kayusenreads

[kayusenreads]

Star-Crossed || Chapter v.

In a city divided by power, loyalty, and blood, love was never meant to be an option.

When Kim [Y/N], the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her, she's only looking for a distraction from the relentless attention of the night. Instead, she finds Jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war—a world of neon lights, whispered promises, and inevitable ruin.

Their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden.

But in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. As tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start?

This is a re-interpretation of Romeo and Juliet, weaving a story of desire, power, and the price of challenging fate.

Pairing - Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

Genre - 18+, smut, romance, angst

A/N - This took me some time to write because I got a little distracted (I started reading one of the many unread books from my shelf, and I’m one of those people who have to read it through before doing anything else lol). I hope this is a good read, though, and I hope you share your thoughts :) I will also be releasing a masterlist by the time the next chapter is posted.

Also because I'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so I can fix it. I will add a full list here and a list at the beginning of each chapter.

Thank you I hope you enjoy!

Wordcount - 2.5k

Jungkook

The Kim Family estate shimmered ahead like something torn out of a dream. The longer I stared, the more I despised its existence and what it represented. It wasn’t just a mansion but a monument to everything rotten the family had ever done, and they went ahead and dressed it in white and gold. The place glittered, sure, but it glittered like broken glass; beautiful from a distance, cruel up close. 

The estate stands tall up on the hill and the backs of people the Kims had crushed to get where they are today. Their power in this city was not built on legacy but on exploitation. The laughter of guests I could hear from the long winding driveway wasn’t joy—it was mockery. A reminder that in their world, wealth excused everything.

Jimin and I walked together toward the lion's den; his footsteps faltered a few steps behind me, and his breath heaved, exposing his lack of athleticism. We had a longer trek than most, my car strategically hiding down the road and finding a small opening in the outer wall to avoid security at the main gate. 

Altering the guest list was not part of Sam’s repertoire. 

The night air was freezing, and I could barely feel my fingers. But even so, I couldn’t stop fidgeting with my cufflinks to slip my hands into the warmth of my pockets. My jaw was clenched tight, eyes flicking across every inch of the estate, its glowing windows lit up. 

I wasn’t nervous; I just didn’t want to be here. Not because it was dangerous, that part I could handle, but because my mind, traitorous and loud, kept drifting back to her. 

Jihyo. 

Her name echoed in the back of my mind like a bruise you stubbornly kept pressing on. I told myself it didn't matter, that I was here for something bigger, something righteous. Revenge. Loyalty. Blood. But the scent of her perfume still lived in every fiber of my coat. Her shape still haunts me when I close my eyes. 

I keep telling myself I could let her go, but my chest tightens with every lie I divulge.

“Umm, Jungkook? I don’t see Taehyung or Sam out here.” Jimin’s voice reeled me back in from my sea of thoughts.

And he had pointed out something truly alarming. I quickly glanced at my wrist to catch the time, then back towards the side entrance we were a few feet from approaching. Taehying had spent the whole day with several other members inside the estate, buried among Kims and lies. They went undercover as party planner staff, ensuring the plan went off without a hitch.

Though I still haven't been made aware of the plan, I trust Taehyung with my life and the Montague name. I hope to find out soon enough if my moron cousin ever makes it to the meeting spot.

An aggravated sigh escaped my lips, taking the time to look at our surroundings, beginning to grow a little paranoid that someone might see strange men loitering around the mansion. Jimin, too, was visibly nervous, shifting from foot to foot and vocally stimming to fill the heavy, silent air. I took the opportunity to get closer to the outer wall and lean against it with my back, feeling the cold and smoothness of the white stone. 

I could still hear her voice through the music that spilled through the opened glowing windows. Calm, detached, final. It was as if she hadn’t declared her love for me rather loudly while she screamed my name the countless times we were together over the last several months. It was like our relationship and feelings exchanged didn’t matter to her, at least not how it mattered to me. 

And even with my heart heavy, I tried to bury the weight of Jihyo’s breakup under business, under revenge, under everything I was supposed to care about now. But now that I’m just saying here with nothing to do but wait, the grief was beginning to slide through the cracks.

“Uhh…boss?” Jimin spoke up to ease his discomfort with silence. “I heard from Taehyung what was happening with you, and I…umm…”

Curse this kid’s inability to find solace in quietness. 

I tried not to react to his words; instead, I stared straight at the courtyard we had just trekked through to get to this awkward moment.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry you’re going through heartbreak. But from the way Taehyung describes it, she—”

“I don’t want to hear another sound from your mouth, Park. Do you understand?” I interrupted him, preventing myself from exploding at him. 

It’s one thing for my cousin to speak badly of Jihyo, but for my assistant, who shouldn’t concern himself with my personal affairs?

“I’m sorry,” He dejectedly said but wasn’t smart enough to leave it there. “You are just the greatest boss I’ve worked for, and I can’t stand to see you this way. For what it's worth, you deserve better.”

“You’re on thin ice, Park. Quit it.” 

I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him. Maybe it was a mistake to respond again because it just confirms that I’m listening to what this dimwit was saying. And Jimin knew it too, taking the opportunity to shift a little closer.

"I mean it," Jimin continued. "You give so much of yourself to people. To her. And she—" He hesitated, measuring his words. "She couldn’t meet you there. Not fully. Not in the way you needed."

My silence deepened, cold and quiet. I could have shut it down with a glance, but I didn’t. I’m not sure why I couldn’t; maybe I just needed someone to talk me through it with the kindness and gentleness Jimin could. So he kept going, his voice soft but steady.

"You act like love has to be hard to mean something. Like it only counts if it hurts. But there’s someone out there who’d take your love and give it back double. Not just the physical or when it’s convenient, but all of it. The loyalty. The late nights. The parts of you no one else bothers to understand."

That got me to shift slightly. My eyes never moved from the Kim courtyard, but the weight of the silence had changed. Less armored. More wounded.

Jimin offered a slight shrug. “I just don’t think love should feel like you’re always chasing after someone who keeps walking away.”

I let out a quiet exhale, barely more than a breath. “It doesn’t matter now,” I muttered. 

The younger didn’t argue. He knew better than to try and force hope onto someone who wasn’t ready to carry it. But he stood there beside me anyway, hands in his pockets, offering the kind of silence that didn’t demand anything in return.

Almost comically, the door we had been waiting beside squeaked open, and out stepped Sam to usher us inside. It took them long enough I had time to receive therapy after deliberately creating an unwelcoming and silent atmosphere for it. We enter a shadowy hallway, brightened only by the light at the end leading towards the sounds of a gala. 

“Everything is all set up,” Taehyung chimed from the dark, causing a small yelp from a jittery Jimin. “I’ve got the boys set up in position just in case things turn south.”

“What’s the plan anyways?” I ask, leading the group towards what I assume is the event.

My arm is pulled back suddenly by Taehyung, and I stop in my tracks to face him, quite annoyed. He quickly digs into his inner coat pocket, looking slightly agitated when he has to check the other side. A smirk forms on his dimly lit face as he pulls out what he is searching for and presents it to me. 

He hands over a mask, but not one I would expect for a heist, like a balaclava or something similar. It's a masquerade mask, deep in a rich midnight blue color. Delicate lines of silver curled across the surface to form feathered floral designs with small crystals woven into the lacework. The mask looked mysterious enough, teetering on elegance and regality.

“What’s this for?”

“It’s a masquerade gala, duh,” Taehyung stated, having already put on his mask and helping Jimin with his. “A glorified costume party is what it really is, but I digress. Putting this on will help us blend in and maybe prevent Officer Dickhead from identifying us so quickly.”

With that fact alone, I wasted no more time putting the mask on; having the police chief catch us prematurely would make this whole night pointless. Our revenge against Min Yoongi is why we’re here in the first place. He assaulted and arrested some of the residents in our community simply because he could. 

And also, Taehyung wants to avenge my dad, who’s still in the hospital. A decent son would’ve already made the time to see him, but you can’t have a decent kid without a decent parent. 

“You still haven’t told me what we’re doing. I’m the leader, you know. You have to tell me these things.”

“I don’t need to say shit,” Taehyung chuckled, putting his hand on my back and turning me back towards the light at the end of the hall. “The only thing you need to do is stay out of me and my guys' way. Maybe slip away from the party and look for unlocked rooms to gather info. I'll let you know when the show is about to start.”

Before I could protest, I discovered the hall we were in led into the gala from behind the stairs. We enter the Kim mansion’s grand receiving hall—a room that could’ve once passed as a ballroom but has since evolved into something colder and more curated. A room once meant for celebration and joy, but now is just a spectacle and more for show and keeping appearances. 

Opulence bleeds from every corner of the room, white and pristine, with red and gold decor that accents the space. The ceiling soared high above the guests that filled the room, crowned with a chandelier that spilled light like shattered diamonds. Every inch of the room gleamed with money and intention, designed to make people feel small. 

I slowed as we went deeper into the room, scanning the crowd and finding every corner the team had positioned themselves. Some disguised themselves as waitstaff, weaving through the clusters of people with trays of crystal flutes filled with champagne and hors d'oeuvres balanced in white-gloved hands.

Turning back to where we came from allowed me to examine the staircase. Twin marble banisters curved up from either side of the room, meeting at a central landing like the arms of a throne. The stairs were wide, regal-like, each one polished. So much so that it looked like someone had covered it in water, shiner than stone. 

Above that, a long stretch of balcony overlooked the gala below; it looked like it was reserved for the Kims to make dramatic appearances. I hated how flawless something as simple as the stairs were; they were almost theatrical. It is the perfect way to seem as if descending from heaven or looking down from Olympus. 

Still, even I couldn’t keep from glancing up. Not when a goddess now stood at the top of those steps. 

A vision snatched up from a daydream; it was easy to see she didn’t belong in this world. Something about how she held herself beside that wretched family, untouched by this empire of cruel sophistication and manufactured elegance. 

I had never seen her before and couldn’t imagine Taehyung having either. He and his team have created profiles for everyone in Verona. If I had seen her picture attached to one, I wouldn't be so starstruck when admiring her beauty. She may have been kept just out of reach of this city’s rot.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kim Namjoon’s voice commanded the room, everyone turning their attention towards the host. He raised his glass, ordering silence with nothing more than his presence. 

“Tonight is a very special night. Not just for Capulet Enterprise but also for me. For too long, I’ve kept my greatest treasure hidden away, nurturing her brilliance privately, waiting for the right time to share my daughter with the world.”

I turned to look back at Jimin and Taehyung, who had made it a few feet farther into the room whilst I'd been distracted. Their eyes met mine with a similar confused and uncertain glare. Taehyung looked to be growing reluctant. Namjoon’s toast and introduction to this mysterious young woman was something he was not expecting.

He pulled out his cell phone just as the host continued.

“I present to you…my daughter, Kim Y/N. The light of my life and the future of the Capulet brand.”

Polite applause broke out below, accompanied by the low hum of admiration. Y/N stood just behind her father, her gown a cascade of fire-red silk that gleamed beneath the chandelier’s light. She looked every bit the heir to his empire—poised, composed, stunning.

And yet.

Y/N clasped her hands too tightly in front of her. Her shoulders were too straight like they’d been coached into place. And when she blinked, her gaze drifted downward—not to meet the crowd, but to avoid it.

To someone watching closely, she was trying not to disappear. Y/N smiled perfectly, yet emptily, stepping forward and taking Namjoon’s hand with only the briefest hesitation. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be the subject of everyone's attention. Not in the way her father wanted her to be, anyway. 

I couldn’t bring myself to look away.

She was beautiful, and I hated that it was the first thing I noticed. I couldn’t trust beautiful things anymore; they wore charm like perfume. Sweet at first, and then gone, leaving nothing but the sting. But when I looked at how the light spilled around her, how her eyes were too large, too honest. It felt like a betrayal to notice her, like my heart was mocking me.

The room bent around her presence. Everything else faded. The voices, the clinking glasses, even the burn of my resentment—all of it went quiet. And for a man who had come tonight with revenge weighing down every breath, that terrified me.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not tonight. Not so soon after losing Jihyo. 

But the fact was that Y/N wasn’t like Jihyo at all. There was no calculation in her face, no armor in her eyes. Just a quiet sort of brilliance that made the world feel sharper and softer all at once. And though she hadn’t looked directly at me, I felt a pull. It was as if some part of her already lived in the spaces between my ribs.

As the Kim family descended the stairs, my phone vibrated, and I reluctantly removed Heaven's angel from my line of vision just to read a text from Taehyung. 

Take things slow and keep your guard up. There’s no way to know what the night has in store, especially not now.

I almost agreed, only to realize he had meant the plan I should focus on executing.

[kayusenreads]

Star-Crossed || Chapter iv.

In a city divided by power, loyalty, and blood, love was never meant to be an option.

When Kim [Y/N], the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her, she's only looking for a distraction from the relentless attention of the night. Instead, she finds Jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war—a world of neon lights, whispered promises, and inevitable ruin.

Their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden.

But in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. As tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start?

This is a re-interpretation of Romeo and Juliet, weaving a story of desire, power, and the price of challenging fate.

Pairing - Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

Genre - 18+, smut, romance, angst

A/N - Hope you enjoy another update, still on mobile so I hope structuring looks good. I enjoyed writing this one, and I things will begin to pick up soon I promise. Let me know your thoughts :)

Also because I'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so I can fix it. I will add a full list here and a list at the beginning of each chapter.

Thank you I hope you enjoy!

Wordcount - 2.3k

Y/N

There is a saying in Italian that goes, “arrampicarsi sugli specchi.” It translates to “to climb on mirrors” in English, and while the literal meaning may seem to make even less sense, the actual meaning of the phrase is worth knowing.

The gist of it is to intentionally and falsely portray something as the opposite of what it is, to try to prove that black is white. It’s about twisting a narrative by misrepresenting truths and making falsehoods appear authentic.

When I carried myself strong in front of my mom while trying to hide the cracks in my mask, she would pull me aside and ask if I was truly all right. I would lie to save face, not wanting her to think I was unhappy or ungrateful for the life I had.

“Smettila di salire su quegli specchi, tesoro.” She would say. “Stop climbing on those mirrors, darling.”

She could always tell just by one glance I was pretending to be content. It was like she was the only person in the world who understood and listened to me and my feelings. She made sure to stick up for me in situations I wasn’t comfortable in and that I got my way when necessary.

When she passed away so suddenly, it was devastating for me. Of course, any girl losing their mother would be heartbroken; she was my friend and caregiver, not to mention she gave me life itself. But the day I lost my mom was the day I lost my voice. I no longer had a say in anything involving my day-to-day life or my role in the family.

With no one else caring about my point of view, I’ve spent the last several years pretending to care about theirs.

So even though my grandmother picked out the ugliest plum-colored gown for the gala tomorrow night, of course, I feigned appreciation. It was a floor-length dress with an A-line silhouette and a neckline that was so high it guaranteed my breasts would stay tucked away. There were a lot of sequins all over the dress; I could be a disco ball.

It looked like a mother-of-the-bride type of dress. The gown was no doubt meant for older, mature women, which makes sense why my grandmother liked it.

“Please don’t tell me that's for you,” My uncle Yoongi said mockingly, having suddenly entered the lounge from behind where I was sitting.

I shrugged, not even bothering to turn and meet his eyes, and continued to fixate on the dress draped over the chair in front of me. “What’s wrong with it?”

I could make a long list of the things wrong with the dress, but what's the point of that? Why would I go through the trouble and have to keep it to myself anyway? My uncle didn’t even care about what I actually thought about the dress and was just teasing.

Officer Min Yoongi had a knack for trouble. He went around the city not just looking for lawbreakers but for anyone whose patience was already worn thin. Anyone who looked like they might snap with the right nudge. With a crooked smile and a few well-placed words, he baits them into arguments, stirring the pot just enough to watch the anger spark in their eyes.

He thrived on that tension, the moment right before things got ugly when pride and fear tangled up and people showed him just how weak they were. Yoongi wore authority like a weapon. The second his games tipped toward chaos, he dropped the smirk and replaced it with a cold and commanding scowl.

Backed by his badge and the weight of the law, he loved turning petty arguments into official business, shoving people against walls, barking orders, and escalating harmless situations until they spiraled entirely out of hand. It was never about justice for him. It was about control, about reminding everyone who held the power.

Even his own family knew better than to stay out of his way, to never cross him. Everyone looked the other way, including Mayor Hoseok, pretending not to see when Yoongi pushed it too far. Others, like Dad, admired him, mistaking his bullying for strength.

But the truth was more straightforward, much darker; Min Yoongi was a man who needed the world to fear him because he feared what he’d be without it—just another small, angry man with nothing else to provide him with worth.

“Are you serious?” His baffled tone pulled me out of my thoughts about him. “You can’t go to the gala with that? I know you’re a little weirdo, but this is just too much?”

Keeping to myself and indulging in introverted hobbies apparently makes me a “weirdo.”

“Well, I don't know if you care to know, but Dad asked Grandma and his new wife to pick out my dress. I’m not even allowed to dress myself anymore.” I informed him and rolled my eyes, saying that last part under my breath.

“Hey,” He shouted. “Don’t disrespect your father like that?”

Like clockwork, there it was. I could just feel the satisfaction my uncle was feeling radiating off of him. But I don’t have the energy he wants from me to keep fighting back. The past few days blurred together, heavy and colorless, like walking through thick fog. I haven’t stopped thinking about what my dad declared were my plans for the future.

He told me I would be moving out of state to attend a university I never was interested in, studying something I knew nothing about. It felt like the life he was planning belonged to someone else. But it was always like that, wasn’t it? My life never felt like mine at all; I was just an empty husk of a person going in whatever direction Dad wanted me to.

And part of me was devastated; I had real plans. I had dreams I held onto so closely, so quietly, for years. But the other part was just too numb. I know I should’ve fought back. I should have been more angry, but instead, I felt…nothing. I felt nothing but a dull ache somewhere deep in my chest, too faint to move me but too constant to ignore.

But what is the point of doing anything? What was the point in planning anything, wanting anything, when my fate had already been written for me?

When I didn’t bother to respond to Yoongi, I heard him slowly approach me. I stood still while leaning back on the couch with my arms crossed, never looking away from the ugly dress. There was nothing more I was meant to say to him other than “Thanks for the ride” when he decided he was done messing with me and took me home.

“Are you in a bad mood tonight, Y/N?” He gibed, taking his place beside me and wrapping his arm around me to pull me closer. “Did your boyfriend break up with you?”

Again, no response. Not even a falter to my breath to indicate Yoongi’s words bothered me. I couldn’t break out of my numb state. It was like my body was holding me prisoner, and I couldn't react how I wanted, only watch it play out.

And Yoongi noticed something was up, and it didn’t sit right with him the way I was reacting. He continued his tactic to try and get anything out of me, rambling about everything that would normally upset me. Not being allowed to date, have a car, or pick out my friends.

“You’re forgetting a few things,” I interrupted his blabbing, and I could hear his breath hitch. “My dad doesn’t love me, and to prove it, he's sending me away to university so that I can become another cog in this machine of his I want nothing to be a part of. How about the fact I want nothing more than to be a mother and bear children, but my body autonomy isn’t even my own, and the family matriarch decides when he is ready for grandkids?

“Or better yet, Dad bought me an entire loft apartment to live in, but I'm not allowed to head back home until he says ok. So I think a stupid fucking dress for the gala celebrating me is the least of my worries. Especially when in all actuality it's nothing more than a glorified event to get more investors so he can grow and continue to treat his daughter like shit.”

Finally, I’m released from my internal cell, and the first thing I do is cry. I sob so hard it confuses Yoongi, and he leans away, my wailing filling the room, looking for more witnesses to this embarrassing breakdown. If anyone else were home right now, I'd be worried, but I was sort of dumped back at my family’s estate while my grandmother and stepmother went out again. It's kind of unfortunate my uncle had to be here to witness me at my lowest.

What I was expecting was for him to tell me to cut it out, stop crying, and act like a big girl. But instead, he moved closer and wrapped his arms around me, albeit in an awkward hug. It caught me off guard, and that forced me to calm down slightly, focussing all of my attention on slowing my breaths.

“Look uhh…I know you’re upset with the arrangements,” Yoongi started to speak uncomfortably. “Being a part of this family isn’t easy. I’ve done things in my past I didn’t want to, and I uhh…I’m not proud of it. But your father is a wise man whose every move is calculated to ensure the protection and class of this family.”

“I wish Mom were here. She’d know what to do,” I whispered, trying to hide the cracks in my voice.

Yoongi sighed and let go of his embrace. I began to wish that we could stay like that a little longer; I was already missing his warmth. I sat up straight and began to wipe away my tears while he took that as his opportunity to get up off the coach. He stretched and audibly groaned like he was trying to expel his embarrassment from making that mushy speech.

I watched him as he slipped his hands into his uniform pockets and started to make his way back around the couch. I sighed deeply and scrunched up my face due to the cringe, realizing that I had an embarrassing breakdown in front of Yoongi. He will surely use this moment against me in the future, but for now, I'm happy he didn't take advantage of my mental state.

“Are you coming, crybaby?”

Maybe I shouldn’t give him the benefit of the doubt just yet.

I reluctantly pushed myself up off the couch, snatched up my ugly dress, and followed my uncle out of the lounge. After a long and dragging day, I was so ready to go home and collapse in bed. I want nothing more than to get a good night's rest. After all, I'm spending all of tomorrow getting ready for the pointless gala.

But I was super confused when Yoongi turned right towards the staircase and not left towards the front door. My footsteps slowed as I adjusted to the change in direction. Why was he taking me deeper into the house? There's nothing left in here for me, not to mention it was already so late to be wandering the halls.

Well, he was my ride anyway; I didn't have much of a choice, and curiosity was getting the better of me. I quickly caught up to him and walked up the flight of stairs.

There were many rooms I wasn’t allowed in, and I'm not even sure what could be up here that would be of interest to me. Even though this was my family’s house, I couldn't help but feel like I was trespassing. The second-floor hallway we walked through mainly contained sleeping quarters; even my old bedroom was down this way.

But my heart dropped when my uncle stopped in front of a room with large white double doors and an intricate floral design painted on the wood. I met yoongis gaze with wide eyes, not believing what he was doing.

He reached into his pocket, and with a jangle, he pulled out his large key ring. He searched for a specific key, and with a little struggle, he separated from the rest. I held my hand out to receive it, and taking a closer look, I confirmed everything.

“Yoongi, I-I don’t know what to say…”

“How about starting with ‘thank you’?” He chuckled, stepping back and motioning me towards the door. “And be careful with that. Your dad doesn’t want anyone in there, but I figured you could find a nicer dress to wear tomorrow. After all, you don’t want to be representing the family in the old lady getup.”

I started to tear up a little and rushed toward Yoongi, hugging him to show my appreciation. He has no idea how much this small gesture means to me or how much trouble he could be in for giving me the key in the first place. Afterward, I wasted no time unlocking the door. I had to see with my own eyes what was behind it.

Mom's old room.

And even after all these years, it still smelt like her. A lump in my throat began to form as a result of the emotions I felt just being in her old space. Dad wanted this space to be preserved perfectly; no one was allowed to enter the room, let alone touch her things. But the memory of her locked away and out of sight was doing her a complete disservice.

How often does he even enter this room? Would he even notice if I started taking Mom’s stuff back home with me so that she could be honored and remembered properly?

“Don’t take too long. I got to get back to work.”

I can worry about that another day. Right now, let's see if Mom can help me find the perfect dress for the gala.

[kayusenreads]

Star-Crossed || Chapter iii.

In a city divided by power, loyalty, and blood, love was never meant to be an option.

When Kim [Y/N], the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her, she’s only looking for a distraction from the relentless attention of the night. Instead, she finds Jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war—a world of neon lights, whispered promises, and inevitable ruin.

Their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden. But in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. As tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start?

This is a re-interpretation of Romeo and Juliet, weaving a story of desire, power, and the price of challenging fate.

Pairing - Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

Genre - 18+, smut, romance, angst

A/N - So I know it’s been over a month but life just got in the way. I just finished moving not too long ago and me and my family are still trying to get settled in. I’ve rewrote this chapter twice and I hope that this version of it is satisfactory. I’m also posting this on mobile cuz I can’t log into my Tumblr from my laptop and my desktop hasn’t been set up yet, so praying the structuring is halfway decent.

Also because I'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so I can fix it. I will add a full list here and a list at the beginning of each chapter.

Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

Wordcount - 2.8k

Jungkook

The bar owner whimpered, but I could barely hear him over the pounding in my skull. My knuckles ached, split open and raw, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. My breath became sharp and uneven, my chest rising and falling with the force of my rage.

The man slumped over, slowly sinking further onto the concrete floor. He sat wide-eyed and gasping for air, his face bloodied, making it unclear where it was coming from at this point. I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him upright, forcing him to meet my eyes.

“You wanna try that again?” I snarled, voice low and cold. Beneath it, though, rage boiled beneath my skin—rage that had nothing to do with the man in front of him.

The owner coughed up a mix of blood and saliva. "I-I told you, I don’t know what happened to your father. The police officer—"

My fist made contact with his face once more, sending him back onto the concrete with a loud groan. “I don’t give a fuck about the old man, where is the money, Ilhoon?”

Ilhoon began crying while pleading and begging for the pain and humiliation to stop. He rolled onto his stomach, the blood from his mouth began to pool underneath him. The bastard mewled, arms shaking as he tried to pick himself off the floor. He wished to speak further without the degradation, but I could barely look at him without disgust.

With my patience already razor-thin, my mood more foul than the stale stench of sweat and fear clinging to the air, I kicked him in the gut. His face slammed back onto the floor.

"Where is it?" I scowled, my voice sharp and laced with something dark. Something barely restrained.

The owner moaned, clutching his ribs where I had just driven my foot. “I-I don’t have it,” he stammered, his voice shaking.

I laughed, humorless. “Yeah? That’s funny ‘cause I saw plenty of cash running through your registers last week.” I grabbed the man by his collar again. “Don’t lie to me.”

The other guys continued to watch cautiously, lingering in the background, guarding the door and waiting. Taehyung and Jimin wouldn’t question my actions as of yet, not after the mood I’d been in all morning. They knew I had been looking for something—someone—to take it out on.

“You know the arrangement,” I whispered in a low growl. “You pay, or you deal with me.”

This was how the Montagues operated. They weren’t a charity, no matter how much the people in this neighborhood liked to pretend they were. Yeah, they protected the businesses and kept the Kims from sinking their claws in, from bleeding them dry—but loyalty had a price—a steep one. And when someone fell behind, they made an example of them.

The Montagues were not merciful, not under my leadership.

“No wonder your father is always in here…” The older man chuckled.

It wasn’t clear whether Ilhoon had grown bold and defiant or had already developed brain damage from the injuries. Maybe a sudden sense of grandeur could combat the indignity he has already faced.

“...he gets piss drunk to fill the void that used to hold the pride he had for his son.”

The room grew cold, and I could feel the jaws drop from the other two in the room. I felt my anger surge, sharp and suffocating. My fingers tighten around the bar owner's collar, my other hand pulling back, curled into a tight fist—

Then everything blurred.

My first punch was controlled, and so was the second. But by the third, fourth, fifth—I don’t even know how many—my body was moving by itself, my mind slipping into something dark and senseless. I wasn’t thinking anymore, just pounding and beating and striking, taking all my rage out on this unfortunate older man.

But I did know one thing for sure while I feverishly attacked the man: I was trying to beat something out of this man that had nothing to do with his debt or the business or even the low-blow remark he made about my father.

A firm grip latched onto my wrist mid-punch, yanking me backward. "Enough!"

I jerked my body, straightening my posture with ragged breath and hazy vision. Taehyung stood in front of me now, positioning himself between me and the bar owner, eyes sharp with warning.

I watched the beaten man slump forward, groaning in pain, his face barely recognizable beneath the open wounds and bruising. I looked down at my own hands, bloodied and trembling. I flex my fingers, trying to stop them from shaking.

The room began to feel too small, too loud, despite only the grunting cutting through the silence. The stench of blood and sweat clung to the air, thick and suffocating.

I had to get out of there fast.

Quickly, my feet carried me out of the storage room of the Poisoned Chalice, struggling to hold up my heavy and exhausted self. They didn’t stop until I had made my way out the back door and into the alleyway.

The glare of the sun was harsh on my eyes, needing time to adjust to the light after the dark of the bar. I leaned my depleted body against the wall of the building and enjoying the way the cool stones feel on my head.

It was then that I noticed my breathing started to pick up, like I had just run a marathon. I tried to steady it, but I just couldn’t. My heart raced out of my chest; my pulse was in my ears, like a thunderous roar.

My hand held onto my chest, and I thought I could stop it. I wished there was a way to reach right inside and calm my heart and stop my lungs from gasping for air.

When that didn’t work, I grabbed my face tightly, trying to mimic someone else telling me to hold it together. I closed my eyes and prayed the world would die, that I would die. But it didn’t work. Nothing worked.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jimin demanded, both him and Taehyung following me out the door, with a voice full of concern. “You usually know when to quit.”

It was like my pridefulness took over, overruling my body’s panic attack to save face. As much as I desperately wanted to be left alone and get away, I needed to stay because being in their presence was the only thing that could stop me from hurting.

I exhale sharply, sliding my hands down my face. It was only after that action I realized my hands still covered in Ilhoon’s blood. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” Taehyung scoffed, pushing his way past Jimin.

Even though I was technically his boss, Taehyung had just about as much power over the group as I did. We were always close growing up and did everything together so it only made sense to run the montagues together as well. In a sense, I was the CEO and he was the COO. He takes care of the day-to-day operations and manages the team, while as a leader, I’m the final decision-maker.

I’m also the strategic planner and overall face of the group, defining us to the community we swore to protect.

And that was why my fuming cousin was in my face right now, scolding me about representation and accountability. I don’t even know what he’s saying because my thoughts are so loud I can’t hear him.

I should’ve been thinking about my father, about the attack last night that landed him in the hospital, about what the bar owner said before he got pummeled. But all I could think about was her, and the way she had looked at me before she walked away—like I was nothing. Like we were nothing.

And I know this to be the reason I lost control in there. I needed to feel like I was something, even if it meant to break a couple of bones to do it.

It ultimately was Jimin’s voice that pulled me out of my thoughts. “What happened?” His voice was lower and calmer than the other. The difference between the two men was respect; Jimin had more of it due to being my assistant and bookkeeper. “This isn’t normal.”

I found myself swallowing hard, jaw clenched tightly.

Even though I’ve been thinking about Jihyo all morning, a vision from the night before with her hit me like a flash bang.

✦✦✦

A sultry red glow bathed the short hallway leading away from the club. Behind the roped-off doorway, there were a few alcoves on both sides, small nooks with only a curtain for added privacy. I approached my favorite room, the usual spot for our rendezvous. The neon lights bled across the velvet walls and a few mirror panels, reflecting the low shimmer of the small chandelier overhead.

Along all three walls stretched a black leather couch, sleek and inviting, but I had no interest in sitting just yet. Alcohol, sweat, and the cheap perfume of the last dancer filled the air. The stuffiness didn’t pair well with the distant thrum of bass from the main floor.

The lounge owner may have built this room for leisure and indulgence, but I couldn’t keep still.

I paced around the little area I had behind this curtain, running my hands through my hair while my pulse drummed faster than the music outside. Impatience whirrs in my veins, and excitement spreads to my fingertips. Wishing for my love to make her way to reunite with me.

There was something electric about the wait every time I found myself here. The anticipation made it impossible to stand still. Every second felt stretched too thin, like the room itself was holding its breath along with me.

And when my Jihyo finally arrives, I can feel time stop around us.

The room suddenly became nothing but a shadow surrounding the two of us. An oppressive dim, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. The soft light that barely touched her skin made it look as if she was a vision, an impossible dream that my mind had conjured up just for me. Heavy was the ambiance with the weight of her presence. The world on the other side of this curtain ceased to exist.

There was nothing but this moment. Nothing but her.

“Jungkook…” She spoke up, taking a step closer. “I’ve been expecting you…”

Her voice was like a spell, a melody spun from silk and shadow. It dripped with something sweet, something dangerous—like honey laced with venom. It had a cadence that was so rousing it lured you, making it impossible to move away.

I found my eyes tracing the outline of her body, admiring the way the light made her glow like something celestial. I couldn’t wait any longer; I wanted to touch and hold her. Pull her close and never let go.

And in my despairing hunger, I pounced on her, closing the miles of distance between us. I could hear the subtle rustle of her breath, steady and warm, but it felt as if it reached deep inside me, shaking me awake in ways I wasn’t ready for. I couldn’t think of anything but my desperate need for her.

Her scent was an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla; it was all-consuming. It was like a drug that took complete control over every part of me. It clung to my skin, filled my lungs, and settled into my bones like I could never escape it, even if I wanted to.

And I didn't want to. Not for a second.

Unable to resist the urge any longer, my hands moved to the back of her head as my lips crashed into hers. Jihyo responds with the lowest of moans, her hands gripping my shoulders roughly. I took that as the go-ahead to deepen the kiss. Her lips were soft as I moved against them with immense passion and intensity, not wanting to waste a second of opportunity.

“Jungkook, please…” She softly groaned, her lips lightly brushed mine until I hungrily captured them once more.

My hands couldn’t resist wandering her body, fingertips tracing down her back and towards her waist. I left a trail of kisses down her neck and her collarbone. Jihyo's skin was soft everywhere I touched, and she smelled so deliciously sweet that I couldn't help but use my tongue to tease her skin.

She moaned my name tenderly; the compliment made me want to be even bolder.

Jihyo’s fingers raked my back, inducing a wave of desire, and I pulled her closer to my body. My hips buck into her of their own volition; my hard-on was practically begging to break free. A deep groan escaped my lips as I grind forward, my palms traveling lower, grabbing handfuls of her cheeks.

Every part of her felt like it belonged to me—no, like I belonged to her. My entire existence seemed insignificant without her in it, as if she were the center of my universe, the very air I breathed. I am hers.

“Jungkook!”

My eyes fly open when Jihyo stops me and pushes me down onto the couch. The corner of my mouth turns up into a smirk, and I can feel my eyes gleam as I look up at her.

“Ahh, I see,” I hummed, taking off my cashmere suit jacket and quickly unbuttoning my white dress shirt. “My baby wants to be in control today?”

“Please stop. I’m not your baby…”

The moment the words left her mouth, my heart tore into thousands of pieces. Jihyo stood over me, arms folded tight across her chest in an attempt to shield herself. She seemed to shrink into herself and was trying to disappear into the dim light. Her eyes refused to meet my confused gaze. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer and more hesitant.

“I can’t keep doing this, Jungkook…I-I’m seeing someone…”

“Who?” My voice boomed in comparison to hers. “Give me a name. I’ll burn down the whole city for you.”

“Listen, I LOVED the time we’ve spent together. Like you were really great…” She paused to take a deep breath and collect her thoughts. “But I can’t be with someone so…you.”

I watched her, aching to be closer to me as her eyes traced my exposed chest. It was easy to tell that she was afraid of what might happen if I reached up and touched her. And I wanted to so very much. I wanted to pull her down on me and reclaim her. I was starving with want for her—starving for her touch, for her everything.

For her to be mine again.

Without her, I was nothing. And that terrified me immensely.

“I-I don’t understand,” I nervously chuckled. “I gave you all of me, you are my everything. I love you Jihyo, please baby don’t do this.”

“The way you are so lovestruck was so endearing in the beginning, but now its starting to suffocate me. I need to be with someone more normal.”

✦✦✦

“Forget it,” I muttered, but the memories were sinking their claws into me. I tried to fight back against them dragging me down. “Jimin, go back in there and tell Mister Choi we’ll be back in two days to collect. If he breathes a word of what happened to anyone, I’ll be back alone to finish the job.”

Jimin quickly nodded and hurried back into the bar. I turned back to Taehyung and motioned towards the car parked a several feet away. We started to make our way towards it, when he spoke up to my dismay. I was hoping he wouldn’t speak another word of my outburst.

“I know you don’t give a rats ass about your dad, even if he was on the brink of death…So what did whore do to get you so rialed up?”

I choose not to answer, not to give into his taunting. He never liked the fact that I was seeing Jihyo, thought she was too distracting and not worth my time. He always thought she was using me, and I know he would have a field day filled with “I told you so's” if he knew she broke up with me and left me for a better man.

So I just don’t plan on ever telling him until I can heal my heart enough to handle his gloating.

“Whatever,” He gave up rather quickly trying to get a reaction out of me and grew serious. “Sam told me this Namjoon has been planning a gala for tomorrow night and can get us in. It would be the perfect opportunity to-”

“Lets do it.” I interrupted.

I don’t care what we’re doing, but I needed to get back into work, making up for the last few months I’ve been slacking. I needed to go back to the way I was before I met Jihyo and got my heartbroken.

I needed to go back to being normal.

[kayusenreads]

Star-Crossed || Chapter ii.

In a city divided by power, loyalty, and blood, love was never meant to be an option.

When Kim [Y/N], the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her, she’s only looking for a distraction from the relentless attention of the night. Instead, she finds Jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war—a world of neon lights, whispered promises, and inevitable ruin.

Their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden. But in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. As tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start?

This is a re-interpretation of Romeo and Juliet, weaving a story of desire, power, and the price of challenging fate.

Pairing - Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

Genre - 18+, smut, romance, angst

A/N - I finished writing this chapter with a sharp pain in my head, but I continued because I just wanted to not mess up my flow. Please let me know of any errors or your honest opinions so I can change anything to make this story the best it can be. Thank you!~

Also because I'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so I can fix it. I will add a full list here and a list at the beginning of each chapter.

Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

Wordcount - 2.4K Words

Y/N

Standing in front of the full-length mirror, my fingers brush against the silky fabric of my dress, adjusting the way it sits on my shoulder. It was nothing special—simple and black, the dress you’d throw on for a casual dinner—but it felt like the wrong choice tonight. 

My body type wasn’t the same as the mannequin at the boutique I purchased it from. I was a few inches taller so the length of the dress fell just above the knees. My upper body was a bit broader, making the off-shoulder straps pull the dress snug to my chest, exposing my neckline and drawing attention to my cleavage. 

This dress makes me feel so damn beautiful, but I’m wearing it in front of someone who will make me feel disgraceful. 

The soft hum of my laptop echoed from the desk nearby, pulling me out of my thoughts for a moment. I glance down at the screen, where an animated Hana chatted away and filled the silence. Her eyes were wide with excitement as she described her shift at the hospital, or more so the parts of her day unrelated to work. 

I tried to focus on her, but my eyes kept drifting back to my reflection. I honestly couldn’t care less about the latest nurse gossip being spread around. The vanity lights in the mirror illuminated my skin, but there was something about the way they highlighted my face that made me feel like an actress, playing a character and putting on a show.

And the person who will be watching me is my biggest critic; my dad. 

“Y/N?” Hana’s voice broke through my contemplation, sharp and teasing. “You are listening, right?”

Stepping back into the frame, I fake a smile as I present myself in front of my best friend. She gasps and her squealing sends me into a twirl as I show off the rest of me. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening. I’m trying to get ready. What were you saying?” I apologize while taking a seat at the desk in front of the laptop. 

“Are you kidding? I wanna know what’s going on with you! Tell me…who’s the lucky guy you’re going out on a date with?”

I fiddled with my earrings trying to put them on, smirking just a little at the ridiculous comment. Me? Date? Please…

If only I had the time to date, or even the permission to. My dad would never allow me to start an entanglement with people that wouldn’t benefit the family—the empire. Hell, if he knew I mingled with the hospital staff he’d explode. 

After explaining that I was meeting with “Daddy Dearest” for dinner, she rolled her eyes and immediately became disinterested in my night. Which was a good thing because I don’t wanna talk anymore about the evening that’s yet to unfold. 

My dad would say, “family business is no one’s business”, but I wouldn’t want to discuss my family in general. 

Hana went back to gabbing, this time I kept up with her by nodding along and absent-mindedly responding. Every few seconds or so the sounds “uh huh”, “hmm”, and “oh?” would escape my lips as I continued getting ready. Clean and light makeup paired with a basic hairstyle, nothing that would want to draw too much attention. 

I stared at my sullen face in the video chat camera, trying to convince myself that everything was fine. It would be fine, right? I just needed to keep the conversation short and simple, accept the complaints, and acquiesce to any new responsibilities that inevitably would be thrown my way. 

It was coming to the point that I couldn’t stall anymore. I had to face the music and get moving. 

“I’m sorry Han,” I cut her off, admittedly a little unapologetic. “I do need to go. You know how my dad is about tardiness.”

She chuckles with a hint of sarcasm, the ending trailing off as her face twists into repulsion. The thought of that man doesn't bring a feeling of fondness. 

“Alright, babe. But please do me a favor?” Hana rushed to get that last part out before I hung up the video call. 

“Hmm?”

“Puh-lease find an escape and think about yourself for a moment. I really don’t want you to end up like your crazy family.”

✦✦✦

The restaurant surrounding us proved to be lively—silverware clinked against porcelain, the low murmur of overlapping conversations, and the occasional fit of laughter from nearby tables. The air was swirling with the smell of freshly baked garlic bread, the only food at my disposal to devour stressfully. 

Across from me, dad was taking a phone call and using his hands in lively gestures as he spoke. This was something he always did for as long as I can remember. Kim Namjoon was a confident man and he presented himself that way no matter who he spoke to or what he was saying. To seem commanding you must emphasize the importance of your words.

His voice would rise and fall in that charismatic way that always drew people to him. I could barely bring myself to care about the subject of his call. I gave up my nosy nature years ago, once I realized my dad would never elaborate if I ever heard anything I wasn’t meant to. I was gaslit into believing I misheard or didn’t know what I was saying, that I was crazy. 

Crazy.

My mind continues to wander to Hana’s plea to escape my crazy family so I don’t end up like them. I could only bring myself to shut the laptop to avoid continuing the conversation at the moment. I just can’t listen to someone speak about my family like that. Above all, I can’t muster up the energy to defend them anymore. 

I hear the stories from Hana and the other hospital staff about the mistreatment, not just from my dad, the hospital director of Capulet General, but also from the rest of the board. I see the posts on social media claiming the city's police department doesn’t handle cases properly, that my uncle Min Yoongi, the chief of police, is crooked and dishonest. 

Our family “empire” stretches out into all types of public service work; no matter where you look, there is something negative to say. 

“Nothing was ever proven in a court of law, don’t believe everything you see on the internet.” Dad would say when this was brought up in conversation.

But when you’re going up against a family syndicate, it’s much harder to win when your opponent has ties with the courts. I can admit that I’m not blind or stupid to what’s happening, but I have no choice but to turn a blind eye. 

My mother used to try to convince me that sometimes ignoring wrong doing didn’t mean you were a terrible person, you were protecting yourself from said terrible people. I don’t remember much about her, but this advice I clung to to justify my stance in the matter. 

A heavy sigh caught my attention and drew me away from my train of thought. I quickly darted my eyes towards dad, wondering if keeping to myself had somehow annoyed him. He was pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head in disappointment, I took the chance to quickly swallow the mouthful of garlic bread I had been mindlessly stuffing in my face. 

“Your uncle will be the death of me,” Dad said listlessly.

“What happened?” I questioned in a perfunctory manner, knowing he wouldn’t answer me. 

“Don’t mind your pretty little head about it, darling.” And there it was.

I have been a part of this family for 21 years, born into it with its blood running pure throughout. But in a way I’m a stranger to all family affairs, not allowed to be involved in any way, shape, or form. Dad handles the whole family like a part of his company. My whole life I’ve waited to be invited into the Kim guild just to be in the loop and included. But now, after all I know, I’m not too sure. 

Growing up, I believed loyalty was the same as love. Family always came first—that was law, an unspoken creed we all lived by. There were always whispers about us, people casting shadows on our name. I defended myself and my family each time; my father wasn’t manipulative but persuasive, my uncle wasn’t cold-hearted but practical. Regardless of the claim, the excuses came easily because I was taught that those same people speaking ill about my family were jealous of our success. 

My mind raced with the memories I’d buried, the truth weighing heavier than any excuse I could muster. I wasn’t so sure of anything anymore, a wave of something bitter and cold rising in my chest—shame, anger, despair all knotted together. As much as I wasn’t allowed to know the family’s business, that never stopped me from snooping.

In a way, I wish I hadn’t done so. That way I could continue with life with the unconditional love I had. 

The evidence was glaring. Deals made in dark rooms. Promises broken without hesitation. People ruined and discarded like pawns in some endless, selfish game. And I’d been a part of it—maybe not directly, but by looking the other way, by telling myself it wasn’t my place to judge.

But normal families didn’t leave destruction in their wake. Good people didn’t destroy lives to pad their own pockets.

What did that make me? I’d built my identity on defending them, clinging to the belief that they couldn’t be as bad as everyone said. But now, stripped of my excuses, all I saw was the truth: they were that bad. Worse, maybe.

And there was nothing I could do about it. They didn’t need me to defend them anymore; they were too far gone, too entrenched in their corruption to even care about my moral crisis. I was just a single thread in the tangled web they’d spun, and pulling away now wouldn’t unravel anything. It wouldn’t fix the damage or undo the harm.

What am I even doing here? The thought crept in again, unwelcome but persistent. I tried to push it aside, focusing instead on the flicker of the candle on our table, the way it made the wine in his glass glow a deep crimson. My dad was actively speaking but my feverish mind wouldn’t allow me to listen. 

He realized and spoke up about it.

“What’s wrong tonight, darling?” Dad’s voice cut through my thoughts, sharp enough to make me flinch.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said quickly, straightening in my chair. “I was just… thinking.”

“There’s nothing to think about, I can do it all for you.”

It might sound like a sentiment thing to say; let me take the mental burden from you because I don’t want you to stress. But it was all just a part of his controlling nature. It didn’t matter what I thought. I could only sit here, playing the dutiful daughter until it was time to be officially invited into the company. 

The waiter appeared, setting down a plate of pasta in front of me. The rich aroma rose to meet me, but my stomach churned. I twirled my fork absently, watching the noodles tangle and untangle, like my thoughts. They’re not bad people, I told myself. They’re just trying to protect what’s ours.

But then I remembered the faces. The ones I’d seen on the news, the people whose lives were shattered because of the Kim Family Name. I couldn’t tell myself this was harmless, not when the evidence was staring me in the face after years of looking for it.

“...so I’ve arranged for him to attend with the sole purpose of meeting with you,”

The words caught me off guard, causing me to choke on my pasta and cough loudly in the restaurant. The patrons at nearby tables began to stare, some with worry and others with judgement. Dad raised an eyebrow, probably wondering if I needed help. 

I apologized and composed myself before asking him to clarify after admitting I wasn’t listening. 

He explained the future he had decided for me, the method of which I would be integrated into the family business. I would attend MIT to contribute to the technological advances for Capulet General. A man from the board of admissions is interested in working with my dad, so as a favor is willing to meet with me and coach me into acceptance. 

The thing is, I know nothing about tech or engineering. I’ve never shown the least bit of interest in it my entire life, why would this be what my father plans for me? My dream to be a teacher, caretaker, or even a mother was disregarded for one of the hardest and most intense fields of studies. 

“I’ve planned a gala in your honor, don’t be so ungrateful,” Dad snaps, the anger in his voice hurts me deeper. “Everyone will be there to celebrate you before you're sent away.”

The term “sent away” cuts like knives, like I’m being thrown to the side so he doesn’t have to deal with me anymore. 

I wish you could help me, mom. You knew how to dissuade dad from bad decisions. 

I swallowed hard and stabbed a piece of pasta, pretending to be engrossed in my plate. The room felt stifling, the chatter and laughter around us too loud, like it was mocking me for my silence. Dad kept talking, his voice steady and confident, as if the world hadn’t cracked open for me in the middle of this fancy restaurant.

But I should be grateful, right? I was on the winning side of history, the high ground in the economy. I see my reflection in the wine glass as I’m about to bring it to my lips. I just look at the woman staring back and see that she’s not me. I can’t explain it, I wouldn’t even know how to start.

How can she call herself Kim Namjoon’s daughter and feel like an imposter? She hides behind the family name to be a part of something, to benefit from the riches it provides. 

So why can’t she be happy?

“I’ll also be arranging for you to go gown shopping with Eunchae and your grandmother. I can’t have you dressing like this in front of important guests.” Dad said, chuckling. His laugh was warm, familiar, the kind that used to make me feel safe. Now it felt like a cover, a shield he used to hide what was underneath. 

I forced a small smile, hoping it would satisfy him.

[kayusenreads]

Star-Crossed || Chapter i.

In a city divided by power, loyalty, and blood, love was never meant to be an option.

When Kim [Y/N], the daughter of an influential family, steps into the gala celebrating her, she’s only looking for a distraction from the relentless attention of the night. Instead, she finds Jungkook, a boy from the wrong side of the war—a world of neon lights, whispered promises, and inevitable ruin.

Their love is reckless, electric, and entirely forbidden. But in a world where family names mean everything and betrayal is paid in blood, love is the most dangerous gamble. As tensions rise and secrets unravel, they must decide: can love rewrite fate, or were they doomed from the start?

This is a re-interpretation of Romeo and Juliet, weaving a story of desire, power, and the price of challenging fate.

Pairing - Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

Genre - 18+, smut, romance, angst

A/N - Hope the first chapter is enjoyable. I understand if the story isn't that interesting yet, but it will take a few chapters to get to the good stuff lol. Btw, all names of secondary characters are not meant to represent anyone in real life. Even the likeness of the BTS members aren't meant to be offensive in any form. I hope we can all have fun here :)

Also because I'm not well versed in trigger warnings yet, if something is triggering to you or may be potentially triggering to others, please notify me so I can fix it. I will add a full list here and a list at the beginning of each chapter. 

Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

Wordcount - 2.4k

Jungkook

The neon lights of the Ecliptica Lounge flickered sporadically overhead, a hue of pink and purple casting a garish glow on the rain-slicked pavement. In front of the blacked-out windows, I stood right next to the bright red open sign with a silhouette of a nude woman straddling it. 

While watching pervy patrons scurry for the front door, a cigarette found its way to my lips and there it sat while I fished in my pockets for a lighter. Loud sensual music filled the sidewalk as the door opened for another set of shameless individuals to enter and a different creep was thrown out.

I fumbled with the lighter and brought it to the cigarette's tip, my eyes narrowing with frustration as the weak spark barely flickered. The small metal rectangle was weathered, with its once chromatic surface faded and scratched. Every time I pull it out, it reminds me of how long I’ve let this habit go on and that quitting will become infinitely harder after every light. 

One would think that a smoker would just trash the damn thing and buy a different one as the refilling of lighter fluid is considered tedious. And while it is true, I would never replace my lucky lighter even in this moment of irritation.

With a deep breath, I flicked the lighter’s wheel again, flint scraping against the metal, but the paper-wrapped tobacco refused to catch the sputtering flame. A low groan slipped past my lips as I feverishly tried to ignite the cigarette, each failing attempt adding to my mounting anxiety. Irritation and impatience took over as I shook the lighter, hoping to coax the remaining fuel into action. 

It was at this moment I couldn’t tell if my shaking was because the cold winter rain was piercing my skin or the stress caused by the withdrawal my addiction had prized me with. My composure slowly drained, and my lower half became restless as I slowly rocked on my feet. The sighing grew frequent unknowingly, thinking about the cigarette untouched by flame that was mockingly slipping from my mouth.

Before it became too embarrassing, the lighter glows long enough for an inadequate flame to catch an ember. One deep, satisfying drag later, my nerves finally settled alongside a mixture of resignation and irritation. My body softens slightly as it happily fills its lungs with toxic smoke.

As much as I know this was wrong, the way my body reacts to this cancer stick, I know I can’t fight it. I will always be weaker than my addiction, so I choose to blame the cigarette over myself. 

I started smoking soon after my grandfather passed away. Out of everyone in my family and community combined, I was the most devastated. Grieving affected me hard, my father refused to allow me to process the emotions properly. I never understood if it was because of his stance on emotional men or the fact that his father was a terrible parent. 

I heard the stories they told of how unforgiving he was, how he was a hard-ass and never let anything stop him from getting his way. The family describes him as authoritative and intimidating, but I only saw him as merciful and protective. 

Even so, they all admit he seemed to have mellowed out as he got older and I fear the picture they painted of him being brutish and rigid fit the description of his son more than him.

They say I’m lucky to have never known that side of him, but in all actuality, they haven’t got a clue how much I was fortunate enough to witness. It’s painful to think I could’ve learned so much more from him if he hadn’t left me so soon. 

I brushed my thumb over the engravings made on the last thing he ever gave me. With a weak smile, he repeated the same saying to me. 

“What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.”

My younger self didn't fully comprehend what it meant, never mind what he was trying to accomplish. But as time passed, digging through his belongings for the truth and watching my world darken and numb, I began to understand and took it upon myself to make things right. 

The lucky lighter returned to my jacket pocket, where it'll continue to be just a spent relic of mine. In that moment, I was pulled out of my daydreaming, long enough to realize my cell phone had been vibrating for a while.

I chose to ignore it, knowing exactly what it was for and not wanting to deal with work right now. 

Even after all that stress and effort just to light the smoldering roll I hate every minute it takes to burn and smoke it to completion. My chest grows hot as I inhale it into my lungs, the tightness I feel is unpleasant as useless air tries to escape. 

Shallow drags allow me to ease into the light-headed but pleasant hazy feeling that is present every time. My scrambled brain might finally take a second to calm or my achy depressed body might be soothed, but the blissfulness doesn’t always last long.

So I decided to take deeper, longer puffs, hold them purposefully, and repeat. I eventually find myself feeling sick after a moment or two because I greedily overdid it, starving myself from sweet fresh oxygen and trying to heal myself through lethal means.

But the cycle continues every few hours if I am lucky enough to last that long. No matter how much I always hated my bad breath or dry mouth, the feeling of even just part of my body wrapped tightly around a warm blanket was far more delightful than facing the senselessness and emptiness of my situation without it. 

I know I must quit. I’m killing myself slowly, which I’m well aware of, but I just can’t. 

The vibrations start back up again and I reach into my pocket for my phone. 

I answer.

“What?”

“Oh my god, finally!” My cousin Taehyung exclaims on the other end, sounding completely exasperated. “We need you to come quickly to the Poisoned Chalice, it's urgent! Your father-”

I hung up the phone at the mere mention of that wretched sperm donor, I’ve reached my daily emotional capacity for him already and I need a much-needed break. 

Grinding the remaining embers on the brick of the strip club, I toss the cigarette butt at my feet and dart my hands into my jacket pocket. The blistering wind is harsh on my skin after exposing it purposely for several minutes. My legs take long and quick strides into the building, feeling nothing but sensory overload when entering the lounge.

The air was thick with a scent mixture of cheap perfume, potent hard liquor, and sweet musk. This amalgamation mingled with the strong stench of tobacco and marijuana clung to the back of my throat. Dimmed-colored lights bathed the room in a lurid glow, causing my vision to see other patrons unclearly. 

Alluring and sensual music boosted its bass through the speakers, ear drums humming, and floor vibrating. My heartbeat thrums in synchronization with the rhythm and flashing lights. The room pulses and gives sober guests migraines. 

Glittering girls moved fluidly on stage, their costumes and lingerie catching the stage lights and sparkling. They danced hypnotically with a blend of seduction and athleticism as their bodies twisted and arched with grace. Both men and women watched, their faces lit with the glow of their drinks, enraptured by the performance. 

Everywhere you looked, there was movement, color, and noise, each element competing for attention in a relentless onslaught that left people reeling.

I walked through the kaleidoscope of colors and shadows to get to the bar. It wasn’t far from the entrance, but it was easy to become distracted and turned around. Navigating past clusters of bodies seated at or around plush couches, eyes fixated on the dancers on platforms a few feet in front of them. 

Reaching the bar top, I slipped past a guest retreating and taking their place at the counter. My gaze fixated on the woman behind the tending station, a gorgeous older woman with a striking figure. She was dressed more modestly than the other workers in the club, in a short and tight-fitted black dress that highlighted her curves.

As she wiped the countertop with practiced ease, her eyes flicked up to meet mine. A hint of recognition sparked her eyes seconds after, pairing it with a warm welcoming smile.

“Good evening, Jungkook.” She proclaimed with a smooth and confident voice that cut through the cacophony surrounding us. Instinctively she pulled a glass from below the bar and set it between us. “The usual?”

I returned her smile with a playful grin. “You know me too well, Nayoung.”

She fixed a neat whiskey, making it a double with no ice. As Nayoung poured the drink, she pressed her body on the counter, leaning over slightly to bring attention to her cleavage. 

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you.” She smirked and slid the glass into my hand, intentionally touching my fingers and lingering for a moment. 

Every night I come to the lounge, she does this same song and dance, but she’s not to blame. When a man walks into a club dressed in his nicest suit, he stands out in a sea of casually attired guests. It is only business that she flirts with me to get me to throw cash around, pun intended. 

Flashing a wink in her direction, I grabbed the glass and turned away, propping my elbows up on the counter. I swished the drink in my glass, taking in the oaky aroma. Bringing the glass to my lips I tasted only a fraction of its contents, letting the burning sensation replace the sheer discomfort of a dry mouth.

My eyes darted across the room, looking through the haze of neon and shadow, methodically searching for the one reason I came here. The only reason I find myself here so often is that I’ve become familiar with the exasperating scene and eager bartender.

Jihyo.

From the bar I could see my beautiful Jihyo in the far corner of the lounge, performing on a small platform for a few other guests. My pulse quickened the moment my gaze locked onto her, the dim, sultry glimmer of the club intensified her presence. The stage lights cast her in a halo of seductive glow as the rest of the room seemed to blur, leaving only a luminous angel.

I could feel my eyes consuming every ounce of her being, so thirsty they could drink an ocean dry. Jihyo wasn't just another dancer, she was a vision from a dream, a muse trapped in a world of neon and velvet. Her movements were a delicate, rhythmic poem that captivated my senses. 

She was the embodiment of all my deepest yearnings and unspoken desires. 

Throwing back my drink, I finished it in one large swing and turned to place it back on the bar. Nayoung took notice, smiling coyly and making her way back over. I reached into my pocket and fished for my wallet. After fumbling with it briefly, I grabbed a fifty-dollar bill and placed it between us on the counter. 

The bartender’s expression brightened even more as she slid the bill into her possession, quickly pocketing it, probably afraid someone else would snatch it right up. With a slight wave of the hand to convey thanks, she went on about her business helping another patron.

I chuckle as I turn on my heel, feeling like I’m walking on air. My feet carry me over towards the other side of the club where my heart wishes to be. 

My body and stride radiate with only pure elation, an energy that is nearly impossible to contain. My state of being seemingly comes alive with an electric vibrancy as if every one of my nerve endings is celebrating. The muscles on my face grow sore as my smile stretches wide and almost unrestrained.

Whatever's going on back at that bar with my father almost completely escapes my mind, and once that happens, I'll achieve unadulterated bliss.

I approached a small doorway with an even smaller man standing in front of it. His perfectly stout frame sure acted as a better barrier than the skinny velvet rope that hung in the door frame behind him. When he made eye contact with me, his serious demeanor fell and flashed a delighted smile.

“Well if it isn’t Mister Jeon,” Yeesung, the owner of the Star-Crossed Lounge, snickered. “Back for more, I see?”

I try not to contort my face as he unknowingly addresses me by the title my father prefers to be called. 

“It’s been a rough one, this is the only spot to clear my head.”

The irony hits me as the words leave my mouth and reach my ears. The Ecliptica Lounge was the last place to collect yourself and take a mental break. How could a space where all your senses are overwhelmed help reduce stress?

My gaze caught the attention and hopeful stare of my Jihyo, who must have finished her performance just seconds before. As she retreats towards a staff-only door, her eyes meet mine accompanied by a devilishly sweet smile. A temptress she is known to be, but it’s only I who calls her my beloved. 

She is mine. 

“Who do you want to request tonight?” My attention was rudely pulled back by the manager in front of me. “We’ve got plenty of gorgeous ladies who would love to spend a moment alone with you.”

His tone was relaxed and playful, but I couldn’t help but feel annoyed by his proposal. There was only ever one woman I came to see, everyone working in this club knew it. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” I snapped, admittedly too harshly. “Only the love of my life, Jihyo.”

“Uh huh…sure…” Yeesung's voice trailed on a moment, carrying a tone of uncertainty. “...pay the fee and I’ll send her in.”

He sticks his hand out waiting for payment. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, rolled bills in the expected amount and traded it over. The manager wasted no time in counting it, knowing I have never and would never jip him. He unhooked the rope and stepped out of the way to let me pass, a beaming smile plastered on my face as my stride carried me through. 

$1,200; a small price to pay for love.