It’s another night squandered at the Park household. Jungkook leans his weight over the balustrade, welcoming the humidity that drifts over him in a mist. There’s something about the air here—the clay bricks, the gravel pathways, the French windows, the ochre lights—that sets an atmosphere both languorous and sultry. He inhales his cigarette and relishes in the putrid tar sinking into the soft tissues of his lungs. It leeches like poison into his blood, his flesh, his mind. He’s a changed man now. One puff, and Jungkook’s resolve fortifies with the solidity of iron steel.
He won’t have her.
When he cocks his head to the left, he’s able to pick up her lilting bell-chime laugh drifting softly downwind. He can imagine her upright posture, a milky hand over her mouth, eyes upturned at some stupid joke Chief Park had pompously delivered. Her dress would stretch around shoulders, gather tautly at her thighs. She’s pretty enough. Hot, by modern standards. Tall and willowy, fashionable. Her black hair slices across her neck, each strand expensively symmetrical; her face the picture of metropolitan youth.
The perfect bride.
Perfect manners, perfect temperament, perfect constitution.
And beyond that, Jungkook discerns, every part of her is flawlessly manufactured, from her botox inflated forehead to the enveloping bulk of her double D breasts.
First and foremost, she’s someone Chief Park had singled out for Jungkook, and that is frankly all the justification he needs. But Jungkook generously supplies himself with more reasons. She’s too plastic, too put-together, and her family is too well known for it to be anything but an advantageous union for Chief Park’s benefit. This has to be another feather in Chief Park’s cap. His ability to fuck around with Jungkook’s life is just as nefarious now as it was twenty years ago. If anything, the old man’s got consistency.
Jungkook watches a plume of toxic smoke curl from his mouth. It goes up and up and then it dissipates into the midnight blue sky. Behind him, the house burns hot with its inhabitants. In front, the late spring breeze fetters his indignation from boiling over.
It’s a combination of things—as mundane and stressful as work, to this shoddy engagement that’s been set up behind his back. On paper he and her are a perfect match. She thinks so, her family thinks so, Chief Park thinks so. Only Jungkook doesn’t think so. But in real life, these kinds of people are not to be trifled with. Hell hath no fury like a rich man scorned. Jungkook will be reduced to nothing more than a pawn. He will refuse. He must refuse, but in time.
As it is, Chief Park is on the last legs of his current job. His promotion takes him elsewhere, to the next town over and then some. With just two days to go, Jungkook hadn’t expected any more trouble from him. Though he has no one to blame but himself. He’d been too eager in accepting a second dinner invite. But it’s all water under the bridge now. With nothing more to be done, he gathers strength from his observations. The cracked dirt, the withering leaves, the gay flowers.
“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?”
A sharp gasp shoots and rebounds around him.
From the shadows, Jimin unearths himself. There’s not even a modicum of stealth in his bones. He can’t catch Jungkook unaware. Jimin doesn’t know that Jungkook can see him through the back of his head from a mile away. That, and it’s hard not to notice the desultory air that accompanies his presence.
“Hyung is still here.”
Jungkook sucks his cigarette and pretends the trees hold more worth than bark and foliage. He flicks the ash with a careless flair. They rain down on the wood of the floor.
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Jikook smut
FanfictionThese stories that you are seeing here is on ao3 and these are my favourite stories Credit to the rightful owner