered, your voice trembling with fear. "Please, don't do this."

But he was relentless, his hand sliding further up your thigh, his eyes never leaving yours. You could see the hunger in them, the desire to claim what he believed was his. But before he could lean in to kiss you, a voice pierced the tense silence.

"Jimin, can't you do this kind of things at home?" The voice was groggy, but the irritation was clear. You darted your eyes to the side, and you saw Suga standing in the doorway, his eyes squinted against the bright lights of the cafeteria. He looked utterly unamused, one hand rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Jimin's smirk faltered for a moment, his grip on your thigh loosening. "Hyung," he protested, his voice a whine. "You're ruining the mood."

Suga rolled his eyes, his expression unchanged. "You're in the middle of the cafeteria, man," he said, his voice thick with annoyance. "And it's the middle of the day."

Jimin's hand stilled on your thigh, his gaze flicking to Suga and back to you. "Yeah, I know," he murmured, his voice filled with frustration. "But she's just so... tempting."

Suga looked at you, his gaze sharp and assessing. "Jimin, seriously?" he drawled, his tone a blend of annoyance and disbelief. "You're starting to get a taste for these... simple girls? She doesn't even look like your type."

Your eyes snapped to Suga, a fiery spark in them as you found your voice. "Hey!" you exclaimed, pushing Jimin's hand off your thigh.

"Play with her another time," Suga said with a yawn, stretching his arms. "We have dance practice now. Let's go, Jimin."

Jimin's eyes flicked from you to Suga, his expression torn between irritation and desire. With a huff, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your cheek. "Later, darling," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "We're not done yet."

You felt a chill run down your spine as he stood, his hand lingering on your thigh for a moment before he finally released you. You watched as he sauntered out of the cafeteria. The door swung shut behind him, and you let out the breath you had been holding.

Night had fallen by the time you made your way to the bus stop, your thoughts racing as you waited under the flickering streetlight. "Why did I have to slap Jungkook?" you muttered to yourself, your cheeks flaming at the memory. "Why couldn't I have just kept my mouth shut?" Your voice grew louder, echoing in the deserted street. "And why did I leave that note with money? What the hell was I thinking?"

Your frustration reached a peak, and you threw your hands up in the air, screaming into the empty space around you. "Who was that person with Jimin? Why, oh why, did I have to get drunk and forget?" Your words bounced off the walls, and you slumped down onto the bench, your shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

A few pedestrians passing by stopped in their tracks, glancing over with looks of concern and confusion. One older man paused, tilting his head. "Young lady, are you okay?"

You took a deep breath, waving him off with a forced smile. "Oh, yes," you gasped out between giggles. "I'm just practicing my fan scream. You know, for BTS?" You let out a high-pitched squeal, complete with a dramatic hand flip, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

The man looked at you, his expression a mix of bewilderment and amusement. "Ah, I see," he said with a chuckle. "Well, carry on then. Just don't scare the neighborhood pets." He gave you a pat on the shoulder before continuing his stroll.

"I will, sir," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city. You nodded, your eyes downcast, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders.

As the man walked away, you leaned back against the cool metal of the bench, your thoughts spiraling. "What have I gotten myself into?" you wondered aloud. The quiet cocoon of the night wrapped around you, offering no answers.

Taehyung leaned against the black luxury sedan, his eyes never leaving you as you stumbled down the sidewalk. Despite the chilly night air, his heart felt unusually warm as he watched you from a distance.

He couldn't help but smile, shaking his head slightly as he thought to himself, 'What a stupid girl'. But even as the words echoed in his mind, the corners of his lips tugged upwards into a gentle smile. There was something about your innocence and vulnerability that tugged at his heartstrings.

The early morning light filtered through the crack in the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Your phone blared its obnoxious alarm, pulling you from the depths of a troubled sleep. You groaned, your hand fumbling for the snooze button, your mind still foggy with the events of the previous night. The digital display read 5:45 AM. "Why did I set this so early?" you mumbled to yourself, your eyes still closed.

The alarm blared again, and you slapped the phone to silence it, rolling over to bury your face in the pillow.

Your eyes snapped open as the phone vibrated against the nightstand. You reached over with a sigh, your hand shaking as you brought it to your ear. "Hello?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.

The deep, seductive voice on the other end sent a jolt through your body, instantly recognizable. "Good morning, kitty," Jungkook purred.

"J-Jungkook?" you stuttered, your cheeks flushing hot at the endearment. You hadn't expected to hear from him, especially not so early.

"Yes, kitty," he said, his voice filled with a smug confidence that made your heart race. "I said, I'll be there in an hour. Be ready."

You sat bolt upright, the sleepiness evaporating from your body like a forgotten dream. "What? No, wait! I can't!" you sputtered, your thoughts racing.

But the line was already dead, and you were left staring at the phone in your trembling hand. "What does he want?" you whispered to the empty room, your heart pounding in your chest.

"What he think himself?" you muttered, your eyes narrowing as you processed Jungkook's words. You had no intention of playing his games. With a huff, you switched off your phone and let it clatter onto the nightstand. "I'm not his toy," you murmured to yourself, your voice filled with determination.

One hour later, you were still buried under your covers, trying to cling to the last fragments of sleep. But the persistent, shrill ringing of your doorbell shattered the quiet, jolting you awake. You groaned, your eyes fluttering open to stare at the unforgiving red digits of your clock: 6:45 AM. "What the..." you mumbled to yourself, your mind foggy.

With a resigned sigh, you rolled out of bed, your feet hitting the cold floor with a thud. You stumbled towards the door, your heart racing as you wondered who could possibly be there so early. When you pulled the door open, you were greeted by Jungkook's smug smile. He looked as fresh and alert as if he had been waiting all night for this moment.

"Kitty," he purred, his eyes raking over your disheveled form. "You're not quite ready yet."

Chapter Text

You blinked in surprise, clutching your robe tightly around your body. "Jungkook, what are you doing here?" you demanded, your voice still groggy.

"I told you I'd be here," he said, pushing past you into the apartment. You stumbled backward, trying to maintain your balance as he invaded your personal space.

"Jungkook, you can't just come into my house like this," you protested, your voice still thick with sleep.

He turned to face you, his gaze dropping to your chest, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "It's so small," he murmured, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But don't worry, I'll take good care of it."

Your cheeks flushed, your hand flying to cover yourself as you squealed, "Pervert!"

Jungkook chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Dress up," he ordered again, pointing to the bedroom. "I'll wait."

"Why should I?" you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. "You can't just barge in here and tell me what to do."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed, the playfulness in them fading to something darker. "Do you really want to find out how the ARMY would react if I posted a message saying you were stalking me?" His voice was low and dangerous, the smile on his lips a twisted imitation of its usual charm.

You felt a cold shiver run down your spine. You knew the power of the fan base; they could make or break someone with just a few tweets. "You wouldn't," you whispered, your eyes wide with fear.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. "But I would," he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. "So, be a good kitty and go dress up."

Your mind raced, weighing the horror of facing the wrath of the ARMY against the fear of what Jungkook might do if you didn't comply. You didn't know which was worse. "Fine," you hissed through gritted teeth, turning on your heel and stomping into the bedroom.

As you slammed the door shut, you heard his laughter echo through the apartment. It was infuriating, and you wanted nothing more than to throw something at him. But instead, you took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside you.

Your eyes fell on the posters that adorned your walls, the smiling faces of your favorite band members staring back at you. You felt a pang of embarrassment, knowing that Jungkook was out there, looking at your personal sanctuary. How could you have been so stupid?

When you emerged from the bedroom, Jungkook was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a knowing smile on his face. He looked around the room, his gaze lingering on the BTS posters and merchandise that covered almost every surface. "So," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and something else he couldn't quite place. "You're an ARMY."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, your cheeks burning. "Yes," you admitted, your voice small. "But that doesn't mean I'll do whatever you say."

Jungkook's smile grew, his eyes glinting with challenge. "We'll see about that," he said, taking your hand. "Now, let's go. I've got a little surprise for you."

You felt a spark of anger ignite within you, but you didn't have the energy to argue. You followed him out of the apartment, his grip on your hand firm and possessive. He led you down to the street, where a sleek, black sedan was parked, the engine purring softly. The driver's door swung open, and he gestured for you to get in. You slid into the plush leather seat, the door closing with a soft thump behind you. Jungkook took the wheel, his eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror.

"Where are we going?" you asked, your voice tight with tension.

Jungkook's smile grew wider. "A little place I know," he said, his grip on the steering wheel tight. "It's just for us."

Your stomach churned with nerves as the sedan pulled up to the curb in front of a fancy restaurant. The kind of place you had only ever seen in movies or read about in magazines. The kind of place where the menu had more French words than you could pronounce, and the dress code was definitely not your usual sweatpants and t-shirt.

Jungkook stepped out of the car, his movements fluid and graceful, as if this was a place he frequented often. He opened your door, offering his hand to help you out. You took it, feeling the warmth of his touch, and allowed yourself to be led inside.

The hostess's eyes widened at the sight of them, and she scurried over, her smile overly bright. "Welcome, Mr. Jeon," she gushed. "Your usual table is ready."

Jungkook nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "Thank you," he said, guiding you through the dimly lit space to a secluded booth in the back. The plush velvet seats enveloped them as they sat down, the low lighting casting a warm glow over the white linen tablecloth.

He handed you the menu, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Order whatever you love," he said, his voice a seductive purr. You scanned the options, your heart racing as you realized just how expensive everything was. A simple salad cost more than you made in a week at your internship.

"Jungkook, I can't," you protested, your voice shaking. "This is too much."

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't worry about it, kitty," he whispered. "It's all on me."

The waiter appeared at their table, his eyes darting between them before focusing on Jungkook. "What can I get for you today, sir?"

"We'll have the chef's special," Jungkook said, his voice low and commanding. "And a bottle of your best wine." He didn't bother looking at the menu, his gaze fixed on you instead.

The waiter nodded and retreated, leaving them in a tension-filled silence. Jungkook leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving yours. "Now, tell me, kitty," he said, his voice a velvety purr. "How long have you been a part of the ARMY?"

You swallowed hard, your eyes darting around the room. "S-six years," you stuttered.

Jungkook's smile grew wider. "Interesting," he murmured. "And who's your favorite member, kitty?" His voice was a teasing caress, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

But before you could say another word, the waiter reappeared, setting down a large plate of steaming food. The aroma was heavenly, a mix of rich spices and sizzling meat that made your stomach growl. Jungkook chuckled at your reaction, his gaze never leaving yours. "I hope you're hungry," he said, his voice a dark promise.

The food was delicious, but you found it hard to enjoy it with Jungkook's eyes on you. You picked at your meal, your thoughts racing. How did you get yourself into this situation? And why was he being so... nice? It didn't add up. You had to get out of there.

With a forced smile, you gulped down the last bite and set your fork down. "Thank you, Jungkook," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "This was really... something. But I actually have to go now." You stood up so quickly that the chair scraped against the floor, the sound jolting through the quiet restaurant.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed, and you could see the surprise and annoyance in them. "But we just got here," he protested, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist.

You pulled away, your heart racing. "I know," you said, your voice shaking. "But I have an appointment." It was a lie, but you had to get away from him. The way he was looking at you made you feel like a caged animal, and you couldn't handle it anymore.

Without waiting for a response, you bolted from the restaurant. You didn't stop running until you were a few blocks away, your lungs burning and your legs feeling like jelly. You leaned against a lamppost, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

Your mind raced as you replayed the events of the morning. Jungkook's unwelcome visit, his smug smile, and the way he had so easily maneuvered you into this situation. It was all too much.

You decided that you needed to clear your head, so you headed towards the shopping district. The familiar sounds of the street brought you a small measure of comfort. You wandered aimlessly through the crowded streets, trying to blend in with the throngs of people.

In a small, street-side boutique, you picked up a dress that caught your eye. It was a simple, elegant piece, something you would never dare to wear in public. But as you held it against your body, a deep, amused voice whispered in your ear, "Your taste really is that bad."

Your heart jumped into your throat as you whirled around to face Jungkook, his eyes twinkling with mirth from behind a black mask and cap. "What are you doing here?" you hissed, your voice low so as not to attract attention.

"Shopping," he said, his tone flippant. "Is that not allowed?"

Your eyes widened as you noticed a small group of teenagers whispering and pointing in their direction. "Jungkook," you whispered urgently, tugging on his sleeve. "We need to leave. Now."

You took Jungkook's hand and pulled him into a sprint, your eyes darting around in panic. Jungkook, caught off guard, stumbled before catching up with you, his longer strides easily matching yours. "Why are we running?" he asked, breathless laughter in his voice.

"I think some people recognized you!" you hissed, your heart racing as you wove through the crowded street. The whispered squeals and gasps of the teenagers in the boutique had turned into a cacophony of excitement and camera clicks.

Jungkook chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "Oh, really?" He didn't sound concerned, more amused by your reaction. "Well, then, let's make this interesting." He took the lead, pulling you along behind him as he darted through the throngs of people, his grip on your hand firm and reassuring.

Before you knew it, they were ducking into a swanky hotel, the doors swishing shut behind them with a finality that sent another shiver down your spine. You glanced around the lobby, your eyes wide with surprise at the opulent surroundings. The gleaming marble floors and towering ceilings seemed to swallow them whole as they made their way to the elevators.

Jungkook didn't say a word, his grip on your hand tightening as they ascended to a floor that requires a keycard. He slid one into the slot, the green light flashing before the doors open to reveal a plush hallway. The air is thick with tension as they walked, the click of their shoes echoing off the walls.

Finally, they entered a room, and Jungkook locked the door behind them. You took in the space, your eyes darting around the room. It's not what you expected from a hotel suite; it's dimly lit with a strange array of items scattered about - candles, incense burners, and a set of handcuffs on the bedside table. Your heart raced as you tried to piece together the puzzle before you.

"Jungkook, don't you think this room is a little weird?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He walked over to the minibar, grabbing a bottle of water. Twisting the cap off, he took a long drink, watching you over the rim of the bottle. "What's weird, kitty?" he asked, his voice low and amused.

Your eyes fell to the bed, where a small, foil packet peeked out from the folded bedspread. "Oh, there," you said, reaching for it. "They give out free tea bags?"

Jungkook's laugh echoed through the room, a deep, rich sound that made your heart stumble in your chest. "Those aren't tea bags, kitty," he corrected, his voice low and smug. "They're condoms."

Your eyes widened in horror, your cheeks burning as you stared at the small foil packet in your hand. "What?" you squeaked, your eyes darting to the bed again, the implications of their presence hitting you like a sledgehammer.

With a dramatic flourish, you threw the condom at him. It hit Jungkook square in the face, sticking to his cheek as he spluttered in surprise. He pulled it away, his eyes glinting with amusement as he looked at you, the laughter bubbling in his chest.

"What's this... thing doing here?" you asked, your voice shaking as you held out the condom. You couldn't believe you were having this conversation.

Jungkook wiped the condom from his cheek, his laughter dying down. "If a love hotel doesn't have condoms, what's the point?" he retorted, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"Love hotel?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. The reality of the situation was sinking in, and you felt your stomach churn.

Jungkook's eyes widened in mock surprise, his hand coming to his chest. "Oh, you've never been to one before?" he teased, his voice a soft purr.

"It's not important now," you mumbled, your face burning red as you avoided Jungkook's gaze. "Why did you bring me to this... love hotel?" The words felt foreign and awkward on your tongue.

Jungkook shrugged, his eyes never leaving you. "Look around," he said, gesturing to the room. "There's an office building, a shopping mall, a cafe, a game center. So it's the perfect place to hide." His voice was low and soothing, as if he were explaining a simple fact. "And it's safe here."

"I'm leaving," you announced, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear.

Jungkook's smile didn't waver as he took a step closer to you. "Go ahead," he said, his voice like a silky threat. "But don't forget, there are people outside." His eyes flicked to the door, and you could see the challenge in them.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the reality of his words sinking in. If you tried to leave now, you'd be bombarded by fans and paparazzi, and you had no doubt Jungkook would make sure they knew you were with him. You felt trapped, like a butterfly pinned to a board, and you hated it.

With a resigned sigh, you said, "Fine," trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Jungkook's eyes lit up at your acquiescence, and you felt his gaze rake over you from feet to head, making your skin crawl. He didn't move to touch you, but his very presence was suffocating.

Needing a distraction, you reached for the TV remote and fumbled with the buttons. To your horror, a porn video flickered to life on the screen, the sounds of passion filling the room. Your face burned as you frantically tried to turn it off, but your trembling hands only succeeded in turning the volume up.

Jungkook's laughter was the last thing you expected, the rich, full sound bouncing off the walls as he watched your panic. "Relax, kitty," he said, his voice full of mirth. "It's just a little entertainment."

Your humiliation reached new heights, and you wanted to crawl under the bed and die. But instead, you took a deep breath and yanked the plug out of the wall, the TV screen going dark. The sudden silence was deafening, and you could feel Jungkook's gaze on you, his eyes gleaming with something you didn't dare name.

Your heart racing, you grabbed the first thing you saw - a glossy room service catalog. "How about we order something to eat?" you suggested, your voice shaking slightly. "It's been a while since breakfast."

Jungkook's eyes lit up with mischief as he took the catalog from you. "Oh, you've picked the wrong one, kitty," he said, his voice a low purr as he flipped through the pages.

You leaned over to see what he was looking at, and your eyes widened in shock. The pages were filled with explicit images of adult toys and lingerie. Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and you snatched the catalog away, your hands shaking. "This isn't what I meant!" you squeaked.

Jungkook's laugh was warm and deep, the sound sending a strange thrill through your body despite the situation. "Relax, kitty," he said, his voice soothing. "You can play normal games here too." He gestured to the game console on the shelf, a collection of innocent-looking video games next to it.

Your eyes followed his hand, the tension in the room easing slightly at his words. "Really?" you asked, your voice hopeful. Anything to get your mind off the darker implications of their surroundings.

Jungkook nodded, his smile never wavering as he picked up a controller. "Choose your weapon," he said, holding out the game selection.

Your eyes darted over the titles, your mind racing. "How about...uh, Super Smash Bros?" you suggested, hoping that you'd at least be decent at a game you'd played before.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You think you can beat me at my own game?" he challenged, his voice a playful taunt.

"Well, I have to try," you said, trying to sound braver than you felt. You took the controller, your palms already starting to sweat.

They played for hours, the tension between them easing as they shouted and laughed over the video game battles. But every time, Jungkook emerged the victor, his reflexes lightning-fast and his strategies unpredictable. You couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and annoyance at his skill.

"How do you do it?" you finally asked, throwing your controller down in frustration.

Jungkook smirked, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Practice," he said, his thumbs dancing over the controller. "And maybe a bit of natural talent."

You scoffed, crossing your arms. "Is there anything you're not good at?"

He paused the game, his gaze shifting to meet yours. "Plenty of things," he said, his voice serious. "But I don't let anyone see those."

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. It was the first time he'd shown anything other than confidence and arrogance. The vulnerability in his eyes was surprising, and it made your heart ache for him.

"Like what?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Jungkook leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Let's just say that when I'm in bed, it's not all sweetness and light," he said, his eyes darkening with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly turned your attention back to the game. "I think we should stick to the games," you said, your voice firm despite the sudden heat in the room.

Jungkook chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "As you wish, kitty," he said, his voice a low purr. He picked up his controller and continued to play, his movements deceptively casual.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of video games, laughter, and surprisingly friendly banter. Jungkook was a fierce competitor, but he was also surprisingly patient when explaining strategies and offering hints. You found yourself enjoying the time spent with him, despite the dark cloud that hung over their situation.

As the sun began to set, Jungkook's stomach rumbled, reminding them both that they hadn't eaten since the awkward breakfast at the restaurant. He set down his controller and picked up the room service menu, scanning it with a practiced eye. "I'll order us some food," he said, his voice still playful.

You nodded, your eyes glazed with exhaustion. "And some juice, please," you added, your voice faint. Jungkook raised an eyebrow but said nothing, picking up the phone to place the order.

After the food arrived, they continued playing games, the tension in the air dissipating with every laugh and playful taunt. Jungkook ordered a bottle of wine with their meal, and you, assuming it was just for show, didn't think twice about sipping from the glass he offered you. It was sweet, and you liked the way it made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Before you knew it, the room was spinning, and your eyes grew heavy. Jungkook's voice grew distant as he continued to speak, but you couldn't focus on his words. "Y/N?" he heard him say, his voice tinged with concern. But it was too late; you had already succumbed to the wine's potent embrace, your body going limp against the couch cushions.

Jungkook's eyes widened as he realized you had fallen asleep. He set the controller down, his heart racing as he leaned over you. "Kitty, wake up," he murmured, gently shaking your shoulder. But you remained unresponsive, your breathing deep and even.

With a sigh, he scooped you into his arms, your slight weight surprisingly comforting. He carried you out of the hotel, his eyes scanning the lobby for any signs of recognition. Thankfully, the fans and paparazzi had thinned out, and he was able to make his way to the parking garage without incident. He placed you in the backseat of his car, your head lolling to the side.

Once in his penthouse, Jungkook took you to the guest room. He laid you down gently on the bed, taking a moment to appreciate the softness of your features in the dim light. Your long lashes fluttered against your cheeks as you slept peacefully, your full lips slightly parted.

Jungkook sat on the edge of the bed, watching you for a few moments longer. With a quiet sigh, he stood up and moved to the door.

Before leaving, he took one last look at you. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting shadows across your face. He reached out, his fingertips grazing the hem of your shirt, then thought better of it. With a final, lingering glance, he stepped out, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The next morning, the harsh light of the sun pierced through your eyelids, and you slowly blinked your eyes open. Your head felt like it was full of cotton, and you had the faint taste of wine on your lips. You sat up, your body feeling heavy and uncoordinated. It took you a moment to remember where you were, and when you did, your heart raced.

Your eyes widened in shock when you saw Taehyung's sleeping form next to you in the bed. For a moment, you thought you must be dreaming. Carefully, you reached out and touched his face, his skin warm and smooth beneath your fingertips. His eyes snapped open, and he looked at you with a mix of confusion and surprise.

"What are you doing here?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. His hand shot out to pin your wrist to the mattress, his grip firm but not painful. "What game are you playing, getting into Jungkook's bed?"

Your heart raced as you tried to pull away from his grasp. "I-I don't know," you stammered, your mind racing. "Last I remember, I was in the love hotel with Jungkook, and then everything went black."

Taehyung's eyes narrowed as he sat up, his gaze piercing through the morning light. "Oh," he said, his voice cold and flat. "You're another one of Jungkook's playing girls." His words were like a slap to your face, leaving you stunned and hurt.

You tried to protest, your voice shaking with fear and embarrassment. "No, I'm not," you whispered, your eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Just shut up," Taehyung said, his voice like ice as he sat up in the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. "I know your type of girls very well." His eyes swept over you, and you could see the disdain in them. "But you dare to come into my bed?"

You started crying, the weight of his accusations too much to bear. You felt like you were drowning in his contempt, and you couldn't find the words to explain. "Please, I'm not," you choked out, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I never kissed anyone. I don't know how I got here."

Taehyung watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he reached out and wiped away your tears with his thumb, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Stop crying," he said, his voice softer now. "You're not making any sense."

Jungkook's voice echoed through the room, a mix of amusement and annoyance. "Ah, Taehyung, you always know how to make a girl cry," he said, his eyes flicking from you to his bandmate.

Taehyung shot him a glare, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly. "It's not like that," he said, his voice tight.

"Stop crying, kitty," Jungkook said, his voice a mix of amusement and annoyance as he leaned against the doorframe. His eyes danced with mischief as he took in Taehyung's tense posture and your tear-stained face. "Taehyung is like that with everyone."

Your eyes snapped up to him, and you yanked your hand away. "Stop calling me 'kitty'!" you spat out, your voice shaky with anger. You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand, feeling more humiliated than ever.

Jungkook's smile never wavered. "BTW, what are you doing in my house?" he asked, his tone casual.

Taehyung rolled his eyes and sighed. "I was tired after practice last night. Your place was the nearest, and I didn't know she was already here," he replied, his voice tight. "I just crashed in the guest room. Didn't know she was in there."

Jungkook's grin grew wider, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ah, so that's why you're in my bed, kitty," he said, his voice dripping with innuendo.

You felt a surge of anger and embarrassment. "Why did you bring me here?" you demanded, your voice shaking.

Jungkook's smile didn't falter as he shrugged. "You fell asleep, and I didn't want to leave you in that love hotel," he said, his tone light. "It's not exactly the safest place for a girl like you."

Your eyes narrowed. "A girl like me?" you echoed, your voice icy.

"You know," he said, his eyes sweeping over you. "Sweet, kind, and obviously inexperienced."

Your cheeks burned with indignation, and before you could stop yourself, you picked up a pillow and threw it at him. "Pervert!" you shouted.

But your aim was off, and the pillow smacked Taehyung square in the face as he rose from the bed, his eyes snapping to yours. "What the fuck?" he growled.

Your heart raced as you stared up at him, his eyes like twin storm clouds. "I-I didn't mean to," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook's smirk grew wider as he plucked the pillow from Taehyung's hand. "Look at you, getting feisty," he said, his voice a low purr. "But you have to be more careful, kitty. You might hurt someone with those wild swings."

You ignored his teasing and glanced at the clock, your heart sinking when you saw the time. "Oh no," you murmured, your voice barely audible. "I'm so late for work."

Jungkook's smirk grew as he caught your gaze. "Don't worry, kitty," he said, his voice like velvet. "I'll drop you off."

Taehyung looked over from where he was rummaging through Jungkook's fridge. "Jungkook," he called out, "order something, I'm starving."

Jungkook's expression tightened as he checked his phone. "Shit," he muttered, his thumb scrolling through the screen. "They're all backed up. It's going to take forever."

You sat up straighter, pushing the blankets aside. "I can cook something if you guys don't mind," you offered, your voice shaking slightly. "I've got to be quick, though."

Jungkook's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "You can cook?"

"Yeah," you said, your voice small. "It's my passion."

Taehyung looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised. "Well, then cook fast," he said, his voice laced with challenge.

You nodded, slipping out of bed and making your way to the kitchen. You moved quickly, your mind racing with recipes you could whip up in a flash. You decided on pancakes, eggs, and bacon – simple, filling, and quick. You found all the necessary ingredients in Jungkook's well-stocked pantry and got to work, your hands shaking slightly from the hangover and the tension in the air.

Jungkook and Taehyung watched you with a mix of curiosity and amusement, their eyes never leaving you as you moved around the kitchen. You could feel their gazes on you, and it only added to your anxiety.

In record time, you had a steaming stack of pancakes, perfectly golden eggs, and crispy bacon sizzling on a plate. You set it down on the kitchen counter, your hands trembling slightly as you offered it to them. "Here," you said, your voice small.

Taehyung and Jungkook stared at the food, their eyes wide with surprise. "You're really good," Jungkook said, his voice genuine as he took a bite of the pancake. His eyes closed in pleasure, and you felt a small burst of pride.

Taehyung grabbed a piece of bacon and popped it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. "Mm," he murmured, his eyes darkening slightly. "This is amazing."

"Thank you by the way, Taehyung," you said, your voice still shaking slightly. "How was that strawberry cake?"

The tension in the room was palpable, but Taehyung's eyes softened at your question. "It was really tasty," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a strange warmth through you.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening. "That cake," he started, his voice filled with accusation, but before he could finish his sentence, Taehyung's foot connected with his shin with a sharp crack.

"Ow!" Jungkook yelped, his eyes watering with pain. He glared at Taehyung, rubbing his leg. "What the fuck, hyung?"

Taehyung's smile was cold as ice as he met Jungkook's gaze. "You're welcome," he said, his eyes never leaving you. "Now, let's eat before it gets cold."

A New Opportunity
Later that evening at BigHit, you sat at your desk, your mind racing. The encounter with Jungkook and Taehyung played on repeat in your mind, leaving you feeling like a yo-yo of emotions. The quiet hum of the office was a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few hours. You tried to focus on the paperwork in front of you, but it was like trying to read through a fog.

"Y/N," Minseo's voice broke through the silence, making you jump. "The CEO wants to see you."

Your heart plummeted to your stomach, and you could feel the blood drain from your face. "M-me?" you stuttered, your voice shaking. "Why?"

Minseo gave you a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry," she said, her voice soothing. "I'm sure it's nothing bad. You've been working hard lately."

You nodded, trying to convince yourself that everything was fine, but you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled in your chest. You stood up on wobbly legs and followed Minseo to the CEO's office, your mind racing with scenarios of what might await you.

The CEO's door was open, and you could see him sitting at his desk, his eyes focused on a stack of papers. His expression was unreadable as you approached, but the way he looked up at you made your knees feel like jelly.

"Come in, Y/N," he said, his voice firm. "Close the door behind you."

Your heart raced as you stepped into the plush office, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing in your ears like a gunshot. The CEO looked up from his paperwork and offered you a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk.

The CEO leaned back in his chair, his gaze piercing through you. "We've decided to offer you a permanent position," he said, his tone final. "You'll be one of BTS's personal assistants."

You felt like you had been punched in the gut. "But I'm just an intern," you managed to croak out. "My resume isn't even for being a personal assistant."

The CEO's smile grew wider, but it was cold, like a shark's smile. "You can't deny the offer," he said, his eyes glinting. "It's a special request. From someone very important."

"From who?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Chapter Text

The CEO's smile grew wider, but it was cold, like a shark's smile. "You can't deny the offer," he said, his eyes glinting. "It's a special request. From someone very important."

"From who?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"It's me," said a voice from behind you. You spun around in your chair, your eyes widening when you saw Taehyung standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. His gaze was intense, and you could feel the weight of his stare like a physical touch.

The CEO nodded. "Mr. Kim here," he said, gesturing to Taehyung, "has taken an interest in your work and has requested that you be his personal assistant."

Taehyung's eyes never left yours as he spoke, his voice like velvet. "Thank you for considering my request," he said, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

The CEO's smile was knowing as he nodded at Taehyung. "It's not often we get requests from our artists," he said, his tone suggesting that this was a rare honor. "But your dedication to the company is commendable, and we're happy to accommodate."

You felt your mouth open and close like a fish as you tried to find the words to protest. But before you could say anything, Taehyung was there, his hand on your shoulder. "Thank you," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I'll make sure she does her best."

The CEO nodded, his gaze lingering on them for a moment longer before he returned to his paperwork. "Good," he said, his tone final. "I expect nothing less."

You stumbled out of the CEO's office, your legs feeling like they could give out beneath you at any moment. You couldn't believe what had just happened. Taehyung had requested you as his personal assistant?

"Why me?" you blurted out, spinning to face him. "I'm not capable of handling this kind of responsibility!"

Taehyung's expression remained unflappable, his hand reaching out to gently place a finger over your trembling lips. "Please," he murmured, his voice a soft caress. "Take good care of me, my assistance."

Your face grew hotter as you felt his touch, and you were unable to formulate a coherent response. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your knees wobble. The room spun around you, and you knew that you were blushing furiously.

"Your red face is really cute," Taehyung murmured, his hand dropping to his side. The corners of his lips twitched upward in a smirk that was both infectious and disarming. "So, work hard from tomorrow. Being my personal assistant isn't going to be an easy thing."

Your heart raced as you nodded, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. You would be Taehyung's personal assistant, working closely with someone you had once only admired from afar. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating, and you knew that you would have to be on your toes every moment.

That evening, Minseo invited you to a quiet restaurant to celebrate your new position. The dim lighting and soothing music did little to calm your nerves as you picked at your food, your thoughts swirling around Taehyung's enigmatic behavior.

"You seem upset, Y/N," Minseo observed, her eyes filled with concern. She took a sip of her drink, setting it down with a gentle clink on the table. "You've just been promoted to work closely with one of the most handsome and talented members of BTS. What's bothering you?"

Your cheeks flushed, and you fidgeted with your napkin. "I'm not upset," you insisted, your voice shaky. "I'm just... surprised." You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "It's just that whenever I see Taehyung, my heart races, and I can't think straight."

Minseo's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh," she said, her voice gentle. "It's like that, is it?"

You nodded, your eyes downcast. "It's so embarrassing," you murmured. "I can't even talk to him without stuttering."

Minseo's smile was warm and knowing. "It's normal to feel that way around someone you admire," she said, her voice soothing. "But remember, Taehyung is a person too. And from what I've seen, he can be quite... understanding."

You nodded, trying to push your fears aside. "I know," you murmured. "But I'm scared. What if he thinks I'm some kind of stalker?"

Minseo reached over and patted your hand gently. "Trust me, Taehyung can handle himself," she assured you. "Just be professional and honest. He'll see that you're not like that."

You took a deep breath, nodding slowly. "You're right," you whispered, trying to convince yourself. "I can do this."

After dinner, you walked to the bus stop, your mind still racing with thoughts of Taehyung. As you approached, you noticed a group of girls huddled around a dumpster, laughing. Your eyes widened in shock when you saw them tossing a crumpled BTS album into the bin.

Your heart swelled with indignation, and you couldn't hold back your protest. "Hey!" you shouted, your voice echoing through the empty street. "What are you doing to their album?"

The girls' laughter stopped abruptly, and they turned to face you, their expressions a mix of surprise and contempt. "What's it to you?" one of them sneered, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"It's just disrespectful," you said, your voice firm despite your trembling. "They're people's hard work, and you're treating it like trash."

The girls exchanged looks, their smirks widening. "Oh, you're one of those crazy fans," another one said, her tone mocking. "You should get over it. They're just a boy band."

Your eyes narrowed, your hands balling into fists at your sides. "They're more than that," you said, your voice rising. "They're artists, and you're just a bunch of disrespectful—"

But before you could finish, the girls were retreating, their laughter echoing through the night as they disappeared around the corner. "Psycho," one of them called back, their footsteps fading into the distance.

You felt a lump form in your throat as you approached the dumpster, tears stinging your eyes. With trembling hands, you reached into the bin and pulled out the crumpled BTS album, holding it close to your chest as if it were a piece of yourself that had been discarded. The cover was smudged with dirt and grime, but you could still see the boys' smiling faces through the mess.

As you cradled the album, a voice spoke up from behind you, "Why are you crying over that? It's just a piece of cardboard with some songs on it."

Your eyes remained fixed on the album, ignoring the judgment in the stranger's tone. "For me," you whispered, your voice cracking, "it's not just an album."

The voice grew closer, and you felt a warm hand touch your shoulder. You didn't look up, the weight of your emotions too heavy to allow a stranger's comfort. "You know, there are people who can't even dream of owning something like this," you said, your voice thick with unshed tears. "I'm crying because I know how much it means to some fans, how much they would cherish it if they could."

'What are you going to do with this album now?' The question hung in the air, a challenge wrapped in nonchalance. You took a deep breath and turned to face the stranger, your eyes blurry with unshed tears. 'I will give it to an ARMY who will truly value it,' you replied with determination, your voice stronger than you felt.

The hand on your shoulder retreated, and you heard a soft chuckle. 'Then I should give you my autograph to make it more special,' the voice said, amusement lacing the words. You blinked rapidly, wiping at your eyes to clear your vision.

As your gaze met Jimin's, you realized who the stranger was. He looked down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. You stared at him for a moment, shock rendering you speechless. The album fell slightly from your grasp as you tried to process the absurdity of the situation.

"Jimin," you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jimin's smirk grew, and he leaned closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently wipe a tear from your cheek. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and his thumb brushed against your skin with a tender warmth that made your heart stutter. "It's okay," he murmured, his eyes softening. "I get it."

Without another word, he took the album from your trembling hands, his thumbs tracing over the crumpled cover before flipping it open to the first page. He pulled out a pen from his pocket and began to scribble something inside, his eyes focused on his task. You watched him, still unable to fully comprehend what was happening.

Once he was done, he handed the album back to you, his signature scrawled across the glossy surface in bold letters. "There," he said, his voice low. "Now it's something truly special."

You looked up at him, your eyes still wide with shock. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jimin's smile grew wider, and before you could react, he leaned in and whipped your bottom lip with his thumb, his eyes locked on yours. He brought his thumb to his mouth and licked it clean, his gaze never leaving yours. "I'll take this as thanks," he said, his voice a low purr that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your face burned, and you stumbled backward, the album clutched to your chest. "W-what do you mean?" you stammered, your voice barely a whisper.

Jimin's eyes danced with amusement. "See you tomorrow, baby," he said, his voice playful and filled with promise. He winked before turning to leave, his footsteps echoing through the empty street as he disappeared into the night.

You stood there, rooted to the spot, your heart racing. What had just happened? You looked down at the album, Jimin's autograph staring back at you like a glossy declaration of his intent.

On the other side of the city, in the sleek interior of a luxurious car, Jimin sat behind the wheel, a smug smile playing on his lips as he thought about his encounter with the intern, Y/N. His mind wandered back to the cafeteria the previous day when he had caught her stumbling over her words and blushing at his flirtatious banter. He couldn't help but feel a thrill at the thought of someone so innocent getting flustered by his mere presence.

"That's the girl you were trying to hit on in the cafeteria yesterday, isn't it?" Suga's voice cut through the silence, his eyes meeting Jimin's in the rearview mirror.

Jimin's smirk grew as he nodded. "Yeah, that's the one," he admitted, his eyes glazing over with mischief. "So innocent and so clueless. It's adorable."

"Adorable?" Suga echoed, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Since when do you go for the innocent type, Jimin?"

Jimin chuckled, his eyes still on the road ahead. "Since I realized it's more fun to corrupt than to chase after jaded hearts," he replied, his voice dripping with a challenge.

Suga leaned back in his seat, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Taehyung asked the CEO to make her his personal assistant" he repeated, his voice filled with disbelief.

"What nonsense is this?" Jimin exclaimed as soon as he and Suga stepped into the BTS dorm. The living room was alive with the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses, the other members lounging on the couches and chairs, drinks in hand. "Tae, you told me you weren't interested in her, so why did you ask the CEO to make her your personal assistant?"

Taehyung looked up from his laptop, his expression unreadable. "It's entertainment," he replied with a shrug, his voice as cool as the air conditioning in the room. "Watching her squirm and blush is more amusing than any TV show."

J-Hope's eyes widened, his mouth forming an 'o' of surprise. "Wow, wow," he said, his voice rising in pitch. "Our Taehyung getting interesting in a girl? That's rare." The room fell silent for a beat before erupting into laughter, the tension briefly dissipating.

But Taehyung's expression remained unchanged. "It's not like that," he said, his voice firm.

"Which girl?" Jungkook repeated, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer to the group.

Suga nodded toward the retreating figures. "The new intern," he clarified, his voice tinged with amusement. "Y/N."

Jungkook's smile dropped, his eyes flashing with something that looked dangerously close to anger. "What the hell, Tae?" he spat out, his voice low and venomous. "That girl is mine."

"When did she become your Jungkook?" Jimin's question hung in the air, his voice a blend of curiosity and challenge as he looked at Jungkook with a smirk.

Jungkook's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with something akin to annoyance. "When my eyes fell on her," he replied, his voice a low growl.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between the two of them. "I don't have any problem in sharing," he said with a shrug, his voice deceptively casual.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed at Taehyung's nonchalant remark. "Why would you think that?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You know I don't share."

Taehyung's smile grew sly. "Come on, Jungkook," he cajoled, his eyes flicking over to Jimin, who was watching the exchange with an amused expression. "It'll be fun, won't it, Jimin?"

"Mm," Jimin hummed thoughtfully, his gaze shifting to Jungkook. "It might be entertaining."

Jungkook rolled his eyes at Jimin's words, his jaw tightening. "You're always looking for trouble," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jin looked at Namjoon, who was leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded, his expression unreadable. "We should stop them," he suggested, his voice a mix of concern and exasperation.

Namjoon sighed, his eyes meeting Jungkook's. "You know they never listen to us," he said, shaking his head slightly. "But if she gets hurt, it'll be on us."

The next day, you arrived at BigHit with your stomach in knots, the weight of your new role pressing down on your shoulders. You had barely stepped foot in the building when you were approached by Taehyung's manager, a stern-looking woman with a clipboard and a no-nonsense attitude. "You must be the new assistant," she said, her voice as sharp as the edges of the clipboard.

Your hands trembled as you nodded. "Yes," you managed to squeak out, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "Y/N."

The woman barely spared you a glance. "Taehyung is a very busy man," she said, her eyes scanning over a list of names and times. "You will be responsible for keeping his schedule, handling his personal affairs, and ensuring that he is prepared for every engagement. Do you understand?"

You nodded again, your voice still trapped in your throat. "I understand," you whispered.

"Good," she barked, her eyes finally meeting yours. "Follow me." She turned on her heel and marched away, and you had to hurry to keep up with her brisk pace. She led you through the maze of hallways and doors until you arrived at Taehyung's dressing room.

"Knock and enter," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument. You took a deep breath and did as you were told, your heart thumping in your chest as the door swung open. Taehyung was sitting in front of the mirror, his eyes focused on his reflection as he applied his makeup.

"You're here," he said, not bothering to look up. His voice was cool, almost dismissive.

"Ye-yeah," you managed to say, your voice shaking slightly. You stepped into the room, feeling like you were intruding on a sacred space.

Taehyung's manager nodded curtly before turning to leave. "Remember, she's your responsibility," she tossed over her shoulder, the clack of her heels echoing down the hallway.

Alone with Taehyung, you felt a wave of anxiety wash over you. You took a deep breath and stepped closer to him, trying to compose yourself. "Taehyung-ssi," you began, using the formal address. "What would you like me to do first?"

He looked up at you through the mirror, his gaze meeting yours with a piercing intensity that made your stomach flutter. "You can start by calling me Tae," he said, his voice low and smooth. "We're going to be spending a lot of time together, and that formality is going to get old really fast."

You nodded, trying to hide your nerves. "Okay, Tae," you said, your voice a whisper.

He turned to face you, setting his makeup brush down. "Now, listen carefully," he began, his eyes never leaving yours. "I expect you to take care of every little thing. That means my food, my clothes, my schedule—everything. Do you think you can handle that?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. "Y-yes," you stuttered, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'll do my best."

Taehyung's gaze softened slightly, his expression unreadable. "Good," he said, standing up. He approached you, his tall frame looming over you, making you feel even smaller than you already did. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. "Because if you don't," he whispered, his breath tickling your neck, "you'll have to deal with me."

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you nodded again, trying to ignore the shiver that danced down your spine. As he pulled away, you took a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. "I'll make sure everything is perfect," you assured him, your voice stronger than before.

Taehyung's eyes searched yours for a moment before he nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Good," he said, his voice still low. "Now, it's time for my workout. You're coming with me."

You blinked, surprised by his sudden change of subject. "Workout?" you repeated, your voice still shaky.

"Yes," Taehyung said, his tone firm as he grabbed a towel and headed for the door. "You're my assistant now. That means you're part of the team, and the team takes care of each other."

You quickly followed, your thoughts racing. This was definitely not what you had expected your first day as a personal assistant to be like. As you entered the gym, the other members looked up from their various workout stations, their eyes widening when they saw you. Jungkook was bench pressing weights, his muscles straining under the effort, while Jimin was doing pull-ups, his abs rippling with each smooth motion.

Jimin's eyes met yours, a smug smile playing on his lips as he winked. Your face grew hot, and you felt your cheeks redden under his scrutiny. You looked away, your gaze settling on Jungkook, who had paused mid-lift, his eyes narrowing at the sight of you. The room seemed to close in on you, the air thick with unspoken tension.

"Y/N," Taehyung's voice broke through the silence, and you jumped slightly. He was standing in front of you, a towel slung over his shoulder. "Could you get me some water and food, please?" he asked, his tone still casual despite the intensity of his gaze.

You nodded, eager to have something to do to distract yourself from the tension in the room. "Of course," you said, your voice still shaky.

As you turned to leave, J-Hope called after you. "Hey, Y/N, if you don't have a problem with it, could you grab some food for us?" His smile was genuine, and it helped to ease some of the tension coiled in your stomach.

Taehyung's gaze flicked over to J-Hope, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Hyung," he said, his voice low. "She's my personal assistant."

J-Hope chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, come on, Tae," he said, walking over to you and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You don't mind, do you?"

You looked between them, feeling torn. "No," you said finally, managing a small smile. "It's fine."

With that, J-Hope turned to Jungkook, his eyes dancing with excitement. "Great, we're all set for lunch then!"

Yet as you took a step toward the gym exit, Jungkook's voice stopped you cold. "Hey, Kitty," he called out, his tone smooth like velvet over gravel. You felt his hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you gently but firmly into his dressing room. The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly the world outside felt very far away.

"Miss Stalker," Jungkook murmured, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly. His voice was low and playful, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "What did you do to make Taehyung interested in you?"

You tried to pull away, but his grasp was firm. "I didn't do anything," you protested, feeling your face heat up. "I'm not a stalker."

Jungkook's smile grew wider, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, I know," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's just so convenient that you're suddenly Tae's personal assistant." He released your wrist, his hands moving to your shoulders instead, turning you to face him. "What did you do to charm him?"

You rolled your eyes, his words grating on your nerves. "I don't have to explain myself to you," you said firmly, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Jungkook's smile grew into a full-blown grin, his eyes lighting up with mischief. "I'm just saying," he said, his thumbs rubbing circles on your shoulders, "you've got some spunk in you."

You stared at him, his words sinking in. "What do you mean by that?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Jungkook stepped closer, his grin never wavering. "Just what I said," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "I want to be the first to claim everything of yours, kitty." His hands slid down your arms to your waist, his grip firm and possessive. "Your first kiss, your virginity—everything."

You pushed against his chest, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing. "What makes you think I'd ever agree to that?" you demanded, your voice shaking with anger and fear. Jungkook's smile grew even wider, his eyes gleaming with excitement at your challenge.

"Be my girlfriend, Y/N," Jungkook murmured, his breath hot against your neck as he pulled you closer. His eyes searched yours, a smug certainty in his gaze that you would happily throw yourself at him at the mere mention of the word 'relationship'.

But you had had enough. You stepped back, planting your hands firmly on his chest and pushing him away. "I'm sorry, Jungkook," you said, your voice steady despite the tremble in your hands. "I'm not interested."

Jungkook's smile faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing in surprise. "What?" he repeated, as if he hadn't heard you correctly.

"I said," you emphasized, taking another step back, "I'm not interested in you that way." You turned to leave, the need to escape his overbearing presence growing more urgent with each passing second.

"Wait," Jungkook's voice stopped you again, this time softer, with a hint of confusion. "What do you mean?" His hands fell to his sides, his eyes searching yours for an explanation.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain without causing a scene. "I mean that I'm here to do my job," you said firmly, "and that's it." You stepped around him, heading for the door. "I need to get back to work."

The day passed in a blur of activity, with Taehyung's schedule keeping you on your toes. Every time he got a little too close, your heart would stumble in your chest, the memory of Jungkook's words echoing in your mind. You tried to focus on the tasks at hand, but it was difficult with the constant reminder of the tension that had settled in the air.

As Taehyung moved from one appointment to the next, you found yourself acutely aware of his proximity. His hand brushing against yours as you passed him a water bottle, his breath ghosting over your ear when he whispered instructions—each touch sent your pulse racing, and you couldn't help but wonder if he noticed your reaction.

In the back of your mind, you knew you were walking a fine line between professional and personal. But every time Taehyung's eyes met yours, filled with an intensity that seemed to see straight through you, you felt like you were teetering on the edge of something much more dangerous.

As the day drew to a close and the last of the meetings were over, you found yourself walking home, lost in thought. Jungkook's words played on repeat in your head: "Your first kiss, your virginity—everything." Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you remembered how confident he'd been, as if he already owned you. But the realization that hit you like a sledgehammer was the fact that Jimin had seen you at your most vulnerable—without clothes, and in a state of panic. Had he really stolen your first kiss? The thought made your stomach twist into knots.

Your phone rang, jolting you out of your thoughts. You fumbled in your pocket and pulled it out, your heart skipping a beat when you saw Taehyung's name on the screen. You took a deep breath and answered, "Hello?"

"Where are you?" His voice was urgent, a hint of something else that you couldn't quite place.

"I'm on my way home," you replied, your voice shaky. You didn't dare ask why he was calling you so late.

"Come to my house," Taehyung said, his voice brooking no argument. "I'm sending you the address."

The line went dead, and you stared at your phone in shock. What had just happened? You had no idea why he would want you to come to his house, but you knew you couldn't refuse. With trembling hands, you typed in the address he had sent and hoped for the best.

When you finally arrived at Taehyung's sleek, modern abode, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and dread. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever was about to come next. The door swung open before you had a chance to knock, and Taehyung's cool gaze met yours. He looked as unflappable as ever, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes—curiosity, maybe?

"You're here," he said, his voice as smooth as the marble floors beneath your feet. He stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter. "Come in."

You took a tentative step over the threshold, your eyes scanning the opulent space. The living room was vast, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a stunning view of the city lights. A grand piano sat in the corner, looking untouched and gleaming under the soft glow of the pendant lights above. The place screamed wealth and success, and you felt more out of place than ever.

Taehyung's smile grew wider as he closed the door behind you. "You know, it's your first day as my personal assistant," he said, his tone teasing. "And you haven't done your job properly."

You blinked, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice small.

Taehyung's smile grew, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "I told you," he repeated, his eyes twinkling as he stepped closer. "Your duty is to take care of me. And that includes cooking for me."

You blinked up at him, feeling the heat from his body seeping into yours. "But I thought personal assistants didn't do that," you protested weakly.

Taehyung stepped closer, his Tae Tae face in full force—eyes wide, smile hopeful. "Please, Y/N," he said, his voice dripping with sweetness. "You saw what happened today. The fans, the interviews—it was overwhelming."

You couldn't help but melt a little at his pleading. The Tae Tae face was legendary among ARMYs for its ability to get what it wanted, and now it was directed at you. "Okay," you relented, your voice barely a whisper. "What would you like me to cook?"

"Anything," Taehyung said, his smile growing even wider. "But I trust your judgment. Surprise me."

You nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement in your stomach. You had always loved cooking, and the thought of cooking for Taehyung was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. You followed him into the kitchen, your eyes taking in the state-of-the-art appliances and the spotless countertops. Taehyung pulled out a chair for you at the kitchen island, watching as you perused the fridge and cabinets for ingredients.

After much deliberation, you decided on a simple but flavorful meal: stir-fried noodles with chicken and vegetables. You moved with quiet confidence around the kitchen, your movements sure and precise as you chopped and sautéed. Taehyung remained in the background, his eyes never leaving you. You could feel his gaze like a warm embrace, but you tried to ignore it, focusing on the task at hand.

Once the food was ready, you placed a steaming plate in front of him, your heart racing as you awaited his reaction. Taehyung took a bite, his eyes closing in pleasure. "This is amazing," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I can't believe you cooked this."

You ducked your head, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "Thank you," you mumbled, trying to ignore the way your stomach flip-flopped at his praise.

He took another bite, his eyes opening to meet yours. "Every time I get hungry," he said, his voice low and earnest, "I want you to cook for me, okay?"

You looked up from your plate, surprise coloring your features. "But, Tae," you began, unsure how to voice your concerns without offending him.

Taehyung's eyes searched yours, his expression unyielding. "Please, Y/N," he said, placing the spoon in his mouth and speaking around the mouthful of noodles. "You have no idea how much I enjoyed this."

You nodded, watching as he took another bite, his eyes never leaving yours. "Okay," you agreed, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. As much as you wanted to deny it, the idea of cooking for him, taking care of him, filled you with a strange sense of warmth. It was as if you were giving him a piece of yourself, a part of your love for him, wrapped up in every bite.

As you both ate in relative silence, your thoughts swirled around you like a tornado. How had this happened? You had only been his assistant for a day, and already you were cooking for him in his own home. And not just any home—this was Taehyung's personal sanctuary, a place you never thought you'd see outside of a glossy magazine spread.

You found yourself staring at him, his every move mesmerizing. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at something on his phone, the gentle curve of his smile when he took another bite of your food, the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed—it was all too much. You knew you couldn't love someone like Taehyung, not when he was so out of reach. But the way your heart felt in your chest, the way your stomach fluttered every time he looked at you—it was hard to deny that what you felt was anything short of love.

Yet, you also knew that you couldn't cross that line. You were his assistant, not his girlfriend. You had to keep your feelings in check, no matter how much your heart screamed otherwise. You took a deep breath, pushing the thought away as you cleared the dishes. "I should be going," you said softly, trying to ignore the way your voice cracked with unshed emotion.

Taehyung looked up at you, his expression unreadable. "You don't have to," he said, his voice gentle. "You can stay."

You felt your heart skip a beat at the invitation. Stay here, in his house? With him? But you knew better.

Meanwhile at the gym, Jungkook was in the middle of an intense boxing practice with his coach. Each punch he threw was fueled by anger and frustration, the name 'Y/N' echoing in his thoughts like a mantra.

He remembered the way she had slapped him twice, and now, she had the audacity to reject his proposal. The room around him was a blur as he threw jab after jab, his fists connecting with the heavy bag with a satisfying thwack. The coach could see the rage in Jungkook's eyes and knew that he was on the edge of losing control.

"Take a break, Jungkook," the coach called out, his voice stern. Jungkook ignored him, his focus solely on the rhythm of his fists meeting the leather. The coach took a step closer, placing a firm hand on Jungkook's shoulder to stop him.

"I said, take a break," the coach repeated, his voice louder now. Jungkook spun around, his fist flying towards the coach's face. The coach barely had time to react before Jungkook's knuckles connected with his hand, the force of the blow making him wince.

"Jungkook!" The coach's voice was a mix of pain and surprise. Jungkook took a step back, his chest heaving as he stared at his coach's reddening hand. The room had gone silent, the only sound the echo of his fists hitting the bag.

"I'm sorry," Jungkook murmured, his voice tight with anger and regret. He turned away, not wanting to face the disappointment in the coach's eyes. He knew he had crossed a line—his possessive nature over Y/N had gotten the better of him. He needed to get a grip before he did something he would truly regret.

Chapter Text

Taehyung's eyes followed you as you gathered your things, his expression a mix of disappointment and something you couldn't quite read. "I'll drive you home," he offered, standing up and walking over to you. You felt a jolt of warmth at his nearness, but you knew you had to keep your distance.

"No, thank you," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'll just take the bus."

Before Taehyung could protest, the doorbell rang, the sound piercing the silence like a gunshot. Taehyung's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he glanced at the time. "It's late," he said, frowning. "Who could that be?"
He walked over to the door, and you watched with bated breath as he swung it open. Standing in the doorway was Jimin, his eyes wide as they took in the scene before him. "Tae," he began, his voice a mix of confusion and irritation. "Why did it take you so long to open the door?"

Taehyung's eyes narrowed slightly as he stepped aside, revealing you standing there with your bag packed. "Jimin," he said, his voice even. "What brings you here?"

Jimin's gaze flicked over to you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Wow," he said, his eyes lingering on your flushed cheeks. "Your little assistant is going to be here, too?"

You felt your face heat up even more under Jimin's scrutiny, and you wished the floor would just swallow you whole. "I was just leaving," you mumbled, trying to slip past them both.

But Jimin was quicker. He stepped in front of you, blocking your path with a playful smile. "Let me drop you home, Y/N," he said, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Taehyung's expression darkened at the suggestion, his jaw tightening. "No, she's fine," he said firmly. "She can take the bus."

Jimin's smile grew wider, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Come on," he said, reaching out to grab your arm. "I'll make sure she gets home safe. Besides, I haven't had the chance to really talk to her since the whole club incident."

Taehyung's eyes flashed, the tension in the room growing palpable. "What club incident?" he demanded, his gaze boring into Jimin.

Jimin's smirk faltered for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak. But you couldn't let the situation spiral out of control—not again. You placed a firm hand over Jimin's mouth, silencing him. "It's nothing, Tae," you said quickly, your voice shaky. "Really, it's just a misunderstanding."

Taehyung's gaze flickered between the two of you, his eyes narrowing. "Misunderstanding?" he repeated, his voice tight. You nodded, hoping he would buy it. "Jimin was just being friendly," you added, giving Jimin a pleading look. He rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement, his hand coming up to gently pry your fingers away from his lips.

"It's getting late," you said, your voice firm despite the tremor. "Jimin said he'd drop me off." You didn't give Taehyung a chance to protest. You grabbed your bag and slipped past him, your heart racing as you felt his eyes on your back. "Thank you for dinner," you called over your shoulder, hoping it sounded more casual .

Ones outside, Jimin's playful grin remained as he opened the door to his sleek sports car. "Hop in, I'll drop you off," he said, his tone light and teasing. You couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and relief as you slid into the passenger seat, the cool leather a stark contrast to the heat still pooling in your cheeks.

As he pulled away from the curb, you glanced at the bag he'd handed you. "What is this?" you asked, your voice a little shaky. Jimin's smile grew wider as he glanced over at you. "Just a little something I picked up from the hotel," he said, his voice low and playful. "I thought you might need it."

You looked down and saw the familiar flash of fabric peeking out of the bag. Your face went up in flames as you realized it was your underwear and bra from that fateful day. "Jimin," you whispered, your voice hoarse with embarrassment. "Why do you have these?"

Jimin's eyes darted over to you, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "You left them in the hotel room," he said, his tone casual yet laced with an unspoken challenge. "How could I leave such personal items behind?"

Your cheeks burned hotter. "Why didn't you just give them to me when you saw me at work?" you demanded, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

He shrugged, his eyes back on the road. "I figured it was better to give them back in person," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "Plus, it gave me an excuse to see you again."

You take a deep, steadying breath, the cool evening air doing little to calm your racing heart. "Jimin," you say, turning to face him, "can I ask you something?"

He nods, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the car. "Sure, darling," he says, the endearment rolling off his tongue so naturally it sends a shiver down your spine.

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words to ask your question without betraying the turmoil inside you. "That night at the club," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "When you... took me to the hotel. Nothing happened between us, right?"

Jimin's eyes flick to you briefly before returning to the road ahead. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel, the leather creaking under his grip. "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice deceptively casual.

"I just want to clarify," you say, your voice stronger now. "Did you kiss me that night?" The question hangs in the air, thick and heavy like the humidity outside.

Jimin glances at you, his expression unreadable in the dim car light. "Why are you asking, Y/N?" he repeats, his voice holding a hint of challenge.

You look down at your clasped hands, fidgeting with your fingers. "Because I never kiss anyone," you murmur, the words barely leaving your lips. "So if that was my first kiss, I just... I just want to know."

Jimin laughs, the sound rich and deep, sending a shiver down your spine. "You're just like me, Y/N," he says, his eyes on the road.

You frown up at him, not understanding his sudden change in demeanor. "What do you mean?"

Jimin's smile turns into a smirk as he glances at you, his eyes glinting with something you can't quite pinpoint. "I don't kiss just anyone, darling," he says, his voice a low purr. "My kisses are reserved for someone special."

"So you don't kiss just anyone," you repeat, your voice barely a whisper as you try to process his words. Jimin nods, his smirk still playing on his lips.

"Exactly," he says, his voice low and velvety. "But when I do decide to kiss someone," he adds, his eyes lingering on your mouth, "it's going to be special."

"So you sleep with girls but don't kiss anyone yet," you murmur, the words a soft echo in the tension-filled silence. Jimin's playfulness evaporates, and he nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Yeah," he confirms, his voice dropping to a whisper that sends a shiver down your spine. "It's true."

"It is unbelievable," you murmur, your voice barely audible over the low purr of the engine. Jimin's revelation hangs in the air between you, thick with the scent of his cologne and the unspoken tension. You swallow hard, trying to digest his words.

"Why is it so hard to believe?" Jimin asks, his eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror. His expression is unreadable, but there's a challenge in his tone. "If you can save your first kiss for someone special, why can't I do the same?"

You look away, staring out the window at the passing streetlights. "I didn't say it was wrong," you reply, your voice small. "It's just... unexpected."

Jimin laughs, the sound short and devoid of humor. "Is it?" he asks, his eyes back on the road. "Because to me, it's the most natural thing in the world."

You nod, not knowing what to say. The car rides on in silence for a few moments, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. You can't shake the feeling that he's baiting you, waiting for a reaction. "What's your type?" you blurt out, desperately trying to change the subject.

Jimin's smile widens, a spark of mischief in his eyes as he glances over at you. "Someone sweet," he says, his voice a purr. "Someone who understands me, who knows when to laugh at my jokes and when to be serious."

You can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. "That's all?" you ask, trying to keep the conversation light.

"No," he says, his gaze lingering on your face. "Someone who isn't afraid to challenge me. Who won't be swayed by my charm or my status." He looks back at the road, his expression unreadable. "Someone who can handle me."

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words. "And is that all?" you ask, trying to keep your voice casual.

Jimin's smile widens. "No," he says, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror again. "Someone who loves me for who I am, not just because I'm Jimin from BTS."

You nod, his words resonating with you. "That's important," you murmur, looking away from his gaze. "But it's not always easy to find, is it?"

"No," Jimin agrees, his tone solemn now. "But when you do, it's worth the wait."

The car pulls up to the curb outside your apartment building, the headlights casting an orange glow on the sidewalk. Your heart feels like it's in your throat as Jimin puts the car in park. He turns to you, his smile gentle. "Here we are," he says, his voice soft. "Home sweet home."

You fumble with your seatbelt, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips at his words. "Thank you for the ride," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Suddenly, Jimin's hand is there, his fingers deftly unclipping the seatbelt for you. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through your body, and you fight the urge to lean into his warmth. He smiles, his eyes never leaving yours. "Anytime, darling," he says, his voice a low murmur.

As he helps you out of the car, his hand lingers on your arm for a beat too long, his touch feather-light. You can feel the heat of his palm seep through your skin, and it's all you can do not to shiver. "Thank you," you murmur again, pulling away and stepping onto the sidewalk.

Jimin's eyes follow you, his smile still in place. "Y/N," he says, his voice a soft caress. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. "What?" you squeak, trying to play it cool.

Jimin's smile turns knowing, his eyes dancing in the soft light of the street lamp. "Oh, come on, Y/N," he teases, leaning against the car. "You don't remember our little... encounter in the cafeteria?"

Your face flushes, and you stumble over your words. "I-I have to go," you stammer, your voice betraying your nerves. "It's late, and I have work tomorrow."

Jimin's eyes hold a spark of amusement, but there's a hint of understanding in his gaze. "Of course," he says, releasing your arm. "Good night, Y/N."

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. "Good night, Jimin." You turn and hurry towards the entrance of your apartment building, feeling his eyes on you until you're out of his line of sight. Once inside, you lean against the cool concrete wall, trying to catch your breath.

The next day at BigHit, you arrive early, eager to start your day and put the events of the previous night behind you. You're greeted by the bustling energy of the office, the sounds of phones ringing and people chattering a stark contrast to the quiet solitude of Taehyung's house.

Taehyung's manager approaches you with a clipboard, her smile professional. "Good morning, Y/N," she says, handing you a stack of papers. "Taehyung has a full schedule today. You'll need to keep him on track."

You nod, taking the clipboard from her. Your heart races as you scan the list of appointments, interviews, and rehearsals. You can do this. You're a professional. You don't let personal feelings get in the way of your work.

But as you're about to walk away, your phone rings, the sound jolting through the bustling office like a gunshot. You freeze, your hand trembling as you pull it out of your pocket. Jungkook's name flashes across the screen, and you swipe to answer, your heart hammering in your chest.

"Y/N," he says, his voice low and urgent. "Come to my music studio."

You hesitate, the words echoing in your mind. "Now?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

There's a pause, and you can almost hear the smirk in his voice. "If you don't come," Jungkook says, "it's not going to be good for you."

The line goes dead, and you're left standing there, the phone clutched in your hand, your heart racing like a runaway train. What did he mean by that? Was it a threat? A warning? Or just his usual possessive bluster?

You look around the bustling office, unsure of what to do. You know you should stay and focus on your job, but something about Jungkook's tone sends a cold shiver down your spine. You decide to go, if only to put an end to the constant tug-of-war between you two.

You make your way to Jungkook's music studio, your footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. When you arrive, the door is slightly ajar, and you can hear the faint sound of a piano being played. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever confrontation awaits you, and push the door open.

Jungkook is there, his fingers dancing over the keys with a passion and intensity that takes your breath away. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, and he stops playing, his expression unreadable. "Y/N," he says, his voice a low rumble. "I've been waiting for you."

He stands up, his movements fluid and graceful, and locks the door behind you with a click that echoes through the room. The finality of the gesture sends a shiver down your spine. "What's going on?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jungkook walks over to you, his eyes searching yours. "Why did you reject me yesterday?" he asks, his voice low and intense. "What's the problem with me?"

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "It's not that you're not my type, Jungkook," you explain, your voice shaking slightly. "It's just... I don't feel that way about you."

Jungkook's smile fades, and he looks at you, really looks at you. "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice serious.

You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "You're too perfect," you finally say, the words tumbling out of your mouth. "You're too tall, too handsome, too... everything. It's overwhelming."

Jungkook's expression changes, and a bark of laughter escapes him. He shakes his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're adorable," he says, his voice filled with genuine amusement.

"I should go," you murmur, your voice barely a whisper, the words feeling like sandpaper against the back of your throat. But Jungkook doesn't move, his gaze unwavering as he steps closer, his eyes dark with a mix of confusion and determination.

Without warning, he reaches up, his hand cupping your cheek. His thumb brushes against your lower lip, and your heart skips a beat. "Jungkook, please," you manage to say, your voice shakier than you'd like. But before you can finish your protest, he leans in, his intent clear.

In a flash, your hand is up, your palm pressing against his mouth, halting him mid-movement. His eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, you think he might be angry. But then, the corners of his eyes crinkle, and he chuckles, his breath warm against your skin.

"You're so feisty," he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble that sends a shiver down your spine despite the firmness of your resolve. You pull your hand away, taking a step back, trying to put some distance between the two of you. But Jungkook isn't one to be deterred so easily. He steps forward, closing the gap, his hands moving to your hips.

Before you can react, he lifts you with surprising strength, making you gasp as he sits down in the chair behind him, pulling you onto his lap. You feel the heat of his body, the firmness of his muscles beneath you, and for a moment, you're frozen in place, your breath hitching. "Jungkook," you protest, your voice a whisper of sound in the enclosed space.

He doesn't listen, his hands moving from your hips to your waist, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on the bare skin above your jeans. You can feel his breath against your neck, his lips hovering just above your collarbone. He's not kissing you, but his touch is a promise of what's to come. His fingertips dance along your skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever they go. You try to push away, to stand up, but every time you do, his touch sends a wave of heat through you that makes your knees buckle.

Jungkook leans in, his nose tracing the line of your neck, his breath hot and tickling. He presses a gentle kiss just below your ear, and you can't help the soft moan that escapes you. Your body is betraying you, responding to his touch despite your protests. You feel his hands slip under your shirt, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your stomach. Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean back against his chest, unable to fight the delicious sensations that flood through you.

"Do you like it, kitten?" Jungkook murmurs against your skin, his voice a seductive purr that sends a shiver through you.

You stiffen at the nickname, a spark of anger igniting in your chest. With all the strength you can muster, you push yourself off his lap and stumble towards the door, your legs feeling like jelly. But before you can escape, Jungkook's hand snakes around your waist, pulling you back. You gasp as he pins you against the door, his body pressing into yours.

With a smirk, Jungkook drops to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. You watch in a mix of horror and fascination as he leans in, his mouth hovering just above your stomach. You can feel his breath, warm and tickling, as his gaze travels up to meet yours. "What are you doing?" you ask, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation.

"What does it look like?" Jungkook murmurs, his voice thick with desire. Without waiting for your reply, he presses his lips to your skin, his kisses feather-light as he trails them up your abdomen. You suck in a sharp breath, your body reacting against your will. His hands move up to frame your hips, holding you in place as he explores you with his mouth.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. You can't believe this is happening, not here, not now. But your body seems to have a mind of its own, responding to his touch with a need that you can't ignore. Jungkook's kisses become more insistent, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

You whimper as his mouth reaches the hem of your shirt, his kisses growing more urgent. His hands slide under the material, pushing it up to reveal your soft, round stomach. He kisses you there, his tongue tracing circles around your belly button, making you gasp and arch into his touch. You can't help the moan that escapes your lips, your body a traitor to your own resolve.

"Jungkook, please," you whisper, your voice trembling. But the desperation in your tone only seems to satisfy him more, his eyes gleaming with victory as he looks up at you.

"I like your response, kitty," he murmurs, his voice a deep rumble that sends a tremor through your body. "Your body is so responsive."

With a sudden jolt, Jungkook stands up, his eyes gleaming with a mix of desire and something else that you can't quite place. "But now," he says, his voice firm, "you can go."

You don't need to be told twice. You push off from the door, your legs shaky as you make your escape. Jungkook doesn't follow, and you don't dare to look back. The cool air outside is a slap in the face, a stark contrast to the heat that still lingers on your skin from his touch. You stumble down the hallway, trying to get as far away from him as you can.

You find yourself outside, the cool evening air wrapping around you like a blanket. Your chest heaves with every breath you take, and your heart feels like it's racing a marathon. You lean against the brick wall of the building, trying to get your bearings. What the hell just happened?

The rest of the day at work is a blur. You're unable to focus on the tasks at hand, your mind replaying Jungkook's touch over and over again. Every time you see him, your heart skips a beat, and you can't meet his eyes without remembering the way his kisses felt.

Taehyung notices your distraction, his gaze lingering on you with concern. He's quieter than usual, his sharp eyes missing nothing as he observes you throughout the day. You try to hide your discomfort, but it's like trying to hide an elephant in a closet. The tension between you is palpable, and you can't shake the feeling that he knows something is off.

As the day draws to a close, Taehyung's manager approaches you, her voice clipped and efficient. "Taehyung has a music video shoot in the US," she says, her eyes scanning over the schedule. "You'll be accompanying him."

You blink, surprised by the sudden announcement. "When?" you ask, your voice a little too high.

"Tomorrow," she replies, her eyes not meeting yours. "You'll be leaving first thing in the morning. Make sure you pack everything Taehyung will need."

You nod, trying to keep your composure. A trip to the US? With Taehyung? Alone? This is... unexpected. You've never been out of the country before, let alone on a professional trip with your idol. Your mind races with the implications of what this means for your job, for your life.

Later on night, as you're about to leave for home, Taehyung's voice cuts through the buzz of the office. "Y/N, where is your mind today?" You jump at the sound, spinning around to find his face just a few inches from yours. His eyes are searching, concerned, and you realize that you've been lost in thought all day, trying to piece together the puzzle that is your tangled emotions.

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "It's just... a lot to take in," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Taehyung's expression softens, and he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I know," he says, his voice a low rumble that seems to resonate through your entire body. "But when we're together, I need you to focus only on me."

You nod, his words sinking in like a warm embrace. You know he's right; you've been distracted, torn between your feelings for Jungkook . "Okay," you murmur, looking up into his eyes.

Taehyung's smile widens slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that makes your heart flutter. "Good," he says, his voice a gentle rumble. "Now go home and get some rest. We have an early flight tomorrow."

You nod, feeling the weight of his words and the warmth of his gaze. "I will," you promise, taking a step back. The tension between you dissipates slightly, and you find yourself smiling back at him, your eyes lingering on his lips for just a moment too long.

With a nod, you turn and make your way out of the office, your thoughts swirling like a tornado. Jungkook's touch still lingers on your skin, a stark contrast to the comforting presence of Taehyung beside you. The anticipation of the trip to the US looms, a mix of excitement and fear swirling in your stomach.

Chapter Text

The next day at the airport, you find yourself boarding a sleek, private jet for the first time. The luxurious interior is a stark contrast to the bustling chaos outside. You've never been on anything fancier than a commercial flight, and the unreality of the situation sends a shiver down your spine. As you step onto the plane, the plush carpet cushions your every step, and the smell of leather and expensive cologne fills the cabin.

Taehyung strides in after you, looking like a king surveying his domain. His eyes sweep over you, and you feel a flutter in your stomach as he nods in approval. "You're dressed well," he comments, his voice a low purr that seems to resonate through the plane.

You blush, self-consciously smoothing your blouse. You'd chosen your outfit carefully: a simple, yet elegant blouse paired with tailored slacks. It was the most professional yet comfortable attire you owned, something that screamed 'competent personal assistant' and not 'starstruck fan'.

In the private jet, you sit across from Taehyung, trying not to be too obvious as you steal glances at him. He's lost in his thoughts, scrolling through his phone, his thumbs dancing over the screen with a grace that speaks of hours of practice. His features are sharp and focused, and you can't help but admire the way the light plays off his hair, the shadows highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw.

You catch his eyes flicking up to meet yours, and your heart skips a beat. He raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Is there something on my face?" he asks, his voice a teasing rumble.

You shake your head, feeling the heat spread up your neck and into your cheeks. "N-no," you stutter, looking away quickly. "I was just... thinking."

Taehyung hums in response, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before returning to his phone.

The flight is long, and you spend most of it trying not to stare at Taehyung. It's a battle of wills that you're slowly losing. Every time you catch yourself looking at him, you quickly avert your eyes, only to find them drawn back to his handsome profile moments later. His focus is unwavering, whether he's reading a script or responding to emails, and it's a stark reminder of the professional line you're trying to maintain.

As the plane descends into the sprawling metropolis of Los Angeles, the excitement bubbles up inside you. You've never been to the US before, and the glitz and glamour of the city of angels is like nothing you've ever seen. The hotel is a towering skyscraper, its windows gleaming in the sunlight. When the car pulls up, you're struck by the grandeur of it all. It's nothing like the modest accommodations you've seen in Korean dramas. This is the kind of hotel celebrities stay in, and you can't believe you're actually going to be one of them, even if only for a short while.

You follow Taehyung's manager to your room, your heart racing with every step. When the door swings open, you're greeted with a sight that takes your breath away. The room is massive, with plush carpets that swallow your footsteps and walls adorned with abstract art that probably cost more than your entire apartment back home.

After a quick shower, you slide into the crisp, hotel-provided pajamas, feeling the softness of the fabric against your skin. The exhaustion of the day starts to catch up with you, and you crawl into the king-sized bed, feeling like you're floating on a cloud. But just as you're about to drift off, the sound of the room's doorbell pierces the silence.

With a sigh, you pull yourself out of the warm embrace of the comforter and pad over to the door, your bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. You peek through the peephole, and your heart does a somersault when you see Taehyung's handsome face on the other side. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing pulse, before opening the door.

"Taehyung," you murmur, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice. "What are you doing here?"

He leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "I thought we could have a little chat," he says, his eyes glinting with mischief. "On the rooftop."

You blink, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "The rooftop?" you repeat, your voice a little too high. "Now?"

Taehyung nods, pushing off the frame. "Now," he confirms, his eyes holding yours. "Don't worry, I promise to keep it short. I know you're tired."

With a deep breath, you nod, slipping into your shoes and grabbing your phone. The elevator ride up to the rooftop is silent, the tension between you palpable. When the doors slide open, the cool evening air rushes in, carrying the scent of the city with it.

The rooftop is a stunning oasis, a stark contrast to the chaos of the streets below. The lights of the city twinkle like stars against the inky sky, and the gentle hum of distant traffic is the only sound to break the silence. You follow Taehyung to the edge, the wind playing with your hair as he leans against the railing.

"So," he says, his voice a gentle prompt, "tell me more about you, Y/N."

You hesitate, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you try to gather your thoughts. You've been so wrapped up in the whirlwind of emotions that come with being around your idols that you realize you've hardly talked about yourself. "Where should I start?"

Taehyung's eyes, a deep shade of brown that seem to hold the secrets of the universe, focus intently on you. "Anything," he says, his voice a gentle coax. "Your favorite color, what you like to do in your free time, the last book you read... anything at all."

You swallow, feeling the weight of his gaze. It's strange, sharing these little pieces of yourself with someone you've idolized for so long. "My favorite color is yellow," you begin, your voice tentative. "And I like to read, mostly romance novels and manga. And I... I love to cook." You laugh a little, feeling self-conscious. "It's nothing special, I know."

But Taehyung doesn't laugh, his expression serious as he takes in every word. "Why do you say that?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble. "Everyone has their own talents and interests. It's what makes you special."

You blush, feeling his gaze like a warm caress. "Thank you," you murmur, looking down at your hands. "It's just... I've never talked to you about this before."

"Well, we're getting to know each other now," Taehyung says, his voice a soft encouragement. "I want to know everything about you, Y/N."

The conversation flows easily after that, a gentle dance of shared stories and laughter. You find yourself opening up to him, telling him about your family, your friends, the little moments that make up your life. And as you talk, you can't help but admire the way the moonlight plays off his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips. His eyes never leave yours, and you find yourself lost in the depths of his gaze.

You're not sure when it happens, but at some point, the space between you seems to shrink. You're standing closer now, your fingers brushing against his as you gesture while you speak. His eyes are focused on you, a soft smile playing on his lips that makes your heart race. When he laughs, it's like the sound of a melody that you want to get lost in forever.

Taehyung reaches out, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is so gentle, so tender, that it takes your breath away. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a soft caress that sends a shiver down your spine.

You look up at him, your eyes wide and searching, your heart hammering in your chest. You know you should say something, do something, but you're frozen in place, caught in the intensity of his gaze.

"It's late," he says finally, his voice a gentle reminder of reality. "We should get some rest." He glances down at his watch, the silver band glinting in the moonlight. "We have a long day tomorrow."

You nod, your heart feeling both heavy and light at the same time. You know he's right, but you don't want the moment to end. "Yeah," you murmur, your voice a little sad. "We should go."

Taehyung's hand drops away, and you feel the loss of his touch like a cool breeze. He opens the door for you, his eyes never leaving yours as you step into the elevator. The ride down feels much shorter than the one up, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

When you reach your room, you hover in the doorway, unsure of what to say. "Thank you," you murmur, your cheeks still flushed from the conversation.

Taehyung's smile is gentle, his eyes warm. "Of course," he says, his voice a soft rumble. "Good night, Y/N."

With a nod, you slip back into your room, the door clicking shut behind you. Your heart is racing, your cheeks still flushed from the cold night air and the warmth of his gaze. You lean against the door for a moment, trying to catch your breath, the memory of his touch still tingling on your skin. You can't stop smiling as you walk over to the bed, the plush comforter whispering sweet nothings of comfort and rest.

As you crawl into bed, your mind races with the events of the night. The way his thumb traced your cheek, the gentle pressure of his hand at the small of your back, the sound of his laughter echoing in your ears. It's like a dream, one you're afraid to wake up from. You know that tomorrow is going to be busy, filled with work and the chaos of a music video shoot, but right now, in the quiet of the night, all you can think about is Taehyung.

The next day, you wake up early, the excitement of the day ahead buzzing through your veins. You quickly get ready, your mind racing with the to-do list for Taehyung's big day. As you enter the set, the energy is palpable, a mix of excitement and nerves. The crew bustles around, setting up lights and cameras, while Taehyung sits in a chair, his eyes closed, lost in thought.

You approach him, a steaming cup of tea in hand, knowing his distaste for coffee. "Here," you say softly, placing it on the table beside him. "You're going to need this." He opens his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips as he takes the cup. "Thanks," he murmurs, his eyes meeting yours.

The music video starts, and Taehyung is pulled into the whirlwind of lights, cameras, and action. You watch from the sidelines, your heart in your throat as the beautiful actress takes her place opposite him. She's everything you're not: confident, outgoing, and completely at ease in the spotlight. As the cameras roll, she laughs and flirts with ease, her eyes sparkling as they lock with Taehyung's. It's like watching a scene from a romantic comedy unfold before your very eyes, and you can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

You remind yourself that you're just his personal assistant, here to ensure everything runs smoothly and cater to his every need. You force a smile as you hand him water between takes, making sure he's comfortable and focused. But every time he smiles at her, every time he whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh, it feels like a dagger to your heart.

As the day progresses, you find yourself retreating into the background, trying to keep busy with paperwork and last-minute errands. You can't help but watch them from the corner of your eye, the way they interact so naturally, their chemistry on-screen palpable. It's like watching a real-life love story unfold, and you're just a bystander with a backstage pass.

The director calls for a break, and Taehyung heads your way, sweat glistening on his forehead. You hand him a towel, and he takes it with a nod of thanks, his eyes briefly meeting yours before looking away. You can feel the distance growing between you, and it's like a knot in your stomach, tightening with every passing moment.

"Is there anything else you need?" you ask, keeping your voice professional despite the tumult of emotions inside you.

Taehyung glances at you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "No, I'm good," he says, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. You can tell he's preoccupied with the shoot, with the pressure of performing and the cameras that seem to follow his every move.

You nod, taking a step back, feeling the distance between you like a physical barrier. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself of the boundaries of your relationship. "Okay," you say, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. "I'll be around if you need anything."

The rest of the day passes in a blur of activity. You run errands, organize schedules, and make sure everyone has what they need. But all the while, you can't shake the feeling of being an outsider looking in on Taehyung's world.

As the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange, the director calls a wrap. The set erupts in a flurry of activity as people begin to pack up, their energy drained. Yet, Taehyung remains in the center of it all, surrounded by the glow of the lights, deep in conversation with the lead actress. Her laughter rings out, and you can't help but feel a sting of something sharp and painful. You remind yourself that he's just your boss, that you're just his personal assistant, and that's all you can ever be.

Taking a deep breath, you straighten your shoulders and push aside your feelings. You have work to do. You start to gather up his things, his script, water bottles, and the countless other items that have accumulated around him throughout the day.

As the set quiets down and the last of the crew filters out, Taehyung finally breaks away from the group, his eyes finding yours. "Ready to go?" he asks, his voice a little softer than before.

You nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, let's go."

The car ride back to the hotel is quiet, the weight of the day's events pressing down on the both of you. You sit in the back, going over the itinerary for tomorrow, while Taehyung stares out the window, lost in his own thoughts.

When you arrive at the hotel, you retreat to your room to freshen up. You change into comfortable clothes: a loose sweater that hugs your body in all the right places and a pair of skinny jeans. You take a moment to check your reflection in the mirror, smoothing down your hair and applying a light coat of lip balm.

You make your way downstairs, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses guiding you to the dinner party. The room is bustling with the staff and crew of the music video, their faces familiar from the long day on set. The air is warm and fragrant with the smell of various dishes being served from the buffet table. Taehyung is standing near the bar, deep in conversation with the lead actress.

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you force a smile and start mingling with the other staff members, asking about their roles and how they ended up in the industry. The conversation flows easily, the excitement of being part of such a big project a common thread that ties everyone together. You find yourself laughing at their anecdotes, sharing stories from your own experience at BigHit.

But every few minutes, your gaze is drawn back to Taehyung, his presence a magnetic force that you can't ignore. You watch as he laughs with the actors, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he whispers something into the lead actress's ear. She giggles, leaning into him, and you can't help but feel a twinge of something bitter. You know you don't belong in this glamorous world of stars and spotlights, not really. You're just a girl from a small town, thrown into the deep end of the pool, trying to keep up with the current.

But even amidst the turmoil of emotions, you find yourself smiling as you watch Taehyung. He's in his element here, the charming prince everyone adores. And as much as it hurts to see him with her, you can't help but feel happy for him. After all, he deserves to be happy, and if that means sharing his smiles with someone else, then so be it.
The night stretches on, and eventually, the party starts to wind down. People begin to drift away to their own hotel rooms, the energy of the evening slowly dissipating.

You decide to take a breather, stepping out onto the rooftop to escape the noise and the glaring lights. The night air is cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the stuffy warmth of the party inside. The city lights are like a sea of stars below, twinkling in a pattern that seems almost too perfect. You lean against the railing, letting the quiet wash over you.

Just as you're about to lose yourself in the tranquility of the view, you hear a familiar voice. "Y/N?" Taehyung calls out, his footsteps echoing on the rooftop.

You turn around, surprised to see him there. "Taehyung," you say, trying to keep your voice even. "What are you doing here?"

He approaches, a gentle smile on his face. "Couldn't resist the beauty of the night," he says, his eyes sweeping over the view. "And I wanted to check on you. You've been working so hard today."

You nod, your heart skipping a beat as he steps closer. "Yeah, it's been a long day," you reply, your voice a little shakier than you'd like.

Taehyung's gaze flickers over to the box in his hand before he extends it to you. "Here," he says, his voice a soft murmur. "I brought you something."

You take the box hesitantly, your heart racing as you open it. Inside, you find a perfectly arranged bouquet of strawberries, each one coated with a delicate layer of chocolate. "Thank you," you whisper, the words barely audible.

Taehyung's eyes are soft as they meet yours. "I noticed you couldn't eat the strawberries at dinner," he says, his voice a gentle caress in the quiet night. "They were all gone by the time you reached the table."

You can smell the faint scent of alcohol on his breath, but you don't say anything. It's not your place. You're just his assistant, after all.

Taehyung takes a strawberry from the bouquet and holds it out to you, a playful glint in his eye. "Would you like one?"

You nod, your mouth feeling dry as you lean in to take it. But instead of placing the fruit in your hand, he brings it to your lips, his own hovering just a breath away. "Open," he whispers, his eyes holding yours captive.

You do as he says, the sweetness of the strawberry melding with the richness of the chocolate as he places it on your tongue. His eyes never leave yours, a silent challenge in their depths. And before you can even register what's happening, his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding.

You're surprised by the suddenness of it, but your body responds instinctively, your mouth moving with his as he deepens the kiss. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin as you lean into him. You've never felt anything like this before, a mix of passion and possessiveness that makes your head spin.

Taehyung breaks the kiss, a smug smile playing on his lips as he pulls back slightly. "Don't tell me you don't know how to kiss," he murmurs, his breath warm against your face.

Your cheeks burn, your heart racing as you realize the depth of your inexperience. You've never been kissed before, not really. Just pecks on the cheek from friends, awkward encounters at parties that left you feeling more embarrassed than anything else. "I... I'm sorry," you stutter, feeling your world tilt on its axis.

He chuckles, the sound low and intimate. "There's nothing to apologize for," he says, his voice a gentle reassurance. He leans in again, his breath ghosting over your lips. "Let me show you."

His mouth meets yours once more, his movements slower this time, as if savoring the taste of you. His hands slide down your arms, pulling you closer, and you can't help but melt into the warmth of his embrace. Your body responds, your arms wrapping around his neck as you try to keep up with the dance of his tongue. It's intoxicating, the way he kisses you, like you're the only person in the world that matters.

Yet, even as you kiss him back, there's a part of you that feels out of your depth. Your inexperience shows as you try to match his rhythm, your breath hitching every time his teeth graze your lower lip. You want to step back, to take a moment to breathe, but Taehyung's grip on you is unyielding, his lips never leaving yours as he guides you towards the elevator.

The doors slide open with a soft ding, and he pulls you inside, his kiss growing more urgent as he presses you against the cold metal wall. The elevator begins to descend, the only sound the soft whir of the machinery and the muffled noises of your breathless gasps. You try to keep up, your hands fumbling to hold onto his shoulders, but every time you think you've got it, he changes the rhythm, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

When the elevator stops, he breaks away, his eyes dark with desire. "Come with me," he whispers, his voice a seductive promise.

You nod, unable to find the words to protest, your body betraying your swirling thoughts. He takes your hand, leading you down the quiet hallway to his suite. The door clicks shut behind you, and suddenly, you're alone with him in a space that screams of luxury and temptation. The walls seem to close in as he backs you against the door, his mouth claiming yours once more.

This time, you try to pull away, your hands pushing at his chest, but he's insistent. His kisses grow deeper, more demanding, as his hands wander to your waist, pulling you closer. You feel the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of your shirt, and the scent of his cologne fills your senses, making you dizzy. Your mind is a whirlwind of confusion and longing, the line between your job and your feelings blurring with every beat of your racing heart.

With a sudden surge of strength, Taehyung lifts you by the hips, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as he carries you towards the grand, unmade bed. Your eyes widen in surprise, but the protest dies on your lips as he deepens the kiss, swallowing any sound you might make. His arms are like steel bands, holding you firmly against him as he navigates the suite.

The world around you fades away as he lowers you onto the plush mattress, never breaking the connection between your mouths. His body covers yours, his weight pressing you into the softness of the bed, the contrast making your heart hammer against your ribs. You want to talk, to ask him what this means, but every time you try to form the words, his tongue sweeps into your mouth, leaving you gasping for air and unable to think straight.

His kisses become feather-light as they trail from your mouth to your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You arch your back, your breathing heavy as he lips at your sensitive skin. His hands slip under your sweater, tracing the curves of your body, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. You can feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, your mind hazy with desire.

But just as things are heating up, Taehyung's grip loosens, his breathing evened out, and his body goes slack. You blink in confusion, looking up to find his eyes closed, his head resting heavily on your shoulder. He's fast asleep, completely oblivious to the whirlwind of emotions he's left you in. You're torn between frustration and relief, your body still thrumming from his touch.

You try to push him away gently, but his arms are like lead around you. You struggle for a moment, trying to shift his weight without waking him, but it's futile. You're trapped under the warmth of his embrace, the smell of his cologne invading your senses. You let out a sigh, resigning yourself to the situation. You're not going anywhere until he decides to move.

As the minutes tick by, the adrenaline from the kiss fades away, and your eyelids start to feel heavier. The plush hotel bed is surprisingly comfortable, and Taehyung's body heat is like a warm blanket. Exhaling from the long day catches up to you, and despite the chaos in your mind, you feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep.

Next morning, the light from the crack in the curtains filters into the darkened hotel suite, illuminating the rumpled bed. Taehyung stirs, his eyes blinking open to the unfamiliar sight of your form curled behind him. Memories of the night's events come flooding back, his mind racing as he recalls the passionate kiss on the rooftop and the way his hands had wandered over your body.

With a start, he sits up, his voice urgent as he whispers, "Y/N, wake up." His hand shakes your shoulder gently.

You blink your eyes open, the reality of where you are and who you're with rushing back to you. The room is still dark, but the soft glow from the digital clock on the bedside table tells you it's early morning. You sit up with a jolt, your heart racing as you realize what's happening.

"You need to go to your room," he says, his voice low and firm. "Before anyone sees you here."

Panic sets in, and you nod, fumbling with the covers as you try to sit up.

"How much did we go last night?" Taehyung's question hung in the air, a stark reminder of the passionate encounter that had left you both breathless. You stared at him, your cheeks flushing as you recalled the intimate moments that had unfolded in the quiet solitude of the hotel suite.

"Did we...?" Taehyung's voice trailed off, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes as he searched yours for the answer.

You shook your head, the gravity of the question making your pulse quicken. "No," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "We didn't."

Relief floods his features, his hand coming up to run through his hair. "Thank God," he says, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing. "I'm sorry for last night, Y/N. I was a little drunk, okay?"

You nod, swallowing the hurt. "It's okay," you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady. "It's fine. I should go to my room now."

He nods, his gaze dropping to his lap. "Yeah," he says, his voice tight. "You should."

You slip out of bed, the cold air hitting your skin like a slap. You grab your shoes and stand, your legs wobbly from the sudden movement. You avoid looking at him as you make your way to the door, feeling his eyes on you like a heavy weight.

Once outside, you hurry down the hall, your heart racing as if you've just committed a crime. The cool air in your lungs is a stark contrast to the heat of the room you've just left behind. You reach your own suite, the door a sanctuary you crave. You slide the keycard and enter, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that echoes through the silence.

Leaning against the door, you let out a shaky sigh, trying to control the tears that threaten to spill over. Your hands come up to cover your face, but the dam breaks, and the tears flow regardless. You tell yourself that you knew better, that you should have seen this coming, but the reality of the situation hits you like a ton of bricks. You forgot. You forgot that you're just the intern, the girl who's supposed to blend into the background.

Chapter Text

morning, the light from the crack in the curtains filters into the darkened hotel suite, illuminating the rumpled bed. Taehyung stirs, his eyes blinking open to the unfamiliar sight of your form curled behind him. Memories of the night's events come flooding back, his mind racing as he recalls the passionate kiss on the rooftop and the way his hands had wandered over your body.

With a start, he sits up, his voice urgent as he whispers, "Y/N, wake up." His hand shakes your shoulder gently.

You blink your eyes open, the reality of where you are and who you're with rushing back to you. The room is still dark, but the soft glow from the digital clock on the bedside table tells you it's early morning. You sit up with a jolt, your heart racing as you realize what's happening.

"You need to go to your room," he says, his voice low and firm. "Before anyone sees you here."

Panic sets in, and you nod, fumbling with the covers as you try to sit up.

"How much did we go last night?" Taehyung's question hung in the air, a stark reminder of the passionate encounter that had left you both breathless. You stared at him, your cheeks flushing as you recalled the intimate moments that had unfolded in the quiet solitude of the hotel suite.

"Did we...?" Taehyung's voice trailed off, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes as he searched yours for the answer.

You shook your head, the gravity of the question making your pulse quicken. "No," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "We didn't."

Relief floods his features, his hand coming up to run through his hair. "Thank God," he says, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing. "I'm sorry for last night, Y/N. I was a little drunk, okay?"

You nod, swallowing the hurt. "It's okay," you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady. "It's fine. I should go to my room now."

He nods, his gaze dropping to his lap. "Yeah," he says, his voice tight. "You should."

You slip out of bed, the cold air hitting your skin like a slap. You grab your shoes and stand, your legs wobbly from the sudden movement. You avoid looking at him as you make your way to the door, feeling his eyes on you like a heavy weight.

Once outside, you hurry down the hall, your heart racing as if you've just committed a crime. The cool air in your lungs is a stark contrast to the heat of the room you've just left behind. You reach your own suite, the door a sanctuary you crave. You slide the keycard and enter, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that echoes through the silence.

Leaning against the door, you let out a shaky sigh, trying to control the tears that threaten to spill over. Your hands come up to cover your face, but the dam breaks, and the tears flow regardless. You tell yourself that you knew better, that you should have seen this coming, but the reality of the situation hits you like a ton of bricks. You forgot. You forgot that you're just the intern, the girl who's supposed to blend into the background.

The next few days pass in a blur as you throw yourself into work, filling every spare moment with tasks and errands for the music video shoot. You keep your distance from Taehyung, focusing on your job and avoiding any situation that might remind him of what happened. It's not easy, not when his presence is a constant reminder of the kiss that still burns on your lips and the feel of his hands on your body. But you manage, somehow. You've always been good at hiding your feelings.

Then, on the last day of shooting, Jimin appears. He's not scheduled to be here, but when he walks onto the set, it's like a bomb has gone off. The energy shifts, and suddenly everyone's aware of him. He strides over to Taehyung, who's in the middle of a scene, and wraps him in a tight hug. "What are you doing here?" Taehyung asks, his voice a mix of surprise .

"Couldn't stay away," Jimin says, a cheeky grin on his face. "I had to come support my best friend." His eyes dart to you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze even from across the room. There's something in his eyes, something that makes your stomach flip. It's like he knows, like he can see right through the wall you've so carefully built around yourself.

Taehyung rolls his eyes but returns the hug with a squeeze. "You're always welcome," he says, his voice tight.

The shooting wraps up with a sense of relief and exhaustion. The crew starts to pack up the equipment, their laughter and chatter filling the once-silent space. The director claps his hands, calling for a wrap party to celebrate the successful end of the music video production. The atmosphere lightens, and you find yourself swept along in the excitement, eager for a night of fun and a chance to let your guard down.

As the party kicks off, the hotel suite is transformed into a mini nightclub. The lights dim, and the music pulses through the air. You mingle with the crew, accepting a glass of champagne and sipping it to calm your nerves. Taehyung is at the center of the room, surrounded by people, his laughter carrying over the music. You watch him from a distance, feeling a strange mix of fondness and pain.

Needing a break, you slip out to the hotel's rooftop park, the cool night breeze a welcome relief from the stifling heat of the party. You find a bench in the shadows, the soft glow of the city lights the only company. You sit, taking a deep breath, trying to sort through the tumult of emotions. The quiet is a stark contrast to the chaos inside, offering a small slice of peace.

As you sit there, lost in thought, you feel a presence beside you. You look up to find Jimin sitting down, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He's holding a bottle of water, which he twists open before taking a swig. "Couldn't take the noise?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble.

You nod, taking a shaky breath. "Yeah," you say, your voice small.

Jimin's smile fades, and he sets the bottle down. "You okay?" he asks, his eyes searching your face.

You shrug, trying to keep your emotions in check. "Just tired," you lie, not quite meeting his gaze. "It's been a long week."

"It has," he agrees, his voice gentle. He stays silent for a moment, the music from the party a distant throb. Then, "You know, I'm a good listener."

Your heart skips a beat, and you look up at him in surprise. He's watching you intently, his gaze sincere.

"Jimin," you start, your voice cracking. "I always believed in the fairy-tale love, you know? Like in the K-dramas, where soulmates find each other in the most unexpected ways." You laugh, but it sounds hollow even to your own ears. "I thought I'd find that kind of love, too. The kind where we'd run through the rain holding hands, dance in the street, eat ramen together, share everything."

Rain starts to fall suddenly, the droplets cool against your flushed skin. You laugh, the sound a little too loud in the quiet night air. "Looks like the universe is giving me a sign to give up my imagination," you say, the words tinged with bitterness. The rain picks up speed, soaking through your clothes as you stand there, feeling the weight of your unspoken confessions.

Jimin looks at you, his eyes filled with understanding. "You know, Y/N," he says softly, "you don't have to hide your feelings. Sometimes, letting it all out can be a relief." He hands you a tissue, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek as he does so. "You can cry if you need to."

The first tear slips down your cheek, a silent confession of all the pain you've been carrying around. Before you know it, the dam breaks and you're sobbing, your shoulders shaking with the force of your tears. The rain is like a curtain around you, hiding your vulnerability from the world.

Finally, the rain stops, the sudden silence leaving a ringing in your ears. Jimin looks at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "If I catch cold because of this rain, Y/N, you'll be responsible," he says, his voice teasing.

You laugh through your sniffles, wiping at your face. "Hey," you protest weakly, "who told you to get wet in the rain?"

Jimin smirks, looking down at your chest. "Nice color," he says, his voice low. You follow his gaze, realizing that your shirt has gone translucent with the rain, your bra clearly visible. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you hastily cross your arms over your chest.

" Y/N don't be shy, " Jimin says, his voice a comforting murmur as he takes in your embarrassed state. "I've seen you without clothes before, remember?"

You blush even deeper, the memory of that fateful night at the club rushing back to you. But before you can respond, he surprises you by shrugging out of his jacket, revealing the tight tank top underneath. He drapes it around your shoulders, the fabric warm from his body. "Here," he says, his eyes twinkling. "You're shivering."

You wrap the jacket around yourself, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the scent of rain. "Thanks," you murmur, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the jacket spread through you.

Jimin pulls you closer to him, his arm around your shoulder. "Babygirl," he says, his voice low and soothing. "This life, it's not a fairy tale. So, stop running after something that's going to hurt you." His eyes are sincere, and his gaze holds yours. "Let your desires meet your needs," he whispers. "Trust me, if you don't enjoy your youth, you're going to regret it."

Before you can respond, the sharp ring of his phone pierces the quiet night. He sighs, reaching into his pocket to silence it, but then looks at the screen with a frown. "I have to go," he says, standing up and pulling you to your feet. "But remember what I said." He gives you a gentle push towards the hotel room door.

The warmth of his arm is gone, leaving you feeling cold and exposed. You nod, your mind racing with questions and emotions. "Okay," you murmur, your voice barely audible. "Thank you for the talk... and the jacket."

Jimin smiles, the light from the city below glinting in his eyes. "Anytime," he says, before disappearing into the night.

You make your way back to your room, the words playing on repeat in your head. "Let your desires meet your needs," he had said. But what did that mean, exactly? Was he hinting at something more?

The next morning, you pack your bags, eager to get back to Seoul and leave the confusion of the trip behind. The flight is quiet, the only sound the hum of the engines as you try to organize your thoughts. Taehyung sits a few rows ahead with jimin , engrossed in his work, and you're grateful for the space. You've managed to avoid him since that night, and it's easier to pretend nothing happened when he's not right beside you.

As you arrive at BigHit, the familiar sights and sounds of the office grounds you. You slip back into your role as Taehyung's assistant, handling his schedule and appointments with a newfound sense of determination. You're more professional than ever, keeping your interactions with him brief and to the point.

But avoiding Taehyung isn't as easy as you'd hope. He's everywhere, his presence a constant reminder of the unspoken tension between you. You catch glimpses of him in the hallways, his eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a second before he looks away.

You're in the middle of scheduling Taehyung's upcoming photoshoot when Jungkook saunters into your cabin. "Hi, kitty," he says, his voice a smooth purr that sends a shiver down your spine. You look up, your heart skipping a beat. "Long time no see," he adds, his grin widening as he takes in your flustered state.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "Jungkook," you say, forcing a smile. "What brings you here?"

He leans against the desk, his gaze intense. "I just want to see your face," he murmurs, his smile dark and unsettling. "You really have guts, ignoring my call and then blocking me."

Your heart races as you swivel your chair to face him, your voice shaky. "What?" You ask, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. Jungkook had been relentless during the trip to the U.S., his calls interrupting your work and your moments of peace. In the end, you had no choice but to block his number to maintain your sanity.

Jungkook's eyes narrow at your feigned ignorance. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "But that's not important right now." He leans closer, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You flinch at the sudden touch, your skin crawling. "What's important," he continues, "is that you remember who you're playing with."

You nod, your mouth dry. "I'm sorry," you repeat, your voice trembling. Jungkook's eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, you think you've said the wrong thing. But then, he laughs, a cruel sound that sends chills down your spine.

"Huh?" he says, his tone mocking. "You're sorry? That was quicker than I thought you'd admit it."

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. "Jungkook," you say, your voice stronger this time. "Can I ask you something?"

He leans in closer, his hand still in your hair. "Anything, kitty," he says, his breath hot on your neck.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "Why did you ask me that day to be your girlfriend?"

Jungkook's smile widens, and he pulls his hand away, his fingers lingering on your skin. "I find interesting things on you," he says, his voice low and teasing. "Things that I love."

You swallow hard, your heart racing. "What are those things?" You ask, your voice a whisper.

He leans in closer, his breath tickling your ear. "Your innocence," he murmurs. "Your kindness. And the way you blush when you're nervous." He laughs, a sound that sends a chill down your spine. "But most of all," he says, "I love that you're off-limits to everyone else."

You don't respond immediately, your mind racing to process his words. Jungkook's expression morphs from amusement to confusion, his eyebrows drawing together. "What's wrong, kitty?" he asks, his voice taking on a softer tone. "Did you change your mind?"

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you're about to say. "Jungkook," you say, your voice surprisingly firm. "I'm ready to be your girlfriend."

"Huh?" Jungkook's expression is one of genuine surprise, his smugness replaced with a look of confusion. "You're ready to be my girlfriend?"

You nod, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "Yes," you reply, your voice strong and steady despite the turmoil of emotions within you.

Jungkook's eyes narrow, his smile fading into a straight line. "Well, that's too bad for you," he says, his voice cold. "I'm not interested anymore."

You stand your ground, feeling a strange sense of power in this moment. "Why can't you handle me?" you repeat, your voice a little shakier than you'd like, but with a newfound determination that surprises even you.

Jungkook's smile turns into a sneer. "You're playing a dangerous game," he warns, his eyes darkening. "You don't know what you're getting into."

You hold his gaze, your voice firm. "I know exactly what I'm doing," you reply.

Jungkook's smirk turns into a full-blown grin. "Oh, you think so?" He takes a step closer to you, his eyes gleaming with challenge. "Well, let's see how long you can handle me, then."

You stand your ground, your heart hammering in your chest. "I'm not afraid of you," you say firmly, hoping the tremor in your voice isn't noticeable. "And please, stop calling me 'kitty'."

Jungkook chuckles, leaning back against the desk. "How about 'babe'?" he suggests, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"I'd prefer 'Y/N'," you reply, keeping your voice even. His smile falters for a brief moment, but then he shrugs it off, his confidence unshaken.

"Babe it is, then," he says, pulling you closer. His arms wrap around your waist, and your breath catches in your throat as his mouth hovers near your ear. "But remember, I'm a possessive guy. I don't like sharing."

"Yeah, yeah," you repeat, your voice firm as you pull away from Jungkook's embrace. You can feel the tension in the air thicken, but you stand your ground. "I understand," you add, taking a step back, putting more distance between you.

Jungkook's smile doesn't waver, but there's a glint in his eye that tells you he's not quite convinced. "Good," he says, his voice smooth as silk. "Because I don't want any misunderstandings."

You nod, your heart racing. "Yeah, yeah," you say, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to focus on my job."

He raises an eyebrow, the challenge in his gaze unmistakable. "Is that what you really want, babe?" He leans closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Or do you want to play some more?"

You push him away, the fear momentarily giving way to anger. "I have to get back to work," you say, your voice firm. "And so do you."

Jungkook laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "Alright, I'll let you go," he says, his eyes gleaming. "But don't forget, you're mine now."

You watch him saunter out of the room, his confidence unshaken. As the door clicks shut behind him, you let out a sigh of relief, your legs wobbling slightly. You sit back down at your desk, trying to compose yourself. But Jungkook's words echo in your head, a constant reminder of the precarious situation you've found yourself in.

That evening, as you lay in bed, you can't help but replay the conversation in your mind. Did you make the right choice? Accepting Jungkook's advances when your heart still yearned for Taehyung felt like a betrayal. Yet, Jungkook had been clear about his intentions - a relationship based on convenience, not love. Was it wrong to give in to the attraction when you knew it wasn't what you truly desired?

You take a deep breath, willing the guilt to dissipate. Jungkook didn't love you, and you had to stop expecting fairy-tale romance from a world that wasn't one. You've seen the harsh reality behind the glitz and glamour of the K-pop industry. Love wasn't always pure, and sometimes people settled for what was available.

You sit up in bed, the soft glow of your lamp casting a warm light on your surroundings. You grab your journal, the one you've had since you were a young girl scribbling down your crushes and dreams. You write, trying to convince yourself that this is just a phase, a way to distract your heart from the pain Taehyung's coldness had brought.

"Y/N, stop feeling guilty," you murmur to yourself. "Jungkook doesn't love me. This relationship is just to distract my heart and satisfy our bodily needs. It's a deal, a mutual agreement to enjoy life without the complications of love."

You repeat the words like a mantra, hoping they'll stick. It's not love that binds you to Jungkook; it's the thrill of being with someone who makes your pulse race, even if it's not in the way you've always dreamed. You know this isn't the ideal, but maybe it's enough.

With a sigh, you close your journal and head to the kitchen. Cooking has always been your solace, a way to clear your mind and create something comforting amidst the chaos. As you start to chop vegetables for a late-night stir-fry, you don't even notice the time slipping away. The rhythmic sound of your knife against the cutting board and the sizzle of the hot pan fill the quiet apartment.

The sudden ring of the doorbell jolts you out of your cooking trance. You wipe your hands on your apron and make your way to the door, peeking through the peephole. Your heart skips a beat when you see Jungkook's smiling face on the other side. You hadn't expected him to come over tonight, especially not at this hour. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart, and swing the door open.

"Jungkook, what are you doing here?" you ask, your voice a mix of surprise .

"Couldn't stay away from my babe," he says with a smug smile, pushing past you to enter your apartment without invitation.

"You know, you can't just come into someone's house like this," you protest, your hand on your hip.

He turns to face you, his smile not fading. "What type of attitude is that, babe?" He says, his voice playful but with a hint of challenge. "Don't forget, I'm your boyfriend now."

"I didn't say you couldn't come over," you reply, trying to keep your voice even despite the racing of your heart. "I just didn't expect you so late."

Jungkook shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto the couch. "Well, I'm here now," he says, his eyes traveling over your apartment with a possessive air. "And I've decided to stay the night."

You blink at him, your heart racing. "Jungkook, I don't think that's a good idea," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "I have work tomorrow."

He strides over to you, his arms wrapping around your waist. "Don't worry about it, babe," he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. "I'll make sure you're well-rested."

You swallow hard, his closeness making it difficult to think straight. "Jungkook, my apartment is really small, and I only have one bed," you say, your voice a mix of nerves and determination.

He chuckles, his eyes darkening with desire. "I don't mind," he whispers, his mouth dangerously close to yours. "We can share."

Your heart races as you try to think of a way to change the subject. "I'm making stir-fry," you say, pushing him away gently. "I hope you're okay with that."

"Sounds yummy," Jungkook says, his eyes lighting up as he walks over to the kitchen. You serve dinner at the small table, watching as he sits down and starts to eat. His enthusiasm is palpable, but it's his expression that catches your attention.

As you sit across from him, you can't help but laugh a little. Jungkook looks up at you, a mouthful of food. "What's so funny?" he asks, his voice muffled by the food.

You swallow your laughter, trying to explain. "It's just...normal people look happy when they love food," you say, smiling. "But when you eat something you like, you look...angry."

Jungkook pauses, a piece of noodle dangling from his mouth. He looks genuinely confused. "Angry?"

"Yeah," you say, "like you're about to fight someone for the last bite."

This time he laughs, a real, full-bodied laugh that fills the small kitchen. "Well, I guess that's one way to look at it," he says, chewing and swallowing before speaking again. "But you're wrong, Y/N. I'm not angry. That's just how I look when I really, really like something."

You blush at his words, and Jungkook's smile widens. He leans back in his chair, watching you closely as you take a sip of water. "You know," he says, his voice dropping to a lower octave, "I can be pretty intense when I really, really like something...or someone."

Your eyes meet his, and you feel your stomach flip. "Okay, okay," you murmur, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice.

After dinner, Jungkook stands up from the table, his movements swift and decisive. "Let's sleep now," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

"But it's still early," you protest, your heart racing as you stand up to face him. "I thought we could watch a movie or something."

He takes a step closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I have a better idea," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "How about we play a game?"

Your stomach twists into knots as you realize what he's suggesting. "What kind of game?" You ask, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Jungkook's smile turns into a smirk as he takes another step closer. "The kind of game that ends with you screaming my name," he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire.

You gulp, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. Before you can protest, he scoops you up into his arms, your heart racing as he carries you towards your bedroom. "Jungkook, wait," you try to say, but the words come out as a breathless whisper.

He doesn't stop, his steps sure and purposeful. You can feel the heat from his body against yours, and your heart is hammering so loudly you're sure he can hear it. When he lays you down on the bed, you know there's no turning back.

Jungkook hovers over you, his eyes locked onto yours. His hand comes up to trace your jaw, and you can feel the roughness of his thumb against your skin. He leans closer, and you know he's about to kiss you. You're torn between the desire to feel his lips against yours and the fear of what this means for your heart.

You blush at his words, and Jungkook's smile widens. He leans back in his chair, watching you closely as you take a sip of water. "You know," he says, his voice dropping to a lower octave, "I can be pretty intense when I really, really like something...or someone."

Your eyes meet his, and you feel your stomach flip. "Okay, okay," you murmur, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice.

After dinner, Jungkook stands up from the table, his movements swift and decisive. "Let's sleep now," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

"But it's still early," you protest, your heart racing as you stand up to face him. "I thought we could watch a movie or something."

He takes a step closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I have a better idea," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "How about we play a game?"

Chapter Text

Jungkook hovers over you, his eyes locked onto yours. His hand comes up to trace your jaw, and you can feel the roughness of his thumb against your skin. He leans closer, and you know he's about to kiss you. You're torn between the desire to feel his lips against yours and the fear of what this means for your heart.

Summoning all your courage, you place your hand between Jungkook's face and yours, your fingers pressing gently against his full lips. "Wait," you murmur, your voice trembling slightly. Jungkook's smile falters, his eyes searching yours for an explanation.

"What's wrong, babe?" He asks, his voice tinged with irritation. You can see the confusion in his gaze, the question of why you would stop him from something you've agreed to just moments before.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing as you gather the words to explain. "I'm not ready," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm really scared of this."

Jungkook's expression shifts from confusion to something darker, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What do you mean?" He asks, his voice low and tight.

You sit up, pushing the blankets away from your body. "I want to take things slowly," you say, your voice stronger now. "I don't want to rush into anything."

He stares at you for a moment, his jaw clenching. "You're scared of me?" He says, his voice laced with disbelief.

You shake your head. "No," you say quickly. "It's just that...I've never been in a relationship before."

"Oh, but where did your boldness go?" Jungkook's voice was low and mocking, his eyes searching yours for the courage you had shown earlier. "You were so sure of yourself earlier, telling me you could handle me."

You blush, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. "I didn't mean it like that," you stutter.

Jungkook's smile turns into a smirk. "Oh, I know what you meant," he says, his eyes gleaming. "But don't worry, I wasn't planning on going that far tonight. I don't have any protection with me."

You feel a surge of relief, your body relaxing slightly under his gaze. "Good," you murmur, your voice still shaky.

Jungkook leans in closer, his breath hot on your face. "So, you haven't kissed anyone yet?" His voice is a low whisper, a hint of challenge in his tone.

You nod, your cheeks flushing as you remember that rooftop kiss with Taehyung. It feels like a lifetime ago, a stolen moment in the chaos that has become your life. "Yes," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Then let me be the first to taste your sweetness," Jungkook says, his eyes never leaving yours. Before you can respond, his lips are on yours, and you're lost in the sensation. His kiss is gentle at first, exploratory, as if he's savoring the moment. You can feel his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

Without breaking the kiss, Jungkook whispers, "Kiss me back." His tongue darts out, brushing against your lips. You hesitate for a fraction of a second before parting your mouth and letting him in. His tongue meets yours, and the kiss deepens, becoming more passionate. You follow his lead, feeling the heat build between you, his other hand resting on the small of your back, pulling you closer.

As your kisses become more fervent, you feel his saliva mingle with yours, a strange intimacy that sends a thrill through your body. It's a sensation you're not used to, and it makes you feel vulnerable, but also alive in a way you haven't felt before. Jungkook's mouth moves with expertise, his teeth gently grazing your bottom lip, causing a small moan to escape from you.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "You're so responsive," he murmurs, his thumb brushing against your swollen lip. "It's intoxicating."

You gasp for breath, your heart racing. "Why do you bite my lip?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

Jungkook chuckles, his eyes gleaming. "It's just a little taste of what's to come," he says, his voice a dark promise.

Before you can respond, you feel a sudden surge of anger, a fiery determination to take control of the situation. You lean in and bite his bottom lip gently, surprising both of you. He pulls back with a hiss, his eyes wide with shock.

"What was that?" He asks, his voice a mix of surprise and arousal.

"Payback," you murmur, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. You lean back, watching his reaction with a newfound sense of confidence. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm really tired," you say, pushing him away gently.

Jungkook's eyes narrow, and he sits back on the bed, his arms folded over his chest. "You're playing with fire,babe," he says, his tone low and warning.

You bite your lip, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm not playing anything," you reply, your voice steady. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "You're something else," he says, his eyes gleaming. Jungkook starts to unbutton his shirt, his movements slow and deliberate.

"Jungkook, what are you doing?" you ask, your voice laced with a hint of panic.

He glances over at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just getting comfortable," he says, his voice a low rumble as he shrugs out of his shirt, revealing the defined muscles of his chest and abs.

You swivel around, your back facing him as you pretend to busy yourself with the bedcovers. "Could you put that back on, please?" you ask, your voice strained.

Jungkook laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Why, babe?" He teases, his voice closer now. "Are you afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off me?"

"Nonsense," you reply, feeling your cheeks flush.

Jungkook's smile turns into a smirk as he watches your reaction. "Don't worry," he says, his voice low and soothing. "We're just going to sleep."

You nod, trying to ignore the racing of your heart as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you. His bare chest feels warm and firm against your back, and his breathing is steady and comforting.

As he lays down, pulling you with him, you feel your body mold to his. His arms tighten around you, and you can feel his heart beating in time with yours. Despite the situation, a sense of comfort washes over you, and you close your eyes, letting the sound of his breathing lull you into a state of semi-sleep.

The next morning, your phone's obnoxious alarm jolts you awake. You blink groggily, realizing that you're still in Jungkook's embrace. You start to panic, trying to remember the events of the previous night. The kiss, his closeness, the way he held you - it all comes rushing back. Jungkook stirs slightly, his grip loosening as he sleeps on, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

You carefully extricate yourself from his arms, your heart racing as you sit up in bed. The room is bathed in soft early morning light, and the aroma of rain hangs in the air. The memory of your conversation with Jimin the night before floats through your mind, his words about living without regrets resonating deeply. You sigh, knowing that your decision to be with Jungkook is a direct response to that conversation.

With a renewed sense of purpose, you slip out of bed and head to the kitchen, the cold floor tiles a stark contrast to the warmth of Jungkook's embrace. You decide to make chocolate for Jimin, a small gesture to thank him for his understanding and friendship. I

As you gather the ingredients for the chocolate, you can't help but smile at the thought of Jimin's face when he tastes it. He loves sweet things, and you know he'll appreciate the gesture. You melt the chocolate in a double boiler, the rich scent filling the room, while you prep breakfast for Jungkook. It's a strange situation, but you're determined to handle it with grace.

In the fridge, you find the perfect ingredients for a hearty breakfast – eggs, cheese, and bacon. You crack the eggs into a pan, the sizzle of the bacon a comforting sound that grounds you. As you cook, you find yourself lost in thought about the complex web of relationships you've woven around yourself.

The kitchen fills with the scent of cooking food, and Jungkook stumbles in, his hair messy from sleep, his eyes half-closed. He looks adorable, and for a moment, you forget the tension between you all. "What's all this?" He asks, his voice thick with sleep.

"Good morning, Jungkook," you say, turning to smile at him. "I made breakfast."

He saunters over, his bare feet silent on the cold tiles. He wraps his arms around you from behind, his chest pressing against your back as he peers into the pan. "It smells amazing," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck.

Before you can respond, Jungkook's mouth is on yours, his kiss a gentle peck that sends a shiver down your spine. "Thank you, babe," he whispers, his voice thick with sleep. The tenderness of the moment is a stark contrast to the passion of last night, and you find yourself leaning into him, letting his warmth envelop you.

After breakfast, you both sit on the couch, sipping on coffee. Jungkook's arms are draped casually around you, his thumb tracing circles on your arm. You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, focusing instead on the simple task of putting on your shoes. You've always been a bit clumsy when it came to tying shoelaces, and today seems to be no exception.

With a huff of frustration, you hold up the untied shoe. "I can't believe I wasted money on these," you murmur, frowning at the stubborn laces. "I've never been good at tying shoelaces."

Jungkook's eyes light up with amusement. He takes the shoe from you, his nimble fingers deftly weaving through the laces. "Here," he says, handing it back to you. "Let me show you a trick."

You watch as he takes the other shoe and starts to tie the laces, his movements swift and practiced. "You see?" He says, holding up the finished product. "It's all about the rhythm."

You nod, taking the shoe from him and attempting to mimic his actions. The laces seem to have a mind of their own, refusing to cooperate. Jungkook chuckles, his hand coming up to cover yours. "Let me," he says, taking over. His fingers are surprisingly gentle as he ties the bow, his touch sending a warm tingle up your arm.

When he's done, he looks up at you with a soft smile. "There," he says, his voice low and soothing. "Perfect."

You smile back, your heart racing. "Thank you, Jungkook," you say, your voice a little shaky.

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. "Let's go," he says, standing up and pulling you to your feet. "I have dance practice, and I can drop you off on the way."

You nod, trying to ignore the sudden spike in your heart rate. Jungkook's hand is warm and firm around yours as you navigate through the quiet streets of the early morning. The cool breeze feels refreshing on your flushed cheeks as you walk to the parking lot where his luxurious black sedan waits.

Once inside the car, the silence is thick with unspoken tension. Jungkook's eyes keep flickering to the box in your hand, curiosity etched on his features. "What's that?" He finally asks, unable to contain his curiosity.

"Just food," you reply, trying to keep your voice casual. The lie feels heavy on your tongue, but you don't want to admit that the chocolate is for Jimin.

Jungkook's gaze lingers on the box for a moment before he shrugs, starting the engine. "Alright, if you say so," he says, his tone light, but you can't shake the feeling that he's not fully convinced.

As you arrive at BigHit, the tension in the car is palpable. Jungkook pulls into a parking spot, the engine purring to a stop. He turns to you, his expression serious. "I'll text you later, okay?"

You nod, feeling a sudden lump in your throat. "Yeah, sure," you reply, your voice a little too high. You fumble with the door handle, eager to escape the confines of the car.

As you step into the bustling BigHit offices, you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. The chaos of the day ahead is a welcome distraction from the tumultuous emotions swirling in your chest. You head straight to your desk, the chocolate safely tucked away in your bag.

A few hours into your workday, you feel a warm hand on your shoulder. You jump, spinning around to find Taehyung standing behind you, his expression inscrutable. "What's wrong with your lips?" He asks, his voice low and concerned.

You blush, your hand flying to your mouth. "What do you mean?" You ask, your voice squeaking with nerves.

He takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours. "They're swollen," he says, his voice a gentle murmur. "What happened?"

You swallow, feeling your heart race. "I...uh...I bit my lip," you lie, hoping he doesn't notice the tremble in your voice.

Taehyung's gaze lingers on your mouth, his expression unreadable. He reaches out, his thumb brushing gently against your bottom lip. "Does it hurt?" He asks, his voice filled with concern that feels almost intimate.

You shake your head, trying to ignore the way your body responds to his touch. "It's fine," you murmur, taking a step back to put some distance between you.

Taehyung's eyes narrow slightly, and he drops his hand. "My schedule for tomorrow," he says, his voice cold and professional. "What is it?"

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. "Tomorrow morning, you have an ad shoot at an amusement park," you reply, focusing on the paperwork in front of you. "It starts at 8 AM sharp."

He nods, his expression unreadable. "Thank you," he says, his voice clipped. "Make sure everything is ready for me."

You nod, trying to keep your breathing steady. "Of course," you reply, your voice professional despite the turmoil inside you.

Taehyung turns to leave, but before he does, his hand shoots out, his thumb brushing against your swollen bottom lip once more. "And take care of your lips," he says, his voice a low murmur. The intensity in his gaze makes you tremble, and you nod again, unable to form coherent words.

After he leaves, you sink into your chair, your heart racing. The tender touch of his thumb lingers on your skin, a stark reminder of the kiss you shared on the rooftop.

Later in the evening, as the office starts to empty, you find yourself unable to focus on the paperwork. Your thoughts keep drifting to Jimin, and the comforting conversation you had shared. With a sudden urge to see him, you ask Minseo, "Do you know where Jimin is?"

Minseo looks up from her computer, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "He's in dance practice," she says. "Do you want me to tell him you're coming?"

You shake your head, deciding that a surprise visit might be better. "No, I'll just go check on him," you reply, trying to sound casual.

With the box of chocolate in hand, you make your way to the dance studios. The sound of music filters through the hallway, the rhythmic thuds of feet against the floor echoing off the walls. You stop outside the door, your heart racing as you listen to the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation.

Taking a deep breath, you push the door open, and the sound of the music washes over you. The room is dimly lit, the floor-to-ceiling windows casting a soft glow across the shiny floor. Jimin is in the center, his body moving with a fluid grace that captivates you. His eyes widen in surprise as he sees you, his smile lighting up the room.

"Y/N!" He calls out, his voice filled with genuine delight. The other dancers and staff members look up, curiosity piqued, before Jimin waves them off. "You can all take a break," he says, his eyes never leaving yours.

The room quickly clears, the sound of their footsteps fading down the hallway. When it's just the two of you, Jimin saunters over, his movements smooth and feline-like. He takes the box from your hands, raising an eyebrow as he opens it to reveal the chocolates inside. "For me?" He asks, his voice filled with mock surprise.

You nod, feeling a bit self-conscious under his scrutiny. "I just wanted to thank you for the talk the other night," you explain, your voice a little shy. "You really helped me see things differently."

Jimin raises an eyebrow, looking both amused and suspicious. "Looking tasty, but how can I believe you didn't mix something weird into this?" His teasing tone makes you laugh nervously, your heart racing a little faster.

You hold out a piece of chocolate, the rich aroma wafting in the air. "Why would I do that?" you ask, your voice squeaking slightly. "I wanted to show my appreciation."

Jimin's eyes glint with mischief as he takes the box from you. "I know," he says, his smile widening. "But I want to make sure it's safe first."

With trembling hands, you take out a piece of chocolate and place it in your mouth, the rich, velvety sweetness coating your tongue. Before you can take a bite, Jimin's hand shoots up, and he gently plucks it from your mouth, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip in the process. The gesture is swift, and your eyes widen in surprise as he takes a bite of the chocolate himself, his gaze never leaving yours.

Your breath hitches as your lips hover a mere centimeter from his, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. Your eyes lock, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. He chews slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, a smug smile playing on his lips.

When he finally swallows, he leans back, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Mm," he says, his voice low and rumbly. "It's delicious."

You blush, your heart racing as you take a step back, breaking the tension. "I'm glad you liked it," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jimin's smile turns into a grin, and he takes a step closer. "Thank you, Y/N," he says, his voice sincere. "But I think you know that's not what I was really thanking you for."

Your face burns, and you drop your gaze to the floor. "I should go now," you mumble, taking another step back. "Bye."

Jimin's smile doesn't waver, but his eyes hold a hint of something deeper. "Okay, see you later," he says, his voice still light.

You nod, your legs feeling like jelly as you turn to leave the dance studio. The hallway is empty, the echo of your footsteps the only sound as you walk away. Your heart is racing, and you can't help but feel the weight of the unspoken words between you.

Nightfall descends as you return to your apartment, the quiet solitude a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions you've experienced today. As you unlock the door, you're met with a scene that's completely foreign to you. The usual cozy mess is replaced with a meticulously organized space, adorned with bouquets of your favorite flowers and an array of new furnishings that scream luxury. Your heart skips a beat, and your hand tightens around the doorknob in shock.

On the table, a small envelope with your name neatly scrawled across the front catches your eye. You cautiously approach, your mind racing with questions. With trembling fingers, you open the note inside. The words "Hope you love it, babe" greet you, the handwriting unmistakably Jungkook's. You look around the transformed room, trying to process the extravagance and effort he must have put into this surprise.

With a sigh, you pull out your phone and dial Jungkook's number. It rings a few times before he answers, his voice filled with excitement. "Hey, did you like it?" He asks, the sound of his voice making your heart flutter despite your confusion.

"Jungkook," you begin, trying to keep the emotion out of your voice. "Why did you do this?" You ask, holding the note in your hand.

"What do you mean?" He asks, his tone playfully innocent. "I just wanted to do something nice for you," he says, the smile evident in his voice.

You sigh, feeling a mix of gratitude and irritation. "It's just...it's too much," you reply, trying to find the right words to express your feelings.

"Too much?" Jungkook's voice holds a hint of defensiveness. "I just wanted to make sure you felt at home," he says, his tone earnest.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I do appreciate it," you reply, trying to find the balance between gratitude and setting boundaries. "But I don't need all of this."

"I'm busy right now," Jungkook says into the phone, his voice distant. "I'll call you back, okay?"

The line goes dead before you can protest, leaving you standing in the middle of the overwhelmingly changed apartment. You hear the low murmur of voices in the background before the call ends, and you can't shake off the feeling that he might be with the other members of BTS. The realization stings a little, but you quickly push it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

On the other side of the call, Jungkook's eyes darted around the room before he slipped his phone into his pocket. He was with the other members of BTS, huddled together in a soundproof booth, discussing the final tweaks to their upcoming single.

"Alright, let's go over the bridge again," RM said, his voice commanding attention as he tapped his finger against the soundboard. The rest of the group nodded in unison, their eyes focused on the lyrics in front of them.

The door to the booth swung open, and Jimin stumbled in, slightly out of breath. "Sorry, guys," he panted, his cheeks flushed. "I got held up in traffic."

"You're always late," Suga deadpanned without looking up from his notes. Jimin rolled his eyes, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "It's not my fault Seoul's roads are a nightmare."

Jungkook's gaze flickered to the box tucked under Jimin's arm, his heart skipping a beat. It was the same box he had seen Y/N carrying that morning.

"What's that?" He asked, his tone casual despite the storm of emotions brewing within him.

Jimin glanced down, his eyes widening slightly. "Oh, just some chocolates Y/N made for me," he replied, his voice a little too nonchalant.

The room grew quiet, and the tension was palpable. Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his mind racing with questions. Why would she make chocolates for Jimin? What had happened between them?

"You guys okay?" RM asked, noticing the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

"Yeah, I just remembered I have important work to do," Jungkook said, his voice tight. He turned to leave the booth, the tension in his shoulders evident.

"Hold on, what happened to your lip?" Taehyung asked.

Jungkook felt a rush of heat to his face. "It's just a love bite," he mumbled, hoping it was subtle enough to be dismissed.

"Who gives love bites on the lip, Jungkook?"

Jin's voice echoed through the booth, and the room erupted in laughter. Jungkook's hand flew to his mouth, his cheeks burning.

"I said, did you trip and fall into a tub of glue?" J-Hope added, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Jungkook shot him a glare but couldn't hold back his own chuckle. "Very funny, guys," he grumbled, his discomfort clear.

"Or maybe you got a little too friendly with the door handle?" Suga quipped, not looking up from his notes. The room dissolved into snickers.

"Alright, enough," Jungkook said, trying to regain some dignity. "It's nothing."

"If it's nothing, why do you look like you just got caught with your hand in the cookie jar?" J-Hope teased, earning more laughter from the group.

"I said, it's nothing," Jungkook insisted, his voice firm. "Now, can we get back to work?"

RM looked at Jungkook, his gaze thoughtful. "We can discuss this later," he said, gesturing to the song lyrics. "But for now, let's focus on the bridge."

Jungkook nodded, trying to push the thoughts of Y/N and Jimin to the back of his mind. He took his place, the beat of the song pounding in his ears as they practiced.

----

You were sound asleep when the incessant ringing of your doorbell pierced the quiet night, jolting you awake. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you squinted at the clock on your bedside table. 3 AM. Who could possibly be at your door at this hour? Your heart hammered in your chest as you threw off the covers and padded to the door.

Peeking through the peephole, you were surprised to see Jungkook's shadowy form, his hand poised to ring the bell again. Your stomach did a flip as you quickly unlocked the door, pulling it open to reveal him standing in the dim hallway. He looked tense, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made you step back.

"What's going on?" You asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Jungkook pushed past you, his eyes scanning the living room. "Where is it?" He demanded, his voice low and urgent. "The box you had in the morning."

You blinked, trying to follow his train of thought. "What box?" You asked, confused.

Jungkook turned to you, his gaze intense. "The one with the chocolates," he said, his voice tight. "Whom did you give it to?"

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "It was for Jimin," you admitted, watching his reaction closely. "I owed him a thanks for the talk we had."

Jungkook's eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched. "You gave him chocolates?" He repeated, his voice strained. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

You stepped back, feeling the weight of his accusation. "I didn't think it was a big deal," you protested, your voice rising slightly. "It was just a gesture of appreciation."

"Appreciation?" Jungkook's voice was a low growl. "You call giving chocolates to another man 'appreciation'?" His eyes searched yours, looking for signs of deceit.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your cool. "Yes, I do," you replied firmly. "Jimin is a friend, and he helped me. It's not like I'm hiding it from you."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed. "But you didn't tell me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You've been lying to me."

You felt a rush of indignation. "I haven't lied to you," you retorted. "I didn't tell you because it's not your business who I give chocolates to."

"But you're my girlfriend," Jungkook argued, his voice rising slightly. "Everything you do is my business."

You felt your temper flare. "Fine," you snapped, pushing your hair back from your face. "I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Jungkook took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. "Babe, do you like stars?" He asked, his voice suddenly gentle.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "What?" You murmured, your voice small.

"Stars," Jungkook repeated, his eyes softening. "Do you like looking at them?"

You nodded slowly, unsure of where this was going. "Yeah," you said, your voice tentative. "They're pretty."

"Then be ready to see the stars," Jungkook whispered, pulling you into his arms with a fierce tenderness that sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could react, his lips were on yours, hot and demanding. His hands roamed your body with a possessive urgency, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head to deepen the kiss. You tried to push him away, but your body betrayed you, responding to his touch with a fervor that matched his own.

He backed you up against the wall, his body pressing into yours as the kiss grew more intense. You felt your resolve slipping away, your mind fogging with desire. You knew you should stop this, but every fiber of your being was screaming for more.

Jungkook's hands slid down to your waist, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his hips, your core already aching for his touch. You tried to protest, to push him away, but your voice was lost in his mouth. He kissed you like he was trying to claim you, like he was trying to erase any trace of Jimin from your mind.

He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with need. "Let me taste you," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. Before you could react, his mouth was on your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses down to your collarbone. You felt your knees weaken as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin, his hands roaming lower to the apex of your thighs.

With surprising strength, Jungkook pushed you down onto the couch, his body following yours. You felt his hands tug at the hem of your shirt, his mouth moving down to kiss and nip at your exposed skin. Your breathing grew shallow as his lips reached your breasts, his tongue flicking against your hardened nipples.

As Jungkook's mouth moved lower, you couldn't help but arch your back, offering yourself up to him. He kissed down your stomach, his eyes never leaving yours. When his mouth reached the waistband of your pants, you tried to stop him, your hand pushing against his head.

"Jungkook, wait," you panted, your voice laced with desire and trepidation.

He didn't listen, his eyes dark with hunger as he unbuttoned your shorts and slid them down, revealing your lacey panties. Your body trembled under his touch, the anticipation almost unbearable.

"Please," you whispered, trying to push him away, but your hips betrayed you, arching towards his seeking mouth. Jungkook looked up, his eyes locked onto yours as he hooked his fingers into the elastic of your underwear and pulled them aside.

His warm breath ghosted over your sensitive flesh, sending a shiver up your spine. You felt his tongue trace a slow, tantalizing path along your slit, the gentle pressure making your knees quiver. "Jungkook, no," you protested weakly, even as your body begged for more.

Ignoring your feeble protests, Jungkook's mouth closed around your clit, his tongue flicking and sucking with a skill that had you seeing stars. You could feel yourself getting wetter with every stroke, your body responding to his touch despite your attempts to resist.

Your nails dug into the couch cushions, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Jungkook's eyes never left yours as he worked you closer to the edge, the intensity of his gaze only adding to the pleasure building inside you. You felt your orgasm approaching, a wave of pleasure that threatened to consume you.

"Jungkook," you moaned, your voice shaking. "I can't... I need..."

But he just hummed against your sensitive flesh, his eyes darkening with satisfaction as your hips began to buck against his face. His tongue delved deeper, his mouth suckling with a fierce hunger that had you gasping for air. The heat from his breath washed over your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

You tried to push him away one last time, your cheeks burning with embarrassment at the thought of him seeing you like this, so exposed and wanton. But your body was beyond caring, beyond thought. It was all sensation, all need. And as Jungkook's tongue swirled and danced, as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin, you felt yourself slipping over the edge.

Your eyes squeezed shut, and your back arched as your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your body convulsing around his mouth. Jungkook held you there, his tongue lapping at you, savoring every last drop of your pleasure. You cried out, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment, your voice raw and needy.

When the tremors finally subsided, Jungkook kissed your inner thigh gently before standing, his eyes never leaving yours. He was still fully dressed, a stark contrast to your barely-there clothing. The sight of him, so composed while you were a writhing mess, only made your face burn hotter.

You quickly grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around yourself and pulling it up to cover your face. Your heart was racing, your body humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, and you felt embarrassment wash over you. This was all so new, so overwhelming. You didn't know how to act, how to feel.

Jungkook chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Babe, you're so cute when you're flustered," he said, reaching out to gently pull the blanket away.

"Jungkook," you protested, your voice muffled by the fabric. "Please, stop."

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with playfulness. "What happened, babe?" He teased, his voice low and coaxing. "Don't tell me you don't like stars anymore?"

You peeked out from behind the blanket, your cheeks flaming. "Jungkook," you admonished, trying to sound firm despite the tremor in your voice. "I said no."

"No?" He feigned innocence, his smile never wavering. "But I thought we had a good time. Didn't you enjoy the little show?" He winked, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"Jungkook, it's not funny," you murmured, still trying to catch your breath.

He leaned in, his nose brushing yours. "I know I'm mean," he whispered, his voice a dark purr that sent a shiver down your spine. "But babe, I'm telling you, this is the last time."

You searched his eyes, looking for some sign of regret or remorse, but all you found was a determination that was both thrilling and terrifying. "What does that mean?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook's smile grew predatory. "It means," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, "that from now on, you're mine. And I don't share my things with anyone."

You felt a thrill run through you at his words, You didn't know if you should be happy or horrified, but all you could do was nod, your body still humming from the pleasure he had just given you.

Jungkook took your hand, leading you to the bedroom with a gentle tug. He was surprisingly tender, considering the fiery passion he had just displayed. You watched as he removed his shoes and shirt, his muscles rippling in the dim light.

"Babe," he said, turning to you with a tired smile. "Let's get some rest."

You nodded, feeling both relieved and anxious. As you slid into bed beside him, you couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability. He pulled you into his arms, his chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. His warmth was comforting, and the smell of his cologne washed over you, a mix of leather and spices that was uniquely Jungkook.

"Btw, babe," he mumbled against your hair, his voice already thick with sleep. "You taste really sweet."

You felt your cheeks burn, unable to find the words to respond to Jungkook's bluntness. "Pervert," you murmured under your breath, too tired to muster any genuine anger.

Jungkook chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. "What's that?" He asked, his voice lazy and satisfied.

"You heard me," you said, trying to push away from him.

But his arms tightened around you, holding you firmly in place. "What did you call me?" He whispered, his tone playful.

You sighed, your eyes closing as you snuggled deeper into his embrace. "I said you're a pervert," you repeated, your voice muffled by the pillow.

Jungkook's chuckles grew louder, his breath tickling your ear. "Am I?" He asked, his voice low and seductive.

You nodded, feeling a strange mix of annoyance and affection. "Yes, you are," you mumbled.

He kissed the top of your head, his grip on you loosening slightly. "But you like it," he said, his voice smug.

You rolled your eyes, unable to argue with the truth in his words. You did like it, and that was the most confusing part. "Jungkook," you whispered, your voice heavy with sleep. "Please, just sleep."

He chuckled, his arms tightening around you once more. "As you wish," he murmured, his voice dropping into a gentle hum, the sound lulling you into a state of relaxation. You felt his breathing even out, his body growing heavy with slumber.

The room was silent except for the faint sounds of the city outside your window and the steady rhythm of Jungkook's heartbeat against your back. It was comforting in a way you hadn't expected, his warmth enveloping you like a blanket. Despite the tumultuous day, you felt a sense of peace settle over you as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

Chapter Text

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your alarm blaring, the sunlight filtering through the curtains. You groaned, rolling over to shut it off. Jungkook was already gone, a note on the bedside table in his place. "See you tonight," it read, with a smiley face drawn next to his name.

You dragged yourself out of bed, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. As you got ready for the day, your thoughts kept drifting back to the previous night's events. You tried to push them aside, focusing instead on the task at hand: accompanying Taehyung to an amusement park for his latest ad campaign.

When you arrived at the set, the hustle and bustle of the crew was in stark contrast to the quiet intimacy of your apartment. Taehyung looked up from his script, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he nodded in acknowledgment. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, a silent tension that seemed to stretch out like a tightrope.

You went about your duties, ensuring Taehyung had everything he needed, from water to wardrobe changes. Despite his cool demeanor, you noticed a hint of curiosity in his eyes, a question that remained unvoiced. The shoot went on for hours under the blazing afternoon sun, the vibrant colors of the park a stark contrast to the monochrome emotions you held within.

Finally, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the rides and attractions, the director called a wrap. You approached Taehyung's manager, bowing slightly. "Can I go now?" You asked, keeping your voice professional. "The shooting is already done.

The manager looked at you with a knowing smile. "Actually, Taehyung would like for you to stay," he said. "He said the park is booked for the whole day, and since his shooting is finished, he'd like for you to accompany him."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "But..." You began to protest, but the manager held up a hand. "It's his request," he said firmly. "You're his personal assistant."

Taehyung looked over, his eyes meeting yours. "Come on," he said, his voice low and compelling. "Let's enjoy some rides."

You bit your lip, nervously glancing around. "But I don't like rides," you protested weakly. "I get motion sickness."

"Don't worry," Taehyung assured you with a wink. "I've got you."

Before you could protest further, he grabbed your hand and led you through the maze of crew members and equipment, pulling you towards the looming silhouettes of the amusement park rides.

He chose a roller coaster first, one that looked particularly terrifying with its steep drops and loop-the-loops. You swallowed hard as he helped you into the seat, his smile never wavering. "Trust me," he murmured in your ear as the safety bar clicked into place.

As the coaster began to climb, your heart was in your throat, your palms slick with sweat. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the wind whip through your hair as the world tipped upside down. But then, you felt his hand over yours, his fingers lacing through your own. The warmth of his touch grounded you, and when you finally opened your eyes, you saw his smiling face, his eyes full of excitement and challenge.

"Look," he said, pointing to the horizon, where the sun was setting in a burst of oranges and pinks. "Isn't it beautiful?"

You screamed as the roller coaster plummeted, but Taehyung's grip was firm, anchoring you to the present moment. He threw his head back, his laugh echoing in your ears, a sound that was infectious and free. You couldn't help but laugh with him, the fear slowly morphing into a thrill you hadn't felt in ages.

When the ride came to a halt, you stumbled out of the car, your legs wobbly from the adrenaline rush. Taehyung caught you, his arms steady around your waist. "See?" He grinned. "It's not so bad."

You couldn't argue with the thrill coursing through your veins. You took a shaky breath, your hand still in his. "Okay, okay," you conceded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Let's do it again."

The next few hours were a whirlwind of screams and laughter as Taehyung led you from one thrilling ride to the next. Each time you thought you'd had enough, his excitement was infectious, and you found yourself agreeing to one more. You lost count of how many times he held your hand, how many times he whispered in your ear, or how many times you felt your heart race for reasons other than fear.

Finally, as the park lights grew brighter in the deepening twilight, you both decided to take a break in the game zone. The neon lights and the cacophony of electronic sounds were a stark contrast to the serene quiet of the rides. You watched as Taehyung tried his hand at a basketball game, his tall frame making it look easy as he sunk shot after shot. When it was your turn, you approached a giant claw machine, eyeing the cuddly soft toy hanging just out of reach.

You dropped in a coin, your heart racing as you maneuvered the joysticks. The claw descended, only to miss the toy by a hair's breadth. Again and again, you tried, your frustration growing with each failed attempt. You were about to give up when you felt a gentle hand cover yours on the joystick.

Taehyung stepped up beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. "What's the prize?" He asked, his eyes scanning the row of stuffed animals.

You pointed to the plush teddy bear dangling just out of reach. "That one," you said, your voice hopeful.

Taehyung nodded, his hand moving in sync with yours, guiding the claw with surprising precision. It descended once more, and this time, it latched onto the bear. You watched, your breath held, as the arm swung back and the prize was deposited into the chute.

"Got it," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours.

The moment the bear clunked into the prize bin, you let out a squeal of excitement, turning to throw your arms around Taehyung's neck. He stumbled back slightly, surprised by your sudden embrace, but quickly wrapped his arms around your waist, his chuckles vibrating through you.

"Thank you," you whispered into his shoulder, your heart racing from more than just the thrill of victory. You felt his grip tighten around you, his body pressing closer. For a brief moment, you could feel the warmth of his breath against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

But then, reality crashed down around you like a ton of bricks. You pulled away, your cheeks flushing as you realized what you had done. "I'm sorry," you said quickly, stepping back and clutching the teddy bear to your chest like a shield. "I didn't mean to hug you."

Taehyung's smile didn't waver, his eyes still twinkling with mischief. "It's fine," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But I don't think you need to apologize for that."

You felt your heart stutter in your chest, his words sending a rush of conflicting emotions through you. "I just got excited," you said lamely, trying to downplay the moment.

"It's okay," Taehyung said, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. He leaned in closer, his eyes searching your face. "Your perfume smells really good."

You took a step back, clutching the teddy bear tighter, feeling the plush fabric dig into your palms. "Thanks," you murmured, your voice a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. "But we should probably go home."

He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a shrug, he took your hand, pulling you back towards the bustling game zone. "Let's play some more games," he said, his grip firm but not unyielding.

You allowed him to lead you, feeling the warmth of his hand as it enveloped your own. You watched as he surveyed the area, his eyes landing on a baseball game. "How about this one?" He suggested, pointing to the booth where players threw balls at a target to win prizes.

"I'm terrible at baseball," you protested, the memories of gym class still fresh in your mind. "I'll just embarrass you."

Taehyung chuckled, his eyes lighting up with a challenge. "I'll help you," he said, dropping a few coins into the machine. He stepped up to the plate, his eyes never leaving yours. "Just watch me."

With a grace that seemed almost unnatural for someone of his height, Taehyung swung the plastic bat, sending the ball hurtling towards the target. It hit the bullseye with a satisfying thwack, and you couldn't help but clap, your eyes wide with amazement. He winked at you, handing the bat over. "Your turn."

You stepped up nervously, your heart racing as you took a swing. The ball bounced off the edge of the target, barely missing the mark. Taehyung stepped closer, his chest brushing against your back as he reached around you to adjust your grip. You could feel the heat of his body, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered instructions.

You threw the ball again, this time with more force, and it hit the center with a satisfying ding. The prize dropped into the chute, and you jumped in excitement, only to find Taehyung's arms around you, his chest pressed against your back. "I knew you could do it," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble in your ear.

The warmth of his embrace was too much to handle, and you stepped away, your heart racing. "Thank you," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "What's the next game?"

Taehyung's eyes fell on the dance machine, a rhythm game with flashing lights and an upbeat pop song blasting through the speakers. "This one," he said, pointing towards the glowing dance floor.

"I can't dance," you protested, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

But Taehyung was already walking over to the machine, his steps confident. "Come on," he said, holding out his hand. "I'll teach you."

You took a deep breath and placed your hand in his, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor. The music started, and the lights began to flash in time with the beat. You stumbled, your feet tripping over themselves as you tried to mimic the steps on the screen. Taehyung's chuckles grew louder, his eyes dancing with amusement.

As the song sped up, your clumsiness grew more apparent. You felt your heart racing, not just from the exertion but from the proximity of his body to yours. And then, in a moment of chaos, your foot slipped on the glossy floor, and you fell, your body colliding with Taehyung's. He stumbled backward, and you both ended up in a tangled mess on the floor.

He landed on top of you, his eyes wide with surprise, his breath warm against your cheek. For a moment, the world seemed to pause, the neon lights fading into the background. Your heart thudded in your chest, your body frozen beneath his. You could feel the weight of his body pressing down on you, the heat of his skin seeping through your clothes.

Slowly, you began to move, trying to push him off, but his hand shot out, his fingers entwining with yours. He held your hand to the side, his grip firm but gentle.

"Taehyung, I'm so sorry," you stuttered, your voice shaking with the force of your racing heart.

He didn't move, his gaze locked on yours. "Do you know how fast your heart is beating?" He whispered, his breath tickling your skin.

You stared up at him, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made you feel exposed. "What?" You managed to get out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Taehyung leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours. "I can hear it," he said, his voice dropping to a murmur. "It's like a drum in my ear."

Just as the moment grew too intense, a voice sliced through the air. "Sir, I'm really sorry to disturb you," Taehyung's manager called out, his face a mask of professionalism as he approached the two of you on the dance floor.

You gasped, pushing Taehyung away with surprising strength. Your cheeks burned as you scrambled to your feet, your eyes darting to the manager's unreadable expression. "It's fine," Taehyung said, his voice casual as he stood up, brushing off his pants. "We're just taking a break."

"I should go now," you said quickly, your voice shaking. You didn't dare look at Taehyung, afraid of what you'd see in his eyes.

"Let me drop you," Taehyung offered, his voice soft.

You shook your head, your heart racing. "No, I can go myself," you said, your voice firm.

Taehyung's eyes searched yours for a moment, but you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, unable to meet his gaze. "Are you sure?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Yes," you said, your voice shaking slightly. "It's late. I need to get home."

Taehyung nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Okay," he said, his voice a soft murmur that seemed to resonate through every fiber of your being.

You nodded, the gravity of his words settling heavily in the pit of your stomach. Without another look back, you turned and hurried away, the sound of his footsteps and the manager's voice fading into the background as you wove through the crowded park.

As you made your way to the exit, your thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and longing.

Taehyung watched she left with a flicker of annoyance in his eyes, his gaze shifting to his manager. "What was so important?" He demanded, his voice edged with a hint of anger.

The manager swallowed hard, his professional demeanor not quite masking his nerves. "There was an emergency call from the agency, sir," he stuttered, his eyes darting around the crowded park. "They said it couldn't wait."

"Couldn't wait?" Taehyung's eyebrows shot up, his voice cold. "Couldn't you have handled it?"

The manager took a step back, his eyes wide with fear. "It was the CEO, sir," he squeaked. "He said it was urgent."

Taehyung's expression darkened, his jaw clenching. "Fine," he ground out, his eyes never leaving the spot where Y/N had been standing just moments before. "But next time, unless it's life or death, don't interrupt my personal time."

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving the manager to scurry after him.

You reached your apartment, the cool evening air offering no reprieve from the heat that still clung to you from the amusement park. Your thoughts swirled like a tornado, replaying the moments with Taehyung in vivid detail. The way his hand had felt in yours, the warmth of his breath, the gentle pressure of his body against yours—what would have happened if the manager hadn't interrupted?

You closed the door behind you, the quietness of your apartment starkly contrasting with the chaos of your mind. You leaned against the wall, the plush teddy bear still clutched in your arms. If the manager hadn't come, would Taehyung have kissed you? Would you have let him? Your heart fluttered at the thought.

With a deep sigh, you pushed away from the wall and headed to the bathroom. "Y/N," you murmured to yourself, "you need to stop thinking about this." You placed the teddy bear on the sink, its beady eyes seeming to stare at you as if it knew the turmoil in your heart. You turned on the cold water and splashed your face, hoping to wash away the lingering warmth of Taehyung's touch.

After a few deep breaths, you picked up your phone to call Jungkook. Your hand trembled slightly as you dialed his number, the events of the day playing like a movie reel in your mind. The line rang once, twice, and then you heard his familiar voice.

"Missing me already, babe?" Jungkook's voice was teasing, but there was an underlying hint of something else. Something that made your heart clench.

You swallowed hard, trying to push down the emotions that threatened to spill over. "No," you said, trying to keep your voice light. "I just wanted to know if you're going to come over to my house."

There was a beat of silence on the line before Jungkook spoke again. "I can't tonight," he said, his voice tight. "I have work at the studio."

Your heart sank, but you forced a smile into your voice. "Okay, have you eaten anything?"

"No, not yet," Jungkook replied, his voice a mix of regret and distraction. "I'll grab something quick."

"Jungkook," you began, but he cut you off, his voice firm. "I'll call you later, okay? I promise." And with that, the line went dead.

You stared at your phone, feeling a mix of disappointment and frustration. Should you cook for Jungkook, you wondered? It would be a sweet gesture, a way to show him that you cared despite your tumultuous day. Deciding to push aside your jumbled thoughts, you turned to the kitchen, determined to lose yourself in the comforting rhythm of cooking.

Chopping vegetables and marinating meat became a form of therapy as you moved through the motions, the scent of garlic and soy sauce filling the air. You focused on the sizzle of the pan, the way the onions turned translucent and the beef browned. It was a dance you knew well, a dance that allowed you to momentarily escape the chaos of your life.

Once the meal was ready, you packed it carefully into a Tupperware container, feeling a sense of pride swell in your chest. It was a simple gesture, but you knew Jungkook would appreciate it. After changing into comfortable shoes and grabbing your bag, you headed out the door, the warm food in your hands.

The night was cooler than you had expected, the air carrying a hint of rain. You hurried to the bus stop, the Tupperware feeling like a precious cargo that could shatter at any moment. The bus ride to BigHit was quiet, your thoughts swirling around the events of the day. The bright lights of the building looked almost welcoming as you approached.

As you stepped off the elevator and into the familiar corridor leading to Jungkook's studio, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The studio lights were dimmed, the usual cacophony of music and laughter absent. You knocked tentatively on the door, your heart racing.

When no one answered, you pushed it open, only to find the room empty. The confusion grew, and you turned to the nearest staff member, a young intern who looked like they hadn't seen daylight in weeks. "Excuse me," you called out, your voice echoing down the hallway. "Do you know where Jungkook is?"

The staff looked up from their clipboard, their eyes widening when they recognized you. "Oh, Miss Y/N," they stuttered. "Jungkook isn't here."

Your heart sank. "Where is he?" You asked, trying to keep the desperation out of your voice.

The staff pointed towards the cafeteria. "He's having dinner with his makeup artists," they said, a hint of curiosity in their tone. "They're wrapping up a late-night photoshoot."

You felt a knot form in your stomach, your plans for a sweet gesture evaporating like mist in the sun. You nodded, forcing a smile. "Thank you," you murmured, turning away from the studio.

Walking towards the cafeteria, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. You peeked through the window, your eyes searching for Jungkook among the sea of people. There he was, sitting at a table with a group of stylish women, all of them laughing and sharing stories. Your eyes fell on the half-eaten food in front of him, the Tupperware you had brought growing heavier in your hands.

"Good," you murmured to yourself, "At least he's eating."

The words felt hollow, though, as you watched him lean in to hear one of the makeup artists whisper something in his ear. His laugh was genuine, carefree, and it stung like a slap to the face. You had never felt so out of place in the BTS compound.

With a deep breath, you turned away from the window, the decision to leave weighing heavily on your shoulders. You didn't want to intrude, didn't want to be the clingy girlfriend who couldn't handle a little work dinner. You didn't want to be the reason he got in trouble with his schedule.

"Y/N," you scolded yourself as you started walking down the road, the Tupperware feeling like a weight in your arms. "How could you be so silly? He's a celebrity; he can grab food whenever he needs it." Your voice was barely audible, the echo of your footsteps on the pavement the only sound to keep you company.

You felt the sting of your own rejection, the reality of your situation setting in. Here you were, a nobody intern, bringing food to Jungkook, the world-famous idol, like a lovesick puppy. You knew better than to let your emotions get the best of you, to let your insecurities lead you down this path. "You're not his mother," you reminded yourself sternly. "He doesn't need you to feed him."

You were so lost in thought, you didn't see the uneven patch of sidewalk ahead. Your foot caught on the jagged edge, sending you tumbling forward.

You managed to save the Tupperware from flying out of your grasp, but as you tried to stand, a sharp pain shot through your ankle. "Oh no," you groaned, your eyes filling with tears. You had twisted it in the fall.

Looking around, you spotted a nearby bench and hobbled over to it, gritting your teeth against the pain. "What else could go wrong tonight?" You whispered to yourself, setting the Tupperware down gently beside you. You reached into your bag to grab your phone, only to find it had switched off. "Great," you muttered, "just great."

The first droplets of rain began to fall, and you sighed heavily, watching as the sky opened up and soaked the city. It was as if the universe had decided to match the mess of your emotions with the chaos of the weather. You pulled your hoodie over your head, trying to shield yourself from the cold droplets.

And that's when you heard it. A soft voice, almost drowned out by the patter of rain. "Can I adopt this little kitten?" You looked up, your eyes widening in surprise to find Jimin standing a few feet away, an umbrella held out over your head. His eyes searched yours, a hint of concern in his gaze as he took in your disheveled state.

Chapter Text

The rain had soaked through your hoodie by the time Jimin had led you to his house, his arm wrapped around your waist, supporting your weight as you limped along. The warmth of his home was a stark contrast to the chill outside, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort as he guided you to a chair in the living room.

Jimin's house was unlike any you had ever seen. It was a modern oasis, with sleek lines and a minimalist design that somehow managed to feel both cold and inviting. You watched as he disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a first aid kit and a towel.

He knelt before you, his eyes focused on your injured ankle as he gently removed your soaking wet shoe. You couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed as he peeled back the wet sock, revealing your swollen, bruised ankle. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said softly, his voice a balm to your frazzled nerves.

Jimin's hands were deft as he applied antiseptic to the scrape and wrapped a bandage around your ankle. His touch was gentle, yet firm, and you found yourself leaning into his care. The pain ebbed away under his ministrations, and by the time he was done, you felt a strange sense of relief. "Here you go," he said, patting the bandage. "I hope it's not paining too much."

You offered a small smile, feeling a little more stable now. "Thank you, Jimin," you murmured, looking down at the Tupperware.

His eyes fell on the Tupperware, curiosity piquing. "What's this?" He asked, picking it up.

You felt your cheeks warm. "It's food," you said, your voice small. "I made it for someone, but." You trailed off, not wanting to explain the whole sordid story of your failed delivery.

Jimin's gaze snapped to yours, his expression unreadable. "Can I eat it?" He asked, his voice hopeful. "I'm really hungry."

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Of course," you said, feeling a strange sense of relief at his offer.

Jimin's eyes lit up, and he took the Tupperware into the kitchen. You could hear the sound of the microwave beeping, followed by the clink of cutlery against plastic. A moment later, he returned with a steaming plate of food, setting it down in front of him.

"Thank you," he said, his eyes never leaving yours as he took a bite. "It's delicious."

The simple act of watching Jimin eat your food was surprisingly soothing. You couldn't help but feel a little warmth spread through you as you saw the way he enjoyed it.

"Thank you for making this," Jimin said, his eyes meeting yours. "It's really good."

You nodded, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "I'm glad you liked it," you said, feeling a sense of pride swell in your chest.

Jimin took another bite, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's the best meal I've had in weeks," he said, his voice earnest.

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. "Really?" You asked, a small smile playing on your lips.

He nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Seriously," he said. "I might just have to keep you around."

The teasing banter felt good, a welcome distraction from the chaos of the night. But as the rain continued to beat against the windows, the reality of the situation sunk in. "I should really go," you said, pushing yourself to stand.

Jimin was immediately at your side, his arm wrapping around your waist again. "No way," he said firmly. "Look at your ankle. It's swollen. You can't go anywhere like that."

You protested, "But I can't just stay here."

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. "Why not?"

You bit your lower lip, trying to think of a good reason. "I just can't," you finally said, your voice trembling slightly. "I need to get home."

Jimin sighed, setting his empty plate aside. "Look, it's late, it's raining cats and dogs out there, and your ankle is a mess. Just stay the night. I have a guest room, you'll be comfortable, and I promise I won't bother you." His voice was gentle, his expression earnest.

Before you could protest further, Jimin was already standing, grabbing a towel from the bathroom. He gently took your hand and guided you to the couch, his eyes lingering on your damp hair. "Let me dry your hair," he said, his voice soothing.

You nodded, feeling too drained to argue. You leaned back, watching as he carefully wrapped the towel around your hair, his movements slow and deliberate. The warmth of the fabric against your cold skin was surprisingly comforting. You felt the tension in your shoulders start to ease as he gently squeezed the excess water out.

" I can do this," Y/N insisted, her voice a little wobbly as she attempted to stand on her injured ankle.

Jimin's eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. "No, you can't," he said firmly, gently pushing you back down onto the couch. "Just sit here, okay?"

With a sigh, you allowed yourself to be coaxed into his care, watching as he disappeared into his bedroom. You couldn't help but wonder if this was a good idea, staying the night at Jimin's place, especially when your relationship with Jungkook was so precarious.

Jimin emerged a few moments later with a pile of clothes in his arms, his expression unreadable. "Here," he said, holding out an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. "They should fit you."

You took the clothes with trembling hands, feeling a sudden awkwardness creep in. "Thank you," you murmured, before limping towards the bathroom.

As you changed into the oversized garments, you couldn't help but think about the strange pattern that had emerged in your encounters with Jimin. It always seemed to be under the most awkward or uncomfortable of circumstances.

You stepped out of the bathroom, feeling a little self-conscious in his clothes, the fabric swimming around you. Jimin looked up from the TV, his eyes scanning over your outfit with a smile that made your cheeks warm. "You look comfy," he said, patting the couch cushion next to him.

You hesitated, the distance between the two of you on the couch feeling suddenly vast. "Maybe I should sit over there," you suggested, pointing to the opposite end of the couch.

Jimin's smile grew into a full laugh. "Relax, Y/N," he said, patting the cushion closer to him. "I'm not going to eat you, I promise."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his playful tone, the tension in the room dissipating slightly. You sat down gingerly, making sure to keep a respectable distance between you. Jimin noticed your discomfort and leaned back, giving you more space.

"So, what's your favorite movie?" He asked, changing the subject and picking up the TV remote. His question was casual, but the way he angled his body towards you spoke volumes. It was an invitation to let down your guard, to get to know him better.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "I like thriller movies," you said, watching as his eyes lit up.

Jimin flipped through the channels, finally settling on a suspenseful film that had you both on the edge of your seats. The plot was intricate, the twists and turns keeping your mind occupied. The sound of rain outside added a perfect backdrop to the tension building on the screen.

As the movie played on, you found yourself slowly relaxing into the plush cushions of the couch. Your eyes grew heavier, and before you knew it, your head was nodding. The sudden jolt of Jimin's weight on your shoulder startled you awake, and you looked up to find him fast asleep, his head resting on the armrest just above your shoulder.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight. His face was peaceful, the tension of the day erased by sleep. You watched him for a moment, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, the soft snores escaping his lips. You felt a strange warmth in your chest, a feeling that was both comforting and confusing.

Deciding not to wake him, you carefully shifted your position, trying to move without disturbing him. But your injured ankle protested, sending a sharp pain shooting up your leg. In your haste to avoid crying out, you accidentally nudged the armrest, causing Jimin's head to slip down and land in your lap.

For a moment, you froze, your breath catching in your throat as you stared down at him. His face was so close, you could see the dark lashes fanning out against his cheeks, the faint stubble shadowing his jawline. His warmth seeped into you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace.

With a soft sigh, you reached for the TV remote and switched off the movie. The sudden silence was deafening, the only sound now the rhythmic patter of the rain and Jimin's gentle snores. You felt your eyes growing heavier once again, the weight of the day catching up to you.

The next morning, the room was bathed in soft, early light. Jimin stirred, his eyes fluttering open to find himself in an unexpected position. His head rested on something firm yet comfortable, and it took him a moment to realize it was your thigh. He blinked a few times, the events of the previous night slowly coming back to him. He sat up carefully, his eyes immediately drawn to your sleeping form.

He couldn't help but reach out, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek gently. The softness of your skin was surprising, and he found himself lost in the moment, his thoughts swirling with a mix of attraction .

You felt the gentle touch before you saw him, your eyes fluttering open to find Jimin's hand mere inches from your face. His eyes searched yours, a question in their depths. "Jimin?" You whispered, the sound of his name on your lips waking him from his daze.

He quickly removed his hand, a blush spreading up his neck. "Sorry," he murmured, rubbing the back of his head. "I just didn't want to wake you up."

You nodded, feeling a little awkward. "It's okay," you said, your voice still groggy with sleep. You sat up slowly, the fabric of your shirt sliding off your shoulder as you moved.

Jimin's eyes followed the movement, his gaze lingering on the exposed skin. "You know," he said, his voice low and a little raspy, "I love morning sex." The words hung in the air, a hint of mischief in his tone.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Jimin leaned in closer, his breath warm against your neck. "Don't make me turn on," he whispered, "Otherwise, you might not be able to walk the whole day."

You swallowed hard, trying to form a coherent thought. "J-Jimin," you finally managed to stutter, pushing his hand away gently.

He leaned back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I know, I know," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm shameless."

You couldn't help but laugh a little, the tension of the moment dissipating slightly. "Yeah, you are," you agreed, the warmth of his teasing making you feel a little less on edge.

Jimin stood up, the smile on his face never wavering. "Seriously, though," he said, holding out his hand to help you up. "How's your ankle?"

You took his hand, testing the weight on your injured ankle tentatively. "It's okay," you replied, wincing slightly as you put pressure on it. "Thanks to you."

His eyes searched yours, the concern still evident. "Good," he murmured. "Now, go freshen up. I'll grab your clothes and get them sorted out." He gave you a gentle nudge towards the bathroom, his hand lingering on your back for a beat longer than necessary.

As you hobbled to the bathroom, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was all a little too surreal. You showered quickly, the warm water easing the tension from your muscles.

When you emerged, freshly dressed, your eyes immediately fell on Jimin. He was standing by the kitchen counter, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. The aroma filled the air, a stark contrast to the lingering awkwardness between you. He looked up as you entered, his eyes sweeping over you, a hint of something unreadable in his gaze.

"Where did you get those clothes?" You asked, your voice a little too loud in the quiet space.

Jimin took a sip of his coffee, a smug smile playing on his lips. "I ordered them," he replied casually.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Then why couldn't you just order them for me last night?" You questioned.
He leaned against the counter, his eyes never leaving yours. "Because I wanted to see you in my clothes," he said, his voice a low purr that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your cheeks flushed a deep red, and you quickly turned away, avoiding his gaze. "How do you know my size?" You blurted out, your voice a little too high-pitched.

Jimin's smirk grew wider, and he took a step closer. "It's a talent," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I pay attention."

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing. "Well, thanks for the clothes," you mumbled, taking a step back. "I should go now."

"I want to take you home," Jimin said, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to resonate through the quiet kitchen. "But I have a photoshoot to attend." He took another sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving yours.

You nodded, your throat feeling suddenly dry. "It's okay," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll just grab a cab."

Jimin's eyes searched yours for a moment before he nodded, setting his coffee down. "Okay," he said, pulling out his phone. "Let me book one for you."

Moments later, the sound of tires splashing through the puddles outside signaled the arrival of the cab. He helped you to the door, his arm around your waist as you limped through the foyer.

"Take care of your ankle, okay?" He murmured, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to vibrate through your bones. He handed you a small bag with your shoes.

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Thank you for everything, Jimin," you said, your voice a little too choked for your liking.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "If you really want to thank me," he whispered, his voice a seductive purr, "buy me dinner."

Surprise flickered across your face before you caught yourself. "Sure," you said, trying to sound nonchalant. "But I choose the restaurant."

Jimin's smile grew wider. "Deal," he said, his eyes never leaving yours.

As you stepped into the cab, the cool, damp morning air clinging to your clothes, you couldn't help but look out the window as Jimin's house grew smaller in the distance. You spotted a young couple walking down the sidewalk, holding hands, laughing under their shared umbrella. They looked so in love, so carefree, and your heart twisted with a pang of longing.

When would you find that kind of true love? The kind that wasn't tangled in the mess of celebrity crushes and misunderstandings. You sighed, leaning your head against the cool glass of the window.

As the cab pulled up to the BigHit compound, you felt your heart rate spike. You were about to face another day as Taehyung's personal assistant, a role that had brought you closer to your idol than you ever thought impossible.

Entering the bustling office, you spotted Taehyung from a distance, surrounded by a group of laughing staff members. His smile was infectious, reaching out and wrapping around you like a warm embrace, even from across the room. It was moments like these that reminded you why you had taken the internship in the first place—to see the softer side of your stoic idol, to be a part of the world that brought so much joy to his face.

You approached him tentatively, a folder filled with the day's schedule clutched in your hands. "Good morning," you said, keeping your voice professional despite the tumult of emotions churning within you. His eyes flicked to you, his smile never wavering.

"Ah, there you are," Taehyung said, his voice as warm as ever. "Ready for another day of chaos?" He stepped away from the group, his stride purposeful as he moved closer to you. You nodded, bracing yourself for his touch as he gently took the folder from your grasp, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that sent a jolt of electricity up your arm.

"Good," he said, his eyes scanning the contents of the folder. "You have today's schedule memorized?"

You nodded, your heart racing. "Very busy," you replied. "Photoshoot, interview, and a recording session."

Taehyung's eyes flicked up to meet yours, a hint of exhaustion in their depths. "It looks like I won't get any rest today," he murmured, a sigh escaping his lips. "But it's all for the fans."

The words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the relentless grind that was their reality. Despite the fatigue etched on his face, his dedication never wavered. He looked at you with a determination that was both inspiring and a little intimidating. "Let's get started, shall we?"

The photoshoot was a whirlwind of lights, flashes, and cameras. Taehyung transformed into a different person, his usual stoic demeanor replaced by a fiery confidence that made your heart race. You hovered at the edge of the set, ensuring he had water and anything else he might need, all while trying to remain invisible.

During a break, you approached with a tray of food, a mix of fruits and sandwiches, carefully balanced. "Taehyung," you called out gently. He looked up, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you, a small smile playing on his lips. "You should eat," you said, setting the tray down on the nearby table.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving the script he was studying. "Feed me," he said without looking up, his voice a low command that sent a shiver down your spine. You paused, a little shocked by his casual request.

"But..." you began, unsure of what to do. But before you could protest, he leaned back in his chair, his mouth open slightly, his eyes still focused on the pages in front of him.

"Come on, feed me," he said again, a hint of impatience in his tone. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sudden heat that had pooled in your stomach.

With trembling hands, you picked up a slice of watermelon and brought it to his mouth. His eyes remained on the script, but you couldn't help but watch as his plump, pink lips parted slightly, waiting for the fruit. The moment your fingers touched his mouth, a spark of something electric shot through you, making you gasp.

"What's wrong?" He asked, looking up at you, his expression curious.

You flushed, feeling your heart hammer in your chest. "It's just..." you began, your voice trailing off as you held out the watermelon. "It feels weird."

Taehyung's gaze remained on you, his eyes searching yours. He leaned back in his chair, his expression unchanged. "You're my personal assistant," he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "It's part of the job."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the flurry of emotions within you. It was true; you were here to assist him, to make his life easier. So, you pushed aside your feelings of awkwardness and leaned in, placing the watermelon between his lips. His teeth sank into the fruit, and he chewed thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving the script.

As the photoshoot wound down, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. The intensity of the situation had left you feeling a little dizzy. You retreated to Taehyung's dressing room, where he was now seated, his head in his hands.

"You okay?" You asked, your voice filled with concern. He looked up, his eyes squinting in the harsh light. "Just a headache," he murmured. "Could you grab me some medicine?"

You nodded quickly, eager to help. In the bathroom, you rummaged through the cabinets, finding a bottle of painkillers. You filled a glass with water and brought it back to him, placing it on the counter with a gentle clink. "Here you go," you said, setting it down next to him.

Taehyung took the medicine with a grateful nod, downing it quickly. You lingered for a moment, unsure if there was anything else you could do. "If you don't mind," you began tentatively, "I can give you a head massage."

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours, the weariness in them clear. "You don't have to," he said, his voice a little softer than usual. "But if you insist." He leaned back in his chair, his eyes closing as you approached.

Your hands hovered over his head for a moment, unsure of where to start. You took a deep breath and began to massage his temples gently, your thumbs pressing in small circles. Taehyung's head tilted into the touch, his sigh of relief echoing through the quiet room.

"Is it helping?" You asked, your voice a little shaky. His only response was a soft groan of assent, which spurred you on. You continued to work your way through his hair, the strands slipping through your fingers like silk. The scent of his shampoo filled your senses, and you found yourself lost in the moment, the tension from the last few days slipping away with each stroke.

But just as you were getting comfortable, the door to the dressing room swung open, and Jungkook stepped in, his eyes wide with surprise as he took in the scene before him. You froze, your hands still tangled in Taehyung's hair, your heart racing.

"Tae," Jungkook began, his voice a little too loud in the suddenly quiet room. "I need to talk to you about the new song." He paused, taking in the tension that had thickened the air like a fog. "What's going on here?"

You quickly pulled your hands away, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "It's just..." you began, but Taehyung was already speaking.

"I had a headache," Taehyung said, his voice a little too calm. "Y/N was just helping me out." He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. "Isn't that right?"

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing. "Yeah, just part of the job," you said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.

Jungkook's gaze flicked from Taehyung to you, and you could see the questions in his eyes. But he said nothing, just nodded and walked over to the rack of clothes, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he turned away.

The rest of the day was a blur of interviews and rehearsals, and you found yourself counting down the hours until you could go home and crawl into bed. But just as you were about to slip out the door, Minseo.

"Hey, Y/N," she called out, her voice bright and cheerful. "You look like you could use a drink. Want to come grab some with me?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips despite your exhaustion. "Sure," you replied. It had been a long and confusing day, and a drink sounded like the perfect way to unwind.

As you and Minseo stepped out into the cool evening air, Jungkook's text message buzzed on your phone. "Meet me at the restaurant," it read, the words stark and unyielding. You felt your heart sink, unsure of what to do.

"Everything okay?" Minseo asked, her eyes scanning your face.

You nodded, trying to push aside the tumult of emotions. "Yeah, I just... I've got a lot on my plate tonight," you said, avoiding the question in her eyes. "Could we maybe grab that drink tomorrow?"

Minseo's smile never wavered. "Of course," she said, her voice understanding.

You felt a weight lift from your shoulders as she waved goodbye, stepping into her own cab.

---

The restaurant was nestled in a quiet corner of the city, the kind of place that only those in the know would stumble upon. When you arrived, the sight that greeted you was utterly unexpected. The entire space was bathed in a soft, romantic glow, with candles flickering on the tables that lined the walls. But what truly took your breath away was the fact that every chair was empty.

You took a tentative step inside, the door chiming as it closed behind you. The sound echoed through the deserted room, making your heart thump loudly in your chest. That's when you felt it—a pair of strong arms wrapping around you from behind. You gasped, your hand flying to your mouth as Jungkook's warm chuckle filled your ear. "Don't worry," he murmured, his breath tickling your neck. "It's only just us. I already booked the whole restaurant."

Your eyes widened in shock as you turned to face him. Jungkook's grin was infectious, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Why?" You managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Because I wanted some privacy," he said, his voice low and velvety. "We have a lot to talk about, don't we?"

You nodded, unable to find the words to respond. Your heart was racing, and you couldn't ignore the way your body leaned into his embrace, despite the warning bells ringing in your head.

"Wait here," Jungkook said, his voice a soft command. "I'll go make the food."

You blinked in surprise, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. "You're going to cook for me?" You squeaked out.

Jungkook's smile grew even wider. "Of course, babe," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Isn't that what boyfriends do?"

The word 'boyfriend' hung in the air, thick and heavy, and you felt your cheeks flush. You nodded, not trusting your voice to respond.

As you followed Jungkook into the kitchen, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. The kitchen was spotless, gleaming under the soft lights, and Jungkook moved around it with a confidence that was almost mesmerizing. He began to prep the meal, chopping vegetables and tossing them into a wok with an ease that spoke of years of practice.

"What are you making?" You asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"A little surprise," Jungkook said with a wink, his hands deftly moving between the stove and the counter. "Just watch ".

He took a spoonful of something that bubbled and sizzled in a pot and held it out to you. "Taste it," he urged, his eyes alight with excitement. You leaned in, opening your mouth obediently. But the moment the food hit your tongue, you recoiled. It was scalding hot, the sensation searing through you like a bolt of lightning.

"Ow!" You gasped, your hand flying to your mouth. Jungkook's smile dropped immediately, and he looked at you with wide eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with genuine concern. "I didn't realize it was still hot."

He took your hand gently, guiding you to a stool at the kitchen counter. "Sit," he ordered, his voice firm yet tender. "Let me take a look."

You obeyed, watching as he approached with a wet cloth, his eyes filled with a sudden seriousness that made your heart race even faster. He leaned in, gently dabbing at your scalded lip, his touch feather-light. The pain lessened with each stroke, replaced by a strange warmth that spread through your body.

"Does it feel better?" He asked, his voice a soft rumble. You nodded, unable to find the words to respond. His eyes searched yours, and without warning, he leaned in and kissed you softly, his lips brushing over yours with a tenderness that took your breath away.

The kiss grew deeper, faster, as if he were trying to devour you whole. Your hands found themselves tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, the kitchen suddenly forgotten in the intensity of the moment. Jungkook's arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the stool and pressing you against the kitchen cabinet. The sound of pots and pans clattering was lost amidst the roar in your ears, the heat from his body searing through the fabric of your shirt.

He reached behind you, his hands fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. With a gentle tug, he slipped it open, revealing the delicate lace of your bra. His eyes darkened with desire as he traced the edges of the lace with his thumbs, sending shivers down your spine. Before you could protest, he leaned in, his hot mouth replacing his fingers, kissing your skin with a fiery passion that left you gasping for air. His teeth grazed the sensitive flesh, his tongue teasing your hardened nipples as they pushed against the barrier.

With a swift movement, Jungkook removed your bra, letting it drop to the floor with a soft thud. The cool air of the room kissed your bare skin, making you shiver. Your breasts pressed against his chest, the heat of his skin a stark contrast to the cold metal of the cabinet. Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer as his hands roamed, leaving trails of fire wherever they touched.

He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with need. "I want you," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Right here, right now." Without waiting for a response, his mouth found your neck, nipping and sucking as he moved you backward, your body sliding against the smooth surface of the cabinet.

Jungkook's hands cupped your breasts, lifting them gently as he lowered his mouth to one of your nipples. The sensation was exquisite, a sweet agony that made you arch your back and moan. His tongue swirled around the peak before he took it into his mouth, suckling with a passion that made your toes curl. You felt the warmth of his breath against your skin, and the wetness of his kisses as he moved to the other side, giving it the same treatment. Your moans grew louder, filling the room as he kissed and nibbled his way down your stomach, his hands tracing the path of his mouth.

You trembled as his teeth scraped lightly across your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He paused for a moment, his eyes dark and hungry as he took in the sight of your body before him. His thumbs brushed over the fabric of your pants, the sensation making you gasp. "Jungkook," you breathed, your voice needy.

He looked up at you, his eyes smoldering with desire. "I want to see all of you," he murmured, his voice thick with need. His hands moved to the button of your pants, unzipping them slowly as he kissed down the length of your torso.

You felt your legs shake as he peeled your pants away, exposing your underwear. Jungkook's eyes flickered downward, noticing the bandage around your ankle. He paused, his expression softening. "What happened?" He asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You blushed, feeling a little self-conscious under his scrutiny. "It's nothing," you replied. "Just a sprain."

Jungkook's eyes searched yours, looking for the truth. "You should be more careful," he said, his voice filled with concern. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the bandaged area, his lips warm and soft against your skin. You gasped, the sensation unexpected and intimate. "Does it still hurt?"

You nodded, the pain mixing with the heat of his touch. "A little," you admitted, your voice breathy. Jungkook's gaze never left yours, his eyes darkening as he moved in closer. "If I continue," he murmured, his voice a seductive rumble, "I won't be gentle."

You swallowed hard, the anticipation making your heart race. "Let's continue another time," you said, pushing him away gently. "I... I'm not ready." Jungkook's expression shifted, a hint of frustration crossing his features before it was quickly replaced by a soft smile. He nodded, his eyes understanding.

As you stepped back, you couldn't help but notice the mess that had been made in the kitchen. Ingredients were scattered across the floor, a testament to your passionate interlude. Jungkook chuckled, a sound that was both warm and a little bit wicked. "Looks like we got a bit carried away," he said, his eyes gleaming.

He leaned down, scooping up your shirt from where it had fallen in the heat of the moment. "You might want to put this back on," he suggested, holding it out to you. "We wouldn't want to make too much of a mess, would we?"

You took the shirt, feeling the soft fabric against your skin, the coldness of it a stark contrast to the warmth of Jungkook's touch. You slid it back over your head, your eyes never leaving his. "I guess we'll have to clean up before we eat," you said, your voice still a little shaky.

Jungkook nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "I suppose so," he said, his eyes flicking down to your bare chest. You blushed and turned away, quickly buttoning your shirt. The sound of your clothes rustling was the only noise in the kitchen, the silence stretching out like a tightrope between you.

As you both worked together to clean up the mess, you couldn't help but feel a little awkward. The heat of the moment had passed, leaving you feeling a little exposed and vulnerable. But Jungkook seemed unfazed, his movements efficient and practiced as he wiped down the counter and picked up the scattered vegetables.

Once the kitchen was back in order, he turned back to the stove and began to cook in earnest. The smell of sizzling meat and the sweet aroma of sauces filled the air, making your stomach rumble. You watched him, feeling a strange mix of admiration and frustration. He was so comfortable in his own skin, so confident in his actions, while you felt like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment.

Finally, the food was ready. Jungkook served it with a flourish, placing the plates on the small dining table that had been set up in the corner of the room. The sight was beautiful, the colors of the dishes vibrant against the stark white of the plates. He pulled out a chair for you, his eyes never leaving yours as you sat down.

You took a bite of the food, and your taste buds exploded with delight. "This is amazing," you said, your eyes closing in pleasure. Jungkook's smile grew, a proud look in his eyes. "I'm glad you like it," he said, sitting across from you.

You took another bite, the flavors dancing on your tongue. It was a complex blend of spicy and sweet, the tender meat melting in your mouth. You looked up to find Jungkook watching you intently, his own plate barely touched. "What?" You asked, feeling a little self-conscious.

"Why did you come to BigHit last night?" He repeated, his voice a little too casual.

You felt your cheeks heat up as you tried to form a coherent sentence. "Well, I... when we talked on the phone, you said you hadn't eaten yet, so I thought bring you food."

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever was to come. "But when I arrived bighit, you already having your dinner," you said, trying to keep your voice even. Jungkook's smile never faltered, but his eyes grew a little sharper.

" That's really sweet of you, babe," Jungkook said, his voice thick with a hint of something that made you pause. "But you know, this relationship is just for fun, right?" His eyes searched yours, and you could see the challenge in them, daring you to argue.

You nodded, your throat tight. "I know," you replied, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. "But I just wanted to do something nice." You took another bite of the food, the sweetness of the sauce suddenly tasting a bit bitter.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "You know, babe," he said, his voice a little too casual, "I appreciate what we have. But let's not get too serious, yeah?" He took a bite of his food, his eyes never leaving yours.

You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. "Of course," you replied, forcing a smile that felt like a lie on your lips.

"and stop being touchy with Taehyung, okay?" Jungkook's words hung in the air, a silent challenge that had your stomach doing flips. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your cool. "I'm just doing my job," you said, hoping your voice didn't betray the turmoil within you. "There's nothing personal about it."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Is that right?" He leaned forward, his eyes searching yours. "Because it sure looked personal to me." His voice was low, a hint of possessiveness in his tone that made you want to squirm in your seat.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Jungkook," you began, your voice a little shaky. "I'm just trying to do my job."

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "I know you are," he said, his tone a little too calm for comfort. "But let's be clear. Your job is to help Taehyung, not to start something with him."

You felt your heart drop into your stomach, his words hitting you like a ton of bricks. "What do you mean?" You managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

" No need to seduce Taehyung," Jungkook said, his voice a smooth purr that sent a shiver down your spine. "I'm enough to satisfy you."

You stared at him, the words slicing through the air and embedding themselves in your heart. Your eyes searched his, looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that he was joking, but his expression remained resolute, his gaze intense and unwavering.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor. "Okay," you said, your voice a little too calm, a little too steady. "If that's what you want."

Jungkook's smile slipped, a hint of surprise flitting across his features. "Is that all you have to say?" He asked, his voice a little too sharp.

"I'm breaking up with you," you stated firmly, your eyes meeting Jungkook's with a determination you didn't know you had.

Jungkook's smile froze, his fork mid-air as the words hung in the air. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft crackling of the candle flames. Then, with a swiftness that took you aback, his expression hardened. "What?" He barked, his eyes flashing with disbelief.

"I said, I'm breaking up with you," you repeated, your voice shaking a little despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "Thank you for dinner, but I can't do this anymore."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his grip on his fork tightening. "What are you talking about?" He snapped, his voice cold as ice. "We had a good time, didn't we?"

You swallowed hard, gathering your strength. "Jungkook," you began, your voice shaky. "What we have isn't right."

Before Jungkook could respond, you turned and walked away from the table, the sound of your heels echoing in the quiet room. Your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. You didn't look back as you made your way to the door, not wanting to see the shock or anger on his face. Your hand trembled as you reached for the doorknob, feeling the cool metal against your skin. You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay strong.

As you stepped into the cool night air, the reality of what you'd just done hit you like a sledgehammer. You'd just broken up with one of the most popular idols in the world, in the middle of a fancy restaurant that he'd reserved just for you. The gravity of the situation made you feel both terrified and exhilarated. You knew you'd made the right decision, but you couldn't help the part of you that felt a little sad.

Other side of the room, Jungkook watched as you retreated, his grip on the chair tightening until his knuckles turned white. The laughter that had once filled the room was replaced by a deafening silence, the candles flickering eerily in the tension. Without warning, his hand shot out, grabbing the chair beside him, and with a roar of frustration, he flung it at the glass window.

Chapter Text

The taxi ride back to your apartment was a blur, your mind racing with the events of the evening. As you stepped out of the car and into the cool night, you felt a strange mix of relief and dread wash over you. You fumbled with your keys, your hands still shaking from the adrenaline of the confrontation. The quiet hallway was a stark contrast to the cacophony of emotions in your head.

Once inside, you kicked off your heels and let your purse drop to the floor with a thud. The silence was deafening, a stark reminder of the sudden emptiness that filled your chest. You made your way to the couch, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh.

As you sat there, trying to process everything, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. You picked it up, noticing that your mom had called. Twice.

Your heart clenched. You hadn't talked to her since the start of your internship, so many things had happened, so much had changed.

With a shaky hand, you called her back, the ringing seemingly echoing through the empty apartment. "Hello?" Her voice was warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the chaos of your day.

"Mom," you said, your voice cracking. "It's me."

"Oh, sweetheart!" Her relief was palpable. "I've been worried. How's your internship going?"

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "It's... complicated," you said, your voice tight. "But I got a permanent job at BigHit."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Oh," she said, her voice filled with a mix of surprise and concern. "But, sweetie, your dad is worried about your future. He's been talking about marriage again."

"Mom," you groaned, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. "I know, but I don't want to marry right now." You paused, gathering your thoughts.

"Y/N," she said, her tone firm yet gentle. "You know how your father is. He just wants what's best for you. And your obsession with BTS... it's not healthy."

You rolled your eyes, even though she couldn't see you. "It's not an obsession, mom," you argued, though even to your own ears, it sounded a little weak. "They're just... really important to me."

"Important enough to ignore your future?" She asked, a hint of sadness in her voice. "Your father and I just want you to be happy, but we're worried you're throwing everything away for a group of boys."

You felt a lump form in your throat as you blurted out the words. "Mom, I can't marry someone I don't know," you pleaded. "And besides, I already have a boyfriend."

"You do?" Her voice was filled with genuine surprise. "Sweetie, who is he?"

You took a deep breath, knowing you had to tread carefully. "He's... someone special," you replied, avoiding the question. "He's really sweet and takes good care of me, mom."

There was a pause on the line, and you could almost hear the gears turning in her head. "Well, that's wonderful, but you know your dad. He won't be convinced until he meets him."

"Mom," you sighed, "can you just tell dad that I'm not ready to marry yet?"

"Y/N, you know I can't just say that without explaining," she said, her voice taking on a note of exasperation. "Your father is worried about you. He wants to see you happy and settled."

"Mom," you said firmly, "I know what I want. I'm happy with my life. And if I'm happy, then that's all that should matter."

Her sigh was heavy, carrying the weight of years of unspoken disagreements. "I just want you to be careful, Y/N," she said, her voice gentle but concerned. "You're my baby girl, and I don't want you to get hurt."

"I know," you responded, the lump in your throat growing. "But I'm an adult now, and I need to make my own choices. Please, just tell Dad that."

"Okay," she said after a moment. "But you have to promise me you'll bring him home to meet us soon. I want to make sure he treats you right."

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you. "I promise, Mom," you said. "But can we talk about it later? I've had a long day."

"Of course, sweetie," she said, her voice soothing. "Call me tomorrow, okay?"

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you. "I will," you murmured, ending the call. You leaned back against the couch cushions, feeling a mix of guilt and relief wash over you. You were sorry for lying to your mom, but the thought of explaining the tangled web of your relationships with Jungkook and Taehyung was too much to handle.

The next day, you couldn't bring yourself to go to work. The weight of your conversation with Jungkook lingered in the air, thick and oppressive. You called in sick, the lie sticking in your throat as you whispered it into the phone. The silence on the other end was palpable, but you couldn't bear to face the group, not after what had happened.

As the evening drew closer, the quiet of your apartment grew heavier. You'd spent the day watching TV and scrolling through social media, avoiding any mentions of BTS. The doorbell chimed, and you stumbled to your feet, your heart racing. You peeked through the peephole and saw Minseo's concerned face. You took a deep breath and opened the door.

Minseo's eyes widened when she saw you. "What happened?" She demanded, pushing past you and into the living room. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

You sighed, collapsing onto the couch again. "It's nothing," you said, your voice weak. "Just a bad day."

Minseo's eyes searched yours, and you could see the worry etched into her features. "You can tell me," she said, her tone gentle.

You took a deep breath and let the words spill out. "It's Jungkook," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "We were dating, but I broke up with him last night."

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. "You're dating Jeon Jungkook?!" she shrieked, her voice bouncing off the walls. "Seriously?!"

"Yeah," you murmured, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "But it's over now."

Minseo's expression was a mix of shock and disbelief. "But why?" She demanded, her eyes wide. "He's so perfect!"

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "It's complicated," you said, feeling the weight of your decision. "Our relationship was just for fun, nothing serious. But last night, Jungkook said something that made me feel... dirty."

Minseo sat down next to you, her hand on your shoulder. "What did he say?" She asked, her voice gentle.

You took a deep breath, trying to push down the bile that rose in your throat. "It doesn't matter," you said, shaking your head. "I just... I can't be with someone who thinks of me like that."

Minseo nodded solemnly. "Okay, okay," she said, patting your shoulder. "But let's not dwell on it, alright? You need to take your mind off things."

You looked at her skeptically. "How do you propose we do that?" You asked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite yourself.

Her grin grew mischievous as she grabbed a bag from the kitchen counter. "I brought reinforcements," she said, holding up a bottle of soju. "Come on, Y/N, don't be sad. Let's drink!"

You stared at the clear liquid with trepidation. "You know I don't drink," you reminded her.

"Just come on," Minseo urged, pulling you to your feet. "You need to let loose, just for one night."

You hesitated, the bottle of soju feeling heavy in your hand. But the thought of numbing the ache in your chest was tempting. "Okay," you relented, the word slipping out before you could reconsider.

The two of you clinked glasses and downed the first shot. The burning sensation in your throat was a welcome distraction from the tumult of your thoughts. You felt your shoulders relax slightly as the alcohol began to warm your body.

As the night progressed, the conversation grew louder and more uninhibited. You found yourself laughing, sharing stories, and confiding in Minseo in a way you hadn't with anyone else in a long time. The soju bottle grew emptier, and your inhibitions grew thinner. You felt a strange sense of freedom in the chaos of the evening, a stark contrast to the strict rules and expectations of the BTS world.

Eventually, the clock ticked past midnight, and the room started spinning. "Y/N," Minseo slurred, her eyes half-closed. "It's really late now. I should go."

You nodded, feeling the weight of the world return to your shoulders. "Okay," you mumbled, stumbling to your feet. "You're right." You walked her to the door, the floor feeling like it was made of jelly beneath your unsteady legs.

As the door clicked shut behind her, you leaned against the frame, the room swimming before your eyes. With a heavy sigh, you stumbled back to the couch, collapsing onto it with a thud.

You don't know how much time passed before the doorbell rang again, jolting you awake. You sat up with a start, your head pounding. The room was spinning, and the light from the hallway was a harsh reminder that you were still very much drunk. You managed to haul yourself up, using the wall for support, and made your way to the door.

Somehow, you found the coordination to unlock the door, and there, standing before you, was Taehyung. His eyes widened at the sight of you, swaying slightly in the doorway, your hair a mess and your clothes rumpled. "Y/N," he said, his voice filled with concern.

You blinked at him, the room spinning. "Tae," you slurred, reaching out to cup his face. "You're so handsome," you murmured, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw.

Taehyung's eyes searched yours, the concern in his gaze morphing into something else entirely. "You're drunk," he said, his voice gentle but firm. He stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

"Mmhmm," you nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as you leaned into his palm. "But I'm dreaming right?" You mumbled, your voice thick with alcohol.

Taehyung's eyes searched yours, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "No, you're not," he said gently, his hand moving to steady you. "But maybe you should sit down before you fall over."

You nodded, allowing him to guide you back to the couch. You collapsed onto it with a dramatic sigh, feeling the cushions envelop you like a warm hug. "Tae," you murmured, your eyes half-closed. "You're so handsome."

He chuckled, his voice low and rumbling. "Thank you, Y/N," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "But maybe we should talk about this when you're sober."

"No, no," you protested, your voice high and baby-like. "I wanna tell you now!" You grabbed his hand, pulling it closer to your heart. "You're like the sun," you said with a dreamy sigh. "Warm and bright and weirdly cute."

Taehyung's smile grew, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Weirdly cute?" He repeated, amusement lacing his voice. "I'll take it."

You nodded vigorously, your eyes half-closed. "Mmhmm," you murmured, your cheeks flushing. "And your eyes, so big and pretty."

Taehyung's smile grew, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "Y/N," he said, his voice a gentle reprimand. "You're not making any sense."

You pouted, your eyes fluttering open to gaze at him with a tipsy earnestness. "I know exactly what I'm saying," you murmured, leaning in closer. "Your smile, it's like sunshine after rain," you slurred, your eyes glazed with a mix of alcohol and unshed tears. "Why can't you see that I love you?"

Taehyung's eyes searched yours, his own expression a tumult of emotions. He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. "Y/N," he said, his voice a whisper. "You're drunk."

"Mmhmm," you nodded, your eyes drifting shut. "But I love you," you murmured, your voice a soft confession. Before he could react, you pressed your lips to his, the kiss tentative and clumsy, your heart hammering in your chest.

Taehyung didn't pull away. Instead, he deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around you to pull you into his lap. You felt a wave of heat rush over you as his hands roamed your body, his tongue dancing with yours in a passionate embrace. His grip was firm, yet gentle, his kisses leaving you breathless.

You felt your body respond to his touch, your heart racing as he traced the line of your neck with his lips, sending shivers down your spine. His hands found their way to the hem of your shirt, and with surprising deftness, he began to lift it over your head.

"Don't," you murmured against his lips, your eyes fluttering open. But the protest was weak, your body betraying your true feelings. Taehyung paused, his eyes searching yours, questioning. You realized with a start that you didn't mean it. You wanted this, even if your brain was foggy with drink. So you leaned back into the kiss, giving him the silent consent he needed.

With a gentle tug, he removed your shirt, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. Your cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and desire as he trailed kisses down your neck, his hands exploring your bare skin. His touch was intoxicating, making you feel alive in a way you hadn't felt in a long time.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the alcohol-induced bravado giving way to a genuine need. His hands found the clasp of your bra, and with a quick release, it fell away.

Taehyung's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his gaze lingering on the swells of your breasts. He leaned down to kiss the sensitive skin there, his tongue flicking over your hardened nipples, eliciting a gasp from your lips. The sensation was electrifying, and you arched into his touch, lost in the moment.

With surprising strength, he pushed you back onto the couch, his body following until he was on top of you. You felt the weight of him, the heat of his skin burning through his clothes. Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as he kissed you, his teeth nipping at your lower lip.

He paused for a moment, his breathing ragged, and began to unbutton his shirt, revealing a chest that was just as toned and perfect as you'd always imagined it would be.

As his shirt fell open, you reached up to touch him, your fingertips grazing over his abs, feeling the heat and solidness of his body beneath your touch. He groaned, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, and captured your lip again, his kiss deep and demanding.

Taehyung's hand slid up to cup your breast, his thumb gently stroking the peak. You moaned into the kiss, unable to resist the wave of pleasure that crashed over you. Your body responded instinctively, arching into his touch. His hand grew bolder, squeezing gently as his kiss grew more insistent.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, as the kiss grew hotter, more urgent. You felt his other hand slide up your thigh, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that had you gasping for air. The room spun around you, but you didn't care. All that mattered was Taehyung and the way he made you feel.

But as you felt his hand move closer to your center, he pulled away, his eyes searching yours with a sudden look of concern. "Y/N, wait," he panted, his voice strained. "I don't have... protection."

Your eyes fluttered open, trying to focus on his face. The fog of the alcohol made it difficult to understand, but his words sunk in eventually.

He leaned back, his hand moving to gently cup your cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes filled with regret. "I can't go further without it. But I can still make you feel good," he promised, his thumb brushing against your lower lip.

Your eyes searched his, the fog of the alcohol clearing slightly. You nodded, the haze of desire still thick in the air. He took that as his cue, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His teeth grazed your collarbone, making you gasp, your nails digging into his back.

Taehyung's hand slid down to your waist, his fingers deftly unbuttoning your pants. He kissed down your stomach, his tongue tracing the path of your navel, making you squirm with anticipation. You felt the coolness of the room against your exposed skin as he pulled your pants and underwear down, leaving you bare to his gaze.

You were so lost in the haze of desire that you barely registered the feeling of his fingers slipping into your folds, his touch gentle yet insistent. Your hips bucked upward, seeking more of the sweet friction he provided.

Each stroke of his fingers sent a shock of pleasure through your body, making you cry out against his mouth. He kissed you deeper, swallowing your moans as he curled his fingers, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. Your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure.

You could feel yourself getting wetter with every passing second, and Taehyung's touch grew bolder. He slid one, then two fingers inside you, his thumb circling your clit as he kissed along your jawline. Your breath hitched in your throat, and your hands gripped the couch cushions tightly as he began to pump them in and out, the rhythm matching the beat of your racing heart.

His kisses grew more insistent, his teeth grazing your skin as he suckled on your earlobe. "Do you like that, Y/N?" He whispered, his breath hot against your neck. You nodded, unable to form coherent words as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

Your hips moved in time with his hand, the friction building until you felt yourself about to shatter. He curled his fingers inside you, and you came with a gasp, your body convulsing with pleasure. Taehyung held you through it, his kisses turning soothing as your breathing evened out.

As the haze of your orgasm cleared, you felt him kiss a trail down to your chest, his mouth closing around one of your sensitive peaks. He sucked gently, leaving a mark that burned like a brand. You whimpered, your body still trembling from the intensity of your release. His teeth grazed your skin, the sensation sending aftershocks through your body.

"Tae," you murmured, your voice still thick with desire. He looked up, his eyes dark with need. You reached up to cup his face, pulling him back up to kiss you again, the taste of yourself on his lips. He groaned, his hand never leaving the slickness between your thighs, his thumb lazily circling your clit.

Time passed there, the two of you lost in a world of touches and whispers. His fingers slid in and out of you, setting a slow, sensual pace that had you panting and begging for more. Your own hands explored his body, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held back, not wanting to push too far. But every touch, every kiss, was a silent plea for him to take you again.

The next morning, you woke up with a start, your head pounding and your body feeling like it had been through a war. You blinked blearily at the ceiling, trying to piece together the events of the previous night.

"Last night was a dream," you murmured to yourself, your voice hoarse. You couldn't believe what had happened with Taehyung. It had to be a dream, right? The way he had touched you, the way you had responded to him – it was all too perfect, too surreal.

"That was not a dream" Taehyung's voice washed over you, and you turned your head to find him leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom.

Your eyes widened in horror as you realized you were naked, a thin sheet the only barrier between you and his gaze. You yanked it up to cover yourself, your cheeks burning with a blush that could be seen from space. "T-Tae!" You stuttered, mortification flooding through you.

He took a step into the room, his expression a mix of concern and something else, something that made your heart flutter. "Are you okay?" He asked, his voice low and gentle.

You nodded, still unable to find your voice. The events of last night played back in your mind, the confession of love, the passionate kisses, the way he had made you feel... It was all too much. "What... what happened?" You croaked out.

"You don't come to work yesterday," Taehyung said, his voice laced with a hint of accusation. "I was worried."

You squinted against the harsh morning light, your head pounding. "I... I called in sick," you mumbled, the fog of last night's events slowly lifting.

Taehyung's eyes searched yours, his gaze unreadable. "Yeah," he said, his voice tight. "But I was worried. And when I got here, I found you... like this." He gestured to the state of the room, the empty soju bottles scattered on the floor, the mess of your clothes from the night before.

You felt a cold sweat break out on your forehead as reality set in. You had kissed Taehyung. You had confessed your love to him while intoxicated. "Oh god," you murmured, squeezing your eyes shut.

He sighed, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. "You kissed me," he said, his tone even. "And you told me you love me."

Your eyes flew open, and you stared at him in horror. "I did?"

Taehyung pulled you closer, his eyes searching yours as you clutched the sheet tightly to your chest. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, the remnants of last night's passion still lingering in the air. "Y/N," he said, his voice a gentle rumble, "last night, I really enjoyed it, but there's one thing I'm really disappointed about."

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you waited for him to continue. "What is it?" You managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Taehyung's expression grew serious as he took your hand, his thumb stroking the back of it gently. "I wanted to take you fully," he murmured, his eyes searching yours. "But I didn't have a condom, and I won't risk that."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you at his words.

"But you know, you're really lucky," Taehyung said, his eyes searching yours with a seriousness that sobered you up more than the cold water splashed on your face could have. "Many girls have told me they love me, approached me even, but you're the first girl I've ever let get this close."

You stared at him, your heart racing. Did he mean it? Was he saying that he felt the same way? The silence stretched between you, thick with tension.

"But," he continued, his thumb still stroking your hand, "you need to move on from me. It's not fair to you or the group. And if you want to just... hook up, I'm okay with that. But we can't let this get complicated."

The room grew quiet as his words sank in. You felt a knot form in your stomach. Hook up? That's all you were to him? You knew it was a possibility, given his reputation, but hearing it said out loud was a slap in the face. But you also knew that you had no right to expect more. You were just his assistant, after all. And you had a job to do.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "Tae," you whispered, your voice shaky. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I don't know what came over me last night."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's okay," he said, his voice soothing. "But I need to know if you're coming to work today."

You nodded again, your throat tight. "Yes," you rasped. "I'll come."

Taehyung's gaze searched yours for a long moment before he nodded, standing up to leave. You watched him go, his words echoing in your ears. The door clicked shut behind him, and you were left alone in the quiet of your apartment.

You felt the weight of the world settle on your shoulders as you slowly sat up, the sheet sliding down to reveal your nakedness. With trembling hands, you wiped away the tears that had started to fall without your permission. Your heart felt like it was in a vice, torn between the hope that had briefly flared to life last night and the cold reality of this morning.

With a deep sigh, you pushed back the covers and forced yourself to stand, your legs wobbly from a combination of the alcohol and the intense emotions. You stumbled into the bathroom, the light stinging your eyes as you turned on the shower. The hot water washed away the physical evidence of last night's tryst, but the memories remained, etched into your soul like a tattoo you hadn't asked for.

After dressing in the first clean outfit you could find, you made your way to the kitchen, your thoughts racing. How could you face Taehyung today? How could you pretend that nothing had changed when everything had? You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the bitter taste a welcome distraction from the bitterness in your heart.

You took a deep breath and stepped out of your apartment, the cool morning air doing little to dispel the warmth of embarrassment that clung to you. As you arrived at the BigHit building, you couldn't help but feel thankful that Jungkook was on an overseas trip. The last thing you needed was to deal with his possessiveness on top of everything else.

Inside, you threw yourself into your work as Taehyung's personal assistant with a newfound fervor. The more you could keep your mind occupied, the less you had to think about the previous night's events. You avoided looking directly at him whenever he was around, focusing intently on organizing his schedule and managing his messages.

As the day drew to a close, the tension grew. You knew you couldn't avoid him forever, but the thought of facing him, especially after your drunken confession, made your stomach churn. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were clingy or delusional.

That evening, you found solace in the familiar company of Minseo at a cozy restaurant. The dim lights and soft music provided the perfect backdrop for your troubles, and as you sipped on your second glass of wine, you found yourself spilling the beans.

"Minseo," you whispered, your voice a desperate plea. "I'm in a big, big mess."

Her eyes widened, a hint of concern etching her features. "What's going on, Y/N?"

You took a deep breath, the words tumbling out of your mouth like a waterfall. "I told my mom I had a boyfriend," you confessed. "And she's so happy, she's telling everyone. But the thing is, I don't have a boyfriend. And now, my dad wants to meet him."

Minseo's eyes grew even wider. "Oh no," she said, setting her chopsticks down. "That's a big problem."

You nodded, taking a gulp of your juice. The sweetness did little to ease the bitter taste in your mouth. "I know," you sighed. "And the worst part is, I don't know how to get out of it. My mom is so happy. She keeps talking about planning a dinner to introduce us."

Minseo leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful expression on her face. "What if you had a... fake boyfriend?" She suggested, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Someone who could play the part for one night, just to get your parents off your back?"

Your eyes widened at the idea. "A fake boyfriend?" You repeated, the words sounding ridiculous in the quiet restaurant. "Where would I even find someone like that?"

Minseo grinned. "I know someone," she said, leaning in conspiratorially. "A friend of a friend, who's totally into theater. He'd love the chance to play a role like this. And the best part is, he's totally reliable. He won't spill the beans, and he's got the charm to convince anyone."

You felt a spark of hope. It was a wild idea, but it might just work. "But what if he says something weird, or does something embarrassing?" You bit your lip, worrying about the potential disasters that could unfold.

Minseo waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry, I'll brief him thoroughly. And he owes me a favor, so he'll do it for free. Plus," she winked at you, "it'll be a good story to tell the grandkids one day."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. "Okay," you said, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this."

The next afternoon, the air in Jimin's studio was thick with a different kind of tension. Clothes were scattered on the floor, and the rhythmic creak of the sofa filled the space. In the midst of their passionate entanglement, Minseo's phone vibrated insistently on the coffee table.

"Shit," Minseo muttered, her eyes flying open as she reached for the device.

Jimin, propped on an elbow, his hair tousled, frowned. "What's wrong?"

Minseo's expression was a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "You won't believe this. That 'friend of a friend,' the one I lined up for Y/N's fake boyfriend gig? He just canceled. Something about an emergency rehearsal." She tossed the phone back onto the sofa with a sigh.

Jimin's eyebrows shot up. "Fake boyfriend?" he repeated, a curious smirk playing on his lips. "What fake boyfriend?"

Minseo quickly told him the whole story: Y/N's little lie to her mom about having a boyfriend, her mom's super happy reaction, and now the upcoming "meet the boyfriend" Lunch. She explained her clever plan – a temporary actor to pretend to be Y/N's boyfriend, just to get her out of the tough spot.

Jimin listened quietly, a slow smirk spreading across his face, a playful sparkle in his eyes. He didn't say anything, but it was clear he was cooking up an idea.

On the other side of town, you sat at a fancy restaurant with your parents, the nervous energy in the air palpable. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, each one louder than the last, as you fidgeted with your napkin.

"Y/N, where is your boyfriend?" your dad asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and impatience. "It's been an hour. Is he not coming?"

You felt your mother's concerned gaze on you, her eyebrows furrowed as she placed a comforting hand over yours. "It's okay, sweetheart. He's probably just stuck in traffic."

Time passed, and the tension grew so thick you could almost slice it with a knife. Just as you were about to confess the truth to your dad, a familiar scent filled the air. Before you could even react, a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, and a warm, familiar voice whispered, "Sorry, baby, for coming late."

You froze, your eyes widening in shock as you looked up to find Jimin standing beside you, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. "Jimin?" You choked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned down to kiss your cheek, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hello, Mrs. Choi, Mr. Choi," he greeted your parents, his grip on your shoulder tightening reassuringly. "It's so nice to finally meet you both."

Chapter Text

You froze, your eyes widening in shock as you looked up to find Jimin standing beside you, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. "Jimin?" You choked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned down to kiss your cheek, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hello, Mrs. Choi, Mr. Choi," he greeted your parents, his grip on your shoulder tightening reassuringly. "It's so nice to finally meet you both."

Your parents stared at him in shock, their mouths agape. You felt the blood drain from your face, your mind racing. What was he doing here? He wasn't supposed to be your date.

"Park Jimin?" Your mother's voice was barely a squeak, her eyes wide with shock. "Isn't he... isn't he one of the BTS members?"

Jimin chuckled, his handsome face lighting up with a charming smile that could melt ice. "Yes, ma'am, that's me. It's an honor to meet you both." He turned to you, his gaze filled with a mischief that sent your heart racing even faster.

You nodded, about to spill the truth, but his hand on your shoulder stopped you. "Let's not make it awkward," he whispered in your ear, his breath tickling your skin. "Just play along for a bit, okay?"

With a gulp, you turned to face your parents. "Yes, Mom, Dad," you said, your voice shaking. "This is Jimin. He's... he's my boyfriend."

Jimin slid into the chair next to you, his arm draped casually around your shoulders. He winked at you, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a secret smile that only you could see. You felt a mix of dread and relief wash over you. This was insane, but somehow, it might just work.

Your mother looked from you to Jimin and back again, her eyes wide with disbelief. "But... but I thought you liked Taehyung," she stuttered, her voice filled with confusion.

Jimin chuckled, his arm still around your shoulders, his touch comforting and surprisingly protective. "Well," he said, his voice smooth as silk, "you know how fickle the heart can be." He turned to wink at you, his mischief clear. "But I'm the lucky one who gets to be with your daughter now."

Your dad's eyes narrowed, sizing Jimin up. "How long have you been seeing each other?"

You gulped, trying to think on your feet. "Uh, a few months," you lied, hoping your voice didn't betray your nerves.

Jimin nodded, playing along flawlessly. "It's been quite the whirlwind romance," he said, his thumb tracing circles on your arm.

The rest of the lunch was a blur of awkward small talk and forced smiles, with Jimin playing the perfect boyfriend role. He charmed your parents with tales of your "dates" and "special moments" that were all fabricated on the spot. You sat there, torn between the thrill of his touch and the fear of being caught in the lie.

As the meal came to a close, your mom leaned in, whispering, "He seems so... charming. I had no idea you were seeing someone like him."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. "Yeah, he's great," you murmured, unable to meet her eyes.

As the bill was paid and your parents began to gather their things, Jimin turned to them with a charismatic smile. "Thank you so much for this wonderful lunch," he said, his voice sincere. "I'm really thankful for both of you. You raised an amazing daughter."Y

Your mother beamed, patting your cheek proudly. "Well, we think the world of her," she said, her eyes misting up. "And we're just so happy to see her with someone who makes her happy."

Your dad cleared his throat, his gaze lingering on Jimin's hand still resting on your shoulder. "Just remember," he said gruffly, "you treat her right, or you'll have to answer to me."

Jimin's smile never wavered, his eyes meeting your father's without a hint of fear. "Of course, Mr. Choi," he said, his tone respectful. "I'd never do anything to make her sad."

As your parents finally left, you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of relief. Jimin had managed to charm them, at least for now. You turned to face him, your heart racing. "What are you doing?" You whispered, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and confusion.

"What does it look like?" He grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm being a good boyfriend."

"This isn't funny, Jimin," you hissed, your voice tight with nerves. "What are you doing here?"

Jimin leaned back in the chair, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Minseo asked me to help out," he said casually. "Apparently, your fake boyfriend bailed, and she couldn't let you down."

You stared at him, your mind racing. "But why did you agree to do this?" You couldn't hide the tremble in your voice.

Jimin leaned closer, his grin widening. "Because it was fun," he said, his eyes gleaming. "And because I owed Minseo a favor. But now," he said, his voice dropping lower, "now I think it's time for payback."

You pushed him away, your heart racing. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "I mean," he said, his tone teasing, "now that I've played the part of your loving boyfriend so convincingly, I think it's only fair that you return the favor."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What kind of favor?" you asked, your voice small.

Jimin's grin grew wider as he leaned closer to you, his breath tickling your ear. "Spend tonight with me," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper.

You pushed him away, your eyes wide with shock. "What?"

Jimin leaned closer, his eyes dark with intent. "You heard me, Y/N," he said, his voice low and husky. "I want you to spend tonight with me. Just one night. That's all."

"Nonsense," you spit out, pushing Jimin away. "I didn't ask you to come here. If you want payback, ask Minseo. She's the one who put you up to this."

Jimin's smile never faltered. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes holding a glint of challenge. "Ah, but you see," he said, his voice low and seductive, "you're the one who's paid for me, remember?" His eyes flickered to the club incident, a knowing look crossing his features. "You already owe me one."

You felt your face heat up as the memories of that night flooded back to you.

"Trust me, baby," Jimin had said, his voice a velvety whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "I'll make you feel so good tonight." His eyes were filled with a hunger that made your heart race.

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool despite the heat that flooded your cheeks. "Thanks, but no thanks," you replied firmly, your voice a little too high. "I'm not interested."

Jimin's smile grew, his eyes gleaming with challenge. "Come on, Y/N," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. "You know you want to. Just one night, no strings attached."

You stood up, your chair scraping against the floor. "I have to go," you said, your voice trembling with anger and something else – something you didn't dare to acknowledge. You couldn't let Jimin see how much his words affected you.

Without waiting for his response, you turned and walked away, your heels clicking against the tiles. Your heart hammered in your chest, the weight of his gaze heavy on your back. As you stepped out into the cool evening air, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

What had just happened? Why had Jimin agreed to be your fake boyfriend? You shook your head, pushing the confusing emotions aside.

You walked into the café where Minseo was already waiting, her eyes searching the crowd for you. She waved as she spotted you, her smile dropping slightly when she noticed the tension in your posture.

"What's wrong?" she asked as you slid into the chair across from her. "How'd it go?"

You took a deep breath, your eyes searching hers. "How did you convince Jimin to do that?"

Minseo blinked, setting down her coffee cup. "What do you mean?"

"To be my fake boyfriend," you clarified, your voice shaking slightly. "Why would he agree to something so... ridiculous?"

Minseo's expression grew thoughtful. "Well, Jimin can be quite the charmer when he wants to be," she said, her eyes searching your face for any sign of what you were feeling. "And he's a good actor. It's all just a game to him."

"Minseo," you began, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned closer to her in the crowded café. "What's your relationship with Jimin?"

Minseo's eyes widened, a hint of surprise crossing her features. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts. "I mean, why would he agree to be my fake boyfriend?"

Minseo leaned back in her chair, her eyes searching yours. "Well," she said, her voice measured, "Jimin and I, we've had our moments. We're... let's say, we're friends with benefits."

The revelation hit you like a ton of bricks. "What?" You whispered, your eyes wide.

Minseo took a deep breath, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Y/N, don't look at me like that," she said, her voice defensive.

You couldn't help the question that tumbled out of your mouth. "Do you love Jimin?"

Minseo's eyes searched yours, and after a moment of silence, she finally nodded, her eyes misting over. "I do," she admitted softly. "But it's complicated."

"Complicated?" You echoed, your heart squeezing for your friend. "How can you stand to see him with other girls?"

Minseo took a deep breath, her eyes meeting yours with a sadness you hadn't seen before. "Because I can't have him," she said, her voice a whisper. "Not in the way I want. And if I can't have him, I don't want to hold him back. I can't be sad because he was never mine, Y/N."

The words hung in the air, a painful reminder of the complexities of love and relationships. You reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'm sorry," you murmured.

"Jimin is... really nice, caring, kind of a flirt," Minseo said with a sigh, her eyes looking far away for a brief moment. "But, deep down, he's got a heart of gold. And, yes, I get jealous sometimes because the girl he truly loves... she'll be the luckiest girl in the world."

You nodded, understanding the depth of her feelings despite the casual way she talked about them. It was clear that her relationship with Jimin was more than just physical – there was an emotional connection there that was both painful and beautiful. "But what happens when he finds her?" You asked gently. "What happens to the friendship then?"

Minseo's gaze returned to you, a sad smile playing on her lips. "Then, I'll step aside," she said, her voice steady. "As much as it might hurt, I'll be happy for him. Because, at the end of the day, I just want him to be happy."

You nodded, feeling a strange mix of admiration and sadness for your friend. "You're so strong," you murmured, your voice filled with sincerity.

Minseo gave you a small, sad smile. "I'm not," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm the weak one, Y/N."

Just then, your phone buzzed, the vibration snapping you out of your thoughts. You pulled it out of your pocket, expecting it to be your mom asking for more details about your "boyfriend." But instead, you saw Jungkook's name light up on the screen.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the message. "Meet me at Han River," it read. "Now."

"What's wrong?" Minseo asked, noticing your sudden tension.

"It's Jungkook," you replied, your voice shaking slightly. "He's back."

Minseo's eyes widened. "What? But I thought he was still on his overseas trip."

You nodded, your heart racing. "Me too," you murmured, staring at the message. "But he's back. He wants to meet at Han River."

Minseo leaned in, her voice urgent. "What are you going to do?"

You took a deep breath, your hand trembling slightly as you typed out a reply. "I don't know," you admitted. "But I have to go. I can't ignore him."

You stood up, your legs feeling like jelly. "I'll call you later," you said, already moving towards the exit.

"Be careful," Minseo called after you, her voice filled with worry.

With a nod, you stepped out into the night, the cool breeze a stark contrast to the warmth of the café. Your thoughts swirled as you made your way to Han River, a mix of apprehension and curiosity about what Jungkook could possibly want. The quiet hum of the city at night surrounded you as you walked, the occasional car passing by, their headlights briefly illuminating the path ahead.

As you reached the river, the moon reflected off the calm water, casting a soft glow that bathed everything in a silvery light. You leaned against the railing, watching the ripples created by the gentle current, lost in the memories of your night with Taehyung. His gentle touch, his tender kisses, and the way he had looked at you with such intensity – it was all so overwhelming and beautiful that it brought tears to your eyes.

You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you didn't hear Jungkook approach. His arms snaked around you from behind, pulling you into a tight embrace that made your heart jump into your throat. "Damn, I missed your smell," he murmured into your hair, his warm breath fanning against your neck.

You tensed up immediately, your mind racing. "Why did you ask me to come here?" You demanded, stepping out of his embrace and turning to face him. His eyes searched yours, a mix of confusion and hurt etched on his features.

"I just wanted to surprise you," Jungkook murmured, his voice low and filled with longing. He stepped closer, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I know you missed me, babe."

You took a step back, your heart racing. "Jungkook, if your memory's too weak, let me remind you," you said firmly, your voice shaking slightly. "We broke up."

Jungkook's smile fell, his eyes darkening. He stepped closer, his hand sliding down to grip the railing on either side of you, effectively trapping you between his arms. "Did I say I accepted it?" He growled, his eyes boring into yours. "Or did I say I wanted to break up with you?"

You swallowed hard, the cold metal of the railing pressing into your back. "It doesn't matter," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "We're not together."

"But you're still mine," Jungkook said, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. "You're still mine, and I'm not letting you go." His thumbs brushed against your cheeks, his touch surprisingly gentle.

But before you could respond, a sudden burst of light filled the sky, stealing your attention. You looked up to see fireworks exploding in a kaleidoscope of colors, their reflection dancing on the river's surface. The sound was deafening, the sight mesmerizing.

"I specially organized this," Jungkook murmured, his eyes never leaving yours as the fireworks painted the sky with their fiery beauty. "For you."

You stared at him, your heart racing as the explosions of color reflected in his dark eyes. "Why?" You managed to choke out, the sound of the fireworks echoing in your ears.

"Because you're mine, babe," Jungkook said, his voice filled with a possessive warmth that made you want to melt into him.

You felt a twinge of pain in your chest. "Jungkook, I love someone else," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. The fireworks seemed to pause for a brief moment, as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

Jungkook's gaze flickered to your lips, his eyes darkening with a hunger that was almost palpable. Without a word, he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss that stole the air from your lungs. His hands cradled your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as his tongue danced with yours, a silent declaration of his desire.

But instead of melting into his embrace like you had so many times before, you stiffened, pushing him away with a surprising amount of strength. "What the hell are you doing?" You exclaimed, your voice laced with anger and fear.

Jungkook's eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration. "What do you mean?" He asked, his voice gruff. "You're my girlfriend, babe. I can kiss you whenever I want."

You stepped back, your eyes flashing with anger. "I said we're over," you stated firmly, your voice trembling. "I love someone else."

Jungkook's smile grew more intense, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don't care," he said, his voice a seductive purr. "You're mine, babe. You came to me, remember?" He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw. "You made the decision to be with me. And now, you can't leave without my permission."

Your heart hammered in your chest, his words like a vice around your heart. You tried to shake your head, to tell him that things had changed, but the words remained lodged in your throat. The fireworks above seemed to be an explosion of his emotions, a declaration of his possession.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't worry," he whispered, his voice filled with a dark promise. "I'll make sure you forget all about that other guy." His hand slipped to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his body pressing against yours. "You'll get addicted to me, baby." His voice was a sweet, dangerous poison, making your knees wobble.

You pushed away from the railing, breaking his hold. "I can't," you choked out, your voice trembling. "I won't." Your eyes searched the sky, seeking the stars that were now obscured by the explosions of light above. "I don't love you, Jungkook. I can't."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his features. "You will," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "Because I won't let you love anyone else." His hand snaked around your waist, his other hand cradling the back of your neck as he brought your face closer to his. "You're mine, babe. And I don't share."

You tried to push him away, but his grip was like steel. "Why are you doing this?" You demanded, your voice shaking with anger and fear.

Jungkook's smile was predatory, his eyes glinting with a hunger that sent chills down your spine. "Because I like you, Y/N," he said, his voice low and seductive. "You're different from the rest. You challenge me." His thumb traced your lower lip, his eyes dark with desire. "This is first time I met a girl who dared to slap me twice and dump me in a week," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "It was the most exhilarating thing that's ever happened to me." His grip tightened. "And now that I've had a taste, I want more."

You felt the panic rising in your chest, the fireworks above seeming to echo the chaos within you. "I'm not a toy for you to play with," you spat, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "I'm a person with feelings."

He stepped closer, his body trapping you against the railing once more. "But that's what makes it so much fun," he said, his voice a soft whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. "The thrill of the chase. And when I catch you," he leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek, "I'll make sure you never want to leave again."

"Stop chasing me, Jungkook," you said firmly, pushing against his chest with both hands.

Jungkook's smirk grew, his eyes gleaming with a challenge. "Make me," he whispered, his voice a dark caress that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned closer, his warmth enveloping you like a cocoon you didn't want to escape from.

"You're crazy," you gasped, trying to maintain the barrier between you.

"Crazy, pervert, whatever," Jungkook murmured, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. His eyes held yours captive, their intensity making your knees wobble. "I'm yours, so you have to handle me," he said, his voice a seductive purr that sent your thoughts into a tailspin.

Before you could respond, Jungkook claimed your lips in a fiery kiss that stole your breath. You pushed against his chest, but he didn't budge, his arms wrapping around you like steel bars. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, a mix of anger and desire coursing through your veins. You tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened, his mouth moving against yours with a possessive hunger that left you feeling both violated and exhilarated.

As the fireworks continued to paint the sky with their vibrant hues, you felt a sudden burst of anger and desperation. You lifted your leg, aiming a solid kick to his shin. Jungkook grunted but didn't pull away, his kiss only growing more demanding. You struggled, your hands pushing against his chest, your body wriggling to escape his embrace. But it was like trying to fight a tornado – his passion was all-consuming, and you felt yourself being swept up in the storm of his need.

Chapter Text

the fireworks continued to paint the sky with their vibrant hues, you felt a sudden burst of anger and desperation. You lifted your leg, aiming a solid kick to his shin. Jungkook grunted but didn't pull away, his kiss only growing more demanding. You struggled, your hands pushing against his chest, your body wriggling to escape his embrace. But it was like trying to fight a tornado – his passion was all-consuming, and you felt yourself being swept up in the storm of his need.

You felt a spark of anger flare up within you as Jungkook's kiss grew more demanding, and before you knew it, your body was acting on instinct. Your hands slammed against his chest as you brought your mouth back to his, kissing him with a fervor that surprised even you. Jungkook's grip loosened slightly, his eyes widening in surprise before a smug smile spread across his face, thinking he had won.

Using the brief moment of distraction, you brought your leg up and kicked him hard in the shin. He let out a yelp of pain, and his arms loosened their vice-like grip on you. Taking the opportunity, you pushed him away with all your might, breaking the kiss. His eyes flashed with confusion and surprise as you spun around, your heart racing like a wild horse.

Without a word, you took off running, your legs pumping as you sprinted away from the river's edge, leaving the fireworks' echoes behind you. The cool night air stung your flushed cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the tumultuous emotions storming through your soul. You didn't dare look back, fearing that if you did, you'd see Jungkook's smug grin, taunting you, telling you that he'd never let you go.

The next day, the thought of facing Jungkook at BigHit was almost unbearable. You considered calling in sick, but you knew it would only postpone the inevitable. So, with a deep breath and trembling hands, you pushed open the doors to the office building, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

You kept your head down as you made your way through the bustling hallways, trying to avoid any unnecessary interactions. The last thing you wanted was for Jungkook to spot you, his dark eyes piercing through your soul, reminding you of the passionate yet terrifying encounter from the night before.

As you turned a corner, you heard his unmistakable laughter echoing down the hall. Panic set in, and without thinking, you ducked behind the nearest object – a potted plant that was admittedly too small to hide a person of your size. It was a ridiculous attempt at concealment, and you felt your cheeks redden in embarrassment at the thought.

But fate had a sense of humor, because just as you were about to stand up, you heard footsteps approaching. Your heart stopped as you realized they were coming from the opposite direction of Jungkook's laughter. You held your breath, hoping against hope that it wasn't him.

"What are you doing?" A voice asked, and you recognized it immediately. It was Jimin, his tone a blend of amusement and confusion.

You peered up at him from your crouched position, surrounded by the plant's leaves. He had a smirk on his face that was equal parts endearing and infuriating. "I'm... watering the plants," you replied weakly, hoping he couldn't see your reddened cheeks.

Jimin's smirk grew wider as he looked down at you. "With your forehead?" He teased, crouching beside you to peek through the leaves.

You rolled your eyes, feeling the heat creeping up your neck. "It's a new technique," you said, trying to keep your voice light. "I just learned it from YouTube." You hoped he couldn't hear the tremble in your voice, the fear of Jungkook's reaction still fresh in your mind.

He chuckled, reaching out to help you to your feet. His hand was warm and gentle, a stark contrast to Jungkook's possessive touch. "You're something else, Y/N," he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "I've never seen anyone quite like you."

You took a deep breath, straightening your clothes and trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Thanks, I guess," you murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"You know, Y/N," Jimin said, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness despite the firmness in his tone, "you really are quite the bad girl, leaving me at the restaurant like that." He took a step closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off casually. "I've already said I'm not interested," you replied, attempting to shrug his hand off your arm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

But Jimin wasn't having it. With surprising strength, he spun you around, pinning you against the wall. His eyes searched yours, a mix of amusement and determination. "Baby," he said, his voice a velvety purr, "just because I'm talking sweetly to you doesn't mean you can show me attitude." His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his gaze never leaving yours.

You felt a jolt of electricity run through you at his touch, but you pushed it away, trying to keep your cool. "What do you want, Jimin?" You asked, your voice firm despite the butterflies in your stomach.

"To spend the night with you, of course," Jimin said, his grin widening as he leaned closer. "You know you want it."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay strong. "I already told you," you said, your voice steady. "I'm not interested."

Jimin's expression grew serious, his eyes searching yours. "But why?" He asked, his voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to resonate through your very bones. "Why are you playing so hard to get, Y/N?"

"Please, just stay away from me," you pleaded, your voice a whisper in the otherwise empty hallway. "I don't want to mess up my friendship with Minseo."

Jimin's expression grew quizzical as he leaned back slightly. "What's Minseo got to do with this?" He asked, his voice holding a hint of confusion.

You felt a surge of frustration at his apparent cluelessness. "Are you blind?" You pushed him away, the force of your emotions surprising you. "Minseo loves you," you said, the words tumbling out of your mouth like a confession.

His eyes searched yours, his expression eerily calm. "And your point is?" He replied, his voice devoid of any emotion that you had hoped to elicit.

You felt your anger bubbling over. "How can you be so callous?" You exclaimed, your voice echoing in the quiet hallway. "Minseo loves you, and you're just using her for your pleasure?"

Jimin's smirk grew into a full-blown smile, his eyes gleaming with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. "Baby," he said, his voice a purr that sent a shiver down your spine, "you really need to get your facts straight." He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Minseo and I have an understanding. She comes to me because she wants to, not because I force her."

Your eyes narrowed, and you took a step back, your hand dropping to your side. "So, you're just using her feelings?" You accused, your voice tight with anger. "How can you do that to someone who cares about you?"

Jimin shrugged, his smile never faltering. "When did I say I don't care for her?" He countered, his eyes still on yours, unwavering. "But love isn't something that can be forced, Y/N. And if she's happy with what we have, where's the harm?"

"You know, Jimin," you said, trying to keep the emotion out of your voice, "if the body is more beautiful than the soul, then why is it the soul that goes to heaven and the body that's buried in the ground?"

His smile faltered for a brief moment, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to discern the meaning behind your words. But he remained silent, his expression unreadable.

"I can't think badly of any of you," you continued, your voice a little shakier now. "BTS is important to me. Every member is important to me. And I just wish none of you had to go through what Minseo is feeling." You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I don't want you to experience that kind of pain – loving someone who can't love you back the way you deserve."

With that, you turned away from Jimin, your shoulders squared and your chin held high. "But I hope you find that person, Jimin," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "The one who makes you realize what true love is." With that, you walked away from him, leaving him standing there with a look of surprise on his face.

As you approached the office, you felt the weight of the conversation with Jimin settling heavily on your shoulders. But there was no time to dwell on it as you heard the sharp tones of your manager, echoing through the hallway. "Y/N, you're late!" She barked, her eyes narrowed as she glanced at her watch.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "I'm sorry," you said, your voice a mere whisper. "I had some personal issues to deal with."

Her expression softened slightly, but the scolding didn't cease. "Well, you'd better not let it affect your work," she warned. "Now, go wake Taehyung up. He's in the studio again, and we're falling behind schedule."

With a sigh, you headed down the hallway to the studio, the weight of the morning's events heavy on your shoulders. The door was ajar, and you peeked in to find the room dimly lit, with a single lamp casting a warm glow over Taehyung's sleeping form. He was stretched out on the couch, his long legs draped over the armrest, one hand tucked under his cheek.

You took a moment to take in the sight of him, dressed in the same outfit from yesterday, his shoes discarded haphazardly on the floor. It was clear he hadn't gone home last night, and a twinge of concern for his well-being tugged at your heart. He looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, that for a moment you were torn between letting him sleep and the need to get the day started.

Deciding that the day's schedule couldn't wait, you took a deep breath and stepped into the room, the sound of your footsteps on the plush carpet alerting him to your presence. Taehyung's eyes fluttered open, and he squinted in the light, his gaze finding yours. "Y/N?" He mumbled sleepily, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"Good morning, Taehyung," you said, your tone gentle yet firm. "You have fifteen minutes to freshen up. We've got a very busy schedule ahead."

Taehyung groaned, rubbing his eyes in a way that somehow managed to be both adorable and a silent protest. "I worked the whole night yesterday," he grumbled, his voice still thick with sleep. "Don't you think I need some rest?"

You couldn't help but smile at his cute, disheveled state, his hair sticking up in every direction. But the smile didn't reach your eyes. "I know you did," you said, your voice firm despite the tenderness you felt. "But now, you have 14 minutes to freshen up. The day's schedule won't wait for you."

Taehyung sat up with a dramatic sigh, his eyes searching yours beseechingly. "Come on, Y/N," he pleaded, his voice dropping into a lower, more playful tone. "Don't be cold-hearted. Give me a break."

You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back a smile at his puppy-dog eyes. "I'm sorry, Taehyung," you said, your voice firm. "But I'm just following orders.

He pouted, his eyes searching yours for any hint of compromise. You remained steadfast. "If you want a break, you'll have to talk to the manager," you said, your voice gentle yet firm. "Now, please, go freshen up. I'll bring you some tea."

With a dramatic huff, Taehyung grabbed his phone from the floor and dialed his manager's number, his eyes never leaving yours. You watched as his expression morphed from tired to determined. "Cancel my schedule for today," he barked into the phone, his voice a stark contrast to the sleepy drawl from moments ago. "Yeah, that's right," he said, his tone firm. "I need some personal time."

He hung up without waiting for a response and smirked at you. "Looks like I'm free today," he said, his eyes gleaming. "So, what's your excuse now?"

You blinked in surprise. "What?" You stammered, trying to keep up with the sudden change in plans.

"I said, I'll be ready in 10 minutes," Taehyung repeated, standing up and stretching. "Wait for me in my car."

You stared at him in disbelief. "But you just canceled your schedule," you protested. "What are you planning to do?"

He shrugged, his smirk never leaving his face. "It's personal time," he said, his voice low and playful. "And as my personal assistant, you're coming with me."

Without waiting for your response, he turned and headed for the door, his long strides eating up the distance to the parking lot. You had no choice but to follow, your thoughts racing. What could he possibly have in mind? The tension in the air was palpable, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something significant was about to happen.

Once outside, you found his sleek black car, the engine already purring, waiting for you. You slid into the passenger seat, your heart racing. Taehyung joined you a moment later, his eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror. He gave you a knowing smile, his expression unreadable. "Buckle up," he said, his voice a soft command.

The car pulled out of the parking lot and onto the busy streets of Seoul. The early morning traffic was already building, but Taehyung navigated the streets with an ease that suggested he'd done this a thousand times before. You couldn't help but admire the way his hands moved over the steering wheel, the confidence in every gesture. "Where are we going?" You asked, your voice small in the confined space of the car.

"To a restaurant," he replied, his eyes not leaving the road. "I'm really hungry."

You nodded, trying to keep your cool despite the whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. As the car pulled into the parking lot of a cozy little eatery, you felt your stomach rumble in protest. You hadn't realized how hungry you were until the tantalizing smells of grilled meat and sizzling vegetables wafted through the air.

Once seated, Taehyung took charge of the menu, ordering a smorgasbord of dishes that were a feast for the eyes and nose. You watched as the plates arrived, each one more mouthwatering than the last, filling the table.

Taehyung's eyes lit up as the server brought a plate of sizzling bulgogi to the table. He didn't wait for the dish to cool before grabbing the tongs, deftly plucking a piece of marinated beef and placing it on your plate. "Here," he said, his eyes on you as you looked at the meat.

But before he could even offer you the first bite, you had already finished your meal. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you looked up at him. "I'm sorry," you mumbled, pushing the plate away. "I guess I was more hungry than I thought."

Taehyung's eyes twinkled with amusement. "No, it's okay," he said, his voice soothing. "I just didn't expect you to be such a fast eater." He took a sip of his water, watching you closely. "You know, Y/N," he said, setting his glass down with a soft clink, "you're full of surprises."

After you had both finished your meals and the plates were cleared away, Taehyung leaned back in his chair, his expression growing serious. "Ready to go?" He asked, his eyes searching yours.

"Where to?" You inquired, wiping your mouth with the napkin.

Taehyung's smile grew enigmatic. "To a piano concert," he said.

The car pulled up to an elegant concert hall, the grandeur of the architecture hinting at the talent that graced its stages. As you stepped out of the car, the cool breeze ruffled your hair, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers from the nearby park. The anticipation grew as you followed Taehyung into the lobby, the sound of classical music floating through the air like whispers of a secret.

Once seated in the plush velvet chairs of the dimly lit hall, you felt a rush of excitement as the pianist took the stage. The spotlight bathed him in a warm glow, highlighting the intensity in his eyes as he placed his fingers on the keys. The first notes of the piano sang out, filling the vast space with a haunting melody that seemed to resonate within your very soul.

As the music swelled, your eyes grew heavy. You leaned back in your chair, letting the melody wash over you like a gentle wave.

Before you knew it, your eyelids had grown too heavy to hold open any longer, and you drifted off to sleep. In your slumber, the notes of the piano seemed to weave into your dreams.

When you awoke, you felt a warm presence beside you, and slowly, your eyes fluttered open. Taehyung's face was just inches away, his expression a blend of concern and amusement. "You've been sleeping for hours," he murmured. "The concert's over."

You sat up with a start, looking around the now-empty concert hall. The only sound was the faint echo of the last lingering notes of the piano. "What?" You whispered, your voice hoarse from disuse. "How is that possible?"

Taehyung's eyes searched yours, his smile gentle. "You looked so peaceful," he said, his voice low. "I didn't want to wake you." He brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, his touch as soft as a feather.

But as the words hung in the air, the atmosphere grew thick with something unspoken. His gaze dropped to your lips, and your breath hitched. You felt your heart race as he leaned closer, his hand cupping your cheek. "I'm not feeling myself today," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "Can I feel you instead?"

You froze, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through your body. But as he closed the distance between you, something within you snapped. Without thinking, you pushed him away with surprising strength, your palms flat against his chest. His eyes widened, the shock evident on his face.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his voice low and confused.

You took a deep, shaky breath, your eyes searching his. "I can't," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Taehyung."

The confusion in his gaze deepened, but he didn't move. "Why not?" He asked, his voice low and sultry. "You said you love me. And we've kissed before. What's changed?"

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "The first time we kissed, it was because you were drunk," you said, your voice trembling. "And the second time, I was the one who was drunk. It's always been like that. A mistake, a misunderstanding."

"I don't think the second time was any mistake or misunderstanding either," Taehyung said, his voice a soft caress against the silence of the empty concert hall. "You enjoyed my touch that night too, didn't you?" His eyes searched yours, looking for confirmation, for permission to bridge the gap between you once more.

You bit your lip, the memory of that night a vivid blush across your face.His arms, so strong yet so gentle, holding you close. His touch, a comfort you hadn't known you craved. His lips, a sweet, lingering promise of something more than just a drunken haze. That feeling of belonging, that incandescent warmth – it wasn't a trick of your inebriated mind. It was achingly real.

"So, what's the problem now?" Taehyung's voice was low, his eyes searching hers for a flicker of the love you had confessed just few days ago. "Don't tell me you don't love me anymore."

The question was a dam breaking. Tears, hot and uncontrollable, welled in your eyes and spilled down your cheeks. "How can you even ask that?" you choked out, your voice thick with emotion. "How can you think... after everything?" You took a shaky breath, struggling to find the words. "Taehyung, I fell for you the moment I saw your smile. Just your smile. It was like... like everything else faded away."

Your tear-filled gaze locked with his, unwavering despite the blurring vision. "You were my first. My first crush, my first dream, the first person who made my heart ache with something so profound. Do you know why I even chose to work at Big Hit?" Your voice cracked, the words catching in your throat. "It wasn't just about the company, it was about you. I just wanted to be close, to see you, to breathe the same air, even if it was just once in my life. And now... now you're asking me if I don't love you anymore?" Your voice broke completely on the last words, a guttural cry of hurt and unwavering, desperate adoration.

You took a shuddering breath, the words tumbling out, fueled by years of silent longing. "Every time I saw you, every interview, every performance, it was like a secret part of my heart ached. I knew it was crazy. I knew it was just a fan's dream. But I couldn't stop it. I never could."

Your gaze met his again, swimming with tears but resolute. "And that night... when you held me... it felt like a miracle. Like maybe, just maybe, the impossible wasn't so impossible after all. But then the morning comes, and the fear rushes back, drowning everything." You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, a fresh wave of tears escaping. "I didn't want to ruin anything. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I just... I wanted to be near you, even if it meant burying how deeply I truly felt."

You finally dropped your gaze, the weight of your confession heavy in the air. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry to break the rule of being a fan. To... to fall for you." You took a shaky breath, your voice gaining a strained edge. "I'm happy with this one-sided love, just to see you. But that doesn't mean I can sleep with you, just because I love you."

Taehyung's hand stilled on your cheek, his eyes searching your tear-stained face. "Y/N," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"Please, Taehyung." You cut him off, raising a trembling hand as if to ward off his words. Your voice was a fractured plea, raw with desperation. "I love you very much, and I respect you. I want you to be happy in your life, but please don't be like this. Otherwise, my heart will break, and I will stop believing in love."

Your eyes, red-rimmed and brimming, pleaded with him. "I'm happy being your fan. I will always support you from a distance. But I can't be your lust."

The final word hung in the air, stark and accusatory. Taehyung jaw tightened, and the hurt in his eyes deepened into a sharp pain. He opened his mouth, then closed it, appearing to struggle for words. His gaze remained fixed on you, a complex mix of disbelief, sadness, and an underlying plea for understanding. The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of your confession and his unvoiced reaction.

"I'm sorry," you repeated, your voice shakier than before. "If I said too much and made you uncomfortable, I'll resign from being your personal assistant tomorrow."

The words hung in the air, a stark declaration that left you feeling both empowered and utterly exposed. You didn't wait for his response. With a quiet dignity that belied the chaos in your heart, you stood up and walked away from him, from the empty concert hall, and from the love that seemed to have no place in the harsh light of reality.

Taehyung watched you leave, his expression a tumultuous storm of emotions. He didn't move, didn't call out to you.

You stepped out into the cold, crisp air, the chilly breeze a stark contrast to the warmth of the concert hall. The tears on your cheeks turned to ice as you walked down the street, lost in thought. You couldn't help but think of Taehyung's smile, the way it had once been your beacon of happiness. Now, it was a painful reminder of the distance between you. You wiped your eyes, scolding yourself. "Come on, Y/N, stop crying," you murmured. "Otherwise, you're going to have hair fall."

As if in response to your thoughts, snowflakes began to fall, gently kissing your upturned face. You stopped in your tracks, watching the flurries with wide eyes. It was the first snowfall of the season, and there was something about it that seemed almost... magical. You reached out a hand, catching a snowflake on your fingertip. It melted into a cold droplet, and you felt a sudden spark of joy. Closing your eyes, you made a silent wish. "I wish to find someone who truly loves me," you whispered into the frosty air.

Suddenly, the sound of a familiar voice pierced through the silence. You opened your eyes and looked around, searching for the source. It was Jungkook's, singing a ballad that tugged at the heartstrings. You followed the sound into a nearby café, where a TV played his performance on a music show. The sight of him, so earnest and beautiful, filled you with a bittersweet .

You pulled out your headphones, plugging them in and starting your own music. The world outside muted, replaced by your chosen soundtrack. You continued walking, enjoying the snowfall, occasionally twirling a little, lost in the moment. The snowflakes danced around you, a fleeting, beautiful spectacle.

Meanwhile, Jimin was driving his car through the city streets. His mind, however, was miles away, replaying your words from earlier that morning. "She should have cursed me, scolded me," he muttered to himself, a frustrated frown on his face. "But I really don't understand this girl."

His gaze drifted, almost idly, to the sidewalk. His eyes fell on a figure bathed in the soft glow of streetlights and falling snow. It was you, headphones on, a solitary dancer amidst the flurries, your face upturned to the sky, a hint of a smile playing on your lips as you seemed to enjoy the magical snowfall.

Jimin couldn't help but watch from the warmth of his car, the chilly winter evening outside a stark contrast to the warmth of the scene playing out before his eyes. You twirled and spun, your movements carefree and uninhibited. Despite the chill, your cheeks were flushed, and your eyes sparkled with a joy that seemed to capture the essence of the first snowfall.

He leaned against the steering wheel, his heart doing a strange little dance of its own as he observed you. "Silly girl," he murmured to himself, but the words were tinged with affection rather than scorn. He found himself smiling despite the confusion you had stirred in him. It was as if watching you had the power to melt away the layers of his own complexities, leaving him feeling lighter, more at peace.

For several minutes, Jimin stayed there, his eyes never leaving you, his mind racing with thoughts he didn't dare voice. But the cold was seeping into his car, a gentle reminder that he couldn't stay there forever. With a sigh, he started the engine.

Before pulling away, though, he couldn't resist. He reached for his phone, the screen illuminating his face briefly as he opened the camera app. Through the lens, he captured your image, framed by the swirling snow and the soft glow of the streetlights.

The click of the camera shutter seemed to echo in the quiet night.With one more lingering glance, Jimin shifted the car into gear and slowly drove away, the image of you in the snow frozen in time on his phone's screen. The warmth of the car's interior was a stark contrast to the cold outside, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of the feelings he was experiencing.

As he navigated the snow-covered streets, he couldn't shake the image of you from his mind. "You're something else, Y/N," he murmured to himself, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. It was a phrase he'd heard before, but in that moment, it felt like it was made just for you. You were a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit anywhere, a wildflower growing in the most unexpected of places.

Chapter Text

Lost in the lingering glow of the snowfall, you finally arrived at your apartment building. The familiar walk up the stairs felt strangely quiet. You pulled out your keys, inserted it into the lock, and pushed the door open, stepping inside.

But instead of the comforting clutter of your small living space, you were met with a gaping emptiness. The furniture was gone. Your boxes of books, your clothes hanging in the closet, the small kitchen appliances – all of it, vanished. Your jaw dropped. "Where... where did my things go?" you whispered to yourself, a sudden chill colder than the outside air seizing you.

Just then, a voice startled you. "Oh, Y/N!" It was your apartment owner, standing in the hallway, a wide, almost too-bright smile on her face.

"Mam, where are my things?" you asked, your voice laced with disbelief and rising panic.

"Oh, your boyfriend didn't tell you?" she chirped, her smile unwavering. "He came this afternoon. Packed all your things. Oh, he must want to surprise you!"

Your heart raced as you took in the scene. "My...boyfriend?" you echoed, mind reeling.

Her eyes lit up. "Yes! He said you're moving in with him. He was such a lovely man, Y/N. You're so lucky!"

You felt your stomach drop as you realized she meant Jungkook. He had moved your things without your consent. Panic surged through your veins. "But... I didn't agree to that," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh, I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding," she said, her smile slipping slightly. "Why don't you give him a call?" She patted your shoulder before bustling off, leaving you alone in the stark emptiness that was once your sanctuary.

With trembling hands, you pulled out your phone and called Jungkook's number. It took a few rings before he picked up, his voice smooth and casual as ever. "Babe," he greeted, the term sending a cold shiver down your spine. "What's up?"

"Jungkook," you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "Where are my things?"

There was a beat of silence before he replied, his tone smug. "It's all taken care of," he said. "Your new apartment is a little gift from me. Go check it out. I've sent you the address."

Before you could protest, he ended the call, leaving you staring at your phone in disbelief. A gift? A prison more like it. The thought of Jungkook touching your personal items, deciding where they belonged, made you feel sick.

With trembling hands, you opened the message to find an unfamiliar address. You had no choice but to go and confront him, to take back what was rightfully yours. You stepped back into the snow, the cold now a welcome distraction from the hot anger building inside you.

The taxi ride felt interminable, your thoughts racing faster than the snowflakes outside. Jungkook had no right to do this.

When you arrived at the address he sent, you found yourself standing before a sleek, luxury apartment complex that gleamed under the moonlit snowfall. You stepped into the warm lobby, the stark contrast to the cold outside making you feel both comforted and eerily out of place.

With a deep breath, you approached the elevator, punched in the floor number he had provided, and stepped in. As the doors slid closed, your heart felt like it was in a vice. What was he playing at?

When you arrived at the penthouse suite, you took a moment to compose yourself before pressing the doorbell. The sound echoed through the corridor, sharp and insistent. The door swung open, revealing Jungkook's smug smile.

"Welcome home, babe," he said, pulling you inside without waiting for your response. You stumbled, the heat of his grip searing through the fabric of your coat.

The apartment was indeed luxurious, with a panoramic view of the city's skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The walls were adorned with art that was likely worth more than your entire wardrobe. You blinked rapidly, trying to take it all in, but your eyes kept straying to the boxes piled in the corner of the living room.

"Jungkook," you began, your voice firm despite the tremble in your chest. "Where are my things?"

He gestured nonchalantly to the boxes in the corner. "Don't worry, babe," he said, a smug smile playing on his lips. "I've already organized everything. This is your new home now. What do you think?"

You took a step back, pulling out of his grasp. "This isn't my home," you said, your voice steady despite the rage bubbling just beneath the surface. "I didn't agree to move in with you. And you had no right to touch my things."

Jungkook's smile didn't waver. "Babe, come on," he cooed, his voice a smooth caress that made your skin crawl. "You're mine. And if you're mine, then everything that belongs to you also belongs to me." He took a step closer, his eyes glinting with a possessive light that sent a chill down your spine.

"What part of 'no' do you not understand?" you demanded, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to remain calm. "I'm not your girlfriend, and I never will be."

"Babe," Jungkook said, his voice a velvety purr that didn't match the tension coiled in the room. "When a couple comes together, it's because they both agree to it. So, if we should break up, the same rules should apply." He took another step closer, his eyes boring into yours, his smile slipping to reveal the desperation beneath.

You rolled your eyes, the gesture a silent declaration of your frustration with his games. "Talking to you is useless," you murmured, your voice a whisper of anger. "I'm coming here to get my things, and then I'm leaving."

"Y/N," Jungkook's voice was low, a warning rumble. "Where will you go? I already bought your old apartment. This is your home now." His possessiveness was suffocating, a stark contrast to the cool elegance of the surroundings.

You stepped back, your eyes flashing with determination. "Mr. Jeon Jungkook," you said, enunciating each word with precision. "This is Seoul. I can rent any apartment here. And if you think for one second that buying my old place gives you any kind of claim over me, then you're sadly mistaken."

The smirk on Jungkook's face grew wider, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Is that so?" he challenged, his voice low and taunting. "Well, I suppose we'll see about that."

You nodded firmly, your eyes never leaving his. "Yes, I can," you said, your voice steady despite the fear thrumming through you. "And I will."

"Fine," Jungkook conceded, his tone deceptively casual. "But you should know, it's a heavy snowfall outside. The roads are terrible. Why don't you stay here tonight?" His smile was a challenge, as if daring you to accept his offer and admit defeat.

You took a deep breath, glancing out the windows at the thick blanket of snow that had indeed descended upon the city. "Thank you for your concern," you said, keeping your voice icy despite the warmth of the room. "But I'll manage."

But as you turned to the main door, you found that it wouldn't budge. You tried again, but it remained stubbornly shut. Jungkook's smirk grew, a silent acknowledgment that he had anticipated your move. "Jungkook, what did you do?" you asked, your voice tight with anger.

"Babe," he said, sauntering over to you with the ease of a predator stalking its prey. "The door won't open unless I say so." He leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest. "It's for your own good, you know. The weather's terrible out there. You'd be safer here."

"Safer?" you echoed, the irony of the situation not lost on you. "With you?"

Jungkook's smirk grew wider. "You know you want to be with me," he murmured, his eyes dropping to your lips. "Why fight it?"

With a heavy sigh, you rolled your eyes, the gesture a silent declaration of your exasperation. "I will only stay here tonight," you said firmly, your voice a whip-crack in the stillness of the apartment. "And you will stay away from me. No more games, no more touching. Understood?"

"As you wish, babe," Jungkook said with a dramatic sigh, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

You gave him one last look before retreating to the sofa, pulling out your laptop with trembling hands. The glow of the screen cast a warm light across your face as you began to search for a new place to live. The snowfall outside painted a serene picture, but the reality was far from it. You had to find a place, fast. The thought of staying here with him was unbearable.

Meanwhile, at the Big Hit gym, Taehyung was deep in thought. He was busy working out, the rhythmic thud of his feet on the treadmill a steady counterpoint to the chaotic thoughts in his mind. He couldn't shake off the memory of your words, the way you looked at him, and the brief moments you two had shared.

As he pumped iron, he found himself replaying every interaction, every glance, every smile. Your confession echoed in his ears like a melody he couldn't get out of his head. He paused, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel. "What is this girl doing to me?" he murmured, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Namjoon, noticing the faraway look in Taehyung eyes, approached. "You okay, taehyung?" he asked, a concerned furrow etching his brow. Taehyung looked up, the smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "Yeah," he replied, a little too quickly, maybe. "Just lost in thought."

"Seemed pretty intense," Namjoon said, his eyes searching Taehyung. "Everything alright with the tour prep?"

Taehyung paused, the weights in his hand hovering above the mat. He took a moment to compose himself before responding. "It's about Y/N," he said, his voice low.

"Y/N?" Namjoon echoed, surprise coloring his tone. "Your assistant?"

"Yeah," Taehyung said with a nod. "It's complicated."

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. "A girl? That's rare for you to talk about, Tae."

The gym was empty except for the two of them, the sound of their conversation bouncing off the walls. Taehyung sighed, setting down the weights. He sat on the bench, wiping his forehead with the towel. "It's... more than that."

"What do you mean?" Namjoon asked, curiosity piqued.

"I don't know," Taehyung admitted, his eyes searching the floor. "It's just... she's different."

Namjoon leaned against the nearby wall, his arms folded over his chest. "Different how?"

Taehyung paused, his eyes searching for the right words. "I thought she was just like the others," he said finally. "But she's not. She's..." He struggled to find the right word. "Pure."

Namjoon nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. "I see," he said. "So, what's the complication?"

Taehyung rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving the floor. "I don't know," he murmured, his voice filled with a rare note of uncertainty. "Her words affect me in ways I can't explain."

Namjoon studied him, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe it's because she's the one who actually sees you," he suggested. "Not the idol, but the person beneath the surface."

Taehyung looked up, his eyes meeting Namjoon's. There was a moment of silence between them, filled with unspoken understanding. "Maybe," he conceded with a sigh. "But what do I do?"

"Talk to her, Tae," Namjoon said, his voice gentle. "Sometimes that's all it takes. Just... communicate."

Taehyung nodded slowly, considering the advice. "You're right," he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thanks, hyung."

"Anytime, Tae," Namjoon said, clapping him on the back before returning to his workout.

Taehyung's thoughts lingered on your conversation as he finished his routine. He knew he had to talk to you.

Meanwhile, in the penthouse, you were still searching for a new apartment, your eyes scanning the screen with determination. The warmth of the apartment was a stark contrast to the cold anger simmering just beneath your surface.

"Babe," Jungkook's voice called out, breaking the silence. "You look cold. Want some hot chocolate?"

You didn't even look up. "I'm fine," you said curtly, your eyes never leaving the screen.

But Jungkook wasn't so easily dismissed. He approached the couch, holding out a steaming mug. "Come on, Y/N," he cajoled, his voice a blend of sweetness and insistence. "It'll warm you up."

You took the mug with a curt nod, your eyes drawn to a small wound on his hand. It was red and raw, standing out starkly against his pale skin. "What happened to your hand?" you asked, unable to keep the concern from seeping into your voice.

Jungkook looked down at it, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. "It's nothing," he said, waving it off. "Just a small cut from dance practice. It's not a big deal."

Ignoring his protests, you set the mug on the coffee table and reached into your bag for your first-aid kit. "Let me see," you said firmly, pulling out a small bottle of antiseptic and a bandage.

With a sigh, he extended his hand, allowing you to clean and dress the wound. Your hands were gentle, a stark contrast to the tension in the room.

"Y/N," Jungkook said again, his voice softer now. "Why did you say you wanted to break up with me that day?"

"Remember," you said, your voice steady , "you told me to stop seducing Taehyung." The words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and hurt. Jungkook's smile faltered, his eyes searching yours. "That made me feel dirty," you continued, "even though I don't know how to seduce men."

Jungkook's laugh was a soft exhale of disbelief. "Are you real?" he murmured, his voice a mix of amusement and incredulity. You didn't look up from your task, just nodded as you secured the bandage with careful precision. "I'm serious," you said, your voice a low whisper.

"Y/N," he began again, his voice a soft caress that made you want to cringe. "I'm sorry for what I said."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. "Don't say sorry," you replied, your voice firm. "Because that relationship was never real."

Jungkook's smile slipped away, his eyes searching yours for a hint of the truth. "What do you mean?" he asked, his tone laced with a hint of desperation.

"I came to that relationship because I wanted to move on from my first love," you admitted, your voice soft but clear. "To distract my mind. And for that, I'm truly sorry. I didn't mean to use you."

Jungkook's smirk grew, his eyes gleaming with a determination that sent a shiver down your spine. "So," he said, his voice a silky purr, "I was just a distraction, huh?"

"Yes," you replied, your voice firm. "And I'm sorry for that. But we both know it was never real."

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Let me be the one to clear something up, babe," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that made you want to pull away. "I never like to be second. I always aim to be first." His eyes bore into yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race.

"Jungkook," you began, but he cut you off with a gentle touch to your lips.

"Don't worry, babe," he murmured, his eyes darkening with a fierce determination. "Soon, you'll understand that your first love was never really your first love. Because I will take that place." His thumb traced the curve of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine.

You stepped back, shaking your head. "In your dreams, Jungkook," you said, your voice firm. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to get back to finding a new place to live."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed slightly, but he stepped back, allowing you space. "Your hot chocolate's getting cold, babe," he said, his voice a gentle reminder of his earlier offer.

You took the mug, your eyes never leaving his. "I can't drink that," you said firmly, your voice a challenge. "What happens if you spiked it?"

Jungkook's smile grew, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Oh, babe," he said with a little laugh, taking a step closer. "You really think so low of me?" He took the mug from your unresisting hands and took a sip, watching your expression closely. "See?" He handed it back to you. "It's just hot chocolate."

You eyed the mug warily before taking a tentative sip, the warmth of the liquid spreading through your chest. Jungkook's gaze remained on you, his eyes dark and intense. "If I wanted to claim you," he murmured, his voice dropping to a seductive purr, "I wouldn't need to use something like that."

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "I want every part of you to remember me, babe," he said, his thumb brushing against your skin. "Every touch, every kiss, every time I go inside you." His voice was a gentle whisper, filled with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Every pain, every pleasure," Jungkook continued, his eyes locked on yours, "your body, your soul, it all needs to remember me."

You took a deep breath, the warmth of the hot chocolate doing nothing to ease the cold dread spreading through you. "I have enough drama for today," you said firmly, your voice a declaration of your limits. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get some sleep."

Jungkook's eyes never left yours, his smile never wavering. "Of course, babe," he murmured, his hand sliding from your cheek to your shoulder. "Let me help you to bed."

"No," you said quickly, your voice a little too sharp. "I can manage." But before you could move away, Jungkook had scooped you up into his arms, your protests of "Hey, put me down!" muffled against his chest.

He carried you into the bedroom, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle. You tried to wriggle free, but his arms were like steel bands around you. The room was bathed in a soft glow from the floor lamp, the large bed dominating the space. And right in front of it, a full-length mirror reflecting everything.

"What's this big mirror doing in the middle of the room?" you asked, your voice a mix of confusion and discomfort. Jungkook chuckled, setting you down on the edge of the mattress.

"It's for when we make love, babe," he said, his smirk saying everything you didn't want to hear. "So you can see every inch of me claiming you."

Your face turned crimson, and you opened your mouth to protest, but the words got stuck in your throat. Jungkook's gaze was unrelenting, his eyes holding yours as if daring you to argue. "I can sleep on the couch," you finally managed to say, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

But Jungkook was one step ahead of you. Before you could even stand up, he had a firm grip on your ankles, pulling you back onto the bed with surprising strength. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, his tone playful but with an underlying current of steel. "You're not sleeping on the couch."

"Let me go," you said, trying to sit up, but his hand was already on your chest, pushing you back down. "Jungkook, I'm serious."

"So am I, babe," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're tired, and the couch isn't exactly the most comfortable place to sleep."

Your eyes narrowed as you felt the softness of the comforter beneath you. "And you expect me to just...sleep with you?"

Jungkook's smile was infuriatingly calm. "It's just a bed, Y/N," he said, his voice a gentle coax. "We've shared it before."

"That was different," you said, your voice shaking with the effort to keep your emotions in check. "We were together."

"And we still are," Jungkook murmured, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Let me go," you said again, your voice stronger this time, your body stiffening with resolve. But Jungkook's grip remained firm, his fingers intertwining with yours as if to show you that he had no intention of letting you go.

"Babe, stop struggling," Jungkook murmured, his voice a seductive purr that made you want to both push him away and melt into his embrace. "You're exhausted. Just sleep."

You took a deep breath, willing your body to relax. "Fine," you said, your voice tight with frustration. "But I need some space."

Jungkook's smile didn't waver as he released you, watching as you grabbed an extra pillow from the bed and placed it firmly in the middle. "As you wish," he said, his tone light.

You climbed under the covers, pulling the pillow against your chest like a shield. Jungkook's gaze followed your movements, his eyes lingering on the curve of your neck where your hair fell away. "You really need that much space?" he teased, his voice low and warm.

Ignoring his provocation, you rolled over, presenting him with your back. "Goodnight, Jungkook," you said, your voice firm despite the tremble in your voice.

He chuckled, the sound low and intimate in the quiet room. "Goodnight, babe," he murmured, his voice holding a hint of satisfaction.

The bed dipped as he settled in behind you, and despite the pillow barricade, you could feel the heat of his body seeping into the space between you. The scent of his cologne filled the air, a heady mix of musk and vanilla that made your heart race.

Morning light streamed through the windows, casting a soft glow on the room as you slowly opened your eyes. The first thing you noticed was Jungkook's face so close to yours that you could see every detail, every eyelash, every freckle. Panic set in as you realized he was hugging you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to piece together what happened last night.

With a jolt of adrenaline, you pushed Jungkook away, his body flying off the bed with a surprised yelp. "Ouch, babe!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of pain and confusion. "What the hell was that for?"

"What the hell are you doing?" you snapped, your voice filled with the pent-up anger and fear from the night before. Jungkook rubbed his shoulder, his eyes wide with shock.

"I was just sleeping," he protested, sitting up with a groan. "What's your problem, babe?"

You stared at him, the reality of the situation setting in. "You moved the pillow," you accused, your voice shaking. "You were holding me all night."

Jungkook looked genuinely confused for a moment before his expression cleared with a knowing smirk. "Is that a problem?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Yes," you said firmly, your voice not betraying the turmoil inside you. "It is."

Jungkook's smirk grew as he leaned back against the headboard, his arms crossing over his bare chest. "Why?" he asked, his tone casual yet challenging. "You're my girlfriend. It's what we do."

"No," you said, your voice shaking with the effort to remain firm. "It's not. We're not together anymore, Jungkook. How many times do I have to say it?"

"As many times as you want, babe," he said, his voice a silky purr that made your skin crawl. "But until I say it, it's not over."

You sat up, the sheets pooling around your waist. "Jungkook, I don't have time for this," you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "I need to get ready for work."

He watched you with hooded eyes, his gaze traveling down your bare back before returning to your face. "What's the rush?" he murmured. "We could always...spend some quality time together before you go."

You rolled your eyes, the gesture speaking volumes about your exasperation. "Not happening," you said, your voice firm. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

Jungkook's smile was unrelenting. "Fine," he said, his tone a purr that made your skin crawl. "But let me drop you off. It's the least I can do."

You rolled your eyes, the gesture speaking volumes about your frustration. "I can take the bus," you said, your voice firm. "I'll get my things once I have a new home."

Jungkook's smile grew, his eyes glinting with a challenge. "As you wish, babe," he said, his tone light.

The days that followed were a blur of apartment viewings and rejections. You would visit countless apartments, only to be met with the same cold shoulder. Each time, the owners would look you up and down, their eyes lingering on your face, as if searching for something, before politely turning you away. You couldn't shake the feeling that Jungkook's influence was behind it all.

You stepped into the fifth apartment that afternoon, your hope dwindling with each empty room. The real estate agent's smile was forced, and you could feel the tension thick in the air. She showed you around the small space, her voice echoing off the bare walls. As you walked into the bedroom, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. The exhaustion etched into your features was palpable.

"I'm sorry, Miss," the agent said as you walked out into the hallway, her voice filled with a mix of pity and awkwardness. "The owner has decided to rent the apartment to someone else."

You nodded, not bothering to hide your disappointment. "Thanks for your time," you said, your voice flat. You knew what was happening. Jungkook had made sure that you wouldn't find a new place to live. It was his way of keeping you close, of controlling the situation.

As you stepped out onto the cold sidewalk, you couldn't help but feel defeated. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, a notification from Jungkook flashing on the screen. "Missed you, babe," it read, with a winking emoji. Your hand clenched around the device, anger and frustration bubbling up inside you.

But before you could respond, a name you hadn't expected popped up: Minseo. You paused, your heart racing as you tapped to accept the call. "Hello?" you said, your voice tentative.

"Y/N," Minseo's voice was firm on the other end of the line. "You need to get to BigHit. Now." There was an urgency in her tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

"What's wrong?" you asked, your eyes searching the sidewalk for any signs of danger.

"Taehyung's manager rejected your resignation letter," she said, her voice clipped and professional. "You're still his assistant until he says otherwise."

"What?" You stared at the phone in disbelief. "But I told him—"

"I know," she interrupted. "But he said he's not ready to let you go. Now, get here. There's something you need to handle."

The line went dead, leaving you standing on the sidewalk, feeling more lost than ever. You didn't want to work for Taehyung anymore, not with the mess your personal life had become. But you couldn't just ignore the call. You took a deep breath and started the long walk back to BigHit, the cold air doing nothing to cool the anger burning in your chest.

You marched straight to Taehyung's manager's office, the resignation letter clutched in your trembling hand. You didn't bother knocking, just barged in. The manager looked up from her paperwork, her expression one of mild annoyance. "What is it?" she barked, not bothering to hide her irritation.

You placed the letter on her desk, your voice shaking with the weight of your words. "I can't work here anymore," you said, your eyes never leaving hers. "Please accept this resignation letter."

She picked up the letter, her eyes scanning it before looking up at you with a frown. "First of all, Y/N," she said, her tone a mix of sternness and pity. "You signed a one-year contract. You can't just resign."

You felt a knot form in your stomach, a sinking feeling that you had made a mistake. "But, I can't," you began, your voice wavering. "I just can't—"

"If you want to resign," she interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind, "you'll have to talk to Taehyung himself. He's the only one who can release you from your contract."

You felt your heart drop. The last person you wanted to face right now was Taehyung. But you knew you had no choice. With a heavy sigh, you nodded. "Okay," you said, your voice small. "Where is he?"

The manager's expression softened slightly. "In the practice room," she said, pointing down the hall.

With a nod, you turned on your heel and headed in that direction, the clack of your shoes echoing through the empty corridor. Your thoughts raced as you approached the cafeteria for a much-needed coffee break. The rich aroma of freshly brewed beans filled the air, a comforting scent amidst the chaos of the day.

As you poured yourself a steaming cup, you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. You jumped, sloshing some of the coffee over the edge. "Minseo," you gasped, turning around to face her.

Her eyes searched yours, the concern in them clear. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine worry.

You took a shaky breath, the weight of everything crashing down on you. "No," you admitted, the words spilling out of you like a dam breaking. "Jungkook won't let me go. He keeps...doing things."

Minseo's expression grew serious. "What do you mean?" she asked, her hand on your shoulder a comforting presence.

You took a deep breath, the words spilling out like a dam breaking. "Jungkook won't take no for an answer," you began, your voice shaking. "He bought me an apartment, says he's not giving up. And now, every place I try to rent, they reject me. It's like he's got his hands in everything."

Minseo's eyes widened, and she took a step closer. "Did you guys have sex?" she asked, her voice low and serious.

You spun around, coffee spraying from your mouth in shock. "What?" you choked out, coughing. "No, no, of course not!"

The cafeteria's buzz grew louder as people started to stare, and Minseo's hand shot up to cover her mouth, her eyes watering with laughter. "Oh my god," she said, trying to compose herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you spit your coffee like that."

You grabbed a napkin to wipe your mouth, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "It's fine," you mumbled, trying to ignore the stares. "But seriously, Minseo, we just kissed."

Minseo's laughter died down, her expression growing thoughtful. "But how was it?" she asked, leaning closer. "Jungkook's kiss, I mean."

You felt your cheeks flush at the memory. "It was..." you began, searching for the right words. "Intense."

Minseo's eyes lit up, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Intense, huh?" she said, her voice filled with mischief. "But was it good?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat spreading through your body at the memory of Jungkook's kiss. "Minseo, focus," you said, your voice a mix of exasperation and desperation. "How do I get away from him?"

"Easy," she said, her voice light. "Get yourself a real boyfriend."

You stared at her in disbelief. "What?"

Minseo shrugged, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Think about it," she said, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "If you're already taken, Jungkook might back off."

The idea was ludicrous, but as you took a sip of your coffee, you couldn't help but feel a spark of hope. It was a desperate move, one that could potentially make everything worse, but what choice did you have? "But who?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Minseo leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "I have a friend," she said, her voice low and conspiratorial. "He's been looking for someone like you for a while now. Sweet, kind, and a bit of an introvert. He's totally your type, trust me."

Your heart raced at the prospect of meeting someone new. "Really?" you asked, hope blossoming in your chest. "How do I know I can trust him?"

Minseo leaned in closer, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "You can trust me, right?" she said. "And I trust him. He's a good guy, Y/N. He'll treat you right."

You nodded slowly, weighing the risks. "Okay," you said finally. "Tell me where and when."

Minseo's smile grew, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Perfect," she said, clapping her hands together. "You'll meet him at the café by the park tonight at 8 PM. It's a great place, quiet and intimate. Trust me, you'll love him."

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and dread. "Okay," you said, taking a deep breath. "I'll be there."

You walked into the practice room with a heavy heart, the echo of your footsteps bouncing off the walls. Taehyung looked up from his choreography, his expression a mix of surprise and concern as he took in your flustered appearance. "Y/N," he said, his voice gentle. "What's going on?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation to come. "I need to talk to you," you began, your voice firm.

With a wave of his hand, Taehyung signaled for the other staff to leave, his eyes never leaving yours. The room grew quiet as they filed out, leaving just the two of you in the cavernous space.

"What's going on?" he asked again, his voice low and concerned.

You took a deep breath and handed him the letter. "I'm resigning," you said, your voice firm. "I can't do this anymore."

Taehyung took the paper, his eyes scanning the neatly typed words before crumpling it into a ball without a second glance. "Not accepted," he said, his voice firm.

"What?" You stared at him in disbelief. "But why?"

"Because I don't want you to go," Taehyung said, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "You're good for me, Y/N."

You stared at him, your heart racing. "What do you mean?"

Taehyung sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've realized that I've been too cold to you," he admitted, his voice laced with regret. "I thought you were just another fan, another girl who'd throw herself at me without a second thought. I didn't mean to hurt you."

You searched his eyes, looking for any hint of insincerity, but all you found was raw emotion. "Taehyung," you began, your voice shaky.

"I'm really sorry, Y/N," he said again, his eyes never leaving yours. "For my behavior. For not seeing you for who you really are. You're more than just a fan, more than just my assistant. You're important to me."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you speechless. You had never seen this side of Taehyung before, the vulnerable and apologetic side. "I-I don't know what to say," you stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Y/N because of me, please don't quit your job," Taehyung's voice was a gentle plea, his eyes searching yours for understanding.

You took a step back, your mind racing. "I need to think," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The room spun around you, filled with the echoes of your heartbeat and the heavy silence that had descended upon you.

Taehyung nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Take all the time you need," he said softly. "But before you go, can I ask for one thing?"

You felt your chest tighten as you met his gaze. "What?"

Taehyung took a step closer, his eyes filled with sincerity. "Can I be your friend?" he asked, his voice soft and earnest. "I know I've messed up, but I don't want to lose you completely."

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden vulnerability. "Friend?" you repeated, the word feeling foreign on your tongue.

Taehyung nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes," he said, his voice firm.

"Okay," you murmured, your heart racing. "I'll think about it."

With that, you turned and walked away from Taehyung, the heavy weight of his gaze following you.

As your footsteps receded, Taehyung watched you go, a possessive glint in his eyes. He murmured to himself, his voice barely a whisper, "You can't go far from me now."

The corridor was quiet, the only sound the rhythmic tap of your shoes on the cold marble floor. You couldn't stop thinking about Taehyung's unexpected apology and his plea for friendship. It felt like a door was opening, but you weren't sure if you wanted to step through it.

Just as you reached the stairwell, your phone chimed with an unknown number. You picked it up, hope fluttering in your chest. "Hello?"

A kind voice filled your ear, a woman's. "Miss, are you looking for an apartment?"

Your heart soared. Maybe this was a stroke of luck. "Yes," you said eagerly.

But before she could respond, the line crackled, and the connection dropped. "Damn it," you muttered, looking around for a better signal. In your desperation, you stepped into what you thought was an empty corridor.

As you waved your phone around, trying to catch a signal bar, you accidentally stumbled into the male washroom. The door swung open, and you found yourself face-to-face with a row of shocked faces and wide-open mouths. The room fell silent except for the sound of a urinal flushing in the background.

"Excuse me, Miss, do you know where you are now? It's the men's washroom. Aren't you ashamed?" one man blurted out, breaking the stunned silence.

You, still flustered and irritated by the dropped call, retorted, "Why aren't you ashamed, standing like this in front of a woman?"

Another person, trying to be helpful, interjected, "But ma'am, it's the gents' washroom."

You, waving your phone like a frantic divining rod, scoffed, "When did I say it was a ladies' dance bar? I came in here because I don't get any network anywhere else, and now you guys are blaming me? You're the ones who don't have manners, talking to girls like this!" With that, you — face flushed — spun around and practically sprinted out of the washroom, leaving behind a bewildered and slightly damp audience.

Inside washroom, Jimin slapped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter. Suga shook his head, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. "She's really crazy," he mumbled.

One of the other male staff members, still wide-eyed, turned to Jimin, his voice laced with indignation. "Sir, we should complain about her! This isn't the first time strange people have been lurking around. She must be stalking you!"

Jimin's eyes narrowed, and his smile disappeared. He stepped closer to the man, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "I dare you to say another word," he said, his eyes flashing with a warning. "If you guys love your jobs, you'd better learn to keep your mouths shut."

The staff member took a step back, his face paling. "I-I'm sorry, sir," he stuttered, bowing deeply.

Jimin quickly exited the washroom, his gaze sweeping the lower floors. From his vantage point on the third floor, he spotted Y/N at the lobby level, her steps light and oblivious as she made her way happily towards the exit. He watched her for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

Suga appeared beside him, following his line of sight to the figure disappearing from view. He let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. "Don't tell me, Jimin," he said, a hint of weariness in his voice, "you're actually interested in that… boring girl."

Jimin whipped his head around, his eyes flashing. "Boring?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah," Suga said, his voice filled with amusement, "she's not boring. She's literally a walking comedy show. Can you believe she just stormed into the men's washroom and started yelling about manners?"

Jimin couldn't help but chuckle, his eyes lighting up with mischief. "Maybe she's just... clumsy," he suggested, his voice playful.

Suga raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "And when did you start getting interested in clumsy girls?"

Jimin's smirk grew wider. "You know what they say," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Opposites attract."

Suga rolled his eyes. "Jimin, she's not like the other girls you've been with," he said, his tone a mix of concern and exasperation.

"I know," Jimin replied, his eyes never leaving Y/N's retreating figure. "But I can't help it. There's something about her that just... draws me in."

Suga sighed, his eyes meeting Jimin's in silent understanding. "But what if she's not interested in you?" he asked again, his voice gentle.

Jimin's smirk grew more determined. "Then I'll make her interested," he said with a confidence that brooked no argument. "Don't forget who I am, Suga. I'm Park Jimin. I can make anyone fall for me."

Suga just chuckled, shaking his head. "You're hopeless," he said, but there was affection in his voice. "Alright, come on. We've got a group meeting to get to."

The conference room was buzzing with low chatter as the BTS members settled in for their meeting. Jungkook's spot, however, was noticeably empty.A moment later, Minseo entered, a tray of coffees in hand. She efficiently distributed them to everyone, then took her seat beside Jimin.

"Thanks for the coffee, Minseo," Namjoon said, offering a warm smile.

As the group chatted, Namjoon noticed Taehyung's eyes frequently drifting towards the door, his mind clearly elsewhere. "Hey, Tae," he said, leaning over. "Is everything okay?"

Taehyung jolted out of his thoughts. "Huh?" he said, a hint of panic in his voice. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Namjoon said, his voice firm. "Where's your assistant today?"

"Y/N?" Taehyung replied, his voice tight. "She's not feeling well. She's on leave. Fever."

Minseo, who had been quietly listening in, couldn't hold back her laughter. "Fever, really?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or is she on a date with someone?"

Jimin's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "What nonsense are you talking about, Minseo?" he demanded, his voice laced with a hint of panic.

"Nothing, Jimin," Minseo said quickly, her cheeks flushing. "Just focus on the meeting."

"Minseo you know I don't like to repeat myself," Jimin said, his voice laced with a warning.

"Please don't tell Jungkook," Minseo whispered urgently, her eyes darting towards the door as she handed you the coffee. "Y/N's going out for a date with my friend."

Before Minseo could even finish her sentence, Jungkook's sharp ears had picked up the last few words. "What did you say?" he barked, his voice cutting through the room like a knife.

Minseo's cheeks flushed, and she stuttered, "Oh, I just... I have something to do. I should go."

J-Hope leaned back in his chair, his voice calm. "It's nothing serious, Jungkook," he said. "Taehyung's manager is just... on a date."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed, and he slammed his hand on the table, the sound echoing through the room. "Where is she?" he demanded, his voice dark and dangerous.

Minseo took a step back, her eyes wide with fear. "I-I don't know," she stuttered, her voice barely audible.

Jin spoke up, his voice calm but firm. "Jungkook, you need to learn some manners when it comes to talking with a lady," he said, his gaze steady. "And you have no right to interfere in Y/N's personal life, especially if she's on a date."

Jungkook's jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped the table. "She's my girlfriend," he ground out. "Everything about her is my business."

The room went still, the air thick with tension. Then, as if on cue, Taehyung and Jimin both spoke up, their voices colliding in a cacophony of disbelief. "When the fuck did she become your girlfriend?"

Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching. "Since when did it become your business?" he snarled.

RM held up his hands, trying to play peacemaker. "Guys, guys, let's just focus on the meeting," he said, his voice firm.

"Hyung continue without me, I need to go," Jungkook spat out, his eyes burning with anger as he pushed away from the table, his chair scraping against the floor.

"Where are you going?" RM asked, his voice calm but firm, trying to regain control of the spiraling situation.

Jungkook didn't bother to look back as he stormed out of the conference room, leaving the rest of the members staring at each other in shock.

"Hyung," Taehyung began, his voice tight, "I'm sorry, but I need to go." He didn't wait for a response before he pushed his chair back and stood up, his eyes locked on the door Jungkook had just slammed shut.

RM watched him go, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. "What the hell was that about?" he muttered, turning to the rest of the group.

Jimin stood up, his eyes locked on the door. "I need to go," he said, his voice tight. "Minseo, come with me."

Without waiting for a response, he strode out of the room, Minseo quickly following in his wake. She cast a nervous glance over her shoulder at the remaining members, who were all staring at her with varying degrees of shock and confusion.

"What the hell is happening?" Namjoon finally managed to say, breaking the heavy silence.

Suga took a sip of his coffee, his gaze thoughtful. "It's about Y/N," he said, setting the cup down with a clink. "We need to look into this before it gets messier."

"But she's Jungkook's girlfriend," Jin protested, his voice filled with confusion. "What's the problem with Taehyung and Jimin?"

Suga leaned back in his chair, his gaze on the door where Taehyung and Jimin had disappeared. "They're obviously interested in her," he said, his voice filled with a knowing certainty.

J-Hope, ever the optimist, laughed it off. "Oh, come on, Suga," he said. "It's just for fun. They're just playing around."

But Suga's expression remained unchanged, his eyes still on the door. "For Jungkook, maybe," he said. "But not for Jimin. And not for Taehyung."

The gravity of the situation settled over the room, and the members fell into an uneasy silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Namjoon leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "We need to talk to them," he said, his voice firm. "We can't have this kind of tension in the group."

Meanwhile, in the parking lot, Jungkook revved the engine of his sleek black sports car, his eyes glued to his phone's GPS. The rage bubbled inside of him like a volcano about to erupt. He had to find her, he had to make sure she knew she couldn't just walk away from him like that. He sped out of the lot, weaving through traffic with a reckless abandon that had his heart racing in his chest.

"Babe, you really going to regret this," he murmured to himself, his voice thick with anger and possessiveness. "Seeing other men?" His grip tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. The thought of her with someone else made his blood boil. "I'll make sure of it."

Chapter Text

The quaint Italian restaurant, you sat nervously across from Leo, your eyes darting around the room. You'd never been on a blind date before, and you weren't quite sure what to expect. He was cute, in a non-threatening kind of way, with a gentle smile and kind eyes. But the conversation was stilted, and you couldn't help but feel like there was something missing. Every time you thought of Taehyung, your heart fluttered, and you had to force yourself to focus on the man in front of you.

"So, tell me more about your job," Leo said, twirling his spaghetti around his fork. "It must be pretty intense, working for a big company like BigHit."

You took a sip of your water, trying to swallow down the nerves. "It's... interesting," you said carefully, not wanting to reveal too much. "I've learned a lot about the industry."

Leo nodded, his eyes curious. "What do you do exactly?"

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to keep it simple. "I'm an assistant to one of the members," you said, avoiding mentioning Taehyung's name. "It involves a lot of scheduling and running errands."

Leo nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Cool," he said, his tone casual. "But can you think you'd have time for me if we started dating?"

Your heart skipped a beat. "I-I don't know," you stuttered, your eyes darting to the side. "My job can be pretty demanding."

Leo's smile never wavered. "It's okay," he said, his voice understanding. "A relationship takes effort from both sides. I'm willing to work around your schedule."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. Here was a nice guy, trying to get to know you, and all you could think about was Taehyung. You took a deep breath and tried to refocus. "Thank you," you said, forcing a smile.

Leo took another bite of his spaghetti, his eyes never leaving yours. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "you're more beautiful than I thought you'd be."

You blushed, surprised by his sudden compliment. "Thanks," you murmured, your cheeks heating up.

"And your personality," he continued, "it's even better than your pictures. You're so... genuine. It's refreshing."

You felt your heart sink a little. This was all happening too fast. You had only agreed to the date to escape Jungkook's overbearing behavior and to test the waters of a new relationship as Minseo suggested.

Leo looked into your eyes, his hand reaching out to cover yours. "I know we just met," he said, his voice earnest, "but I really feel a connection here. I want to be with someone like you, someone who's kind and honest."

You took a deep breath, feeling his warmth. His words were sweet, but they didn't resonate with the tumult of emotions you were already dealing with. With a gentle tug, you slid your hand out from under his. "Leo," you said, your voice trembling slightly, "I really appreciate that. But I don't think I can jump into something so quickly."

Leo's smile faltered, his eyes searching yours. "But Y/N," he said, leaning forward, his hands reaching for yours again, "don't you feel it too? We can take it slow, but let's not miss out on what could be something amazing."

His grip was firm, and you felt a flicker of unease. This wasn't the escape from Jungkook you had hoped for; it was just another form of entrapment. You gently tugged at your hand, trying to release it from his grasp. "Leo," you said, your voice stronger now, "I need some space."

But Leo was insistent, his eyes filled with a determination that was starting to unsettle you. "Come on," he said, his voice low and cajoling. "We're already here, we can at least hold hands."

With a sudden burst of strength, you yanked your hand back, knocking over his chair in the process. He toppled backwards, a surprised yelp escaping his lips. The sound echoed through the restaurant, and every head turned in your direction. You stood up, your cheeks flaming, your heart racing. "I'm sorry," you whispered, "but I can't do this."

Leo stared up at you, his smile replaced by a snarl. "What the fuck?" he spat out, his voice harsh and unyielding.

The waiter rushed over, his eyes wide. "Please, sir, madam," he began, his voice shaking, "please, don't create any scene here."

But Leo was beyond caring about the scene. He lunged at you, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist. "You little bitch," he hissed. "You're going to pay for this."

Without thinking, you snatched the nearest object - a wine glass - and smashed it down on his head. The sound of shattering glass and Leo's yelp of pain filled the room. He stumbled back, clutching his head, blood seeping through his fingers.

"Learn to talk to a girl before you lay a hand on one," you spat out, your voice trembling with rage. The room was in chaos, with gasps and shouts erupting around you. You turned to leave, your heart pounding in your chest, but Leo's hand shot out, grabbing for you.

Before you could react, he had you in his grip, a wine bottle in his other hand. You tried to break free, but his fingers dug painfully into your arm. Panic set in as he raised the bottle, his eyes wild with anger.

But just as the bottle was about to come down on you, a powerful force slammed into Leo, sending him crashing into the glass-topped table. You stumbled back, your eyes wide with shock and fear. The man in the mask and cap had moved with a swiftness that was almost inhuman.

For a moment, you didn't realize it was Jungkook until you saw the familiar fiery glint in his eyes. He had arrived just in time. With a brutal crack, Jungkook stomped on Leo's hand, crushing the bones beneath his boot. Leo howled in agony, dropping the bottle and clutching his shattered fingers.

The restaurant manager rushed over, his face pale with horror. "Sir, please stop!" he pleaded. "Otherwise, we will have to call the police!"

Ignoring the manager's desperate pleas, Jungkook stepped on Leo's other hand, his grip tightening as the painful screams grew louder. "Where is your restaurant owner?" Jungkook demanded, his voice cold and calculated. "I need to have a word with them."

Leo's eyes rolled back in his head, his body trembling with pain. You watched in horror, unable to move, as the manager nodded frantically, pointing towards the back of the restaurant. Jungkook released Leo with a disgusted sneer, his eyes never leaving yours as he bent to whisper, "Wait for me in the car."

The words were a command, not a request. With a final, menacing look at the whimpering Leo, Jungkook turned and followed the manager, his steps deliberate and authoritative. The room was still a chaos of gasps and murmurs, but everyone seemed to be giving you and the masked man a wide berth.

With trembling legs, you managed to make your way out of the restaurant, the cool evening air hitting you like a slap in the face. Your heart was racing as you tried to process what had just happened. You couldn't believe you had actually smashed a wine glass on someone's head.

Leo's pain-filled screams echoed in your ears as you stumbled to Jungkook's car, which was parked illegally by the curb. You slid into the passenger seat, your eyes glazed over with shock.

Jungkook emerged from the restaurant, his cap pulled low over his eyes. The mask had been discarded, and his face was flushed with a mix of anger and adrenaline. He slammed the door behind him and started the engine without a word, the engine purring to life like a predator that had just caught its prey.

The silence in the car was deafening. Jungkook's grip on the steering wheel was so tight that his knuckles turned white, his jaw clenched. You could feel the tension radiating off of him, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak.

Then, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out, your heart sinking when you saw Taehyung's name flashing on the screen. The call went to voicemail, and immediately after, the phone started to ring again. You stared at it, your thumb hovering over the decline button. Jungkook's eyes flicked to the phone, then back to the road, his silence speaking volumes. You knew he was expecting you to answer.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. With trembling hands, you powered off the phone and slipped it back into your pocket. Jungkook's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say a word. The car sped through the streets, the tension between you thick and suffocating.

"Jungkook," you said finally, your voice shaking, "thank you for saving me, but what you did to Leo... it was really too much."

He didn't respond, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The silence in the car grew heavier, thick with unspoken words. Jungkook's knuckles remained white on the steering wheel, his breathing shallow and rapid.

"You didn't have to hurt him like that," you continued, your voice a little stronger. "It was just a misunderstanding."

Jungkook's jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving the road. "He had his hands on you," he said through gritted teeth. "That's all the reason I need."

You couldn't argue with that. The fear and panic from moments ago were still coursing through your veins. "But... you didn't have to break his fingers," you murmured.

Jungkook shot you a look, his eyes dark. "He deserved it," he said simply. "And I'd do it again."

You nodded, unable to find the words to argue. The car pulled up in front of his house, the tires screeching against the pavement as he brought it to a sudden, jerky stop. The house loomed over you, a silent sentinel of the chaos that had just unfolded. You didn't want to go in, but you had nowhere else to go. Jungkook threw the car into park and turned to you, his expression unreadable.

"You're coming inside," he said, his voice low and firm. He didn't wait for your response, just opened the door and stepped out. You followed him up the path, your legs feeling like jelly. The door swung open before he even had a chance to unlock it, and you stepped into the warm embrace of his home.

Jungkook didn't speak again until you were both in the living room, the door shut firmly behind you. "Why did you do that?" he demanded, his eyes searching you face, his tone a mix of anger and disbelief. "Why did you go on a date with someone else?"

"Jungkook, I'm really thankful for what you did for me tonight," you began, your voice shaky with emotion. "But you don't have the right to interfere in my personal life." You paused, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "This is my business, and I need to handle it on my own terms."

Jungkook took a step closer to you, his eyes flashing with possessiveness. "But babe," he said, his voice low and smooth, "you forgetting something. I'm your boyfriend. I have a right to you."

You took a step back, your heart racing. "Jungkook," you said firmly, "you know that's not true. I told you I love someone else. I told you a million times, I'm not your girlfriend."

He took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Why are you so scared?" he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. "Is it because you know if you get close to me, you'll get addicted?"

You took a deep breath, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "I'm not scared," you said firmly.

Jungkook's smirk grew wider, and he took another step closer to you, his eyes glinting with challenge. "Then why are you backing away?" he asked, his voice a seductive whisper.

You held your ground, your heart hammering in your chest. "I'm not," you said, raising your chin.

Jungkook's smirk grew into a full smile, his eyes gleaming with something darker than mere mischief. "You're so cute when you're defiant," he said, taking another step closer. "But you know what happens to little girls who disobey their boyfriends."

"I'm not your girlfriend," you repeated, trying to keep the fear from your voice. "And I'm not a little girl."

He took another step, closing the distance between you until you could feel the heat of his body, his breath on your skin. "But you want to be," he murmured, his eyes dropping to your mouth. "You want to belong to someone who'll take care of you, don't you?"

You could feel your resolve slipping, the intensity of his gaze making your knees weak. "No," you whispered. "I don't need that."

"Liar," Jungkook said, his voice a caress. "You need it more than you know." And before you could react, he leaned in and captured your mouth in a bruising kiss. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you against him as if he could mold you to fit perfectly into the space he'd carved out for you. His tongue invaded your mouth, demanding a response, a surrender.

You didn't want to give it to him, but your body betrayed you. You felt yourself melting into him, your arms winding around his neck as the kiss grew deeper, more desperate. His hands roamed over your body, his grip tightening as if he was afraid you'd slip away.

But even as you kissed him back, a voice in the back of your head screamed for you to stop, to remember who you really loved. You pushed against his chest, trying to break free, but Jungkook was too strong, his kiss too overwhelming.

"Please," you gasped, when you could finally breathe again. "Stop."

But Jungkook didn't stop. He kissed you harder, his hands sliding up to tangle in your hair, holding you in place. "Babe," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "You can't give me orders. You're the one who needs to be punished for seeing other men."

You tried to push him away, but your legs were trembling, and your resolve was wavering. Jungkook's touch was like a brand, leaving a mark on your soul that was as fiery as his kiss. "Jungkook, no," you protested weakly.

He leaned back, his eyes dark with passion. "Your body, your soul," he whispered, "it needs to remember who it belongs to." His hand trailed down your neck, his thumb tracing the pulse that was racing under your skin. "It needs to remember me."

You stared at him, your chest heaving with the effort to breathe, your eyes wide with fear and confusion. You knew this wasn't right, but the attraction was undeniable. "Jungkook, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Jungkook was relentless. He leaned in again, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was more about possession than passion. His hands roamed over you, his grip tightening until you felt like you couldn't breathe.

You knew it was wrong, you knew you didn't want this, but your body seemed to have a mind of its own. Your arms found their way around his neck, pulling him closer despite the screaming in your head. It was like you were in a haze, unable to distinguish between the fear and the desire that was coursing through your veins.

Jungkook's hand slid down to the small of your back, pressing you into him until there was no space between you. The fabric of your clothes was the only barrier, and even that seemed too much. You felt his hands grip your waist, lifting you as if you weighed nothing, carrying you to the bedroom like a prize he had won.

You were vaguely aware of the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, but the rest of the world had faded away. All you could focus on was the heat of Jungkook's body, the demand in his kisses. You felt his hands on your waist, tugging at the hem of your shirt, and you didn't have the strength to fight him anymore. You weren't sure if you even wanted to.

As he laid you down on the bed, you felt a twinge of panic. This wasn't what you wanted, was it? But the warmth of his touch and the desperate need in his eyes made it hard to think straight. Jungkook's lips traveled from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You gasped, arching your back, unable to stop the wave of sensation that washed over you.

With a swift movement, Jungkook pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in just your bra. His eyes raked over you, his gaze hungry and possessive. You trembled, your hands coming up to cover your chest instinctively. But Jungkook was having none of it. He took your wrists and pinned them above your head, his eyes never leaving yours as he leaned in to kiss you again. His other hand traveled down to the clasp of your bra, deftly undoing it. The fabric fell away, and you were exposed to him, vulnerable and trembling.

His touch was feverish as he traced the curve of your breasts with his thumbs, teasing the sensitive peaks until they tightened with need. You felt your body responding despite your mind's protests, your nipples hardening under his touch. Jungkook took one in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive flesh until you couldn't help but moan. The sound seemed to spur him on, his kisses growing more demanding, his touch more insistent.

He slid a hand down your stomach, his fingers brushing against the waistband of your jeans. You could feel the heat of his hand, the roughness of his skin against your own. He unbuttoned them slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he slid the zipper down. His hand slipped inside, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. You gasped, your hips arching involuntarily. Jungkook's smirk grew as he felt your wetness, as if he had known all along that you would be this responsive to him.

He yanked your jeans and underwear off in one swift motion, leaving you naked and exposed before him. His eyes traveled over your body, drinking you in as if you were the only water in a desert. And maybe, in that moment, you were. You tried to control your breathing, to keep your body from betraying you further, but it was a futile effort. Jungkook's touch was like a flame, licking at your skin until you were nothing but a bonfire of need.

He kissed you again, his tongue delving deep, as if he could claim you from the inside out. His hand found its way between your thighs, his fingers sliding through your folds, teasing your clit in slow, agonizing circles. You moaned into his mouth, your body arching off the bed. You tried to keep your legs closed, to maintain some semblance of control, but Jungkook was having none of it. He spread your legs wide, his thumb pressing down firmly on the sensitive nub as he slid two fingers inside you.

You were so wet for him, so ready, and he knew it. His eyes gleamed with triumph as he felt the slickness of your arousal. "See, baby," he murmured, his voice a low growl, "you want this."

He slid his fingers in and out of you, his movements slow and deliberate, building the pressure until you were panting, begging for more. "Please," you gasped, your voice needy and desperate. Jungkook chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. He was enjoying this, enjoying watching you fall apart for him despite your protests.

With a swift movement, he was on top of you, his body pressing yours into the mattress. He kissed you hard, his tongue dueling with yours as he worked his fingers inside you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You tried to keep your legs together, to maintain some semblance of dignity, but it was no use. Jungkook's kiss was like a drug, and you were already addicted.

"Jungkook," you gasped, the words barely leaving your lips as you felt your climax approaching. "It's my first time."

Jungkook pulled away, his eyes meeting yours, a smirk playing on his lips. "Don't worry, babe," he murmured, his voice like velvet. "I'll make sure you see heaven."

Your heart hammered in your chest as he started to undress himself, each piece of clothing shedding revealing more of his toned, tattooed body. The room spun around you, and you felt like you couldn't catch your breath. You closed your eyes, trying to find the strength to stop this from happening. But your body was responding, betraying you with every beat of your heart.

You felt the bed shift as Jungkook climbed on top of you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress. His mouth found yours again, his kisses deep and hungry. Your eyes remained squeezed shut, but you could feel him moving, feel the heat of his skin against yours as he positioned himself between your legs.

"Open your eyes, babe," Jungkook murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "Look at me when I take you."

"It's... it's embarrassing," you whispered, your cheeks flushing. You weren't ready for this, weren't ready for the intensity of his gaze as he claimed your innocence.

Jungkook chuckled, the sound dark and possessive. "You're so sweet," he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "But you need to watch."

You felt the head of his cock nudge against your entrance, the sensation both terrifying and exhilarating. You bit your lip, trying not to show how much you was scared. You felt him push inside you, the pressure building until you couldn't take it anymore. "Jungkook," you whimpered, your eyes squeezing shut tightly.

He didn't stop, didn't slow down. He pushed deeper, the pain making stars dance before your eyes. "Open your eyes, baby," he growled, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. "Look at me."

You forced your eyes open, the pain mixing with the embarrassment of being so exposed to him. Jungkook's gaze was intense, his eyes boring into yours as he claimed your virginity. You couldn't help the tears that slid down your cheeks, the pain was too much. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice strained. "It'll only hurt for a moment."

But the moment stretched on, the pain growing with every thrust. "It hurts," you gasped, your voice breaking. "Please, stop."

"Babe," Jungkook murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Just a few more seconds." His voice was strained with his own need, his hips moving faster, harder.

You felt yourself tighten around him, the pain a white-hot agony that seemed to consume you. "Put it out," you begged, your voice a whimper. "Please, it's hurting."

Jungkook's eyes searched yours, the intensity in his gaze never wavering. He leaned in, whispering in your ear, "I know it hurts, but I need this. I need to feel you around me." His voice was a seductive promise, and you could feel his body trembling with restrained passion. His hand slid down to cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. "Look at me," he said again, his voice a gentle command.

You met his eyes, the storm in them reflecting the tumult in your own heart. And as he began to move again, the pain started to recede, replaced by a building heat that washed over you like a wave. His strokes grew slower, more deliberate, as if he was trying to coax your body to accept him. And with each movement, the discomfort gave way to something else, something that made your breath catch in your throat.

You felt your muscles start to relax, your body slowly adjusting to the feeling of him inside you. Jungkook's eyes never left yours, his gaze a mix of determination and desire. His movements grew more gentle, his touch more tender, until the friction between you built a delicious tension.

Your hips began to move with him, a tentative response that grew bolder with each stroke. Jungkook's eyes darkened, his grip on your face tightening as he watched you lose yourself in the sensation. His rhythm grew more deliberate, his hips rocking into you in a way that made your toes curl. You felt a warmth spread through your belly, a pressure building that was unlike anything you had ever experienced.

"Jungkook," you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper. He responded with a low growl, his own need evident in every line of his body. His pace quickened, his strokes growing deeper, harder. The pressure inside you grew, coiling tighter and tighter until you thought you might burst.

And then it hit you—a wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Your body arched off the bed, your nails digging into Jungkook's shoulders. "Oh god," you screamed, your eyes rolling back in your head as the orgasm tore through you. Jungkook's eyes flashed with triumph, his own release following close behind. He buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he groaned out his climax.

The world around you faded away, leaving only the sound of your ragged breaths and the feeling of Jungkook's body on top of yours. For a moment, you were lost in the sensation, the intimacy of the act overwhelming. But as the haze of passion cleared, reality began to seep back in. What had you just done?

Jungkook's kisses grew more urgent, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. "Ready for the next round?" he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You blinked up at him, your eyes wide with shock. "But we just..." you began, your voice trailing off as his words registered.

"Babe, you're still not out of your punishment," Jungkook said, his eyes gleaming with something that wasn't entirely gentle. "I was gentle with you earlier because it was your first time. But now..." He trailed off, a smirk playing on his lips. "Now, I'm going to show you hell."

Before you could fully process his words, Jungkook's hands were on you again, pulling you into a sitting position. He yanked your legs over his shoulders, the force making you gasp. His eyes bore into yours, dark and intense. "You're going to scream for me, baby," he murmured, his voice a sinful promise. "You're going to scream so loud, the whole neighborhood will know you're mine."

With that, he thrust into you, hard and fast, without any of the care he had shown earlier. You felt your body stretch around him, the sensation bordering on painful. Jungkook didn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours as he fucked you with an urgency that was almost violent. "You're so tight," he groaned, his hips pistoning into you. "So fucking tight."

You bit your lip, trying to hold in the scream that was building in your chest. "Jungkook," you moaned, your voice tight with need. His name was a prayer, a plea for relief from the onslaught of sensation. But he wasn't listening. He was lost in his own world, his own need.

"Look at me," Jungkook growled, his voice rough and demanding. "Look at how much you want this."

Your eyes met his, and you couldn't deny the truth in his words. Your body was a live wire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Jungkook's cock slammed into you over and over, his strokes deep and punishing. He was claiming you in the most primal way possible, leaving no doubt in your mind or your body that you belonged to him.

"You're mine," he growled, his teeth clenched. "Mine to fuck, mine to love, mine to do whatever the fuck I want with." His language was raw, his words like a brand seared into your soul. You felt yourself tightening around him, your body responding to his dominance in a way that shocked and thrilled you.

"Ahh, Jungkook," you whimpered, your voice hoarse with passion. "It's too much, I can't anymore." Each thrust was like a declaration of war, pushing you closer to the edge of a cliff you weren't sure you wanted to fall over. But the look in his eyes, the fierce possession, made it impossible to deny the dark thrill coursing through your veins.

"Babe," Jungkook smirked, his eyes gleaming with a fierce determination. "I'm just getting started. We have the whole night." He leaned back slightly, adjusting his angle before driving into you again, the new position sending a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you. You couldn't help but moan, your body a traitor to your own protests. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as he set a relentless pace, each stroke more demanding than the last.

Meanwhile, at BigHit, Jimin's anger was palpable as he confronted Minseo. "How dare you set her up on a date when you know I'm interested?" he seethed, his voice a low rumble of barely contained fury. Minseo eyes widened in surprise, taking a step back. "She came to me for advice," she replied, her voice shaking. "It was her decision to go, not mine."

But Jimin wasn't in the mood for excuses. His gaze was like a knife, slicing through her words. "You're just trying to get rid of her," he accused, his eyes narrowing.

"What are you talking about?" Minseo's voice was high-pitched and defensive. "Y/N is my friend. Why would I do that?"

Jimin stepped closer, his eyes blazing. "Don't play dumb with me," he said, his voice a low growl. "I know you're jealous of her, of the attention she gets from us. You're just trying to ruin everything."

Minseo's cheeks flushed with anger. "How dare you say that?" she spat. "I care about Y/N, and if you can't see that, then maybe you're the one with the problem."

But Jimin wasn't backing down. "Stay away from her," he warned, his voice cold and hard. "I'm giving you one last warning. If I catch you meddling in my business, especially when it comes to her, you'll regret it."

"Jimin," Minseo began again, her voice trembling, "Y/N told me that she and Jungkook..."

But she didn't get a chance to finish. Jimin's hand shot up, cutting her off mid-sentence. "Shut up," he hissed, his eyes flashing with a dangerous fire.

Minseo took a step back, her eyes wide with fear. She had never seen this side of Jimin before—the cold, angry side that was so at odds with his usual playful demeanor. "I said stay away from her," he repeated, enunciating each word with a deadly calm. "And don't you ever dare to show your face to me again."

With that, Jimin turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Minseo was left standing there, trembling and alone. She had never felt so small, so insignificant. Tears pricked at her eyes as she realized the depth of his feelings for Y/N.

On the other side of the city, Taehyung stood in front of Jungkook's house, his eyes glued to the GPS on his phone. The dot blinking on the screen was Y/N's location, and it had been stationary for hours. His heart raced, knowing that she was with Jungkook and what that likely entailed.

A sigh escaped him, laced with a cynical edge. He ran a hand through his hair, the GPS light reflecting in his eyes. "So, Y/N," he whispered, the words tinged with a painful resignation. "You're just like the others after all, aren't you? A gold digger."The accusation hung in the air, a reflection of his own pain.

Chapter Text

Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You groaned as you slowly opened your eyes, the ache in your body a stark reminder of the previous night's events. You were lying in Jungkook's bed, the scent of your mingled sweat and his cologne heavy in the air. You could feel the stickiness between your legs, and the soreness that lingered was a stark contrast to the sweetness of your earlier interactions.

As you sat up, the fabric of Jungkook's shirt, the one he had been wearing last night, clung to your body. The sight of it made your heart race, your thoughts reeling back to the intense moments you had shared. The way his lips had felt against yours, the desperation in his moan as he claimed you—it was all so vivid, so real. Your cheeks flushed a deep red, the memory of his touch making your stomach twist with a mix of desire and embarrassment.

Jungkook emerged from the washroom, a towel slung low around his waist. He had a smug grin on his face, the kind that made your knees wobble. "Oh, babe, you're up," he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You should have slept more. We had quite the marathon session." He walked over to the bed, his eyes raking over your body, which was still flushed from his attention. He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "How are you feeling?"

You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, the embarrassment too much to bear. You mumbled something incoherent, your eyes fixed on the floor. Jungkook's smile faltered for a moment before it was replaced by a look of concern.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, his tone softer than the night before. He reached out to cup your chin, tilting your head up so you had to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed away a tear that had escaped the corner of your eye. "Did I go too rough last night?"

You took a shaky breath, trying to form the words. "Can we... can we just forget about last night?" you managed to say, your voice trembling. Jungkook's smile faded, his eyes searching yours for the meaning behind your request.

"Forget about it?" he repeated, his brow furrowing. "Why would you want to forget something so beautiful?" He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Your sweet voice, your taste, your body—I can't forget any of it, babe." His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his touch gentle but insistent.

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "But... it doesn't mean anything," you murmured. "It was just... a mistake."

"Babe I told you I like you," Jungkook said, his voice a blend of amusement and exasperation as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. "Why do you keep saying that?"

You looked up at him, your heart racing. "Jungkook, please stop joking," you pleaded, your voice shaking. "You're... you're a celebrity. Why would someone like you be interested in me? I'm just a regular person. I'm boring, I have no talent. What could I possibly offer you?"

Jungkook's laugh was deep and warm, the sound of it making your stomach flip. "You really think I'm some kind of god, huh?" He said, his voice filled with a mix of humor and sincerity. "Babe, I'm just a normal human, like you. I have feelings, needs, just like everyone else. And right now, all I want is to be with you." He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against your cheek.

"But I don't want to," you whispered, the words barely audible.

Jungkook's smile faded, his grip on your waist tightening. "But you did, babe," he said, his voice dropping an octave, a hint of steel in his tone. "You had sex with me, and now you have to take responsibility for that."

"It should've been my line to say," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you stared at the floor, feeling the weight of Jungkook's gaze on you. "You forced me."

Jungkook's expression grew serious, his eyes searching yours. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Babe, really? You think I forced you?" His voice was a seductive purr, the same one that had sent shivers down your spine last night. He stepped back, turning his body so that his bare back was to you. The light from the window highlighted the angry red scratch marks that marred his skin.

"Look at these," he said, his voice a low rumble of frustration. "These are marks of passion, not force." He turned back to face you, his expression earnest. "You wanted me just as much as I wanted you. I could feel it." His hand reached out to touch your cheek, his thumb tracing the path of a tear that had escaped. "Why are you denying what happened?"

You stared at him, his words like a slap in the face. Did you really want him last night? Your mind reeled, trying to sort through the fog of passion and pain.

"But Jungkook," you whispered, your voice shaking. "You didn't even ask if it was what I wanted. You just... you just took it."

Jungkook's smile softened, his eyes searching yours. "But you're mine," he said, his voice filled with a gentle conviction that sent a shiver down your spine. "Why would I need to ask when I can see it in your eyes?" He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "And now, I'm ready to take responsibility for you, as your boyfriend."

You froze, his words echoing in your head. Boyfriend? The concept was so foreign, so overwhelming. You didn't know how to respond, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. You felt your heart race, your palms sweaty. Was this what you wanted? To be claimed by Jungkook, to be his girlfriend despite the way he had taken your virginity without true consent?

Jungkook must have noticed your hesitation, his expression shifting from smug to slightly concerned. "Babe," he said, his voice softer this time. "You should freshen up. I don't mind if you smell like me, but seeing you like this..." He trailed off, his eyes darkening with desire. "It makes me lose control."

You nodded, the reality of the situation setting in as you lightly pushed Jungkook aside and got out of bed. Your legs felt wobbly, the aftermath of the night's events making it difficult to walk. "Where's the washroom?" you asked, your voice still trembling.

"Right through there," Jungkook said, gesturing to a door across the room. His smirk was back in place, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction that made your stomach turn. "If you're standing, I guess I don't work well enough last night," he added, his voice teasing.

With a tremble in your hand, you reached for the shoe by the side of the bed and threw it at him as hard as you could. The shoe flew through the air, a silent protest against his possessive behavior. Jungkook's eyes widened in surprise, but before it could hit him, his reflexes kicked in. He caught it mid-air, a grin spreading across his face.

"I like this feisty side of you," Jungkook said, his eyes glinting with amusement as he held the shoe out to you. "Keep it up, and I'll have to tame you even more."

You snatched the shoe from his hand, your cheeks burning with a mix of anger and embarrassment. Without looking back, you stumbled through the door he had indicated, slamming it shut behind you. The bathroom was cold, the tiles unforgiving under your bare feet. You leaned against the door, breathing heavily, trying to calm your racing heart.

You leaned heavily against the sink, the cool porcelain a stark contrast to the heat that still flushed your skin. You looked down at your trembling hands, the shoe still clutched tightly in one of them. What had you done? You had slept with Jungkook, the youngest member of the most popular K-pop group in the world, a man known for his charm and his playboy ways. The very thought of it made your heart race and your stomach churn.

Lifting your gaze to the mirror, you took in the sight of your swollen lips, the bruises that painted your neck and chest. The evidence of his possessive claim on your body was stark and undeniable. You whispered your own name to the reflection, as if trying to reassure yourself that it was all real. "Y/N, what have you done?"

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you decided to take a shower to wash away the residue of the tumultuous night. The water washed over you, cold and unforgiving, as the events of the night played out like a movie reel in your mind. You tried to scrub away the feel of his hands on your skin, the taste of his kisses, but it was as if he had left an indelible mark that no amount of soap could erase.

Wrapping yourself in the soft embrace of the bathrobe provided, you stepped out of the washroom, feeling both cleansed and violated. The scent of cooking food wafted through the air, leading you to the kitchen where Jungkook was plating up breakfast. He looked up as you descended the stairs, his eyes lighting up with a warmth that made your stomach clench.

"Come on, babe," he called out, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. "I made us something to eat. You must be starving."

You looked at the food laid out on the table and your stomach growled in response. It was indeed your favorite meal—scrambled eggs with cheese, crispy bacon, and fluffy pancakes drenched in maple syrup. The sight of it brought a small smile to your face despite the turmoil in your heart. How did Jungkook know?

You took a seat at the table, watching him as he brought the plates over, his bare feet padding softly against the floor. "How did you know?" you asked, your voice still shaky.

"I know everything about you, babe," Jungkook said with a wink, placing the plate in front of you. "It's part of being a good boyfriend."

You picked up your fork, the silver glinting in the morning light. Your stomach rumbled again, reminding you of how hungry you were. As you took the first bite, Jungkook sat down next to you, his own plate of food untouched. He watched you, his eyes never leaving your mouth as you chewed and swallowed.

"What?" you asked, feeling his gaze on you.

"Feed me," Jungkook said, his voice low and commanding. He leaned back in his chair, his arms folded behind his head, a smug smile playing on his lips.

You paused, the fork hovering in the air. "Huh?" You said, unsure if he was serious.

"Feed me," Jungkook repeated, his tone more playful than demanding now. He leaned back in his chair, his bare chest on full display, and pouted like a child denied a toy.

"But Jungkook," you protested, trying to keep the amusement out of your voice. "Your hands are perfectly fine. You can eat by yourself."

He pouted, his dark eyes boring into yours. "But I want my girlfriend to feed me," he said, his voice a whine that was surprisingly endearing coming from someone as fiery as Jungkook.

For a moment, you saw a glimpse of the Kookie that the ARMY knew and loved—the one who made hearts flutter with his puppy dog eyes and playful antics. The contrast between the intense, possessive man from last night and the boyish charmer before you was stark, making you feel a pang of affection. You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips, and picked up a piece of pancake.

Gently, you held it to Jungkook's mouth. He took a bite, his eyes never leaving yours. The simple act was surprisingly intimate, and despite everything, your heart fluttered. Jungkook grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "See?" he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "We're perfect together."

But your mind was racing. Did you really want this? To be Jungkook's girlfriend, to be claimed by a man who had taken you without your full consent? The question weighed heavily on your heart as you chewed your food, the sweetness of the pancake bitter on your tongue.

Just as you were about to swallow, Jungkook spoke again, his voice low and serious. "Babe, I forgot to use protection last night," he said, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, his expression a mix of concern and hope. Before he could finish, you choked on a mouthful of pancake, the food shooting out of your mouth and landing on his face.

"What?" you coughed out, your eyes wide with shock.

Jungkook blinked, the food sliding down his cheek. He took a napkin and wiped his face clean, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don't usually bring girls to my place," he explained, his voice calm and measured. "So, I don't keep condoms here."

You whispered, "Really?" The gravity of the situation was sinking in fast. Jungkook had never brought a girl to his house before? The revelation washed over you, making you feel both special and terrified.

Jungkook nodded, his gaze unwavering as he reached for your hand. "Yeah," he said, his voice low and earnest. "You're the first. And that means something to me."

You felt a flicker of doubt in your chest. Could it be that he was telling the truth? That he had never brought anyone else here before? The thought made your heart swell with a confusing mix of emotions. You pulled your hand away, the warmth of his touch leaving a tingling sensation on your skin. "Where's my phone?" you asked, your voice firm despite the turmoil inside.

"On the charger," Jungkook said, his eyes not leaving yours. "I'll grab it for you. Just sit tight." He squeezed your hand gently before standing up and disappearing up the stairs, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the half-eaten breakfast.

As you waited for him to return, you couldn't help but feel the tension coil tighter in your chest. Jungkook had never brought anyone else here. Could it be true that he had feelings for you beyond his usual playboy ways? The idea was both thrilling and terrifying. You had always thought of him as sweet but untouchable, a celebrity crush that could never be anything more.

When Jungkook returned with your phone, the screen was already unlocked. He handed it to you with a knowing smirk. "Your bias is Taehyung, isn't it?" he said, his voice filled with an unmistakable challenge. You felt your cheeks heat up, and you quickly took the phone from his hand.

"How did you know?" you asked, trying to keep the defensiveness out of your voice.

Jungkook smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Your phone," he said, nodding towards the device in your hand.

Your cheeks flamed even hotter. Of course, it was your phone. You had been careless, not thinking about the wallpapers and notifications that could give you away. "It's not like it's a secret," you murmured, trying to keep your voice even.

"Oh, I know," Jungkook said, his smirk never leaving his face. "But now, you're my girlfriend. And that means you're going to have to prioritize me over your bias."

You stared at him, his words echoing in your head. "But Jungkook, I still haven't accepted you as my boyfriend," you said, your voice firm despite the tremble in your heart.

"So, what is last night meaning to you, babe?" Jungkook asked, his voice a gentle coax, as he took a seat beside you, the smug look replaced by a genuine curiosity. "Do you want to be just another one-night stand or my girlfriend?"

You stared at your plate, the food growing cold as your thoughts raced. The question hung in the air, thick and suffocating. "Jungkook," you said slowly, "I don't know what to say."

He leaned in closer, his voice a gentle coo. "Babe, you don't have to say anything," he whispered, his hand finding its way to your thigh. "I know last night wasn't a mistake. I know how much it meant to you, how much you wanted me. And that's all that matters."

But before you could respond, the sharp sound of the doorbell sliced through the air, making you jump. Jungkook's expression tightened, his hand sliding away from your skin. "Wait here," he said, his voice dropping into a command as he stood up.

You watched him disappear into the hallway, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. A few moments later, he returned with a cardboard box, the flaps folded over neatly. He placed it in front of you with a smug smile. "Your clothes," he said, his eyes gleaming. "Go wear them."

You stared at the box, your stomach clenching. "You ordered them?"

Jungkook nodded, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "I knew you wouldn't want to leave wearing last night's clothes," he said, his voice a low purr. He took a step closer to you, his hand reaching for the knot of your bathrobe. "Or," he suggested, "I can help you change."

You stepped back, clutching the robe tightly to your chest. "I can change by myself," you said firmly, your voice shaking slightly. Jungkook's hand hovered for a moment before dropping to his side, his smile never faltering.

"If that's what you want, babe," he said, taking a step back. "But don't take too long." He leaned down to kiss the top of your head, his breath warm against your skin. "I'll be waiting for you."

You retreated to the bathroom, your heart racing. As you opened the box, you found your clothes neatly folded, the scent of fabric softener bringing a hint of normalcy to the surreal situation. You quickly dressed, feeling the fabric of your shirt and jeans cling to your skin, reminders of the intimate moments shared with Jungkook.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Jungkook was already dressed in his usual casual yet stylish outfit—a crisp white button-up shirt and black skinny jeans. He was in the process of buttoning up the shirt, his toned abs on full display as he tucked it into his pants. He looked up when he heard you, his eyes lingering on your body before meeting yours.

"Looking good, babe," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction as he took in your appearance. "Ready to go?"

You forced a smile, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. "Actually, Jungkook, I'm not feeling up to it today," you said, your voice a little shakier than you would have liked. "I think I'll just take the day off."

Jungkook's expression turned concerned. "But you're okay, right?" He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush against your arm. "If you need anything, I can take you to the doctor."

You shook your head, the smile on your face forced. "It's just back pain," you said, trying to shrug it off. "Thanks to you."

Jungkook's eyes darkened for a moment before his usual smirk returned. "It's your fault," he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. "You were too tempting last night." He pulled you closer, his hand sliding around your waist. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to spin.

"But," you protested weakly, trying to keep the distance between you. "I need to go home."

Jungkook's smirk grew wider, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a card. "Here," he said, holding it out to you. "Your apartment card."

"Jungkook, I can't take this," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. The card for your apartment felt heavy in your hand, a symbol of his control over your life now.

He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours. "Why not?" he asked, his voice earnest. "It's just a place for you to stay, babe."

You opened your mouth to protest, but his lips were on yours before you could form the words. Jungkook's kiss was gentle, his grip around your waist firm but not overpowering. For a brief second, you melted into it, the warmth of his mouth familiar and comforting. But then reality crashed back in, and you pushed him away.

"I'm getting late," Jungkook said, his breath hot against your cheek as he stepped back. "So go to your new apartment, take some rest. I'll come by later, okay?" He gave you a peck on the forehead and turned away, grabbing his phone and keys from the counter. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you standing in the middle of his living room, feeling more lost than ever.

You stumbled into your new apartment, the echoes of Jungkook's kiss still lingering on your lips and in your mind. The empty rooms felt vast and unfamiliar, a stark contrast to the warmth of his living room you'd just left. Shaking your head, you tried to push away the confusion and focus on the task at hand: making this new place feel like home.

You started with your bedroom, pulling clothes from boxes and meticulously arranging them in the closet. Each hanger clicked against the rail, a small, satisfying sound in the quiet space. As you folded sweaters and stacked jeans, you tried to compartmentalize your feelings, pushing thoughts of Jungkook to the back of your mind.

A sudden, insistent doorbell ring cut through the silence. You jumped, startled, then quickly smoothed down your shirt before heading to the door. Peering through the peephole, a smile bloomed on your face.

You swung the door open. "Hey!" you said, stepping aside to let her in.

Minseo's eyes widened as she took in the space. "Wow, Y/N! This apartment is really awesome!" she exclaimed, her voice bouncing off the high ceilings.

You nodded, still trying to process the reality of it all. "Yeah," you said, your voice hollow. "Jungkook has really great taste, I guess."

Minseo stepped closer, her eyes searching yours. "How was your first time?" she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and concern. She handed you a bag, the contents clinking together. "Here, your medicine."

You took the bag, your face flushing red. "It's nothing like what I expected," you murmured, unable to look her in the eye. "I don't know how to explain."

Minseo nodded solemnly, her gaze understanding. "I get it," she said, her voice filled with a knowing warmth. "It's okay to not have all the answers."

You walked into the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. You took a deep breath, letting the aroma soothe your nerves. "Would you like some?" you offered, gesturing to the pot on the counter.

Minseo nodded eagerly, taking a seat at the kitchen island. "Yes, please," she said, watching as you poured two steaming mugs. You added a spoonful of sugar to hers, just the way she liked it. "You know, Y/N, I don't think Jungkook's going to give up easily," she said, her voice measured.

You handed her the mug, the warmth of the porcelain comforting in your own hands. "What do you mean?"

Minseo took a sip, her eyes on you over the rim. "Jungkook's not the kind of guy to let something he wants slip through his fingers," she said, her expression thoughtful.

You sighed, stirring your coffee absently. "I know," you admitted, your eyes glazed over as you thought back to the previous night's events. "But it's not that simple, Minseo."

Minseo leaned back in her chair, her gaze sympathetic. "Why not?" she asked. "You guys have chemistry, obviously. And from what you've told me, he seems pretty into you."

You took a sip of your coffee, the warm liquid doing little to ease the knot in your stomach. "But Minseo, I'm just a fan. A normal girl," you protested, setting your mug down with a clink. "What could I possibly offer Jungkook that he doesn't already have?"

Minseo's expression grew serious. "You're not just a fan," she said, her voice firm. "You're his girlfriend now. And as for what you can offer, well, you're kind, sweet, and genuine. You're not like the other girls who throw themselves at him just for his fame. You're different."

You remained silent, the weight of her words sinking in.

"Y/N," Minseo said gently, placing a hand on yours. "I know you love Taehyung. But let's be real, it's never going to happen. He's not like Jungkook. He's cold to everyone except for those he truly cares about."

You swallowed hard, her words stinging. But she was right.

"Minseo," you said, your voice shaky. "I don't know if I can do this."

Minseo reached over the counter and took your hand. "You don't have to decide right now," she said, her grip firm and reassuring. "But think about it. You've got Jungkook wrapped around your finger. Maybe this is your chance to show him what real love is."

You nodded, her words echoing in your mind as you took a deep breath. The sound of your ringing phone pierced the silence, and you jumped. You checked the screen—it was Jungkook. Your heart raced as you picked it up.

"Hello?" you said, your voice trembling slightly.

"Babe, listen," Jungkook's voice came through the line, smooth and unruffled. "Tonight, you're coming to the BTS dorm. The other members want to meet my girlfriend."

You felt your heart drop. "What?" you squeaked, your grip on the phone tightening. "Jungkook, I don't think I'm ready for that."

His laugh was light, dismissive. "Don't worry, babe. They're all dying to meet you. It'll be fun," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "Plus, I want to show you off."

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "But Jungkook, I'm not sure if—"

"Come on, don't be shy," he coaxed. "I know you're nervous, but you're going to love them. They're going to love you too. You're going to be part of our BTS family now."

The line went silent for a moment, and you felt your throat tighten. Part of his family? The reality of what he was saying hit you like a ton of bricks. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "Okay," you said, your voice small. "What time?"

"I'll come pick you up around 8," Jungkook's voice was a purr through the line. "Be ready, babe. And wear something nice." He hung up before you could respond, leaving you staring at your phone in shock.

You looked up at Minseo, who had been watching you with a mix of excitement and concern. "Jungkook wants me to go to the BTS dorm tonight," you said, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. "To meet the other members."

Minseo's eyes lit up like Christmas lights. "Wow, Y/N!" she exclaimed, jumping up from her seat. "That's great!"

You nodded, still in shock. "Yeah, he said he'd pick me up around 8," you repeated, as if saying it aloud would make it feel more real.

"We've got to get you ready!" Minseo squealed, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the bedroom. "What are you going to wear?"

You felt a swirl of nerves in your stomach. "I don't know," you murmured, your mind racing with the implications of meeting Jungkook's bandmates, especially Taehyung and Jimin. "I don't have anything fancy."

Minseo waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry," she said, her voice filled with confidence. "Leave it to me. I know exactly what you'll need." She grabbed your hand and led you into the bedroom, where she began rummaging through your wardrobe. "We're going to make you look so good, they won't be able to resist you."

After what felt like an eternity of trying on clothes and accessorizing, you finally settled on a short, simple floral dress that hugged your body just right, paired with a denim jacket to keep things casual yet stylish. Your hair was pulled back into a loose bun, with a few tendrils framing your face. The dress was a soft whisper of color against your skin, the flowers seeming to come alive under the artificial lights.

"You look absolutely stunning," Minseo said, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. You couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride, despite the anxiety that still gnawed at your insides.

"Thank you, Minseo," you murmured, giving yourself a final once-over in the mirror. "I couldn't have done this without you."

Minseo beamed at you, her eyes shining with excitement. "You're welcome, Y/N," she said. "Now, remember, be confident. You're Jungkook's girlfriend. They're going to love you."

The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, each second feeling like an eternity as you waited for Jungkook's arrival. The apartment had grown quiet again, save for the distant sound of cars outside and the occasional whisper of the air conditioner. You felt a strange mix of anticipation and dread, your stomach doing flips at the thought of meeting the people who had been a part of your life for so long but had suddenly become so much more.

At 8 PM sharp, you heard the distant rumble of an engine, the sound growing closer until it was unmistakable. You peeked through the curtains and saw Jungkook's sleek black car pull up to the curb, the headlights casting an orange glow onto the sidewalk. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions that swirled inside you.

As you opened the door, Jungkook's driver stepped out, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he spoke. "Mam," he said, his voice formal and respectful. "Mr. Jeon asked me to inform you that he's unable to come personally tonight. He's busy with some band matters. He'll meet you at the dorm."

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. At least you'd have some time to gather your thoughts before facing Jungkook and his bandmates. You stepped into the car, the leather seats cool against your skin. The car's interior smelled faintly of Jungkook's cologne, a scent that had become all too familiar over the past few weeks. The driver nodded curtly and closed the door, and you were off.

The journey to the BTS dorm was a blur of neon lights and the murmur of traffic. You couldn't help but feel a growing sense of apprehension as the car pulled into the complex's underground garage. This wasn't just a fan meet-and-greet anymore; this was real life. You were about to step into the personal space of your idols, the people you had admired from afar for so long.

When you finally arrived, the door to the elevator slid open, revealing a pristine hallway lined with doors that held secrets of the lives behind them. You took a deep breath and stepped out, the click of your heels echoing in the quiet.

Before you could even raise your hand to knock on the door of the BTS dorm, Jimin's voice floated down the corridor. "You look stunning, Y/N," he called out, the sound of his laughter mingling with his words. "Oops, I mean, my sister-in-law," he corrected with a cheeky wink, appearing around the corner with his trademark playfulness.

Chapter Text

you finally arrived, the door to the elevator slid open, revealing a pristine hallway lined with doors that held secrets of the lives behind them. You took a deep breath and stepped out, the click of your heels echoing in the quiet.

Before you could even raise your hand to knock on the door of the BTS dorm, Jimin's voice floated down the corridor. "You look stunning, Y/N," he called out, the sound of his laughter mingling with his words. "Oops, I mean, my sister-in-law," he corrected with a cheeky wink, appearing around the corner with his trademark playfulness.

Your heart skipped a beat as his eyes swept over you, a hint of something unreadable flashing through them. "Good evening, Jimin," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you took a step back, your spine colliding with the cold metal of the door.

He stepped closer, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "You know, my dearest sister-in-law," he teased, reaching out to tug lightly on a strand of your hair that had escaped the bun. "You look so much better with your hair down."

Before you could respond, Jimin reached up and began to unravel your bun, his fingers brushing against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. The loose strands of hair fell around your shoulders, framing your face. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek.

"Now, don't you look much better?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You felt a flash of anger. "I don't need your advice," you said, stepping back and straightening your dress. "And please, maintain your distance."

Jimin's smirk grew wider at your words, but before you could say anything more, the door to the BTS dorm swung open, and your back collided with it with a thud. You stumbled, your heels catching on the edge of the rug, and felt yourself falling. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, and you gasped as Jimin's body hit the floor with yours, his weight pinning you down.

For a moment, the world spun, and all you could focus on was the feel of him against you, his warmth and the rapid beat of his heart. Your cheeks flushed with heat, and you struggled to find the right words.

"Well, that's quite the dramatic entry," RM said from the doorway, his voice filled with a hint of amusement. You looked up to find the other BTS members staring at you, their expressions a mix of shock and surprise.

You pushed Jimin off quickly, scrambling to your feet. "I'm so sorry," you mumbled, your face aflame. Jungkook was standing at the edge of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. But you could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes narrowed slightly—he wasn't happy.

"It's fine," RM said with a small smile, his eyes flickering between you and Jimin. "Accidents happen."

"Yeah," Jimin agreed, his voice light. "That was totally an accident." He winked at you, but you couldn't bring yourself to return the gesture, your mind racing with the implications of Jungkook finding you like this.

Before you could say anything, Jungkook was by your side, his grip firm as he pulled you to your feet. "Hyung," he said, his voice low and tight. "I have something to discuss with my girlfriend. We'll be back in a few minutes."

You felt the weight of his gaze on you as he tugged you away from the group, leading you down the hallway to a closed door. You glanced back over your shoulder at the other members, who had all returned to their various conversations and activities as if nothing had happened. The door clicked shut behind you, and you found yourself in a small, dimly lit study.

"What was that?" Jungkook demanded, his eyes flashing with an intensity that made your stomach drop.

You took a step back, your heart racing. "Jungkook, it was an accident," you said, your voice shaking. "The door just opened and I lost my balance."

Jungkook's eyes traveled from your face to your feet, taking in every detail of your outfit. His jaw was clenched, and his grip on your arm tightened. "You need to change," he said, his voice low and firm.

You felt your heart drop. "What's wrong with it?" you asked, your voice shaking slightly.

Jungkook stepped closer, his gaze lingering on your dress. "It's too... revealing," he murmured, his eyes darkening. "You can't meet my members like this."

Your eyes narrowed. "This is what I feel comfortable in," you said firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'm not going to change just because you don't like it."

Jungkook's grip tightened, his eyes flashing with a warning. "Babe, don't make me angry," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Just change the dress."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "Jungkook, I'm not going to change," you said firmly, meeting his gaze. "If you have a problem with what I'm wearing, then maybe we should just break up."

Jungkook's smile grew cold, his grip on your arm tightening. "Break up?" he repeated, his voice a low growl.

You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. "Yes," you said, meeting his gaze. "See I love this crop top and this short dress. If you can't accept that, then maybe we should just call it quits." You tried to pull away, but Jungkook's grip remained firm.

"So desperate to break up with me," Jungkook murmured, his laugh hollow and brittle. It hung in the air between you two, a chilling echo of his desperation to maintain control.

You nodded firmly, drawing on a strength you didn't know you had. "Yeah," you said, your voice steady despite the tremble in your chest. "From now on, I'll do that thing you hate most. Maybe then you'll leave me alone."

Jungkook's smile grew wider, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint. "Is that a challenge?" he asked, his grip on your arm loosening slightly.

You stepped closer to him, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. "Take it however you want," you said, your voice firm.

Jungkook's smile grew wider, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "Are you sure about that?" he murmured, his grip on your arm loosening slightly.

You nodded firmly, feeling a spark of rebellion flare inside you. "Wait and watch," you said, pulling away from him and straightening your dress. You turned on your heel and started walking back towards the living room where the rest of the BTS members were waiting. "Your bandmates are waiting for us," you called over your shoulder, trying to keep your voice light.

Jungkook followed, his smile growing wider as he watched you. "You really are something, babe," he murmured, his eyes never leaving your back.

The living room was a cacophony of voices and laughter as you re-entered. The other members looked up, their gazes flicking from you to Jungkook and back again. You felt a rush of relief when you noticed Taehyung's absence. Maybe this night wouldn't be as complicated as you had feared.

"Everyone, this is Y/N," Jungkook announced, his voice loud and proud. "My girlfriend."

The room grew quieter for a moment, and then a chorus of hellos filled the air. You felt your heart racing as you took in the smiles and nods from the members of BTS, except for Jimin, who was busy pouring himself another drink at the bar, his back to you.

"Welcome to our home," RM said, his voice warm and genuine as he approached you. He had a way of making you feel at ease, his eyes holding a kindness that was starkly different from Jungkook's possessive gaze.

"Thank you," you said, smiling nervously as the other members offered greetings. Hobi's smile was wide and inviting, while Suga nodded in acknowledgment from his spot on the couch.

Jimin, however, remained by the bar, his eyes lingering on you over the rim of his glass. "Would you like a drink, sister-in-law?" he called out, his tone playful yet with an underlying challenge.

You took a deep breath and faced him, walking over with as much confidence as you could muster. "Thank you, Jimin," you said, your voice firm. "But I don't drink."

Jimin raised an eyebrow at your reply, his smile never faltering. "Too bad," he said, his tone playful. "Jungkook loves drinking. Maybe you could join him next time."

Jin, who had been quietly observing the exchange, stepped forward. "Jimin, enough," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "You're making her uncomfortable."

Jimin's smile never wavered, but you could see the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "I'm just teasing, hyung," he replied, turning to you. "You know how I am."

Jungkook's grip on your hand tightened, a silent warning to Jimin, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned to you and said, "It's okay, babe. Let's go sit."

He led you to a large table in the center of the room, where the other members had gathered. You took a seat, your knees knocking together under the table. You couldn't help but feel like you were in the middle of a dream, surrounded by the people who had occupied your thoughts and fantasies for years. The realization hit you hard—this was your reality now.

Hobi looked over at you, noticing your trembling hands. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his eyes filled with genuine concern. "You look a bit uncomfortable."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down. "I'm just a little nervous," you admitted, managing a shaky smile. "It's like being in the presence of gods. I'm also an ARMY," you added, hoping that sharing your fan status would break the tension.

To your relief, Suga chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, we're not gods," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "Just seven guys trying to live our dream."

Jin leaned in, his smile warm. "And we're not that different from you," he said, his tone earnest. "We eat, we laugh, we cry." He paused, his eyes scanning the room. "And sometimes we argue over who gets the last piece of chicken," he said, earning a round of laughter from the group.

RM looked at you with interest, his gaze thoughtful. "How old are you, Y/N?" he asked.

You took a sip of water, the cool liquid helping to ease your nerves. "I'm 22," you said, your voice a little shakier than you would have liked.

Hobi's eyes widened slightly. "So you're younger than Jungkook by six years!" he exclaimed. "You're like the baby of the group."

You couldn't help but laugh, feeling a bit more at ease. "Yeah, he's like an ahjussi to me," you said, using the term of respect for an older man. The room erupted in laughter, even Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle as he coughed into his drink.

"It's not that funny," Jungkook murmured, his cheeks flushing slightly.

You couldn't help but laugh along with the others, the tension in the room dissipating momentarily. But as the laughter died down, you felt Jungkook's hand slide under the table, his fingers ghosting along your thigh. You shot him a look, but his gaze remained fixed on the group, his hand moving higher up your leg.

Your heart raced, and a fine sheen of sweat began to form on your forehead. Jungkook's touch grew bolder, his thumb brushing dangerously close to your inner thigh. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat building inside you. The room grew hotter, or was it just Jungkook's touch?

"Why are you sweating?" Jimin's question cut through the air like a knife, his eyes locking onto you with a knowing smirk.

You felt your cheeks flush, your eyes darting to Jungkook, whose hand had stilled. He was watching you, his expression a challenge. "I-it's just hot in here," you stammered, hoping the lie didn't sound as obvious as it felt.

Jungkook's eyes never left yours as his hand retreated. You took the opportunity to stand up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor. "Jin oppa, can I sit beside you?" you blurted out, hoping to move away from the tension that seemed to coil around Jungkook's hand on your leg.

Jin looked surprised, his hand paused mid-air as he was about to take a sip of his drink. "Why, suddenly?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

Before he could say another word, you slipped around the table and settled into the chair next to him. "I just want to see what it's like to sit beside the 'Worldwide Handsome,'" you said, trying to keep your voice light.

Jin's smile grew even warmer, but before he could respond, you felt a cool hand on your shoulder. "It's my seat, actually," Taehyung's voice whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You turned to find him standing right behind you, his eyes meeting yours with a gentle intensity that made your heart flutter.

"Jin hyung, can I sit in your chair?" Taehyung's voice was smooth as silk, a gentle request that seemed innocent to the untrained ear.

Jin looked from Taehyung to Jungkook, noticing the tension that lingered in the air. With a knowing smile, he nodded. "Of course, Tae," he said, standing and moving to the chair next to Jungkook.

You couldn't help the way your heart skipped a beat as Taehyung took the seat beside you. His warmth radiated through the fabric of the chair, and you could feel his eyes on you, even as you pretended to be engrossed in the conversation happening around you.

Jungkook's gaze burned into the side of your face, his expression a thundercloud of displeasure. But when you glanced over at him, you couldn't help but smile, a smug little upturn of the lips that was as much for yourself as it was for provoking him. He didn't deserve to control your every move, and you weren't about to let him.

"Where have you been, Tae?" Hobi asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, his gaze lingering on you for a brief moment before looking at his hyung. "Just a little work," he replied, his voice a smooth purr that sent a thrill through your body. "You know how it is, always busy."

He reached over and placed a small box of strawberries on the table in front of you, his fingertips brushing against yours as he did so. "Here, for you," he said with a wink. "They're fresh."

Your eyes widened, and your cheeks grew hot as you took the box, the scent of the strawberries mingling with the memory of your first kiss with Taehyung. You felt everyone's gaze on you as your hand trembled slightly. It was a simple gesture, but it was filled with meaning that only the two of you shared.

"Thank you," you murmured, trying to keep your voice even.

Jimin's gaze flicked from Taehyung to Jungkook, the mischief in his eyes growing. "Looks like Tae here knows our sister-in-law very well," he said, his voice dripping with innuendo.

Taehyung's eyes remained on you, his gaze steady and unyielding. "Of course," he said, his voice calm and cool. "We're close, after all. She is my personal assistant."

The room grew quiet, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Jungkook's grip on his drink tightened, his eyes flicking from Taehyung to you, his jaw clenched.

"So my sister-in-law is living the dream, huh?" Jimin said, his eyes glinting with amusement as he took another sip of his drink. "It must be like a fairy tale, working with your bias every day."

The other members looked at you, curiosity sparking in their eyes. "Is that true?" Suga asked, leaning in. "Is Taehyung your bias?"

"Come on, guys, look at her face," Jimin exclaimed, his voice filled with amusement. "How much she's blushing."

Before you could react to the teasing, RM spoke up, his gaze thoughtful. "Y/N, can I talk to you for a moment in private?" His tone was serious, cutting through the light-hearted banter like a knife.

You nodded, grateful for the reprieve, and followed him out of the room, Jungkook's unreadable expression etched in your mind. The hallway was cooler, and you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

RM stopped at a door and opened it, revealing a cozy office space with bookshelves lining the walls. He gestured for you to sit, and you took the chair gratefully, your legs feeling like jelly.

"Don't be nervous with me, okay?" he said gently, his voice a balm to your frazzled nerves. "I just want to ask you some questions. Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, trying to keep your breathing steady. "Okay," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

RM leaned against the desk, his eyes searching yours. "Do you love Jungkook?" he asked directly.

You took a deep breath, feeling a lump form in your throat. "No," you admitted, your voice shaking. "I saw him as an idol, someone I could never reach. But now... it's complicated."

RM nodded, his expression understanding. "It's natural to feel that way," he said, his voice gentle. "But you need to be honest with yourself. Do you love Taehyung?"

You felt your heart skip a beat at the question. You had avoided thinking about it, but now you had to face it. You nodded slowly, the words heavy on your tongue. "Yes," you whispered, your eyes filling with tears.

RM's expression remained calm, but you could see the sadness in his eyes. "It's a really difficult situation, Y/N," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "As much as I understand your feelings, you have to remember that you're Jungkook's girlfriend. And as much as I care about both of you, I don't want to see our band fall apart because of this."

You nodded, the gravity of his words hitting you like a ton of bricks. You had been so caught up in your own emotions that you had forgotten about the delicate balance within the group. The friendship between the BTS members was legendary, and the thought of causing a rift was unbearable. "I know," you whispered, the weight of your decision pressing down on you.

"It's the first time Jungkook has brought a girl to introduce us," RM said, his gaze never leaving yours. "I've seen him grow up, and he's intense when he wants something. It's like he's a little kid who needs constant attention, and when he doesn't get it, he sulks. But more than that, he's really jealous."

You nodded, your throat tightening at the thought of Jungkook's possessive nature. "But I feel like he's just playing games with me," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

RM's expression grew serious, his eyes searching yours. "I understand," he said, his voice filled with empathy. "But every relationship needs time to grow and evolve. Maybe you should try giving Jungkook your full attention for a while, see if things improve."

Your heart sank at the thought of pushing Taehyung away, but you knew RM was right. The band's dynamics were fragile, and you didn't want to be the one to cause a rift. "Okay," you murmured, feeling the weight of your decision settle heavily on your shoulders. "I'll try."

" I can give you one example of Jungkook's jealousy," RM said, his voice low and measured. "Just go open that door," he nodded towards the slightly ajar door, "and you'll see what I mean."

With a mix of dread and curiosity, you pushed the door open. Jungkook, who had obviously been leaning against it, lost his balance and tumbled into the room with an undignified thump. The sound of his fall echoed in the quiet hallway, and you couldn't help but wince.

RM's expression remained stoic as he looked at Jungkook sprawled on the floor. "What are you doing, Jeon?" he asked, his voice calm but firm.

Jungkook scrambled to his feet, his cheeks red with embarrassment. "I was just passing by," he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

RM raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "You know the rule," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "We don't eavesdrop on each other's conversations."

Jungkook's eyes darted to you, his cheeks flushing even deeper. He knew he had been caught, but instead of backing down, he puffed out his chest. "It's not eavesdropping," he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're talking with my girlfriend."

RM sighed, his gaze flicking to Jungkook before returning to you. "See," he said, his voice filled with a hint of exasperation. "I told you."

Without another word, RM stepped aside, giving Jungkook a pointed look. "Why don't we continue dinner another time, hm?" he suggested, his tone hinting at the unspoken reprimand. "It seems like Jungkook has missed out on spending some quality time with you."

Y/N only nodded, feeling a blush creep up her neck as RM gave her a small, apologetic smile before leaving the room. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with a still-puffed-up Jungkook.

Meanwhile, RM headed straight for the living room where the rest of the members were. He found Taehyung sprawled across the couch, engrossed in his phone, and Jimin meticulously organizing a stack of magazines.

"Hey guys," RM announced, his voice carrying a subtle hint of weariness. "Just wanted to let you know, Y/N is Jungkook's girlfriend now, so please try to make her feel comfortable."

Jimin immediately looked up, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Hyung, you know very well Jungkook's just playing with her." His tone was dismissive, as if this was just another one of Jungkook's fleeting interests.

But then, Jin, who had been quietly observing from his armchair, chimed in, his voice softer but firm. "I don't think so." He met Jimin's gaze, a hint of seriousness in his usually playful eyes. "I think this time, it might be different."

The room fell silent, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the mantle. Jimin raised an eyebrow, his smirk fading slightly. "Different?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Hobi said, nodding. "Jungkook seems... really into her."

Jimin's smirk grew wider, his eyes flicking towards the door where you and Jungkook had disappeared. "Guys, guys," Taehyung said, his voice cutting through the conversation like a knife. "We're wasting our time here. When Jungkook gets bored of his new toy, he'll toss her aside like he does with all his other conquests."

Suga, who had been quietly sipping his tea, looked up, his eyes darkening. "And what are you planning to do when that happens, Tae?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

Taehyung's gaze didn't waver from his phone screen, his thumb scrolling through the latest news articles. "What do you mean?"

"If he does throw her away," Suga clarified, his voice low and measured, "are you going to be the one to comfort her?"

"I'm not into this type of girls," Taehyung's voice echoed in the now-silent room, his eyes never leaving the screen of his phone.

Hobi leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful as he spoke up, "But I think Y/N is really sweet, you know? There's something genuine about her."

Jimin rolled his eyes, his smirk returning. "Yeah, she's the innocent type," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Jungkook's going to eat her alive."

The room grew tense again as the reality of the situation settled in. RM's voice cut through the silence, firm and final. "Got it, guys. She's Jungkook's girlfriend," he reminded them, his gaze flicking towards the closed door. "Let's respect their relationship, okay?"

Jimin took a deep breath, his grip tightening around his drinking glass. "Yeah," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours briefly before he looked away. "Jungkook's girlfriend." The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he forced a smile, raising the glass in a mock toast.

------
On the other side of town, at Jungkook's modern, sleek abode, you found yourself with your palms pressed against the heavy entrance door, your breath fogging the cool glass. Jungkook's strong arms encircled your waist, his warm breath ghosting over your neck. His voice was a low growl, a stark contrast to the serene quiet of the evening outside. "I want to fuck you," he murmured, his desire a living, tangible force that seemed to pulse through your very being.

Chapter Text

Jungkook's modern, sleek abode, you found yourself with your palms pressed against the heavy entrance door, your breath fogging the cool glass. Jungkook's strong arms encircled your waist, his warm breath ghosting over your neck. His voice was a low growl, a stark contrast to the serene quiet of the evening outside. "I want to fuck you," he murmured, his desire a living, tangible force that seemed to pulse through your very being.

You felt your body stiffen at his words, the memory of his previous touch still a raw, throbbing ache between your legs. "Jungkook, please," you whispered, your voice trembling. "My body is still in pain."

He chuckled low in his throat, his hands moving to the hem of your dress. His fingers grazed the sensitive skin of your thighs, sending a shiver up your spine. "You know just how to provoke me, babe," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise in your ear.

Your knees almost buckled at his touch, and you couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped your lips. "Ahh," you moaned, the sound involuntary as his finger traced the line of your panties, dipping just a little too far inside.

"See?" Jungkook's voice was smug, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind tries to deny it."

You felt your resolve slipping, his touch like a brand, burning through your resistance. "Jungkook," you whimpered, your eyes fluttering shut. "Please..."

He leaned in closer, his voice a seductive rumble in your ear. "Babe, you drive me crazy," he said, his hand moving up to cup your cheek. "You know exactly how to push my buttons, don't you?"

You took a shaky breath, your heart racing from his touch. "Jungkook," you protested weakly, "my body is still sore." His hands felt like they were on fire, branding you, and all you wanted was to push him away, but your traitorous body responded with a shiver of desire.

He leaned closer, his voice a warm whisper against your skin. "Don't worry, babe," he said, his thumb tracing your jawline. "I'll do it from behind. It won't hurt." His words sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, even as your mind reeled at the thought of what he was proposing.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice trembling as he turned your head just enough to claim your lips in a gentle kiss. His tongue slid against yours, teasing and exploring, and your body melted into his, even though your mind was screaming for you to stop.

Jungkook's hands moved to the zipper of your dress, slowly pulling it down. He kissed you again, deeper this time, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he pulled away, leaving you gasping. "Just let me love you," he murmured, his eyes dark with need. "Let me show you how good it can be."

With a gentle nudge, he led you towards the bedroom, his eyes never leaving yours. The room was dimly lit, with only the soft glow of a lamp casting a warm, sensual light over the king-sized bed and the large mirror hanging over it.

He positioned you in front of the mirror, his hands moving to the small of your back, pushing you gently until you were standing just before it. You could see the reflection of his intense gaze in the glass, his eyes burning with desire as he stepped closer, pressing his body against yours.

Jungkook's hands moved to the clasp of your bra, deftly unhooking it and letting it fall to the floor. His gaze never left yours as he reached around to cup your breasts, his thumbs playing with your hardened nipples. You felt your cheeks flush as you watched the scene unfold in the mirror, his hands moving down to your hips, pushing your dress down until it pooled around your ankles.

He stepped back, admiring your naked form as you stood before him, feeling both exposed and vulnerable. "Look at yourself," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You're so beautiful."

You hesitantly met your own gaze in the mirror, your eyes wide and unsure. Jungkook's hand trailed down your back, his fingertips grazing the cleft of your ass before sliding lower, making you gasp as he pushed a digit inside you. You felt your cheeks burn with both embarrassment and a strange, dark thrill.

"Keep your eyes on the mirror, babe," he instructed, his voice low and demanding. "I want to watch your face when I'm inside you."

You felt your knees wobble, but Jungkook's firm grip on your hips kept you upright as he positioned himself behind you. His erection nudged against your backside, and you couldn't help but whimper.

"Look in the mirror, babe," he instructed, his voice thick with lust. "See how much you want this."

With trembling hands, you reached for the dresser for support, the cool wood a stark contrast to the heat building within you. In the mirror, you watched as Jungkook's hand slid away, leaving you open and exposed. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the tip of his manhood press against your most intimate spot.

He didn't bother with gentle persuasion, pushing inside you without warning. You gasped, the pain sharp and intense. "Keep looking," he ordered, his eyes never leaving yours in the reflection.

Your eyes remained squeezed shut, unable to bear the sight of his dominance. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure and pain crashing through you, and your body betrayed you, tightening around him. "Look," Jungkook whispered harshly, his hand coming up to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. "Show me your reflections."

Jungkook's grip tightened, his hips driving into yours with a force that stole your breath. You felt yourself being pushed further and further onto the dresser, your palms slipping on the slick wood. "Babe," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, "don't dare to close your eyes. Watch me take you."

With a gasp, you forced your eyes open, looking into the mirror. Your reflection was a blur of pleasure and pain, your body trembling as Jungkook claimed you from behind. His eyes bore into yours in the reflection, a dark challenge in his gaze that sent a shiver down your spine. You bit your lip, trying to keep the sounds of your pleasure from escaping as he drove deeper into you.

"Ahh, like that?" he whispered, his voice a low growl of satisfaction. "You're so wet for me, baby." His hand slid down to your clit, his thumb circling it as he continued his relentless rhythm. Your eyes widened, the sensation overwhelming as your body arched back into his, silently begging for more.

"Please," you whimpered, your voice strained. "Slow down, Jungkook."

He chuckled darkly, his hand sliding up to cover your mouth, muffling your words. "Your voice makes me crazy," he murmured, his hips moving faster, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. "But I want to hear you scream my name."

You felt your body respond, your inner walls clenching around him despite the pain. The mix of fear and desire was intoxicating, and you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. Jungkook's hand slid from your mouth to your throat, his grip firm but not painful as he whispered, "Don't dare to show this face to anyone else."

Your eyes widened in the mirror, the intensity of his gaze piercing through your soul. You knew he was possessive, but the raw, animalistic need in his eyes was something else entirely. It was like he was claiming you, marking you as his own, and a part of you thrilled at the thought.

"Jungkook," you moaned, your voice a breathy plea as he continued his relentless assault. "It's too much." But your words only seemed to spur him on, his grip on your throat tightening slightly, his eyes never leaving yours.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice a seductive rumble that seemed to resonate through your very soul. "And I won't let anyone else have you." His thumb brushed against your clit, and your eyes rolled back in your head as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of climax.

In the mirror, you could see the fierce possessiveness in Jungkook's gaze as he watched you, his eyes never leaving yours as he brought you closer and closer to the brink. "Cum for me, babe," he coaxed, his voice a low growl of desire. "Cum all over me."

With a final, desperate thrust, you did. Your body shuddered with the intensity of your orgasm, your legs giving out beneath you. Jungkook's arms wrapped around you, holding you up as you rode the wave of pleasure that crashed over you. His own release followed, his body tense as he emptied himself inside you.

You leaned against the dresser, panting and trembling, your body still pulsing with aftershocks. Jungkook kissed the back of your neck, his hands still gripping your hips as he slowly pulled out. "See?" he murmured, his voice smug. "It wasn't so bad, was it?"

Meanwhile, at the BTS dorm, Jimin stood on the balcony, a bottle of soju in hand. He stared at the picture on his phone, capturing a candid moment of Y/N during a recent snowfall. Her cheeks had been flushed with cold, her eyes sparkling as the snowflakes danced around her.

Suga found him there, his expression lost in thought. "Jimin, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern as he approached his friend.

Jimin took a deep swig of the soju, the alcohol burning a path down his throat as he finally met Suga's gaze. "I'm fine," he said, his voice tight. "Just enjoying the view."

"It's not about the view jimin," Suga said, his voice gentle. He knew Jimin well enough to read the emotions playing across his features. "It's about Y/N."

Jimin took another swig of soju, his eyes not leaving the photo. "Yeah, she's Jungkook's now," he murmured. "My sister-in-law, I guess." His voice was devoid of the usual playfulness that came so naturally to him.

Suga leaned against the railing beside him, his gaze following Jimin's to the glowing cityscape below. "Does that mean you're giving up?" he asked, his voice low.

Jimin was silent for a long moment, the cold winter air nipping at his cheeks. "Yeah," he finally said, his voice heavy with a mix of sadness and resignation. "Jungkook is more important to us." He took a deep breath, letting out a sigh that was equal parts regret and acceptance. "If this is what he wants, then I can't get in the way."

Suga nodded, his own expression reflective. "But that doesn't mean you can't find someone else," he offered, placing a comforting hand on Jimin's shoulder. "You're Jimin. You can get any girl you want."

Jimin's smile was forced, his heart feeling heavier than the bottle of soju in his hand. "Thanks, Suga," he said, his voice laced with a bitterness that was unmistakable.

Suga's gaze lingered on him for a moment before he nodded, understanding the unspoken words hanging in the air. "Taehyung seems off too," he said, breaking the silence. "Maybe you guys should talk."

Jimin's eyes flickered towards the room where Taehyung was, his expression tightening. "I'll talk to him tomorrow," he said, his voice firm. "Tonight, I just need to... unwind."

Suga studied him for a moment before nodding, his eyes knowing. "Where are you going?"

"Just to unwind," Jimin said with a shrug, his gaze lingering on the photo of Y/N before he tucked it into his pocket. "I need some... fresh air."

Suga's eyes narrowed. "Minseo?"

Jimin didn't bother to hide his smirk. "Maybe," he said, his voice light. "I could use some stress relief."

With that, he disappeared into the night, leaving Suga with a sigh and a shake of his head. Inside, Taehyung's eyes flickered towards the door, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and concern. He knew Jimin's patterns, knew when he was hurting. But he had his own secrets to keep, his own battles to fight.

In Jungkook's spacious, luxurious bedroom, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of awe as you gazed at the shelves lined with trophies and awards from his music career. Each shimmering statue reflected the success and dedication of BTS, a stark reminder of the world you had stumbled into. The room itself was a testament to his taste, a mix of modern and minimalist with a hint of opulence that suited him perfectly.

The shower's water stopped abruptly, and the sound of Jungkook's bare feet on the cold marble floor echoed through the open doorway. You turned just in time to see him emerge from the steam, a towel wrapped low around his waist. Water droplets clung to his defined abs, and his dark hair was slicked back, making him look every bit the Greek god that he was often compared to.

"I really hate washing my hair," Jungkook complained, his voice a gruff rumble as he approached you. "It takes forever to dry."

"Me too," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "I also hate washing my hair, it takes too much time."

Jungkook's eyes lit up at your shared complaint, his grin mischievous as he stepped closer, droplets of water from his hair landing on your bare shoulder. "Then, next time we'll help each other, yeah?" He leaned in, his damp hair tickling your cheek.

You rolled your eyes, the gesture feeling almost automatic. "Not interested," you replied, but your voice lacked conviction. Despite everything, his playfulness was infectious.

Jungkook's grin only widened. "Why so cold, babe?" He stepped closer, his damp body heat wrapping around you. "You're looking very delicious in my t-shirt." His eyes roamed over you, hunger clear in their depths. "Like a snack I want to devour."

You felt your cheeks flush at his words, the intimacy of the moment setting your nerves alight. "Jungkook," you protested, taking a step back. "You need to dry your hair. You'll catch a cold."

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You're worried about me?" He took a step closer, his hand reaching up to brush a damp strand of hair from your forehead. "How sweet."

Before you could respond, Jungkook turned and strutted back into the bathroom, the towel sliding from his waist to reveal his muscular backside. You couldn't help but stare, your eyes tracing the water droplets as they trailed down his legs. When he returned, he was dressed in a pair of shorts that barely contained his toned thighs and a simple white tee that clung to his chiseled chest.

He plopped down on the edge of the bed, his dampness seeping into the sheets. "Come here," he said, patting the spot next to him.

Reluctantly, you sat beside him, the softness of the mattress enveloping you both. Jungkook's arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer. His eyes searched your face, the smoldering desire from before replaced by something softer, more concerned. "Are you still in pain?" he asked, his voice gentle, the teasing gone.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. The reality of what had happened was setting in, the pain from earlier mixing with the ache of his touch.

With a gentle tug, Jungkook pulled your legs onto his lap, his hands starting to knead the tension out of your muscles. His touch was firm but tender, his fingers digging into the tight knots that had formed from the day's events. You couldn't help but let out a contented sigh as he worked his way from your ankles to your thighs, his touch soothing the bruises and scrapes you hadn't even noticed until now.

"Jungkook," you murmured, your eyes slipping closed. "You don't have to do this."

"I know," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "But I want to. Let me take care of you."

As Jungkook's hands moved over your legs, you couldn't help but admire the way his muscles flexed with each gentle squeeze, the way his eyes never left yours. For a brief moment, you were lost in the comfort of his touch, forgetting the tumultuous emotions that had brought you here.

But then you remembered the way he had claimed you earlier, the way he had taken what he wanted without considering your pain. A spark of anger flared in your chest, but it was quickly extinguished by the warmth of his hands and the softness of his gaze. Why couldn't you stay mad at him? You searched your heart for the anger you knew you should feel, but all you found was a confusing mix of desire and affection.

"I'm okay now," you murmured, nodding. Jungkook's expression softened, a hint of relief in his eyes. He lay back on the bed, his arms open in invitation. "Come here," he said, his voice gentle. "Let's cuddle."

You slid closer, his warmth enveloping you as you lay down beside him. Jungkook's arms wrapped around you, pulling you close until your body was molded to his, your cheek resting against his chest. His heartbeat was a comforting rhythm, a reminder that he was real and that this was really happening.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "What do you like, babe?" he asked, his voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room. "Your favorite food, your favorite song, your hobbies, your favorite movie, everything."

You sighed, feeling a little overwhelmed. "I don't have anything special," you said, your voice small. "Just the usual stuff."

Jungkook's chuckle rumbled through his chest. "Everyone's got something special," he said, his fingers playing with a loose strand of your hair. "Tell me."

You hesitated, feeling a bit shy. "Well, I like cooking," you began, your voice quiet. "And reading horror books." You felt Jungkook's body tense slightly at the mention of horror. "And I do believe in soulmates," you added, your voice gaining a little more strength. "I'm a bit of an old-fashioned romantic, I guess."

You took a deep breath and continued, feeling the need to fill the silence. "I also love watching dramas," you said, a small smile playing at your lips. "And I'm a sucker for first loves. There's just something so... pure about them." You felt his arms tighten around you, and for a moment, you wondered if he was listening, if he cared about the little things that made you, you.

Jungkook's eyes remained focused on your face as you spoke, his gaze never wavering. He was listening, really listening, and it made your heart flutter in a way you hadn't expected.

"Are you bored?" you asked him, a hint of a smile playing at your lips as you watched his expression.

"Nope, babe," he said, his voice a warm rumble against your ear. "Keep talking. I like hearing your voice."

You continued, your words weaving a tapestry of your life for Jungkook's ears. You talked about your family, your childhood dreams, and the moment you fell in love with BTS. Jungkook's eyes never left your face, his expression a mix of fascination and admiration. It was as if he was memorizing every detail, every nuance of your voice and the way your smile lit up the room.

As your stories grew longer and your voice grew softer, your eyes grew heavier. The weight of the day's events and the warmth of Jungkook's embrace lulled you into a peaceful slumber. His hands stilled on your face, his gaze lingering on the softness of your features as you fell asleep.

"You're so fragile, babe," Jungkook murmured to himself, his voice filled with a tenderness that seemed at odds with his earlier possessiveness. "How are you going to handle me?" The question hung in the air, unanswered but not forgotten. He brushed a strand of hair from your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips.

The next morning, you jolted awake to the sound of a baby's wails piercing the quiet. You bolted upright, heart racing, and scanned the unfamiliar room for the source of the crying. "Whose baby is that?" you whisper-shouted, your voice filled with panic.

Jungkook groaned, his eyes still closed. "It's my phone," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He blindly groped for the device on the nightstand, finally silencing the obnoxious ringtone. "It's my alarm," he said, his eyes finally opening to meet your horrified gaze.

You stared at him, your expression a mix of relief and amusement. "Your alarm is a baby crying?"

"It's the only way I wake up," Jungkook grumbled, rolling over to face you. He smirked at the sight of your flustered state. "It's pretty effective, huh?"

You couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation breaking the tension. "It's terrible," you said, playfully swatting his arm. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

Jungkook chuckled, pulling you closer. "Let's sleep more," he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep. "It's really early." He nuzzled into your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

"No," you protested, gently pushing him away. "I have to go to work today." You sat up, the cold air hitting you like a slap. "I can't be late."

Jungkook's pout grew more pronounced. "But why do you need to work for Taehyung?" he whined. "You're my girlfriend now."

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. "It's not just about that, Jungkook," you said, trying to keep your voice firm. "I'm getting pretty much the best salary I could ever dream of. Plus, it's an amazing opportunity for me."

Jungkook's expression grew stubborn. "But why him?" he asked, his voice laced with jealousy. "Why not work for me instead?" He leaned closer, his eyes searching yours. "I'd give you triple the salary. You wouldn't have to do anything you didn't want to do. I'd make sure of it."

"It's a really great offer, Jungkook," you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you sat up in bed. "But I'm not interested in changing jobs."

Jungkook's expression grew pensive, his arms still wrapped around you. "But babe," he said, his voice taking on a cajoling tone. "You know I like submission in girls."

"Well, too bad," you replied, your voice firm. "Because I hate obedience. I'm not going to change who I am just for you."

Jungkook's eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of surprise and admiration. "I like your attitude," he murmured, reaching into the bedside drawer and pulling out a cigarette. He placed it between his lips, the silver lighter flicking to life with a sharp click.

You watched him for a moment, your heart racing as you gathered your resolve. Before he could take a drag, you leaned over and pressed your lips to his, surprising him into stillness. The cigarette hovered just out of reach, forgotten in his hand.

"When I'm with you, don't smoke," you whispered against his mouth, your breath mingling with his. "I hate the smell."

Jungkook's eyes widened in surprise before a slow, sexy smile spread across his face. He leaned back, dropping the cigarette into the ashtray on the bedside table without taking his gaze off you. "So bossy," he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. "But okay, babe."

Before you could react, he had pulled you onto his lap, your legs straddling his waist. His hands were on your hips, his grip firm as he tugged you closer. "But if you're going to boss me around," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "You've got to pay the price."

Without warning, Jungkook's mouth crashed down on yours, his kiss rough and fast. It was unlike the tender moments from the night before, his passion now fueled by a mix of desire and possession. His tongue pushed past your lips, demanding and insistent, leaving you breathless. You felt your body respond, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Bighit Tower's lobby buzzed with early-morning energy as you approached the sleek elevator banks. The reflection in the gleaming metal doors showed a tired but determined look on your face. You had spent the entire night wrapped in the arms of a man who had claimed you as his girlfriend, yet your heart remained torn between two members of the world's most beloved boy band. As the elevator chimed, the doors slid open, and you stepped inside, you couldn't help but replay the morning's kiss with Jungkook on repeat in your mind. The warmth of his lips lingered on yours.

"Why did I kiss him?" you murmured to yourself, your eyes squeezing shut as the elevator ascended. The memory of your reflection in his mirror played back, your expression a mix of passion and fear as he claimed you in the most intimate of ways. The sound of the elevator dinging at your floor brought you back to reality with a jolt.

The doors slid open to reveal a smiling Jimin, his eyes lighting up when they met yours. "What a coincidence," he said, a playful lilt to his voice. "Good morning, sister-in-law."

You froze, your hand hovering over the elevator's close button as your cheeks flushed hot. "Jimin," you managed to croak out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could react, he stepped inside, his foot blocking the closing door with a cheeky grin. "Let's not be strangers now that we're family, yeah?"

The door slid shut with a gentle hiss, trapping you both in the small space. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, the elevator's soft music playing in the background, a stark contrast to the turmoil in your mind.

"What do you want from me, Jimin?" you whispered, your voice tight with emotion.

Jimin leaned against the elevator wall, his eyes never leaving yours. "Just a conversation," he replied, his voice soft and earnest. "You're a part of us now, aren't you?" He took a step closer, his hands in his pockets, his posture deceptively casual. "I want to know more about the girl who stole jungkook heart."

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "If you want to know about me, I'll send you my resume," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. It was a defense mechanism, a way to keep him at bay without giving away too much.

Jimin's laugh was light and airy, filling the elevator with a sound that seemed to bounce off the walls. "You're really cute when you're flustered," he said, his smile widening.

You blinked, trying to process his words. "What?" you asked, your voice still shaky.

"I said," Jimin repeated, taking a step closer, "you're really cute." His eyes searched yours, the mischief in them unmistakable. "It's like watching a kitten try to be a lion."

You felt your cheeks burn even hotter, his words both flattering and infuriating. "I'm not a kitten," you protested, your voice a little too loud for the confined space.

"Oh really?" Jimin challenged, his eyes gleaming. He reached out and lightly cupped your chin, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Let's find out," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "I really want to see what type of face you make that time."

"What face?" you questioned, your voice a mix of confusion and annoyance as Jimin's thumb brushed against your jaw. He leaned in closer, his breath a warm tickle against your ear.

"The face you make when you're really turned on," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper.

You jerked back, your hand shooting out to push him away. "Pervert," you spat, your eyes flashing with anger. The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal the bustling Bighit floor. You took the opportunity to flee, stepping out into the chaos of the hallway.

Jimin followed, a grin on his face as he called out, "Heyyy, sister-in-law, don't be angry! I'm just teasing you." His playful tone grated on your nerves, making it clear he didn't see the seriousness of the situation.

You whipped around, your eyes flashing with irritation. "Stop following me," you demanded, your voice firm. You couldn't handle his flirtatiousness right now, not with everything else going on.

Jimin's grin widened, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Oh come on," he said, taking a step closer. "It's just a little teasing. You're so easy to rile up."

But your mind was elsewhere. You had caught a glimpse of something up above, a glint of light that didn't quite sit right. Your gaze shot upwards just in time to see a large potted plant teetering dangerously on the edge of the upper floor's balcony.

"Look out!" you screamed, pushing Jimin aside just as the heavy glass pot came crashing down. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the lobby as shards rained down around you. Jimin looked up, his eyes wide with shock before his gaze dropped to the blood trickling down your forehead.

Chapter Text

Hospital lights flickered overhead as the doctor finished wrapping a fresh bandage around your forehead.

"You're lucky," the doctor said, his voice brisk. "Just a few minor cuts. No concussion."

You nodded, wincing as he secured the bandage. "Thank you," you murmured, your eyes drifting to Jimin, who was pacing the small hospital room like a caged tiger. The way he looked at you, his expression a mix of fury and fear, made your heart race.

"What's wrong?" you asked, your voice shaky.

Jimin stopped his frantic pacing to look at you, his eyes narrowed into a glare so intense it could have cut glass. "What do you think you're doing?" he snarled, his voice low and furious. "Do you think you're some kind of superhero?"

You flinched at his harsh words, the pain in your forehead momentarily forgotten. "I just wanted to help," you murmured, feeling a sting of tears in your eyes.

"Help?" Jimin repeated incredulously. He took a step closer, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "Do you have any idea what could have happened? You could have been killed!" His voice rose in volume with each word, his face flushing with anger.

The doctor cleared his throat uncomfortably, his eyes darting between the two of you. "I'll just...uh, give you two some privacy," he mumbled before backing out of the room.

Jimin's shoulders slumped, the anger draining from his posture as the door clicked shut behind the doctor. "Look," he began, his voice softer. "What you did today was really dangerous. It's not something a girl should do, okay?"

With surprising strength, you pinched both of his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. "Don't underestimate girl power," you said firmly, a hint of a smile playing on your lips despite the sting of pain in your forehead. "I can handle myself, and I can't just stand by and watch someone get hurt."

Jimin's glare didn't waver, but his eyes searched yours, the anger slowly fading into something softer. "Why do you have to be so stubborn?" he whispered, his voice gruff with emotion. "You could have been hurt."

You leaned back into the hospital bed, the plastic crinkling beneath you. "I know," you said, your voice a little stronger now. "But I'm okay. It's just a little bit of blood, not too much." You reached up to touch the bandage, wincing at the tenderness beneath.

Jimin took your hand in his, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Don't do that again," he pleaded, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "It's not worth it."

"I know," you repeated, your eyes dropping to your hand in his. "But sometimes, it's okay to rely on a girl, you know?"

Jimin's grip tightened around your hand, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your bandaged forehead and back again. Without another word, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. You felt his heart hammering against your chest, his warmth seeping into your bones.

"What are you doing?" you mumbled into his shoulder, the sudden shift in dynamics leaving you dizzy.

"Thanking you," Jimin said gruffly, his arms not loosening. "For saving me, you crazy girl."

You laughed, the sound muffled against his shoulder. "You're welcome," you whispered, feeling the tension in his body slowly release. "But if you're going to thank me, maybe don't call me crazy."

Jimin's chuckle rumbled through his chest. "But you are," he said, pulling back to look at you with a small smile. "Crazy, I mean. In the best way possible."

The ringing of your phone interrupted the moment, the screen lighting up with an unmissable name. Taehyung's manager. You swallowed hard, the reality of your situation coming rushing back. "I have to go," you said, gently extricating yourself from Jimin's embrace. "I'm already late for work."

Jimin's smile faded, his eyes searching your face. "Y/N, you can take the day off," he offered, his voice serious. "You're hurt, and you've been through enough."

You shook your head, your resolve unwavering. "No, I can't," you said firmly. "I've already taken too many days off, and I need to keep my job." The mention of your job brought a fresh wave of guilt. You had been neglecting your responsibilities, getting caught up in the whirlwind of your love triangle. "Could you please drop me at Bighit?" you asked, hope flickering in your eyes.

Jimin's expression softened, and he nodded. "Fine, crazy girl," he murmured, the words carrying a hint of affection despite the tension that still lingered between you. "But if you need anything, anything at all, you call me, okay?"

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders slightly. "Okay, Jimin," you promised. "But don't tell Jungkook, okay?"

His smile grew a bit, his eyes warming as he nodded again. "Your secret's safe with me," he assured you, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Bighit parking lot's asphalt was already heating up as you stepped out of the car, the sun's early morning rays beating down on you. "Thank you for the ride, Jimin," you said, your voice a little shaky as you tried to put on a brave face.

He nodded, his eyes lingering on your bandaged forehead. "Take care of yourself, okay?" His voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the fiery energy you were used to from him.

You managed a small smile. "I will," you promised, closing the car door behind you.

With a deep breath, you turned and hurried away, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet parking lot. The early morning staff members you passed by shot you curious glances, but you offered them a quick, apologetic smile as you rushed by, muttering "Sorry" under your breath.

In the car, Jimin watched you retreat, his heart hammering against his ribcage like a drum. "Damn, Y/N," he murmured to himself, his eyes never leaving your figure as you disappeared into the building. "What are you doing to me?"

The rest of the day was a blur of emails, phone calls, and frantic schedule rearranging. Taehyung had noticed the bandage on your forehead but said nothing, his eyes flicking to it briefly before returning to the script in his hands. The tension was palpable, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced by a taut focus that seemed to tighten the very air around him.

You felt his gaze on you often, a gentle brush of his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. Every time you handed him a coffee or reminded him of an interview, his fingers would graze yours, a soft touch that spoke volumes without a single word. Each time, you would pull away, your heart racing, trying to keep your head down and your thoughts in check.

Later in the evening, as you sat in the quiet office, the soft glow of the computer screen the only source of light, you focused on organizing Taehyung's schedule for tomorrow. It was meticulous work, a dance of timings and appointments that had to be perfect.

The phone on your desk buzzed, pulling you out of your concentration. You picked it up, the screen lighting up with Jungkook's name. You sighed, bracing yourself for what was to come. "Hello?"

"What's going on, babe?" Jungkook's voice was a low growl over the line, his tone one of accusation. "No phone call, no text. You're literally heartless, girlfriend."

You bit your lower lip, trying to keep your voice steady as you replied, "I've had a busy day, Jungkook. I'm at work."

"Yeah, I know," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Too busy to check in on your man?"

You rolled your eyes, gripping the phone tighter. "Jungkook, Taehyung has a really busy schedule today," you explained patiently. "And I've got a lot of work to do to keep up with it."

"Well, make sure to keep your distance," Jungkook said, his voice cold and demanding. "I don't like any man getting too close to what's mine."

You felt a spark of anger flicker in your chest. "Do you think I'll just listen to you?" you challenged, your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands.

"Well," Jungkook said, his voice thick with a dangerous undertone, "if you don't listen to me, then maybe I need to show you how serious I am."

You swallowed hard, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine. "What do you mean?"

"Well how about we try out something new tonight?" Jungkook's voice was a dark purr, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "How about I tie your hands to the bedpost and your legs to the other side, hmm? That way you won't be able to run away when things get too intense." His words were like a whip, cracking through the tension of the call.

You felt a cold sweat break out on your forehead. "Jungkook, I don't think that's a good idea," you protested, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

"Don't worry, babe," he purred into the phone, his tone sending a shiver down your spine. "I'll take care of everything. I'll start with kissing your neck, making you squirm. Then I'll move down, teasing your breasts until they're begging for more. And when you think you can't handle it, I'll slide my hand down to your sweet spot, making you wet for me." His words were a blend of sweetness and possession, a stark reminder of the control he thought he had over you.

Your cheeks burned red, your hand tightening around the phone as your thoughts spun out of control. You didn't know how to respond to his explicit suggestions.

"Babe, your face must get red, right?" Jungkook's voice was a mix of playfulness and a hint of something else over the phone. "It's too bad I can't see it, but I'm sure it's adorable."

You felt your cheeks burn even hotter, his words a direct hit on your current state of mind. "Jungkook," you tried to interject, but he just continued.

"But seriously, I can't meet you tonight," Jungkook said, his tone switching to one of disappointment.

You sighed, rubbing your forehead."you know I never meet a shameless guy like you," you murmured, trying to keep the exasperation from seeping into your voice. Jungkook's chuckle was audible even through the phone line.

"Babe, you still haven't seen all of my sides," Jungkook's voice was a soft murmur through the phone line, the promise in his words making your heart stutter. "But, I heard there's supposed to be heavy rainfall tonight. You should head home early. I'll send my car for you." His tone was a blend of sweetness and concern, the kind you knew was genuine from the softer moments you shared.

You leaned back in your chair, the tension of the day weighing heavily on your shoulders. "Thanks, Jungkook," you said, trying to keep your voice light. "But I can manage." Despite his controlling tendencies, there was something comforting in his care, a reminder that he did have feelings for you beyond his possessiveness.

"Are you sure?" Jungkook's voice was a whisper through the phone, his concern palpable even through the line. You nodded, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "Yeah, don't worry," you assured him. "I'll be fine."

Jungkook paused for a beat, his voice dropping even lower. "Okay," he finally said, his tone a mix of doubt and resignation. "But if you need anything..."

"I know," you cut in, trying to ease his worry. "Thank you."

"Namjoon hyung is calling me," Jungkook said, his voice tightening. "I have to go. Be careful tonight."

"Yeah," you replied, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

He ended the call without another word, leaving you staring at the silent phone. The weight of the conversation hung in the air, a stark reminder of the tumultuous relationship you found yourself in.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Jungkook. You took a deep breath before opening it. The image that greeted you was of him, shirtless, with a cheeky grin and a thumbs up. The caption read, "Miss me yet?"

The room suddenly felt much warmer, and your cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson. You couldn't help but laugh a little, despite the knot in your stomach. You stared at the photo for a moment, your mind racing. Jungkook's possessiveness was unhealthy, yes, but there was also a side of him that was just so... charming. So alluring. It was like he had a direct line to your heart, and all he had to do was flash that smile and you were putty in his hands.

You sighed and put the phone aside, shaking off the distraction. You had work to do, and you couldn't let your personal life interfere any more than it already had. You turned back to the computer, your fingers flying over the keys as you typed out emails and arranged meetings. You were so lost in your task that you didn't notice the time slipping away, the hours turning into minutes until it was already well past when you usually left the office.

You were so focused on your work that you didn't hear the footsteps approaching your desk. It wasn't until a soft voice spoke your name that you jolted back to reality. You turned your head and found Taehyung standing just a few inches away, his face a picture of concern and curiosity. "You're still here?" he asked, his eyes scanning your tired face and the bandage on your forehead.

"Yeah, just arranging your schedule for tomorrow," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden rush of nerves. His eyes searched yours for a moment before dropping to the bandage, his expression shifting to one of puzzlement.

"How did you get injured?" he asked, reaching out to lightly touch the bandage. His hand was cool against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, the lie ready on your tongue. "Oh, I slipped in the washroom," you said, trying to make it sound as casual as possible. Taehyung's gaze remained on you, his eyes unblinking. You could see the doubt in his eyes, the way he searched your face for the truth you weren't willing to give him.

"You're really okay?" he pressed, his voice laced with genuine concern. "You should be at home, resting."

You nodded, offering him a tired smile. "It's just a small cut," you assured him. "I'll be fine. Besides, I can't let work pile up. We've got a busy week ahead."

But Taehyung's eyes remained on the bandage, a furrow forming between his brows. Before you could say another word, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch the edge of the bandage. "Let me see," he said, his voice firm and gentle, leaving no room for argument.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the hiss of pain that wanted to escape as his fingers brushed against the tender skin beneath. "It's nothing," you repeated, your voice shakier than before. "Just a small cut."

But Taehyung wasn't buying it. His hand hovered over your forehead, the warmth of his palm so close you could feel it, before he finally settled for resting it gently against your cheek. "You know, Y/N," he began, his voice low and sincere, "you should really take care of yourself."

You stepped back, his touch too much to handle with your already tangled emotions. "It's really late now," you said, your voice a little shakier than you would have liked. "I should go home."

Before you could even begin to gather your things, Taehyung's strong hands landed on your waist from behind, his grip firm but gentle. "Let me drop you," he offered, his voice a warm whisper that seemed to echo in the quiet office. You felt his breath against your neck, sending goosebumps skittering across your skin.

You hesitated, the weight of his concern and the warmth of his touch holding you in place. But you knew you couldn't let him see you like this, not when you were still trying to sort out your own feelings. "I can manage," you said, turning to face him with a forced smile. "I'll grab a taxi."

"It's your boss's order," Taehyung said firmly, his eyes searching yours. "You can't reject that." His hand reached out and gently wrapped around yours. "And it's pouring outside. You'll catch a cold if you go in this rain."

You looked out the window, watching the rain hammer down on the pavement like a million tiny drums. You knew he was right, but the thought of being alone with Taehyung in a car, especially after Jungkook's earlier phone call, made your heart race. But before you could protest again, Taehyung was already leading you out of the office, his grip on your hand unyielding.

In the lobby, the rain was a muted roar outside the glass doors, a stark contrast to the hushed whispers of the late-night security guards. The lights were dimmer here, casting long shadows across the polished floors. Taehyung's hand in yours felt like the only solid thing in the world.

But before Taehyung could even lead you to his car, the sound of a familiar voice made you freeze. Jungkook's driver was striding towards you, his eyes locking onto yours with a strange mix of pity and resignation. "Miss Y/N," he called out. "Mr. Jeon has instructed me to take you home tonight."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt the blood drain from your face. You hadn't told Jungkook you were leaving, so how did he know? You glanced at Taehyung, whose gaze was on the driver, his eyes narrowed. "It's okay," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "Jungkook's car is already here."

Taehyung's grip on your hand tightened slightly, but he said nothing, his jaw clenched. You knew he wasn't happy about the situation, but you didn't have the energy to deal with the tension right now. "I should go now," you murmured, pulling your hand free. "Good night, Taehyung."

Without waiting for his reply, you turned and dashed out into the rain, the cold water soaking your clothes and plastering your hair to your face. The driver held the door open for you, his eyes avoiding yours as you slipped into the warm embrace of the car. You didn't bother to look back at Taehyung, knowing his gaze would be on you until you were out of sight.

As car leave Taehyung pull out his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before he dialed his manager's number. The conversation was quick and to the point, his voice a whipcrack of authority. "Arrange my business trip to Paris," he said, his eyes never leaving the retreating taillights of Jungkook's car. "In one day. No excuses." He didn't wait for a response before ending the call, his jaw tight and his eyes filled with a determination that was almost tangible.

"How long do you think you can run from me, sweetheart?" Taehyung's smirk played at the corner of his lips as he watched Jungkook's car pull away from the curb, taking you with it.

Meanwhile, in the backseat of Jungkook's car, you couldn't help the curiosity that bubbled up as the driver pulled away from the curb. The rain pattered against the windows, casting a rhythmic pattern that mirrored the erratic beat of your heart. "How did you know I was leaving work now?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor from your voice.

The driver glanced at you in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. "It was Mr. Jeon's order," he replied, his voice calm and even. "He said to wait for you and take you home when you were done for the night."

You glance over to the box beside you, the neon lights of the city reflecting off its glossy surface. "What's this?" you ask the driver, trying to keep the curiosity out of your voice.

"It's from Mr. Jeon," he replies, his eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror for a brief moment before returning to the road. "He said to buy it for you."

You stare at the box, feeling a mix of emotions. Jungkook's possessiveness was suffocating, but the gesture was undeniably thoughtful. With trembling hands, you lift the lid and find a collection of your favorite snacks and an energy drink, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. It was his way of saying 'I care' without actually saying it. You couldn't help but appreciate the small kindness amidst the chaos of the love triangle.

As the car pulls up to your apartment complex, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself for what's to come. You thank Jungkook's driver with a nod, stepping out into the rain-soaked night. The cold air is a stark contrast to the warmth of the car, sending shivers down your spine. You're about to make a run for the shelter of your building when you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

You turn to see Jimin standing under the flickering neon lights of the complex, his hair plastered to his forehead, a worried expression etched on his face. "Y/N, you really do come home this late every time," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of accusation. Rain droplets cling to his lashes like diamonds, making him look both angelic and annoyed at the same time.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice. The rain is coming down harder now, soaking your clothes and making your bandage itch.

Jimin's eyes flick to the bandage and narrow slightly. "You forgot your medicine," he says, holding out a small plastic bag. "I was worried."

You take the bag with a grateful smile, the warmth of his concern reaching through the cold night air. "Thank you, Jimin," you murmur, tucking the bag into your pocket. "But you can give it to me tomorrow at the company. No need to come all the way here."

Jimin shakes his head, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that sends a thrill through your body. "Doctor's orders," he says firmly. "And it's no trouble, really. I was just passing by."

You nod, understanding his concern, and watch as he retreats to his car. But as he opens the door, he stops, his body tense. "Fuck," he murmurs under his breath. You step closer, the rain soaking through to your skin, to see what's wrong. "My tire's flat," he says, gesturing to the sad, deflated rubber on the pavement.

"Let me help," you offer, pulling out your own phone to book a cab. But the rain seems to be playing tricks on everyone tonight, as the app refuses to connect. You try multiple times, but each attempt results in the same message: "No cabs available due to heavy rain." You look up at Jimin, who's staring at you with a mix of frustration and defeat.

It's okay," he says, his voice tight. "I'll call for roadside assistance." But before he can, you remember your own  incident a few weeks ago when he had come to your rescue. "You can stay at my apartment tonight," you suggest, your voice tentative. "It's the least I can do to repay you for helping me."

Jimin hesitates, his eyes flicking towards the rain-soaked street. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice hopeful. "I don't want to impose."

You nod, trying to keep your voice steady. "It's fine, really. It's the least I can do after all you've done for me."

With a grateful smile, he nods and follows you into your building, the rain beating a rhythm on the pavement behind you. The elevator ride up is quiet, the tension between you palpable. You fidget with the hem of your wet shirt, avoiding eye contact. When you finally reach your floor, you unlock the door to your apartment and usher him inside, the warmth of the room enveloping you both like a soft blanket.

Jimin takes a step closer, his eyes searching your face. "Aren't you scared?" he asks, his voice low and gruff. "Letting a man stay at your house in the middle of the night?"

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool despite the racing of your heart. "You're not just any man," you remind him, trying to keep your voice steady. "Besides, I'm Jungkook's girlfriend."

"Don't forget, I'm still a man," Jimin murmured, his eyes darkening as he took in your wet, shivering form. The cold rain had brought a flush to your cheeks and a tremble to your lips that he couldn't ignore. He stepped closer, his hands reaching out to brush a wet lock of hair from your face. "And it's cold out there," he added, his voice dropping an octave.

You felt your heart stutter at his words, the warmth of his breath against your skin sending a bolt of electricity through you. The rain outside was a gentle serenade, a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions playing out in the quiet apartment. "I know," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the patter of rain on the windows.

He took another step, closing the gap between you until you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His hand found its way to the small of your back, drawing you closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. "How about we warm each other up?" he suggested, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to echo through your bones.

With a deep breath, you stepped back, putting a safe distance between you both. "If you're done with your flirting," you said, trying to keep your voice light, "you can change your clothes. They're totally wet."

Jimin's smirk grew, his eyes never leaving yours. "Is that an invitation?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart was hammering in your chest. "Just a suggestion," you replied, turning to grab a towel from the closet. "Jungkook's got some spare clothes in the wardrobe. Help yourself."

Jimin nodded, his eyes never leaving yours for a beat too long. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray drop of rainwater from your cheek. "Thank you," he murmured, the warmth of his skin leaving a trail of heat in its wake. "I'll just be a minute."

You nodded, trying to ignore the way his touch made your knees feel like jelly. As he disappeared into the bathroom, you took a moment to catch your breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You had to keep things professional, even if the line between work and personal life was blurring more each day.

On washroom, Jimin quickly typed out a text to his manager with shaking hands. The words spilled onto the screen: "Bring a new car for me. I'll send you the address but do it in the morning, not now." The urgency in his message was clear.

On living room, you sat on the sofa, lost in thought. The rain had finally stopped, but the tension in the air remained as palpable as the dampness of your clothes. The couch cushions felt cold against your skin, a stark reminder of the reality of the situation. You knew you should tell Jungkook that Jimin was staying at your place, but the words lodged in your throat like a rock.

As if on cue, Jimin's voice whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm hungry," he murmured, his fingers lightly brushing your shoulder. You jumped, startled by the suddenness of his touch, and turned to face him.

"What do you want to eat?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor from your voice. You hadn't realized how much his nearness was affecting you until now.

Jimin's smirk grew as he leaned closer, his eyes dancing with mischief. "How about ramen?" he suggested, his voice low and close. You could almost feel the heat of his breath against your neck.

"Ramen?" you repeated, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

Jimin's laugh was soft, a gentle rumble that seemed to shake the very air around you. "Relax," he said, his eyes twinkling. "I'm just teasing. You're too easy to read, Y/N."

You shot him a glare, but it was ruined by the blush that spread across your cheeks. "I'm going to make us some ramen," you said, standing up and moving to the kitchen. "You can sit and relax."

Jimin's eyes followed you as you rummaged through the cabinets, his gaze lingering on your figure as you moved with purpose. The kitchen was small, but it felt even smaller with him standing there, watching you so closely. You filled the pot with water, trying to ignore the sound of his footsteps as he approached.

"Let me help," he offered, his voice low and smooth as silk. You handed him a package of instant ramen with a forced smile, trying not to let his nearness affect you. His eyes never left yours as he took the noodles, his thumb brushing against your palm in a way that made your skin tingle.

The kitchen grew hotter as you both worked in silence, the steam from the boiling water blending with the tension in the air. When the noodles were done, you slid the pot onto the trivet and handed Jimin a bowl, his eyes never leaving yours. He took it with a nod, his gaze lingering on your hand before he sat down at the small kitchen table.

"Aren't you going to eat?" he asked, his voice thick with amusement as he watched you hover by the counter.

You flushed, realizing you hadn't moved. "Oh, I had some snacks in the car," you said, trying to play it off. "I'm not really hungry."

But Jimin's gaze remained on you, his eyes searching yours for the truth. "You should eat more," he said, his voice serious. "You're going to need your strength."

Before you could protest, he took a pair of chopsticks and scooped up a mouthful of steaming noodles, bringing them closer to your lips. "Open up," he murmured, his eyes holding yours captive.

"I can eat by myself," you started to say, but before you could finish the sentence, the warm, savory noodles were already in your mouth.

Jimin's smirk grew as he watched you chew, his eyes never leaving yours. "Good?" he asked, his voice filled with satisfaction.

You nodded, taking another bite to avoid his gaze. The noodles were indeed tasty, the perfect balance of spicy and salty that seemed to warm you from the inside out. "Mmhmm," you mumbled, slurping down another mouthful.

Jimin chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "So, Y/N," he began, his voice casual, "what does love mean to you?"

You took a moment to consider his question, the noodles in your mouth suddenly tasting like cardboard. "It's a feeling that's... hard to define," you said, swallowing past the sudden lump in your throat.

Jimin's gaze grew contemplative, his eyes searching yours. "Some say when you die, your brain is alive for seven minutes, reliving the most beautiful moments of your life," he said, his voice taking on a gentle, almost poetic tone. "If that's true, I want the last thing my brain remembers to be the person I love most."

"Awwww," you tease, trying to keep the conversation light despite the sudden gravity of the topic. "Mr. Flirt King is being all romantic."

Jimin's eyes twinkle with amusement at your words. "Is that what you think of me?" he asks, his voice holding a playful edge.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "Well, you do have a reputation," you point out, taking a sip of your tea.

He laughs, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. "Maybe I do," he admits, his eyes never leaving yours.

But the playfulness quickly fades, replaced by something deeper, something that makes your heart race. "But seriously," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "What does love mean to you, Y/N?"

You set your chopsticks down, the weight of his question sinking into you like the warmth of the soup. "Love," you begin, your voice barely above a murmur, "it's like... finding home in someone's eyes. It's like when the world's a storm, and suddenly, you're in the eye of it—calm and peaceful—every time you're near them."

Jimin's gaze softens, his own thoughts drifting to a place you can't quite reach. "That's beautiful," he says, his voice thick with unspoken emotion. "But isn't it scary, too? To put so much of yourself into someone else's hands?"

"Hmmm, you're right," you said with a sigh, a small smile playing on your lips. "Love does seem like a waste of time, doesn't it?" You leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the steam rise from your bowl of ramen, the question hanging in the air like the mist from the pot.

Jimin's laughter was sudden and unexpected, the sound of it making you look up in surprise. "Why the sudden change of heart?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You shrugged, trying to keep your own smile in check. "You know how it is," you said lightly. "Fairy tales are nice, but reality is... well, it's more interesting." You picked up your chopsticks and took a bite of the ramen, the noodles still warm despite the chilly air outside.

Jimin watched you, his expression unreadable. "I've always wondered," he mused, "how someone as sweet as you could be single for so long."

You rolled your eyes, the heat from your cheeks spreading down to your neck. "Don't underestimate me," you said with a laugh, trying to play it cool. "I had my fair share of admirers back in school."

"Ah, the school days," Jimin said, his voice wistful. "Tell me more," he encouraged, leaning back in his chair and propping his chin on his hand.

You couldn't help but smile as you recounted tales of your university life, the memories rushing back like a warm embrace. You talked about the all-nighters spent studying with friends, the awkward crushes, and the exhilaration of performing in your first college play. Jimin listened with rapt attention, his eyes never leaving yours, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he nodded along.

The hours passed unnoticed as you shared stories of your youth, the laughter echoing off the walls of your apartment. Each memory felt like a precious gift, uncovered and shared with someone who truly cared. The rain had long since stopped, but the quiet pitter-patter of the droplets from the leaves outside your window served as the only reminder of the night's earlier tumult.

As the conversation lulled, your eyelids grew heavy, the warmth of the room and the comfort of Jimin's presence lulling you into a peaceful state. Before you knew it, your chin was resting on the table, your eyes fluttering closed.

Jimin just sat and watched you sleep. He looked at your peaceful face and smiled gently. Outside, the rain had stopped, but here, it was just quiet, with your soft breathing and his happy gaze.

He didn't know how long he sat there, just watching. It could have been minutes or hours, but it didn't matter. Time seemed to stand still when he was with you. You looked so serene, like an angel, your long lashes fluttering slightly with each breath.

Jimin couldn't help but feel a pang of something unidentifiable in his chest as he took in your peaceful form. Finally, with a sigh, he pushed back from the chair and padded quietly to the bedroom. The floorboards creaked softly under his weight, but you didn't stir. He pulled the covers over you, tucking you in gently, as if you were something fragile and precious.

His eyes lingered on your lips, full and parted slightly with sleep. He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin, and began to trace the line of your face with feather-light kisses. Each touch was a silent confession of his feelings, a gentle caress that whispered of his admiration and longing. He kissed your forehead, the tip of your nose, the apple of your cheek, each peck leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

As he approached your mouth, the air grew thick with anticipation. His heart hammered in his chest, and his pulse echoed in his ears like the rhythm of a bass line. But as much as he wanted to claim those lips, to feel the softness of them yield beneath his own, he knew it wasn't the right time. Not yet. So, with a painful amount of restraint, he hovered just above, his breath mingling with yours, his lips brushing against yours without pressure.

"I like you, angel," he whispered against your skin, his voice barely a murmur in the stillness of the night. The words hung in the air, a declaration that seemed to resonate through every inch of the room. He watched as your eyelashes fluttered but remained closed, a testament to your deep Slumber. 

Chapter Text

Next day, you wake up with a start, the sunlight streaming through the blinds. You sit up in bed, the events of the previous night coming back to you in a rush. You scan the room, expecting to see Jimin still curled up in the chair but he's nowhere to be found. You frown, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. He had left without so much as a goodbye, not even a note of thanks for letting him stay the night. It felt rude, but maybe that's just who he is—the charming flirt who doesn't take things too seriously.

After a quick shower and breakfast, you gather your things and head to the BigHit building.As you make your way down the hallway, lost in thought, you collide with a warm, solid presence. "Whoa, watch where you're going," a familiar voice says with a laugh. You look up to find Seokjin smiling down at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Jin-oppa!" you exclaim, slightly taken aback. "I'm so sorry."

"No need to apologize, Y/N," Seokjin says, his voice warm. "But, if you don't mind, I've got a favor to ask."

You tilt your head, curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

Seokjin's smile widens. "It's a simple favor, really. Jungkook's in the studio, and he's supposed to be at dance practice in an hour. Would you mind waking him up for me?" He glances down the hall, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "He's a bit... stubborn about getting up in the morning."

You nod, a smile tugging at your own lips. "Sure," you say. "But don't blame me if he's grumpy."

Seokjin laughs. "Oh, I won't. You're the only one who can handle him anyway." He pats you on the shoulder before walking away, leaving you to contemplate his words. It's true, Jungkook had been acting differently around you lately. More possessive, more demanding. It was exhausting.

With a heavy sigh, you approach Jungkook's studio. The door is slightly ajar, allowing the faint sound of a TV playing to drift into the hallway. Pushing it open, you're met with the sight of Jungkook sprawled out on the sofa, an empty wine bottle on the table beside him. The room smells faintly of alcohol, and your heart sinks as you take in the mess. This was the kind of scene that you had always dreaded being a part of.

You tiptoe closer, not wanting to startle him. His face is flushed, his dark hair a mess, and he looks so young and vulnerable in his sleep. It's a stark contrast to the charming, intense persona he usually presents to the world. He's like a baby, you think with a small smile. One who throws tantrums and demands your attention, but also one who needs care and protection.

Gently, you reach out and touch his shoulder, shaking him slightly. "Jungkook-ah," you murmur, your voice low and soothing. "You've got dance practice."

He stirs, his eyes fluttering open to reveal a dazzling pair of pupils that seem to swirl with a mix of surprise and annoyance. "What?" he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

You bite back a laugh at his disheveled state. "You have to get up," you repeat, your voice firm but gentle. "You have dance practice."

With a groan, he sits up, rubbing at his eyes. The movement causes his shirt to ride up, revealing a sliver of taut stomach muscles that make you swallow hard. You quickly avert your gaze, focusing instead on the TV screen, where a cartoon is playing at a deafening volume. You grab the remote and press the power button, the sudden silence ringing in your ears.

"What are you doing here?" Jungkook's voice is sleepy and deep, the words coming out in a lazy drawl that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Jin-oppa told me to wake you up," you reply, keeping your voice even despite the butterflies in your stomach. "You've got dance practice."

Jungkook's eyes narrow slightly, as if trying to process your words through his hangover. "Dance practice," he repeats, his voice still thick with sleep. He looks at the clock on the wall and swears under his breath. "How long do I have?"

"One hour," you say, stepping back to give him some space. He stretches, his muscles flexing under his shirt, and you can't help but admire the way he moves, even when half-asleep. "But maybe you should shower first," you suggest, nodding towards the bathroom. The hint of a blush creeps up your neck as you remember the last time you saw him in such a state of undress.

Jungkook's eyes light up with mischief, and before you know it, he's pulled you into his lap. "Fresh up," he says with a cheeky grin. "But first, I need a workout."

You squeal in surprise, pushing at his chest, but he's too strong. His arms wrap around you, holding you firmly in place. "Jungkook," you protest, your voice muffled against his shirt. "You need to get ready".

But Jungkook's eyes are dark with a determination that makes your heart race. "One hour," he says again, his voice a low growl. "It's enough time for me to make you scream my name." His words hang in the air, charged with a possessive desire that sends a thrill through you despite your better judgment.

Without warning, he captures your mouth in a kiss that's as demanding as it is passionate. His tongue invades your mouth, exploring with a fiery hunger that leaves you breathless. You try to resist, but your body responds to his touch, your hands moving to tangle in his hair as the kiss deepens.

But as the initial shock wears off, reality crashes back in. You push against his chest, the taste of alcohol on his breath making you recoil. "Jungkook," you murmur, trying to break away. "You smell like alcohol."

He ignores your protest, his hands deftly working on the buttons of your shirt. "You smell like heaven," he says, his voice thick with need. "Let me taste you."

Panic sets in as he continues to ignore your words, his touch growing more insistent. You struggle in his grasp, your voice growing firmer. "Jungkook, stop," you say, your hands pushing at his shoulders. "I can't do this now. I have work."

But Jungkook seems lost in his own desire, his eyes glazed over with a lustful haze. He pulls away from your mouth just long enough to whisper, "But I want you." His hand slides down to your thigh, his thumb tracing circles through the fabric of your skirt. "My cock's so hard," he groans, his breath hot against your neck. "Touch it."

"How shameless can you be?" You whispered, your cheeks flaming as you tried to push Jungkook away, but his grip on you tightened. His eyes searched yours, his smile turning into a smirk as he leaned down to kiss your neck. "You're my girlfriend, aren't you?" He murmured against your skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "That gives me the right to be shameless with you."

You gasped, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as you tried to resist, but his touch was like a drug, making you feel weak and needy. "Jungkook," you protested, your voice a mere whimper. But he didn't stop, his mouth moving down to the base of your neck, nipping and licking, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

Suddenly, the studio door swung open, cutting through the thick tension in the room. "Jungkook, everyone's waiting for you at dance practice," came the voice of none other than Jimin. You felt Jungkook's body tense beneath you, and your face grew hot with embarrassment.

Jimin froze in the doorway, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. You were in Jungkook's embrace, his hands roaming your body with a possessiveness that left no doubt about what was happening.

Jungkook didn't bother to look at Jimin, his focus solely on you. "You should knock before coming in," he said lazily, his voice a mix of irritation and amusement. "I'll be there in 10 minutes. Just go."

Jimin's gaze flickered between the two of you, his expression unreadable. Then, with a quiet nod, he stepped back, closing the door with a soft click that seemed to echo in the suddenly too-silent room.

Jungkook's eyes snapped to yours, his smile slipping away as the reality of the situation sank in. "Babe," he murmured, his voice a gentle caress as his thumb stroked your cheek. "Why didn't you lock the door?"

The question was loaded with accusation, but there was something in his tone that made your stomach twist. You felt the heat in your cheeks spread down your neck, a blush staining your skin like a guilty confession. "How was I supposed to know you'd—" You cut off, your voice trailing away as the words died in your throat. You hadn't meant to let him get that far, hadn't wanted this. But his touch, his kiss, it was like a siren's call you couldn't resist.

With a sigh, Jungkook leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours. "I know I've been intense," he admitted. "But I can't help it. You make me crazy." His hand slid down to your wrist, his thumb pressing gently against your pulse point. "Do you feel that? That's you, babe. You do that to me."

Your face burned redder, and you tried to pull away, but he held you firmly. "You're not making this any easier," you muttered, your voice shaky. "What is Jimin going to think?"

Jungkook chuckled, the sound low and deep. "Think?" He echoed, amusement dancing in his eyes. "He'll think we're having sex, obviously."

"Stop laughing," you said, slapping his chest with the pillow. "It's not funny."

But Jungkook didn't stop. He threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh, the sound reverberating through the small space. "You're so cute when you're embarrassed," he teased, his grin widening.

With a huff, you pushed against his chest and managed to stand up, your legs wobbly from the sudden change in position. You quickly fixed your shirt, tucking it back into your skirt and buttoning it up with trembling fingers. "This isn't funny," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook's laughter died down as he looked at you with those puppy eyes that could melt the coldest of hearts. "You're really going to leave me like this?" he whined, his lower lip pouting adorably. "Look," he said, pointing down at the bulge in his pants. "I'm so hard for you."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his shamelessness. "You're unbelievable," you murmured, trying to keep the amusement out of your voice. "Now go, fresh up. You're going to be late for dance practice."

Before Jungkook could say another word, you hurried out of the studio, your heart racing and your cheeks still flaming with embarrassment. As you rushed down the hallway, you couldn't help but feel the weight of his gaze on your back.

When you arrived at the dance studio, you found Taehyung already there, his manager glaring at the clock as you slipped in, out of breath. "Y/N," the manager barked, his voice sharp. "You're late again."

"I-I know," you stuttered, your eyes darting around the room. You saw Taehyung in the corner, stretching out his long legs. He glanced up at the sound of your voice and immediately his expression softened. He walked over, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "It's okay," he said to the manager, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "It's not a big deal."

The manager looked at Taehyung, his scolding forgotten. "But Tae-hyung," he began to protest, but Taehyung's firm gaze silenced him. "Let's not make a fuss," he said, his voice calm but firm. "It won't happen again."

The manager's face fell into a grumble, but he nodded in defeat. "Alright," he grumbled, turning away to go back to his work.

You felt a rush of relief, and Taehyung's gentle touch as he took your hand sent a warm jolt through you. "Thank you," you murmured, looking up into his soft eyes.

He stepped closer, his hand coming up to your face. "You've got some lipstick on your mouth," he said, his voice low and concerned. His thumb brushed gently against your lower lip, catching the smudge of color. "Let me fix that."

Before you could react, he pulled out a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket and began to dab at your lips. The fabric was soft, a stark contrast to the roughness of his thumb. You felt the eyes of the other members on you, watching the intimate moment with a mix of curiosity and surprise. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized how close you were standing to Taehyung, how personal this simple gesture was.

You took the handkerchief from his hand, feeling the warmth from his touch lingering on the fabric. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

A cough from the other side of the room broke the spell, and you turned to find Namjoon watching you with a knowing smile. "Taehyung, you should focus on practice," he said, his voice a gentle reprimand. Taehyung nodded, dropping your hand and stepping back, the warmth between you dissipating like a puff of smoke in the cold studio air.

You tried to ignore the flutter in your stomach as Jungkook barged into the room a few minutes later, his hair still damp from the shower and his clothes slightly rumpled. "Sorry for coming late," he announced, his voice carrying across the room. You could feel his eyes on you, but you kept your gaze firmly on the floor, pretending to be engrossed in your work.

The dance practice began with a series of stretches and warm-ups, and you couldn't help but sneak peeks at the members as they moved with grace and precision. They were like a well-oiled machine, each one a master of their own craft. The room was alive with the sound of their laughter and the occasional grunt of effort as they pushed themselves to perfection.

As the practice went on, Hobi couldn't help but scold them for missing a beat or two. Each time, the room erupted in laughter, especially when it was Jungkook who messed up. He'd flash a cheeky grin and stick his tongue out, not at all bothered by the teasing. It was a sight to behold, these world-famous idols acting like goofy kids in the safety of their own space. The scene was like a backstage pass to their most unguarded moments, and it made you feel both honored and a bit like an intruder.

But as the hours ticked by, the mood grew serious. The choreography was complex, and everyone knew that even the slightest mistake could cost them during a live performance. Taehyung's eyes remained focused, his movements sharp and precise. You couldn't help but admire his dedication and professionalism.

The practice came to an end with a final round of applause, and the members collapsed into a heap of sweaty limbs, laughing and groaning in unison. "Good job, everyone," Hobi said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Let's take a break."

You took this as your cue to approach Taehyung, a towel and water bottle in hand. His eyes met yours, and you felt a spark of something unspoken pass between you. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice a low purr that sent shivers down your spine. He took the water from you, twisting the cap off and taking a long drink. His Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow, the muscles in his neck flexing with the motion. It was mesmerizing.

As you handed him the towel, Jungkook sidled up behind you, his breath warm against your ear. "Enjoying the view?" he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent goosebumps across your skin. You stiffened, glancing over your shoulder at him before turning back to Taehyung with a forced smile. "It's my job," you replied, keeping your voice light despite the tension coiling in your stomach.

Taehyung looked between the two of you, his expression unreadable. "Jungkook," he began, his voice firm but calm. "Remember, Y/N is my personal assistant. It's her duty to take care of me."

Jungkook rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall with a smug grin. "Yeah, yeah," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "But she's my girlfriend first, right, babe?" He winked at you, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

Taehyung's gaze sharpened, his eyes flicking to Jungkook before returning to yours. "Of course," he said, his voice tight. "But while we're here, we need to focus on work." He took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment before he turned away. "What's next on my schedule, Y/N?"

You quickly regained your composure, pulling out your planner. "You have a music recording session in an hour," you said, keeping your voice professional despite the thundering of your heart. "It's for the next album."

Taehyung nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thank you," he said, his voice a gentle murmur. Then, as if remembering Jungkook's presence, he turned to him with a firm expression. "Jungkook, remember what we talked about. At work, she's Y/N, not your girlfriend."

Jungkook's smile didn't waver, but his eyes grew colder. "Whatever you say, Tae," he said, his tone nonchalant. But you could feel the tension coiling in the air like a spring ready to snap. You didn't know if it was because of the reminder of your professional relationship or because of the underlying jealousy that had been festering between them.

With a sigh, Taehyung turned back to you, his expression softer. "I'll be in the studio," he said, his eyes holding yours for a beat longer than necessary. "Come find me when you're done here."

You nodded, watching him leave with a mix of relief and anticipation. Jungkook's gaze remained on you, his smile slipping away. "You're really going to choose work over me?" he murmured, his voice a pout.

You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. "When we're at work," you said firmly, "I'm an employee, not your girlfriend. That's the deal."

Jungkook's gaze darkened, his jaw clenching as he took in your words. "Babe," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't follow rules, okay?" His hand reached out to cup your face, his thumb tracing your jawline in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

You stared at him, your heart racing. "Then break up with me," you whispered, the words barely audible. But there was a steel in your voice that surprised even you. Jungkook's hand fell away, his expression one of shock and disbelief.

"What?" he breathed, his eyes searching yours.

"You heard me," you said, your voice stronger now. "If you can't respect my boundaries at work, then maybe we shouldn't be together at all." You turned on your heel, your legs shaking as you walked away from him. You didn't look back.

You could feel Jungkook's gaze on your retreating figure, his shock palpable. As you exited the dance studio, you found Namjoon leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He watched you with a knowing look before pushing off the wall and walking into the room you'd just vacated. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before heading to the recording studio to prep for Taehyung's session.

Namjoon approached Jungkook, who was still standing where you left him, his hand hovering in the air where he'd last touched you. "What's going on, Jungkook?" he asked, his voice a mix of concern .

Jungkook's eyes snapped to Namjoon's, a storm of emotions brewing in them. "Hyung," he said, his voice tight with frustration, "it's my first time a girl's desperate to break up with me." He raked a hand through his hair, his eyes searching the floor as if the answer to his plight lay scattered among the discarded water bottles and dance shoes. "Why is she so stubborn? Why can't she just fall for me like all the other girls?"

Suga, who'd been quietly stretching nearby, paused to listen. He offered a knowing smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Maybe," he said slowly, "she's in love with someone else."

Namjoon's gaze snapped to Suga, his eyebrows rising. "What makes you say that?"

Suga shrugged, his smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. "It's just a fact," he said, his tone light, but the look in his eyes was knowing.

Jin's voice was gentle when he spoke up, "Maybe she's not into guys like you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's eyes snapped to him, his jaw tightening. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Namjoon sighed, crossing his arms. "You know exactly what it means," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You can't just expect everyone to fall at your feet, Jungkook. Y/N is her own person. She has feelings, and she's not just going to bend to your will because you're Jeon Jungkook."

Jungkook scoffed, his chest puffing out. "But I've never had a problem before," he said, his voice filled with confusion and a hint of anger. "Girls have always—"

"But it's not always about you," Hobi cut in, his voice gentle but firm. "Sometimes, it's about them. And maybe, just maybe, she's not crazy about you in the way you think she should be."

Jungkook's expression shifted, his brows furrowing as he took in Hobi's words. For a moment, he looked like he might argue, but then his shoulders slumped. "Maybe," he murmured, his eyes glazed over with contemplation.

As the conversation settled into an uncomfortable silence, Hobi cleared his throat. "By the way," he said casually, "Jimin's not coming to practice today. He said he wasn't feeling well."

Jungkook's eyes lit up, his mood shifting instantly. "Oh, really?" he said, a smirk playing at his lips. "Well, if he's not feeling well, I know just the thing to cheer him up."

Namjoon raised an eyebrow at Jungkook's sudden change in demeanor. "What's that?"

"Let's go clubbing tonight," Jungkook exclaimed, his voice bouncing off the walls of the practice room. "I'm sure he'll come if we all go." He looked around at the group, his eyes landing on each of them in turn. "What do you say, guys?"

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his forehead. "We have a full schedule, Jungkook," he reminded him. "We can't just drop everything to go to a club."

Jungkook's smirk grew wider. "Come on, hyung," he cajoled. "We work hard, we should play hard too. And if Jimin's feeling down, this'll cheer him up."

Jin and Hobi exchanged a knowing glance before shrugging in unison. "Alright," Hobi said, his voice filled with resignation. "Let's take a break tonight."

Suga's smile grew into a full-blown grin. "Good," he said. "And don't forget to invite Y/N."

Jungkook's expression turned thoughtful as he nodded. "Yeah," he murmured. "I'll need to pick out a dress for her." His eyes lit up with mischief. "I know just the one."

Namjoon watched Jungkook leave the room before turning to Suga with a skeptical look. "Why did you say that?" he questioned, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

Suga leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest as he met Namjoon's gaze. "It's just something I've noticed," he said with a shrug. "Jungkook should know."

Jin and Hobi nodded in agreement. "Yeah," Hobi said, his voice filled with understanding. "But do we really have to tell him?"

Suga's expression grew serious. "He needs to know," he said firmly. "If he truly cares about her, he should know."

Namjoon sighed heavily, his eyes following Jungkook's retreating form. "But how do we tell him?" he mused. "This could tear the group apart."

"We'll handle it," Hobi assured him, slapping a hand on Namjoon's shoulder.

Suga nodded. "Let's not worry about it tonight," he said, his voice a low murmur that only the three of them could hear. "We need to keep the peace and support each other."

The trio looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. They knew that the love triangle was a delicate situation, and one wrong move could send the whole group into chaos. But they were BTS, a family that had overcome countless challenges together. They had to trust that they would find a way to navigate this one as well.

You, on the other hand, were unaware of their private discussion. You were too busy preparing for Taehyung's recording session. The music studio was a sanctuary, a place where the outside world's noise was muted, and only the purest of sounds echoed through the walls. Taehyung's rich voice filled the space, and you couldn't help but admire his vocal skills. His passion was palpable, his eyes closed in concentration as he sang into the microphone. It was like watching a master artist at work, each note painted with emotion.

As you sat in the control room, listening through the headphones, you felt a swell of pride in your chest. This was your job, to support these talented individuals as they created their art. You watched Taehyung, his head thrown back, the cords in his neck standing out as he hit the high notes with ease. His voice was like velvet, wrapping around each syllable with care. You found yourself lost in the melody, the lyrics speaking to you on a level that transcended mere words.

The producer nodded in satisfaction, making notes on his clipboard. "That was great," he said, his voice crackling over the intercom. "Just one more take."

Taehyung nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself before launching back into the chorus. His eyes met yours through the glass, and for a brief moment, you felt a connection that was more than just professional. It was as if he was singing directly to you, his voice a declaration of the unspoken feelings that had been building between you.

The final note hung in the air, resonating through the speakers before fading into silence. The producer leaned back in his chair, a wide smile spreading across his face. "That's a wrap," he said, turning to you. "Great job today, Y/N."

You tore your gaze away from Taehyung, giving the producer a nod before heading into the recording booth. "Thank you," you said to Taehyung, your voice a bit shaky. "Your singing was...amazing."

He offered you a tired but genuine smile, his eyes lighting up at your praise. "Thanks," he murmured, his voice a bit hoarse from the hours of singing. He took a seat on the couch, his eyes searching yours.

"Hey, Y/N," he began, his voice a gentle coax. "Why don't you try singing? I'd love to hear your voice."

You blinked in surprise, your cheeks immediately flushing. "Me?" you stuttered, your heart racing. "I can't sing. It's impossible for me."

Taehyung's smile grew, and he took your hand, pulling you to your feet. "Don't worry," he assured you, his voice a soothing whisper. "I won't judge. Just try it."

With a gentle nudge, he led you to the microphone, positioning you in front of it. His hand was warm, his touch reassuring as he placed it on the small of your back. "Just sing," he urged, his breath tickling your ear. "Whatever comes to mind."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the headphones on your head, the coolness of the microphone against your cheek. The room was silent except for the sound of your racing heart. You closed your eyes and let the melody of the track fill you up, the words of a familiar song slipping out of your lips.

As you sang, you felt a warmth on the side of your neck, a gentle pressure that made you shiver. You opened your eyes to find Taehyung standing right beside you, his hand hovering just above your skin. You stopped singing, your eyes widening in surprise. He stepped back, his hand retreating, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Your voice is beautiful," he murmured, his eyes shimmering with something that made your stomach flip.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, the sound jolting you back to reality. You fished it out, your heart sinking when you saw Jungkook's name light up the screen. He was waiting for you, expecting you to drop everything for him. With a heavy sigh, you turned to Taehyung. "My duty hours are up," you said, your voice shaky. "I have to go."

Taehyung nodded, his smile fading slightly. "I understand," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" He leaned in, his breath fanning your face, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you. But then you remembered Jungkook's possessive grip on your life and stepped back, the moment lost.

You hurried out of the studio, your mind racing. The touch lingered on your neck, a ghostly presence that made you question everything. As you stepped into the cool night air, you reached up to touch the spot where Taehyung had been. Did he kiss me? you wondered. You didn't dare to believe it, but the heat was undeniable.

When you arrived at Jungkook's studio, you found him pacing the floor, his energy palpable even through the closed door. He flung it open before you could knock, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. "Babe," he said, pulling you inside. The room was dimly lit, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the faint smell of incense. He held up a dress, a vibrant red number that screamed 'attention'. "You're going to look amazing in this," he said, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

You took the dress hesitantly, your voice quiet. "Jungkook," you began, "I don't think I can go clubbing with you tonight."

His smile faltered, his eyes narrowing. "Why not?" he demanded, his voice tight. "The other members are coming too."

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the argument you knew was coming. "I know," you said, your voice firm despite the tremble in your chest. "But I really don't like clubs. They're too loud, too crowded. And I don't feel comfortable in that environment."

Jungkook's expression softened, and he took a step closer to you. "Please, babe," he said, his voice dropping to a coaxing whisper. "For me?" His eyes searched yours, and you could see the desperation in them, the need for you to say yes.

You sighed, feeling the weight of his gaze. "Okay," you conceded, "but just for a little while. And I'm only going because it's a group thing."

Jungkook's smile was radiant as he pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "Thank you," he murmured into your hair. "You won't regret it. I promise."

In the dressing room, you slipped into the red dress Jungkook had picked out for you. It hugged your curves in all the right places, the fabric whispering against your skin. You couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. You didn't often get to dress up like this, and even though it was for Jungkook, there was a thrill in feeling beautiful.

As you stepped out of the changing room, Jungkook's jaw dropped. "Wow," he breathed, his eyes sweeping over you appreciatively. "You look...incredible." He reached out a hand to help you with your shoes, his touch lingering on your ankle longer than necessary.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, the backless dress leaving your skin exposed. Jungkook stepped behind you, his breath hot on your neck as he leaned in. His eyes met yours in the reflection, a smug smile playing at his lips. Before you could react, he pressed a kiss to the base of your spine, leaving a distinct mark on your skin. "What are you doing?" you gasped, your hand flying to the spot.

"Marking my territory," Jungkook murmured, his eyes gleaming with possessiveness. "You're mine, babe."

You pulled away, your heart racing. "I'm not your 'thing', Jungkook," you said, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

His smile never wavered, his eyes darkening with a challenge. "But you are my girlfriend," he said, his deep voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket. "Isn't that enough for you?"

You turned to face him, your voice firm. "No," you said, meeting his gaze. "Being someone's girlfriend doesn't mean you own them."

"Who's that person you love, babe?" Jungkook's deep voice rumbled in your ear, his arms tightening around your waist. His grip was possessive, but there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that you hadn't seen before.

Chapter Text

"Who's that person you love, babe?" Jungkook's deep voice rumbled in your ear, his arms tightening around your waist. His grip was possessive, but there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that you hadn't seen before.

"Why are you so curious about the person I love?" you asked Jungkook, your voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions churning within you. His arms fell away, and he took a step back, his smile slipping for a moment.

"I just want to know," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Is he more handsome than me?"

You rolled your eyes, unable to resist the urge to laugh at Jungkook's insecurity. "It's not about looks," you said, your voice teasing. "It's about the person inside."

Jungkook's expression grew thoughtful as he stepped closer to you, his eyes searching yours. "Then tell me," he whispered, his thumb tracing a line down your cheek. "What quality does he have that makes you love him?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you felt trapped. How could you tell him without giving away too much? You took a deep breath, trying to formulate a response that wouldn't reveal Taehyung identity.

"Well," you began, your voice a soft whisper, "it was like...love at first sight, I guess." Jungkook's eyes searched yours, looking for the lie in your words.

"But what was it?" he pressed, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your cheek. "Was it his looks?"

You felt your heart flutter at the memory of Taehyung's smile, the way it had captured your heart from the very first time you saw it. "No," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was his smile."

Jungkook leaned in, his eyes searching yours. "His smile, huh?" he murmured, his voice filled with skepticism.

You nodded, your voice gaining a bit more strength. "Yes, his smile," you repeated, your eyes drifting to the floor. "It was like...like it was made just for me."

Jungkook's expression grew stormy, and he turned away, pacing the small space. "Well, I'll just have to make sure my smile is the only one that matters to you," he said, his voice tight with possessiveness.

You rolled your eyes, unable to resist the urge to poke at him. "You're so dramatic," you said, a smirk tugging at your lips. You turned back to the mirror, fixing your hair with trembling fingers.

Outside the studio, Taehyung leaned against the cool brick wall, a dark smile playing on his lips. "You don't want to be my lust, do you, sweetheart?" he murmured to himself, his eyes fixed on the opaque glass of the studio door. "But you will come to me. I'll make you bound to me, drown you in this craving... maybe something far more inescapable. Just wait." A shiver, completely unrelated to the cool evening air, seemed to prickle the back of your neck even inside the studio.

The club's thumping bass vibrated in your chest as you stepped into the VIP section. Jungkook's arm was wrapped around your waist, his grip tightening every time your eyes strayed towards the other members of BTS, who were all engaged in their own conversations and flirtations. The flashing lights and the smoky haze made it feel like a different world, one that you weren't entirely comfortable in. Jimin was at the bar, his laughter loud and a bit forced, surrounded by a group of girls who were all drying for his attention.

Suddenly, the door to the VIP area swung open, and in walked Taehyung, a stunning girl by his side. She had long, dark hair that cascaded down her back, and her eyes sparkled with a mischief that matched Taehyung's own. You felt your heart drop into your stomach as the two of them approached the group, Taehyung's eyes scanning the room before finally landing on you.

"Sorry, guys," Taehyung said with an easy smile, his voice carrying over the music. "This is my friend from university, she couldn't resist tagging along."

The other members greeted her warmly, their smiles genuine as they made room for her on the couch. You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy mixed with confusion.

The girl introduced herself as Sooyoung, her voice bubbly and cheerful as she chatted with the other members. You tried to keep the smile on your face, to act like everything was normal, but inside you were dying a little with every laugh she shared with Taehyung. The music was too loud, the lights too bright, and the air was thick with the scent of cologne and sweat. It was suffocating.

"I'll be right back," you shouted to Jungkook over the din, your voice barely audible. You didn't wait for a response as you slipped away from his grasp, heading towards the bathroom. Your heart raced in your chest, the bass from the speakers pounding in sync with your pulse.

As you approached the bathroom, you felt a firm hand grip your wrist, pulling you off course. You looked up to find Jimin's eyes, sparkling with mischief, as he dragged you towards the men's bathroom. "Jimin, what the hell are you doing?" you yelled, trying to pull away.

He ignored your protests, pulling you into the bathroom and locking the door behind you. The room was empty except for the two of you, and the sudden quiet was deafening. "What's wrong with you?" you snapped, jerking your arm out of his grasp.

Jimin leaned against the sink, his eyes searching yours. "You," he said, his voice a low growl. "You're what's wrong with me. I can't get you out of my head, Y/N." His gaze was intense, his words cutting through the noise of the club outside.

You took a step back, your heart racing. "What are you talking about?" you demanded, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice.

Jimin stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," he said, his voice a low murmur. "You've been driving me crazy, Y/N." He reached out, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his touch gentle despite the fiery intensity in his gaze. "Every time I see you, I want to...to claim you."

You puffed out an exasperated breath and tried to pull away. "Jimin, stop with your nonsense," you pleaded, your voice a mix of annoyance and desperation.

But Jimin didn't budge. He gently pushed you towards the bench by the sinks, his hand firm but not harsh on your shoulder. "Just sit down for a moment, please," he urged, his voice laced with a surprising seriousness that made you pause.

You perched on the edge of the bench, your heart hammering in your chest. He remained standing in front of you, his eyes never leaving your face. "Why do you affect me like this?" he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Why do I feel so...so possessive of you?"

You stared up at him, the room spinning around you. "What are you saying, Jimin?" you managed to whisper.

He sighed, his eyes searching yours. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice thick with frustration. "But every time I see you with Jungkook, I feel like I'm going to lose my mind." His hand dropped to yours, his fingers lacing through yours. "It's driving me crazy, Y/N. I don't understand it."

You stared at your joined hands, the beat of his heart thumping against your palm. "What do you mean?" you whispered, your voice shaky.

Jimin took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "I want to know," he said, his voice a desperate murmur. "Is it just your body that's attracted to me, or is it something more?" He leaned closer, his breath hot on your cheek. "Is it just lust, or do you feel it in here?" He placed your hand over his chest, right where his heart hammered beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

You felt the thud of his heart, the heat of his skin, and your own pulse quickened in response. You swallowed hard, trying to find the words to explain the tumult of emotions you were feeling. "Jimin," you began, your voice shaky.

He leaned closer, his eyes searching yours. "Tell me, Y/N," he urged, his voice a whisper. "Do you feel it too?"

"Stop this nonsense," you murmured, pulling your hand away from his chest. The beat of his heart seemed to echo in the silent bathroom, a stark contrast to the pounding bass from outside.

Jimin's eyes searched yours, desperation and hope mingling in their depths. "Is it just nonsense to you?" he asked, his voice thick. "Because it's eating me alive."

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could formulate the words, Jimin leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. It was a soft, tentative kiss, a question more than a declaration. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. This was wrong, wasn't it? You were Jungkook's girlfriend.

But as the kiss lingered, something within you responded, a spark igniting in your chest. You pushed Jimin away, your hand against his chest, your eyes wide with shock. "What are you doing?" you yelled, the music from the club muffled in the bathroom.

Jimin's eyes searched yours, a mix of confusion and desperation. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice cracking. "You do this to me, Y/N. You make me crazy." He stepped back, giving you space, his chest heaving with every ragged breath he took. "If this means I have feelings for you...then I do."

The words hung in the air, a declaration that seemed to shake the very foundation of the love triangle you were caught in. You stared at him, your heart racing, your mouth dry. "Jimin, no," you said, shaking your head. "This can't happen. I'm with Jungkook."

"I fucking don't care that you're Jungkook's girlfriend," Jimin growled, his grip on the sink tightening. "I can't ignore what's happening to me."

You stared at him, your heart racing, his words echoing in your mind. "Jimin, please," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours. "Do you want me, Y/N?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. "Because I can't keep fighting this. I want you. I want all of you."

You pushed him away with all the strength you could muster, the sound of his body hitting the sink echoing in the small bathroom. "Just stop," you yelled, your voice trembling with anger and confusion. "Your fucking drama, Jimin. I've had enough of it in my life."

You stood up, your legs wobbly beneath you. "You telling me you have feelings for me?" You scoffed, your voice shaking. "Please. A playboy like you? You've never had feelings for anyone, not really."

Jimin's face fell, and for a moment, you saw genuine hurt flicker across his features. "You think that lowly of me?" he whispered, his eyes searching yours. "That I'm incapable of loving someone?"

With a firm voice, you stood your ground. "I don't know what you're capable of, Jimin, but I know what I've seen. And what I've seen is a playboy who flits from one girl to the next, leaving hearts broken in his wake."

"Is that all you see?" His voice was quiet, the pain in his eyes stark in the harsh bathroom lighting. But you remained steadfast.

"That's all I can see right now," you said, your voice firm despite the tremble in your chest. "Now, let me go."

Jimin stepped aside, his eyes never leaving yours as you made your way to the door. You could feel his gaze burning into your back as you opened it, the cool air of the club rushing in to replace the heat of the confined space. The noise hit you like a wave, the music and laughter a stark contrast to the silence of the bathroom.

You took a deep breath and stepped out, trying to shake off the encounter. As you approached the VIP section, the lights from the dance floor flickered across the walls, casting an eerie glow. Your eyes fell to the dance floor, and there, in the midst of the writhing bodies, was Taehyung. His movements were fluid, his body moving in time with the music, his friend Sooyoung pressed against him. A sharp pain lanced through your chest as you watched them, the intimacy of their dance speaking volumes.

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes, and without thinking, you grabbed one and downed the contents in one go. The bubbles tickled your nose, and the alcohol burned a path down your throat, but it did little to ease the ache in your heart. You set the empty glass back down on the tray with a clink, the sound echoing in the noisy club.

In the VIP section, Jungkook was growing increasingly restless, checking his watch every few seconds. The conversation around him grew dimmer as he scanned the area for any sign of you. He knew you weren't the type to take long in the bathroom, especially not when he was waiting for you. "Guys, I'll be right back," he shouted over the music, his eyes searching the crowded dance floor.

Jungkook stepped out of the VIP area, the music's thumping bass receding slightly as he ventured into the less crowded parts of the club. His eyes scanned the faces of the partygoers, looking for the familiar flash of your hair or the curve of your smile. He was about to head back, convinced you had returned without him noticing, when he spotted you in a quieter corner. You were sitting on the floor, your head on your legs, and Jungkook felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Babe?" Jungkook approached you tentatively, his voice a mix of concern and confusion. You looked up at him with glassy eyes, and he could see the tears glistening in them. "Why are you crying?" He crouched down, placing a hand on your shoulder, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing.

"Kookie," you said in a baby voice, your cheeks flushed and your eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "My heart hurts too much." You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you took his hand and placed it on your chest. "It's paining here," you whispered, your eyes never leaving his.

Jungkook's expression softened at your words, his eyes searching yours with genuine concern. "How much did you drink?" he asked, his voice gentle as he leaned closer to hear you over the music.

"Just one," you murmured, your voice still adorably slurred. You held up your thumb and forefinger to indicate a tiny space. "It was so tasty, Kookie," you said, a small smile playing on your lips. "It was like...like a fairy's kiss. But now, my heart is hurting." You placed your hand over his, pressing it harder against your chest.

Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle at your words, the sound low and warm. "You had one glass of champagne, and you're this tipsy?" His eyes searched yours, the edges of his mouth quirking up into a smile. "You really are a lightweight, aren't you?"

You pouted, your bottom lip jutting out slightly. "Don't laugh," you murmured, your voice a mix of adorable and desperate. "My heart is really hurting. Please, Kookie, do something to make it better."

Jungkook leaned in closer, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped your eye. "What do you want me to do, babe?" His voice was low, the affection in his tone unmistakable.

You looked up at him, the haze of alcohol blurring the edges of your vision. "I don't know my heart," you whispered, the words a confession that seemed to hang in the air between you. "It's not listening to me."

Jungkook's eyes searched yours, his grip on your hand tightening. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice thick with worry.

You looked down at your lap, your eyes filling with tears. "My heart," you murmured, your voice trembling. "It's not listening to me when I tell it not to beat for Taehyung."

Jungkook's smile fell, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a cold fury that sent a shiver down your spine. "What the fuck did you just say?" he snarled, his grip on your hand now painful.

You immediately burst into tears, a rather adorable, hiccuping sound escaping your lips. "Wah! You're shouting at me!" you wailed, pointing a shaky finger at him. "How can you be so mean, Kookie? My poor heart is already broken, and now you're making it worse!"

Jungkook's eyes widened, the anger instantly melting away, replaced by pure panic. "Babe, babe, no, I'm not scolding you, babe, don't cry," he pleaded, his voice soft and frantic as he tried to cup your face. "Please, don't cry, I didn't mean to scare you."

You managed to grab his cheeks, your hands surprisingly firm despite your tipsiness. Your eyes, still swimming with tears, focused on his face. "You're really cute," you slurred, a small, wet smile forming. "Just like a baby. But you're a devil too, you know," you added, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "When you get angry, you get two horns on your head that make me scared." You shivered dramatically, leaning into his touch. "So scary, Kookie."

Jungkook's expression was a mix of exasperation and affection. He gently pulled your hands away from his face and stood up, his arms slipping around your waist to help you to your feet. "You know, babe," he said, his voice tinged with a smile, "you really are a drama queen."

You pouted, your legs wobbly as you leaned into him. "Am I?" you asked, your voice a slurred mess. Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle, his hands tightening around your waist to steady you.

"Come on, drama queen," he murmured, his voice a mix of affection and exasperation. "Let's go home. You've had too much to drink."

"But I don't wanna go home," you protested, clutching his shirt. "I wanna stay here and dance." You tried to sway to the music, but your balance was precarious at best.

Jungkook sighed, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Babe, you're not making any sense." He leaned down, his eyes searching yours with a mix of concern and affection. "You're obviously not okay."

Without warning, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, your eyes closing tightly. The suddenness of the action took Jungkook by surprise, his body stiffening for a moment before he melted into the kiss. His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, his kiss gentle yet firm. For a moment, you both were lost in the warmth of each other's embrace, the music and lights of the club fading into the background.

Taehyung, on his way back from the dance floor, caught sight of the two of you. His steps faltered, his heart skipping a beat as he took in the sight of Jungkook's arms around your waist, your lips moving against his. His own feelings for you swirled in a tornado of pain and longing. He paused, watching the scene unfold, his hand clenching into a fist at his side.

Taehyung lurched away from the sight of you and Jungkook, the image of the two of you together burning into his retinas. He couldn't bear to watch any longer, his heart feeling like it had been shredded into a million tiny pieces.

As he made his way to the exit, Sooyoung, his dance partner from earlier, spotted him. She approached, her eyes wide with concern. "Taehyung-ssi, are you okay?" she shouted over the music, reaching out to touch his arm. But Taehyung couldn't even look at her, his gaze fixed on the floor as he pushed past her.

Her voice barely registered in his fog of despair, but the gentle touch on his arm was like a bolt of lightning. He whipped his head around, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Stay away," he ground out, his voice low and menacing. Sooyoung took a step back, her eyes widening in surprise and fear at the hostility in his tone.

Without a second glance, Taehyung shoved through the crowd, the music's thumping bass fading as he reached the exit. The cool night air hit him like a slap in the face, bringing with it a sobering clarity. He needed to get out of here, to put distance between himself and the sight that had torn his heart apart.

At jungkook's house, the mood was thick with passion. You leaned against the wall, still feeling the effects of the champagne as Jungkook's eyes devoured you. His hand slid up your thigh, the fabric of your dress bunching up as he pulled you closer. You giggled, your cheeks flushed with a mix of desire and intoxication. His kiss was demanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he claimed your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless.

You stumbled backward, the wall stopping you, Jungkook's hands never leaving your body as he kissed down your neck. The room spun slightly, but the sensation of his lips on your skin was grounding. He whispered against your skin, his voice filled with a fiery need. "Tonight, we'll try every position," he murmured, his voice a dark promise.

You blinked, the words not fully registering as his mouth continued to explore you. "What position?" you slurred, your eyes fluttering closed as his hand cupped your breast.

Jungkook chuckled darkly against your skin, his teeth scraping your neck. "Every position," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a thrill down your spine. You felt his other hand slip between your legs, his fingers finding you wet and ready.

You moaned, your body arching into his touch. "Kookie," you breathed, your voice a mix of desire and confusion. But the haze of the alcohol made it difficult to think, to process what was happening. The only thing that was clear was the way your body was responding to him, the way his touch was setting you on fire.

With surprising strength, he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to his bedroom. The room was bathed in soft light, the large bed looming in front of you. He laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to peel the dress from your body. The fabric whispered against your skin, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

Jungkook's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his hand tracing the line of your collarbone before moving down to the valley between your breasts. He leaned in, capturing a nipple in his mouth, eliciting a gasp from your lips. His other hand found its twin, teasing and playing until you were squirming beneath him.

Your hands found his hair, pulling him closer, your hips bucking up to meet his. The pain of your heart was forgotten as your body took over, demanding more of his touch, more of his kiss. His mouth moved down your stomach, his teeth grazing your skin as he removed the last barrier between you.

Jungkook's tongue swirled around your clit, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Your moans filled the room, echoing off the walls. "Ah, Jungkook, it's too much," you panted, your voice high and needy. He chuckled against your sensitive flesh, the vibrations making your legs tremble.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Do you want me to slow down?"

"No," you breathed, your eyes squeezed shut. "Don't stop."

He didn't need any further encouragement. His mouth moved lower, his tongue pushing into your tight heat. You cried out, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. "Please," you whimpered, your grip on his hair tightening.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and hungry. "Please what?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"Please, let's do it," you begged, your body arching off the bed.

With a smirk, Jungkook positioned himself over you, his hard length pressing against your entrance. He pushed in slowly, watching your face for any signs of pain. Your eyes went wide as he filled you, the alcohol making everything feel more intense, more overwhelming.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his eyes squeezed shut.

You nodded, your eyes rolling back in your head. "It's too much," you whimpered.

Jungkook's eyes snapped open, his pupils blown with lust. "You can take it, babe," he assured you, his voice strained.

He began to move, his hips rocking into you with a steady rhythm. You moaned, your body adjusting to the intrusion. "Deeper," you breathed, your eyes fluttering closed.

He complied, pushing into you until you were both panting and sweaty. "Fuck," he grunted, his eyes squeezed shut. "You're so perfect."

You moaned, the pleasure building within you, the alcohol making it all feel more intense. Jungkook began to move faster, his hips slapping against yours as he claimed you completely. "Ah, Jungkook," you gasped, your nails digging into his back.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes opening to watch your face contort with pleasure. He leaned down, capturing your mouth with his, your moans muffled by his kiss.

As the night went on, Jungkook's passion grew, his movements becoming more erratic. You were lost in a sea of sensation, his hands and mouth everywhere. You felt him enter you from behind, his grip on your hips bruising, his strokes deep and hard. "Ahh," you screamed, your body tightening around him.

"You like it, don't you?" he grunted, his voice thick with lust. "You like it when I fuck you like this."

You could only nod, the pleasure too much to put into words. "It's too much," you whimpered, your body trembling with the effort to stay upright.

He ignored your pleas, his movements becoming more frenzied. You felt your orgasm building, the heat coiling in your stomach. "Fuck," you screamed, your voice hoarse from all the moaning. Jungkook's grip tightened, his thrusts becoming more frantic as he chased his own release.

Finally, with one last, deep thrust, Jungkook stilled, his entire body tensing as he came inside you. You felt the warmth of his seed fill you, the sensation sending you over the edge. Your orgasm washed over you, your body shuddering with the force of it.

As the aftershocks of pleasure subsided, Jungkook pulled out, turning you onto your back. He kissed you again, his tongue delving into your mouth as he whispered sweet nothings against your skin. You were too tired to respond, the alcohol and exertion making your eyelids heavy.

You felt him move again, his body shifting as he took you in another position. You moaned, your body already sensitive from the previous rounds. "Jungkook," you protested weakly. "I can't..."

"Don't forget, babe," Jungkook whispered into your ear, his breath hot and ragged, "we're going to try every position." His words were a promise, a dark and delicious threat that had your heart racing. You were too drunk to fully understand the gravity of what was happening, but your body responded eagerly, arching into his touch.

The mattress dipped as Jungkook positioned you on all fours, your cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. He hovered over you, his muscular frame casting a shadow on the bed. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding himself back into you. You moaned, the feeling of fullness almost too much to handle. "Ahh, Jungkook," you breathed, your voice a desperate plea.

He began to thrust, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room. Each movement sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, making your eyes roll back in your head. "Slower," you panted, your legs trembling. "It's too much."

Jungkook leaned over, his chest pressing against your back, his breath hot against your ear. "You can handle it," he whispered, his voice filled with a possessive hunger. He reached around, his hand finding your clit, and began to rub it in time with his movements.

You bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back the scream that was threatening to tear out of your throat. "Ah, ah, ah," you moaned, your body jolting with every touch.

"Do you like that?" he murmured, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Do you want me to go harder?"

You could only nod, the pleasure making your legs quiver. Jungkook chuckled, the sound sending a thrill down your spine. His hand moved from your hip to your clit, his touch sending bolts of electricity through your body. You felt yourself getting wetter, your muscles tightening around him.

"Look at you," he said, his voice filled with amazement. "You're so responsive."

You couldn't help but whimper as he picked up the pace, his hips slapping against your ass. You felt his fingers move faster, his touch becoming more insistent. "Jungkook," you moaned, your voice a desperate plea.

His only response was to push into you deeper, his thumb rubbing your clit in tight circles. The pressure built within you, your orgasm approaching like a freight train. "I'm going to cum," you warned, your voice high and needy.

"Cum for me," he groaned, his own pleasure evident in his voice. "Let go, babe."

And with that, your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you and leaving you gasping for air. Jungkook continued to move, his own climax following closely behind. He roared your name, his body shaking with the force of his release.

As the aftershocks of pleasure subsided, Jungkook pulled out, his breathing ragged. He collapsed beside you, his arm sliding over your waist to pull you close. You felt his heart pounding against your back, the sweat on his skin sticking to yours.

For a while, you laid there, panting and trying to catch your breath. The room spun slightly, the alcohol still clouding your thoughts. "Kookie," you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

Jungkook kissed your neck, his hand still moving between your legs, his fingers playing with your sensitive flesh. "Shh, baby," he soothed, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. "Just one more."

You moaned, too tired to protest. His touch was like a gentle caress, the aftershocks of your last orgasm still pulsing through your body. But as he pushed into you again, you felt a wave of exhaustion crash over you. "I can't," you mumbled, your eyes slipping shut.

Jungkook paused, his breathing heavy in your ear. "You can," he whispered, his voice filled with determination. His hand found your hip, his fingers digging in as he began to move again. Your body responded automatically, your hips rocking back to meet his thrusts. You were too tired to fight the pleasure, too drunk to form coherent thoughts.

As Jungkook's pace grew quicker, you felt yourself drifting away, the pleasure morphing into something more. Your eyes rolled back, and a deep, guttural scream ripped from your throat. Your body convulsed around him, muscles tightening in a desperate grasp. You felt his hand move to your mouth, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip to muffle your cries.

Suddenly, you were asleep, your body limp and boneless beneath his. Jungkook's eyes widened in surprise, his movements slowing. He pulled out carefully, his own need forgotten in the face of your exhaustion. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

You slept fitfully, your dreams filled with images of the three of you - Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin - all fighting for your affection. You felt their hands on you, their kisses burning into your skin.

Chapter Text

Across town, Minseo hummed softly as she applied her night serum, her reflection in the mirror a picture of focused serenity. A sudden ring of the doorbell made her jump. Who could that be at this hour? She padded to the door, peering through the peephole before unlatching it.

Her eyes widened in surprise and a warm smile bloomed on her face. "Jimin!" she exclaimed, genuinely delighted. "You should have told me you were coming tonight!"

Jimin stood on her doorstep, a slightly hesitant expression on his face. "Minseo," he began, his voice a little softer than usual, "can I talk with you for a minute?"

"Off cause, come in Jimin," Minseo said, stepping aside to let him in. Her heart was racing.

"If you tell me early, I would've prepared," Minseo said, her smile hinting at a mischievous playfulness as she stepped aside to let Jimin in. The soft light of the hallway cast a warm glow on her skin, highlighting her bare shoulders.

Jimin's eyes followed her as she sashayed into the living room, his thoughts racing. He knew he had to be direct. "How about I wear your favorite black night dress?" she called out over her shoulder, her voice teasing and sweet.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he had to say. "Minseo," he began again, his voice firmer this time. "Let me get to the point. What we had, it was just for pleasure, you know that."

Minseo's smile faltered for a moment before she shrugged nonchalantly. "Of course, Jimin," she replied, her voice light. "It's not like we had a deep connection or anything." She turned to face him, her eyes meeting his. "But if you're looking for comfort tonight, I'm all for it."

Jimin sighed, his eyes searching hers. "Minseo," he said, taking a step closer to her. "What I mean is, I can't do this anymore. I don't want to just use you for my pleasure. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to me."

Her eyes widened, a look of shock crossing her face. "What are you saying?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "That we should stop seeing each other?"

"Yes," Jimin said, his voice firm but filled with regret. "I need to sort out my feelings. I've been selfish, and I've hurt you. I don't want to keep doing that."

Minseo felt a lump form in her throat. She had always known this might happen, but she had hoped it wouldn't. She had fallen for him, even though she knew he was just using her to fill the void in his heart. "But Jimin," she protested, her voice barely above a whisper. "I came to you because I wanted to. You didn't force me into anything."

Jimin took another step closer, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek gently. "I know," he said, his voice filled with a sadness she hadn't heard before. "But I can't keep doing this to you. It's not right."

Minseo felt a tear slip down her cheek as she dropped to her knees, her hands clutching at his shirt. "Please, Jimin," she begged, her voice shaking. "I'll do anything. I'll be whatever you want me to be. Just don't leave me."

He sighed heavily, looking down at her with a pained expression. "Minseo," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "This isn't healthy for either of us. I've hurt you, and I don't want to do that anymore."

"But I don't care," she sobbed, her eyes pleading with him. "I just want to be with you. I'll be your slut, your slave, anything you want."

Jimin's heart clenched at her words, a mix of guilt and frustration surging through him. "Minseo," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "You're so much more than that. You deserve someone who can give you the love and respect you deserve."

He bent down, taking her hands in his and lifting her to her feet. "Please, understand," he said, his eyes searching hers. "This isn't about you. It's about me."

Minseo's gaze searched his face, desperation etched into every line of her body. "But what if I can make you happy?" she whispered.

Jimin's expression softened, his thumbs brushing away her tears. "You've been amazing, Minseo," he said, his voice filled with genuine affection. "But my heart... it's elsewhere."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the unspoken truth that had been hanging in the air between them for weeks. Minseo's eyes searched his, hope and sadness warring within their depths.

Finally, she nodded, her chin quivering. "I see," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's Y/N, isn't it?"

Jimin’s grip on her hands tightened briefly before he released them. He took a step back, his gaze unwavering. "Minseo, please don't contact me anymore. I'm truly sorry for everything."

With that, Jimin turned and walked out of Minseo house, the soft click of the door closing echoing in the sudden silence.

For a moment, Minseo stood frozen, her eyes wide and unseeing, staring at the closed door. Then, a guttural scream ripped from her throat, a raw, primal sound of anguish and rage. Her hands flew to the nearest object – a delicate vase on a side table – and she hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall, fragments scattering like broken promises.

"It's all because of her! All because of her!" she shrieked, tears streaming down her face as she lunged for a stack of books, sending them crashing to the floor. "I will destroy you, Y/N! I will destroy you!" Each word was laced with a venomous fury as she continued to lash out, her once serene home becoming a tempest of destruction, a reflection of the storm raging within her.

The next day, You awoke with a pounding headache, your body feeling as though it had been through a war. You groaned, your eyes fluttering open to the sight of an empty bed beside you. Jungkook was nowhere to be seen. "Ouch," you murmured to yourself, every inch of you feeling sore and overused. Your mind was foggy, trying to piece together the events of the night before.

You sat up slowly, the room spinning around you. You could still feel the imprint of Jungkook's body on the sheets, and the scent of him lingered in the air. You racked your brain, trying to remember what you had said or done. Did you tell Jungkook about your feelings for Taehyung? Panic began to set in, your heart racing at the thought of the repercussions.

With trembling legs, you managed to stand up, wincing at the pain. It was as if your entire body was reminding you of the passionate night you had just endured. Your dress lay crumpled on the floor, a stark reminder of the events that had unfolded. You reached for it, pulling it over your head with difficulty.

The house was eerily quiet as you made your way downstairs. You heard the faint sound of music coming from one of the rooms, the thump of bass resonating through the walls. You paused, your curiosity piqued. Cautiously, you approached the source of the sound.

Peeking through the crack, you saw Jungkook in his home gym, sweat glistening on his bare torso as he bench-pressed a weight that looked twice your size. His eyes flicked up to the mirror, meeting yours in the reflection. He smirked and winked, not missing a beat in his routine. "You know, babe, you can watch me," he said between breaths, his voice a mix of tease and challenge. "No need to hide."

Feeling a blush creep up your neck, you stepped into the room. Jungkook's biceps bulged and flexed with each push, his focus never wavering from the mirror. You couldn't help but admire the play of muscles, the way his abs contracted with every exhale.

"You're up," he said, finally lowering the bar with a clang that echoed through the room. He sat up and wiped the sweat from his face with a towel. "I was starting to think you'd sleep the whole day away."

You glanced at the clock on the wall, your eyes widening in shock. "It's almost 2 PM?" You exclaimed, your voice still thick with sleep.

"Yeah, babe," Jungkook said, his tone smug and satisfied as he sat up, flexing his arms. "You were really into it last night."

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, the memories of the previous evening's passionate encounter rushing back to you. "What... what did I do?" You stammered, your heart racing as the fog of sleep lifted and reality crashed down.

"You were insatiable," Jungkook said with a smug smile, his eyes gleaming as he took in your flustered expression. "Begging for more, asking me to go faster, harder. It was like you couldn't get enough of me." He stood up, his sweatpants riding low on his hips, and walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. "And the way you kissed me," he murmured into your ear, his voice a low growl. "It was like you wanted to devour me."

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, your body responding despite your confusion. "I... I don't remember," you whispered, burying your face into his chest. The scent of his sweat and cologne was intoxicating, mixing with the faint smell of sex that still lingered in the air.

Jungkook's arms tightened around you, his chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Oh, you don't remember?" he repeated, his voice thick with amusement. He leaned down, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Well, then, let's do it again. This time, I'll make sure you don't forget."

You pushed against him, trying to ignore the thrill his words sent through you. "No, Jungkook," you protested weakly, your voice muffled against his skin.

He chuckled again, his breath hot against your neck. "Don't worry, babe," he murmured, his hands sliding down to cup your butt. "I'm just joking." He stepped back, his grin wicked. "For now."

Your heart was racing as you stepped out of his embrace, trying to regain your composure. "I need to go," you mumbled, looking down at the floor. "I have to work."

"What's the rush?" Jungkook asked, his smirk never leaving his face as he stepped closer, his body still gleaming with sweat. "You think you can work with this body or can walk after what we did?"

"It's your fault," you whispered, trying to sound stern despite the heat rising in your cheeks.

"How is it my fault?" Jungkook asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You're the one who couldn't keep your hands off me."

"I-I'm going to take a shower," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper as you took a step back, desperately trying to put some distance between you and Jungkook's magnetic pull.

"Need help, babe?" Jungkook's eyes twinkled with mischief, his grin widening as he took a step closer to you.

"N-no, thanks," you stuttered, your cheeks burning even hotter. "I can manage." You quickly spun around and practically bolted towards the washroom, eager to escape the overwhelming presence .

Once behind the closed door, you leaned against the cool tile, your eyes finding their reflection in the mirror. Your fingertips hovered over your kiss-swollen lips, tracing the memory of Jimin's touch. "He must be joking," you murmured to yourself, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "There's no way he can be serious about me."

You took a deep breath, willing your racing heart to calm. "But what if he isn't joking?" A small, hopeful voice whispered in the back of your mind. "What if he really does want to be with me?"

"No, no, Y/N," you murmur to your reflection in the mirror, your voice shaky. "You can't forget that Jimin is a playboy." You shove it aside, trying to focus on the reality of the situation. "He's using Minseo just like he uses everyone else," you say firmly, the words feeling like a knife in your heart.

But the image of Jimin's tender expression the night before, the way he held you, the pain in his voice as he confessed his feelings for you, it all comes rushing back. "Should I tell Jungkook?" you wonder aloud. But the thought of causing trouble between the two of you and potentially ruining the group's dynamics makes you hesitate. You bite your bottom lip, weighing the consequences.

With a sigh, you decide to keep it to yourself for now. "I need to stay away from Jimin," you murmur, trying to convince yourself. "It's for the best."

After your shower, you emerge from the washroom feeling slightly more in control. You grab your phone from the bedside table and freeze when you see the screen light up with 20 missed calls from Taehyung. Your heart skips a beat as you realize how late it is. Quickly, you call him back, your hands shaking.

Taehyung's voice answers almost immediately. "Y/N, you know what time it is?" he says, his tone a mix of relief and irritation. "You didn't bother to inform me or my manager that you weren't coming to work today. How irresponsible can you be?"

Your heart sinks at the coldness in his voice. "Taehyung, I'm so sorry," you stutter, your voice thick with regret. "I... I overslept."

There's a pause on the other end, filled with the sound of Taehyung's heavy breathing. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" he finally says, his words clipped and sharp. "You've thrown my whole schedule into chaos. Because of you, I've had to reschedule interviews, rehearsals, everything."

"I'm sorry," you repeat, your voice small and trembling. You don't know how to respond to his anger, his voice so unfamiliar in its harshness. Before you can say anything else, Jungkook snatches the phone out of your hand.

"Tae," Jungkook says smoothly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Don't scold my girlfriend. She didn't wake up early because of me." He winks at you, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "I didn't let her get much sleep last night."

You feel your cheeks burn, and your eyes widen. You snatch the phone back from Jungkook's grasp, your heart racing. "Taehyung, I'm really sorry," you say quickly, trying to smooth over the situation. "But I'll be there as soon as I can. I promise."

"Forget it," Taehyung says curtly. "Just pack your bags. We're leaving tonight." There's a finality in his tone that makes your stomach drop. "I have a business trip in Paris for one week. Don't be late." And with that, he hangs up.

You stare at the phone, feeling the weight of Jungkook's gaze on you. "What's going on?" he asks, his smirk fading into a frown.

"Taehyung has a business trip to Paris," you repeat, trying to keep your voice steady. "For a week."

Jungkook's eyes narrow slightly. "So?" he asks, his arms crossing over his chest.

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "So, I need to go with him," you explain, your voice barely above a whisper. "As his assistant."

"No need to go," Jungkook said nonchalantly, his arms still crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a hint of annoyance. "You can just stay here with me."

You looked up at him, a flicker of anger flashing in your eyes. "This isn't a vacation," you said, your voice firm. "It's work. And you know how much this job means to me."

"One week is too long," Jungkook murmured, his gaze darkening. "How can I stay without touching you?" His voice was low, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable.

You glared at him, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine. "It's my job, Jungkook," you said firmly. "And I need to do it well."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. "Is that all it is?" he demanded, his voice low and intense. "Your job? Or is it because you want to spend time with him?"

You took a deep breath, trying to control the rising anger within you. "What are you talking about?" you snapped, your eyes flashing with defiance.

Jungkook stepped closer, his gaze intense. "You heard me," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Is it Taehyung you love?" His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of deceit.

You felt your heart pound in your chest, the room suddenly too hot, too suffocating. You looked down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. The silence stretched on, thick with tension.

With a sigh, Jungkook reached out, his thumb brushing against your chin. He gently tilted your head up, forcing you to look at him. "Tell me," he murmured, his eyes boring into yours. "Is it him?"

"Yes-yes," you stuttered, the truth spilling out before you could stop it. Jungkook's hand fell away from your chin, and you felt a chill run down your spine as the reality of your words settled in.

Jungkook's eyes searched yours, a storm brewing in their depths. "How can I let you go with him?" he asked again, his voice strained. "How can I trust you with the person who has stolen your heart?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the words you were about to say. You placed both hands on Jungkook's face, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your palms. "Jungkook," you said softly, "I love Taehyung, but right now, I'm here with you. I'm your girlfriend, and that's what's important."

Jungkook's eyes searched yours, the storm in them slowly subsiding. "But what about last night?" he asked, his voice low and pained. "You were crying for him. Why?"

You bit your lip, hesitating. "Because I was jealous," you admitted, your voice shaking slightly. "My heart can be so stupid sometimes. It doesn't always listen to what my mind says."

He closed his eyes, the muscles in his jaw working. When he opened them again, the possessiveness was back, but it was tempered with something softer. "Then tell your heart to listen," he said, his voice gruff. "Because if it keeps looking at him like that, I won't be responsible for my actions."

"What you mean?" You echoed Jungkook's words, your voice trembling slightly.

Jungkook nodded, his expression serious. "You've only seen one side of me," he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "The side that loves hard and plays harder." He took a step closer to you, his hands sliding around your waist. "But there's another side," he murmured, his breath warm against your neck. "A side that's darker, more intense."

You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, the rapid thud echoing your own. "Jungkook," you began, but he shushed you, pressing a finger to your lips.

"Don't worry," he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. "I'm not going to show you that side unless you really want to see it." His eyes searched yours, a question lurking in their depths.

You pushed Jungkook away gently, your mind racing. "I need to go home," you said firmly. "I have to pack." You grabbed your purse and turned to leave, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a rush.

Jungkook's grip on your wrist was surprisingly gentle. "Fine," he said, his eyes searching your face. "But let's go shopping first. I want to get you something special before you leave."

You shook your head, trying to keep the panic from showing in your eyes. "Jungkook, I can manage," you insisted. "You have other work to do, right?"

Jungkook's grip on your wrist tightened for a brief moment before he nodded, his expression unreadable. "Alright, babe," he said, his voice a soft murmur. "But if you need anything, you know who to call."

You nodded, a sense of relief washing over you as you slipped away from his embrace. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

As you stepped out of the house, you couldn't help but feel the weight of the love triangle pressing down on you. Each step away from Jungkook was a step towards Taehyung, and yet, Jimin's confession lingered in the back of your mind.

Meanwhile, at the dance studio, the rest of BTS was hard at work, rehearsing for their upcoming concert. Jimin's movements were fluid and precise, but Suga couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off about him. His eyes held a sadness that wasn't usually there, a heaviness in his steps that didn't match the beat of the music.

Suga paused mid-routine, watching Jimin closely. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice breaking the rhythm of the practice.

Jimin forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, his eyes never leaving the floor.

Suga's gaze sharpened. "It's Y/N, isn't it?" he pressed, his voice low enough that the others couldn't hear.

Jimin's eyes snapped up to meet Suga's, his expression a mix of pain and frustration. He didn't bother denying it. "How did you know?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's written all over your face," Suga said gently, stepping closer to him. "You've been off since we got back from the club."

Jimin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I told her how I feel," he admitted, his eyes filled with pain. "But she thinks I'm just playing around."

Suga's gaze softened, understanding dawning. "And she rejected you?"

Jimin nodded, his throat tight. "Worse than that," he said, his voice raw. "She said that playboys like me can't have real feelings for someone."

Suga's eyes narrowed slightly. "And what do you plan to do?" he asked, his voice measured.

Jimin looked up at him, his eyes alight with determination. "Make her mine," he said, his voice filled with a fierce conviction that sent a chill down your spine. "Somehow, I'll make her see that I'm not just playing around."

"How are you going to do that?" Suga questioned, his tone skeptical.

Jimin's lips curled into a smug smile. "I have my ways," he replied, his eyes glinting with a hint of challenge. "She'll come to me, eventually."

Suga raised an eyebrow. "And what if she doesn't?" he countered. "You can't force someone to love you, Jimin."

Jimin's smile faded, his eyes clouding over with a mix of pain and stubbornness. "But I can't control my heart, either," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "It's not like I can just turn off my feelings for her because she doesn't feel the same way."

Suga sighed, his expression sympathetic. "I know it's hard, but you need to respect her boundaries," he said, placing a hand on Jimin's shoulder.

Jimin shrugged off the touch, his eyes flashing with determination. "I know what I'm doing," he said, his voice firm. "And I'm not going to change my mind." He turned back to the mirror, his reflection showing a man on a mission.

Suga watched him for a moment longer before sighing heavily. He knew Jimin's stubborn streak all too well. "Fine," he said, his voice resigned. "But if this gets messy, don't say I didn't warn you."

Jimin's only response was to start dancing again, his movements sharp and precise as he practiced the routine for the umpteenth time. Each step, each twirl, was fueled by his desire for Y/N. He knew he had to win her over, to show her that he was different from the Jimin she knew, that he had feelings she could never imagine.

On the other side of town, you sat nervously at the café, waiting for Minseo. You had called her in a flurry of emotions, needing the comfort of a friend to navigate the tumultuous love triangle that had become your life. The bell chimed as the door swung open, and there she was, her warm smile lighting up the room. "Hey, what's up?" she said, sliding into the chair across from you. You couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," you said, your voice shaky.

Minseo leaned forward, her eyes filled with concern. "Come on, Y/N," she said, placing a hand over yours. "Which girl can say no to shopping?" She winked, trying to lighten the mood.

You managed a small smile, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly. "You're right," you said, taking a deep breath. "Let's go."

The two of you stepped into the bustling shopping district, the sounds of laughter and chatter surrounding you. Minseo chatted away about the latest fashion trends, her voice a comforting backdrop to the chaos in your mind. Despite the whirlwind of emotions, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of Paris.

"It's so romantic," Minseo said with a wistful sigh, her eyes scanning the shop windows. "The city of love with your lover... I mean, your boss." She giggled at her slip, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "It's work, not a romantic getaway," you reminded her firmly. "I'm Jungkook's girlfriend, remember?"

Minseo nodded, her expression sobering. "Right," she said, her voice a little quieter. "But still, Taehyung... He's so sweet to you, even though he's your boss."

You felt your cheeks heat up at the mention of Taehyung's sweetness. It was true; he had always been kind to you, even before the love triangle had begun to unfold. "Yeah, he is," you admitted, your voice small.

Minseo grinned at you, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "But think about it, Y/N," she said, her voice filled with the enthusiasm of a romantic novel protagonist. "The Eiffel Tower, candlelight dinners, walks along the river at night..." She trailed off, her voice filled with the magic of the city of love.

You couldn't help but let your mind wander to those romantic scenarios, but you quickly reined in your thoughts. "It's work," you reminded her, trying to keep your voice firm. "There won't be any of that."

Minseo's grin only grew wider. "But can you honestly tell me you've never thought about it?" she teased, her eyes dancing with excitement. "Imagine, you and Taehyung in Paris, just the two of you..."

You felt your cheeks burn even hotter. "I can't," you said, cutting her off. "I have to focus on my job."

Minseo laughed, her eyes twinkling. "Okay, okay," she said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "But if I were you, I'd at least pack something nice."

As you both walked through the shopping district, Minseo's eyes fell on a small, tucked-away shop with a flickering neon sign that read "Tarot Card Reader." She grabbed your hand and tugged you towards it. "Y/N," she said, her voice filled with excitement, "let's check out our futures!"

You couldn't help but let yourself be swept along by her enthusiasm. After all, a little distraction couldn't hurt, right? "Fine," you agreed, allowing a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips. "But just for fun."

The bell above the door jingled as you stepped into the dimly lit room, the scent of incense heavy in the air. The Tarot Card Reader looked up from her crystal ball, her eyes meeting yours with a knowing smile. "Welcome," she said, her voice a smooth purr. "Would you like a reading?"

Minseo practically bounced in her seat. "Yes, please," she said eagerly.

You sat down with a sigh, trying to keep your skepticism in check. "Fine," you murmured, taking a seat beside her.

The tarot card reader shuffled the cards, her eyes never leaving yours. "Your future is full of love and success," she began, her voice melodious and soothing. She laid out the cards in a pattern you didn't recognize. "But," she added, her tone taking a somber turn, "it is not without its sacrifices."

You leaned in, the scent of the incense swirling around you as you tried to focus on the cards. The images were eerie, but somehow, they spoke to you on a deeper level. "What kind of sacrifices?" you asked, your voice shaking slightly.

The tarot card reader's gaze was unnervingly intense as she studied the cards. "The love that is meant for you," she said, her voice low and solemn. "It will come with chains that you cannot break." She paused, her eyes lingering on the card that showed a heart in a cage. "You will crave freedom, but it will always be just out of reach."

Your heart raced as the woman spoke, the words sinking in like a dark prophecy. "What does that mean?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

"It means," the tarot card reader said, her eyes still on the cards, "that you will experience a love so intense, so all-consuming, that it will feel like it has no bounds." She tapped the card with the heart in a cage. "But this love," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, "will become a prison for you. You will yearn for freedom, but the chains of your own emotions will hold you captive."

Minseo looked at you with wide eyes, her smile faltering. "Don't worry, Y/N," she said, reaching for your hand. "It's just a reading. It's not like it's set in stone."

But you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of your stomach.As you left the shop, the sounds of the bustling city outside seemed to muffle under the weight of the tarot reader's words. You couldn't help but feel as if you were walking into a future already predetermined, a future where love was both a gift and a curse.

"Come on, Y/N," Minseo said, her voice cutting through your thoughts. "Don't stress over this. It's just for fun." She looped her arm through yours, pulling you away from the shop's doorway. "Let's go grab some ice cream. You need something to cheer you up before you go home and pack."

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah," you agreed, trying to shake off the ominous feeling that clung to you like a second skin. "You're right."

As you made your way to the ice cream parlor, the colorful cones and lively chatter of the patrons did little to brighten the shadow that had fallen over you. You couldn't ignore the tarot card reader's warning.

Arriving at your apartment later, you pushed the door open with a sigh, your thoughts a tangled web of doubt and anticipation. The familiar scent of your home was a comfort as you began to pack your suitcase, folding your clothes with meticulous care, each item a silent testament to the life you were about to leave behind for a week.

The doorbell's sudden chime pierced the quiet, making you jump. You glanced at the clock; it was too early for Jungkook's usual surprise visits. With trembling hands, you approached the door, your heart pounding in your chest. Who could it be?

When you swung the door open, your eyes widened in shock. There, standing in the hallway, was Jimin, holding a bouquet of roses. His eyes searched yours, a mix of hope and nervousness playing across his features. "Hey," he said, his voice tentative.

"Sorry, but you're not welcome in my house," you said firmly, your voice echoing through the narrow hallway of your apartment building. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you as you stepped back to close the door in Jimin's face.

But before the door could click shut, you heard his voice, thick with desperation. "Baby, I'm sorry," he called out. "I know you're angry with me, but don't leave."

You gritted your teeth, the sound of his pleading grating on your nerves. "What are you doing?" you hissed, opening the door again. "Do you want the whole neighborhood to think something's going on?"

Jimin took a step forward, his eyes dark and intense. "Then don't make me," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "Invite me in, or I'll kiss you right here, right now."

Your heart raced, your thoughts a jumbled mess. You knew the last thing you needed was to cause a scene, especially with the love triangle already threatening to consume you. With a huff, you stepped aside, allowing Jimin to enter your apartment. He followed you, closing the door gently behind him, the thud echoing through the small space.

"What do you want, Jimin?" you demanded, trying to keep the tremble from your voice.

He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "These are for you," he said, extending the bouquet of roses with a hopeful smile.

You felt your heart clench at the sight, but you couldn't let your guard down. With a swift movement, you grabbed the bouquet from his hand and marched over to the kitchen. Without a moment's hesitation, you tossed the roses into the trash bin. The sound of the flowers hitting the plastic was like a slap in the face, the thorns of reality cutting through the romance of the gesture.

Jimin's smile faltered for a brief second before he regained his composure. "You know, if I gave these to any other girl," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness, "she would be over the moon."

You turned to face him, your eyes narrowed. "But I'm not just any other girl," you said, your voice firm.

Jimin took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. "That's what makes this so hard," he said, his voice earnest. "You're special to me, Y/N."

You crossed your arms over your chest, keeping your distance. "That's sweet," you said, your voice devoid of warmth. "But why are you here, really?"

Jimin took a step closer, his gaze intense. "Can I pursue you now?" he asked, his voice low and earnest.

You blinked, caught off guard by his directness. "Huh?"

Jimin took your reaction as encouragement, closing the space between you. "I said," he repeated, "can I pursue you now?"

You stared at him, your mind racing. "What does that even mean?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor from your voice.

Jimin stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "It means," he said, his voice a whisper, "that I'm going to do everything in my power to make you fall in love with me." He reached out, his fingertips brushing against your cheek.

You took a sharp breath, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Jimin," you murmured, your voice a warning. "You can't just expect me to—"

He cut you off with a kiss, his lips pressing against yours with a fierce intensity that stole your words. Your hands flew to his chest, pushing him away, but he didn't budge. Instead, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, his hands pressing into the small of your back. You could feel the heat of his body, the strength in his arms, the determination in his kiss.

When he finally broke away, he whispered, "Listen to me, Y/N." His eyes searched yours, his voice a low growl of need. "From this moment on, I will pursue you with everything I have." His grip on your waist tightened. "I will not stop until you fall deeply in love with me."

You tried to speak, but he claimed your lips once more, his tongue pushing past your teeth with a fiery passion that left you breathless. Your hands moved to his shoulders, pushing and pulling in a silent dance of resistance and surrender. Your back hit the wall with a thud, and you felt your knees buckle slightly.

The tarot card reader's words echoed in your mind: "The love that is meant for you will come with chains that you cannot break." Jimin's embrace felt like the first link in that very chain, wrapping around your heart and squeezing tight. You didn't know if you wanted to break free or if you wanted to hold on and let yourself be consumed by this newfound intensity.

Chapter Text

The private jet's engines hummed a soothing lullaby as you gazed out the window, the city of Seoul shrinking into the distance. Your thoughts swirled like the clouds outside, a tumultuous storm of emotions you couldn't quite make sense of. Jimin's kiss still lingered on your lips, a potent reminder of the love triangle that had grown more complex than you ever could have imagined.

You leaned your head against the cool glass, watching as the landscape gave way to a vast sea of blue. The flight to Paris loomed ahead, a week-long trip filled with work and the constant presence of Taehyung. A week where every moment would be a silent battle between your heart and your head.

Taehyung's voice pulled you from your thoughts. "Y/N," he said, his tone tentative. "Are you okay?"

You turned to look at him, his features softened by the gentle light that filtered through the cabin windows. "What?" you asked, your voice sounding distant even to your own ears.

He leaned back in his seat, his eyes searching yours. "You just seem... lost," he said, his voice gentle.

You nodded, feeling a sudden weight lift from your chest. It was strange how Taehyung could read you so well, even when your own thoughts were a tangled mess. "I'm just thinking," you murmured, not quite ready to admit the truth of the situation.

Taehyung studied you for a moment before speaking again. "Well, I'm sorry for my morning behavior," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I was really rude to you."

You turned to look at him, surprised by his apology. "It's okay," you said softly. "It's my fault for taking the day off without notice."

Taehyung shook his head. "No," he insisted, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's not okay. I should have been more understanding." He took a deep breath, his gaze intense. "And I want you to know that I accept your apology, but now, I need you to accept mine."

You felt your heart flutter at his sincerity, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. "Okay," you said softly.

His eyes searched yours for a moment before he leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. And for a second, you thought he might kiss you. But instead, he pulled back, his smile warm and gentle.

"Paris," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "It's your first time, isn't it?"

You nodded, your eyes never leaving the horizon. "Yeah," you murmured, the excitement in your voice palpable despite the chaos in your heart.

Taehyung's smile grew wider. "Then we'll have to make it special," he said, his voice filled with a gentle warmth that made you want to lean into him. "I'll show you all the hidden gems that the tourists never find."

But your thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of your phone in your pocket. You pulled it out to see a message from Jungkook, the bunny emoji glaring at you from the screen. "Keep your distance from Taehyung," it read. "10 meters, at least."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his attempt to be cute, but the underlying possessiveness was clear. "I'm his personal assistant," you replied, rolling your eyes. "It's a little hard to keep that distance."

Almost immediately, another message popped up: "Then make it 20 meters." The bunny emoji had transformed into a devilish grin.

You rolled your eyes and typed back, "20 meters, Jungkook? Are you serious?"

The response was almost instant, Jungkook's frustration palpable through the screen. "I'm hell serious," he texted, his words punctuated by a string of emojis that seemed to radiate anger. "And you don't care about me. You don't even text me to ask if I've reached home or if I've eaten."

You couldn't believe his audacity. "I'm sorry," you typed back, your thumbs moving rapidly over the screen. "I didn't know I was supposed to babysit you." You hit send, feeling a sense of satisfaction at your retort.

Jungkook's response was immediate, the image popping up on your screen before you could even set your phone down. You felt your cheeks heat up as you stared at the picture of the two of you in bed, your face relaxed in sleep and his arms wrapped around you protectively. You quickly swiped away the message, your heart racing at the realization that Taehyung was watching you intently.

"What happened?" Taehyung asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

You felt a flush creep up your neck as you tucked your phone into the pocket of your sweatshirt. "It's nothing," you said, your voice shaky. "Taehyung, I think I'm going to sit somewhere else for a bit. I need to get some work done before we land."

Taehyung's gaze searched yours for a moment before he nodded, the hint of disappointment in his eyes barely noticeable. "Okay," he said, his voice gentle. "Let me know if you need anything."

You moved to the seat across the aisle, the cool leather a stark contrast to the warmth of Taehyung's gaze. You pulled out your phone, your thumb hovering over Jungkook's message.

"You shameless pervert," you typed out, trying to keep your tone light despite the knot in your stomach. You hit send and watched as the bubble popped up with his typing.

A moment later, his reply appeared: "Why so late with the response?"

"When you take pictures without permission, it's an invasion of privacy," you shot back at Jungkook's message, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.

His response was swift and playful. "But you looked so beautiful," he replied with a smirk in his text. "How could I resist?"

You felt your cheeks burn, a mix of annoyance and flattery warring within you. "That's not the point, Jungkook," you typed back, trying to keep your voice firm despite the flutter in your stomach. "You shouldn't be taking pictures of me without asking."

Jungkook's response was a series of emojis that conveyed his unspoken words. The smugness in his message was palpable, even through the screen. "But it's our first night together," he said. "Those memories are mine. I have every right to capture them."

"You unbelievable," you murmured, your eyes narrowing at the screen. Jungkook's message was like a dagger, twisting in your chest.

Jungkook's reply was swift, his text bubble popping up almost immediately. "I know," he said, his words accompanied by a selfie of him grinning widely, thumbs up, as if the situation were a joke. But you knew better than to laugh it off.

You stared at his selfie, the casual thumbs-up mocking your frustration. "Jungkook, this isn't funny," you typed, your fingers flying across the keyboard in a desperate attempt to convey the seriousness of your annoyance. "Delete them. Now."

His next message was a single, unadorned word: "Never."

Your jaw tightened. "Fine," you shot back, "then I'm blocking you." It was an empty threat, and you both knew it. But the thought of him having those candid, unpermitted photos still rankled."You won't," he countered instantly, followed by a winking emoji. "You know you secretly love the attention."

A laugh, half-exasperated, half-amused, escaped you despite yourself. "In your dreams, Jeon Jungkook."

And so the night continued. The playful jabs escalated into a flurry of messages, a rapid-fire exchange of teasing and lighthearted banter. He'd send a silly GIF, you'd retort with a sarcastic meme. He'd compliment your "unintentional modeling skills," and you'd threaten him with a ban from your personal space. The initial irritation over the photos never quite vanished, but it became a backdrop to a growing, unexpected sense of ease between you.

Hours bled into what felt like minutes. You found yourself smiling at your screen more often than not, responding to his playful taunts with your own quick wit. Sleep felt like a distant concept, replaced by the surprising enjoyment of this late-night, digital dance.

Eventually, the words on the screen started to blur, your eyelids growing heavy. The phone slipped from your grasp,The last thing you remembered was Jungkook's latest message, a nonsensical string of emojis that somehow perfectly captured his goofy charm.

The early morning sun peeked through the airplane window, casting a warm glow over the cabin. You stirred in your seat, the gentle caress of the sunlight on your face pulling you from the depths of sleep. As your eyes fluttered open, you were greeted by the sight of Taehyung's hand, a silent sentinel shielding you from the bright rays. His gaze was soft and contemplative, his eyes lingering on your peaceful expression.

"Taehyung," you murmured, the sound of your own voice startling you. You hastily tried to sit up, but a sudden jolt from the plane sent you tumbling into his lap, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He chuckled, his arms wrapping around your shoulders to steady you. "It's okay, Y/N," he said, his voice soothing. "We're just experiencing a little morning turbulence."

You looked up at him, your eyes still heavy with sleep. "Thank you," you mumbled, trying to push yourself back into your seat. But the plane chose that moment to shake again, sending you tumbling into his embrace once more. Your face was now buried in his chest, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

Taehyung's chuckle grew into a full laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest. "You're welcome," he said, his voice rumbling against your ear. "But maybe you should hold on a bit longer."

Your face felt like it was on fire as you pulled away from him, your cheeks a deep shade of red. You stumbled back into your seat, your hand shooting to cover your mouth. "I'm so sorry," you mumbled, your eyes darting to the floor.

Taehyung's laughter died down, his gaze lingering on you with a gentle smile. "You don't have to apologize," he said, reaching out to take your hand. "Look at how small it is," he said, his thumb tracing the delicate bones of your fingers. "It's like a baby's hand."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his words, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "It's not that small," you protested, your voice muffled by your hand.

"It is," Taehyung insisted, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Look." He held your hand up, comparing it to his own larger one. "It's like a doll's hand."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the small smile that played on your lips. The air in the cabin grew warm and comfortable as the plane's descent grew more pronounced. The pilot's voice crackled over the intercom, announcing their final approach to Paris.

---

The luxurious hotel room was bathed in the soft glow of the early morning sun as you stepped out onto the balcony, the Eiffel Tower standing majestically in the distance. The chilly Parisian air kissed your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room you had just left. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the cool metal railing beneath your palms as you took in the breathtaking view.

The sound of your phone ringing pierced the serene silence, and you hastily pulled it from your pocket. The screen displayed Taehyung manager,and your heart skipped a beat. You swiped to answer, your voice shaky. "Hello?"

"Y/N," his manager's stern voice filled your ear, "I need you to come to Taehyung's room right now."

You nodded, your mind racing with the implications of his urgent tone. "Of course," you said, your voice steady despite your racing thoughts.

As you made your way through the opulent hotel corridor, you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that clung to you like a heavy cloak. You had no idea what could possibly be so important .

When you arrived at Taehyung's suite, you found the door slightly ajar. You pushed it open, expecting to find the usual chaos of clothes and luggage. Instead, you were greeted by a sight that took your breath away. The room was a sea of red roses, the sweet scent filling the air. It was like stepping into a scene from a romantic movie, a honeymoon suite plucked straight from a fairytale.

But the fairytale illusion shattered as Taehyung's manager rounded the corner, her eyes narrowed and her mouth a firm line. "What on earth is the meaning of this?" she demanded, her voice low and furious. "I gave you one simple task: to book a room for Taehyung. And instead, you go and reserve this... this love nest!"

You stumbled over your words, trying to explain. "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened. I didn't book this room. I swear, it must have been a mistake." Panic set in, your heart racing as you realized the gravity of the situation.

Taehyung's manager took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the room with disdain. "I don't care whose mistake it is," she said, her voice icy. "But if the media gets wind of this, it will be a scandal. And Taehyung's reputation is not something I can afford to tarnish."

You nodded, your palms sweaty as you clutched the phone. "I understand," you said, your voice shaking. "But I didn't do it. I swear."

Taehyung appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. He quickly stepped forward, placing a hand on his manager's shoulder. "It's okay," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "Mistakes happen."

The manager's glare shifted to him, but he didn't flinch. "But the media," she said, her voice tight with anxiety.

Taehyung nodded, understanding her concern. "I know," he said. "But let's not make a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be. Y/N didn't mean to do this." He looked at you, his eyes soft. "Did you?"

You shook your head, your voice trembling. "No, Taehyung, I swear."

His manager took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. "Okay," she said, her voice a little softer. "But we need to move him to a different room. Immediately."

Taehyung's smile grew, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But why?" he asked, stepping closer to you. "I like this room." He reached out, plucking a rose from the nearest bouquet and twirling it between his fingers. "It's... romantic."

The manager's expression grew more exasperated by the second. "Taehyung," she said, her voice firm.

Taehyung looked at her, his smile unwavering. "But I said," he replied, his eyes meeting hers with a gentle but firm determination. "You go take a rest."

The manager opened her mouth to protest, but Taehyung's hand on her arm stopped her. "Seriously," he said, his voice low and calm. "You've been working non-stop. Go get some sleep. I'll handle this."

Her eyes searched his for a moment before she finally nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Fine," she said, her voice resigned. "But if this causes any trouble, you know who will get the blame."

Without waiting for his response, she turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind her. Taehyung watched her go, his eyes thoughtful before turning to you.

"I'm really sorry, Taehyung," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Next time, I'll be more careful."

Taehyung looked at you with a mix of amusement and frustration, his gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks. He leaned in close, the warmth of his breath against your ear. "You say sorry too much," he murmured, his voice a gentle reprimand.

Before you could respond, he lightly tossed the pillow in your direction, the plush fabric hitting your shoulder with a soft thump. You gasped, eyes widening in shock before a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "What was that for?" you demanded, the playfulness in your voice unmistakable.

Taehyung grinned, mischief glinting in his eyes. "For saying sorry so much," he teased, grabbing another pillow from the bed. "It's getting boring."

Without thinking, you reached for the pillow in your hand and swung it at him, the feathers fluttering as it made contact with his chest. He chuckled, catching it deftly before tossing it back at you. The pillow fight had begun, a playful battle that seemed to melt away the tension of the previous moments.

The feathers filled the air, a soft white storm as you both lunged and dove across the bed, your laughter echoing through the suite. You felt a thrill of excitement as a pillow feather tickled your nose, and you sneezed, sending a shower of them flying.

In the midst of the chaos, Taehyung managed to catch you off guard, pinning you down gently, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Gotcha," he whispered, his breath warm against your cheek. Your heart raced, not from the exertion but from his nearness.

A feather from the decimated pillow had lodged itself in your hair, and as you tried to dislodge it, he reached over, his hand brushing against your face. "Hold still," he said, his voice a soft rumble, as he plucked it out, his thumb lingering against your skin.

Leaning in closer, his eyes searched yours for a moment before he spoke again, his voice low and intimate. "You know, these decorations are going to go to waste if we don't do something about it." His hand moved to trace the curve of your neck, his fingers lingering at the pulse point where your heart was beating like a drum.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as he leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear. "How about we don't waste the decorations?" he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper. "Let's break this bed in together."

Your face contorted into a mix of shock and confusion, your eyes wide as they met his playful gaze. Before you could respond, Taehyung burst into laughter, the sound rich and genuine. He leaned away, his hands pushing himself up from the bed as he took in your stunned expression. "Your face," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "It's really entertaining."

You didn't look at Taehyung. "I should go to my room. If you need anything, call me," he said. You didn't respond, just walked out of the room.

As you left the room, the weight of the conversation lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the playfulness of the pillow fight. Taehyung's smirk grew wider as he watched you go, his gaze lingering on your retreating figure. He knew his teasing had hit a nerve, but the way your eyes had widened and your cheeks had flushed had been too tempting to resist. He flopped back onto the bed, the red roses seeming to mock him with their vibrant color.

"Aish," he murmured to himself, his smile turning into a full-fledged grin. "This girl's reaction... really something." He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand as he stared at the ceiling.

You reached your own room, the door clicking shut behind you like a final punctuation to the conversation. You leaned back against the cool wood, your heart still racing from the encounter. "Why is he acting like this?" you whispered to the empty room. "Is this... normal?"

With shaky legs, you stumbled to the bed, collapsing onto the plush comforter. The softness of the pillows beckoned, and you buried your face into one, letting out a muffled scream. "Y/N, stop reacting like this," you scolded yourself. "You're overthinking it."

But the words of doubt lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. Jungkook's accusations echoed in your mind, making you question your own feelings. "Maybe he's right," you whispered into the pillow. "Maybe I shouldn't let Taehyung get so close. Maybe I should keep my distance."

The thought of pulling away from Taehyung brought a pang of sadness, but also a glimmer of relief. It would be easier, wouldn't it? Less complicated. But as you lay there, the warmth of his thumb on your neck seemed to linger, a silent reminder of the connection that had been growing between you.

Meanwhile, at Seoul, the BTS dorm was alive with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses as the members gathered for a night of shanke. Jimin sat at the center of the group, his cheeks a little pinker than usual. A faint red mark stood out on the side of his face, but no one knew the real story behind it. They were too busy teasing him about his 'mystery girlfriend' to pay it any mind.

"What happened to your face, Jimin?" Hobi called out, his voice slurred from the drinks. "You look like you've been slapped by a salmon."

Jimin's cheeks grew even redder as he took a sip of his drink, the ice clinking against the glass. "It's nothing," he mumbled, avoiding the eyes of the others.

"Oh come on, Jimin," Jungkook said, his own smile a little too wide. "You can't just leave us hanging like that. Who's the girl that slapped you so hard?"

Hoseok leaned in, his eyes glinting with curiosity. "Yeah, spill the tea," he said, waving his hand in the air dramatically. "We all know you can't keep secrets from us."

Jimin's smile grew, a mischievous glint in his eye. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers playing with the rim of his glass. "Maybe," he said, drawing out the word. "But not tonight. You'll all find out soon enough." His eyes darted around the room, meeting the gazes of each member, his expression a mix of excitement and defiance.

Hoseok chuckled, shaking his head. "You're such a tease, Jimin," he said, swiping a hand through his hair. "But if she's that important to you, I'm sure she's amazing."

Namjoon, noticing Jungkook's sudden excitement, cocked an eyebrow. "What's going on, Jungkook?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. "You look like you've just won the lottery."

"Come on, Namjoon," Hoseok said with a knowing smile, nudging the leader playfully. "You must be having a great time with Y/N ".

Jimin's head snapped up at the mention of your name, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. But before he could say anything, Jungkook jumped in, his voice laced with excitement. "Hyung, Y/N's not even in Seoul right now," he said, unable to keep the smugness from his tone. "She's on that trip with Taehyung."

"Then why are you so happy?" Jin asked, his eyes squinted with curiosity as he took a sip from his beer. Jungkook's smile grew even wider, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Because," Jungkook announced dramatically, "I got tickets to IU's concert tomorrow." The room erupted in laughter, the teasing banter flying back and forth as the members couldn't believe their ears.

"Jungkookie, you're such a fanboy," Hoseok teased, poking his side. Jungkook feigned indignation, his hands flying up in protest.

"What? IU is amazing!" he retorted, his cheeks reddening slightly. The room was alight with laughter as the members playfully poked fun at Jungkook's crush on the famous singer.

"We know, we know," Jimin chimed in, his own smile wide. "You've had a crush on her since forever."

Jungkook's cheeks grew hotter, but he didn't deny it. "It's not a crush," he said, his voice defensive. "It's just... admiration."

The room erupted into more laughter, the teasing ramping up as the alcohol continued to flow. "Admiration, huh?" Suga said with a knowing smirk, leaning back in his chair. "Is that what we're calling it these days?"

"What can I say?" Jungkook shrugged, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. "I have good taste."

Namjoon chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "But don't forget you have a girlfriend now, Jungkook," he said, his tone light yet pointed. The room grew quieter as the members exchanged knowing looks.

Jungkook's smile faltered for a brief moment before recovering, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Of course not," he said, his voice steady. "But IU is just an idol. Nothing more." He took a long sip of his drink, the ice cubes clinking against the glass.

-----

You stepped out of the shower, the steam from the hot water clinging to your skin and the scent of your favorite lavender body wash filling the bathroom. Wrapping yourself in a plush hotel robe, you padded over to the ringing phone on the nightstand. The screen read: Jungkook.

Your heart skipped a beat, You looked down at the robe, the soft fabric barely concealing the dampness from your freshly washed body. The thought of Jungkook seeing you like this made your cheeks heat up. But the persistent ringing was hard to ignore, and his messages grew more urgent.

With a deep breath, you swiped to answer the call, immediately hitting the button to turn off your camera. "What's going on, Jungkook?" you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

"Why'd you turn off the camera?" he pressed, his voice taking on an edge. "You've got something to hide?"

"I just got out of the shower," you said, trying to sound casual. "I'm not dressed yet."

Jungkook's smirk was audible even through the phone. "So what?" he challenged. "I've seen you without clothes plenty of times."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and a hint of anger. "I'd rather not have a video call right now," you insisted, your voice firm.

"Come on, babe," Jungkook said, his tone a mix of coaxing and challenge. "We've already seen each other without clothes. What's the big deal?"

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. You walked over to the closet and pulled out a cute outfit you had packed for the trip—a white lacy top and a pair of light blue jeans. After quickly getting dressed and fixing your hair, you switched on the camera with a newfound sense of confidence.

As Jungkook's face appeared on the screen, his eyes widened at the sight of you looking fresh and put-together. He leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Why'd you do that?" he asked, his voice low and gruff.

You sat down on the bed, crossing your legs. "You wanted to see me," you said, your voice steady. "Here I am."

"You're heartless," Jungkook murmured, his eyes scanning your outfit on the screen.

"Thank you," you replied with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. "But why are you video calling me?"

Jungkook's expression shifted, a hint of vulnerability flashing across his face. "I need your help," he said, his voice low and serious. "I'm going to IU's concert tomorrow, and I don't know what to wear."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the concert. "Really?" you squealed before you could stop yourself. "That's so cool! IU is an amazing artist."

Jungkook's eyes lit up, his smile genuine for the first time since the call began. "You're an IU fan too?"

You nodded enthusiastically, your cheeks flushing with excitement. "Yes, she's incredible," you said. "I've always loved her music and her acting."

Jungkook leaned closer to the camera, his eyes shining with excitement. "So, what should I wear?" he asked, his tone hopefully.

After discussing his outfit options and sharing a few more laughs, the conversation took a more serious turn. Jungkook's smile faltered, his eyes searching yours. "You know, babe," he began, his voice tentative. "You're really... weird."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What do you mean?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could filter it.

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours through the screen. "I'm your boyfriend," he said, as if that explained everything. "But you don't get jealous when I talk to other girls, and you're okay with me going to IU's concert without you." His expression was a mix of confusion and something else.

"Oh, I'm not jealous," you said with a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'm just happy for you. And anyway, I totally understand the fan boy thing. I'm a fan girl of your band, remember?"

Jungkook's gaze grew intense, his eyes searching your face. "But beside Taehyung, is there any other member of BTS that you find... interesting?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

"Yes," you said with a blush, trying to keep the excitement in your voice to a minimum. "Namjoon oppa is really handsome, and I've heard he's got a killer body." You bit your lower lip, hoping that your admission wasn't too much for Jungkook to handle.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening as he studied your expression. "So," he said slowly, "you're saying you're interested in seeing Namjoon hyung body?"

"Well," you stammered, realizing too late that you might have crossed a line. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just... I'm a fan, you know?"

"When you come back to Seoul," Jungkook said, his eyes darkening slightly, "I'll make sure you don't dare look at other men or mention their names." His voice held a promise, one that sent a shiver down your spine despite the warmth of the hotel room. You weren't sure if it was a threat or a declaration of love, but the intensity in his gaze made it clear that he wasn't joking.

The call ended abruptly, the screen going black, leaving you to stare at your own reflection. "Did I dig my own grave?" you whispered to yourself, the question lingering in the air as the silence grew heavier. Your heart raced, the reality of Jungkook possessiveness hitting you like a ton of bricks. You had tried to play it cool, but the mention of Namjoon had clearly crossed a line.

---

The lights in the club throbbed in time with the bass of the music, casting a warm glow over the sea of faces that swirled around you. You had never felt so out of place in your life, but as Taehyung's personal assistant, you knew you had to put on a brave face. He was the guest of honor, the center of attention, and you were his shadow, there to support him and blend into the background.

As you tried to keep your balance in your heels, a sudden coldness spread over your dress, making you jump. Looking down, you saw the unmistakable dark patch of liquid spreading over the fabric. Someone had spilled their drink on you.

Turning around, you came face to face with Park Bogum, one of Korea's most beloved actors and your secret celebrity crush. His eyes widened in horror as he took in the state of your dress. "Miss," he said, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "I'm really sorry, it was an accident."

Your mind raced, trying to decide how to react. You were his fan, had watched every drama he had ever been in, and here he was, apologizing to you. "It's okay," you finally managed to murmur, your voice shaking slightly. "It's just a dress."

Bogum's expression softened, and he offered a warm smile. "I'm really sorry," he said, his voice sincere. "Let me make it up to you. What's your name?"

"It's Y/N," you said, your voice barely audible over the music.

Bogum's smile grew even wider. "Y/N," he repeated, nodding. "It's so nice to meet you." He took a step closer, leaning in to hear you better. "I've always loved your dramas," you shouted over the noise, trying to keep the excitement from your voice.

"You're a fan?" His eyes lit up with delight. "Which one is your favorite?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "I'd say 'Reply 1988' really stole my heart," you said, the words coming out in a rush. "The chemistry between the characters was so genuine, and the story was just... amazing."

Bogum's smile grew even wider. "Ah, 'Reply 1988,'" he said, his eyes misting with fondness. "That was a special project for me. Thank you for enjoying it."

Taehyung appeared by your side, his arm casually sliding around your waist. "Looks like my assistance is giving you good company," he said to Bogum, his voice a low purr that sent a jolt through your body.

Bogum's eyes darted to Taehyung before returning to you, his smile never wavering. "Oh, this is your assistant?" He leaned in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "She's really cute," he said to Taehyung. "I'm happy to have a fan like her."

Taehyung's arm tightened around your waist, his smile never leaving his face. "Oh, she is," he agreed. "But I need to borrow her for a moment. We have some work to discuss." His voice was smooth, but there was an underlying command in his tone that was impossible to miss.

Bogum nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. "Of course," he said, stepping back. "I'll catch up with you later, Y/N."

Taehyung didn't give you a chance to respond. He steered you through the crowd, his hand firm on the small of your back, until you reached the relative quiet of the club's swimming pool area. The coolness of the water rippled through the air, a stark contrast to the heat and noise of the party.

"What's wrong?" you asked, the sudden change in atmosphere making you uneasy.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable. "How many?" he repeated, his voice low and gruff.

You frowned, confused by his question. "How many what?"

Taehyung's eyes bore into yours, his gaze unwavering. "How many men do you need to satisfy your desires?"

You stumbled back, his words like a slap in the face. "What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice shaking.

"Oh, please," Taehyung sneered, his handsome face twisted into an expression of disdain. "Drop the innocent act. First it's me, then Jungkook, and now Bogum? I really thought you were different from other girls, but it turns out you're just a gold digger who'll spread your legs for any man with a little bit of fame."

The words hit you like a slap, and before you could think twice, your hand shot out and made contact with Taehyung's cheek. The sound echoed through the quieter poolside area, a stark contrast to the thumping bass of the club. His head snapped back, his eyes wide with shock and anger.

"You don't get to talk to me like that," you whispered, your voice trembling with rage. "I love you, Taehyung. I respect you. But that does not give you the right to insult me."

"Oh, so now you love me, is that it?" Taehyung's voice was a sneer as he stepped closer, his eyes narrowed. "That day you gave me the big lecture about respect and being just a fan, but what do I find next? You, all cozy in Jungkook's arms, seducing him. And now you have the nerve to tell me you love me?"

You tried to push him away, but his grip was like steel, his fingers digging into your arms. "Let go of me!" you shouted over the music, your eyes flashing with anger.

Taehyung's eyes searched yours, looking for something, anything that would justify his suspicion. But all he found was honesty and pain. "You're just a gold digger," he spat out, his voice full of venom. "You'll go to any man's bed to get what you want."

With a sudden jerk, you managed to break free, stumbling backward. Your heel caught on the edge of the pool deck, and with a cry, you found yourself falling. The world seemed to slow down as you reached for anything to grab onto, your heart racing. But it was too late. You hit the water with a resounding splash, the cold liquid enveloping you, silencing everything else.

Chapter Text

You didn't remember much after that, except the panic that set in as your eyes closed and the water rushed into your nose and mouth. Your mind was a whirlwind of fear and confusion, your body flailing for the surface. But something warm and strong wrapped around your waist, pulling you upwards.

Taehyung's face emerged from the water, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and concern. "You can't even swim?" he growled, his grip on you tight as he held you above the surface.

You coughed, sputtering water and trying to catch your breath.

"You're useless," Taehyung muttered, his grip on your waist tightening as he hoisted you out of the pool. He didn't bother to hide his annoyance as he glared down at you, the harsh words echoing in the otherwise quiet space. "How could you not even know how to swim?"

You shivered, the cold water clinging to your body and making your teeth chatter. As you stumbled onto the poolside deck, you reached for the towel that was thankfully within arm's reach. Wrapping it around you, you tried to stand on your own, but your legs felt like jelly. The shock of his accusation had left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"Here," Taehyung said gruffly, tossing his jacket at you. "Wear it. You're going back to the hotel. Now." He didn't wait for you to respond, instead turning on his heel and striding away, leaving you alone with his words ringing in your ears.

You sat there, the towel clutched tightly around you, as his jacket lay in a wet heap at your feet. His harsh words replayed in your mind like a broken record, each syllable cutting deeper into your soul. "Gold digger," he had called you, as if your love was something you could barter for fame or riches. It was a wound that stung, especially coming from someone you had given your heart to.

The ringing of your phone on the floor snapped you out of your daze. You reached for it, your hand trembling as you brought it to your ear. But before you could speak, the device slipped from your grip and clattered to the floor again. You stared at it for a moment, the sound of your own ragged breathing filling your ears. The tears that had been threatening to fall now spilled over, streaming down your face as you choked on a sob. You couldn't bring yourself to answer it.

You couldn't stop the sob that tore from your chest as you stared at the phone. Your body shaking with the force of your sobs. Your mind replayed Taehyung's words over and over again, each one a fresh knife twisting in your heart. "Gold digger," "useless," "spread your legs for fame." The accusations burned like acid, leaving you feeling tainted and unworthy.

On the other side of the phone line, Jungkook sat in his car, his eyes never leaving the screen of his own phone as he listened to your quiet weeping. His heart clenched in his chest at the sound, his gut telling him something was very wrong. Just as he was about to speak, his driver's voice cut through the silence. "Sir, we've arrived at the concert hall," the man said, his tone uncomfortable.

Jungkook's eyes snapped to the window, the reality of where he was slapping him in the face. IU's concert. The thing he had been looking forward to for months. But as he looked at his phone, all he could see was your tear-stained cheek and the hurt in your eyes. He made a decision without thinking, one that would change the course of his night. "Take me to the airport," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the quiet car.

The driver looked at him in surprise through the rearview mirror. "Sir, the concert is about to start."

Jungkook ignored him, his gaze focused on the phone in his hand. "Now," he repeated, his voice leaving no room for argument.

The driver sighed but did as he was told, maneuvering the car through the bustling streets of Seoul towards the airport. Jungkook's thoughts were racing. He had heard the desperation in your voice, the pain in your sobs, and he knew that he had to get to you. IU concert could wait.

Meanwhile, the after-party at the club was winding down. Taehyung manager approached him, a concerned look on his face. "Taehyung-ah," he said, his voice a little too loud over the music. "Y/N isn't in her hotel room."

Taehyung's expression grew dark, his grip on his glass tightening. "What do you mean she's not in her room?" he demanded, setting the drink down on the bar with a thunk.

"I checked," the manager assured him. "She's not there."

Taehyung's eyes narrowed, his hand tightening around his half-empty glass. "Fine," he snapped, his voice a low growl. "I'll go check on her myself."

Leaving the bustling club behind, he marched towards the swimming pool area, his thoughts racing. Why would she still be here? He had told her to go back to the hotel.

Taehyung steps slowed as he approached the pool, the music from the club fading into the background. The water glimmered under the moonlight, casting a serene glow over the scene. There you were, sitting on the edge of the pool, your soaked dress clinging to your body, your head bent low.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he barked, his voice echoing in the quiet space. "I told you to go back to the hotel!"

You didn't move, didn't respond. Concern began to prickle at the back of Taehyung neck. He took a step closer and reached out to shake you gently. "Y/N, are you okay?"

Your head lolled to the side, and that's when he noticed your eyes were closed, your breathing shallow. Panic surged through him as he realized you were unconscious. "Y/N!" He shouted, his voice now laced with fear. He scooped you into his arms, feeling the heat radiating from your body. You were burning up.

---

The hotel room was a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of the club. Soft lights bathed the plush furniture and the king-sized bed where Taehyung gently laid you down, his face etched with concern.

"Call the doctor," he barked at his manager, his eyes never leaving yours. His hand hovered over your forehead, feeling the heat radiating off your skin. "Immediately."

The doctor arrived swiftly, his medical bag in hand, looking every bit the picture of calm efficiency. He checked your vitals, his expression unreadable. "It seems she has a high fever," he said, his voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room. "It's nothing serious, but she needs to be monitored. Make sure she takes her medication and gets plenty of rest."

Taehyung nodded curtly, his eyes not leaving yours even as the doctor spoke. "Thank you," he said, his voice tight with anxiety.

The doctor looked at Taehyung, then back at you. "Her fever is quite high," he said, his voice firm. "I recommend changing her out of those wet clothes immediately. It's not healthy for her to stay in them."

Taehyung nodded, his gaze still on you. "Of course," he murmured. "Thank you for coming."

As the doctor packed up his bag and left the room, Taehyung's manager hovered for a moment, looking from you to Taehyung with uncertainty. "Sir," she began, her voice tentative. "Should I help her change into something dry?"

Taehyung's eyes snapped to hers, his expression unyielding. "Did I ask you to do that?" he snapped. "Go get the medication the doctor prescribed. Now."

With a nod, the manager retreated, closing the door behind her. Taehyung turned his full attention to you, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. Carefully, he peeled the wet dress from your body, his eyes darkening as he took in the love bites that marred your skin. He felt a primal rage surge through him, but he tamped it down. Now was not the time for anger. You needed care.

He walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out one of his own shirts, a soft white material that smelled faintly of his cologne. He slipped it over your head, the fabric sticking to your damp skin. As he buttoned it up, his thumb brushed against the delicate skin of your neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

The manager knocked on the door, her voice barely a whisper. "Taehyung-ssi, the medicine for Y/N is here."

Taehyung's eyes didn't leave yours as he called out, "Come in."

The door cracked open, and the manager slid in, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. She quickly averted her gaze, setting the medication on the nightstand. "Is there anything else you need, Taehyung-ssi?" she asked, her voice tentative.

"Did you find out who sent those pictures?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

The manager's eyes snapped up to meet his, and she swallowed hard. "No, Taehyung-ssi, not yet. We're still looking into it."

He nodded curtly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Find out," he said, his voice a low growl. "And when you do, make sure they never do anything like this again."

The manager nodded, her eyes wide with understanding. "Yes, Taehyung-ssi," she said quickly before scurrying out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

The room was silent except for the steady beat of your heart, which seemed to echo in the space between you both. Taehyung's gaze remained on you, his eyes a tumultuous storm of emotions. He reached out, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had clung to your lashes.

A flash of memory played across his eyes, a vision of the party earlier that evening. Taehyung had been leaning against the bar, nursing a drink, his gaze drifting over the crowd. You had caught his eye, your laughter ringing out like a sweet melody amidst the cacophony of the party.

His phone had buzzed in his pocket, the vibration a stark contrast to the warmth of the whiskey in his hand. He had pulled it out without a thought, his eyes widening at the images that greeted him. Picture after picture of you with different men, all with the same knowing smirks on their faces. The message accompanying the images had been simple and cruel: "Your little assistant is a characterless slut. She's using you to get ahead. Watch your back."

The words 'your assistant is characterless, using you to get ahead' accompanied them, and in that moment, doubt had crept in. He had shoved the phone back into his pocket, telling himself it was nonsense. But as he watched you with Park Bogum, the whispers grew louder in his mind, threatening to drown out the sweet melody of your laughter.

Taehyung knew he had said too much, the accusations spilling from his mouth like a poison that he couldn't hold back. Now, as he sat beside you in the quiet hotel room, his heart heavy with regret, he realized the gravity of his mistake. He knew he should have given you the chance to explain, to tell your side of the story. But his own insecurities had painted a picture that was too vivid, too real for his peace of mind.

Meanwhile, in Seoul, Jimin was navigating the gleaming aisles of a luxury store, his eyes scanning the racks for the perfect gift. Suga trailed behind him, his curiosity piqued by Jimin's sudden shopping spree. "Who's the lucky recipient?" he quipped, his tone playful as he leaned against a display of designer watches.

Jimin's eyes lit up with mischief as he held up a sleek black tie. "It's for my future father-in-law," he said casually, his voice carrying over the soft hum of the store's ambient music.

Suga's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Huh?" he repeated, his eyes following Jimin as he moved to the next rack, his hands skimming over the rows of designer clothes. "Your future father-in-law?"

Jimin nodded, his expression earnest. "Yes, his birthday is coming up, and I want to make a good impression," he said, his gaze lingering on a tailored suit that screamed sophistication.

Suga's eyes narrowed, his mind racing. "But you don't have a girlfriend," he pointed out, his voice low. "How can you be thinking about future fathers-in-law?"

Jimin shot him a knowing smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mischief. "Use your brain, Suga," he teased, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I know what I'm doing."

Suga's eyes widened as understanding dawned. "Y/N?" he mouthed, his voice barely audible.

Jimin smirked, his eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and nerves. "Yes," he whispered, his hand grazing over a rack of luxurious fabrics.

"Why do you think she's going to invite you to her dad's birthday?" Suga's question hung in the air, the disbelief palpable in his tone as he followed Jimin's gaze to the tie.

Jimin smirked, a knowing glint in his eye. "Because she has no choice," he replied, his voice low and confident. "Her parents know I'm her boyfriend, and they're expecting me to be there."

Suga's eyes went wide with shock. "Since when?" he sputtered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It is a long story," Jimin said with a mysterious smile, his eyes flitting around the store as if searching for the perfect words to explain. "But for now, let's just focus on finding the right gift."

Suga watched him, his mind racing with questions and concerns. Jimin had always been a flirt, a charmer, but this was different. This was love, or at least an intense infatuation that was blurring lines between friendship and obsession. He remained silent, his heart heavy with worry as he followed his friend through the store.

Morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a soft glow on the hotel room. Your eyes fluttered open to the sight of Taehyung's sleeping form in the chair beside the bed. The events of the previous night felt like a distant nightmare, but the ache in your head was a stark reminder of the reality. You sat up slowly, the soft fabric of the hotel bedding whispering against your skin. The room was silent except for the faint sound of Taehyung's even breathing.

Your hand hovered over his cheek, the urge to brush away the stray lock of hair that had fallen onto his face was strong. But the memory of his harsh words echoed in your mind, and you paused, your hand trembling slightly. You couldn't shake off the feeling of hurt and anger that his accusations had stirred up in you.

Swallowing hard, you took a deep breath, willing the tears not to fall again. You needed to get out of there, to put some distance between you and the man who had made you feel so small and insignificant. Carefully, you slid out of the bed, the cool air of the room making you shiver. You searched the floor for your discarded clothes, your heart pounding in your chest with every movement.

Once dressed, you paused for a moment, your hand lingering on the doorknob. The urge to wake him up, to demand an apology, was strong. But you knew it wouldn't change anything. He was Taehyung, the untouchable idol, and you were just his assistant. The reality of your position in his life was stark, a cold slap in the face that left you feeling hollow.

With a quiet click, you opened the door and slipped out into the hallway. The plush carpet muffled your footsteps as you made your way down the corridor. The hotel was eerily quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioner and the distant murmur of the city below. You felt lost, adrift in a sea of uncertainty and pain.

Sometimes later, Taehyung's eyes snapped open, his sleep-addled mind slowly processing the empty space beside him. He sat up, his heart racing as he looked around the room for any sign of Y/N. The bed was rumpled, the evidence of her presence still lingering in the air, but she was nowhere to be seen.

He jumped to his feet, the cold floor jolting him fully awake. The events of the previous night rushed back to him in a wave of regret and anxiety. He had been too harsh, too quick to believe the worst. He needed to find her, to explain, to apologize.

With a deep sigh, he pulled on his shoes and made his way to the door, his mind racing. The quiet of the hallway was a stark contrast to the cacophony of his thoughts. He stepped out into the corridor, the plush carpet muffling his footsteps as he headed to your suite. His hand hovered over the door, his heart pounding in anticipation of what he might find.

He knocked gently, the sound echoing down the hall. There was no answer, so he knocked again, a little louder this time. Still, only silence greeted him.

Just as Taehyung was about to turn the knob, his manager rushed over, a look of urgency etched on her face. "Taehyung-ssi," she whispered, her voice tight with tension. "I have to tell you something."

He turned to face her, his eyes searching hers for any clue as to what could be wrong. "What is it?" he asked, his voice low and urgent.

The manager took a deep breath, her eyes darting around the hallway as if ensuring they were alone. "Y/N left early this morning," she said, her voice a barely audible whisper. "Her fever had broken, and she said she needed to get some fresh air."

Taehyung's heart sank. "When?" he demanded, his hand clenching into a fist at his side.

"Just after dawn," she replied, her eyes downcast. "I didn't want to wake you."

Taehyung's eyes darkened, his jaw clenched. "Why didn't you stop her?" he asked through gritted teeth, his voice barely above a whisper.

The manager flinched at the accusation in his tone. "I—I'm sorry, Taehyung-ssi," she stuttered. "I didn't think it was my place to—"

Taehyung's eyes grew darker, his voice a low growl. "Find her," he said, the words cutting through the silence like a knife. "You have two hours. Make sure she doesn't get on any flight to Seoul. Do you understand me?"

The manager nodded, her eyes wide with fear. "Yes, Taehyung-ssi," she said quickly. "I'll do everything I can."

Taehyung watched her retreat down the hallway before letting out a frustrated sigh. He knew he had overreacted, but he couldn't help the fear that clawed at his chest. He had been so wrapped up in his own insecurities that he had pushed you away, and now you were gone.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed your number, his heart racing with every unanswered ring. "Come on," he murmured to himself, his thumb tapping impatiently on the screen. "Pick up, Y/N."

But the call went straight to voicemail, your sweet voice echoing in his ear, "Hello, this is Y/N. I can't come to the phone right now..." He ended the call, his jaw tight with frustration. The silence of the hotel corridor seemed to amplify the ringing in his ears.

Again and again he tried, each time met with the same cold automated response. The realization that you had switched off your phone was like a punch to the gut. It was clear you didn't want to speak to him, not yet.

---

The afternoon sky grew heavier with each passing minute, the clouds thickening with a prelude of snowfall. You, lost in thought, walked briskly along the Parisian streets, your breath misting in the chilly air. You couldn't believe you had forgotten your purse in the hotel room. "What an idiot," you murmured to yourself, scolding your own carelessness. You had been so eager to escape the tension with Taehyung that you had rushed out without checking your pockets.

Your heart sank as you realized the gravity of the situation. You had no money, no identification, and no way to get back to the hotel without facing him.

Your fingers curled into your sleeves as you turned onto another unfamiliar street, the cold wind biting at your skin. You hadn’t thought this far ahead. You just wanted to get away. But now the streets all looked the same, and the ache in your chest was spreading. There was no one to call, no way to explain yourself, and nowhere to go without circling back to him. The silence around you felt louder than before, and for the first time since leaving the hotel, you felt the sting of regret settle in.

You slowed to a stop, your breaths uneven now, clouding the air in front of you. You didn’t even try to wipe the tear that slipped down your cheek. What was the point? You had nothing — no plan, no courage, no strength.

“Taehyung was right… I’m really useless."The words landed hard in your chest, sinking deeper than the cold ever could.

You whispered it like a truth you had been avoiding, but now couldn’t deny. Your knees buckled, and you sank to the ground without resistance. The cold seeped through your clothes, but you didn’t care. The world had gone quiet — or maybe that was just you finally giving up.

That’s when the first snowflake landed on your sleeve. Then another. And another. You looked up, eyes blurry, as soft white flakes began to fall around you — gently, silently. The kind of snowfall that made Paris beautiful. But right now, it only made everything feel more distant, more out of reach.

And then you heard it. A voice. Not the one in your head, but a real one. You blinked, wondering if you were hallucinating from the cold. But as the flakes grew more numerous, obscuring your vision, the voice grew clearer.

"Babe, are you really that stupid?" Jungkook's voice was laced with concern rather than anger as he came into view. You looked up, shock and surprise etched on your face, to see him standing there, his eyes searching yours. His leather jacket was open, revealing the band t-shirt underneath, and his hair was messier than usual, as if he had been running his hands through it in frustration.

Tears sprang to your eyes, and you didn't bother to wipe them away. "Why did you switch off your phone?" he scolded gently, kneeling down beside you. His hand hovered over your shoulder, unsure whether to touch you or not.

You didn't answer, just looking at him through a blur of snowflakes. Your heart was a mess, a jumbled puzzle of emotions that you didn't know how to piece together. But seeing Jungkook, the chaos in your chest calmed a bit. You weren't lost anymore. You weren't alone.

Tears started falling from your eyes, not because you were cold, but because you were overwhelmed. You didn't know what you were feeling, but you knew that Jungkook was there, and that was enough to keep you from shattering completely.

"Hey, hey," Jungkook whispered, his voice a soothing melody that seemed to cut through the cold. He reached out, his hand landing gently on your shoulder, and you flinched at the contact. "Don't cry," he said, his voice full of concern. But you didn't respond. You just looked at him, the tears continuing to fall, painting your cheeks with their salty warmth.

Without another word, you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He was warm, and his arms enveloped you in a comforting embrace. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils, familiar and reassuring. For a moment, you didn't care about the love triangle, the accusations, or the hurtful words. You were just in his arms, feeling safe.

___

In the quiet hotel room, Jungkook carefully towel-dried your hair, his eyes filled with a fiery determination. "I can do it myself," you protested weakly, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, his hands gentle yet firm as they moved through your damp locks. But his grip tightened slightly, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

"Save your energy," he murmured, his voice thick with meaning that sent shivers down your spine. "You'll need it later." The words hung in the air, a promise or a warning, you weren't quite sure. But you didn't have the strength to argue, your body still reeling from the fever and the emotional turmoil of the past few days.

You nodded, letting out a shaky sigh as he continued his ministrations. "How did you find me?" you asked, your voice small and fragile. "My phone was out of battery."

Jungkook's eyes never left yours in the mirror. "First, I called Taehyung," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "But he didn't pick up." His hand stilled for a moment before resuming its rhythmic motion. "Then I called his manager. She said you left early this morning." His grip tightened slightly, his jaw clenched. "So, I tracked you down with the GPS on your suitcase."

Your eyes widened in shock. "You what?"

Jungkook's expression remained unreadable as he met your gaze in the mirror. "I inserted a tracker in your suitcase," he repeated, his voice devoid of any apology. "For emergencies."

Your mouth opened to protest, but the words died on your lips as you realized the gravity of his actions. He had invaded your privacy, but he had done it to keep you safe. And in a strange way, it was comforting.

Jungkook's eyes searched yours in the reflection, his expression unreadable. "You smell like him," he murmured, his voice tight with emotion.

You felt your cheeks heat up as you pulled away, reaching for the towel. "What?" you squeaked, your voice betraying your embarrassment.

He leaned closer, his nose almost touching your neck as he inhaled deeply. "Taehyung's cologne," he said, his voice low and tinged with accusation. "Why do you smell like him?" His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of deception.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. "I—I don't know," you stammered, your mind racing for a plausible explanation. "Maybe it's from the hotel. We've all been staying in the same place."

Jungkook's gaze narrowed, his grip on your chin unyielding. "You're a terrible liar, babe," he said, his voice a soft growl. "What really happened last night?"

Your eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape, but you knew there was none. You took a deep breath and met his gaze. "I—I fell into the pool," you admitted, your voice shaky. "After that, I don't remember much. I guess I had a fever, and when I woke up, I was in Taehyung's room."

Jungkook's eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of deceit. "Why were you in his room?" he demanded, his voice tight with restrained anger.

"I don't know," you said truthfully, your voice trembling. "I just woke up there. He must have brought me in after... after I fell." The memory of the cold water and Taehyung's strong arms around you was still vivid in your mind, but you pushed it aside, focusing instead on the present.

Jungkook's eyes searched yours, the intensity of his gaze making you squirm. "I really hate other men's scent on you," he murmured, his voice laced with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. "It drives me crazy."

"Jungkook," you protested, your voice barely a whisper. "You're overreacting."

His eyes searched yours, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. "Am I?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "You're here with him, smelling like him, and you expect me not to react?"

"By the way, Jungkook," you began, trying to steer the conversation away from the awkward tension that had settled between you, "what brings you to Paris? You were supposed to be at the IU concert."

Jungkook's eyes flickered with something you couldn't quite read, but he shrugged it off. "It's complicated," he said, his voice gruff. "I'll tell you later. Right now, I need to step out for a smoke."

You nodded, feeling a sudden need for space. As he disappeared onto the balcony, you took the opportunity to pull out your phone from the charger. The screen lit up, and you couldn't help but see the last number that had called you. It was Jungkook's, the time stamp from right after you had fallen into the pool. Your heart skipped a beat as the puzzle pieces began to fall into place.

"He came all the way here for me," you murmured to yourself, the weight of his actions sinking in. Jungkook had abandoned an important event for you, had tracked you down, and was now taking care of you. The realization was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the coldness you had felt from Taehyung earlier.

Chapter Text

"He came all the way here for me," you murmured to yourself, the weight of his actions sinking in. Jungkook had abandoned an important event for you, had tracked you down, and was now taking care of you. The realization was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the coldness you had felt from Taehyung earlier.

You took a deep breath and made your way to the balcony, your bare feet cold against the marble floor. Jungkook was leaning against the railing, his eyes on the snow-covered rooftops, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He didn't hear you approach, so you took the moment to study him, his broad shoulders tense, the muscles in his arms flexing as he took a drag.

You stepped closer, the chilly air biting at your skin, and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind. His body stiffened for a second before relaxing into your embrace. "Jungkook," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "I'm sorry. And thank you."

He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. "For what?" he asked, his voice gruff with the beginnings of a smile.

"For being such a clumsy girlfriend that you had to leave the IU concert to come all the way here," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Jungkook's smile grew, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he took one last drag before stubbing out his cigarette. "Yeah," he said, turning to face you fully. "I really wanted to visit the IU concert, but I couldn't let your tears go to waste, especially when I'm the only one who should be making you cry in bed."

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your cheeks gave you away. "You're impossible," you murmured, though the affection in your tone belied your words. Jungkook's hands found yours, pulling you closer, the heat from his body seeping into you, chasing the cold away.

"Are you tired or feeling weak?" he asked again, his voice a gentle rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his intense gaze, and you felt your resolve crumble. "No," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you asking?"

Jungkook's smile grew, his eyes darkening. "Because I've missed you," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "Two days without you in my arms, without hearing your voice, without tasting you... it's been torture."

You blushed, looking away. "Jungkook," you protested, but the lack of conviction in your voice was clear. "I'm still a little bit weak. I can't handle you now."

Without a word, Jungkook leaned in, his breath hot against your skin. His lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, and you couldn't help but gasp as he began to suck gently, his teeth grazing the soft flesh. "I will be gentle," he murmured against your neck, his voice a seductive promise.

"But, Jungkook," you protested feebly, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. His touch was like a brand, searing through your skin and into your soul.

"Shh," he murmured against your neck, his teeth grazing the tender skin there. "I need to erase that smell from you," he said, his voice thick with desire. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, as his mouth found yours in a demanding kiss.

You didn't protest as his tongue invaded your mouth, his teeth nipping at your lower lip. It was as if he was claiming you, marking you as his. And in that moment, you didn't want to protest. You wanted to be claimed, to be owned by him.

With a growl, Jungkook picked you up, his hands supporting your weight as he carried you to the bed. He laid you down, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to strip off your clothes, his movements fast and frantic. The sound of fabric tearing filled the room as he ripped your shirt and bra off, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

You moaned as his mouth trailed down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake. His teeth grazed your skin, nipping and biting, making you squirm with pleasure. "Ahh, don't bite," you gasped as his teeth found your nipple, the pain mixing with pleasure. He didn't listen, his eyes dark with desire as he sucked and bit harder, leaving a bruise.

"Jungkook," you moaned, your voice a breathy plea. He kissed his way down your stomach, his teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh until he reached your panties. With a swift movement, he tore them away, leaving you bare before him. His eyes took in the sight of you, his dick growing harder at the sight.

He positioned himself between your thighs, his gaze dark and hungry. "You're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his hand reaching between your legs to stroke your clit. You arched your back, your hips bucking against his touch. "Ahh, Jungkook," you gasped, your eyes rolling back in your head as he began to work you into a frenzy.

He didn't waste any time, aligning his cock with your entrance and pushing in with one hard thrust. You screamed out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you completely. "Fuck, why are you so tight?" he groaned, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's like your pussy's trying to hold onto me."

You couldn't speak, could only pant and moan as he began to move, his hips slamming into you with a ferocity that left you breathless. Each stroke was deep and punishing, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. "Jungkook," you gasped, your voice a desperate plea. "It's too much, it's so deep."

He leaned down, his mouth at your ear, his breath hot and heavy. "That's where I belong," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Deep inside you, claiming you." His thrusts grew faster, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your reactions, savoring every gasp and moan.

"Ahh, Jungkook," you panted, your nails scratching at his back. "It's so... ahh... big." You could feel yourself stretching to accommodate him, your body responding despite your protests. He smirked, the corners of his mouth turning up as he leaned down to kiss you.

"You want me to slow down?" he asked, his voice a challenge. But before you could answer, he did the opposite, his hips pumping even faster, his cock driving into you like a jackhammer. You couldn't hold back the scream that tore from your throat, your body bucking and writhing under his.

"Ahh, Jungkook, it's too much," you gasped, your eyes squeezed shut. But his only response was to grind his pelvis against yours, his cock hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You could feel the orgasm building, a pressure that was both exquisite and overwhelming.

"Come on, baby," he urged, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Let me hear you scream." He was relentless, his rhythm never faltering, his grip on your hips tight. And as if on cue, your body responded, your walls clamping down around his cock as you came with a scream that echoed through the hotel room.

But Jungkook wasn't finished with you. He kept going, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity that seemed to devour you whole. "Again," he demanded, his voice guttural. "I want to feel you come again." His hips moved faster, his thrusts more urgent, his breath coming in harsh pants.

"Jungkook, I can't," you gasped, your body already wrung out from pleasure. But he didn't listen, his strokes growing more erratic, his breathing more ragged. "You can," he insisted, his eyes never leaving yours. "You can always give me more."

With a final, desperate thrust, Jungkook buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing with his release. "Fuck, yes," he groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. But as the pleasure began to subside, he pulled out, his cock still hard and glistening. "I'm not done with you yet," he said, his voice a low rumble.

He turned you over, your body limp and trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. You felt his hands on your hips, guiding you into position as he pushed back inside you from behind. "You're going to come again," he said, his voice a dark promise. "I want to feel your pussy clench around me."

You whimpered as he began to thrust, his hand reaching around to rub your clit with the same punishing rhythm as before. "Jungkook," you moaned, your voice weak. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," he said, his voice strained. "Come for me, baby." His teeth grazed the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. And just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, your body responded, your orgasm ripping through you like a storm.

"Yes, that's it," he murmured, his voice a low growl as he pumped into you. "Come for me." You could feel his cock swelling, his release imminent. And with one final, desperate push, he came, his seed filling you up with his warmth.

You collapsed onto the bed, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. Jungkook followed, his chest heaving, his forehead pressed against your back. "Fuck," he panted, his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and amazement. "You really are insatiable."

You felt a gentle kiss on your shoulder, and then another, and another, trailing down your spine. Each one sent a shiver down your spine, making you arch your back involuntarily. "Jungkook," you murmured, your voice still hoarse from screaming.

His teeth followed the path of his kisses, nipping gently at first, but gradually increasing in pressure. "Ahh," you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut. "Don't bite too hard," you pleaded, your voice a mix of pleasure and pain.

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin. "But I like leaving my mark on you," he murmured, his teeth grazing the soft flesh of your back. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatened to escape as you felt him suck harder, leaving a bruise that you knew would linger for days.

The doorbell chimed , insistent and shrill, cutting through the haze of passion. "Jungkook," you gasped, your voice strained. "Someone's here."

Jungkook ignored it, his teeth sinking deeper into your shoulder. "It can wait," he murmured against your skin, his voice a dark rumble. The doorbell continued to ring, growing more insistent.

"Jungkook, please," you gasped, trying to push him away. "It might be important." But he only chuckled, the sound low and sinister, his teeth scraping against your skin as he kissed away the pain.

The ringing grew louder, more persistent. You squirmed underneath him, your voice strained with urgency. "Jungkook, you have to check."

With a frustrated sigh, Jungkook finally rolled off you, his eyes dark with passion and annoyance. He grabbed a pair of pants from the floor, pulling them on with swift, jerky movements. His eyes never left yours as he stalked over to the door, his bare chest still heaving.

He bent down, peering through the peephole. His eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed into slits. "It's Taehyung," he said, his voice tight.

Your heart skipped a beat. "What should I do?" you whispered, your voice trembling. Jungkook turned to you, his eyes raking over your naked body, his expression unreadable.

"Wear my shirt," he said, his voice gruff. He tossed you the shirt he had been wearing earlier, and you hastily put it on, feeling the warmth of his body still clinging to the fabric. It was oversized on you, but you didn't care.

Jungkook opened the door, revealing a soaking wet Taehyung. Without a word, Taehyung stepped inside, his eyes immediately finding yours. Jungkook didn't bother to hide his annoyance. "You really know how to disturb my personal time," he said, his tone icy.

Taehyung didn't say anything, just strode over to the bed where you sat, your knees drawn up to your chest. He took in your flushed cheeks and the disheveled state of the bed with a single, knowing glance. Without a word, he reached out and pulled you into his embrace, holding you tightly against his wet shirt.

"You really had me worried for hell," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of relief and anger. "The doctor told you to rest, and what do you do? You leave in the morning and switch off your phone."

Jungkook's jaw tightened as he watched Taehyung hold you, his eyes narrowing at the sight of your bare legs sticking out from under the blanket. "You know I really hate when someone touches my things," he said through gritted teeth, his eyes never leaving Taehyung's.

"Mr. Kim," you began, your voice shaking as you tried to sit up, pushing Taehyung away gently. "I'm okay. Can you please leave the room now? I'm really uncomfortable." Taehyung looked down at you, his eyes searching yours, before reluctantly letting go. He stepped back, his gaze never leaving your face.

Jungkook stepped closer to you, his eyes burning with an unspoken challenge. "You heard her," he said to Taehyung, his voice a low growl. "You can leave now. I'll talk to you later."

Taehyung's grip on your arms tightened for a brief moment before he nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Take care of yourself," he murmured before releasing you and turning to leave. The tension in the room was palpable as the door clicked shut behind him.

Jungkook's eyes bore into you as he took a step closer, his shirt hanging open, revealing his sculpted chest. "Why did you call him Mr. Kim?" he asked, his voice laced with accusation.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and innocent. "It's professional," you said, trying to keep the tremor from your voice.

"Babe is your crying yesterday because of Taehyung?" Jungkook's voice was a low, dangerous rumble that made your heart race. You nodded, your eyes filling with fresh tears at the memory of the argument.

"No, it wasn't because of Taehyung," you lied, your voice shaky. "It was just... work stuff. His manager scolded me and I felt really useless. That's all." You looked down at your hands, twisting the hem of Jungkook's shirt in your nervous grip.

Jungkook's expression softened, his eyes searching yours for any signs of deception. He reached out and tipped your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Babe, you're not useless," he said, his voice gentle, almost tender. "Never think that about yourself, especially not around me."

You nodded, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Jungkook's thumb brushed away a tear that had escaped, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through your entire being. "And I'll never let anyone make you feel that way."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss that seemed to melt away all your fears and doubts. His tongue slipped into your mouth, caressing yours, as his hand slid up your thigh. You felt his hardness against you, his desire unabated despite your earlier protests.

Breaking the kiss, you looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of his true intentions. "Jungkook, we can't," you whispered, your voice shaking. "What we just did... it's too much."

He took a deep breath, his hand still resting on your thigh. "Babe," he murmured, his voice thick with want, "my dick is still hard for you."

You couldn't help but blush, the bluntness of his words making your cheeks burn. "Jungkook," you admonished, trying to keep the smile from your voice, "you're so shameless."

He grinned down at you, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "What's wrong with that?" he asked, his hand sliding higher up your thigh. "Isn't that what you like about me?"

"It's just... direct," you said, your voice trailing off as his hand reached the apex of your thighs, his thumb brushing against your already swollen clit.

"Direct?" Jungkook raised an eyebrow, his hand stilling. "Is that what you call it?" He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "How about when my dick makes you see heaven?" he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "Is that shameless too?"

You couldn't help but laugh, pushing him away gently. "Jungkook, I'm serious," you said, trying to sound firm despite the tremor in your voice. "I haven't eaten anything since yesterday night. I'm starving."

Jungkook's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Then eat me," he said, his voice a low purr that made your stomach flip. You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat that was building between your legs at his words.

"You're not tasty," you teased, pushing his hand away from your thigh. "I need real food, not... that."

His expression grew playful, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "You sure about that?" he murmured, his thumb stroking your bottom lip. You felt yourself leaning into his touch, your body betraying your protest. "I can be very... filling," he whispered, his eyes dropping to your mouth.

But the rumble of your stomach was a stark reminder of your hunger, and you pushed his hand away with a laugh. "I'm serious, Jungkook. I need real food," you insisted, standing up and heading to the bathroom. You could feel his gaze on your back, his eyes hungry in a different way now.

As you emerged from the bathroom, you found Jungkook fully dressed in a casual yet put-together outfit. He looked at you, his expression unreadable. "Let's go," he said, holding out his hand. "I already booked a restaurant."

Your heart skipped a beat as you took his hand, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through your body. You allowed him to lead you out of the hotel, into the chilly Parisian night. The restaurant was a quaint little place, tucked away in a quiet alley. When you stepped inside, you realized that the entire place was empty, except for one table set for two, adorned with candles and flowers. Your smile faltered as you saw Taehyung sitting there, his gaze intense and unyielding.

"What's going on?" you whispered, your eyes wide with surprise. Jungkook didn't answer, instead guiding you to the table and pulling out your chair. You took a seat, your eyes flickering between the two men.

Taehyung's gaze remained unwavering on you, his expression a complex mix of concern and something else you couldn't quite pinpoint. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice low and serious.

Jungkook pulled out the chair across from you, sitting down with a thud. "I told you she's fine," he said, his tone possessive. "But she's going to take a week off work and come back to Seoul with me tonight."

"I'll talk to my manager," Taehyung said, his voice tight as he finally broke the heavy silence. "But, Y/N, I need you to come back to work soon. Without your help, things are getting..." His words trailed off, leaving the unspoken difficulty hanging in the air like a dense fog.

The waiter arrived with your food, the tantalizing aromas filling the small, intimate space. You took a bite of your steaming steak frites, the taste exploding on your tongue like a symphony of flavors. Jungkook watched you with a hungry gaze that had nothing to do with the meal in front of you.

"Feed me," he said, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. You looked up from your plate, surprised by his sudden command.

You glanced over at Taehyung, who was watching the two of you with a tight-lipped expression. He had barely touched his food, his eyes flickering between you and Jungkook as he picked at his meal. "Okay," you murmured, a hint of nervousness in your voice.

With trembling hands, you picked up a piece of steak, holding it up to Jungkook's mouth. His eyes never left yours as he opened up and took the morsel, his teeth grazing your fingertips. You couldn't help the little gasp that escaped as you felt the warmth of his mouth, his tongue flicking out to lick the gravy from your skin. The intimacy of the gesture was not lost on you, especially with Taehyung's gaze burning into you from across the table.

Taehyung's eyes flickered to Jungkook, a muscle in his jaw clenching. He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back. "I need a minute," he said, his voice tight. "I'll be right back."

Taehyung stepped out of the cozy restaurant and into the cool, damp air of the alleyway. His hands trembled as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one with a sigh that was more like a growl. He leaned against the wall, the cigarette casting an eerie glow in the dimly lit parking lot.

"It's rare to see you smoking," Jungkook's voice echoed behind him, the click of his shoes on the wet pavement announcing his approach. Taehyung didn't turn around, his eyes fixed on the distant street lights, each flickering like the flame of his own anger.

"I only do it when I'm stressed," Taehyung said, taking a long drag from the cigarette. "And trust me, I'm feeling pretty stressed right now."

Jungkook stepped closer, his arms crossing over his chest. "Is it because of Y/N?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm. "Is she bothering you, Taehyung?"

Taehyung took a long drag on his cigarette before turning to face Jungkook, his eyes cold and hard. "Why did you come to Paris?" he countered, his voice laced with accusation. "Were you scared I was going to 'steal' her away from you?"

Jungkook chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "Steal her away?" he repeated, shaking his head. "You're too slow, Tae. She's already mine."

"I'm not started yet, Jungkook," Taehyung said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken words.

Jungkook's smile grew, his eyes glinting with a dangerous spark. "I accept it, Tae," he said, his tone almost taunting. "But let's be clear about one thing." He stepped closer, invading Taehyung's personal space. "I'm not going to sit back and watch while you take what's mine."

"Don't forget she loves me," Taehyung's words echoed in the alley, a stark contrast to Jungkook's earlier declaration.

Jungkook's smug expression faltered for a brief moment, his eyes narrowing. "Love is a fickle thing, Tae," he said, his voice taking on an edge. "And currently, she's my girlfriend."

Taehyung took a step back, his eyes never leaving Jungkook's. "Let's not let this mess with the group," he said, his voice a low, controlled growl. "But I'm not giving up without a fight."

Jungkook's smile grew wider, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "A fight?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Bring it on, taehyung. But remember, I don't play fair."

Taehyung took a final drag on his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby puddle, watching as it sizzled and went out. "I'm counting on it," he said, his voice a deadly promise.

With that, Jungkook turned and strode back into the restaurant, leaving Taehyung alone with his thoughts. You had finished your food by the time Jungkook returned, your mind racing with what you should tell Jungkook about the kiss with Taehyung. You felt a knot in your stomach as you debated the pros and cons of confessing.

As Jungkook slid into his seat across from you, his eyes searched yours for any sign of what you were thinking. You took a deep breath, your heart hammering in your chest. "Jungkook," you began, your voice shaky. "There's something I need to tell you."

He leaned back, his expression unreadable. "What is it, babe?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

Before you could speak, the shrill ring of your phone pierced the air, making you jump. You looked down, your eyes widening when you saw your mom's name flash across the screen. "I'll be right back," you murmured, sliding out of your chair. You rushed to the bathroom, the need for privacy overwhelming.

You answered the call, your voice shaking. "Hi, mom," you whispered, pressing the phone to your ear.

"Sweetie, how are you?" Her voice was filled with concern, cutting through the heavy silence that had settled in your heart like a thick fog.

"I'm okay, mom," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to keep your emotions in check. The bathroom echoed with the sound of running water, providing a small barrier from the tension at the table.

"Your dad's birthday is in two days," she said, her tone lightening slightly. "Is Jimin coming to the party?"

You hesitated, your mind racing with the events of the past few days. "Mom, Jimin has a really busy schedule," you began, hoping she wouldn't push the issue.

"Your dad is so excited to meet him," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "He's part of our family now."

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of your secret. "I know, mom, but he might not be able to come."

"But you said he was your boyfriend," your mom's voice grew more insistent. "If you tell him it's important, he'll make time, won't he?"

"Mom, it's complicated," you replied, trying to keep the tremor from your voice. "He's not just my boyfriend. He's a celebrity. He has fans waiting for him, performances to prepare for."

"But family comes first, sweetie," she said, her voice filled with gentle reprimand. "If he loves you, he'll come for your dad's birthday."

You took a deep breath, the walls closing in around you. "I know, mom," you said, your voice tight. "But sometimes love isn't enough. Sometimes people have other responsibilities."

"But he's your boyfriend," she persisted. "He should be there for you, especially for something as important as this."

"It's not just about me, mom," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "Jimin has his own life, and it's not fair to expect him to drop everything for me."

"But you're his girlfriend," she said, her voice filled with confusion. "It's what boyfriends do."

You sighed, leaning against the cool porcelain sink. "It's not that simple, mom," you whispered, trying to find the right words to explain the tangled web you'd found yourself in. "I'll talk to him, but I can't make any promises."

"Okay, sweetheart," she said, her voice softening. "I just want you to be happy. If you think it's too much to ask, then don't. I just want you to have the support you need."

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you. "I know, mom," you said, a tear slipping down your cheek. "I'll figure it out. I have to go now, okay? Tell dad I love him."

"I will," she said, her voice filled with understanding. "Bye, sweetie. I love you too."

With a heavy sigh, you ended the call and stepped out of the bathroom. Your eyes fell on Taehyung, who was leaning against the wall just outside the bathroom door, his arms crossed over his chest. You walked past him, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the sight of his concerned expression.

"Stop right there," he called out, his voice firm but not unkind. You paused, your hand on the doorknob to the restaurant.

Turning around, you saw Taehyung approaching, his eyes dark and intense. Before you could react, he pinned you against the door, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in. Your heart hammered in your chest, the warmth from his body seeping into yours.

"What are you doing?" you gasped, your voice breathy and betraying the excitement coursing through your veins.

He leaned in closer, his nose almost touching yours. "I need to talk to you," he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours.

You trie to push Taehyung away, but his grip on the door was like iron. "Mr.kim, I don't think we have anything left to talk about," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rapid thumping of your heart.

Taehyung leaned closer, his minty breath fanning against your cheeks. "Call me Tae," he whispered, his eyes searching yours.

"Stop touching me," you whispered, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. But Taehyung didn't move, his eyes searching yours, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. "What is left in this situation for you to insult me more?"

Taehyung's gaze softened, and he took a step back, his hands sliding down to his sides. "Y/N, I'm really sorry for last night," he said, his voice thick with genuine regret. "I was drunk, and when I saw your photo... and then everything with Bogum..." He trailed off, his eyes dropping to the floor.

You stared at him, trying to process his words. "Why are you saying sorry to me?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly. "I'm the one who should be sorry. You think I'm a gold digger, that I'd spread my legs for anyone with money. You shouldn't apologize to someone like me."

Taehyung's eyes snapped up to yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of pain in them. He reached out and cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones. "Sweetheart," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "you have to understand, in this industry, trust is a luxury. When I saw those photos, my mind went to the worst place."

"Stop touching me," you say, your voice firm but wavering. "I'm warning you. I've had enough of your insults. I don't know why I ever fell for someone like you." The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of your regret.

Taehyung's eyes widen, his grip on the door loosening. "sweetheart , please," he pleads, his voice a raw whisper. "You don't understand."

"Understand what?" You ask, your voice filled with a mix of anger and hurt. "That you think so little of me?"

He sighs heavily, his eyes searching yours. "No, that's not it," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "It's just that I've been hurt before. I've been lied to, used."

You push him away, your cheeks flaming with anger. "And you think that gives you the right to treat me like that?" you ask, your voice rising. "To assume the worst of me without even asking?"

Taehyung's hands fall to his sides, his shoulders dropping. "I know it doesn't," he admits, his voice low. "But I can't help it. When I saw those photos, I just...snapped."

You shake your head, your eyes welling up with unshed tears. "Well, I don't need your apology," you say, your voice shaky. "I don't need anything from you, Taehyung. Just le—"

Before you could finish your words, Taehyung crashed his lips onto yours—fierce, desperate, and utterly uninvited. Your eyes flew wide open as the air was knocked from your lungs. His body pressed close, pinning you completely against the cold restaurant door.

Your hands pushed against his chest, but he was too strong, too determined. The doorknob dug into your lower back, a sharp reminder of how dangerously close you were to the threshold—only one thin barrier between you and Jungkook, who was just a few feet away, patiently waiting inside the restaurant.

You tried to push him away, your palms flattening against his chest as his lips moved hungrily against yours.

"Stop," you whispered brokenly between the kiss, your voice barely audible. "Taehyung, please… stop."

But he didn’t. Instead, he caught your wrists mid-air, fingers sliding between yours in a desperate grip as he interlocked your hands with his and pinned them back against the wall above your head. The cold surface bit into your skin, and you winced—not just from the ache in your arms, but from the ache in your heart.

Tears spilled down your cheeks, hot and silent, cutting trails through the storm of emotions on your face.You weren’t sure what stung deeper—the kiss that didn’t belong to you anymore, or the sight of him unraveling into someone you no longer recognized.

Chapter Text

The plane hummed quietly beneath you, clouds stretching endlessly beyond the window. You stared out, unblinking, as the memory of Taehyung’s kiss replayed—unwanted, intrusive, like a bruise blooming just beneath your skin.

"What's wrong?" Jungkook's voice broke the silence, his hand brushing over your knee. You turned to him, trying to force a smile. "Just tired," you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" he suggested, his eyes gentle. "We have plenty of time before we land in Seoul."

"Jungkook, I need to talk to you about something," you whispered, your eyes still glued to the passing clouds. His hand stilled on your knee, his gaze searching your face for any hint of what was to come.

He leaned closer, his eyes filled with concern. "What is it, babe?"

Before you could reply, the flight attendant approached, her smile bright. "Mr. Jeon, your wine, sir," she said, setting the glass down on Jungkook's tray with a little flourish. Jungkook's eyes snapped to her, a hint of irritation flickering in his gaze.

"Thank you," he said, his voice curt.

Her eyes lingered on Jungkook, a knowing glint in them that made you feel uncomfortable. "Do you remember me, sir?" she asked, her voice low and flirty. Jungkook's expression remained neutral.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice even. "But I don't recall."

Her smile didn't waver, the glint in her eyes growing brighter. "It was on the flight from LAX to Seoul," she continued, her voice a seductive purr. "We had quite the... encounter in the business class lavatory."

"Playboy," you murmured under your breath, your eyes never leaving the clouds outside.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed at the flight attendant, his jaw clenching. "Look, I'm sorry, but I really don't remember," he said, his voice tight. "Could you please leave us alone now?"

The flight attendant's smile slipped, but she stepped back, giving a curt nod before retreating down the aisle. Jungkook took a deep breath, his hand sliding over to cover yours on the armrest. "Don't be angry," he said, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

You ignored Jungkook's words, focusing instead on the clouds outside the plane window.

"You're not listening to me," Jungkook said, his voice taking on a petulant tone. He reached over and pinched your cheeks gently, forcing a smile. "Babe, look at me. I said I don't remember her if I slept with her."

You felt a flicker of annoyance at his assumption that you would be upset over something so trivial. You pulled away from his touch, your eyes never leaving the clouds. "It's fine," you murmured. "It doesn't matter."

But Jungkook wasn't satisfied with your indifference. He leaned in, his teeth sinking into your finger. You gasped, the sudden pain jolting you out of your thoughts. "What was that for?" you snapped, pulling your hand away.

"To get your attention," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire. "You're mine, remember?" His voice was a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down your spine despite your anger. "I don't even look at other girls anymore."

You remained silent, the clouds outside the window the only thing keeping you grounded. Jungkook's eyes searched yours, his frustration at your lack of response palpable. Without warning, he unbuckled his seatbelt and knelt between your legs, his gaze unrelenting.

"What are you doing?" you whispered, your voice laced with confusion and a hint of irritation.

"I hate when someone ignores me," he murmured, his eyes darkening as he leaned in closer. Before you could protest, his warm lips met the skin of your thigh, just above your knee.

Your eyes widened in shock, your body stiffening as his mouth began to move, kissing a trail upwards towards your inner thigh. The sensation was both foreign and exhilarating, sending shivers down your spine.

"Jungkook," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and desire. "We're on a plane. We can't do this here."

He chuckled against your skin, his warm breath sending goosebumps across your thighs. "Why not?" he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "We can be as quiet as mice." His teeth grazed your skin, a playful bite that made you gasp.

"Okay okay," you murmured, your voice a soft surrender to Jungkook's relentless pursuit. "I'm sorry. I'm not going to ignore you."

He pulled back, his eyes meeting yours with a smug satisfaction that made your stomach twist. He sat back in his seat, his hand still on your knee, his thumb stroking your skin in lazy circles. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a low purr of contentment.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. The heat of his kiss on your thigh was still burning, a stark contrast to the chilly plane air. You looked away, focusing on the in-flight magazine in the seat pocket in front of you, desperately needing a distraction.

"Why are you so shy, Y/N?" Jungkook asked, his voice a low murmur that seemed to vibrate through you. "You've seen me naked, I've seen you naked."

You blushed, looking down at your hands. "It's still embarrassing," you replied, feeling your cheeks heat up. Despite the intimacy you two had shared, the thought of him seeing you bare was something that hadn't lost its impact.

Jungkook's laughter filled the cabin, deep and rich. "Babe, you're so adorable when you blush." He leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear. "But seriously, have you ever watched adult movies?"

You felt your face turn beet red, and you shook your head vigorously. "No," you murmured, feeling your heart race at the question. Jungkook's eyes lit up with amusement.

"Really?" He asked, his voice filled with surprise. "Not even once?"

"N-no," you stuttered, unable to meet his gaze. His thumb continued to trace patterns on your knee, his touch a silent promise of more to come.

"Why?" Jungkook's voice was curious, his eyes searching your face for an answer. "They can be really...educational." His smirk was back, playful and slightly wicked.

"I know I'm weird," you murmured, finally meeting Jungkook's gaze. "I'm not like other girls my age."

Jungkook leaned back in his seat, his hand sliding up to rest on your thigh. "Babe," he said, his voice a soft caress. "That's what makes you so special."

You couldn't help but smile at that, the warmth of his hand seeping through your skin. "What do you mean?"

"You're not...easy," Jungkook said, his voice holding a hint of admiration. "Most girls throw themselves at me, and it's boring. But with you, it's like...you're a puzzle I can't solve. It's a challenge, and I love that."

You looked down at your lap, his words both flattering and unsettling. "Is that all I am to you?" You asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "A challenge?"

Jungkook's hand stilled on your thigh, his eyes searching yours. "No," he said, his voice earnest. "You're much more than that. You're...different." He paused, as if searching for the right words. "You make me feel things I've never felt before."

You swallowed, your eyes meeting his. "And what is that?" You whispered, your heart racing in your chest. Jungkook leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. "It's like...like when I'm with you, I can't get enough," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Every time I'm inside you, it's like...it's so good."

"Jungkook you're unbelievable," you said, your voice thick with exhaustion as you tried to keep the frustration from seeping through. His hand on your thigh was like a brand, reminding you of the power he held in your relationship. "I'm sleepy, good night," you murmured, hoping he'd get the hint.

"Babe," Jungkook said, his voice filled with excitement. "I've got a business trip to New York for my new song. It's going to be amazing. Do you want to come with me?"

"No, Jungkook," you reply, your voice firm. "I don't want to disturb you during your work trip. Plus, I've got my own things to do. I'm going to my hometown for a few days to visit my family."

His eyes narrow slightly. "Your family doesn't know about us, do they?"

You shake your head, feeling your heart sink into your stomach. "It's not that I don't want them to know," you say, your voice a little too high. "It's just... we're not that serious, are we?"

Jungkook's expression clouds over, and for a moment, you think you've hurt his feelings. But then he nods, a slow, understanding smile spreading across his face. "You're right," he says, his voice low. "It's just that I want you all to myself."

"Well all the best for your recording," you said with a yawn, trying to hide the exhaustion in your voice. Jungkook's eyes lit up mischievously at the mention of your impending trip.

"How about a kiss for luck instead?" he suggested, leaning closer with a smug grin. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips despite your weariness.

"I'm sleepy," you protested, feigned indifference in your tone.

"Think again, babe," Jungkook's grin grew wider, his voice a playful taunt. "You won't be able to touch me for two weeks."

You couldn't help the little thrill that shot through you at his words. Two weeks without Jungkook's clingy behavior sounded like a heavenly break. "Fine," you conceded, leaning in to press your lips to his in a chaste peck.

But Jungkook had other ideas. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap in a swift, surprising move that had you yelping. "Now kiss me," he said, his voice a command rather than a request.

You stared at him, eyes wide and pulse racing. "But this position is weird," you protested, feeling the heat of his body against yours. The cabin's air grew thick with tension as you sat there, straddling his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

"Just kiss me," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire. His grip tightened slightly, his fingers digging into your hips. "We're in a plane. We can't exactly do anything more than kiss."

With a sigh, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a soft, tentative kiss. Jungkook's arms tightened around you, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your resolve weakening, your body responding despite your better judgment.

Meanwhile, in the quiet confines of his hotel room in Paris, Taehyung sat slumped over a bottle of whiskey, his eyes glued to the wall as he nursed his anger and pain. His manager's words echoed in his mind, a reminder of the precarious situation he had found himself in.

"Sir," she said softly, her hand hovering over his shoulder, "you're drinking too much. Maybe you should slow down."

He took a deep pull from the bottle, his eyes never leaving the wall in front of him. "Did you check who sent those pictures?" His voice was raw with a mix of anger and pain.

"No, sir," she replied, her voice careful. "But I'm sure it wasn't intentional. It's just...the nature of the business."

He turned to her, his eyes piercing through the haze of alcohol. "Come here," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I'm very lonely."

Her smile grew, a knowing curve of her lips. "Of course, Taehyung-ssi," she said, moving closer. "What do you need me to do?"

He took another swig from the bottle before setting it aside with a thunk. "Take your clothes off," he ordered, his voice gruff and demanding. She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the button of her blouse, before complying with his request. Her movements were smooth and practiced, a silent testament to how many times she had done this before.

Taehyung watched her, his eyes dark with a mix of anger and loneliness. "On your knees," he said, his voice low. She sank down without a word, her eyes never leaving his.

"Do you think you can satisfy me?" he asked, his hand hovering over her head. Her smile grew, her eyes gleaming with the promise of pleasure. "Yes, sir," she murmured, her hands moving to his belt.

With a sudden, vicious jerk, Taehyung grabbed the bottle of wine and poured it over her head, the liquid cascading down her body like a crimson waterfall. She gasped, looking up at him in shock, her eyes wide with fear and confusion.

"Who sent you those fucking pictures, bitch?" he roared, his face contorted in rage. The room spun around him, the walls closing in as he took a step closer to her, his hand coming down to grip her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

The manager's eyes widened in fear as she gasped for air, her hands flying to his wrists in a desperate attempt to free herself. "I don't know, Taehyung," she choked out, her voice hoarse from his grip on her throat. "They came from an unknown number. Please, let go..."

Taehyung's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening for a brief moment before he released her, sending her tumbling to the floor. He took a step back, his breathing ragged and his fists clenched. "You're fired," he spat, the words heavy with disgust. "Get out of my sight."

The manager stumbled to her feet, her eyes pleading. "Please, Taehyung," she begged, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean it. I just wanted to make you happy. I love you, I can make you feel so much more than she can. Give me a chance, I'll prove it to you."

But Taehyung was already reaching for his phone, his jaw clenched in fury. He dialed a number with swift precision, his eyes never leaving hers. "Oh, how can you leave for me?" he murmured, his voice cold and mocking. "You make my sweetheart cry. You need to pay for every tear you've caused her."

The line clicked, and he didn't bother waiting for a response. "I want you out of my hotel," he spat, his eyes boring into hers. "Now."

Her eyes widened further, realizing the gravity of her situation. She scrambled to grab her clothes, her movements frantic. "Taehyung, please," she whimpered, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry, I didn't know—"

But Taehyung had already turned away, his eyes cold and empty as he strode out of the room. His guards appeared almost immediately, their expressions unreadable as they approached the trembling manager. "Take her to the nearest mental hospital, and make sure she receives the care she needs," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth or compassion. "And remind her, every single day, of the mistake she made."

The manager's eyes widened in horror, her hands flying to her face as she realized the gravity of his words. "No, please," she wailed, her voice a desperate plea. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!"

The guards didn't speak, their grip firm as they escorted her out, their faces a stoic mask of professionalism. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Taehyung alone in the hotel suite, his rage simmering in the silence.

---

Back in Seoul, in the quiet solitude of your small apartment, you found yourself staring at the framed picture of Taehyung that sat on your bedside table. Jungkook had already left for his business trip.

"Should I tell Jungkook about the kiss?" you whispered to the empty room, your heart racing with the weight of the question. The love triangle had grown more tangled than you ever thought possible.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt that weighed heavy on your chest. Taehyung's kiss in Paris had left you feeling conflicted, and you couldn't help but wonder if you should tell Jungkook about it. But then you thought of the potential consequences - the rift it could cause in their friendship, the drama that could unfold within the group. You didn't want to be the one responsible for breaking the bond between the members of BTS, a bond that seemed so unshakeable from the outside.

You decided to keep the secret, at least for now. But as you arrived at the Big Hit Entertainment building that evening.

As you stepped inside, the familiar scent of the place washed over you, a mix of stale coffee and the faint aroma of sweat that always seemed to linger after long rehearsals. You spotted Hobi in the hallway, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

"Y/N!" He called out, his voice a mix of surprise and excitement. "What a surprise, but shouldn't you be with Taehyung right now?"

You forced a smile, your heart racing at the mention of his name. "I'm actually taking a week off," you replied, hoping he wouldn't press further. "Do you know where Jimin is?"

"Jimin?" Hobi's eyebrows shot up. "He's in the music studio, I think. Working on some new tracks."

"Oh, okay," you said, trying to keep your voice even. "Thank you."

Hobi nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he continued down the hallway. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. You knew that seeing Jimin would stir up feelings you hadn't fully processed yet. You made your way to the music studio, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the corridor.

Your hand hovered over the door for a moment before you finally knocked. No response. You frowned, pushing the door open slightly. The studio was dark, the only light coming from the glow of the computer screens and the soft flicker of the soundboard. "Jimin?" you called out, your voice tentative.

You pushed the door open further, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. The sight before you was unexpected. Jimin emerged from a side room, a white towel wrapped precariously around his waist, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. You couldn't help the scream that escaped your lips, a mix of shock and surprise.

“Relax, angel,” he said casually, running a hand through his wet hair. “I’m wearing pants underneath.”

You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks at the sight of his bare chest. It was a stark contrast to the polished images you had seen of him in magazines and music videos. "Jimin, please," you stuttered, averting your gaze. "Could you put on some clothes?"

He chuckled behind you, lazy and amused. “Why?” he teased. “Scared you’ll lose control and jump me right here?”

“In your dreams, Park Jimin,” you muttered, your cheeks on fire. “Just get dressed.”

“Then why are you looking the other way, huh?” he said, grin audible in his voice. “Look at me, angel.”

You let out the most dramatic sigh known to mankind. “Fine,” you muttered, turning your head just enough to glance his way—and instantly regretting it.

He was smirking, of course, still shirtless, towel now replaced by sweats, but he was taking way too long with his shirt. Buttoning it up like he had all the time in the world. One button every ten years.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” you muttered, walking up to him.

“Doing what?” he asked innocently, still not looking up, fingers slooowly moving to the next button.

“This,” you snapped, swatting his hands away and grabbing the shirt yourself. “You’re taking forever.”

You started buttoning it for him, fingers brushing his chest and very much trying not to notice the way he was watching you now.

“I don’t have any interest in your body, by the way,” you added quickly, still focused on the buttons.

Jimin’s eyes met yours, his expression unreadable. “Is that so?” He stepped closer, his warmth enveloping you. “Then why are your hands shaking?”

You froze, the shirt hanging loosely around his neck. Your eyes darted to your trembling fingers, then back up to his. “I’m annoyed,” you said, trying to sound as casual as possible. But the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Jimin leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear. “Lying to yourself won’t change the truth, angel,” he murmured, his voice a sweet seduction that sent shivers down your spine. You stepped back, trying to put some distance between you, but his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you against his bare chest. “What brought you here tonight?”

“I... I just needed to talk to you about something,” you stuttered, your thoughts racing as you struggled to keep your cool. “It’s about tomorrow. My dad’s birthday party.”

He nodded, his grip loosening slightly. “And what about it?”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the next words. “Well, my mom... she wants you to come. As my boyfriend.”

For a moment, the room was so quiet you could hear your own heartbeat thundering in your chest. Then, Jimin chuckled, the sound low and warm. “And why would I do that?” he asked, his eyes dancing with mischief. “After all, Jungkook is your real boyfriend, isn’t he?”

You glared at him, gripping the fabric of his shirt tighter. “Because you’re the one who started this mess!” you hissed. “You’re the one who told them you’re my boyfriend. Now, you have to help me fix it!”

Jimin’s smile grew, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “But why would I do that, angel?” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck. “What’s in it for me?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of his body pressing against yours. “Please, Jimin,” you whispered, your voice desperate. “Just for tomorrow. Pretend to be my boyfriend. For my family. Just one night.”

He leaned back, his arms dropping to his sides. “Alright, I’ll play along,” he said with a smirk. “But there’s one condition. You owe me a French kiss. Right here, right now.”

Panic flashed through your eyes. “What?” you squeaked, taking a step back.

“You heard me,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “One kiss for one night of pretend love. That seems like a fair trade, doesn’t it?”

Without waiting for your response, Jimin leaned in closer, his eyes locked on your lips. You pushed him away, your heart racing. In your haste, you lost your balance, tripping over a stray wire. In a blur of motion, you felt yourself falling, your arms flailing for something to grab onto. But instead of hitting the cold, hard floor, you found yourself in Jimin’s arms, straddling his lap as he sat on the edge of the soundboard.

"Woah, angel," he chuckled, his eyes gleaming with victory. "Easy there."

Your cheeks were on fire as you scrambled to get off him, but he held you firmly in place. "Let me go," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Suddenly, the studio door swung open and in walked Suga, a look of surprise flashing across his face as he took in the scene before him. "Jimin," he said, his voice even, "you really should do this at your own home."

You jumped up from Jimin's lap, your face flaming red. "It's not like that, Suga," you stammered, trying to straighten your clothes. "I just...I fell."

Suga raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking from your flustered expression to Jimin's smug grin. "Fell, huh?" He said, his voice filled with amusement. "You're always so clumsy, aren't you, Y/N?"

Jimin chuckled, standing up and brushing off his pants. "Yeah, she's a regular disaster," he agreed, his eyes never leaving yours.

You kipped Jimin's bare feet with surprising force, the sound echoing through the studio. "Ow!" He yelped, looking up at you with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"That's for making me fall!" You snapped, your face a furious blend of red and embarrassment.

Jimin just chuckled, rubbing his foot. "Alright, alright," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I'll behave for now."

You glared at him, but the heat in your cheeks didn't subside. "This isn't over," you warned, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

"Oh, it's never over with you, angel," he murmured, his eyes dark with promise.

With a huff, you turned away from him, your cheeks still flaming. You didn't dare look at Suga, knowing your embarrassment would only worsen. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," you called over your shoulder, practically running out of the room.

Jimin's laughter followed you down the hall, the sound bouncing off the walls and echoing in your ears. You couldn't believe what just happened. You felt like you were in a never-ending rollercoaster, and you hadn't even buckled up.

As you reached the bus stop, the cold Seoul air bit at your skin, a stark contrast to the heat that still lingered in your cheeks. You scolded yourself, trying to shake off the tumult of emotions. What were you thinking, agreeing to bring Jimin to your father's birthday party? You should have just told your mom no, that you didn't have a boyfriend. But no, you had to go and make things complicated, didn't you?

You were so lost in thought that you didn't even hear the car pull up beside you until the window rolled down with a smooth electric hum. You looked over to see Suga face peering out from the passenger seat. "Come on," he called out. "I'll drop you home."

You nodded, your mind racing with the events of the evening. "Thanks, Suga," you murmured, sliding into the backseat.

Suga started the car, his expression thoughtful. "You know," he said after a moment, glancing at you through the rearview mirror, "Jimin likes you. A lot."

You felt your stomach drop. "What?" you squeaked, your voice barely above a whisper. "How do you know?"

Suga's eyes remained on the road ahead, his expression unreadable. "I've known Jimin a long time, Y/N," he said calmly. "I know when he's just messing around, and when he's serious. And with you, he's...different."

"But he's such a flirt," you protested, trying to ignore the little spark of hope that ignited in your chest.

Suga nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "He is," he agreed. "But that's just his armor. Underneath it all, Jimin is one of the most empathetic people I know. He's always the first to notice when someone's upset, and he'll do anything to make them feel better."

"But why are you telling me this?" you ask Suga, your voice laced with confusion as the car weaves through the nighttime traffic.

Suga's gaze lingers on the road ahead, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the car's interior. "Because," he says finally, his voice measured, "I want you to understand Jimin. He's not who you think he is."

You swallow hard, clutching the strap of your bag tightly. "I'm Jungkook's girl," you murmur, as if saying it out loud will make it true.

Suga's eyes meet yours in the mirror, and you swear you see a flicker of understanding. "You can't control how people feel, Y/N," he says, his voice gentle. "And pushing Jimin away will only make him want you more."

You nod, trying to absorb his words, as the car slows to a stop outside your apartment. The silence stretches out between you, thick and palpable. "Thanks for the ride, Suga," you murmur, reaching for the door handle.

"Remember what I said," he calls after you as you step out into the cold night air, the door slamming shut behind you.

You nodded, his words echoing in your mind as you made your way up the stairs to your apartment. It felt like you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, each step heavier than the last. You fumbled with your keys, finally pushing the door open and stepping inside.

You threw your bag onto the floor, collapsing onto your bed.Your thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the chaos that had become your life. Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin...each of them pulling you in different directions, each claiming a piece of your heart. You buried your face in your pillow, letting out a muffled scream. How did you end up here? You were just an introverted fan, a girl with a simple crush, and now you were the center of their universe, the object of their desire and possession.

Chapter Text

The next day, you stood in front of your parent's house, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. You took a deep breath and told yourself, "You can do this, Y/N. You're going to tell them the truth."

You squared your shoulders and rang the doorbell, the sound echoing through the quiet neighborhood. As you waited for your parents to answer, you rehearsed what you would say in your head. "Mom, Dad, I know you're excited to meet Jimin, but there's something you need to know...he's not my boyfriend. It's all just a misunderstanding."

But before you could gather the courage to spit out the words, the door swung open, revealing your mother's beaming smile. "Sweetie, finally you're here!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a warm embrace. You could feel the excitement in her voice, and for a brief moment, you felt guilty for the lie you were about to unravel.

"Mom," you began, your voice shaky, "about Jimin..."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, you know what, darling? Jimin is such a gem," she interrupted, her eyes shining with admiration. "He's been here since early morning, helping us set up for your father's birthday party. He's been such a delight to have around."

Your eyes widened in shock. "What?" you repeated, your mind racing.

With a knowing smile, she took your hand and led you inside. "Come, come," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "You'll see for yourself."

As you walked into the living room, you couldn't believe your eyes. There was Jimin, surrounded by streamers and balloons, his hands busy tying ribbons onto the chandelier.

"Oh, Y/N," your dad boomed, turning from his place at the kitchen counter. "You're finally here!" He wrapped you in a bear hug, his laughter rumbling through his chest.

You pulled back, smiling weakly. "Happy birthday, Dad," you murmured, feeling the weight of your impending confession pressing down on your shoulders.

"Thanks, honey," he said, patting your back. "But enough about me, what's this I hear about you and Jimin fighting?"

Your eyes snapped to Jimin, who had paused in his decorating to watch you with a mischievous grin. "Fight?" you echoed, feigning ignorance.

"It's okay, Dad," Jimin called out from his perch on the chair, his smile as bright as the balloons scattered around the room. "Y/N looks adorable when she's mad."

Your cheeks burned, and you felt your mom's gaze on you, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Is that right, sweetie?" she asked, walking over to you. "How can you fight with such a charming young man?"

You shot Jimin a glare that could have melted ice. "It's not like that," you protested, feeling the room spin around you. How did he manage to charm your parents so quickly?.

"I need to talk to you," you hissed through gritted teeth, pulling him into your bedroom and shutting the door firmly behind you.

You pinned Jimin against the door the moment you had him in your room, your eyes narrowed with accusation. "What game are you playing, Jimin?" you demanded, your voice low and tight with frustration.

"It's the first time a girl's ever pinned me to a wall like this," Jimin said, his voice light, his eyes dancing with mirth. "I'm flattered, really."

"This isn't funny," you snapped, taking a step back, your heart racing. "What are you doing here, Jimin?"

He looked around your room, a smug smirk playing on his lips as his eyes landed on the various Taehyung posters and merchandise scattered across the walls and shelves. "Pretending to be your boyfriend," he said, picking up a photo frame that contained a picture of you with Taehyung. "You know, the one you told me about yesterday?"

"Don't touch my things," you whispered, your eyes flicking from Jimin's hand hovering over the Taehyung posters to the smug smile playing on his lips.

He chuckled, placing the photo frame down gently. "You really are a big fan of Taehyung, aren't you?" he said, his voice dripping with feigned pity. "It's heartbreaking, really."

"Not anymore," you repeat, your voice firm and unyielding.

"What?" Jimin's smirk faltered, his eyes searching yours.

"Nothing," you said quickly, avoiding Jimin's eyes. "Let's just go downstairs."

He studied you for a moment before nodding, his expression unreadable. As you turned to leave, his hand shot out and gently grasped your wrist. "Did Taehyung hurt you?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You froze, the question hitting you like a sledgehammer. "What? No," you said, your voice a little too loud. "Why would you say that?"

Jimin's gaze searched your face, his expression unreadable. "Your eyes," he murmured. "They tell a different story."

The sound of your mom's voice calling for you from downstairs saved you from responding. "Coming!" you called out, your heart racing. You didn't know how much more of this you could take.

"Looks like your mom wants us," Jimin said, his grip on your wrist loosening. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he stepped aside, allowing you to lead the way.

As you descended the stairs, the sound of chatter and laughter grew louder. Your heart raced as you stepped into the living room, which had been transformed into a festive party venue. Relatives you hadn't seen in ages were bustling around, snapping photos with Jimin as if he were the main event.

You stepped between them and Jimin, your smile polite but your voice firm. “No pictures, please. He hates cameras.”

Jimin quirked a brow behind you. “Do I?”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. “Yes. You do.”

He raised both hands in surrender, lips twitching into a grin. “Right. I do.”

"Stay close to me," you whispered to Jimin as the party buzzed around you, your glare unyielding. "Don't talk to my family, okay? I don't want you to get into any trouble."

Jimin's smile was all teeth as he nodded. "As you wish, my lady," he said with a dramatic bow, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

As the party swirled around you in a blur of noise and flashing lights, Jimin kept close—almost too close. His hand brushed against yours whenever you passed a tray of appetizers, his shoulder casually nudging yours whenever someone greeted you both. You gave him warning glances, but they only seemed to amuse him more.

"You’re enjoying this too much," you muttered under your breath as your cousin pulled you into a selfie—Jimin, of course, leaned into frame, flashing a perfect grin.

“I’m just a guest following orders,” he whispered back, his breath warm against your ear. “You told me to stay close.”

You scowled and stepped away, but he followed, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes never straying far from you.

By the time dinner rolled around, the long dining table was packed with relatives, half-full wine glasses, and the steady buzz of overlapping conversations. You were just beginning to relax when your aunt, the one with a voice like a foghorn and a taste for drama, pointed her fork at you.

“So, Y/N,” she said, loud enough to quiet the table. “How on earth did you make this charming young man fall for you? Come on, what’s the secret?”

Your breath caught. The clink of cutlery against porcelain seemed to stop for a second. You forced a polite smile, but before you could respond, Jimin leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table as he looked directly at your aunt.

“I actually fell first,” he said smoothly, his voice rich with sincerity and something else—something private. “Still falling, if I’m being honest. And she’s making me work for it.”

The entire table erupted into coos and laughter. You blinked at him, stunned. Jimin didn’t look at anyone else. Just you.

As the party wound down and relatives began to trickle out, hugging you and patting Jimin on the back as they left, the tension between you remained. After the last relative drove away, you retreated to the balcony for some much-needed fresh air. You leaned over the railing, watching the streetlights flicker in the cool night.

Jimin appeared beside you, holding a plate with a slice of your father's birthday cake. He offered it with a hopeful smile. "For my angel," he said, his voice low and earnest.

"I don't have space for more food," you said, your voice flat, not meeting Jimin's eyes. "But thanks for coming to my dad's birthday party."

Jimin's smile didn't falter as he placed the plate on the small table behind you. "Dry thanks?" he echoed, leaning against the railing. His eyes searched yours. "Is that all I get?"

"What else do you want?" You snapped, turning to face him, your hands balling into fists at your side. "A medal for pretending to be my boyfriend?"

Before you could react, Jimin leaned in and swiped a finger through the remaining frosting on the plate, bringing it to your neck. You gasped as the cool cream trailed over your skin, but before you could process what was happening, his lips were there, tracing the same path with a gentle warmth. "Hmm," he murmured, his eyes dark with something unreadable. "That's what I needed."

You stepped back, your heart racing. "What are you doing?" you demanded, swiping at the frosting with a trembling hand.

Jimin's smile didn't waver. "What's the matter?" he asked innocently. "Don't you like cake?"

You turned to glare at him, but before you could say anything, your mom popped her head out the sliding door. "Jimin, darling," she called out, her voice cheerful. "Would you like some champagne? ".

You stepped in quickly. "Mom, Jimin's not really good with drinking," you warned, trying to keep the edge out of your voice.

Jimin looked at you, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, I don't mind," he said, his voice as smooth as silk. "Your dad and I could share a bottle, get to know each other better."

Your mom beamed. "What a wonderful idea," she exclaimed. "You two go ahead, I'll bring it out."

You shot Jimin a look that was half-panic, half-desperation. He simply winked at you before sauntering into the living room to join your dad.

As the night grew later, the laughter grew louder, and so did your anxiety. You watched as Jimin's drinks piled up, his cheeks flushing a delightful shade of pink. You knew you had to intervene before things went too far, but every time you approached, your mom shooed you away with a wave of her hand, insisting that the boys needed to bond.

Finally, when Jimin stumbled slightly while helping to clear the table, you stepped in. "Mom," you said, trying to keep your voice calm. "Maybe it's time we called it a night?"

"But the party's just getting started," Jimin protested, his words slurring slightly. He leaned heavily on the table, his eyes shining with a drunken light. "I want to sing for Uncle and Auntie."

Your mom giggled, patting his back. "Sweetie, why don't you take Jimin to your room so he can rest?" she suggested, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Let him sleep it off."

You felt a mix of anger and dread. "Mom," you hissed through clenched teeth. "That's not a good idea."

"It's fine," she waved a dismissive hand. "Your dad's already passed out in his chair. He won't remember a thing."

"But—"

"Just take him to your room," she whispered with a knowing smile. "I'm sure you two have a lot to talk about."

You rolled your eyes and helped Jimin to his feet, his arm slung over your shoulders as you guided him down the hallway. He leaned heavily into you, his breath warm against your neck as he slurred his words of thanks.

"Y/N, you're the best," he mumbled, his eyes half-closed. "The best girlfriend ever."

"I'm not your girlfriend," you corrected him firmly, pushing open your bedroom door.

He pouted. "Why not?"

You ignored his question, managing to get him to the bed. He flopped onto it with a contented sigh, his eyes already starting to close. "Comfortable?"

He nodded, his smile sloppy. "Very," he murmured, reaching out to grab your wrist. "C'mere," he slurred, tugging you closer. "I want to talk to you."

"Jimin," you said, trying to keep your voice firm. "You need to sleep."

But he was insistent, pulling you down until you were sitting beside him. He leaned his head against your shoulder, his breath warm and minty against your neck. "You smell nice," he whispered, his hand playing with a lock of your hair. "Always do."

You felt a strange mix of irritation and something softer, a tendril of warmth that unfurled in your stomach. "Jimin," you began again, but he was already speaking.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his eyes finally closing. "For everything. I know I'm not Taehyung. I know I'm not the one you want."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about?"

Jimin's grip on your wrist tightened slightly, his eyes still closed. "When you feel like you can't handle it," he mumbled, his words slurred. "When everything's too much. When you're tired of fighting. Just come to me."

You stiffened, unsure of what to say. "Jimin, you're drunk," you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Nope," he said with a sleepy grin, his eyes still closed. "I'm not."

You couldn't help but chuckle, despite the tension. "You are," you said gently, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "You're adorable when you're drunk."

He cracked an eye open to look at you, his smile widening. "Really?"

You nodded, your heart giving a strange little lurch. "Yeah," you said, your voice soft. "But you still need to sleep."

Jimin's smile grew, his eyes finally closing. He snuggled closer, his hand slipping around your waist. "Stay with me," he whispered, his voice a gentle plea.

You stared at him for a moment, torn. But as his breathing evened out and his grip loosened, you knew he was asleep. You leaned back, his head still heavy on your shoulder. You sighed, gently removing his shoe and pulling the blanket over him. As you tucked him in, his face relaxed into peacefulness, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight.

Morning light streamed into the kitchen as you sipped your coffee, the quiet of the house a stark contrast to the chaos of the night before. Your mom's voice pulled you from your thoughts. "Sweetie," she said, her smile warm. "It's so nice to have you home more often."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, it is," you agreed. "But I can't always be around."

Your mom's smile faltered slightly, and you knew she was referring to the previous night's events. Before she could say anything else, a loud scream echoed through the house. You jumped, almost spilling your coffee.

"What on earth was that?" your dad's voice boomed from the living room.

"It jimin," You called out, setting down your coffee cup with a clatter. "He's just... being himself."

Jimin's head popped through the doorway, his face fully covered in marker drawings, making you stifle a laugh. Your mom and dad couldn't hold back their giggles as they took in the sight. "Jimin, what happened to your face?" your dad managed to ask through his chuckles.

Jimin point at you and said, "Your lovely daughter decided to draw on my face," his voice slurred slightly from the hangover.

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension from the night dissipating slightly. "Come on, baby," you called out, waving him into the kitchen. "You know I love to draw on your face, Mom and Dad. It's a regular thing."

Jimin adored your laugh, the way it filled the room and brought joy to everyone around you. As you chuckled at the sight of him covered in marker scribbles, his eyes searched your face, savoring the sound like it was the sweetest melody. He whispered to himself, his voice barely a breath, "I love to be your canvas for the rest of my life."

Car door slammed shut, and the engine roared to life. Jimin's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his eyes focused on the road ahead as he navigated through the early morning traffic. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of his marker-covered face in the rearview mirror, the fluorescent colors standing out starkly against his skin.

"Jimin," you said, holding up your phone, "Can I take a picture? You look hilarious."

He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his smile. "Angel," he said, turning to glance at you, "you're going to pay for that."

"What? It's just a little harmless fun," you replied, still chuckling.

Jimin shot you a glare, but it was tempered with amusement. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood," he said, his voice gruff.

You grinned back. "Oh, come on," you wheedled. "It's just a picture. Besides, I won't post it anywhere. It'll just be for us."

Jimin's expression softened, and he nodded. "Fine," he said, his smile playful.

You leaned in closer to the camera, positioning it to get the best angle. "Say cheese!"

But instead of a cheesy smile, Jimin's face was suddenly closer to yours than you'd anticipated. His lips brushed against your cheek, leaving a warm and slightly sticky imprint. You jolted back, surprise and confusion fighting for dominance on your features.

He leaned back into his seat, a smug grin spreading across his face. "There," he said, nodding at the camera. "Now you've got your picture."

You wipe your cheek, the sticky residue of Jimin's frosting-laden kiss still lingering. "Jimin," you say firmly, "you can't just kiss me like that."

He shrugs, his eyes still glinting with mischief. "But you're my girlfriend," he counters, his voice teasing.

"I'm not your girlfriend," you repeat, your voice a mix of exasperation and something else. You don't know what to call the strange emotions swirling within you.

"Oh," Jimin says, his grin fading slightly. "I guess I got ahead of myself." He clears his throat, suddenly looking serious. "Angel," he says, "would you like to be my friend?"

Chapter Text

Jimin grin fading slightly. "I guess I got ahead of myself." He clears his throat, suddenly looking serious. "Angel," he says, "would you like to be my friend?"

You stare at him, caught off guard by his sudden change in tone. "But you like me, right?" You ask, trying to clarify the situation. "It's okay to be friends?"

Jimin nods, his expression earnest. "Yeah," he says, his voice a little rough. "I do. That's why I want to be your friend. So I can get to know you better."

You tilt your head, watching him. There's something in his eyes—determination, maybe—that makes your stomach flip-flop. "What do you mean?"

Jimin's gaze meets yours in the mirror, his expression unwavering. "I know what you think of me," he says, his voice quiet but firm. "But I'm going to show you that there's more to me than just being a flirtatious playboy. I'll make you fall for me, not because of who I am in the spotlight, but because of who I am when the cameras are off."

You blink, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. "Jimin," you begin, unsure of what to say. But he holds up a hand to silence you.

"I know you're torn," he continues. "But I promise you, I won't give up until I earn your heart. And when you do love me, it'll be because you truly see me."

"Jimin," you said, your voice shaky, "You can't keep doing this. You're going to hurt yourself."

"It's my angel worried about me," Jimin said, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. His words hung in the air, loaded with a vulnerability you hadn't heard from him before. You felt your heart tighten at the endearment, unsure of how to respond.

You stared out the window, the cityscape passing by in a blur of concrete and neon lights. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Jimin's declaration had left you reeling, the weight of his intentions pressing down on you.

Days passed, and the silence from Jungkook was deafening. You lay on your bed, phone in hand, scrolling through your chat list for the umpteenth time. Three days had gone by without a single text or call from him.

"He must be busy," you whispered to yourself, trying to convince your racing heart otherwise. The empty space where his messages used to be was a stark reminder of his absence. You threw the phone aside, frustration and confusion bubbling up inside you.

But you knew you couldn't ignore the situation any longer. You picked up the phone again and took a deep breath before dialing Jungkook's number. It rang once, twice, and then went to voicemail. "Jungkook, it's me," you said, your voice shakier than you'd like. "I just wanted to check in. Call me when you get a chance."

You hung up and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. You'd told yourself that your relationship with Jungkook wasn't serious, but the ache in your chest suggested otherwise. Maybe you'd been fooling yourself all along. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the pain away.

The doorbell chimed, the sound piercing through your thoughts. You peeked through the peephole and your heart skipped a beat—it was Jimin.

Why is he here at this hour? you thought, glancing at the clock. It was well past midnight. You hesitated, your hand hovering over the doorknob.

You check yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair and dabbing at your cheeks with a bit of concealer. But you stop, your hand hovering in midair. "Y/N," you whisper to your reflection, "what are you doing?"

You wipe your face and muss up your hair a bit, hoping the mess would make you look less appealing. Taking a deep breath, you turn the doorknob, ready to face whatever Jimin threw at you next. As the door swings open, you're greeted with a soft chuckle.

"Looks like I disturbed my angel beauty sleep," Jimin says, his eyes sweeping over you with a warmth that sends a shiver down your spine. He leans against the doorframe, his smile playful but with an undercurrent of something more serious.

You cross your arms, trying to ignore the way your heart races at his presence. "What are you doing here?" you ask, your voice a little sharper than you intended.

Jimin's smile turns into a pout. "Couldn't sleep," he admits, stepping into the room. "And I just happened to be in the neighborhood."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "At this hour?"

Jimin nods, his eyes drooping slightly. "Just a little nap," he insists, already walking towards the couch. "Your house is closer to my shooting location than my place. I figured it'd save time." He flops down onto the cushions, his shoes landing with a thud on the floor. "Don't worry," he adds, his voice already growing fuzzy with fatigue. "I'll be out of here before you know it."

You watch him for a moment, torn between your annoyance and concern. "You can sleep on the bed," you say, your voice softer. "It's more comfortable."

He shakes his head, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "Nah, I'm good here." His eyes drift shut, and his breathing even out. "You're too kind, angel," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stand there for a moment, watching him. His words from the car replay in your mind, the promise of a different kind of pursuit. It's tempting, but you know it's a bad idea. You don't need another complication in this tangled web of emotions.

Jimin's smile widens as he feels your gaze. He opens one eye, peeking at you through his lashes. "Angel," he murmurs, "if you keep staring at me like that, I won't be able to sleep."

You blush, caught off guard by his words. "I'm not staring," you protest weakly, looking away.

He laughs, the sound low and intimate in the quiet room. "Liar," he whispers, his eyes drifting shut again. "But I don't mind. It's the sweetest form of torture."

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest. "You're ridiculous," you murmur, turning to head back to your bedroom.

Jimin, without opening his eyes, says, "So why's your mood off, angel?" His voice is low and teasing, the smugness palpable.

You scoff, crossing your arms. "It's nothing," you reply, your voice tight. "Just...work stuff."

Jimin opens one eye, his gaze shrewd. "It's Jungkook, isn't it?"

You freeze, your heart racing. "What makes you say that?"

Jimin opens both eyes now, his expression serious. "Because I know you," he says, sitting up and patting the couch cushion next to him. "Come sit."

You hesitate, then relent, taking a seat next to him. "He's just busy," you murmur, trying to convince yourself more than Jimin.

Jimin nods, his expression understanding. "Idol life isn't easy," he says, his voice gentle. "But let me give you some advice."

You lean in slightly, curiosity piqued. "Okay."

Jimin's gaze locks with yours, his expression earnest. "Don't run for Jungkook," he says, his voice low and intense. "He likes the chase."

Your eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

Jimin sighs, his playfulness replaced by a seriousness that's almost unsettling. "Jungkook," he says, "he's the type who enjoys the thrill of the chase. If you're always available, he'll get bored. And that's not what you want, right?"

"You're weird," you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Jimin's eyes light up, and he turns to face you fully on the couch, his smile wide and mischievous. "Oh, really?" He says, leaning closer. "How so?"

You blush, feeling your heart race. "You said you liked me," you stumble over the words, "but instead of, you know, being with me, you're helping me with Jungkook."

He laughs, a rich, warm sound that fills the room. "I told you, I'm going to win you over," he says, his voice still low. "But I'm not going to do it by tearing you apart from someone you care about. That's not who I am."

You blink, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. "Jimin," you whisper, "you're confusing me."

He laughs, the sound a gentle rumble in the quiet room. "Maybe I'm confusing myself too," he admits, his eyes still locked with yours. His stomach gives a loud growl, breaking the tension. You can't help but laugh, the sound easing the knot in your chest.

"Okay," you say, standing up. "Let's get you something to eat."

Jimin's eyes widen in surprise. "I'm on a diet," he protests weakly.

"Not anymore," you reply with a smirk, placing the tray in his lap. The aroma of steaming ramyeon fills the air, and his stomach responds with an eager growl.

Jimin looks down at the food, his eyes lighting up despite his protest. "But I'm not hungry," he says, his voice betraying his lie as his mouth waters.

You laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Jimin," you coax. "You know how much ARMY loves you. A little food won't make your abs disappear."

He opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get the words out, you pop a spoonful of ramyeon into his mouth. His eyes widen in surprise, but the flavor hits him, and he chews hungrily. You laugh again, watching him with a fondness that you can't quite explain. It's like he's a lost puppy you can't help but want to take care of.

"See?" You say, holding out the spoon again. "It's not so bad."

Jimin nods, his mouth full. He swallows and smiles up at you, his eyes twinkling. "Okay, okay," he says, his voice muffled. "You win."

You watch as he devours the food, his eyes never leaving yours. It's strange, the way he looks at you—like he's memorizing every feature, every expression. It's intense and a little unnerving, but also... nice. You find yourself smiling back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

After a few moments, Jimin glances at his watch and groans. "My break's over," he says, reluctance in his tone. "I need to get back to the set."

"All the best," you murmured, your voice barely audible. Jimin nodded solemnly, his eyes searching yours.

"And you're coming to work tomorrow, right?" Jimin asked, his tone tentative. "Taehyung is coming back."

You nodded, trying to keep your emotions in check. The thought of seeing Taehyung again made your stomach flip, but you weren't ready to deal with the implications of his return. "I'll be there," you said, your voice a whisper.

As soon as Jimin left, you sank down onto your bed, the weight of the day's events crashing down on you. You buried your face in your pillow, the fabric muffling your sigh.

Should I resign from being Taehyung's personal assistant? The question played on repeat in your head. But every time you thought about it, a spark of anger flared up inside you. It's not my fault, you reminded yourself.

You rolled over on the bed, the plush comforter doing little to soothe the turmoil within. He's the one who forced that kiss, who insulted me, not the other way around. You felt a strange mix of emotions—frustration, hurt, and a hint of something else that you didn't dare acknowledge.

The room felt too small, too suffocating with the weight of your thoughts. You sat up, pushing the covers aside. I won't let him drive me away, you decided firmly. I'm not the one who did anything wrong.

The next morning, you stood in front of the BigHit building, the gleaming glass reflecting the early dawn light. You took a deep breath, the cool air filling your lungs and steeling your resolve. "You can do this," you whispered to yourself. "Taehyung doesn't deserve your love or respect. Remember what he said to you."

You smoothed your shirt, straightened your shoulders, and marched through the revolving doors with a determination that surprised even you. The familiar faces of the staff greeted you with smiles, but you couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety as you approached the elevator. The memory of his insult burned in your mind, a stark reminder of why you needed to keep your distance .

As the elevator ascended, you mentally rehearsed the conversation you'd have with Taehyung. You'd be professional, firm, and unyielding. No more playing nice, no more letting his words cut deep. The doors slid open, revealing the bustling office space. You took a step forward, the clack of your heels echoing through the hallway.

"Y/N!" A high-pitched voice called out, stopping you in your tracks. You turned to see Minseo rushing towards you.

"How could you?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock. "You come back to Seoul, and you don't even tell me? What kind of friend are you?"

"How did you know I was back in Korea?" You ask, your voice laced with suspicion as Minseo pulls you into a tight embrace.

"Jimin told me!" She chirps, her eyes shining with excitement. You pull back, looking at her with surprise. "Everything okay with you and Taehyung?" she asks, her smile fading slightly.

"What do you mean?" You ask, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

"You suddently come back from your business trip!" Minseo exclaimed, her grip on your arm tightening. "What happened in Paris? Did everything go well with Taehyung?"

You forced a smile, feeling your stomach drop at the mention of Taehyung. "Yeah, I'm not feeling well," you lied, trying to keep your voice steady. "That's why I came back."

Minseo's expression softened with concern. "Oh no, what's wrong?" She asked, her voice filled with genuine care.

You took a deep breath, the lie feeling heavy on your tongue. "It's just... stress from work," you replied, hoping it was enough to satisfy her curiosity.

Minseo nodded, her expression filled with understanding. "Oh, I get it," she said sympathetically. "But you should've told me. I could've brought you some soup or something."

"It's okay," you assured her, "I just needed some rest."

Minseo nodded sympathetically, then her expression shifted to one of excitement. "Oh, I almost forgot!" she squealed, her grip on your arm tightening. "Did you hear? Taehyung got a new manager!"

You felt a cold knot form in your stomach. "What happened to the old one?" you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

Minseo's eyes grew wide with excitement. "Oh, she just disappeared!" she said, her voice hushed. "No one knows where she went. Some say it was because of Taehyung's...temper."

"Really?" You feigned interest, your mind racing. The news was unsettling, and you couldn't help but wonder what it meant for you.

"Yeah," Minseo nodded, her expression solemn. "But you know how it is with idols. Everything's so hush-hush." She glanced at her watch. "Oh no, I'm late!" she exclaimed, pulling away. "Y/N, let's talk tonight, okay?"

You nodded, your thoughts racing as you watched her hurry away. Taehyung's new manager, huh? You couldn't shake off the feeling that it was somehow connected to the events in Paris. With a heavy sigh, you turned and walked towards Taehyung's dressing room. Your hand hovered over the doorknob for a moment before you pushed it open.

Inside, Taehyung sat in his chair, eyes closed as a make-up artist delicately applied foundation to his face. The room was a flurry of activity as stylists bustled around, setting up outfits and accessories for the day's schedule.

"Hey, who are you, miss?" a friendly voice asked, making you jump. You looked over to see a young man with a gentle smile.

"She's my personal assistant, Y/N," Taehyung said without opening his eyes, his voice low and firm.

"I'm Bong, Mr. Kim Taehyung's new manager," the young man introduced himself, his grip firm as he shook your hand. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."

You smile back, trying to keep your nerves in check. "Likewise, Mr. Bong," you reply, the formality feeling a little forced.

The moment you let go of Bong's hand, Taehyung's voice cuts through the room. "Everyone out," he says, his eyes still closed. "I need to discuss my schedule with Y/N in private."

The room falls silent for a beat before the flurry of activity resumes, albeit with a slightly awkward air. The stylists and make-up artists exchange glances before packing up their things and filing out of the room. The door clicks shut, leaving only the two of you in the suddenly much smaller space.

Taehyung opens his eyes and looks at you, his expression unreadable. "I thought you were going to resign," he says, his voice as smooth as the newfound silence around you.

You stand your ground, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Mr. Kim," you reply, your voice steady despite the nerves playing a symphony in your stomach, "I don't believe I did anything wrong. Why should I resign?"

"Good to hear," Taehyung smirks, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. "I wouldn't want to lose such a dedicated assistant."

You roll your eyes, unable to hold back your annoyance. "I'm only here to do my job," you reply coolly, refusing to let his charm affect you.

Taehyung's smirk fades, and he sits up straight in his chair. "Look, sweetheart," he says, his voice dropping an octave. "I know I messed up, but can't we just put it behind us?"

"Mr. Kim," you correct him firmly, "my name is Y/N. And as your assistant, I'd appreciate it if you could remain professional. You have a photoshoot in 30 minutes."

Taehyung's eyes narrow slightly, the smirk slipping from his face. You turn on your heel and start to walk away, not bothering to wait for his response. You can feel his gaze burning into your back, but you keep moving. As you leave the dressing room, the cool air of the hallway feels like a slap in the face, a stark contrast to the heated tension of moments ago.

Your heart is racing, but you refuse to let him see how much he's affected you. You've made your decision—you're going to keep your distance, maintain your dignity. The click of the dressing room door echoes in the hallway, a final punctuation to the conversation.

You spend the whole day avoiding Taehyung as much as possible, throwing yourself into work. You coordinate meetings, organize outfits, and juggle his schedule like a pro. Every time you catch a glimpse of him, you feel a mix of anger and sadness, but you push it aside. It's for the best.

As the evening approaches, you sit at the desk outside Taehyung's dressing room, meticulously arranging his schedule for the next day. You're so focused that you don't even notice the whispers of the staff members passing by, It's not until you hear Jungkook's name that you perk up, your ears straining to catch the hushed conversation.

"Did you hear about Jungkook?" one of the stylists says, her voice barely above a murmur.

"What happened?" another asks, curiosity piqued.

"He was spotted at some club in New York," the first stylist replies, her eyes wide. "With a bunch of girls."

You go outside for a brief moment, the cool evening air a welcome reprieve from the stifling tension inside. You pull out your phone to check the time, and a notification flashes on the screen: "Jungkook Spotted in New York Nightclub with Mystery Women." Your heart skips a beat, and you quickly open the article. The photos show Jungkook surrounded by a group of giggling females, his arms draped casually over their shoulders.

You sigh heavily, feeling a twinge of something uncomfortable. Jealousy? No, you tell yourself firmly. Jungkook is your boyfriend, but he's also an international celebrity. He has a personal life, and you've agreed to be okay with that.

"I'm missing you," you murmur to the picture of Jungkook on your phone, your thumb tracing the edges of the screen.

"Who are you missing, sweetheart?"

You jump at the sudden whisper in your ear, your heart racing. Taehyung's arms slip around your waist from behind, and you feel the warmth of his body against your back. You hadn't heard him approach, too lost in thought.

"Mr. Kim," you say firmly, stepping out of his embrace and turning to face him. "I think you're the one with the memory problem. I've told you enough times, my name is Y/N."

Taehyung's eyes narrow slightly, his grip on you loosening. "I know," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerously soft. "But I prefer calling you 'sweetheart.' It suits you better."

"Mr.kim, I've already told you," you reply, your voice firm. "I'd prefer it if you'd address me by my name."

Taehyung's smile is cold as ice. "Sweetheart," he says, emphasizing each syllable. "Who is it that you're missing?"

You grit your teeth, trying not to let his proximity affect you. "It's none of your concern," you say, stepping away from him. "I'd appreciate it if you'd respect my personal boundaries and stick to discussing work."

"But we're not just colleagues," he whispers, his hand reaching out to touch your arm. You can feel the warmth of his fingertips even through the fabric of your shirt. "We're..."

"We're nothing," you cut him off, your voice shaking with the effort it takes to stay calm. "You don't have the right to meddle in my personal life."

Taehyung's grip on your arms tightens, and before you can react, he pulls you into a nearby storage room. The door swings shut behind you with a deafening thud, the sudden darkness disorienting.

"What are you doing?" You ask, your voice shaking with fear.

"I'm just making sure we're not interrupted," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck as he pushes you against the cold metal racks.

You struggle to break free, but his strength overpowers you. "Let go of me, Taehyung," you demand, your voice firm despite the tremble.

Ignoring your protest, he ties your wrists to the rack with a length of cloth that's surprisingly soft, but the message is clear: you're not going anywhere. His eyes bore into yours, a mix of anger and desperation flickering within their depths.

"Look," he says, pulling out his phone and unlocking it with a swipe of his thumb. He brings the screen closer to your face, displaying a series of photos. You're in each one, laughing with different men's.

You squint, trying to make out the blurry figures. "Those aren't even me," you protest, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear.

"I know," Taehyung whispers, his breath warm on your ear. "But they could've been. That night in the club, someone sent me these. I was a little drunk, and when I saw you with Bogum, smiling like that, I just..." His voice trails off, the regret heavy in his tone. "I got jealous, I said that terrible thing. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. You're not sure what to believe anymore. "See, I literally don't care what you think about me," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "So, please, untie my hands."

Taehyung's eyes searched yours, the intensity of his gaze causing your breath to hitch. "I know you do," he whispers, leaning closer. "You've been avoiding me all day. You've barely said two words to me. It's killing me."

You stare back at him, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. "Mr. Kim," you start, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.

"Taehyung," he corrects, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Call me Taehyung."

You bite your lip, feeling the warmth of his hand, the closeness of his body. "Let me go," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

"Why are you so cold to me?" he asks, his breath hot on your neck. "I told you, I'm sorry. I know I hurt you, but you can't just ignore me."

You swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts. "Fine," you whisper, the word barely escaping your lips. "I accept your apology. Now, untie my hands."

Taehyung's eyes gleam in the dim light as he leans closer, his lips brushing against your neck. "You don't sound convinced," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

"What are you doing?" You ask, trying to sound firm, but the question comes out as more of a squeak.

"You said we're nothing," he replies, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. "So let's see if you can keep up that lie while I do this."

And before you can even begin to process his words, his mouth is on you. A gentle kiss to the pulse point on your neck, a nibble on your collarbone, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. You try to protest, to push him away, but your hands are secured above your head. Your body, however, betrays you, reacting to his touch despite your mind's objections.

Taehyung's hands roam freely, exploring the contours of your body as if memorizing every inch. He kisses the tender spot just below your ear, and you gasp, the sensation shooting straight to your core. "Tae...ung," you whisper, your voice a mix of protest and pleasure.

"Mm?" he murmurs against your skin, his teeth grazing the curve of your neck. His hands find the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath it to trace the line of your waist, his touch featherlight and yet burning. You struggle against the soft bonds, trying to keep your body from responding, but his kisses are like a siren's call, impossible to resist.

Taehyung's lips move lower, kissing a path down your collarbone and along the neckline of your shirt. He moves slowly, savoring every inch of exposed skin, as if he's afraid you'll vanish if he goes too fast. You can't help the way your breath hitches, the way your body leans into him despite your brain's protests. His thumbs brush against the bare skin of your stomach, sending a jolt through your body.

You feel his breath warm on your thighs as he kneels before you, his eyes never leaving yours. He's so close, yet the fabric of your skirt separates you. You bite your lip to keep from moaning as his mouth finds the soft skin there, his kisses tender and lingering. His hands glide up to your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt and tugging it higher, exposing more of your stomach to his view.

As he kisses you, you struggle to maintain your composure, your breath coming in shallow gasps. But when his mouth moves upward, tracing a path along your stomach, you can't help the soft moan that escapes. It's like he's reading a map of your body, finding every sensitive spot, every place that makes you tremble. You arch your back slightly, the cold metal of the rack a stark contrast to the heat of his touch.

Taehyung's eyes flicker up to yours, a smug look on his face as he sees the effect he's having. He stands up and moves closer, his body pressing against yours, his face just inches from yours. "Be my girlfriend, sweetheart," he whispers, his breath hot and urgent. "Choose me".

Chapter Text

Taehyung's eyes flicker up to yours, a smug look on his face as he sees the effect he's having. He stands up and moves closer, his body pressing against yours, his face just inches from yours. "Be my girlfriend, sweetheart," he whispers, his breath hot and urgent. "Give me a chance to make it up to you. To show you that I'm not that person."

You turn your face away, unable to look at him. "I'm Jungkook's girlfriend," you reply, your voice a whisper.

Taehyung laughs, a harsh, bitter sound that makes you flinch. "Sweetheart," he says, his voice low and mocking, "tell me honestly, aside from having sex with him, is there anything real between you and Jungkook? Any feelings at all? "

Your heart is racing, and your skin feels hot with a mix of anger and humiliation. You stare straight ahead, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing your pain. "That's none of your concern," you reply, your voice as cold as the metal bars against your wrists.

"Sweetheart I know I hurt you," Taehyung murmurs, his eyes searching yours for a flicker of truth in his words, "but you love me, right?"

You can feel the heat of his body, his breath fanning across your skin as he speaks. You close your eyes for a brief moment, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy burden. "It's not that simple," you reply, your voice strained.

"Isn't it?" he asks, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, tilting your face back to look at him. "Jungkook and your relationship—it's meaningless, right? ".

Your eyes fly open, and you look at him with a mix of anger and pain. "You don't get to decide what I feel," you whisper, your voice trembling. "Jungkook cares for me in his own way."

Taehyung's smile turns sad, and he gently unties your wrists, the fabric slipping away to leave your skin feeling both relieved and exposed. "I know," he says, his voice barely a murmur. "But I care for you in every way."

As your hands fall to your sides, you're about to slap him, the sting of his words burning your cheeks, but he catches your wrist mid-air, his grip firm but not painful. "Let's see how long you can live in your fantasy world," he says, his voice thick with a blend of challenge and sorrow. "Because I know Jungkook better than you do, sweetheart. And if you don't believe me, just watch."

You jerk your wrist out of his grasp, pushing him away with all your might. He stumbles back, surprised by your sudden show of strength. You straighten your shirt and skirt, trying to regain your composure. "Don't you ever touch me again," you say through gritted teeth.

Taehyung's eyes flash with something that looks like anger, but it's quickly replaced by a smug grin. "Sweetheart," he says, stepping closer, "next time, don't dare to stop me from kissing you."

You grit your teeth, your whole body trembling with the effort it takes to stay calm. "There won't be a next time," you spit out, your voice cold. "And don't you ever call me that again."

"Is that a challenge?" he whispers, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Because I've never been one to back down from a challenge."

You don't answer, instead you turn on your heel and storm out of the storage room, your heart hammering in your chest. You can feel his gaze on your back.

Later that night, the BigHit building was quieter, the usual bustle fading into the low hum of vending machines and the distant echo of footsteps in empty hallways. You stood by the cold, concrete wall near the practice rooms, the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing faintly.

Out in the hallway, you take a few deep breaths, trying to compose yourself. You pull out your phone, your hands shaking. You need to talk to someone, to vent, to just get this off your chest. You dial Minseo's number, your thumbs moving almost on autopilot.

"Hey, Minseo," you say when she answers, trying to keep your voice steady. "I really need to talk to you. I'm kind of freaking out."

"Y/N I'm really sorry but tonight I'm going to meet Jimin," Minseo's voice echoes in your ears as you end the call, her words hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You lean against the cold, concrete wall of the hallway, taking a moment to process. "You're going to meet Jimin," you murmur to yourself, your heart squeezing in your chest. "It's okay, Minseo. Let's meet tomorrow," you reply, trying to keep the hurt from seeping into your voice.

You hang up the call and lean your head back, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Jimin likes me, my foot," you murmur, the sting of his words still fresh. "Busy with other girls, all men's are bastard." The pain is sharp, but you refuse to let it consume you.

As you turn to walk away from the wall, you catch a glimpse of Jimin standing a few feet away, his eyes wide with shock. He's leaning against the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his chest, looking at you with a mix of concern and bewilderment. "Did...did you just call me a bastard?" he asks, his voice laced with surprise.

You square your shoulders, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Did I?” you say, your tone cool. “Well, all men seem to have this habit of eavesdropping—and yes, I called you a bastard.”

Jimin blinks, clearly taken aback, but the shock quickly melts into that infuriating smirk. He pushes off the wall, taking a slow step toward you. "Woah, woah… my angel’s looking angry,"he says, his voice low and almost teasing, as if he’s enjoying the sparks flying off you.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. "Don’t call me that. And don’t act like you didn’t just prove my point."

"Your point being… that I’m a bastard?" he asks, feigning offense, though the amusement dancing in his eyes gives him away.

"Yes," you deadpan. "Case closed."

Jimin chuckles, the sound maddeningly soft. "You wound me, angel. But you should know when you look at me like that, all fire and fury… it just makes me want to stick around longer."

You scoff, turning to walk past him. "Good for you. Now get out of my way."

Jimin, however, doesn't move. He steps closer, gently reaching out and taking your hand in his. "Wait," he says, his voice serious. "I know what you need right now."

You stare at him, your eyes narrowed. "What makes you think you know what I need?"

Jimin's smirk widens, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I know you better than you think," he says, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "And right now, what you need is a little...distraction."

Meanwhile, at Taehyung’s house, the kitchen looked like a crime scene—flour dusted over the counters like fresh snow, egg shells scattered in chaotic little piles, and a whisk somehow lying on the floor.

Jin stood in the middle of it all, hands on his hips, looking utterly betrayed by the state of the room. “Literally, you can’t even break an egg without turning the place into a disaster zone, and you want to make a cake?”

Taehyung, sleeves rolled up and hair slightly mussed, gave him a sheepish smile. “Hyung, I’m trying,” he said, holding another egg like it might explode in his hands.

“Trying?” Jin snorted, stepping closer. “You’re trying to kill the kitchen.” He took the egg from Taehyung’s grip and cracked it cleanly into a bowl with one hand, smirking as the yolk slipped in perfectly.

Taehyung crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. “Okay, okay… you’re a pro, I get it.”

Jin shot him a sidelong look. “So, who’s the lucky girl? You’re not going through all this effort for no reason.”

The playful spark in Taehyung’s eyes dimmed, and he glanced down at the mixing bowl. “It’s not about impressing her,” he said quietly. “I just… I need to say sorry. I hurt her. More than I should have.”

Jin glanced at him, puzzled. “But why a cake? You could choose something else—flowers, dinner, anything.”

Taehyung didn’t look up from the mixing bowl, his voice quieter now. “Because… the first time I met her, she was covered in strawberry cake.” His lips curved slightly, as if the memory itself tasted sweet. “I can still remember the smell, the way she looked at me—like she wanted to disappear into the floor.”

Jin’s expression softened. He stepped closer and ruffled Taehyung’s hair with a fond smile. “Ah… my Taehyungie, completely in love.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes but didn’t push his hand away, muttering, “Hyung… just help me before I burn the kitchen down.”

Across the city, the muffled thuds and crashes echoed through the dimly lit rage room. Splinters of wood and shards of glass littered the floor, the air heavy with the smell of dust and adrenaline. You gripped the baseball bat tighter, your chest heaving as you swung again—this time sending a ceramic vase shattering against the far wall.

Jimin stood just inside the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, watching you like he wasn’t sure whether to step in or let you burn yourself out. His gaze followed every movement—your clenched jaw, the tense line of your shoulders, the way your hair stuck to your temple with sweat.

One of the staff members, a nervous-looking young man in a black uniform, shuffled closer to Jimin and spoke in a hushed tone. “Sir… uh… your friend is really angry.”

Jimin’s lips quirked into a small, almost amused smile, though his eyes never left you. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “I can see that.”

You brought the bat down one last time, the satisfying crack ringing in your ears, before you dropped it to your side, breathing hard. Slowly, you turned toward him, still catching your breath.

A little while later, the chaos of the rage room was replaced by the soft hum of a small, nearly empty café. The scent of freshly ground coffee and warm vanilla hung in the air, calming your still-frayed nerves.

You scooped up the last bite from your fourth serving, savoring it, before raising a hand to call the waiter over.

Before you could open your mouth, Jimin’s voice cut in smoothly. “No more ice cream for her,” he told the waiter without even looking away from you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You can’t buy ice cream for your friend now?”

He leaned back in his chair, one brow lifting. “If you eat any more, you’ll end up with a stomachache… and a cold"

You rolled your eyes, the corners of your mouth tugging into a reluctant smile. "I know why you’re worried, but it’s fine. Ice cream just... helps."

Jimin studied you, his expression a mix of amusement and concern. "You're eating your feelings again," he said, shaking his head. "What happened, angel?"

“Please, Jimin,” you muttered, your spoon clinking against the bowl.

“No,” he said firmly. “And why are you eating ice cream like it’s your life source?”

You stared down at the melting vanilla swirl before answering softly, “Whenever I’m sad, I eat ice cream.”

His brows drew together. “Why are you sad?”

You let out a slow breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because… I finally understand that dreams and reality aren’t the same thing. I’m just a few steps away from achieving my dream, but… I don’t want to anymore.”

Jimin’s teasing expression faded, his eyes locked on you like he was trying to read every word you weren’t saying out loud.

"Thank you," you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. "For taking me to the rage room. I never thought breaking things could be so...therapeutic."

His gaze softens, and he nods, understanding dawning in his eyes. "It's a good place to let out frustration," he says, his voice gentle.

"You come here often?" you ask, your spoon idly playing with the last remnants of your ice cream.

"Yeah," Jimin replies with a nod, his eyes never leaving yours. "It helps me clear my head." He stands up and stretches, his body fluid and graceful. "Can you wait here for a bit? I'm going to go wash up. Don't eat anything else, okay?"

You watch him disappear into the bathroom, his words echoing in your mind. You're not sure if you're more surprised by his understanding or the sudden urge to lean on him—to let him in. But as soon as the door clicks shut, you're alone again with your thoughts, and they come rushing back like a storm.

The silence of the café is shattered by the ringing of a phone, and for a second, you think it's yours. But then you see it's Jimin's, sitting forgotten on the table. You stare at it, the screen lighting up with an unknown number.

You chew on your lower lip, debating whether to answer. It's none of your business, but curiosity gets the better of you. As the third ring sounds, you reach out and tentatively lift the phone to your ear. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end is frantic, a man's voice you don't recognize. "Mr. Park, please come back quickly. Your schedule is extremely busy today, and we need you at the photoshoot. We're already behind!"

Before you can even process the words, the bathroom door swings open and Jimin strides back in, his expression shifting from relaxed to tense in an instant. He snatches the phone from your hand, his eyes narrowing as he listens to the voice on the other end. "I'll be there in a few hours," he says curtly, cutting off the urgent protests.

"But sir," the voice insists, "you have interviews, the photoshoot, and—"

"I said I'll be there," Jimin repeats firmly, his grip on the phone tightening. "Handle it." He ends the call and tosses the phone onto the table, his eyes meeting yours.

You can't help but feel a pang of guilt for eavesdropping. "I'm sorry," you mumble, looking away. "The phone just kept ringing, and I didn't know—"

Jimin waves off your apology, his smile easy. "It's okay, angel," he says, his voice low and reassuring. "But remember, once you're my girlfriend, you'll have to get used to people interrupting our dates."

You blink at him, your cheeks flushing. "What?" you sputter. "What do you mean, if I become your girlfriend?"

He shrugs, looking nonchalant as he grabs the menu. "Just saying. Now, let's talk about something more important," he says, flipping the menu open. "Pastries. Do you want something with chocolate or fruit?"

You nod absently, still lost in thought. "Chocolate, please." Your mind is racing. Jimin's words keep echoing in your head. He's always been the charming flirt, but there's something different about this. Is he really serious about you?

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You can't let yourself get caught up in this. Jungkook... you're Jungkook's girlfriend. But the way Jimin looks at you, the way he's always there when you need a distraction or a friend—it's confusing. You don't know what to think anymore.

The waiter comes back with your chocolate pastry, and you pick at it, the sweetness not quite reaching your taste buds as you chew. Jimin's eyes are on you again, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the café's atmosphere. "Angel, you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle.

You nod, not quite meeting his gaze. "Yeah, I'm okay," you repeat, but it feels like a lie. "It's just... Minseo mentioned she was meeting you tonight."

Jimin's hand stills on the menu, his eyes flicking up to yours, a hint of surprise in them. "Minseo and I aren't seeing each other anymore," he says, his voice calm and collected.

Your eyes widen. "But she said she was meeting you tonight," you blurt out, the words tumbling from your mouth before you can stop them.

Jimin's eyebrows shoot up, and he leans back in his chair, the menu forgotten. "Really?" He looks genuinely surprised. "Well, she's mistaken. Or... maybe she's not."

Why would Minseo lie to me? The thought is still circling in your head when Jimin leans in, close enough that the subtle spice of his cologne wraps around you.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, his hand cupping your jaw lightly as his thumb swipes the corner of your mouth. He doesn’t pull away. Instead, his eyes drop to his thumb… and he brings it to his lips, dragging his tongue over it with a slow, deliberate heat that makes your stomach twist.

“Angel,” his voice is low, husky, carrying a dangerous promise, “I’m a very addictive man… in every way. I’ve been holding back, controlling myself around you—but that won’t last forever.” His gaze darkens, pinning you to the spot. “The second you’re mine, I won’t stop. I’ll push you past every limit you think you have—take you until you’re shaking, until you can’t even look at me without remembering what I did to you.”

Heat floods your face, your throat tightening until you break into a cough. Jimin just smirks, leaning back in his chair like he hadn’t just set your entire body on fire.

“Jimin, you—” The words tumble out, but your voice falters halfway. You drop your gaze, stabbing at your pastry instead, pretending to focus on eating so you don’t have to meet the weight of his eyes.

But before you can continue, your phone buzzes on the table, interrupting the charged silence. You glance down, your heart skipping a beat when you see Jungkook’s name. Your eyes dart over the text: "I'm coming back to Seoul. Where are you? Send me your address. Or come to the airport."

You frown, your thumb hovering over the screen. You can't tell Jungkook that you're with Jimin—it's not the right time. The situation is already too complicated, and you don’t want to stir up more drama.

With a deep breath, you type out a quick reply: "I'll come to the airport." You hit send and immediately regret it. What are you doing? You're playing with fire here, and you're about to get burned.

Jimin notices the shift in your mood, his playfulness evaporating. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice softer, more concerned.

You look up. “Jimin… I need to go. Jungkook came back to Seoul.”

He simply nods. “Okay.”

You stand, grab your bag, and walk toward the door. Jimin watches you go, a small, bitter smile tugging at his lips before his jaw tightens. The moment the door closes behind you, he exhales sharply, his hand curling into a fist around the water glass—until it shatters, shards cutting into his palm. He stares at the blood dripping between his fingers, but he doesn’t flinch.

He’s about to turn and leave when movement catches his eye,you're standing there.

Before he can say a word, you step forward and wrap your arms around him. “Thank you… for tonight. You really helped me a lot.”

Jimin stiffens, quickly hiding his injured hand behind his back. “Anytime, angel,” he says, his voice steady despite the storm in his eyes.

You pull away, offering him one last small smile before you turn and walk out again—leaving Jimin standing there, the weight of your warmth still clinging to him.

The crowd inside the terminal felt suffocating—voices echoing off the high ceiling, suitcase wheels clattering against the floor. You pulled your phone from your pocket, thumb trembling slightly as you pressed call on Jungkook’s name.

It rang once, twice—then went to voicemail.A sharp exhale left your lungs. You lowered the phone, frustration and worry mixing in your chest—until the screen lit up with a notification.

Jungkook's message was simple, yet it sent a jolt of electricity down your spine. "Airport back side black car I'm waiting." Your heart raced as you glanced around, searching for any signs of the car. Was he watching you now?

You spotted it, tucked away from the bustling crowd—a sleek, black sedan, the tinted windows hiding any glimpse of the interior. Your steps grew quicker as you approached, your breath fogging the cool glass when you peered inside.

Jungkook sat in the back seat, his eyes closed and a scowl marring his otherwise perfect features. He was dressed all in black, from his hoodie to his sweatpants—his usual attire when he wanted to be invisible. But as the door opened and you slid in beside him.

"Drive," Jungkook barked, his voice low and gruff. The driver nodded curtly and pulled out into the night traffic.

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your heart was hammering in your chest. "How was your trip?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Jungkook's eyes snapped open, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made you want to shrink away. "It was fine," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But it's better now that you're here."

Before you could respond, his hand was on the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his mouth finding your skin. You gasped, trying to push him away gently. "Jungkook, we're in a car," you murmured, your voice strained.

He hummed in response, his teeth grazing your neck as his grip tightened. "Mm," he said, not stopping.

"Jungkook," you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady. "The driver—"

He abruptly pulled away, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror before looking at the driver. "Out," he ordered, his voice low and lethal.

The driver didn't even hesitate. He pulled over to the side of the road and jumped out, slamming the door behind him. Jungkook leaned over and locked the doors with a click that echoed in the sudden silence. You watched in shock as the driver disappeared into the night, leaving you and Jungkook alone in the car.

Your mind wandered—an unwelcome realization sliding in. You weren’t the only girl Jungkook had brought into this car before. The thought made your stomach tighten.

As you sat there, lost in thought, you didn’t notice Jungkook’s hand sneak up behind you, his long fingers deftly working at the clasp of your bra. You gasped when you felt the loosening, jolting out of your daze. “What are you doing?” you whispered, trying to keep your voice even.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “I’m tired, babe,” he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. “I need you to help me relax.” His lips found yours, but you remained still, your body rigid against the plush leather. You didn’t move, didn’t even part your lips for him.

Jungkook paused, his eyes opening to find yours wide with surprise. He pulled back, his hand dropping from your neck. “What happened, babe?” he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and irritation.

You took a shaky breath and reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone. You turned the screen so he could see the article about his New York club. "This," you said, your voice wavering slightly. "This club. It says in here that you had a wild night with a bunch of girls."

Jungkook took the phone from you, his jaw tightening as his eyes scanned the screen.
“Babe, I—” he started, but his words faltered the moment his gaze flicked back to you.

You were wiping your lips. Slowly. Deliberately. As if scrubbing away the trace of his kiss.

His tongue slid over his teeth, jaw flexing with barely contained aggression. “You really think you can just erase me like that?” he said, his voice low but razor sharp. He stepped closer, the air between you tightening. “Go ahead, babe… keep wiping. But remember—” his fingers brushed your chin, forcing your eyes back to his, “—anything you try to remove… I can always put back.”

Chapter Text

The car rocked with every sharp movement, its windows fogging until the city lights smeared into nothing.Your torn clothes were scattered across the leather seats, a messy trail of chaos and heat. Jungkook’s grip was iron, holding you exactly where he wanted you, his breath hot against your ear. Your palm slapped weakly against the glass, leaving trembling prints, the cool surface slick with condensation. His other hand clamped over your mouth, swallowing your muffled protests — “Jungkook… stop… please” — each word trembling into his skin as the leather seat creaked beneath you.

“Ahh, Jungkook, it’s hurting!” you gasped, your voice strained and shaky. His eyes gleamed with a twisted pleasure, his teeth bared in a sadistic smirk. “This is your punishment, babe,” he whispered, his breath warm and smelling faintly of mint. “You shouldn’t have wiped my kiss from your lips like that. You know how much that hurts me.” His words were a dark echo of your own from earlier.

You felt a sharp pain as he pushed deeper, his fingers moving with a possessive urgency that had you squirming and whimpering. “Please stop,” you begged, your voice muffled by the palm pressed firmly over your mouth. “Ahh, it’s so deep!”

Jungkook’s only response was a low, dark chuckle. He leaned in, his breath hot and ragged against your ear. “You want me to stop?” he whispered. “But I can’t, babe. Not until I’ve had enough of you.” His teeth grazed your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

You nodded frantically, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you whimpered, your voice muffled by his hand. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

Jungkook ripped the condom packet open with his teeth, his eyes never leaving yours. He slid it on with an eerie calmness that sent a cold shiver down your spine. “Just one more round, babe,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “Let’s make up for lost time, hmm?”

---

The car came to a halt, and Jungkook finally pulled away from you, his chest heaving as if he’d run a marathon. He slumped back into his seat, his eyes closed, a smug smile playing on his lips. “Fuck, that was amazing,” he murmured, his voice still thick with desire.

You sat up, shakily pushing your hair out of your face and trying to compose yourself. You pulled on his jacket, the material sticking to your sweat-dampened skin. The fabric smelled faintly of him—a scent that was simultaneously comforting and suffocating.

Jungkook opened his eyes and took in your flustered state with a smug satisfaction. He leaned in, his hand coming up to pinch your cheeks. "What's the matter, babe?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Still mad at me?"

You didn't respond, instead, you held out your hand to him, palm up. "Don't touch me," you said firmly, your voice shaking. "Not now. Not after that."

His smirk only grew as his fingers came right back, brushing along your chin like he owned the space between you. “Touched again,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours.

You let out a sharp gasp and started hitting his chest with both hands. “Yah! I said stop it!”

“Oh? We’re fighting now?” he teased, leaning back just enough to avoid your next swing, laughing when you lunged forward again.

Your palm smacked his arm. “I’m serious!”

He caught your wrists mid-swing, his grip firm but not painful, dragging you closer until your legs brushed his. “Aish… so violent,” he said, shaking his head slowly, though his grin told a different story. “You’re adorable when you’re mad.”

Before you could pull away, something cold slid over your skin. You looked down to see a thin silver bracelet now fastened around your wrist, the charm catching the dim glow from the dashboard.

Your brows furrowed. “What is this?”

“Gift,” he said simply, as if it explained everything. Then, without breaking eye contact, “And about that article—yeah, I was in the club. But not with girls. Some fans recognized me, took pictures, and boom—headline.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Convenient story.”

He smirked and dug into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Without hesitation, he placed it in your palm. “Go ahead. Check it. All the messages, all the photos. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

You stared at the phone, then at him.

"Jungkook, I don't need to check your phone," you said firmly, placing it into his hand.

Jungkook snatched your phone before you even realized, his fingers curling around it like he’d been waiting for the chance. “Password,” he said, already pressing the screen awake.

Your eyes widened. “Heyyy— it’s my phone!” You reached for it, but he leaned back in his seat, holding it just out of your reach.

“That’s why I’m asking, babe. Password,” he pressed, his tone smug.

You made a grab for it again. “No!”

He chuckled low, tilting the screen away from you like a thief protecting his loot. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” you shot back, climbing halfway onto his side to try and snatch it.

He grinned, enjoying every second of your struggle. “Mm… sounds like something a suspicious girlfriend would say.”

Your palm smacked his arm. “Give it back!”

“Password first,” he said, eyes glittering with mischief.

You narrowed your eyes, leaning in close so your face was inches from his. “You really want it?”

He nodded slowly, lips curling into a wicked smile. “Oh, I really want it.”

You leaned in even closer, so close you could feel his breath against your cheek. “Taehyung,” you whispered, the name a challenge and a declaration all at once.

His eyes widened, his grip on the phone tightening. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice dangerously calm.

You met his gaze with a straight face. “Taehyung. My password.”

His brows shot up, the smirk dropping into something sharper. “Babe… you’re joking.”

You shrugged innocently. “Nope.”

He leaned in closer, his jaw flexing. “Out of every name in the world, you chose his?”

“Easy to remember,” you said, deadpan.

Jungkook’s laugh was low, almost dangerous, as he shook his head. “Oh, you’re asking for trouble.”

“What? It’s just a password.” You shrugged, acting unbothered even though his gaze was burning into you.

He chuckled under his breath, leaning in until his lips brushed your ear. “You really like testing me, huh?”

You shifted back, but his hand followed, holding you in place.

“That name,” he said slowly, “is not going in your phone again.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just a password, Jungkook. It doesn’t mean anything.”

His grip tightened, his voice a dark promise. “You don’t love your legs?”

You blinked, confused by the sudden change of topic. “What?”

"You heard me,” Jungkook repeated, his tone deadly serious. “You don’t want me to remind you who you belong to every time you look at your legs, do you?” His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of defiance.

You swallowed, feeling a knot form in your stomach. “Fine,” you whispered, hating the way his words made you feel small.

The driver slid back into his seat, and the car began to move again, weaving through the late-night traffic. Jungkook didn’t bother hiding his smug smile as he pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders like he owned you.

You shifted uncomfortably. "Jungkook, I need to go home."

He shook his head, his fingers playing with a loose strand of your hair. "Nope," he said, his voice filled with a stubbornness that you knew all too well. "You're coming with me."

You didn’t argue. You didn’t have the strength. You just sat there, your eyes fixed on the passing streetlights outside the car window. The silence was heavy, thick with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

The car pulled up to Jungkook’s luxurious house, the gates opening smoothly to reveal the sleek, modern architecture. You stepped out, feeling a mix of irritation and exhaustion, and followed him inside. He tossed his keys onto the counter and gestured towards the laundry room. "Babe, can you help me out?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with challenge.

You folded your arms, watching as he started tossing clothes into the washing machine. "Why are you doing laundry at this hour?"

"I just got home from my trip," he said, avoiding your gaze as he added detergent. "It's the first thing I do."

“You just went on a business trip for one week,” you said, narrowing your eyes at the mountain of laundry. “How can you possibly have this many clothes to wash?

Jungkook chuckled, a smug glint in his eye. “Come on, babe, I asked for a little help. After all, I used all my energy on you,” he said, flexing his arms dramatically.

You froze mid-fold and shot him a glare. “Excuse me?”

He only chuckled, stepping closer. “Don’t look at me like that. You were just laying there… I did everything to make sure you enjoyed it, remember?” His words were a taunt, a reminder of his dominance.

Your mouth fell open, scandalized. “Jungkook!”

“What?” he asked innocently, but his grin gave him away. “It’s true.”

You shook your head, tossing a shirt at his chest. “Fold your own damn laundry.”

Jungkook caught it, his smile never faltering. “Aw, come on,” he pouted, the gesture surprisingly adorable on someone so intense. “I’ve had a long trip. I need some pampering.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Yeah, yeah,” you said, trying to keep the warmth out of your voice.

Some time later, in the bedroom You sat cross-legged on the bed, absentmindedly running your fingers over the bracelet on your wrist. The soft lighting made the silver glint, and you were so lost in thought you didn’t hear Jungkook walk in.

Warm arms wrapped around you from behind, his scent immediately surrounding you. “You like it?” he murmured, chin brushing your shoulder.

“I’m tired,” you sighed, leaning back against him. You slid down onto the mattress, ready to close your eyes — but before you could, the bed dipped sharply.

Jungkook climbed over you, bracing his arms on either side of your head until his weight hovered above yours.

“Heyy,” you said, half-surprised, half-annoyed.

“Relax,” he smirked, lowering himself until his head rested right on your chest. “Your chest is better than a pillow.”

You gasped, eyes widening. “Jungkook!”

He just hummed in satisfaction, eyes closing like he had no intention of moving. “Perfect height… perfect softness… yeah, I’m sleeping here tonight.”

You pushed at his shoulder. “Jungkook, get off me. You’re heavy.”

He cracked one eye open, smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re calling me heavy now? Babe, this is premium muscle you’re feeling.”

“I mean it—” you started, but he tightened his arms around your waist, pinning you down.

“Nope,” he murmured against your collarbone. “I told you… pillow privileges. And right now, you’re my favorite spot in the whole house.”

You groaned in frustration, trying to wriggle free, but he just shifted lower, his cheek brushing the neckline of your shirt. “Mmh, even warmer here,” he teased.

“Jungkook!” you hissed, cheeks heating.

“Shh,” he whispered, closing his eyes again. “You move, I’ll just get more comfortable… and you don’t want that, do you?”

You froze, glaring at the smug curve of his mouth. “You’re impossible.”

“And you,” he said without opening his eyes, “are stuck with me. Now hush, pillow. I’m sleeping.”

With a huff, you stopped moving. Jungkook’s breath evened out almost immediately, his grip on you loosening. You stared at the ceiling, feeling his warmth against you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the soft tickle of his hair against your palms. You couldn’t help the fondness that swelled in your chest—despite his possessiveness, he had a childlike innocence that was hard to resist.

You lightly ruffled Jungkook’s hair, watching the strands fall back into place with the grace of a black waterfall. His breathing remained even, and you took the opportunity to study his features—his full lips slightly parted, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. His dark hair was silky under your fingertips, and you found yourself lost in the simple act of touching him.

Morning came, bringing with it a gentle stream of light through the blinds. You stirred, feeling the heaviness of Jungkook’s arm still draped over you, his head resting on your chest. You tried to ignore the comfort of his warmth, the way his breathing had synced with yours overnight.

“Jungkook,” you murmured, pushing at his shoulder, “you need to get off me. I have to go home, freshen up, and get to work.”

He grunted in his sleep, his arm tightening around your waist.

You sighed, louder this time. “Jungkook. Seriously. I can’t be late again because of you.”

He stirred, his eyes finally blinking open. He peered up at you, his smile lazy and a little sleepy. “Mm, good morning,babe. Did you sleep well?”

“Jungkook, come on,” you said, your voice a mix of exasperation and affection. “You have to get off me. I can't be late again.”

He groaned, his eyes still closed. “Take a day off, babe. I’ll take you on a date. Make it up to you.”

You blinked, surprised by the offer. “A date?”

Jungkook’s smile grew, his eyes still closed. “Yeah. A proper date. Just the two of us. No cameras, no fans, no drama. What do you say?”

"Another time," you echoed, your voice filled with a hint of amusement. You tried to sit up, but Jungkook's arm remained firmly around you. "Jungkook, I'm serious. You know I have to go to work."

With a dramatic sigh, Jungkook rolled off you, landing on the bed with a soft thump. He stretched out, his muscles flexing beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. "You're no fun," he grumbled, his eyes still closed.

You took the opportunity to sit up, smoothing out your wrinkled clothes. "I'm sorry if I'm not the clingy type," you said with a smirk, slipping out from under his embrace.

He opened one eye to look at you. "You know there are girls dying to spend time with me," he said, his voice a playful tease. "And here you are, turning down a date."

"Well then, go with other girls now," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "Bye." You turned away from Jungkook, your heart hammering in your chest.

Jungkook sat up, his eyes snapping open. "What? Did you just say—"

You didn't wait for him to finish. You gathered your things and hurried out of the room, leaving the door open in your haste. You didn't look back as you marched through the hallway.

Jungkook sat up in bed, his eyes still heavy with sleep, and reached for the phone on the bedside table.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the AC. Jungkook sat there, hair messy, shirt half-off, staring at the doorway you’d disappeared through. Then, slowly, he reached for the phone on his nightstand.

The screen lit up under his thumb. Whatever he saw made his smirk deepen, though his jaw ticked in something far more dangerous than amusement.

He set the phone down again, eyes darkening as he leaned back against the headboard.

“Literally, babe…” he murmured, almost to himself, “…what did you do to me? Is this love… or attraction…” His lips curved, but it wasn’t a soft smile. “…or obsession?”

Your heels clicked against the polished hallway floor of BigHit, one hand rubbing your lower back.

“Ouch… my back… that Jeon Jungkook,” you muttered under your breath, the soreness still lingering from his earlier teasing.

As you rounded the corner, you nearly collided with Minseo, who looked at you with a knowing smirk.

“Looks like you had quite the night,” she said, raising a perfectly shaped brow.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t ask,” you said, walking faster.

Minseo fell into step beside you, her curiosity piqued. “Come on, spill. What happened last night?”

“Nothing,” you said, a little too quickly.

“Y/N, you’re terrible at lying,” she said with a laugh. “I heard Jungkook’s back in Seoul. Did you two have a wild night?”

You stopped mid-stride, turning to face her fully.“Minseo… why did you lie to me yesterday? Jimin wasn’t with you.”

Her smirk faltered for the first time, replaced by something almost sheepish.“Jimin… was with you last night?” she asked slowly, searching your expression.

You nodded, keeping your voice calm. “Yes, he was. So why did you lie to me yesterday?”

Minseo's eyes searched yours, a mix of regret and something else, something sad. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” she said quietly. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you had a lot going on. And I love Jimin. I was trying to make up with him, but he’s been ignoring me since he started contracting with you. I just didn’t want to add to your stress.”

Your chest tightened. You knew how much Minseo cared for him — you’d seen it in the way she lit up at his name.“I’m sorry, Minseo… it’s my fault,” you murmured, guilt pressing at your ribs.

She shook her head quickly, a sad little smile tugging at her lips.“Y/N, it’s not your fault. Jimin just… lost interest in me, that’s all.”

For a moment, the tension eased. But there was something in her eyes — a flicker you couldn’t quite name — before she glanced away, almost too quickly.

“Don’t trust Jimin, Y/N,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “He’s a player. He just wants you in his bed. That’s all he’s ever wanted from me, and that’s all he’ll want from you.”

You held her stare for a moment, the warning twisting inside you.“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, your tone polite but cool. “I need to go now.”

As you walked away, you didn’t see the way Minseo’s eyes followed you — her expression no longer sad, but something darker.

Minseo’s words kept echoing in your head, stubborn and sharp. Don’t trust Jimin… he just wants you in his bed.

You couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was more to Jimin than she knew. You’d seen his kindness, the way he’d comforted you in the café, his gentle advice when you needed it. Yes, he flirted, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that didn’t match Minseo’s accusations.

With a sigh, you took the first step onto the stairs, lost in thought. That’s when it happened—a sudden shove from behind sent you stumbling forward. Your hands shot out to grab the railing, but it was too late. Your body twisted in the air, and for a brief moment, you felt weightless.

The world tilted as you plummeted down the stairs. Panic set in, your heart racing as you reached out for something—anything—to stop your fall. Your eyes squeezed shut tightly, expecting pain to crash over you like a wave.

But instead, you felt something—or someone—catch you mid-fall. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, your descent abruptly halted. You gasped, your eyes flying open to find yourself in Taehyung’s embrace, his arms supporting you as if you weighed nothing.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” he murmured, his eyes filled with concern.

You blinked, your heart racing. “Tae,” you breathed, clutching his shoulders.

He held you tightly, setting you down gently. “Ahh, my hand,” he grimaced, cradling it against his chest.

You looked down and saw his hand, red and already bruised from breaking your fall. “Oh my god, Taehyung, I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed, reaching for his injured hand.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” he said, though the tightness around his eyes told a different story.

“No, no, you need to see a doctor!” you insisted, pulling away from his embrace and taking his hand in yours. You led him to the nearest couch, gently pushing him to sit down. “This could be serious!”

Taehyung’s laugh was strained. “It’s just a bruise, sweetheart . I’m fine. But you’re the one who fell down the stairs. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. “Seat here. I’m calling the doctor.”

Minutes later, the doctor arrived, his expression serious as he examined Taehyung’s hand.
“It’s a bad sprain,” he said finally. “You’ll need at least a week’s rest. Luckily, no bones are broken — but no heavy lifting.”

You exhaled in relief, though the sight of Taehyung’s hand still made your chest ache.

The doctor had barely stepped out when the door swung open, and suddenly the quiet room was flooded with voices.Jungkook was the first one inside.

“Babe—” he didn’t even finish before his arms were around you, pulling you in tight. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt, right?” His hand was warm against the back of your head, and you could feel his heart pounding against your cheek.

“I’m fine, I—”

Before you could answer, a groan came from the couch.“Uh, Jungkook…” Taehyung’s voice was laced with annoyance. “I’m the one who’s hurt here.”

Jungkook turned his head, still holding you. “taehyung, your hand’s wrapped up, not your whole body. You’ll survive.”

“Wow,” Taehyung said, leaning back with a hand to his chest. “Betrayed by my own dongsaeng."

Jimin walked past him, setting a water bottle in your hands without a word. His eyes met yours for a split second, searching, and you could see the unspoken are you sure you’re okay? in them.

Jin came straight to Taehyung, hands on his hips like an exasperated dad. “Kim Taehyung, are you trying to give me gray hair? Catching someone with your bare hand like that—do you want to end up in a cast?”

Namjoon crouched beside the couch, his brows knitting. “You’re lucky it’s only a sprain. Seriously, Tae, think about your safety too. We can’t perform if you’re in a cast.”

Hobi rushed in, half-panicked, half-angry. “You scared us, you idiot!” He knelt, adjusting the ice pack with practiced gentleness. “It’s swelling—does it hurt here?”

“Yes—ow—Hobi-hyung—”

“Good,” Hobi scolded, but he was smiling softly. “That’s what you get.

Suga, ever the king of deadpan sarcasm, leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Tae, next time you want to get a girl’s attention, maybe try not to break your hand in the process, yeah?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, but his smile was genuine. “Thanks for the advice, hyung.”

“Anytime, Tae,” Suga said, his tone dry.

Taehyung’s gaze flicked between you and Jungkook. “So, let me get this straight,” he began, his voice a mix of humor and accusation. “I’m over here, injured, and Jungkook hasn’t even looked at me once?”

Finally, Jungkook lifted his head, meeting Tae’s eyes. “You really want a hug that bad?”

"Who said I want your hug?" Taehyung quipped, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

That’s when Jimin, sitting at the edge of the bed, leaned in. “Don’t lie, Tae. You love it when we give you attention.” And before Taehyung could protest, Jimin and Jungkook both lunged at him, wrapping him in a tight, crushing hug.

“Yah! Yah—stop! That tickles!” Taehyung squealed, trying to wriggle free, his laughter spilling out.

Suga, leaning casually against the wall, shook his head with that signature smirk. “You two are going to make him break the other hand.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched them—Jungkook trying to wrestle Taehyung into a headlock while Jimin wrapped his arms around both of them, laughing so hard he could barely stand. The others were doubled over too, the room echoing with warmth and chaos only they could create.

From the corner, Suga’s calm voice cut through the noise. “You know… one wrong move, and a bond like this can fall apart.”

You swallowed, his words hitting a little too close to home. Looking around the room, you saw the friendship that had been built over years—the shared laughs, the inside jokes, the unspoken understanding between them all.

Jungkook’s eyes met yours briefly, a silent question in them. You forced a smile, trying to push away the heaviness in your chest. “I’ll grab some more ice,” you said, standing up.

As you walked out of the room, the laughter faded behind you, replaced by the muffled beating of your heart. You leaned against the wall, the plastic bag of ice cold against your palm. You never wanted to be the one to break them apart. You’d always admired their bond, the way they could go from teasing each other to supporting each other without missing a beat.

You took a deep breath, the cool air washing over your flushed cheeks. The corridor was empty, the quiet a stark contrast to the chaos you’d just left. You closed your eyes, trying to compose yourself. “I never will be the reason of their friendship break,” you whispered to the empty hall.

That night in the BTS dorm, Jimin was perched on the edge of the rooftop, a cigarette between his lips, the end casting a warm glow in the dark. The quiet was shattered when Jungkook and Taehyung burst through the door, their footsteps echoing on the concrete.

“You gonna handle Minseo,” Jungkook said first, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made it feel like a threat. He took a deliberate step closer, the space between them shrinking. “Or do I need to? ’Cause if I do…” His gaze sharpened, a faint curl at his lip. “…I’ll forget she’s a girl.”

Jimin’s expression didn’t change. He flicked the cigarette to the ground, the ember dying with a hiss under his heel. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. She won’t forget who she’s dealing with.”

Taehyung tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting in the dark. “She’s the one who sent that picture to my manager,” he said, his voice almost lazy — like he was talking about the weather, not betrayal.

Jungkook looked at him, curiosity in his tone. “And what did you do to your manager, Tae?”

A slow smirk curved Taehyung’s mouth, the kind that sent a chill even before he spoke. “She’s in a… nice place now.”

Jimin took a slow drag from his cigarette, eyes steady on the two in front of him.“I love Y/N,” he said flatly. “I’m not going to back up.”

For a moment, Jungkook just stared at him, as if the words didn’t register.Taehyung’s eyebrows rose, the smirk fading into a faint frown.

“You what?” Jungkook asked, voice low and edged with disbelief.

“You heard me,” Jimin replied, tone steady, smoke curling from his lips.

“Millions of girls are crazy for us,” Taehyung said, eyes narrowing.

“But I want Y/N,” Jimin shot back, no hesitation.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. “I’m not going to share. And I’ll make sure she loves me—only me.”

Without waiting for a response, Jungkook turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the heavy silence he left behind.

Taehyung’s smirk lingered, but his eyes had shifted—colder now, sharper. He studied Jimin closely, as if trying to discern his true intentions. “You’re serious about this,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

Jimin met his gaze, unflinching. “Dead serious,” he replied, flicking the ash off his cigarette with a nonchalance that belied the tension coiled in his body.

Taehyung’s smile grew, but it remained faint—a smolder rather than a flame. “Seems we’ve got the same prize in mind,” he said, his eyes glinting with something that wasn’t quite amusement.

Chapter Text

The sound of running water filled the kitchen as you rinsed the last plate, stacking it neatly on the rack. Sunlight streamed in through the half-open window, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers from outside. You tied your hair up, humming under your breath, letting the soft rhythm of housework distract you from the storm brewing in your head,You tried not to think about them

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t want to be the reason for their friendship to break. But what could you do? You couldn’t control who you fell for—or who fell for you. You sighed, leaning against the counter.

The phone in your pocket buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. A notification from Taehyung flashed across the screen: “Come to my house. Take a cab. You’re going to be fired if you don’t come now.”

Your heart skipped a beat. What could be so urgent? You dried your hands, slipping the phone into your pocket as you grabbed your purse.

---

The taxi pulled up to the sleek, modern house that belonged to Taehyung, and you stepped out, feeling a mix of apprehension and confusion. What could be so urgent that you had to come here right now? You paid the driver and walked up the short path to the door, your mind racing with possibilities.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped into the living room was Taehyung—shirtless, sitting casually on the couch like he owned the world. The sunlight spilling through the blinds traced along his shoulders, catching the faint sheen of damp hair, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower.

You tightened your grip on your phone and held it up.“What’s the meaning of this?" you asked, showing him the message.. “And why are you—” your eyes darted away from his bare chest, “—shirtless?”

Taehyung’s smirk grew wider, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You don’t like what you see?”

You flushed, quickly averting your gaze. “What’s going on, Tae?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

He leaned back, his posture lounging and relaxed. “You’re my personal assistant now, aren’t you?” He gestured to his bandaged hand with his good one. “You’re going to have to take care of me until this gets better. That means cooking, cleaning, and maybe a little bit of this and that.”

You eyed him skeptically. “This and that? What does that include?”

Taehyung’s smile grew. “Well, for starters, breakfast. I can’t make it with this, obviously,” he said, raising the injured hand slightly.

You sighed, setting your bag down. “Fine, I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Good choice,” Taehyung said, his smirk never wavering as you turned and walked into the kitchen. You could feel his eyes on your back, his gaze a physical presence that sent a shiver down your spine.

Once you had the ingredients laid out, you glanced over your shoulder to find him still watching you. You cleared your throat. “Tae, can you put a shirt on, please? It’s making it hard to concentrate.”

He tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “But why would I want to do that?”

You rolled yours. “Because it’s not exactly appropriate for you to be half-dressed with your employee?”

“But we’re not at work, are we?” he replied, his tone a purr that sent a thrill through your veins.

You bit your lip, willing your heart to slow down as you cracked eggs into the pan, trying to focus on the task at hand.

The kitchen smelled of sizzling oil and fresh herbs. You chopped vegetables quickly, keeping your back straight and your gaze focused on the pan, refusing to let him see how flustered you were.

Taehyung leaned against the counter, arms crossed, smirk playing on his lips. “Careful with that knife, sweetheart,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You didn’t look at him. “I said I can handle it,” you replied, tone flat, chopping a little faster.

Taehyung’s smirk slipped for a moment, something flickering in his eyes. “Ouch,” he murmured, leaning back against the counter. “You really have become cold-hearted.”

"Please," you said, turning around with the pan in hand, "could you step out of the kitchen or I might just splatter this food on you."

Taehyung's smirk wavered, his eyes darting to the pan and back to you. He took a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'll behave," he promised, though the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

He leaned against the counter, watching as you moved around the kitchen with surprising efficiency. "So, what's your favorite color?" he asked, his voice casual.

You flipped the eggs in the pan without looking at him. "Yellow."

"Yellow, huh?" His tone was thoughtful. "It's a happy color."

You nodded, focusing on the task at hand. "It reminds me of sunshine."

"And what's your favorite food?" he continued, his questions coming rapid-fire now, as if he was trying to fill the silence.

"Spaghetti," you said, sliding the eggs onto a plate.

"Ah, an Italian girl at heart," he teased.

You brought the plate over, setting it in front of him. "It's just good, okay?"

He took a bite, watching you with hooded eyes. "What's your favorite song?"

"It changes all the time," you replied, turning to clean up the kitchen.

"But if you had to choose one?"

You sighed, wiping your hands on a towel. "Fine. 'Serendipity'."

Taehyung smirked, leaning forward, rattling them off faster now, his voice playful but insistent. “Favorite place? Favorite memory? Favorite person? Do you still love me?”

“Yes,” you blurted, too caught up in answering before you even realized what he’d asked.

The word slipped out of your mouth, soft but clear, and the moment it hung in the air your whole body froze. Your hand stilled mid-stir, the sound of the pan sizzling filling the silence.

You whipped around, eyes wide. “Wait—no, that’s not—”

But Taehyung was already grinning like the devil caught his prize, his eyes gleaming with boyish triumph. “Yes?” he echoed, drawing the word out slowly, savoring it. “You still love me.”

Your throat went dry as heat rushed to your face. “I didn’t mean—”

He leaned closer, head tilted, his grin softening into something devastatingly tender. “You can keep pretending all you want, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice low and smug. “But your heart just told me the truth.”

You felt your stomach twist. This wasn’t what you wanted—not like this. “Tae—”

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his good hand. “I’ll let you go for now. But don’t think this is over, sweetheart. I’ll show you what you’re missing out on.”

With that, he turned and strode out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there, the spatula in your hand forgotten. You watched him go, feeling like you’d just handed him the keys to your soul without realizing it.

You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders. No, you couldn’t let him win like this. You had to prove to yourself—and to him—that your heart didn’t belong to him anymore.

“Breakfast is ready,” you called out, placing the steaming plate of food on the table. Taehyung sauntered in, now dressed in a crisp white shirt that made him look like a model on a photoshoot rather than a man who’d just been lounging half-dressed on the couch. He took a seat, eyeing you with an unreadable expression.

You tried to ignore the way your heart stumbled at the sight of him, focusing instead on the spread of food before you. The smell of kimchi fried rice, crispy eggs, and freshly made banchan filled the air, a comforting scent that grounded you in the reality of the moment. This was your job—to serve him, to keep the peace. You’d do it, even if it was the last thing you wanted.

“Looks good, sweetheart,” he said, picking up his chopsticks.

You nodded, your heart racing as you took a step back. “I’ve got to go,” you murmured, already reaching for the door handle.

“But you haven’t had breakfast,” Taehyung said, his voice smooth as velvet. “Don’t go.”

You paused, the cool metal of the door handle under your sweaty palm. “Tae—”

“Please,” he added, and there was something in his tone that made your chest ache. “I hate eating alone.”

You hesitated, looking back at him. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you saw something raw and vulnerable beneath the playful façade he usually wore. You swallowed, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll stay. Just this once.”

You took a seat at the table, the silence between you thick and uncomfortable. You picked at your food, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing. Every time you looked up, you caught Taehyung watching you, his expression unreadable.

“What?” you asked finally, setting your chopsticks down.

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “Just thinking it would be so good to see your face in the morning, cooking for me, eating breakfast together. Just you and me.” His eyes searched yours, a hint of challenge in his voice. “I’m waiting for the moment when you realize you can’t stay away from me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your cool. “Tae, I’ve told you, I’m with Jungkook now. And for the sake of your friendship, please stop this. I don’t want any of this to ruin what you guys have. It’s not fair to any of us. Can we just put this aside and move on?”

Taehyung’s gaze didn’t waver, his eyes searching yours. “It’s not that easy, sweetheart ,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “You didn’t force me to fall for you. I came to you because I wanted to—because I needed to. And now that I have, I can’t just pretend it’s not real. It’s like telling me not to breathe when you’re all I need to survive. It’s not your fault. It’s just how it is.”

You felt the weight of his words, a heavy burden pressing down on your chest. “But Tae, I—”

He held up his hand, cutting you off gently. “I know. I know you’re with Jungkook now. And maybe, just maybe, you’ve convinced yourself that’s all you want. But I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking. I know you’re not as over me as you pretend to be. And I’m not giving up on us—not yet. Not without a fight. We’re not done, sweetheart. Not by a long shot.”

With that, you knew there was no point in arguing further. You pushed your chair back and stood, the weight of his words heavy on your shoulders.

“Tae, I can’t do this with you,” you murmured, your voice thick with unshed tears. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, especially not Jungkook—but I don’t love you like that anymore. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

You turned away from him, your hand trembling as you reached for the doorknob. You could feel his eyes on your back, the weight of his gaze a silent plea to stay. But you knew you couldn’t. For everyone’s sake, you had to draw a line.

The entire day passed in a blur of schedules, rehearsals, and endless meetings. You kept your head down, phone in one hand and clipboard in the other, running through checklists like your life depended on it. Every time Taehyung walked into the room, you felt the air shift. His presence was impossible to ignore—commanding, magnetic—but you forced yourself to keep your focus on the tasks.

He didn’t say a word to you. Not once. Not when you handed him his water bottle. Not when you adjusted his mic. Not even when your fingers brushed his while passing him the lyric sheets.

You ignored him. Completely. Professional mask on, every move calculated. You were his assistant, nothing more. That’s what you kept telling yourself.

Still, when the day was done and the staff began clearing out, you felt that gaze again—burning, heavy, suffocating. You didn’t look up, didn’t give him the satisfaction. You simply packed your bag, clipped your pen back onto your clipboard, and muttered, “See you tomorrow, Mr. Kim.”

Your voice was steady, professional. But your chest was a storm.

He didn’t answer. Only watched you leave, his silence louder than words.

You stepped out of the company doors, the sky already dark with heavy clouds rumbling above. The sharp crack of thunder made you flinch as you fumbled with your umbrella.

“Come on, open…” you muttered, shaking it, tugging at the handle. The thing refused to budge.

A familiar laugh echoed beside you. “Angel, seriously? Can’t even open an umbrella?”

You turned to see Jimin strolling up, grinning like the weather wasn’t about to destroy your hair and outfit.

Rolling your eyes, you shoved the umbrella at him. “Fine. You do it.”

He clicked the button, tugged once, then twice. The umbrella still wouldn’t budge. His grin faltered. “Uh… it’s a little stuck.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Mm-hm.”

Determined, Jimin yanked harder. CRACK. The umbrella split clean in half, one side hanging limply.

Your jaw dropped. “You broke it!”

He held up the sad remains, trying to look innocent. “Okay, technically…it was already weak.”

“Technically, you killed it.” You glared.

“Don’t worry, angel.” Jimin lifted his chin with fake confidence. “It’s not going to rain tonight anyway.”

As if on cue, the sky let out a deafening boom of thunder before unleashing sheets of rain.

You gawked at him in disbelief, water already soaking through your clothes. “Not going to rain, huh?”

Jimin laughed through the downpour, holding the two broken halves of the umbrella like trophies. “Okay, so maybe I was slightly wrong.”

“Slightly?!” You shot back, shivering as water dripped down your nose.

He grinned, eyes twinkling as he leaned closer. “But admit it… even like this, it’s kind of romantic.”

You swatted his arm, but the corner of your lips betrayed you with the tiniest smile.

-----

The small food shop was warm and cozy, the steam from the ramen bowls fogging up the window.

You slurped a bite, warmth spreading through your chest instantly. “This… hits different in the rain.”

Across from you, Jimin was already red in the face, lips parted as he fanned his mouth. “Hot… so hot!” He grabbed his water, gulped, then reached for another bite anyway.

You snorted. “You ordered the extra spicy one, genius.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t wanna look weak in front of you,” he mumbled, voice muffled around the noodles.

A second later, his eyes watered, nose running. With dramatic flair, Jimin grabbed a tissue, rolled it up, and stuffed it under his nose like a tiny mustache.

You choked on your ramen, laughing. “What—what are you even doing?!”

He grinned, pointing at himself proudly. “See? Problem solved. Stylish too.”

“Stylish?” You burst into giggles, shaking your head. “You look like a clown.”

“Correction,” he said, wagging his chopsticks, “a handsome clown.”

You covered your face with your hands, trying not to melt at his ridiculousness. “I can’t take you anywhere…”

Jimin leaned forward, tissue still hanging ridiculously from his nose, eyes crinkling as he whispered, “But you’re smiling now, angel. So worth it.”

Jimin sniffled dramatically into his tissue again, making you laugh. “You’re such a baby,” you teased, sipping your broth.

He pointed his chopsticks at you with mock offense. “Excuse me, I’m fighting for my life here while you sit there all calm like a pro.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “That’s because I actually know how to handle spice.”

He smirked, lowering the tissue. “Maybe I let it hit me on purpose… so you’d laugh.”

Your chopsticks froze for a second, then you looked away, focusing on your bowl. “…Idiot.”

For a moment, the table went quiet except for the clatter of chopsticks. Then Jimin leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, eyes soft but curious.

“So, angel…” he said, tone lighter than his expression. “How’s it going with Jungkook?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “…You really want to know?”

“As a friend,” Jimin said simply, voice steady but warm. “Yeah, I want to know.”

You took a deep breath, staring into the murky depths of your soup. The memory of Jungkook’s face flashed before your eyes—his fierce protectiveness, his stubbornness that often crossed the line into aggression. But there was something else there too. Something that made your heart ache when you thought about it—his own twisted way of taking care of you.

“It’s complicated,” you murmured, twirling your noodles around your chopsticks. “He’s... intense. In every way possible. And sometimes, that scares me. But he’s also... sweet. In his own way, he’s like a child, demanding and stubborn, but when it comes to protecting me, he’s... fierce.”

Jimin’s eyes searched yours, his smile fading slightly. “And what about you, sweetheart? What do you feel for him?”

You took a deep breath, the warmth from the ramen not enough to melt the cold reality. “I don’t know, Jimin. Sometimes, I think I could love him. But other times, I just want to run away. It’s like he’s a tornado—beautiful and terrifying all at once. And I’m just a leaf caught in the chaos, unsure if I’ll be crushed or carried away to somewhere safe.”

For a second, Jimin just stared at you, chopsticks resting in his hand. Then his voice came out soft, almost hesitant. “So… you want to fall for him?”

You met his gaze, your heart tightening. “…Yup.”

Something shifted in his expression. The corners of his lips curved into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was a flicker—just a flicker—of sadness before he covered it with his usual warmth.

“Then I hope he doesn’t let you down,” Jimin said gently, taking another bite of his ramen as if to distract himself.

You felt a pang of guilt. You knew he cared for you too, but you had to keep your feelings for him at bay. For Taehyung’s sake. For Jungkook’s. But mostly, for their friendship. It was a tangled web of emotions, and you didn’t want to be the one to snip the threads that held them together.

___

You arrived at your apartment, the rain finally letting up. As you turned the key, you braced yourself for the usual quiet solitude that greeted you every night. But tonight, something was different. The door creaked open to reveal Jungkook sprawled on your sofa, his eyes snapping to yours like a predator spotting its prey.

"Your work ends at 8 PM," Jungkook said without preamble, his voice cool. "It's a 30-minute drive from the company to here. So, where have you been, babe?"

You stepped inside, shaking off the rain, your heart racing. "I got held up. Last-minute rehearsal changes." It wasn't a lie, but the way he looked at you suggested he knew it wasn't the full truth.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed slightly. "It's 10 PM. What kind of last-minute changes take two hours?"

You swallowed hard, the warmth from the food shop dissipating. "I had some overtime. And then I stopped to grab dinner. You know how it is." You tried to keep your voice even, but the tremor in your hands betrayed you.

"Dinner with who?" Jungkook's tone was low, dangerous.

You took a deep breath, stepping into the apartment. "Jimin. He insisted on making up for the mess with the umbrella."

Jungkook's gaze sharpened, his eyes darkening like a storm cloud. "You had dinner with Jimin?"

You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. "Yes, Jungkook. We're friends now."

He sat up, his movements fluid like a panther stalking its prey. "Friends? Since when are you friends with Jimin?" His voice was low, the words coated in accusation.

You lifted your chin. "When you was in New York."

His fists curled at his sides. "Break that friendship with him."

Your brows furrowed, anger bubbling beneath your chest. "Why? Why can’t I be friends with him?"

Jungkook opened his mouth, but then his eyes flicked over you—your damp hair, the wet patches clinging to your clothes. His jaw tightened, words catching in his throat.

“...Go change your clothes first,” he muttered, voice rough but softer now, as if the sight of you shivering disarmed his rage. “You’ll get sick.”

You nodded, grateful for the reprieve. In the bedroom, you peeled off your wet clothes, the cold air making you shiver. As you draped your wet shirt over the radiator, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were wide, your cheeks flushed from the cold and the confrontation. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside you.

When you emerged in dry clothes, Jungkook was pacing the living room, his phone in his hand. He looked up when he heard you, his eyes traveling over your changed outfit.

“Come here,” he said, his voice a demand rather than a request.

You walked over to the sofa, sitting down gingerly beside him. The couch dipped slightly under your weight, and Jungkook shifted closer, his thigh pressing against yours.

Jungkook reached for a towel, pulling you closer, his fingers threading through your damp hair as he began to dry it with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Babe,” he murmured, almost too calmly, “I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. You instinctively reached for it, but Jungkook was quicker, snatching it up. His brows furrowed as he read the notification.

“Oh. College reunion?” His tone carried suspicion laced with mockery. “Are you going?”

You shook your head firmly. “No.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, searching. “Why not?”

A bitter laugh slipped from your lips, low and shaky. “Because… whom I think are my friends, I’m nothing to them. Making friends—it’s always been the hardest thing for me. It’s easier to just stay away than feel that emptiness.”

Your throat tightened as you turned, looking straight into his storm-dark eyes. “So please, Jungkook… don’t ask me to cut off Jimin. I don’t want to lose that one piece of friendship I finally found.”

He sighed, his hand pausing in your hair. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he leaned in, his breath warm on your cheek. “Okay, babe. But remember—you’re mine. I’m not sharing you with anyone.”

You swallowed hard, whispering, “Thank you.” Then, trying to ease the weight in the room, you offered a small smile. “Wanna coffee?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, releasing you slowly, eyes still locked on yours as if making sure you understood every word.

You disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of clinking mugs filling the silence. By the time you returned, steaming cups in hand, Jungkook was on his phone, his posture relaxed yet commanding—like he owned not just the space, but the very air you breathed.

“Wanna go Jeju Island, babe?” he asked casually, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

Your lips curved in surprise. “I’d love to… but I have work. And Taehyung’s schedule is packed—”

Jungkook cut you off with a sly smile, setting his phone aside. “Babe… it’s a group trip. All the members are coming.”

Your eyes widened. “Really? When’s the trip?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Jungkook replied smoothly, stretching lazily on the sofa. “We have a flight.”

“Tomorrow afternoon?” you echoed, already feeling the rush of panic and excitement at once. “I need to pack!”

Without wasting another second, you hurried to the bedroom, tugging open the wardrobe. Clothes spilled forward as you started pulling options out in a flurry. Behind you, Jungkook followed, his footsteps slow, deliberate.

By the time you turned with two dresses in your hands, he was already sprawled across your bed, one arm folded behind his head, watching you like you were the only thing worth his attention.

“This one…” you held up the first dress, then quickly switched to the other, “or this one?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicked over the garments with a knowing smile. “Babe, you know oral sex?”

You paused, your cheeks heating. “No, what’s that?”

The smirk grew wider as he leaned back on the bed. “Let’s try it tonight,” he said, the words hanging in the air like a dare.

But before he could elaborate, you blurted out your frustration. “Ahh, I don’t have any clothes to wear!”

"Babe, you have pretty much everything," Jungkook said, his voice a smooth caress as he patted the space next to him on the bed. "You can pack in the morning. Now, come here."

You looked at him, the dresses still in your hands. "But they're all old. I don't have anything nice for a trip."

Jungkook sat up, his gaze intense. "Babe, you don't need nice clothes for me to want you." He reached for the dresses, setting them aside. "And besides, we're going to be on an island. It's not like we're attending a fashion show."

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "But still, Jungkook—"

"No buts," he said firmly, grabbing your hand. "Come with me."

You blinked in surprise when he dragged you to the living room. "Where are we going?"

"Shopping," Jungkook declared, pulling out his phone. "It's not too late."

You stared at him, disbelief etched on your face. "It's 1 AM, Jungkook! Everything's closed."

Jungkook arched a brow, his smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Babe, you’re forgetting something.” He leaned closer, voice dropping low, almost daring. “Your boyfriend is Jeon Jungkook.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he silenced you with a quick press of his finger against your lips. “Shh. Be quiet and let me handle it.”

You found yourself in an exclusive shopping mall that seemed to never close for the VIPs. Jungkook’s hand in yours, you wandered through the gleaming corridors of luxury stores, his confidence and status a stark contrast to your own. Each step took you closer to a world you’d only ever seen from the outside, a world that seemed so untouchable.

He led you into a boutique, the lights flickering on as if by magic. The salesperson recognized Jungkook immediately, her eyes widening in a mix of awe and excitement. She rushed over, eager to serve the celebrity in their midst. Jungkook nodded, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I want everything she points at, understood?” he said to her, his voice firm and unyielding.

You blushed, feeling the weight of his stare, the pressure of his words. “Jungkook, I can’t—”

But he silenced you with a firm look, a glint in his eyes. “You’re with me now. You don’t need to worry about that. Just get what you want. If you don’t, I’ll burn your old clothes, and then you’ll have no choice but to wear these.”

Your eyes widened in shock, your protest dying in your throat as Jungkook turned to the salesperson, his expression unwavering. “She’ll take whatever she wants. Put it on my card.”

The boutique seemed endless, every corner filled with silks, sequins, and fabrics you’d only dared to admire from glossy magazines. Jungkook trailed beside you, scooping up dresses and tossing them toward the salesperson without hesitation. Each time you whispered “This one’s too much—” he silenced you with a look that made your knees weak.

But then his steps slowed.You followed his gaze and felt your heart stop. The lingerie section. Rows of lace, satin, and delicate straps glimmered under the soft lights. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Jungkook—” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He smirked, tugging you forward by the hand until you stood directly in front of the display. His eyes darkened, sweeping over the pieces like a predator circling prey.

“Babe,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your wrist, “this is the only section I care about.”

Your face heated instantly. “I… I don’t need—”

“Yes, you do.” His tone left no room for argument. He picked up a set of black lace, holding it against your frame with a tilt of his head. “This would look perfect on you.”

“Jungkook!” you hissed, swatting at his hand, but he only chuckled.

“Don’t be shy. I’m the only one who’ll see you in it anyway.” His smirk deepened as he tossed the lingerie into the growing pile of bags. Then he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Actually… I might not even let you keep it on.”

Your knees nearly buckled at the low heat in his voice.

___

The city blurred past outside the tinted window. Excitement fluttered in your chest; the thought of the trip ahead made your stomach twist with nervous joy.

Jungkook was silent beside you, his head tilted back, eyes closed. His chest rose and fell steadily in sleep, oblivious to your fidgeting. The quiet was comfortable, but it didn’t last.

Your eyes were drawn to the screen of Jungkook’s phone as it lit up with a flurry of messages. You resisted the urge to glance at the sender’s name, but the preview was enough.

[RM: Yo, the flight’s boarding soon! You two lovebirds coming?]
[SUGA: Jungkook, stop keeping Y/N to yourself and get your asses here!]
[J-HOPE: Remember, this trip is for Y/N! Make sure she has a good time!]
[Jin : You really did all this for her? Damn, Jungkook]

The notifications on Jungkook's phone popped up one after another, lighting up the car's interior with a silent symphony of light. The messages were from the other BTS members, their excitement for the Jeju Island trip palpable.

You turned your gaze back to his sleeping face, your heart thundering. He had gone through all of this… just for you.

Leaning in, you whispered against his ear, your breath warm and shaky. "Jungkook," you said, your voice a soft caress in the quiet car.

He stirred slightly, a low hum escaping his lips as he nuzzled closer to the sound. Encouraged, you brushed your fingers along his jawline before pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I want to fall for you," you murmured, your voice a secret shared only between the two of you and the hum of the engine.

Chapter Text

The private jet hummed softly as it cut through the clouds, the cabin bathed in warm golden light. You sat tucked beside Jungkook, his arm stretched lazily across the back of your seat, but his eyes were fixed only on you.

Without warning, he caught your hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a slow kiss against your fingers. Then another. And another. His mouth lingered, his dark eyes never leaving yours as if daring you to pull away.

Heat flooded your cheeks. “Jungkook…” you whispered, embarrassed by the intimacy in front of everyone.

Across the aisle, Jin’s voice cut through the air like a sharp blade.

“Yah, Jeon Jungkook!” he scolded, his brows furrowed. “We’re on a plane, not in your bedroom. Show some respect!”

A ripple of laughter moved through the cabin—Hoseok grinning wide, Yoongi smirking without even opening his eyes, Jimin snickering from his seat.

But Jungkook only smirked, his thumb brushing across your knuckles before bringing your hand back to his lips for one last deliberate kiss. “What?” he said, feigning innocence. “She’s mine.”

Jin shook his head with a groan, muttering something about “kids these days” before turning back to his tablet.

But from the corner of your eye, you noticed Jimin. He was leaning back in his seat, a forced smile on his face as he chatted with the flight attendant.

"Jungkook," you whispered, trying to tug your hand away, "it's embarrassing."

He ignored you, his kisses moving up your wrist, his eyes still locked with yours. The warmth of his breath against your skin made you squirm in your seat.

"Jungkook," you repeated, your voice a little louder this time. But he either didn't hear you or didn't care.

That's when Taehyung finally looked up from his phone, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Jungkook's attentions. "Jungkook, for fuck's sake, control your hormones," he snapped, his voice a whip crack in the cabin's cozy atmosphere.

Jungkook chuckled, dropping your hand but not the smoldering gaze. "Tae," he said, his voice low and taunting, "are you jealous?"

Namjoon's head snapped up from his book, his expression a mix of irritation and concern. "Jungkook, enough now," he said firmly. "Y/N looks uncomfortable."

Taehyung's eyes flicked to you, and for a brief moment, you saw the conflict in them—desire and anger warring for dominance. Then he schooled his features into something resembling a glare. "You're always causing trouble," he said, but the edge was gone from his voice.

You pulled away slightly, tucking your hands into your lap. "I'm sorry," you murmured, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on you.

Jungkook just chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. "It's okay, babe," he said, his voice a warm rumble. "Remember, whole trip, I want your attention only on me."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. You knew this trip would be difficult, navigating the tightrope of your emotions between Jungkook's possessiveness and Taehyung's subtle longing glances. And Jimin... well, Jimin was a wild card. His friendship was precious, but the way he looked at you sometimes made your heart race.

---

The resort lobby shimmered with polished marble and soft golden lights, every inch of it screaming luxury. Staff bowed as the members walked past, their presence commanding the entire space. Your eyes trailed along the endless corridors until you finally turned to Jungkook.

“Which one’s my room?” you asked, your voice careful, steady, though your heart beat a little faster.

Jungkook didn’t even hesitate. His hand found your waist as he leaned closer, his smirk brushing across his lips. “You’re staying with me.”

Your brows furrowed. “But Jungkook… I need my room.”

His head tilted, gaze locking onto yours, warm yet unyielding. “You’re my girlfriend, babe. Of course you’re staying with me.”

Before you could respond, Jimin stepped in, his tone light but sharp around the edges. “Come on, Jungkook. Girls need privacy. Don’t be so…” He trailed off, giving a little laugh to soften the tension, though his eyes didn’t leave Jungkook’s.

Jungkook’s jaw ticked, a shadow passing over his expression. “Privacy?” he echoed, voice low, taunting. “Or do you mean opportunity?” His gaze flicked briefly toward Jimin, and for a moment, the air between them thickened, unspoken challenge sparking in the silence.

Namjoon’s voice cut through, calm but unyielding. “Jungkook, let Y/N choose. Everyone needs privacy.”

Jungkook’s head snapped toward him, his tone stubborn, almost boyish in its defiance. “Hyung, she’s my girlfriend. Why would she need privacy from me?”

Before Namjoon could answer, a sharp thwack landed on the back of Jungkook’s head. He hissed, snapping his eyes up at the culprit.

“Yah, Jeon Jungkook!” Jin scolded, glaring at him. “If you’re so desperate to share a room, then share with me.”

The lobby erupted with muffled laughter—Jungkook groaned, rubbing his head as he shot daggers at Jin. “Hyung, are you crazy? Why would I—”

Jin raised an eyebrow, cutting him off with a smug grin. “Exactly. So stop acting like a clingy puppy and let Y/N breathe.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw, still holding you close, though his eyes flicked down at you as if daring you to agree with Jin. “Babe… you’re not really gonna leave me alone, right?”

Before you could answer, Jin hooked an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders and started dragging him away. “Come on, Romeo. Stop clinging to her like glue. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Hyung! Yah—let go!” Jungkook barked, still reaching back toward you even as Jin dragged him.

You shook your head, a small laugh slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

Namjoon shook his head with a sigh. “Jungkook’s just like this… stubborn kid who never learns, Go, Y/N. Take some rest. Don’t mind him… he’ll calm down once Jin’s done knocking sense into him.”

You nodded, though your eyes lingered on the spot where Jungkook had just been pulled away.

Taehyung leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze following you as you moved toward the elevators. Silent. Watching.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside, finally alone.The room was wide and quiet, with soft white sheets and the faint scent of fresh flowers drifting from the balcony.

You walked into the washroom, splashed water on your face, and let out a slow breath. For a moment, it felt like peace.

But when you stepped back out—your steps froze.

Taehyung was there. Sitting casually on the edge of your bed, elbows resting on his knees, head slightly bowed. He lifted his eyes to you slowly, gaze steady, unreadable.

“...Tae?” your voice came out quieter than you meant.

He looked up at you, the light playing off the sharp lines of his face, his expression unreadable.

“I’m feeling very low today,” he said, his voice low and raw, a stark contrast to his usual playful tone. “Can I have a hug?”

You looked at him, his eyes red-rimmed and his shoulders slumped.

“Tae, please, get out of my room,” you replied, your voice a whisper that didn’t quite hide the tremor in it.

He tilted his head to the side, a hint of confusion crossing his features. “Why don’t you share a room with Jungkook?”

"It's none of your business," you said firmly, the tremor in your voice betraying the turmoil inside. "Please, leave my room now."

But Taehyung didn’t move, his eyes searching yours. “Sweetheart, why are you forcing yourself with Jungkook when your heart is obviously elsewhere?”.

You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “Tae, please. Out. Now.”

He stood slowly, closing the distance by just a step, his voice lower, rougher.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, almost pleading, “why keep pretending… when it’s me you’ve always wanted?”

Your lips parted, ready to respond to Taehyung, when the sharp click of your door unlocking froze you in place.

Jungkook’s voice followed, casual but edged with irritation.“Babe? Why don’t you share a room with me, huh?”

Your heart jumped to your throat. Panic surged through you as you spun toward Taehyung. His brows lifted in surprise—then curved into the faintest smirk as if he already knew what you’d do.

In a rush, you grabbed Taehyung’s wrist and shoved him toward the small cabinet space beneath the dressing table.“Hide. Now.”

He slid in without protest, crouching low inside the narrow space, his knees bent, face only inches from the thin wood. The cabinet door clicked shut just as Jungkook walked in.

You planted yourself in front of it, heart pounding, palms damp.“Jungkook, I—” you started, forcing a shaky smile.

He studied you, frown deepening as he shut the door behind him. “Why you sound so nervous, babe?”

Then you felt itit a light touch—Taehyung’s fingers brushing against your ankle from inside the cramped cabinet. Your breath hitched, chest tightening as he traced upward, slow and deliberate along your calf.

You gripped the edge of the dresser above him, knuckles whitening, trying to keep your face steady while Jungkook’s dark eyes searched yours.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed as he took another step forward. His gaze dropped briefly toward the cabinet, suspicion flickering. He started to bend down.

Your pulse spiked. No—he can’t.

“Jungkook—!” you blurted, a little too quickly. His movements stilled, eyes snapping back to you.

He straightened, his eyes narrowing on you. “What is it, babe? Why are you so jumpy?”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the warmth of Taehyung’s touch creeping up your leg. “It’s just—I don’t think sharing a room with you is a good idea.”

Jungkook’s eyes searched yours, a hint of confusion and annoyance flashing through them. “Why not?” he asked, taking a step closer.

“Because, Jungkook, you’re just... too much for me to handle sometimes,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. His handsome features softened slightly at the confession. “You’re always so intense, and when you’re shirtless... it’s just too much distraction. I can’t focus on work, or anything else.”

He took another step, his gaze dropping to your chest where you could feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. “Is that so?” His voice was low, a smoldering ember of curiosity. “How does it affect you?”

Your cheeks burned hotter, but you held his gaze, drawing a deep breath. “Whenever you’re around, half naked, I can’t focus on anything else. It’s like I’m on fire, Jungkook.”

A smug smile curled his lips, and he leaned closer, his breath a whisper against your skin. “Then maybe you should let me put that fire out,” he murmured, his hand moving to the hem of your shirt.

But before he could lift it, a muffled cough sounded from the cabinet. Jungkook’s head snapped towards the noise, his eyes narrowed into slits. “What was that?” he demanded, his tone sharper than a knife’s edge.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Just—just the air conditioner,” you lied, your voice wobbling.

Jungkook’s gaze flicked briefly toward the cabinet again, suspicion sparking in his eyes, before he leaned even closer, his breath brushing the side of your face. “Then tell me, babe,” he whispered, “if your body burns so much for me… why do you keep running away?”

You bit your lip, trying to keep your eyes on his, to keep the lie in place. But Taehyung’s touch grew bolder—his hand sliding higher up your thigh, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin beneath the hem of your shorts.

“Jungkook, I’m not running away from you,” you murmured, trying to ignore the way your body responded to the dual touch of both your idols.

But before you could say more, Jungkook’s hand cupped the back of your neck, his thumb stroking gently, guiding your face up to his. His lips captured yours in a kiss that was both sweet and demanding—his tongue slipping in to dance with yours, a silent promise of the passion that awaited you.

And just when you thought you couldn’t get any more flustered, a gentle kiss brushed the inside of your thigh, sending a bolt of electricity through your core. You gasped against Jungkook’s mouth, your knees threatening to buckle as Taehyung’s soft kisses grew more daring, moving upwards with agonizing slowness.

Jungkook pulled back slightly, a frown marring his features. “What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, his eyes searching yours with concern.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. “I—I just need some fresh air,” you lied, your voice still shaky. “I’ll meet you in the pool area, okay?”

His eyes searched yours for a moment longer before he nodded. “Okay, I’ll go get changed. Meet you there in ten?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Ten minutes. I’ll be there.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, you turned to the cabinet, your eyes wide with panic. Taehyung was still there, his eyes dark and intense as he watched you.

“Get out,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “Now!”

Taehyung’s smirk grew, his eyes glinting with mischief. “But why, sweetheart? Did I do something wrong?”

You stepped back, your heart racing. “Tae, this isn’t funny. What are you doing?”

He unfolded himself from the cramped space, his movements smooth and graceful despite the confines. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said, his voice still a purr.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “And what you’re doing isn’t right!”

Taehyung stepped closer, his eyes dropping to your lips. “I was just a little bit curious, that’s all. How does Jungkook’s touch compare to mine?” His hand reached out to caress your cheek, his thumb tracing a line along your jaw.

You slapped his hand away, your eyes flashing. “Get out of my room, now!”

Taehyung’s smile didn’t waver, his eyes never leaving yours. “Okay, okay, don’t be angry, sweetheart. I’m going,” he murmured, his voice a soft caress that sent a shiver down your spine.

You watched him retreat, his movements fluid as he stepped away from the cabinet and sauntered to the door. As he reached for the handle, his eyes met yours one last time, a silent promise of what could have been—what might still be—if you allowed it.

The door clicked shut behind him, and you slumped against the dresser, your knees giving way. You let out a shaky breath, trying to calm the chaotic storm inside you. Your eyes drifted down to the spot where Taehyung had been, where his warmth still lingered.

The door had barely closed behind Taehyung when he froze in the hallway. Jungkook was already there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his dark eyes locked on him. His posture was casual, but his jaw was tight, and there was nothing casual about the way he was watching.

“What were you doing in her room?” Jungkook’s voice was low, dangerous. He didn’t move, but his presence was suffocating. “Stay away from her.”

Taehyung stilled, his hand slipping casually into his pocket, a smirk tugging at his lips as if he’d been caught in a game, not a crime.“Tch… you kissed her on purpose,” he said slowly, tilting his head, his tone laced with challenge. “You knew I was there.”

Jungkook pushed himself off the wall, closing the distance between them with a sharp glare. His voice dropped, deep and possessive.“She’s my girlfriend, Taehyung. Don’t even think about crossing that line.”

But Taehyung’s smirk only deepened, his eyes glinting with something darker. He leaned in just slightly, close enough for Jungkook to feel the weight of his words.“Then why,” he drawled, “did your girlfriend hide me?”

The question hung in the air like a dagger, slicing through the silence. Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides, but his eyes betrayed the flicker of doubt Taehyung had planted.

Taehyung took a slow breath before speaking, voice steady but edged with desperation.“Jungkook, leave Y/N. She loves me. I know why she’s close to you—it’s because I hurt her. I’ll admit it. I pushed her away, I broke her trust. But let’s forget that for now ,that’s between us. Let me fix it. Let me shout out my things with her.”

Jungkook froze, his jaw tightening, gaze burning holes into Taehyung. Slowly, he shook his head, voice low and lethal.“taehyung, you forget one thing—she’s with me. That’s her decision. Not yours. And listen carefully…” his lips curved into a sharp smirk, “…I’ll make sure she falls for me completely. No space left for you.

With that, Jungkook turned, ready to walk away, but Taehyung’s voice cut through the air like a whip.“Jungkook!”.

Jungkook paused, his back stiffening.

Taehyung’s tone was sharper now, almost desperate.“Y/N’s not your type. You’ve never cared about girls like her before. So tell me…” his eyes narrowed, searching Jungkook’s face, “…what makes you so interested in her?”

Jungkook’s steps faltered, his back straightening, but he didn’t answer immediately. His silence only fueledTaehyung’s push.

Taehyung’s lips curled into a bitter half-smile, voice dropping lower.“I’ll tell you why. It’s because she isn’t into you. I’m right, aren’t I? She doesn’t look at you the way she looked at me. She doesn’t feel you the way she felt me. You sense it every time she avoids your touch, every time her eyes drift away. And that’s why you’re desperate—because you know deep down she’s still mine.”

The words hung heavy in the air, slicing through the tension like a blade. Jungkook turned slowly, his jaw clenched, a dark fire flickering in his eyes.

“Careful, taehyungyung,” he said softly, dangerously. “You’re mistaking her hesitation for weakness. But I’ll make sure she belongs to me in ways you never could.”

The corridor fell into silence, their words lingering like smoke from a fire that refused to die. Taehyung’s bitter smile didn’t falter, and Jungkook’s burning stare refused to yield and the storm waiting was you.

---
You stepped out of the room, your heart still racing. The memory of Jungkook’s lips on yours lingered—hot, demanding—yet it tangled messily with the ghost of Taehyung’s touch on your thighs, leaving your skin burning with confusion. Heat rushed to your face, and you quickly pressed your palm against your cheek as if that would hide the redness.

The hallway air felt cooler, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside you.

Your eyes caught Jimin standing nearby. A small wave slipped from your hand almost on instinct, hoping for a distraction. But he didn’t notice—or maybe he did and chose not to. His attention was locked on a female staff member, his smile playful, his body leaned casually closer as he whispered something that made her laugh.

You muttered under your breath, half-pouting, half-angry. “Huh… this boy. He’s the one who said he was going to pursue me, and now look at him—flirting with every girl he sees. Unbelievable.”

The irritation bubbled in your chest as you followed him out to the pool area. Jimin stood at the edge, back turned toward you, shoulders relaxed as he laughed and chatted with the female staff. His voice carried just enough for you to hear the smoothness in his tone—the same smoothness he once used on you.

Your fists clenched at your sides. He doesn’t even notice I’m here…

You stepped closer, the cool air from the water brushing against your skin. Your lips curved into a sly smirk. Fine then. If he wants to ignore me, let’s see how he handles this.

Without warning, your foot shot out and gave him a sharp little kick.

“Ah—!” Jimin’s surprised yelp cut short as he lost balance, arms flailing for a split second before he crashed into the pool with a loud splash, water spraying up around him.

Jimin emerged from the water, hair plastered to his forehead, droplets streaming down his face as he pushed himself up against the pool edge. His eyes widened at you, half-shocked, half-amused.

“What was that for?!” he shouted, voice echoing in the pool area.

You crossed your arms, feigning innocence, a sly smile tugging at your lips. “Nothing.” You turned on your heel and walked away, leaving him dripping wet and gaping after you.

Jimin rested his arms on the edge of the pool, droplets running down his skin as he watched you try to walk away.“Yah,” he called out, voice steady, “you’re really going to leave after pushing me in?”

You didn’t answer, just kept your steps quick, refusing to look back.

Jimin brushed the water from his hair, still smiling faintly as his gaze lingered on the spot you’d just stormed off to.

“She’s jealous…” he murmured under his breath, voice low, almost amused. His eyes softened as he followed the path you’d taken. “That’s usually how it starts… and before she even realizes it, it’ll pull her closer to me. She won’t be able to run from this.”

With that thought lingering, Jimin let out a quiet chuckle, sinking deeper into the water, already certain he’d gotten under your skin.

Chapter Text

The dining room felt unusually full that evening, every seat around the table taken except one. The clatter of cutlery and quiet chatter floated through the air—Taehyung reaching over for extra kimchi, Yoongi grumbling at Hobi for stealing his side dish, Jin trying to keep things in order.

You glanced at the empty chair and couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “Where’s Jungkook?”

Hobi barely looked up as he poured water into his glass. “Boxing. Again. Honestly, don’t bother going to him right now—he’s in a terrible mood.”

Jin gave you a small smile and gestured to the chair beside him. “Y/N, sit. Eat with us first. The food won’t wait.”

But you couldn’t. Something inside you refused to leave him alone like that. You stood up slowly, the chair legs scraping against the floor. “I’ll eat with Jungkook,” you murmured.

Jin raised an eyebrow, surprised. “But, Y/N—”

You gave him a small smile, the same one you gave everyone else, the one that never quite reached your eyes. “It’s okay, really. I’ll go check on him.”

Namjoon’s eyes followed you as you turned away from the table, his gaze piercing, his voice a low murmur. “Taehyung, what did you say to Jungkook?”

Taehyung took a sip of his water, his gaze never leaving yours as you exited the room. “Only the truth, hyung,” he replied calmly.

The hall outside was quieter, the laughter from the dining room fading behind you. With each step, the sound of steady, angry punches grew louder. You stopped in front of his door, hand hovering over the knob.

For a moment, you just stood there—heart racing, torn between listening to Hobi’s warning and the pull that made you want to be near him anyway.

And then, quietly, you pushed the door open.

The door creaked open, and the sound hit you first—gloves slamming against the punching bag in sharp, ruthless rhythm. The room smelled faintly of sweat and leather, the air heavy with the heat of his frustration.

Jungkook’s back was to you, muscles tense, shirt clinging to his skin as he drove another furious punch into the bag. His breath came ragged, each exhale laced with anger he couldn’t shake off.

You froze in the doorway, watching him, almost unsure if stepping closer was a mistake.

“Jungkook…” your voice was soft, but it broke through the thud of his fists.

He spun around, eyes wild, breathing heavy. His eyes searched yours, his chest heaving, and the punching bag swayed gently behind him. “What?” he snapped, his voice tight with unchecked anger.

You took a step back, your heart racing. “I—I was just looking for you. We should eat dinner with everyone else. It’s getting late,” you said, your voice shakier than you intended.

Jungkook took a deep breath, his eyes flitting over your face as if searching for something. Then he dropped his fists to his sides, the fight draining from him. “I’m not hungry,” he murmured, his shoulders slumping slightly.

You stepped into the room, closing the door behind you. “What’s wrong, Jungkook?” you asked gently, taking in the shadows in his eyes.

He threw the towel over his shoulder, his gaze darkening. “Why do you care? You only care about Taehyung, right?” His voice was sharp, the words cutting through the air.

You felt your heart stumble in your chest, but you met his gaze, steady. “What do you mean by that?”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking. He took one step closer, the weight of his anger pressing into the space between you. “Why you hide Taehyung, huh?” His words were spat more than spoken, sharp and accusing. “Tell me. Aren’t you my girlfriend? Then why you do that?”

Your lips parted, panic rising with your heartbeat. “I—”

Before you could get another word out, his fist flew, slamming into the wall beside your head. The crash echoed through the room, dust crumbling from the cracked plaster. You jumped, pressing back against the wall, your breath caught in your throat.

“Answer me!” Jungkook’s voice broke, fierce and raw, his chest heaving as he loomed over you. His knuckles dragged against the wall, skin torn, blood streaking down his hand. “Why you lie to me?! How much Taehyung is important to you?!” His eyes were glassy, fury and hurt tangled together, burning into you.

Your gaze darted to his hand, crimson drops sliding down his wrist. “Jungkook—your hand, it’s bleeding,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you reached forward without thinking.

But he pulled back sharply, his bloodied fist hovering in the air, veins pulsing with restrained rage. He leaned closer, his breath fanning against your skin, his voice guttural, breaking with desperation.

“Don’t fucking change the subject,” he hissed. His forehead nearly touched yours, eyes dark and unrelenting. “Answer me my fucking question. Now.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. Your voice shook but you forced the words out. “He doesn’t. From my side, there’s nothing. Yes, things with him got complicated, but I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want your friendship to break because of me.”

“Oh, so now you’re telling me you did it all for me?” His voice was a growl, bitter and shaking at the same time. “Don’t—don’t fucking lie to me. You still feel something for him, don’t you?”

Your heart sank. His words stabbed deep, but you forced yourself closer, closing the distance even as his body radiated anger.

“No,” you whispered fiercely, your hands moving up to cup his face, ignoring how tense his jaw was beneath your palms. “Jungkook, please. There’s nothing from my side for Taehyung. Nothing. Whatever happened—it doesn’t mean anything to me. You’re the one I’m with. You’re the one I—” your voice cracked, “—I care about.

His eyes flickered, jaw working, like he wanted to believe you but the storm inside him refused to calm.

Tentatively, you reached for his injured hand. “Let me help you with that,” you said, your voice small.

Jungkook’s hand remained in mid-air, his eyes never leaving yours, but eventually, he allowed you to take it. You gently guided him to the bed, sitting him down. His gaze didn’t leave yours as you searched for a first-aid kit in the drawer.

When you found it, you knelt before him, carefully taking his hand in yours. The blood had started to clot, but the sight of it still made your stomach churn.

“Hold still,” you murmured, ripping open the sterile packaging of the bandages. Your touch was gentle as you cleaned the blood from his knuckles, hissing inwardly at the sight of the raw, open skin. Jungkook flinched slightly, his gaze never leaving yours as you worked.

"When I was seven years old," you began, your voice trembling with the weight of the memory. Jungkook's eyes searched yours, the storm in them slowly clearing, replaced with a gentle concern. "I came home from school and saw my mom with another man. I didn't understand it at the time."

You took a deep breath, focusing on the sting of the antiseptic as you dabbed it on his knuckles. "I told my dad... I didn't know what it meant, but I knew it was something bad." Jungkook's hand was still in yours, his breathing shallow as he watched you intently, the anger from before fading into something softer.

"They had a huge fight. Right outside my room. I could hear it all—the yelling, the things they said to each other." Your eyes never left his hand as you wrapped the bandage around his knuckles, tying it off with a gentle tug. "I just lay there, crying, not knowing why it was happening, feeling like it was all my fault."

"Mom won custody. And after a few months... Dad... he passed away." Your voice caught on the last words, a lump forming in your throat as you remembered the pain, the confusion. "If I didn't tell him, maybe they wouldn't have fought. Maybe he'd still be here."

The room was suffocatingly quiet, just the sound of both your uneven breaths filling the space. You finally looked up at him, tears threatening to fall.

“So when it came to Taehyung…” your voice broke, raw with pain. “I was terrified of repeating that mistake. I didn’t want to be the reason you lost him. I didn’t want to be the reason your friendship broke t. That’s why I didn’t say anything—not because of him, but because I was scared. Scared of destroying something precious to you… the way I once destroyed my own family.”

You finished bandaging his hand, your fingers lingering over his knuckles, as if to hold him together while you were falling apart.

Jungkook’s eyes searched yours, the storm in them slowly subsiding. He reached out, wiping a rogue tear from your cheek with his thumb. "Don't cry," he murmured, his voice gentle now, "it's not your fault."

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tight as your shoulders shook with silent sobs. His chest was warm, his embrace a shelter from the storm. You clung to him, feeling his heart pound against your chest, a steady rhythm that seemed to echo your own racing heart.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost it like that,” he whispered into your hair, his voice hoarse with regret. “Let’s go for a walk. Clear our heads, okay?”

You nodded faintly. He brushed your hair back and forced a small smile, masking the turmoil still twisting inside him. “Go wait for me in the lobby. I’ll be down in a minute.”

You hesitated, then left quietly, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you.

Jungkook stood frozen, staring at the spot where you had just been. His chest rose and fell unevenly, like he was still catching his breath from everything that had just happened. Slowly, he let out a rough exhale and sank down onto the edge of the bed.

He pressed his palms against his face, dragging them down until they fell uselessly to his lap. A bitter laugh escaped him, short and hollow.

“Fuck… what am I doing,” he muttered, his voice low, strained.

He leaned back on the mattress, eyes fixed on the ceiling, though all he could see was the image of your tear-streaked face. The way your voice cracked. The way you still reached for him even when he was the one who hurt you.

“Stupid girl,” he whispered, softer this time, almost like he was talking to himself more than you. “Why does it tear me apart to see you cry…”

His hand curled into a fist against his chest, as if trying to quiet the storm raging inside him. But the ache only grew, spreading until it was unbearable.

He shut his eyes, whispering into the empty room—“…Why can’t I stop feeling like this…”

----

Namjoon’s room was quieter than usual, the air heavy with unspoken tension. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes sharp as they moved from Taehyung to Jimin, both of them sitting stiffly on the couch.

“Are you both out of your minds?”Namjoon’s voice was firm, almost cutting. “Y/N is Jungkook’s girlfriend. Do you realize what you’re doing?”

Jin, who stood near the window with his arms folded, shook his head in disbelief. “You both understand how this could affect not just Jungkook but our entire group? This isn’t something small.”

Taehyung’s jaw clenched. He had been staring at the floor, but now he lifted his head, eyes burning with defiance.“Hyung,” he said quietly, but his voice carried. “She doesn’t love Jungkook.”

The words seemed to echo in the silence that followed. Everyone froze.

Suga, who had been leaning quietly against the wall, let out a sharp sigh.“But she can fall for him,” he said bluntly, eyes narrowing. “You’re ignoring that because you don’t want to see it.”

Jimin’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, though his eyes were serious. He leaned forward, his words deliberate.“Yeah… she can fall again. And I’ll make sure this time she falls for me.”

The room went still. Taehyung let out a low, bitter laugh at Jimin’s words, shaking his head.
“Jimin, stop lying to yourself. She loves me. She joined BigHit because of me—hyung, I already told you what we have.” His eyes flickered with certainty, almost daring anyone to challenge him.

Without waiting for a response, Taehyung turned toward the door. “Goodnight.” His footsteps echoed as he left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Namjoon let out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand over his face. He turned to Jimin, his voice quieter now, but edged with frustration.“Do you even realize what you’re saying? This isn’t just reckless—it’s dangerous. For her, for Jungkook, for all of us.”

But Jimin’s gaze didn’t falter. His eyes were steady, his voice low but firm.“Hyung, I’m really serious about Y/N. You know the kind of guy Jungkook is. Please… don’t ask me to stop.”

He didn’t wait for Namjoon’s reply. With a determined look, Jimin stood and walked out, leaving the others in a heavy, uneasy silence.

The door slammed as Jimin walked out, his footsteps echoing down the hall until silence swallowed the room.

Namjoon exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Both of them are out of their minds… Y/N is Jungkook’s girlfriend. How do they not see what kind of mess this could create?” His voice was low, but the anger beneath it was clear.

Jin crossed his arms, his expression serious. “They’re not thinking, Namjoon. They’re too blinded by their feelings. But they need to understand—if this gets out, it won’t just affect Y/N and Jungkook. It’ll affect all of us. Our entire group.”

Suga leaned back, his eyes narrowing.“Feelings aren’t something you can control that easily, hyung. You heard what Taehyung said—he thinks she doesn’t even love Jungkook. And Jimin…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “He’s ready to fight for her too.”

Hobi let out a bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it. “This is going to create a disaster in our group, mark my words. Once something like this starts, it doesn’t stop clean. It tears through everything.”

Namjoon’s jaw tightened. “Then what do you suggest, huh? What do we do?”

Suga’s gaze dropped to the floor, his voice calm but firm.“Someone has to prepare Y/N. Because whether she likes it or not, she’s right in the middle of this. And the three of them—Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin—they won’t back out. Not now.”

Namjoon let out a long, heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.“He’s right. She needs to handle it… because if she doesn’t, the tension between them will eat this group alive. And honestly, I don’t think any of the three will stop unless she makes them.”

Jin shook his head slowly, his expression softening into guilt.“I just… I feel bad for Y/N. She didn’t ask for this. Being pulled between them like this—it’s going to crush her.”

The four of them sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, knowing the storm was only beginning.

The beach road was quiet except for the crash of waves, streetlights painting long shadows ahead of you. You and Jungkook walked side by side, the cool breeze tugging gently at your hair.

“So… your current dad is your stepdad, right? How is he with you?” Jungkook asked, his voice curious but careful.

You sighed, eyes fixed on the dark horizon. “He’s not a bad person… but he always pushes me about my career. Always wanting me to achieve something big, to live up to his idea of success. He never really asked me what I wanted. Honestly… I never liked this field, Jungkook. He never understood that.”

Jungkook stayed silent, listening, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

Your lips curved into a small, wistful smile.“But then one day, I saw BTS. And Taehyung… just one smile from him—it changed something in me. It gave me the strength I didn’t know I had. That’s when I started to actually love what I was doing—not because I was forced, but because it finally meant something to me.”

You looked at Jungkook, your eyes soft, your voice lower. “I hope you understand now… why Taehyung is so important to me.”

The sound of the waves filled the silence until Jungkook finally spoke, his tone low but sharp.“But still… I don’t like Taehyung’s importance in your life.” His jaw tightened as he turned his head to look at you. “Babe, you’re my girlfriend. I don’t want any other man being more important to you than me.”

Before you could reply, Jungkook shoved his hands into his pockets and began walking faster, his long strides eating up the road ahead.

“Jungkook—” you hurried after him, your voice light but strained, “walk slow… I’ve got small legs, I can’t catch up!”

But before you could reach him, your heel caught on the uneven pavement. Your ankle twisted, and with a sharp gasp, you stumbled and fell onto the ground.

“Ahh…” you winced, holding your ankle.

Jungkook spun around immediately, irritation flashing across his face. “Are you an idiot, babe? Why would you wear heels like this if you can’t even walk in them?” His voice was scolding, but underneath it was a flicker of panic. “Just… stay here.”

Without waiting for an answer, he stormed off down the road. You stared after him, hurt bubbling in your chest.

“Ow…” you muttered to yourself, rubbing your ankle. “I wore heels because of you… just to match your stupid height. Why is he scolding me for that…”

Minutes later, Jungkook returned, slightly out of breath, carrying an ice pack and a small bandage roll. He crouched down in front of you without a word, his expression softer now.

“Give me your foot,” he muttered, pulling off your heels carefully and setting them aside. You started to protest, but he shot you a warning look.

Before you could even react, Jungkook slid closer and rested your injured foot gently on his lap, steadying your ankle with one hand. His touch was rough, impatient—but also careful, as if he was terrified of hurting you more.

“Hold still,” he said quietly, eyes focused as he pressed the ice pack against your swollen skin.

Jungkook tied the bandage around your ankle, his movements sharp but careful, as if he was annoyed but still couldn’t stop himself from taking care of you. When he finally straightened up, his eyes locked on yours.

“Don’t wear heels again. Understand?” His voice was low, strict, leaving no room for argument.

You frowned, lips jutting in a pout. “But—”

“I don’t like repeating my words,” he snapped, cutting you off instantly.

Your shoulders dropped, your pout deepening, but before you could protest further, he suddenly turned and crouched down in front of you. His back faced you, broad and steady.

“Get on.”

You blinked. “…What?”

“Didn’t you hear me?” His tone carried that dangerous calm. “I said get on.”

You hesitated. “Jungkook, I can walk. It’s just a small twist—'

The authority in his voice made your heart skip, and you finally climbed onto his back. His hands hooked under your thighs firmly, lifting you with ease. You felt his strength in the way his shoulders squared, his steady pace carrying you as if you were weightless.

“Hold this,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket and handing it back to you. “Open the map and tell me directions to the hotel.”

You swallowed, staring at the glowing screen. Crap. The map looked like a maze of colors and lines you didn’t understand. If you told him the truth, he’d only get more irritated. So you took a breath, faking confidence.

“Um… go left.”

Jungkook turned left without question.

“Now… straight,” you added. Then, “Right. No, left. No, straight again.”

Minutes passed as you guided him in circles. The cool breeze from the beach carried the scent of saltwater, the road stretching endlessly beneath his steady steps. You almost forgot you were leading him nowhere—until his voice broke the silence.

“Babe.”

“Yes?” you asked quickly, feigning innocence.

His jaw flexed as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Can you explain why we’ve circled the same road five, maybe six times now?”

You froze, caught red-handed. “…Because…” You laughed nervously. “…I don’t actually know how to use the map.”

Jungkook stopped walking. Dead in his tracks. Slowly, he lowered you from his back. “Get down.”

“No!” You tightened your arms around him instantly, refusing to let go. “Don’t put me down!”

His brows drew together. “babe—”

You leaned closer, your chin brushing his shoulder, your voice soft and pleading. “Please? Just a little more. I like it here… with you carrying me.”

Jungkook kept walking, his steps steady, but you felt the faint sigh he let out. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he murmured, shaking his head.

You smirked, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “Mm, but you don’t mind. Strong man like you can handle me easily.”

His hands adjusted their grip on your legs, steady and protective even though he tried to act annoyed. “Don’t test me, babe.”

He tilted his head slightly, about to glance back and warn you again—when you suddenly leaned in and pecked his lips.

The step he was taking faltered, his body going rigid for a second. His eyes flicked to yours, sharp and wide with surprise.

“Please,” you whispered, brushing your nose against his cheek, voice almost childlike.

His jaw clenched. Damn it. Why does she make it so hard to stay mad? He scoffed lightly, but the faint curve tugging at his lips gave him away. “You’re impossible…” he muttered, eyes forward again.

And though he said it like a complaint, his arms held you even closer, carrying you as if you were weightless—like he never wanted to let go.

---

The next morning, the first light of dawn peeked through the curtains of Jungkook's hotel room, casting a soft glow over the tangled mess of clothes scattered across the floor. You lay there, your body nestled against Jungkook's, his arms wrapped protectively around your waist as he slept soundly. The room smelled faintly of the ocean, mingling with the scent of his cologne, creating a comforting cocoon around the two of you.

You shifted slightly, his warm breath ghosting against the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Carefully, you pulled away, his grip loosening as you sat up. You looked down at his peaceful face, a soft smile playing on your lips. The tension of the night had given way to a quiet, tender moment, and you didn't want to disturb it.

Leaning over, you brushed a strand of hair from Jungkook’s forehead, your fingertips tracing the line of his jaw. His skin was warm to the touch, and you felt the steady pulse of his heart beneath your fingertips. "Jungkook," you whispered, "the sun's about to rise. Do you want to watch it with me?"

He grumbled something incoherent, his eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again. "I'm tired," he murmured into the pillow, his voice thick with sleep. "You go."

You chuckled softly, standing up and grabbing your discarded clothes. As you dressed, you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment.

You slipped out of the room quietly, bare feet carrying you down the winding path until the cool sand cradled your steps. The sky was alive now—lavender melting into soft gold, the first promise of sunrise painting the horizon.

You hugged yourself against the salty breeze, eyes fixed on where the sun was just beginning to peek above the waves. It was so still, so breathtaking, you couldn’t help the small smile that curved your lips.

“Smile, angel.”The low murmur made your heart skip.

You turned, startled, only to see Jimin standing a few paces away, his phone lifted, eyes half-shadowed by the breaking light. The faint click cut through the quiet morning as he captured you without asking.

“Perfect,” he said, lowering the phone, his lips curling into a slow, deliberate smile. But his eyes—steady and unreadable—rested on you, not the sunrise.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the salty breeze brushing your cheeks as you faced him.“Good morning, Jimin… you wake up early today.”

He walked toward you slowly, his expression unreadable under the faint glow of dawn. “Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, his voice low. His gaze lingered on you, steady and deliberate. “Guess it was worth it… seeing you here like this.”

His words lingered in the quiet, and before you could gather a reply, he tilted his head, studying you more closely. “Your face is glowing,” he said, voice softer now, almost certain. “Something good happened… I’m right, aren’t I?”

You swallowed, your lips parting. “I—”

Jimin’s smirk curved slow and knowing, cutting in before you could finish. “Let me guess… it’s Jungkook, isn’t it? I’m right.”

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your cheeks. “What? No—” You quickly reached for his phone. “And delete that picture you took of me earlier.”

He chuckled, leaning back just enough to keep the device out of reach, his grin infuriatingly smug. “Uh-uh. My phone, my picture.”

“Jimin,” you warned, narrowing your eyes.

He just chuckled, that infectious, teasing grin playing on his lips. “Come on, it’s a great picture. Besides, I’ve got way better ones of you.”

Panic shot through your veins. “What? How?”

Jimin chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the gallery, his thumb hovering over various images. “Look at all these. You’re so adorable when you’re not trying to be.”

“Jimin, seriously, delete them,” you demanded, reaching for the phone. But he was quicker, dancing away with a playful laugh.

Before you knew it, a rogue wave crashed against the shore, soaking the hem of your clothes and catching you off guard. You stumbled backward, your arms flailing in a desperate attempt to regain balance. But it was too late.

With a yelp, you toppled into Jimin, knocking him off his feet. Both of you tumbled down the sandy slope, the phone flying out of his hand and landing just beyond your grasp. The cold sea water rushed over you as you landed with a splash, the salty spray stinging your eyes.

Jimin’s laughter filled the air, echoing over the waves as he wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you. You sputtered, coughing out a mouthful of salty water, your eyes watering. “Jimin! Not funny!”

He just chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, now we’re both wet.” His free hand reached down, brushing the hair from your face with a gentle touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Jimin—” You tried to push away, but his grip was firm, and your protest was lost in his laughter.

He leaned closer, whispering against your ear, “Angel, how long do I have to chase after you? I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Your heart stuttered at his confession, his warm breath tickling your skin. You pulled away slightly, his grip loosening. “Jimin, I’m—”

“Jungkook’s girlfriend, I know that,” he cut you off, his voice tight. “It’s the truth I hate the most. But I can’t seem to stop wanting you ?”

You stiffened, trying to push away the heat in your cheeks. “Jimin, we’re friends. That’s it. Please, don’t make this complicated.”

Jimin let out a sharp laugh, tilting his head as he studied you, droplets of water still clinging to his lashes. “So… my friend,” he emphasized the word, his smirk tugging wider, “can you explain why you shoved me in the water? Let me guess—” his eyes gleamed knowingly, “you were jealous. Because I was flirting with the others, right?”

Your chest tightened, heat rushing to your face. “Nonsense,” you snapped, grabbing your bag from the sand with shaky hands. “Don’t flatter yourself, Jimin.”

He leaned back on his elbows, grin never fading as he watched you scramble to your feet. “Mm, denial looks good on you, angel.”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder, the waves still licking at your ankles. “I’m going back to the hotel,” you muttered, your voice sharper than you intended.

Jimin just chuckled low, shaking his head as he reached for his fallen phone. “Run if you want. I’ll catch up.”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back. Your footsteps quickened against the wet sand, the sound of his laughter chasing you all the way up the beach.

Jealous? The word spun in your head like a curse. No. Impossible. I can’t be jealous. Why would I be jealous… for Jimin of all people?

You slowed your steps, glancing back once. He was still there on the beach, brushing the wet sand off his arms, that stupid smile playing on his lips. You whipped your head forward, quickening your pace.

Why would I care if he flirts? Why would it bother me? It doesn’t. It can’t. I don’t like him. I can’t like him.

Your heart raced faster with every step, your thoughts chasing themselves in messy circles. By the time you reached the hotel entrance, you were clutching your damp clothes tighter, muttering under your breath, Y/N, get a grip. Your mind’s going crazy.

The volleyball bounced high into the air, the sound of palms smacking against it echoing down the beach. Jungkook darted across the sand with that competitive spark in his eyes, hair sticking slightly to his forehead as he threw himself into the game.

He laughed every time he scored, that boyish grin lighting up his face as Jin and Jimin groaned dramatically at their loss. Namjoon tried his best but kept fumbling, which only made everyone laugh harder.

From your spot on the sand, you hugged your knees, unable to look away from Jungkook. The way he moved—fast, focused, completely alive in the moment—made your chest feel strangely tight.

Yoongi was off to the side, stretched out and napping, completely unbothered by the chaos. But you… you couldn’t take your eyes off Jungkook.

Jungkook glanced back between plays and caught your gaze, Jungkook flashed you a quick smile, as if he knew you’d been watching all along. Your chest fluttered, warmth spreading through you like the sun on your skin.

You quickly looked away, pretending to brush some sand off your leg, but the smile lingered on your lips.

You stepped inside to grab some water, the laughter from the volleyball game fading into the distance. The hallway was quiet—until you spotted Taehyung.

He was shuffling forward in that half-asleep daze, hair messy, eyes barely open. Before you could even call out, thud—he bumped straight into the wall.

Taehyung blinked at it, tilted his head, and mumbled in his deep, sleep-heavy voice, “Ah… sorry.” He even gave the wall a small pat before starting to walk again.

You bit back a laugh, covering your mouth. But just as he turned the corner, he nearly collided with another wall. This time you rushed forward, grabbing his arm to steady him before he smacked into it.

“Don’t you sleep at night?” you asked, shaking your head, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

He blinked at you slowly, finally noticing your presence, and a small lazy grin spread across his face. “Mmm… maybe I was waiting for a dream like this.”

Your heart gave an unexpected skip, and you quickly let go of his arm, pretending not to notice how warm he felt under your hand.

As you steadied Taehyung, your eyes dropped to his hand resting loosely at his side. A faint cut and a burn mark caught your attention, sharp against the softness of his skin.

“What happened to your hand?” you asked quietly, frowning.

He blinked down, still half-asleep, his voice low and slurred. “Hmm… practice.” Then, without explaining further, he yawned, pulled away gently, and shuffled down the hall.

You followed, worried, watching him nearly bump into another wall before finally reaching his room. He pushed the door open, stumbled inside, and collapsed on the bed without a second thought.

“Taehyung…” you sighed, stepping in after him. “At least lock your door before you pass out. What if someone comes in?”

He only mumbled into the pillow, too sleepy to argue, his lashes brushing his skin as his hair fell into his eyes. You turned to leave, but your gaze caught on his hand again — the faint cut, the burn mark, raw against his skin.

For a moment, you just stood there, torn. Should I? It wasn’t your place. He’d probably laugh at you for worrying. And yet… the thought of him waking up with that pain, still careless, made your chest tighten.

Your eyes drifted to the desk. A small first-aid kit lay half-open, a tube of ointment peeking out. You hesitated, fingers hovering before you finally picked it up.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, you held his hand carefully, almost afraid of disturbing his sleep. His fingers twitched at your touch, and your heart skipped, but he didn’t wake. Slowly, you smoothed the ointment over the burn, every gentle stroke making you feel both foolish and strangely protective.

“Idiot…” you whispered under your breath, the word carrying more softness than scolding. “Why do you push yourself like this?”

When you were done, you lingered, brushing the blanket higher over him. He shifted slightly, as if instinctively curling into the comfort, before going still again.

You sat there for a beat longer, watching his peaceful face, before finally slipping out and closing the door behind you.

The hallway was empty, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "I can't hate him," you murmured to yourself, pressing your hand to your chest. "I need to control myself."

As you turned the corner, you didn't expect to see Jungkook standing there, his eyes searching yours. He stepped closer, his hand reaching up to brush your neck. "Why are you hiding my bite?"

You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning as his fingertips grazed the spot. "Jungkook, it's just—"

"Wait here," he interrupted, his voice firm as he strode away, leaving you standing in the hallway, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

In a matter of minutes, Jungkook returned with a box in his hand, a hint of excitement in his eyes. He held it out to you, the corners of his mouth tugging upward into a smug smile. "I got you something."

You stared at the box, your heart racing. "What's this?" you asked, your voice a little too high.

Jungkook's smile grew, his eyes glinting with a challenge. "Open it," he urged, his tone low and intimate.

You took the box tentatively, your trembling hands lifting the lid. Inside lay a pair of luxurious, velvet-covered shoes, the color of midnight and lined with the softest fabric. They were beautiful, but the gesture made your stomach drop.

You looked up at Jungkook, his eyes on you, a challenge in his gaze. "You know what giving shoes in a relationship means, Jungkook," you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady. "It's like telling someone to walk away from you."

He stepped closer, his smile never leaving his lips. "Wear these," he said, taking one of the shoes out of the box. "They're comfortable. And soft. Like me."

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat in your cheeks. He slid the shoe onto your foot, his touch lingering longer than necessary. "Jungkook, I—"

He leaned in, whispering against your ear, "But you won't, right? You'll stay with me." His breath tickled your skin, and you shivered despite the warmth of the day. "You dare to run, and I'll just have to catch you and lock you in my cage."

You stepped back, your voice shaking. "Jungkook, don't talk like that. It's not funny." But the laughter had left his eyes, replaced by a fierce intensity that made your stomach twist.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. "I'm not joking," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. His hand slid around the back of your neck, pulling you closer. "You're mine, babe. You're mine."

Chapter Text

Jungkook leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. "I'm not joking," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. His hand slid around the back of your neck, pulling you closer. "You're mine, babe. You're mine."

Before you could protest, his lips met yours in a kiss that was both demanding and sweet, a stark contrast to the possessiveness of his words. Jungkook's touch was intoxicating, the gentle pressure of his mouth a silent declaration of his claim.

You felt yourself leaning into him, despite your better judgment, the warmth of his body seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. Your eyes fluttered closed as his arms wrapped around you, lifting you slightly off the ground.

"Hmm, Jungkook," you murmured against his lips, trying to sound nonchalant.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "What?"

"We're in the hallway," you repeated, your voice a little stronger now. "If anyone sees us—"

Jungkook's smile grew more intense. "Let them," he whispered, his eyes holding yours captive. "Let them see who you belong to."

You pushed at his chest, cheeks heating. “Where are the others?”

Jungkook leaned in, his voice a seductive murmur. “They’re down the beach. Swimming. You want to join them?”

“No,” you said, a little too quickly. “I don’t feel like it today.”

Jungkook's grin widened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Aren’t you curious to see me shirtless again?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered at the thought. “I’ve already seen you yesterday night, remember?”

Jungkook’s smirk grew, his eyes dropping to your neck. “Oh, I remember. You couldn’t get enough, screaming and crying out for me to stop going so deep.” His voice was a teasing whisper, his fingers tracing the line of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You flinched, your eyes darting to his, the memories of the night before washing over you in a heated rush. “Jungkook!” you hissed, slapping his hand away. “That’s not funny!”

But he just chuckled, his eyes dark and playful. “I’m not trying to be funny, babe. Just reminding you of what you really want.”

You bit your lip, staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “You’re shameless,” you whispered, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice cracked just enough to betray you.

Jungkook tilted his head, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. “And you love it,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “Come with me. Let’s go out, see someplace beautiful in Jeju.”

Your eyes widened. “What? Right now?”

“Mm.” He nodded, already tugging you toward the stairs like he’d made up his mind. “There’s a place I’ve wanted to take you.”

You blinked at him. “What about the others?”

“I don’t like anyone interrupting our time,” he said firmly, eyes locking on yours with that dangerous mix of playfulness and seriousness that always left you breathless.

-----

The Jeju sun was a warm embrace as Jungkook led you through the bustling streets of Jeju City, his grip firm around your hand. The scent of black volcanic rocks and blooming flowers filled the air, a stark contrast to the concrete jungle of Seoul. You felt like a tourist in a foreign land, yet Jungkook's presence made it feel like home.

You visited the Jeju Folk Village, where the thatched-roof houses whispered stories of a simpler time. Jungkook pointed out the traditional crafts and foods with childlike excitement, his eyes lighting up with every new discovery. You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, the tension of the morning slipping away with every step.

Walking through the cobblestone streets, you watched as he tried his hand at archery, the muscles in his arms flexing with every release of the string. His eyes gleamed with determination as he hit the target, a silent promise of his protective nature that you couldn’t ignore. Despite his possessive tendencies, there was something endearing about the way he cared for you, the way he made you feel like the most important person in his world.

The restaurant was buzzing with life, waiters weaving between tables, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses mixing with the distant crash of waves. You and Jungkook had just ordered when a familiar voice called your name.

“Y/N?”

You turned, blinking in surprise. Standing there was Professor han, younger than most of your other lecturers had been—sharp suit, easy smile, his charm intact just as you remembered from university.

“Professor!” you exclaimed, rising slightly from your seat. “What are you doing here?”

“Conference at Jeju University,” he explained smoothly. “Thought I’d grab dinner before heading back. And look at you—it’s been a while.” His eyes shifted to Jungkook, studying him with open curiosity. “And this is…?”

You felt Jungkook’s gaze burning into the side of your face. Clearing your throat, you forced a smile. “Ah—he’s my boss, sir.”

The words seemed safe, professional. But the way Jungkook’s fingers tightened around your hand under the table told you otherwise.

Professor han brows lifted, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Your boss, hmm? Interesting. Well, would you mind if I joined you? The restaurant’s packed.”

Before you could respond, Jungkook spoke first, his voice polite but cold. “Of course. Have a seat.”

Your professor slid into the chair across from you, the waiter quickly adding another setting. The atmosphere should have been comfortable, but you could feel the storm in Jungkook’s silence. He didn’t look at you—didn’t look at your professor either—but the set of his jaw and the rigid line of his shoulders screamed irritation.

Professor han

, blissfully unaware, smiled as he glanced between you both. “So, Y/N, working in Seoul now? You always were one of my brightest students.”

You laughed softly, flustered. “I’m managing… thanks to good guidance back then.”

Jungkook finally looked up at that, his dark eyes cutting through the air like a blade. “She’s not just managing,” he said firmly, his tone sharp enough to draw Professor Min’s full attention. “She’s exceptional. The best I’ve ever had.”

There was no mistaking the double meaning in his words.

You swallowed, heat creeping up your neck as you nudged his leg under the table in warning. But Jungkook only leaned back in his chair, finally turning his gaze on the professor with a slow, dangerous smile.

And you knew—this dinner was about to get complicated.

Professor Han leaned closer across the table, eyes sparkling. “You still remember the hospital case study I gave you? You were the only one who actually impressed me with the answer.”

You ducked your head shyly. “That feels like ages ago, sir.”

“Sir?” he chuckled. “Come on, Y/N, we’re not in class anymore. Just call me Han.”

Jungkook’s chopsticks clicked sharply against his bowl. You glanced at him — he hadn’t looked up, but the muscle in his jaw twitched.

Professor Han poured you a drink, sliding the glass gently toward you. “Here, you have to try Jeju soju. It’s sweeter.”

Before you could reach for it, Jungkook’s hand intercepted, his fingers curling around the glass. He downed it in one go, his eyes finally lifting — sharp, unreadable, fixed on Han. Then he set the empty glass back down in front of you with a soft clink.

You blinked. “Jungkook—”

“Don’t worry,” he said smoothly, gaze still on the professor, voice just a shade too calm. “I’ll take care of her.”

Han raised a brow, smirking as if he caught the shift in the air. “Protective, huh? Guess some things never change with her. She always had people looking out for her.” He turned to you, ignoring Jungkook’s glare. “Remember the time the whole class tried to copy your notes?”

You laughed, covering your face. “Don’t remind me…”

Jungkook leaned back, arm sliding across the backrest of your chair, his fingers brushing your shoulder possessively. He wasn’t smiling — but his eyes never left the professor.

When Han leaned in again to tell another story, Jungkook’s hand slipped lower, gripping the back of your chair like a warning. His voice cut through lightly, but with steel underneath. “Funny… I don’t remember asking for a reunion.”

The professor just chuckled, but the tension at the table was thick enough to taste. You could only pray Jungkook wouldn’t snap before the food arrived.

The restaurant was quiet, only a few scattered tables occupied. The soft hum of conversation mixed with the clinking of chopsticks against bowls, but at your table, the air was thick with tension.

Jungkook had excused himself to the restroom, leaving you with your former professor. The young man shifted his chair closer, his voice lowering as he studied you.

“Y/N… he’s not really your boss, is he?” he asked, suspicion sharpening his tone. “The way he watches you—it’s not professional. It’s… too much.”

Your chest tightened. You fumbled with your chopsticks, avoiding his eyes before finally whispering, “I’m sorry, sir. He’s my boyfriend.”

For a moment, silence. Then your professor’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “I see… You really have great taste then.” He reached over, hand brushing gently against your hair before patting the top of your head like you were something fragile and precious.

You stiffened at the contact, and that was the exact moment Jungkook reappeared from the restroom.

His dark eyes froze on the scene—your professor’s hand on you. His jaw clenched so hard a vein pulsed at his temple. In a blur, he stalked forward, his steps deliberate, heavy, dangerous.

Before you could react, Jungkook’s hand shot out, clamping onto the professor’s neck. With a violent force, he shoved him down—face first into the steaming bowl of soup. The liquid sloshed out, splattering across the table as muffled screams bubbled beneath the broth.

“Jungkook!” you gasped, scrambling to your feet. But he didn’t hear you. His entire world was narrowed to the sight of another man touching you.

The professor thrashed, his hands clawing at the table, but Jungkook pressed him deeper, his grip like iron. His voice was low, feral, trembling with unhinged rage.
“You think you can touch her? You think you can lay a finger on what’s mine?”

Without lifting his hold, Jungkook’s free hand darted across the table. His fingers closed around a fork. In one swift, merciless movement, he drove the metal prongs straight into the professor’s hand—the same one that had dared to pat your head.

A strangled cry ripped from the man’s throat, bubbles breaking the surface of the soup as blood seeped into the broth, swirling crimson with every tremor of his body.

“You touched what’s mine with this hand,” Jungkook muttered, his voice low and chilling, each word dripping with venom as the fork twisted deeper into the professor’s flesh. “Do you even realize how lucky you are that she’s begging me to stop right now?”

Your breath caught, tears pricking your eyes. “Jungkook, please… don’t—” you whispered, tugging desperately at his sleeve.

But Jungkook didn’t even look at you. His gaze was locked on the professor, who was sputtering in the soup, blood mingling with broth. Jungkook’s grip tightened mercilessly, his knuckles white as if he could crush the man’s skull into the ceramic bowl itself.

“Lucky,” he repeated, almost to himself, his lips twitching into a dark smirk. “Because if she wasn’t here, I’d break this hand until you could never touch anyone again. Until you remembered every day what happens when you reach for what’s mine.”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, Jungkook shoved the professor’s head down once more, forcing him to choke on another mouthful of scalding broth before finally releasing him. The man collapsed against the edge of the table, gasping, his burned face dripping with soup and sweat. His injured hand clutched against his chest, trembling violently, crimson streaks already staining his sleeve.

Jungkook straightened slowly, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. His jaw was tight, veins stark against his neck as he looked down at the broken figure. “Pathetic,” he muttered coldly, wiping his hand on the professor’s jacket as though the very touch had disgusted him.

You rushed forward, grabbing his arm, desperate to pull him back before he did more damage. “Jungkook… enough,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Please, let’s just go.”

Without waiting for a response, Jungkook tugged you toward the door, dragging you out of the suffocating silence of the restaurant, leaving the professor half-slumped, shivering in his own disgrace.

The restaurant doors slammed shut behind you, cutting off the suffocating stares and whispers. The cold night air rushed over your skin, but it was nothing compared to the searing grip of Jungkook’s hand around your wrist. He pulled you down the steps, his jaw tight, his silence louder than any outburst.

Finally, you yanked your hand back. “Jungkook!” Your voice trembled more from his intensity than the chill. “Why did you do that ?”

He spun on you so suddenly that you nearly stumbled into his chest. His eyes blazed, wild, desperate, and laced with something you couldn’t name. “Why did you introduce me as your boss, huh? Tell me, Y/N. Why?” His voice cracked like thunder in the still air. “And why the hell were you smiling at him like that?”

You blinked at him, stunned. “Smiling? I was just being polite!”

“Polite?” Jungkook’s laugh was sharp, bitter, like glass breaking. He stepped closer, towering over you, breath hot against your cheek. “You think I can watch you smile at another man like that? You think I’ll just stand there and pretend it doesn’t tear me apart?”

Your throat tightened, anger rising to meet his fury. “I’m not some property of yours, Jungkook! You can’t just decide who I smile at, who I talk to. I’m my own person.”

For a beat, silence stretched between you, heavy, charged, your breaths loud in the empty street. Then his gaze darkened further, that dangerous softness creeping into his voice.

“Babe,” he whispered, almost tender—almost. “The day I laid eyes on you… you became mine. Whether you like it or not.”

Your pulse slammed in your ears, the weight of his words pressing into your chest. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was possession, fierce and merciless. And yet, part of you trembled not with fear, but with something far more dangerous.

Before you could answer, he gripped your hand again, dragging you toward the black car idling at the curb. The door slammed shut behind you, silencing your protest. The entire drive was cloaked in tense silence, his knuckles white against the wheel, yours curled tightly in your lap.

When you arrived at the hotel, the atmosphere shifted but didn’t ease. The lobby was quiet, yet thick with tension. Namjoon stood there, waiting, his expression carved from stone. Behind him, the other members lingered, worry flickering across their faces.

The moment Jungkook stepped inside with you, Namjoon’s voice cut through the silence.

“Jungkook,” he said, low but firm, “what the hell were you thinking?”

Jungkook didn’t flinch, didn’t slow his stride. His hand still held yours, tight, as if to make a point.

Namjoon stepped forward, his jaw tight. “You know how much risk that was? In public? Cameras, strangers—it takes one photo, one rumor, and everything we’ve built could collapse.”

Jungkook dropped his jacket onto the couch, not even looking back. “I already handled it, hyung.” His voice was low, final, almost dismissive.

Namjoon’s jaw clenched. “Handled? That’s what you call shoving a man’s face into boiling soup in public? You can’t just—”

“I said I handled it.” Jungkook’s gaze flicked up then, sharp and daring, the room going still. “It won’t be a problem.”

No one dared push further. The tension was suffocating, like a storm waiting to break. Finally, Jungkook exhaled, softer but still edged with steel. “Don’t worry about me. Go rest. I’ll deal with the rest.”

With that, he turned, disappearing into the bedroom, the door shutting behind him.

The quiet he left behind felt louder than the scolding.

You stood frozen until Hobi’s voice broke the silence, warm but worried. He stepped closer, his eyes softening as they fell on you.

“Y/N… are you okay?”

You forced a small smile at Hobi. “I’m okay,” you murmured, though your chest still felt tight. Without waiting for more questions, you slipped out onto the balcony, the night air cool against your skin. The city stretched beneath you, glittering, yet it felt far away—like you were suspended in a different world altogether.

The sliding door opened behind you. Jimin stepped out, leaning casually against the railing beside you, his voice calm but sharp in its intent.

"What are you looking at?" you murmured, not turning from the view.

He didn't answer right away, his silence stretching out like a tightrope between you. Then, "Thinking," he said, his eyes still on the horizon.

"Thinking what?" You tried to keep your voice even, but it was hard not to let your nerves show. Jungkook's behavior had left a bruise on your heart, and you didn't know how to process the mess of emotions you were feeling.

Jimin's gaze slid to you, his eyes searching. "Did I have bad eyesight," he began, "or do you really look attractive when you're scared?" His voice was teasing, but there was something else in it—concern, maybe, or something deeper.

You turned to face him, the cool breeze playing with your hair. "I'm not scared," you said, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you. "I'm just... surprised."

Jimin's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Surprised by what?" He stepped closer, his gaze searching yours. "That Jungkook is capable of such violence? Or that he'd do it for you?"

You stiffened at the question, the memory of the professor's muffled cries echoing in your mind. "What he did was wrong," you whispered, clutching the railing. "Totally wrong."

Jimin let out a quiet chuckle, but his eyes were darker now. “I must say… that man was lucky Jungkook let him go.”

Your head snapped toward him, frustration bubbling. “Lucky? Jimin, he didn’t even care about his image—or your group’s image! Do you understand what people would think if they saw—”

“Because of you,” Jimin cut in smoothly, his voice edged with certainty. His gaze pinned you in place. “Because someone dared to touch what’s his.”

You faltered, your breath catching. “It’s still wrong,” you insisted, though the conviction in your tone wavered.

His lips curved into a faint, cold smile. “If I were there, I wouldn’t have stopped like Jungkook. I’d have broken that man’s whole arm.”

You shook your head, anger prickling your skin. “It’s insane. Both of you. Absolutely crazy.”

Jimin’s gaze lingered on you, unblinking. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a half-smirk. “Then leave him.”

Your stomach dropped. The words hit heavier than you expected, and your throat tightened. For a second, silence filled the air between you, broken only by the distant hum of traffic.

“No,” you said finally, your voice steadier than you felt.

Jimin’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying you with unnerving calm. “Why?” he asked, his voice deceptively soft, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear you struggle through it.

You gripped the railing, your voice low but steady. “Because… he cares for me. When the professor touched my head, I didn’t like it. I felt so uncomfortable, but I couldn’t even say anything. Jungkook saw that. He reacted… too much, I know. What he did was wrong, way too far.” You paused, exhaling shakily. “But at least he saw how I felt when no one else did.”

Jimin studied you, his expression unreadable.

Your lips trembled, the words spilling before you could stop them. “I don’t want to leave him, even though I’m confused. Even though sometimes it feels crazy, I… I still don’t want to.”

The quiet between you stretched, unbearably heavy, until Jimin finally spoke. His voice was a murmur, dangerous in its softness. “Can I kiss you?”

Your head snapped up. “W-what?”

He stepped closer, invading your space without hesitation. The air shifted—he was so close you could feel the heat of his body, his breath brushing against your lips. His eyes locked on yours, unwavering, until instinct betrayed you—your eyelids fluttered shut.

A low chuckle broke the silence. His mouth hovered a whisper away, but he didn’t touch. “Still has a chance,” he breathed.

Your eyes flew open, shock darting through you. “What… do you mean?”

Jimin leaned back slowly, smirk playing at his lips, the kind that made your chest tighten with unease. “You know exactly what I mean.”

And then, without another word, he turned and walked away—leaving you standing there, pulse racing, heart tangled in something far more dangerous than you wanted to admit.

-----

The last file slipped into the cabinet with a dull thud. You exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of your neck. It was well past midnight and the entire BigHit floor was empty—except you. Being Taehyung’s personal assistant meant late hours, endless emails, and chasing deadlines no one else dared to.

Still, a week had passed since Jeju Island, and not a single day felt… normal. The memory of that night clung to you in pieces—Jungkook’s hands too tight, Jimin’s words too sharp, your own confusion buried beneath it all.

You shut off the office light and stepped into the quiet hallway, heels clicking faintly against the polished floor. When you pushed open the main glass doors, the cool Seoul air swept over your tired body like relief.

You had just opened the cab app when your phone buzzed.Taehyung: Come back to the company. Some important work is left.

You let out a long sigh, lowering the phone. Of course. Turning back inside, your heels echoed against the empty lobby floor as you headed upstairs again.

But instead of his office, the text guided you to his private dressing room. Pushing the door open, you froze.

The room was a sunburst of warmth and light—every corner adorned with sunflowers, their cheerful faces beaming at you from bouquets and garlands. In the center, a simple table was set, a small cake atop it, its frosting a mess of yellow and chocolate. It wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it radiated Taehyung’s earnest effort.

You took a step toward the table, the scent of vanilla and chocolate wafting through the room, mingling with the faint aroma of the flowers. Before you could reach it, though, arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you into a warm embrace.

“Sweetheart,” Taehyung murmured into your hair, his voice thick with sincerity. “I know this cake doesn’t look good, but trust me, it’s delicious. I worked really hard on it.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you felt his breath against your ear, his grip gentle yet firm. You turned in his arms, looking up at him, and his eyes searched yours, a silent apology etched in their depths.

“What’s this for?” you asked, your voice a whisper.

“For that night,” he said, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again. “I wanted to make it up to you. I know my behavior wasn’t acceptable. I was just—I didn’t want to lose you to him, to anyone. I’m sorry.”

You stepped back, the warmth of his embrace retreating as the cooler air of the room seeped into the space between you. “Taehyung, I told you, I’ve already accepted your apology. You don’t need to do this.”

But he didn’t release you. Instead, his grip tightened, pulling you closer, until you were pressed against his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“Taehyung, let me go,” you protested, but your voice was lost in the thunder of your own pulse.

Taehyung's arms tightened around you, his breath hot against your neck. "Sweetheart," he whispered urgently, "please, just listen to me."

You stiffened in his embrace, his words a knife twisting in your chest. The room swam with the scent of sunflowers and cake, a stark contrast to the cold dread pooling in your stomach. You tried to pull away, but he held firm.

"Every girl I meet," he continued, his voice thick with passion, "it's all for the image, for the fans. They come to me because of who I am, because of the frame, because they want to be close to the members—but not you, Y/N. You're the only one who doesn't care about any of that."

You pushed at his chest, the fabric of his shirt soft under your palms. "Taehyung, stop it," you begged, but his words kept coming, a rush of sweetness and desperation.

"I see them in his bed," he said, his voice tight with something that might've been anger, "the girls I like—because Jungkook takes what he wants, and he thinks he can take you, too."

You shoved at him again, panic rising. "That's not true, Taehyung! You're just trying to make excuses for what you did!"

His grip tightened, his forehead pressing to yours now, his eyes burning into you. “You know why I chose you as my personal assistant? Not because I needed one. Not because you were the most qualified. But because I wanted to be close to you. I watched you—your clumsiness, your silly mistakes, your stubbornness—and I couldn’t look away. It was different. You were different. And when I saw Jungkook interested in you. ''

“Taehyung…” your voice was small, unsure.

Taehyung jaw clenched, his voice dropping to a near growl, “I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to put distance between you two, even if it meant keeping you chained to me.”

"Taehyung, let me go," you repeated, your voice shaking. But his arms remained a steel band around you, his eyes searching yours, desperate for something you weren't sure you could give.

He leaned closer, his breath warm on your cheek. "You love me," he said, his voice a whispered demand. "I know you do. And I love you, Y/N. I can fix this."

You felt a tear slide down your face, a silent protest to his words. "Love doesn't fix everything," you managed to say, your voice shaking. "You can't just say you love me and expect it to change everything."

For a moment, the silence was deafening. His grip loosened, but he didn’t step away. Instead, his hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away your tears as his voice softened to a whisper, cracked and fragile: “But I can try. I love you, Y/N. Please… don’t do this to us. I can fix it. I swear I can fix this.”

You froze, his words hanging heavy in the air. I love you. Words you had once ached to hear now cut into you like shards of glass.

Your chest rose and fell unevenly as you pulled away from his touch. Slowly, you reached for the glass on the nearby table. Your fingers trembled as you held it up between you both, his eyes flicking from your hand to your face, confused and scared.

“Do you see this glass, Taehyung?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Before he could respond, you let it slip from your fingers. The shattering sound echoed through the room, sharp and final. Jagged pieces scattered across the floor, glinting under the light. Taehyung flinched at the sound, his eyes locked on you in shock.

"This glass," you murmured, pointing to the mess at your feet, "once broken, it can never truly be fixed. It might look okay, but it's always going to have cracks. It's always going to be weaker than it was before."

His lips parted, eyes wide, but no words came.

You stepped back, the glass shards a symbol of the shattered trust at your feet. "You see, Taehyung?" Your voice was a whisper, but it seemed to echo in the silence. "You can tape it up, glue it together, but it will never be the same. And just like this glass, my heart has cracks. Cracks you've made."

Taehyung's face fell, the realization setting in. He took a step toward you, but you raised a hand to stop him, palm out, trembling.

"No," you said firmly. "You can't just fix me like you fix your image. You can't apologize and expect everything to go back to how it was."

His eyes searched yours, desperation painting his features. "Y/N, I—"

But you didn't let him finish. "Taehyung," you interrupted, your voice shaky but firm, "I love you." The words slipped out, a whisper that seemed to resonate through the air, heavy and final. "But my heart doesn't want you anymore."

The silence was thick, the only sound the distant echo of your heart shattering into a million pieces. Taehyung's eyes searched yours, a silent plea for understanding.

"I can't do this," you said, your voice barely audible over the thunderous beating of your heart. "My heart... it can't take you anymore. Please." You took a shaky step back, your hand reaching for the door handle, needing an escape from the suffocating weight of his gaze.

"Let's meet in the next life," you murmured, your voice cracking, "as normal people, without the shackles of idol and fan. Maybe then..." Your voice trailed off as you turned to leave, the unspoken hope hanging in the air.

He didn't stop you this time. Instead, he watched, his eyes reflecting a tumult of emotions—pain, anger, regret, and a flicker of something that might have been fear.

As you stepped out into the hallway, the door clicked shut behind you, a stark symbol of the distance that had grown between you. The lights above you flickered, casting eerie shadows across the floor as you made your way down the corridor, each step feeling heavier than the last.

For a long moment, Taehyung stood frozen, staring at the empty space where you had been. His chest heaved, his throat burning as he tried to hold himself together. But the room was too quiet, too cold without your voice.

His knees finally buckled, dragging him down to the floor. His eyes fell on the shattered glass, the very one you had broken to make your point.

His long fingers reached for a shard, ignoring the danger. The jagged edge sliced into his skin immediately, a vivid line of red spilling across his palm.

But he didn’t stop. He gripped the shard tighter, his blood dripping onto the floor. His body shook, not from pain—but from the weight of everything he had done, everything he was about to lose.

A tear slipped from his eyes, hitting the shard and sliding down its surface, as though even the broken glass carried his grief.

“You think I can’t fix it?” he whispered, voice raw, almost breaking. “Then let me bleed for it. Let me bleed until I can prove I still deserve you.”

Another tear followed, his lips trembling as he stared at the bloodied piece in his hand. His jaw clenched, but his shoulders sagged under the helplessness he couldn’t hide anymore.

“You say your heart doesn’t want me anymore…” his voice cracked, a sob caught in his throat, “but mine… mine refuses to beat without you.”

The shard slipped from his grip, clinking softly against the others. His bloody hand covered his face as a sob finally tore from his chest—raw, desperate, unguarded.

For the first time, Kim Taehyung looked utterly helpless—like a man who had lost the only thing he ever truly wanted.

-----

The park was quiet, blanketed in soft white as you sank onto the bench. Snow had just started falling, tiny flakes twirling down like they were made only for you. The world felt hushed, gentle — like it was trying to ease your heart.

You tilted your head back, letting the flakes melt against your skin. And then you heard footsteps crunching against the snow.

“babe” a familiar voice called.

You turned, and there was Jungkook, his hair dusted with snow, his breath fogging the cold air. He gave you that small, crooked smile — the one that always felt like trouble.

Something inside you stirred, and before you could stop yourself, you scooped up a handful of snow and tossed it at him. It smacked against his jacket, scattering across his chest.

“Heyyy!” he laughed, brushing it off, eyes widening at your sudden attack.

You grinned faintly, bending down to grab more snow, and threw another. This one hit his shoulder.

Jungkook laughed, brushing snow off himself. “Oh, I see how it is,” he said, crouching to grab his own. His grin widened. “You’re starting this?”

Before you could move, a snowball hit your shoulder, bursting into powder. You gasped, eyes wide.

“Unfair!” you shot back, grabbing more snow and throwing it at his arm.

“Unfair?” He laughed, dodging your next throw. “You started it!”

Soon the quiet park wasn’t so quiet anymore — laughter and shouts breaking through the snowfall as you both exchanged clumsy snowballs. For the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in your chest eased, replaced with the sting of cold against your skin and the sound of Jungkook’s laugh ringing through the night.

I wonder sometimes—if I’d chosen differently, if I’d walked away before this night—would it have hurt less? Would the scars have been smaller? I’ll never know. All I know is that moments like these… they always demand a price later. And mine was waiting for me.

Chapter Text

Backstage was alive with chaos, a blur of movement, voices, and flashing lights. Staff rushed past with clipboards and headsets, members darted between mirrors and costume racks, checking every last detail, while the hum of music from the stage pulsed in the background. The air carried an unfamiliar edge—it wasn’t Korea tonight. They were miles away from home, performing in another country, where the roar of international fans shook the arena walls.

Namjoon glanced at the schedule, frowning slightly, and called out, “Where’s Jungkook? Our group performance starts in fifteen minutes. Y/N, can you check on him?”

Jin nodded toward you. “Go on, check on him. Make sure he’s ready.”

You offered a small, determined smile and nodded, moving through the organized whirlwind toward Jungkook’s dressing room. As you walked, your thoughts drifted back. Three months had passed since that night, and so much had changed. Taehyung never mentioned it—not once—but the air between you had shifted. You were still his personal assistant, yet he spoke less, looked less, and kept a careful distance. And still, whenever you truly needed him, he was quietly there, steady and reliable in his own silent way.

You arrived at Jungkook’s dressing room and pushed the door open, the familiar scent and warmth immediately wrapping around you. He was in front of the mirror, adjusting his outfit and glancing at his reflection with that intense focus that always made your chest tighten.

“Jungkook, the performance will start in fifteen minutes,” you reminded him, stepping closer.

He turned slightly, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Come here,” he said, his voice low but playful.

You stepped closer, and before you could protest, Jungkook pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. You yelped in surprise, your cheeks flushing as you stumbled into his embrace.

“Why didn’t you come to my room last night?” he whispered against your neck, his breath warm and teasing.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat. “Jungkook, Taehyung had a late-night practice, so I fell asleep in the lounge,” you replied, your voice shaky.

Jungkook’s arms tightened around you, his nose nuzzling against your neck. “But babe, you know before I sleep, I love to cuddle with you,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection and a hint of something more.

"I know," you murmured, the warmth of Jungkook's breath sending shivers down your spine as his hands began to slowly lift your top, his lips finding a sensitive spot on your neck and pressing a gentle kiss there.

You squirmed, trying to resist, but the feeling of his mouth on your skin was too much to ignore. "Jungkook, performance," you reminded him weakly, but his grip tightened, and his kisses grew more insistent, trailing up to your earlobe.

"Just five more minutes," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. His hand slipped under your shirt, his thumb brushing over your skin in lazy circles. Your eyes fluttered closed as his other hand found its way to the small of your back, pulling you closer. The heat between you grew, his breathing hitched, and you felt the unmistakable pressure of his need against your thigh.

A soft moan escaped your lips as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin beneath your ear. Your body responded instinctively, leaning into him, your hands curling into the fabric of his jacket. The world outside the dressing room faded away, the only sounds being the distant music and the rapid beating of your hearts.

"You drive me crazy, Y/N," Jungkook whispered, his eyes dark with passion as he searched your face for permission. You hesitated, torn between your duty and the fire he'd ignited within you.

"Jungkook," you breathed, leaning in to capture his lips in a kiss that was equal parts desperate and sweet. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and you felt yourself melting into him, the coldness of the outside world forgotten in the heat of the moment.

You kissed him with a fiery intensity that matched his own, your hands exploring the firm planes of his chest, his own wandering further up your body, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. But as his hands reached for the clasp of your bra, a sudden knock at the door brought you back to reality with a jolt.

"Jungkook!" a voice called, breaking the spell. "We're starting!"

Jungkook groaned, reluctantly pulling away, his eyes still dark with desire. "We'll finish this later," he promised, his voice a seductive murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, your breathing ragged, and gently extracted yourself from his arms. Your cheeks were flushed, your heart racing as you tried to compose yourself, straightening your clothes and smoothing down your hair.

"Jungkook, tomorrow's concert," you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Yeah?"

You took a deep breath, your heart racing. "Tomorrow, after the concert. I want to talk to you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the din of the bustling room.

Jungkook's smile grew, his eyes gleaming. "Okay, I'll be waiting," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. And with that, he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. It was a kiss that held the promise of something more, something that would have to wait until the lights dimmed on the stage and the roar of the crowd had faded into the night.

You took your seat, the stage lights dancing across the arena as BTS began their performance. The energy was electric, the music pulsing through your chest, and yet your eyes found him immediately—Jungkook, moving across the stage with effortless grace, every glance, every step sending a flutter through your heart.

Your gaze followed him, sparkling with admiration and something more, something you were only beginning to fully understand. Tomorrow, you told yourself, tomorrow you would finally say it—the words you had been holding back for so long.

Jungkook… will you accept my feelings? Will you love me, a boring, ordinary girl like me? The thought tightened your chest, and yet, beneath the nervousness, a warm certainty bloomed. I love you, Jungkook… and tomorrow, I’ll tell you.

As he sang and moved across the stage, you felt your heart swell, a mixture of anticipation, fear, and hope. The lights, the music, the roar of the crowd—they all faded slightly around the edges, leaving just you and the thought of him, and the promise that tomorrow could change everything.

The performance had ended, and backstage was alive with quiet laughter, stretches, and the soft hum of the members unwinding. You moved carefully, holding a bottle of water and a towel, handing them to Taehyung. He drank slowly, the sweat on his forehead glinting under the dim lights, and you couldn’t help but glance toward Jungkook, who was laughing with the others, towel draped casually over his shoulders.

Taehyung’s eyes followed yours, and after a moment he said calmly, without a hint of amusement, “Y/N, I can manage from here. You don’t need to watch him. Go take a moment for yourself.”

You blinked, startled, and looked away quickly, your cheeks warming as you stepped back. Even so, your eyes found Jungkook again, and a quiet thought settled in your mind: tomorrow… tomorrow, I’ll finally tell him how I feel.

You were sitting at a quiet café, the steam from your coffee curling up in front of your face as you sipped slowly, letting yourself finally relax after the long night. The soft murmur of other patrons and the faint clink of cups around you was comforting, a sharp contrast to the chaos backstage.

Suddenly, a playful thud against the back of your head made you flinch. “Ouch! Hey!” you exclaimed, spinning around in your chair.

Jimin leaned over, fully covered in a hoodie and mask, only his dark eyes visible. “You’re really heartless, you know?” he said, voice teasing. “Not even telling me how my performance was tonight.”

You rolled your eyes again, smiling despite yourself. “Jimin, it’s not about that,” you said, taking a sip of your now lukewarm coffee. “But yes, your performance was amazing—as usual. The fans will be going crazy over it, I’m sure.”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up. “But did it make your heart race?” he teased, pulling out the chair opposite and taking a seat.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension of the night lifting slightly. “As if you don’t know you do that just by breathing,” you shot back.

His grin widened, and he leaned forward. “Ah, so I do have an effect on you,” he said, leaning his elbows on the table.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Jimin, can we be serious for five minutes?” you asked, your voice a mix of amusement and exasperation.

He leaned back in his chair, his grin never faltering. “Sure, what’s up?”

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I need to buy Jungkook a gift. Something special, but I have no idea what to get him,” you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed.

Jimin’s eyes darkened slightly, a shadow of sadness crossing his features. “Special?” he whispered, voice low.

You reached out, slipping your hand into his gently. “I’ll tell you later. Come on,” you said, tugging softly, trying to draw him out of his thoughts.

For a moment, he hesitated, the hurt still flickering in his eyes, but then he followed silently, letting you lead him. The night outside felt calm, and despite the heaviness in Jimin’s gaze, the soft warmth of your hand in his gave him something to hold onto.

You stepped into the cozy little gift shop, the soft jingling of the doorbell announcing your arrival. Shelves were lined with colorful boxes, trinkets, and all kinds of little surprises. You looked around, excitement bubbling despite the late hour.

“Jimin, which one should I buy?” you asked, scanning the items, your eyes flicking between the delicate pens, keychains, and small figurines.

But Jimin’s eyes remained on yours, his smile gone, replaced by something more solemn. “I don’t know, angel,” he murmured, his voice a soft echo in the small shop. He took a step back, his hand slipping from yours. “You decide. I’ll wait outside.”

You watched him go, the bell chiming his exit, feeling a pang of regret. You hadn’t meant to hurt him. But tonight was about Jungkook, and you had to tell him everything.

A few minutes later, you emerged from the shop with a small bag in hand. The cold air hit you like a slap, making you shiver. You spotted Jimin leaning against the wall, his breath coming out in puffs of white. He was smoking a cigarette, something you rarely saw him do.

"Jimin, I'm hungry. Can we eat something?" you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He took a final drag before flicking the cigarette away, his eyes meeting yours. "Sure," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

You led him to a nearby street food stall, the aroma of sizzling meat and spicy sauces wafting through the cold night air. The vendor greeted you both with a warm smile, and you ordered a couple of tteokbokki, your stomach rumbling in anticipation.

You held out your hand toward him. “Jimin, give me your hand,” you said softly.

He looked at you, his brow furrowed, his usual teasing grin nowhere to be found. There was something heavy in his gaze, a quiet distance you hadn’t seen before. “Why?” he asked, voice low, carrying a mix of frustration and sadness.

“Just… give me your hand,” you murmured, your voice gentle but firm. After a long pause, he finally extended his hand toward you, fingers stiff, almost reluctantly.

You carefully fastened the small watch around his wrist. “It’s not expensive, like you always wear,” you said, glancing up at him. “But… I bought this with my three months’ savings. I hope you love it.”

Jimin’s small smile lingered, softening the tension that had clung to him all evening. For a moment, he just stared at the watch, turning his wrist slightly, letting the dim streetlights catch the subtle shine of the metal. His usual playful energy seemed replaced by something calmer, almost reverent.

“I… really love it, angel,” he said again, voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might shatter the fragile happiness the gift had given him. His eyes met yours, and there was an unspoken gratitude there, a warmth that made your chest ache in a way you weren’t quite expecting.

You bit your lip, a small, nervous laugh escaping. “I’m glad you like it. I really wanted you to have something special.”

He nodded, still holding your gaze, before finally letting it soften. “It’s more than I expected. Thank you… truly,” he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly over the watch as if memorizing it.

For a few moments, you both just sat there, the cold air and distant sounds of the city fading into the background. Then, Jimin picked up his tteokbokki, smiling faintly but still quietly, savoring the warmth of the food—and perhaps the quiet pride in the little gesture you’d made.

You watched him, feeling a mixture of relief and guilt swell inside you. Relief that he was genuinely happy, and guilt because your heart was elsewhere. I’m sorry, Jimin… I really am, you thought, a heavy pang in your chest. I’m going to hurt you, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Taking a deep breath, you forced a small smile, meeting his eyes again. “Thanks for being my friend, Jimin. I’m lucky to have someone like you.”

He looked up at you, the smile returning, though tinged with a softness that wasn’t quite his usual teasing self. “Always, angel,” he said warmly, taking a bite of his food.

Your heart thudded nervously, and the words you’d been holding back spilled out before you could stop them. “Jimin… I love Jungkook. Tomorrow, I’m going to tell him.”

Jimin’s expression froze, his hand paused mid-air with the tteokbokki. “Why him?” he asked, his voice laced with a pain that made your heart clench.

You took a shaky breath, twisting your fingers nervously. “I… I don’t know exactly when it started,” you said softly. “But it’s the little things, Jimin. The way he notices when I’m tired… the way he’s always there, even when I don’t ask. Sometimes he does things that annoy me, that make me angry, but… I can’t stay mad at him. I love it when he tries to get my attention. We fight sometimes, but… with him, I feel like I’m his first priority. And… I love that feeling.”

Jimin’s expression remained unreadable, his eyes never leaving yours, his hand still wrapped around the stick of tteokbokki. You reached out and placed your hand over his, squeezing gently. “Jimin, I really do care about our friendship. You’re important to me. But my heart... it’s just with Jungkook now.”

He didn’t say a word. His face gave away nothing—no smile, no frown, nothing—but the stillness in his gaze spoke volumes. You felt the weight of it pressing down on you, a quiet, unspoken hurt.

“I… I need to go now,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Jungkook’s practice will be over soon, and he’ll be looking for me.”

You started to move past him, but Jimin’s hand caught yours, holding it firmly. His face remained completely unreadable, showing no hint of emotion, but the grip was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Without breaking eye contact, he called over one of the waiters. “Tell your owner I need to book this whole place. I’ll pay whatever it costs,” he said quietly, still keeping his expression unreadable.

After a few moments, the soft clatter of a few lingering dishes and quiet chatter faded as the last of the patrons left. The restaurant was completely empty now, the warm glow of the lights casting long shadows across the tables.

Your hand was still in Jimin’s, his grip firm but not tight, like he was anchoring you in that moment. His face remained unreadable, giving nothing away, but the intensity in his eyes spoke volumes.

The waiter had left, and the room felt intimate, almost suspended in time. You could feel the weight of his gaze, his silent demand for attention, and it made your heart ache in a way that words could never capture.

You shifted slightly, glancing around the now-empty space, realizing how much of a scene he had created just for you.

“J-Jimin…” you stammered, your hand tightening slightly in his, though unsure whether it was out of comfort or fear.

He let out a low, frustrated sigh, his jaw tightening. “Friendship, huh? After everything… after all I’ve done for you… I just end up as your fucking friend zone?” His words hit harder than you expected, echoing off the empty walls.

You felt your stomach twist painfully, guilt and sorrow bubbling up inside you. You hadn’t meant to hurt him—never him—but the truth in your heart was unchangeable. “I… I’m sorry, Jimin,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

He pulled you closer, his grip almost desperate, and you could feel the heat from his body, his breath hot against your ear. “What does he have that I don’t?” he demanded, his voice raw and pained. “I changed for you, I stopped seeing other girls. Tell me, angel, what is it? I’ll do anything. Anything to make you smile like that for me too. Why do you choose him?”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words, the depth of his feelings pressing against your chest. You knew you had to be honest—it was the least he deserved. “Jimin, it’s not about what he has or what you don’t. It’s just... I love the way Jungkook makes me feel. His fiery temper and possessiveness—it’s a part of him that I’ve come to love. And even though it’s hard, and sometimes it hurts, I can’t ignore it. I’ve tried, I really have. But my heart won’t let me.”

Jimin’s grip loosened, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, any hint that maybe there was still a chance for him. But all he found was the truth—your love for Jungkook was unshakeable. He let out a slow breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I guess I should’ve seen it coming,” he murmured, a sad smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Jimin, I’m sorry, but you’re really important to me,” you repeated, your voice earnest. “Your friendship means the world to me. I don’t want to lose you because of this. Please, can we still be friends?”

Jimin’s gaze searched yours, his eyes flickering with a mix of pain and anger. With a sudden force, he pushed you backward into the table, making the plates rattle. “Just stop with the friendship talk, Y/N!” he snapped, his voice harsher than you’d ever heard it. His eyes narrowed, and his expression darkened, his handsome features contorted into a scowl.

You gasped, your hands flying to the edge of the table to steady yourself, your eyes wide with shock. “Jimin, I—”

He leaned in closer, cutting off your words with the fierceness of his gaze. “Do you know what it’s like, Y/N? To watch you with him?” His voice was low, almost a growl. “To see the way he touches you, the way you look at him?”

Your heart was racing now, the warmth of his body so close to yours, the pressure of his hand against your chest. You felt the erratic beat of his heart beneath your palm, the rapid pulse that matched yours. “Jimin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

He leaned in even closer, his breath hot and desperate. “You didn’t mean to hurt me? To make me fall in love with you only to throw me aside like a fucking joke?” His words were like knives, cutting deep into the tender flesh of your heart.

You tried to pull away, but he held you firmly, his eyes searching yours, desperate for something you couldn’t give him. “Jimin, please, I—”

With a sudden surge of strength, he yanked you closer, his hand still pressed to your chest. “I thought if I became the type of man you liked, you’d love me too,” he murmured, the pain in his voice raw and exposed. “But you still choose Jungkook. You still push me away and tell me to understand. How can I understand this? How can my heart can understand this?”

You felt your own tears threatening to spill, your eyes searching his, pleading. “Jimin, I’m sorry, I never wanted to hurt you like this,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

But before the words could fully leave your lips, Jimin leaned in, his intentions clear. He was going to kiss you, to claim what he thought was his, but you turned your face away, unable to betray Jungkook—or your own heart—so blatantly.

He made a frustrated sound, his grip on you tightening, and turned your face back toward him. You could see the desperation in his eyes, the hurt and the anger, and something else—determination. He wasn’t going to let you go without fighting for what he believed was his.

Whispering through your own tears, you begged, “Please, Jimin. Don’t do this ".

Jimin’s gaze lingered on your tear-streaked face, his chest rising and falling unevenly. For a second, it looked like he might pull you back, like he might shatter under the weight of his own emotions. But instead, he exhaled shakily, his jaw tightening.

“Go,” he said, his voice flat, but his eyes betraying the storm inside him.

You didn’t move, frozen in place, your lips parting as if to plead again. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his control fraying.

“I said go,” he snapped this time, louder, the words dripping with both fury and despair. “Just fucking leave me alone.”

Your chest ached at the way his voice cracked at the end, but you knew nothing you could say would change his mind. With trembling steps, you moved past him, every inch of distance feeling like a wound.

As you walked away, the sound of your steps echoing in the hollow silence, Jimin’s eyes fell on the watch at his wrist. His expression twisted, rage and heartbreak colliding inside him. With a sharp movement, he ripped it off and hurled it across the room.

The metallic clang against the floor rang louder than it should have, slicing through the emptiness. He stood there for a beat, chest heaving, his face shadowed in a storm of emotions he couldn’t control.

For a moment, he just stood there, breathing heavily, staring at where it had landed. Then, slowly, he walked over, crouching down. His hand shook as he picked it up, gripping it so tightly it left an imprint against his skin.

A bitter laugh escaped him, low and broken. “So this is it, huh?” he muttered under his breath, eyes fixed on the object that had once meant so much. His voice cracked, raw with pain. “Is this what it feels like—loving someone who can’t love you back?”

He sank onto a chair, shoulders slumped, the watch still in his palm. The restaurant was silent now, save for his unsteady breathing, and the weight of his words lingered in the empty air like a wound that wouldn’t close.

The practice hall was alive with music and sweat, the mirrored walls catching every sharp movement of the members. Your steps slowed as soon as you spotted him. Jungkook. His hair clung to his damp forehead, his body moving with that intensity only he had. A small, unguarded smile curved on your lips.

You took a small step forward, ready to call out to him, to let your voice cut through the thundering beat of the speakers. But before you could, the door swung wider and a woman slipped inside.

She crossed the room with the kind of confidence that drew every eye to her, her smile bright and familiar. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Jungkook from behind, laughter spilling easily from her lips.

The music came to a stop. The other members greeted her warmly, one by one, smiles breaking across their tired faces as they embraced her.

A murmur rippled among the nearby staff. “That’s her,” one whispered. “The actress. I heard she dated Jungkook once.”

“She’s really beautiful,” another added, admiration heavy in their tone.

You froze when the actress wrapped her arms around Jungkook. The others smiled, staff whispered about her beauty, about her past with him. The air suddenly felt too heavy to breathe. Without a word, you turned and walked away, your steps quick, almost desperate.

But Jungkook’s eyes caught you.

The moment he saw your back disappearing through the door, his chest tightened. He pulled away from her hug instantly, his expression hard.

“Aish—hyung,” Jungkook said quickly, already moving toward the exit, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”He didn’t wait for permission. He was already running after you.

You sat on the bench outside the practice hall, staring at the ground, thoughts tangling in your head. It’s his past… I shouldn’t feel this way. But why did she hug him like she still had every right? Why did everyone look at them like they belonged?

Your chest tightened until you almost missed the soft footsteps behind you. Then suddenly, warm fingers pinched both your cheeks from the side, tugging them outward.

“Ya…” Jungkook’s voice was light, teasing, “your cheeks really are like rice cakes.”

You startled, turning to glare at him, but he was already grinning, eyes curved into crescents, that boyish smile that always made your anger slip.

And then, out of nowhere, he held something in front of you a cauliflower.

“For you,” he said, proud as if it were the rarest jewel in the world. “Special. I chose it.”

Your brows knitted in disbelief. “Huh? A cauliflower?”

He nodded earnestly, crouching down so his eyes were level with yours. “You once told me I waste money on flowers, right? But my mom always taught me… a man should treat the woman he loves with flowers.” His voice softened at that last word, eyes never leaving yours.

Then he gently pushed the cauliflower into your hands. “So… here. This one you can eat too. No waste. Smart, right?”

Despite yourself, your lips twitched. You bit down hard to stop it, but a laugh bubbled up anyway, slipping through your guard.

Jungkook’s smile widened at the sound, as if it was the only thing he wanted to hear. “See? Better than roses,” he whispered, tilting his head slightly, his gaze holding yours with an unspoken promise.

For a moment, the ache in your chest eased. His silly, ridiculous gift, his childish grin, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world—it all wrapped around your heart like a shield.

But then, his smile faded just enough for his voice to grow serious. “Now,” he said quietly, “tell me why you left practice without meeting me.”

Your fingers tightened around the cauliflower. You hesitated, then murmured, “That woman. The one who hugged you. She looked… like she had a right to.”

His brows drew together, and for a second he was silent, just watching you. Then Jungkook exhaled, running a hand through his hair with a small shake of his head. “Her?” His lips curved into something between a scoff and a smile. “She’s my old ex. A long, long time ago. She’s also Namjoon-hyung’s good friend, that’s why she came to support the concert.”

Your voice dropped into a whisper. “You never mentioned this.”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly, not in anger but in quiet challenge. “You never asked me.”

That stung, and you pressed your lips together before the words slipped out. “You always tell me you forget your one-night stands… but you remember her.”

He let out a slow breath, leaning back slightly as if trying to collect himself. “That’s true. I forget most of them.” His lips pressed together before curving into a small, almost self-deprecating smile. “But you know me… she was different in a way. She was the wild type, and back then, I was just a teenage idiot. With her, I… experienced a lot of things for the first time.”

The words hit like a stone in your chest. Your fingers went cold around the cauliflower. “Your… first time?” you whispered, voice cracking on the edges.

Jungkook’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s why I remember her still. But there was nothing—only physical attraction. She was older than me.”

You said nothing. Your eyes dropped to the cauliflower in your hands, but your grip stayed rigid, knuckles pale.

Jungkook leaned forward slightly, searching your face. His voice softened, almost teasing but edged with concern. “Babe… don’t tell me you’re jealous of her.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his words twisted something deep inside you. “It’s not that,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

But before you could elaborate, Jungkook’s mouth was on yours, silencing any protests with a kiss that was everything you never knew you needed. His lower lip brushed against yours, the gentle touch setting your skin on fire, making you forget about the cold air outside. His hand cupped the side of your neck, thumb stroking your skin with a tenderness that was as surprising as it was addictive.

The kiss grew deeper, his tongue slipping into your mouth with a heat that sent shivers down your spine. You felt the way he claimed you, the way his body pressed into yours, telling you without words how much he needed you. His grip tightened, the possessive way he kissed you leaving no doubt in your mind that you were his—his alone.

When he finally pulled away, you were left panting, your eyes glazed with a mix of desire and bewilderment. Jungkook’s eyes searched yours, his expression a heady mix of passion and vulnerability.

“I had my first time with her, yes,” he whispered, his thumb tracing your swollen lower lip. “But it’s nothing compared to what we have. You satisfy me in ways she never could. Your scent, your taste, your moans that I can hear even when we’re apart—it’s all for me. And these eyes—so innocent, yet filled with love for only me—it drives me crazy. I want to claim every part of you, over and over, until there’s no question of where you belong.”

Your heart was racing, your cheeks flushed from the intensity of his confession. The cauliflower sat forgotten in your lap, a stark contrast to the passion that burned between you.

Jungkook exhaled and pressed one last soft kiss to your forehead. “Go back to the hotel room, babe. I can’t come tonight because of practice, okay?”

Before you could protest, he stood and walked away, leaving the air still heavy with his scent and his words.

Slowly, you lifted your fingers to your lips, tracing the heat he left behind. A smile crept across your face, too wide to hide. Clutching the cauliflower to your chest, you whispered, half laughing at yourself, “Just tomorrow… I’ll finally tell you how much I love you.”

And with that thought warming you from the inside, you walked back to the hotel, each step lighter than the last.

---
The roar of the stadium was still echoing in your ears when you finally slipped away from the crowd, your heart pounding harder than it had all night. The concert was over—their last show of the tour—and you told yourself, “Just three words, Y/N. You can do it. I love you, Jungkook.”

You found his dressing room, the door slightly ajar. You could hear the murmur of voices, the low laughter of the members winding down from the high of their performance. You took a deep breath and pushed it open a little further, just enough to peer inside.

Jungkook was there, surrounded by a few of his friends. They were talking in low voices, their expressions relaxed. You hovered, your heart in your throat, waiting for the perfect moment to slip in and tell him those three little words that felt so big.

“Hey, Jungkook, your girlfriend is really cute,” one of them said, nodding in your direction without looking at you.

You felt a warm blush creep up your neck. You weren’t eavesdropping, but their voices were hard to ignore. You took another deep breath, ready to push the door open and step inside.

But the words that followed made your heart sink like a stone.

“Yeah, she’s cute and all, but she’s not Jungkook’s type, right?” another voice chimed in, the cruelty in the casual tone cutting deeper than you thought possible. “I mean, look at her. She’s so... plain. Nothing special. And Jungkook, he’s had so many hotter girls than her. What does he even see in her?”

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment and something else—pain. They were talking about you. Your stomach twisted into knots as you realized the harsh reality of their conversation.

“You’re right,” another said with a shrug. “But maybe she’s good in bed. That’s the only reason I can think of for Jungkook to stick around. He’s always liked a challenge, after all.”

Your knees went weak, and you leaned against the wall, the door now just a blur in front of you. The room spun, and you felt like you were going to be sick. How could they talk about you like that? How could Jungkook’s friends think so little of you?

But the worst was yet to come. Jungkook didn’t defend you. He didn’t even look up from his billiards game. He just chuckled, playing along with their banter as if you were nothing more than a conquest.

Your fingers trembled on the doorframe. The three words you’d rehearsed over and over with so much courage—I love you, Jungkook—died before they could even leave your lips.

You shut the door quietly, their voices still echoing in your ears, burning into you.

The hallway was empty, the laughter of the group muffled by the thick barrier of wood. You leaned against the wall, the cold seeping into your skin. The words stung, leaving you feeling small and insignificant. But anger began to simmer under the sadness—how could they talk about you like that? And Jungkook... why didn’t he stand up for you?

____

Hours passed, the night winding on. Namjoon and the others sat in the lounge, drinks in hand, laughter and chatter filling the room. The stress of the last performances slowly melted away, replaced by a rare, uneasy calm.

Then a staff member hurried in, panicked. “Sir… Jungkook… please… control him, sir,” he stammered, glancing down the hall nervously.

Namjoon stiffened, concern flickering in his eyes. Without a word, he gestured for the others to follow. Together, they moved down the corridor toward the source of the commotion, tension building with every step.

When Namjoon finally pushed the door open, the sight inside made them freeze.

The room was chaos incarnate. Furniture lay in splinters, shards of glass glittered across the floor, and streaks of blood painted the carpet. Jungkook’s friends—the very ones who had mocked and insulted—were sprawled across the floor, beaten and groaning, faces swollen, lips split, ribs cradled with trembling hands. Some barely moved, curling in pain, whispering curses.

And Jungkook… he stood in the middle, chest heaving, knuckles raw and bleeding, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes dark and wild, calm and dangerous at the same time.

Namjoon’s voice cut through the tense silence. “Jungkook—what the hell?”

Jungkook slowly turned, wiping his hand across his shirt and leaving streaks of blood behind. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, casual, controlled, and deadly.

“Relax, hyung,” he said, voice low and almost teasing. He nudged one of the moaning men lightly with his foot, watching him flinch. “They’re still alive.”

Namjoon’s jaw tightened, disbelief etching his features. The others could barely speak, horror and shock making them mute.

Jungkook’s gaze swept over the bodies at his feet, then up at Namjoon and the others. Cold, sharp, and possessive.“They thought they could open their mouths about her… about what’s mine,” he said, voice low, dangerous, controlled. “I reminded them.”

Jin bent down slightly, examining the beaten men. “J hope someone calls a doctor,” he muttered, worry etched in his voice.

Jungkook didn’t reply. He glanced around the wrecked room, wiping the blood from his knuckles on his shirt. Then he started moving toward the door, the calm menace in his stride leaving no doubt he didn’t care about anything but sending the message.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon’s voice cut sharply through the tense silence. He stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “We have to talk.”

Jungkook paused, head tilting slightly as he looked at Namjoon. His dark eyes flicked to the others, then back, lips curling in that faint, dangerous smirk. “Talk about what, hyung?” he asked, voice low, casual, but laced with an edge that made everyone in the room hold their breath.

The room stayed silent, the groans of the beaten men the only sound, as Namjoon squared his shoulders, preparing for the conversation he knew could push Jungkook to the edge.

Meanwhile, Jimin was in the shower, the hot water streaming down his body, trying to wash off the stress of the day. His mind wandered, half-relaxing, half-still replaying the earlier chaos.

The phone kept ringing, sharp and persistent. After the third ring, he groaned, voice muffled by the water. “Literally… someone has a death wish,” he muttered, reaching for the phone with soapy hands.

The ringing didn’t stop. His irritation grew, the sound cutting through the steam-filled bathroom. He swiped it open, eyes narrowing as he saw the name flashing on the screen.

“Really? Now?” he hissed, gripping the phone tighter.

Jimin hung up the phone without a word, his irritation clear. He hurriedly threw on some clothes, grabbed his keys, and left, moving fast through the streets, his mind focused on getting there as quickly as possible.

When he arrived at the bar, the night air hit him, thick with the smell of alcohol and smoke. The lights inside were dimming, the staff beginning to lock up.

“Sir, thanks for coming,” one of them says quickly as he pushes through the door. “We were about to close, but… mam was too drunk, and we found your number as an emergency contact.”

Your head lolls forward, body slumped and trembling, hair sticking to your flushed face. One hand rests on the table, knocking over a glass, sticky liquid running over the edge. Your vision blurs, the world spinning slightly, and you try to lift yourself but can’t.

Jimin’s eyes lock onto you immediately. Without hesitation, he pushes past the staff, kneeling beside you, and lifts your chin gently so you meet his gaze.

“You’re lucky I got here,” he murmurs, low and rough. “Come on… let’s get you out of here.”

Your lips part to say something, but nothing comes out. He sighs, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, steadying you against his chest.

The night air hits your flushed face as he carries you toward the exit. You shiver lightly, clinging to him without realizing it.

“Just hang on… I’ve got you,” he mutters again.

The world still spins, but in his arms, you feel a fraction of steadiness, a fraction of safety amid the chaos of the night.

The cold night hits you the moment Jimin sets you down. You sway slightly, the world spinning, and he catches you without hesitation. His hands on your shoulders are firm, grounding.

“Y/N… why the hell were you drinking?” His voice is low, controlled, sharp with anger and worry. He’s staring straight at you, dark eyes cutting through the haze of your drunkenness.

You blink, trying to form words, but your lips tremble, nothing coming out.

“Do you even realize how worried I was?” he snaps, stepping closer. The city lights reflect in his eyes, making him look almost dangerous, like he could crush the world and still care about you.

You try to mumble something, but it comes out garbled. Jimin groans softly, gripping your shoulders a little tighter. “You’re lucky I got here when I did. Do you hear me?”

The night air is cold, sharp against your flushed face, but his presence feels suffocating and protective all at once. You can’t hide from him, can’t escape the intensity in his gaze.

“What happened?” Jimin asks again, voice softer now, the anger replaced by a deep concern. His thumbs gently stroke the skin on your arms, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

Tears stream down your face, the weight of Jungkook’s silence and the sting of his friends’ words crashing down on you. “Why me?” you sob into the darkness, the echo of your voice bouncing off the empty street. “Why me? What did I do so wrong?”

Jimin’s grip on your shoulders tightens, his eyes never leaving yours. He’s searching, looking for a clue to piece together the shattered puzzle of your emotions. “Why are you crying, Y/N?” he asks gently, his voice a stark contrast to the harshness of the night.

You try to find the words, but they’re lost in the haze of your inebriation. “Jungkook doesn’t love me,” you whimper, the confession ripping your heart apart. “I’m nothing—just nothing to him. I’m so stupid for letting my hopes get so high.”

He pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if trying to keep you from crumbling into dust. “You’re not nothing,” he whispers fiercely, his warmth seeping into your chilled skin. “You’re so much more than anyone here will ever know.”

You hiccup, your voice trembling as you bury your face into his chest. “Why… why can’t Jungkook love me? Why am I like this? Why does it always hurt me so much?”

Your words catch in your throat, and for a moment, the world feels unbearably heavy. You’re about to whisper the words you’ve been holding back for so long—“I love J…”—but Jimin’s hand lifts your chin gently, forcing you to meet his dark, intense eyes.

“Shh,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a growl. “Don’t say that. Not now.”

Before you can protest, his lips press against yours—soft at first, tentative, then firm, grounding. The warmth, the pressure, the unexpected intimacy melts something inside you. Your body leans into him instinctively, trembling, half from the cold, half from the intensity of the moment.

“Use me,” he whispers against your lips, his hands holding you close, anchoring you. “Lean on me. Let me be the one who’s here… not him.”

The world blurs around you, cold night air and distant city sounds fading into nothing. There’s only him—his heartbeat against yours, his arms strong and unwavering, and the crushing relief that maybe, just maybe, you’re not completely alone.

You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into him, letting the sorrow, the despair, and the drunken haze wash over you while he holds you steady, fierce and protective, letting you release every fragment of your broken heart.

---

The hotel room was a blur of warm lights and soft fabric as Jimin gently guided you inside, his arms still a solid embrace around your wavering form. You stumbled slightly, the alcohol making your legs feel like jelly, but he never let you fall. With surprising gentleness, he laid you on the bed, your eyes still glazed with unshed tears and a desperate need for something—anything—to fill the void Jungkook had left.

Jimin hovered over you, his expression a tumult of emotions—desire, tenderness, and something else, something that made your heart race. He leaned in, brushing the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he claimed your mouth in a kiss that was as fierce as it was gentle.

You felt his warmth, the strength in his arms as he held you down, and a sudden urgency took over. His hands roamed over your body, stripping away the layers of clothing that separated you. Each touch sent a shiver down your spine, a jolt of electricity that made you arch into him. The alcohol had lowered your inhibitions, but the passion was all yours—raw, real, and desperate.

When he pulled away to remove his own shirt, you caught sight of the tension in his shoulders, the muscles taut with restraint. He leaned back over you, and his mouth found your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses that made your skin prickle with pleasure. Your eyes closed, and you whispered, "Jimin..."

He took your hand in his, bringing it to his mouth. He kissed your palm, then took your index finger between his teeth, giving it a gentle bite. "Remember," he murmured, "if it hurts, bite my finger, okay?" His eyes searched yours, seeking your silent consent.

And then there was no more talking. His mouth found yours again, and you were lost in the heat of his kiss, the taste of him, the feel of his bare skin against yours. His hands skimmed over your body, igniting a trail of fire wherever they touched. Your own hands moved to his shoulders, then down his back, feeling the taut muscles, the warmth of his skin.

He paused at the edge of your panties, his fingers tracing the line of your hip, and you shivered in anticipation. With a gentle tug, he pulled them down your legs, tossing them aside. His eyes raked over your exposed body, a mix of hunger and adoration in his gaze. You felt a rush of desire, a need to be claimed, to be marked as his.

When he finally positioned himself over you, his chest against yours, you could feel the heat of his arousal. He took your hand and guided it down, placing your index finger in his mouth, sucking gently. "If it hurts, remember," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with need.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as he kissed his way down your body. His mouth found your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth, biting gently before moving to the next. You arched into him, the pleasure-pain sending a bolt of desire straight to your core. You could feel yourself growing wetter with every touch, your body begging for more.

As he reached your center, his fingers slid through your folds, teasing, exploring, until he found your clit. He circled it with agonizing slowness, making you squirm under him. You bit your lip to keep from crying out, the alcohol making everything feel more intense, more urgent.

And then he was there, the tip of him pressing against you, seeking entry. You took a deep breath, bracing yourself, and he paused, looking up at you with concern. You nodded, the desire to feel him inside you overriding any fear or hesitation. With a final kiss to your forehead, he pushed in, and you couldn't help the moan that slipped out, a sound that was part pleasure, part pain.

He was slow, so achingly slow, his eyes never leaving yours as he filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of fullness and ache that had you biting down on the finger he’d placed in your mouth. His eyes darkened, watching you with a mix of lust and tenderness as you adjusted to his size.

"Ahh, Jimin," you moaned, your voice muffled by the digit between your teeth. He responded with a low groan, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm that made you see stars behind your closed eyes. Each thrust was punctuated by the soft smack of skin against skin, the sound echoing in the quiet hotel room.

As he picked up the pace, your body began to respond in kind, hips rising to meet his, desperate for more. You released his finger to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing all of him, every part of him. He took the invitation, his mouth claiming yours again, his tongue dancing with yours in a dance of passion and pain.

The world outside the hotel room ceased to exist as the only sounds were your muffled moans and his harsh breathing. Jimin’s hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went. Your breasts, sensitive and swollen, begged for his touch, and he didn’t disappoint. His teeth grazed a nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp, and he took the opportunity to suck it into his mouth, biting gently.

You felt yourself getting wetter, the alcohol-induced haze only heightening the sensations. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you harder, deeper, faster. Each movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, making you shiver with need.

When you felt yourself approaching the edge, your nails dug into his back, leaving little half-moons in his skin. He took your cue, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his breathing ragged in your ear. "Do it," he murmured, his voice barely recognizable. "Let go for me, angel."

And you did, with a scream that was muffled by his shoulder. Your body convulsed around him, and he followed shortly after, his own release hot and intense. You collapsed against the pillows, panting, your heart racing as Jimin pulled out of you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Some time later, you had already drifted into sleep. Jimin’s gaze lingered on you, his thumb brushing over your cheek before he bent down to kiss it.

“You know… you bit my finger so hard,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous. “Next time, I won’t let you sleep. I’ll never let you go—never. You’re mine now, and I’m never giving you back.”

Chapter Text

The morning sun bled faintly through the curtains, its pale light spilling across the tangled sheets. Your head throbbed with the weight of last night — fragments of heat, breathless moans, his voice in your ear, the way his eyes had locked on yours as if you were the only thing that mattered.

You turned your head and froze.Jimin was still there, his body sprawled across the bed, the sheets tangled around his waist. His bare chest rose and fell steadily, lips slightly parted in sleep. His hair was messy, sticking to his forehead, and his discarded clothes lay scattered across the floor — the undeniable proof of everything that had happened.

Your stomach twisted.Quietly, almost desperately, you slipped out of bed, searching for your dress and pulling it on with trembling hands. Every sound — the faint rustle of fabric, the creak of the floor — felt too loud. You glanced at him once more, his face so deceptively peaceful, and your chest ached with guilt.

You sat at the small desk by the window, grabbing the hotel stationery and a pen. The words spilled out shakily, every letter feeling like a wound:

"This is the second time I’m writing a note like this, Jimin. I can’t use you. What happened between us last night… it was wrong. Please forget it. I’m leaving Seoul. Thank you for everything."

Your hand lingered on the paper, tears blurring your vision. You folded the note carefully, setting it on the nightstand right beside him. For a second, your fingers brushed his hair back, and your heart screamed to stay — but you forced yourself to pull away.

You grabbed your bag, slipped on your shoes, and left the room, the door clicking shut softly behind you.

The bed felt strangely cold when Jimin stirred awake, his hand reaching instinctively for your warmth only to find empty sheets. His eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the pale light slipping through the curtains.

The room was quiet — too quiet.He sat up, frown tugging at his lips, until his gaze landed on the folded paper resting on the nightstand. A chill slid down his spine as he reached for it.

His eyes moved across the words, expression tightening with each line. By the time he reached the end, his lips pressed into a thin line, then curved into the faintest, chilling smile.

“Angel…” he whispered, thumb brushing over your handwriting, his voice low and dangerous.

He leaned back against the headboard, staring at the door you’d slipped through, his jaw clenching, a shadow crossing his features.

“You’re leaving me no choice now,” he murmured, a promise more than a statement. His eyes burned with determination, dark and unyielding.

And in that quiet room, one truth settled like a storm waiting to break — Jimin wasn’t going to let you go. Not this time.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his grip on the phone tightening. "What do you mean she's not here?" he barked into the receiver, his voice echoing off the hotel room walls.

"She checked out yesterday night," the receptionist's voice was a feeble defense against Jungkook's wrath. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jeon. I don't have any information on where she went."

Jungkook's eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat. "What do you mean she checked out?" He demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "I told you not to let her leave without my permission!"

But the receptionist remained calm, unfazed by his outburst. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jeon. We don't have the authority to prevent guests from checking out unless there's a valid reason."

Before Jungkook could respond, Jin stepped in, his hands raised slightly in a calming gesture. “Jungkook, breathe. Calm down. What happened?”

Jungkook spun to face him, his eyes blazing. “Hyung… Y/N isn’t in the hotel. She hasn’t answered my phone calls. Yesterday, after talking with Namjoon hyung, I slept at his room. This morning, I went to her room… she wasn’t there. She just vanished!”

J-Hope tried to reason, his tone careful.“Maybe she’s busy arranging something… like Taehyung’s schedule? After all, she’s his assistant. That could explain why she didn’t pick up.”

Jungkook's frustration was palpable, his jaw clenched as he paced the room. “She would have told me. Something’s wrong. I know it.” He couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his gut.

Without wasting another second, Jungkook stormed to Taehyung’s room, his mind racing with scenarios. He burst through the door, his eyes searching the space for any trace of her. Taehyung looked up from his laptop, surprise etched on his face. “jungkook, what’s wrong?”

“Where is she?” Jungkook’s voice was tight, barely concealing his panic.

Taehyung's expression shifted to confusion. “Y/N? She left for her hometown. She texted me this morning, said she needed some time off.” He paused, his eyes scanning Jungkook's tense form. “Why? Didn’t she tell you?”

Jungkook's mind raced, his heart pounding. He had to get to her, had to make sure she was okay. “No, she didn’t tell me. I need to go to Korea. Now,” he said, his voice firm despite the turmoil within.

Jin stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Jungkook's shoulder. "Jungkook, you can't just leave in the middle of your solo concert," he said, his voice a gentle reminder of reality. "You have responsibilities here."

J-Hope nodded in agreement. “He’s right, JK. Maybe she just needs some space. Give her a chance to sort things out on her own.”

But Jungkook was beyond reason. "I can't," he said, shaking his head. "I have to see her, talk to her. I can't just... stay here and do nothing." He looked around the room, desperation creeping into his eyes.

Jin stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. "Jungkook, we're worried about you too. But rushing off to Korea without notice isn't the answer. We're in the middle of the tour. You have fans waiting for you. You have responsibilities."

Jungkook's eyes flashed with defiance, his mind racing. "Fine," he bit out. "Fine. Fast forward the concert, I can't keep my head straight here, not knowing if she's okay, not knowing what happened." He couldn't stand the thought of being apart from Y/N for another second, much less a week.

With a jerky nod, he spun on his heel and stalked out of the room, leaving the rest of BTS staring after him. His thoughts were a whirlwind of worry and anger—how could she just leave like that? What had he done to drive her away? The corridor was a blur as he marched down it, the walls closing in around him.

As Jungkook disappeared from sight, Jin turned to Taehyung, his expression serious. “Taehyung, are you telling the truth that she texted you?”

Taehyung nodded solemnly, pulling out his phone and displaying the message. “See for yourself, hyung. She said she needed to go home, that she’d explain everything later.”

J-Hope leaned in to view the screen, his brows furrowing at the sight of Y/N’s name. “Yeah, it’s definitely from her. But why now? Why so suddenly?”

Jin sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “I’ve had a bad feeling about this whole situation, guys. Something’s not right. We can’t have a normal day if this keeps going on like this.” His gaze swept over the group, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

“I know, jin,” J-Hope said, his voice laced with his own worry. “Let’s go back to Korea. Namjoon can handle Jungkook here while we sort this out. And Jimin and Suga are already on the flight back".

Taehyung’s eyes widened, his mind racing. “What do you mean Jimin left? When?” He had been caught up in his own turmoil that he had missed this crucial piece of information.

J-Hope looked at him with a grim expression. “This morning, he said he had something important to take care of back in Korea.”

Taehyung’s expression hardened, a rare flicker of urgency in his usually composed demeanor. “Fuck… we need to go back to Korea right now,” he muttered under his breath, the words sharp with frustration.

Without waiting, he started grabbing his essentials—laptop, chargers, a few clothes—moving with a hurried, precise rhythm. Each movement was tense, sharp, every action deliberate, as if time itself were slipping through his fingers. His jaw was set, eyes fixed, mind already racing ahead to Y/N, imagining the worst and refusing to wait another second.

The hotel room felt smaller with his tension filling the air, his every motion carrying the weight of the unknown, the need to reach her and make sure she was okay burning in every sharp movement.

____

The cabin of the private plane was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos back at the hotel. Jimin sat cross-legged on the plush seat, laptop balanced on his knees, eyes focused but distant, fingers tapping rhythmically across the keyboard. The hum of the engines was the only sound, except for Suga, who leaned back, arms crossed, watching him carefully.

Suga, seated across from him, broke the silence. His voice was steady but edged.
“Jimin… you really understand what you did?”

Without looking up, Jimin replied coolly, “I know. And I know why you’re coming with me.”

Suga leaned forward, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “Because I don’t want you doing something stupid again. Now… what are you planning?”

Jimin finally looked at him, his stare cold, almost calculated. “Nothing.”

Suga’s eyes flickered with doubt. “Nothing? Don’t play games with me.”

Jimin leaned back against the seat, a thin smile forming — one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Her kind nature will bring her back to me. That’s all I need to wait for.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Suga studied him, trying to read past the mask, but Jimin’s expression was set in stone — calm, controlled, and chillingly sure of himself.

The plane cut through the night sky, but the tension inside was louder than the engines.

The black car rolled to a stop outside your family home, its tires crunching against the gravel. The neighborhood was quiet, only the chirping of crickets filling the air as Jimin and Suga stepped out. Jimin’s expression was calm, almost too calm, while Suga’s eyes stayed sharp, wary of what might unfold.

The front door creaked open before either of them could knock. Your mom stood there, arms folded, her gaze instantly hardening at the sight of Jimin.

“Mom,” Jimin said smoothly, forcing a small smile. “Where’s Y/N?”

Her lips tightened, anger glinting in her eyes. “Don’t call me ‘mom’,Your heart still isn’t satisfied after making my daughter cry?” Her voice cracked with restrained pain. “You’ve hurt her enough, Jimin.”

Jimin lowered his gaze briefly, then lifted it with a small, practiced smile. “Mom, I just need to see her once. Where is she?”

Your dad stepped forward, voice cold and straight to the point. “She isn’t home. Went for a walk.”

Your mom turned her glare toward Suga, and your dad folded his arms.

Before they could speak, Jimin flashed a mischievous grin and backed away. “Okay then, I’ll just go find her myself.”

He flashed a sly grin, gave Suga a playful little wave, and darted off down the street.

“JIMIN! You brat—!” Suga shouted after him, but it was too late.

Now left alone, Suga found himself trapped in the doorway as both your parents stared him down, arms crossed, waiting for an explanation. He sighed heavily, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve never come with him…”

---

The evening sky was painted in shades of gold and pink, the air soft with the flutter of falling petals. The cherry blossom trees lined the road like an endless tunnel of fleeting beauty, their blossoms drifting down with each breeze, brushing against your hair and shoulders.

You stopped walking for a moment, tilting your head up, eyes lost in the way the branches swayed above you. The world felt quiet—almost peaceful—if only your heart wasn’t so heavy.

Then, suddenly, a pair of warm hands slipped gently over your eyes from behind.

“Guess who,” a familiar voice teased, soft yet trembling with something unspoken.

You stiffened and quickly pulled the hands away, spinning around. Your eyes met his, and your chest tightened—not from joy, but from the cold edge in your expression.

“Why are you here?” you said, your voice sharp, almost brittle. “I told you not to come.”

Jimin’s eyes darkened, his gaze piercing into yours. “Then why did you leave me yesterday morning? Answer me.”

You swallowed hard, voice trembling as you tried to keep your distance. “Jimin… please… what happened that night… it was a mistake. I was drunk, I didn’t even know what I was doing… so please, just forget it, like a one-night stand. I’m… I’m begging you, please… go back to Seoul.”

His jaw tightened, and he stepped closer, the petals swirling around your feet. “Forget it? How can I forget, angel? How can you call it a one-night stand? Do you think so low of me… that what we had was just a mistake?”

You took a step back, shaking your head, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Jimin, please. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t do this. It’s just too complicated now—”

But he wasn’t listening, his eyes searched yours, his voice thick with emotion. “Angel, don’t call it a mistake. What happened between us was real, and it wasn’t just because of alcohol. I can’t ignore what we have. And I won’t let you push me away because of Jungkook or anyone else!”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. “For me… it’s a mistake. So please… leave me alone. I don’t want to face you.”

Jimin’s eyes searched yours, desperation lacing his voice. “angel, I can’t. I love you. I’ve always loved you. Can’t you see that?”

Your eyes widened at his confession, your breath hitching in your throat. “Jimin, please, don’t make this harder than it already is. I don’t feel the same way about you. It was a mistake—a mistake fueled by alcohol and loneliness. I still love Jungkook, even if he doesn’t love me. You’re my friend, but we can’t do this to each other. To our friendship. To the group. Please, just go back to Seoul and let me sort this out.”

Jimin’s eyes searched yours, desperation pooling in the corners of his gaze. He dropped to his knees, his grip on your wrists tightening. “Please, angel, I know you’re in love with Jungkook, but can’t you see? Can’t you feel how much I love you? How much I need you?” His voice cracked, the words tumbling out of him like a confession he’d held in for too long.

Your heart ached at the sight of him like this, your friend, your confidant, kneeling before you in the middle of a cherry blossom storm. “Jimin, please get up. This isn’t right. If you really love me, you’ll stop this. You’ll stop hurting yourself like this.”

He didn’t move, his eyes pleading. “What do you want me to do, angel? Tell me, and I’ll do anything. Anything to make you happy. To make you see that we can be together, that we should be together. That you’re mine!”

You felt your chest tighten, his words a vice around your heart. “Jimin, please. Get up. This isn’t you. You’re not this desperate person. You’re strong, and you’re going to get over this, I know you will. But we can’t do this. Jungkook is my choice, my love. And I don’t want to lose you, but if you keep pushing, you’re going to force me to choose, and I can’t lose you like that. You’re my best friend.”

With a heavy sigh, Jimin finally stood up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He took a step back, his hand dropping from your wrist. The air was thick with the scent of cherry blossoms, their silent beauty a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions crashing between you.

Two days passed, Jungkook sat alone in the quiet of his hotel room, the glow of his phone illuminating his tense features. He scrolled through your pictures—every smile, every candid moment, every little gesture that had once made his chest tighten with warmth now twisted into sharp pangs of longing.

From across the room, Namjoon leaned over, ruffling his hair with a knowing smirk. “Missing her?” he asked gently, his tone teasing but laced with concern.

Jungkook didn’t look up, his eyes fixed on the screen. “From three days… I haven’t seen her, haven’t heard her voice… haven’t felt her smile,” he admitted, his voice low, almost strangled. “It’s killing me, hyung. I can’t… I can’t do this.”

“Jungkookie,” he teased lightly, “are you… falling in love or something?”

Jungkook shot him a sharp look, his dark eyes flashing with frustration. “Love? Hyung… I don’t know,” he said, voice thick with barely restrained emotion. He tossed his phone onto the bed, his fingers flexing in agitation. “All I know is… I want to see her. Desperately. Hear her voice. Touch her. Feel her. And how dare she leave me without telling me… I’m her boyfriend!”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, letting out a low whistle. “Sounds like love to me, JK.”

Jungkook didn’t reply. He just stared at the ceiling, chest tight, mind racing, the thought of you constantly haunting him. Each memory of your laugh, your smile, even the smallest gestures, felt like both a balm and a burning fire in his chest. He couldn’t stand the distance, couldn’t bear the thought of not knowing if you were okay, if you were thinking of him… if you even missed him at all.

“Hyung,” he muttered finally, almost to himself, “I need to see her. I can’t wait any longer.”

Namjoon leaned closer, voice calm but firm. “Jungkook… one more day. Finish your concert first. Then tell me—if you don’t love her, then what is this feeling?”

Jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and longing. He had never felt this way before, this intense craving for someone’s presence, as if you were a drug he couldn’t live without. It was an addiction, a sweet, painful ache that consumed him, a habit that had grown into something much deeper, something that had taken root in his soul and didn’t allow for withdrawal without agony.

" I don't know, hyung," Jungkook murmured into the night, his voice thick with the weight of his confession. "It's like... she's a drug I can't quit. I need her all the time, like she's the air I breathe."

Namjoon watched him, his smile fading into a look of understanding. "Love isn't always easy to recognize, especially for someone like you, JK. But if she's causing this much turmoil, then maybe it's worth it. Maybe she's the one."

Jungkook opened his mouth to respond, but the sudden buzz of Namjoon’s phone cut through the heavy silence. Namjoon glanced at the screen, his expression darkening instantly as he muttered, “This fucking media… they never leave us alone.”

Jungkook sat up, brows furrowing. “What happened, hyung?”

Namjoon hesitated for a second before showing him the article. The headline screamed in bold: “Park Jimin Spotted with Mystery Girl – Dating Rumors Spark Again.”

The picture was grainy, the girl’s face blurred for privacy—but Jungkook’s heart stopped. His eyes locked onto one detail, sharp as a knife: the bracelet on her wrist. The same bracelet he had given you, one he knew you never took off.

The picture was grainy, the girl’s face blurred for privacy—but Jungkook’s heart stopped. His eyes locked onto one detail, sharp as a knife: the bracelet on her wrist. The same bracelet he had given you, one he knew you never took off.

His blood ran cold. “Hyung…” his voice cracked, trembling with rage and disbelief. “That’s Y/N.” His chest heaved, the storm inside him breaking loose. “I gave her that bracelet. I know it. I fucking know it.”

Namjoon’s jaw clenched, watching the younger man unravel.

Jungkook’s fists tightened against the sheets, his voice dropping to a desperate growl. “Cancel the concert. I don’t care what it takes, I need to go back. Now.”

Namjoon grabbed Jungkook’s arm, trying to steady him. “JK, listen—finish the concert first. Don’t lose control over this.”

“I don’t fucking care about the concert!” Jungkook snapped, yanking his arm free. His chest heaved, eyes burning. “That’s her. That bracelet—mine. She’s in that article with Jimin. I’m not waiting, hyung. I’m going back.”

Namjoon cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair as Jungkook stormed out.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, screen lighting up with endless notifications. You were curled up on the couch with a blanket when your mom’s voice called from the kitchen.

“Sweetie, you need to see this.”

You frowned, picking up the phone. The headline glared back at you—“Rumored Relationship? BTS’s Jimin Spotted with Mystery Girl”.

One glance at the blurred photo was enough.
Your breath hitched. The bracelet. His bracelet.

“That’s me.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, quiet but absolute.

You didn’t need to read the article, didn’t need to scroll. You knew. The world might not see it clearly, but Jungkook would. He always noticed everything.

Your fingers curled tightly around the phone as a single thought rang through your head—What will he do when he sees this?

You rushed through the sleek, familiar corridors of BigHit, your heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. Your heart thudded so loudly it almost drowned out the chatter of staff and the distant echo of music from practice rooms. Each step brought you closer to him, closer to the one person you desperately needed to see.

Spotting J-Hope near the lobby, you broke into a run, weaving past staff and trainees. “Hobi oppa!” you called, your voice almost breathless.

He turned immediately, eyes widening at your sudden appearance. “Y/N! What… what are you doing here? Do you know how worried Jungkook was when he couldn’t reach you? Where have you been? Why did you suddenly come back to Korea?”

You barely registered his questions, your gaze scanning the area as if hoping he’d tell you exactly where to find Jimin. “Oppa… please. Where’s Jimin? I need to see him,” you said, your voice low but urgent, every word laced with tension.

J-Hope’s expression shifted, a mixture of concern and hesitation crossing his face. “He… he’s in the CEO’s office. About… the article.” He glanced at you, eyebrows raised. “Are you sure you should be—?”

Your hand clenched into a fist at your side, your chest tightening with a mix of fear and resolve. “Take me there, oppa. Please.”

J-Hope’s eyes softened, and he gave a slow, understanding nod. “Okay… but why? Why do you need to see him now?”

You met his gaze, letting the weight of your confession hang in the air. “Hobi oppa… that girl in the article… it's me. I’m the one they’re talking about.”

J-Hope’s eyes widened at your words. “Wait… what are you talking about? What did you do with he?” His voice carried both disbelief and concern.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “Please… just take me there, oppa,” you said, urgency creeping into your tone.

J-Hope nodded, his expression softening with understanding. Without another word, he led you through the last stretch of the corridors until you arrived at the CEO’s office.

You reached the CEO’s office, your heart hammering in your chest. The door was slightly open, and you pressed yourself against the wall, hidden in the shadows. Inside, you could hear the CEO’s sharp, commanding voice cutting through the room.

“Park Jimin! Are you out of your mind? How could you be so careless? Don’t you realize how much this affects your image… the group? I need confirmation directly from her!”

Jimin’s voice, low and tense, responded, each word laced with frustration. “It’s my personal life! I don’t owe anyone explanations for what I do outside of work!”

The CEO’s tone grew even sharper. “Jimin, I need confirmation! I can’t face the media without proper explanation!”

Your breath caught. You stepped forward, your voice trembling but determined. “That girl… that article… it’s me.”

The room went silent for a fraction of a second. Jimin froze mid-gesture, eyes widening as he turned toward you. “What… what are you doing here?”

“I’m the girl in that article,” you said, voice steady despite the storm inside. “But there’s nothing going on between Jimin and me. It’s… it’s not what they’re making it out to be.”

The CEO’s eyes snapped to you, disbelief flashing across his face. “Are you saying all this was… for attention? That there’s nothing real?”

“I—I didn’t do anything!” you stammered, your hands clenching at your sides.

Before the CEO could say another word, Jimin’s voice cut in, low and dangerous: “She is my girlfriend. And if you even think about releasing her face to the media or letting anyone twist this… I swear, you won’t get away with it.”

The CEO opened his mouth to protest, but Jimin didn’t flinch, his gaze daring him to challenge that claim. You could see the tension in Jimin’s jaw, the way his hands were clenched at his sides, the way his body seemed to shield you even though you were standing across the room.

For a long moment, nothing moved except your heartbeats, loud and chaotic in the heavy air. Finally, the CEO cleared his throat, defeated, and muttered something about handling it internally.

Before the CEO could regain his composure, Jimin stepped forward, his hand lightly gripping your wrist. “Come on,” he said, voice low and firm, eyes never leaving yours.

You barely had time to respond before he guided you out of the office, shielding you from the intense gaze of the CEO and the buzzing tension in the room. The hallway felt like a quiet bubble compared to the storm inside the office.

J-Hope, who had been following closely behind, opened his mouth, clearly ready to protest. “Jimin , wait—”

“Not now, hyung,” Jimin interrupted sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hand on your wrist was gentle, yet commanding, guiding you forward with unwavering certainty.

J-Hope muttered under his breath as he fell into step beside you two. “This boy… he never listens. I swear, sometimes I think he does things just to test my patience.”

He glanced toward you and Jimin, concern etched in his expression."I need to tell him—Jungkook’s already in Seoul."

The studio was quiet, dimly lit, with soft ambient light reflecting off the polished floors. Jimin stood near the mixing console, his posture rigid, arms crossed. When he saw you enter, his eyes narrowed immediately.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice sharp, cutting through the quiet. “Why are you interfering in my matters? Who gave you the right?”

You took a deep breath, your chest tightening, emotions swirling. “It’s not your matter anymore,” you said, voice trembling but firm. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t… if I hadn’t drunk that night… if I hadn’t lost control… then you wouldn’t have had to deal with any of this. Now you’re in trouble because of me… all of it. It’s my fault, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes flickered with a mixture of frustration and something unreadable. His jaw tightened, and he took a slow step toward you.

“For you… that night was a mistake, right? Then there’s no reason for you to interfere in my matters. You don’t need to drag yourself into this.”

You shook your head, your voice trembling but firm. “No… it’s my fault. I—I'll tell the media, the ARMY… that I followed you, posted things for attention. I’ll take all the blame.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, a mix of disbelief and concern crossing his face. “Are you out of your mind?!”

Tears pricked your eyes, falling freely now. “Then tell me… tell me what I need to do. Everything is my fault. Everyone who comes close to me… gets hurt. I can’t let anyone suffer because of me.”

Jimin stepped closer, reaching out to gently touch your cheek. His thumb brushed over your tears, his gaze soft but intense. “Angel… these tears are falling because of me, and you’re still denying it? You don’t feel anything for me at all?”

The room fell silent for a heartbeat, the tension hanging thick in the air. Then, the door burst open.

Jungkook stood there, eyes blazing, a mix of anger and fear twisting his expression. Without thinking, he lunged forward, grabbing Jimin by the collar, his fist tightening as if he wanted to strike.

“Jungkook!” Jin and Namjoon shouted at the same time, rushing forward.

J-Hope grabbed Jungkook’s arm, holding him back. “Calm down, JK! You’re letting anger take over!”

Jungkook froze, chest heaving, his fingers still clutching Jimin’s collar. He looked at Jimin—dark, furious, but unhurt—and slowly released him, his body trembling from the surge of emotions.

Jin stepped forward, his voice sharp and incredulous. “Jungkook! Are you out of your mind? What the hell were you about to do just now?”

Jungkook’s chest heaved, eyes blazing with anger and possessiveness. “I told you… Jimin, stay away from my girlfriend! She’s mine… only mine!”.

Jimin didn’t flinch. His hand shot out, gripping Jungkook’s collar just as hard. “Does Y/N know which photo Taehyung received? That one… that was actually sent by you.”

Namjoon, Jin, and J-Hope rushed forward, trying to pull them apart, but both of them refused to let go. Jungkook’s face was dark with rage, and Jimin’s expression was calm but unyielding, the tension between them almost electric.

From the doorway, Suga’s voice cut through the chaos, calm but firm. “Y/N… only you can stop them now.”

You gasped, your voice breaking, “Please… stop, Jungkook!”

For a split second, Jungkook’s eyes softened—but only slightly—before he finally released Jimin’s collar.Jungkook’s grip on your hand tightened instantly, and without another word, he yanked you toward him. “Come on. We’re leaving—now.”

Jimin lunged forward, trying to reach for you, but Namjoon and Suga were faster. Namjoon grabbed his arm, while Suga held his shoulders firmly. “Jimin! Stop! She’s not yours to take!”

Jungkook didn’t even look back. He pulled you down the hallway, your hand firmly in his, his body tense and protective, as if daring anyone to try and stop him.

Jungkook didn’t glance back. He dragged you down the hallway, your feet barely keeping up, adrenaline and fear coursing through you. His grip on your wrist was unrelenting, his every movement radiating dangerous intensity.

Outside the company, the cold night air stung your skin, but you barely noticed. Jungkook’s grip on your hand was tight, dragging you across the pavement. His eyes were dark, sharp, and unreadable, and every step he took seemed filled with an unspoken warning.

You stopped suddenly, planting your feet on the ground, and demanded, your voice trembling but firm, “Do you really… send that picture to Taehyung?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, his dark gaze locking onto yours. “Babe… just get in the car,” he said, his tone sharp, leaving no room for argument.

“No!” you snapped, pulling your hand back slightly. “First answer my question! You didn’t do that, right? Jimin is lying!”

Jungkook’s grip didn’t loosen. His eyes darkened, filled with dangerous intensity. “Yes… I sent that picture to Taehyung.”

​"Why would you do that? You know how much I love Taehyung! How could you turn my feelings for him into hate?"

Jungkook’s hand tightened around yours, dragging you closer as his voice dropped low and dangerous. “That’s exactly why I did it. That’s what I wanted. Now… get in the car.”

You felt your world crumbling around you. The betrayal was palpable, thick in the air, choking you. “Why, Jungkook? Why did you do this to me? To us?”

His eyes searched yours, the intensity never wavering. “Because I don’t like seeing you with other men. I hate that you can look at someone else. You should only be looking at me!” His voice grew louder, the possessiveness in his words sending a shiver down your spine.

Tears spilled over your lashes as you choked out, ​"How could you just let him break me like that? Do you have any idea how much that hurts? Why would you let me go through this? Why do I deserve to feel this way?"Jungkook’s grip on your hand tightened painfully, his eyes a tumultuous storm of emotions.

“Your heart should breathe for me, your mouth should whisper my name, and your eyes should only seek me. Your soul, your body—everything should belong to me! Can’t you understand that?” His voice was desperate, a raw declaration of his love and obsession.

You tried to pull away, the realization of his manipulation and the depth of his possessiveness suffocating. “Why do you care who I look at or talk to? I’m just a pastime for you, right? Just someone to pass the time?” The words were bitter on your tongue, but you needed to hear him say it—to confirm what you feared deep down.

Jungkook’s expression contorted with rage and pain. He stepped closer, his other hand reaching up to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a tear. “Who told you you’re just a timepass? Those three words are important to you, aren’t they?” His voice grew softer, the anger replaced by something more vulnerable. “Listen to me, Choi Y/N. I love you. I fucking love you. And I won’t let anyone take you from me—not even Taehyung, not even Jimin. You’re mine!”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and emotion. The love he claimed to feel for you was tangled in his possessive nature, a toxic blend that was both alluring and terrifying. Your heart ached, torn between the love you thought you felt for him and the reality of his actions.

You closed your eyes, voice shaking, “I… I slept with Jimin.”

Jungkook’s grip on your hand snapped tighter, the pressure making your palm ache. His dark eyes flashed with disbelief and rage. “What did you just say?!” he hissed, low and dangerous.

“I… I didn’t mean for it to happen… it was a mistake… but it happened,” you stammered, your chest tightening with shame and fear.

Jungkook’s lips twisted into a cruel smirk. “So… cheater, huh? Mom was a cheater… and now the daughter is too.”

Your blood boiled. Without thinking, your hand shot out and slapped him across the face, the sharp smack cutting through the tense night air.

“How dare you say that about my mom!” you spat, your chest heaving, eyes blazing with fury.

Jungkook’s hand shot up, gripping your wrist and pulling you close, dangerously close, so that his face hovered near yours. His dark eyes bore into yours, unrelenting. “Babe… it’s the third time you slapped me. I think… I really need to show you what happens when you cross me.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, adrenaline surging. You could feel the raw intensity radiating off him, the dangerous edge in his voice, and the possessiveness that made your knees weak.

the BTS dorm, the atmosphere was tense, thick with the aftermath of the confrontation outside the company. Jimin’s eyes were sharp, his jaw tight, and his voice harsh as he demanded, “Why did you stop there?!”

Jin stood, his tone firm but pleading. “Jimin, calm down first. For a girl, you and Jungkook are ready to fight like enemies. You’re brothers, do you even realize what you’re doing?”

Jimin’s gaze remained fixed on the floor, his grip on the chair tightening. “I love her. How many times do I need to tell you that?” he shot back, his voice raw with pain.

J-Hope’s voice was filled with desperation. “God’s sake, Mochi, she loves Jungkook. Can’t you see that?”

Jimin’s head shot up, eyes blazing. “And what about me? What about my feelings? Am I supposed to just sit back and watch?”

“You knew what you were getting into, Jimin. You knew she was Jungkook’s girl,” Namjoon interjected, his voice measured but firm. “And now you’re both playing with fire. It’s going to burn down everything we’ve built if you don’t stop!”

"Jungkook manipulated her," Taehyung spoke up, his voice low and even, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Namjoon sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. "You knew it was Jungkook who sent that picture, didn't you?"

Taehyung nodded slowly, his expression a mask of regret. "Yeah, I knew. But if I had told her then, she wouldn't have believed me."

"And now?" Namjoon pressed, his gaze unwavering.

Taehyung’s eyes snapped up, a steely determination etched into his features. "I won't give up on her." His voice was soft yet unyielding, a promise and a warning all in one.

Jin rubbed his temples, his frustration palpable. “You guys don’t get it, do you? If this keeps going on, you’re not just fighting over her. You’re risking everything—our friendship, our group, our careers!” His voice cracked, and his hands dropped to his sides in defeat. “This isn’t a game. This is real life, with real consequences!”

Then Yoongi exhaled slowly, his tone low and matter-of-fact. “If neither of you is ready to let go… maybe the only way forward is to accept it. Share her.”

Jin and J-Hope stared at Suga, their eyes wide with shock. "Do you even hear yourself, Yoongi?" J-Hope's voice was incredulous, his hands raised in disbelief. But Suga didn't waver.

"They'll never let go," Suga repeated, his voice unyielding. "Not without tearing each other—and her—apart. And that's not what any of us wants."

Jin and J-Hope exchanged glances, their expressions a blend of shock and disbelief. "Are you seriously suggesting that?" J-Hope managed to say, his voice a whisper of disbelief.

But Suga's gaze remained steadfast, his voice unwavering. "What other choice is there? If they can't find a way to let her go, they'll keep fighting, keep hurting each other, and keep hurting her. And what will be left of our group then?"

Jimin's eyes snapped up, his voice cold and resolute. "I won't share her." The words echoed through the room, a declaration that hung heavy with finality.

Suga's expression remained stoic, but his eyes bore into Jimin's. "You're willing to risk it all? Our group? Our friendship?" His question was met with silence, the gravity of his words sinking in.

Namjoon leaned forward, his eyes weary but determined. He signed heavily, his hands moving with purpose. "I know it's a ridiculous idea. But it's the only option we have left. Share her, or watch our group fall apart because of this destructive love triangle." The room was still, the only sound the echo of his signing hand.

Taehyung and Jimin stared at each other, their expressions unreadable. They both knew the stakes were high, but the thought of sharing Y/N was almost too much to bear. Yet, the love they had for their group was stronger than their own desires.

"Both of you decide before it's ruined everything," Namjoon's words echoed in the silent room. His eyes flicked to Jimin and then to Taehyung.

Jimin stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. Without looking at anyone, he stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Taehyung followed, his gaze on the floor, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Jin stared at the closed door, his face a picture of disbelief. He turned to Namjoon and Suga, his voice filled with anger. "How can you even suggest something like that?! That's not a solution, it's just going to ruin Y/N even more!"

Suga's expression remained unchanged, his voice calm yet firm. "What do you propose we do, then? Watch them destroy each other, along with our group? Our friendship?"

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I'm not saying it's the ideal solution, but it's the only way to keep the peace for now. We can't ignore the situation anymore."

Jin threw his hands up in exasperation. "And what about Y/N's feelings? Have you considered what she wants?"

Namjoon leaned back in his chair, his eyes meeting Suga's. "We have," he said, his voice measured. "But right now, we're trying to prevent this from blowing up in our faces. If they keep going like this, it's not just going to affect them—it'll affect all of us."

J-Hope swallowed hard, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and sadness. "But do you think she'll agree to that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can she handle that kind of pressure?"

Namjoon's gaze softened, the gravity of their situation weighing heavily on his shoulders. "We have to make her understand," he said, his voice firm with resolve. "We can't let this love triangle tear us apart."

Silence descended upon the room, each member lost in their own tumultuous thoughts. The tension was palpable, thick like a fog that clung to the walls. They knew their friendship and their group's future was hanging by a thread.

----

The tires screeched as Jungkook slammed the brakes, the car jerking to a stop in front of his house. Without a word, he pushed open his door, his movements sharp and impatient.

Your stomach twisted when he came around to your side, yanking the door open. His hand clamped around yours, rough and unrelenting, dragging you out of the seat.

“Jungkook—” you gasped, stumbling as he pulled you along the driveway. His grip only tightened, each step quick and forceful.

“Let go!” your voice cracked, desperation lacing every word. “You’re hurting me!”

But he didn’t answer. His jaw was locked, his eyes stormy, focused only on dragging you inside. The front door slammed shut behind you both, the echo ringing through the empty house.

You tried to pull away again, your voice shaking as you repeated, “Let go of me!” But Jungkook’s grip was like iron, refusing to yield.

Suddenly, his hand fell away, and you stumbled forward. You turned around to find him leaning against the wall, his chest heaving, his gaze intense. “Take your clothes off,” he ordered, his voice low and demanding.

You blinked back at him in shock, your heart racing. “What?”

“You heard me. Strip. Now.” His eyes were wild, his voice laced with something you hadn’t heard before—desperation.

You trembled, your eyes searching his for any sign of the sweet, charming Jungkook you once knew. But all you found was a rage-filled stranger. “Jungkook, please—”

With a feral growl, he closed the distance between you, his hand shooting out to grab your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark and unforgiving, his grip painful. “You want to talk, babe? You want me to listen? You’ve had your say. Now, it’s my turn. And my words are going to be written on your body, whether you like it or not.”

You felt your heart plummet, your voice a tremble. “Jungkook, please, no. We can talk about this—please, just listen to me!”

But Jungkook’s expression didn’t waver. His hand moved to the zipper of your dress, pulling it down roughly. Panic set in as the fabric fell away from your body, exposing you to his harsh gaze. You slapped him again, harder this time. “Jungkook, enough! Please, listen to me!”

He paused, his eyes flickering with something that might have been pain, but before you could register it, he was on you, pushing you against the wall. His hands roamed over your now exposed skin, leaving bruises in their wake. “You want to talk, babe?” he sneered, his voice a dark mockery of his usual sweetness. “Talk with your body, then!”

You struggled against him, trying to push him away, but his strength was overwhelming. With a snarl, he dragged you to the bedroom, the sound of fabric tearing as he tore your dress off completely. You were left in your underwear, trembling with fear and anger. He grabbed your wrists, securing them with handcuffs attached to the bedframe.

“Jungkook, please! This isn’t you! Stop!” you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks as his hands roamed over your body, leaving a trail of bruises. But he didn’t stop. He yanked down your underwear, his eyes ravenous as he took in the sight of your exposed flesh.

“You want to talk?” he sneered, his hand roughly pushing your thighs apart. “This is the only language I’ll understand from you now!” He climbed onto the bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he positioned himself between your legs.

“Jungkook, please, no, this isn’t—” your words were cut off by a searing pain as his teeth sunk into your neck, drawing blood. You screamed, trying to arch away from him, but the handcuffs held you firmly in place.

He ignored your pleas, his hips pushing into you as he lined himself up. The first thrust was brutal, tearing through you without mercy. You bit your lip to keep from screaming out, feeling the warmth of blood trickle down your throat. His eyes never left yours, the intensity in them burning into your soul as he claimed you, possessively, painfully.

“Jungkook, please, stop, I don’t want this!” you choked out through sobs, your voice shaking with fear and pain.

But Jungkook was in a frenzy, his eyes wild with possessiveness. He leaned down, his teeth grazing your neck as he rasped, “Where did Jimin touch you, huh? Did he make you cum like this?” His hips bucked against yours, each thrust sending waves of agony through your body.

You sobbed, your eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out his words and the reality of the situation. “Please, Jungkook, just listen to me!”

“Look at me, babe!” he snarled, his grip on your wrists tightening until you cried out in pain. He forced your chin up, making you look into his eyes. They were filled with anger, a stark contrast to the tenderness you once knew. “Look at me when I fuck you!”

You tried to twist away, but the handcuffs dug into your skin, holding you in place. Jungkook’s hips moved in a punishing rhythm, each thrust accompanied by a guttural grunt. His teeth bit into your neck again, and you felt warm wetness trickle down your skin. The pain was intense, mixing with the horror of his words and the violation of your body.

“How many times did he make you scream? Did he do this to you?” Jungkook’s voice was a harsh whisper in your ear, his teeth scraping against your skin. You sobbed, your voice barely audible. “Please, Jungkook, stop."

But Jungkook didn’t stop. His hips ground against you, his teeth biting down on your collarbone, leaving a trail of pain in their wake. “How does it feel, huh? Did you like it when he did it?” His words were laced with bitterness, his actions a violent symphony of jealousy and possessiveness.

“Jungkook, please, I can’t—it hurts too much!” your voice was barely a whisper, your body trembling beneath his weight. But he was relentless, his eyes burning with a fury that seemed to consume him.

“I said, tell me how many times he made you scream!” Jungkook’s voice was a snarl, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your neck. You felt your eyes roll back, the world swimming around you as the pain grew unbearable.

With a gasp, your vision blurred and the room started to spin. The edges grew fuzzy, and the only thing you could focus on was the feeling of his body against yours, his harsh breathing in your ear. You felt your eyes get heavy, your eyelids drooping despite your desperate attempts to keep them open. The pain grew distant, a dull ache as everything went black.

When you awoke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the weight of Jungkook's hand on yours, the cold metal of the handcuffs biting into your skin. You were wearing his oversized shirt, which did little to cover your bare legs. The room was silent except for the steady rhythm of his breathing. Your body ached, a stark reminder of the night's events.

Your gaze darted to the bedside table. The key. It sat there carelessly, almost mocking you. Freedom was just a stretch away.

You swallowed hard, biting your lip as you carefully shifted, inching your hand toward it. Each movement made the chain rattle faintly. Your fingers brushed the wooden edge—

And then the chain yanked back.

You gasped, stumbling forward as Jungkook pulled you hard against him. His handcuffed wrist twisted with yours, dragging your body flush to his chest.

“Looking for this?” His voice was low, gravelly, dangerous. His lips curved in something between a smirk and a warning as his free hand plucked the key off the table before you could reach it. He dangled it in front of your face, then clenched it in his fist.

“Jungkook…” your voice broke, small and pleading. “Please… unlock me.”

“Why?” Jungkook’s question was a challenge, a dare. His eyes searched yours, the anger from the night before still smoldering in their depths.

“You know why, Jungkook,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “You called me a cheater. You sent that picture to Taehyung to make me hate him. You didn’t say anything when your friend was insulting me. You’re going to throw me away eventually. So, let’s just end this relationship now before it gets worse.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, his grip on your cuffed wrist unrelenting. His eyes, dark and unreadable, flickered with something raw—possessiveness laced with fury.

“Babe…” he breathed, voice low but trembling with restrained emotion. “How many times do I need to tell you? You came to me willingly…” His words hung heavy, as if daring you to deny them. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “But you can’t leave me. Not without my permission.”

The silence between you was sharp enough to cut. The chain of the handcuffs clinked softly as you shifted, trying to put some space between you, but Jungkook didn’t move. His hand was still locked firmly around your wrist, his body hovering over yours with that same unrelenting intensity.

Finally, your voice broke through the suffocating quiet.

“Why?” Your throat tightened, but you forced the words out anyway. “Why do you still want me when you know I slept with Jimin?”

The question came out raw, almost broken — and for a moment, Jungkook froze. His eyes flickered, as though your words had stabbed him in a place he tried so hard to keep hidden. His jaw worked silently, teeth grinding together as if he was holding back the storm raging inside him.

He should’ve pushed you away. He should’ve been furious. But instead… he laughed. A hollow, breathless sound that carried no joy.

“Why?” he repeated, his voice low, rough, almost disbelieving. He leaned back just enough to look at you properly, his gaze locking onto yours with a fire that made your stomach twist. “You think this is something I can just… choose?”

His hand left your wrist, only to trail up your arm with slow, deliberate pressure, until his palm rested against the side of your neck. His thumb brushed lightly over your pulse, feeling the rapid thrum beneath your skin.

“You want to know the truth?” His voice shook — not from weakness, but from something darker. His lips parted, and when he spoke, each word was weighted, dangerous, undeniable.

“You’re my drug.”

Your breath caught.

He leaned in closer, his forehead almost touching yours, his dark eyes searching your face with a desperation that bordered on madness.

“How do you expect me to live without a drug, babe?” His tone cracked as he said your name, the sound aching with both tenderness and torment. “You’ve poisoned me. Every part of me. My head, my blood, my soul… it’s all you. And no matter how much it hurts, no matter what you did with him, I can’t cut you out.”

His grip on your neck tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of the control he refused to give up. His breath ghosted over your lips as he whispered:

“You think I don’t hate myself for this? For still wanting you? For still needing you even after knowing?” His eyes glistened with a fury that wasn’t aimed at you, but at himself. “I hate it. I hate how powerless you make me. But it doesn’t matter, because…”

His lips brushed your ear, his voice dropping into something hoarse, almost broken.

“…because you’re the only high I’ll ever want. And I’d rather die addicted to you than try to survive clean without you.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your tear-filled eyes again, his thumb gently wiping one stray drop from your cheek. His smirk was gone — what replaced it was far more dangerous. Raw, vulnerable honesty.

“So, don’t ask me again why I want you,” he said quietly, almost like a vow. “I don’t want you. I need you. You’re my drug. And there's no cure. "

Chapter Text

The door clicked open and Jungkook stepped in, a plate balanced in his hand. His shirt hung loose on him, his hair slightly messy, eyes sharp as they landed on you still curled beneath the sheets.

Without saying a word, he crossed the room and set the plate down on the bedside table. The scent of warm food drifted up, but you didn’t move, didn’t even glance at it.

“Eat,” he said flatly, pulling the chair closer to your side. His voice was calm, but his tone carried no room for refusal. “You need it.”

You slowly sat up, the blanket sliding off your shoulders. His shirt hung on your frame like a reminder of his claim, his control. Your eyes flicked from him to the plate, then back again, the pressure of his stare suffocating.

For a moment you reached forward, fingers brushing the edge of the tray as if you might obey. You felt his gaze soften, a quiet satisfaction flickering across his face—like he believed you’d finally surrendered.

But then, with one sudden motion, you grabbed the plate and hurled it across the room.

The shatter was loud, sharp, food scattering against the wall and onto the floor. The sound echoed through the room, your chest heaving as you glared at him, daring him to react.

The crash still echoed in the room when Jungkook finally moved. He didn’t flinch at the mess, didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he leaned back in the chair, studying you with that unnerving calmness that was far more frightening than anger.

A low chuckle slipped from his lips. “Looks like my babe is very angry,” he murmured, almost amused, though his eyes burned with something darker. He stood up slowly, deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world.“Wait here.”

The words weren’t a request—they were an order. Then he turned and walked out, the sound of the door clicking shut leaving you in suffocating silence.

Minutes stretched heavy until the door creaked open again. Jungkook returned—not with just another plate, but pushing a trolley stacked high with food. Plates, bowls, trays—everything carefully arranged, steaming and untouched.

He wheeled it beside the bed, his smirk widening at your stunned expression. “Now,” he said softly, dragging the trolley closer until the scent of rich, overwhelming food surrounded you. “Break them all if you want. There’s more where that came from.”

He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his voice dipping into a dangerous whisper. “But when you’re done throwing your little tantrum, you’ll still eat. Because I’ll make sure you do.”

His fingers brushed your jaw, forcing your gaze back to his. “Starve, scream, fight—it doesn’t matter. You’re still mine. And I’ll feed what’s mine.”

He straightened, lifting one of the bowls from the trolley, holding it up like a challenge. “So, babe,” he said, tilting his head with that cruel smirk, “how many plates do you want to smash before you give in?”

You glanced at Jungkook, your eyes lingering on him longer than you should have. His jaw tightened instantly, and his voice came out low, strained, almost like a warning growl.

“Don’t look at me like this,” he said, leaning in just enough for you to feel the heat of his breath. His eyes darkened, hungry and dangerous. “Or I will lose control.”

The weight of his words made your stomach twist. You lowered your gaze quickly, your fingers trembling as you picked up the spoon. Slowly, you began to eat, forcing down each bite while the silence between you thickened.

Jungkook leaned back slightly, watching you, satisfied that you obeyed him. But you couldn’t stay quiet any longer. Setting the spoon down, you lifted your eyes hesitantly, your voice soft but urgent.

“Because… for me,” you whispered, your eyes flicking briefly to his, “don’t fight Jimin. What happened between me and him… it’s my fault.”

You swallowed hard, the spoon trembling in your hand. Jungkook’s dark eyes never left you, sharp and unrelenting. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but carrying a sharp edge of warning.

“Jimin… he took advantage of your kind nature,” he said, each word deliberate, heavy with accusation and possessiveness.

You shook your head quickly, heart pounding, tears threatening to spill. “No… it’s my fault,” you whispered, voice breaking. “I shouldn’t have let him… I shouldn’t have let him be my friend. I became selfish. I never noticed… how much I was hurting Jimin. Please, Jungkook… don’t fight with him.”

Jungkook’s gaze sharpened, and a dry, almost bitter laugh escaped him. “You’re really… easy to manipulate,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly, his jaw tight. His hand brushed against yours, the chain between your wrists rattling softly.

You flinched at his words, guilt twisting in your chest. “I… I just want things to stop hurting everyone. I never wanted to hurt him… or you.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened further, the tension in his broad shoulders coiling like a spring. The handcuffs between you clinked softly as he shifted closer, his voice low and sharp. “Oh… so what’s your solution then?”

You swallowed hard, tears brimming, voice trembling. “We… we should break up.”

A dark, dangerous smirk flickered across his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a sharp glint in his eyes. “If you dare say the word ‘break up’ in front of me,” he growled, voice laced with threat, “I’ll lock you in my basement.”

Your chest tightened, a mixture of fear and frustration bubbling up. “Jungkook… this isn’t just about you,” you snapped. “You’re hurting your brothers. You’re hurting everyone… and for what? Just physical attraction?”

He froze for a fraction of a second, jaw tightening, and then leaned closer, voice low but deadly serious. “You really think what we have is only physical attraction?” His dark eyes bored into yours, the possessiveness and intensity almost suffocating.

You shook your head, heart racing, tears threatening to spill. “Yes… yes it is. You don’t know what love is, Jungkook."

But Jungkook’s smirk was gone, his expression contorted into something raw, something desperate. “Love?” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “You think I don’t know love?”

He reached out and grabbed your chin, his grip firm but not painful, forcing you to look at him. His eyes searched yours, as if he could find the answers he needed in their depths.

"Love isn't just about holding hands and sharing smiles," he said, voice gruff with passion. "It's about wanting to devour every inch of you, to breathe in your air until it's all I know. It's about needing you so badly it hurts—so badly that I can't even imagine a single second without you."

Jungkook's thumb brushed over your trembling lower lip, his eyes never leaving yours. "You think this is just about sex?" He spat out the words with a disgust that surprised you. "You think I don't know love? You think I don't feel it?"

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, his eyes never leaving yours. "You've become a habit I can't quit," he murmured, voice thick with emotion. "Everything about you, from the way your eyes light up when you laugh, to the way you smell after a shower, it's all I crave. And if that's crazy, then so be it."

The room grew warmer, the air thickening with the weight of his words. He leaned closer, his breath a soft whisper against your cheek. "Do you understand what you're saying?" he asked, his voice a mix of desperation and anger. "If we end this, I won't just walk away. I can't. I need you like air. Without you, I'm drowning."

Jungkook's thumb traced the line of your jaw, his eyes searching yours. "Love isn't just about being nice to each other," he whispered harshly. "It's about needing someone so badly it consumes you. It's about feeling like you're going to die if they leave." His grip on your face tightened, his eyes searching yours. "That's what you do to me."

His voice cracked, the fiery intensity in his eyes softening slightly. "So, if you want to leave," he murmured, "if you think this is just about lust and possession, go ahead." He leaned back, his hand dropping away, the handcuffs rattling as he released you. "But know that I'll never stop wanting you. I'll never stop craving you. And if you walk away, I'll just keep chasing. Because that's what love is to me."

You felt his words like a blow, your chest tightening with a mix of confusion and pain. This wasn't what you had ever wanted—a love that felt more like a prison than a haven.

Your voice broke as you whispered, “This isn’t love, Jungkook. It’s not healthy… it’s suffocating.”

His jaw clenched, eyes burning as though your words sliced through him. For a second, his chest heaved like he was about to explode, but instead he let out a sharp, bitter laugh.

“Healthy?” he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. “Babe, did I ever promise you a fairy tale love story? Did I ever paint you pretty lies about forever being soft and safe?” He tilted his head, eyes dark and unwavering as he leaned in, the cold steel of the handcuffs clinking between you. “No. I warned you. I told you from the very beginning—you wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

His forehead pressed against yours, his breath trembling. “Because what I feel for you isn’t soft, it isn’t calm. It’s fire. It’s madness. It’s the kind of love that eats me alive every second you’re near. Do you understand that?”

You tried to look away, but he cupped your face firmly, forcing your eyes back to his. His gaze was desperate, unblinking. “I don’t know how to love you halfway. I only know how to need you. To crave you. To lose my mind over you. That’s me, that’s my love.”

His lips brushed yours, not quite kissing, just hovering with unbearable heat. “So call it unhealthy, call it obsession, call it crazy—I don’t care. Because whatever it is, it’s real. And it’s yours. All of me is yours. Even the parts that scare you.”

You were about to protest, about to say something, anything to break the spell of his words, when he leaned in, pressing his lips softly to yours. It was a kiss that started like a whisper—so gentle, so tentative, it was almost a question.

Your body, still weak from the previous night’s exertions, didn’t have the strength to push him away. You felt a quiver run through you, a silent plea for this madness to stop. But your protests remained unvoiced, trapped in your throat, as Jungkook’s kiss grew bolder, deeper.

___

The house was unusually quiet after Jungkook left.You still stood near the living room, your arms folded tightly around yourself as you watched the front door click shut behind him. His last words echoed in your ears—soft, firm, and a little too commanding.

“Rest, Y/N. Don’t think about going anywhere. I’ll be back soon.”

The sound of his car starting outside made your chest tighten. He hadn’t even given you the option to argue. Just… decided for you, like he always did.

You turned to the main door, the sleek black wood seeming to mock you with its unyielding silence. The password—what could it be? You wracked your brain, trying to think of anything Jungkook might have said or done that could be a clue. But his mind was a labyrinth of secrets and obsessions. How could you possibly guess?

You took a deep breath, reaching out to touch the cold metal of the door handle. It was your only way out. You needed to find the password, to escape this prison of his love. But as your fingertips brushed against the metal, the door swung open suddenly, knocking you backward.

You stumbled, your vision blurring for a moment. And when it cleared, you saw him—Taehyung, standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with surprise and concern. You felt a jolt of relief and fear mingled together. He was the one person you didn’t want to find you here. Not like this.

“Y/N?” His voice was a soft murmur, the same gentle tone you’d always loved. He stepped closer, his gaze flicking over your body, the rumpled shirt, the bare legs peeking out from the hem. And then his eyes met yours—red-rimmed and filled with unshed tears.

Taehyung reached out, his hand hovering over the spot where the door had hit you. You could feel the warmth of his palm even before he made contact, a stark contrast to the cold metal that had just bruised your forehead. His touch was featherlight, as if he were afraid you’d shatter. And maybe you would.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice shaking. The question was loaded, the weight of your accusation hanging heavy in the air.

Taehyung took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “I came to meet Jungkook,” he said slowly, his voice low. “But it looks like I’ve found you instead. Are you okay?”

You nodded, trying to cover your bare legs with the shirt that clung to your body. “I’m fine,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “Jungkook’s not home. He went to meet Namjoon oppa. He’ll be back soon.”

Taehyung’s eyes searched yours, and you could see the doubt flicker in them. “Okay,” he said, his voice tight. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch the side of your neck. You flinched at the sudden contact, your eyes widening in shock. “Does it hurt?”

You nodded, the lie sticking in your throat. “No,” you managed, the word barely audible. His eyes searched yours, and you felt the warmth of his hand as it hovered over your skin. Then, with a gentle touch, he brushed aside your hair, revealing the purple bruises that marred your neck.

“You’re not good at lying, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice a gentle rebuke. The tenderness in his eyes was almost too much to bear.

You pushed his hand away abruptly, your voice breaking. “Why would I lie?”

The words cut through the silence, heavy with something he couldn’t ignore.

Taehyung froze, staring at you. For a moment, he didn’t breathe. She’s really fallen for him, he thought, a quiet ache settling in his chest. Even hurt like this, even standing here trembling… she still defends him. She still chooses him.

A sigh slipped from his lips, heavy and resigned. He stood straighter, then gently pulled you up with him, his fingers brushing your wrist like he was afraid you might break.

When his eyes fell on your bare legs peeking beneath Jungkook’s shirt, something twisted in his stomach. You tried to tug the fabric lower, cheeks flushing, but Taehyung couldn’t watch you struggle with that shame. Wordlessly, he slid off his jacket and draped it over you, the weight warm and protective.

His hand lingered just a second longer than necessary, and his eyes met yours. They were filled with something unspoken—sadness, frustration, maybe even longing.

She still chooses him, the thought burned quietly at the back of his mind. Even when it hurts her… she still chooses Jungkook.

But aloud, all he said was a low, steady murmur.
“Better.”

You nodded faintly, tugging Taehyung’s jacket closer around your legs.
“If you want,” he said gently, his voice carrying a firmness beneath the softness, “my driver can drop you home.”

You hesitated, biting your lip, then gave in with a small, tired smile. “Okay… I’d love to.”

Minutes later, the car door clicked shut behind you, the soft leather seat pressing against your back. The city lights blurred past the window, but your eyes kept shifting toward the tinted glass at the front. Taehyung was still standing on the curb, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his figure framed by the faint glow of the porch light.

You lowered the window slightly. “You’re not coming?” you asked, your voice carrying the tiniest hint of disappointment.

He stepped closer, the wind tugging at his hair, and leaned down just enough for you to see the seriousness in his eyes. “I have something to deal with,” he said quietly, the weight of his words making your stomach tighten. Then he turned to the driver, his tone slipping into command.

“Make sure she goes home smoothly. No delays, no detours.”

The driver nodded immediately, his grip on the wheel tightening in acknowledgment.

Your gaze lingered on Taehyung, on the way his jaw clenched and his eyes never once flickered toward you again.
---
The BTS dorm was filled with tension, voices echoing through the spacious living room. Jungkook’s chest heaved as he slammed his palm against the table, his voice sharp, shaking with fury.

“Hyung, are you out of your mind?!” he shouted, eyes burning as they locked on Namjoon and Jin. “She’s mine. Do you hear me? Mine. And I don’t share my things. Never. My things are only mine.”

Namjoon and Jin exchanged glances, both about to intervene, to calm him down—but before a word could escape, the front door burst open with a loud crash.

Taehyung walked in, his expression unreadable but his presence electric, dangerous. In his hands dangled a pair of boxing gloves, the red leather swinging casually as if they were an invitation to war.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung’s deep voice cut through the room, sharp as a blade. “Let’s settle this. You and me. A boxing match.” He paused, his jaw tight. “But with one condition—” his gaze hardened, “—let’s forget we’re friends. Forget we’re brothers. Just fight like men who want to win.”

Jungkook froze, his fists clenching, his voice dropping to a growl.
“Taehyung…”

But Taehyung wasn’t done. His lips curved in a smirk, his words heavy, deliberate.
“I kissed her twice,” he said, eyes never leaving Jungkook’s. “And I almost had her.”

The room went completely still.Namjoon’s eyes widened in disbelief, Jin’s breath hitched as if the air had been punched out of him.

Namjoon’s eyes widened in disbelief, Jin’s breath hitched as if the air had been punched out of him.

And from the corner, Suga leaned back with a low, knowing chuckle, his voice breaking the silence.

“See, Jin? I told you my idea wasn’t ridiculous after all.”

The air grew thicker, charged, as if the whole dorm was waiting for Jungkook’s explosion. The gloves in Taehyung’s hands weren’t just for sport anymore—they were a declaration.

---

Jin’s voice was urgent on the other end of the phone. “Y/N, please come over to the dorm right now. It’s important!” His words were rushed, almost panicked.

You grabbed your bag and rushed out the door, heart racing with worry. The car ride over felt like it took forever, your thoughts racing a million miles a minute. What could be so urgent that you had to come right away? The group rarely called you in for anything outside of work.

When you arrived, the dorm was eerily silent, the air thick with unspoken tension. Your footsteps echoed down the hallway as you approached the living room, where the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional thud grew louder.

Pushing open the door, you were met with a scene that seemed more like a nightmare than reality. Jungkook and Taehyung, two members of the world-renowned group BTS, were in the throes of a brutal boxing match. The room was a blur of swinging fists and grunts of effort, sweat glistening on their faces as they circled each other like predators.

Your eyes widened in shock, your hand flying to your mouth to stifle a gasp. This was the bond of BTS, the friendship you had seen them share in interviews and behind-the-scenes footage—now shattered into something primal and violent.

Your hand trembled against the doorframe. This wasn’t possible. This was Taekook—the bond you’d seen as unshakable, the friendship that felt unbreakable. Yet here they were, destroying each other right before your eyes.

Namjoon finally stepped forward, his voice sharp but shaking with frustration.
“Yah! That’s enough! Stop it right now!”

But neither Jungkook nor Taehyung seemed to hear him. Their fists clashed again, a sickening thud echoing through the dorm as Jungkook stumbled back, blood trailing from the corner of his lip. Taehyung’s chest rose and fell heavily, his knuckles raw and trembling, but his eyes still burned with defiance.

Jin moved in next, grabbing Jungkook’s arm mid-swing. “Kook, look at me! This isn’t you—this isn’t us! Stop before you both destroy everything!” His usually calm voice cracked under the weight of desperation.

But Jungkook jerked his arm free, his voice raw with possessive rage. “Hyung, don’t stop me! He touched what’s mine!”

Taehyung’s jaw tightened, his own voice low but trembling with fury and pain. “Why did you hurt her?”

You felt your knees weaken, your chest tightening painfully. Seeing Taekook—once inseparable, once brothers—reduced to this was like watching something sacred crumble before your eyes.

Jin and Namjoon locked eyes for a split second, both moving in again, each grabbing one of the boys, forcing themselves between the blows. The fight slowed, their bodies still straining against their hyung hold, sweat and blood staining the tense air.

The silence that followed was suffocating—broken only by the sound of ragged breaths and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

---
You stood frozen, your hands trembling at your sides. The sight of blood, the shattered bond, and the weight of what had just happened left you unable to breathe properly. Your lips parted as if to say something, but no words came.

Namjoon’s sharp eyes shifted to you—and then they softened. He noticed the faint marks on your skin, the bruises that you had tried so hard to hide. His chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh, the leader in him battling with the pain of realization.

“When Jungkook gets angry,” Namjoon began quietly, his gaze unwavering, “he loses control… completely. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until it’s too late.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the now-settling chaos in the other room, though his words seemed directed at you. “Taehyung… he almost never loses control. But when he does, it’s because something touches him deep, cuts too far.”

Namjoon’s voice dropped lower, his words laced with a calm that contrasted the chaos. “Jimin… he’s different. He doesn’t explode the same way. He holds it in, but when he finally lets go, it comes out sharp—like a knife.”

You sank to the edge of the couch, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, knuckles white. Your chest heaved, your eyes fixed on the floor as if looking down might make the weight of the world lift off your shoulders. “I… I’m sorry, oppa,” you whispered, your voice trembling so badly it barely reached Namjoon’s ears.

Namjoon’s sigh was heavy, his eyes softening but still weighed down with responsibility.“Y/N,” he said quietly, but firmly, “you have two options.” His words carried no anger, just the crushing weight of inevitability. “The first… leave Seoul. Shift to another country with your family. Start a new life. But if you choose that path, I cannot assure you that Jungkook won’t find you. He’s stubborn, more than you can imagine. Once he decides something, he doesn’t stop until he gets it.”

Your breath hitched. The thought of running, of disappearing forever, twisted something inside you—fear tangled with an ache you couldn’t name. Slowly, your voice cracked as you asked, “What’s the second option?”

Before Namjoon could answer, Yoongi’s voice cut through the stillness like a blade. “Accept them.”

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes wide. “What…?”

Yoongi’s expression was unreadable, calm but unflinching. “Accept them. Share yourself with them.”

Shock rippled through your body, the words sounding absurd, impossible. Your voice rose, trembling with disbelief. “Are you even hearing yourself? Do you realize what you’re saying?”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed slightly, his tone sharp but steady. “Do you love Jungkook?”

The room fell into silence again. Your throat tightened, but your heart betrayed you—beating wildly at just the mention of his name. Finally, you gave the smallest nod.

Yoongi leaned forward, his gaze piercing through you. “Then prove it. Jungkook loves us more than you’ll ever love him. That’s the truth.” His words weren’t cruel, just cold in their certainty. “Prove Taehyung and Jimin wrong. Prove that you don’t have feelings for them. Show them that Jungkook’s love… is the only one that matters to you.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Your chest tightened, every word he spoke weighing on you like stone. Finally, you forced the question out, your voice shaky, almost a whisper. “...How?”

Namjoon, who had been silent, finally spoke, his tone low but firm. “Date them.”

Your eyes snapped to him, shock flaring in your expression. “What?!”

Namjoon didn’t flinch. He held your gaze, serious, almost weary. “Date them. Make them realize. I know it sounds insane, Y/N, but listen—if you don’t, this tension between Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin… it won’t stop. It’s already breaking something in us, something in BTS.”

You shook your head furiously. “This is insane. Absolutely insane! Do you even hear yourselves?”

That’s when Yoongi leaned forward, his voice calm but cutting sharp as glass. “You still don’t see it, do you?”

Your eyes flicked to him, wide and confused. “See what?”

Yoongi’s gaze didn’t soften. “Their craziness.” His words landed hard, his tone cold. “You think you’ve seen the worst? Jungkook losing control, Taehyung stepping in, Jimin holding himself back… that was nothing. You don’t realize how far this can go.”

You felt your stomach drop, his words dragging you back to the image burned into your mind—Jungkook and Taehyung, fists flying, blood dripping from their mouths, eyes filled with something darker than anger.

Yoongi’s voice broke through your thoughts again, quieter but even more piercing. “If you don’t face them, if you don’t prove where your heart stands… they’ll destroy each other. And maybe you, too.”

Your breath hitched, tears stinging your eyes. Was that really love? Or madness?

---

The dorm was heavy with silence after the fight had finally been pulled apart. The atmosphere felt fractured, every corner holding onto the echo of fists and shouted words.

Jin stood in front of Jungkook, wiping the streak of blood from his lip with a cloth, his voice sharp and full of suppressed anger. “Kook, what were you thinking? Do you even realize you could’ve seriously hurt him? Taehyung is your brother, your family!” His scolding was harsh, but his trembling hands betrayed how shaken he was.

On the other side of the room, Hoseok was crouched in front of Taehyung, carefully tending to his bruised knuckles. “Tae… what is this? Why are you letting it get this far? You’re tearing everything apart.” His tone wavered, filled with frustration and worry as Taehyung refused to meet his eyes, his jaw clenched tight.

The tension thickened until a quiet voice cut through it.

“Hyung.”

They all turned. Jimin stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable, his voice calm but carrying weight. His gaze moved between Jungkook and Taehyung, sharp yet steady.

“I need to talk with them.”

The door clicked softly as Jin and Hoseok stepped out, leaving the air heavier than before. Silence stretched, broken only by the faint hum of the city outside the window.

Taehyung sat back against the couch, his chest still rising and falling in uneven breaths. He finally broke it, his voice rough.“What do you want to talk about, Jimin?”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed, his tone steady but cutting.“You already know what my answer would be, Tae. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

For a moment, Taehyung said nothing, just dragged a hand over his face with a frustrated sigh. His voice dropped, quiet but trembling with truth.“I really love her, Jimin. Watching her with Jungkook—it tears me apart. I can’t even explain how it feels.”

The confession hung in the air like smoke, heavy and unshakable.

Suddenly, Taehyung grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it across the room at Jungkook. His words were sharp, accusing.“I should’ve told her that day. That picture—it was you who sent it. You created the misunderstanding between us.”

Jungkook caught the pillow, his lips curling into a bitter smirk before he flung it back with equal force.“Oh, did I also teach you what words to say to her? Don’t blame me for your silence, taehyung. That’s on you.”

Jimin’s voice was calm, steady, but carried a weight that made the room go quiet.“I’m ready to share her,” he said, eyes locked on Jungkook, measuring his reaction.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his hand curling into a fist at his side. His voice dropped low, sharp with anger.“Are you forgetting something? She’s my girlfriend. I don’t share what’s mine.”

The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating, like a storm waiting to break. Taehyung stepped closer, his own gaze burning into Jungkook’s, challenging him, teasing him—but there was no mockery in it, only raw honesty.

“And what about you, Taehyung?” Jimin asked calmly.

“I’m ready too,” Taehyung said, voice firm, steady, but his hands clenched slightly at his sides. His eyes flickered to Jungkook, a silent admission of the tension that had been building for weeks—the fights, the jealousy, the dangerous pull of obsession.

Jungkook’s laugh was low and dark, almost a growl. “Stop dreaming. You really think I’d ever let that happen?” His chest heaved, and blood still stained his lip from earlier scuffles, but his posture was rigid with dominance, with the dangerous intensity of someone who refused to be challenged.

Taehyung’s lips curved in a small, sharp smirk, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.
“Should I remind her,” he said slowly, deliberately, “that even though you’re with her, you still look at other girls?”

The words landed like a strike. Jungkook’s dark eyes flared, his entire body coiling with barely contained fury.“Don’t dare,” he hissed, low and dangerous, his fingers twitching as though he could grab and tear the words away. “That time… I wasn’t serious with her. Nothing else matters except her. Got it?”

Jimin’s voice cut through the charged air, calm but teasing, dangerous in its own right.
“Do you think it’s easy for me and Taehyung, Kook? Or are you scared we’re going to steal her from you?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, dark eyes flashing. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, muscles taut with controlled fury. “I’m not scared of anything,” he said, his voice low, sharp, filled with unshakable dominance.

He turned, shoulders stiff, starting to step away as if leaving the room could somehow end the tension. But Jimin’s smirk didn’t waver; he tilted his head slightly, voice steady and firm.
“Kook… your answer,” he prompted, making it impossible for Jungkook to walk away without facing it.

Jungkook froze for a heartbeat, the air thick around him. He spun back slightly, eyes locking with Jimin’s, the fight and obsession in his gaze unmistakable. His hand twitched as though he wanted to reach out, to claim, to assert—but his voice was measured, dangerous, yet laced with raw intensity.

“If… she agrees,” Jungkook finally said, the words almost a growl, edged with something unspoken: the fire of possessiveness, the ache of wanting, and the madness of obsession that no one could tame.

---

The wind from the Han River whipped against your face, carrying with it the scent of rain from the distant clouds. You’d been standing there for what felt like an eternity, your feet rooted to the spot, your mind racing. The rush of the water below was the only sound that filled the air—until you heard the crunch of gravel and the thump of approaching footsteps.

Jungkook’s arms slid around your waist from behind, his chest pressing into your back. His warmth was a stark contrast to the coldness that had seeped into your bones. His voice was a gruff whisper in your ear. “Why did you leave the house, babe? I told you not to leave without me.”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you had to do. You turned in his embrace, his grip tightening instinctively, as if he could feel your intentions. You reached up, touching the bruise on his cheek, a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded earlier.

“We need to break up, Jungkook,” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your resolve. “This isn’t working. It’s tearing us apart—and the group. I can’t be the reason you fight with Taehyung and Jimin. I can’t be the cause of so much pain for everyone around us.”

Jungkook’s eyes searched yours, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. His expression was torn between shock and anger. “Are you out of your mind?” he asked, his voice thick with disbelief.

“Please, Jungkook,” you said, your voice breaking. “Let’s be honest with each other. This isn’t about just us anymore. It’s about all of us. I love you, I really do. But I can’t bear to watch you lose the people who have been by your side since the beginning. You said it yourself—your love for me is like an addiction. And I can’t be the poison that destroys everything you’ve worked for.”

Jungkook’s eyes searched yours, the anger in them slowly morphing into something else—desperation, perhaps. His grip around your waist tightened, and you could feel his heart racing against your back. He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and ragged. “There’s no returning from this, babe. No return. You’re mine, and I’m yours. That’s how it is.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the words you hadn’t expected to say next slipping out in a whisper. “Then share me with Taehyung and Jimin.”

Jungkook’s grip tightened, his eyes snapping open, wide with shock. His expression was a tumult of emotions—fury, disbelief, and something else, something that looked eerily like panic. He stepped back, his arms falling from around you, leaving a sudden coldness in their place.

“What did you just say?” he asked, his voice a low growl, his eyes searching yours for some sign of a joke or a misunderstanding. But all he found was your own desperation mirrored back at him.

You took a deep breath, feeling the cold bite of the wind. “I said, share me with Taehyung and Jimin. That’s the only way this stops. That’s the only way we keep everyone safe and together. If you love me as much as you say, you’ll do this for me—for us. For BTS.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the thunder of his heart in your ears the only sound. Jungkook’s hand clenched into a fist at his side, his knuckles white. “You want me to watch them touch you?” His voice was tight, the words forced through gritted teeth.

You took a step closer, cupping his face in your trembling hands. The wind whipped through your hair, but you ignored it, focusing only on the storm in his eyes. “I’m asking you to trust me, Jungkook. I love you—only you. But for the sake of everyone else, I need to date them, to show them it’s you that I want. To show them that no matter what happens, my heart is yours.”

Jungkook’s expression was a chaos of anger and hurt. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening. “You expect me to just stand by while you go out with them? To watch you kiss them, hold their hands, when all I want is for you to be mine?”

You nodded, your voice trembling but firm. “For now, yes. Until they realize that my heart only beats for you. That no matter what happens, no matter who I’m with, my love is yours. They need to see it, Jungkook. They need to accept it, or else this will never end. And I can’t bear to see you and Taehyung fight like this. We can’t keep going on like this, risking everything for a love that could ruin us all.”

Jungkook’s gaze searched yours, the intensity behind his eyes scorching, his breath hot against your skin. “But what if they don’t understand?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if they refuse to accept it?”

You stepped closer, your arms wrapping around his waist. You felt his heart pound against yours, the beat of his doubt resonating through you. “Then we’ll find another way,” you assured him, your voice steady. “But we have to try, for the sake of everyone."

Jungkook’s eyes searched yours, the intensity of his gaze making your knees feel like they might buckle. But you held firm, the love in your heart a beacon in the storm of emotions. “Trust me,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his bruised cheek.

Wrapping your arms around him, you felt the tension in his body, the rigidity of his muscles as he held onto you like a lifeline. You didn’t know if it was the right choice, if this would only lead to more heartache and pain. But you had to believe that love could conquer all, that somehow, by facing this head-on, you could save everyone—your relationship, the group, and the friendships that had been strained to the breaking point.

Chapter Text

I want to take a moment to address everyone who has been reading Whispers of Obsession. This is not easy for me to say, but I have decided that I will not continue writing this story.

I started Whispers of Obsession as a way to find mental peace, a space where I could express myself and create something meaningful. However, since yesterday night, I’ve been receiving negative comments that have deeply affected me. Reading them today has made my mental state even more fragile. On top of this, my cat has not been well, and I’ve been visiting the doctor every day, losing sleep and struggling to take care of everything around me. My mental strength is exhausted, and I realize I am not capable of handling the stress and pressure of continuing the story right now.

I want to sincerely thank all the readers who genuinely loved and supported this story. Your words, encouragement, and excitement have always meant so much to me, and I am truly grateful for every single one of you.

To those who didn’t enjoy the story, I’m sorry if it wasn’t what you expected, or if it felt like a waste of your time. I understand that not every story can reach everyone in the way the author hopes.

Please understand that this decision is about my well-being and my mental health. I need to step back, recover, and take care of myself before I can create anything new. I hope to return in the future with a fresh story, and I hope you’ll support me then too.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for understanding, for supporting me, and for being a part of this journey, even if it ends here.

Chapter Text

I’m here again, picking up my pen to continue this story, even though my heart feels shattered. Today, I lost five of my cats. They left me and went to heaven, and it feels like a piece of me has gone with them. Once again, God has shown me that maybe I’m not His favorite child, no matter how much I try to hold on. The pain is unbearable. The silence in my home feels too heavy to carry.

But writing is the only escape I have. It’s the only thing that helps me breathe when reality gets too cruel. So I’ve decided I will continue Whispers of Obsession. Not just for those who have been waiting and supporting me, but for myself too. This story will be my distraction, my safe place, the one thing I can cling to while I try to heal.

Thank you to everyone who stood by me, who sent love, and who believed in this story even when I doubted myself. Your support is something I will never forget. Please walk with me as I keep writing, because right now, this is all I have left to keep me standing.

Chapter Text

Morning crept in softly,the world felt strangely quiet, like it hadn’t yet recovered from the storm that had raged inside your heart. You stood at the bus stop, the early sun washing everything in a pale gold glow. The chill of dawn lingered in the air, brushing over your skin as you hugged your bag to your chest.

They were once unreachable stars… and now I’m tangled in their lives. Should I feel happy? Or scared?

Two girls beside you broke into giggles, their voices slicing through the morning quiet.

“Jungkook looks so hot—look at his jawline!”
“Please, Jimin’s the cutest. He’s like an angel, no one else compares.”

“Taehyung though… that man is just on another level, so handsome it hurts.”

Their laughter rang out, light and dreamy.

You lowered your gaze, lips pressing together. Angel? Prince? Hot? You almost wanted to laugh. If only they knew. Behind those perfect faces was fire, jealousy, love that could twist into obsession. Angel face… maybe. But with the devil hidden underneath.

With a deep breath, you pushed those thoughts aside and stepped into the Bighit Company building. The sleek glass and steel façade gleamed under the early light, a stark contrast to the chaotic mess of emotions swirling within you. You were a silent storm walking down the hallways, each step echoing through the emptiness of the early morning.

You were halfway to Taehyung’s studio when a hand clamped over your mouth from behind, strong and unyielding. Panic surged through your veins as you were dragged backward into the storage room beside the practice rooms. The door clicked shut behind you, plunging you into near-darkness.

"Jimin," you gasped, wrenching away as he released you, your chest heaving. "What's wrong with you? You almost gave me a panic attack!" Your voice shook, adrenaline still coursing through you.

He leaned against the door, arms crossed, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. "How'd you know it was me?" His tone was light, teasing, but his eyes held a sharp, unreadable edge as they traced your face.

You freeze. How can you tell him the truth—that you know his cologne, the way his presence feels before he even speaks? No, you can’t. You swallow it down. “Just tell me why you dragged me here.”

Jimin pushes off the door, stepping into the thin sliver of light cutting through the room. His eyes, usually warm and playful, are sharp as glass. “Why didn’t you pick up my calls?” His voice drops, low and velvet-rough. “I called you seven times last night.”

“Because I didn’t want to,” you whisper, the words brittle. You force yourself to meet his gaze, even as your pulse thunders in your ears. His closeness feels dangerous, charged with all the unspoken things between you.

Jimin steps closer, invading your space until you can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. “Angel,” he murmurs, the endearment sharp as a blade. “Why agree to date us now? After weeks of pushing us away?” His breath ghosts over your cheek, warm and unsettling.

You flinch, pressing back against the cold shelves. “To prove you wrong,” you whisper, the words raw. “To show you that no matter how close I get to you or Taehyung… my heart belongs to Jungkook. Only him.” The admission hangs between you, fragile and defiant.

Jimin’s gaze sharpens. Without warning, he closes the distance, his hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. His other hand tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes—dark, unreadable, intense. “Challenge accepted, angel,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. The proximity is electric, suffocating.

You shove against his chest, your voice trembling with defiance. “You’re overconfident, Jimin. This won’t change anything.” Your heart hammers, betraying your fear. His grip tightens, refusing to let you retreat.

He chuckles darkly, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "Because I know you like me", he whispers, eyes locked on yours. The scent of his cologne wraps around you, cloying and familiar. "Admit it. Even a little."

You twist away, stumbling back until the shelves dig into your spine. "Keep dreaming," you snap, breathless. The shadows deepen the intensity in his gaze, making him look almost predatory.

Jimin steps forward again, caging you in. "Well, my dream,"he murmurs, leaning so close his lips brush your ear, " is very wild type." His hand slides to your hip, possessive and demanding. "And you’re going to be in every single part of it."

You shove hard against his chest, stumbling back. "Ten steps," you breathe, voice trembling with panic. "I said make your distance from me ten steps." Your hand flies out, pointing toward the far wall. "Right now, Jimin."

He doesn't move. His eyes, dark and glittering in the dim light, track the frantic pulse at your throat. A slow, dangerous smile curves his lips. "Why should I listen to you?" he murmurs, stepping closer again, the distance shrinking to nothing. "You don't give orders here, angel. Not to me."

Your chest heaves as you push at him again, your palms burning against the solid heat of his body.“Jimin… you’re my boyfriend, right?” The words fall out faster than you can think, shaky but sharp. “Then listen to your girlfriend. Do what I say.”

He goes still, his eyes narrowing with a sudden, dark intensity. A slow, predatory grin spreads across his lips. “I’m your boyfriend?” he repeats, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. He leans in until his breath ghosts hot over your ear. “Then let’s act like it.” His hand slides down your spine, possessive and demanding. “Because I’m really fucking horny right now, angel.” His other hand grips your hip, pulling you flush against him. “How about we do something about it? Right here.”

Your breath hitches as his head dips, his lips hovering just a hair’s breadth from yours. Your eyes flutter shut instinctively, bracing for the contact, heart pounding against your ribs. But it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel the soft puff of his laugh against your skin.

“This is how you’re going to prove me wrong?” Jimin murmurs, his tone thick with mocking amusement. “Closing your eyes? Waiting for it? Don’t worry, angel. Until you beg me to fuck you, I won’t touch you like that.” His thumb traces your bottom lip, slow and deliberate. “I’m a gentleman.”

You about to snap back, but Jimin’s mouth crashes into yours—hard, hungry, stealing your breath. His tongue demands entry, hot and insistent, as he pins you against the shelves, one hand tangled in your hair. You shove him back, gasping. "Liar!" you hiss, wiping your mouth with trembling fingers. "You just said you wouldn’t touch me!"

Jimin’s eyes glint, predatory and amused. He cages you again, his thumb tracing your swollen lower lip. "I said I wouldn’t fuck you," he corrects, his voice a velvet scrape. "Didn’t say a damn thing about kissing you." His gaze drops to your mouth, lingering. "Especially when you taste like that."

You take a trembling step toward the door, hand shaking as it grazes the cold metal handle. Your chest feels like it’s going to burst, your heartbeat hammering in your ears. Every fiber in your body screams run, yet your legs betray you, refusing to move fast enough.

Jimin’s voice slices through the silence behind you, low and velvet-rough. "Angel." The word hangs in the air, heavy and deliberate. He doesn’t move, but you feel the weight of his stare like a physical touch. "Before I’m your boyfriend," he continues, his tone softening almost imperceptibly, "I’m still your friend." There’s a pause, a crack in his usual arrogance.

"We've already lost our friendship," you whisper, the words tasting like ash. You twist the cold metal handle, pulling the door open just enough to slip through. The hallway's sterile light floods in, sharp and blinding after the dim intimacy of the storage room.

Your lips still sting, your breath still unsteady as you walk down the hallway, the sterile lights buzzing faintly above. You press your fingers against your mouth, the echo of Jimin’s kiss burning there, unwanted but impossible to erase.How am I supposed to keep this up? How am I supposed to make them believe—without drowning in it myself?

You stop abruptly outside Yoongi’s studio. The polished wood of the door feels cool beneath your palm as you shove it open without knocking. Inside, Suga spins sharply in his chair, headphones slipping off one ear. His eyes narrow, sharp and assessing. “Did your parents not teach you manners?” he asks, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

You stride forward until you’re looming over his desk, your knuckles pressing white against the surface. “You’re the one who gave us this ridiculous idea,” you snap, the words trembling with suppressed panic. “Polyamory? Sharing? So fix it. Give me a solution, Yoongi. Before it destroys everything.” The scent of coffee and old vinyl hangs thick in the air between you.

Suga leans back slowly, his gaze unreadable. "Heyy, kid," he murmurs, voice gravelly and low. He gestures loosely at the door. " You agreed to this. We’re not forcing you." His eyes narrow, sharp as shards of ice. " So why come to me now? "

"Because you didn’t leave me a choice!" The words burst out, raw and trembling. You grip the edge of his desk, knuckles white. "You’re only thinking about the group—keeping BTS intact. Not about what this is doing to me." Your voice cracks. "I need help, Yoongi. Real help."

He watches you for a long beat, the silence thick and heavy. "Fine. What kind of help?" His tone is flat, giving nothing away.

You swallow hard, the next words scraping your throat. "Tell me what Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook hate in girls. What would make them walk away?" Your voice drops to a whisper. "If I can’t leave them… maybe I can make them leave me."

Yoongi leans forward, elbows on his desk. His gaze cuts through you, cold and unflinching. "Why Jungkook?" he asks, his voice low and deliberate. "You love him. You said it yourself. Why push him away?"

Your throat tightens. "I do love him," you whisper, the words raw. "But look at me—look at what I’ve done to him, to all of you. I’m tearing BTS apart. Jungkook deserves someone who doesn’t bring chaos. Someone... whole. Not this." You gesture weakly at yourself, your voice breaking. "I don’t deserve him."

Suga just stares at you. His expression doesn’t shift—no pity, no anger. Just that unnerving stillness. The silence stretches, thick with the hum of his studio equipment. You shift under his gaze, your pulse thrumming in your temples. "Well?" you prompt, voice brittle. "What?"

He leans back slowly, fingers steepled under his chin. "Did you forget your brain at home?" The words are flat, almost bored. "First of all, you’re not their type." His gaze sharpens.

You flinch, the words stinging. "Hey, I'm asking for help, not to be roasted," you protest, voice tight.

Suga’s lips twist into a humorless smirk. "I’m just telling the truth, kid. Change your personality." He gestures dismissively. "Be loud. Clingy. Obsessed with their fame. Act like those fangirls outside screaming their names. That’ll make them walk away." The brutal honesty hangs in the air like smoke.

You force a brittle smile, the edges sharp. "Thanks for the help, Yoongi." Then, swift and deliberate, you bring your heel down hard on his foot. He grunts, eyes flashing with surprise and pain. "And I’m not a kid," you say, voice low and icy. "Remember that." The words land like a slap.

You turn on your heel and stride toward the door, leaving the heavy silence of the studio behind.

Behind you, Yoongi exhales sharply, shaking his head, one hand rubbing the spot where you’d stepped on him. A short, almost incredulous chuckle escapes before he mutters under his breath, “Crazy girl…”

You walked down the hallway, Yoongi’s words echoing in your head like a cruel chant. Be loud. Clingy. Obsessed. As if it were that simple. As if your whole world wasn’t already cracking apart under the weight of three different storms pulling you in opposite directions.

Your chest tightened, frustration and exhaustion clawing at your throat. Why did everything have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t you breathe without feeling someone’s shadow over you?

The sharp chime of your phone cut through the fog of your thoughts. You stopped, pulling it from your pocket, thumb swiping across the screen.

Taehyung's text glared from your phone screen—a cold reminder you were late.

You pushed open his studio door. Music pulsed low—bass vibrating through your ribs. Taehyung sat hunched over the soundboard, silhouette sharp against the blue glow of monitors. He didn't turn.

"I'm sorry I'm late," you breathed, the apology hanging thick between you.

He didn't turn. His finger tapped a single key—a discordant note slicing the air. "One hour," Taehyung said flatly. His gaze finally lifted, pinning you against the doorframe. "Should I cut your salary?"

Your throat tightened. "If you want," you answered coolly, forcing steel into your voice. "Do it. Who stops you? You're my boss." The words tasted like ash.

Taehyung spun his chair around slowly, the blue studio lights catching the sharp angles of his face. "You really become cold-hearted," he murmured, voice stripped of warmth. His gaze locked onto yours, raw and searching. "I miss my cute sweetheart." The confession hung heavy in the bass-thrumming silence.

Your breath caught as you stepped closer. Faint but unmistakable—a shadowed bruise blooming along his jawline, another near his temple. Fresh pain lanced through you. "Tae," you whispered, hand trembling as you reached out. Your fingers hovered just above the marks, afraid to touch. "Don't fight Jungkook anymore. Not for me. Please." Your voice broke on the plea, raw with exhaustion. "Look what it does to you."

Taehyung caught your wrist, his grip gentle but unyielding. He pulled you forward until you stumbled, falling into his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist, anchoring you against him. His breath stirred your hair as he pressed his forehead to your temple. "If I'd treated you properly from the start," he murmured, voice thick with regret, "if I hadn't been so cold... maybe you wouldn't have fallen for him. Maybe this wouldn't be happening." His thumb traced the curve of your hip, a silent apology in the touch.

"Maybe I'm just a gold digger," you whispered, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. Your gaze stayed fixed on the bruise along his jawline, avoiding his eyes. "That's why I'm dating three of you—for the fame, the money." The studio's low hum felt suffocating as you waited for his disgust, his rejection.

Taehyung's chest vibrated against you with a soft, rumbling laugh. His fingers slid under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his warm, crinkled eyes. "Sweetheart," he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek, "don’t take Suga hyung’s advice seriously." A tender, almost pitying smile touched his lips. "You’re too easy to fool—and too soft to ever be that cruel."

He shifted, one hand reaching into the back pocket of his jeans. You watched, frozen, as he pulled out his sleek black wallet. Without breaking eye contact, Taehyung flipped it open, extracted a gleaming black card, and pressed it into your palm. "Here," he said, his voice low and velvety. "Buy whatever you love, my little gold digger." His eyes held yours—daring, amused, and impossibly fond. "Show me."

Your fingers curled around the cool metal card, the weight of it foreign and heavy. You stared down at it, the sleek surface reflecting the studio's dim blue lights like a dark mirror. Then, slowly, deliberately, you placed it back on the edge of his soundboard. "I don't need this," you said, your voice steady despite the tremor in your chest.

You pushed yourself up from his lap, the warmth of his touch lingering like a phantom ache. "You should focus on your work, Taehyung." The formality cut through the intimacy like a blade.

He leaned back, eyes tracing the stubborn set of your shoulders. "How can I focus," he murmured, voice velvet-rough, "when my girlfriend is so cute?" A lazy grin played on his lips as he watched you deliberately turn away, busying yourself with organizing scattered lyric sheets on his desk.

You rolled your eyes, stacking the papers with sharp precision. "Try something new, Tae. I fade up from hearing that same line." The sarcasm was brittle, a shield against the pull of his charm.

Taehyung pushed off his chair, closing the distance in two silent strides. His hand caught your waist, spinning you to face him. "I'm not here to flirt with you," he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. His other hand slid to the hem of your shirt, fingers brushing bare skin. "I'm here to steal your breath." A slow, deliberate tug. "And maybe... your clothes." His gaze held yours—dark, intent, utterly unapologetic.

Taehyung’s laugh was low, curling through the room like smoke. He leaned back just enough to take in the wide-eyed look on your face, the defiance sparking in your gaze.

“No physical relationship will happen between us,” you said, the words sharp, final. A line in the sand.

For a moment, silence hung between you—then he tilted his head, lips twitching into that infuriatingly soft smile. “Okay, sweetheart.”

Your brows furrowed. “Huh? That’s it? You don’t have a problem with that?”

He hummed, the sound deep in his chest, then bent low until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “I don’t need your body to keep you,” he murmured, voice velvet-drenched. “I want your time. Your attention. Every glance, every thought, every late-night call. I want you.” His hand slid from your waist, deliberately slow, as if to prove his point.

Your throat tightened. You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “That sounds… dangerous.”

He chuckled, stepping back only to trap you again with his gaze. “What I want,” he said, grin widening into something both teasing and raw, “is baby treatment. Feed me, scold me, hold me when I’m too tired to stand. Spoil me with your care, sweetheart.” His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. “That’s what I crave more than your skin.”

The words slam into you, heavier than any touch. Not lust. Not conquest. Something softer, almost childlike in its ache—yet no less dangerous for it.

You break the eye contact first, spinning on your heel, clinging to composure. “Group meeting. Ten minutes,” you throw over your shoulder, your voice tighter than you mean it to be. “Be there.”

You don’t wait for an answer. The door shuts behind you with a sharp click, and you’re already moving fast down the hall, chest burning, lungs refusing to obey. Stop breathing so fast, you tell yourself, but his words echo louder than your footsteps, refusing to let go.

The group meeting room is silent and hollow, sunlight slicing through the blinds. You walk straight to Taehyung’s usual seat—the plush black leather chair angled toward the window. His notebook lies open on the table, pages scattered. You gather them, smoothing the crumpled edges. Ink smudges your fingertips as you rearrange his pens in their holder. Precision. Order. Anything to distract from the tremor in your hands.

A sudden warmth presses against your back. Arms snake around your waist, pulling you tight. Lips brush your ear, breath hot. "You really are a bad kitten," Jungkook murmurs, voice thick with sleep and something darker. Your spine stiffens. "How many times," you snap, twisting against his hold, "did I tell you? I hate that name."

He forces your head around, fingers tangled in your hair. His eyes glitter dangerously close, pupils dilated. "Why?" A low, possessive rumble vibrates against your shoulder blade. "Aren't you my kitten? Don't you love me?" His thumb traces the frantic pulse at your throat. Panic claws its way up your chest. Why did I ever say those words? Why give him this weapon? Now he'll never stop. Never.

You wrench yourself backwards, stumbling against the cold conference table. "I don't like that name," you gasp, voice trembling despite your attempt at steel. "Stop calling me that."

Jungkook closes the distance instantly, trapping you against the table's edge. His fingers brush the frantic pulse point beneath your jaw. "But it suits you," he murmurs, eyes dark and intense. A slow, dangerous smile touches his lips. "You're exactly like a wild kitten—all soft fur and sharp claws." His gaze drops meaningfully to your hands. "Last night's proof is still carved across my back." He leans closer, breath hot on your ear. "And my chest."

Your cheeks flush crimson. "That's—" You swallow hard, scrambling for escape. "Have you eaten breakfast?" The words burst out too loud, too abrupt. Your eyes dart toward the door.

His smile vanishes. "No," Jungkook snaps, grip tightening on your hip. His voice drops to a low, dangerous rasp. "But how dare you disobey me? I told you not to leave this morning." Anger sharpens his features. "You were supposed to stay."

You flinch at the raw possessiveness in his tone. "You were sleeping peacefully," you counter, voice strained. "I didn't want to disturb you. And I was late for work." You push against his chest, trying to create space. His arms lock like steel bands.

"Work?" Jungkook scoffs, the word dripping with venom. His eyes narrow, pinning you. "Or were you desperate to see Taehyung?" His grip digs into your hips, forcing you still against the cold table edge.

Heat flares in your chest. "Jungkook," you hiss, meeting his glare head-on, "I've told you countless times—I don't have feelings for Taehyung anymore. Stop dragging him into every fight!" You wrench one arm free, gesturing sharply towards the door. "This job is important to me. It’s my career."

He leans in, breath hot on your face. "Then quit," he demands, low and dangerous. "Or I’ll make sure you’re removed." His thumb brushes your lower lip, a mockery of tenderness. "Simple solution."

You recoil, shaking your head violently. "Our relationship and my work life are separate," you insist, voice trembling with frustration. "You can't erase everything else just because you want me near." As his fingers tighten bruisingly, you turn your face away, whispering into the suffocating silence, "I wonder how I feel a red flag like him..." The confession hangs, sharp and damning, in the air between you.

Jungkook's grip goes rigid. "What did you just say, babe?" he murmurs, voice dangerously soft. Your throat closes—*gosh, why can't I control my mouth?*—as you stare mutely at the cold table edge. He pins you harder against the wood, knuckles white where they brace beside your head. "Repeat that word," he demands, breath hot and jagged against your cheek. "Now."

You squeeze your eyes shut, lips trembling as you brace for the storm. But before the damning word escapes—

"Yah, Jungkook-ah." Jimin's voice slices through the tension, cool and deliberate. He leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, though his gaze burns into Jungkook's back. "Stop scaring our angel." The casual endearment hangs heavy, deliberate—a challenge wrapped in velvet.

Jungkook whirls, releasing you instantly. His eyes narrow to slits, fists clenched at his sides. "Stay out of this, hyung," he snarls, stepping between you and Jimin like a shield. "She’s my girlfriend." The possessive growl echoes off the sterile walls, sharp as shattered glass.

Jimin pushes off the frame, strolling forward with deceptive calm. He stops inches from Jungkook, tilting his head. A slow, dangerous smile curls his lips. "Forgot something, Kookie?" he murmurs, voice dropping to a lethal purr. "She’s mine too. So I don’t like anyone terrifying my girlfriend." His hand snakes past Jungkook’s shoulder, fingers brushing your trembling arm—a silent claim in the suffocating air.

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, knuckles whitening. He opens his mouth—a low, furious retort forming—

"Ah, you both arrived early. Perfect." Namjoon’s calm, resonant voice fills the doorway. He strides in, tablet tucked under his arm, gaze sweeping over the frozen tableau. Jin follows close behind, eyes narrowing slightly at the palpable tension. "Let’s begin the meeting," Namjoon announces, tone leaving no room for argument. "Everyone take your seats."

Jimin’s hand lingers on your arm as Jungkook reluctantly steps back, jaw still tight. He leans close, lips brushing your ear in a whisper only you can hear. "Angel," he murmurs, breath warm against your skin, "don’t be scared of this coconut head, okay?" His thumb traces a fleeting, reassuring circle on your wrist before he pulls away, flashing Jungkook a deceptively bright smile. "Kookie-ah, stop glaring holes in me and sit."

Namjoon clears his throat, gesturing toward the polished conference table. "Seats, everyone. Now." His voice carries quiet command. You move instinctively toward Taehyung, sinking into the chair beside his. He doesn’t look at you, but his knuckles brush yours beneath the table—a brief, grounding touch. Across from you, Jungkook slams into his chair beside Jin, eyes fixed on you, smoldering. Jimin slides smoothly into the seat on your other side, his knee pressing lightly against yours under the table. The air crackles with unspoken tension.

You flip open your notebook with trembling fingers, determined to focus on the quarterly schedule. Ink flows onto paper—venue bookings, rehearsal blocks—anything to anchor yourself. Your pen slips suddenly, clattering to the floor. You duck down quickly, fingers scrambling against cool tile. As you rise, head angled upward too fast, you brace for impact with the unforgiving table edge—

Jimin’s hand snaps out, palm flat against the sharp corner. His eyes stay locked on Namjoon’s presentation slides, expression unreadable. "Careful, Angel," he murmurs, so low only you catch it. His thumb brushes your temple as you pull back, lingering a heartbeat too long. The contact burns—a silent claim amidst the corporate drone.

Taehyung shifts beside you, leaning closer to study your notes. "Your handwriting's messy," he whispers, pointing to a scribbled venue name. His fingers trail deliberately over yours as he flips your notebook page, sending sparks up your arm. Across the table, Jungkook’s knuckles whiten around his pen.

Namjoon clears his throat, wrapping up the meeting. "Schedule looks tight but manageable." He flashes a rare smile. "How about we decompress tonight? Game center—Y/N might feel more comfortable bonding outside work." Jin nods eagerly, already listing arcade classics.

Taehyung leaned back, stretching his arms above his head. "I can't, hyung," he announced, voice smooth as honey. "Got plans with friends tonight." His gaze slid sideways to pin you, sharp and deliberate. "I'm introducing my girlfriend to them." The casual drop of the word landed like a grenade in the silent room.

Your pen froze mid-word, ink bleeding into the paper as your head snapped up. "What?" The word escaped, thin and brittle, echoing off the suddenly stifling walls. Across the table, Jungkook’s chair scraped violently backward.

"Taehyung." Jungkook's voice was dangerously low, knuckles white where they gripped the table edge. His eyes, dark and burning, locked onto Taehyung. "You’re crossing a fucking line."

Taehyung didn’t flinch. He leaned back, one arm draped casually over the back of your chair, fingers brushing your shoulder. "I just want to introduce her to my friends," he countered, tone deceptively light. "What’s the problem with that?" A slow, challenging smile curved his lips as he met Jungkook’s glare.

Namjoon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Taehyung," he began, his voice a low rumble of warning. "Did you even ask Y/N if she wants to meet them?" Silence thickened. You felt every eye in the room lock onto you—Jimin’s curious, Jin’s concerned, Jungkook’s blazing with possessive fury. Taehyung tilted his head, his gaze softening as it settled on you. "Sweetheart," he murmured, fingertips grazing your wrist beneath the table. "Wanna meet my friends?"

Every instinct in you screamed to pull back, to tell him no—but the calculating spark in your chest burned hotter. This was it. If you humiliated him in front of his own friends, the mask of charm he wore so easily would crack. He’d have no choice but to back off.

So you forced a smile, one that felt like steel hidden under silk. "Okay," you said lightly, sliding your pen across the page as though his announcement hadn’t detonated the room. "I’m ready."

The reaction was instant. Jungkook’s head whipped toward you, betrayal and rage tangled in his eyes. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding audibly as his chair screeched against the floor. "You can’t be serious," he spat, the words barely restrained.

Before he could lunge, Jin’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Yah, Jungkook-ah," Jin’s voice cut through the tension, firm but calm. "Clam down. Respect her decision." His grip tightened, anchoring Jungkook back into his seat. "She said okay. That’s the end of it." Jungkook froze, muscles coiled like a spring, but Jin’s steady pressure held him in place—a silent reminder of hierarchy, of control.

You felt Jungkook’s searing gaze graze your skin as you turned to Taehyung. "I need to prep your next schedule," you said quickly, voice clipped and professional. "I need to go now." You pushed your chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. Without waiting for a reply, you hurried toward the door, shoulders tight with the weight of Jungkook’s silent fury and Taehyung’s satisfied smirk burning into your back.

The door clicked shut behind you, your footsteps fading down the corridor. Silence clung to the room for a beat before Jimin finally spoke, his tone quiet but edged like a blade.

“Taehyung,” he said, leaning forward, “what exactly are you planning?”

Taehyung didn’t answer. He pushed back his chair, the scrape echoing like a blade on stone. His gaze lingered on Jungkook—icy, deliberate—before turning to Namjoon. “Rest your brain, Jimin,” he murmured, tone deceptively smooth as he strode toward the door. “Hyung, I need to go prep for my next schedule.” The door clicked shut behind him, leaving silence thick enough to choke on.

Namjoon sighed, massaging his temples. “Why?” His voice cut through the stillness, sharp with exhaustion. His gaze swept over Jungkook and Jimin. “Why are you both competing like starved wolves over her? She’s not territory.” He slammed his tablet onto the table. “This isn’t some game—you’re tearing her apart.”

Jungkook shoved back his chair, the legs screeching violently. “Hyung,” he snapped, eyes blazing, “stay out of this.” His voice trembled with barely leashed fury. “I listened to your words—agreed to share her—and now?” He jabbed a finger toward the door Taehyung had exited. “Out! Out of this matter!” He slammed his fist onto the table, rattling water glasses, before storming out. The door crashed shut behind him, echoing like a gunshot.

Namjoon slumped back, rubbing his temples. “Jimin,” he sighed, exhaustion etching lines around his eyes. “Those two... they’ve truly lost their minds.” He met Jimin’s steady gaze. “Please. Be the mature one here. Someone needs to anchor this chaos.”

Jimin leaned forward, elbows resting on the polished table. “Don’t worry, hyung,” he murmured, voice low and velvet-smooth. His fingers traced the condensation on his water glass. “I told you before.” He locked eyes with Namjoon, unwavering. “I’m never going to hurt Y/N.” His lips curved into a gentle, reassuring smile. “Not her heart. Not her body.” He paused, letting the promise hang in the charged air. “She’s too precious for that.”

Suga leaned back, fingers steepled under his chin. "She loves Jungkook," he stated flatly, eyes sharp as shards of ice. "And Taehyung? That idol-worship first love?" He shook his head slowly. "Jimin, you know exactly where that leaves you." His gaze didn't waver. "Are you truly prepared to swallow that pain every single day?"

Jimin stared at his untouched water glass, the condensation bleeding onto the polished wood. A slow, bitter smile touched his lips. "Yeah," he murmured, the word scraping raw in the silent room. "I am." He lifted his eyes, meeting Suga's stare with unnerving calm. "Watching her glow when she laughs? Seeing her bite her lip when she concentrates?" His knuckles whitened around the glass. "That's worth any knife twisting inside me."

Chapter Text

You flipped open Taehyung’s planner, fingers hovering over tomorrow’s photo shoot slot. The hallway was eerily quiet, fluorescent lights humming overhead—until a hand clamped around your wrist, jerking you sideways. Jungkook dragged you toward a storage cabin, eyes wild, shoving the door open so hard it bounced off the wall. Inside, a startled staff member froze mid-shelf-organizing. "Out," Jungkook snarled, voice cracking like ice. "Now." The employee scrambled past without a word, abandoning half-stacked boxes.

He slammed the door, locking it with a decisive click. Shadows swallowed the cramped space as he backed you against metal shelving, cold ridges digging into your spine. "Explain," he breathed, forehead nearly touching yours. "Why would you agree to meet his friends?" His thumb pressed against your racing pulse.

Your chest heaved as Jungkook’s thumb pressed harder against your pulse, the small space shrinking until every breath felt stolen from his lungs. His eyes—dark, desperate—burned into you, searching for cracks in your resolve.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, voice unsteady but firm, “I made that decision… thinking about something bigger. Please. Trust me.”

His grip tightened, knuckles white against your skin. “Bigger?” His laugh was harsh, brittle. “What’s bigger than us?” He leaned in, forehead pressing against yours, breath hot and uneven. “Tell me. Right now.”

You flinched, pushing weakly against his chest. “Jungkook, please clam down first,” you pleaded, voice thin but insistent. “Taehyung has an ad shooting soon. Can we talk about this later?” You twisted sideways, trying to slip past him toward the locked door. “I need to—”

“No.” Jungkook’s grip hardened, fingers digging into your arm. Then, abruptly, he released you, pulling his phone from his pocket. His thumb jabbed violently at the screen. “Manager-nim,” he barked, eyes locked venomously on yours. “Effective immediately, remove Y/N from Taehyung’s personal assistance duties. Reassign her… to me.” The command hung, brutal and absolute, in the cramped corridor.

You recoiled, heart hammering against your ribs. "Jungkook," you breathed, voice trembling with disbelief, "why did you do that?" You gestured wildly toward the phone still pressed to his ear. "I told you—I don't need any help in my career!" The words ripped out, sharp and desperate. "Why would you interfere?"

He lowered the phone slowly, eyes narrowed to slits. A cold, knowing smirk twisted his lips. "Babe," he murmured, stepping closer until his breath ghosted over your cheek. "Do you think I’m a fool?" His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "You think I don’t know why Taehyung hired you as his personal assistant?" His finger jabbed your collarbone. "Even when you weren’t capable for that position?"

You shoved his hand away, breath hitching. "Talking is useless when you’re like this!" You spun toward the door, fingers scrabbling for the lock. "Talk to me when you calm down!"

His hand shot out, catching your wrist in an iron grip. He wrenched you backward sharply. You stumbled, flailing instinctively—your palm slammed hard against his chest. The push wasn’t deliberate, but the force sent him staggering a step, his shoulder hitting a metal shelf with a dull clang. Boxes rattled overhead.

He froze. Silence swallowed the cramped room. Slowly, deliberately, he straightened. His eyes, when they met yours, were volcanic. A dangerous smile stretched across his lips. "Babe," he breathed, the endearment laced with ice. "You dare push me?" He advanced, trapping you against the cold metal again. "You really… dare push me away from you?" His thumb traced the frantic pulse point at your throat.

Your breath caught. "Jungkook, you know I didn't mean—"

He moved before you finished speaking. One hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back as his other arm locked around your waist, crushing you against him. His mouth crashed onto yours—hard, possessive, tasting of fury and salt. You gasped against his lips, hands pushing weakly at his chest, but he only deepened the kiss, teeth scraping your lower lip.

"Hmm— Jungkook!" You managed to turn your head sideways, breaking the suffocating contact for a single ragged breath. "Stop—"

"Open," he growled, thumb digging into your jawline, forcing your mouth open. His tongue invaded, hot and demanding, swallowing your protest. You shuddered, knees buckling as the storage room spun—your legs gave out entirely, collapsing against him. He held you upright effortlessly, kissing you deeper, a conqueror tasting surrender. His fingers slid under your shirt, branding your skin.

The sharp tang of copper flooded your senses. You choked—your lip split against his teeth, blood slick between your mouths. Jungkook froze. Pulled back slowly. His thumb swiped the crimson smear across your bottom lip. His eyes, dark with hunger and fury, locked onto the wound.

His phone buzzed violently in his pocket, the shrill ringtone slicing through the thick silence. He growled, low and feral, but fished it out. "What?" he snapped into the receiver, voice ragged. His gaze never left yours—possessive, burning. A pause. Then, clipped, "Fine. I'm coming." He shoved the phone away without breaking eye contact.

Slowly, deliberately, Jungkook thumbed the smear of blood from your lip, his touch lingering. "Later," he breathed, the word a promise thick with unfinished fury. He unlocked the door, yanked it open, and strode out without glancing back, leaving you alone with the metallic taste of blood and the chilling echo of his footsteps fading down the hall.

You leaned heavily against the cold metal shelving, trembling fingers wiping your stinging lip. Second time. Second time he hadn't asked—just took, demanded, silenced. The cold storage room air pressed in, smelling sharply of dust and damp cardboard, as the reality sank deeper than the bruise blooming on your jaw: Jungkook didn't seek permission. He claimed. Possessed. Your career, your body, your choices—all territory he’d marked as his.

Your legs felt weak, hollowed out, as you pushed off the shelf and stumbled toward the door. Why? The question hammered against your ribs with every step. He said he loved you. He traced your bruises like they were precious, whispered promises against your skin. So why did loving him feel like stepping into a cage with a storm? Why was understanding him like grasping smoke—beautiful, shifting, impossible to hold?

Down the hallway, muffled laughter spilled from an open door. You paused, instinctively shrinking into the shadowed alcove near the practice room. Inside, Jimin stood surrounded by a cluster of choreographers and junior trainees, bathed in the warm glow of studio lights. His laughter rang out—clear, unguarded, infectious—as he demonstrated a playful spin, hips swaying effortlessly to a bright, bubbly pop track. Eyes crinkled shut, head thrown back, he looked… weightless. Free.

You shifted, ready to slip away unseen. But Jimin’s head turned—slowly, deliberately—as if pulled by a string. His gaze found yours through the doorway. The easy joy didn’t vanish; it deepened, softened. A slow, breathtaking smile bloomed across his face, warm and knowing, meant only for you. His lips silently formed your name.

------

Jungkook slammed the studio door behind him, the heavy thud echoing his mood. He snatched the lyric sheet off the music stand, fingers crumpling the paper edges. Producer-nim’s voice buzzed in his headphones, demanding another take. But all Jungkook saw was the sheen of tears in your eyes, the angry red smear on your lip where his teeth had caught skin.

He squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his knuckles against his temple. "Fuck," he hissed under his breath, the word raw and jagged. He ripped the headphones off, tossing them onto the console. "Producer-nim," his voice strained, "I'll... I'll come back in a minute. Need air." He shoved past the baffled sound engineer without waiting for a reply.

----

The practice room was quieter now, emptied of trainees and choreographers. The music had long faded, leaving only the hum of the overhead lights and the faint scent of cologne mixed with sweat. You sat perched on the edge of the low sofa, the ointment tube cool in your hand.

Jimin appeared beside you silently, plucking the tube from your fingers before you could unscrew the cap. "I can do it myself," you protested softly, watching him squeeze a pearl of translucent gel onto his fingertip. He didn’t look at you, focused on the task. "I know you can," he murmured, voice low and steady. "But I love taking care of you." His thumb brushed your lower lip, the ointment cool and soothing against the tender split skin. His touch was feather-light, deliberate, as if sealing a promise.

He tilted your chin up with his knuckle, examining his work. A sudden, playful grin broke through the gravity. "You know what you look like now?" he teased, eyes crinkling. "A little pufferfish." Before you could react, his fingers pinched both your cheeks, pulling them outward gently. "All puffed up and ready to sting."

"Heyy!" you protested, laughter bubbling despite the lingering sting on your lip. Instinct kicked in – your hands shot up, fingers finding the soft skin of his cheeks. "Don't!" You tugged back, mimicking him. His skin was smooth and warm under your touch. "Who's the pufferfish now?"

Jimin's eyes widened dramatically, feigning outrage as you gently pulled. "Yah! Cheeky!" He laughed, the sound bright and clear in the quiet room. Your fingers were still on his face, his on yours, a bubble of unexpected, lighthearted intimacy forming between you amidst the chaos.

Through the narrow vertical window in the practice room door, Jungkook watched. He saw your hands on Jimin’s cheeks, Jimin’s fingers holding yours, your shared laughter echoing faintly through the glass. He didn’t feel the usual volcanic rage, that desperate urge to smash through the barrier and tear you apart. Instead, a dull, hollow ache settled deep in his chest, a cold weight pressing down.

He turned abruptly, striding down the hallway. The recording studio door slammed shut behind him, the sound swallowed by the thick soundproofing. Jungkook ripped his jacket off, tossing it onto the leather couch. He slid the headphones on, the cushioned earcups pressing tight against his temples. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath—and opened his mouth to sing.

Nothing came out. Not a whisper. Not a note. His throat clenched tight, a fist squeezing shut the melody he knew by heart. He tried again, forcing air past the constriction. A raw, broken rasp scraped against the mic. Producer-nim’s voice crackled in his ears, gentle but puzzled. "Kook-ah? You okay? We can start from the top." Jungkook nodded mutely, swallowing hard against the sandpaper dryness. He gripped the mic stand until his knuckles bleached white.

The studio door clicked open, spilling a sliver of hallway light into the near-darkness. Jin stood silhouetted, his usual warmth replaced by quiet concern. "Jungkook?" he called softly, stepping inside. "I heard you couldn't record today. You okay?" He approached the vocal booth, peering through the glass. Jungkook didn't turn. He stared at the darkened screen displaying the lyrics he couldn't sing, his reflection a pale ghost in the glass.

"Hyung," Jungkook's voice was rough, scraped raw. He finally turned, leaning heavily against the mixing console. "Today... I saw Y/N with Jimin. She was smiling. With him." He swallowed hard, the image burning behind his eyelids. "Real smile. Like... she used to give me."

Jin sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Kook-ah, it's normal. In love, you get jealous. Seeing the one you care about happy with someone else? It stings." He met Jungkook's tormented gaze. "But you can't let that feeling tangle up your career."

"Love?" Jungkook scoffed, the word bitter on his tongue. He pushed away from the console, pacing the small space. "I say 'I love you' because it keeps her close. It’s what she needs to hear to stay." His voice dropped, raw. "Those words... they work."

Jin’s eyes narrowed, sharp with disbelief. "So they mean nothing to you? You just throw them around to manipulate her into staying?" He stepped closer, his usual warmth replaced by steely concern. "That’s cruel, Jungkook. Even for you."

"I need her," Jungkook insisted, stopping abruptly. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration etching lines around his eyes. "Not just physically, Hyung. Fully. Her attention, her thoughts... all of it. I need it like air." The admission hung heavy, startling even him.

Jin’s expression shifted as he listened—part pity, part fear, part something unspoken. He folded his arms across his chest, leaning back slightly as if to steady himself."You already…” he started, his voice low, almost reluctant. “You’re already falling in love with her, but—”

He stopped. The words lodged in his throat. His eyes searched Jungkook’s face—the restless pacing, the sharp edge in his tone, the wild flicker in his gaze. He swallowed down the rest of the sentence, finishing it only in his mind.

But this isn’t love, not the kind that heals. It’s something darker. If you keep going like this… your love will destroy her.

Jungkook looked up, breath unsteady, waiting for Jin to continue. But Jin stayed silent, his lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze weighted with things he couldn’t yet say.

“Hyung?” Jungkook’s voice cracked, demanding, almost childlike.

Jin forced a smile—thin, fragile. “Just… think about what you’re doing, Kook-ah. Think carefully. Sometimes, holding too tightly makes the thing you want most slip away.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “No. She won’t leave. I won’t let her.”

The conviction in his voice made Jin’s chest tighten. He didn’t argue—not now. Instead, he stepped back toward the door, leaving Jungkook alone in the dim studio with his reflection in the glass.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Jin’s thoughts echoed louder than words.You love her. But the way you love… it’s dangerous.

-------
The cab pulled away, leaving you standing on the glittering sidewalk beneath the restaurant’s neon sign. Taehyung leaned against the entrance, arms crossed, eyes already sweeping over you—a slow, assessing gaze that started at your strappy sandals, traveled up the modest navy shift dress, and lingered on the high neckline.

You clutched your purse tighter, chin lifting slightly.I know you, Taehyung. You never liked revealing clothes. That’s why I wore this. For you.

He pushed off the wall with lazy ease, his strides unhurried yet purposeful. Each step made your heart kick harder against your ribs. When he stopped in front of you, the faint trace of his cologne wrapped around you, warm and musky in the night air.

For a beat, he just looked at you, his gaze unreadable. Then, with a low chuckle, his lips curved.“You’re looking…” he leaned in slightly, his voice husky, brushing the edge of your ear. “…damn sexy. And cute.”

You blinked, caught off guard. " Huh? "The word slipped out, soft and breathless.

Taehyung’s fingers slid between yours, warm and sure, locking your hand in his. "Come," he murmured, already tugging you toward the restaurant’s heavy oak doors. "My friends wait for us inside." His thumb brushed your knuckle, a subtle claim that sent a shiver up your arm.

He pushed the door open. Light, laughter, and the rich scent of grilled meat washed over you. Then you froze. Seated at the polished teak table, chopsticks paused mid-air, were Park Seojoon, Park Hyungsik, Choi Wooshik, and Peakboy—the Wooga Squad. Four sets of sharp, curious eyes locked onto you. Seojoon grinned, raising his glass. "Ah! The elusive sister-in-law. Good evening," he called, his voice warm but laced with mischief. The others echoed the greeting, a chorus of "Good evening, sister-in-law!" that made your cheeks flame.

You leaned close, lips barely brushing Taehyung ear. "Yah, Kim Taehyung," you hissed, your voice a frantic whisper. "You didn't tell me your friends were the Wooga Squad!" His hand tightened around yours, pulling you firmly against his side.

He tilted his head down, his own whisper a low rumble against your temple, laced with amusement. "Aren't you my fan? You know everything about me. After BTS, these are my closest friends. Who else would I introduce you to?" His gaze held yours, challenging and possessive. "Did you expect random managers?"

Before you could stammer a reply, Taehyung guided you firmly towards the empty chair beside his. "Sit," he murmured, a command softened only by the slight pressure of his hand on your shoulder. You sank into the plush velvet, acutely aware of four pairs of intensely interested eyes fixed on you. The air crackled with unspoken curiosity.

Park Seojoon leaned forward first, elbows resting on the polished table, a sly grin playing on his lips. "So, sister-in-law," he began, his voice dripping with faux innocence. "How did our cold-as-ice Taehyungie finally melt enough to introduce a girl? And to us?" His gaze flickered to Taehyung, then back to you, sharp and assessing. "He usually treats women like inconvenient wallpaper."

Peakboy chuckled, swirling his soju. "Yeah, what’s the secret? Did you save his life? Beat him at a game?" Wooshik added, leaning in with genuine curiosity. "Seriously, we’ve seen him ignore supermodels. What makes you different?"

Taehyung’s hand rested on the back of your chair, his thumb brushing your shoulder blade. He didn’t look at them, his gaze fixed on you—steady, almost unnerving. "She didn’t do anything," he stated flatly, cutting through the chatter. The table fell silent. His voice softened, a rare, almost reluctant warmth seeping in. "She’s just... clumsy. Trips over air. Spills coffee on important documents. Forgets names." A faint smirk touched his lips. "Stupid little things."

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, his words for you alone but loud enough for the table. "And she treats me like I’m human. Not V of BTS. Not an idol. Just... Taehyung." His gaze hardened slightly, recalling. "Even when I was cold. Rude. Pushed her away." His thumb pressed gently into the tense muscle of your shoulder. "She’d still smile at me. Like sunlight breaking through clouds." He paused, the admission raw. "Then she’d walk away... and I’d realize I couldn’t breathe until she came back."

A collective sigh rippled around the table. Park Seojoon clutched his chest dramatically. "Aigoo! Our Taehyungie!" Hyungsik beamed. "He’s in love! Truly, madly, deeply!" Wooshik raised his glass. "To the clumsy girl who thawed the iceberg!" They clinked glasses, laughter warm and teasing.

The platters of sizzling meat landed on the table, steam curling into the air, rich with garlic and spices. Everyone picked up their chopsticks, starting to eat, the chatter resuming naturally.

You glanced at Taehyung, a sly thought forming. Time to show them exactly what kind of girl he’s dating.

Deliberately, you set your chopsticks down. Slowly, deliberately, you reached for a piece of meat with your bare hand and popped it into your mouth. You chewed casually, savoring the rich flavor, your eyes locked on Taehyung’s calm expression.

The table went silent.Four pairs of eyes—the Wooga Squad—turned to you, frozen mid-action. Seojoon’s fork paused in mid-air, Hyungsik’s chopsticks hovered just above his plate, Wooshik’s eyebrows lifted in disbelief, and Peakboy’s glass froze halfway to his lips. No one said a word, their faces a mixture of shock and disbelief.

You leaned back slightly, smirking inwardly. Good. Perfect. You had wanted to embarrass Taehyung in front of his friends, and it was working—at least, you thought.

Then, quietly, without hesitation, Taehyung set his chopsticks down. His eyes never left yours. He reached forward, picked up a piece of meat with his bare hand, and ate it, dipping it lightly in sauce first. Calm. Controlled. Precise.

Your eyes went wide. He… he’s actually doing it? He’s eating with his hand?

The Wooga Squad remained frozen, staring at the scene in stunned silence. Not a word, not a laugh, just wide eyes and slack jaws.

Seojoon finally broke the tension, a small, teasing grin spreading across his face. “Well… sister-in-law,” he said slowly, shaking his head in disbelief, “you’re really lucky. Taehyung’s completely in love.”

You ignored him. Fine, eating with hands wasn’t embarrassing enough? Challenge accepted. Throughout the evening, you tried everything.

Nothing worked. Every stunt, every gesture, every attempt to fluster him failed completely. Taehyung remained calm, unshaken, collected. The Wooga Squad watched in stunned silence, frozen mid-action, mouths slightly open, eyes wide. Not a single word.

Frustration bubbled over. You reached for the soju and started drinking. Glass after glass. The warmth spread fast. Your movements became sloppy, your laughter loud and unsteady.

Seojoon chuckled, nudging Taehyung. "Look, sister-in-law is drunk. Taehyung-ah, you should take her home before she falls asleep at the table." He gestured towards your flushed cheeks and slightly unfocused eyes.

"No!" you protested loudly, words thick and slurred. "I'm not done yet!" You pushed yourself up, swaying dangerously. Before anyone could react, you lunged forward, grabbing the front of Taehyung's crisp, black shirt. Your fingers fisted the fabric, pulling him towards you with surprising, drunken strength. "You... you're not embarrassed? Why?" you demanded, your face inches from his, breath hot with soju. "Why aren't you mad?"

Taehyung didn't flinch. He simply wrapped a steadying arm around your waist, his expression unreadable. "Sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low, smooth counterpoint to your slurred outrage. "You are drunk." His other hand brushed a stray strand of hair from your damp forehead. "Let's go home."

"Home?" you echoed, the word thick and clumsy on your tongue. Your grip on his shirt tightened, knuckles white against the black fabric. "Why... why aren't you reacting?" Frustration warred with the dizzying haze of soju. "I tried... everything! Embarrassing you... and you just... sit there like a statue!" You gave his shirt another futile yank. "Why?!"

Taehyung’s arm remained a solid band around you, grounding your swaying form. His gaze held yours, unflinching. "Because you are cute," he stated, his voice low and deliberate, cutting through your drunken fog. "Watching you try so hard... it was adorable." A faint, almost imperceptible curve touched his lips.

Suddenly, the rich scent of grilled meat and soju churned violently in your stomach. The room spun faster—neon lights blurring, laughter warping into distant echoes. Your grip on his shirt went slack as a cold sweat broke out across your skin. You barely registered Taehyung’s expression shifting from calm control to sharp concern before the nausea surged. With a choked gasp, you doubled over, vomiting directly onto the pristine black fabric of his shirt and the polished toes of his expensive leather shoes.

The night air was cool as Taehyung carried you out, your head lolling weakly against his shoulder. He moved with ease despite your dead weight, not once complaining about the mess on his shirt or shoes. The car door clicked open, and with careful precision, he eased you into the back seat, tucking your hair away from your damp face.

Behind him, the Wooga Squad stood in a loose cluster under the neon sign. Park Seojoon stepped forward, his voice low and sincere. "She's different, Taehyung-ah. Not like the others who tried too hard, who acted perfect. She's... real." Hyungsik nodded, adding, "Yeah, refreshingly messy. You're lucky."

Taehyung paused, his hand resting on the car door frame. He glanced back at them, a rare, soft smile touching his lips—brief but genuine. "Yeah," he murmured, the word thick with unspoken emotion. "I know." His gaze lingered on your sleeping form, his expression softening further. "I need to go." He slid into the driver's seat, the engine purring to life.

The city lights streaked past the windows in watery blurs as the car moved. Taehyung drove in silence, one hand steady on the wheel, the other reaching back to gently brush your knuckles where they rested on the seat beside him. His thumb traced slow circles, a quiet reassurance in the dark.

-------

The car door clicked shut behind him. Taehyung carried you through the dimly lit foyer of his penthouse, your limp form cradled against his stained shirt. He didn't pause in the sleek living room, moving straight down the hallway to his bedroom. Moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting silver stripes across the minimalist space as he lowered you gently onto the king-sized bed. The cool silk sheets felt jarring against your flushed skin.

He disappeared into the ensuite bathroom, returning with a basin of warm water, a soft cloth, and a small towel. Kneeling beside the bed, his movements were methodical, almost reverent. He dipped the cloth, wrung it out, and began to wipe your face first – the sticky residue near your lips, the damp hair clinging to your temples, the tracks of smudged mascara beneath your lashes.

Taehyung’s hand stilled against your cheek, the damp cloth forgotten. Slowly, deliberately, he laid his palm over your parted lips—warm, steady, anchoring you even in your haze.

Your lashes fluttered. Heavy lids lifted just enough for your blurred gaze to find him.

Without hesitation, he bent down, pressing a soft kiss against his own palm where it met your mouth, his voice low and husky, almost a vow.“I love you, sweetheart.”

The words hung in the quiet room, raw and unguarded. His thumb brushed once more along your skin before he pulled the blanket up over your shoulders, tucking you in as if sealing the confession there with you.

Chapter Text

The shrill alarm dragged you from the depths of heavy sleep. Groaning, you slapped at the phone until the noise stopped. Your head still throbbed faintly, the aftertaste of soju sour on your tongue.Blinking, you shifted—and froze.

Taehyung’s face was inches from yours. His lashes cast soft shadows on his cheeks, his lips parted slightly as he breathed slow, steady. The warmth of him seeped into the sheets, his arm draped loosely across your waist as if it had always belonged there.

Panic jolted through you. You shoved hard against his chest, a strangled gasp escaping your throat. He tumbled backward off the bed with a heavy thud and a sharp grunt. "Oof!" He lay sprawled on the plush carpet, blinking up at the ceiling, momentarily stunned.

A low groan rumbled from him as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, rubbing the back of his head where it had connected with the floor. He squinted at you, sleep still clinging to his features but a wry amusement already replacing the surprise. "Yah," he rasped, his voice thick with sleep. "You know, sweetheart, you could wake me up with a kiss. Not this way." He gave you a pointed look, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards despite the obvious discomfort.

You scrambled back against the headboard, clutching the silk sheets to your chest like a shield. "What were you doing in bed with me?" you demanded, your voice high-pitched with residual panic and the lingering fog of the hangover. "Why were you sleeping next to me? This... this isn't okay!"

Taehyung pushed himself fully upright, sitting on the floor with his back against the side of the bed. He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, regarding you with a calm that felt infuriating. "Yah," he said, his voice low and steady, cutting through your fluster. "This bed is mine. This house is mine. This room is mine."

He gestured vaguely around the moonlit space, the minimalist luxury suddenly feeling oppressive. "Where exactly," he continued, his gaze locking onto yours, "did you expect me to sleep? On the floor?" A single eyebrow arched, challenging. "After carrying you, cleaning you, tucking you in? Should I have taken the couch in my own home because you decided to get spectacularly drunk?"

The words stung, sharp and true. Shame flooded your cheeks, hotter than the lingering hangover flush. You looked down at the rumpled silk sheets, unable to meet his eyes. "I... I didn't mean..." you stammered, the protest dying weakly. "Thank you," you mumbled finally, the words dry and brittle as autumn leaves. "For... everything. I need to go." You pushed the blanket aside, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, desperate for escape, for air that wasn't saturated with his presence and your own humiliation.

Your bare feet had barely touched the plush carpet when his hand shot out. It wasn't rough, but it was firm, unyielding. His fingers closed around your wrist, a warm, inescapable band. With effortless strength, he pulled you back, your body landing softly against the mattress. Before you could gasp or protest, he was over you, one knee planted beside your hip, his other hand pressing your shoulder gently but firmly back into the pillows. He caged you, his face inches above yours.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, the endearment landing like a stone dropped into still water – heavy, deliberate, devoid of its usual warmth. His eyes, dark and unreadable in the pre-dawn gloom, scanned your face. "That dry little 'thank you'... that's all I get?"

You flinched, the cool silk beneath you suddenly abrasive. "I said thank you," you whispered, voice tight. "And I need to go. Jungkook—"

"Jungkook," Taehyung cut in, the name a low, dangerous rumble. His thumb brushed your collarbone, sending an unwanted shiver down your spine. "Is not here. I am." His gaze dropped pointedly to the modest neckline of your dress. "Who told you to carry me?" you pressed, trying to shift away, but his knee pinned the blanket beside your hip. "You could have left me at the restaurant. Or called a manager. Anyone else."

A slow, deliberate smile touched his lips, devoid of humor. "And let anyone else see you like that? Covered in soju and..." he trailed off, his eyes lingering on your mouth. "No." His free hand moved to the thin strap of your dress where it rested on your shoulder. "This," he murmured, his fingers tracing the fabric, "is still stained. From last night." His touch drifted lower, towards the small knot securing the halter neckline at the back of your neck. "Let me fix it."

Before you could protest, his head dipped. You felt the warmth of his breath against the sensitive skin of your neck, then the soft, startling pressure of his lips closing gently around the knot of your dress. He tugged with his teeth, a slow, deliberate pull. The silk ribbon loosened instantly, the fabric slackening against your chest. A gasp escaped you, your body tensing beneath him.

Taehyung lifted his head, the loosened ribbon held lightly between his teeth for a fleeting second before he let it fall onto your collarbone. His eyes, dark and intense, held yours. "Sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low vibration that seemed to resonate deep within you. "Next time, don't get drunk like that." His thumb traced the flushed skin just above the loosened neckline. "Don't forget I'm also a man. You have no idea how hard I had to control myself last night."

You shoved against his chest, panic sharpening your voice. "Get off me! Now!"

Taehyung didn't move. Instead, he dipped his head lower, his lips brushing the hollow of your collarbone—a feather-light kiss that sent an electric jolt through your veins. "Taehyung!" you gasped, twisting beneath him. "You told me! You said no physical contact unless I initiated! You promised!"

He lifted his head just enough to meet your wide, accusing eyes. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. "Yeah, yeah," he murmured, his voice thick with amusement and something darker. "I remember." His thumb traced the spot he'd kissed, the touch lingering. "No physical contact. Unless you want it." His gaze dropped pointedly to your lips, then back to your eyes, challenging.

You shoved harder, your voice trembling. "Then get off! This isn't me wanting it!"

Taehyung's gaze remained locked on yours, unblinking. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself off you. He rose to his feet, towering over the bed, his expression unreadable. "Fine," he said, his voice dangerously soft. "Go freshen up." He gestured towards the ensuite bathroom. "Now."

Your chest heaved as the door clicked shut behind him. The silence left in his wake was suffocating. You pressed trembling fingers to the loose neckline of your dress, clutching the fabric back to your chest. The ghost of his lips still lingered on your collarbone, searing in contrast to the cool morning air drifting through the window.

You dragged in a shaky breath and reached for your phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up instantly, blinding against the dim room.The screen was a blur of missed calls and new messages—all Jungkook.

Your heart hammered. You rushed to the bathroom, splashed cold water on your face, retied your dress with unsteady hands, and forced yourself downstairs.

Taehyung was at the counter, sleeves rolled, a plate of eggs steaming in front of him. He looked up the second your footsteps hit the floor.

“I need to go,” you blurted, gripping your bag.

His brow furrowed. “I made breakfast—”

But you were already shoving into your shoes, pushing the door open.The slam reverberated through the penthouse.

Taehyung stayed rooted to the spot, gaze fixed on the doorway you had just stormed through. Slowly, his shoulders stiffened, his jaw set hard enough to ache. The soft warmth in his eyes drained, replaced by something sharp, something unspoken that lingered like a storm about to break.

The food sat untouched, steam curling upward and vanishing into the air between his clenched fists.

------

The apartment door slammed shut behind you, the echo bouncing off empty walls. You leaned back against the cool wood, eyes squeezed shut, trying to erase the image of Taehyung’s unreadable expression, the phantom feel of his lips on your collarbone, the degrading smear on your cheek. Silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. Then, the buzzing started. Your phone vibrated violently in your bag, a frantic, insistent rhythm against your hip. Jungkook. Again.

You fumbled the phone out, the screen blindingly bright. **Missed Call: JK.** **Missed Call: JK.** **Missed Call: JK.** **New Message: JK:** Where are you? Answer me. **New Message: JK:** Pick up the fucking phone. **New Message: JK:** Y/N! NOW!

Your thumb hovered, trembling. Then, with a surge of defiance that tasted like bile and adrenaline, you pressed his name. It rang once. Twice.

He answered instantly. "Finally," Jungkook snarled, his voice raw, jagged wire scraping against your ear. "Where the hell are you? Why aren't you at work? Do you have any idea how long I've been calling? How dare you ignore me!"

You took a deep breath, the cool wood of the door grounding you. "I'm not coming to work, Jungkook." Your voice was surprisingly steady, a flat calm cutting through his fury. "Not as your personal assistance ."

Silence crackled on the line, thick with disbelief. Then, low and dangerous: "What?"

"I already sent you my resignation letter," you stated, the words feeling like stones dropping into deep water. "Thirty minutes ago."

Silence. Thick, suffocating, charged with the static of his disbelief. Then, a low, guttural sound scraped against your ear—half-laugh, half-snarl. "Why?" The single word dripped with venomous confusion, laced with a threat simmering just beneath the surface. "Explain."

You closed your eyes, leaning harder against the door. The cool wood was the only anchor. "Because," you replied, your voice unnervingly calm despite the tremor in your hands, "I'm clearly not capable of this job. According to you." The memory of his accusations, his constant undermining, the bruises blooming under your skin, flooded back.

"Where are you?" Jungkook demanded, the question a whip-crack. No preamble, no acknowledgment of your resignation. Just possession.

"Home," you answered flatly.

Silence again, heavier this time. You could almost hear the gears grinding in his head, the fury building like pressure in a volcano. Then, two clipped words, final and terrifying: "I'm coming." The line went dead.

You stared at the blank screen, the silence in your apartment suddenly deafening. "Always himself," you whispered to the empty room, the words tasting bitter. No discussion. No consideration. Just command. You pushed off the door, your legs shaky.

Steam still clung to your skin, hair damp from the shower when the sharp ring of the doorbell cut through the air. You froze mid-step, towel tugged tighter around you. Already? Your chest tightened. Of course—it was him. Jungkook never gave you time to breathe.

You hesitated, but the bell rang again—longer, sharper, impatient. Heart hammering, you cracked the door open.

He didn’t wait for permission. Jungkook shoved past you, the sheer force of him flooding your small apartment. His jaw was clenched so tight the vein in his neck stood out, eyes burning with something between fury and desperation.

"Now," he ground out, spinning to face you, his chest heaving. "Fucking tell me why you don't want to work as my personal assistant." His voice was low, lethal, scraping against the silence. Water dripped from your hair onto your shoulders, the damp towel suddenly feeling flimsy against his intensity.

You took a step back, pressing against the wall. "I already told you," you said, forcing your voice not to match his. "I'm not capable. According to you." The words hung heavy, echoing his own accusations, the bruises on your arms hidden beneath the towel.

Jungkook's gaze flickered—a crack in the fury. He dragged a hand through his hair, the motion rough, agitated. "Babe," he started, the endearment sounding strained, unnatural. "Yesterday... I was angry." He took a step closer, invading your space, the scent of his cologne mixing with the damp steam. "I didn't mean—"

"Jungkook," you cut him off, your voice surprisingly firm despite the tremor in your hands clutching the towel. "My decision isn't going to change. I'm going to have a job based on my capability, not yours." You met his burning gaze head-on.

Jungkook froze. The raw desperation flickering beneath his fury solidified into something colder, harder. A muscle jumped in his jaw. "So," he breathed, the word icy, deliberate. "You're ready to work for anyone else... just not for me?" He took another step closer, the air crackling. "Is that it?"

You held your ground against the wall, the damp towel slipping slightly. "Yes," you stated, forcing conviction into your voice. "I'll find work based on my skills."

A harsh, humorless laugh escaped him. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his eyes dark pits. "Skills?" he echoed, the word dripping with contempt. "Do you think I will give you permission, huh?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, vibrating with suppressed rage. "Or do you honestly believe anyone else has the dare to hire you?" He punctuated each word, his gaze locking onto yours, daring you to defy him. "After knowing you belong to me?"

You opened your mouth, a retort forming on your tongue – defiance, anger, a declaration of your own autonomy. "I—"

"Shh." Jungkook cut you off, his voice suddenly low, thick, shifting unnervingly from fury to something else entirely. His burning gaze didn't lift from yours, but it softened, losing its razor edge, replaced by an unnerving intensity that felt almost… pleading. "Babe," he murmured, the word softer now, wrapping around you like smoke. "I never doubt your skill." His eyes, dark and impossibly deep, flickered down your body, lingering pointedly on the damp towel clutched desperately at your chest. "Never."

He leaned closer still, invading your space until the heat radiating off him mingled with the steam clinging to your skin. His breath ghosted warm against your temple. "But..." His voice dropped to a whisper against your collarbone. "...I really don't like you work for Taehyung." His lips brushed the shell of your ear, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. "Every day... knowing you're near him... seeing him... hearing him..." His voice thickened, roughened. "It makes me crazy."

His hand, large and warm, slid slowly down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It didn't stop. It slid past your elbow, tracing the curve of your hip through the towel, then drifted lower. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin just above your knee, then slid upwards along your inner thigh, pushing the hem of the towel higher. His touch was possessive, claiming territory.

"Jungkook," you breathed, your voice tight, "I don't want to do this now." You tried to clamp your thighs together, but his hand pressed firmly, insistently against the soft skin, his thumb tracing lazy circles that sent unwanted sparks through your nerves.

He didn't stop. His lips found the pulse point beneath your ear, kissing it slowly, deliberately, before trailing wet, hot kisses along your jawline towards your cheek. "When was the last time?" he murmured against your skin, his breath scalding. "Hmm?"

You swallowed hard, turning your face away. "Maybe... two days ago?" The lie felt flimsy.

Jungkook chuckled, a low, dark sound vibrating against your collarbone. He pulled back just enough to lock his burning gaze onto yours. "Four thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes," he stated, each syllable precise, cutting. "Seventy-two hours. Two hundred fifty-nine thousand, two hundred seconds." His fingers dug into your thigh, possessive, demanding. "You understand how long that is, babe?" His voice dropped to a raw whisper. "How much I've needed you?"

You pushed against his chest, the damp towel slipping dangerously. "Stop counting! You're being ridiculous—"

"Ridiculous?" Jungkook’s laugh was sharp, brittle. He caught your wrists, pinning them against the wall above your head. The towel pooled at your feet. "You think wanting my girlfriend is ridiculous?" His eyes burned into yours, stripped bare of fury, leaving only raw, terrifying need. "Where is it wrong to want you near me? To need your scent, your laugh... your skin?" His voice cracked. "To need you to love me?"

Your breath hitched. "I do love you, Jungkook," you whispered, the confession trembling. "But—"

He crushed the protest with his mouth. His kiss wasn't tender; it was a branding iron—hot, punishing, desperate. His lips devoured yours, teeth catching your already split lip. The metallic tang of your blood mixed with the salt of his sweat. You tasted fury and fear and something terrifyingly close to shattered glass. His tongue invaded, claiming, silencing. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, pinned against the cold wall by the furnace of his body.

He tore his mouth away suddenly, leaving you gasping. His forehead pressed hard against yours, his breath ragged gusts against your wet skin. His eyes, dark pits inches from yours, held a terrifying clarity. "Babe," he rasped, the word rough as gravel. His thumb, slick with your blood, traced your swollen lower lip. "Listen to me."

His voice dropped to a lethal whisper, vibrating through your bones. "Don't you dare look for another job." Each word was a hammer blow. "If you do..." He paused, letting the threat hang thick and suffocating in the steam-filled air. "...I will destroy that company." His gaze didn't waver, locking onto yours with terrifying certainty. "Brick by fucking brick. Until it's dust. Until whoever hired you begs on their knees to never see your face again." His thumb pressed harder into your lip, a promise etched in pain. "Understand?"

You flinched, a tremor running through you. "You can't—"

"Try me," Jungkook hissed, cutting you off. His eyes flashed, dark and dangerous. Before you could react, his mouth crashed onto yours again—a bruising, possessive kiss that silenced any protest. It wasn't gentle; it was a claiming, rough and urgent, his hands sliding down your bare back to grip your hips. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you away from the wall.

He stumbled backward, collapsing onto the plush sofa. You landed straddling him, the damp towel long forgotten on the floor. His hands were everywhere—tangling in your hair, tracing the curve of your spine, gripping your thighs as he pulled you flush against him. His lips trailed down your neck, biting lightly at your collarbone. "Missed you," he growled against your skin, his voice thick with need. "Every fucking second."

You gasped as his fingers found your entrance, already slick with desire. He teased you mercilessly, circling your clit before plunging deep. "Jungkook—" you whimpered, arching into his touch. He silenced you with another searing kiss, his other hand guiding his cock to your wet heat. With a groan, he thrust upward, filling you completely. The stretch burned deliciously, and you cried out, nails digging into his shoulders.

-----

The sofa cushions groaned under your combined weight, slick with sweat. Jungkook’s hips snapped upward relentlessly, driving into you with a desperate, possessive rhythm that stole your breath. His fingers dug into your hips, leaving fresh bruises over fading ones, anchoring you against him as he chased his release. You gasped, head thrown back, the world narrowing to the friction, the heat, the raw sound of his ragged breaths against your neck.

“Ahhh—Jungkook, stop!” you choked out, overwhelmed, your hands pushing weakly against his sweat-slicked chest. “Now… please!”

He groaned, hips stuttering mid-thrust, his eyes wild and unfocused. “Fuck, babd… almost…” One hand fumbled blindly across the coffee table, scattering empty condom wrappers—silver foil gleaming under the harsh morning light. His fingers scrambled, searching desperately for one last packet. Nothing. Only crumpled plastic and dust.

“Shit,” Jungkook hissed, frustration twisting his face. He slammed his fist onto the table, making the empty wrappers jump. His gaze snapped back to yours, dark and intense, his breath ragged. “You’re lucky today, babe.” He gripped your hips tighter, pulling you down hard onto him as he thrust upward one final, deep time. A low, guttural groan tore from his throat as he spilled inside you, his body shuddering violently against yours. “Had to finish… right here…”

You gasped, collapsing forward onto his chest, trembling as the aftershocks rippled through you both. His arms wrapped around you possessively, fingers tracing idle patterns on your damp back. For a moment, the only sound was your mingled breathing and the distant hum of Seoul outside.

Then Jungkook shifted beneath you, his weight pinning you to the sofa cushions. "Jungkook," you mumbled against his collarbone, your voice muffled and weak. "Get off... you're heavy." You pushed weakly at his shoulder. "Can't breathe..."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating deep in his chest against your ear. His arms tightened possessively around your waist. "No," he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. "Stay." His hand slid lower, fingers tracing the curve of your hipbone. "You smell like me now."

You pushed harder, wriggling. "Seriously... off!"

Jungkook sighed dramatically but finally rolled aside, letting you scramble upright. The cool air hit your sweat-slicked skin, making you shiver. You grabbed the discarded towel, wrapping it hastily around yourself as he stretched lazily on the sofa, utterly unselfconscious in his nakedness. His eyes tracked your movements, dark and satisfied.

"Why you don't store extra stock condom?" he asked suddenly, propping his head on his hand. His tone was casual, almost teasing, but his gaze sharpened. "Always unprepared."

You glanced at him sharply, the damp towel clutched tight. "Are you even human?" The words tumbled out, edged with exhaustion. "You already used the whole packed box." You gestured toward the scattered silver wrappers gleaming on the coffee table like discarded scales. "In one morning."

Jungkook shrugged, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he stretched, muscles rippling. "So?" His eyes, dark and unrepentant, roamed your towel-clad body. "Blame yourself. You made me wait too long." He reached out, fingers brushing your bare knee. "Should've kept me satisfied."

You jerked away, the damp towel slipping. "Yah!" The word cracked like a whip in the quiet room. "Wear your clothes!" You snatched his discarded hoodie from the floor, throwing it hard at his chest. It hit him with a soft thud. "Now."

Jungkook caught it, his smirk widening. He unfolded it slowly, deliberately, eyes never leaving yours. "Why shy?" he murmured, the fabric dangling from his fingers. "You've seen everything." He traced a lazy circle in the air toward your towel. "Touched everything." His gaze darkened. "Tasted—"

"Stop!" You spun away, clutching the towel tighter. "Just put it on." You stalked toward the bedroom door without looking back. "I need privacy."

Jungkook’s low chuckle followed you. "Fine, babe. But hurry back." The rustle of fabric told you he was finally dressing.

You slammed the bedroom door behind you, leaning against it for a moment.

The towel fell to the floor. You dressed mechanically—soft leggings, an oversized hoodie that swallowed your frame. Anything to rebuild barriers. When you emerged, the scent of frying kimchi and eggs hit you first. Jungkook stood at your tiny kitchenette, spatula in hand, barefoot and shirtless. His sweatpants hung low on his hips as he flipped an omelette with casual precision.

"You don't have work today?" you asked, leaning against the doorframe. Your voice sounded hollow in the small space.

Jungkook glanced over his shoulder, eyes lingering on your covered form. "Hmm? I have." He turned back to the sizzling pan. "Dance practice at noon. Vocal coaching at three." He slid the omelette onto a plate, golden-brown and steaming. "Sit." It wasn't a request.

You hesitated, but the scent pulled you to the small table. He placed the plate before you, then leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest. Steam rose between you like a veil. "Eat," he commanded softly, watching as you picked up the chopsticks. His gaze felt heavier than the food.

"About what I said earlier," Jungkook began, his voice low but slicing through the clatter of your chopsticks against the plate. "The job thing." He pushed off the counter, stepping closer until his shadow fell over you. "I'm dead serious, okay?" His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, the touch deceptively gentle.

You froze, the bite of egg turning to ash in your mouth. His eyes held yours—unyielding, volcanic. "Don't do any stupidity," he murmured, thumb tracing your jawline. "Stay home. Rest." He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "Or I'll burn down every agency in Seoul that dares look at you."

The threat hung, thick and suffocating, in the tiny kitchen. He straightened, grabbing his own discarded shirt from the back of a chair. "Finish eating," he ordered, pulling the fabric over his head, hiding the sweat-slicked skin and fading bite marks. "Sleep. I'll call later." He didn't wait for a reply, snatching his keys from the counter. The door clicked shut behind him, the sudden silence ringing louder than his words.

You stared at the cooling omelette, untouched after that first bite. His possessiveness, the violence simmering beneath the tenderness, the impossible ultimatum – it crashed over you. The chopsticks clattered onto the plate. "I really don't understand you, Jungkook," you whispered into the empty room, the words raw. "Do you really love me? Or just the idea of owning me?"

------

The bass faded, the mirrored walls reflecting their sweat-soaked bodies as the music cut. Jungkook collapsed against the wall, phone in hand, thumb swiping across the glowing screen. A single unread notification stared back at him. His lips curved into a dangerous smirk.

“She really has guts,” he muttered under his breath.

Hoseok, toweling sweat from his neck, caught the edge in Jungkook’s voice. “Taehyung,” he asked, brows furrowed, “did Y/N… not come for work today?”

Taehyung didn’t look up from adjusting his wristband. His voice was clipped, cold. “Jungkook used his influence. Had her transferred.” He finally met Hoseok’s gaze, eyes hard. “She’s his personal assistant now. Not mine.”

Jin, leaning against the mirrored wall, pushed off. The shift in the room’s energy was palpable—a sudden chill. He moved closer to Jungkook, who was still staring at his phone screen, jaw clenched. “Kook,” Jin murmured, voice low but carrying, “what happened? Your mood just… dropped off a cliff.”

Jungkook’s thumb tapped the screen once, hard. He didn’t look up. “She always likes to disobey me,” he stated flatly. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fury. He shoved the phone into his pocket, the motion sharp. “Always pushing.”

Jimin, stretching near the barre, paused mid-motion. His eyes flickered to Jungkook, then away, voice deceptively light. “Y/N refused the transfer? Smart girl. Working for you sounds… exhausting.” He chuckled softly, stretching his arms overhead. “Probably terrified of your tantrums.”

Jungkook’s head snapped up. His eyes narrowed, dark and dangerous. “Shut up, Jimin.” He rolled his eyes, a dismissive, contemptuous flicker. “Like you know anything about what she wants.”

Jimin straightened, stretching languidly. “I know she hates being controlled.” He met Jungkook’s glare head-on, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Maybe she won’t come. She’s stubborn too.” He shrugged, the movement deliberately casual.

Jungkook’s knuckles whitened against the mirrored wall. " She’ll come. " The words were clipped, icy. " She knows the consequences."

Namjoon stepped forward, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade. "Enough." The command echoed off the studio walls. "All right? Focus on dance." His gaze swept over Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung—a silent warning. "This ends now. We have a comeback in six weeks. Personal shit stays off this floor." He jabbed a finger toward the speakers. "Reset the track. From the top."

The music crashed back—a relentless beat forcing movement. Bodies snapped into formation, but eyes still flashed: Jimin’s mocking glance, Taehyung’s icy glare, Jungkook’s simmering rage barely contained beneath the choreography’s precision. Every spin, every stomp felt charged with violence waiting to erupt.

------

You slammed the laptop shut with a groan, burying your face in your hands. The job board blurred before your tired eyes. You can do this, Y/N, you whispered fiercely to the empty apartment, knuckles white on the edge of the desk.

The doorbell chimed, sharp and unexpected. You shuffled to the door, peering through the peephole. Jimin stood there, leaning casually against the frame, a familiar smirk playing on his lips. You pulled the door open.

"Angel," he murmured, tilting his head, eyes sweeping over your rumpled hoodie and messy hair. "How can you look so cute drowning in frustration?" He chuckled softly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

"What are you doing here?" You leaned against the doorframe, blocking his path deeper into the apartment.

Jimin flashed his signature grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Came to see my girlfriend's face." His gaze lingered on your lips, still slightly swollen from Jungkook's earlier intensity. "Missed it."

"See it then," you replied flatly, gesturing vaguely towards your features. "You can leave now."

He chuckled, a low, velvety sound that usually melted resistance. "So cold." Before he could push further, the doorbell chimed again. Jimin's smile widened triumphantly. "Ah, perfect timing." He brushed past you easily, heading for the door. "Ordered pizza. For us."

You watched, arms crossed, as he accepted two large boxes from a delivery rider. The rich aroma of cheese and spicy pepperoni instantly filled the small entryway. Jimin carried them to your low coffee table, flipping the lids open with flourish. Steam billowed up. "Come on," he coaxed, patting the cushion beside him. "Sit. Eat. Talk to me." He picked up a slice, dripping cheese, and took a deliberate bite, watching you over the steaming food. "You look like you need carbs and... company."

Reluctantly, you sank onto the sofa opposite him, not beside him. The scent was irresistible. You grabbed a slice, the heat searing your fingertips. "Company I didn't ask for," you mumbled around a mouthful.

Jimin leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his playful grin softening into something more observant. "So," he began, picking a pepperoni off his slice. "How many companies rejected you today?" His tone was light, but his eyes held a sharp curiosity.

You swallowed hard, the cheese suddenly thick in your throat. "Fourteen," you admitted, the number tasting bitter. You gestured vaguely at your closed laptop. "Fourteen emails saying 'thanks but no thanks,' or worse, just ghosting me completely." You ripped off another bite, frustration fueling the motion. "It's like... like Jungkook's shadow is attached to my resume."

Jimin watched you chew, his playful demeanor shifting subtly. He leaned back against the sofa cushions, stretching an arm along the backrest behind you. "Wish I could help you, angel," he murmured, his voice dropping lower, intimate. A faint, knowing smile touched his lips. "But honestly? If you left... I couldn't see your face every day." His gaze lingered on yours, intense and unapologetic. "Selfish, maybe. But true."

You glared at him, wiping pizza grease from your chin. "You're all misusing your power," you accused, the bitterness sharpening your voice.

Jimin chuckled, low and smooth, leaning closer. His fingers brushed a stray crumb from your hoodie sleeve. "Maybe," he conceded, eyes gleaming with mischief. "But hear me out." He tilted his head, that infuriatingly charming smile widening. "What if... you became all our personal assistant? Mine, Taehyung, Jungkook's. Shared." His gaze sharpened. "Then none of us gets jealous. We all get... access."

You recoiled, pushing his hand away. "No!" The word snapped out, sharp as a whip. "I'll get a job based on my capability," you stated firmly, chin lifting. "Not as... shared property."

Jimin sighed dramatically, leaning back. He took another slow bite of pizza, chewing thoughtfully. His playful demeanor shifted, replaced by a sharper focus. "Okay, angel," he conceded, wiping grease from his fingers. "But tell me this." He leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, eyes locking onto yours with unnerving intensity. "You got the personal assistant job for Taehyung. Right?" He paused, letting the statement hang. "Did Taehyung always help you? Guide you through every single task? Or..." He tilted his head, a knowing glint in his eye. "...did you learn from your own mistakes?"

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. The memory of Taehyung's initial coldness, the stumbles, the late nights figuring out schedules alone flashed through your mind. "No," you admitted quietly, picking at the crust of your slice. "He didn't hold my hand. Not really." You met Jimin's gaze. "I'm still learning. Every day."

Jimin leaned closer, the playful mask slipping entirely. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous purr. "Exactly. So why throw away that hard-won position?" His eyes hardened, locking onto yours. "Listen carefully, angel. Don't refuse this offer."

He tapped the coffee table with a grease-stained finger, emphasizing each word. "If you don't accept it... then you should stay home your whole life." He leaned back, spreading his hands. "Because none of us," his gaze intensified, "not me, not Taehyung, especially not Jungkook... will give you permission to work for someone else. Ever."

"Look like I really don't have any choice," you murmured, staring at the grease-stained pizza box instead of Jimin's intense gaze. The words tasted like surrender.

Jimin's triumphant grin flashed white. "Smart girl." He plucked another slice, cheese stretching like molten gold. "Triple salary," he reminded you, biting into the crust with audible satisfaction. "Plus..." He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Always close to Jungkook. Watching him sweat during rehearsals. Hearing his stupid jokes." His eyes darkened, holding yours. "Or..." He let the word hang, heavy with implication. "...should we give this position to someone else? Someone eager to be near us? Touching our schedules... our clothes... maybe even our beds?"

"Jungkook loves me," you whispered, the words tasting hollow against the greasy pizza crust. You finally met Jimin's gaze, defiance flickering. "He wouldn't look at other girls. I don't understand you, Jimin. You have a problem if I work with someone else, yet you're pushing me straight back into Jungkook's arms." Your voice cracked slightly. "Doesn't it hurt you''

" If I tell you it hurts," Jimin murmured, his playful mask slipping entirely. He caught your wrist, fingers pressing into the pulse point beneath your skin. "Will you finally start loving me?" His voice was raw, stripped bare. "No, right?" He released your hand abruptly, as if burned. "Which pain brings peace?" He stared at his own palm, then back at you. "The pain I get from you." The words hung heavy, suffocating the air between you. "That’s the only peace I know."

You reached out instinctively, pressing your palm against his forehead. His skin burned beneath your touch. "Jimin," you breathed, concern sharpening your voice. "You have a fever."

He leaned into your hand, closing his eyes briefly. "Yeah," he admitted, voice thick. "Woke up with it this morning. Chills, headache... the works." He forced a weak smile, opening his eyes. They looked glassy. "But I'm okay now. Just... tired."

"Medicine?" you asked softly, pulling your hand back. "You need rest."

Jimin's eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded. "Hmm," he murmured, the sound thick with fever. He leaned forward, closing the small distance between you on the sofa. His breath hitched, warm against your lips. "Rest sounds... perfect." His gaze dropped to your mouth, lingering.

He didn't ask. He didn't hesitate. One hand slid behind your neck, fingers tangling gently in your hair, pulling you fractionally closer. The other rested lightly on your knee. His lips pressed against yours – soft, insistent, burning with the heat radiating from his skin.

It wasn't a kiss demanding entry. It was slow, deliberate, savoring. Like tasting something precious. His lips moved against yours with a focused intensity, molding, pressing, releasing just enough to catch your lower lip gently between his own before pulling it slowly, softly, into his mouth.

He didn't push for more depth. Just lips. The heat of his fever radiated onto your skin, mingling with the damp warmth of his breath. His hand stayed tangled in your hair, anchoring you gently, while the other traced idle circles on your knee through the fabric of your sweats. Each slow pull, each lingering press, felt like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth. His lips moved with a quiet desperation, a silent plea conveyed in the unhurried rhythm.

You felt your lips part slightly on a shaky inhale, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the slow, consuming pressure. Jimin immediately broke the kiss, pulling back just far enough to see your face. His eyes, glassy with fever, searched yours, and a slow, triumphant smile curved his swollen lips. "So desperate for my kiss already?" he murmured, his voice rough, breath ghosting over your damp mouth. His thumb brushed your lower lip, tracing the path his own lips had just taken. "See? You need me too."

A surge of panic and confusion tightened your chest. "No!" The word tore from you, sharper than intended. You shoved against his shoulders, putting space between you on the sofa. "I was just shocked! You kissed me suddenly!" Your fingers flew to your tingling lips, wiping away the phantom sensation. "You can't just—"

Jimin laughed, a raspy, breathless sound that ended in a cough. "Yeah, yeah," he waved a dismissive hand, pushing himself up. "But thank you for the medicine." He stood, swaying slightly. "I really get energy angel. Need to go now."

"You have a fever!" You protested, scrambling to your feet.

"Little fever," Jimin insisted, grabbing his jacket. He winced as he shrugged it on. "If I get late, Namjoon hyung will scold me." He flashed a weak grin, heading towards your door. "Dance practice waits for no fever."

You followed him, grabbing his arm. "But your health—"

Jimin paused at the door, turning. His eyes, still fever-bright, swept over you with unnerving intensity. A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips. "Angel," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, velvet rasp. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "If you were any closer to me..." His fingers brushed your jawline, feather-light. "...I'd forget how to behave."

You froze, pulse hammering in your throat. The air crackled with unspoken threat and raw desire. Before you could react, he pulled back abruptly. "See you tomorrow," he stated, the playful mask snapping back into place. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with the lingering scent of pepperoni and the phantom burn of his touch on your skin.

You stumbled back to the sofa, collapsing onto the cushions.

You slapped your lips. Hard. The sting was sharp, immediate. Why did you open? Why did you let him? Control yourself! But the kiss... it was different. Slow. Deliberate. Like he was savoring, consuming. Like he was eating your lips, drawing the very breath from you.

You groaned, burying your face in the pizza-stained cushion Jimin had just vacated. Stop thinking about it! Stop replaying the heat of his feverish skin, the softness of his lips against yours, the way he pulled your lower lip into his mouth. Ahhh! Stop! You dug your fingers into your temples. Stop thinking! Stop! But the phantom pressure lingered, the ghost of his fingers tangled in your hair. It wasn't stopping. It was looping, replaying, intensifying. You were going crazy. Absolutely insane. Why did it feel like that? Why did it feel... like something you craved again?

The next morning, the Big Hit meeting room felt unnervingly sterile. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as you stood rigidly before Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook. Their expressions were a study in contrasts: Taehyung’s gaze coolly detached, Jimin’s lips curled in a knowing half-smile, Jungkook’s jaw clenched tight enough to crack stone. You drew a breath, forcing steel into your voice.

"I’ll be your assistant," you declared, eyes locking onto each of them in turn. "But don’t dare interfere with my work. At work, I’m only an employee. You’re my bosses—nothing more."

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "We have no problem with that."
Jimin nodded, his playful smirk softening into something resembling sincerity. "None at all."
Jungkook’s silence stretched like a wire. Finally, he gave a single, curt nod. "Okay." He shoved his chair back, the legs screeching against the floor, and stalked out without another word. The door slammed shut behind him.

You blinked, staring at the empty space where Jungkook had been. "Wow," you breathed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. "I never thought he’d agree so easily."

Jimin chuckled, stretching his arms overhead with languid grace. "He doesn’t break his promise."

You frowned. "What promise?"

Taehyung leaned forward, resting his elbows on the polished conference table. His expression remained unreadable, but his voice held a trace of amusement. "Jimin told Jungkook yesterday," he explained coolly, "that if you agreed to work for all three of us and came back to the company... Jungkook would agree too." He paused, his gaze flicking to Jimin. "Seems he was right."

You turned to Jimin, eyebrows raised. "How did you know I'd agree?"

Jimin leaned back, stretching lazily like a satisfied cat. A slow, dazzling grin spread across his face. "My charm never fails," he purred, winking. "Especially not with you, angel."

Taehyung snorted softly, tapping his pen against the polished table. His gaze remained cool, detached. "Your charm?" he countered, voice low and smooth. "Or your mind games?"

Jimin's grin widened, sharpening at the edges. He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with challenge. "Is someone jealous?"

"Okay, okayy, guys!" You interjected sharply, palms raised. The tension crackling between them was thick enough to choke on. "Stop. I need to prepare your schedules." You gathered your notebook decisively, pushing your chair back. "Right now."

As you stood, Taehyung spoke again, his voice cutting through the lingering friction. "Sweetheart." The unexpected endearment made you pause. He gestured towards the door. "We arranged a helper for you. A co-assistant."

Relief washed over you. "Oh. Thank you," you breathed, genuinely grateful. Managing three idols' chaotic lives single-handedly was daunting. You offered a quick nod and hurried out, closing the conference room door firmly behind you, leaving Jimin and Taehyung alone.

The moment the latch clicked, Jimin's playful mask vanished. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes narrowed. "Alright, Taehyung," he said, his voice dropping to a low, serious murmur. "Care to explain what you're planning? A co-assistant? Since when?"

Taehyung didn't react immediately. He slowly spun his pen between his fingers, his gaze fixed on the closed door. A small, enigmatic smile touched his lips. "Wait," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He tilted his head slightly towards the door. "Watch."

Chapter Text

The corridor felt unnervingly quiet after the charged atmosphere of the conference room. You pushed open the door to your small office, the familiar scent of paper and stale coffee greeting you.

A woman stood by your desk. Tall, poised, with sleek dark hair cascading over one shoulder and sharp, intelligent eyes that swept over you with immediate assessment. She wore a crisp, tailored pantsuit that screamed expensive efficiency. "Hello," she greeted, her voice smooth and professional, extending a hand. "I'm Jia. Your new co-assistant."

You blinked, momentarily stunned by her presence and the sheer competence radiating from her. "Oh! Hello," you managed, shaking her cool, manicured hand. "Y/N."

Jia nodded, her gaze already flickering to the chaotic piles of schedules and contracts littering your desk. "I've familiarized myself with the basics," she stated, not wasting a beat. She picked up Jungkook's rehearsal itinerary, her brow furrowing slightly. "This conflicts with his vocal coaching session tomorrow. Shall I reschedule the coach or push rehearsal?" Her efficiency was almost unnerving.

"Yeah," you breathed, relief warring with intimidation. "Let's start." You moved to your side of the desk, pulling up Taehyung’s calendar. "Taehyung has a photoshoot at ten, but he needs final approval on the wardrobe selections by nine-thirty." You glanced at Jia. "Could you—"

"Already handled," Jia interrupted smoothly, tapping her tablet. "I emailed the stylist team fifteen minutes ago with prioritized options based on his recent public appearances and brand guidelines. Confirmation received." She offered a small, professional smile. "We'll need you to physically escort him to the van, however. He tends to... wander."

You stared, momentarily speechless. Fifteen minutes ago? Before you'd even met? "Right," you managed, swallowing the lump of inadequacy. "Okay. Jimin's schedule next—"

"Already done," Jia cut in again, her tone brisk but not unkind. She tapped her tablet screen. "Media training session confirmed for eleven. Lunch blocked at twelve-thirty. Dance rehearsal coordination finalized with Hoseok-ssi." She glanced up, her dark eyes meeting yours. "Is there anything specific you'd like prioritized?"

A beat of silence stretched. The sheer speed of her work left you feeling like you were wading through molasses. "Wow," you breathed, the word escaping before you could stop it. "You really are... fast."

Jia offered a small, professional smile. "Thank you, ma'am." She inclined her head slightly.

The formal title felt jarring, misplaced. "Ma'am?" You shook your head quickly, a nervous laugh bubbling up. "No, please. Just call me Y/N."

Jia paused, her professional mask softening almost imperceptibly. "Okay, Y/N," she conceded, the name sounding strangely natural in her crisp tone. "So, should we start with Jungkook-ssi's schedule?"

"Yeah," you agreed, grabbing Jungkook's revised itinerary. "He's recording vocals now." Leading Jia down the sterile corridor towards Studio B, the rhythmic thump of bass bleeding through the soundproofed door grew louder.

Inside, Jungkook stood silhouetted against the vocal booth glass, headphones askew. His eyes snapped to you instantly—sharp, possessive—before flickering to Jia. A subtle shift tightened his jaw, his gaze hardening as it lingered on her tailored suit, her poised posture. "Coffee," he commanded, voice flat, eyes already returning to his lyric sheet.

You hurried to the small kitchenette, returning moments later with a steaming mug. Jungkook took a cursory sip, his expression impassive. "Too hot." He pushed it away without glancing up.

Retreating, you added ice cubes, cooling it rapidly. This time, Jungkook barely let the liquid touch his lips. "Too cold." His tone was dismissive, bored, eyes fixed on the microphone stand.

Jia stepped forward smoothly, intercepting the mug before you could retreat again. "Y/N," she murmured, her voice low but firm. "Let me handle this." She took the mug, her movements efficient. She poured out half the cold coffee, topped it precisely with fresh, hot brew from the carafe, stirred once, and presented it. "Try now, Jungkook-ssi."

Jungkook glanced up, eyes narrowed. He took the mug, sipped cautiously. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he masked it with indifference. He set it down without comment, turning back to the mic. You caught Jia's subtle nod—a small victory.

Outside the studio, you leaned against the cool wall, exhaling. "How did you know?"

" I just guessed," Jia murmured, her voice low as she watched Jungkook through the studio window. He adjusted his headphones, deliberately turning his back to the observation glass.

You swallowed hard, the sting sharp. He hadn't looked at you once since you entered. Not when Jia handled the coffee, not when you spoke his name softly. His broad shoulders remained rigidly angled away, his focus unnaturally intense on the microphone stand.

"Jia," you whispered, voice tight. "Can you handle him here?"

Jia didn't turn from the studio window. "Of course," she replied smoothly, her gaze fixed on Jungkook's rigid back. "Go."

You slipped away, the sterile corridor swallowing your hurried footsteps. Jungkook must be furious—really furious. Agreeing to work for all three. His silence in the meeting was a coiled spring. You felt it in the air, thick and dangerous.

The walk to Jimin's wardrobe room felt endless. You pushed the door open, the scent of cedar and expensive fabric hitting you instantly. Jimin stood before a full-length mirror, adjusting the collar of a sheer, silver-embroidered shirt. His reflection caught yours, and a slow, knowing smile curved his lips.

"Angel," he purred, turning fully. His eyes swept over you, lingering on your slightly parted lips. "Miss me already?" He took a step closer, the playful glint sharpening into something hotter, hungrier. "Or did my kiss chase you here?"

You stiffened, forcing your voice flat. "We're at work, Jimin-ssi." The formal title felt like armor. "I'm your employee. You're my boss. Nothing more." You held up his revised schedule like a shield. "Media training in ten minutes. Wardrobe approved."

Jimin chuckled, a low, velvet sound that vibrated in the small space. He didn't move. "Boss?" he echoed, tilting his head. His gaze dropped pointedly to your lips, then slowly, deliberately, traveled down your body. "Right." He took another step, closing the distance until the heat radiating from him brushed your skin. "Then how about a little cosplay, my dear Assistance?" His voice dropped to a husky whisper, thick with suggestion. "Play the obedient employee... who secretly craves her boss."

Your breath hitched. "Jimin—"

He moved faster than you expected. One hand snagged your wrist, fingers tightening possessively. The other slammed the wardrobe door shut behind you. Darkness swallowed the room instantly, thick with the scent of starched fabric and Jimin’s feverish heat. Your back pressed against coats hanging heavy on the rack. You couldn't see him, only feel him—his body crowding yours, his breath hot and uneven against your temple.

"Shh," Jimin murmured, his lips brushing your ear. His voice was a low, dangerous purr. "No one can hear us in here." His fingers slid from your wrist to your waist, tracing slow, deliberate circles through the thin fabric of your blouse. "Just us." His other hand found your jaw, tilting your face towards his. In the suffocating dark, his eyes gleamed like molten gold.

You flinched, pressing harder against the coats. "Jimin, stop!" Your voice cracked, swallowed by the dense silence of the wardrobe. "This isn't—"

"Ah-ah," he interrupted softly, his thumb brushing your lower lip. You felt him smile against your temple. "My dear assistance," he breathed, the words hot and intimate. "I'm your boss." His grip tightened possessively on your waist. "And I think..." He leaned closer, his feverish heat enveloping you. "...you need a reminder of who's in charge." His lips found the frantic pulse point beneath your ear, kissing it slowly, deliberately. "Who you belong to."

His free hand slid upwards, fingers brushing the hem of your blouse. You felt the cool air against your skin as he slowly lifted the fabric. Panic surged. "No!" You shoved against his chest with all your strength. The sudden force caught him off guard. He stumbled backwards, tripping over a discarded shoebox. The wardrobe door flew open with the momentum, flooding the cramped space with harsh light. Jimin crashed onto the polished floorboards outside with a heavy thud. "Ouch!" he gasped, blinking up at the ceiling, momentarily dazed.

You scrambled out, frantically smoothing your rumpled blouse. Your cheeks burned.

"Professional!" you snapped, voice trembling with fury. You pointed a shaking finger at Jimin sprawled on the floor. "At work! Remember?"

Jimin groaned, rubbing his elbow as he sat up. His playful smirk returned, though it looked strained. "Relax, angel," he drawled, pushing messy hair from his forehead. "I was just flirting with my assistant. Is that a crime?" His gaze flickered over you, lingering on the flushed skin of your neck.

You yanked your blouse straight, fingers trembling. "I don't like it," you stated firmly, voice tight. "And I don't like my boss acting like this. Please get ready for your media training." You turned sharply towards the door, hand on the knob. "I'll send Jia to escort you."

Jimin froze, the playful glint vanishing instantly. "Jia?" he echoed, his voice suddenly sharp. "Your co-assistant?"

"Yeah," you confirmed, not looking back. "She’s handling Jungkook’s session. She’ll handle this too." You pulled the door open, stepping into the bright corridor.

Jimin scrambled to his feet, his playful facade cracking. "Wait—" But you were already gone, the door clicking shut behind you.

----

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as you slumped onto the edge of your desk, exhaustion settling deep into your bones. The chaotic whirlwind of schedules, demands, and near-misses finally quieted. Across the small office, Jia meticulously filed the last contract, her movements precise and unhurried. You watched her, a wave of genuine gratitude washing over you.

"You really worked well today," you murmured, rubbing your temples. The words felt inadequate. "Literally, Jia... I couldn't have handled any of this without you." You offered a tired smile. "How about we go for dinner tonight? My treat. To celebrate surviving day one?"

Jia paused, her dark eyes meeting yours. A flicker of warmth softened her professional mask. "I'd love to," she said, her voice sincere. "But I already have plans."

"Ah," you breathed, a pang of disappointment mingling with curiosity. "Boyfriend?"

Jia tucked a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear, a rare, genuine smile touching her lips. "Someone special," she corrected softly, her gaze drifting towards the window where Seoul’s neon lights were beginning to flicker to life. The simplicity of her answer held a weight that silenced further questions. She gathered her sleek leather briefcase. "See you tomorrow, Y/N. Rest well."

The office door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone with the quiet hum of the overhead lights. The silence felt heavy, amplifying the exhaustion settling deep into your muscles. You sank back into your chair, the leather sighing beneath you.

Your fingers instinctively found your phone, thumb unlocking it before your mind fully caught up. The screen glared back—no notifications. Nothing from Jungkook. Your earlier text still sat unread, unanswered: *How long are you going to stay angry?* A bitter taste coated your tongue. You typed again, fingers clumsy with fatigue: *Can we meet? Please?* You hit send before you could second-guess it.

Almost instantly—too fast, jarringly fast—his reply flashed up: **Can't. Busy.** Two words. Cold. Final. Like a door slammed in your face. You stared at the screen until the letters blurred, a hollow ache spreading through your chest. You sighed, long and deep, the sound loud in the empty office. The phone slipped from your fingers onto the desk with a dull thud.

The exhaustion hit you like a wave, sudden and overwhelming. Your head felt impossibly heavy. You folded your arms on the cool desktop, burying your face in the crook of your elbow. The scent of paper and stale coffee filled your nose. "I hate your ignorance, Jungkook," you mumbled into the fabric, the words thick and muffled. "I hate it..." The anger dissolved into bone-deep weariness. Your eyelids fluttered shut, the fluorescent hum fading into a distant buzz. Sleep pulled you under, swift and deep.

You drifted in a warm, dark space, unaware of time passing. Slowly, consciousness seeped back. You became aware of a gentle pressure beneath your cheek – not the hard desk, but something soft and warm. You stirred, blinking slowly against the dimmed office light. Your head wasn't resting on your arms anymore. It was cradled, carefully, in Taehyung's palm. His other hand rested lightly on your shoulder.

He was sitting sideways on the edge of your desk, angled towards you. The harsh overhead lights were off; only the soft glow of your desk lamp illuminated the scene, casting gentle shadows on his face. His gaze was fixed on you, intense yet impossibly soft, devoid of its usual sharpness. He hadn't moved, hadn't disturbed you. He’d simply been there, holding you steady while you slept. His thumb traced a feather-light circle against your temple.

"Taehyung?" Your voice was sleep-rough, confused. "How long...?"

"Shh," he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble. He didn't move his hand. "You were exhausted. You needed rest." His dark eyes searched yours, filled with a quiet intensity that stole your breath. "I saw the light on. Came to check." His gaze dropped to your lips, then back up, holding yours.

You shifted, suddenly aware of the intimacy—his palm warm against your cheek, the stillness of the empty office, the quiet hum of Seoul outside the window. "What time is it?" you whispered, your voice thick with sleep.

Taehyung glanced at the slim watch on his wrist, the face catching the dim lamplight. "Two AM," he answered softly. His thumb brushed your temple again, the touch lingering.

"Omo!" You jerked upright, pulling away from his touch. Panic fluttered in your chest. "Two AM? It's too late! I need to go home!" You scrambled out of the chair, grabbing your bag. The sudden movement made the room tilt slightly. "The last bus—"

Taehyung caught your wrist gently, stopping your frantic rush. His fingers were warm, grounding. "Already gone," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "Don't worry, sweetheart." He stood smoothly, his tall frame blocking the path to the door. "I'll drop you." His gaze softened, holding yours. "Plus... I didn't get a chance to spend time with you today." The unspoken missed you hung heavy in the quiet air between you.

You hesitated, exhaustion warring with caution. "I'm only saying yes because I can't get a cab," you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Don't think I'm dying to spend time with you."

Taehyung chuckled softly, a low rumble in the quiet office. "Noted." He took your bag without asking, his fingers brushing yours deliberately. "Come on."

The sleek black sedan purred to life as Taehyung slid behind the wheel. The city lights streaked past the tinted windows, painting Seoul in smudges of neon and shadow. The silence inside the car was thick, charged with the day’s tension and the intimacy of the late hour. You stared out your window, watching the blur of darkened storefronts.

"Sweetheart," Taehyung’s voice cut through the quiet, smooth but deliberate. His eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead. "Do you know driving?"

You shook your head, turning slightly towards him. "No. Never learned."

"You should," he stated, his tone firm yet oddly gentle. He glanced at you briefly, the dashboard lights catching the sharp line of his jaw. "It’s important. Essential." His knuckles tightened almost imperceptibly on the steering wheel. "Independence."

You sighed, leaning back against the cool leather. "Okay, Taehyung. But..." You gestured vaguely out the windshield. "...this isn’t the way to my house."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I’m hungry," he declared, his gaze flickering to you again, intense and assessing. "I know you’re hungry too." It wasn’t a question.

You hesitated, exhaustion warring with the gnawing emptiness in your stomach. "Okay," you conceded quietly.

Taehyung navigated the sleek sedan through quieter streets, pulling up smoothly beside a small, warmly lit restaurant tucked away from the main thoroughfare. Its windows glowed invitingly against the deepening night. He killed the engine. "Here," he murmured, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

You pushed your door open, the cool night air washing over your flushed face. You stepped onto the pavement, the city sounds distant here. You heard Taehyung's door open behind you, followed by a sharp, muffled thud and a low grunt. You spun around.

Taehyung stood hunched slightly, one hand pressed to his forehead, just above his temple. He winced, eyes squeezed shut for a second. "Aish," he muttered under his breath.

You rushed around the car. "Taehyung!" Your voice was sharp with worry. "Are you okay?" You reached him, fingers instinctively hovering near his hand covering the spot. "Let me see." Gently, you pried his hand away. A faint red mark was already blooming on his pale skin beneath his tousled hair. "You should be careful!" you scolded, your thumb brushing the edge of the tender spot. "Does it hurt badly?"

Taehyung opened his eyes. Instead of pain, a soft, almost dazed smile spread across his face. It was warm, genuine, and utterly unexpected. He looked directly at you, his dark eyes holding yours with startling intensity.

"Why are you smiling?" you asked, bewildered. The cool night air suddenly felt charged. You noticed something else – a faint flush creeping up his neck, staining his cheeks pink beneath the streetlight's glow. "And why is your face getting so red?" Concern warred with confusion. "Don't tell me you caught Jimin's cold too?" You recalled Jimin complaining of sniffles earlier.

Without hesitation, you unwound the soft, oversized scarf from your own neck. Standing on tiptoe, you looped it gently around Taehyung’s, pulling it snugly up to his chin. The wool smelled faintly of your perfume. "Here," you murmured, your fingers brushing his jawline as you adjusted the fabric. "Wear this. You have recording tomorrow. Can't have you getting sick."

Taehyung didn't move. He simply watched you, that soft, dazed smile deepening. His gaze traced the path of your fingers against his skin. "Yah," you huffed, stepping back slightly, flustered by his unwavering attention. "Why are you smiling like an idiot?"

His hand rose slowly, fingers grazing the scarf where your touch had lingered. "My sweetheart," he murmured, his voice thick and low, almost reverent. "You worry about me." His eyes locked onto yours, dark pools reflecting the warm glow from the restaurant window. "Truly worry."

You huffed, crossing your arms against the night chill. "Yah! Of course I worry!" You jabbed a finger towards his forehead. "You really hit your head so hard? Think straight! I'm your assistant." The words tumbled out, sharp with flustered practicality. "If you get sick, I can't manage schedules or cover your cancellations.

Taehyung’s smile didn’t waver. It deepened, transforming into something unbearably tender, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"I’m starving," you insisted, turning towards the restaurant’s warm glow. "Let’s eat." You took a step forward.

"Sweetheart," Taehyung’s voice stopped you, low and resonant. His hand caught yours gently. "Sweetheart, I have better idea." His thumb traced your knuckles. "Let’s go to my house. I’ll make food for you."

"I'm really hungry," you protested, planting your feet firmly on the pavement. The cozy restaurant lights beckoned just steps away. "We're right in front of it. Let's eat here." You gestured emphatically at the entrance.

Taehyung’s gaze softened, a hint of playful mischief flickering in his dark eyes. "Then how about ramen?" he suggested smoothly, stepping closer. His voice dropped to a low, intimate murmur. "My place. I'll cook it for you."

Your eyes widened. "Yah!" Heat flooded your cheeks. "When did you become this shameless?" You took a half-step back, but Taehyung was already closing the distance.

"Sweetheart," he breathed, catching your wrist gently. His thumb brushed your pulse point. "Don't mean it that way." His tone was earnest, but a dangerous warmth simmered beneath it. "

Before you could protest further, Taehyung moved with startling speed. One arm hooked under your knees, the other behind your back. You gasped as he lifted you effortlessly off the pavement, your feet dangling uselessly. "Taehyung!" you shrieked, pounding your fists against his shoulders. "What are you doing?! Put me down!"

He ignored your struggles, carrying you around the sedan as if you weighed nothing. The passenger door clicked open. He deposited you firmly onto the plush leather seat, your legs still swinging. Before you could scramble out, he leaned in, his face inches from yours. "Stay," he commanded, his voice low and edged with steel. The lock mechanism clicked loudly as he pressed the central locking button. The sound echoed like a prison door slamming shut.

You lunged for the door handle. Locked. "Yah! Taehyung!" you yelled, rattling the handle uselessly. "Open this door! Now!"

He didn't glance back. Instead, he stood frozen beside the car, his broad shoulders tense, silhouetted against the warm glow spilling from the restaurant windows. His gaze was fixed on the entrance, intense and unblinking. A low murmur escaped him, barely audible over the distant city hum. "You're lucky tonight, Jungkook." The words were a rough whisper, edged with something dark and possessive. "I don't want to hurt her... not like this."

Inside the cozy restaurant, nestled in a secluded booth, Jungkook leaned forward, his fingers tracing the rim of his untouched water glass. His gaze, sharp and assessing, pinned Jia across the small table. "So," he began, his voice low and deliberate, cutting through the gentle clatter of plates. "Taehyung helped you get this job. I'm right." It wasn't a question. It was a statement, heavy with suspicion.

Jia met his gaze steadily, her dark eyes reflecting the warm lamplight. She didn't flinch. "Jungkook," she replied, her voice calm and precise, slicing through his accusation. "How can you say that? Taehyung didn't 'help' me. I earned this position." She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. "On my capability. My resume speaks for itself."

Jungkook leaned back slightly, his fingers still circling the glass rim. A cold smile touched his lips, devoid of warmth. "Fine. Capability." The word dripped with skepticism. His gaze sharpened, drilling into hers. "Then tell me why." He leaned forward again, elbows on the table, invading her space. "Why here ? Why BigHit? Why now?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

Jia didn't flinch. Her posture remained impeccably composed, her eyes locking onto his with unnerving calm. "Straight to the point," she acknowledged, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. "If you're having a problem with me working here, Jungkook, tell me." She paused, letting the implication hang. "I will leave this job. Today." Her voice was steady, utterly assured. "I never created any problem for you in the past. Never will in the future."

Jungkook leaned back slowly, a low chuckle escaping him – dark, humorless, edged with grudging surprise. "You really changed," he observed, his gaze tracing the sharp lines of her face. "Into a confidence woman." He tilted his head, studying her. "I don't have any problem with you." The words were deliberate, heavy. "Just currently... Y/N is my girlfriend."

Jia didn't react immediately. Her expression remained perfectly composed, a mask of polite professionalism. Only her eyes flickered, a brief, sharp calculation behind the calm facade. "Your girlfriend?" she repeated, her voice utterly neutral, devoid of inflection. She took a slow sip of water, her gaze never leaving his.

Jungkook leaned back, crossing his arms. The dim light accentuated the tension in his jaw. "Yes," he stated flatly. "So, if you can work with her, I don't have a problem."

Jia’s lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. She set her water glass down with deliberate precision. "Jungkook," she murmured, her voice smooth as silk yet edged with steel, "I'm not old Jia, okay?" Her gaze locked onto his, unwavering. "Anyway, Y/N is really nice." She paused, letting the compliment hang. "She helped me. Taught me many things." Her fingers traced the condensation on her glass. "Efficient. Kind. Even when exhausted." A beat of silence stretched between them, charged with unspoken history. "You chose well."

Jungkook’s knuckles whitened where they gripped the edge of the table. "Yeah," he bit out, the word sharp and clipped. His eyes flickered towards the window, scanning the darkened street outside. "My choice. Good. I know." He forced his gaze back to her, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "Example sitting right in front of me." The implication was heavy, accusatory – a reminder of what Jia represented in his past.

Jia’s smile didn’t waver. It remained cool, professional, a shield against the storm brewing across the table. She dabbed her lips with a napkin, folding it neatly beside her plate. "Thanks," she said, her voice low and deliberate. "For dinner." Her dark eyes met his, unflinching. "But..." She paused, letting the silence stretch taut. "Does Y/N know about me?"

Jungkook’s reaction was instantaneous. His gaze snapped back to hers, sharp as shattered glass. "No," he stated flatly, the word leaving no room for argument. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rasp. "She doesn’t need to know." His fingers tapped the tabletop once, hard. "It’s not important. Not anymore."

Jia leaned forward, her calm unnerving. "Maybe," she conceded softly, her voice barely audible over the restaurant’s low hum. "But I don’t worry." She met his burning stare head-on. "I won’t affect your relationship."

A cold, humorless laugh escaped Jungkook. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a predatory whisper that sliced through the air. "Better not." His eyes hardened, glacial. "Because if you do..." He let the threat hang, thick and suffocating. "...you know exactly what I’m capable of."

Jia didn’t flinch. She met his gaze squarely, a flicker of weary understanding in her dark eyes. "Yeah," she murmured, the word soft but laced with steel. "I know, Jungkook." Her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her water glass. "I know exactly how dangerous you are." A bitter smile touched her lips. "I remember."

The admission hung heavy between them. Jungkook’s jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. He stared at her, the past flickering in his eyes – a shadow of the volatile intensity Jia knew all too well. He pushed back his chair abruptly, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. "Good," he bit out, tossing a crumpled bill onto the table. "Keep remembering." He turned without another word, his shoulders rigid with tension as he stalked towards the exit, leaving Jia alone at the table, her composed mask finally cracking into a look of profound exhaustion.

-------

The clink of plates echoed softly in the quiet kitchen as you set the last dish down on the table. Steam curled from the food, filling the air with warmth.

"Thank you," Taehyung murmured, already seated. His eyes traced your movements with unnerving focus.

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the sink piled high with pans. "Don't thank me," you muttered, scrubbing furiously at a stubborn stain. "Just stay away from cooking. This..." You gestured vaguely at the chaos behind you – the splattered sauce, the overturned spice jar. "...this thing? You never can do." You sighed, shaking your head. "I wonder wonder… how you’re planning to survive like this your whole life."

Taehyung watched you, chopsticks hovering over his bowl. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips as you snatched your water glass, gulping down half of it. "We will get married," he stated calmly, like commenting on the weather. "Then I don’t have face problem from cooking." He leaned back, eyes gleaming with absolute certainty. "And I want five kids."

The water caught violently in your throat. You choked, coughing desperately. Liquid sprayed from your lips, droplets landing squarely across Taehyung’s cheekbone and chin. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even wipe it away. He just sat there, watching you gasp for air, his expression unnervingly serene.

"Y-Yah!" you finally sputtered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, face burning crimson. "What nonsense are you talking?! Marriage? Kids?! Have you hit your head again?!" You snatched a dish towel, thrusting it towards him. "Wipe your face!"

Taehyung didn't reach for the towel. He caught your wrist instead, pulling you stumbling forward until your hips bumped the table edge. His thumb rubbed slow circles over your frantic pulse. "Nonsense?" His voice dropped, velvet over gravel. "Sweetheart, I'm damn serious." His eyes, dark and unblinking, held yours prisoner. "Dead serious about you." His free hand rose, tracing the curve of your jaw, calloused fingertip scraping lightly. "Marry you. Build a home. Fill it with little versions of us screaming and running wild." A ghost of a smile touched his lips, terrifyingly sincere. "That's not nonsense. That's my future."

You jerked your wrist back, the dish towel crumpling to the floor. "Stop it!" The words burst out, sharp and desperate. "Taehyung, listen to me!" You planted your palms flat on the table, leaning in, forcing yourself to meet that unnerving intensity. "I understand you want those things – marriage, a family." Your voice trembled, but you pushed on. "But with me ? It will never happen." You held his gaze, willing him to hear the finality. "Okay? So please... just stop thinking this nonsense."

Taehyung’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a chilling stillness. His dark eyes narrowed, searching yours. "Why?" The single word was low, dangerous. He leaned forward slowly, invading your space until his breath ghosted warm against your lips. "Why can't it happen?" His voice dropped to a raw whisper, edged with disbelief and a flicker of anger. "You think I'm joking? Playing?"

You tried to step back, but the table pressed into your hips. "Taehyung—"

He cut you off sharply. "Are you planning to marry someone else?" The question was a blade. His hand shot out, gripping your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his burning gaze. "Don't you dare think about that," he hissed, his thumb pressing hard against your jawbone. "You can't marry anyone else. Ever." The possessiveness in his voice was absolute, terrifying.

You wrenched your face away, stumbling back a step. "Taehyung!" Your voice cracked. "Think straight! Our relationship? What relationship?" The words tumbled out, sharp and raw. "It's meaningless! Don't you see? I don't expect you as my boyfriend!" You gestured wildly between you. "And you're planning marriage? Kids? It's insane!"

Taehyung surged to his feet, the chair scraping violently against the floor. He closed the distance in one stride, towering over you. "'Meaningless'?" The word ripped from him, low and guttural. "Huh?" His hands clamped down on your shoulders, fingers digging in. "Sweetheart," he hissed, leaning close until his forehead almost touched yours. "My love for you?" His breath hitched, ragged. "It's not meaningless." He shook you slightly, forcing you to meet his burning gaze. "Put that into your mind. Right now."

You tried to pull away, but his grip was iron. "Taehyung—"

"I behave!" he cut you off, his voice thick, desperate. "Some days... I try so damn hard to behave. To be patient. To give you space." His eyes searched yours, pleading.

You pulled away sharply, putting distance between you. "Taehyung," you whispered, voice trembling. "It's late. I should go home." The words were a shield, a plea for normalcy in the suffocating intensity.

He didn't move. His gaze pinned you, dark and unreadable. "Sweetheart," he murmured, the endearment rough, almost pained. "Where's my reward for behaving?" A ghost of his earlier smile touched his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Hmm?"

Your breath caught. "What behave? What reward?" You shook your head, bewildered, frustration bubbling. "Stop talking nonsense!"

Taehyung moved with startling speed. One hand shot out, fingers tangling firmly in the hair at your nape, pulling your head back just enough to expose your throat. The other arm snaked around your waist, hauling you flush against him.

His body was a solid wall of heat against yours. "Nonsense?" His voice was a low rumble against your ear, his breath warm on your neck. "Every damn day I see you. Smell you. Hear your voice." His grip tightened at your waist. "And I don't touch you. Don't kiss you." He leaned closer, his lips brushing the sensitive skin below your ear, sending a violent shiver down your spine. "That's behaving." His thumb traced your jawline, rough and possessive. "And now... I want my reward."

Panic flared, sharp and cold. "Reward?" you choked out, twisting futilely in his hold. "Taehyung, stop! You agreed! No physical things between us!" You shoved hard against his chest, but he didn't budge an inch. "You promised!"

His laugh was harsh, vibrating against your skin. "Promises?" His fingers tightened in your hair, tilting your head back further, exposing the frantic pulse in your throat. His gaze, dark and molten, raked over you. "You think promises matter now?" His voice dropped to a predatory whisper. "After you throw 'meaningless' at me? After you deny me?" His thumb traced your jawline, rough and possessive. "You think I'll just... behave?"

Before you could gasp a protest, Taehyung spun you violently. Your back slammed against his chest, his arms locking like steel bands around your waist, pinning your arms uselessly at your sides. Your breath hitched, panic flaring as you faced the kitchen wall, utterly trapped against the heat and hard muscle of him. You could feel the furious beat of his heart against your spine.

"Meaningless?" His voice was a low, dangerous growl vibrating against your back. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine that warred with your fear. "You think this is meaningless?" One hand slid up from your waist, fingers splaying possessively over your ribs, dangerously close to the swell of your breast beneath your thin shirt. His other arm tightened, crushing you closer. "The way your heart races?" His thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle just below your breastbone. "The way you tremble?" His breath was hot, ragged against your neck. "Is that meaningless?"

You struggled, twisting futilely. "Taehyung! Stop! You promised—"

His laugh was harsh, biting against your ear. "Promises?" His hand slid higher, rough fingertips grazing the underside of your breast through the thin fabric. You froze, breath catching. "You spit on my feelings. Call it meaningless. Deny me." His voice dropped to a raw, guttural whisper. "Why should I keep promises you don’t want?" His fingers tightened possessively. "You want meaningless? Fine. Let’s be meaningless."

Before you could gasp, Taehyung’s hand tangled in your hair, wrenching your head back. His mouth crashed down on yours, hard and punishing. It wasn’t a kiss; it was a claiming. Teeth scraped your lower lip, his tongue forcing entry, tasting anger and desperation. You whimpered, trapped against the unyielding heat of his body. His free hand slid down your stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans. The button popped open with a sharp *snick*. The zipper rasped down.

Cold air hit your skin as his hand plunged inside, past the elastic of your underwear. Calloused fingers slid roughly between your legs, pressing hard against the sensitive core of you. You cried out against his mouth, the sound muffled, swallowed by his kiss. His other hand squeezed your breast, thumb circling your nipple through your bra and shirt until it hardened painfully.

"Meaningless?" Taehyung growled against your lips, pulling back just enough to see your face. His eyes were wild, dilated with fury and something darker. "Feel that?" His fingers pressed deeper, relentless. "Is this meaningless?" You gasped, arching away instinctively, but his grip on your hair tightened, holding you still. Tears blurred your vision. His touch was invasive, punishing, a violation of every boundary you’d tried to set. He watched your pain, your humiliation, his breath ragged. "Answer me!"

You squeezed your eyes shut, turning your face away. "Stop... please..."

"Look at me!" He jerked your head back, forcing your gaze to meet his burning intensity. His fingers didn't stop, moving ruthlessly against you. "Tell me it's meaningless!"

A sharp gasp tore from your throat – not from his touch, but from a sudden, stinging pain in your left hand. You’d been scrabbling blindly against the kitchen counter behind you, desperate for purchase, your fingers catching on something jagged. You jerked your hand away instinctively.

Taehyung froze. His gaze snapped down to your hand, still tangled in your hair. The wild fury in his eyes flickered, replaced by a sudden, jarring clarity. Blood welled bright red from a deep gash across your palm, dripping onto the sleeve of your shirt and the floor tiles below.

The raw possessiveness vanished from his face like a mask ripped away. His grip on your hair loosened instantly, his other hand withdrawing from your jeans as if burned. "Sweetheart..." The word was a choked whisper, utterly different from the growl moments before. All the terrifying intensity drained, replaced by pure, horrified concern. "Your hand..." He reached for your injured palm, his own fingers trembling slightly now. "What happened? Did I...?" He couldn't finish, his eyes wide and vulnerable, scanning your face, the blood, the tear tracks on your cheeks.

He didn't wait for an answer. Gently, carefully, he turned your hand over, his touch feather-light now. The anger was gone, replaced by frantic worry. "It's deep," he murmured, his voice thick. "Come here." He guided you towards the sink, turning on the cold water with careful precision. He held your wrist under the stream, rinsing away the blood. The water ran pink, swirling down the drain. His thumb stroked soothingly over your uninjured skin, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Hold still," he whispered, his eyes fixed on the wound. He grabbed a clean dish towel, pressing it firmly against the cut to staunch the bleeding.

You flinched, pulling your hand back instinctively. "I can do it—"

"No." Taehyung's voice was firm, but devoid of the earlier fury. It was low, urgent, almost tender. His fingers wrapped gently around your wrist, preventing your retreat. "Let me." He guided your hand back under the cool water, his touch impossibly careful.

The rough callouses on his fingertips, earned from guitar strings and relentless practice, brushed softly against your skin as he rinsed the wound. His brow furrowed, eyes locked on the deep gash slicing across your palm. "This needs stitches," he murmured, his voice thick with something raw – regret? Fear? He grabbed the dish towel again, pressing it firmly but gently against the bleeding cut. "Hold this tight." His hands trembled slightly as he guided your uninjured fingers to apply pressure.

You watched him, numb. Seconds ago, those same hands had pinned you, invaded you, demanded answers with bruising force. Now, he moved with frantic precision, rummaging through drawers until he found a small first-aid kit. He knelt before you, the cold kitchen tiles forgotten. His dark eyes, moments ago blazing with possessive fury, now held only deep, unsettling concern. "Give me your hand," he instructed softly, his voice stripped of all its earlier command, replaced by a quiet urgency.

He worked swiftly, disinfecting the gash with meticulous care, his touch impossibly gentle. Gauze pads, medical tape – his fingers, skilled and steady, wrapped the wound securely. The rough pads of his fingertips brushed your skin, a stark contrast to the violence of moments before.

Taehyung finished, cradling your bandaged hand in both of his own, pressing a kiss to the knuckles above the gauze. His eyes lifted, locking onto yours. The intensity was still there, but transformed. "Sweetheart," he breathed, the word thick with emotion. "Look what happens when you push me." He leaned his forehead against your bandaged knuckles. "I lose control. I hurt you." He lifted his head, his gaze raw, vulnerable.

He stood slowly, his movements deliberate, careful not to jostle your hand. His fingers brushed a stray tear from your cheek, the touch impossibly gentle. "I meant every word," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. "Marry you. Build a home. Fill it with laughter... with little ones who have your eyes." His thumb traced your cheekbone. "That's not nonsense. That's the only future I see." His dark eyes held yours, pleading. "So please... never call us meaningless again."

Before you could protest, Taehyung pulled you into a fierce, enveloping hug. His arms wrapped tightly around you, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pressing firmly against your lower back, pulling you flush against his chest. "I really love you so much, sweetheart," he whispered, the words raw and ragged against your ear, his breath warm on your skin. "Too damn much." His embrace was almost suffocating, trembling slightly as he buried his face in your hair. "More than music. More than the stage. More than breathing." He held you like you might vanish, his grip desperate. "You're everything."

You stood frozen, your bandaged hand trapped between your bodies, throbbing in time with your racing heart. His confession, so stark and absolute, left you reeling. Was this the same man who moments ago had pinned you against the wall, demanding submission? The gentleness now felt like another layer of the trap, just as dangerous as the rage. You didn't understand which version was real—the possessive lover whispering promises of marriage and children, or the terrifying force who dismissed your pleas and promises with a brutal kiss and invasive touch. Did his love involve something that would ultimately destroy you? The whiplash left you dizzy, adrift in a sea of conflicting fears.

***

Morning light streamed into your small office at BigHit, harsh and unforgiving. You pushed open the door, wincing as the handle pressed against your bandaged palm. Jia was already there, perched on the edge of your desk, efficiently sorting through a stack of schedules. She looked up, her sharp eyes instantly zeroing in on your injured hand.

"Good morning," she said, her tone crisp but not unkind.

"Good morning," you mumbled, dropping your bag heavily onto your chair. "You're really early."

"Jungkook-ssi asked me to come early," she replied smoothly, her gaze still fixed on the stark white gauze wrapped around your palm. "He has a pre-dawn photoshoot for that luxury watch campaign." She paused, tilting her head slightly. "What happened to your hand?"

You instinctively tucked it behind your back. "Just a small cut. Kitchen accident. Let's start work—"

Jia cut you off, her expression carefully neutral. "Y/N, I'm sorry, but Jungkook-ssi specifically asked me to be his assistant for the whole day." She held up a printed schedule, Jungkook's name highlighted aggressively in yellow marker.

You stared, the words sinking in. "He... what?" Jungkook hadn't spoken to you directly since your desperate text seeking reconciliation was met with icy rejection. This felt deliberate, a calculated exclusion. "But I'm supposed to—"

"Jungkook-ssi was very clear," Jia interrupted, her voice calm but firm. She slid off the desk, gathering her tablet. "He requested me exclusively today. He cited... efficiency." Her sharp eyes flickered to your bandaged hand again, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I can't help you with Jimin or Taehyung's schedule today. You'll have to handle them both alone." She offered a small, almost imperceptible shrug that felt like a dismissal. "Good luck." Without another word, she turned and walked out of the office, her heels clicking a sharp, final rhythm on the polished floor.

***

The studio lights were blinding, hot enough to make sweat prickle along your hairline despite the air conditioning. You stood just outside the circle of intense illumination, clutching Jimin's schedule and a bottle of water, your eyes fixed unseeingly on the scene before you. Jimin was mid-shoot for a high-fashion spread, draped in avant-garde silks that clung to his sculpted torso. He moved with liquid grace, arching his back as the photographer snapped rapidly, calling out encouragement. "Yes! Perfect, Jimin-ssi! That intensity! Give me more!"

But the sharp commands, the flash of the camera, the very presence of Jimin’s effortless sensuality – it all blurred into white noise. Your mind was miles away, trapped in a loop of Jungkook’s cold, clipped rejection text: *‘Busy. Don’t bother.’* And now Jia, handling his entire day. The deliberate exclusion felt like a physical blow, a public demotion. How could you fix this? How could you even get near him when he’d built this wall? The gauze on your palm throbbed faintly, a dull echo of the sharper pain in your chest.

“Okay, break time!” the photographer called out, his voice cutting through the studio’s charged energy. “Fifteen minutes, Jimin-ssi. Hydrate, relax.”

The sudden silence felt heavy. You blinked, pulled back from the whirlpool of Jungkook’s icy rejection and Jia’s efficient dismissal. The studio lights still buzzed overhead, but the frantic energy had dissipated. You fumbled for Jimin’s water bottle, your bandaged hand clumsy against the cool plastic.

A sharp, unexpected coldness touched your cheek. You flinched, startled. Turning your head, you saw Jimin standing beside you, holding a small paper cup filled with vanilla ice cream. He’d moved silently during the break. A playful, almost innocent smile curved his lips, but his eyes held a familiar, knowing glint. "Angel," he murmured, his voice low and intimate despite the crew milling nearby. He pressed the cold cup gently against your skin again. "You looked like you needed something sweet. And cold."

You stared at the ice cream, then at him. His proximity, the unexpected gesture, the endearment – it was a stark contrast to the professional distance you’d tried to enforce after the wardrobe room incident. Before you could refuse or question it, he nudged the cup into your uninjured hand. "Come on," he said, his tone light but leaving no room for argument. He turned and walked towards his private dressing room, glancing back once, silently commanding you to follow. The crew paid little attention; Jimin moving with his assistant wasn’t unusual.

Inside the small, brightly lit dressing room, the door clicked shut behind you. The air smelled faintly of hairspray and Jimin’s cologne. He gestured towards a plush stool. "Sit. Eat." He leaned back against the vanity counter, watching you intently as you perched on the edge of the stool.

The vanilla ice cream was smooth, melting sweetly on your tongue. You focused on the simple pleasure, trying to push away the image of Jungkook’s name highlighted on Jia’s schedule, the phantom sting of his rejection. The cold sweetness was a small comfort. You scraped the last bit from the small paper cup, the plastic spoon clinking softly. Without thinking, your gaze drifted towards the mini-fridge humming in the corner.

Jimin’s hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could stand. His grip wasn't harsh, but it was firm, unyielding. "Ah, ah," he tutted softly, his voice a low purr that vibrated in the quiet room. His thumb stroked the delicate skin above your pulse point. "Only one. Cold isn't good for you, angel." He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your temple, chasing away the lingering chill from the ice cream. "Besides," he murmured, his dark eyes locking onto yours, a familiar heat simmering beneath the playful surface, "I brought you here for something else."

You froze, the spoon slipping from your fingers to clatter onto the floor. His proximity was overwhelming, the scent of his cologne, the intensity in his gaze – it felt like the wardrobe room all over again. Your heart hammered against your ribs. "Jimin I—"

"Shh," he breathed, the sound barely audible. He lifted his other hand, his fingertips brushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead. The touch was feather-light, almost reverent. His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering for a heartbeat that stretched into an eternity. Your breath hitched, bracing yourself, certain his mouth would descend on yours. The air crackled with unspoken tension.

But instead, his hand drifted lower, tracing the line of your jaw with agonizing slowness. His eyes followed the path of his fingers, then shifted, focusing intently on your bandaged palm resting limply in your lap. His playful expression dissolved into something focused, almost clinical. "This," he murmured, his thumb hovering just above the edge of the gauze Taehyung had applied. "It's messy. Needs rebandaging." His voice was low, devoid of the earlier flirtation, replaced by a quiet command. "You can't work like this. It'll get infected."

Before you could protest, Jimin was moving. He released your wrist only to crouch fluidly before you, his knees brushing against yours. He reached into a small drawer beneath the vanity, pulling out a compact first-aid kit. He snapped it open with practiced ease, laying out antiseptic wipes, fresh gauze pads, and medical tape on the counter beside him. His movements were precise, economical.

"Give me your hand," he instructed, his voice low and steady, leaving no room for refusal. You hesitated, but he simply waited, his gaze fixed on yours—patient, yet unwavering. Slowly, you extended your bandaged palm.

"Jungkook's ignoring me," you blurted out, the words escaping before you could stop them. Your voice sounded small, strained, in the quiet dressing room. "It's been two days since he... since Jia took over." You stared at your bandaged hand resting in Jimin's lap as he carefully unwound Taehyung's gauze. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air. "He won't answer calls. Won't even look at me in the halls."

" I should be happy about it?" Jimin scoffed, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he peeled back the soiled gauze Taehyung had applied. He dabbed antiseptic onto the angry cut, his touch clinical and precise. "After all, how long are you going to fight with him?" He glanced up, a sharp, knowing look in his eyes. "It benefits me, doesn't it? Less competition." He taped fresh gauze securely over the wound, his thumb brushing your knuckles.

You flinched, pulling your hand back. "I'm sharing this with my friend," you insisted, your voice tight. "Not my boyfriend."

Jimin's signature smile flickered, sharpening at the edges. He leaned back against the vanity, crossing his arms. "You really know how to use that card, don't you? Friend." He emphasized the word, his gaze piercing. "When it suits you. When it keeps me at arm's length." He tilted his head, studying your face. "But when you need comfort? When you need someone to patch you up after he hurts you?" He gestured towards your bandaged hand. "Suddenly, I'm useful."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, the words thick and clumsy.

Jimin's gaze softened, just a fraction. "Don't apologize to me, angel," he murmured, his voice losing its edge. He reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek, a touch startlingly tender after his sharp words. "I really can't see you sad." He held your gaze, his dark eyes serious. "If you think it's your fault... then say sorry to Jungkook." He paused, a wry twist to his lips. "Make it... unique. Something only you would do. He's stubborn, just like you. Stubborn pride wrapped in hurt. It'll take more than a text."

You nodded, the weight of his words settling over you. Before you could speak, a sharp rap sounded on the dressing room door. "Jimin-ssi! We're ready for the next set!" the photographer called out.

Jimin sighed, the moment broken. He stood, smoothing his silk top. "Duty calls," he said, the playful glint returning to his eyes, though it didn't quite reach the lingering concern in their depths. He turned to leave, pausing at the door.

You acted on impulse. Before he could open it, you stepped forward, rose onto your toes, and pressed a quick, soft kiss against his cheek. The skin was warm, slightly damp from the studio lights. "Thank you," you murmured, the words barely audible. "For the ice cream. And... for listening." It felt inadequate, but it was all you could manage.

Jimin froze, his hand still on the doorknob. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, transforming his expression into something warm and surprisingly unguarded. He touched the spot where your lips had brushed, his gaze holding yours for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "Anytime, angel," he breathed, his voice softer than before. "Anytime."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the sudden silence of the dressing room. The lingering scent of his cologne mixed with the sterile tang of antiseptic. You slumped back onto the stool, staring at your freshly bandaged hand.

---------------

The click of Jungkook’s front door lock echoed too loudly in the silent entry hall. He stepped inside, kicking off his sneakers with weary precision, the exhaustion of the photoshoot etched into the line of his shoulders. The house was dark except for the soft glow spilling from the kitchen doorway. Frowning, he padded forward, socked feet silent on the cool wood floor.

He stopped dead in the kitchen archway. You were there, slumped over his small dining table, fast asleep. Your cheek rested on an open notebook filled with meticulous schedules and color-coded notes, a pen still loosely held in your bandaged hand.

Jungkook froze, his breath catching. Moonlight streamed through the window, painting silver streaks across your peaceful face. He moved with exaggerated care, each step deliberate and silent, his socked feet making no sound on the tile. He didn't want to wake you. He crouched beside your chair, his dark eyes tracing the curve of your cheek, the flutter of your lashes against your skin. The harsh lines of anger and exhaustion softened from his face, replaced by something raw and unguarded. He reached out, his fingers hovering just above your hair, afraid to touch.

Your eyes fluttered open, blurry with sleep. You blinked, focusing on the intense gaze inches from your own. A slow, soft smile spread across your lips, warm and genuine despite the lingering shadows under your eyes. "Jungkook," you murmured, your voice thick with sleep but undeniably happy to see him.

He jerked back as if burned, his expression instantly hardening into a familiar mask of icy indifference. He straightened to his full height, towering over you where you sat. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice low and rough, devoid of the tenderness you'd glimpsed moments before.

You pushed yourself up, ignoring the stiffness in your neck from sleeping awkwardly. "I wanted to give you something," you said softly, holding his guarded gaze. You reached into your bag beside the chair and carefully pulled out a large, clear glass jar. It was filled to the brim with tiny, meticulously folded paper stars, each one a vibrant burst of color against the moonlight.

You placed the jar gently on the table between you. "It's... one hundred wishes," you explained, your voice barely above a whisper. "Written on these papers. You can use them. Whenever you want. For anything." You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his dark, unreadable eyes. "And I'll make it true. Whatever you wish for, I'll do my best to make it happen."

Jungkook stared at the jar, the moonlight catching the myriad of colors. His jaw tightened. "Why?"

"Because I'm sorry," you said, the words thick in your throat. "I'm sorry for hurting you, Jungkook." You took a shaky breath, the confession spilling out. "And you know why I agreed to be your assistant? Why I fought so hard for it? It wasn't just for the job. It was because... because I didn't want any other girl close to you." Your gaze dropped to your bandaged hand resting on the table. "Seeing Jia with your schedule... it felt like I was losing something I never even had the right to claim. But I couldn't stand it. I can't stand it."

Silence stretched, thick and heavy. Jungkook remained rigid, staring not at you, but at the jar of stars shimmering under the moonlight. His expression was unreadable, carved from stone. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth twitched. It wasn't his usual playful smirk or arrogant grin. It was something smaller, softer, almost tentative. A genuine flicker of surprise melting the ice.

He took a single step closer, then another, closing the distance between you. He didn't tower anymore; he leaned down slightly, his dark eyes searching yours intently. His voice, when it came, was low, rough, but devoid of its earlier harshness. "One hundred wishes, huh?" His gaze drifted back to the jar, a strange warmth replacing the coldness. "Babe... you really are going to regret this." He paused, his thumb brushing lightly over the smooth glass surface.

A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, transforming his features completely. It wasn't predatory or possessive; it was soft, surprised, almost boyish. "But I love it," he admitted, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "You... you're really cute." The words hung in the air, simple and devastatingly sincere. Before you could react, he leaned in further. His lips brushed against your forehead in a kiss that was feather-light, lingering, and impossibly tender. It wasn't demanding or claiming; it was pure affection, a silent apology and acceptance rolled into one.

Chapter Text

The soft glow of your laptop screen illuminated the quiet bedroom, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets. You sat propped against the headboard, typing notes for tomorrow’s schedule—Jimin’s vocal coaching session, Taehyung’s script reading—but your thoughts kept drifting back to Jungkook’s tender kiss on your forehead hours earlier. The jar of wishes sat on his nightstand, catching moonlight like captured stardust.

The bathroom door clicked open. Jungkook emerged, hair damp and tousled, wearing only low-slung sweatpants that clung to his hips. Water droplets traced the lines of his tattooed torso as he padded silently toward the bed. He didn’t speak, just slid under the covers beside you, his body radiating warmth. You stiffened instinctively as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply—a low, satisfied hum vibrating against your skin. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Panic flared. Taehyung’s bite marks still throbbed faintly beneath your shirt—hidden, but visceral reminders of his violent claim. Jungkook’s fingertips traced idle patterns on your hip, drifting lower. You gripped your laptop tighter. "Jungkook," you whispered, voice strained.

"Hmm?" His lips brushed your shoulder, rough and warm.

"My period," you blurted out, the lie clumsy on your tongue. "It started. Today." You kept your eyes fixed on the glowing laptop screen, heart hammering against your ribs.

Jungkook stilled. His arm tightened slightly around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. His breath fanned hot against your neck. "Your date was the 23rd," he murmured, his voice thick with sleepiness and something sharper. "It's only the 17th."

You flinched inwardly. He remembered. Of course he remembered every detail. "Yeah," you whispered, forcing your voice steady. "This month... it came early." The silence stretched, thick with tension. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the hard planes of his chest pressed against your back. His fingers, which had been tracing lazy circles near the waistband of your pajama shorts, paused.

Jungkook shifted. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching your face in the dim laptop glow. His gaze dropped pointedly to your bandaged hand resting on the keyboard. "And this?" His voice was low, rough.

You curled your fingers instinctively. "It's nothing," you murmured, avoiding his eyes. "Just a small cut. From... the kitchen." The lie tasted bitter.

Jungkook’s gaze hardened. He pushed himself up onto one elbow, looming over you. The laptop light cast sharp shadows across his face. "How many times," he said, each word clipped and cold, "did I tell you? Be careful. You can't hurt my thing." His fingers brushed the edge of the gauze on your palm. "I told you a million times—hire a chef. For you."

You shrunk back against the headboard. "Jungkook," you whispered, "you know I love cooking. It’s... calming."

He rolled his eyes, a sharp, dismissive flicker. "Fine. But explain this." His hand shot out, snatching your phone from the nightstand. He tapped the screen, pulling up your bank app with practiced ease. "I check your balance. Still the same." He thrust the phone toward you, the numbers glaring. "That much I sent you last month. Why?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Why haven’t you used it? For anything?"

You recoiled, the invasion stinging worse than the cut. "Jungkook, you’re crazy!" you hissed, snatching the phone back. "Why did you check? I told you I don’t need it!"

He leaned closer, trapping you against the headboard, his damp hair brushing your temple. "Babe," he murmured, his voice a low, possessive rumble. "My woman must have at least nine figures in her bank account." His thumb traced your jawline, possessive and unyielding. "It’s not about need. It’s about what you deserve." His eyes darkened, the tenderness from earlier replaced by simmering intensity. "Seeing that number stay the same? It feels like you’re rejecting me. Like you don’t want what’s mine."

"Literally, you're psycho!" you snapped, shoving against his chest. He didn't budge. "I'm not rejecting you or your anything I can't waste that money! It's your hard-earned thing—blood, sweat, years! It's important to me!" Your voice cracked, raw with frustration. "It feels... sacred. Spending it on groceries or... or stupid things? It feels wrong."

Jungkook rolled his eyes, a sharp, dismissive flicker. "Babe," he sighed, exasperation lacing the endearment. "You're really overthinking." His thumb brushed your lower lip, silencing your protest. "That money? It's yours. Because you are mine. My most important thing." His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering.

You swallowed hard, the air thick with tension. "Just... change the topic," you whispered, turning your face away from his searching eyes. The laptop screen cast ghostly shadows across the sheets. "Please."

Jungkook’s thumb brushed your jawline again, insistent. "Fine," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "But stop working now. Dose Jia not helping you?" His gaze flickered to your laptop screen displaying Jimin’s schedule. "You look exhausted."

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "She does," you admitted softly. "She’s... really perfect for this role." The words tasted bitter. Jia’s efficiency was undeniable—flawless schedules, seamless coordination. "Compared to her, I feel like nothing." You closed the laptop lid slowly, the soft click echoing in the quiet room. Moonlight caught the jar of stars on his nightstand, shimmering like trapped dreams.

Jungkook watched you, a muscle tightening in his jaw. Without warning, his large hands framed your face—calloused fingertips brushing your temples. He guided your head firmly, insistently, down onto his lap. The soft cotton of his sweatpants pressed against your cheek, warm from his skin. "Enough," he murmured, his voice a low rumble vibrating through his thighs. "Your little brain..." His thumb traced slow circles on your forehead, smoothing the furrow between your brows. "...thinking too much thing." His fingers slid into your hair, massaging your scalp with surprising gentleness. "You need rest."

You stiffened, instinctively trying to lift your head. His palm pressed down lightly but firmly, holding you in place. "Stay," he commanded, the word soft yet absolute. His gaze drifted to the jar of stars glowing softly on the nightstand. "One hundred wishes," he mused, his thumb still tracing soothing patterns. "You folded every single one?" You nodded faintly against his leg. A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaped him. "Crazy girl," he breathed, but the words held no bite—only a strange, bewildered tenderness. His fingers tightened slightly in your hair, possessive yet protective. "Sleep."

The rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek became a lullaby. The tension seeped from your muscles, replaced by the warmth radiating from him and the lingering scent of his shower gel—clean and subtly woody. His hand never left your hair, his touch shifting from massage to a gentle, anchoring weight. The world narrowed to the soft cotton against your skin, the steady beat of his heart echoing through his thigh, and the quiet hum of the city outside the window, muffled and distant. Your eyelids grew heavy, the anxieties about schedules and rivalries blurring into the comforting darkness.

------

The practice room mirrors reflected sweat-slicked skin and synchronized exhaustion as the final beats of the choreography faded. Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung collapsed onto the polished floor, chests heaving, the air thick with the scent of effort and heated rivalry. Break time. You stood near the door, holding a chilled water bottle and a fresh towel, ready to offer them to whoever approached first.

Jungkook pushed himself up instantly, his eyes locking onto you like a target acquired. He took a determined step forward, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "Y/N—" he started, his voice rough.

Jimin was faster. He flowed upright with dancer's grace, a charming, breathless smile already in place as he intercepted Jungkook’s path. "Angel, water? Please?" he asked sweetly, extending his hand palm-up, his eyes sparkling with playful challenge directed at Jungkook.

Taehyung, slower to rise but radiating intense focus, didn't bother with words. He simply strode past both of them, his gaze fixed solely on the towel in your hand. He reached out, fingers brushing yours as he tried to take it directly. "Give me that," he stated, his tone brooking no argument.

Jungkook shoved Jimin's outstretched hand aside with a low growl. "I saw her first!" He lunged forward, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly, pulling you and the water bottle slightly towards him. "My water, babe."

Jimin sidestepped effortlessly, his hand darting out to snatch the bottle from your other hand. "Too slow, Kookie!" he sang, unscrewing the cap with a triumphant smirk. "Angel brought it for me. Didn't you?" He winked at you, taking a long, exaggerated gulp, water trickling down his chin.

Taehyung ignored the scuffle over the water. His focus remained laser-sharp on the towel. He stepped directly into your space, his taller frame casting a shadow. "Towel," he commanded, his voice low and intense, fingers already closing around the edge of the soft fabric you held. He tugged, but you instinctively held on, caught between the three converging forces.

"Hey!" Jungkook protested, releasing your wrist to grab Taehyung arm. "She has my water! Let her go!"

Jimin lowered the bottle, wiping his mouth. "She had your water. I have it now. But she does have my towel." He reached past Taehyung, his fingers brushing yours as he tried to pry the towel from your grip. "Come on, angel. Hand it over. You know I get sweatiest."

Taehyung didn't yield an inch. He used his free hand to push Jimin's arm away, his grip on the towel tightening. "It's mine. She's holding it for me." His eyes, dark and unwavering, locked onto yours. "Give it."

You stood frozen, the towel stretched taut between your hand and Taehyung, Jungkook scowling at your side, and Jimin playfully trying to worm his fingers between yours and the fabric. The air crackled with a ridiculous, boyish tension. A soft, involuntary giggle escaped you at the absurdity of three global superstars wrestling over a towel and water bottle meant for you to distribute.

"Guys," you said, your voice laced with exasperated amusement. "Don't fight. We have many water bottles. And towels." You gestured weakly towards the large cooler bag and neatly folded stack by the door. "Literally, a whole pile right there."

But Jungkook wasn't listening. He hooked his finger through the towel Taehyung was pulling, adding his strength to the tug-of-war. "She's holding *mine*!" he insisted, his brow furrowed in childish determination.

Jimin saw his opening. With a quick, fluid movement, he snatched the towel completely out of your grasp while Taehyung and Jungkook were distracted pulling against each other. "Got it!" he crowed, draping it dramatically around his neck like a prize. "Thanks, angel!"

Taehyung's grip closed on empty air. He stared at Jimin, then at his own hand, his expression shifting from intense focus to bewildered annoyance. Jungkook scowled, releasing Taehyung's arm to glare at Jimin. "Yah! That's cheating!"

Before Jungkook could lunge at Jimin, a deep, weary voice cut through the escalating chaos. "Stop." Namjoon stood near the sound system, arms crossed, his expression a blend of exhaustion and stern disapproval. "Seriously? Fighting over a towel? You're grown men, not kindergarteners fighting over a toy truck." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's embarrassing. For all of us."

From the sidelines, perched comfortably on a speaker, Jin clapped his hands together, eyes sparkling with unabashed glee. "Embarrassing? This is prime entertainment!" He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands like a spectator at a boxing match. "Don't stop on my account, kids! Jungkook, show him who owns that towel! Taehyung, don't just stand there looking constipated, grab it back! Jimin, run!" His laughter boomed, echoing off the mirrored walls. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Hoseok groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Hyung," he pleaded, his voice muffled. "Don't encourage them! They're already ridiculous enough!"

But Jin just grinned wider, waving Hoseok off. "Nonsense, Hobi! This is team bonding! Aggressive, chaotic team bonding!" He leaned closer to Yoongi, who was leaning against the mirrored wall, eyes closed as if meditating through the storm. "Place your bets, Yoongi-chi! Who gets the towel?"

Yoongi didn't open his eyes. "The towel loses," he muttered, his voice flat with resignation. "It always loses."

You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle another laugh bubbling up despite the ridiculous tension. The sheer absurdity of it – three of the world's biggest idols engaged in a silent, glaring standoff over a simple towel – was almost too much.

------

The studio lights finally dimmed, casting long shadows across the empty chairs and silent equipment. You slumped back in the office chair, rubbing your temples. The last schedule adjustment for Jimin’s sudden business trip blinked mockingly on the screen – a secluded villa photoshoot requiring meticulous coordination with a notoriously difficult French photographer.

Jia leaned against the doorframe, her own exhaustion mirrored in the slump of her shoulders. "Done, Y/N," she announced, stifling a yawn. "I already handled the flight manifests, the villa security clearance, and the chef’s allergy list. Everything’s locked down. Can I… please go home?" Her plea was soft, genuine. You managed a tired smile. "Yeah, go. I’ll handle the final confirmation email and lock up." Relief washed over Jia’s face. "You’re an angel," she breathed, grabbing her bag and vanishing into the hallway with surprising speed, the click of her heels fading rapidly.

Silence descended, thick and heavy. The only sounds were the hum of the computer fan and the distant city murmur outside. You stared at the screen, Jimin’s schedule glaring back – the flight time, the villa details, the photographer’s demanding notes. One week. Seven days. The words blurred slightly. You leaned back, the chair creaking, and rubbed your eyes hard.

Standing abruptly, the chair rolled back with a sharp scrape. "What am I even thinking?" The words escaped in a harsh whisper, echoing slightly in the empty office. The question wasn’t about schedules or photographers. It was about the gnawing emptiness already settling in your chest at the thought of Jimin’s absence. The quiet felt suffocating, amplifying the sudden, sharp pang of loneliness.

A soft rustle of fabric was the only warning before arms slid around your waist from behind, warm and familiar. Jimin rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear. "You’re thinking too loud again," he murmured, his voice husky with exhaustion and something softer. "I can hear it from the door." His arms tightened possessively, pulling you back flush against his chest. "One week feels like forever," he breathed, the words vibrating through you. "Promise you’ll pick up when I call? Every time? Even if it’s stupid o’clock Paris time?" His fingers traced idle circles on your stomach through your shirt. "Miss you already, angel."

You leaned back into him for a moment, savoring the solid warmth, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with studio sweat. Then you gently pried his arms loose and turned, facing him. His eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, held a rare, vulnerable intensity. You reached up, smoothing a stray strand of damp hair from his forehead. "Jimin," you said softly, your voice firm despite the ache in your chest mirroring his. "If you call me too much," you warned, a gentle tease laced with steel, "I will block you. Seriously. You need to focus on that shoot, not checking if I breathed correctly every hour." You offered a small, tired smile. "Jungkook already threatened to confiscate my phone charger."

Jimin’s lips curved into a playful pout, but his eyes remained serious. "So cold," he sighed dramatically, leaning closer until his forehead almost touched yours. "You’re not going to miss me? Not even a little bit?" His gaze searched yours, a flicker of genuine insecurity beneath the playful facade. "Not even a tiny, tiny bit?"

You met his gaze steadily, pushing down the lump in your throat. "Yup," you stated, injecting deliberate lightness into your tone. You tapped his chest lightly. "Honestly? Handling three of you gives me a headache. One week with just Jungkook and Taehyung? That sounds like…" you paused for effect, "...a little less headache." You forced a wider smile. "I might actually get some sleep."

Jimin’s playful pout vanished instantly. His smile became fragile, tinged with a profound sadness that reached his eyes. "Then sleep well," he murmured, his voice losing its usual playful lilt, turning soft and heavy. "Rest well." His hand lifted, fingertips brushing your cheekbone with aching tenderness. "And… don’t fight with Jungkook too much because I’m not here to resolve it." His thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone.

You straightened your shoulders, meeting his vulnerable gaze with forced steadiness. "I can handle myself, Jimin," you stated firmly, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you. "I always do."

Jimin’s hand dropped slowly back to his side. He studied you, the intensity in his eyes deepening into something raw and unsettling. "Angel," he breathed, the word thick with unspoken pain. "I can’t force you to value me." He paused, swallowing hard. "But I promise you… you will notice the difference when I’m no longer around."

Without another word, he turned abruptly. His footsteps echoed sharply in the silent office as he walked away. At the door, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "Go," he commanded softly, his voice stripped of its usual warmth. "My driver is waiting downstairs. He’ll take you home." Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving you alone with the suffocating quiet and the ghost of his words hanging in the air.

***

The conference room hummed with the low murmur of Namjoon’s voice outlining logistics for the upcoming Seoul Music Awards performance. Seated beside Jia at the long table, you focused on your tablet, jotting down notes. Two days had crawled by since Jimin’s departure, the silence he left behind feeling heavier than expected. Across the polished wood, Jungkook lounged casually, one arm draped over the back of his chair. Outwardly, he seemed engrossed in Namjoon’s words, nodding occasionally.

Then you felt it—a deliberate, warm pressure against your calf beneath the table. Your pen stilled. You glanced sharply at Jungkook. His gaze remained fixed on Namjoon, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint, unmistakable smirk. Slowly, deliberately, he shifted his leg, the rough denim of his jeans brushing higher against your bare skin beneath your skirt. His foot hooked around your ankle, pulling your leg closer to his, the contact possessive and intimate amidst the professional setting. Your breath hitched. Jia, absorbed in her own notes, remained oblivious.

Heat flooded your cheeks. You tried to subtly pull your leg back, but Jungkook’s hold tightened like iron. Annoyance flared. Without looking away from your tablet, you drew your knee back sharply, aiming a swift kick at his shin. Your foot connected solidly. Jungkook's eyes snapped to yours, dark amusement dancing in them. He didn't flinch. Instead, his hand shot down beneath the table, lightning-fast. Strong fingers clamped around your ankle, trapping your leg against his thigh. You froze. Jia shifted beside you, reaching for her coffee mug. You tried to wrench your leg free, twisting awkwardly in your chair. The movement jolted the table leg.

Jia gasped. Her elbow bumped her full mug. Hot coffee surged over the rim, cascading onto her lap and the polished tabletop in a dark, spreading wave. "Ah!" she cried, jumping back as the scalding liquid soaked her skirt. Chairs scraped loudly. Namjoon stopped mid-sentence. Everyone stared. Jungkook instantly released your ankle, his expression shifting to mild concern as he grabbed napkins.

"Sorry," Jungkook said, his voice low and surprisingly sincere as he thrust a thick stack of napkins towards Jia. He leaned over the table, blotting the spill near her with quick, efficient movements. "My fault. I kicked the table leg." He avoided your gaze entirely, focusing solely on Jia. "Are you burned? Do you need ice?"

Jia flushed, mortified, dabbing frantically at her skirt. "It's okay! It's okay!" she stammered, taking the napkins from him. "Just startled me. Not too hot, thankfully." She offered him a shaky, grateful smile. "Thank you, Jungkook-ssi. Really, it's fine. Excuse me." She pushed her chair back, clutching the damp napkins. "I... I need to go clean up." She hurried out of the conference room, leaving a trail of coffee droplets and awkward silence.

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temples again. "Alright, let's... take a ten-minute break. Everyone, just... breathe." He gathered his notes, clearly needing a moment himself. Jungkook watched Jia leave, his expression unreadable, before leaning back in his chair, his eyes flicking towards you for just a second – a look that held a challenge and a promise before he looked away.

***

The low hum of the laptop fan was the only sound in the quiet cabin. Outside the large window, snow fell steadily, blanketing the pine trees in soft white. On the screen, a candid photo of Jimin filled the display – taken during a break on set weeks ago, his head thrown back in genuine laughter, eyes crinkled shut. You traced the curve of his smile on the screen with a fingertip, the familiar ache blooming in your chest. Two days felt like two years.

"Missing someone?" Jia's voice, soft and knowing, came from the doorway.

You startled, snapping the laptop shut with a sharp click, heat rushing to your cheeks. "What? No!" you protested, perhaps too quickly. You turned in your chair. Jia stood leaning against the frame, holding a steaming mug. Her eyes dropped pointedly to the front of her own shirt. "Unlike me," she sighed, gesturing at the large, dark brown stain marring the pale blue fabric. "Coffee stain. Not going anywhere like this. Y/N, can I please go for just one hour? There's a little boutique down the mountain road. I need a clean shirt."

You waved a hand dismissively, still flustered. "Yeah, of course. Go ahead. Take the time." You needed the quiet, needed the space to push Jimin's image from your mind.

As if summoned by your thoughts of escape, the cabin's doorbell chimed. Jia frowned. "Who on earth...?" She padded to the door and opened it. A young delivery boy stood on the snowy porch, holding a large, flat box wrapped in crisp white paper. "Delivery for Miss Jia?" he announced, shivering slightly.

Jia blinked. "Me? I didn't order anything." She took the box, its weight surprising her.

The delivery boy checked his tablet. "It's from Mr. Jeon, miss." He tipped his cap. "Have a good day!" He turned and hurried back to his idling van.

Jia closed the door, her expression shifting from confusion to stunned delight as she carefully peeled back the pristine white wrapping paper. Inside lay a soft, luxurious cashmere sweater in a deep emerald green. She held it up, her eyes wide. "Wow," she breathed, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "A new shirt... and it's cashmere. He still remembers my size." She traced the fine knit with her fingertips, momentarily forgetting the coffee stain.

You frowned slightly, curiosity piqued. "What size?" you asked, pushing your chair back to face her fully.

Jia froze, the beautiful sweater clutched in her hands. Her eyes darted away, a faint blush creeping up her neck. "Oh, nothing, Y/N," she stammered, her voice suddenly tight. "Just... it fits perfectly, that's all. I really need to change out of this mess." She clutched the sweater box to her chest like a shield. "I'll be quick!" Without waiting for a reply, she turned and practically fled down the hallway towards the guest bathroom, her footsteps quick and light on the wooden floor.

You stared after her, the silence of the cabin pressing in again. *How did Jungkook know her size?* The question snaked into your mind, unbidden and sharp. He’d sent it so quickly after the coffee spill. Too quickly. Had he… noticed Jia’s size before? Observed it? The thought felt intrusive, unsettling.

"Ahh, Y/N," you muttered aloud, pressing your fingers to your temples. "Stop overthinking." You pushed away from the desk, the chair scraping harshly. "He just guessed it. It’s not a big deal." Jungkook was observant. He noticed details. He probably saw the brand tag on Jia’s collar once, or maybe she’d mentioned a size in passing. That was all. A simple, practical gesture to fix a mess he caused. Nothing more.

Your phone vibrated violently on the desk, shattering the fragile quiet. You snatched it up, Jungkook’s name flashing on the screen. "Hello?"

"Babe," his voice was a low rumble, laced with that familiar, effortless command. "Namjoon hyung wants to hit the game zone downtown. We’re heading out in twenty. You’re coming." It wasn’t a question. A beat, then, "And yeah, tell Jia to come too. You both look like you need the rest." Before you could form a protest – the line went dead with a sharp click.

You stared at the phone, the abruptness leaving you momentarily stunned. This boy always himself, you thought, a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement bubbling up. Demanding, impulsive, impossible to predict. Just Jungkook.

--------

The neon glow of the game zone pulsed like a frantic heartbeat, reflecting off polished lanes and chrome fixtures. Jungkook effortlessly sent another strike rocketing down the lane, the pins exploding with a satisfying crash. A collective groan rose from the others clustered near the scoring screen – Jin, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Yoongi. "Again? Seriously?" Jin protested, throwing his hands up. "Is this even fun for you anymore, Kookie?"

Jungkook just smirked, retrieving his ball with a lazy grace. "Define fun, hyung." His eyes scanned the group, lingering pointedly on you for a moment before flicking away. "Winning is fun." Taehyung leaned against a high-top table nearby, nursing a soda, his gaze distant and uninterested in the game, focused instead on the flashing lights of a distant arcade cabinet.

Jia, who had been quietly observing, stepped forward as Jungkook prepared for his next frame. "Mind if I try?" she asked, her voice calm. Jungkook raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge, but gestured magnanimously towards the lane. "Knock yourself out."

She selected a ball, her movements deliberate and practiced. Her approach was smooth, almost elegant, the ball rolling with perfect precision. It curved gracefully into the pocket, sending all ten pins flying in a clean sweep. Silence fell, broken only by the distant cacophony of arcade games.

Jin’s jaw dropped. "Yah! Jia That was incredible!" he exclaimed, clapping enthusiastically. "Where did you learn to bowl like that?"

A small, proud smile touched Jia’s lips as she walked back. "My coach was awesome," she said simply, her eyes meeting Jungkook’s for a fleeting second.

Jungkook’s gaze slid past Jia, landing squarely on you. His voice cut through the chatter, low and intimate despite the noise. "Babe," he started, then caught himself with a deliberate pause. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I mean, Y/N. You’re not even going to try? .

You shrank back instinctively, your fingers twisting together. "I told you, I’m not good at this," you mumbled, avoiding his intense stare.

Jungkook’s hand shot out, surprisingly gentle as it closed around your wrist. "Then let’s play something else," he declared, already pulling you away from the polished lanes toward the flashing chaos of the arcade section. His grip was firm, insistent. "Come on."

You stumbled slightly, your protest dying on your lips as he steered you past a row of rhythm games. Taehyung took a sharp step forward, his expression darkening, but Namjoon’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder. "Taehyung-ah," Namjoon murmured, his voice low and urgent under the blare of electronic music. "Don’t create a scene here. Okay? Think about where we are." Taehyung’s jaw clenched, his gaze burning into Jungkook’s back, but he stayed rooted, the tension radiating off him like heat.

Jungkook didn’t slow until he reached a secluded corner dominated by a sleek, green-felted pool table under dim, focused lighting. He released your wrist only to tap the polished wood edge. "Let's play this," he announced, his voice cutting through the thumping bass from a nearby dance machine.

You shook your head, shrinking back. "Jungkook, you know I can’t play," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He ignored your protest, stepping close behind you. Too close. The heat of his body pressed against your back, his breath warm on your neck as he leaned in. "I know," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, sending an unwanted shiver down your spine. "That’s why I’ll teach you."

His hands settled on your hips, firm and possessive, guiding you towards the edge of the table. "Grip the cue like this," he instructed, his fingers wrapping around yours on the smooth wood shaft. But his touch lingered, his thumb brushing over your knuckle unnecessarily. He positioned your stance, his chest flush against your back, his chin resting near your shoulder. Every point of contact felt deliberate, overwhelming. "Now, bend forward slightly," he directed, his voice a husky whisper in your ear. His hands slid from your hips to your waist, pulling you fractionally closer.

You stiffened, the lesson feeling like anything but. His proximity was suffocating, his touch straying beyond instruction. "Jungkook," you managed, your voice tight with discomfort, trying to subtly shift away. "If you're teaching me like this, how am I supposed to actually learn? You're just... touching me." The words came out sharper than intended, laced with frustration.

He chuckled, a low rumble against your back that vibrated through you. His hands didn't budge. "I'm just teaching you, babe," he murmured, his breath hot on your ear. His lips brushed your temple, a fleeting, possessive touch disguised as casual closeness. "Focus on the game. Eyes on the ball." He nudged your chin forward with his own, forcing your gaze onto the green felt and the scattered balls. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you impossibly closer against him, his body a cage. "Now, line up the shot. Feel the angle."

You tried. You really tried to focus on the white cue ball, on the striped ball near the corner pocket. But his scent – expensive cologne mixed with something uniquely Jungkook – invaded your senses. The heat radiating from his chest burned through your thin sweater. His thumb traced idle circles just above your hip bone, a maddening, intimate caress that had nothing to do with pool. Your fingers trembled on the cue.

"Jungkook," you said, your voice strained, barely audible over the distant thump of music. "We are not at home." It was a weak protest, a desperate reminder of boundaries in this very public place.

He ignored you. His hands slid from your waist to grip your hips firmly, spinning you around to face him before you could react. The pool cue clattered to the floor, forgotten. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours. "Let's try something new," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "Something wild." Before you could process the words, before you could even draw breath to refuse, his mouth was on yours.

His mouth crashed against yours—hard, possessive, silencing your gasp. His tongue invaded yours, tasting like salt and mint gum, his fingers tangling in your hair to hold you captive. Your phone buzzed violently in pool table side, the shrill ringtone slicing through the humid air.

You twisted your head away, gasping. "My phone—"

Jungkook caught your chin, forcing your mouth back to his. His kiss was relentless, demanding submission.

Your phone buzzed again on the green felt of the nearby pool table, Jimin's name flashing insistently. Jungkook's eyes flicked toward it—just for a fraction of a second—before his smirk deepened against your lips. He didn't break the kiss; instead, he deepened it, one hand sliding possessively up your spine while the other reached blindly behind him. His fingers found your phone, swipe up receive the call without even glancing, and tossed it carelessly onto the felt beside the scattered balls.

You gasped against his mouth, a sound that escaped as a muffled moan. "Ah, Jungkook—" The name slipped out breathlessly, tangled in the heat of his kiss.

He pulled back just enough to see your face, his lips glistening, his eyes dark with triumph. A devilish smile spread across his face. "That's it," he murmured, his voice rough and low, thumb tracing your swollen lower lip. "Moan my name, babe. More." His gaze locked onto yours, daring you to deny him. "Let him hear exactly who owns you."

You twisted beneath him, panic flaring as you remembered the phone. With trembling hands, you grabbed it from the green felt where he'd tossed it. The screen still showed the call log – Jimin's name, and the chilling notation: "Call Received: 2 minutes ago". Your voice shook. "Jungkook... why did you do that?" The question came out breathless, laced with disbelief and a growing dread.

He merely chuckled, low and dark, his thumb tracing your jawline possessively. "Let him know his place," he murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed your ear. "He heard exactly what he needed to hear." His hand slid beneath your sweater, fingers splaying across the bare skin of your waist.

"You're crazy," you gasped, wrenching your face away from his suffocating proximity. The scent of his cologne clung to your skin like a brand. "Completely insane." Your fingers trembled against the cool felt of the pool table, knuckles white where you braced yourself.

Jungkook's laugh was a low rumble against your temple. "Crazy for you," he murmured, lips grazing your ear. His hand slid higher beneath your sweater, fingertips pressing into the dip of your spine. " Let's see how loud you get."

You twisted violently, panic sharpening your voice. "Jungkook! We're at the gaming zone!" The words came out choked as his teeth scraped your pulse point. "Your hyungs—"

He pulled back just enough to let you see the contempt in his eyes. "You're really a boring person," he spat, his grip tightening on your hips to keep you pinned against the pool table's edge. The green felt dug into your lower back.

"I'm happy with that," you shot back, shoving hard against his chest. The sudden force made him stagger half a step. "I need to go to the bathroom." You didn't wait for permission, darting around the pool table toward the neon-lit exit sign marking the restrooms.

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you rounded the corner into the quieter hallway. Jungkook's scent still clung to your skin—salt and mint and possession. How would you face Jimin? How could Jungkook be so—

You froze, hand inches from the restroom door. Jia’s voice, strained and desperate, leaked through the crack. "Mom, please. Stop blaming Jungkook. Breaking up with him… it was my decision." A shaky pause. "Totally mine."

The muffled crackle of her mother’s reply was sharp, angry. "How can I not blame him? Jia! You almost got pregnant because of that boy!"

You pressed yourself flat against the cold tile wall, breath catching. Jungkook? Jia? Pregnant? The words slammed into you.

"Mom, that was a misunderstanding!" Jia hissed, frustration cracking her whisper. "And if you’re forgetting everything I am now—my career, my life—it’s all because of Jungkook, okay? He pushed me! He made me fight for it!" Her voice broke. "Just… stop."

Silence crackled through the phone. Then, her mother’s voice, weary and sharp: "Jia, you’re too blind in his love."

Jia’s reply was immediate, fierce, muffled only slightly by the restroom door. "Mom," she pleaded, her voice thick with unshed tears, "because he deserves it. He still cares for me! He looks out for me. Please… don’t hate him." The raw desperation in her whisper was a tangible thing, scraping against the cold tile walls. "He’s… complicated. But he’s not all bad."

Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Then, Jia’s voice dropped to a choked murmur. "Fine. I’ll talk to you later." The call ended abruptly. The lock clicked, the door swung open, and Jia stumbled out, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks flushed. She froze mid-step, her breath catching in a sharp gasp as she saw you pressed against the wall. Shock widened her eyes. "Y/N?" Her voice trembled. "How… how long have you been here?"

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, cold and accusing. "You and Jungkook." It wasn’t a question.

Jia flinched as if struck. Her eyes darted frantically down the empty hallway before snapping back to yours, wide with panic. "Y/N, I—" She swallowed hard, her knuckles white where she gripped her phone. "I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner." Her voice cracked. "He... he made me promise not to tell anyone. Especially not you."

The hallway lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows. You stared at her, the fragments of her phone call slotting into place with sickening clarity. "Ex-girlfriend?" The word felt heavy, inadequate.

Jia flinched. "It's... complicated." Her gaze dropped to her shoes. "He... he just treats me as a friend now. Nothing more." She swallowed, forcing a brittle smile. "Y/N, please. Let's forget this."

You stared at her, the hallway buzzing lights suddenly too bright. Without a word, you pushed past her, the scent of her floral perfume mixing sickeningly with the memory of Jungkook's cologne. You walked stiffly back towards the bowling alley's clamor, ignoring Jin's cheerful wave and his offered juice bottle. "Sister-in-law! Have some—" His voice cut off as you strode past, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Your bag sat slumped against a plastic chair. You snatched it up, the strap digging into your shoulder. Taehyung materialized beside you, his hand closing urgently around your wrist. "Where are you going?" His voice was low, concerned, eyes scanning your face.

You jerked your hand away, the motion sharp and final. "Leave me alone," you whispered, the words cracking. You didn't look back as you pushed through the glass doors, the cacophony of arcade sounds fading behind you, replaced by the roar of downtown Seoul traffic and the cold slap of night air.

Taehyung watched you vanish into the neon-lit crowd, his hand still hovering where yours had been. Yoongi stepped beside him, his gaze sharp. "She didn't look good, Taehyung."

Taehyung didn't hesitate. "I'm leaving, hyung," he stated, already moving toward the exit. "I need to check on her." He shoved the door open, the cold wind whipping his jacket as he scanned the bustling sidewalk. Your retreating figure was already half a block away, walking fast, head down, shoulders hunched against the world.

Back in the dimly lit pool corner, Jungkook leaned against the green felt, idly spinning a striped ball with his fingertips. His expression was a mask of bored indifference, but tension coiled in the set of his shoulders. He watched the ball spin, waiting. The door to the hallway swung open. He glanced up, expecting your return, a smirk already forming. Instead, Jia stood there, pale and trembling.

"Jungkook," she breathed, her voice thin with panic. "I'm sorry... Y/N..."

His gaze sharpened instantly, the bored mask shattering. "What about Y/N?" His voice was dangerously low, cutting through the distant arcade noise.

Jia clutched her stomach, her breath hitching in sharp gasps. "She... she heard..." Pain contorted her face, cutting her off. She doubled over, a choked cry escaping her lips as she crumpled to the sticky floor, knees hitting the tiles with a sickening thud. Her knuckles turned white where she pressed against her abdomen.

Jungkook surged forward, catching her shoulders before she hit the ground fully. "Jia?" His voice held none of its usual arrogance, replaced by raw alarm. Her skin was clammy, her breathing shallow and rapid. Panic flickered across his face, genuine and unguarded for a split second. He scooped her up effortlessly, her head lolling against his chest. "Hold on!" he barked, already striding towards the exit, ignoring the startled stares from Jin and Namjoon near the lanes. "Hyung! Car! Now!" The command ripped through the arcade noise.

***

The cold night air bit into your cheeks as you walked, head down, shoulders hunched against the glittering chaos of Seoul. Neon signs blurred into streaks of meaningless color overhead.

Behind you, tires hissed on wet pavement. A sleek black Mercedes glided to a stop parallel to the curb. The passenger window slid down silently. "Sweetheart," Taehyung's voice cut through the city's roar, low and urgent. "Get in the car."

You didn't slow down. Didn't turn. Your footsteps quickened, heels clicking a sharp, staccato rhythm on the concrete. The car crawled alongside you, keeping pace. "Y/N," Taehyung tried again, voice hardening slightly. "Stop walking."

You kept moving, eyes fixed on the distorted reflection of neon signs in oily puddles. The Mercedes lurched forward, tires squealing as it cut sharply across the lane ahead of you, blocking the sidewalk. The driver's door flew open. Taehyung unfolded himself from the car, long coat swirling around his legs. In three swift strides, he was in front of you, blocking your path. His hand shot out, catching your upper arm firmly. "Sweetheart," he demanded, his dark eyes scanning your face, "what happened?"

The contact, the endearment, the sheer obliviousness of it shattered something brittle inside you. Before thought could catch up, your hand flew out. The sharp crack of your palm connecting with his cheek echoed off the glass storefronts lining the street. His head snapped sideways. A stunned silence hung between you, thicker than the city smog.

"You know," you hissed, voice trembling with fury and betrayal, tears blurring the harsh city lights. "You know about Jia. About Jungkook. About them." The words tasted like ash. "And you still hired her? You brought her here, Taehyung? Why?" The question tore itself from your throat, raw and ragged. "Why would you do that to me?"

Taehyung slowly turned his face back towards you, the imprint of your hand stark red against his pale skin. His expression was unreadable, a mask of stone, but his eyes burned with a dark, simmering intensity. "Get in the car," he ordered, his voice dangerously low, devoid of its usual smoothness. He gestured sharply towards the open passenger door. "We talk somewhere else. Come on."

You recoiled, shaking your head violently. "No! Don't touch me!" You shoved past him, stumbling slightly on the uneven pavement. "Why?" The word ripped from you, raw and broken. "Why did you do it? Why bring Jia here? Knowing everything?. "

Taehyung caught your wrist again, his grip iron. "Because Jungkook stole you from me!" The words exploded from him, sharp and jagged, shattering his usual icy control. His eyes blazed, the streetlight catching the raw desperation in them. "From the start, you loved me. Only me." He pulled you closer, his voice dropping to a fierce, trembling whisper. "He created misunderstandings. Poisoned everything between us." His thumb brushed your pulse point, rough and possessive. "I brought Jia back... because I love you. I want you back." His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unyielding. "Only you."

You ripped your arm free, stumbling back. "You're disgusting," you spat, the words thick with revulsion. Tears blurred his face – the face you'd admired for so long. "You think bringing Jia here would break me and Jungkook apart? Create some misunderstanding?" A harsh, bitter laugh escaped you. "You're pathetic." You jabbed a finger towards him. "Don't you feel ashamed? Jungkook is your best friend! How could you do that to him?"

Taehyung flinched as if struck. "Sweetheart," he pleaded, the endearment sounding hollow now. "I love you. That's why—"

"Love?" Your voice cracked, sharp as shattered glass. "Your 'love' makes me feel disgusting." You wiped furiously at your tears, smudging the city lights across your vision. "I feel *myself* disgusting for ever admiring you. For years, I thought you were good. Kind. A person with a real heart." You choked on a bitter laugh. "But you're just selfish. Only thinking about yourself."

His mask fractured completely. Raw pain flashed across his face, quickly replaced by defensive fury. "Selfish?" He stepped closer, crowding you against the Mercedes' cold flank. "Jungkook took you! Manipulated you from the start! He saw how you looked at me and twisted it!" His breath hitched, desperation bleeding through. "Bringing Jia back... it was the only way to make you see him for what he really is!"

You shoved hard against his chest, forcing space. "See him?" Your voice trembled with fury. "I see *you*, Taehyung! I see you manipulating lives! Using Jia like a pawn! Hurting Jungkook—your brother—just because you couldn't handle rejection!" Tears streamed freely now, hot and furious. "You think forcing me to witness Jungkook's past makes me love *you*? It makes me pity you!"

He recoiled as if slapped. "Pity?" The word was a venomous whisper. "You think I want your pity?" His hand shot out, gripping your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his burning eyes. "Look at me! Look at what you do to me!" His thumb brushed your tear-streaked cheek, the touch rough, almost pleading. "You loved me first. You know you did."

You ripped your face away, the contact scalding. "Stop it!" The cry tore from your throat, raw and ragged. "Stop rewriting everything! Stop pretending!" You drew a shuddering breath, meeting his agonized stare head-on. "Listen to me, Taehyung. Listen well." Your voice dropped, low and deadly clear, cutting through the city's roar. "I love Jungkook. Only Jungkook." Each word landed like a hammer blow. "It's never going to change. Not because of Jia. Not because of anything you do. Never."

The impact was instant. Taehyung froze. The desperate fury in his eyes flickered, then died, replaced by a terrifying emptiness. His shoulders slumped, the proud posture collapsing inward. He stared at you, unblinking, as if seeing a ghost. The raw pain etched onto his face was worse than any anger. It was the look of something precious shattering beyond repair.

You turned sharply, ready to walk away from the wreckage. But before you could take a step, his knees hit the wet pavement with a sickening thud. He lunged forward, arms wrapping desperately around your waist, burying his face against your stomach. The force knocked the breath from you. His entire body shook with violent, silent sobs.

"Y/N... please," his voice was muffled, choked, tearing itself apart against the fabric of your coat. "Don't do this to me." The words were thick with tears, desperate and pleading. "I just love you. Why can't you understand that?" He clung tighter, fingers digging into your sides. "I just want you love me... Is asking wrong?" He lifted his head slightly, his face ravaged, tears streaking unchecked down his cheeks. "If this wrong way... then teach me." His voice cracked, raw and broken. "Teach me which way... why... I can get your love." He pressed his forehead back against you, his shoulders heaving with the force of his weeping. "Please. Teach me. Tell me what I have to do."

Your hand hovered, trembling, inches above his dark, tousled hair. The urge to soothe, to brush away the strands sticking to his damp forehead, was instinctive, a pull towards the idol you'd worshipped for years. The man crumpled at your feet seemed so unbearably lost.

But you clenched your fist, nails biting into your palm. The sting grounded you. "Taehyung," your voice scraped raw, barely audible over the city's hum. "Get up."

He didn't move, his forehead still pressed against your coat, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The raw vulnerability was a knife twisting in your gut. You remembered the posters on your wall, the songs that felt like lifelines, the gentle smile you'd thought defined him. Seeing him like this – broken, desperate, kneeling on filthy pavement – felt like desecrating something sacred.

"Leave me," you whispered, the words thick with a grief that wasn't for him, but for the illusion shattered. "Please." You took a jerky step back, forcing his clinging arms to fall away. "Just... go."

You didn't look down. Couldn't. The image of him crumpled on the wet concrete, broken and weeping, was already seared into your mind – a horrifying counterpoint to the poised idol you'd adored. Turning sharply, you walked away. Fast. Each step felt like tearing roots from clinging earth. The cold night air rushed into the space between you, sharp and cleansing. Behind you, Taehyung didn't rise. Didn't call out. Only the choked, ragged sounds of his weeping followed you for a few agonizing steps before fading into the city's indifferent roar.

Chapter Text

You walked blindly, the neon signs of Seoul bleeding into streaks of light through unshed tears. The cold air stung your cheeks, a welcome distraction from the raw ache in your chest. Taehyung’s shattered expression haunted you – the idol you’d worshipped for years, brought to his knees on wet pavement.

Lost in the memory of his desperate sobs and the sickening thud of his knees hitting concrete, you barely registered the persistent buzzing in your coat pocket. It was the third time. Mechanically, you fumbled for your phone, your vision blurred. The screen swam before your eyes: *Unknown Number*. You swiped to answer, pressing the cold plastic to your ear. "Hello?" Your voice sounded hollow, distant.

"Miss Y/N?" A clipped, professional female voice cut through the city noise. "This is Nurse Park from Chungnam National University Hospital. Are you the emergency contact for choi Soo-jin?" The name sliced through your numbness like ice. Your mother. "She was admitted this evening. She collapsed at home." The nurse paused, her tone softening slightly but retaining its urgent edge. "She's stable now, but she asked for you immediately. Can you come?"

"I'm coming," you rasped, the words tearing from your throat before thought could catch up. The city noise faded into a dull roar. "As soon as possible. Tell her... tell her I'm on my way." The phone slipped from your numb fingers, clattering onto the wet pavement.

***

The sterile white walls of the private hospital room seemed to vibrate with the low hum of machines. Jia lay pale against the stark pillows, an IV drip snaking into her arm. Jungkook stood rigidly by the window, his back to the room, staring out at the city lights as if they held answers. Namjoon paced near the foot of the bed, his expression grim. "What happened?" he asked, his voice low but cutting through the tense silence. "She just... collapsed?"

A doctor in a crisp white coat entered, clipboard in hand. His gaze swept over Jia, then settled on Namjoon. "Mr. Kim," he began, his tone professionally detached yet tinged with concern. "Miss jia is stable. The collapse was likely a severe reaction to stress, exacerbated by her recent surgical recovery." He adjusted his glasses. "We need to monitor her closely. The effects of major abdominal surgery can linger, especially with underlying conditions."

Jungkook whirled around, his eyes sharp, the carefully constructed mask of indifference gone. "Surgery?" The word snapped like a whip. "What surgery?"

The doctor blinked, glancing between Jungkook's intense stare and Jia's suddenly panicked expression. "Miss jia underwent a partial gastrectomy six months ago," he stated plainly. "For stomach cancer. The procedure was successful, but recovery requires significant care and avoidance of extreme stress." He paused, noting Jungkook's frozen posture. "She should have been following a strict regimen. This level of distress... it's dangerous."

Jin stepped forward, his usual cheer replaced by deep concern. "Jia-yah," he murmured, voice thick with worry. "Why are you working in this condition? You should be resting at home." Hobi nodded vigorously beside him, his eyes wide with alarm. "Stress isn't good for you now," he added softly. "You need peace."

Jia offered a weak, trembling smile, her fingers twisting the hospital sheet. "I'm sorry," she whispered, tears welling. "I didn't mean to make everyone worry. I'm really okay." Her gaze flickered nervously toward Jungkook, who hadn't moved.

Jungkook’s voice cut through the room, low and strained. "Hyung," he said, his eyes locked on Jia. "Can you all step out? I need to talk to her." His tone brooked no argument.

Namjoon frowned, stepping closer. "Jungkook—"

"Hyung," Jungkook interrupted, the plea raw in his voice. "Please." Namjoon studied him for a long moment, then sighed. He gestured silently to Jin and Hobi. The room emptied, the door clicking softly shut behind them. Only the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor filled the sudden silence.

Jungkook moved to Jia's bedside, his shadow falling over her. He didn't sit. "So," he began, his voice dangerously quiet, devoid of its usual playful edge. "Your pregnancy. It was fake, wasn't it?" The accusation hung in the sterile air.

Jia flinched as if struck. Tears spilled over, tracing paths down her pale cheeks. "I'm sorry, Jungkook," she choked out, her voice barely audible above the monitor's steady pulse. "I never meant to lie to you." She swallowed hard, her knuckles white where she gripped the sheet. "But I... I had no other choice." Her breath hitched. "I didn't want to affect your career. That's why... why I told you I was pregnant with someone else's child. I broke up with you." She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a desperate, aching regret. "I thought it was the only way to set you free."

Jungkook stared down at her, his expression carved from ice. "Set me free?" The words were a low, dangerous rasp. "By lying? By making me believe..." He trailed off, fists clenched at his sides. "Are you even thinking of me as a human?" His voice cracked, raw with betrayal. "You say I'm your friend, Jia. But you hid this. Cancer? Surgery? You let me think..." He couldn't finish, shaking his head as if trying to dislodge the image of her carrying another man's child – a lie she'd crafted to push him away.

Jia dissolved into desperate sobs, her frail shoulders shaking violently. "I'm sorry!" she gasped between ragged breaths, tears soaking the pillow. "I was scared! Scared you'd feel obligated... scared you'd give up everything for me!" She reached out a trembling hand towards him, her eyes pleading. "I didn't want to be your burden!"

"Jia," Jungkook's voice was rough, strained. "Stop crying." It wasn't a command, more a choked plea against the raw sound of her grief. He watched her struggle for breath, her thin frame wracked by sobs that seemed too big for her. Slowly, hesitantly, she pushed herself up slightly, ignoring the IV tugging at her arm, and flung her arms weakly around his waist, burying her face against his stomach. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." she wept into his shirt.

Jungkook stood rigidly for a heartbeat, his hands clenched at his sides. Then, a tremor ran through him. One hand lifted, hovering uncertainly above her dark, tangled hair. His fingers trembled violently before they finally, gently, settled on her head. His touch was feather-light at first, then settled into a slow, tentative stroke. "It's okay," he murmured, the words thick and unfamiliar on his tongue. "Don't cry." His own voice cracked. "Just... don't cry." He kept stroking her hair, the repetitive motion seeming to calm them both, his head bowed over hers.

Outside the room, pressed close to the small window in the door, Jin watched the scene unfold. His brow was deeply furrowed, his usual cheerful expression replaced by profound worry. He glanced sideways at Namjoon, who stood beside him, arms crossed, his face unreadable. "Namjoon," Jin whispered, his voice tight with apprehension. "It's not looking good."

Namjoon didn't reply immediately. His gaze remained fixed on Jungkook gently stroking Jia's hair, the rigid tension slowly easing from the younger man's shoulders. Finally, he sighed, a heavy sound laden with responsibility. "We need to tell Y/N," he stated quietly, his voice firm. "About Jia. About all of it."

Suga, leaning against the opposite wall with his eyes closed, nodded sharply without opening them. "Agreed," he rasped. "She deserves the truth. Especially now." He pushed off the wall, his expression grim. "This mess keeps getting deeper. Secrets are poisoning everyone."

-----

The sterile hospital corridor blurred as you ran, your footsteps echoing sharply on the linoleum. You skidded to a stop outside Room 307, shoving the door open. Your mother lay propped against white pillows, looking frighteningly small and pale. "Mom!" The cry tore from your throat as you rushed to her bedside, grabbing her cold hand. "Are you okay? Why did you collapse?" Fear choked you. "What happened?"

She squeezed your fingers weakly, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion and something deeper – a familiar, weary sorrow. "Y/N-ah," she whispered, her voice thin. "It's... your father." She looked away, a tear escaping.

Your breath hitched. That man. The bruises hidden under long sleeves, the hushed arguments, the constant fear. "Mom," you said, your voice hardening despite the tremor. "Enough." You straightened, wiping your own tears fiercely. "Come with me. Stay with me." You leaned closer, urgency sharpening your tone. "Leave him. He doesn't deserve you. Not anymore." You saw the hesitation, the ingrained fear in her eyes. "I'm doing the discharge papers. Okay?" You squeezed her hand again, firm this time. "We leave tonight."

You didn't wait for her answer. The resolve was a cold, hard knot in your chest. You turned sharply, marching towards the nurses' station down the brightly lit corridor. The administrative assistant looked up, startled by your abrupt approach. "Discharge papers. For Choi Soo-jin Room 412," you demanded, your voice clipped, professional, burying the storm beneath. "Immediate discharge. Against medical advice if necessary." You scribbled your details onto the form thrust towards you, fingers trembling only slightly. The pen felt heavy, final.

The walk back to her room felt longer this time. You pushed the door open, steeling yourself. "Mom, I've arranged everything. We're leaving—" The words died in your throat.

He was there. Your stepfather. Hunched awkwardly beside her bed, his rough hand covering hers. Your mother was crying again, silent tears tracking down her gaunt cheeks, but she wasn't pulling away. She was nodding weakly at his murmured words. The scene slammed into you with brutal familiarity – the slumped shoulders, the whispered pleas, the tears met not with defiance, but weary acceptance. Forgiveness blooming like a bruise.

You froze in the doorway, the discharge papers crumpling in your fist. The sterile hospital air vanished, replaced by the stifling heat of your childhood kitchen. The smell of cheap soju, the sharp crack of a hand against skin, the choked apologies whispered in the dark hallway afterward. Him kneeling, her nodding, the cycle resetting. Over and over. Until you learned the bitter taste of helpless rage.

"Mom," your voice scraped out, low and trembling. Not a question. An accusation carved from years of watching this exact scene replay. "No."

Her head snapped towards you, eyes wide with a familiar mix of guilt and exhaustion. "Y/N-ah," she breathed, her hand instinctively tightening under his. "He... he apologized. He promised—"

"Promised?" The word was a venomous laugh. You strode forward, ignoring the man flinching back from the bed. "Like he promised last time? And the time before that?" You thrust the crumpled papers onto the bedside table. "Get dressed. We're leaving."

Your mother reached out, her fingers brushing your arm. "Sweetie, listen to me—"

"No!" You pulled away sharply, the movement violent. Your gaze locked onto hers, burning with years of suppressed fury and betrayal. "Choose. Him or me. Right now." The ultimatum hung heavy, suffocating.

Your stepfather shifted, his voice a low, placating rumble. "Y/N, let's go home. We'll talk there, properly—"

"Stay away!" You whirled on him, your voice cracking like ice. "This is between me and my mom!" You turned back to her, the plea raw and desperate. "Mom? Please."

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, overflowing onto her cheeks. "Y/N," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He... he is your dad."

The words were a physical blow. You staggered back a step. "So," your voice was suddenly terrifyingly calm, hollow. "You choose him. Over me." You saw the flicker of pain in her eyes, the ingrained habit of submission warring with maternal instinct. "Again."

"Y/N!" Her cry was anguished.

"Please, Mom," you cut her off, your voice cracking under the weight of a lifetime's exhaustion. "Stop." You gestured helplessly at the tableau before you – the hunched figure of your stepfather, her tear-streaked face, the suffocating familiarity of it all. "This drama... it's been playing since I was a child. I watched it. Every time." Your words came faster, sharper, each syllable dripping with the bitterness of remembered helplessness. "He hurts you. You cry. You swear you'll leave him. You never do." You took a shuddering breath, the dam breaking.

Your chest heaved; the dam finally cracked.
"Mom," you said, your voice trembling. "Do you ever think about me instead of him?"

Her lips parted, a broken " Sweetie—” escaping."

"No," you snapped, the word trembling. "From my childhood, I’ve been the one handling you. Handling your love life. Listening to your problems. You were supposed to handle me at that age. But I…" You dragged a hand over your face, your throat closing. "I sacrificed my happiness so you wouldn’t fight with him. So you wouldn’t break apart. I was just a kid, Mom. And all I wanted was for you to choose me, even once."

Your stepfather shifted, his eyes darting away. Your mother stared at you, her face crumpling. "Sweetie, I—"

"Do you know how many nights I couldn’t sleep?" Your voice rose, raw and jagged. "Listening through the walls? Hearing him yell? Hearing you cry? Do you ever wonder what that did to me?" You leaned in, your knuckles white on the bed rail. "You were too busy with him. Too busy loving him. Too busy forgiving him. And I was alone."

Your stepfather reached out, his calloused hand landing heavily on your shoulder. "Y/N," he rasped, his voice thick with a plea you'd heard a thousand times before. "I'm sorry. Let's—"

You jerked your hand away violently, recoiling as if burned. "Fucking stay away from my matter!" The shout echoed in the sterile room, sharp and final. "Don't touch me!"

Your mother gasped, her face twisting in shock and indignation. Before you could react, her hand shot out. The slap cracked across your cheek, sharp and stinging. The sound hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You froze, the heat blooming on your skin, staring at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. Tears blurred your vision, but they weren't from the pain. It was the betrayal. The confirmation.

"So," you whispered, your voice chillingly calm now, hollowed out. "That's your final decision." You looked from her tear-streaked face to your stepfather’s stunned expression. "This man. Over me." You took a step back, then another. "I'm done."

You turned sharply, ignoring your mother’s choked gasp. The hospital room door swung shut behind you with a soft click, muffling her desperate cry of your name. You walked down the corridor, your steps unnervingly steady, the sting on your cheek a brand. The crumpled discharge papers slipped from your numb fingers, fluttering to the linoleum floor unnoticed.

Outside, Seoul’s neon glow felt alien, intrusive. You leaned against the cold brick wall of the hospital entrance, the night air biting through your thin sweater. Your phone felt heavy in your hand. Fingers trembling, you scrolled past Taehyung’s unanswered calls, past Jimin’s concerned texts, stopping at Jungkook’s name. You pressed call.

It rang once. Twice. Three times. Silence. The voicemail tone clicked on. You ended the call, your breath fogging in the cold air. You pressed call again. Ringing. Ringing. Silence again. You pressed the phone tighter to your ear, whispering into the void, "Please... pick up the call. I need you." Your voice cracked, barely audible. The line remained dead.

Suddenly, your phone screen lit up. A text notification. Jungkook. Your heart lurched. You fumbled to open it.

> **Jungkook:** Little busy. Will call in the morning.

The words glared back at you from the screen. Cold. Dismissive. Like a door slammed in your face. You stared at the phone, the neon reflections dancing across its surface. Your finger moved automatically, numb and detached, scrolling past Taehyung’s name, landing on Jimin’s. You pressed call before thought could catch up.

It rang only once. "Finally," Jimin's voice purred through the speaker, warm and teasing, laced with that familiar, flirtatious charm. "My angel misses me? I knew you'd—"

"Jimin," you cut him off, the name escaping as a ragged sob. The dam shattered completely. "Please... come back. I can't... I can't handle this. Please." The plea was raw, stripped bare, echoing the hollow ache in your chest. Your grip faltered. The phone slipped from your trembling fingers, clattering onto the rain-slicked pavement, skittering towards the filthy gutter drain. You lunged, fingers scraping concrete, but it was too late. A soft *plop* echoed as it vanished into the murky darkness below the grating.

---

Jimin stared at the dark screen of his phone, the cheerful *"Call Ended"* message mocking him. He jabbed redial again. Nothing. Just the flat, automated voice informing him the number was unreachable. A cold prickle of unease crawled up his spine. That broken sob before the line cut... it wasn't right. Not like her. He paced the plush hotel carpet, the silence of the room suddenly oppressive. His thumb flew across the screen, dialing Namjoon.

"Jimin?" Namjoon's voice was weary, muffled background noise suggesting a hospital corridor.

"Hyung," Jimin cut in, his usual playful lilt gone, replaced by sharp urgency. "Where's Jungkook?"

"Jungkook?" Namjoon sounded distracted, the distant echo of hospital announcements bleeding through the line. "He's here. At Seoul National. Jia collapsed. Stress-related, they think. We're with her." A pause. "Why? What happened?"

Jimin's knuckles whitened around his phone. "Is Taehyung there?"

"Taehyung?" Namjoon sounded genuinely surprised. "No. Haven't seen him since earlier. Why? Jimin, what's—"

Jimin ended the call abruptly, Namjoon's concerned voice cut off mid-sentence. The unease solidified into cold dread. He grabbed his keys and jacket, already heading for the door.

***

The heavy bass thumped through the velvet-lined walls of the VIP room, a jarring counterpoint to the devastation within. Shattered glass glittered like malevolent stars across the plush carpet. A low table lay splintered, its expensive contents strewn everywhere. In the center of the ruin, Taehyung stood motionless, breathing heavily. Blood dripped steadily from his clenched fist onto a crumpled photograph clutched in his other hand – your face smiling up, oblivious. His knuckles were raw and torn. "How?" he rasped to the empty air, his voice thick with anguish and fury. "How do I make you understand? How do I *make* you see I love you?" He stared at the picture, his dark eyes burning with a terrifying intensity.

The club owner, a sleek man in an immaculate suit, surveyed the damage with a practiced calm. He exchanged a swift, silent glance with a poised female staff member hovering near the door. Her expression was carefully neutral. "Did you serve him the drink?" the owner murmured, his voice barely audible over the music leaking in.

"Yes, sir," she replied softly, her eyes darting to Taehyung's hunched form. "Exactly as instructed."

"Good," the owner breathed, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. "Make sure Mr. Kim is... satisfied tonight. Whatever he needs." He gestured subtly towards the wreckage. "See to it." With a final assessing look at Taehyung, he melted back into the hallway shadows.

The woman approached Taehyung slowly, her movements fluid, deliberately exaggerated. The low lighting caught the shimmer of her dress as she stopped just within his personal space, radiating practiced allure. "Oppa," she murmured, her voice a low, honeyed purr designed to soothe and entice. She reached out, fingertips brushing lightly against the torn skin of his knuckles. "Such beautiful hands shouldn't be hurt." Her touch lingered, sliding up his forearm. "Let me help you forget... whatever hurts you." She leaned closer, her perfume cloying and thick, invading his senses. "Forget her."

Taehyung flinched violently at the contact, his head snapping up. The raw pain in his eyes instantly crystallized into something cold and dangerous. "Get," he snarled, his voice low and guttural, "your hands. Off me."

She didn't retreat. Instead, she pressed closer, emboldened by her orders. Her hand slid boldly up his chest towards his collar. "Don't be like that, Oppa," she whispered, her breath hot against his jaw. "I can make you feel so much better than she ever—"

Her words choked off mid-sentence. Taehyung's hand shot out, fingers clamping like steel bands around her throat. A gasp of pure terror escaped her lips as he slammed her backwards with brutal force. Her spine cracked against the edge of the shattered low table, sending fresh shards skittering across the carpet. Her eyes bulged, hands scrabbling uselessly at his wrist, her seductive facade shattered by primal fear. She kicked weakly, heels scraping the floor, trying desperately to push him away, to gasp for air. Taehyung leaned over her, his face inches from hers, a mask of icy, detached fury. "You think," he hissed, his voice devoid of warmth, "you can touch me? Talk about her?"

The woman whimpered, tears streaming down her face, her struggles growing weaker. Her gaze flickered desperately towards the door, silently pleading for the owner, for anyone.

*Brrrring! Brrrring!*

The sharp, insistent ringtone sliced through the tense silence, startlingly loud. Taehyung froze, his grip loosening fractionally. The woman gasped, gulping air. The phone kept ringing, vibrating insistently on the floor near the splintered table leg.

Taehyung glanced down at the screen flashing "Park Jimin." His gaze flickered back to the terrified woman pinned beneath him, her chest heaving. With a sound of disgust, he abruptly released her throat. She collapsed onto the debris-strewn carpet, coughing violently, clutching her neck.

He snatched the phone, his voice a low, dangerous rasp as he answered. "What?"

Jimin's voice crackled through, sharp with urgency, completely devoid of its usual playful warmth. "Taehyung! Where are you? Something's wrong with Y/N. Her phone's off. I tried calling Jungkook—nothing. I'm heading to the airport now. I'm sending you an address. Go there. Now."

Taehyung stared blankly at the wreckage around him, the woman still coughing at his feet. Jimin's words registered slowly, filtered through a haze of alcohol and rage. "Y/N?" he echoed, the name thick on his tongue. Before Jimin could elaborate, Taehyung’s thumb stabbed the disconnect button. The screen went dark. He tossed the phone onto the debris-strewn couch like it was toxic. The woman whimpered again. He ignored her, stepping over the shattered glass and splintered wood without a backward glance. The pulsing bass faded as he slammed the VIP room door shut behind him, leaving the carnage and the terrified hostess forgotten.

***

The cold seeped through your thin sweater, biting deep. You sat slumped on the curb outside the hospital entrance, knees pulled tight to your chest. The sting on your cheek was fading, replaced by a numb, hollow ache that radiated from your core. The crumpled discharge papers lay forgotten nearby. Neon signs blurred into streaks of garish light. You stared blankly at the oily puddle reflecting the distorted cityscape, the gutter drain where your phone had vanished a dark, accusing maw. *Done*. The word echoed in the emptiness. Done with mom. Done with him. Done with... everything. Tears tracked silently down your face, hot then instantly cold in the night air. You didn't wipe them away.

The roar of an engine cut through the night's low hum, sudden and jarringly close. Tires screeched violently on the wet asphalt. You flinched, instinctively curling tighter. A sleek black sedan slammed to a halt inches from the curb directly in front of you, spraying dirty water onto the pavement. The engine idled, a low, aggressive growl. The passenger window slid down silently, revealing the dimly lit interior. Taehyung leaned across the leather seat, his face pale, eyes unnervingly dark and focused solely on you.

"Get in." Taehyung's voice was low, rough-edged, devoid of its usual velvet warmth. It wasn't a request. It was a command scraped raw from someplace dark inside him.

You didn't move. You didn't even lift your head. The cold curb beneath you, the distant wail of an ambulance, the oily shimmer of the puddle – these were real. Taehyung was just another storm you couldn't weather. You pressed your forehead harder against your knees, shutting him out. The numbness was safer.

The driver's door slammed open with brutal force. Footsteps, sharp and quick on the wet pavement, approached. You flinched as shadow fell over you. Before you could react, strong hands gripped your arms, hauling you upright. Your legs buckled, but he held you firm, effortlessly lifting you off the ground. "Taehyung!" you gasped, panic slicing through the numbness. "What are you doing? Leave me!" You struggled weakly against his iron grip, your voice cracking. "Let go!"

He ignored your protests, your kicks landing uselessly against his legs. His face was a mask, jaw clenched tight, eyes fixed straight ahead with terrifying intensity. He carried you the few steps to the open passenger door and deposited you onto the cool leather seat with jarring efficiency. Before you could scramble across the console or reach for the handle, he leaned in, his body blocking the exit. His proximity was overwhelming, suffocating. One hand slammed the door shut beside you with a final, resonant *thud*. The lock clicked automatically.

"Don't," Taehyung growled, his breath hot against your ear as he pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. The raw desperation in them momentarily froze your panic. "Just... don't move." He slammed the driver's door shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the enclosed space. The engine roared as he peeled away from the curb, tires screaming against the wet pavement.

The drive was a blur of neon streaks and oppressive silence. You pressed yourself against the door, as far from him as possible, staring blankly out the window. The numbness returned, wrapping around you like a shroud. You didn't ask where you were going. It didn't matter anymore.

Minutes later, the car screeched to a halt inside a dimly lit private garage beneath a sleek, modern building. Taehyung killed the engine. The sudden quiet was deafening. He got out, walked around the car, and yanked your door open. Before you could react, his arms were under you again, lifting you out. You hung limply in his grasp, too exhausted to fight, the cold garage air sharp against your damp cheeks.

He carried you through a silent, sterile lobby and into a private elevator. The ascent was swift, silent. The elevator doors slid open directly into a vast, minimalist penthouse foyer. Cool marble floors gleamed under recessed lighting. He strode down the wide hallway, your slight weight nothing to him.

"Put me down!" Your voice was hoarse, weak, but the command held a sliver of returning fire. "Taehyung, put me down now!"

He stopped abruptly near a closed door, his grip loosening. Your feet touched the cold floor. The sudden shift made you stagger slightly. Rage, hot and immediate, surged through the numbness. You whirled, your hand lashing out before thought. The slap cracked across his cheekbone, sharp and stinging in the quiet hallway. "How dare you!" you hissed, trembling violently. "How dare you drag me here! Who do you think you are?"

Taehyung didn't flinch. He stared at you, his cheek reddening. Then, a strange flicker crossed his face – confusion, alarm. His eyes widened slightly. He pressed a hand to his own forehead, swaying almost imperceptibly. "Shit..." he muttered under his breath, the word thick, slurred. His skin looked unnaturally flushed under the cool light. He shoved you back a step, towards the door behind him. "Y/N," his voice was strained, urgent, "Hurry. Go inside that room. Lock the door. Now."

Fear, cold and sharp, pricked through your fury. You saw the unnatural heat in his gaze, the slight tremor in the hand he pressed to his temple. "What?" you demanded, stepping back, away from him and the door. "What's wrong with you? You think I'm staying here? With you? After everything?" You shook your head wildly, backing further down the hall towards the elevator. "I'm leaving!"

Taehyung lunged forward, his movements uncharacteristically clumsy. He slammed his palm against the wall beside your head, blocking your path. His breath hitched, ragged and hot against your face. Sweat beaded on his forehead. "You're not going anywhere," he rasped, the command strained, almost desperate. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, seemed clouded, struggling to lock onto yours. "Please," he choked out, the word raw and unfamiliar on his tongue. "Go to the room. Now." He gestured weakly towards the door behind him, his arm trembling.

"Stay away from me!" You shoved against his chest with all your strength, fueled by terror and fury. Your hands met solid muscle, yielding barely an inch. "I don't need your fucking care! Not after everything!" You spat the words, trying to duck under his arm. "Let me go!"

Taehyung staggered slightly, his eyes wild, pupils blown wide. He caught your wrist in a bruising grip. "Don't... blame me," he rasped, his voice thick, slurred. Sweat plastered dark strands to his temples. "I can't... control it anymore." His grip tightened, pulling you closer against your frantic resistance. His breath was scorching against your skin, smelling faintly of expensive whiskey and something sharper, chemical. His flushed skin radiated unnatural heat.

"What?" you gasped, confusion warring with panic. "Control wh—"

His mouth crashed down onto yours, cutting off the question. It wasn't tenderness, wasn't desire. It was a brutal, desperate claiming. His lips were hot, feverish, crushing yours. The taste of whiskey, sweat, and something acrid flooded your senses. You froze for a split second in sheer shock, then instinct screamed. You shoved against his chest again, twisting your face away. "Stop! Taehyung—!" Your protest was muffled against his skin.

His arms locked around you like iron bands, hauling you flush against his overheated body. Your frantic struggles were useless against his unnatural strength. One hand tangled painfully in your hair, forcing your head back, silencing you as his mouth descended again, harder, more insistent. His tongue forced past your clenched teeth. You gagged, tasting the sharp chemical tang mixed with alcohol. Fear turned icy cold. This wasn't Taehyung. Not the Taehyung you knew, however flawed. This was something feral, driven by whatever poison surged in his veins.

You twisted violently, wrenching your face sideways. "Stop!" The word was a ragged sob. "Taehyung, please!" Your legs buckled, the fight draining out of you as terror and exhaustion overwhelmed your muscles. You collapsed backwards, landing hard on the bottom step of a wide marble staircase curving upwards into the penthouse gloom. The impact jarred your spine.

He followed you down instantly, his weight pinning your hips to the cold stone. His fevered kisses trailed down your jaw, your neck, biting, sucking, leaving stinging marks. One hand slid under your sweater, rough fingers scraping your skin, seeking the clasp of your bra. Fabric ripped. The sound was obscenely loud in the cavernous hallway. Cold air hit your exposed skin. "Taehyung!" you screamed, pushing weakly at his shoulders, tears blurring your vision. "Stop! You're hurting me!"

His head snapped up. His eyes, glazed and wild, met yours. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your cheek. "I need you," he rasped, the words thick, desperate, almost pleading. His hand fumbled urgently at his waistband, fingers clumsy on the buckle of his belt. The metallic *clink* echoed like a death knell.

"Stop!" You choked out, twisting violently beneath him, terror clawing your throat raw. "I don't want this! Please, Taehyung!" You shoved weakly against his chest, your voice breaking. "If you really love me... *this* isn't it! This isn't the Taehyung I loved once!"

The words struck him like a physical blow. His frantic movements froze. His head jerked up, wild eyes locking onto yours. For a terrifying second, the feverish glaze seemed to deepen, his pupils swallowing the dark irises whole. He stared down at you pinned beneath him on the cold marble step – your tear-streaked face, the raw terror in your eyes, the ripped fabric exposing your shoulder. Something fractured behind his expression.

A choked, inhuman sound ripped from his throat. Not anger. Agony. His gaze snapped away from yours, darting wildly around the cavernous hallway as if seeing the horror of his own actions reflected in the polished walls. His breath hitched violently. Then, with a guttural roar of pure self-loathing, he slammed his forehead sideways into the sharp corner of the marble step riser beside your head. *Crack*. The sound was sickeningly solid.

He collapsed instantly, his full, heavy weight crashing down onto you. Limp. Unconscious. His forehead bloomed crimson where it had struck the stone, blood trickling thick and dark down his temple, dripping onto your torn sweater. The unnatural heat radiating from his body was already fading, replaced by a terrifying Stillness.

------

Time blurred after that. You barely remembered screaming, barely remembered fumbling with your phone in blind panic.

A doctor arrived swiftly, summoned by Taehyung's discreet security team. You sat rigidly on a plush velvet sofa in the penthouse's vast living room, clutching a throw blanket someone had draped over your shoulders. You stared blankly at the marble floor, ignoring the faint smear of crimson near the staircase. The doctor worked silently behind a closed door nearby.

When the door finally opened, the doctor emerged, wiping his hands. Taehyung lay on the bed inside, his forehead meticulously bandaged, stark white against his pale skin. His injured hand was also neatly wrapped. He was unconscious, breathing shallowly but evenly. "He's stable," the doctor announced, his voice calm and professional. He held up a small vial. "I've administered the antidote for the Viagra." His gaze shifted to you, sharp and assessing. "Miss, are you injured anywhere? You have blood on your face."

You flinched, your fingers instinctively touching your cheek. It came away smeared with drying rust-brown flakes – Taehyung's blood. "No," you whispered, your voice raw. "It's... it's not mine." You couldn't bring yourself to look back into the room where Taehyung lay.

The doctor nodded curtly. "Very well. He'll likely sleep for several hours. The sedative combined with the head trauma..." He trailed off, packing his bag. "Call if his condition changes unexpectedly." He left swiftly, the heavy front door clicking shut behind him, leaving you utterly alone in the cavernous silence.

The penthouse felt colder now, emptier. Your gaze drifted back to the bedroom door, left slightly ajar. The dim light inside spilled onto the hallway marble. You stood slowly, the blanket slipping from your shoulders. Your legs carried you forward on unsteady feet, drawn toward the threshold against your own will.

You paused there, gripping the doorframe. Taehyung lay motionless on the massive bed, the stark white bandage glaring against his forehead, his face unnaturally pale beneath the soft bedside lamp. His chest rose and fell shallowly. He looked... broken. Vulnerable. A stark contrast to the terrifying force that had pinned you to the stairs.

Slowly, silently, you crossed the plush carpet. You sank onto the edge of the mattress beside him, the springs barely shifting. Your hand trembled as you reached out. Hesitating for a breath, your fingertips finally brushed the skin of his cheek just below the bandage. It was cool now, the unnatural fever gone. The texture was smooth, familiar, yet utterly alien after what had just happened. Your thumb traced the sharp line of his jaw, feather-light.

His face swam before your blurred vision – not the terrifying predator of moments ago, but the Taehyung who’d knelt broken on the pavement, begging you to teach him how to earn your love. *"Please... just tell me how to fix it... how to make you look at me again..."* His raw, shattered voice echoed in your skull, overlaying the rasping, drugged desperation of his pleas in the hallway. *"I need you... Please..."* Both versions twisted your insides.

Chapter Text

The sterile white light of dawn filtered through the hospital room blinds, painting stripes across Jungkook’s face where he’d slumped, asleep, in the stiff vinyl armchair beside Jia’s bed. His neck ached from the awkward angle. He blinked, disoriented, his gaze landing instantly on Jia. She slept fitfully, pale against the stark hospital sheets, an IV line snaking into her arm.

Jungkook pushed himself up, wincing at the stiffness. His eyes scanned the room – the beeping monitors, the untouched tray of food – before landing on the small bedside table. His phone lay there, screen dark. He snatched it up, thumbing it awake. The screen illuminated, showing a single notification: **Missed Call: Y/N**.

His jaw tightened. He jabbed the call button, pressing the phone to his ear. It rang once, twice... then clicked straight to voicemail. *"The subscriber you are calling is currently unavailable—"* He cut it off, dialing again. Same result. A third time. Nothing but the robotic message. Frustration coiled hot in his chest.

"Damn it!" Jungkook snarled, the sound harsh in the quiet room. He slammed the phone down onto the bedside table, the plastic clatter startling Jin awake in the adjacent chair. Namjoon stirred on the small couch near the window, blinking blearily.

"What...?" Jin mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Jungkook-ah?"

Jungkook ignored him, his fingers flying across his phone screen. He opened a discreet app, its interface stark and minimal. A map loaded instantly, zooming in on Seoul. A pulsing red dot blinked steadily over an exclusive Gangnam address Taehyung owned. Jungkook's knuckles whitened around the phone. "What the hell?" he breathed, the words laced with icy fury. "She's at his penthouse."

"Hyung," Jungkook snapped, his voice tight as wire, not taking his eyes off the pulsing dot. "Handle here. I'm leaving now." He shoved the phone into his pocket and was already striding towards the door, his movements sharp with barely leashed violence.

Namjoon surged to his feet, alarm flashing across his face. "Jungkook-ah, wait! What's happening? Where are you—?" But the door swung shut behind Jungkook with a decisive thud, cutting off the question. Jin stared after him, then exchanged a worried glance with Namjoon. The room felt suddenly colder, charged with Jungkook’s abrupt departure and the unanswered dread hanging over Jia’s still form.

---

You stirred, blinking against the harsh morning light filtering through Taehyung’s penthouse windows. Thirst clawed at your throat, a dry ache echoing the hollow numbness inside. Carefully, silently, you slipped off the edge of the bed where you’d drifted off beside Taehyung’s unconscious form. He hadn’t moved, his breathing shallow but steady beneath the stark white bandage. You padded barefoot out of the bedroom, avoiding looking back.

The marble hallway felt colder than before. You headed towards the sleek, modern kitchen you vaguely remembered seeing off the main living area. Halfway down the hall, near the base of the imposing staircase where everything had shattered, something caught your eye. A single photograph lay face-down on the polished floor, likely knocked loose in last night’s chaos. A tremor ran through your fingers as you bent to pick it up.

You knelt, fingers brushing the cool gloss. Turning it over, your breath hitched. It was you. Candid, unaware. Sitting on a park bench near the company building last autumn, wrapped in a scarf, lost in thought. The angle was distant, almost voyeuristic. You didn't remember posing. You didn't remember him being there. A chill prickled your skin.

Your gaze lifted, instinctively tracing the hallway. A door stood slightly ajar further down – not the bedroom, not the living room. A room you hadn't noticed before. Driven by a morbid curiosity colder than your thirst, you approached. The door creaked softly as you pushed it wider.

The door groaned as it swung open, the faint smell of paper and dust seeping out. At first, you thought it was just another study or spare room—until the dim light from the hallway spilled inside.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Every inch of the walls was covered.

Photos.

Of you.

Some neatly framed, some sloppily taped, some printed and pinned in overlapping layers like a suffocating collage. Your face stared back at you a hundred different ways—smiling faintly at a café, lost in thought at a bus stop, walking home with groceries under your arm, laughing with your friends. None of them were taken with your knowledge. They were stolen fragments of your life.

Your legs gave way. You sank to your knees on the cold hardwood floor, the photograph slipping from your numb fingers. The sheer scale of it was suffocating. How long? How many unseen moments had he stolen? Panic clawed up your throat, cold and sharp. You scrambled backwards on your hands, heels scraping against the floor, desperate to escape the oppressive gaze of your own multiplied image. Your shoulder bumped hard against the doorframe.

"Y/N."

The voice was raspy, weak, but unmistakable. It sliced through the silence like broken glass. You froze, mid-scramble, heart hammering against your ribs. Slowly, painfully, you turned your head.

Taehyung stood leaning heavily against the doorframe. The stark white bandage glared against his forehead, his face pale and drawn. His eyes, still clouded with pain and sedatives, locked onto the photograph clutched in your trembling hand. "Y/N," he rasped again, the sound scraping raw. "I wanted... I wanted you to see this... after..." He swallowed thickly, wincing. "After you accepted my love."

Your gaze snapped from the horrifying collage back to him. Acceptance? The word felt like acid. You shook your head mutely, unable to speak, the stolen park photo crumpling slightly in your fist.

He pushed himself off the doorframe, swaying dangerously. Each step towards you was slow, deliberate, agonizing. He stopped inches away, his shadow falling over you where you knelt. His uninjured hand reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed yours, gently prying the crumpled photograph from your grasp. He held it up, staring at it with a terrifying intensity.

" How long?" Your voice was a raw scrape, barely audible. You gestured weakly at the suffocating walls. "How long have you been... watching me?"

Taehyung didn't look away from the crumpled park photo. His thumb traced your distant, unsuspecting face. "Since you became my assistant," he murmured, the words thick with pain and something else – a terrifying reverence.

You recoiled, scrambling backwards until your spine hit the wall of photos. Your own eyes stared down at you from every angle. "That's stalking," you choked out, the accusation sharp and brittle in the suffocating silence.

Taehyung flinched as if struck, his gaze finally tearing away from the photo to meet yours. Pain and confusion warred in his drugged eyes. "Stalking?" he echoed, his voice slurred but thick with a desperate conviction. He gestured weakly at the walls with the hand holding your photo. "Maybe... maybe I am. But I just..." He swayed, catching himself against the doorframe again. "...just collected your moments. Your light." His voice dropped to a feverish whisper. "Is it a crime... to want to hold onto beauty?"

A choked sob escaped you. "Beauty?" You gestured wildly at the invasive collage surrounding you. "This isn't beauty! This is obsession! This is terrifying!" You pushed yourself up, pressing your back against the cold wall covered in your own stolen images. "You need help, Taehyung. Real help. Treatment."

His fever-bright eyes locked onto yours, burning with a desperate, drugged intensity. "Yes," he rasped, the word thick with pain and longing. He stumbled forward another step, closing the suffocating distance. His uninjured hand shot out, fingers wrapping bruisingly tight around your wrist before you could dodge. "Yes, I need the medicine." His voice dropped to a raw, guttural whisper, trembling with terrifying sincerity. "You . You are the medicine. I need you. Your love... it's the only thing that can cure this... this emptiness inside me." He pulled your captured hand towards his chest, pressing your palm flat against his pounding heart. "Feel it? It only beats right... when you're near."

His grip on your wrist tightened, pulling you closer. "You see?" he slurred, pressing your trapped hand flat against his chest. Beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, his heart hammered violently against your palm. "Feel it?" His breath hitched, hot and labored against your ear. "It only beats right... when you're near." His feverish gaze locked onto yours, pleading, terrifying. "You're the cure. My cure. Please... stay."

You tried to wrench free, panic flaring. "Taehyung, stop! You're sick—"

"Exactly!" he gasped, pulling you flush against him. His free hand tangled roughly in your hair, tilting your face up. "Sick. Empty. Only you fill it." His lips brushed your temple, a trembling, desperate kiss. "Your love... it fixes me."

You shoved against his chest with your free hand, fingers digging into the bandage. "Stop! This isn't love! This is madness!" You saw the flicker in his eyes – pain, confusion, then a terrifying resolve. His grip on your hair tightened painfully.

"I know," he breathed, his voice cracking. "I know I'm... broken. Twisted." His feverish gaze swept over your face, lingering on your tear-streaked cheeks, your terrified eyes. "I'm not perfect, Y/N." The admission ripped from him, raw and desperate. "Look at me!" He gestured wildly with his injured hand towards the horrifying collage room, then back at his own bandaged forehead, his trembling form. "This... this ugly, possessive, sick side... this is me too."

He stumbled closer, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly, not freeing you, but shifting into a desperate plea. His fingers slid down to intertwine with yours, clammy and shaking. "Please," he whispered, his drugged eyes swimming with tears. "Please love this side. Please love me. Not the idol, not the mask... this... this mess." His free hand brushed your cheek, smearing dried blood and tears. "I just need your love. Only your love can fix this emptiness... this poison inside me."

You tore your hand free, stumbling back into the hallway. "I need time," you choked out, your voice raw. "Space. I need to go home." You turned, fleeing towards the penthouse's main door, bare feet slapping on cold marble.

Taehyung lurched after you, unsteady but frantic. "Y/N, wait!" His hand shot out, fingers closing like a vice around your wrist just as you reached the foyer. You whirled, jerking against his grip. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated with lingering drugs and desperation. "You... you can't go outside," he rasped, his gaze sweeping down your disheveled state. "Not like this. Wearing only my shirt." His oversized black shirt hung loosely on you, barely covering your thighs.

Before you could protest, he pulled you back forcefully. His free hand, trembling violently, rose to cup your face. His thumbs brushed roughly over your cheeks, smearing the dried blood and tears anew. His touch was fever-hot, urgent. "I know," he choked out, his voice thick with genuine anguish cutting through the haze. "I know I scared you last night. And... and now, this."

His eyes flickered towards the open door of the photo room, a flicker of shame crossing his ravaged features before vanishing behind the desperate plea. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His grip tightened on your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his. "I really don't know who mixed that medicine in my drink. I swear. It wasn't... it wasn't me." The words tumbled out, slurred but frantic, seeking absolution.

You stared into his fever-bright eyes, the apology ringing hollow against the backdrop of a thousand stolen images and the memory of his teeth on your neck. The words felt thick, impossible. "Taehyung..." you began, your voice trembling, searching for something, anything, to placate him enough to escape. "It's... it's—"

The heavy click of the penthouse door unlocking snapped both your heads toward the sound.

Before you could even draw another breath, the door swung open with a force that rattled the hinges. Jungkook stormed inside, his chest heaving, black hoodie clinging to the tension in his shoulders. His eyes swept the scene in one brutal second: Taehyung’s bandaged head, his hand clamped possessively on your wrist, your tear-streaked face, the oversized shirt barely covering you.

You instinctively jerked back, putting distance between yourself and Taehyung. His grip on your wrist tightened like a manacle. "Jungkook," you gasped, relief and fresh terror warring in your voice.

Jungkook didn't hesitate. He crossed the foyer in three long strides, his expression carved from ice. His hand closed around your upper arm, firm and grounding. "We're leaving," he stated, his voice low and lethal. He pulled you towards him, his body a solid barrier between you and Taehyung.

Taehyung's grip on your wrist tightened painfully, refusing to yield. "Jungkook," he snarled, the word thick with venom despite his weakened state. He swayed slightly but held his ground, his fever-bright eyes blazing. "I'm not done talking with her."

Jungkook's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he opened his mouth, undoubtedly to unleash fury. You reacted instantly, stepping slightly forward, placing your free hand gently but firmly on Jungkook's chest. "Jungkook, please," you whispered urgently, your voice trembling but clear. You met his furious gaze, pleading silently. "Taehyung's already injured. Please."

You felt the tension vibrating through Jungkook under your palm, a coiled spring ready to snap. His eyes flickered between your pleading expression and Taehyung's possessive grip. For a heartbeat, the air crackled with violence. Then, with immense effort, you slowly, deliberately, twisted your wrist within Taehyung's grasp. You didn't yank; you pulled with steady, gentle pressure, your eyes locked on his. "I will talk with you later," you promised, your voice low and surprisingly steady. "Okay? Later."

Taehyung's fingers trembled, his grip loosening infinitesimally at your promise. His fever-glazed eyes clung to yours, desperate for belief. "Later?" he rasped, hope warring with suspicion.

Before you could respond, Jungkook’s grip on your arm tightened like steel. "Now," he growled, low and final. He didn't wait. With brutal efficiency, he ripped your wrist free from Taehyung’s weakening hold. Taehyung stumbled back.He hauled you bodily through the open door, your bare feet stumbling on the cold marble threshold.

------

The door to jungkook house slammed shut behind you, the echo ringing in your ears. Jungkook didn’t pause, didn’t let you breathe. His grip on your wrist was bruising as he dragged you down the hallway, his silence far more terrifying than any words.

He shoved open the bathroom door, the harsh light blinding after the dim penthouse. Before you could blink, he spun you around, pressing your back against the cold tiles. His eyes burned into yours, dark and unreadable. "Strip," he ordered, his voice low and dangerous. When you froze, trembling, he snarled, "Fine. I’ll do it."

His hands grabbed the collar of Taehyung’s oversized shirt. With one brutal jerk, he ripped it down the middle. The fabric tore like paper, exposing your skin to the chilly air. You gasped, instinctively crossing your arms over your chest as the ruined shirt pooled at your feet. Jungkook’s gaze raked over you—lingering on the fading bruises Taehyung had left on your neck, the bite marks, the exhaustion etched into your frame.

"Look at you," he hissed, stepping closer until his breath hit your face. "Wearing his shirt. Smelling like him." His knuckles brushed your collarbone, rough and possessive. "What the hell were you doing back there? Letting him touch you? Begging him?"

You flinched, shaking your head. "I wasn’t—"

"Shut up." Jungkook cut you off, his voice a low growl. He grabbed your shoulders, spinning you towards the shower stall. The chrome handle squeaked as he wrenched it on full blast. Ice-cold water exploded from the showerhead, hitting your bare skin like needles. You gasped, staggering back, but Jungkook shoved you forward under the punishing spray. "Wash him off," he commanded, his eyes burning into yours through the steam beginning to curl in the frigid air. "Every trace. Now."

You shivered violently, the cold water shocking your system, plastering your hair to your face. You tried to cover yourself, arms wrapping tightly around your torso. "Jungkook, please—"

"Did you sleep with him?" Jungkook snarled, cutting you off. His voice was low, dangerous, vibrating with barely contained rage. He leaned closer, trapping you against the freezing tiles.

"Jungkook, stop it!" You pushed against his chest, your teeth chattering from the icy spray. "Please listen—Taehyung needs help! He's hurt, he's—"

Jungkook slammed his palm against the tile beside your head, cutting you off. Water plastered his dark hair to his forehead, dripping down his furious face. "Wow," he spat, the word sharp as glass. "You caring for him? Did your fucking first love awakening him for again, huh?" His voice dripped with bitter sarcasm. "Is that why you stayed? Why you wore his shirt?"

The cold water blurred your vision, mixing with hot tears. "Yes!" you shouted back, the admission tearing loose, raw and honest. "Yes, I care for him! You know what? Yes, I love him still! Happy now?" You shoved him hard, your palms slick against his soaked hoodie. "Get out! Give me a towel!"

He didn't budge. His eyes, dark and burning, scanned your face, your exposed skin, the marks Taehyung left. The water roared between you. "Do you sleep with him?" The question was a low, guttural demand.

You shoved him again, harder this time. "Jungkook! Do you care? Do you actually care if I slept with him or not?" Your voice cracked, raw with exhaustion and fury. "But did you ever ask me why I called you a thousand times? Where *were* you when I needed someone? When I had no strength left?" You pushed past him, stumbling out of the spray, shivering violently. "I have nothing left to fight with you. Please. I'm leaving now."

You snatched a thick towel hanging nearby, wrapping it tightly around yourself like armor. You didn't look back, heading for the bathroom door. Bare feet slapped on the cold tile.

*CRASH!*

The sound was sharp, violent, echoing off the bathroom walls. You froze mid-step, then whirled around.

Jungkook stood by the sink, his right fist clenched. Blood dripped steadily onto the white porcelain basin and pooled on the floor. Jagged shards of the shattered mirror clung to the frame behind him, reflecting fractured images of his furious face and your horrified one.

"Jungkook!" You rushed forward, the towel slipping as you grabbed his bleeding hand. "What did you do?" Tears blurred your vision, mixing with the cold water still clinging to your skin. His knuckles were split open, deep gashes revealing raw flesh beneath.

He didn't flinch. Just stared down at you, water dripping from his dark lashes onto your face. A slow, bitter smirk twisted his lips. "You only love me," he stated flatly, his voice rough. "Your eyes tell everything." His uninjured hand lifted, thumb brushing away a tear track with bruising pressure. "And you tell me you love someone else." The smirk vanished, replaced by pure, dark fury. "You lie."

"Just stop!" You choked out, pulling him towards the bedroom. "Sit." You pushed him onto the edge of the mattress, scrambling for the first-aid kit you knew was in his nightstand drawer. Finding gauze and antiseptic, you knelt before him, reaching for his bleeding fist.

He snatched his hand away, holding it out of reach. Blood dripped steadily onto the dark comforter. "Why bother?" His voice was low, dangerous. "Go back to him. Patch him up."

You didn't flinch. You grabbed his wrist firmly, pulling it back towards you. "Stop being a child," you snapped, your own voice trembling but resolute.

Silence hung thick as you worked. Tearing open antiseptic wipes, you cleaned the deep gashes across his knuckles. He hissed but didn't pull away this time, watching your face intently as you dabbed gently. You unrolled gauze, wrapping it tightly around his hand. The silence stretched, broken only by your shaky breaths and the faint drip of water from your hair onto the towel wrapped around you.

"I'm sorry," Jungkook rasped suddenly, the words rough, unexpected. You paused, mid-wrap, glancing up. He wasn't looking at you, his gaze fixed on his bandaged hand resting limply in yours. "For not picking up your calls yesterday." His jaw tightened. "Jia collapsed. I took her to the hospital. I... fell asleep there."

The name landed like a stone in your gut. You finished securing the gauze, your fingers suddenly clumsy. "Jia?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You kept your eyes on the bandage, tracing the edge with a fingertip. "Who is Jia to you?"

He finally looked at you, his dark eyes filled with a complex storm of pain and exhaustion. "My ex-girlfriend," he admitted, the words heavy. "She broke up with me... Year ago. Told me she was carrying someone else's child." A bitter laugh escaped him, devoid of humor. "It was a lie. She had stomach cancer. She didn't want... her illness to affect my career. So she left me." He swallowed hard, the vulnerability stark on his face. "That's all."

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. You stared at his bandaged hand resting limply in yours.

"Jia," you repeated softly, the name tasting unfamiliar. "Your ex." You traced the edge of the gauze, avoiding his gaze. "She... she lied to protect you?"

Jungkook let out a harsh breath, his uninjured hand running through his damp hair. "Yeah. Stupid, right? Like you." His voice was rough, but the fury had bled out, replaced by a bone-deep weariness. He finally met your eyes.

You flinched at the comparison, pulling your hand back from his bandaged one. The towel slipped lower, and you yanked it up, shivering despite the warmth of the room. *So I'm Jia's replacement? Your second choice?* The thought sliced through you, sharp and cold. *He loved her enough for her lie to shatter him. And what am I? The convenient distraction?*

You looked down at your own trembling hands, remembering the frantic calls that went unanswered. "Jia really loved you a lot then," you whispered, the words tasting like ash. "To do that."

Jungkook watched you, his dark eyes unreadable. He shifted on the bed, the movement stiff. "Maybe," he murmured, the single word heavy with unspoken history. He reached out slowly, his uninjured hand brushing a strand of wet hair from your cheek. His touch was hesitant, almost tentative, a stark contrast to the violence minutes before. "Maybe she did." His thumb lingered near the fading bruise Taehyung had left on your jaw. "But she's gone. That chapter's closed."

You stayed perfectly still, the towel clutched tight. His proximity, the sudden shift from fury to this quiet intensity, was unnerving. His gaze dropped to your lips, then flicked back to your eyes. "Look at me," he commanded softly, but it lacked its usual bite.

He leaned closer, his bandaged hand resting awkwardly on his knee, the other lifting to cradle your jaw. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, rough against the softness. "Your mouth," he murmured, his voice low and thick. "It says other men's names." His thumb pressed down slightly, silencing the protest you hadn't even formed. "It tells me you love him." His eyes searched yours, dark pools reflecting the dim bedroom light. "You have no idea," he breathed, his forehead dipping closer to yours, "how much it hurts me. Hearing that from your mouth."

His gaze held yours captive. "Don't think," he whispered, his breath warm against your chilled skin, "you need a lesson." His thumb slid away from your lip, tracing the line of your jaw instead, down to the pulse hammering wildly in your throat. "But maybe," his voice dropped to a husky rasp, "you need reminding." His uninjured hand slid behind your neck, fingers tangling in your damp hair, pulling your head back gently but firmly. His eyes burned into yours, possessive and raw. "Reminding who you belong to."

------

The harsh overhead light stabbed your eyes as you blinked awake. Every muscle screamed—a deep, bruised ache radiating from your shoulders down to your thighs. You shifted slightly beneath the tangled sheets, wincing as the movement pulled at tender skin. The bed was a disaster zone. Rumpled sheets, discarded pillows… and everywhere, scattered like grotesque confetti, empty foil condom packets. Dozens of them. Silver wrappers catching the fading evening light filtering through the blinds.

You stared, numb horror slowly replacing the fog of exhaustion. Your gaze drifted to Jungkook, asleep beside you. His bare chest rose and fell steadily, one bandaged hand resting possessively on your hip even in sleep. The other lay flung out, knuckles stark white beneath the gauze. "How many…" you whispered hoarsely, your throat raw.

A wave of revulsion hit you. You needed to move. Now. Carefully, you peeled his heavy hand off your hip. The moment your skin left his, he stirred. His eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused, then sharpened as they landed on you trying to edge away. A slow, satisfied smirk touched his lips. "Babe," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and something else, something victorious. "Let’s sleep more. I’m really tired." His hand snaked out, fingers brushing your bare arm. "Stay."

You flinched away from his touch, scrambling to sit up, clutching the sheet to your chest. "I need to shower," you stated flatly, your voice devoid of emotion.

Jungkook propped himself up on one elbow, his smirk fading into a frown. His dark eyes scanned your face, your averted gaze, the tension in your shoulders. "Why?" he asked, his voice low, dangerous. "You don't like my smell on you?" His uninjured hand snaked out, tracing a possessive line down your bare spine.

You didn't answer. You just stared straight ahead at the wall, the scattered condom wrappers burning into your peripheral vision. Your body felt like a battlefield, every touch a violation. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

He let out a harsh breath. "Fine," he snapped, the word clipped. He flopped back onto the pillows, running his bandaged hand over his face. "How about we watch a movie together later? Hmm?" He forced a lightness into his tone that rang utterly false. "It'll be awesome, right? Go take your shower." He waved his bandaged hand dismissively towards the bathroom door.

You moved. Fast. Scooping your discarded towel from the floor, you wrapped it tightly around yourself and practically fled into the bathroom, locking the door behind you with a click that felt too loud. Leaning back against the cool wood, you slid down until you were sitting on the cold tiles, knees drawn to your chest.

The enormity of the past hours crashed over you—Taehyung’s obsession, Jungkook’s violence, the suffocating possessiveness, the frantic, almost desperate coupling that had left you feeling hollowed out and used. The shower stall seemed miles away.

Out from the shower, steam clinging to your skin like a second layer, you hesitated before unlocking the bathroom door.

The bedroom was empty. Jungkook was gone. Relief warred with a strange, hollow dread. Laid neatly across the rumpled bed were clothes—soft grey sweatpants and a simple black hoodie, clearly Jungkook's. You dressed quickly, the oversized fabric swallowing you, smelling faintly of detergent and something uniquely him. It felt like another claim.

Padding barefoot down the plush staircase, the muffled sounds of movement drifted from the direction of the home theater. You paused outside the heavy double doors, steeling yourself before pushing one open.

Inside, the low lighting felt cavernous. Jungkook stood beside the massive screen, fiddling with a sleek remote. He'd showered too, hair damp, wearing low-slung track pants and nothing else, the muscles of his back flexing as he moved. He turned at the sound of the door, his expression unreadable in the dimness. "Come," he gestured towards the oversized sectional sofa. "Sit."

You hovered near the doorway, the hoodie sleeves swallowing your hands. "Jungkook—"

"Here." He cut you off, striding towards you. In his bandaged hand was a brand-new phone, still sealed in its box. He thrust it towards you. "I already installed your old phone data. Contacts, photos... everything." His tone was brisk, practical, but his eyes watched yours intently, gauging your reaction. "It's activated."

You stared at the sleek device in his hand, then slowly reached out and took it. The plastic packaging felt cool against your fingers. "Thank you," you murmured, the words automatic, hollow. Your gaze flickered past him to the paused movie screen – a brightly colored animation scene frozen mid-action. It felt jarringly out of place.

Jungkook nodded sharply, a flicker of something – satisfaction? – crossing his face before he masked it. "Good," he said, turning back towards the sofa. "Now sit. Movie's starting." He gestured again, more insistently, towards the plush cushions.

You moved slowly, settling onto the far end of the sectional, putting as much distance between you as possible. The oversized hoodie swallowed you whole. Jungkook hit play. The animation burst into frenetic life, loud and garish. You stared at the screen without seeing it, the new phone heavy in your lap. Fingers trembling slightly, you peeled off the plastic film and pressed the power button. The screen lit up, blindingly bright in the dim theater. Notification icons exploded across the display – dozens, hundreds. Missed calls. Texts. Voicemails. All from one number: Park Jimin.

Your breath hitched. Before you could react, the cushion dipped beside you. Jungkook had closed the distance silently. His damp hair brushed your temple as his lips pressed against the sensitive skin below your ear. His bandaged hand slid possessively across your thigh, pinning you in place. "Jungkook," you whispered, voice strained, trying to pull away. "We just... hours ago." The phantom ache between your legs flared.

He chuckled low in his throat, a dark, satisfied sound vibrating against your neck. His other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his bare chest. "Yeah," he murmured, his breath hot on your skin. "We did." His lips trailed down to your shoulder, biting gently through the thick hoodie fabric. "But you passed out in the middle, baby." His hand tightened on your thigh. "I'm not nearly done." His fingers dug into your hip, possessive and demanding. "Now be quiet and watch the movie."

" Jungkook, please," you whispered, voice strained against the pressure of his lips on your neck. "Just... focus on the movie."

He froze. His breath hitched, a low growl vibrating against your skin. For a second, his grip tightened painfully on your thigh. Then, abruptly, he pulled back. His eyes, dark and unreadable in the theater gloom, scanned your face. "Fine," he spat, the single word sharp as ice. He shoved himself away, putting a foot of space between you on the sofa, his jaw clenched tight. He stared resolutely at the animated chaos on screen, his bandaged hand resting stiffly on his knee.

Relief was a shaky breath you barely dared to take. The phone screen still glowed accusingly in your lap, Jimin's name flashing like a beacon. Your fingers trembled as you unlocked it, navigating quickly to messages. Jungkook’s profile picture – a moody selfie – stared back from your contacts list. You ignored it, finding Jimin’s name. Your thumb hovered, heart pounding against your ribs. You typed fast, keeping your movements small, shielded by the oversized hoodie sleeve and the dim light: *I'm sorry for yesterday. I'm okay.* You hit send before you could second-guess it.

Almost instantly, three dots appeared. Then: *Where are you?* The reply was swift, urgent. Another bubble popped up: *I'm already back in Seoul. Meet me here.* An address followed – a discreet restaurant near HYBE you knew well. Your breath caught. Escape. A lifeline thrown.

You swallowed hard, the sound loud in the sudden quiet between explosions on screen. You turned your head slightly, just enough to see Jungkook’s rigid profile illuminated by the flickering light. His jaw was still tight, eyes fixed forward, radiating cold fury. "Jungkook?" Your voice was small, tentative. "Can I go home?"

He didn't turn. His gaze remained locked on the animated battle. "Why?" The word was clipped, sharp as broken glass.

Your fingers tightened around the phone. "I need to do some work," you lied smoothly, keeping your voice low and steady. "House cleaning... your guy's schedule." You gestured vaguely toward the screen. "It's messy. Needs organizing."

Jungkook finally turned his head, his dark eyes pinning you in the dim light. A slow, knowing smirk touched his lips. "Babe," he drawled, the endearment laced with condescension. "You can do that from here." He gestured expansively around the plush theater. "Got Wi-Fi. Got silence." His gaze sharpened. "Got me."

Panic fluttered in your chest. "I need my laptop," you insisted, injecting a note of practicality. "The files... they're on my laptop. At my apartment." You met his stare, forcing calm into your own eyes. "I can't access them properly on a phone."

Jungkook watched you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The flickering light from the screen danced across the sharp planes of his face. Finally, he shrugged, a sharp, dismissive movement. "Fine," he conceded, his voice flat. He glanced at his bandaged hand, flexing it slightly. "I need to go to the studio anyway." He pushed himself off the sofa. "Get dressed properly. I'll drop you."

Relief washed over you, cool and sharp. "Okay," you breathed, scrambling up before he could change his mind.

------

The low thrum of bass vibrated through the floor as you stepped into the dimly lit bar. Warm amber lights flickered across rows of half-empty bottles, the smell of whiskey and charred food hanging heavy in the air. Your chest tightened, your steps faltering for half a beat before your eyes found him.

Jimin was already there.

He sat in a shadowed booth, one arm draped over the backrest, a glass untouched before him. His blond hair caught the glow from the hanging lamp above, but it was his eyes that froze you in place—sharp, searching, softening the instant they locked onto you.

Your legs moved before your mind caught up. You slid into the booth beside him, the worn leather squeaking faintly under your weight. His warmth brushed against your side, grounding, overwhelming.

"How was your trip?" you asked softly, eyes fixed on the condensation beading on his untouched glass. The mundane question felt absurdly inadequate.

Jimin leaned forward, elbows on the table, his gaze slicing through the dim light. "Forget the trip," he murmured, voice low and urgent. "What happened yesterday? .

You flinched, fingers twisting the hem of Jungkook's oversized hoodie. The smell of his detergent clung to you like a brand. "It's... complicated," you whispered.

"Uncomplicate it," Jimin pressed gently, his hand hovering near yours on the tabletop. "Start with why you vanished. "

You took a shaky breath, the words tumbling out low and fractured. "My mom... she... she adorned me." The phrase felt alien, bitter. "For him. My stepdad." You swallowed hard. "I called Jungkook. Over and over. He didn't pick up." Your fingers tightened on the hoodie sleeve. "My fingers... they just dialed your number. Automatically. Like muscle memory." You glanced up, meeting his concerned gaze. "Then... my phone slipped. Fell straight into a storm drain."

Jimin didn’t answer right away. The bass from the speakers pulsed around you, muffled and far away, as if the whole world had fallen back to let this moment breathe. His eyes stayed fixed on yours—steady, unwavering, carrying something heavier than words could ever hold.

Then, gently, his hand moved. The pads of his fingers brushed against your cheekbone, light as air, almost hesitant, like he was afraid you might shatter beneath his touch. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. His eyes said everything—I’m here. I’m listening. I won’t let you be alone in this.

You leaned ever so slightly into the warmth of his hand, your throat tight with everything you couldn’t say out loud. For the first time in what felt like forever, the storm in your chest stilled—just a little—under the quiet strength in his gaze.

"Jimin," you whispered, the name thick with unshed tears. "Do you... do you know about Jia? And Jungkook?" You searched his eyes, desperate for understanding.

Jimin’s thumb stilled against your cheek. A shadow flickered across his face—sharp, fleeting, then carefully smoothed into neutrality. He withdrew his hand slowly, leaning back against the worn leather booth. "Angel," he murmured, his voice low and deliberate. "That... that's Jungkook's story to tell. Not mine." He picked up his untouched glass, swirling the amber liquid inside, avoiding your direct gaze. "It's tangled. Messy. And it belongs to him."

You recoiled as if burned. "Then why didn't you tell me?" The words spilled out, raw and trembling.

Jimin sighed, setting his glass down with deliberate softness. His gaze finally met yours, holding a weight of unspoken history. "Angel," he murmured, leaning closer, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper beneath the bar's thrumming bass. "What's really bothering you? Is it Jia? Jungkook's past?" His eyes searched yours, piercingly gentle. "Or is it that he hasn't told you himself?"

A choked sob escaped you. "He did tell me," you whispered, knuckles white where they gripped the hoodie sleeve. "He told me... and I understood. I really did." You swallowed hard, the words scraping your throat raw. "But I'm feeling like I'm Jungkook's second option." Your voice cracked, small and lost. "I don't know why I'm feeling this... it twists inside me... but I don't want to be the second option." Tears blurred your vision, spilling hot down your cheeks.

Jimin’s hand shot out, capturing yours gently but firmly. "Angel—"

"I'm faded up," you choked out, the dam breaking. "With being always second. For my mom... my stepdad was always first. When he hurt her, she came to me... me... bleeding and broken. And now..." Your breath hitched violently. "Now she's abandoning me too. Just tossed me aside." You looked up at Jimin, desperation etching every line of your face. "I don't want Jungkook to abandon me too. I can't... I can't be second again."

Jimin’s hand tightened around yours, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your knuckles. His gaze softened, holding yours with unwavering intensity. "Angel," he murmured, his voice a low, soothing balm against the frantic drumming of your heart. "You need to clear your mind. It's really holding onto too many things." He leaned in closer, the scent of his clean cologne mingling with the smoky bar air. A playful glint, sharp and unexpected, flickered in his dark eyes. "I heard having sex can really help with stress."

You blinked, pulling back slightly. "Huh?" The abrupt shift, the sheer audacity of it, momentarily derailed your spiraling thoughts. Was he serious? Here? Now?

Jimin chuckled, a low, rich sound that vibrated through the booth. He leaned back, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender, the playful glint softening into genuine warmth. "Don't worry, angel," he murmured, shaking his head. "I'm joking." He pushed his untouched drink aside decisively. "Let's get out of here." He slid smoothly out of the booth, extending a hand towards you.

Confusion warred with the lingering ache in your chest. "Where?" you asked, hesitantly placing your hand in his. His fingers closed around yours, warm and reassuring.

"Just believe me," Jimin murmured, pulling you gently to your feet. His smile was soft, almost secretive. "Once."

You just stared at him, frozen. Every part of you whispered it was wrong, that you shouldn’t go, that this could only complicate things further. Yet the steady warmth of his hand in yours, the calm certainty in his eyes, pulled at something deep inside you.

Why… why does my heart want to believe him?

The thought pressed against your ribs, quiet but relentless, drowning out reason. You couldn’t look away from him—Jimin, with that soft, almost secretive smile, holding out a promise you didn’t understand but desperately wanted to trust.

Sensing your hesitation, he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper, steady and unshakable.
" Don’t think, angel. Just let me take you away from all this—just once. Trust me."

Your chest tightened, a war raging inside you, but your feet shifted before your mind caught up—leaning, inch by inch, towards him.

Chapter Text

The leather seat groaned softly as Jimin settled beside you in the plush cabin of his private jet. Outside the oval window, Seoul’s glittering grid shrank into a constellation of amber lights swallowed by clouds. You gripped the armrest, knuckles white. "Jimin," you whispered, voice tight. "I don’t think this is a good idea."

Jimin unbuckled his seatbelt smoothly, turning toward you. The cabin’s soft lighting caught the gold in his hair, the sharp angles of his face softening as he leaned close. "Angel," he murmured, fingertips brushing your knee. "You’re forgetting something." His gaze held yours, steady and warm. "You’re my personal assistant too." A slow, reassuring smile touched his lips. "We’re going for work. Official schedule review." He leaned back, stretching his legs. "And I’ll handle Jungkook. Taehyung too."

You stared at him, unconvinced. "But still—"

"Angel," Jimin interrupted softly, shifting closer until his thigh pressed lightly against yours. He reached out, gently turning your chin towards him. His thumb brushed the lingering dampness beneath your eye. "Just relax your mind a little bit. You need relaxing." His gaze was steady, holding yours in the dim cabin light. "Trust me to handle everything else."

You leaned your forehead against the cool window, watching the dark clouds swallow the last pinpricks of Seoul’s lights below. The jet hummed, a low vibration that matched the frantic drumming in your chest. "Jimin," you whispered, voice barely audible over the engines. "Why are you doing this? For me?" You turned your head slightly, meeting his eyes reflected in the glass. "You didn’t have to… any of this."

Jimin shifted beside you, his hand settling warm and heavy on your shoulder. "Angel," he murmured, his breath ghosting your ear. "Look at me." When you turned, his gaze pinned you—dark, intense, stripped of its usual playful glint. "You were drowning back there." His thumb traced the line of your collarbone through the hoodie fabric. "And I couldn’t just watch." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "Not when I know how it feels to be someone’s second choice."

Your breath hitched. "Jimin—"

He cut you off, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly on your shoulder. "I know Jungkook," he murmured, voice low and steady beneath the jet’s hum. "Better than anyone. And I know how he is with you." A soft, knowing sigh escaped him. "Angel, he waits. All day. For your call. Your text." Jimin’s thumb brushed your jawline, his eyes holding yours with unnerving intensity. "One message from you? He smiles. That little half-smile he tries to hide." He leaned closer, the scent of his clean cologne wrapping around you. "His love… it’s different. Messy. Possessive, yeah. But it’s *real*. And it’s yours." His gaze softened. "You’re not second choice. You’re the only choice he sees."

You stared at him, the words sinking in slowly. "But… Jia…"

Jimin shook his head gently. "That’s his pain. His mistake. Not yours." He shifted, turning fully toward you, knees brushing yours. "Talk to him, angel. Tell him what you told me. About your mom. About feeling abandoned." His hand slid down to capture yours, fingers intertwining firmly. "Tell him your fear. That raw, ugly fear that he’ll leave you too." Jimin squeezed your hand. "He’ll understand. More than you think."

You searched his face, the earnestness in his eyes almost painful. "Why?" you whispered again, the question trembling. "Why help me like this? When you could…" You trailed off, unable to voice it—*when you could have me for yourself.*

A slow, sad smile touched Jimin’s lips. He lifted his free hand, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. "Because I know," he murmured, his voice thick with unspoken ache. "I know what it feels like to love someone who belongs to another heart." His gaze held yours, deep and unbearably vulnerable. "That hollow ache? Watching them crave someone else? Feeling like you’re always… second best?" He swallowed hard. "I’ve breathed that air. It chokes you. Slowly." His thumb lingered on your cheekbone. "I don’t want you to feel that poison. Not ever."

Silence stretched, filled only by the jet’s steady hum. You stared at him, stunned by the raw confession laid bare. "Jimin…" His name was a breath, a plea for understanding.

He leaned back, releasing your hand, but his gaze never wavered. "I know you love Jungkook," he stated, his voice surprisingly calm, almost serene. "I accept that." A small, genuine smile touched his lips, softening the intensity in his eyes. "I’m happy just being with you. Making you smile." His thumb brushed your knuckles again, a fleeting touch. "Even if it means," he added softly, the words carrying a quiet weight, "it brings you closer to him."

You flinched, pulling your hand back instinctively. "That’s not fair to you," you whispered, guilt twisting sharply in your gut. "You deserve—"

"Do I?" Jimin cut in, his voice suddenly rough, raw. He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, eyes locked onto yours with unnerving intensity. "Angel, do I deserve you?" The question hung heavy in the cabin’s hushed air. "Tell me. Honestly." His gaze didn’t waver—dark, searching, stripped bare. "Because I can do anything for you. Anything." His voice dropped to a low, urgent rasp. "But don’t push me away from you. Don’t shut me out because you think I deserve better." He reached out slowly, fingertips brushing your wrist. "Let me be near you. That’s all I ask."

You stared at him, throat tight. The vulnerability in his eyes mirrored your own—a shared ache laid bare. "Jimin," you breathed, your voice trembling. "You deserve someone who... who loves you back completely. Not someone who—"

He shook his head sharply, silencing you. A single tear traced a path down his cheekbone, catching the dim cabin light. "Deserve?" he whispered, the word thick with irony. "Love isn’t about deserving, angel. It’s about choosing." His thumb pressed gently against your pulse point. "I choose you. Even like this." He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Let me choose you. Please."

The raw ache in his voice shattered something inside you. Without thinking, you lifted your hand. Your fingertips brushed the damp trail on his cheek, catching the tear before it could fall further. His skin was warm, slightly damp, and beneath your touch, he went utterly still—a statue carved from longing. His eyes widened, dark pools reflecting the cabin’s soft glow and your own stunned expression.

You pulled your hand back slowly, fingers curling into your palm as if holding onto the fleeting warmth. "Jimin," you whispered, your voice thick with confusion and a dawning realization. "You can give me advice... comfort... yesterday night. Why this?" You gestured vaguely at the jet’s opulent interior, the clouds rushing past the window. "Why this trip?"

Jimin leaned back against the plush leather, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his lips—sharp, almost feline. "Little revenge," he admitted, his voice low and smooth as velvet. "For Jungkook." He met your widening eyes, unflinching. "I know Jungkook took *that* time on purpose." His gaze dropped pointedly to your lips. "He received that call... and I heard." A soft, deliberate pause hung heavy between you. "I heard your moans."

Heat flooded your cheeks, burning crimson. You pressed trembling fingers to your face, unable to speak.

Jimin watched you, his expression softening into something dangerously tender. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, closing the space between you. "So," he murmured, his voice a low caress beneath the jet’s hum, "let him suffer a little bit." A sly, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. "Plus," he added, his gaze drifting to your parted lips, "I get alone time with you." His hand lifted slowly, fingertips hovering near your jawline—not touching, yet radiating warmth. "Proper time. Without interruptions."

You stared at him, the raw vulnerability in his eyes warring with the sharpness of his words. "Jimin," you breathed, confusion knotting your chest. "Do you have... double personality disorder?" The question spilled out before you could stop it. "One time you become so sweet, so gentle... and the next—"

Jimin cut you off with a sharp, bitter laugh. "Sweet?" He leaned closer, his dark eyes flashing. "I'm not sweet, angel. Never." His voice dropped to a low, rough whisper. "I'm a total jerk person." He gestured sharply toward the window, toward the vanished Seoul. "This? Taking you? Pure selfishness. I wanted you away from him. Wanted you mine for a few hours." A harsh edge crept into his tone. "Don't mistake manipulation for kindness."

Your fingers tightened on the armrest. Without thinking, you reached out. Both hands cupped his face, thumbs pressing gently into the sharp angles of his cheeks. His skin was warm, smooth beneath your touch.

"But you *are* sweet," you insisted, voice trembling slightly. "Also half-cracked mad." The words came out breathless, almost a laugh caught in your throat. "Completely insane, actually."

Jimin didn’t pull away. He just stared, eyes wide and dark, reflecting the dim cabin light. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—real, warm, crinkling the corners of his eyes. It wasn’t the sharp, dangerous smirk from moments ago. This was softer. Almost… relieved. "Half-cracked mad," he repeated softly, his breath ghosting over your wrists. "Yeah. That sounds about right."

Your gaze drifted downward, landing on his lips. They were slightly parted, soft and inviting. The sight sent a jolt through you—confusion, guilt, and something else entirely. You pulled your hands back sharply, pressing them into your lap. "I'm sleepy," you mumbled, the words tumbling out too fast. You twisted away, staring out the window at the clouds below. Anything to avoid those eyes, that pout. Anything to escape the magnetic pull of his closeness.

He didn’t push. Didn’t tease. Just leaned back with a quiet sigh. "Alright, angel," he murmured. "Get some rest." His voice was gentle, the dangerous edge gone. He reached over, fingers brushing yours lightly before pulling a soft cashmere blanket from the seat beside him. He draped it carefully over your lap, his knuckles grazing your thigh through the fabric. "We’ve got a few hours."

You curled into the window, the cool glass soothing against your flushed cheek. The clouds outside were thick and dark, swallowing the world below. You closed your eyes, breathing in the scent of his cologne lingering on the blanket. Jimin’s presence beside you was a solid warmth, radiating calm. You drifted, exhaustion pulling you under.

------

The sharp click of Jungkook’s boots echoed down the hospital corridor. He shoved the door open, the hinges groaning. Inside, Jia sat up on the bed, pale but composed, while Namjoon stood beside her, arms crossed, his deep voice steady.

"You need to quit this job," Namjoon said, his gaze locked on Jia. "It’s not healthy. For anyone."

Jia’s fingers tightened on the thin hospital sheet. "Namjoon, I—"

"Why?" Jungkook’s voice cut through, low and dangerous. He leaned against the doorframe, eyes narrowed. "Why does she need to quit?"

Namjoon startled, turning sharply. "Jungkook-ah." He recovered quickly, his posture stiffening. "Because it’s not healthy for her. Or," he added pointedly, his gaze locking onto Jungkook’s, "for Y/N."

Jungkook pushed off the doorframe, stepping fully into the sterile room. The scent of antiseptic hung thick. "Hyung," he said, his voice deceptively calm, "Jia is my past. She doesn’t matter to me." He waved a dismissive hand toward the bed, not sparing Jia a glance. Her knuckles whitened on the sheet. "She’s only my assistant."

Namjoon didn’t flinch. "Exactly. Which is why she should quit." His gaze remained steady, assessing Jungkook’s tense posture. "For everyone’s sanity."

A muscle jumped in Jungkook’s jaw. "Jimin already took my babe," he countered, the possessive edge sharpening his tone. "For a ‘business trip.’" He air-quoted the words, dripping sarcasm. "So Taehyung and I? We need someone to handle our work." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Jia stays."

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temples. "Don’t create problems, Jungkook-ah." His voice held a warning. "Not now." He glanced at Jia’s pale face, then back at Jungkook’s defiant stare. Shaking his head slowly, Namjoon turned toward the door. "Handle it cleanly," he murmured, stepping past Jungkook without another word. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving silence heavy with tension.

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped slightly. He dragged a hand down his face, the exhaustion suddenly visible in the shadows beneath his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered, the word rough, almost swallowed by the sterile air. He didn’t look at Jia. "For Namjoon hyung. He… oversteps sometimes." He shifted his weight, finally meeting her gaze. "He just cares. Too much."

Jia offered a small, strained smile. Her fingers smoothed the hospital sheet. "It’s okay," she whispered, her voice thin but steady. "He cares for you. Deeply." She paused, searching his face. "Btw," she added softly, hesitating, "do you come to meet me?" Her eyes held a flicker of hesitant hope. "Or… is it about something else?"

Jungkook shoved his hands deep into his pockets, shoulders tensing. He didn’t meet her gaze, staring instead at the sterile white wall behind her bed. "If you're fine," he stated flatly, the words clipped and devoid of warmth, "then come back to work." He finally looked at her, his dark eyes hard, unreadable. "That's all."

Jia nodded slowly, her fingers twisting the thin hospital blanket. "I'll discharge this afternoon," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She forced a brittle smile. "I'll report at work tomorrow morning."

"Good." The single syllable landed like a stone. Jungkook turned sharply toward the door, his movements abrupt, charged with restless energy.

Jia watched him, the brittle smile fading completely. "Jungkook?" Her voice was small, tentative.

He paused, hand already on the door handle, but didn’t turn. His back was rigid, a wall of tension.

Jia swallowed hard, the hospital gown rustling softly. "Do you... hate me?" The question hung in the antiseptic air, fragile as glass.

Jungkook’s knuckles whitened on the door handle. He didn’t turn. "Hate?" The word came out flat, hollow. "No." A harsh, bitter laugh escaped him. "Hating you would mean I still care enough to waste time on you." He finally pivoted, eyes blazing with a feral intensity that pinned her to the bed. "And I don’t have time to waste. Not on you. "

The sterile room seemed to shrink under the weight of his glare. "If you’re getting any ideas—" His voice dropped to a venomous whisper, "—any fucking hope left that I’ll look at you again? Forget it." He took a step closer, the air crackling. "Y/N is my madness now. My only madness." His gaze sliced through Jia’s fragile composure. "So don’t you dare try to come between us." A dangerous smile twisted his lips. "You know exactly what I’m capable of when I’m mad."

Jia flinched as if struck, the color draining from her face. Her fingers clutched the sheet like a lifeline. "I wasn’t—" she stammered, voice breaking.

"Good." Jungkook cut her off, the word sharp as shattered glass. "Just do your work. Always be invisible." He turned back to the door, hand tightening on the handle. "That’s all you are now."

As he pulled the door open, Jia’s voice cracked through the sterile air, thin but desperate. "Jungkook!" He paused, shoulders rigid, but didn’t turn. "Your madness?" she whispered, the words trembling. "It’s not love."

Jungkook froze. Slowly, deliberately, he shut the door again with a soft click. He pivoted, his movements predatory, deliberate. The air thickened, charged with something dangerous. He stalked back toward the bed, each step echoing in the sudden silence. Stopping inches from her, he loomed over her, his shadow swallowing the sterile light. His eyes, dark and burning, locked onto hers.

"I don't need your advice," he hissed, voice low and venomous. "On anything. Especially not about her."

Jia flinched but held his gaze, a flicker of defiance sparking in her pale eyes. "I'm just..." She swallowed, forcing the words out. "I care for you." Her knuckles were white against the sheets. "And I saw Y/N's eyes." Her voice dropped to a trembling whisper. "When she looks at Jimin... it's different. There's feeling there."

Jungkook’s fist slammed against the bedside tray. The metal clattered violently, sending a plastic cup skittering across the floor. Jia gasped, shrinking back into her pillows. He leaned in, his breath hot against her face, eyes blazing. "Shut your mouth," he snarled, each word sharp as shattered glass. "You know nothing about her eyes." His hand shot out, gripping her chin, forcing her to meet his fury. "Nothing about *my* girl."

He released her abruptly, stepping back as if her skin burned him. His chest heaved, the sterile air thick with his ragged breaths. "Report tomorrow," he commanded, voice raw. "Or don't bother reporting ever again." He turned, boots striking the linoleum like gunshots as he strode toward the door. He didn't look back.

------

The jet touched down smoothly in Milan, the city lights glittering beneath a velvet dusk. A sleek black car waited on the tarmac, whisking you away from the airport’s bustle. You stared out the window, exhaustion warring with the surreal thrill of being in Italy. Cobblestone streets blurred past, giving way to manicured gardens and towering wrought-iron gates. The car slowed, then stopped before a palatial building draped in ivy, its windows glowing like liquid gold against the deepening blue.

Jimin leaned across you, his arm brushing yours as he pointed. "Welcome to Villa Rosa," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "Our home for the next few days." His fingers lingered near the door handle, his gaze fixed on your face, drinking in your reaction. "Thoughts?"

You blinked, trying to process the sheer scale of it. "It's... huge," you managed, voice hushed. "Are we staying here alone?"

Jimin chuckled, low and intimate. "Just us." He pushed the car door open, the cool Italian air rushing in, scented with lemon blossoms and damp earth. "Come on," he said, offering his hand. "Let's get you inside."

You stepped out, heels sinking into the gravel drive. The villa loomed, all pale stone and arched windows, glowing warmly against the twilight. Inside, the entrance hall stole your breath. High ceilings soared above marble floors, a grand staircase curling upwards. "Wow," you breathed, the word echoing softly in the vast space. "It's... really big."

Jimin watched you, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he slid off his coat. "Big enough to get lost in," he agreed, his eyes never leaving your face. He gestured expansively towards the staircase. "Pick any room you love upstairs. They're all yours."

You hesitated, scanning the vast, echoing hall. "Where... where will your co-staff stay? Your manager? Security?" The question felt practical, grounding amidst the unsettling intimacy.

Jimin chuckled softly, draping his coat over a gilded chair. "Neighborhood house," he answered smoothly, nodding toward the darkened gardens beyond the arched windows. "Close enough for emergencies, far enough for... privacy." His gaze lingered on you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

You shifted under that look, the marble floor cool beneath your feet. "Jimin," you started, fingers twisting together. "Don't you think... people will doubt?" The words felt thick, clumsy. "Us. Alone here." Your gaze flickered to the grand staircase, then back to him. "It looks... improper."

Jimin stepped closer, the scent of his cologne wrapping around you—spicy and warm. "Don't worry," he murmured, his voice a low thrum that vibrated in your chest. His hand brushed yours, deliberate and lingering. "My personal assistant should stay close to me." His thumb traced your knuckle. "Especially abroad. For... efficiency."

You pulled your hand back, the cool marble floor chilling your bare feet. "I'm going to freshen up," you declared, already moving toward the staircase. The carved wood felt solid under your palm as you climbed, each step echoing in the cavernous foyer. Jimin watched from below, his gaze a physical weight between your shoulder blades. "Pick the room at the end," he called up, the words soft but carrying. "Best view."

The hallway stretched endlessly, lined with heavy oak doors. At the end, you pushed open the last one. The room swallowed you whole—high ceilings, silk-draped windows overlooking moonlit vineyards, and a bed vast enough for five. You locked the door behind you, the click echoing like a gunshot. Leaning against it, you breathed in the silence.

------

After freshening up, you emerged from the room, the plush carpet muffling your steps. The villa felt cavernous and silent, filled only with the distaistant hum of crickets outside. Downstairs, the scent of garlic and olive oil wrapped around you, warm and unexpected. You paused at the foot of the grand staircase.

Jimin stood at the massive kitchen island, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was tossing vegetables in a sizzling pan, his movements fluid and focused. The sight was disarmingly domestic—firelight from the gas burner dancing across his sharp features, apron strings tied loosely around his waist. He didn't turn, but his voice cut through the quiet. "Hungry, angel?" A sliver of onion flew from the pan as he flipped it expertly.

You hovered near the doorway, tension coiling in your shoulders. "I can help," you offered, voice tight. "Chop something. Or—"

Jimin glanced over his shoulder, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Sit," he commanded softly, nodding toward the heavy oak dining table set for two. Candles flickered between polished silverware. "I’ll serve." He turned back to the stove, dismissing you with effortless authority. The sizzle of garlic filled the silence.

He slid a plate before you moments later—seared scallops resting on saffron risotto, drizzled with vibrant green pesto. Steam curled upward, carrying the scent of lemon zest and toasted pine nuts. "Eat," he murmured, taking the seat opposite you. His gaze pinned you, intense and unblinking, as you lifted the first forkful.

The flavors exploded—creamy rice, briny sweetness from the scallop, the sharp bite of basil. You nodded, swallowing. "Good," you managed, the word thick. "Really good."

Jimin’s lips curved, a predator’s smile. "Just ‘good’?" He leaned forward, elbows on the tablecloth, eyes darkening.

"It's delicious," you clarified, shifting under the intensity of his stare. The candlelight caught the predatory curve of Jimin's smile. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Jimin leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "Jealous," he murmured, eyes flicking to your plate. "Wish I was that scallop." His gaze returned to yours, heavy-lidded and unblinking. "On your fork. In your mouth." The implication hung thick between you—hotter than the steam rising from your plate.

You froze, fork halfway to your lips. The scallop suddenly felt heavy, obscene. "Jimin," you began, low warning.

" It's touching your lips," Jimin murmured, his voice low and thick as he watched the fork hover near your mouth. The candlelight flickered in his dark eyes, turning them molten. "Tell me, angel, how could I not be jealous of that?" He leaned closer, the scent of pine nuts and saffron mingling with his cologne—something expensive and subtly dangerous. "Watching it slide past those perfect lips... knowing I can't." His gaze dropped pointedly to your mouth, then back up, holding yours captive. "Feels like torture."

You lowered the fork slowly, the scallop untouched. "Jimin," you breathed, exasperation warring with the unnerving heat pooling low in your stomach. "You are ridiculous."

A slow, utterly unrepentant grin spread across his face. "Maybe I am," he conceded, leaning back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. The predatory intensity softened, replaced by a playful, almost boyish charm. "But only about you." He gestured casually to your plate. "Now eat. Before it gets cold. And before I decide jealousy requires immediate action."

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. You focused on the food, the rich risotto and scallop. The flavors were still exquisite, though the air crackled differently now. You ate steadily, deliberately ignoring the heat radiating from him across the table. The silence stretched, comfortable yet charged.

-------

After dinner, you retreated to the cavernous bedroom, locking the door again. The silence pressed in, thick and heavy. You paced, scrolling through your phone—endless notifications, unanswered texts, but nothing held your attention. Boredom prickled under your skin. The villa felt too quiet, too vast. You needed... movement. Air. Anything to break the stillness.

You slipped into the hallway, bare feet silent on cool marble. The villa was dimly lit, shadows pooling in corners. Below, in the living room, Jimin sat bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp. He was sprawled in a deep armchair, utterly absorbed in a thick, leather-bound book. His brow was furrowed in concentration, fingers tracing the lines of text. The sight was unexpectedly serene—a stark contrast to the intensity he usually radiated.

He’d pushed his silver-framed glasses up his nose, the lenses catching the light. The sharp lines of his jaw softened in the low light, his lips slightly parted as he read. The focused stillness transformed him. Gone was the calculated flirtation, the predatory charm. Here was something quieter, unexpectedly magnetic. Your breath hitched. He looked… beautiful. Undeniably attractive in a way that felt disarmingly genuine.

You drifted closer, drawn by the quiet intensity. The scent of old paper and bergamot cologne wrapped around you. Curiosity burned hotter than caution. What held him so rapt? You leaned in, peering over his shoulder. The page swam before your eyes—not dense prose, but tangled limbs sketched in stark ink. A woman arched beneath a man, fingers clawing at sheets, mouths fused in desperate hunger. Your face ignited, heat flooding your cheeks, scalding your ears. *Oh god.* You jerked back violently, stumbling on the plush rug.

Jimin moved faster. His hand shot out, iron fingers clamping around your wrist. A startled gasp ripped from your throat as he hauled you sideways, off-balance. You crashed down hard onto his lap, legs splayed awkwardly across his thighs.

The book tumbled to the floor with a heavy thud, pages splayed open to the illustration. His arm banded around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His breath hitched against your hair, warm and uneven. "See something interesting?" His voice was a low rasp, vibrating through you. His other hand came up, fingertips brushing the burning skin of your cheek. "You're blushing crimson."

You squeezed your eyes shut, turning your face away, desperate to escape the heat of his gaze and the evidence of your own embarrassment. Your voice emerged strangled. "I wasn’t... looking. Not like that."

Jimin’s chuckle was a low rumble against your ear. "Angel," he murmured, his breath warm on your temple. "If you wanted to read something... interesting, you only had to ask." His thumb traced the frantic pulse at your wrist. "I’d recommend you some books." The implication hung heavy in the air.

You kept your face stubbornly turned away, cheeks burning. "I’m not shameless like you," you retorted, voice tight. "Reading... that." You gestured vaguely toward the fallen book, its pages splayed open, revealing another intricate sketch of desperate passion.

Jimin’s laugh was low, utterly unrepentant. "Shameless?" He shifted you effortlessly in his lap, tightening his arm around your waist. "Can you describe how it’s shameless, angel?" His fingertips traced the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Tell me."

You swallowed hard, still refusing to look at him. "Because... it's private. Something you should read alone. Not... out here." Your voice trembled slightly. "And you were doing it with such a straight face. Like it was... philosophy."

Jimin's fingers tightened on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer against the hard lines of his body. "Straight face?" His breath ghosted hot over your ear as he nudged your chin, forcing you to meet his smoldering gaze. The lamplight caught the dangerous glint in his dark eyes. "Then what kind of face should I make, angel? Show me." His thumb brushed your lower lip, rough and demanding. "Describe it."

You pushed against his chest, panic fluttering beneath your ribs. "I don't know!" The words burst out, sharp and breathless. "I don't know." You twisted, trying to lever yourself off his lap, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders. "Let me up!"

Jimin didn't budge. His arm was steel around your waist. His other hand shot up, catching your wrist mid-push. His eyes, dark and molten, held yours captive. Slowly, deliberately, he raised your captured hand to his mouth. Your breath hitched, trapped in your throat. His lips parted. Warmth enveloped your index finger as he drew it deep into his mouth.

The sensation was electric—wet heat, the soft pressure of his tongue swirling deliberately around your fingertip, the scrape of teeth grazing your knuckle. Your entire body froze, heat flooding your cheeks, pooling low in your belly. You stared, transfixed, as his cheeks hollowed slightly with the suction. He held your gaze, unwavering, as he sucked your finger slowly, deliberately, his eyes locked on yours.

He released your finger with a soft, wet pop. A bead of saliva glistened on your skin. Jimin tilted his head, a predatory gleam in his dark eyes. His thumb brushed your damp fingertip. "This face," he murmured, voice thick with amusement and something darker. "This wide-eyed, breathless look you're wearing right now." His lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Is this the face you meant, angel?"

Panic surged, sharp and electric. You shoved hard against his chest, scrambling off his lap. Your knees hit the rug, jarring, as you stumbled backward, putting precious distance between you and the heat radiating off him. You wiped your damp finger furiously against your jeans, heart hammering against your ribs.

"Jimin," you gasped, voice shaky. "That wasn't—"

His phone buzzed sharply on the coffee table, cutting you off. Jimin didn't glance away from you, his smirk unwavering as he reached back blindly, fingers closing around the device. He answered without looking, eyes still locked on your flushed face.

"Mmhmm," he murmured into the phone, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "Yeah. Got it." A low chuckle escaped him, predatory and warm. "Sounds perfect." He ended the call, tossing the phone aside. It skittered across the marble floor. His gaze swept over you, hooded and intense.

"Angel," Jimin purred, leaning closer until his breath ghosted over your ear. "Wanna go to a club?" His hand slid possessively around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You gasped, eyes widening. "Really?" The word burst out before you could temper your excitement.

Jimin chuckled, low and warm, his thumb tracing circles on your hipbone through the thin fabric of your top. "Yeah," he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against your temple. "Why the sudden sparkle? You look like a kid promised candy."

You bounced slightly on your toes, unable to contain the burst of energy. "Jungkook never took me to a club," you blurted out, instantly taking in your eyes, Jimin’s hand on you, the charged silence. Her expression tightened almost imperceptibly. "He didn't like other boys looking at me." You flashed Jimin a bright, genuine smile. "I'm really excited! I'm going to change!" You spun away, heading back towards the grand staircase. "Wait here!".

Jimin watched you bound up the stairs, your excitement palpable in every hurried step. The moment you disappeared around the corner, his playful smirk vanished, replaced by a chilling stillness. "Tonight," he murmured, voice low and dangerous, echoing softly in the vast, empty room. "My patience is going to be tested very much." He ran a hand through his hair, a flicker of possessiveness darkening his eyes. He knew exactly what unleashing you in a Milanese club meant—eyes would follow you, hungry and appreciative. The thought coiled tight in his gut.

--------

The dance track faded out as Jungkook lifted his hand, signaling the end of practice. Sweat glistened on his jaw as he caught his breath, scanning the room.

"How about dinner?" Jungkook offered, wiping his brow with his forearm. "My treat."

The dancers exchanged awkward glances. One stepped forward, rubbing his neck. "Sorry, hyung-nim. We... uh... promised our girlfriends tonight." Another mumbled agreement, already gathering bags. Jungkook waved them off with a tight smile. "Go. Enjoy." The studio emptied within minutes, leaving only the echo of their footsteps and the faint scent of sweat.

Alone, Jungkook slumped against the mirrored wall, pulling out his phone. The screen lit up, displaying your photo—a candid shot where you were laughing, eyes crinkled. His thumb traced the curve of your smile. A memory surged, sharp and vivid.

---

*Flashback:*
He’d been stretching after rehearsal, muscles burning, when you appeared at the studio door, clutching a thermal lunchbox. "Babe," Jungkook sighed, wiping sweat from his brow, "I told you *many* times—no need to bring food here. I’m not a kid, okay?"

You’d shrugged, unfazed, already turning toward his wide-eyed dance crew. "Fine," you chirped. "I’ll give this japchae to your coworkers."

Jungkook moved faster than thought. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist. "Yah!" he barked, pulling you back sharply. The dancers scattered like startled birds, leaving the two of you alone in the echoing studio. He tugged you flush against him, sweat-damp practice shirt pressing into your blouse. "Feed me," he demanded, voice dropping low. His eyes burned into yours—possessive, intense.

"Why?" you teased, tilting your head, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. "Someone told me he’s not a kid." You held the lunchbox just out of reach. "Shouldn’t big, grown-up idols feed themselves?"

Jungkook’s grip tightened, pulling you impossibly closer until the heat of his body seeped through your clothes. His eyes darkened, pupils dilating as they fixed on your mouth. "Feed me," he growled, low and dangerous, "or I’ll eat you right here." His free hand slid possessively down your back, pressing you against the hard line of his thigh. "Against this mirror."

You rolled your eyes, trying to mask the flutter low in your belly. "Fine," you sighed dramatically, popping the lid open. You scooped a tangle of japchae onto a fork. "Only because I enjoy your jealous tantrums." You lifted the bite toward his lips. "Here, you big—"

He didn’t wait. His hand shot up, fingers wrapping around yours, guiding the fork forcefully into his mouth. His eyes never left yours as he chewed slowly, deliberately. Sauce glistened on his lower lip. "Good," he murmured, swallowing. His thumb brushed your knuckle, rough and possessive. "But I wasn’t talking about the japchae." Before you could react, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It tasted of soy sauce, sesame oil, and raw, unchecked hunger. His tongue swept against yours, demanding, claiming. You gasped against his mouth, fingers curling into his damp shirt.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, breath hot. "See? Much better." His gaze dropped to your swollen mouth, then back up, blazing. "Now finish feeding me. Properly."

---

The memory faded, leaving Jungkook alone in the silent studio.

He pushed off the mirrored wall abruptly. "Enough," he muttered to the empty room, the word harsh in the stillness. He snatched his jacket and strode out, the heavy door thudding shut behind him. Outside, the Seoul night air was cool against his heated skin. He slid into his sleek black sports car, the engine roaring to life with a throaty growl that echoed his restless energy.

Jungkook navigated the neon-lit streets, fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel. At a red light, his gaze drifted absently to the sidewalk. A vendor stood under a garish umbrella, spinning wisps of pink and blue sugar onto paper cones. Cotton candy. His breath hitched. You loved that sickly-sweet fluff. Obsessed with it. He remembered dragging you away from a stall at Lotte World, you pouting with sticky fingers and glitter in your hair, him pretending annoyance while secretly storing the image away.

The light turned green. He didn't move. Horns blared behind him, sharp and insistent. He ignored them, staring at the swirling pink cloud until the vendor packed up and vanished into the night.

"Damn it," Jungkook snarled, slamming his palm against the steering wheel. The sharp sting barely registered. He floored the accelerator, tires screeching as he surged forward, weaving through traffic with reckless precision. The city lights blurred into streaks of neon, but all he saw was the phantom pink floss dissolving into darkness. Like you. Always slipping away.

------

The sleek black car slid to a predatory halt outside Taehyung’s imposing Seoul penthouse. Jungkook killed the engine, the silence sudden and thick. He didn’t ring the bell. He knew the code. The heavy front door hissed open under his fingers, admitting him into the cavernous, dimly lit foyer. His footsteps echoed on the cold marble as he moved deeper.

He found Taehyung in the living room, silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city. Taehyung didn’t turn. His voice, low and dangerously calm, cut through the stillness. "Don’t think you should inform me before invading my space, Jungkook?"

Jungkook ignored him. His gaze locked onto the far wall—a gallery of obsession. Dozens of photos plastered the surface: candid shots of you laughing, sleeping, unaware. Close-ups of your eyes, your hands, your smile. Some were enlarged, grainy from hidden cameras. Others were stolen moments Taehyung had meticulously framed.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. He stepped closer, tracing a fingertip over one where you looked heartbreakingly vulnerable, curled asleep on a sofa. "No wonder," he murmured, the words thick with disgust. "No wonder babe kept saying you needed serious fucking treatment."

Taehyung finally turned. His eyes were glacial, devoid of warmth. "Does she know?" he asked softly, dangerously. "Does Y/N know why those guys who talked to her suddenly disappeared?" He gestured lazily toward the shrine. "The barista who complimented her eyes? Gone. The intern who asked for her number? Vanished." A cold smile touched his lips. "Or the dancer who dared touch her waist during that charity event?" His gaze sharpened, drilling into Jungkook.

Jungkook’s fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white. "Don’t you fucking dare," he growled, the sound low and feral in the cavernous room.

Taehyung took a slow step forward, his polished shoes silent on the marble. "Dare?" His laugh was a cold, brittle thing. "Tell me, Jungkook." He stopped inches away, his icy gaze pinning the younger man. "Who needs treatment? Me?" He gestured dismissively toward the wall of obsession behind him. "Or you?" His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "I’m not going to pull your card. So don’t you dare pull mine."

Jungkook’s hand shot out, ripping a photo from the wall—one of you laughing, sunlight catching your hair. He crumpled it savagely in his fist. "I’m taking this," he snarled, shoving the ruined paper into his pocket. "For your information? Bringing Jia back? Your plan totally failed." A harsh, mocking laugh escaped him. "You just made her cling tighter to me."

" Maybe," Taehyung breathed, the word sharp as ice shards. His gaze remained fixed on the glittering cityscape, knuckles white against the window frame. "But she still decided to go." He turned slowly, eyes hollow pits swallowing the dim light. "With Jimin. On that so-called 'business trip'." A bitter laugh escaped him, devoid of humor. "Looks like my idea... my advantage... snatched right out of my hands by Park Jimin."

Jungkook splayed himself across Taehyung's pristine white sofa, the leather creaking under his weight. He stared at the ceiling, jaw working silently. "Jimin's playing the good boy role in front of my babe," he muttered, the words thick with contempt. "Acting all charming. Making her laugh." His fingers dug into the cushion. "She's too innocent to see it. Thinks he's just being nice."

A crumpled ball of paper hit Jungkook square in the temple. He jerked upright, snarling. Taehyung stood by the window, silhouetted against the city lights, his expression unreadable in the gloom. "She's not only yours," Taehyung stated, voice dangerously soft. "She's mine too." The words hung in the air like a blade unsheathed.

Jungkook scoffed, kicking off his shoes with deliberate slowness. "Keep dreaming." He stretched out fully on the sofa, claiming the space like a throne. The leather sighed beneath him.

Taehyung didn't move, but the air crackled. "Why did you come to my house?" The question was ice.

"Why can't I come to my best friend's house?" Jungkook countered, folding his arms behind his head, a picture of insolent ease. His eyes, though, remained locked on Taehyung’s shadowed form. "I'm going to sleep here tonight."

"Not going to happen." Taehyung’s voice cracked like a whip. He took a single step forward, the dim light catching the sharp angles of his face. "Get. Out."

Jungkook didn’t budge from the sofa, sinking deeper into the cushions. He tilted his head back, exposing the taut line of his throat. "TaeHyung," he sighed, the word heavy with feigned exhaustion. "You know I don’t like to sleep alone." His fingers traced idle patterns on the leather. "Especially tonight."

" Yah," Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. A flicker of annoyance warring with weary resignation. "Go disturb someone else. Jin-hyung loves your clingy ass?"

Jungkook grinned, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "TaeHyung, you're my best friend." The declaration was absurdly earnest, undermined by Taehyung's icy glare. "Who else would I annoy at midnight?" He gestured expansively at the cavernous, sterile living room. "Besides, your couch is nicer than mine. Memory foam." He bounced slightly for emphasis. "Perfect for plotting."

Taehyung didn't move from the window. "Plotting what? More ways to terrify baristas?" His voice was flat, devoid of humor. "Go home."

"Home?" Jungkook scoffed, sprawling deeper into the cushions. "Empty. Cold." He pulled out his phone, tapping the screen to illuminate your laughing face again. "Unlike here."

" I'm going to Milan." Jungkook suddenly announced, the words slicing through the tense silence. He swung his legs off the sofa, landing soundlessly on the marble floor. His eyes, dark and unreadable, fixed on Taehyung's rigid back. "Tonight."

Chapter Text

The room buzzed faintly with music from the balcony, city lights flickering through the curtains. Jimin stood by the mirror, buttoning his black shirt, silver chain glinting at his collarbone. He looked up the moment he heard your heels click against the marble.

You stepped out from the dressing room, fixing your lipstick in the reflection.

Jimin’s gaze swept over you slowly — head to toe — his jaw tightening just a little.

You caught his reflection looking at you and smiled. "Don’t look at me like that. Let’s go."

He turned slightly, lips curving. "You don’t think you’re showing your back a little too much, angel?"

You pivoted smoothly, meeting his gaze in the mirror. Your smile sharpened. "It’s a backless dress, you senseless man. I was born with a back, so I’ll show it off." You started walking towards the villa’s grand entrance, the slit in your dress revealing a flash of thigh with each step. The delicate ribbon knot securing the back of your dress rested just above the curve of your spine.

Jimin’s hand shot out, fingers closing around the trailing end of the ribbon. "Yah," you protested, trying to pull away, "leave that alone!"

He didn’t release it. Instead, he gave a sharp, deliberate tug. The ribbon uncoiled like a serpent, and you stumbled backward into his chest with a gasp. His free arm banded around your waist, locking you in place. "Senseless, huh?" His breath was hot against the exposed skin of your shoulder blade.

Before you could twist away, his lips pressed against the curve of your spine—not a kiss, but a claiming. Slow, deliberate, his mouth moved with possessive heat. You felt the scrape of his teeth, the insistent pressure, the unmistakable wet heat as he sucked hard, branding the skin. A shiver tore through you, equal parts shock and unwanted sensation.

"Yah!" You shoved against his arm, your voice sharp. "Why did you do that?!" You twisted, finally breaking free, and whirled to face him. Your fingers flew to the spot on your back, feeling the raised, damp mark already forming. "It’s going to show! I need to change now!"

Jimin just watched you, his eyes dark pools reflecting the low light. A faint, satisfied smirk played on his lips. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t explain. He simply tilted his head towards the dressing room. "Go on then, angel. Change."

You glared, clutching the loose fabric of your dress at your chest. Without another word, you spun on your heel and stormed back towards the dressing room, the ribbon dangling uselessly from your fingers. The air crackled with the unspoken tension he’d left simmering on your skin.

A few minutes later, you emerged again. This time, the dress was simple – a deep emerald slip dress with thin straps, modestly covering your back and shoulders, the fabric falling in soft folds to your ankles.

Jimin leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. His gaze traveled over you slowly, lingering on the high neckline, the covered arms, the lack of exposed skin. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "Perfect," he murmured, the word thick with dark approval. "Now you look exactly how you should." He pushed off the frame and turned towards the grand entrance hall. "Let's go."

You just rolled your eyes, following him out into the Milanese night. The humid air clung to your skin as Jimin's driver pulled the sleek car to the curb. Inside, the leather seats were cool, the city lights streaking past the tinted windows like liquid gold. Jimin sat beside you, a silent, intense presence.

----

The club pulsed like a living thing, bass vibrating through the marble steps as Jimin guided you inside. Neon streaks cut through the haze of dry ice, catching on sequined dresses and the glint of expensive watches. Bodies pressed close in the dimness, moving as one undulating mass. You flinched as a stranger’s elbow brushed your bare arm, the sudden proximity making your breath hitch.

"Jimin-ah!" A deep voice boomed over the music. A tall man with artfully tousled hair and a grin too wide to be genuine materialized from the crowd. He clapped Jimin hard on the shoulder, pulling him into a rough hug that Jimin tolerated with a tight smile. "Been too long, you bastard!" The man’s gaze slid past Jimin, landing squarely on you. His eyes—sharp and assessing—raked over you with slow, undisguised interest. "And who’s this vision?"

Jimin’s hand settled possessively on the small of your back, fingers splaying wide. "This is—"

You stepped forward half a beat before Jimin could speak, meeting the man’s curious stare head-on. Your voice came out clear, cutting through the thumping bass. "Choi Y/N. Mr. Park Jimin’s personal assistant." The title felt like armor. You offered a polite, professional smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

Minho blinked, momentarily thrown. He recovered quickly, flashing another dazzling grin. "Wow, Jimin-ah," he drawled, leaning conspiratorially towards Jimin but keeping his eyes locked on you. "You are lucky. Your assistance is cute." His gaze lingered a fraction too long on the curve of your neckline.

Jimin’s fingers flexed against your spine, pressing you subtly closer to his side. His tone was smooth, but the undercurrent was ice. "Minho. Where are the others?"

Minho gestured vaguely towards a velvet rope cordoning off a raised section overlooking the dance floor. "Back there, VIP. Come on, introduce your cute assistant." He winked at you. "I arranged something special tonight. Guaranteed fun." He didn't wait for an answer, melting back into the pulsing crowd with a wave.

You turned to Jimin as Minho disappeared. "Arrange what? What did he mean?"

Jimin’s gaze slid to yours, dark and unreadable in the flashing lights. "Girls," he stated flatly. "He means girls."

You stiffened, the pulsing music suddenly feeling distant. "Such a playboy you are," you muttered, the words sharp despite the noise.

Jimin pulled out his phone, his thumbs moving swiftly over the screen. He didn't look at you. "So what?" His voice was low, cutting through the bass. "I don't think it matters to you if I spend time with girls." He slid the phone back into his pocket, his gaze finally meeting yours, cool and detached.

Before you could retort, a broad-shouldered man materialized beside Jimin—his bodyguard, expression impassive. Jimin tilted his head towards you. "Take care of Y/N. Make sure she's okay. Don't let her wander."

"*Why?*" You stepped closer, the noise fading beneath the sudden rush in your ears. "Why can't I go with you?"

Jimin’s gaze sharpened. "No." The word was final. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. "Angel, don’t do any stupidity. I don’t want to be angry with you." He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with unnerving intensity. "So stay here. Drink juice. Enjoy. Be a good kid." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and melted into the throng, following Minho towards the VIP section, leaving you alone with the silent bodyguard.

You stared after him, frustration bubbling. The bodyguard shifted, a looming shadow at your shoulder. You scanned the crowded bar, the pulsing lights making your head spin. Spotting a vacant stool, you slid onto it, the cool leather a small relief. A bartender materialized instantly, his smile polished. "What can I get you, beautiful?"

"Vodka tonic," you said, the words clipped. "Double."

Before the bartender could move, the bodyguard’s hand landed heavily on the polished wood counter. "No." His voice was low, gravelly, but carried an undeniable command. "Miss Choi cannot drink alcohol. Juice only. Sir’s order."

You swiveled on the stool, glaring up at him. His face was impassive, carved from stone. "So what else did your sir order you to do?" you snapped, the music suddenly feeling too loud, the air too thick. "Am I allowed to breathe without permission? Should I ask before blinking?"

The bodyguard didn’t flinch. His dark eyes scanned the shifting crowd behind you, constantly assessing. "Sir said," he stated, his gaze finally flicking back to yours, "if any guy tries misbehaving with you..." He paused, his massive fist clenching slowly on the bar top. The knuckles were scarred, testament to past violence. "...I break his hand." He said it with the calm certainty of stating the time. "Immediately."

You recoiled slightly. "That’s... bastard ."

He shrugged one massive shoulder. "My job." He nodded sharply at the bartender. "One orange juice. Fresh."

You slumped back on the stool, defeated. The bartender slid a tall glass of pulpy orange liquid towards you. You took a sullen sip, the sweetness cloying. Your gaze drifted over the bodyguard’s stoic profile. "So," you began, swirling the juice. "Mr. Bodyguard. Do you have a girlfriend?" You gestured vaguely at the chaotic club around you. "Do you leave your girlfriend like this? Alone in a place like this?"

The bodyguard’s eyes remained fixed on a group of rowdy men near the dance floor. His voice was low, devoid of inflection. "Sorry, ma’am. That’s my personal life." He shifted his weight slightly, a subtle barrier between you and the crowd. "And Mr. Park Jimin told me not to talk with you too much."

You snorted, setting the glass down hard. "Of course he did." You signed dramatically, fingers flicking through the air.

A few minutes later, the velvet rope near the VIP section shifted. Minho emerged, scanning the crowded bar. His eyes lit up when he spotted you. He sauntered over, ignoring the bodyguard’s immediate, protective shift closer to your stool. Minho slid onto the empty seat beside you, his expensive cologne clashing with the club’s smoky air. "Hey there, Assistant Choi," he grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. His gaze flicked to the hulking bodyguard looming behind you, then back to your face. "Jimin leaves you here with him?" Minho chuckled, low and suggestive. "That means you’re something special to him. Very special."

Your eyes widened. "No! No, no," you protested instantly, shaking your head so hard your hair brushed your cheeks. "Absolutely not. I’m just his assistant. That’s it." You gestured vaguely towards the VIP section, where Jimin was now a silhouette against the flashing lights, surrounded by indistinct figures. "He just... worries. About staff safety. Professional responsibility." The words felt flimsy even as you said them.

Minho leaned closer, his grin turning wolfish. "Well, if you don’t mind," he purred, signaling the bartender with a lazy flick of his wrist, "let’s have a drink." He winked. "I promise I’m much more fun than your stone-faced shadow."

Panic fluttered in your chest. The bodyguard shifted, a low growl rumbling in his throat, but Minho ignored him. The bartender placed a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in front of Minho and looked expectantly at you. Minho pushed it towards you slightly. "Come on, loosen up. Jimin won’t mind."

You recoiled, pressing your back against the cool bar. "I don’t drink alcohol," you stated firmly, your voice tight. "I’m sorry." You met his gaze, trying to project calm despite the frantic beat of your heart. "And I’m not comfortable with you sitting here. Can you please leave?" You gestured pointedly towards the VIP area. "Your friends are waiting."

Minho’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes hardened. "Jimin’s busy," he countered smoothly, swirling the ice in his glass. "He won’t notice. Besides, I like it here." His gaze dropped deliberately to your lips, then back up. "Much better view."

The bodyguard took a single, deliberate step forward, his shadow engulfing Minho. "Sir," he rumbled, the single word vibrating with unmistakable warning. "Miss Choi asked you to leave."

Minho recoiled slightly, his grin faltering. He raised his hands in mock surrender, eyes flicking nervously to the guard's scarred knuckles. "Easy, big guy! Just offering the lovely assistant a drink!" He slid the untouched tumbler of whiskey towards you, amber liquid sloshing. "Come on, Y/N," he coaxed, leaning closer despite the guard's looming presence. "Jimin's already upstairs in the VIP lounge. Surrounded by girls. Models. Influencers." Minho waved a dismissive hand.

The guard shifted his weight, boots scraping the polished floor. "Sir," he repeated, voice like grinding stone. "Move."

Minho ignored him, his gaze locking onto yours. "Relax," he insisted, flashing a predatory smile. "I'm here to make a deal." He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice just enough to be heard over the pulsing bass. "I'll pay you double. Triple! Whatever Jimin's paying you for this babysitting gig tonight." His eyes gleamed with calculation. "Seriously, Miss Choi. What's he paying you? Fifty thousand won an hour? A hundred?" He gestured grandly towards the VIP section. "He's going to be busy for hours. Why sit here bored with this statue?" Minho nudged your untouched orange juice. "Why not enjoy yourself? With me?"

The bodyguard’s fist clenched, knuckles whitening against the scarred skin. His massive frame coiled like a spring, ready to lunge. "Last warning," he growled, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. His eyes were fixed on Minho’s throat.

"Stop." Your voice sliced through the tension, sharp and clear. You placed a hand lightly on the bodyguard’s rock-hard forearm. He froze instantly, muscles locked, but didn't move. His furious gaze remained locked on Minho.

Slowly, deliberately, you turned on the stool to face Minho. The flashing lights caught the cold glint in your eyes. You tilted your head, a small, dangerous smile playing on your lips. "Come a little closer," you murmured, your voice deceptively soft. "I didn't quite catch that."

Minho’s grin widened, triumphant. He leaned in eagerly, closing the gap until his face was mere inches from yours. His breath smelled sharply of whiskey and mint gum. "See? Much better," he breathed, his eyes dropping to your mouth. "Now, about that pay—"

You moved fast. Planting your stiletto heel squarely on top of his polished leather shoe, you slammed your weight down with vicious precision. The sharp point dug deep into the soft leather and the fragile bones beneath.

Minho’s eyes bulged. A choked gasp tore from his throat as agony ripped through his foot. He jerked upright instinctively, staggering back off the stool. " AGH! What the—?!"

"Oh my god!" Your voice was a shrill, perfectly pitched cry of alarm, laced with false panic. You surged forward, hands fluttering wildly towards his face as if to steady him. "I'm so sorry! Did I step on you?!" Your frantic apology drowned out his pained groan. "Here, let me—!"

As Minho instinctively recoiled from your grasping hands, clutching his throbbing foot, you deliberately stumbled forward. With a sharp, calculated jerk of your head, you snapped your forehead forward with brutal force. It connected squarely with the bridge of his nose.

A sickening *crack* echoed beneath the pulsing bass. Minho howled, blood instantly gushing over his lips and chin, splattering onto his pristine white shirt. He staggered back, crashing into a nearby table, sending glasses shattering across the floor. "FUCK!" he screamed, clutching his ruined nose, eyes streaming. "You bitch! You broke my nose!"

Chaos erupted. People nearby scrambled back, shouting. The bodyguard surged forward, his expression shifting from fury to stunned disbelief as he watched you.

You straightened up, wiping a smear of Minho's blood from your forehead with the back of your hand. Your voice dropped to a low, venomous hiss, cutting through his agonized cries. "Listen carefully, Ahjussi ," you spat the honorific like an insult, stepping closer despite the blood dripping onto the floor. "Leave. Now. Before I break something else." Your eyes, cold and furious, locked onto his. "Something much harder to fix."

Minho staggered upright, one hand clamped over his gushing nose, the other pointing a trembling finger at you. His voice was thick with blood and rage. "You fucking bitch!" he choked out, spraying crimson droplets. "What kind of attitude is that, huh?! You fucking slave! Just an assistant, acting like—"

"She's my girlfriend."

Jimin's voice cut through the chaos like shattered glass. He stood beside you suddenly, materializing from the crowd without a sound. His eyes were black holes in the flashing lights, fixed on Minho's bleeding face. The club's roar seemed to mute around his icy presence.

Minho froze mid-rant, his bloody hand still raised. "J-Jimin?" he stammered, confusion warring with pain. "She's... what?"

Jimin didn't look at him. His gaze remained locked on Minho's ruined face, his expression terrifyingly blank. The music pulsed, the bass vibrating through the sticky floor beneath Minho's blood droplets. "She," Jimin enunciated slowly, deliberately, "is my girlfriend." He finally shifted his eyes to Minho, a glacial calm settling over his features. "You called her a slave. You called her a bitch." The words hung in the air, colder than the air conditioning cutting through the club's haze.

Minho's blood-drained face went sheet-white beneath the crimson streaks. "Girlfriend?" he choked out, disbelief warring with dawning horror. His eyes darted frantically between Jimin's icy stare and your own impassive face. "Jimin, I didn't—"

"Kneel." Jimin's command sliced through Minho's stammering like a blade. It wasn't loud, but it carried absolute authority. Minho flinched as if struck. "Now." Jimin took a single, deliberate step forward. The crowd instinctively shuffled back, creating a wider circle around the spectacle.

Minho hesitated for only a second, panic flaring in his eyes. Then, clutching his still-bleeding nose, he crumpled. His knees hit the sticky floor with a thud, sending a fresh wave of pain through his ruined foot. He bowed his head low, his shoulders trembling. "I'm sorry, Jimin!" he gasped, the words muffled by blood and terror. "I'm sorry, Y/N! I'm really sorry! Please forgive me!" He lifted his head slightly, tears mixing with the blood on his face, his eyes pleading. "Please! I didn't know! I swear!"

Jimin watched him grovel, his expression unchanging. He turned his head slightly towards you, his dark eyes finally meeting yours. There was no anger, no surprise – only a deep, unsettling intensity. "Did he touch you?" His voice was low, meant only for your ears, yet it vibrated with a dangerous undercurrent.

You shook your head, unable to speak. The adrenaline was fading, leaving trembling limbs and the coppery tang of Minho’s blood sharp in your nose. "N-no," you managed, your voice barely audible over the pounding music and the murmurs of the stunned crowd. "Jimin... everyone's watching." You swallowed hard, panic clawing its way back up your throat. "Let's just leave. Please."

Jimin didn't move. His gaze lingered on your face for a heartbeat longer, . Then, slowly, deliberately, he turned back to Minho, still kneeling and whimpering on the filthy floor. Jimin crouched down, bringing himself eye-level with his bleeding friend. The movement was fluid, predatory. He leaned in close, his lips almost brushing Minho's ear. The club lights flashed crimson across his sharp cheekbones.

"Don't you dare try to leave the country," Jimin murmured, his voice a velvet-wrapped blade pressed against Minho's ear. The bleeding man froze mid-whimper. "Because for her, I'm letting you leave. But you will get what you did, Minho. My dear friend." He patted Minho's blood-slicked cheek twice, the gesture chillingly casual. "Count on it."

Jimin straightened fluidly, ignoring Minho's choked sob. His hand closed around your upper arm, fingers pressing into the bare skin beneath your emerald sleeve like steel bands. "We're leaving," he announced, not to you, but to the stunned crowd parting before him. His bodyguard fell into step behind you both, a silent, looming shadow.

Outside the club's suffocating heat, the Milan night air felt like ice against your flushed skin. Jimin didn't pause. He marched you towards the sleek black sedan idling at the curb. Reaching the car, he finally turned to the bodyguard. "Go wait at the car," Jimin commanded, his voice clipped, devoid of its usual playful lilt. "Yes, sir." He strode away towards the driver’s door without a backward glance.

Jimin turned back to you. The harsh streetlight carved deep shadows under his eyes. He reached out, his thumb brushing gently over the smear of Minho’s blood still drying on your forehead. His touch was unexpectedly tender. "I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, his voice rough. "I shouldn't have brought you here. Shouldn't have left you alone like that." His gaze flickered towards the club entrance, where the muffled thump of bass still pulsed.

You leaned into his touch for a fleeting second, exhaustion crashing over you. "It's okay, Jimin," you whispered. The adrenaline was fading, leaving you shaky. "Thank god it was you who saw that mess. If it had been Jungkook..." You shuddered, the image flashing vividly in your mind: Jungkook's dark eyes blazing, fists clenched, the club erupting into chaos. "...that club would be ashes right now."

Jimin's thumb stilled against your cheekbone. His gaze sharpened, locking onto yours with unnerving intensity. The streetlight caught the obsidian depths of his eyes. "Look at me, angel." His voice was low, velvet over steel. You obeyed, meeting his stare. His palm cradled your jaw, warm and possessive. "I promise you," he murmured, each word deliberate, weighted. "You will never face that problem again. Not disrespect. Not humiliation." His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth. "Your self-respect? It's mine to shield now. Always." The vow hung in the cool air, absolute and chilling.

You pulled back slightly, the exhaustion deepening. "It's late, Jimin," you sighed, rubbing your temples where a headache pulsed. "Let's just go back to the Resort" The adrenaline crash left your limbs heavy.

Jimin didn't release your arm. His gaze drifted past you, towards the distant glow of Milan's skyline. "Angel," he said softly, his tone shifting, "you go back." He gestured towards the waiting sedan where the bodyguard stood rigidly by the open door. "I have... a little work."

Confusion flickered through your fatigue. You frowned. "Work?" You mentally flipped through Jimin's meticulously managed schedule. "Jimin, if I remember your schedule correctly – and I do – you don't have any work tonight. Nothing scheduled." You tilted your head, studying his profile. The club lights had softened his features; now, under the stark streetlamp, he looked carved from marble. "What work?"

Jimin’s gaze remained fixed on the distant city lights, his expression unreadable. "That producer," he answered smoothly, his voice devoid of inflection. "The one handling the Milan collab track. He messaged. Needs a quick meeting." He finally turned his head, meeting your eyes. His smile was brief, practiced. "Go back, angel. Get some rest. You’ve had enough excitement."

You hesitated, exhaustion warring with unease. His schedule was etched in your mind—there was no producer meeting. But the firm pressure of his hand guiding you towards the open car door silenced your questions. "Fine," you conceded, sinking into the plush leather seat. "But don’t be late." The door clicked shut, sealing you in silence as the sedan pulled away from the pulsing neon chaos of the club.

***

The air in the windowless room hung thick with the smell of damp concrete and fear. Minho knelt on the cold floor, trembling violently. Blood crusted his nostrils and chin, staining the collar of his ruined white shirt. His swollen, bruised face was a grotesque mask under the single bare bulb swinging overhead. "Jimin," he choked out, voice thick with tears and snot. "Jimin, please. You’re my friend. My hyung. I didn’t know she was yours! I swear on my mother’s life! If I’d known… I would never…" His words dissolved into ragged sobs, shoulders shaking. "Please… let me go this time. Just this once. I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again!"

Jimin leaned against the grimy wall, arms crossed. He hadn't changed from the club; the flashing lights had reflected in his dark eyes then, just as the stark bulb did now. He watched Minho’s breakdown with detached calm, his expression unreadable. The only sound was Minho’s desperate weeping and the rhythmic drip of water from a rusted pipe somewhere in the shadows.

A large, silent figure stepped forward from the gloom – Jimin’s bodyguard. His scarred knuckles flexed. "Sir," he rumbled, his voice echoing slightly in the confined space. "What should we do with him?" He paused, his gaze fixed on Minho’s cowering form. "Beat him?"

Jimin pushed himself off the wall, the movement fluid and unhurried. He walked slowly towards Minho, his polished boots clicking softly on the concrete floor. He stopped inches away, looking down at the trembling man. "No," Jimin said, his voice unnervingly calm. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "He didn't touch her. That was good of him." He crouched down, bringing his face level with Minho's tear-streaked, bloodied one.

Minho flinched violently, scrambling back on his knees. "Jimin! Yeah! I didn't touch her! See? I swear! Please!" His voice cracked, desperation thick as the blood clotting his nose. "Let me go! I'll leave Milan tonight! Forever!"

Jimin tilted his head, studying Minho like a curious specimen. "Don't worry," he murmured, his tone almost soothing. "I will let you go." He straightened up, his gaze drifting towards the heavy metal door as if picturing something beyond it. "My angel is waiting for me." He sighed softly, the sound incongruously tender in the dank room. Then, his eyes snapped back to Minho, the tenderness evaporating instantly, replaced by glacial hardness. He turned to the bodyguard. "Cut out his tongue."

Minho's bloodshot eyes widened in utter disbelief. "Cut—?! Jimin!" he shrieked, scrambling backwards until his spine hit the cold wall. "What are you talking about?! I'm sorry! I swear I didn't touch her! Please! You said you'd let me go!" His pleas dissolved into incoherent, panicked babbling, tears streaming anew through the dried blood.

Jimin didn't react to the outburst. He simply watched Minho's frantic terror with unnerving stillness. "You called her a slave," Jimin stated, his voice flat, devoid of inflection. He took a deliberate step forward. "You called her a bitch." Another step. Minho whimpered, pressing himself impossibly flatter against the wall. "You offered her money." Jimin's eyes, obsidian pits in the dim light, locked onto Minho's wide, panicked ones. "You tried to lure her away from me." His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "That tongue wagged poison about my angel." He tilted his head slightly. "It needs to be quiet."

Minho gasped, a ragged, wet sound. "Jimin! Please! Don't do this!" He clawed at the concrete floor, desperate. "If you tell me... I'll go to her! I'll ask her forgiveness! Right now! On my knees! Please!" His voice rose to a hysterical shriek. "She'll forgive me! She's kind! She'll tell you to stop!"

A flicker of something cold and dark passed through Jimin's eyes at the mention of you. "Her kindness," he murmured, almost to himself, "is not a weapon for you to wield." He straightened fully, his gaze shifting past Minho to the hulking bodyguard standing silently in the shadows. "Do it," Jimin commanded, his voice crisp, final. "Quickly. Make sure everything is clean." He turned towards the heavy metal door without another glance at the man trembling on the floor.

---------------

The heavy metal door clanged shut behind Jimin, sealing Minho’s choked screams inside the damp, concrete tomb. He didn’t look back. The scent of blood and terror clung to his clothes, a stark contrast to the crisp Milan night air that greeted him as he stepped out into the alleyway. He inhaled deeply, letting the cold cleanse the stench from his lungs. His angel was waiting. The sedan idled nearby, its engine a low purr. He slid into the back seat, the leather cool against his skin.

The drive to the secluded lakeside mansion was silent, the city lights fading into the dark embrace of the countryside. Jimin moved through the grand, echoing foyer like a shadow, his footsteps soundless on the marble floors. The only light came from the living room doorway. He paused on the threshold.

You were curled on the plush velvet sofa, bathed in the soft glow of a single table lamp. A book lay forgotten in your lap. Your eyes were heavy-lidded, cheeks flushed an unnatural pink. Jimin’s gaze swept over you, sharp and assessing. "Angel," his voice was low, cutting through the quiet. "What are you doing here? Go to sleep. It's late." He stepped closer, the chill of the night still clinging to him.

You looked up, a drowsy smile touching your lips. Your hand reached out, fingers brushing against his forearm where his sleeve was rolled up. "Hmmmm," you murmured, leaning into his touch. "Your body... so cold." Your skin felt fever-hot against his cool flesh. "I'm feeling so hot... your skin feels so cold... I love it." You pressed your cheek against his arm with a sigh.

Jimin froze. His eyes narrowed. He leaned down slightly, inhaling near your hair, your neck. No trace of alcohol. Just your familiar scent, overlaid with something... off. Sweat beaded on your forehead despite the room's coolness. "Angel," he said, his voice tight with sudden tension. "You okay?" He gently pulled back to look into your unfocused eyes.

"No," you murmured dreamily, your hand sliding up his arm again, seeking the coolness. "I'm feeling hot... everywhere. Your body feels so cold... I love it." You pressed your flushed cheek harder against his skin.

Jimin's gaze snapped past you, scanning the room. It landed on the low coffee table. An ornate gold box lay open, its lid askew. Inside were dark, glossy squares – chocolates. But not just any chocolates. His blood ran colder than his skin. His jaw clenched. "Angel," he said, each word sharp and deliberate as shattered ice. "Don't tell me you ate that chocolate."

You blinked slowly, a lazy smile curving your lips. "I eat it," you murmured, leaning heavily against his arm. "Was bitter... not sweet." Your fingers traced patterns on his cool wrist. "Strange..."

Jimin snatched the gold box off the table, his knuckles white. "Angel," he hissed, the word sharp as glass. "How many times have I told you? Always check what you eat!" He shook the box violently, the chocolates rattling. "This isn't normal chocolate. It's viagra chocolate. For couples!"

You tilted your head, confusion clouding your fever-bright eyes. "Vi... what?" The unfamiliar word felt thick on your tongue. "Couples?" You giggled softly, the sound unnervingly airy. "It makes me feel... floaty. Warm." You pressed your entire body against his side now, seeking the coolness radiating through his shirt. "You feel so good..."

Jimin recoiled internally, panic a cold serpent coiling in his gut. He grasped your shoulders firmly, trying to hold you still as you melted against him. "Angel, listen," he commanded, his voice sharpening, cutting through your drugged haze. "That chocolate. It wasn't candy. It makes you... desperate. For sex. Okay?" He enunciated each word slowly, clearly, willing you to understand. "You need a doctor. Now." He tried to gently push you back, but you clung tighter, your arms locking around his waist like vines.

"No!" The word was a petulant whine muffled against his chest. Your hands slid feverishly under his jacket, palms flat against the cool silk of his shirt, fingers seeking skin. "No doctor. Hate doctors." You burrowed deeper, your breath hot and rapid against his collarbone. "Stay... Stay with me. You feel cold... need you..." Your touch grew bolder, roaming his back, pulling him impossibly closer.

Jimin stiffened, every muscle locking tight. He gripped your wrists firmly, trying to pry you off. "Angel, stop!" His voice cracked, sharp with alarm. "You don't understand what you're doing! That drug—"

His words dissolved into a sharp intake of breath as your lips pressed against the base of his throat. Not a kiss, but a desperate, seeking pressure. Then another, higher, along his jawline. Your movements were clumsy, driven by a chemical heat he could feel radiating through your clothes. Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, nails scraping skin. "Please," you breathed, the plea thick and needy against his skin. "Make me... cool..."

He caught your wandering hands again, his grip like iron. "Look at me!" he commanded, forcing your chin up. Your eyes were dilated, pupils swallowing the iris, glassy with unnatural desire. A fine sheen of sweat coated your flushed skin. "This isn't you," he hissed, panic tightening his throat. "That chocolate poisoned you. You need medicine. Now."

You whimpered, a sound of pure frustration and ache. "Hurts," you mumbled, pressing your forehead against his chest. "Inside... burning... everywhere." Your hands twisted weakly in his grasp. "Jimin... please... make it stop..." You sagged against him, your body trembling not just with feverish heat but with a deep, visceral discomfort. "It's... paining..." You buried your face against him again, seeking the coolness like a balm, but the movement was desperate, pained.

Jimin felt the tremors wracking your frame, the unnatural heat radiating through your clothes. His own control, stretched taut as a wire, snapped. "Angel," he growled, the word rough, strained.

He caught your feverish hands as they clawed weakly at his shirt. "I didn't want to take advantage of you like this," he rasped, his voice thick with a desperate struggle. He could feel the frantic pulse in your wrist, see the drugged haze drowning your eyes. "I can't... I *can't* control myself anymore if you keep doing this." His grip tightened, holding you still as you whimpered against him. "Please," he pleaded, a raw edge in his voice he rarely showed. "Let me take you to the hospital. Come on."

You mumbled incoherently, your head lolling against his chest, seeking the coolness of his skin. The viagra's relentless fire warred with the sickening cramps twisting your stomach. "Hurts..." you slurred, tears leaking from your squeezed-shut eyes. "Make it stop..."

Jimin's resolve hardened. "I'm sorry, angel," he rasped, his voice rough with the effort of restraint. He couldn't risk you hurting yourself further or him losing control completely. With a swift, decisive motion, he bent down. One arm slid beneath your knees, the other cradled your back firmly. He lifted you effortlessly against his chest – a bride carried over the threshold, but into a nightmare. "Now, let's go. You will be okay soon." His words were a low promise, more for himself than for you, as he strode towards the foyer.

You whimpered, the movement jarring your aching stomach, but the proximity to his cool skin was an intoxicating balm against the internal fire. Before he could take more than a few steps, your head lolled against his shoulder. Your lips, dry and fever-hot, found the exposed column of his neck. It wasn't a kiss born of affection, but a desperate, clumsy press, seeking relief from the unbearable heat. Then another, higher, grazing his jawline, your breath coming in ragged gasps against his skin. "Cold..." you murmured, the word a plea muffled against his throat. "So cold..."

Jimin froze mid-stride, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth. He felt your lips move clumsily against his skin, the sensation sending a jolt through him that warred violently with his panic. "Angel, *no*," he choked out, his voice strained, thick with a dangerous mix of concern and something darker. He tightened his grip, trying to angle you away, but you clung harder, your fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, pulling his head down slightly as your mouth sought more of his cool skin. "Stop. Please. You don't know what you're doing."

He took two more urgent strides towards the sofa near the doorway and lowered you onto the plush velvet cushions. The moment your back touched the fabric, he tried to pull away, to put vital distance between you. "Stay there," he commanded, his voice rough, trembling slightly. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, his eyes never leaving your flushed, desperate face. "I'm calling a doctor. Right here. Just hold on." His thumb hovered over the screen, dialing frantically.

But the cool relief of his body was gone. A fresh wave of agonizing heat and cramping pain washed over you, driving rational thought further away. With a low whimper, you pushed yourself up on unsteady elbows. Your fever-bright gaze locked onto him – the open collar of his shirt, the exposed skin at his throat.

Before he could react, you lunged forward weakly, your hands finding the smooth fabric of his shirt. Fingers clumsy, driven by the drug's relentless fire and the desperate need for his coolness, you fumbled with the buttons. One popped open, then another, revealing more of his chest. Your lips followed, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the newly exposed skin – his collarbone, the hollow of his throat, the hard plane of his pectoral muscle. Each touch was a frantic, seeking pressure, muffled pleas of "cold... please..." escaping against his skin.

Jimin gasped, a strangled sound torn from his throat. His phone slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering loudly onto the marble floor. The screen cracked, the dial tone cutting off abruptly. He didn't even look down. His hands shot up, not to push you away, but to grasp your shoulders, his grip bruisingly tight. His eyes, wide and dark with a terrifying mix of horror, raw desire, and agonizing restraint, locked onto yours. "Angel," he rasped, his voice thick and trembling. "Don't... don't get angry in the morning, okay?" The words were a desperate plea, a ragged breath against the fevered air. "I... I will help you. I'll help your body get cold."

He didn't wait for a response you couldn't give. His hands slid from your shoulders, one tangling fiercely in your hair, tilting your head back. The other gripped your hip, hauling you impossibly closer against him. His mouth crashed down onto yours.

It wasn't gentle. It was a claiming, a desperate collision of lips and teeth and tongues. He tasted like night air and danger, a stark, cool contrast to the inferno raging inside you. You moaned into his mouth, a sound of pure, drugged relief, your hands clawing at his bare chest, pulling him down onto the velvet sofa with you. His weight pressed you into the cushions, a delicious anchor against the dizzying heat. His lips trailed fire down your jaw, your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point. "You want me, Angel?" he murmured against your skin, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "Say it." His hand slid beneath your dress, rough fingers finding the fevered skin of your thigh, climbing higher.

"Yes," you gasped, arching against him, the word ripped from you by the drug's relentless command. "Yes, Jimin... please..."

A predatory smile touched his lips. He pulled back slightly, just enough to reach into his pocket. With startling speed, he pulled out his other phone. The screen flared to life. He angled it towards you both, the lens capturing your flushed face, your glazed eyes, your dress askew, his own disheveled intensity. He pressed record. "Look at you," he breathed, leaning back in, his free hand sliding possessively up your side. "My desperate Angel. So beautiful burning for me." His lips found yours again, the kiss deep, consuming, while the camera captured every frantic movement, every drugged whimper.

He broke the kiss abruptly, leaving you gasping. His gaze locked onto the lens, then back to you. "Tell me again," he commanded, his voice rough velvet. "Who do you want?" His thumb brushed your lower lip, possessively intimate under the camera's unblinking eye.

"You," you gasped, arching towards him, the drug obliterating shame. "Only you, Jimin..."

He chuckled darkly, a low rumble vibrating through his chest pressed against yours. "Good girl." His hand slid down, fingers hooking into the thin strap of your dress. With deliberate slowness, he pulled it off your shoulder, exposing flushed skin. The camera captured the tremor that ran through you as cool air hit the heat. "Let's get you cooler," he murmured, his lips trailing fire down your exposed shoulder. His other hand dipped lower, pushing the fabric of your dress up your thigh. "Everywhere."

You gasped, arching into his touch, the drug-fueled need obliterating thought. His fingers traced teasing patterns on your inner thigh, achingly close to where the heat pulsed hottest. "Jimin..." you pleaded, a ragged whisper.

He chuckled darkly, leaning close, his breath cool on your fevered skin. "Patience, Angel," he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. His free hand traced the strap of your dress, pulling it slowly down your other shoulder. "You feel so hot... everywhere." His knuckles brushed the swell of your breast through the fabric, a deliberate, maddening tease. "I want to touch it all." He dipped his head, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue flicking against your pulse point, making you whimper. "Every inch."

His fingers slid lower, tracing the hem of your panties. You arched, a desperate plea forming on your lips, but he stopped. Pulled back. His eyes, dark with lust and a terrifying control, locked onto yours. "I want to go inside you," he breathed, the words rough, honest. "God, I want to bury myself in you right now." He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening visibly. "But not like this. Not when you're poisoned. Not when you can't even remember your own name." He traced your trembling lower lip with his thumb. "I want you screaming my name because you choose to, not because some drug forces you."

He leaned in again, his lips hovering a breath from yours. "For now... let's just cool down this fire." His hand slid firmly between your thighs, pushing the thin fabric aside. His fingers found your slick heat, already drenched from the drug's relentless assault. You cried out, hips bucking involuntarily against his touch. "Shh," he soothed, his voice dangerously soft. "Just let me help."

His fingers moved with practiced precision—slow, deliberate circles that ignited sparks along your nerves. You gasped, arching off the sofa, fingers digging into his shoulders. The world narrowed to his touch, the cool air on your exposed skin, and the agonizing, beautiful pressure building low in your belly. "Jimin," you choked out, a plea and a prayer.

"Look at me," he commanded. Your drugged eyes snapped to his—dark, intense, utterly focused. He increased the pressure, curling his fingers just so. "That's it," he murmured as you whimpered. "Give it to me." The tension coiled tighter, unbearable, exquisite. His thumb pressed down hard on your clit.

You shattered. A raw, broken cry tore from your throat as the orgasm ripped through you—wave after wave of blinding release that left you trembling violently, gasping for air. Your vision blurred, limbs going liquid. The world faded into a muffled haze of sensation and exhaustion. Before you could even register the aftershocks, darkness pulled you under. You slumped against the velvet cushions, utterly spent and unconscious.

Jimin watched your slackened features, the frantic flush fading slightly. Slowly, deliberately, he withdrew his glistening fingers. His gaze locked onto them for a long moment. Then, he brought them to his lips. His tongue flicked out, tasting you slowly, deliberately. A low hum vibrated in his chest. "Hmm," he murmured, his voice thick and darkly satisfied. "Always so sweet, Angel." His eyes drifted back to your limp form, your dress bunched around your waist, skin exposed. "Looks like I need to dress you. "

--------------------

Warm sunlight filtered through the curtains, brushing over your face. You groaned softly, trying to bury your head deeper into the pillow. Your body felt heavy, your mind fuzzy. You cracked one eye open — and froze.

Taehyung’s face filled your vision. Close. Too close. Sleep had smoothed the usual sharp edges of his features, but it was unmistakably him. You squeezed your eyes shut again. *Gosh, why am I still having Taehyung dreams?* you whispered to yourself, voice thick with sleep. *This stupid crush…*

You rolled over, seeking escape from the phantom vision. Your hand flopped outwards, landing on something solid and warm beneath the sheets. Muscle, firm and unmistakably male. Still half-asleep, you patted it absently. *Weirdly realistic dream texture,* your foggy brain supplied. You traced the hard plane of a stomach, fingers drifting upwards towards a defined chest—

Your eyes snapped open.

Jungkook’s face was inches from yours. His ash-blonde hair was messy against the pillow. He slept deeply, lips slightly parted.

Panic flared. You whipped your head back towards the other side. Taehyung’s dark lashes rested against his cheeks, one arm flung possessively over your waist. Both of them. In bed. With you.

" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! "

Your scream split the quiet morning in half.

Jungkook jolted upright, hair sticking up everywhere. "WHAT—WHAT HAPPENED?!"

Taehyung groaned, rubbing his eyes. " Is someone dying or is this just your alarm clock voice?"

You pointed at them, eyes wide. "WHY ARE YOU TWO IN MY BED?!"

Chapter Text

You pointed at them, eyes wide. "WHY ARE YOU TWO IN MY BED?!"

Jungkook blinked, still groggy. "Babe, calm down—"

Jimin materialized in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a lazy smirk. His hair was artfully tousled, but his eyes held a sharp, knowing glint. "Angel, don't scream like that," he chided softly, voice dripping with false concern. "What will the neighbors think we're doing in here this early?" His gaze swept over the tangled sheets and your horrified expression.

You snatched the nearest pillow and hurled it straight at Jimin's smirking face. "Shut up!" you shrieked, voice still raw from the scream. The pillow bounced harmlessly off his chest.

Jungkook smiled, still half-laughing as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. "Babe, you did a great job. Jimin deserved that pillow."

You shot him a glare. "Don’t ‘babe’ me! What are you even doing in my bed? And wait—what are you doing in Milan? When did you come ? ".

Taehyung stretched lazily, his voice rough with sleep. "Last night." His gaze flickered to Jungkook, a silent challenge hanging in the air. You finally noticed their disheveled states – Jungkook’s ash-blonde hair sticking up wildly like he’d been electrocuted, a faint red mark near his collarbone. Taehyung’s usually perfect dark waves were a chaotic mess, and the knuckles on his right hand looked suspiciously raw. "Why do you two look like you got into a fight?" you demanded, suspicion sharpening your tone.

Jimin pushed off the doorframe, sauntering into the room with unnerving calm. He perched on the edge of the bed, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "They did," he stated simply, his voice smooth as silk. "Over who got to sleep next to you."

Your brain felt like sludge. "Huh?" you managed, blinking rapidly. The events of the previous night were a fragmented, feverish blur – Jimin's cool skin, the desperate kisses, his fingers between your thighs, the shattering release, then... nothing. Utter blackness. You vaguely remembered the viagra chocolates, the unbearable heat, Jimin carrying you... but *this*? Jungkook and Taehyung here? Fighting over sleeping arrangements? It felt like a bizarre, terrifying dream.

" What happened?" you rasped, clutching the sheet to your chest, your gaze darting wildly between Jimin's knowing smirk and the disheveled forms of Jungkook and Taehyung. The fragmented memories pulsed – Jimin's cool skin, his hands, the unbearable heat, then darkness.

Jimin tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Well," he began, his voice a low purr.

FLASHBACK – LAST NIGHT

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and your shallow breathing. Jimin had just finished helping you out of your ruined dress, wrapping his jacket gently around your shoulders . He sighed, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. "You always get yourself into trouble, Angel," he murmured softly.

Suddenly, the penthouse door slammed open with a deafening crash. Jungkook stormed in, eyes blazing with fury. He took in the scene instantly – Jimin kneeling beside you on the sofa, your limp body wrapped in his jacket, your bare legs exposed. "What the hell are you doing with her?!" Jungkook roared, crossing the room in three strides. He grabbed Jimin by the collar, yanking him violently away from you. Jimin stumbled but didn't resist, his expression carefully neutral.

Jimin raised his hands slowly. "Calm down, Kook. She's drugged. I was helping—"

"Helping?" Jungkook snarled, shaking him. "Helping yourself to her while she's unconscious?" His knuckles whitened on Jimin's collar.

A soft, distressed whimper escaped your lips. Your head lolled towards the sound of their voices, eyes still shut tight. "Jimin... don't go..." you mumbled, the words thick and slurred with sleep . Your hand twitched weakly on the sofa cushion, reaching blindly towards where Jimin had been.

Jungkook froze. He stared down at your vulnerable form, the raw need in your drugged plea cutting through his rage. His grip on Jimin's collar slackened, then fell away entirely. He took a step back, his furious expression flickering with something unreadable – hurt, confusion, possessiveness warring within him.

Silence hung heavy for a beat, broken only by your shallow breathing. Then, Taehyung appeared in the doorway, his sharp eyes scanning the scene. His gaze landed on the gold box of chocolates, still open on the coffee table, the remaining dark squares gleaming ominously. He strode forward, picking up the box with a gloved hand, his face hardening into a mask of cold fury. "What," he asked, his voice dangerously low, "is this doing here?"

Jimin straightened his rumpled shirt, his eyes meeting Taehyung's with a carefully constructed calm. "I don't know," he replied smoothly, gesturing vaguely towards the door. "It arrived anonymously earlier. A gift, I assumed. From a stalker? A fan? Who knows." He glanced down at your sleeping form, his expression softening with feigned concern. "She ate one. That's what caused... all this."

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he stared at the chocolates, then at your flushed, unconscious face. Jungkook watched Jimin, suspicion still darkening his gaze, but the memory of your plea held him back. The air crackled with tension – accusations unspoken, threats simmering beneath the surface, all while you lay oblivious, caught in the tangled web they’d woven.

----- FLASHBACK CONTINUED -----

Jungkook stared at your sleeping face, the raw hurt from your drugged plea for Jimin still twisting inside him. He reached out, his thumb brushing your flushed cheek with surprising gentleness. The touch was feather-light, almost reverent, a stark contrast to the storm in his eyes. "Why him?" he whispered, the words barely audible. "After everything I've..."

The bedroom door creaked open. Taehyung walked in, exhaustion lining his shoulders. He barely glanced at Jungkook, his focus entirely on the empty space beside you on the large bed. He moved silently, pulling back the covers and sliding in, his movements weary but deliberate. He shifted closer, his arm instinctively reaching to drape over your waist, pulling your sleeping form against his chest with a sigh of bone-deep tiredness.

Jungkook’s hand froze on your cheek. His head snapped up, eyes blazing. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed, voice low and dangerous.

Taehyung didn’t even open his eyes, nuzzling his face into the back of your hair. "Going to sleep," he mumbled, his voice thick with fatigue. "I'm really tired. Good night, Kook."

"Get out," Jungkook growled, the possessiveness surging back, sharp and hot. "Go to the other room. I'm really not in a good mood right now."

Taehyung’s eyes finally opened, dark and unyielding, meeting Jungkook’s furious gaze over your sleeping shoulder. "She’s my girlfriend too, if you remember," he stated, his voice flat and cold. "If you’re having a problem with that, you leave. And you know I need to hug someone when I sleep." His arm tightened around you possessively, a silent claim laid bare in the moonlit room.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. "She’s not your pillow, you selfish bastard!" he snapped, voice rising. He shoved Taehyung’s shoulder hard. "Get off her!"

Taehyung grunted but didn’t budge, his grip on you tightening. "Make me," he challenged, his voice a low growl. He shifted, deliberately trying to pull you even closer, his knee nudging yours under the sheets.

Jungkook snarled, lunging across the bed. He grabbed Taehyung’s shoulder, trying to wrench him away. "I said, get OFF!" Their wrestling jostled the mattress violently. You murmured incoherently in your sleep, frowning but not waking.

Taehyung retaliated, shoving Jungkook hard with his free hand. "Touch me again and I’ll break those pretty fingers!" he hissed. Jungkook retaliated by grabbing a pillow and swinging it wildly. It connected with Taehyung’s head with a soft *thump*. "Fight fair, coward!" Taehyung yelled, snatching another pillow and smacking Jungkook square in the face. Feathers puffed into the air like tiny white fireworks.

"Stop it!" you shrieked, trying to shield your face as they rolled across the bed, grunting and cursing. Jungkook landed a solid punch to Taehyung’s shoulder. "That’s for stealing my side!" Taehyung kicked back, his foot connecting with Jungkook’s thigh. "She was mine first, brat!" Their tangled limbs knocked over the bedside lamp, plunging the room into semi-darkness lit only by the dawn filtering through the curtains.

Jimin reappeared in the doorway, arms crossed, looking utterly unimpressed. "Children," he sighed, stepping forward. He grabbed Jungkook’s collar just as Taehyung lunged again. With a sharp tug, Jimin yanked Jungkook backward. Taehyung, suddenly unbalanced, stumbled forward—and landed face-first onto your lap with a startled "Oof!". Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his waist, holding him steady. His breath hitched, warm against your thigh.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, jealousy flaring. "What the hell? Get up now!" he demanded, voice tight. Taehyung didn’t move, his head resting heavily against you, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Jimin placed a calming hand on Jungkook’s chest. "Shh, Jungkook-ah," he murmured, his voice low and firm. "Let her sleep. Look at her." His gaze flickered to your exhausted, bewildered face.

You tightened your arms instinctively around Taehyung’s waist, his warmth oddly grounding amidst the chaos. His breath hitched again, a soft puff of air against your skin. He shifted slightly, turning his head to nuzzle into your stomach, his messy hair tickling your skin. "Comfy," he mumbled sleepily, his voice muffled against you. His arm snaked further around your hip, anchoring himself.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, a vein pulsing in his temple. "I said get UP!" he repeated, louder this time, reaching out to grab Taehyung’s shoulder again. "She’s not your damn teddy bear!"

Before Jungkook could make contact, Jimin smoothly intercepted his wrist. "Jungkook-ah," Jimin said, his voice a low, soothing murmur that contrasted sharply with the tension crackling in the air. He gently but firmly pushed Jungkook’s hand down. "Look at her face. She’s exhausted. Let her sleep." His gaze met Jungkook’s furious one, calm and unwavering. "Please."

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction. He tilted his head back just enough to smirk lazily up at Jungkook, his eyes heavy-lidded with faux innocence. "He’s just jealous because she’s hugging me," he drawled, his voice thick with sleep and smugness. He snuggled deeper, his nose brushing your skin. "Feels nice, doesn’t it, baby?"

Jungkook let out a low growl, a sound that vibrated deep in his chest. "You little—" He tried to lunge forward again, but Jimin’s hand on his chest held him back with surprising strength.

"Enough," Jimin commanded softly, his eyes flickering between the two. "You’re both acting like toddlers fighting over a toy." He looked pointedly at Taehyung. "And you, stop provoking him. She needs rest, not your possessive cuddling competition." He then turned his gaze back to Jungkook, his expression softening slightly. "Come on, Kook. Let her breathe. She’s had enough drama for one night."

Jungkook’s fists clenched, his knuckles white as he glared at Taehyung’s smug expression. The raw possessiveness warred with Jimin’s calm logic. He took a slow, deliberate breath, his eyes never leaving Taehyung’s face. "Fine," he spat, the word sharp and final. He didn’t look at you, his focus entirely on his rival. "But if your hand wanders one inch lower than her waist, I’ll break it." He shoved past Jimin roughly, stalking to the other side of the massive bed. With jerky, angry movements, he yanked back the covers and slid in beside you, his back rigid as he turned away, facing the edge of the mattress.

------ FLASHBACK END ------

You couldn't stop laughing. The absurdity crashed over you in waves - the world's most dangerous men reduced to pillow-fighting toddlers over sleeping positions. Tears pricked your eyes as you gasped for breath, the tension of the morning dissolving into helpless giggles.

Taehyung's hand shot out, pinching your cheek with surprising gentleness despite his scowl. "Yah, don't laugh," he grumbled, though a reluctant smirk tugged at his lips. "I could've been murdered last night if you hadn't hugged me back." His thumb brushed the spot he'd pinched, lingering. "Oh yeah, you still having my dream?" The question came out low, almost shy, his gaze searching yours.

Jungkook scoffed loudly from his side of the bed. "Nonsense," he muttered, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. His jaw was tight. "She can dream only about me. Obviously." He didn't look at you, but his fingers flexed against the sheet near your thigh.

The lingering amusement faded, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming need for space. The air felt thick with their tension and the scent of sleep and unresolved anger. "Can you guys... leave this room?" you asked, your voice small but firm. You pulled the sheet higher, suddenly hyper-aware of your bare shoulders and the intimacy of the rumpled bed. "I need to freshen up. Please."

Jimin, leaning against the doorframe again, pushed off smoothly. "Of course," he said, his tone light but his eyes sharp, missing nothing. "Breakfast is waiting downstairs. We'll give you some privacy." He gestured towards the door with a graceful tilt of his head. "Come on, kids. Let the lady breathe."

Taehyung sighed dramatically, rolling off the bed with fluid ease. He stretched, the muscles in his back flexing beneath his thin t-shirt. "Fine," he muttered, though his gaze lingered on you, possessive and assessing. He ran a hand through his chaotic hair, failing to tame it. "But hurry up. I didn't fly to Milan to eat cold eggs alone." He shot a pointed look at Jungkook, who still hadn't moved.

Jungkook ignored him completely. Instead, he shifted closer, his ash-blonde hair falling into his eyes as he deliberately lowered his head onto your lap. The weight was sudden, solid, and intimate. You froze, the sheet clutched tight. His cheek pressed against your thigh through the thin fabric, warm and demanding. He closed his eyes, a faint, satisfied curve to his lips.

Taehyung’s smirk vanished instantly. "Get off her," he snapped, his voice low and dangerous. He took a step back towards the bed, his knuckles flexing where they’d looked raw earlier. "She asked us to leave."

Jungkook didn’t open his eyes. "She asked *you* to leave," he corrected lazily, his breath warm against your skin. His hand slid possessively onto your knee, thumb tracing idle circles. "I’m comfortable right here." He tilted his head slightly, nuzzling deeper into your lap. "Smells nice," he murmured, the words muffled but clear enough to make Taehyung’s jaw clench.

You met Taehyung’s intense gaze, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. "Taehyung… please. Go freshen up."

For a moment, he froze, as if weighing your words against his own stubbornness. The possessive glint in his eyes softened just slightly, replaced by a reluctant acknowledgment. He ran a hand through his messy hair again, exhaling with a dramatic huff.

"Fine," he muttered, voice low, almost grumbling, "I’ll leave… but don’t take too long."

With one last pointed look at Jungkook, his jaw tight, he finally turned and strode toward the door. His movements were still fluid, controlled, but the tension radiating off him left the room feeling charged even after the click of the door.

You looked down at Jungkook’s head resting heavily on your lap, his ash-blonde hair soft beneath your fingers. Almost without thinking, your hand drifted down, gently rubbing his scalp. His breathing deepened instantly, a soft sigh escaping him. "Jungkook," you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep, "why did you come to Milan? You have so much work back in Seoul."

He didn’t open his eyes, just nuzzled deeper against your thigh. "Missed you," he mumbled, the words muffled but raw. "Couldn’t stay away. How dare you leave me alone in Seoul?" His arm tightened around your waist, possessive and needy. "You know how much I need you. Every damn time."

You kept rubbing his scalp, fingers threading through the soft ash-blonde strands. "I came for work," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the buzzing silence. "And a little vacation."

Jungkook’s eyes snapped open instantly, dark and sharp. He tilted his head back to look up at you, the intimacy of the position suddenly charged with accusation. "Then why Jimin?" he hissed, the possessiveness flaring hot and sudden. "Last night… you whispered his name." His hand tightened painfully on your knee. "Why the fuck can't you just tell me you need a vacation? Why him?"

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, raw and trembling. "I'm sorry." Your fingers stilled in his hair. "I didn't mean... I was drugged, confused. Everything was blurry."

He surged upward in one fluid motion, his body pressing yours back into the pillows. His arms locked around you, crushing you against his chest, his face buried in the curve of your neck. The hug was desperate, almost suffocating, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. "Babe," he mumbled, the word rough against your collarbone. "Yesterday... it was the first time I felt scared. Scared you didn't love me anymore. Scared you’d choose him." He pulled back just enough to search your face, his gaze intense, vulnerable. "You love me right? You’re never going to change? Promise me."

His grip loosened slightly, but his eyes held yours, demanding an answer. The vulnerability beneath the ferocity was startling. You could feel the frantic beat of his heart against your own. "Jungkook..." you started, your voice shaky.

He cut you off, his voice dropping to a low, urgent whisper. "Tell me. Now." His thumb brushed your lower lip, a silent threat and a plea tangled together. "Say it."

You swallowed, the air thick with his need. "If... if I stopped loving you," you whispered, the words tasting like ash, "if my feelings changed... what would you do, Jungkook?"

His eyes darkened, the vulnerability vanishing like smoke. A slow, dangerous smile curled his lips. "What would I do?" he repeated, his voice a velvet rasp against your ear. His hand slid from your waist to cradle the back of your neck, possessive and unyielding. "I'd make sure you remembered why you loved me in the first place. Every. Single. Day." His thumb traced the frantic pulse in your throat. "I'd remind you with my hands, my mouth... my body pressed against yours until you screamed my name again. Until the only thought in your pretty head was me."

He leaned closer, his breath hot. "And if that didn't work... I'd lock you away somewhere only I could find you. Somewhere safe. Where no one else could touch you, see you... whisper lies in your ear." His gaze pinned you, utterly serious. "I'd keep you there, Y/N. Forever. Until you looked at me like you used to. Until you begged me to kiss you."

A chill snaked down your spine. "Jungkook..." you breathed, pushing weakly against his chest. "That's... you need to get up. I really need to take a shower."

His grip tightened instantly. "No," he murmured, nuzzling your neck again. "Stay. Just a little longer." His lips brushed your pulse point. "You smell like home."

"Fine," you sighed, relenting. You lifted your hand, ruffling his soft ash-blonde hair gently. He hummed contentedly, pressing closer. "But only for a minute, jungkook. Then I really need that shower." Your fingers carded through his locks, soothing the wild strands. He melted against you, the tension slowly bleeding from his shoulders, his possessive hold softening into something almost tender.

***

The cool marble floor felt grounding under your bare feet as you padded down the opulent hallway. The penthouse was quiet now, You stopped before Jimin’s door, hesitating for only a second before raising your knuckles to knock softly.

Before your hand even connected with the wood, the door swung inward. Jimin leaned against the frame, dressed in soft grey lounge pants and a loose white shirt, his hair slightly damp as if he’d just showered. A knowing smile played on his lips. "Angel," he murmured, his voice a warm caress in the hushed corridor. "You don’t need to knock. Ever." He stepped back, gesturing you inside with a graceful sweep of his arm. "Come."

The room was bathed in soft morning light filtering through sheer curtains, revealing sleek modern furniture and the lingering scent of expensive sandalwood. You stepped in, the door clicking shut behind you. "Jimin," you began, your voice tight with accusation, "about last night—"

"Wait." His tone was firm, silencing you instantly. He held up a slender hand, his expression shifting from warmth to weary caution. "Before you start blaming me," he said, his gaze sharpening, "see this." He pulled his phone from his pocket, fingers dancing across the screen. A moment later, he turned it towards you, the brightness harsh in the dim light.

For a second, you didn’t understand. Then the sound, the image — your own voice, your movements — hit you like a slap.

Your breath caught. Heat flooded your face. snatching the phone from his hand. Without another word, you closed the video and deleted it, your fingers shaking.

Jimin watched you, his expression unreadable. "Why?" you whispered . "Why would you film that?"

He leaned back against the sleek dresser, crossing his arms. The morning light caught the exhaustion in his eyes. "Because," he said softly, "if I didn't have proof... you'd be scolding me right now, wouldn't you?" His gaze held yours, steady and intense. "Telling me I took advantage of you while you were drugged."

You stared at him, the accusation dying on your lips. "...Thank you," you whispered finally, the words thick. "For not... taking advantage."

Jimin chuckled, a low, warm sound. He pushed off the dresser and closed the distance between you in two strides. Before you could react, his fingers pinched your cheek gently. "Yah," he teased, though his eyes were serious. "Never eat *anything* before knowing what it is. Especially anonymous gifts." His thumb brushed where he'd pinched. "Understand?"

You pulled back slightly. "Where's my fault here?" The defensiveness crept into your voice. "I thought it was normal chocolate! How was I supposed to know?" You paused, frowning. "And why did you buy that stuff anyway?"

Jimin’s smirk deepened. "I didn’t buy it, angel," he corrected smoothly. "Someone sent it anonymously. Said it was a gift for me." He shrugged one elegant shoulder. "Maybe one of my friends?. "

A small, involuntary laugh escaped you. "Your friend?" you echoed, shaking your head.

Jimin tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "What's so funny?" His tone was light, but curiosity sharpened his gaze.

You wiped away a stray tear from your earlier laughter. "I researched that chocolate brand," you admitted, voice softening. "It's infused with adaptogens—ginseng, maca root. Marketed to... improve stamina." You met his eyes, a wry smile tugging at your lips. "Seems your friend really cares about your endurance."

Jimin froze. The playful glint vanished from his eyes, replaced by a sudden, chilling intensity. He stepped closer, invading your space until the scent of sandalwood and clean skin overwhelmed you. His fingers brushed your jawline, feather-light but charged with warning. "Angel," he murmured, his voice dangerously low, "don't provoke me." The air thickened. "Or it will be dangerous for you." His thumb traced your lower lip. "I stayed gentle that night only because it was our first time... and because you fell asleep." His gaze hardened, locking onto yours. "Push me, and you'll wake up in a hospital bed. Understand?"

A nervous laugh bubbled up, trying to diffuse the sudden, suffocating tension. "Yah," you protested weakly, pushing lightly against his chest. It felt like pushing stone. "Don't be so serious! I was joking!" You forced a smile, hoping it didn't tremble. "It was just a silly comment about the chocolate."

His expression didn't soften. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Was it?" he whispered, the sound sending shivers down your spine. His hand slid possessively to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. "Because jokes have consequences, little angel." He paused, letting the threat hang heavy in the air.

You swallowed, the playful defense crumbling. "Jimin..."

"Shh." His finger pressed gently against your lips, silencing you. His eyes, dark and unreadable, held yours captive. "You don't know how hard I controlled myself last night," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous caress. "Seeing you like that... vulnerable... wanting." His thumb brushed your cheekbone. "Every instinct screamed to take everything."

You flinched slightly, pulling back. "Then why didn't you?" The words slipped out. "Why didn't you take advantage, Jimin?"

He didn't chase you. Instead, he tilted his head, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face, softening the predatory edge. "Because," he said softly, his voice dropping to a warm murmur, "I love you."

The words hung between you, stark and unexpected. Your breath caught. "Jimin..." you whispered, shaking your head slightly. "What if..." You hesitated, the vulnerability raw in your throat. "What if I never can return those feelings? What will you do?"

Jimin’s smile didn’t falter. It deepened, crinkling the corners of his eyes, warm and utterly resolute. He stepped closer again, closing the distance you’d created. His hands rose, cradling your face gently, forcing you to meet his unwavering gaze. "Angel," he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. "I told you. I don't give up easily." His voice was soft velvet, layered with an iron certainty. "As long as there's even one percent chance... just one tiny spark... I'll chase it. I'll fight for it. I'll wait." He leaned in, his forehead resting lightly against yours. "Because that one percent? It belongs to me. And I never let go of what's mine."

The intensity stole your breath. Before you could react, he pulled back slightly, his expression shifting to playful warmth. "Now," he declared, releasing your face and stepping towards the door. "Enough heavy talk. Breakfast smells amazing, and Taehyungie is probably sulking into his espresso." He paused at the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder, a familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Unless..." he drawled, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. "You'd rather stay here? Finish our... conversation?" The implication hung heavy in the air, a tempting, dangerous invitation.

You shook your head quickly, cheeks flushing. "Breakfast," you insisted, moving past him towards the hallway. The scent of coffee and something savory drifted up, a welcome anchor. Jimin chuckled softly, following close behind, his presence a comforting warmth at your back.

-------------

The scent of coffee and caramelized bacon filled the penthouse kitchen as you slid a forkful of fluffy scrambled eggs toward Jungkook's lips. He leaned forward eagerly, eyes locked on yours as he accepted the bite, humming appreciatively. His bare foot nudged yours beneath the marble breakfast table, a silent claim in the morning light.

"You know," you murmured, scooping another forkful, "you're perfectly capable of feeding yourself, Jungkook."

He swallowed, a slow grin spreading across his face as he caught your wrist gently. "But food tastes better from your hands," he countered, his thumb brushing your pulse point. "Even useless things become delicious."

Before you could lift the fork towards him again, Taehyung materialized silently beside the table. In one fluid motion, he leaned down, captured your wrist, and guided the forkful of eggs smoothly into his own mouth. He chewed deliberately, his dark eyes locked on Jungkook's instantly hardening expression. "Hmm," Taehyung murmured after swallowing, his voice dangerously low. "Jungkook is right." His gaze slid to yours, intense and unreadable. "You do make everything... sweeter."

Jungkook slammed his palms on the marble surface, rattling the silverware. "That was mine," he snarled, the playful mood evaporating like water on hot stone. His knuckles whitened where they gripped the table edge. "Get your own plate, taehyung."

" Don't start a fight," Jimin sighed, leaning against the kitchen doorway. He rubbed his temples, the playful spark extinguished by exhaustion. "Namjoon hyung just called. Again." His gaze swept over Taehyung and Jungkook. "He says we have to go back to Seoul. Tonight. Emergency meeting." Jimin’s voice dropped, sharp with accusation. "Thanks to you two. Angel doesn’t get her vacation anymore."

Both Jungkook and Taehyung said, "I’m sorry," at the same time."

Jungkook glared across the table. "Don’t copy me."

"You’re copying me," Taehyung shot back, his voice dangerously quiet.

Jungkook shoved his chair back, the legs screeching against marble. "Me? You stole her fork!"

"Both of you, stop!" Your voice cracked through the tension, sharp enough to make them freeze. You snatched your fork back from Taehyung’s lingering grip. "Act like adults for five minutes."

Jimin sighed again, pushing off the doorway. "Our flight’s at nine tonight," he announced, his tone flat. He turned to you, a flicker of warmth softening his exhaustion. "Angel, we have a few hours before we leave for the airport. Anywhere you want to go? "

You turned toward him, still annoyed but calmer now. "There’s one place I really want to go."

-------------

The church stood quiet and regal beneath the late morning sun, its red-brick walls warm and aged, the air filled with faint incense and echoing footsteps. You stood near one of the pews, fingers grazing the smooth wooden edge, your eyes tracing the painted ceilings above.

Jungkook lingered beside you, his ash-blonde hair catching the light filtering through stained-glass windows. His brow furrowed as he glanced around, confusion flickering across his face. "Really, babe?" he murmured, leaning close enough for his breath to ghost your ear. "Milan has hundreds of beautiful places—galleries, canals, gardens. Why choose here?"

You didn't look at him, your gaze fixed on the flickering candles near the altar. "I don't force you," you replied softly. "You can wait outside."

" How can I leave you," Jungkook countered, his voice dropping to a possessive murmur as his fingers brushed yours on the pew, "with these two?" His gaze flickered toward Jimin and Taehyung standing a few feet away.

Jimin tilted his head, studying your serene profile against the backdrop of ancient frescoes. "Angel," he began softly, stepping closer. The scent of his sandalwood cologne mingled with the church's incense. "Do you really believe in this?" His gesture encompassed the soaring arches, the flickering votives, the hushed reverence. "Prayers... saints... all of it?"

You kept your eyes forward. "I believe," you whispered, tracing a carved saint with your fingertip, "that if you ask for something from your heart... truly, deeply... you might get it."

Taehyung moved like a shadow. He was suddenly beside you, his tall frame blocking the light from a stained-glass window, casting you both in jewel-toned shadows. His voice was a low, intense rumble against your ear. "Then tell me," he demanded, fingers brushing your wrist possessively. "How do I make you fall for me?"

Before you could react, Jungkook shoved Taehyung’s shoulder roughly. "Back off," he hissed, stepping between you. He turned, his expression fierce yet pleading as he cupped your face. "Babe," he murmured urgently, thumbs brushing your cheeks. "Whatever you need... anything your heart wants... just ask me. I'll get it for you. Diamonds? A villa? A song written just for you? Name it." His gaze burned into yours. "Anything."

You sighed, pulling away gently. "Stop." Your voice was soft but firm as you turned toward the altar. Ignoring them all, you knelt on the worn velvet cushion, folding your hands. The cool air prickled your skin. You closed your eyes.

*What am I doing?* The thought echoed sharply. Jungkook’s desperate devotion warmed you, a familiar anchor. Yet Jimin’s dangerous promise of comfort pulled like an undertow. And Taehyung… your first love, a wound that never truly closed. You squeezed your eyes tighter. *I don’t want my heart to want. I love Jungkook… but I crave Jimin’s touch. I can’t hate Taehyung. What’s wrong with me? What’s right?* The prayers tangled silently in your throat—pleas for clarity, for peace, for an escape from the suffocating weight of their competing claims.

A sharp vibration shattered the silence. Your phone buzzed violently in your pocket, jarring against the quiet reverence. You fumbled, pulling it out. The screen flashed: **Mom**. For a heartbeat, you hesitated, staring at the name like a grenade.

You pressed the green icon anyway. "What do you want, Mom?" The words slipped out flat, toneless, like all your energy had drained into the marble beneath your knees. The echo of your own voice in that quiet, sacred space made it sound harsher than you intended.

A muffled voice came through — urgent, shaky. You listened for only a few seconds before your expression changed, the color draining from your face.

The line went dead.

You stayed frozen, staring blankly at your phone screen until your own reflection blurred behind a film of tears you refused to let fall.

"What happened?" Jungkook demanded instantly, his voice sharp with alarm. His fingers wrapped around your elbow, pulling you upright from the prayer cushion. "Who was that?"

"My stepfather..." The words tasted like ash. "He's in the hospital." You swallowed hard, trying to shove down the panic clawing up your throat. "I need to go back. Now."

The hospital corridors were drenched in that familiar sterile chill — the kind that smelled like antiseptic and fear. The hum of fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, echoing against white walls and polished tiles. Nurses passed by in hurried steps, the wheels of stretchers squeaking faintly against the linoleum.

You spotted your mother before she saw you. She stood just outside the ICU, her frame small, trembling, clutching her bag like it was the only thing keeping her upright. When her eyes met yours, something in her broke.

She rushed forward, arms wrapping around you so tightly it almost hurt.You held her, blinking hard, your body stiff at first before softening. "It’s okay, Mom," you whispered, though your voice cracked. "I’m here now. I’m here."

Behind you, footsteps slowed to a stop — Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin, all three watching silently as you and your mother clung to each other. The sterile brightness of the hallway seemed to dim with the weight of their unspoken words.

After your mother pulled away to speak to the nurse, Jimin exhaled quietly, his jaw tightening. He stepped aside toward the corner of the corridor, lowering his voice but sharp enough for both Taehyung and Jungkook to hear.

"Taehyung, Jungkook," Jimin began, his eyes flickering with restrained anger. "We agreed to keep things calm for her. What the hell was all that?"

Taehyung leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on your mother’s retreating figure. "I didn’t do anything to sweetheart’s stepfather," he replied flatly. "It’s Jungkook who did."

Jungkook’s head snapped toward Taehyung, eyes blazing. "Because that man deserved it!" he hissed, knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists. "He hurt her. He hurt her for years."

Jimin stepped between them, his voice low and urgent. "Enough! Jungkook, have you ever thought about what if she knows?" His gaze cut through Jungkook’s rage, sharp and accusing. "What happens when she finds out you put him in that bed?"

Jungkook’s lip curled into a sneer. "Who’s going to tell her? Huh?" He shoved Jimin’s shoulder roughly. "I don’t care. He deserved worse than a hospital bed." The words dripped with venom, raw and unchecked.

Taehyung shifted his weight, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he pushed off the wall. His voice cut through the sterile air, low and deliberate. "I agree with Jungkook." He met Jungkook’s startled gaze, a flicker of dark understanding passing between them. "That man deserves exactly what he got." His hand rested casually on Jungkook’s shoulder, fingers tightening possessively. "Maybe more."

Jungkook’s eyes widened briefly before hardening into grim acceptance. A bitter chuckle escaped him. "Yeah," he muttered, shaking his head slowly. "We’re all on the same road now, aren’t we?" His gaze swept from Taehyung’s cold certainty to Jimin’s horrified expression. "No turning back."